Parenting is Hard!

After a thrilling Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday have brought me back to the depths of how hard parenting can be. Now the weather was even better Tuesday than it was on Monday. I woke up to birds singing..............and then it all went to hell. I walked into my son's room and it literally smelled like a bomb went off; a big, poopy one. Upon closer inspection, I saw poop in his crib. He has not had a major blowout in such a long time that I was not anticipating this. So, I pick up the boy, change him and then rip the sheets off. Does anyone have any idea how hard it is to get sheets off a crib mattress when they are safety latched on and when your belly is so big you just can't get close enough to the crib. Well, sheer determination is the only way I got those sheets off and down to the laundry.

I stupidly thought this was the end of it. I mean it's April for cripe's sake. Steve and I went downstairs and had breakfast. He wouldn't eat his Cream Of Wheat, but ate everything else, so I thought nothing of it.

I put Steve back in his crib with his assortment of toys, and went to get myself ready for our tumbling class. I was halfway done when I heard a scream. THE SCREAM. The scream that all moms know only means one thing-----something was very wrong with my boy. I walked into Steve's room to find the mattress, I hadn't put a new sheet on yet, covered in puke and poor little Steve standing with dirty hands. Steve hates dirty hands, so you can imagine how upset he was. Now I felt bad for the child, I really did. BUT I am really bad with throw up. Give me blood any day, but no thanks to the puke. Oh, and with my bloodhound sense of smell that I have right now, well, I almost lost my cookies too! I just surveyed the situation and I didn't know where to start. Finally, I figured it was best to clean my little one to make him feel better. And a bath was the only way to go; the situation was already too far gone, if you know what I mean.

Steve never did throw up again, and only had diarhea. He was running around the house being his usual toddler self. I just didn't get it. I told him he is supposed to be MORE tired after throwing up, not less. He didn't care what he was SUPPOSED to be; he just kept running while I didn't know whether to make heads or tails of the situation.

That evening Steve even was able to keep down water, toast and sugar-free applesauce. I figured maybe that was the end of it. The diarhea was gone, he hadn't thrown up again and he was eating. Plus, he was playing with his toys again. AGAIN I was wrong.

He woke up this morning very lethargic and very warm. He had a 103.5 temp. He wouldn't eat and barely drank. He just sat there crying. I felt helpless. I also had an OB appt. that I had to go to because I hadn't seen a doctor in 6 weeks. Two weeks ago I saw the nurse, but the doctor had to leave to deliver a baby. I also knew there was no way I could take Steve with me in the condition he was in. I made the decision to call Jeff and ask him to come home while I went to my appt. Poor Jeff has a 45-60 minute commute each way. He had only been there an hour and a half when I called. I expected him to be upset or tell me to call his mother, but he didn't. He said to give him five minutes and he would be on his way. It was still so early that his boss wasn't even there. Jeff likes to get there early to get things done before there is anyone or anything to interfere with his work. He's an early bird; I am not! I was just so impressed with my husband. I think I even fell more inlove with him at that moment. Who'd have thought 10 years ago I would get that little patter when my husband agreed to come home and watch our sick kid so I could go to a doctor appt. Sad, but true.

Of course, my OB was late. I was the second appt. of the day! WHen they led me to the room, the nurse said he wasn't even in the office yet, and they hoped he wouldn't be too long. Sorry. I had visions of them cancelling my appt. after all I'd gone through to get there. I was hormonal, I admit. I haven't been able to sleep, I 've been taking care of a sick kid while being 8 months pregnant and incredibly uncomfortable, and now I may have to come back AGAIN to see the doctor. Tears were welling up in my eyes, and I tried to tell myself, 'Don't cry, no one will take you seriously if you cry.' I do not cry easily, but between hormones and no sleep, I was on the verge. Lucklily, I was able to stop before I started. My OB ended up being 35 minutes late, no I'm not counting, but he made it. He apologized, and I usually end up saying, 'Oh, that's OK', but I didn't this time. I think that surprised him. I'm sick of always being nice, and my time meaning nothing. Anyway, long story short. The baby is doing well. His heartbeat is strong, he's moving, and he's measuring BIG still. My OB said it was a good thing we were taking him by c-section and early. I agree. I doubt I'd be able to make it to 40 weeks. I can also take Benadryl to help me sleep. AND I WILL.

Fast forward to Steve's doctor appt. I usually underreact and my kid is sicker than I thought. I always feel terrible then and vow never to make him wait for treatment again. This time I didn't. Steve wasn't himself, and I wanted to make sure he was OK. The doctor could only see him during naptime, of course. Bottom-line: It's what I thought, a mild version of the flu. Apparently, everyone has it. Lovely! Steve already had it back in September, and he lovingly gave it to all of us. I found out I was pregnant on a Wednesday, and got the lovely flu on Friday. I thought he was done. He did get the flu shot, but this is the stomach flu, so it doesn't help.

We tried to take a nap when we got home. 45 minutes into it, I hear a screaming cry. Diahrea. More laundry to do. This parenting thing is hard.

Loving Daylight Savings Time!

As my title suggests, this daylight savings time rocks! As does the weather we had here today. It was in the upper 60's and sunny; a perfect day. Steve and I went and had the car washed inside and out. I have not had this done since the fall, and I love a clean car. Back in the fall, Steve was so bored by the whole carwash experience. He didn't want to watch through the glass windows or wait for the car to be hand-dried. He just wanted to go bye-bye. Today was different. He was enthralled by the whole experience, and sat by my side as we waited for the car to be dried. He even gave the man who dried our car the tip; he was so excited! I was just so proud of him. Getting the car washed was just so easy this time, not like it has been in the past, which was a battle for endurance. Steve loved getting into the clean car, as did I.

Afterwards, I rewarded him with the opportunity to play outside with what has become his most cherished toy: a racing push car. Yep, the one where the baby gets in and the parent pushes him. My son doesn't want to be pushed around in it; he just wants to push it. Last year he loved his little lawnmower. This year it's the pushcar. Go figure. It was just so darn gorgeous here today; one of the few days that I am happy to live here in the Midwest.

Tonight my dad and his fiancee' came over to help move the rest of the office furniture out of the room that is to become Steve's. A charity run by a woman who attends the same Bible study as I do is coming to pick it all up tomorrow. The volunteer drivers would have moved the furniture for us, but Jeff and I felt since our hallways are narrow it would be best for us to move it to our garage and they can just load it from there. I am quite sure the volunteers will be happy about that!

After they come for the furniture, I am going in person to the store where I ordered Steve's furniture from to ask them what is going on with the furniture. It has been 11 weeks; it's time. The owner told me two weeks ago that the company said it may be in this week. I am going to make myself a pest of sorts now until I get this furniture. I will not be rude or offensive, but I believe making yourself known and seen often gets you somewhere. I have followed the rules, and I have not seen any furniture. I believe by going into a store you are treated a bit better; I mean you are right in front of them. Plus, I am huge, plain and simple. I am sure they will believe that I am even farther along than I am. They cannot ignore a huge, pregnant lady. Let's get going guys! I don't have a lot of time!

I better be going. My husband is currently yelling at the TV; he's watching the Illinois game and apparently the refs suck, or the players are doing a crappy job. Either way, he's not happy. Oh, and I now hear my baby boy crying. Swell. Hopefully, tonight I get a shower, helps me relax. Oh, and no acid reflux tonight would be nice too. Last night it burned my throat so bad I didn't fall asleep until after 3 in the morning. I am tired!

The Pope and Terri Schiavo, My Opinion

Let me say this first, I am not Catholic. OK, now to my post. On Friday, many of our major news stations were broadcasting on the Pope's health condition, as I'm sure most places were. Chicago has a very large population of Roman Catholics, so this was very big news here. At any rate, on one of the stations, they called the watching of the Pope the 'deathwatch'. Now I do understand that the man's health has been terrible for some time, and it seemed inevitable that he would pass away shortly, which he did indeed do. But what upset me the most was the disrespect for his life that was going on. I don't care who it is that is dying, you don't put on your best Hollywood face and dress and talk about a man's final hours as a 'deathwatch.' Many mourners came to pay their respects to this man; I am fine with that. What I am not fine with is the media making a huge spectacle of the Pope's final hours on this earth. Now I do not agree with many of the Pope's, and thus the church's, beliefs, but I do believe in the right to die with dignity. That's all I have to say on the matter.
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On a slightly similiar topic, I have some problems with the Schiavo situation as well. I am not going to go into who was right or wrong because I simply do not know the answer. I do believe that the media got out of hand in this case too. I also was offended by the crowds outside the hospice where Mrs. Schiavo was being cared for. I was offended for the Schiavos, but also for the people who were not a family member of Mrs.Schiavo. This is a HOSPICE people! It is supposed to be a PEACEFUL place where a person lives out their final moments of their lives. How could these other patients do this with the media circus/crowds all around them? They couldn't, and this is terrible. Where are THOSE peoples' rights? The crowds/media just didn't care. It was all about ratings and how THEY felt about the situation. In our newspaper there was a woman crying upon learning the news of Mrs.Schiavo's death. Was she a relative, friend, did she even KNOW Mrs. Schiavo? The answers are no. Do not bring the pro-life movement into this case; in's not about being pro-life or pro-choice. This was not an abortion issue, yet many of the same people who show up for pro-life rallies were there chanting their opinions, waving their signs, and most appalling to me--sending their own children to the hospice's doors with water knowing full well said child would never get in. They just want to make a 'statement'. Using one's own child in that way makes me sick. That child got arrested too. Isn't that nice? I do believe in free speech, very much so. But when do your rights override someone else's rights, especially to die in peace with dignity which is essentially what the Hospice mission is all about. I know this because my own mother was once a Hospice nurse, and just two years ago, a Hospice patient. I cannot say enough good things about the organization, and neither could my mother. So whatever your opinion on the Schiavo case is, I do not wish to argue it. I just wanted to comment on my disdain for the media and the crowds who made a circus out of the whole situation, and perhaps have people remember that there were other Terri Schiavos and patients who were there at the same time who were there to die with dignity in full agreement with their families. I only pray that their deaths occurred with SOME level of peace. And I don't know about all of you, but I am finally going to follow my own mother's advice and get a living will. You will not hear about my death on the TV.

A Productive Day

Today Jeff, Steve and I went to a mall about 45 minutes away to look for curtains for Steve's room and a coming home outfit for the baby. This mall is more upscale than ours, so I figured I may have better luck in finding an outfit for the baby there. Nope. However, I was finally able to find the curtains and rod/holdbacks for Steve's baseball room. I am thrilled! We found them at Pottery B*rn Kids, and both Jeff and I were surprised at how little we spent. The prices for what we bought were comparable to T*rget, if you can believe that. I bought the most amazing quilt/pillows from The L*nd of Nod back in January. I also ordered Steve's furniture at that time. I am a planner through and through.

Steve's room is awesome, if you are into a baseball theme, which we are. We just hope Steve is too. Anyway, Steve's room is painted in Chicago Cubs' colors: red, white and blue. The bottom of the walls are Cubs' blue, the middle border is red with baseball cards in the middle(wood frames the top and bottom) with a plexiglass covering over them. Then there is white up until the ceilings. The border on top of the wall is hooks that hold baseball hats of which we have many, so that is practical as well. On the ceiling is a ceiling fan that has blades that look like bats, a baseball looking ball for the light, and it is all attached to home plate. I love it! Steve's quilt is the MVP quilt that has a baseball diamond/game stitched onto it with baseball looking pillows accompanying it. Today we also bought a baseball lamp and wastebasket from B*mbay Kids. And this week I took a Cub poster signed by former Cubs players such as Ron Santos in to be framed. Jeff's dad got the poster for him, which we really appreciated. It will look great in the room. So, although I may never have my girl, I am having fun decorating my little boy's room. I am probably going over the top too, but I don't care. And SOMEDAY Steve will actually have furniture in his room:) I am going to the store in person this week. Maybe my huge belly will inspire some action.

I feel so much better now that I got a bunch of things done; the laundry is currently being washed as I type this. Jeff has been working so many hours, I am trying to give him a break; he has been doing the majority of the laundry since I got pregnant. So tomorrow I have told him beyond caring for Steve, he is doing nothing. No housework, no yardwork, no grocery shopping, etc. He needs time to refuel. I know I'm 8 months pregnant, but I feel guilty for all of the things he's taken care of. My SIL told me to let him do it now, because once the baby is here I'll be doing a lot again, and maybe she's right, but I have a hard time letting go. As I've said before, I have control issues. I just keep dreaming about this baby, and I am so excited to meet him. Plus, I am getting anxious to not have this sciatic pain/leg and foot cramps anymore. I just pray with all that I have that this little one is healthy.

More Things I Don't Understand

I've overcome my pissed-offness about the smoking issue from the other night. Thanks to those who posted to me. I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels that smoke is downright awful.

Now I have another thing that I fail to understand. While sitting at the dinner table at Easter, my ILs continued to give my son pop. Caffeine-free Diet Coke to be exact. Now I do understand the grandparent spoiling thing, and I hope to have the priviledge of spoiling my little grandbabies someday, too. I do not however, understand the need to constantly give the child pop, or caffeinated ice-tea at 7:30 at night, but that's another story. I also get a bit peeved when Jeff or I ask them to not give him any more and we are mocked, and Steve continues to get fed more pop. I mean, we are the parents. Sidenote: we don't have a problem with a few sips of pop as a 'treat', but that's it. At any rate, as we are being mocked the conversation turns to when Jeff was a baby. Yes, the old and 'he turned out fine' speech. AKA Bev: listen up. You are too overprotective. Apparently, Jeff's aunt and uncle who never had kids, for good reason we believe, talked about when they babysat Jeff when he was 3 months old and put Pepsi in his bottle. I turned to Jeff's sister and told her, "And they wonder why they don't babysit Steve." Well, of course, the aunt heard, and was offended. Do I feel guilty? NO! If you are dumb enough to think that it was EVER ok to feed an infant Pepsi, then you deserve to hear what I said. Anyway, Jeff's parents laughed, and talked about putting a straw into a cup when Jeff was young and feeding him pop too. They continued to laugh, as my face looked on mortified I'm sure, and said,"I think he turned out just fine." So I say,"Yah, he's just struggled with his weight." Either I was not heard, which is possible, or I was ignored because as usual I was being overprotective in their minds. I thought about all the problems Jeff has had with his teeth too. I mean do these people watch the news and hear about all the problems with childhood obesity and cavities? I mean the doctors are going ballistic about JUICE, let alone POP. It blows my mind.

Steve loves milk and water, yes water. He will drink juice SOMETIMES. I have bought pineapple juice because he loves pineapples; he hates it. I bought tomato juice; he hates it. I bought apple juice, not a fan of that either. Hates orange juice, too. So I have backed off on juice. My MIL feels the child should have juice. Both of my ILs feel we are mean for giving him water, even though it is recommended by our doctor and he LOVES it. I have made my peace with juice though. When we go out with Jeff parents, they can order him juice if it makes them feel better. Choose your battles. I think juice in moderation is fine actually. It's just Steve doesn't like it so why force him to drink it?

The other thing that has been keeping me awake lately is what do they give him to drink when we're not around? I have resigned myself that when they babysit him, which is only occassionally these days, that whatever he drinks is fine. It's only one night. But now I am actually worried about the 4-5 days they will be watching him when I am in the hospital. I tell myself that I probably won't care as I'll be in la-la land at that point, but I do care. I also am worrying about my routine being shot to hell while they are with him. I have worked hard to get a general rountine going and it's worked very well. Now is not the time to change that routine. Especially with a new baby, kids cling to routine. By routine, I am not talking about a nap that strictly takes place at 12:00 sharp; I 'm talking more about the order of things. A friend of mine commented on how she sent her own mother home, because in her words, "Everything was a mess. Everything was out of order and I couldn't take it anymore." She had a c-section and was still in pain, but favored toughing it out physically than dealing with the disorder that her home now had. I can understand that actually. My brother has also offered to take Steve too, so this is an option. I do think that Jeff's parents coming to the house is a good thing, though. So we'll see. I also know they love him, but we do have different parenting styles. I know it is common to feel what worked for your child, regardless of how old said child is, will work for all. But the truth of the matter is we are his parents, and like they did 30 years+ ago, we will do what we feel is best for our child. Things change, some for the better, some for the worse, but we are the ones responsible for him and we will do what we feel is right. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but as the old saying goes, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.'