5 Questions Never to Ask a Tubie Parent

 Tubie parents hear a broad spectrum of commentary ranging from the well-meaning to the outrageous. On the spectrum of health issues that our kids face, disordered feeding may seem like the least of our concerns but it has a profound impact on the family. Celebrations, holidays, family meals are simply not the same. Think about it; How many kid's birthday parties have you been to, where the kid can't eat their own cake? My own family and friends are very supportive so if you're reading this and you've asked some or all of these things, it's ok. Your support means everything to us and we know that you are well intentioned. It's just that often times we feel a bit like a broken record, answering the same questions over and over again.

What not to ask a parent of a tubie:

1. "When are they going to get that stupid tube out?"

A. The answer, no matter who you are asking about, no matter how many times you ask, is and always will be when the child can take 100% of their nutritional and hydration needs by mouth. Frankly, for some kids, that day never comes.

2. "What does the doctor say?"

A. Doctors don't have a crystal ball so they can't forecast how long a child might need a feeding tube. The parent or the feeding therapist is likely to know more than the doctor anyway.

3. "What's wrong with him/her?"

A. Disordered feeding is an extremely complex medical problem. It takes a thorough and extensive evaluation process to answer that question and even then it can still be a bit of a mystery.

4. "Can't you just take it out?" (for temporary or NG patients) Or "stop using it?" (for permanent patients)

A. Why yes I can take it out but the real question is should I and the answer is no. Taking out or discontinuing the use of a feeding tube can cause an urgent or even emergent health crisis. Feeding disorders vary in severity so while some children may only need a little support others are completely reliant on their feeding tube.

5. "Is he/she hungry? Thirsty? Why don't you just try giving him/her (food/beverage)?"

A. Don't, just... don't.

Lastly, not so much Q and A but a bit of common sense.

• Don't blame or shame parents for their child's dependence on a feeding tube. A mother shared that people in her family implied that she was just being lazy, as if having a child on a feeding tube is less work. 

• Don't, unless solicited, give typical feeding supplies as a gift. Giving a sippy cup to a kid who aspirates every drop of water is just stupid. You might as well set your money on fire. 

• Also, it isn't necessary to mention or ask about the feeding tube every. single. time. Think about your own children. Maybe one has a crooked tooth or a funny birth mark. Would you want someone pointing it out to you? Or your child hearing someone point it out to you all the time? Of course not. 

What you can and totally should ask a parent of a tubie:

1. "How is (child's name) doing?" Or better yet "How are YOU doing?"

Most of our kiddos have multiple diagnoses which makes for a lot of doctor appointments, therapy visits, feeding regimes, medication schedules, etc. It can be exhausting, frustrating and disappointing.

2. "Is there anything I can do to help?" 

See above. You may not be able to drop a new tube or titrate the latest constipation medication, but you can offer a meal or just lend an ear. On those exhausting, frustrating days you could be the lifeline to a parent's sanity.

3. "How do I get bile out of my carpet or upholstery?"

Yeah, we can totally help you with that.

Conversations with Charlie

Charlie is just over two and half now and talks really well. Sometimes our conversations are circular and frustrating. Other times, I can't keep from laughing. Here are a couple gems:

"Mom, I'm going on an adventure."
"Ok,where are you going?"
"On an adventure."
"Oh"
"C'mon Mom, let's go"
"I can't go. I have to wash your diapers."
"I gotta go get gas."
"Well, ok but I think you should tell your Dad."



"Mom, why is Dad so cross with me?"
"Probably because you put your trains and all the dog food in the dog water and your not supposed to play in it."
"You clean it up, ok?"


"I wanna wear Thomas [underpants]"
"Ok, but if you wear them, you have to poop and pee in the potty."
"I don't want to use the potty"
"Then you can't wear underpants."
*whining* "But I want to wear Thomas"
"Then you have to use the potty."
"But I don't want to use the potty"

There's No Crying in Baseball

Charlie is two and half now and talks... a lot. Sometimes no one has the slightest idea what he's saying and other times he says stuff like this:

"Come on Dad, you're killing me."

"There's no crying in baseball."
Mumbles- "That's right, there's no crying in baseball."
"What's a baseball?"

While my husband was painting our kitchen cabinets and there was dust all over, I asked Charlie to take his 'beautiful, brown blanket' (yes, that really is what he calls it) back to his room so that it wouldn't get dirty. An argument ensued and he told me " You go lay down in your room, Mommy."

He also does stuff like this:

The other day Micha was giving him a bath. Charlie was laying on his back in the tub and started giggling. He was peeing straight up in the air.

She's Crafty

A quick plug for my sister's blog.

http://pinintended.blogspot.com

She's crafty like Martha Stewart but in a more likeable way.

The Wedding

I can't remember a time in my life when I thought about a big wedding with a big cake and a big dress. It's just not my style. In fact, at the point in our relationship that I knew Micha was the one for me, I was perfectly happy to live together forever, like Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn. So when he asked me to marry him, I really had no idea what kind of wedding I might want. In fact, I've only been in one wedding and I hate going to them. Why on Earth would I torture the friends and family that I love, not to mention myself, with some over-done, over-priced affair? Then there is the waste. As a person who is trying to be more socially, environmentally and fiscally responsible, how can I justify spending thousands on a gown that will only be worn once and flowers that will wilt and die?

Am I spoiling the mood for you yet?

We decided the only sensible and sane thing to do was to elope. Well sort of. Not in that traditional sense where two young lovers run away to Vegas and, against the wishes of their parents, do something impulsive in the name of love. No, ours was a more premeditated elopement. We decided to go over Spring Break and found a planner, Aaron's Key West Weddings to take care of everything. Seriously, all I had to do was show up with my dress on. My sister graciously agreed to stay with the kids and the dogs while we were gone on our wedding/honeymoon. I went back and forth over whether or not to include the kids in the ceremony. While the event was significant for our family as a whole, I ultimately decided that Micha and I's wedding should be about Micha and I.

Plus, who takes their kids on their honeymoon?! Seriously...

Don't get me wrong; entrusting my big day to a total stranger was not without some panic inducing moments. I sweat the small stuff. I worried that the vows would be corny, the flowers would be carnations and the location would have gigantic plastic signs for snorkeling and scooter rentals in the background. I literally had nightmares about the airline losing or damaging my dress. I envisioned my hair looking big and ridiculous and my make-up rivaling Tammy Faye Baker's. In fact, everything was perfect and couldn't have been more relaxing or more wonderful.

Hair and Make-Up by Headlines Hair and Nails

We arrived in Fort Lauderdale late Tuesday night the dress in one piece and looking as pristine as the day I picked it up from alterations. Micha had rented a convertible so naturally we put the top down before we left the airport parking garage. We had no idea that it was raining. After we stopped to put the top down (we weren't the only one's pulled over) we made our way to the hotel. The next morning we set out for Key West, top down and as pale as the underside of a fish. We arrived in Key West as red as lobsters.


Micha also rented a scooter for the 5 days we'd be in Key West because he's a genius. Seriously, scooters and bicycles are the only reasonable way to get around the island. The streets are narrow and crowded and limited is an understatement when it comes to parking. The morning of the ceremony Aaron, our wedding guru, brought my bouquet by our cottage and drove us out to the spot where the ceremony would take place on Smathers Beach. He went through what the ceremony would be like, talked to us about our family and and shared a little local wisdom (We didn't pay parking on a public street the rest of the trip!). Then it was time for my hair and make-up and by the time I got back, I had enough time for a salad and glass of wine and then into my dress.

Just before the ceremony.

We arrived at the beach, met the photographer and took a few shots before getting started. At this point I was starving and ready for a beer which I mentioned to Aaron. A few more pictures and it was go time!

In the distance, some ominous looking clouds were blowing in. We finished the ceremony and the pictures just in time. As we left the sky opened up and it began to pour. There were two other weddings taking place on the beach at the time.

 

 

The vows Aaron chose for us were perfect. He talked about family and friendship.

 

Mr. & Mrs. Johnson

How do you plan a dream you never knew you had? You don't. Just let it happen. Relax. Smile and laugh.

Post-Holiday Hangover

There have been two times in my life that I can remember thinking about my life. Once, at the very end of my teens when I was pregnant with Mumbles and facing some very big decisions and now, at the beginning of my 30's with my life half lived. When I was at the end of my teens facing the beginning of my adult life and about to become responsible for another, I knew that I had to do some things differently. I couldn't skate by doing the minimum without goals or aspirations. I worked two, sometimes three jobs and went to school, missing out on time I wanted to spend with Mumbles', all the while thinking this would afford us more time together later. "Suck it up and plow through for now so that in a few years, I can get a regular 9 to 5 and make it up to her", I thought. More than 10 years later, I have a regular 9 to 5 except I have to leave at 7:15 to make the commute, to be there by 8 and then half an hour for lunch so I leave at 4:30 but the commute means I won't be home until 5 and then it takes half an hour to unwind because I literally hate every minute of it.


Now I know that some where out there, there's some nit-wit who read Eat Pray Love and is thinking to themselves, "Well if you don't like your life change it. If you hate your job, then quit." That is easier said than done since now I have student loans that have to be paid and a mortgage to make every month, not to mention the car payment, insurance and gas to drive back and forth to what I am convinced is God's way of punishing me for misbehaving from ages 15 to 18. All in search of the American Dream. Hadn't I wanted this? A house, a car, two kids and a fenced yard. I hated staying in apartments to be sure, but at least when I lived in them, I was home to live in them. Some days I go down to the basement, a room that was meant to be a place for us to relax and hang out as a family, and I don't recognize it. Some times I look at Mumbles and I don't recognize her. I still want to buy her Tinkerbell underwear but then I realize she's no longer a girls size, it makes me want to cry. "It could be worse. You could be living in a thatch hut and eating bugs while your friends and neighbors die of starvation or dysentery." True, that would be worse, but isn't there some place between spinning my wheels and starving? At least when I was 19 and thinking about my life, I had hope. Now, I feel so...stuck.


Don't think that I'm just sitting around feeling sorry for myself....I feel sorry for everyone! All of us who bought into the bigger, better, faster mentality that dominated the 80's only to have the reality of over-consuming come crashing down on our heads. And I really love my house and my family. In fact, I love them so much, I want more of them. I want to spend more time in my house with my family, not working to pay for things that do not make me happy. As for the things that I've already wasted my money on, I've decided if I don't love or need it, I'm not keeping it.

The End of Our Breastfeeding Journey

I didn't even realize it until it was over. I sat down to fold some laundry and realized Charlie hadn't nursed in a couple of days. The next time I offered, he looked at me like I was crazy. There was no discomfort from engorgement or tantrum tears; it was just over. Around his first birthday, I'd stopped pumping at work. Pumping not being my favorite thing and being nearly impossible at the insane job I was working. Charlie still nursed when we were together; at night and on the weekends. But as the nights went on, Charlie nursed shorter and shorter periods of time until eventually he just didn't nurse at all.

Like with many things, I have mixed feelings about it. On the one hand I am glad that, hormonally speaking, I am feeling normal again. I don't have to think about what I'm wearing and how easy or difficult it might be to nurse in. On the other hand, I miss the time bonding with Charlie. I miss getting to take a 'time-out' when family gatherings got too overwhelming or I'm just tired and want to rest.

When I was pregnant with Charlie, I decided that I was going to nurse him as long as possible, in order to give him the best possible start in life. My goal was to exclusively breastfeed for the first 6 months, which we very nearly met. Shortly before he was 6 months, we started giving him a bit of rice cereal to try keep him satisfied during the day when I wasn't able to pump enough to keep up with him. We marched on to 1 year, Charlie getting a few ounces of formula to supplement. Now at nearly 15 months, he eats what we eat and goes through about 1 gallon and a half of whole milk per week. Overall, I feel good about our journey together even though this part of it is over a little sooner than I would have wished.

Elvis Has Left the Building

Exhibit A

A few months ago, Micha brought home a kitten that his parents found in our boat which we keep in their barn. He's a cute tuxedo kitten named Elvis but he is a holy terror (see exhibit A).

A few weeks ago Elvis disappear and we haven't seen him since. We've contacted our local animal control and posted his info. on a lost pet website. Obviously it's pretty cold and we are concerned. My hope is that he's wandered into someone else's home and he's warm and safe, terrorizing someone else's house plants. In fact, I think he frequently tried to make himself at home at our very gracious neighbors house on several occasions.

At any rate, if you've seen our holy terror...er....cuddly kitty, please let us know.

Elvis is a black and white male. He's been neutered and has a tattoo to prove it on his underside. He likes to snuggle, poops in house plants and will terrorize your dog.

Long time, no see

After a long hiatus, I think I'm ready to start blogging again. It's been several months and much has happened. Most recently for me, job changes...yes two in a matter of 6 1/2 months. The company I was working for was looking at having to lay some people off and so I accepted another Administrative Assistant position...or so I thought. Needless to say, things did not work out but it was a good experience. I learned a lot about myself and what I was capable of but also, it reminded me about the kind of life I want to have. I realized how easy it is to be seduced into believing that more money brings more happiness. I can tell you, at least for me, it's not true. That job was exhausting and began to take over my life. I spent less and less time with my family and more time trying to unwind from my increasingly stressful days. All the while I kept telling myself that if I stuck it out, the payoff would be worth it. Someday, I'd have a better position within the company, making more money. It satisfied the ambitious side of me that wants to compete and be professionally successful. I found myself looking at bigger houses and nicer cars. I had forgotten that none of those things would make me happy or truly fulfill me.

So I am working again as Administrative Assistant. The work is easy but there's plenty of it. I leave at the end of everyday and my work stays at work. I'm never late picking up Charlie and Micha and Mumbles are starting to recognize me again. A ton has happened. Charlie turned one, Mumbles whacked off all her hair, we got a new kitty and lost the new kitty, and Micha graduated...again. I'll do my best to fill in the gaps....yeah, I picked the busiest time of year to pick up blogging again. Obviously, I'm delirious.

The New Deal

In an effort to maintain my sanity, I tried to LIG with regards to the housework. What ensued was total chaos and disaster. It came to the point that at the end of the day, I wanted to go anywhere except home so I decided on a New Deal. I divided up most of chores I felt could easily be handled by the other members of our little family and wrote them down on scraps of paper and each week we draw for 5 chores. Everyone is responsible for completing their chores in a timely fashion. Doesn't matter how, just that they get done. If anyone flakes out, the family member who completes the chore is to be compensated for their time. No yelling, no endless list of mundane household tasks eating up entire weekends and no mess, right?! Wrong! In the first two weeks, I thought "This is going great! I have free time on my hands and the house is not a disaster area!" By the end of the third week, I realized I was the only one getting their chores done, everything else was just...not.

Now, the tantrum I threw certainly doesn't compare to this, but I think I made my point without assaulting any remote controls. Taking the laundry basket down to the basement and leaving it for a week does not count as 'doing' the laundry, nor does leaving it in the machine, or in the basket. If I have to hunt for my work clothes at 6 am, I'm bound to be unhappy and if I have to look in the backyard, Lily the Destroyer will wind up 'missing'. Moving the piles of crap from one end of the table to the other end is not 'straightening up' and the sink is not a lay over to the dishwasher! It isn't just the inconvenience that such chaos creates that bothers me. To me, this little family is everything. I'd do anything for them but for months I'd been asking for help and what I needed was being pushed off to the side, to be gotten around to, if they had the time. I decided I was taking back my free time. Not all of it; that would be impossible but a few minutes at the end of the day, an hour a week, whatever I could get. But I wasn't going to live like a pig either and I told them so. For Micha's part, he knew it was coming and he did his best to make it up to me, even sending me flowers after I'd been the one yelling. Mumbles' was a different story. Had I raised a lazy and unsympathetic child? It's funny how, in those rare moments when we see our children's faults, we immediately blame ourselves. She did come to understand that I wasn't just upset about the chores, but about her attitude toward Micha and myself in general. I was hard on her despite knowing it's, in part, her age. Maybe the problem is we've chalked too much of the 'tween attitude up to being a 'phase'. No matter what age a child is, they are still part of a family and as a family, it's just as important to work together to support each other as it is to spend quality time together doing 'fun' things. I wonder how other families accomplish this?

While I've relaxed my housekeeping standards, I still need to have a place to come home to and not see every undone thing glaring me in the face the second I walk through the door. We are still drawing for chores each week and everyone is doing a better job of pitching in. Hopefully, this New Deal will lead to more time for us to do some fun things as a family. If the weather holds out, we're hoping to enjoy the May Day festivities this weekend at Lanesfield Historic Site.

Renew Me/ March for Babies

Friday, while I was washing my hands at work, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and said to myself "Jeez, I look frumpy." The best thing I could say about my hair was that is was clean. My t-shirt might as well have had the words "My son prefers my left boob to my right boob" printed right on it. I'd eaten three, yes three, donuts for breakfast so I was starting to look a little like I did around the time I was four months pregnant with Charlie. I'm certain I do not remember how to walk in heels and every piece of clothing I wear is now carefully selected based on machine washablility. I feel a bit like the Kansas landscape after a hard, cold winter: drab, dreary and in desperate need of some color.

Having done some remodeling on the outside (i.e. a snazzy new 'do and a new tattoo), it's time to renew my soul. Easter seems the perfect season for this lofty goal. Start small. A walk. A walk for something I am passionate about. Babies!! I am passionate about babies. So...

We're walking in the March for Babies!

Just when I needed it, a friend asked if I wanted to participate. Yes! Yes! YES! My babies were born full-term and healthy but other babies aren't as lucky and have to really fight from the very minute they are Earth-side to stay with us. I want to help support those babies and those families. If you are interested in helping, just click on the link above to find out how.

Merry marching, ya'll! ;)

Late for work

I'm late for work. What is my excuse? Flat tire? Dog got hit by a car? Stuck in traffic? Nope. I have an excuse way better than any. Every morning I am paralyzed by the snugly bundle next to me. By the warm softness of his skin and smell of his sweet breath. By the cherub face, chin tilted skyward and the satisfied smacks of his perfect Cupid's bow mouth. By the sound of his rhythmic breathing and the occasional small snore or tiny sigh. Even when he awakens, I'm captivated. His big, bright blue eyes examine my face and a tiny soft hand reaches out to grab my nose or hair. His small voice chirping 'ohs' and 'ahs'. Yes, I'm stricken, immobile and completely at his mercy.

My dog ate my flanges!

Time for a little humor.

If you follow my blog, know me personally or are friends with me via Facebook, then you are probably already familiar with our dog Lily the Destroyer. She is a very sweet looking, demon dog who eats everything. Underpants, Christmas ornaments, pacifiers, you name it- she has partially digested it. You may not be familiar with our other dog, Bruiser. Bruiser is a loving Min-Pin that we got back in 2005. He has a sweet disposition, loves everyone and really just needs a warm lap to snuggle in. Although he was notoriously hard to house break, he never chewed anything.

One very busy day about a month ago, I had set my pump up because I needed at least one more session to have enough milk to send with Charlie to the sitter the next day. Of course, life being what it is, I kept getting interrupted. Dinner time rolled around and I still hadn't sat down yet! We where eating out that particular evening so I left my stuff set up, we put Lily the Destroyer in her kennel (since she cannot be trusted) and headed out for some 1/2 priced burgers and beers. We returned fed and full and I walked up the stairs to get Charlie to bed and maybe finally, get a chance to pump. At the top of the stairs, to my horror, I saw my flanges mutilated on the the living room floor and my sweet Bruiser, curled up innocently on the back of the couch. "Bad dog!" I shouted. Ok, don't freak out, this is really not that bad because just the other day I bought new flanges and they were still in the bag. Upon entering my bedroom, I discovered the flanges where not the only pieces he'd chewed. Bruiser mangled the valves as well. I didn't have spare valves. I started to panic. Who sells pump parts and accessories and is open at 8 o'clock at night? Nowhere in my little hamlet, that is for sure. So I loaded the baby back up in the car and drove to Target. Thank heavens for Target.

Here's the lesson folks: Always keep spare pump parts on hand and remember that even the most well behaved pet cannot resist the sweet smell of 'Liquid Gold'!

Hold the line

I hate feeling like this. So anxious, I'm close to jumping out of my skin. These are feelings left over from a previous existence when I didn't know how to deal with life. The jittery notions of walking out, slamming the door and running anywhere. Too scared to leave, too tired to run and too broken to be strong. I need one day, one day, where my Dad isn't gone, Charlie sleeps through the night, Mumbles' isn't being bull headed, my boss isn't a jerk and I feel connected...
Normal...
          Routine...
                    Quiet...

What to do? Say hell with it, quit my job, and start getting drunk at two in the afternoon? No, I don't have that luxury. Who would pick up the baby?
                                                     Take Mumbles to softball practice?
                                                                                                      Wash diapers?
                                                                                                                          Ask Micha about his day?

Instead, I will bite back tears, keep my butt firmly planted in this chair until four o'clock and busy my hands to steady my nerves until night falls. Then, when it's just Micha and I, I'll let it go. Tomorrow will be better. Hold the line 'til then.

The F Word

Before the whirlwind of the previous week, Charlie had been sick for about 2 weeks and I'd been battling seasonal allergies. Charlie went with Dad to see our family doctor for a regular check up and my little guy, who'd been gaining weight so well, had lost nearly a pound. We were supposed to take him back in 1 week to have his weight checked but the day I planned to take him in, we were driving across South Dakota. I took him in when we returned and while he'd gained weight, it was not enough to make up for the significant loss. Our doctor told me it was time to supplement with formula. There is was, that word. Just days shy of my short-term goal for Charlie to be exclusively breastfed for at least 6 months.

My first thought was 'It isn't so bad'. He'd only be getting about 3 oz a day/ 5 days a week. I'd still breastfeed when we were together. Then I started to get mad. There had to be another way. I'd resolved not to give Charlie formula. I'd make another way. I'll break my 'No Facebook for Lent' pledge to get donor milk, if I have to. For now, I'm working on increasing my supply and stretching with rice cereal mixed with my milk. I know a lot of Mom's don't like to give rice cereal but in my case it's the lesser of two evils. At least with the cereal it's organic and I can pronounce all of the ingredients, of which there are only three. Besides, Charlie is starting to show signs of being ready to start solid foods. It's funny feeding him because everything distracts him. The dog, sister, a noise he hears outside but once he spots the bowl, his eyes stay locked. Then when the spoon comes into view he reaches out to grab my hand and 'help'. Hopefully, the additional calories will add up to additional ounces and not more problems than they are worth.

Saying Good Bye

This has been the craziest week of my life. Seven days ago, I was feeding Charlie and got the phone call I have been dreading for years now. My father was in the hospital again but he would not be returning home this time. I called Micha who came home right away. We started packing and loading up the car. For several minutes, I walked around in circles asking aloud "Is this crazy? Should we wait?" We were about to embark on a 24 hour journey with a 6 month old at 9 o'clock at night. "This is insane." As we pulled out of the drive, I felt a strange mix of excitement and foreboding. Maybe it wasn't as bad as they said after all, Dad has been in the hospital before. Maybe we would get there and he'd be alright and it would turn out to be a nice Spring Break family vacation. Dad could finally meet Charlie and Micha and I could show them the state where Mumbles' and I were born and where half my heart has always been. Micha drove most of the next 24 hours and just before we reached Billings, I started getting phone calls. Today had not been a good day and we should go straight to the hospital before checking into our hotel. As we reached the Little Belt mountains and the wind farms, I began to cry. This was not a family vacation. We were going to be with my Dad as he lay dying. I tried to prepare myself for what we would see. Guilt crept in. I hadn't spent enough time with him. I'd been selfish when we spoke on the phone and his mood was foul. I'd held onto resentment too long. Fear crept in. Was he in pain? Was he afraid? Did he know that no matter what, I loved him? Had I told him enough?

What I remember about my Dad from my childhood is that he was awesome at playing. He loved sports and played baseball, basketball and was even known to have a pretty good golf swing. He was big and strong because he usually did physically demanding work but he was a softie. I can remember him crying several times. He loved the outdoors and was an avid fisherman. He didn't often hunt but he taught my brother and I to shoot on an old bolt action .22. Our summers were filled with baseball games, bicycle rides and camping trips in the most beautiful state in the union. He also loved history and the old west. Every cowboy, every gun slinger and every hideout, he could recount them all, despite never having been a very good student. As an adult, I know my Dad followed politics closely and was well versed in American History. Most people would've considered him extremely introverted but he loved to tell stories, anecdotes from his childhood and above all he loved to make people laugh. Dad kept his sense of humor to end, making a goofy face at Charlie upon meeting him for the first time. He was a combination of bad decisions and terrible luck but his intentions were always good. Often the people that he called friends, lived in the fringe of society and he too was not what anyone would consider main stream. In a world of technilogical advances and keeping up with the Jones, to say he lived modestly would be an understatement.When asked if there was anything of his I wanted to keep, it was hard to recount any 'thing' that stuck out in my mind, only places and things we did. I took my family to a few of the places I remembered from my summers there. I showed them the house my grandfather built, the place where my father had grown up. I sorted through what little he had, selecting to keep those things that reminded me of him most; a guide to fly tying, old photographs, a rock tumbler. I watched my aunt and grandfather as they scattered his ashes into the Missouri at one of his favorite fishing holes. Everything happened so fast, several times I wanted everything to simply stop. I wanted time to hold still. I wanted my Dad to open his eyes and talk with me for a few moments before he ran out of air or strength or time. Dad was 53 when he passed. It's cliche to say the good die young but in his case, it is the truth.

We're home now and I've had a few moments to reflect on the whirlwind of the last week. I don't think it is a coincidence that the same river that Dad's ashes are in, the river he was so connected to, also runs through the place where I now live. I feel as though I can go there and be with him, something that was hard to do when he was alive. Thinking about his life has made me more resolute about living mine more simply and with more purpose.

The Sweetest Gift- A barking dog?

So apparently, my little man was holding out on me. A few weeks ago I got him to 'laugh' a couple times by tickling his chin. By laugh I mean a Tyra Banksish smile with his eyes and faint 'ha ah'. Monday night however; we found out what his real laugh sounds like. We were sitting in the living room with a student who was visiting the university Micha works for. Her flight didn't leave for a few hours so we took her out to dinner. Before we left, we were hanging out and Lily the Destroyer was kind of bothering her. Micha, who had Charlie in his lap, got one of Lily's toys and she started barking. Charlie jumped at first and then, clear as day, laughed. Really laughed. It was the cutest thing! We were all so amazed that instead of telling Lily to shut up like we usually do, we encouraged her to bark away!

LIG

The Problem
Over the course of the last few weeks, I've been pretty, well, bitchy. I feel as though I am always either taking care of Charlie or doing housework. I'm certain that this is not an unusual feeling but I do have a partner and a twelve year old at home. I shouldn't have to do everything myself! I'd like a few minutes to do something for me! Needless to say there has been a lot of yelling, bickering and snapping going on at our house. And that's the problem. I'm yelling and getting mad, before I've asked for help. Now don't get me wrong, I think it is absurd that I would have to ask someone to take out the garbage or the recycling when it is obvious that it's full to the brim and overflowing, but if no one notices I should first say "Will someone please take that out?" instead of "Why the hell hasn't anyone taken that out? I know you know it's full. I just saw you smashing it down so you could stuff one more thing in there! Just take the trash out, geez!" But I'm tired and I tend to forgo all pleasantries when I'm tired and what should be a simple request turns into a shouted order and expression of my exasperation at the situation. So I'll admit it, part of the problem is me.

I'm sort of picky about how the house is kept. I hate to come home to a mess, so I feel like I have to have everything in order before I go to bed at night. This usually takes until 11 pm or midnight and since I have to get up with the baby at least once and then be up and starting my day around 4:30 am, I'm getting very little sleep during the week. And my pickiness extends through the whole house, even the garage. Ok, so maybe the other part of the problem is me too. I guess that means I have to be the solution.

The Solution
LIG; Let it go. I've resolved to just let a few things go. Mumbles room can be a little messy as long as it gets cleaned really well once a week, as with the basement. The garage, well as long as I can pull my car in, why should I care if it's a wreck? A couple of nights a week, I'll just let the dishes sit until the next day and if I don't do anything before I go to bed, LIG. It isn't as if the laundry or the dishes are going to go anywhere. And who's gonna judge me? Micha? Lily the Destroyer? I don't think so. Somethings, like washing diapers, I have to stay caught up on, but everything else can wait. In fact, I'm LIG of a little inventory project at work right now....

Another part of LIG, has to do with 'stuff'. I'm a bit of a shopaholic. I have a hard time passing up a good sale. So I end up buying a lot of things that I 'need' because I got a 'good deal'. I looked in my closet the other day and I didn't see clothes. I saw a hospital bill, our phone bill, a months worth of groceries and it bothered me. Micha said "I've never said anything to you. It makes you happy," but it doesn't. I had very little and I never shopped after I had Mumbles and I was happy. If I could live without all the 'stuff' back then, I could do it now. Money is tight and stressing us out so I'm giving up shopping, at least until we are back on track. I haven't laid out all the ground rules yet but it's happening, and it's tough. I took my ring to be sized at Zales the other day and walked by Banana Republic and they were having a clearance sale. I thought to myself "I'll just look..." but I never 'just look' so I kept walking.It's kind of liberating in a way; to know that I can restrain myself and that if everything were gone tomorrow, it would be ok. I've got the people and the memories to hang on to, rather than the crap that's filling my house. So, be sure and keep your eye out for our garage sale the first weekend in May ;)

Laughable

The sweetest sound I've ever heard, I heard Wednesday, February 9th. Charlie laughed. I was changing his diaper and blowing raspberries on his neck and clear as day he laughed, twice. No one else was around, it was just the two of us. It is one of those memories that will stick with me forever. I have them of Mumbles too, but they are just a little fuzzy now. What I wouldn't give to have had the video camera going right then!

Snownami 2011

I hate snow! Seriously, I'm so over winter. I'm desperately looking forward to throwing open all the windows, giving the house a good scrub down and getting rid of a lot of junk. Unfortunately, Old Man Winter has different ideas. We got somewhere around 9" of snow Tuesday evening. So for two whole days we were home bound. Being stuck at home taught me a couple of things (besides that I hate snow, which I already knew) 1) I hate my job and 2) a little elbow grease brings Mumbles and I together.

Point number one, when I was on maternity leave, I couldn't wait to get back to work. Now that I'm back at work, I'd really like to go back on maternity leave. The grass is always greener, right? I really liked being at home just doing the things that make a household run, hell I even helped prepare a meal or two. It's definitely more interesting than what I'm doing at work right now (nothing).

Point number two, even when Mumbles and I are seemingly at odds with one another (an occurrence more frequent now that she is a 'tween and therefore knows everything) a little hard work never fails to bring us together. Truth be told the work doesn't even have to be that hard although shoveling 6 ft of snow out of our driveway definitely was hard (ok that might be a slight exaggeration but seriously it was, like, waist deep).

At any rate, whenever she and I work together on anything; cleaning the house, a project at school, we seem to get along beautifully.