SAHM I Am

Today Audrey told me that her liver hurt.  She’s had a runny nose and sore throat since Sunday and we were already in to see the pediatrician once this week so I needed to know what she meant by “her liver hurts”.  She pointed to her stomach area and said “Right here, it hurts.”  I asked if she meant her stomach and she told me again it was her liver.  She knows about her liver from The Berenstain Bears (read last week’s post-I told you everything can be learned from them!).  In “Too Much Junk Food” Brother Bear, Sister Bear and Papa get a lesson in digestion from Dr. Grizzly. There is a drawing of your digestive system including your liver.  I told Audrey that if her liver wasn’t really working, she’d be turning yellow.  She pretty much dropped it after that.

It’s no wonder that my little three-year old is a bit of a hypochondriac.  She has seen more doctors and specialists than I even knew existed.  Let’s see if I can name them all off without forgetting anyone important. She has seen a Pediatrician, Physical Therapist, Dermatologist who specialized in rare birth marks, another Dermatologist to treat the myriad of rashes she’s had, an Opthamologist, an Otolaryngologist (ENT), Orthopedist, Rheumatologist, Immunologist and a Dentist.  To her they’re just “Dr. Swanson” (pediatrician), “Dr. Murphy” (ENT), “Dr. Olson” (rheumatologist) and “Dr. Rick” (dentist).  Because she sees a specialist for just about everything, anytime something hurts, she tells me she needs to see that specific doctor (ie the cheek doctor or the knuckle doctor).  I was really surprised when she didn’t ask for the “liver doctor” today. 

I also think she gets a little of this from me.  My first job out of college was at a hospital in Chicago.  I worked as a financial aid officer for an agency that helped “self-pay” patients.  I had to actually go into the hospital rooms of all said patients and fill out paper work with them.  This meant I was exposed to everything.  In the short 7 months that I worked for the agency, I nearly succumbed to no less than 20 serious illnesses.  I’m pretty sure I had at least one type of cancer, a flesh-eating virus, and cellulitis.  I was one patient away from having a myocardial infarction (heart attack) and it’s a miracle that I didn’t suffer from a cerebrovascular accident (stroke). I had to read these diagnoses on patient’s charts daily.  I was, obviously, never cut out to be a nurse or a doctor.  I should have been hired as a writer for a medical drama like “ER” because I know almost all the lingo.  I can sit there smugly as they confuse the symptoms of gastroenteritis and acute appendicitis. 

I wasn’t suffering from a textbook case of hypochondriasis (I have a degree in Psychology and I am allowed to use such a word).  I never actually went to a doctor to tell him or her about my symptoms.  No, I just suffered in silence like the martyr I was.  I still don’t like to visit hospitals as they bring me back to a time when I was simply miserable.  I can not believe I didn’t end up having a home-birth with Audrey!

The liver pain has ceased in Audrey and she’s now just complaining that her nose hurts from all the wiping she’s had to do.  I’ll wait patiently for the next onset of unexplainable symptoms and be quick to help her with a diagnosis. 

I’m suffering from a new form of W.B. (writer’s block).  It’s not that I have nothing to write about, it’s that I have too many ideas at once.  I’ll simply refer to this as TMI.  Ever since I started blogging, and not just on Milwaukeemoms.com, I’ve always got a hundred ideas running through my head at once.  Couple that with friends and family giving suggestions, it’s always idea overload.  I write something every day and a lot of the things I write, I don’t publish.  Sometimes I write just to get something off my chest and sometimes I write because I think the public might be interested in what I have to say, and then I reread what I just wrote and scratch the whole idea.

This week alone I wrote something called “Down a Sunny Dirt Road.”  This paid homage to The Berenstain Bears.  In a nutshell, I described how every single life lesson can be supported by a Berenstain Bears book.  Think about it (go ahead take just a minute); see what I mean?  I wrote something about being alone with Audrey for 3 days since my husband has (finally) returned to traveling for work.  I wrote about how our routine changes when “the man” is out of the house.  I decided not to publish it because I really didn’t want to announce to the world that I was, indeed, alone. 

I began to write a follow up to “Slumbertime Blues”.  We have slowly decreased Audrey’s nap time and we’ve have a really great week of going to sleep easily, and sleeping later and later in the morning.  I didn’t want to emphasize it too much because I’m a bit afraid of jinxing the situation.

I was going to follow up “I’m Raising a Sailor” with an update about how we haven’t heard “S.O.B” in this house in nearly 6 weeks.  Then out of the blue Audrey got frustrated with her new hat and said “This damn hat just isn’t working for me”.  One step forward, two steps back.

I wanted to write about my desire to become a published author.  I dream of writing and selling children’s books.  I’d love to have a syndicated column in a newspaper and get to write about whatever my heart desires.  I was going to explain that my mom told me all about “The Secret” and how I should start a vision board with my goal being “Published Author”.  My reaction to that was “I hate the woman that wrote ‘The Secret’.  Nothing like becoming a millionaire by writing about common sense.”  In reality, I’m just jealous of her, but still, I refuse to read, let alone, purchase that book.  So instead of writing about how much I wanted to pursue this writing career, I sat down with Audrey one night and told her that she can be whatever she wants to be when she grows up.  I told her to never stop dreaming and that if she works really hard, she’ll be very happy in whatever path she chooses.  I asked her what she thought she might want to be when she grows up and she said “Mickey Mouse.”  Well, my friend is Prince Charming at Disneyland so there is, indeed, a chance for her to be Mickey Mouse when she grows up.

So as you can see, I was really suffering from TMI this week and for the people that asked me when I was going to update my blog, here it is.  A lot of random musings about the last six days.  I hope to put some clear and less-confusing ideas down on paper this coming week. 

We had a lot going on this week and I thought I’d take a moment to highlight the “firsts”.

*Audrey got her first pet.  I had no intention on getting her a pet, but we had a bit of a run-in at the library (very very long story) and I felt really guilty as she was bawling her eyes out in the car.  She said she wanted something to cheer her up and I know that going to the pet store always makes her happy.  We always go to “just look”, but this time she actually asked for something.  First it was a bird; not at this time.  Then, of all things, she found a chinchilla.  She knows all about Chinchillas as one time Diego rescued one.  I told her they smelled too bad; who wants a pet that smells too bad?  Then I spotted the Betta Fish. $3.99 for a pet? Box her up, or bowl her up, whatever it is that you do for a Betta.  Audrey picked out a nice bowl, pretty rocks, and the standard plastic greenage for her new found friend.  She also decided to name her “Gracie”.  She’s red with a blue and purple tail and now lives peacefully in Audrey’s room.  So far, so good with the first pet.

*We went to A La Carte at the Zoo for the first time.  We’re new zoo members and decided to go out there this morning before it got too stifling hot.  We had a great time sampling different food (I can’t resist a good falafel) and beat the crowds as we were one of the first people there.  As we were leaving around 1:30 today, there was a line of cars all along Bluemound waiting to get in.  I guess having a kid who wakes up at the crack of dawn helps sometimes.

*I have my first case of “dish pan hands”.  Remember my designer dishwasher that I’ve griped about before?  It has decided to leak.  Well of course this isn’t an easy fix; the more expensive the item, the longer you have to wait to have it repaired.  We have to wait for a Certified Bosch Technician to come out to the house and his earliest appointment is this coming Thursday.  I’ve fought every urge not to kick this dang appliance.  It mocks me as I walk by “You wanna’ write about me beeping all the time? I’ll give you something to write about.”  I’d tell it to “shut up”, but we’re still trying to watch our mouths around here.

*Finally (and this isn’t something I’m all that proud of), my husband and I were scolded by our daughter for the first time.  Patrick and I were having an argument on Saturday; well really it was a fight.  We were arguing about trees (yes trees).  Some couples argue about money, we argue about foliage.  As arguments usually are, this fight was more than about just trees.  It was really about budgets, but because the trees didn’t fit into the budget, they were the main topic.  It’s not like Audrey has never heard us argue before and we’ve occasionally yelled in front of her too, but we’ve rarely ever both yelled as much as we did this time.  Approximately 5 minutes into the argument, Audrey came out into the hallway and said “Mommy, daddy, settle down.”  We didn’t settle down right away, but then she yelled as loud as she could “Settle down! Stop it now!”  And you know what, we did.  The fight didn’t necessarily end right there, but it did cause us to lower our voices and try to talk to each other.  Which leads me to another “first” for the week, for the first time, I realized my kid’s going to be just fine.  She’s learning to stand up for herself, assert her authority, and use that little voice of hers to tell the world when she feels like something just isn’t right.  My final “first” for the week, you go little girl, you go!

“Sometimes I wonder, what I’m a gonna’ do, but there ain’t no cure for the SLUMBERtime blues.”  So what if I changed the lyrics?  I sing this song on a nightly basis.  What happened to my little girl who used to tell me she was tired and after reading a few stories and singing a couple of songs, I’d leave her in her bed and she’d drift off into a peaceful sleep?  Really, if anyone finds her, please tell her I’m patiently awaiting her return.

Our bedtime now goes something like this:

·        Tell Audrey it’s 10 minutes before pajamas

·        Remind her that it’s now 5 minutes before pajamas

·        Carry her screaming and kicking upstairs to put on her pajamas

·        Make her go to the bathroom even though she has insisted that she has “already gone”

·        Pry her mouth open to brush her teeth

·        Take a painfully long time to pick out a story even though we already know we’ll end up reading “The Disney Story Treasury”

·        Turn out lights as she crawls up into bed

·        Kneel by the side of the bed and let her know that she’s safe and that there’s nothing to be scared of

·        Kiss her goodnight and leave the room

·        Two minutes later, “Audrey go back to your bed”

·        Five minutes later, “Audrey get back in your bed”

·        Ten minutes later, “I swear to God Audrey, it’s getting late and you need to go to sleep”

·        Go into her room and sit by her bed again, sing “Silent Night” and tell her she really needs to get to sleep

·        Around 5:45 AM get woken up by a kid who is still obviously exhausted

I know it’s probably time to think about giving up her naps, but with her waking up so early and going to bed so dang late, it’s almost impossible for her not to fall asleep during the day.  I need to add it doesn’t matter what time I put her to bed. If it’s before 8, she’s still awake in her room well past 9.  If it’s 8:30, same deal.  I need her to get one solid night of sleep and then I’ll give the “no nap” thing another try, but then I’m going to complain about the fact that I don’t have my 2 ½-3 hour break during the day.  And yes, I know that those naps are very long, but again, she’s a train wreck if I try waking her early.

Does the sleeping thing ever get easier? You long for the day when they’re newborns for them to just sleep through the night.  Then you might experience the “crying it out” phase like we did around 12 months.  You go from constant napping, to a morning and afternoon nap, to one nap and then eventually no naps at all.  All the while, you’re still dog tired from the fact that sleeping doesn’t seem to be a priority for many kids.

I’m often envious when I see toddlers conked out in their strollers or lying on a lounge chair at the pool, completely oblivious to the world around them.  This has never been nor will ever be my child.  She fights sleep like Harry Potter fought He Who Must Not Be Named.  I think she’s afraid she might miss something exciting like my husband and I having a conversation about landscape beds. 

Right now I’m enjoying a little chunk of silence and she snoozes away the afternoon and preparing myself for another epic battle around 8 tonight.  I’m considering petitioning the Olympic Committee for the “bedtime fight” event to be held at the next Summer Olympics.  I’ll have enough training by that time and I’ll be sure to do American proud by bringing home the gold.  

I know, I know, another blog that doesn’t have anything to do with being a Stay-At-Home-Mom, but I’ve got something on my mind and I thought maybe if I wrote something about it, it would finally give me some peace.  Do you ever have those times where you get fixated on something so trivial and yet, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t stop thinking about it?  I’m having one of those moments. 

This all started a little more than a week ago, after flipping through nearly 500 channels, I settled on “The Two Corey’s” on A&E.  For those of you unfamiliar with this “reality” show, it is based on the reemerging careers of Corey Feldman and Corey Haim who rose to stardom in the 80’s with movies such as The Lost Boys, Dream a Little Dream, and Licensed to Drive.  Corey Feldman just happens to be in one of my all-time favorite movies, Stand By Me, and Corey Haim was in another favorite, Lucas.  Both Corey’s hit a series of rough patches in their careers and both have battled drug and alcohol dependencies.  This series was supposed to be how they have come clean and reconciled their friendship, and are now hoping to gain back a little of the fame they experienced a couple of decades ago.

I’m hung up on this because I met Corey Haim in the Spring of 1996.  I was a freshman at Carthage College (prior to my transfer to UIC).  For whatever reason, a film crew decided that our campus would be a great place to film a horror movie.  The movie was called Fever Lake.  If there is anyone in the world that has seen this movie, you ought to win some sort of prize.  Corey Haim and Mario Lopez of Saved By the Bell fame, were the two stars of this picture, and both were seen around our campus quite often.  I wasn’t so impressed by Mario as I was never a Saved By the Bell fan, but I was intent on meeting Corey Haim.  I’d try to find out where they were filming and I had heard rumors that he liked to play pool at Woh’s Place, our on-campus “dry” bar.  I never saw him down there, but I knew eventually I’d have to meet him. 

The day finally came.  I was leaving our student center, the TWC, as it was known on campus.  It was during a regular class period, one that I was lucky enough not to have, so I was in the center getting my mail.  As I was leaving the building, there he was, entering through the same set of doors I was just about to open.  Not knowing exactly what to do, I held the door open for him.  He stopped me and said “Now don’t you think I should be the one opening the door for you darling?”  Did Corey Haim just call me “Darling”? Should I answer him? Tell him I loved “Lucas”? Come on Niki, say something, anything, don’t just stand there like the big dork you are.  “Um, yeah I guess you should.”  Brilliant Niki, just brilliant. 

Here’s where it gets good.  My eyes were darting back and forth wondering why in the heck there wasn’t a single person coming in or leaving the busiest building on campus. Why was no one witnessing my encounter with a celebrity? Corey then held the second door open for me and when I turned back to say something, he kissed me on the cheek. OH MY GOD Corey Haim kissed me!  Again, where in the heck was a witness? I stood there completely stunned and told him “Thank you” and then I walked out.  That was it. Was I thanking him for holding the door open or for kissing me?

Why more than 12 years later am I still thinking about that moment? Did I have something more to say to him?  Should I have turned back around and kissed him “movie style”? Maybe I could have made out with Corey Haim right there in the TWC; too bad I wasn’t that kind of girl. 

I think the real reason I’m thinking so much about this is because of just how horrible he looked on the new show.  I realize that he didn’t look so great back in 1996 either.  He reeked of cigarette smoke, had dark circles under his eyes, bad skin, and a really nasty gold-cross earring (I had a thing about guys with earrings back then).  He wasn’t cute, innocent Corey Haim from Lucas, he was in the midst of his drug addiction and it’s quite possible he was too stoned to realize what he had just said or done.  That pains me, because this was a young man of tremendous talent and potential who spent the middle part of his career making a low-budget horror flick on the campus of a small, private Liberal Arts college.  I’m sure he wasn’t thinking he’d end up there when he was making millions off The Lost Boys.

I watched the show with sadness and an aching sensation that I really do hope that he gets his life in order; that he gets clean once and for all, and that maybe one day, if we ever meet again, I’ll know the right things to say to him and will even give him a little kiss back.

August 3, 2008

Dearest Audi,

Happy 3^rd Birthday my little pixie! I can not believe my baby girl is three.  It seems like just yesterday that we finally heard the words “It’s a girl!”  Your daddy and I were almost certain we were having a little boy, but were overjoyed when we discovered our instinct was wrong.  It all seems like such a blur, but there you were, snuggled up in my arms looking straight at me with your big grey eyes.  I still feel that same warmth when you cozy up next to me when we’re reading or watching a movie together.

I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime in these last three years.  Every night before I go to sleep, I ask that you’ll grow to be happy, healthy and strong.  So far, I know that you’re a happy child, a healthy child despite your diagnosis, and your strength is the most amazing thing I have ever witnessed.   When you were just 4 months old, you had a biopsy done at Children’s Hospital.  It was to be the beginning of the roller coaster ride that has been your life.  Luckily, that diagnosis was something you’d eventually outgrow, but I always knew that something else was going on in that little body of yours.

When we received the news that you had Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, we felt a relief that scared us both.  It wasn’t the fact that we finally had some answers, but more so that all this time, we weren’t crazy.  Through all of the doctor’s visits, blood draws, x-rays, and various other diagnostic tests, you remained so strong. Brave doesn’t begin to describe it. 

I have absolutely adored watching you grow to be the little person you are today.  You’re funny, smart, caring, stubborn, bossy and sassy.  We have our moments when we both drive each other crazy, but at the same time, I can’t stand to be away from you for a long period of time. 

I love watching you form friendships and observing how you interact with other children. I’m learning when it’s time to step in, and when it’s time to see how you handle yourself.  I know that in just a few short weeks you’ll begin your next journey.  I have a feeling you’ll never want to leave your preschool and that makes me both a little sad and proud.  I hope that I’ve instilled a love of learning into you even at this early age. 

My wish for you, little pixie, is that you’ll enjoy every last minute of the next 364 days of being “3”.  I’m in no hurry for you to grow up any faster than you already have.  In the words of one of your favorite books, “I love you the world my bunny, you mean everything to me.”

Love, mom