SAHM I Am

Disclaimer: I am not a huge fan of Oprah Winfrey.  However, I could not miss yesterday’s episode.  The entire premise involved confessions from real moms about what it’s really like to be a mom.  Some were funny, some were a tad sad, and many times I thought “Yep, that was me too.”  The most common thread was that moms never knew how hard it would be, how many sacrifices we’d make, and just how much our life would change after having children.  Watching this, I decided to list my confessions. 

I think it’s fair to start from the beginning.  I never thought I’d have children.  It never seemed to be the right time, never thought we’d have enough money, didn’t really want to give up all of that quality “me” time.  But then, of course, I got pregnant with Audrey.  Suddenly I was forced into mommy mode.  There were days I loved it, and days I wondered what in the heck I was thinking bringing a child into this world. 

You know how some mom’s say “You’ll forget the pain right after you give birth, otherwise everyone would have just one child.”?  I never forgot the pain.  I guess that’s because I had an epidural that went hay-wire.  Those 1 in whatever chances? I was the “1”.  I went numb on one side of my body, had the epidural reinserted and then went numb waist up.  By the time they had tried a third time, I had a gaping hole in my spinal column, and because we were too close to push-time, I gave birth naturally. That was SO not in my birth plan!

Breastfeeding and I did not get along.  Audrey had trouble latching on which meant that the breastfeeding dominatrix (excuse me, I mean lactation consultant) was sent to “help” me.  I’ve never felt more violated.  I was sore, my head hurt like nothing else (good ol’ epidural headache), I was tired, and I was feeling guilty because I was not good at breastfeeding.  I tried for three weeks to get the hang of it, but when I went took Audrey to the Pediatrician when she was 22 days old (I will never forget that day), and had a small nervous break-down, she assured me that all would be just fine if we switched to formula.  I felt guilty about that incredible weight being lifted off my shoulder.

Audrey had colic, but I’m pretty sure I cried more than her during that period.  My husband had to come home from work on more than one occasion, and my mother had to come up to give me a mental health break frequently as well. 

I felt guilty wanting to get back to work just to give me some of my life back.  Then I felt guilty being at work and sending Audrey to daycare.  I felt guilty when she was sick and I had to take time off because I just knew they were angry at me for having a sick child.  Finally I couldn’t take it anymore (and neither could my employer) and I started to stay home when Audrey was 10 months.

The first two months were hell.  I didn’t know what to do with her.  I couldn’t figure out how the daycare could manage feedings, changings, art projects, and naps while I couldn’t even figure out how to clean the kitchen AND take a shower in one day. 

I rocked Audrey to sleep for her nap (and only her nap) until she was 3 years old.  It was our special time and really the only time she’d snuggle up with me and let me rock her.  It was a bit selfish too because I really wanted that 2-hour break that naps brought.  I’d hear parents tell me that they’d never rock their child to sleep and I’d think “well then you’re missing out.”  Judge me, and I'll judge right back  I let her have a pacifier to sleep with until just after her third birthday.  I’m still getting over it, and she acts as if the thing never existed.

I let her watch tv.  Sometimes the show is educational, sometimes it’s for entertainment purposes only, and sometimes, I just really need to get something done.  I buy as much as I can organic and natural (especially milk…can’t have all those growth hormones) thinking it will have a positive effect on her health.  But I’m pretty sure McDonald’s French Fries and her most coveted food of all, Lucky Charms, negate all that nutrition.

I let her quit dance when she cried the entire class even though I swore I wouldn’t raise a quitter.  I let her jump on the couches even though I used to get so angry when people wouldn’t even use a coaster.  She’s gone outside without a coat on because I decided to pick my battles and I figured she’d discover rather quickly that she was freezing.  She bumped her head once when we were at our neighbor’s and I said “Are you bleeding? No, than you’re fine. Go play.”  I got looks from another mommy from that one, but then I realized she probably wasn’t perfect either.

In my heart, I know that I am doing the best that I can.  So many of my confessions have had little, if any, impact on the overall well-being of my child.  She’s happy, smart, and incredibly respectful and polite.  Somewhere along the way, I must have done something right. 

In my pre-mommy days, I was a Special Event planner for two different national non-profits. In my positions, I planned culinary events, youth-focused fundraising events, a cycling event and most notably, many Walk events.  I remember speaking to individual walkers and team captains about the importance of fundraising for such events.  My advice was always to ask anyone and everyone.  People are very willing to donate when you’re passionate about the cause. 

I have done my fair share of donating and soliciting as well.  I donate whenever a friend or family member are participating in a fundraising event and for years I walked for JDRF and the American Diabetes Association as both my uncle and grandmother passed away due to complications from diabetes.  Yes, it was hard and sometimes uncomfortable to ask for donations, but I never fell short of my fundraising goals.

Now, however, the tables have turned.  When Audrey was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis (JRA) in March 2008, I turned to the Arthritis Foundation for support (www.arthritis.org).  We received invaluable information from them and were also informed that in April of that year they would be holding their annual AF Walk.  I signed up and formed a team immediately.  “Audrey’s Arsenal” had more than twenty team members and raised more than $2500 in our first year of fundraising and we vowed to be back in 2009.

The stakes are higher this year because Audrey was just named as the 2009 Waukesha County AF Walk Honoree. You will see her picture and bio in brochures, in press releases, and some time in the near future, she’ll make her television debut.  I was asked if I felt uncomfortable putting all this information about Audrey out there, but the answer is, not one bit.  This is our opportunity to educate people about the Arthritis Foundation and about JRA.    

My goal for this year is to at least double the amount we raised in 2008.  I have to follow my own advice and ask anyone and everyone to donate to our cause, after all, who is more passionate than a mother trying to find a cure for their child?  Donations to the AF Walk provide services, advocacy and, most importantly, research that may one day provide a cure for certain types of arthritis and maybe even prevent the disease from ever affecting another young child again. 

I believe everything happens for a reason.  Would I rather Audrey not have JRA? Silly question, of course, but the fact is, she does have it, and now it is up to us to decide how we’ll move forward.  Maybe the reason I spent those years working for non-profits has led me to be a better team captain and fundraiser.  Perhaps Audrey was chosen as the honoree to inform people that it doesn’t matter how old you are, you can still make a huge impact on people.  Whatever the reasons may be, I am very proud of our 2009 AF Walk honoree.  Now I just need to convince her that, yes, she is going on tv, but no, it’s not to sing on American Idol. 

http://www.arthritis.org/media/chapters/wis/PDF%20events%20or%20programs/Audrey%20bio%202009.pdf

For the past two to three weeks, Audrey has reminded us every day that she either wants a pet or a new baby brother (or sister, depending on her mood).  She’s fairly persistent in the pet area and would absolutely adore a cat, but I’ve told her numerous times that both of her parents are allergic to cats.  She then asks for a dog knowing that we’ve never mentioned allergies to dogs before. The truth is, I really want a dog too so I’ve started the process of adopting a rescued Golden Retriever. We have our home visit next Tuesday night.  I haven’t actually told her about this because I don’t need to be reminded of it on a consistent basis.  I mean what happens if we don’t get approved or if we have to wait a few months to get the “perfect” dog for our family?

The other part of the equation is the desire to be a big sibling.  She notices families a lot more lately and it really peaks her interest when there is more than one child.  She reminds me constantly that all of her classmates have brothers and sisters and even points them out as I pick her up.  “See mommy, there’s baby E and there’s baby F.  Aren’t A and C lucky to be big sisters?”  Yes, it tugs at my heart strings, but no, we haven’t changed our mind about having an only. 

She is very excited to meet her baby cousin, but he won’t be born for another three months.  She gets that babies come from mommy’s tummy as she told me the other day “I wish Liam would come out of Aunt Katie’s tummy now.  I really want to play with him.”  I mention this, because our conversation Tuesday started out normal and went quickly to bizarre.  Again she brought up the fact that she would like a cat and once again I told her “no.” “Then can we just order a baby brother?” she asked.

“Order a baby brother? Where would we order a baby brother?”

“We can order it from the pizza guy and then he can bring it right to our door.”

Holding back laughter, I explained that a pizza guy wouldn’t be able to bring a baby to our door and people don’t just “order” babies.  I heard a loud sigh from the backseat followed by “How ‘bout just a dog then?”

Last night I was recounting this story to my husband when Audrey chimed in with “We could order the baby from a catalogue if the pizza guy can’t bring us one. We can order a baby brother and we can name him Dongo.”  This time my husband reminded her that we have a very special family even without a baby brother.  Then she gave him her big ol’ grey eyes and pouty lip and said “Than can we please get a dog, daddy?”  He said that we were thinking of getting a dog and that it would be a big responsibility but it would probably make us all very happy.  With a giant smile, she whispered in response “How about three dogs, daddy? One for me, one for mommy and one for you then we can be really really REALLY happy.”  Don’t be surprised if you one day end up buying a used-car with two extended warranties from this child; she’s one heck of a saleswoman.

Monday evening I had a Parent-Teacher conference. I wasn't aware, but, over the last two months, the children have been given a series of assessments to see just how much they know and/or have learned since beginning 3K.

We went through colors, shapes, body parts, letters, and finally we came to numbers. Her teacher said that she'd been waiting for so long to tell me this story about Audrey and her numbers. From her tone, I couldn't tell if this was going to be good news or bad news. I was told that she was, indeed, able to identify all of her numbers and she counted up to 29. Well great, so what's the issue?

For each number, the children were shown a flashcard and had to tell the teacher what number they saw. The cards were not in order and for most children, the process took about 30 seconds to complete. For Audrey, it was almost 5 minutes. Why is that? Because for my kid, every number told a story in relation to her age.
"Oh that's a 5. That's what I'll be after I'm 4."
"1, that's what I was when I was really, really little."
"3, that's what I am now. I'm 3 1/2 really."
"9, that's what I'll be when I am SO big."
"6, that's what I'll be when I go to first grade."
"10, wow, that's a big number. That's all my fingers, I'll be really really big."

As it turns out, this isn't the only situation where a simple answer would have sufficed, but Audrey has to provide as much detail as possible. If you ask her how her night was, be prepared to get a full synopsis of the evening, including details of her dinner, the shows we watched, the pajamas she wore and the books we read before bed. If you ask her about her clothing, she'll provide you full details on the color, the feel, if there were any tags that had to be cut out, and why she chose the shoes she chose. I suppose she's preparing for the day when she walks the red carpet and the reporter asks "And who are you wearing this evening?"

I left the conference wiping away tears. Tears due to the fact that I was laughing too hard to control myself. Her teacher joined me in the laughter and said "We always know we'll get complete answers with Audrey, and we never know what exactly will come out of her mouth."

It was a wonderful feeling to know just how far she has come since the beginning of the school year when I had to leave her crying in the classroom. All the guilt I felt about whether I had done the right thing by keeping her in school has dissipated and I'm left with a warm feeling in my heart; a feeling of pride and a tinge of "What in the heck is that kid going to say next?"

I like a lot of things about my daughter. I like that she's self-confident ("I am so pretty mommy"), I like that she tells a good joke, I like that she tells it like it is, but one of the things I like most about her, is her imagination.

Last summer, for weeks on end, we had to call her Mickey Mouse. Starting in October or November, she was Penny (Penny from the movie Bolt). Recently our family is the gang from Scooby-Doo. She is Daphne, I am Velma (or Melma as she says), my husband is Shaggy, her stuffed dog Bolt, is Scooby-Doo and some imaginary dude is Fred. She enters a room and announces "Melma, Shaggy, we have a mystery on our hands." Usually we're looking for the Creeper or the Witchy Witch, and we often find the evil-doer in a closet. We then pull the mask off the bad guy and discover who was behind the mystery. It never gets old to her.

Last Thursday after I picked Audrey up from school, I had to make a few phone calls to my bank (the real evil-doers in this story). I told Audrey to go in her playroom and play nicely by herself for a little bit. When I came downstairs, this is what I found.

This configuration was originally a school bus that was taking all the kids to school. It then became the school itself and Audrey was the teacher. I asked why the teacher didn't sit in front of the class and she told me that all the kids weren't listening so they had to face the other way. Makes sense, I suppose. Later that day the chairs became the seats at a movie theater where they were all enjoying a screening of "Hotel For Dogs" along with bowls of pretend popcorn and chocolate shakes. In the evening it was the Polar Express that was taking them all to meet Santa.
The chairs seen in the picture go with the new white table she received as a Christmas gift. The table was set up in the playroom for her to work on puzzles, color, and set up some of her Barbie Dolls. I think the table has been used once to color, a couple times for puzzles, and never for Barbies. The table has been a fort, a place for the babies to have a tea party, and as a stepping stool to get on top of her play cottage.
Perhaps Danzae Peace said it best. "I think the world really boils down to two types of people-those who see shapes in cloud formations, and those who just see clouds." I think my dear Audrey sees shapes, many, many shapes, and I happen to like that about her.

We’re back in the throes of illness.  On January 1, as in the first day of a whole new year, Audrey went to bed as she normally does and within an hour was whimpering in her sleep. Two hours later she was awake, crying, and I could feel the heat from her little body.  A dose of Motrin and a move to mommy’s magic bed and she was a little better.  The next day we saw the pediatrician who immediately ordered a Strep Test that just as quickly came back as positive.  New year, new illness.  Hey, nothing like digging into that deductible right off the bat. 

That night after her dose of straight-up penicillin, she had a mostly restful night of sleep.  I should have known that things are never that easy with a kid who is battling two immuno-deficiencies.  The next day the cough started and for the first time, she lost her voice.  I thought it was odd to get a cough with Strep, and I was right.  She acquired a virus on top of the lovely bacterial infection.  So that night she took the penicillin and some more Motrin and coughed for nearly 90 minutes before falling asleep.  We were back at the pediatrician’s the next day where she was given cough medicine with codeine, or “magic syrup” as I lovingly refer to it. I hate to think of “drugging” my kid, but the one thing she needed was sleep and if a little codeine could do the trick, then I was all for it.  HA! Two hours of coughing Monday night led to a wake up time of 6:00 AM because the cough wouldn’t let her sleep.

Tuesday night, another dose of penicillin, another dose of the “magic syrup”, a teaspoon of honey, a rub down of Vick’s, and a humidifier with a tablespoon of vinegar in it (Thanks, mom for the tip).  I was absolutely sure the kid was going to sleep that night.  She fell asleep only after 10 minutes of coughing but by 8:30 was up again coughing to the point where she couldn’t catch her breath.  She was scared and refused to go back to her own bed. 

In to my bed she goes again.  I rubbed her back as my husband got his things together to go sleep in her room.  “We really need an extra bed”, he said.  “That air-mattress sucks.”  I told him I was sure this wasn’t going to last forever and that we’re all so tired and cranky that we should do whatever it takes to get some sleep.  As I was speaking, I felt myself drift off. 

I don’t know what it is about mommy’s bed, but it has always worked in calming Audrey.  Through colic, teething pains, stomach flu, and now Strep with a little bit of virus added in, my bed has been a source of healing.  I don’t know if it’s the coolness of our room, the loveliness of the plush pillow top, or just my presence, but last night we both slept better than we have in a week.  Who needs “magic syrup” when you have the magic of mommy’s bed?

In 364 more days, it will be Christmas all over again.  The weeks (maybe even months) of anticipation for Christmas 2008 have come and gone all too quickly.  The memory of a restless night of sleep has already started to fade.  The leftovers sit in the refrigerator waiting to be thrown out with next week’s garbage.  Oh, how I can’t wait to do it all again.

We all promised not to buy each other gifts (the adults that is) and yet, everyone had at least “a little something” under the tree.  Audrey is thrilled with her Barbie and the Diamond Castle gals and couldn’t wait to test out her Swim To Me Puppy in the bathtub.  She is ready to hit the driving range with her Papa this spring with her brand new golf clubs, real clubs, really nice clubs.  She has new movies to watch, a new outfit for Spring, warm jammies to cuddle in, and a kid-size keyboard and mouse for the ‘puter.  Her new table and chairs fit nicely into the playroom and the Polar Express train set was only a minor hit; she liked the “reindeer bell” that it came with much better.

We still have two more Christmas exchanges to get through and then it’s time to put the tree on the curb.  If you just blow on it, the needles fall off in piles; thank goodness for the new canister vacuum we received as a gift! 

We’ve hit the after-Christmas sales and picked up our cards and paper for next year as well as a couple more plastic storage bins to pack up the extra ornaments, lights, and garland we purchased this year.  The lights outside will stay on until New Year’s Day, and when we get a warm day after that, we’ll be taking them down as well. 

364 more days.  Prior to that we’ll hit Valentine’s Day (Kmart already has cards if you’re so inclined), St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Independence Day, Audrey’s 4^th Birthday, a start of a new school year, Halloween, and Thanksgiving.  Only 363 days until TBS’ annual 24-hours of A Christmas Story starts again.  Approximately 330 days until we start watching The Polar Express and Shrek the Halls on a near-daily basis again.  Even less days until two Milwaukee radio stations start their “All Christmas Music All the Time” promotion again. 

Yes, it won’t be too long until we start complaining about how Christmas comes earlier and earlier every year. It won’t be too long until we tell our children that Santa is watching so they better be good.   It won’t be too long until we figure out who will have the best Black Friday deals and if we should wait until AFTER Christmas to get the best bargains.  It won’t be too long before we almost forget what the season is supposed to be about and that when it’s over (too quickly as always) we’ll sit with a bit of sadness waiting for 364 more days to celebrate all over again.

Audrey has a new dog.  He may not be real to me and Patrick, but he is very real to her.  His name is Bolt, as in THE Bolt, from the movie.  I had taken Audrey to see Bolt two weeks ago and she was slightly afraid of the beginning and ending of the movie; she actually cried during one part.  However, she has talked about Bolt and Penny ever since.

We picked Bolt up from Toys R Us yesterday in the “Plush” section of the store. When did stuffed animals become “Plush Figures”?   Do our toys need to be p.c. too? I digress.  I wasn’t planning on buying her anything at the store since Christmas is just around the corner, but I did need her to be distracted as I picked up a present for her.  Luckily, she was completely oblivious to the fact that there was a Polar Express train set discreetly covered by my coat in the cart.

Bolt tagged along with us to Target, our last stop of Monday errands.  We hadn’t eaten lunch so we decided to get hot dogs at the food counter.  I have to add, Audrey loves the hot dogs at Target. I have no idea why, but if you ask her where she wants to go for lunch, she’ll answer “Let’s go to Target and get hot dogs.”  So there we are, me, Audrey and Bolt sitting at the table with our hot dogs and grape juice.  Suddenly, Audrey gets up out of her chair and walks back up to the food counter.  “Audrey, what are you doing?” I asked.  “I’m getting Bolt his food” she answered.  I encouraged her to sit back down, but she waited for the employee to come back to the register.  I heard her ask “Can I have some dog food for Bolt please?”  The gal looked utterly confused.  I explained that Audrey was asking for some dog food for Bolt and then picked up the “Plush Figure” and showed her what I was talking about.  “Oh, okay” she said and the proceeded to hand Audrey a paper plate with nothing on it.  Audrey sat back down and placed Bolt on the plate and said “Here you go Bolt, eat up.” 

So now the three of us were enjoying our lunch.  I was trying hard to contain my giggles and was so thankful for the Target employee for playing along with a 3-year old’s imagination.  I know there would be some people who would have just written her off, but she was very sweet about it.  When it was time to clean up our plates, Audrey picked up Bolt’s plate and placed it in the garbage can.  She then came back over and wiped his face and told him he was a good boy for eating all his lunch.  Funny, I think I did the same thing to her.

Since our return from Target, Bolt and Audrey have played house, doctor, school and Candy Land together.  He sat by the tub as she took a bath, curled up next to her as she watched “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, and became the first “Plush Figure” to sleep next to her.  He rode with her on the way to school this morning, and is still sitting in her car seat waiting to go pick her up.  Bolt has blended in nicely with our family, and lucky me, no house-training was necessary.

About two months ago I was selling baby items on Craig’s List.  My husband and I had decided that we were going to be parents of an only child and thought we could free up some space in our garage and basement by getting rid of some of the bulkier baby items.  As things so often go, our plans came to a halt when my brother called to tell me that he and his fiancé were expecting their first child.  I was a bit shocked at first.  He is, after all, my baby brother and I had expected them to get married next year and not have a baby next year.  That’s just me, being the big sister that I am.  But now that I’m past that, I am so excited to be the best aunt ever and to spoil my niece or nephew!  I started to make a list of all the things they would need to register for (meaning the things I had already sold), the things they didn’t need, and the items that are just worthless (wipes warmer???).  Then I started to think of all the advice that was given to me when I was pregnant and when I first brought Audrey home.  Some of it was really good; things I still think about today.  “Tell your children you love them every day, and kiss them and hug them whenever you feel like it.”  “When in doubt, call the nurse.”  Things like that have stuck with me.  Since I’ve been giving advice to my baby brother since he was, well, really a baby, now is a great time to give him my “best advice.”

For your newborn:

*Trust your gut, listen to your heart.

*If you want to hold your baby all day, then do it.  I hated when people hinted that I was holding Audrey too much.  You can NOT spoil a newborn.

*For Katie, don’t beat yourself up over breastfeeding. It works for some, but not all.  I would have saved myself a lot of tears and pain if I would have believed that myself.

*Let your baby fall asleep on your chest.  It’s the best feeling in the world and I wish to this day that Audrey would still do that.  I mean, not her whole body, but her head lying on my chest would be great right about now.

*Sleep when your baby sleeps.  Whoever was the first to say this was a genius.

*When in doubt, call the nurse

*When people ask if they can help, say “yes”.  When the baby starts to get older, you’re not going to get as many offers, so take full advantage of this honeymoon period.

*Read to them every day.

For your infant:

*Trust your gut, listen to your heart

*Hold your baby whenever you want, but you’ll probably start wanting breaks here and there, and that’s OKAY!

*There are times when it seems like the day will never end, the crying will never stop, and the demands will never be met. When you feel like you’re at the end of your rope, it will magically lengthen for you.

*If you ever get beyond frustrated and just want to scream or cry, put the baby in the crib, walk away, and cry.  Babies sense when their parents are upset, so even if it’s just for a minute, give yourself a time-out.

*Read to them every day.

For your toddler:

*Trust your gut, listen to your heart.

*Kiss them, hug them, hold them and also give them their own “baby space” to let them explore.

*Toddler communication is difficult. A lot of pointing, crying, and grunting, but I promise you’ll know what they’re “talking” about before anyone else does.

*Read to them every day.

For your preschooler:

*Trust your gut, listen to your heart.

*Kiss them, hug them, hold them.  I can guarantee there isn’t a person who ends up on a therapist’s couch because their parents loved them too much.

*Read to them every day.

I have so many more things that come to mind; television isn’t going to ruin them.  Fruit juice once in awhile isn’t going to break them, and a lollipop is the cure-all for just about everything.  Try your best not to compare your child to anyone else’s.  It’s very hard when you hear “Billy is already walking” and “Tommy rode a two-wheeler before he turned three”.  Ask your pediatrician if your child is on track and stick to that.  I found myself constantly comparing Audrey to other kids, and then I realized that Audrey is Audrey and I wouldn’t want her any other way.

I am no expert in raising a child.  I won’t give advice on meal planning, potty training, or discipline, because I think every child and every family is so different.  What has worked for me, may not necessarily work for anyone else.  Read as many books as you want about child rearing, but the best expert will be you.  Know that every parent has had at least one moment where they thought “I can’t do this anymore”.  Most won’t admit it, but it’s the truth.  It doesn’t mean you don’t love your child, in fact, it’s the opposite.  You love them so much that sometimes you wonder if you’re doing the right thing; doing enough.  I can guarantee you that as long as you trust your gut, listen to your heart, and love them with all your heart, you’re doing the right thing. 

To my baby brother, Alex, and to the lovely Miss Katie, I wish you a happy and healthy baby.  I promise to try and keep my mouth shut unless asked for specific advice.  Besides, you’ve got enough here to get you started on your incredible journey.

Audrey has become quite the little helper lately, and not just in the 3-year old “Let me do it” sense.  She really has wanted to have some responsibility around this place, and I, quite frankly, couldn’t agree more.

I know this all stems from preschool and what her class calls “helping hands”.  Every day she goes, children are assigned different tasks to help out in the classroom.  Not every child gets a job every day, but when they do, they are overjoyed.  Some of their “helping hands” positions include Line Leader (self-explanatory), Milk Helper (pass out milk and napkins during snack), Snack Helper, and Zebee feeder (the pet bird).  I know there are others, but the ones I mentioned are the highest sought after positions in the class.  So far, Audrey likes being the milk helper the best. 

At home, her newest job is setting the table.  There are a couple of things about setting the table that I must admit. One, we never set the table in this house.  I usually dole out dinner on the counter and then bring it to the table.  We’re responsible for our own drinks, so I don’t set out glasses either.  Two, this idea was Audrey’s and Audrey’s alone.  So now every night we have to have a formal setting at dinner, complete with Kleenex.  We have napkins that go on our chairs and the Kleenex sets atop our plates.  Do you think we’ve been suffering from runny noses enough around here? 

Setting the table is a rather tedious process even for just three people.  You see, Audrey doesn’t take more than one item to the table at a time.  Just imagine the number of trips she has to make to bring plates, forks or spoons (I won’t let her carry the knives yet), napkins, cups, and yes, Kleenex. 

Tonight she asked for milk at dinner so I poured her little cup and she walked it over to her setting.  Then she asked if she could carry the bottles to the table.  “What bottles?” I asked her.  “The bottles you and daddy drink from” she replied.  We had beer with dinner on Tuesday night.  I told her we wouldn’t be drinking from bottles tonight and then gave her two glasses of water to set next to our place settings.  She was ecstatic to be carrying GLASSES and not just a plastic cup.

I never thought I’d get so much pleasure out of watching my little one bust her tail, but I think it’s just great.  She’s obviously picking up on things at school, she’s learning about responsibility at home, and she takes great pride in her work.  Plus, I know when she’s busy being mommy’s helper, she’s not in the other room making a mess (which she calls decorating). She sets a mean table (complete with Kleenex), but she hasn’t quite mastered the art of picking up after herself. 

I don’t know many people who love November as much as I do. Sure some like it because it means breaking out the musty sweaters, lighting the first fire in the fireplace, the beginning of the Holiday season, etc. But for me, November is about so much more; it’s all about my birthday. Some folks celebrate just their birth day, some maybe take a weekend or stretch out the week, but I have a birthday month. Am I slightly narcissistic? Yes, but follow me here. When is it ever a bad thing to celebrate being born?

I don’t have elaborate parties every year or expect lavish gifts. I just want people to acknowledge that special day and so I give them plenty of fair warning by dropping hints that November 17 is just a couple of weeks away.

Last year I turned 30 and it was, by far, the coolest birthday I have ever experienced. My husband, with the assistance of one of my best friends, went all out to deliver the most amazing November birthday yet. My birthday was on a Saturday last year and happened to fall on the day of the Milwaukee Holiday parade. When I woke up that morning I was handed a clue a la “The Amazing Race”. I had to shower and shave my legs (you’ll find out why later) and get dressed warmly. I was to look up the address on my clue to figure out where we were going, which ended up being the parade. Prior to arriving at the parade I had a clue to stop at Stone Creek Coffee where my brother and his fiancé ended up surprising me. I was then to look for the man in the yellow hat. That man turned out to be my dad. He and my mom had reserved a prime spot for us at the parade. Mid-way through the parade I received another clue to leave with Jessica and head to the next address. We spent the rest of the afternoon receiving spa treatments at Spa Roma (hence the shaved legs). At the end of our spa day, I was handed a clue that led me to the Hilton. There I checked into a room and to my surprise, my family, including Audrey were there. They had spent the day at the water park and waited for my arrival. I had just a few moments to relax before I was told to get ready for my next stop. My husband had brought me a great “going out” outfit, and was shocked to know that he even brought me a matching coat. Jess and I then ended up at Blu where the cocktail waitress handed me my final clue. On the back of each clue there was a letter and I needed to unscramble the letters to lead me to my final destination: Rock Bottom. There, in the basement, were 30 of my friends and family waiting to give me my final SURPRISE. Patrick had special drinks made in my honor, commemorative pint glasses for every guest, and then had people explain to me that he had been planning that event for more than 6 months. I knew there were a few reasons I married this guy!

In the history of all birthdays, I don’t know that anything will top that, and to be honest, I don’t need that to be topped. My 30th gave me enough memories to continue on for a very long time, but this doesn’t mean that I give every one a free pass to forget me this November!

Last night marked a very important night in our household.  The Binky Fairy finally came and took all of Audrey’s binkies away.  Yes, at 3 years and 3 months, she was still using her binky to fall asleep at night.  It was my dirty little secret, one that parents often don’t want to discuss because there always seems to be such a stigma attached to pacifier use.  However, I will justify everything by stating two things (1) Her dentist was perfectly fine with her pacifier use as long as she wasn’t using it throughout the day AND if she gave it up somewhere around her 3^rd birthday and (2) She really did only use it at night. 

About one month ago we started to discuss the Binky Fairy and how one night Audrey would have to leave all of her binkies under her pillow and the fairy would come and take them away and give them to babies who needed them.  In turn, the Binky Fairy would leave Audrey a very special gift.  I had planned on taking the binky away on Tuesday because that’s the day Shrek the Halls comes out on DVD and I thought it would be a great gift.  Audrey, as it always seems, had other plans.  She discussed the Binky Fairy with Nana yesterday as they spent the entire day together while mommy and daddy spent the day shopping.  “Nana put my binky under the pillow for tonight” she told us when we got home.  Fabulous, but there was just one issue, I had no Binky Fairy gift.  So after putting Audrey to bed last night with her 3 beloved binkies were tucked under her pillow, I ran out to K-Mart to get a gift.

I was fully prepared for the night to be horrible. I expected a battle for her to fall asleep and a battle to stay asleep, but not a darn thing happened.  It’s like the past 3 years of binky usage never existed.  This morning when she woke up, I heard her say “They’re all gone. My binkies are all gone.”  She came out of her room and looked very sad, but only because she couldn’t find the promised gift.  I walked her back in her room and pointed out the gift on her chair.  “That’s a weird sock mommy.”  It was a Christmas stocking, a Mickey and Minnie stocking to be exact.  Inside the stocking I had put Christmas ornaments that she can paint, a chocolate lollipop (out of her Halloween bag) and a card from the Binky Fairy herself. She was so proud of herself, and her daddy and I were so incredibly proud (and also a bit relieved) of what a big girl she is now.

I must admit that I’m probably a little bit sadder than I thought I would be over this.  I mean, I really wanted to get rid of the binkies, and at the same time, they were the last “baby” things that Audrey had.  Today I put them in her bin along with all the other important baby mementos, closed the lid, and started a new chapter in the life of Audrey.

On our way to preschool today, Audrey told me I was the best mommy in the whole world. Hot dang! If that isn’t a good way to start your day, I don’t know what is!  The thing of it is, I haven’t felt like the best mommy lately, but it really hasn’t been my fault.  I’ve been sick, really sick.  It’s going on almost 3 weeks and I’m still sick.  What started as just a little cough, which I thought was due to the drastic change in weather we had a few weeks back, has progressed into multiple infections. 

Last week I went to Urgent Care and was told that I had a sinus infection and a double ear infection.  The sinus infection I totally understand because I get them all the time, but the ear infection was really weird.  So I get put on antibiotics for 10 days and a decongestant and usually after a couple of days on antibiotics I feel better, but not this time.  No, this time I got worse.  I told my husband that it felt like my chest was rattling when I took a breath and my cough kept getting worse.  I went back to the doctor on Saturday and was told that I now had a bronchial infection and that I sounded completely restricted when I breathed.  After a breathing treatment and a prescription for a new antibiotic and inhaler, I was sent home and told to get some rest. HA! How could I possibly rest when I had a birthday party to attend to, trick-or-treating (we had ours on Saturday night), and a house to clean since we’d be having guests on Sunday.  Oh and not to mention the fact that my husband decided to paint our kitchen, mud room, pantry and powder room over the weekend so I was left to attend to Audrey as well.  Yep, the best mommy in the whole world couldn’t even muster the strength to play Candy Land. 

I only have one more dose left of this second antibiotic and I am thankfully starting to feel a little better.  I still hack like I’ve been smoking for 20 years and I still have no sense of taste, but I do feel like I’m on the mend. My loss of my sense of taste was confirmed by my husband last night when he asked if I had put any seasoning in my always savory pasta sauce.  To me, everything tastes the same.  The best mommy in the world made Audrey’s favorite dinner and she didn’t touch it because she said it was yucky.  Oh well, I’m sure her meal of a banana and string cheese was just fine.

I don’t exactly know what prompted Audrey to make such a grand statement, but I’m determined more than ever to get back to being healthy.  Then she’ll see just how great I really am.

The dictionary defines the word “Miracle” as “an effect or event manifesting or considered as a work of God.”  To my friends, Tarisa and Jeff, the definition is one word “William”.  Today is Will’s first birthday; his first birthday should have been January 7, 2009!

I clearly remember when Tarisa told me she was having a baby.  We were at Jose’s Blue Sombrero and after I spent 30 or so minutes rambling on about nothing, Tarisa told me that she “had ice cream in the freezer”.  That was a phrase that was used when we both worked at the MS Society.  Whenever someone was expecting, they brought ice cream in for the office and the receptionist would announce “There’s ice cream in the freezer.”  I was so excited for her and Jeff.  If ever someone wanted to be a mom, it was her. 

A couple months went by and then came the 19-week ultrasound.  They found out they were having a boy and that there may be some complications.  Tarisa had an incompetent cervix.  At 20 weeks her water broke and she was sent to the hospital to see if anything could be done to stop the progression of labor.  At 21 weeks, it sealed itself.  Tarisa was sent home to be on bed rest.  For 7 weeks she hung out on the couch as friends and relatives dropped by with gossip magazines, books, and pages for her to scrapbook.  I paid her two visits during this time and expected to make many more. Then came the day I called and got no answer.  The day I called, she was in labor with Will.

The birthday invitation for Will’s first birthday states “You can’t tell a hero by his size.”  This, I know, is true.  So to William Miller, Happy Birthday Mr. Miracle! Your friends and family can’t wait to see what you do next!

Audrey seems to be adjusting more and more to school.  I, on the other hand, am a little sick of it already.  Yes, I know that sounds horrible, but I’m peeved about a few things.

One, my checkbook seems to be on constant rotation.  Field trips, school pics, Scholastic Books, teacher’s wish lists, fundraisers, oh and the pricey tuition that comes with a private school.  I’m not complaining about the tuition because I knew what it was when I enrolled Audrey in the school, it just never seems to end and this is only PRESCHOOL!!!! 

Two, we received a nice little notice in our mailboxes that there were 16 confirmed cases of head lice within the elementary school (the preschool is located in a K-8 school).  Again, this happens everywhere, but I was totally not prepared to be looking through my 3-year old’s hair to look for lice.  This is a girl who whimpers and hides under the bed when I tell her it’s time to get her hair brushed.  Yes, looking for lice was pleasant.  What’s best is that when I told my husband about the situation, he said (in all seriousness) “Yuck. Doesn’t that stay with them forever?”  What the heck does he think lice is, and what’s more, are you flippin’ kidding me?  Turns out, we’re all lice free so as long as no one else in the class has it, we should be clear for now.

Three, I haven’t seen Audrey’s non-snotty nose since September, 16. I know that’s the date because she started school the week prior to that and it was the last time I saw her not wiping her nose on her shirt or worse, her arm.  Again, I know that kids are going to get the sniffles from school; fact of life.  HOWEVER, when your child has an autoimmune system disorder like mine does, it just sucks.  There’s not much more to it, and I’m not going to keep her in a bubble, it just sucks.  Did I mention the last time she had an on-going virus, that’s when her JRA reared its ugly head?  Oh, and did I also mention that she hasn’t been sleeping again and she’s complaining that her knee hurts.  The left knee is where the arthritis started and of course that’s the one she says is bothering her. You see, it kind of sucks.

I need to look on the bright side of things.  She doesn’t cry when I drop her off anymore (knocking on wood).  She has learned the days of the week and songs that I don’t know the words to. She enjoys having jobs at home (from helping hands), has taken her first field trip (the one I paid for) and got to see her first live musical and oh how momma loves a musical.  She’s making new friends and even has a play date for next week.  Most importantly, she’s getting to be a normal preschooler whether her mommy likes it or not.  I will never take that away from her, but I’m always going to be ready with a tissue and some hand sanitizer. 

Time/Date/Place

10:30 AM/Friday, October 3, 2008/Somewhere between Oconomowoc and Waukesha

Plaintiff

Miss Audrey N. Cairns

Defendant

Neighbor girl

Mediator

Niki A. Cairns

Charges

Miss Audrey N. Cairns spins a good yarn and inadvertently has accused her neighbor of not only inflicting physical pain but has somehow managed to have her “feelings hurt”

Opening Arguments

On our way to another day of running errands, I (mediator) heard a slight whimper from the back seat. I asked the Plaintiff what was wrong and she told me that her thumb was really hurting.  I asked what happened and she told me her finger was pinched.  I asked how the finger had become pinched.  She told me that her neighbor (6 year old female) had pinched her and when the Plaintiff started to cry the neighbor told her to stop crying and in turn that hurt the Plaintiff’s feelings.

Facts

*The Mediator knows exactly how the pinch occurred.  It was pinched in a DVD case when the Plaintiff was putting away a Charlie Brown movie. 

*The Plaintiff had not played with the neighbor that morning as said neighbor was at school

*If the neighbor had been the one who pinched the Plaintiff and made her cry, it is with great certainty that she would have not stated to “Stop crying”

*The Plaintiff is a bit of a drama queen and that is why she stated that her feelings were hurt

Closing Arguments

Ladies and gentleman of the jury, I implore you to find the defendant, Neighbor girl, not guilty.  I also ask that you explain to the Plaintiff that no one likes a tattle tale, especially a tattle tale who falsely accuses an innocent child of physical and emotional harm. 

The other day when Audrey was pretending to be a puppy, I said something so ridiculous that I had to stop what I was doing, sit down, and reflect for a moment.  I had gone on to the back patio to light the grill and Audrey was still inside.  For some reason I closed the sliding glass door and not just the screen door.  When I looked up, she was licking the glass door.  “Stop licking the dang door Audrey.”  “But I’m a puppy, mommy.”  “I don’t care if you’re a puppy, licking doors is disgusting.” 

It was a light bulb moment, one in which I realized I have been saying such weird things and they’re mostly at the expense of trying to keep Audrey safe and relatively germ free.  Yesterday in the tub I told her to stop eating the bubbles and then to stop licking the bathtub.  I have no idea why she licks things.  She takes her imagination one step further than I would like.  It’s fine to pretend to be an animal but there’s no way she’s going to continue to lick my face, eat food from a bowl like a dog, or lick her arms and hands like a cat does to clean itself.  I have to draw a line somewhere.

I’ve had to tell her to not pick her nose in public and have offered her a tissue instead.  I’ve had to tell her to stop discussing the size of mommy’s breasts and the fact that her dad has nipples.  I’ve said on numerous occasions “little girls don’t spit”.  We’ve had a discussion pertaining to passing gas and the fact that yes, everybody does it, but no, not everyone thinks it’s funny.

Once, when she was much smaller, I had to move her hand away from the neighbor’s dog’s rectal area.  “Don’t stick your finger in there,” I warned her.  She was running around the house one day wearing nothing but shorts.  I told her to put a shirt on but she reminded me that Mickey Mouse doesn’t wear a shirt and since she’s a method actor, she couldn’t possibly be bothered by an additional piece of clothing.    

One day I’ll look back on all of this and laugh.  Until then, I’ll continue to say “keep you your hands out of your pants”, “get that thing out of your ear”, and “Please for the Love of God, stop licking your baby doll. You’re not a mother deer cleaning a baby deer.”  Note to self, Bambi is no longer allowed to be read in this house.

The past two weeks have been rough.  The start of the school year was pretty uneventful and then I started to notice that Audrey was becoming more clingy, more anxious, more prone to crying outbursts.  It had to be the start of school, I thought.  On the 4^th day of school, last Thursday, I went to drop her off and she wouldn’t let go of my leg. I haven’t seen her cry like that in a very long time.  The teacher’s assistant assured me it would be fine and that I should just give Audrey a kiss and leave.  I drove home, very on edge. My two peaceful hours alone were anything but.  I was waiting for the phone to ring saying that I should pick Audrey up.  I debated whether I should call the teacher and ask how she was, but instead I took a shower and then sat in my living room until it was time to go get her from school.  All the while I could feel my heart slowly starting to break.

I was informed that it took her a good 5 minutes before she calmed down and then wasn’t in the best of moods the rest of the day.  She refused to paint with the other kids and started crying the moment she saw me at pick up.  My heart broke some more, but I was trying to appear strong.

Over the weekend my husband and I began to notice that she was becoming even more anxious when we went to a public place.  When we went to the store, if we all weren’t in the same aisle together, Audrey freaked out.  We went apple picking and she spent most of the time crying and wondering if we were going to leave or lose her.  Again, little pieces of my heart were breaking off.

I attempted to take her to dance class last night and we didn’t even make into the room.  She turned purple she was crying so hard.  Needless to say, I was dreading drop off today for school.  My husband and I had a talk with her at dinner about her being scared and crying and she told us that “I just cry a lot. I’m sad”. Honestly, can my heart break any more?

Drop off this morning went fine.  There was some sadness when I left, but she didn’t cry.  I know she was trying so hard not to, but I could still see that little bottom lip quiver.

This has been a summer of transition and I know it’s all taking a toll on her at once.  The move to our new house may have happened nearly 4 months ago, but she still is not completely happy here.  She tells us she wants her old house back and wants the movers to come and get her things again.  We transitioned to no nap and only resort to letting her sleep when she’s not feeling great or has gotten up to early.  I signed her up for a dance class where the parents have to leave the room, and then of course, there’s preschool.  Many 3-year olds have no trouble transitioning, but not all.  I naively thought Audrey would be the one who would jump right in and relish every second of her new found freedom. 

I try to be positive and talk myself out of feeling so guilty about all of this.  There are kids in her class her are almost an entire year older than her so I can’t compare her to them, and really, I shouldn’t try to compare her to anyone else.  But that’s what we parents do, isn’t it? 

All I want is for her to feel safe and be happy again. I hope that this is just a passing phase, and a quick passing phase, because I think if my heart breaks any more, I’m going to be the one crying at drop off.

*Just an update from this morning. When I picked her up, she was in very good spirits and told me she had a happy day and that she did not cry at all.  I know this is going to be a day-to-day thing, but at least the immense guilty feeling is slowly lifting.

Audrey and I ventured to Illinois today to spend the day with Nana (my mom) and Papa (my dad).  Papa’s birthday was today and my Oma and Opa (my grandparents) were having dinner for him.  For all non-German speaking folks, Oma and Opa are German for Grandma and Grandpa. My husband is out of town on business so I made the lovely 1 hr 20 min drive by myself.  It’s not that it’s a long drive, but it’s a drive that you really have to pay attention to.  Most of the route is through the Kettle Moraine forest, and to me, that means deer.  I am petrified of hitting a deer so I apologize to the driver’s behind me; I typically don’t drive 5 miles UNDER the speed limit.

Today was a fine family affair.  My brother, Alex, was sent home from nursing clinicals today because he wasn’t feeling well at the hospital.  Somewhere in that sentence, I detect irony.  So while Audrey played tea party and gave Nana’s stuffed animals a ride on the rocking horse, Alex, my mom, and I discussed politics.  We’re a very passionate family and even though we agree on almost everything political, we still feel the need to raise our voices when discussing the issues.  Audrey must think we’re nuts.  My mom is becoming the ultimate political guru.  Got a question about a candidate or this year’s election in general? Ask my mom, I guarantee a completely un-bias answer (total sarcasm intended).  We also talked baseball as we so often hope to do around this time of year.  When the Cubs have an excellent chance at the playoffs, we are the most die-hard fans you’ll ever meet.  When they’re not having a great year, well, there’s always next. 

A day at Nana and Papa’s, by definition, means a lot of spoiling will be involved.  Spoiling in the “Another cupcake? Okay, but only if you just eat the frosting” sense. My poor Oma slaved over a hot stove all day to make two roasts, her famous German potato dumplings, and countless other sides, only to have her dinner completely ignored by her great-granddaughter.  I know Oma really only cares about seeing Audrey and isn’t the least bit offended by the lack of consumption, but it would have been nice for Audrey to at least TRY the dumpling she helped make.

Going to Nana and Papa’s also means that Audrey is sure to learn something new.  Today it was a song involving the word “diarrhea”.  I won’t go in to any further detail only that I hope and pray that she forgets all the words by the time she goes back to school in the morning.  At least I’ll have a good defense if her teacher pulls me aside at the end of the day.  “I didn’t teach her that.  It was her Nana.” 

Overall, it was a great day.  I love spending time with my family and I know that Audrey does too.  She’s so lucky to have her great-grandparents (and one additional great-grandfather from my side and a great-grandmother from my husband’s side) as part of her life.  She is loved and adored and spoiled, and that’s just the way it should be.

Last night was a pretty slow night for tv so my husband and I decided to tune in to Fashion Rocks.  Kohl’s was one of the major sponsors of the event, and being the company man that my hubby is, we thought we’d help the ratings by suffering through the two hours.  While watching Fashion Rocks, I learned two things.  I am getting old and I am quite out of touch.

Let’s break down the show into the two titular words “FASHION” and “ROCKS”.  I am not fashionable.  I never have been and it’s not something I have ever desired to be.  I am quite comfortable in basic color tees and sweaters and jeans.  In the summer I have 5 different pairs of khaki capris.  I am as boring as it comes.  For my 30^th birthday I wore a silky black shirt that I lovingly named the “booby” shirt because I felt that’s what people would stare at all night when I wore it.  That was my one slip into the high fashion world and I was totally uncomfortable.  I am also not fashionable, because fashion really isn’t made for people like me. I’m short and stout.  The stout thing I could work on, but even when I was much thinner, clothes just never looked right on me.  I am only 5’ tall and even petite length pants are too long.  I put on a pair of sweatpants the other night and I could pull them up to my neck and bottoms rested on my ankles.  I buy some brands of capri pants that can be pulled off as regular length pants.  I don’t need to go on “What Not to Wear” because I do follow what’s in style and I shop at fairly trendy stores, I just tend to go for the same look every time.  You’d think one person could only have so many black short-sleeved tops, but you’d be mistaken.  The only things that I like that are truly fashionable are my Coach purses. They’re a guilty pleasure and they may not necessarily go with my Lands End navy blue tee and capri jeans, but they’re just so dang cute.

“Rocks” was the other focus of the show.  You must understand that I am someone who loves music. I am a singer, my dad is a drummer and my husband is an all-around musician. Music is a constant in our lives.  The thing of it is, I don’t listen to a lot of popular music these days.  I have a six-disc changer in my car and I only listen to two of the cd’s-Now That’s What I Call Shrek (music from and inspired by the Shrek movies) and The Curious George Soundtrack (featuring music by Jack Johnson).  We listen to these CD’s so often that the other day, the Shrek CD started to skip. God help us all if that disc breaks.  So although I knew most of the artists that performed last night, I didn’t know any of their songs (except for their interpretations of classics).  I was really excited when Lynyrd Skynyrd came on stage with Kid Rock.  I know all of their songs and have seen them in concert twice.  Then came a selection of Timbaland produced singers.  Who? I guess he’s the most sought after producer and I didn’t know a single one of the songs. Old and out of touch am I.  Finally at the end there was a bevy of the “most talented women in music today” singing a song about standing up to cancer.  Catchy tune, but why did I only know half of the women? I knew Carrie Underwood from American Idol and of course I know Mariah Carey and Beyonce and I even knew Mary J. Blige because that woman has never turned down a chance to sing live, ever.  Down the line I thought, who the heck is that? My husband said “That’s Miley Cyrus” and I said “Oh, Hannah Montana”.  I know her from our six-year old neighbors.  I was so proud of myself when my hubby asked “Who’s the gal in the white jeans?” I knew it was Natasha Bedingfield because her song “Pocket full of sunshine” just so happens to be on the radio on the off chance that I do have a break from Shrek and Curious George.  So as I sat there and listened to the music and watched this season’s styles, I got a sense of what my parents went through when I used to make them watch MTV with me or when they just had to let me stay up to watch New Kids on the Block on the Tonight Show.  I wonder if they felt old and out of touch too?