Tales from the Crib

Yesterday, I didn’t need the calendar to tell me it was a Monday. I could tell the moment I woke up, got out of bed and put water in the wrong compartment of the coffee pot. I didn’t realize it until it started pouring out everywhere.

I know, it’s a clear sign I should start getting more sleep. But instead I drank an extra cup of coffee.

When it was time for us to leave the house, Anika ran to the door screaming with her hat, sweater and jacket, socks and shoes. What was missing? A diaper and pants.

A full-on tantrum ensued at the mere suggestion of putting on pants and a diaper. Every part of her little body participated in the veto of pants and diapers. I like to choose my battles, and I choose very few, but diapering my 18-month-old is one thing I’m going to stick to.

A few tantrums later, we eventually made it outside, clothed kids and all. As I tried to lift Anika into the car, she gave me The Look – a look I know I’ll see again when she’s a teenager with a curfew. But instead of staying out all night, all Anika wanted to do was climb into her carseat herself. Despite our impending lateness, I caved and let her do it (and was surprised at what a good job she did).

While she tried to buckle herself in, I began the task of cleaning the snow off the car. What I thought was fluffy snow was a solid mass of ice that had formed into my car’s windshield. My scraper broke while I tried to remove the ice mass, but I was still able to use it – until it broke again and was as useful as a toothbrush in removing the ice mass.

I turned on my windshield wipers to remove the remainder of the ice/snow/iceberg. They broke, too!

Expecting that to be the worst of the morning, as I parked at the daycare, another mom informed me my tire was almost flat. I ran to the gas station to fill up the tire with air, hoping it would last until I got home from work.

It was an eventful Monday morning and I was thankful it didn’t get any worse as the day went on.

So if you ever have those days when you feel your life has turned upside down, know you are not alone. In this month’s metroparent, there are two pages that have been turned completely upside down. Send us a picture of you or your kids reading metroparent upside down and I’ll send a few winners some tickets to Betty Brinn's Children Museum! Send your pics to me at rchristman@metroparentmagazine.com.

We’ve only had one day of great warm weather this year. It was refreshing – and a sign that spring really is almost here!

All the kids on our block reunited with their scooters and bikes and began going up and down the block, corner to corner, yelling gleefully with each other.

My favorite things in spring and summer are outdoor playdates and cookouts in our yard. I started the first step in making our summer kid-friendly yard: patching up the holes our German Shepherd, Ruby, dug this winter while we weren’t looking.

But this week we are looking at a snow forecast. As much as I’m not ready to revert back to snow, wind or temperatures below 50, I am slightly relieved that it is going to stay cold for a few more days.

Why? Well, to be completely honest, I have some work I’ve been postponing.

The first warm day of the year is the day we learn what foods the kids have dropped on the car floor over the last few months. Foods that were once fresh, then frozen are now thawed, rotten and smelly. Yep, the first warm weather day brought about not only a rise in spirits, but also a smell in my car that I could not identify.

I do try to keep an eye on the food coming and going in the car, but sometimes I’m sad to admit it’s just not possible. I’m even sadder to say I haven’t made the time to clean out the car, although I’ve taken the winter blankets inside and washing the blanket underneath the carseat. I’ve been slowly getting rid of the garbage that had accumulated on the car interior and bought some upholstery cleaner.

So, the cold weather has bought me some time to investigate while the smell doesn’t get any worse. I’m ready to fit in the annual cleaning of the car (AKA finding the food). I am determined, this weekend, to find the source of the offensive smell in the car — before it warms up again.
 

Like most households with kids, our mornings are rushed disasters. We have to get Mia to school (7:30), Anika to daycare (8) and I pray to get to work on time (8:30).

It might sound easy if you don't have to battle the 20-minute time warp between our front door and the car.

Mia has the hardest time getting moving in the morning. Trying to instill her sense of independence, we’ve made her responsible for her own morning routine by getting ready the night before.

Last night, like every night, Mia and I decided on a school uniform together, then she made sure her hairbrush and toothbrush were in the proper places. (Don’t ask me how you can lose a toothbrush, because neither Mia nor I can answer that question, but it happens often enough.) After that, we accounted for everything she’ll need to get out the door: shoes, backpack and jacket.

By morning, the hairbrush was misplaced and one shoe went missing. Mia said someone stole them. The clock was ticking, Anika was pulling off her clothes, and I started to get tense and began my usual rant about lateness.
 
Mia took something out of her backpack and said, “I just want you to look at something.”

I sharply replied, ”I’ll be glad to look at it tonight. Right now, we have to find your shoe and get to school!”

“Pleeeease, just look at it,” she whined.

I reluctantly looked at the worksheet that read, “Today I wish …”

Mia drew a bunch of kids holding hands and filled in the sentence to read, “Today I wish … I could love everybody in the world.”

I paused. I’m yelling at a kid who can’t find her shoe on most days, but has the biggest heart. I paused, put down my purse and gave her a hug.

We were late to school, daycare and work that morning, but as we slowly walked to school, we talked about all the ways we could try to love everybody in the world.

\People don’t know what to say when someone has a miscarriage because there are no real words to say. While we were fortunate to have supportive people all around us after my miscarriage, what people don’t talk about is what happens next.

Although I took some time off work, allowed myself to experience the grief and pain of the loss, I still couldn’t keep myself together. In fact, I’m a complete mess — physically, emotionally and hormonally. Apparently, this is more common than I knew.

I cried all the time, and not a teary kind of cry, but constant crying fits that are usually accompanied with some hyperventilating or throwing up. After two weeks of physical pain, emotional meltdowns and the general feeling that my body was working against me, I went to my doctor.

I was pretty certain there was nothing I could do medically speaking – no medications because I’m still nursing my daughter a little. I just wanted my doctor to be aware of the situation.

I told her that I was NOT myself. I couldn’t describe it, leaving me more frustrated. I felt out of control, as if there was an erratic, emotional stranger inhabiting my body. 

I was exhausted, agitated, depressed and anxious. I would go to sleep with the girls at 8 p.m., but wake up at midnight and stay up through the next day. Once, after Nate and I had a minor disagreement, I threw dishes around the kitchen.(Luckily for us, we have already replaced our “nice” dishes with plastic ones until the kids get older.)

While I know part of me will never be the same, I felt I should be able to leave the house without getting sick, that I should be able to slowly get back to my normal life. Sometimes I thought I was doing OK, most of the time I knew I wasn’t.

Well, it turns out my doctor had plenty of advice, reassuring me how common this is. It made sense: the combination of first trimester hormones and exhaustion come to a screeching halt, and then add in the postpartum hormones. It’s just not the natural progression of things. Along with the roller coaster of hormones, my doctor said I had some signs of postpartum depression along with the natural grieving process. She opted against treating the depression for now, but started me on a heavy diet of vitamins, some diet observances and a mild medication.

In under a week, I’m seeing the differences. I’m sleeping soundly, but not so deeply that I snore through crying children or a barking dog. I’m rested, maybe for the first time in years. The physical pain finally stopped and the whirlwind inside of me has started to calm down.

It would be a lot easier if the grieving process had a set time frame. But it doesn’t, so I’m thankful I listened to my body, talked with my doctor and took action that didn’t involve heavily medicating myself.

And I’m finally getting better every day.