I recently started a new blog, and I've decided to park this one in neutral indefinitely. So much has changed in my heart in the last year that it felt right to me to make a fresh bloggy start. Come visit me over at Double Yellow! Let's take a new direction together!
Til next squeak,
Here in CT, we are preparing as best we can for the oncoming hurricane Irene. We've got our bottled water, candles, and basic supplies. We've cranked down the temp in our fridge and freezer. We're currently making a hot dinner, and planning 2 other meals made tonight that will be good cold in the next day or so.
For all my readers and friends in the path of the storm, we're praying for your safety as well as our own.
Til next squeak,
Well, I'm stuck. My brain feels like goo most days, and although I participate (or at least lurk amongst) many fantastic intellectual conversations online (mostly Facebook), the idea of blogging about, well, anything beyond the random family update confounds me. Maybe it's the summer heat (91 today in Connecticut). Maybe it's still adjusting to life with 3 kids. Or maybe I'm just too dumb to continue acting as though I am not. *shrugs*
I'm kicking around the idea of starting a new blog. Not abandoning this one per se. Just a change of pace. I often wonder if anyone still comes here and reads this blog. Now that I have either been banned from or simply left 99% of the message boards I once frequented, I doubt word gets out about what few new posts I make anymore. I tell myself I'm ok with that. I'm in a new phase of life. Perhaps this is God calling me to more "IRL" friendships? That is admittedly a terrifying prospect.
Since April of this year, I've felt as though I've lost my moorings. I've never once felt as though I fit in anywhere, and much like my 4th and 3rd grade aged sons, that hurts my feelings. I think that deep down, everyone wants to belong. Even those who stridently claim "I'm confident in who I am and I don't need anyone!". I just can't believe I'm 30 years old and still haven't found my way.
So, yeah. If you're reading this, thank you. We'll see where this new path takes us, yes?
Til next squeak,
A week and a half ago, our lives changed forever. My husband, my heart and soul, was hospitalized for 4 days. He was diagnosed tentatively with cardiomyopathy, and congestive heart failure. Prayerfully, we will find out more when he has an angiogram which will be scheduled at his cardiologist appointment later this month.
While I believe with everything in me that God only gives what we can handle, and that He has a plan far greater than our own, I admit I am having an incredibly difficult time facing this. I'm terrified, as is Mr. P. I'm angry, not only at myself, but at God. These last 7 years have been trying for us, both as a couple and as a family. God must think we are super strong people. Personally, I have my doubts.
It's hard to face the future, knowing nothing more about my husband's diagnosis other than it is not reversible, and that it will shorten his life span. I've always been the kind of person who needs to know, even if only vaguely, what the future brings. Not my best quality, to be sure. The thought of losing Mr. P. really spikes fear into my heart. I know he is probably sick of me constantly asking him if he's ok, and telling him how much I love him. I heard this song on the radio while running errands with the kids today. I was unable to curb the urge to call home and tell Mr. P. just that. Just to make sure he knows not only does he have my heart, but that he is my heart.
I think of the 2 friends I have who are widows, and how I've admired them so much for their strength. Staring into that possible future makes me wonder if it came to that, would I be as strong as them? Could I hold it together for our kids? And would I ever be able to forgive God? I just don't know. Fear is speaking now, even though I know fear is not of God.
This all seems so much to bear, especially for a little family who has already endured so much. So many of our friends and family have said if they can do anything for us, we need only to ask. I wish I could just ask, and have them take all of this away. I wish I could just ask, and have them make everything magically better. I know it doesn't work that way, but oh how I wish it did. I worry about what else God feels like dumping on us, what more He thinks we can handle.
My mind cannot think of an eloquent way to close this post out. It's late, and my fear and sadness are overwhelming tonight. If you think of us, please pray. Maybe God will hear you more than He hears me right now.
Til next squeak,
1st, I want to thank you all for your prayers and words of encouragement. These last 2 weeks have been quite stressful, and knowing friends were lifting us to the Lord made all the difference. Ladybug had her weight recheck this morning. According to both our pediatrician and all I could find online/in books, a breastfed baby of Ladybug's age should be gaining 1/2 ounce a day. Some quick math told me that she would have had to be 9 lbs. 11 oz. to be on track for weight gain. I was a complete wreck this morning, my stomach in knots. We got the boys off to school, and tried to get on with our morning. Mr. P. fed the baby some mashed up banana mixed with my milk while I got a shower. I have to admit, it was nice to take a hot shower without a screaming baby in the background. For some reason, she always gets hungry as soon as I step under the spray. We got to the doctor's office a little late (par for the course for our family) and the nurse shepherded us into one of the exam rooms. After asking us what we've been doing for her weight issues, she had us strip Ladybug down and pop her on the scale. The moment of truth had arrived. I thought I'd puke. Our sweet baby girl weighed in at... ...9 lbs. 12 oz.!! Mr. P. and I fist bumped. The doctor said to just keep up with what we've been doing for her. And with that oh so sage advice, we left. I feel as though a literal weight has been lifted from my shoulders. It's been many years since I've been that scared and stressed out. I'd forgotten just how horrible it is to feel like the fate of your family rests on 1 little choice that could go wrong in a heartbeat. I'm glad that's over with. Again, thank you so much for your love and support. Ladybug thanks you too. Til next squeak,
The last 2 weeks have been quite trying around here, and after much thought and prayer, I've decided to share about how we've been doing. On 3/25, we had Ladybug's 4 month well-baby visit. Although I had thought she was healthy and otherwise fine, she was labeled as failure to thrive (FTT). She had gained only 10 ounces in 2 months' time. According to him, that was less than half of what she should've gained. The doctor ordered us to give her 2 ounces of formula at least twice a day in addition to nursing on demand. Upon hearing that dreaded "F" word (formula), I became pretty hysterical. I can admit that I didn't hear much of what the doc had to say after that. Thank God I had Mr. P. with me! Honestly, I praise God for him all the more during these last 2 weeks. He has had patience with me while I burst into tears every few hours, while I questioned every choice we made, while he literally held me up at Walmart when we bought bottles. I think it's safe to say that Mr. P. has had his fill of my tears for quite awhile. We spent that first weekend after Ladybug's diagnosis in a real panic. She utterly refused formula, no matter what we tried. A variety of bottles, droppers, syringes, cups and other infant feeding devices, and several brands of formula all ended with the same results. Her little face covered with formula she'd spat out, and tears of failure and self-loathing streaming down mine. The week began and we called our pediatrician's office. A return call from the nurse made things seem just that much more dire. We were slowly starving our daughter to death, and if we did not get formula or at the very least, rice cereal, into her, she would not survive. If I was freaking out before, now I was essentially not able to function for the fear coursing through me. Mr. P. and I decided to try following the advice of our mothers and some friends. We started Ladybug on solids. Some she likes (yogurt, sweet potatoes) and some she doesn't (carrots, rice cereal). While I am not terribly thrilled, our sons are beyond excited. They have each had a few turns feeding their baby sister. We have also stepped up the nursings. Currently, I offer the breast every 45 minutes. Some days, we nurse 18 times! My sheer panic has died down a bit, but I'm still struggling. It's so hard not to hate yourself for failing to provide all your baby needs. There is so much contradictory information out there about babies with FTT or slow gainers. I'm fearful of her weight check this Friday. If she hasn't gained enough to satisfy the doctor, what is the next step? Hospital admission? A DCF referral? No one will tell me, which of course makes the fear worse. Many have advised us to find a new pediatrician. It's something I am considering, but knowing me, I won't go through with it. Mr. P.'s family has used this practice for 3 generations now. I think my in-laws would utterly flip out if we switched. Our sons receive great care there. It's just hard in the first 2 years, especially if you breastfeed or are picky about vaccinations. The question becomes one of if we can live with going against our gut instincts? I'm not sure what the answer is. If you think of us this Friday, please pray for our family. Fear is not of God, and living in fear like this leaves me feeling distant from Him. Hopefully (prayerfully), this weight check will relieve this near constant panic over my daughter's well-being. His will be done. Til next squeak,
Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.
It's late tonight, so please forgive me if this post seems all to brief or somewhat jumbled.
My heart is heavy tonight with a burden not my own. I've been blessed enough to never have lost someone dear to me. Yet God has called me to live out the above verse this night.
Please join me in prayer if you read this. Let us lift up those who mourn to the One who can mend broken hearts and lives. And if you are like me, having never experienced the horrid fullness of grief yourself, praise Him as well.
I can't help but think of my dear friends who have lost children, nieces and nephews, parents or spouses. My loving family who grieve for lost fathers, grandmothers, mothers and friends. And so very many other people around the world in the same boat.
Love should carry us always, and the love God showers on us can be so easily turned outward for something as simple as prayer.
Again, please join me. And if you, Dear Reader, are one of those who mourn, know we mourn with you as well and are praying for your heart.
Til next squeak,
Sigh. It seems every time I get back in a mellow groove, free of Mommy Wars drama, there's an updated news release or headline that fans the flames.
Today, the AAP released it's newly updated carseat recommendations for American kids and parents. With it has come an uproar in self-styled educational advocates, out to show just how ignorant the masses truly are.
Lately, that has become my biggest pet peeve. Snark, superiority, and general nastiness all wrapped up in the guise of "educating other moms, so if even 1- just one!- changes their ways, it was all worth it". Sigh. Anyone else tired of it all?
Perhaps it's because there is not a single issue or hot topic that gets me in a tizzy. I can't honestly think of anything that I'm passionate about...at least to the degree most of my friends are. Or maybe it's because I find that way too many of my recent parenting choices have been made out of fear- fear of being torn up and lit on fire by my fellow moms, fear of being criticized on the streets, and fear of forever screwing up my kids. Whatever it is, "armchair advocacy" is getting my goat in a major way.
It never occurred to me how bad it was until I realized I'm afraid of bringing Ladybug in public. Because of the zeal I've seen in moms correcting others, I worry someone will have something to say to me about any number of things, but her car seat is my prime concern. I've seen mothers "educate" strangers online, on blogs, and Facebook pictures. I know I do not have it in me to show grace, "be educated", and not burst into tears if I am confronted. Let's face it, those sort of things are never done in love. There's always at least a small air of superiority when it comes to parenting issues.
So there's no real point to this post, I guess. Just expressing my frustration with extreme motherhood these days. What do you think? Can advocacy go to far, or is it worth alienation in the name of education?
Til next squeak,
Disclaimer:
Recently I had some Paypal burning a hole in my pocket, and I decided to treat myself to some body butter and shampoo/conditioner from Glisten & Glow. Jill is an old friend, and I think I'm not biased at all in saying that her line of products is definitely quality stuff.Our shipping policy for out of state orders is flat rate priority boxes that range from 6.00-15.00 depends on the size! Once the order is placed the shipping is determined by how much I can fit in the box, not by weight! more often then not it's the 11.00 box for any orders over 3 pieces... you can say shipping ranges from 6-15 or more depending on size and destination!
It's been awhile (consistent I am not) since doing one of Cat's Monday memes. So here I am, noticing it's a Monday and all, and I thought, "Hey! Let's do this thing!"
1) What two colors do you think look the best together?
This is actually harder than I thought it'd be. There's lots of colors I love and many that look great together. My 1st thought is a nice deep red with black or maybe silver. But then again, purple and blue are great as well. Hmmm. I guess as long as there's no pukey looking colors involved, they all work for me!
2) For your memoir, describe what you looked like as a teenager.
Not much different than I do now. A little less fat but definitely still hefty. No gray hairs. More zits.
3) Do you know anyone born on your half-birthday?
That would be August 31 and nope. Most of my family was born in August (mom, dad, and brother all within a week of each other, and SIL's wife is also in August I believe) but not any on that specific day.
4) Show and Tell. What comes to mind first when you see this picture? Or, tell a story if it reminds you of one. 
Strangely enough, it makes me think of what my apartment complex might look like in a few hundred years. Hey, I haven't had my coffee yet.
Til next squeak,
