Shot Night

Tonight is shot night.  Boo!

Today has turned sour on the parenting front, so I'm focusing instead on something I need to do while one child screams in his crib (YOU CAN'T MAKE ME NAP!) and the other yells at me from her time-out (I'M NEVER GOING TO STOP YELLING!)  Fine.  Stay in time-out.

Here's the routine for shots...

At some point in the evening I remember it's shot night and I whine about it.

Put kids to bed.  At this rate I'm thinking 4:00 instead of the usual 7:00.  That may change.  I'm a little bitter right now.

Take my pile of Rebif-related stuff from the top shelf of the pantry and narrowly miss knocking the red biohazard bin.  It's only a bin full of used needles that could come tumbling down onto my face.  No big deal.  And yet I still haven't moved it.  Playing with fire here, I tell you...

Rebifers get a shot journal to record injection sites (we have to rotate), days / times, and reactions.  I scan to find a place I haven't done in a while (as if the red splotches on my body aren't telling enough) and place a little x on the drawing of a person.  Right thigh.  Ugh.

Side note:  The yelling has switched to a relationship status update.  Apparently we're not friends anymore.  (Sigh)

Back to shots...  Heat (warm washcloth), prep the auto-injector, insert the syringe, clean the site with an alcohol pad, grab one of Jason's hands or the counter for a death squeeze, inject the medicine with my other hand, hold the needle in place for the longest 10 seconds of my life, swear like a sailor, remove needle, massage the area with a cotton pad to disperse the meds, continue swearing because it burns and I'm a baby.

Jacob had a flu shot last week and didn't even flinch.  Who is this kid?  You're making me look bad, Baby.  At least give it a whimper!  Even Emily remembered that shots hurt and was sure to confirm she was NOT getting a shot before entering the exam room.  She reiterated this point with the nurse when she arrived.  "Just Jacob.  Not me today."  That's my girl...  She gets her control freak gene from me, of course.

I do the shots myself.  Even the awkward left-handed-hip-at-a-weird-angle shot because I can't handle having someone else do it.  See?  Control freak.

Aaaahhhh...  No more crying.  Sleeping baby.  Thank you, Jacob.  Wait...  It's too quiet.  Time to go check on the toddler time-out:

"Em, Are you ready to be sweet?"
"NOTHING!   I'm not doing anything!" 

That can't be good...   At this rate my shot may not be the low point of the day.  6:00 bedtime for sure!

He Said the (Beep) Word!

Why are bad words so fascinating??  Even the ones identified as "not very nice" make the world stop spinning for a moment when heard by a child.  I've been stopped in the cafeteria more than once by a tattling student.  "Oooooohhhhh!!!!  She said the S word!!!!"  Come to find out the word was "stupid."  How vulgar!!

I was testing a student yesterday and used two CD tracks to administer auditory processing subtests.  One of the tasks involves a man's voice saying words with missing parts.  The student is asked to tell me the word the person is trying to say after they hear two beeps.  Example:  (Beep) rabbi_ (beep, beep)...  (beep) chi__en (beep, beep)...

The boy I was testing yesterday was shocked by this.  "He's saying A LOT of bad words!  He's talking about a dirty chicken!"  He was convinced the beeps were the same censor beeps he has heard on television.  When you think of it that way, the audio recordings are tough to listen to without chuckling.  This is particularly true if you're an eight year old boy!  I spent the next 20 minutes trying to keep him on task.

I told this story to my husband last night.  His response was, "What's the test called??  The Woodcock-Johnson?  Now that's funny!"  Apparently boys don't grow out of this.

I have to admit I was laughing, too!

My Private Investigator

Em is a little fascinated by private parts these days.  This is certainly not abnormal toddler behavior, but I still find it somewhat uncomfortable at times.  Her shirt won't even be off for two seconds before she's trying to tune in Tokyo and I've caught her more than once doing some serious exploration on the potty. 

Tonight she noticed something new...  I was in the middle of changing Jacob's diaper when Emily ran into the kitchen then returned with her stepstool for a better view.  She was stunned.

"What... is... that???"
"What?"
Waiting for toddler comedy...  This should be good.

"THAT!"
Pointing and staring in utter confusion.  Where's my camera?!

My friends and I have talked about this moment.  What do you call it when they ask?  Pee pee?  Boy parts?  My personal favorite:  "Pieces and part?"  A few moms I know used the accurate terminology.  I'm just not cool enough to be OK with my kid using penis and vagina in everyday conversation yet.  I went with the safe answer.  "Those are Jacob's private parts."  Emily was studying him at this point and then began to tell me her observations aloud while I finished the diaper change.

"My private part goes up and down like this." (Drawing imaginary line between her legs)
"Uh-huh."

"His goes out.  It's out like this." (Finger puppet. I'm bursting with giggles at this point)
"Yep.  Boy parts and girl parts are different."

That was explanation enough... for now.  I'm sure it's just a matter of time before the questions and commentary start rolling in.  Likely in public, of course.  This will be the next hot topic.  Right now she's all about questioning bathroom behavior.  For the record, I have no idea how many times her preschool teachers use the bathroom each day.  I went with 5.  Please don't ask me about their private parts! 

It Says, "Use Your Imagination."

My little girl has an incredible imagination.  Or she's a compulsive liar.  Jury is still out.  Yesterday she told me she saw a pink dog.  Upon further inquiry I learned she saw it while taking an orange bus to "um...  Town...  Berry Town" with our dog, Blue.  Riiiiight.

Lately she's doing lot of "reading" as well.  She was busy piling toys into a bowl on our coffee table when I told her to stop.  Cue selective hearing:  Toddler pretends Mommy said nothing.

"Em, I asked you to stop putting toys in the bowl.  It's glass.  You can put them in your grocery basket instead." (Insert smug smile for offering an acceptable alternative.  Good parent.)

"No, Thanks.  I'll just put them in the bowl." (Remove pat.  You suck at this.)

"Wasn't asking, Doll...  No toys in the glass bowl." (Boundaries are good.)

Em then picked up a blank piece of construction paper and said, "I have to.  It says right here, 'Put the toys in the bowl.'"

"Oh, really?  Read the fine print...  There's an asterisk at the bottom and it says, 'Any bowl except Mommy's bowl.'" (What just happened here!?)

We then argued about make believe print because that's a totally normal thing to do.  She finally took the toys out and handed a baby ring to Jacob.  In her best British accent she asked, "Would you like a doughnut?"  Because we're British.  Wait...  No, We're not.  My 3-year old is having a cultural identity crisis AND hallucinations.  Sweet.

If you can't beat 'em... 

"Alright, Em.  It says right here 'It's time to go to the loo.'  Cheerio!"

PETA's Secret

"Mommy, What is that?"

"What, Doll?"

"The green things.  On your Pop Tarts."

First of all, I have never referred to breasts as Pop Tarts.  I did a quick turn to hide the "green things" and immediately texted Jason to tell him the latest Emily-ism.  Things are getting a little weird around here...  Obviously.

Jacob has adjusted nicely to bottle feeding and is drinking the 50/50 formula and frozen breast milk combo we make for him each day.  I, on the other hand, am taking a little longer to adjust to things.  I'm trying to accept the whole can't-breastfeed-because-of-this-stupid-disease thing and find that I am CONSTANTLY reminded of how unhappy this makes me as my body thinks I'm still nursing a baby.  Thankfully, there's enough humor in this house to keep me afloat.

My daughter is a riot lately.  Yesterday she took her plastic teacup and told me she'd get dressed in a minute... "Just let me get my coffee first."  I told her not to worry about the lump on Blue's chest.  Old dogs get lumpy sometimes.  She asked if we'll flush him down the toilet (apparently she remembers Sushi after all).  The name game continues.  I was Mrs. Pom Pom yesterday.  Our dog is Rebecca.  And then there's the fact that I've been wearing produce in my bra this week...

Something about wearing chilled cabbage leaves inside a bra helps to stop milk production.  Who knew??  It's also really weird!!  You can't actually see them since they're hidden under my shirt.  Except for when I was chatting with our electrician and the pressure of holding the baby pulled my shirt down slightly... Just enough for leafy greens to poke out of my neckline.  I quickly tucked them in and hoped to God it looked like fabric.  Doubtful.  Jason calls it PETA's Secret.

Hopefully I'll be done wearing cabbage and drinking gritty sage tea by the end of this week and my body will get back to normal.  I'm finding new ways to bond with Jacob.  Everything is going to be OK.  Except for the fact that I'll never be able to look at cabbage the same way again.  Or Pop Tarts!

The Devil Went Down to Target

I'm a little all over the place today and attempting to write while watching a Bond movie...  Bear with me. 

Today I took both kids to Target in the pouring rain to get some party supplies for what WAS going to be my Mom's surprise birthday party.  Unfortunately a friend called and started talking about it (despite being told he was on speaker) when my Mom was in the room.  Surprise blown.  Moving on.  We were at Target to get a few things when what to my wandering eyes should appear??  A grown man with HORNS and a disc in each ear! 

I've spent the last half hour checking out Google images of horn implants.  This is a thing!!  Did you know this???  This man purposefully had horns implanted in his forehead to make him look like the devil.  In itself, a little freaky.  Add to this a bull nose ring, face tattoo and 3-inch ear discs!  Here we are in the wrapping supply aisle surrounded by Disney Princess gift bags, Sponge Bob wrapping paper and Devil Boy.  Yikes!  I danced around Emily to block her view (it's best not to have to explain what I don't understand myself) and tried to act completely nonchalant about the whole thing.  Looking back, I think it's funny that I was trying so hard to act like this was nothing out of the ordinary.  This kind of look is like a challenge to the general public.  I dare you not to judge me... Good luck.  Epic fail on my part!  I even considered how I might take pictures with my phone to send to my Mommy friends with captions such as, "Our new nanny!"

I actually find Portland's freak factor somewhat endearing.  I'm all for keeping Portland weird and I LOVE Portlandia.  What was disarming about this was that we weren't downtown or in some hip district where this kind of thing is expected.  I'm talking mid-day shopping in Suburbia.  Devil Boy shops at Target!  Who knew?? 

I was nursing Jacob tonight at bedtime -- my very last time nursing a baby -- and trying SO hard to focus and just be present for the whole thing so I could enjoy our special time together.  When I'm stressed out, my mind wanders.  A lot.  I started party planning in my head.  Stop that.  Then it was my to-do list for the evening.  Look at Jacob!  Suddenly I was replaying my encounter with Devil Boy and thinking there is no way in Hell (oh, the irony) I would EVER let Jacob get horn implants!  Luckily, my tendency to become distracted is on par with my procrastination habit.  This morning was supposed to be the last time I nursed Jacob.  The nurse came to make sure I remembered how to do my own injections, but I forgot to leave the syringe out to bring it to room temperature first.  May as well wait until bedtime.  But, really...  What's one more day?  So, now TOMORROW will be my very last time nursing a baby (promise).  It has to be...  It's a M W F shot with a required 48 hours between doses. 

The beauty of this is that I get another chance to remain focused during my last time nursing.  I will not think about the party.  Or Devil Boy.  I will focus on one thing at a time.  By the way, I love Judi Dench.  This whole focus thing is harder than I thought...

Decisions, Decisions...

Some parenting decisions seem so easy compared to others.  Sometimes I hear about the choices made by other parents and think, "Really??"  I work with a kid who told me this week that his parents bought him a gun for Christmas.  A REAL gun.  He's 10.  His Dad was considering Christmas gifts and thought to himself, "I don't know...  Legos??  Maybe a video game?  I've got it! I'll get him a .22 caliber!"  That seems like such an easy choice to me and yet...  Gun Daddy had no problem with this decision.  Maybe he didn't think at all and maybe the choice he made doesn't bother him in the least even though others (including myself) might judge him for it.

I recently had to make a choice I found very difficult.  I have less than a week left of breastfeeding.  Jacob is 6 1/2 months old.  My first MS symptoms appeared when Emily was about this age, but I was blissfully ignorant of what was going on in my body.  The diagnosis process took a while and I was long done with nursing by the time my neuro slapped a label on my symptoms.  This time was different.  This time I had to choose whether to continue breastfeeding or stop so I can take the drugs that slow down my MS.  What a terrible choice to have to make!  How could I choose my health over Jacob's?  WWGDD? (What Would Gun Daddy Do?!)  I'm guessing he wouldn't agonize over this decision like I have.

I chose my health.

This feels utterly selfish and a part of me feels very guilty about this decision.  I'm counting down to the last day I'm allowed to nurse and the sadness I feel about this is palpable.  I'm having a hard time forgiving myself and have repeatedly apologized to Jacob as if he has ANY idea what I'm talking about.  The part of me that knows it's the right choice realizes that by risking another relapse I could be giving BOTH of my kids a permanently disabled Mommy.  I know this is the right choice, but I still hate it and I'm really going to miss nursing.  Going back on my medication seemed like something SOOO far away.  And suddenly it's here.  Yuck.

I have friends who didn't enjoy breastfeeding or were unable to.  I was lucky in that I have an abundant milk supply (moo) and have always found it to be an incredible bonding experience.  I'm going to miss Jacob looking up at me while he nurses.  I love how his little hand reaches up for my necklace and the other wraps around to my back.  I'll miss the smile he gives me when he's full just before he tucks his face into my body then looks back up to smile at me again.  What a flirt!

I am thankful Jacob will still get some breastmilk for a few months (and I'll finally get my freezer space back).  I'm also trying to focus on the positives...  No more nursing bras, nursing pads, shirts with easy access, NO MORE PUMP!  That one should really count as 5 positives.  I'm not typically the one giving him a bottle, so I'll need to figure out the best way to hold him while feeding him.  Maybe I can even find a position that will allow him to give me that flirty smile I love so much.

Will I always think this was the right choice??  I don't know.  I'm not 100% sure of all of the parenting choices I make, but I DO know that Jacob will not be getting a gun when he's 10.  It feels good to be sure of something these days!