Addiction and Mourning

It's winter.

I could end there. All things that used to be fun! and cozy! and magical! about winter are now stir crazy! and get me out! and my goodness child will you please just stay in your bed for once before I jump out a window!

It's winter.
And we're trapped with frigid temps, slick ice and various sicknesses.

I might just go drink myself to spring but then I would miss my baby. My precious 5 month old who in the midst of teething can manage to melt every icicle off the roof with her giggle.

For anyone that's had one baby you know how it changes you. It brings all sorts of new emotions to your life you never anticipated. Amongst those is anxiety and and uptight attitude until you eventually realize you fit into their life, they don't fit into yours. They will break you before rebuilding you, believe me.

For anyone that's had a second baby you discover the that although the work has increased, it's somehow better, because you know you'll get through it and you seem to enjoy this newborn thing much more than before. Anxiety starts to melt away.

For anyone who's had a third. You might just be addicted to the child that had most recently come into your family. At least this has been my experience. This little one has me wanting to wake up in the morning just to see her smile. I love watching her look up to her sisters and try to imitate them (most recently she learned to jump, it's their favorite 'sister' thing to do together). She has me ogling babies everywhere, it's not who I used to be. And to be honest, it's taken me by surprise. I, dear readers, am a certified baby addict.

Which is why this afternoon I'm mourning.

I had a rough time after delivering Finlay. Many things happened and it's been the opinion of many doctors that although I could have another child, I shouldn't. Be there for the ones you have. That's what I've been told. That's scary when someone says that to you. And although I really would have liked to feed my new found baby addiction, it's time I quit.

Today I solidified that with a long-term contraceptive. I wasn't ready to admit we're done, so there was no permanent solution, but this was a step towards that. To admit, I'm sad. I had always pictured us with four children. I pictured Finlay staring wide eyed at the new little bundle we brought home from the hospital, a playmate for her while the older two were at school. And much much more than that.

But it's done. And it's really hard for me to come to terms with. Now this phase is over I'm not sure what to do.

I suppose we've faced new phases in our lives before and rolled with it. I just wish it would've ended on my terms.

On a bright note, my little angel is up from her nap. Time to melt my insides with her grin.

A Funny Thing Happened on the way to 2011...

As many of you know (and know well), I like to tell stories. In fact, that's the biggest part I miss about being out in the world, is telling stories. Stories about my kids, my husband and especially my Mom. Boy did she produce some classics, who can forget the story about Ferd and Turd?

So this year I will try to post more and slightly shorter musings from the world of Gamble. I don't know if the stories will translate as well in writing, but they did produce a chuckle for myself at the time they occurred. Here are a few leading up to the New Year...

The other day as the girls and I were driving home from somewhere Hazelle spotted an airplane flying overhead. Not one plane makes it through our airspace without one of my children shouting 'Pain!'. Did I mention they don't say their 'L's all the time? It's cute, but I digress. Hazelle said, "Mommy, we've never been on an airplane before, could you buy us a ticket so we can ride on an airplane?" It was a thoughtful, charming and reasonable question to which I replied, "Honey, one day. Airplane tickets are expensive and we have a big family, we have to save up to buy tickets. But one day Daddy and I will take you girls on an airplane." Without skipping a beat she replied, "(exasperated sigh followed by a snarky sounding) But Mommy, I wasn't asking you to BUY the plane!" Point for the 5 year old. Well played.

........................................................................................

After cabin fever reached its limit my husband took the older girls out for a 'walk in the nature'. It's their favorite father/daughters thing to do while Mommy gets a mental vacation at home. It was an unusually beautiful day and he took them out on a trail at a local park. As usual, they came home filthy and happy, but none more filthy than Isla. As my husband explained, "Well, out of a mile of trail there was but ONE mud puddle. I turned just in time to see Isla fall belly-first in it, completely getting herself soaked. Then your other daughter managed to step in dog crap. Congratulations Stef, you produced two children EXACTLY like you." If I didn't think I was that clumsy or hadn't stepped in more than my share of dog crap I would have protested. So, point for husband. Well played, and well put.

Happy New Year to my fellow clumsy, dog-crap stepping friends! May this year be more stable and less crappy.

Gamble Grove

The Christmas season is upon us and holiday traditions are in full swing. We are a relatively young family so we have essentially no traditions started yet, save one. Gamble Grove.

When Ben and I first starting co-habitating, we had a fairly small 2-bedroom apartment. Which, it turns out, held enough 'stuff' to fill a four-bedroom house. To say that we were limited on floor space was an understatement. So our first Christmas in this apartment brought a little 6' skinny Christmas tree, slightly fuller than the Charlie Brown version, but well along the same lines. That tree stayed with us for two years until we got married and moved into our current home. It's not a big place, but it does have 9' ceilings, which allowed us to get a slightly larger, no, taller tree to take it's place. By this time though we (I) were attached to the 6-footer so we opted to keep it and just add a 7' tree in the similar style to fill out a space a normal tree would. It was kind of cute, a his & her Christmas tree couple that represented our life at the time.

Fast forward two years from then and we were expecting our first child at Christmastime. If you ever expect a child to be born around Christmas, expect with that child about 20 'Baby's first Christmas' ornaments. So once again as our family grew, so did our tree collection , a bouncing 5' tree to put between the aging two taller trees. With green lights the little tree was decked out for baby's arrival and all her ensuing ornaments.

The decision was made the following year to go ahead and purchase 3 more trees, a 4' 3' & 2', to be set up and decked out for each child that we welcomed into the family. This year our grove grew to 5 trees. The three little ones are decked out in pink, purple and green lights and all the school glitter ornaments you could want. I love that each girl gets to take pride and ownership in her tree, proudly displaying her life to that point. Haze has started to grasp the individual tree concept, yelling at me that I keep stealing her ornaments. I was merely moving some to my tree as hers was overloaded... already... and she hasn't let me forget it.

One little tree still sits in a bin, waiting to be decorated. Although I feel this little tree would fit nicely with our family of fake firs, I don't think it will ever be decorated by its own set of little hands. Gamble Grove might have reached it's limit this year. This tradition we started is, and probably will always, be my favorite. May you and your family enjoy it's own quirky traditions as we enter this time of celebration. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. ;)

Finding Life

I remember the first time I watched Finding Nemo. It was in the basement of my sister's house and literally cried from laughter for 10 minutes when Dory spoke whale. That was about 5 years ago. Just last year my Mom got that movie for my girls and I rediscovered what a delight it was. It's one of those movies that has adult stuff in it, but in a real life sort of way. (As opposed to, 'I really hope the kids don't start asking me questions about that tongue-in-cheek dialogue I'm snickering about'. I'm SO not ready to have that conversation.)

The first thing in that movie that resonated with me (besides the whale talking, you know, I should just bust that out on the kids one day and see just how crazy they think I am...) was when Dory, geniusly voiced by the very funny Ellen DeGeneres said, "When life gets you down, do you wanna know what you gotta do? Just keep on swimming, swimming, swimming." I believe at the time I was expecting or had a newborn and was trying to adjust to that new role, balancing life and work and marriage... basically feeling very out of control. I had no idea what I was doing or how I was going to juggle all these very important things in my life. And hearing that little blue fish just seemed to answer that conundrum I had been struggling with, just keep swimming. Simple. Just do it.

I used to think I was a little crazy for letting a little blue fish define my life motto, until I shared it with a friend I worked with. She had been going through a rough time and I told her that I hear Ellen DeGeneres singing in my head when I just feel like going in a corner and shriveling up. "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming." She laughed and then slowly back away so she wouldn't catch my 'crazies'. Sheesh, my crazies aren't contagious, do your research. ANYWAY, much later she told me that after that conversation, she too heard Dory singing in her head... and it made her smile and feel better....SEE! Being a little out there is fun! And much cheaper than medication.

When watching Nemo for the 400th time with the girls, a scene previously innocuous suddenly had new meaning. It's when Marlin and Dory are stuck in the whale's mouth and the whale has told them to let go. Marlin says something like, "How do I know things are going to be alright?" and Dory replies, "I don't". Then there's something about 'letting go' and Dory falls into the unknown abyss, followed by a reluctant Marlin. This part of the movie really hit home for where I am in life right now. Even though I am 21 months post lay-off from my job, I still feel like I am desperately holding on to a whale's epiglottis trying to stay where I was instead of trusting that voice that says, "Let go" will take me to where I want to be.

I think we've got the swimming part down. Every day we get up and do our best to make this little family function. My house is a mess, I'm a mess and my kids haven't had a bath in 4 days, but I think we're doing it. My kids are happy, smart and thriving and I'm finding joy in staying at home. My days are not as long and baby Fin's first smile of the morning is something I wake up anticipating. Still, it's hard to feel like I'm 100% okay with letting go of who I was. Those pangs of hurt still, just slightly, sting. The need to feel wanted and useful and creative can be achieved in other ways, but I'm having a hard time completely letting go, not sure on how those needs are going to be met in a life at home.

I feel you Marlin. It seems no one gets that it's hard to let go just because someone told you to. It flies in the face of all reasoning. It's unknown, and we both know the unknown is something we're not comfortable with. But I guess you and I both need to trust that it will all be alright if we slide off that whale's tongue.

If only it were that easy...

Anxious

I'm the mom of three and wide awake at a very late hour. What's wrong with this picture? Did I mention three fast asleep children? No? Now you see how absolutely crazy it is! I got to be up in 5 hours and as my husband could attest, I'm in need of some serious beauty sleep.
Problem is, well, the darn anxiety dreams have started again. Anxiety has always been an issue with me and I feel like I've dealt with it really well in recent years. The issue comes when my conscious mind takes a backseat to the subconscious and the crazies kick in. Hence, whacked-out, heart-racing, have-me-wide-awake-and-still-not-calmed-down-an-hour-later type dreams.

People tell you that they are never sure about having a third child because you only have two arms. I take this seriously (note, I'm about to go into why my mind works the way it does, you might want to make sure you REALLY want to go there...) My mother, God love her, had a different way of parenting. She was a volunteer paramedic with the local squad. She thought it her duty to not shield us kids from anything, but instead throw us into any and all gory details and horrifying scenes of many of the worst accidents and incidents she ever encountered or heard of. Yes, she did well in the fact I ALWAYS wear my seatbelt/lifevest, know where the fire exits are, will never excessively speed, do hard core drugs and take the next 5 minutes for granted.

This could get her an Oprah award except for the fact that sometimes people (children!) are just not meant to always anticipate the worst happening. This hyper-sensitivity and still adjusting hormones, combined with a two year old who like to dart into traffic while I'm holding the four-year old's hands and carrying a heavy carseat (see, you DO only have TWO ARMS!) can send these sensibilities into over-drive causing me to wake up and panic at every creak while trying to figure out how to make a fire plan that a two year old can grasp and... have I mentioned that the neighbors tree is huge and if it fell it could land on our house... would land right in the girls' room? Oh, the crazies just start there. (Wow, did you catch the length of that run-on sentence? Seriously it's how the mind works)

Now everything you do is a matter of life or death. Like, crossing the street. Driving to school. Making dinner. If you don't have kids, you will understand it one day. If you do have kids, I hope you're nodding in understanding and not dialing the name of a psychiatrist to get me on the non-loco cocktail. It's just that in real life you have to know that life happens and you have to force yourself to do those scary things... like drive a car and take three kids to the grocery. But in sleep that darn subconscious takes over and likes to work me over.

Time to give rest another shot. Here's to hoping about dreaming about puppy dogs and chocolate chip cookies...

Feeling Human Again (kind of)

The other day I was walking in from the car with all the kids... and our crap. I was carrying my purse, the diaper bag, baby carrier (complete with baby) and a couple bags from store (I tend to fall in that category that I would rather load my arms up until the tendons are splitting than make a second trip.) While trying to juggle all of this and unlock the front door my one free finger, all I kept thinking was, "Why didn't anyone tell me that I would become nothing more than a glorified pack mule?"

Later I was nursing the baby, and if you've ever breast-fed a baby you know that although it is a beautiful thing and it's great for the baby and you and blah, blah, blah.... you still feel like a gigantic milking cow. Especially if you pump. I would secretly moo to myself when I used to pump at work. I would pretend to have an audience and would crack myself up in the bathroom. Hey, don't judge, it was REALLY, REALLY boring to sit in there in pump, plus bathrooms have killer acoustics for mooing.

The rest of the day I kept thinking then of other animals that mothers are like, for instance

• Momma Bear- I let my kids fight their own battles but sometimes when it's not fair, momma bear does get the claws out. That means you Mom. If the kids are running away screaming when you say "Let's whip your ducks" (grandma speak for 'comb your hair'), it's time to just let their hair be ratty. My nieces used to say, "Grandma, I don't want my ducks whipped." Thank God nobody has called the Humane Society.


• Horsie- Love my kids but can't wait until I can lay down on my stomach without someone jumping on my back and saying 'GIDDYUP HORSIE!'. I'll be lucky to make it the next 5 years with my spinal column intact.


• Roaring Lion (see also growling)- I'm not proud of this but have you ever picked up the same toys for the 15th time in one afternoon? And yet you still find that one little piece that can puncture the bottom of your foot. I can't tell if I sound more like an angry lion or King Kong. Either way it isn't becoming of a lady.

And Finally,

• Dog Tired- Speaking of, I just realized I'm tired and everyone else is in bed. Why am I still typing?
  

So I can say that now that the newborn vortex has spit us out and I'm back to feeling like a human again, it's somewhat of a bittersweet moment. I realize that to feel human is really just acting like a pack mule/milking cow/momma bear. You got to do what you can though to get through these rough early years. Long live mommy and her animal instincts.

Feel free to post your own :)

At least I'm not depressed... yet.

Ok, yeah, it's been awhile. I can say this isn't the first post I've come up with though because technically I have about 15 more already written and titled in my head. Unfortunately that's where things have been getting stuck as my fingers have been pre-occupied changing diapers, taking meds and trying to catch up on a solid month of untouched housework. Envious huh?

Yes, on August 27th, after a mixer of 2ozs of castor oil & OJ, a few (maybe alot of) cuss words, a 3:45 am car ride listening to Lisa Loeb lullabies, a fabulous epidural & 12 minutes from 5cm to delivering... we have a wonderful new daughter. Finlay Evalyn came screaming into this world & our hearts. And as soon as I figure out how to post pics of her beautiful smile, I will. Just please don't hold your breath as it really might be a year before it happens... I'm just going by my track record. (What you can't see is Ben lecturing me on not sending out the finished birth announcements for Isla... born 2-1/2 years ago. So you see what I'm saying right?)

Finlay has been a dream child. And I can say that because Hazelle was a constantly screaming nightmare and Isla was probably about normal. I was due for a bit of a break, and I was really looking forward to this bonding time with my 3 girls at home when all hell started to break loose.

It started with the development of blood clots in my legs before I left the hospital and then a bout with post-partum preeclampsia. That was a short sentence, but it left me to be in 3 hospitals in as many days and on some serious meds. The first 2 weeks after my bundle of joy's arrival should have had me crying from lack of sleep from screaming children, but instead had my lack of sleep from nurses checking my blood pressure, drawing blood or checking my IV. It's over now, but I can honestly say it was probably one of the scariest things I've gone through in life so far.

Done. Over. Let's move on. Except in the midst of it Finlay has to go to Children's Hospital to have an ultrasound on her hip (should be just fine). Hazelle gets a staph infection in her ear (OMG, SO gross to watch what that doc pulled out of her ear. I could have made a small stinky candle) which requires 3 doctor's office visits in a week. And Isla, just over an ear infection herself comes down last night, hops in bed beside me and proceeds to vomit on both of us. A.W.E.S.O.M.E.

So, I have to honestly laugh a little. With each new doctor's visit I go to, there is the regurgitation of medical history that is to be filled out in triplicate for which I almost need to do shorthand to write in the complications. Then try to explain them to the poor nurse deciphering it almost makes me appear like a nut case. The amazing part to me though is through it all, next to the question"Postpartum Depression?", I can check an honest "NO". Because having the bejeesus scared out of me honestly made me appreciate the constant chaos being at home with 3 children 4 & under entails.

Bring it on life. I have a new abounding appreciation for you & my priorities. I just have one favor to ask. Could we hold off on getting barfed again on for awhile? One more bout of that and I just might have to check that 'Yes' box. Life is good. :)