My Kid's Having Surgery... AGAIN

In March of this year, Connor had to have his ears tubed because he had enough fluid built up in them that he was not hearing well. We tried a few times with medication to get the fluid to drain, but, alas, it didn't work. So, surgery it was. And it will be surgery, again, next week, but let me give you a little background and a little advice, if you have a kiddo that needs minor surgery (God forbid).

~ He got his first ear infection when he was 4 months old.
~ He's had 2-4 ear infections (usually in both ears) every winter since birth.
~ He is ALWAYS congested in the winter time.
~ This junk has also caused a couple of sinus infections. Joy.
~ He got a "borderline" score on his hearing at his 4-year-old check up. Which, by the way, the pediatrician didn't tell me about because his hearing was "still within normal limits". I was a wee bit peeved when I discovered that.
~ He failed the hearing test at his Preschool in the fall of '08. Well, failed one ear, another borderline score on the other.
~ He got the surgery (after some attempts at ear drops and medication) in March of '09.
~ Sometime between then and now, he had a growth spurt, and forced the tubes out of position, thus allowing fluid to come back into his ears, get backed up, stuff him up, and cause yet another double ear infection. Yay.
~ This time, surgery will involve not only replacing the tubes, but also removing his adenoids. Oh, and it has to be done before he gets on a plane for Miami on the 23rd. Planes are bad for fluid filled ears. :::sigh:::

As far as surgery goes, it was definitely harder on me than on Connor. I was a wreck. Ask my Mom, she'll tell you! But, in the end, it was truly not a big deal. We have a fabulous ENT, the surgery center was nice, and the anesthesiologist was a rock star. Connor loved him, and so did I. I hope he's the one to do the next surgery!

The day was pretty easy... show up at 6:30am (ugh!), surgery at 7:30. Connor got some Tylenol with Codeine to start the day (ain't that great on an empty stomach!), and that's when we met the anesthesiologist. He had us all giggling, and Connor at ease. Told my kiddo he was going to get to go into a room like a spaceship, with all sorts of cool machines, and that he was even going to get to wear a "space mask". That would be the gas mask. :) Connor was actually cheering and excited to go into the OR. Like I said... the man was a rock star.

Despite the fact that I had about a dozen people tell me not to be the one to go into the OR with Connor and hold him while he was gassed (something I really wish I could do at home, sometimes!), I always prefer to know what's going on. Remember, I am the chick that insisted on witnessing her own knee surgery. So, I feel better seeing it, and I stand by that, still. If Tim will let me, I'll be the one to go in, again. So, turns out he didn't really like the "space mask". It "smell[ed] yucky, Mommy!" He struggled, but the resident rock star said that was actually better - they breathe more heavily when they struggle, therefor inhale more of the gas faster and get knocked right out. As was the case with Connor. And, as I was holding him, I did catch a whiff of the gas, and he was totally right. The stuff was really stinky.

The surgery took maybe 20 minutes. And another 20 minutes or so after that, we got to go in to see him wake up and have a popsicle. Boy, he loved having that for breakfast! He was a little punchy for an hour or so, but by lunchtime, it was like nothing had even happened. Now, the Doc tells me that this time, with taking out his adenoids, the recovery time will be longer - 24 hours or so. But still, not too bad. And at least this time I know what I'm dealing with.

So, anyway, a week from Friday, we will be going round the roller coaster once again. For any of you that might have a kid and you're wondering what the signs are of this joyous problem, I assure you - your kid, like mine, may not exhibit the "typical" signs of ear issues. Here's a list of what didn't occur with my son:

~ Complaining of ear pain. Not even once. Not a peep, even when the doc said he should be screaming.
~ Tugging at his ears. Again, no. Your ears get irritated when they're infected, thus the tugging. It's almost like trying to scratch an itch. But, not a single tug that I ever caught from my kiddo.
~ Poking into his ears. Again, like trying to scratch an itch. And, nope. No poking, here.
~ Fever. Only a couple of times out of about 15-20 thus far. He must take after my grandfather. The man would walk around with strep and zero throat pain. Anomalies, the both of them.
~ A change in behavior/attitude. Nope. Almost always his usual, chipper self. The exceptions? The couple of times he did actually spike a fever.

What did occur? Major congestion, hearing loss (from the fluid), and a cough. Sounds like a head cold, doesn't it? That's what I thought for the first year of his life. Then, I got into the habit of bringing him in to the doc if he was stuffed up for more than a few days, because I just knew it would turn into an infection.

So, I hope modern technology will come to the rescue on the second attempt, and rid my kid of these nasty problems. Keep your fingers crossed, and I'll update you as soon as it's over and we're safely in Miami. Which, I'm sure, will give me yet another story to tell. :)

Merry Christmas!

Peace

You know, as I get older, peace seems to be harder to come by. And I mean both the inner AND the outer kind! In some ways, it would be so much easier to go back to times when I didn't have any responsibility to speak of. Of course, back then I thought there was no peace, either.

What is peace, really? Well... I think it's different for everyone. People find peace in all sort of places. I find outer peace at home... when Connor is in school, of course. When he's home - the only outer peace I get is when he's asleep. And, for some reason, I desperately want another kid! I also find outer peace out in nature. But as I prefer to share things like that with my loved ones, I don't get that very much, anymore. Tim is allergic to the outside world, and bugs absolutely adore his blood. I can't say I blame them... he is very sweet! :::insert your gagging noises, here:::

Inner peace is a harder animal to find. And the road to it is constantly forking and winding. Right now, for me, inner peace means financial stability first. And we're finally getting to that. But you always seem to have to make sacrifices to find inner peace, and for us, getting financial stability was no exception. So, what sacrifices will have to be made for me to get to the next on my list of peaceful inner things? Good Lord, I haven't a clue. See... the next part of finding my own personal peace to to fix me. lol The outer me. Fix the outer me to find inner peace.

My entire life, I have struggled with my weight. Not to the extent that some have, certainly, but I'm not sure my inner stress is any different. Although I consider myself fat at the moment, I am by no stretch morbidly obese. And there are some who would feel they even have to argue the "fat" part. But, trust me... I'm fat. I feel kinda gross. I used to weigh 128 pounds and wear a size 5. I am now around 200 pounds (pretty sure... I tend to avoid the scale whenever possible) and wear a size 14 (ok... maybe 16). I used to be able to kick straight up. Now, I'm working to kick head level. And not because my flexibility is less - because the dang fat rolls are in the way. So, why haven't I fixed it? Well... I go back to the whole inner peace thing.

If you go look in the dictionary, I'm sure there will be a picture of me (possibly a family portrait, actually) under "emotional eater". I feed my stress. Yum! Nothing tastes better than crap when you're stressed out! My husband, on the other hand, starves his stress. Were but I to have that problem! So, over the last couple of years, as we've been majorly stressed about money, I've gained a stoopid amount of weight, and he's lost it. Tim, who was already slender, got down to an emaciated-looking 125 pounds. For a man that's 5'8", it's not nearly as healthy looking a weight as a 5'4" woman. In the last couple of months, as our financial outlook in drastically improving, Tim has gained 13 pounds, joined a gym, and has enlisted the help of an amazing personal trainer. And he's excited about it! He gets up to go to the gym at 5:30 in the morning. And he's NOT a morning guy. Because his newfound inner peace about money is motivating him to find inner peace about his outer self. So... what's my problem? Why don't I want to go to the gym, too? Why don't I want to work out with this trainer? (By the way, the trainer was mine, first... a friend introduced me, and I worked out with him for a year. He helped me feel good and loose some weight. Mostly in the posterior region...) Where's my motivation? I have no idea. If you find it, please return it.

So, I'm trying a tack I've never really tried before. I've always been an athlete. Right now, I'm a mush. I used to dress presentably. I now wear mostly sweats. So, I'm changing some small things about myself to help me get the motivation I need to change the big things. As a "fat girl", I just don't feel attractive. So, what can I do to fix that? I've been wearing make-up everyday. That's seriously new. I bought a few pair of very pretty, simple, inexpensive earrings to wear. Also new. I got my hair done in a way that's easy and - imho - very flattering and pretty. Highlights and all. Bought a couple of pair of new, nice jeans that fit. And the really new thing? I got ma nails done. I feel like such a girl... and I think it's working. I'm starting to feel like a pretty girl, and pretty girls don't eat crap. They don't binge on cookies (I have a box of those fabulous Costco cookies in my pantry that normally would have been gone in a few days - it's been there for about 2 weeks, and it's half full. I think I only had 2), eat at the fast food places because they are there (ok, I did that today, but I'm a work in progress!) and they actually cook a decent dinner. Every day. And I've actually been doing that! I'm not sure it's habit, yet, but I'm even starting to get fired up about cooking. And... I'm not a chef, believe me. Pasta and perogies, that's me. But I find myself, because I'm changing seemingly frivolous things, getting to the hard stuff.

I'm changing the outside, first. I've always tried to do it the other way. But I now realize that if you look like crap, you're not inclined to do anything but feel like crap. As I look better on the outside, I really am starting to feel better on the inside, and get closer to the inner peace I want. And I think I deserve. So, we'll see how it goes!

And, I'll tell you a secret... I actually LOVE the silly nails!

Why Do People DO That?

So... there have been many times in my life that I haven't understood people's actions. Some people loose it on the server at a restaurant because their food came out wrong, or late or whatever. Some people let friends or loved ones just slip out of their life. Some people lie, cheat or steal. Why? Maybe I'm naive or idealistic... but I just don't get it! Truly, it's not that hard to live an honest life.

It seems that, lately, I'm constantly surrounded by new drama. Even old drama has come back around. But at least I have some perspective on that. I have had people in my life that swear up and down that I'm like family. Then, when it's no longer easy, I'm just dust in the wind. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. I have gained time and perspective on people that I have truly adored, idolized and looked to for example, only to find out that really, the talk isn't walked. I have seen people that I knew... people that I once called friends... turn out to be child molesters. And I have seen people that teach honesty and integrity abuse and cheat on their spouses. And I just... don't... GET IT.

Is it really so hard to walk the talk? I mean, come on. If you preach to the people around you to tell the truth, tell it yourself. Is the truth harder sometimes? Oh, heck yeah. Does it always work for you in the end? Yup. My Grandmaster says there are things called "beautiful lies". On this, I agree. Grandmaster Rhee's example is usually this: A family is so poor that they cannot afford much food. At the end of the day, a girl is fixing dinner for herself and her elderly father. She realizes that there is only enough food for one, and so gives dinner to her father, and she goes without. When her father asks her if she has already eaten, she replies, "Yes, Father, I have." A beautiful lie.

But the majority of lies aren't beautiful. They're ugly. So... don't tell them. My son has told me a grand total of about 3 or 4 lies. He's four, so I'm sure there will be more, unfortunately. You know why it's only been that many? Because he gets in more trouble for the lie than the thing he lied about. Only took a few times... he's a fast learner. I hope it sticks through teenage hood! Yeah, right... But, on with my tirade.

And have you ever noticed lies have a theme? Lies are usually told for one of 3 reasons... they think the truth will get them in trouble, they think the lie is just easier, or they think the lie will be more impressive. Uhh... no, no and NO. Initially, maybe, but in the long run? All you do is get into more trouble. So, I say again... don't lie. So simple.

To some extent, we are all selfish. It's human nature to look out for number one. But, really... we should all stop at manipulating other people. Or keeping them from reaching their true potential because it doesn't suit us. Or get pissed off when people leave us. Let people be who they truly are, and the rewards for you - yes, even the selfish you - will be SO much greater. There's a saying that I'm about to mangle, but you'll get the gist: "If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours for a lifetime." It's hard to let go, because of that selfish thing... but it's so much better. So, I say again... let people be who they are. So simple.

Child molestation... I don't think there are many evils that can top that one. And yet, it seems to be rampant. Are some people so sick in the head that they don't know right from wrong? Or have no conscience? I think there might be. But the vast majority of these offenders don't fall into those categories. The men I knew don't. And yet, even though they knew what they were doing was wrong, they did it, anyway. I can't even express to you the contempt and disgust I feel for people who do this. And the overwhelming sadness I feel that innocents have to go through that horror. I just don't understand it. And I don't understand the people who stand by and have an idea it might be going on, but say nothing. I feel incredibly guilty that I didn't see anything, yet there was no way I could - one was a martial arts "friend" I only saw at tournaments once a month or so, and another didn't come into his criminal activity until years after I had moved out of state (we were young when we knew each other). Thankfully, these two were caught, but there are countless others who get away with it. Takes a lot of bravery to ask for help or to speak up when you suspect something. But, for the sake of the innocents... do it, anyway. So it's not simple.

My last beef really, really kills me. Why, why, why do people cheat on their spouses??? I don't care what your excuse might be, it doesn't make it right. Your spouse abuses you. Ok... get help getting out. There are ways. And, really, you think that an abusive spouse would be perfectly calm when they find out? It sure seems like a good way to get yourself killed. Because they always find out. It's the nature of the beast. You're trapped in an unhappy marriage, but don't want to leave because of.... the kids, the money, whatever? Too bad. You made your bed, now lie in it. Suck it up or leave. Your spouse cheated on you, so you're getting him/her back? Ya, real mature. Listen, cheating is a deal breaker for me. I don't care what the circumstances are, it's not acceptable. And it's SO easy to avoid. Don't put yourself in a situation that might tempt you, short term or long. A married person has absolutely no business spending an excessive amount of alone time with a member of the opposite sex (unless one of them is gay (= ). It's asking for trouble. So, keep yourself out of it. So simple.

I guess it's in my nature, but I feel the need to mention some happy things, now. I have amazing people in my life, people that I've known forEVER. People that didn't act like I fell off the face of the planet anytime I moved. People that I still see and spend time with. People that don't lie and manipulate. The majority of my people are like that, as a matter of fact. And I'm grateful for them everyday. I have grown the ability, for the most part, to purge the nasty people from my life and to look out and be sure to not let any more in. And, I have an amazingly happy marriage. I actually have good communication with my husband. Which is not to say that we don't have our issues - all spouses do. But our learning curve is pretty steep, and we meant it when we said the part about the better and worse. I can't imagine my life without him... and if I was starting to have wandering eyes... I'd get some help, talk to someone (including him), and nip it in the bud. It's what a good wife or husband does, and I pray to God that I continue to be a good wife, walk the talk, and continue to be a person of integrity.

How about you?

Traveling with a 4 year old, Part 2

Ok, so... we made it! And it wasn't nearly as bad as I had thought it would be. He was impatient, definitely. At 8 am, he was in my room... "Mommy, it is time to go? How about now? Is it time, now? How much longer? How about I wait in the car?" Excited much? So, I had to stall him for a couple of hours, but then we were on our way to to airport. Thank you, whoever invented the portable DVD player!

So, we said our goodbye's to Daddy, and off we went to wait in the outrageous lines that are now part of the airport experience. Connor and his new Mohawk were quite the hit! He was a really good boy, and thought it was the coolest thing ever to take off his shoes and go barefoot through the metal detector. I had grown a brain since he was a baby, and decided to have lunch at the airport - way more entertaining than just sitting at the gate. Of course, the choice du jour was McDonald's. And from there, we pretty much walked onto the plane.

A little aside... While in the tube-thingy you walk down to get on the plane, there was another family behind us - Mom, Dad, 3-ish year old boy, and an almost 1-ish year old girl. It was quite the entourage. Anyway, the boy was about as excited as Connor, and started asking Mom if it was time to get on the plane. Mom said that yes, it was, but first "we have to wait for the rest of the people to get on". The little boy immediately started saying, quite loudly, I might add, as only little ones can, "Go 'way, people! Go 'way!" I looked back with a grin and Dad looked mortified. I said, "'Go 'way'... excellent!" to the Dad, and to the boy, "I feel the same way, buddy!"

So, being that the aviation people are a little anal about what you can and cannot use during takeoff these days (I've been flying since I was a little kid, listening to my music all through take off, and no one ever died, by the way) it was a bit tricky keeping my son in his seat belt and distracted until the plane started moving. Once we pulled away from the gate - thank God we didn't have to sit on the runway! - Connor was the consummate boy... "WOW, MOMMY! This plane goes faster than your CAR! How does it DO that!?" And he proceeded to ask me a million questions about how planes work. And, yes, I admit I might have made up an answer or two.

He was really a very good boy through the flight. Even after the batteries on his DVD player were spent, and we discovered that the batteries on his hand held Leapster game we dead, he drew, colored, and played Go Fish with me until we were ready to land. He even kept to a minimal dozen are so "Are we there, yet?"s and "How much longer?"s.

When we got off the plane, he had his eyes peeled for Nanny, and sprinted the last 50 yards to give her a hug. He only ran over two or three sets of toes with his rolly backpack on the way. The worst part, by far, was waiting for the luggage to come out. That dang conveyor belt is just too tempting looking to not touch! I did, however, avoid giving him a beating. Narrowly. But, since he was so good on the plane, I thought he deserved a pass.

So, all in all... it appears that I will actually take Connor on the plane with me for the return trip, as opposed to checking him with the baggage. I will be sure to have fresh batteries, though! And, considering how much fun we're having so far - it's worth every minute of travel, and I'll do it again in a heartbeat.

Traveling with a 4 year old...

It's already an adventure, and we haven't even left, yet! Pretty much every year these days, we go to the "homeland" (well, mine, anyway) - Miami. The first time with Connor was when he was 5 months old. I went a few days before my husband, and thus wound up traveling alone with a baby. And I SWORE I would never do it, again. Why is it we never seem to stick to that stuff? Because, of course, I'm doing it again. Traveling alone with the kiddo. But, you see, it will be different this time - he's almost five.

We've been counting down the days for a bit... we're down to 2 more to go. He wakes me up every morning, telling me the new count. "Two more days, Mommy!" So far, he's wanted to pack everything from his woobie (no problem) to the television (big problem) and all of his stuffed animals (no way). So, this time, the adventure begins at home.

We pack tomorrow and leave the day after. Once we arrive in Miami, all will be fine, I'm sure. Getting there, on the other hand... We have a 12:55pm flight, which means I have to distract him all morning until it's time to get in the car, drive for about an hour to the airport, wait at the airport for an hour to get on the plane, wait on the plane for Lord-only-knows-how-long to take off, and finally a 2.5 hour flight to Miami.

If nothing else, it should be interesting! Stay tuned....

Friends

It never ceases to amaze me how real, true, good friends will come to the rescue. I'm not talking about the friends you just have coffee or go to a movie with, necessarily, but the ones that maybe you don't see for a while - years, even - and when you get together again, it's like time never even passed.

I have a few like that. A few that, if I needed it, they would go to the ends of the Earth for me and my family. And vice versa. Friends I never thought I would find, or find again. One, I've known since we were kids. I mean, like babies. Our Moms were friends. Her Mom ran our Brownie Troop, eventually. But I'll never call her an "old" friend. ;-) There have been stretches of years that we haven't spoken. But we somehow wound up living an hour from one another, and anytime I need her, all I would have to do is call. And I hope she understands the reverse is totally true.

One, I met in High School. It's weird, because although we just reconnected a little better than a year ago, and I've only seen her while on vacation once in that time, I really do put her on this list. We were good friends in high school, played sports together, had classes together, ate lunch together, hung out... she tried to kill me with a fire extinguisher, even. True friendship, that! The weird thing is that I think we can all just sense the "right" friends when we come upon them. It had literally been over a decade (good God) since we last saw each other, and yet I know if I needed her, she'd be there for me. And again, I hope she understands I would be there for her, too.

The other two, aside from my husband, came to me through my martial arts. One, I never in a million years thought we would become as fast of friends as we have. Even though we don't live near each other, anymore, we try not to let too long go by without writing or talking. I miss her lots, and she makes me wish I could bring all my people together in one place. Another rock in my life. She even came up for a whole week to give me moral support when my son was born, even though she didn't have any more of a clue what to do with a newborn than I did! Another sign of true friendship.

The other, and last on the short list, was the weirdest of meetings, I think. The first chick, our Moms facilitated. The second... well, high school is a natural place to connect. The third... she and I trained together. This one, though, came out of nowhere - almost literally. Came in to take a class one day, and I saw a hole in her pants in an... uncomfortable... spot. So, I told her, she safety pinned it, and the rest is history. She and I have been through the proverbial wringer, and I know from experience she would sacrifice for herself to give to me. And, most happily, vice versa. My friends are the bomb.

What's that saying, again? "Friends come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime"? Sorry if I mangled it. I am grateful for them all, even the ones that I carry a trace of sadness about because I thought they were here for a lifetime - was sure of it, in fact - and they turned out to be here only for a reason or a season. But those lifers... I don't know what I would do without them. I love them from the bottom of my heart.

Here's to the rest of our lives, and the friends that come along for the ride. Thanks, guys.

Marriage and Nana's

So, I just got married... again! No, actually, my marriage just got validated, so essentially, I renewed my vows. When Tim and I got married in May of '03, a non-denominational minister did the deed. My Nana was not impressed. The only thing that kept her from freaking out was that I promised her I would get married in the Catholic Church. It's been a long time coming, but we finally did it on Wednesday, July 1st. My husband is thrilled to have two anniversaries!

Unfortunately, Nana didn't make it to see us. She passed away in August of 2007, right before her 92nd birthday. So, you'd think the validation would have been moot, but I just couldn't stop thinking about it. Nana was haunting me... so, I finally started the process.

It was just like a full ceremony, except it was in the chapel and no one was dressed to the nines. We even exchanged rings - and Connor got to be the ring bearer. It was wonderful, and made me remember how amazing it was to get married in the first place.

I am married - again! - to the greatest man on Earth. He's my life, my love, and my light. He waits up for me if I don't come to bed... he calls me just to say hi... he tells me he misses me when I'm gone... he tells me I'm beautiful, even when I don't feel like I am... I could go on and on and on... I am ecstatically happy to have gotten lucky enough to coerce him into marrying me. And, of course, he gave me the other light of my life... my son.

And for my Nana... I miss her terribly. She helped to raise my brother and I. She was an extraordinary woman. Wickedly independent until the end. We always used to joke that she had God's ear, because whenever she lit a candle for something, sure enough... it happened. From my Uncle's staying out of the thick of it in Vietnam to my doing well at a tournament, it always seemed to go her way. And I am absolutely sure God is enjoying her company, now. And I hope she's pleased that Tim and I are finally "official".

Love you, Nana...

Oh, boy... Childbirth

Women have been giving birth since the beginning of time. It is one of the most natural things in the world. I just finished reading a fabulous book - Lady's Hands, Lion's Heart by Carol Leonard - that I was lucky enough to have lent to me by a student. It's written by and about a Midwife and her experiences.

WARNING: The chick writing this has very strong opinions about childbirth. For her OWN kid. The same chick also believes every Mother is entitled to her own opinion, and has the right to decide how her own kids are born.

Now, don't say I didn't warn you!

When I got pregnant with my son, I was a lot of things all at once. Ecstatic, tearful, terrified, excited, shocked... you name it, I probably felt it. All in a 2 minute time span. He was planned - my husband and I tried for 8 months before the pee stick said "pregnant". But, from that moment, I started researching the best way for me to give birth.

I know this lady that has 9 kids. Yes, I said 9. At this point, they range in age from 21 to 3. No twins, all single births. And, for the most part, they were all born at home... 6 at home, 2 in a birthing center, and only 1 in an actual hospital. I had always thought it was fascinating, but now it wildly interested me. So, I started asking questions.

She answered whatever questions I asked, and encouraged me to do my own research. She pointed me in the right directions for some things, and others I found by myself. The more I read about things, the more I thought that, as long as I was having a normal, uneventful pregnancy, I would like to have my baby at home.

This is where some of you will freak out, and think that I'm backwards and not rational, and think, as I recently read, that I am selfish for wanting that. That it's for my comfort, having nothing to do with my unborn baby. This is also where I tell those people that you've got it wrong. And most of you must not be mothers. Because if you were mothers, you would understand that as soon as you become pregnant... as soon as that silly little stick you peed on tells you you are pregnant... it all changes. You, as an individual, have ceased to exist. Your entire existence is given over to this little life that you can't even feel, yet. You are in love like you've never been before. So, I tell you that anything I do - what I eat, how much I sleep - is all for the baby. My comfort is comforting to the baby. My stress stresses out the baby. All that is scientific fact. So... if Mommy is stressed out in a hospital for a birth, so is the baby, and that's a problem. The calmer Mom is for her labor, the smoother it progresses. On the flip side, of course, if a Mom is more comfortable in the perceived safety of a hospital, then that's where she should be.

I, however, have never had an overwhelming urge to camp out in a sterile, non-homey hospital. I am totally a home body - my house is my sanctuary from the craziness of life, and here is where I am most comfortable. As I got more and more pregnant (good GOD, I was big...), I really wanted to avoid a hospital. But I did have a major obstacle. My husband.

Tim was not nearly as enthusiastic about a home birth as I was, no matter how much our friend raved about the "rightness" of it. He's a little conservative, and I think, like a lot if first time Dads, he was concerned about me and my health and my ability to do this major thing that I've never done before. He didn't get why I was so sure it would all be fine. "You can't know that," he would tell me. But, as I didn't want a basket case of a husband around while I was giving birth, we agreed on a birthing center, as opposed to a hospital. A nice compromise, I thought. I still get to have a midwife and a "free-wheeling" birth, he gets the comfort of a decked-out-with-modern-equipment-to-handle-an-emergency facility.

Of course, right when we started looking for midwives and birthing centers, the closest one (which was already 45 minutes away) was getting ready to shut its doors. So heartbreaking, because birthing centers give such a valuable service, and they are so under appreciated. And now, they are falling under fire from our sue-happy society. Everything these days is someones fault. And someone else's fault, at that. OB-GYN's and family practices are having almost as severe problems with insurance. My family doctor at the time had stopped delivering babies because she couldn't afford the malpractice insurance for it, and she was very sad, because she thought delivering babies was one of the most joyous things she got to do.

So, my only options were in Alexandria, VA (the midwife practice my friend used, actually) and Annapolis, MD. Both of which were well over an hour from us, on a good day, with no traffic. And in the Washington, DC Metropolitan area, no traffic is unheard of, I don't care what time it is. And, God forbid I go into labor during rush hour. I'd wind up having the baby in my car! Cute story later, maybe, but not the most desirable location.

So, turns out, there were no midwives and no birthing centers available to me. I was really pissed. I wanted to move. Well, maybe not. But, my ever-reliable husband talked me down off a cliff, and we wound up choosing a hospital with a brand new birthing wing that was about 1/2 an hour away.

We used The Bradley Method of child birth, which absolutely rocks. I can't say enough amazing things about it. People train for all sorts of things... marathons, tournaments, triathlons, competitions of all kinds. But I'm not sure that enough women really train to do the Labor Marathon. Lamaze, in my opinion, teaches you how to handle a hospital birth; i.e., how to hold out until you can get the epidural. NO WAY was I putting drugs of any sort in my system if I could avoid it. There is no way that you can tell me that although my kid will react to spicy or ethnic food that I eat right away, he won't be affected by drugs. Right. I don't think so. Studies have shown that babies born from births with epidurals are slower to nurse and aren't as alert in the first few hours. Of course they're not. They've been drugged, they're all peace and love, man! Hey, being born is hard enough, I think, without having to be stoned to boot.

So, The Bradley Method was 12 weeks of a 2.5 hour class once a week. We practiced. We breathed, meditated, and had our husbands try all sorts of relaxation techniques on us. You never know what will or wouldn't work. We practiced different positions to shift to in order to keep us as comfortable as possible, and the labor moving along. We role played. It was fabulous, and our instructor was an absolute gem. I felt incredibly prepared for my kiddo to arrive.

I was also incredibly glad to have a different perspective on birth form our Bradley instructor, Judy. All I kept hearing from my doctors was, "This is your first baby. Labor will take a while. 20 or so hours, probably." 20 hours?? Holy crap. Look, I know there are a lot of women who have labored for days. A friend of mine came in at 32 hours. But, not having done it before, and having the entire universe of mothers, it seemed like, telling me how much it hurt... well, 20 hours was definitely intimidating, even for not-very-easily-intimidated me. They also told me things like, "Oh, well the due date is give or take 2 weeks, but you're a first time Mom, so, most likely, yours will be give." Everyone was telling me my baby would be late, because I'm a first time Mom. I even found out that one of the doctors in the practice I wound up going to believed that first time Moms were incapable of delivering without an epidural. !!! Judy, however, said, "Don't listen to everyone. Your body and your baby will do what they're supposed to do. Could you have a 20 hour labor? Sure. But you'll be ready for it. Trained. Could the baby be late? Sure. Maybe he just needs a little more time to get ready. But maybe... he'll be right in time, or early, ready to take on the world. Maybe... your labor will be quick, just a few hours. Happens all time, really." Now, that sounded much more reasonable to me. So, I chilled out. I stopped listening to the endless amount of people who wanted to give me advice. And, trust me, Mom's come out of the woodwork to give you advice when you're pregnant!

I had a very uneventful - boring - pregnancy. No glitches at all. At 5am on September 3rd, 2004 - Labor Day weekend, of all times - my water broke. I woke up from my uncomfortable slumber thinking I had to pee. But, no. It was my son getting ready to come out.

Now, we figure I slept through the early part of Labor. The doctor said to call right away if my water broke, but there is really no danger in waiting a few hours to go to the hospital. So, I waited for contractions to start. I did, however, call my Mom in Miami - this was 2 weeks early. (Mental finger to the doctor.) And, of course, it was hurricane season, and yes, there was a hurricane headed to Miami. So, I thought that if my Mom still wanted to be with me, she'd better hop to. And off to the airport she went.

Next, I called my best friend (who's daughter is my gorgeous, highly intelligent, almost now 3-year-old Goddaughter) who was going to be in the birthing room with us. She asked me if I had called the doctor, yet. And yelled at me when I told her no. Buy this time, I was starting to feel some very mild contractions.... every 3-ish minutes. Oh, and the other criteria for calling the doctor? When the contractions are 5 minutes apart. Oops. Not my fault my kid skipped that part. At this point, it was about 5:15/5:20, so not much time had passed. Tim called the doc and told her the situation. She, of course, just like the movies, asked him how far apart the contractions were. And, just like the movies, he didn't know. :-) When I relayed "Ohhhh.... about 3 minutes or so" she scolded him for not calling earlier. He said that none of this was happening earlier, that my contractions started out this close. To which she told him to get my butt to the hospital.

I hated leaving home. I didn't want to get in the car - I was very uncomfortable by this time, and the contractions were really starting to hurt. In the half hour drive, I think I jumped right through the first 2 stages of Labor. I took my seat belt off half way there, much to my husband's chagrin, because I just couldn't have it touching my belly, anymore. When we got there, we had to go in through the ER entrance, because it was too early for the lobby to be open. The ditz at the counter didn't get that I was in labor. I don't know why. I was as big as a house, had to put my head on the counter three times while we were checking in to deal with a contraction, and I shot daggers at him with my eyes. But, he didn't seem to think I needed a wheelchair. I guess he thought I should walk the 400 miles to Labor & Delivery. Yeah, that was fun. I had to stop my waddling every 10 feet to have a contraction, because they were coming every 1.5-2 minutes, now.

When we finally made it to our room - which was as nice as a hospital can make it - the nurse came to check on me. The doctors, see, don't make an appearance until the baby is ready to pop out. They come in, they catch, they say "good job" and they go. As long as there are no complications, of course. So, if you want to see more of your doctor during labor, have complications. It's the nurses that help you through. Our first nurse, I would have had to kill if she had stayed. She came in, told me the doc wanted me to walk around to help move the labor along, and to "hang in there. This is your first baby. It's gonna be a while." Great. Another one. Well, pppfffllltttt!

She checked my dilation, and had the decency, at least, to look impressed when I was 3 centimeters. A couple of hours and my senses of humor and modesty later, I was at 5. By noon, I had only a tiny lip of my cervix left to open, and I was told to start pushing. At 1:04pm, a mere eight hours after my water broke, Connor Patrick was born. (Another mental finger to the doctor.)

I don't mean to gloss over my labor. It was not, by any stretch of the imagination, easy. It was seriously hard work. I was tired, in pain, and wanted it to stop. Not once did I ask for drugs (this would be the final finger, as the doctor that delivered my son was the one who thought first time Mom's couldn't labor drug-free. HA!). I did, however, ask the nurse a few times how much longer it was going to take. She always deflected my question. Insert "B" word here. But, honestly, even though it was hard, it just was not a big deal. My friend with the 9 kids? She was there. What better coach than someone who's done it personally nine times? She said, and I quote, "That was a perfect Bradley birth." I was flattered. Would I change anything about it? Yeah, I'd have my kid at home. I was SO out of that hospital as soon as I could get through the bureaucracy. They didn't understand why I wanted to keep my son with me for as long as possible before we were separated (there is a window of opportunity, apparently, to administer the ointment to their eyes). They didn't understand why I didn't want him to be taken to the On Demand nursery (where the babies stay until ready to nurse) at all. They didn't understand why I didn't want to stay for 3 days ("You know your insurance pays for a 3 day hospital stay, don't you?"), that I just wanted to go home. It took me until the next day, but we were outta there.

Please don't get me wrong... the hospital staff (except for the first nurse!) was amazing. I loved, loved, LOVED the nurse we wound up with, Jackie. All in all, it would be considered a very positive experience. I just didn't like the environment. It wasn't home.

Had I had a complicated pregnancy, or my labor proved to be difficult, I would not have hesitated for a single second to go to a hospital. If I had been home, one concerned look from a midwife is all it would have taken to get my butt in the car. I'm not stupid. But I was upset that because uninformed people in this world chose to make life difficult for midwives and home births, that my decision in the matter was made for me. My husband promised me that if the first birth went smoothly, we can go for a home birth for the 2nd one. IF, that is, there are still midwives that are allowed to attend home births. And that, unfortunately, is looking less and less likely.

Do tragedies happen? Yes. Do babies and mothers die in childbirth? Yes. Is it the norm? Not by any means. When was the last time you heard about a baby dieing in a hospital on the national or world news? I don't think I ever have, unless it was a celebrity's baby. And, yet, go Google "midwife" and "home birth", and one of the first links that pops is about a midwife in England who transferred a birth to a hospital, and the baby died. And, of course, the media and the comments are blaming the midwife. Could it be her fault? Absolutely. Could the baby have perished had the entire birthing process been done in the hospital? YES. We'll never know. That's sad, absolutely tragic and life-changing for the parents, and true.

The point of this blog? Butt out. Support people's right to make their own decisions, no matter how dumb you think they might be. Do your research, don't just believe everything that you are told. Everything you read is NOT necessarily true. And, for God's sake, if there is a practice in this world you don't believe in... don't practice it. But don't make it so that other people can't do it, too. Christian Scientist women that are giving birth, to my understanding, are not allowed to make any noise. At all. Not a peep. Now, I don't agree with that - I don't know how they do it - but they have a right to try! That's why we live in America, people... we're supposed to have freedom of choice. Oh, and I have some strong political opinions, too, but we won't get into those today. :-D

If there is anyone reading this that is preggo... I encourage you to do your research. I would obviously encourage you to go drug free - it really is best for the baby. Home birth? Well, that's not something I would push people to do, because Mom has to be comfortable and confident, and only you know where you'll get the best of both. But if you see or hear of a Midwife... tell her (or him) they are wonderful for allowing such a life altering experience to be so wondeful for the Mom's and babies that choose them.

And if there are any Midwives that stumble upon my blog... God bless you for what you do. And thank you so very much for not allowing the techie world to relegate you to history.

Photography

I love, love, love taking pictures. In another life, I would absolutely be a photographer. I got a Canon Digital Rebel XTi (a digital SLR - single reflex lens) just before Christmas last year, and have been using the heck out of it. I have taken some pretty good shots, if I do say so myself. But in the past few months, I've started to get into the art after the art - Photoshop! Now, I have an old version, but I'm really figuring out how to correctly contrast, sharpen, brighten, etc. What I can't do, yet (my version isn't really good enough... or I don't have the necessary patience, one or the other!) is what a friend did for me. Check it out, and take in the wonders of Photoshopping!

Cruising

For those of you that don't know, when I was a kid, I lived on a boat for a few years. It was absolutely amazing, and I highly recommend it to anyone who has evert thought about getting away from it all. My Mom has an awesome cruising website, and I even wrote something for it. Go check it out!

The Cruisers Life

Counting My Blessings

You know, there are so many people in this country that are having a hard time of it these days. Every time I venture out, I see a new sign somewhere... "For Lease", "For Sale", "Going out of Business"... It's pretty sad, actually. A lot of my students have been laid off in the past year or so. In times like this, it's so hard to remember the good, happy stuff. And there is plenty of good, happy stuff, or "candy canes and puppy dogs", as my wonderful husband likes to say. We have so many blessings in our lives, and yet, they can be so easily taken for granted or overlooked.

Remember the movie "Pretty Woman"? Great movie. There was a line Julia Roberts delivered to Richard Gere when he asked her why she didn't think she was all that. She said something like, "Didn't you ever notice? The bad stuff is easier to believe." It's so unfortunately true. Why is that? Meh... I don't know. But I thought I'd take a minute to count the blessings in my life, because I'm not sure I've done enough of it, lately.

Starting a list is always hard. When I used to ask my brother silly questions when I was a kid ("What did I do??") he would answer, "Would you like the list alphabetically or in order of importance?" I have the time nor the energy to categorize, so I'll go in no particular order. So there. :-)

My family. Wow... I don't know what I would do with out them. I have the most wonderful family on the planet, and when I say that, I am absolutely including the immediate, extended and in-law parts of it. I mean, we have our issues, of course, but who doesn't? But, for the most part, I could call any of my family members if I was in a jam, and they would do their best to help me out if they could. I have 3 Aunts on my Dad's side - I call them the 3 Musketeers - that would walk through Hell to help out their family. They rock! And the rest of my Aunts and Uncles are no different. One set of Aunt and Uncle (my Mom's brother and his wife) let me live with them for a while when I needed a roof over my head. And all my life I wanted a sister - not a stinky, cootie-filled brother. And I finally got one when I met my husband. And let's not even talk about how awesome my Mom is. Without her, I'd surely be way in the ditch. Love you, Mom! So, yeah... my family is an amazing blessing.

My husband. I put him separately from my family because I think he deserves his own category. In my opinion, I have the most wonderful man in the world. I know, I know - I'm supposed to think that! But, it's so true. He works his tail off everyday to make mine and Connor's life better. He treats me like a queen, even when I don't necessarily deserve it (yes, I get cranky, too). He would go to the ends of the earth and back for us, and for him, I thank God every day.

My son. Children are such a miracle. When I think about the actual scientific process of conceiving and carrying a healthy baby to term, the odds are nuts. Chances are, you won't. And, yet we, women, do - all the time. Even though I want to kill him sometimes, every night when I sneak into his room to give him one last kiss and tuck the covers around him... I am amazed and thankful for my own, personal little blessing.

My Martial Arts. It's been almost 20 years now, that I went out to swing some sticks around in a crazy-lookin' guys backyard. Turns out he wasn't so crazy. And he started the ball rolling. The fulfilment I've been able to gain from my training is indescribable. Martial Arts feeds your body, mind and spirit. Whenever I need to let it all out, I work out, and come out feeling better. It's... cathartic, really, in a lot of ways. And if I didn't have such a great outlet, life's frustrations would have had me years ago. Another amazing blessing.

My students. I have learned so much over the years from my students. I've taught thousands, at this point... The youngest official student (not counting Connor!) was 3. The oldest? 72. Most, though, range from 4 - 40something. Kids, families, adults... I've had 'em all. And every one of them has given me something. Joy, satisfaction, excitement... And I've loved every minute of it. There aren't many things as satisfying in my life as helping people turn into better people, into what they want to be... into Black Belts. Thank God, again, for all those blessings.

There's more, of course. My house, my car, food on my table every day, the things I have that some people don't. But I think I mentioned the biggies. And, man... I really am blessed. And, now, you think about it. Because so are you.

Things that make you go "Hhmmm..."

I have to say that I'd never really thought about this whole blog thing before today. And the inspiration came from this chick I met in High School - one I'm still privileged enough to call a friend. Suzy Newhouse. She has a rockin' blog, way better than mine will be, I'm sure. You should check it out.

http://thepersueofhappiness.blogspot.com/

So, the story that inspired me...

In the neverending quest to create a bigger and badder Martial Arts school, my husband does many, many, many public events. Inside, outside, in schools, in gyms - you name it, he'll do it. So today was a community picnic for a daycare that will be opening in our area soon. Now, I would ask you to keep in mind that it's a daycare... as in, a place that you send your kids, if you must, to keep them safe and you sane.

There were supposed to be all sorts of fun activities there - facepainting, moonbounce, games, Tea Kwon Do (our favorite!), so Tim thought it would be nice for me to bring Connor over. We were the very first ones in the moonbounce, which thrilled Connor to death. After a couple of minutes, 2 pre-teen girls came on in.

Aside: Call me anal, but I always read the rules on these things. Comes from being "in charge" for so many years. There were no adults there to keep an eye out for the little ones, so therefore my natural Instructor/Mommy dictator kicked in. The rules on the bounce house said "NO flipping".

After a couple of minutes, one of the girls did a front handspring. :::sigh:::

"Ladies, you're not allowed to flip in the moonbounce." Now, seriously.... DO I actually have two heads?? Because the looks I got - that only teen aged girls can deliver correctly - certainly suggested I did! But, they did stop. And chatted very quietly for a bit, glancing at me surreptitiously.

Another aside: Last year, at the playground by our house, I got the urge to be in charge, again, when I told an 8-ish year old girl that the tube slide wasn't for climbing on top of, it was for getting into, and to please get off. She proceeded to have a conversation with a friend of hers, where they decided that I thought I was "In charge of the world." Hmmm... I'll take it.

Clearly, these two also believed that I thought running the world was my rightful place. Again... I'm ok with that. =) So, out of the moonbounce they go, while other little kids flood in. A few minutes later, they show up with the flippers Mommy. I said hello to her, and she nodded, but had a look. So, I immediately knew I had been tattled on, and Mommy was here to set me straight. As if.

And, sure enough, with six other little kids in the rather small bounce house, now, the flipper does a front tuck. A front tuck. Now, I'm all for gymnastics, but not when it's inappropriate, not when it's against the clearly stated rules, and not when MY kid could get hurt because of it. So, here we go... :::sigh:::

"Ma'am, you're not allowed to flip in the moonbounce."

"Excuse me." Guess who? You got it... Mommy. "That's my daughter, and if I say she can flip, then she can flip."

"Ma'am... it's dangerous and it says right here that it's not allowed." You know... there is something immensely comforting in knowing that you can totally kick someones boo-tay, should the need arise. It lends to a great deal of inner peace in these situations.

"This is for people who are paying to be here, and I payed for this, I'm in charge, and if I say she can flip, she can flip." Please feel free to imagine the "Walk Like an Egyptian" side to side head move here, 'cause she was doin' it. Along with some hand flair. But not the finger. Although I'm sure she was mentally giving it to me.

"Connor! Out, let's go." :::sigh::: This is about where the urge to punch this woman comes in, because when my cute, happy, rule-following son realizes that he won't be going back into the moonbounce because his Mommy has deemed it unsafe... he starts to bawl.

"But WHY, Mommy?"

"Because you can't be in there while people are breaking the rules. You might get hurt, baby."

"Then why is she flipping? That's not fair! Is SHE", he points to the flippers Mom, "her Mommy?"

"Yes, honey."

"Then how come she won't tell her to stop? Why is she letting her break the rules?" Ahh... from the mouths of babes.

So, now, this chick has put kids in very real danger (I had a student once who had his femur broken by a kid doing a flip onto him - by accident, of course), made my kid cry, very effectively alienated a potential client, and has started to anger a 4th Degree Black Belt. Stoopid, stoopid, stoopid. And beyond that, she has now taught her daughter that rules are there to be followed... unless you don't feel like it. But, of course, I'm sure her daughter already knew that.

There were a few more words exchanged, but none of them important, really. My blood pressure went up, but at least I didn't lay her out. I did, however, seriously consider getting her riled up to the point that she would get in my face. Because I soooo could have. But, as a tribute to my training, I didn't even do that. Thought about it, yes... do it, no. Aren't you proud?

Back to the start of the story... this event was for a new daycare, trying to drum up business. And the Mom in question? An actual STAFF MEMBER of the new daycare. Horrifying. Absolutely horrifying. Not only could the not-even-open-yet center be sued if a kid got hurt (we are a legal happy society these days), but the owner of the new daycare is a Grandma, and she seems perfectly lovely. And she would be the one that would have to pay for the Mom's irresponsible behavior. And if that is how this center is going to be run... Lord help the kiddos that are enrolled in it.

I have had my son in daycare, and as a Mom, it is absolutely gut wrenching to drop off your precious little ones for someone else to look after. You hope and pray that they will be well taken care of and loved while they are there. No one that has to put there kids in any type of daycare needs to worry that there are idiots like this woman "in charge", too. I thank God everyday that I have been lucky enough to have wonderful people in our lives that have looked after my son as their own when I couldn't be with him. And, if your kids are in daycare, I pray that you get the same type of blessings we have had.

Well... I feel a lot better. I guess that'll do it for my first one. Thanks for the inspiration, Suz!!