I'm sitting in the lobby, reading.  Part of me notices a boy come in, perhaps 8 or 9 years old.  He gets a soda from the machine, hangs around a bit.  A few minutes later a woman is there, berating him, saying that he "was rushing", really laying in to him.  I guess maybe he had the nerve to go and get her from the porch a few steps away.  She goes over to the soda machine, he has the nerve to stand between her and the machine.  She continues to lay in to him, in a tone of voice as if she just can't believe how horrible a child he is.  My heart goes out to him.  I have no idea if he said something that I couldn't hear, or did something.  My view was partially obscured by her, I could only see part of his profile.  Suddenly she smacks the back of his head, and I see droplets of soda flying, as if he had just taken a drink and hadn't yet had a chance to swallow it.  She didn't swat him all that hard, but I was still shocked. 

"Hey, lighten up."  I told her.  Unsurprisingly, she told me to mind my own business.  She says something about it being *her* kid, and I replied something along the lines that it doesn't make him property that makes it OK to hit him, and I care about ALL children. We bantered back and forth a bit more, and I looked directly at the boy and said, "You don't deserve to be hit.  No matter what you said or did."  The Mom and I continued to go back and forth a bit, her telling me not to talk to her, me saying I'll talk to whomever I want to and if she didn't like it to walk away.  She said she tried to walk away, she "has to" be here in the lobby.  I replied "You *choose* to be here." After that her arguments became less attacking, and eventually she gave up when it was obvious that I would calmly (outwardly at least) respond to anything she threw at me. I remained seated throughout the entire exchange, as she moved closer or further away from me as she chose. Eventually, she gave up, thinking she had the last word when she said something that was devoid of attack enough that I didn't feel the need to respond. I resumed reading my book.  I later heard her complain to the front desk person about the machine taking her money and me saying something to her, but although the secretary came out to check the machine, she didn't say anything to me.

They sat down and waited to be called back. The one time I looked at her she was staring at me with daggers as if she was daring me to say something else, but I ignored the challenge.  I just made a point from then on of keeping an eye not just on her, but pointedly looking up from my book and briefly noting anyone that entered or left the lobby area, but saying nothing. Her son sneezed a few times.  I politely said "Bless You" each time, and after the third time, a gentleman that had not been in the lobby at the time of the altercation said something to me about how everybody has a cold right now.  We had an amicable exchange, and neither the boy nor his Mother said anything.  Eventually, they left the lobby area.

It was then, after they left and the lobby was relatively empty, that it started to get to me.  Of course I was scared as hell during the confrontation and was very glad to be sitting so maybe she wouldn't notice that I was shaking, but it got much worse after they left.  I felt so sad for the boy.  He had been so sweet, eagerly trying to show his Mom how to make the soda machine take her money (when it wasn't) and she had just been essentially telling him how stupid he was for trying to help.  After she had hit him he had almost started to cry, and she had said something along the lines of the old "I'll give you something to cry about."  And that's when I had spoken up and said something.  I also felt deeply for her.  Any parent can attest to sometimes just being overwhelmed, having a horrible day, and you end up taking it out on a child that you love dearly and doesn't deserve it.  No parent is perfect, and I only saw such a brief glimpse of her as a parent, certainly not enough to judge her, as I'm sure she presumed I was doing. 

After she left I replayed the incident through my head, thinking what I could have done differently... done better.  I should have been more empathetic to her, shown her that I understood the strain of parenthood, instead of "attacking" her. What if by speaking up I had made the situation worse, and she would later beat him for her "humiliation?"  My only hope was that when I had spoken directly to him, hopefully that would help him, to know that someone believed in him, someone believed that he is worthy of respect.  As the lobby was now empty I couldn't help the tears, crying with sadness over the situation and praying that I had done the right thing, or at least not made the situation worse in my attempt to help.  I ask that if you pray, if you would be willing to pray for this family also, as every family has its challenges.  Parenting can be the hardest thing, and the most important thing, in the world. Hopefully my speaking up will help support the boy AND the mother.

I'm just seeing if I can really make a post from my phone

Today is the day to give thanks for what you have.  People say to think about the abundance that you have, but many people don't even realize what that really means.  For us, we look back over the past year and are truly grateful for many things.  We have the usual: family, family we've chosen, children, yummy food.  Oh wait, let's go back to that last one.  Yummy food.  Because hey, that's what Thanksgiving is all about too, right?  The feast?  Our feasts meant a lot to us this year.  Last year we hosted Thanksgiving, but most of the actual food was brought by relatives.  Last year.  This year we went back to the usual family shuffle of going to first the in-laws for a Thanksgiving feast at lunch, then my side for a Thanksgiving dinner.  But let's get back to last year.

Last year, my husband had just lost his job in October.  Our food stamp application had not yet gone through all the processing.  For the entire month of November last year, our family was fed by charity.  It was humbling, to have to call the local food banks for schedules.  You can only go once a month, at certain times.  For us, we went to The Freestore Foodbank, St. Vincent De Paul Food Pantry, and our local church, the St. Monica St. George food pantry.  Each time I left in tears carrying bags of groceries that I couldn't pay for.  I was very grateful to have them, to be able to feed my family something.  Please think for a moment of what you hear should be donated to food banks: non-perishable food.  What food is healthy?  Perishable food.  Most non perishable food is overloaded with salt, (I hope I never have to eat corned beef again!) and protein was not in big supply. (Even at the freestore, where you could get as much tomato or veggie soup as you wanted, (up to your total limit) but chicken noodle soup was rationed.)  Some of the food (cough: Mac N Cheese) was not only past it's expiration date, but infested with maggots. Anything sugary was just not an option, with the exception of the local church pantry.  Some people are judgmental about this.  They say that if you can't afford to buy your food then you certainly don't need junk food, and that's definitely true, to a point.  But if you are so strapped for cash that you can't even buy food, the comfort of a cookie goes a very long way. But still, with careful planning we got through until the food stamps came through.

I am certainly not complaining! Every time we went to a foodbank, I was overwhelmed with the kindness and generosity of the people that worked or volunteered there, and they got us through a very bad time. But it was not food that we would normally choose to eat.  The old adage is true: Beggars can't be choosers.   And that is why, this Thanksgiving, my husband and I are most thankful that we are no longer at the place where we have to eat food that we don't like because it's all there is.  We no longer have to make pained (but true) jokes about how easy it is to clean the refrigerator because there was so little in it.  We now both have jobs, and like most people, we go to a grocery store.  When we're at the grocery store we may not be able to buy everything that we would like, but we are still able to buy foods that our family prefers.  We don't have to eat something we would rather not because your only other option is to eat nothing at all.  Last year we received many gifts from our friends and family that got us through that period, and we were grateful for all the help we received. This year, we are grateful to not need that help.  This year, although we have worked so hard and are no longer on food stamps or cash assistance, we know it could happen again at any time as we fight our way to financial stability.  This year, it was about  being able to choose whether we wanted sweet potatoes with marshmallows or mashed potatoes, plain green beans or green bean casserole.  Small choices, yes, but something that is so valuable to us.

Choice. 

The Giving Fairy has been incredibly helpful for us! We have a ton of clutter in our home.  My son is in a hoarding phase and doesn't want to give *anything* up.  (Seriously, last night he blew hugs and kisses good bye to the few bites of food he had left over from dinner.)  He's 4, and we've been struggling with getting him to pick up after himself.  We've jokingly talked about the cleaning fairy (that never seems to come).  I've threatened before to take his toys away, but I didn't like the power-over paradigm of that.  It was important to me for him to willingly take care of his toys, AND for him to willingly let go of them when the time comes.  I don't like taking toys away behind their back.  (With the exception of cheap McDonald's toys.  Although I've gotten to the point that many times we just don't get the happy meal rather than deal with getting rid of a toy that I really don't approve of to begin with.)

Anyway, I sat down and had a quick family chat. (I knew Dad would approve, but it was important for him to be on the same page!)  I told them that I finally got visited by the cleaning fairy last night.  The cleaning fairy said that HE hadn't cleaned because I was mistaken as to what he does. (For me it was important for this fairy to be male, since I was wanting a male role model of giving things away.) He doesn't really clean.  He loves people so much, that he keeps an eye out for toys and clothes that children no longer use, and gives them to other children that would love them just as much as we do.  How does he know which toys and clothes are ready to be given a new home?  Why the toys that are left out, of course!  If it's taken care of and put where it belongs, the giving fairy knows that we still love the toy and aren't ready for another loving child to have it yet.  But if a toy is left out, the giving fairy is ecstatic to be able to give a toy a new loving home! 

Since The Giving Fairy came to our home a couple of weeks ago, we have a new house.  I don't have to threaten to get things picked up.  All I do is politely ask if he's leaving a toy for The Giving Fairy, and he promptly puts it up.  Sometimes he needs gentle reminders that he has a lot of toys out and may run out of time to get them all picked up before bed.  I remind him that The Giving Fairy would be so sad if he took something by mistake, because he loves the children so much and wants everyone to enjoy their toys. Sometimes Julian will even pick up Kaya's toys, since he often plays with them too. (She's only 1, a little beyond this concept I believe.)   I have hope that someday he will intentionally leave something for The Giving Fairy to give to someone else, when he's ready to let it go.  I feel that this is a gentler way rather than nagging or yelling, and it has worked so well for our family.  I'm passing the idea on to hopefully work for yours!

Tuesday morning went well, with Kaya having a big poopy diaper and peeing on the floor.  (Hey, I cued her, so that counts as EC, right?)   Morning went on as normal.  We elected not to go to playgroup because it was just too hectic and I wanted to get some things done around the house (which mostly got done.)  Bret left for work, and as the kids woke up from their nap I noticed that Kaya seemed a little warm.  Took her temp, and sure enough, a mild fever at 99.3*.  So I settle in for some extra cuddles and give up my plan of doing dishes.  She started to make those whiny sounds that all kids do when they're feeling ucky.  Then as the evening went on as she was making the sounds she started grunting and really straining, like she was trying to take a big poop. She's usually only a once a day person, so it didn't make any sense for her to be constipated.  She ate a little at dinner (a bean dish that she usually likes) but not much. Since she was feeling under the weather I skipped our evening walk and figured a longer bath might help.  I took her temp again before the bath, 100.3*.  Poor girl, she was really getting lethargic and still doing the straining, so I thought maybe the bath might help relax her, since she loves a bath. 

The bath went fine at first, she wasn't playing as much as usual but she seemed OK with it.  Then I got her hair wet to wash it and the minute I did she started to shake like she was cold.  She's never done that before, so I just got her out and dried her off and comforted her.  She seemed to want to go to sleep, although it was still an hour before normal bed time. As I was trying to put her diaper back on she did the straining thing.  She was pushing so hard she was holding her breath, then panting to catch her breath again.  Then she would start crying.  At that point I started to get really worried, and it was obvious that she was in real pain.  Knowing my paranoid brain, I started picturing that she had swallowed one of the little watch size batteries from a toy or something. After I got her dressed I held her and asked Julian to finish up his bath. (I'm pretty sure he never actually came in contact with soap during that bath since I was so distracted with Kaya.).  As I stood in the doorway waiting for Julian, she fell asleep with her head snuggled on my shoulder.  Even when she's sick, it's highly unusual for her to fall asleep like that, so I decided to call the nurse hotline from insurance.  It was just after 7, almost an hour before bedtime.

After going over everything, the nurse recommended that that we take her to Urgent Care to get her looked at.  Well, of course by then all the Urgent Cares were closed, except for one that's nowhere close, and would be closed by the time Bret got home.  So she recommended that we go get her checked out at the ER as soon as we could.  By the time I got off the phone with the nurse, it was 20 till 8. I tried calling Bret, he didn't answer. Called again, still no answer.  Called several times, left a message saying he needed to come home so I could take her in and he could stay with Julian.  (It was a school night, Julian needed to get to bed!) I tried the 3 emergency numbers to directly call his work.  Twice.  Voicemails every time.  Finally after calling 9 times I gave up and hoped he'd check his phone when he went on lunch at 8. 

So I went ahead and started trying to get Julian to sleep.  Bret called at 8:05, saying he wished he would have known before lunch started....   That's OK, he acknowledged that it wasn't my fault he couldn't hear his phone. So he headed home and got back about quarter to 9. I almost hated to wake Kaya up to take her in since she was finally resting, but Bret was like, "I'm home now, you'd better take her in!" Of course I was going to, I just felt bad for having to wake her up. He took over getting Julian to sleep, and later reported that Julian fell asleep around 10 after all the excitement of Daddy coming home early.

So we headed off to the ER, and when we go to check in I'm telling the nurse that although she looks fine and inquisitive now, she was screaming her head off in pain 2 hours ago!  Thankfully we didn't have to wait long before going back to triage.  I was shocked when they took her temp though, 103.6*!  I generally don't medicate low fevers, preferring instead to let them do their work, so I hadn't given her anything since last I knew it was just around 100.  Now, however, I readily agreed to give her Tylenol, and the nurse got it to us rather quickly and sent us back out to the waiting room to wait for an exam room to see the doc. 

That wait wasn't too long, and it was immediately apparent that the Tylenol was helping, since she started wanting to get down and play.   We got back to the exam room, registration came in, yada, yada, yada.  The doc came in I guess around 10.  The easy answers of ear infection or sinus infection were quickly ruled out.  She was thinking maybe a urinary tract infection, pneumonia, or a virus.  So she ordered a catheter for a urine sample, a chest x-ray, and blood work.  Holding Kaya down for the catheter and the x-ray were experiences I would rather not repeat.  She didn't fight them, she just cried and looked soooo sad, which may have made it worse than fighting them!  They also checked her temp when they did the catheter and it was down to 101*.  So we just waited for the results of the urine test and x-ray.

The doc came in and said both were clear, perfectly normal.  Since Kaya was cheerily playing with the knobs on the bed and trying to escape the room, we decided not to prick her for the blood work and just chalk it up to a virus.  She started to say there may be a rash in a few days, and as soon as she did I asked, Roseola?  She said it might be.  I don't know too much about it, just that it's a really high fever for a few days followed by a splotchy rash on the face and trunk, then it's done. So that was it, with directions to follow up with her regular doc in a few days if the fever continued.  We came home and after playing for a bit she went back to sleep around 1, and I got up for the day at 6:45.

She was a little clingy yesterday but mostly fine, she slept in and the fever was gone.  Bret said he saw her doing the straining thing in the morning, but I didn't see her doing it at all after I got home in the afternoon.  She went to bed as normal at 8:05.  She woke up as normal 40 minutes later, but after nursing her for a half hour (20 minutes longer than it normally takes) I gave up and brought her downstairs so I could finish my noodles.  She was whiny and clingy and wanted to nurse, but would nurse for a little bit and then pop off all mad.  So I gave her a snack and that seemed to help for a bit. (Must remember to buy bananas at the store this week for nighttime snack for her!)  I tried to take her back up to bed, but she was super fussy and didn't want to settle down.  She kept pulling the covers off of Julian, kicking him, pinching me, and doing nurse-nastics. (Gymnastics while nursing- not very fun.)  She FINALLY settled down to nurse at some point, probably around 10:30.  And nursed.  And nursed.  Nursed until 2:30, when Daddy came home.  I was exhausted, my nipples were sore, and I was just D.O.N.E.  Reserves were Gone.  So I let Daddy eat a little bit, then took her down to him.  Thankfully he took her and cuddled her, and when the alarm went off to get ready at 6:45 she and Daddy were still downstairs asleep in the chair. (Yes I know it's not safe to co-sleep in a recliner.  We were desperate.)

So far today reports are that she slept in again and is back to her playful self.  Hopefully she'll remain so this evening and have a restful night!!!!

The past few weeks, Julian CANNOT throw things (other than uneaten dinner) away.  He can't give away anything either. For one particular item, he begged for 45 minutes, almost making himself sick.  I try to be empathetic about these things, but some things....  Well, this is a list of just a few things he has Refused to throw away.  He says it's his favorite, or part of his "_______collection"...  (Really?  You have a collection of paint chips retrieved from the driveway?  News to me!)

1. Broken toy horse from a music box that my grandmother gave me.
2. Broken balloon pieces
3. Garbage (tin Chipotle thing) picked up on our nightly walk

Things he has had a fit over that were in the give away box

1. Ceramic cat statue that we received from my SIL before he was born.  It's been sitting high up on top of a bookshelf gathering dust.
2. Receiving blanket received from WIC that is still in the plastic and has never been used. (We have a bajillion receiving blankets!)
3. Old clothes that no longer fit (all, not just a favorite pair or anything)

With the exception of the balloon pieces the stuff isn't even his to begin with, he's never played/used it, and yet he goes crazy over getting rid of it.  Our house is desperately in need of decluttering, yet it's a fight to get rid of anything, let alone the many boxes of STUFF that are necessary.  What's up with this????  Please tell me it's just a phase!

It started with Princess.  I don't remember how she came into our life, except that she was my brother's beloved cat.  Then came Midnight, whom my brother rescued but became my sister's cat.  I was jealous that I didn't have a cat of my own, but I enjoyed playing with Princess and Midnight.  (In fact, when Princess was a baby my friend Kathy & I played with her so much that she fell asleep in her food bowl.)

I think it was around 6th grade, which was 1989-1990.  I don't remember what season it was.  I remember my friend Maria and I walking down the street.  As we came to a corner just a few blocks from our houses, a van pulled up.  The person inside held up a kitty and asked if we wanted it.  We looked at each other.  Sure!  We took the kitty and the van pulled away.

I tried to take the kitty home, but my Mom said no. So we took her to Maria's house, where her Mom said she could stay for a few days, but they couldn't keep her.  They were going to take her to the pound on Monday.  Over the weekend I worked hard to convince my parents they should let me have the kitten.  I told them that my sister and brother had a cat, it wasn't fair that I didn't have one too.  Finally they relented, and that is how you came into my life.

You were there during that horrible phase called adolescence. You were with me (as much as possible) when I was in foster care.  You were with me as I grew up and got a job. You were with me as I moved out to begin my life as an adult. You were with me as I got engaged, stayed with him for 2 years, and then broke off the engagement.  You were with me when I moved in with my boyfriend.  You were with me when I got married.  You were with me when I became pregnant and endured horrible sickness. You were there when I brought my son home from the hospital, and comforted me through the resulting PPD & PTSD.  You were there entire 8 years as I worked my way towards a 2 year degree, and you were there to celebrate at the party.  (OK, you may have hidden in the bedroom during the actual party.)  You were there during my second pregnancy with horrible sickness.  You were here to welcome my daughter to our home.

When you were younger you were known as "mean" to other people, but never to me.  No one else could touch you, but I could hold, pet, and cuddle with you. As you got older you started letting others near you, but you would still come to me.  You would lay on my hip as I nursed my son to sleep at night. You always knew when I was upset and would come to me and let me pet you.  Even when Kaya would pull great chunks of your hair out because we were distracted and hadn't gotten her quick enough, you never hurt her.  You knew she was a baby and just yelled to alert us to how she was hurting you.  But you never once hurt her back.  You were my lap kitty, happy to keep my lap warm for hours at a time.
 
It's been 20 years, I knew the end would come soon.  But you seemed to be holding up so well, persevering through things I didn't think you would make it through.  Then came Sunday morning, August 22, 2010.  When I came downstairs we were playing in the living room and Julian saw that you hadn't made it to the litter box.  I looked at you and knew it was time. I spent the morning crying and holding you.  Eventually you moved away, into the kitchen.  I sat at my computer and started this post, keeping an eye on you.  You didn't want me to hold you, but as the final moments came (around noon) I was there next to your side, petting you.  Thank you for letting me be there.  I'm grateful that I was home for you on your final day, able to spend your last day with you.

Thank you for being with me so long.  I love you and will always miss you.

Rest In Peace, Crystal
1989-2010

Crystal & Midnight

I posted this on facebook, I'm curious what my xanga friends think of this article

Any day now, I'll manage to get a full update, 'cause there's a lot building up!  In the meantime, I have to share this link to a really cool homebirth story/video for any fellow birth junkies:

 Ada's Birth Story

This is a link to the story.  There's a link in the story to the video.  The video includes full nudity and birth.  I found it beautiful, but for those not into such things it's still an awesome story to read!

Much shorter this time.    Once again, if you want to be on the protected list,

1. You have to have a xanga ID. It's free, and usually doesn't even involve email.
2. Subscribe to me, just because it's easier to add to the protected list from my subs list.
3. Leave a comment here or on facebook letting me know that you want to be added.

It's totally OK to not want to be added.  It is personal information and if that's not a level you want to know me at, that's OK.  Everybody has their own problems and issues and I totally understand if you don't want to hear about mine.