Here we go again. Another doctor's appointment. My yearly appointment with my gyno. Yippee. Like that isn't bad enough. I walked out of the doctor's office with more referrals and scripts. ARGH!!! She's a gyno!!! She's just supposed to check me over, make we feel uncomfortable with the cold "tongs," maybe prescribe birth control, and send me on my merry way.
But, no. I am told I've put on "some" weight (do these doctor's NOT understand that I AM aware of this?!!!??). YES!! I KNOW!!! 50 pounds to be exact. Although my scales and those of my general practitioner's are about 10 lbs. lighter than those I was on today. I AM trying to lose this weight (again). I was also told I have a heart murmur...which is apparently getting worse because I had guessed a long time ago that I had a murmur (just about everyone in my family has one), but the doctors have just started to notice it within the last couple of years. I was also told that I have cysts. However, I did have to laugh when she was trying to take my pulse and she frowned and said, "This is very unusual. I don't understand this." I looked at her and laughed. She couldn't find my pulse!! Contrary to what she may think, it is not unusual to not be able to find a pulse on me without a stethoscope. She didn't believe me that this has been occurring since I was in high school (and very thin).
So, anyway, I ended up walking out of the doctor's office with a referral to a cardiologist (for the heart murmur), a script for an ultrasound (to check on my cysts), birth control (my other choice was another type of hormone pill and blood tests every month and a half...no thanks), papers for MORE blood work (with ANOTHER thyroid check), and a stern lecture on taking care of myself.
I hate going to doctors. They seem to not understand that I am aware of the need to lose weight but just can't seem to do it. I don't know why. I think I'll look into a personal trainer and/or weight loss surgery.
I'm going to bed. 'Night.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Sunday, February 26, 2006
"Flower"
I'm really tired today and have no idea what to write about, so I was thinking I'd share a funny story/picture with you. If you don't have a warped sense of humor you probably need to just skip this.
I teach preschool (my students are 4-6 years old) to students with speech and language and various other impairments. About two weeks ago, during center time, one of my students (a little girl) called me over to the play dough area and said, "Teacher! Look at my flower! It's growing!!" I looked at her mat and she had her pink play dough in a mound and with her two hands was squeezing and pulling the play dough up to make her flower grow. Well, I guess my assistant and I are a bit on the twisted side, because when we looked at each other we were both trying not to laugh. It certainly was phallic looking. We both said how pretty her flower was and quickly moved on to other students.
Well, it got worse. She kept squeezing and pulling. "Look teacher!! Look how big my flower is growing!"
"It certainly is!" I replied trying desperately to keep a straight face.
Then she made the comment that made us (my assistant and I) lose it. "Oh no! Teacher! My flower is falling!"
I turned around to see that her "flower" was indeed so long that it was starting to dip toward the ground. I mistakenly glanced at my assistant and I couldn't help myself. With a straight face, I said to her, "That's okay (insert student's name). All flowers droop eventually."
My assistant at this point got up and had to walk out of the room, while I walked over to my student and helped her fix her flower. Needless to say, shortly after my assistant returned, every teacher, assistant, secretary, and the principal came to see the infamous flower (it is a small building with only five classrooms). My student went home that day extremely proud of herself. Her flower was so pretty that everyone (all the adults) had come to see it. My principal came to see it last (just before the students were leaving) and said how pretty it was. My student gave her the flower. It is now being proudly displayed in the principal's office on her table (of course, she turned it upside down so that the base is up and the 'stem' is sitting in a plastic cup).
On a more serious note:
In case any of you are concerned that this flower is a sign that this little girl has been exposed to anything that would warrant a call to social services, at this time the conclusion is she hasn't been. It was brought up at the time that it was something we might need to be concerned about, but after the story was relayed to the school social worker and psychologist (and informal conversations were held with the student, my assistant, and myself), it was determined that the "flower" was just that...a flower. However, as with any of the students, we always keep an eye out for signs of abuse.
I teach preschool (my students are 4-6 years old) to students with speech and language and various other impairments. About two weeks ago, during center time, one of my students (a little girl) called me over to the play dough area and said, "Teacher! Look at my flower! It's growing!!" I looked at her mat and she had her pink play dough in a mound and with her two hands was squeezing and pulling the play dough up to make her flower grow. Well, I guess my assistant and I are a bit on the twisted side, because when we looked at each other we were both trying not to laugh. It certainly was phallic looking. We both said how pretty her flower was and quickly moved on to other students.
Well, it got worse. She kept squeezing and pulling. "Look teacher!! Look how big my flower is growing!"
"It certainly is!" I replied trying desperately to keep a straight face.
Then she made the comment that made us (my assistant and I) lose it. "Oh no! Teacher! My flower is falling!"
I turned around to see that her "flower" was indeed so long that it was starting to dip toward the ground. I mistakenly glanced at my assistant and I couldn't help myself. With a straight face, I said to her, "That's okay (insert student's name). All flowers droop eventually."
My assistant at this point got up and had to walk out of the room, while I walked over to my student and helped her fix her flower. Needless to say, shortly after my assistant returned, every teacher, assistant, secretary, and the principal came to see the infamous flower (it is a small building with only five classrooms). My student went home that day extremely proud of herself. Her flower was so pretty that everyone (all the adults) had come to see it. My principal came to see it last (just before the students were leaving) and said how pretty it was. My student gave her the flower. It is now being proudly displayed in the principal's office on her table (of course, she turned it upside down so that the base is up and the 'stem' is sitting in a plastic cup).
On a more serious note:
In case any of you are concerned that this flower is a sign that this little girl has been exposed to anything that would warrant a call to social services, at this time the conclusion is she hasn't been. It was brought up at the time that it was something we might need to be concerned about, but after the story was relayed to the school social worker and psychologist (and informal conversations were held with the student, my assistant, and myself), it was determined that the "flower" was just that...a flower. However, as with any of the students, we always keep an eye out for signs of abuse.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
My biggest fear
Have you ever received one of those "Getting to know you" e-mails? You know...the one that wants you to list your middle name, what you're reading/wearing/watching/listening to, what color your underwear is, etc? They are not all the same, but most of them have this question on it: What are you afraid of?
Most of my friends that send me this say being alone. Do you think that most people fear this? I'm not sure. I wonder what the answer is for the majority of people. I know for me being alone is not something I'm afraid of. Maybe it comes from being raised in a large (extended) family. I don't always like to be alone, but having few opportunities to truly be alone, I'm more likely to welcome alone time than dread it. I'm sure though, that my friends meant a different kind of alone.
My fear is being/feeling helpless. This fear is something that has developed from being in positions of helplessness. Usually, the feelings of helplessness came while watching people I love die and not being able to do something about it. Now, I know I'm not the only one that has gone through this, and for many, many others, it is worse than anything I could ever dream of. But going through this has turned helplessness into a fear.
When I admit this fear to people they tell that dying is just a part of life and something we all have to accept...and I do. But it doesn't mean that I still won't fear looking at the beating hearts of my premature twin daughters until they cease to beat because the technology just isn't enough to keep them alive. Accepting that we all die doesn't make it easier to watch a friend fighting cancer with all her might (and losing) while you just stand there (at least that's what it feels like) and watch her lose her battle.
So, know that you know what my fear is and where it comes from, maybe you'll understand why I can't stand to see my son sick. My husband thinks I'm nuts...maybe I am. Peanut is not terminally ill. I certainly don't think he's dying. He has been ill for a week, but it's been with a fever (which is finally gone), runny nose, cough/difficulty breathing due to asthma flair-ups, and oozy, crusty eyes. Tonight when he woke up coughing and crying (after having been asleep for two hours), I took care of him, got him back to sleep and started crying as soon as I walked out of his room. I felt helpless to make him better. It feels like no matter what I do, he's still sick (and the doctor's aren't concerned). So I admit, I am acting like an over-anxious mom...which I usually don't. But I HATE when my baby is sick and scared and there is nothing I can do to make him better.
When I think of all the people in the world that have to watch their loved ones battle cancer (and I'm sorry, but especially the parents whose children have it or a similar disease), my heart just weeps. I can't imagine the leave of helplessness that they feel. That is my biggest fear.
What is your biggest fear?
Most of my friends that send me this say being alone. Do you think that most people fear this? I'm not sure. I wonder what the answer is for the majority of people. I know for me being alone is not something I'm afraid of. Maybe it comes from being raised in a large (extended) family. I don't always like to be alone, but having few opportunities to truly be alone, I'm more likely to welcome alone time than dread it. I'm sure though, that my friends meant a different kind of alone.
My fear is being/feeling helpless. This fear is something that has developed from being in positions of helplessness. Usually, the feelings of helplessness came while watching people I love die and not being able to do something about it. Now, I know I'm not the only one that has gone through this, and for many, many others, it is worse than anything I could ever dream of. But going through this has turned helplessness into a fear.
When I admit this fear to people they tell that dying is just a part of life and something we all have to accept...and I do. But it doesn't mean that I still won't fear looking at the beating hearts of my premature twin daughters until they cease to beat because the technology just isn't enough to keep them alive. Accepting that we all die doesn't make it easier to watch a friend fighting cancer with all her might (and losing) while you just stand there (at least that's what it feels like) and watch her lose her battle.
So, know that you know what my fear is and where it comes from, maybe you'll understand why I can't stand to see my son sick. My husband thinks I'm nuts...maybe I am. Peanut is not terminally ill. I certainly don't think he's dying. He has been ill for a week, but it's been with a fever (which is finally gone), runny nose, cough/difficulty breathing due to asthma flair-ups, and oozy, crusty eyes. Tonight when he woke up coughing and crying (after having been asleep for two hours), I took care of him, got him back to sleep and started crying as soon as I walked out of his room. I felt helpless to make him better. It feels like no matter what I do, he's still sick (and the doctor's aren't concerned). So I admit, I am acting like an over-anxious mom...which I usually don't. But I HATE when my baby is sick and scared and there is nothing I can do to make him better.
When I think of all the people in the world that have to watch their loved ones battle cancer (and I'm sorry, but especially the parents whose children have it or a similar disease), my heart just weeps. I can't imagine the leave of helplessness that they feel. That is my biggest fear.
What is your biggest fear?
Rant
Tonight I went to a Toby Keith concert (yes, I like country music...along with a lot of other kinds). I have referred to myself before as "a fat chick." Well, tonight, I think it was confirmed. My butt barely fit into the the seat!! I went to sit down and it was like, "What the hell?" I thought maybe there was something blocking my way. There was, but it wasn't what I thought it was. It was the arms of the chair trying to block me from sitting. Well, I showed it! I literally wiggled the fat into the chair. To the people that sat behind me...I'm sorry that you had to see that "thing" wiggle. I imagine it's not a pretty sight. To the girl that sat next to me...I'm sorry my body was spilling over into your seat. Please note that I was not anywhere close to being the biggest person there...or even in my row!! But seriously, who the HELL hired Twiggy to be the model for the fit of the chair???? Even the really thin girl in front of me seemed to take up more of the chair than she should have...and she looked like she hadn't seen food in a long time.
Now, I imagine some (or all) of you are thinking, "Well, if you're so unhappy with your weight, why don't you do something about it?" Spoken like a thin person. If you've never been fat, than you can't possibly understand that some fat people (like myself) could live on salads for days and lose weight, but put them in a room with a cheese cake (the REALLY good ones you just have to talk about), even if they don't eat it, and they will gain 5-10 pounds. Seriously, though, I plan to start working out tomorrow. We'll see how it goes. Usually, it goes nowhere. I have to think of a strategy to make me stick with it. Any suggestions? Right now, all I can think of doing is making a deal with my husband that for everyday that I don't work out for at least 30 minutes, that I will pay him money. Hopefully this will work. Wish me luck.
Until next time...
Now, I imagine some (or all) of you are thinking, "Well, if you're so unhappy with your weight, why don't you do something about it?" Spoken like a thin person. If you've never been fat, than you can't possibly understand that some fat people (like myself) could live on salads for days and lose weight, but put them in a room with a cheese cake (the REALLY good ones you just have to talk about), even if they don't eat it, and they will gain 5-10 pounds. Seriously, though, I plan to start working out tomorrow. We'll see how it goes. Usually, it goes nowhere. I have to think of a strategy to make me stick with it. Any suggestions? Right now, all I can think of doing is making a deal with my husband that for everyday that I don't work out for at least 30 minutes, that I will pay him money. Hopefully this will work. Wish me luck.
Until next time...
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Sick
What a week. We were all sick this week. Hubby the least so with just a cough. Peanut was the worse with a high fever, runny nose and eyes, cough, and breathing problems (needed a lot of breathing treatments). I fell somewhere in the middle with a sore throat that was gone quickly but left me with no voice (or more accurately, a voice that sound like a bad radio station...cutting in and out...scratchy) and a cough.
The funniest part was my students (preschoolers with special needs) wanted to know why I was talking so funny. Most of them didn't seem to understand that I was not doing "the voice" on purpose. It'll be interesting to see what they say tomorrow when I go back to work after being off today to take care of my son. My voice is almost completely gone and when I get it to work it sounds like a broken squeaky toy.
Well, I must go and get rest. Tomorrow it's back to work and then off to a concert. 'Night.
The funniest part was my students (preschoolers with special needs) wanted to know why I was talking so funny. Most of them didn't seem to understand that I was not doing "the voice" on purpose. It'll be interesting to see what they say tomorrow when I go back to work after being off today to take care of my son. My voice is almost completely gone and when I get it to work it sounds like a broken squeaky toy.
Well, I must go and get rest. Tomorrow it's back to work and then off to a concert. 'Night.
Monday, February 20, 2006
The Doctor and the Fat Chick
Ok, I went to the doctor today because I have a sore throat, earache, and feel like I have a weight on my chest. Normally, I would just take my NightQuil or DayQuil (sp?) and go about my business, however, I have found out that I have liver problems and can't use anything with alcohol or (some word I can't say...let alone spell...a pain killer found in Tylenol) and these have both!!
So, anyway, I get to the doctor's office and wait for an hour (like I have nothing better to do with my time...but in their defense, they did tell me they would "squeeze" me in). Then when they do call me in the nurse says, "Please take off your coat and step on the scales." Ok, something you 'need' to know about me is that I am very heavy... not in my mind (where I'm a size two...or at least a size 8) and not so obese that I need 2 chairs or am wheezing after a short walk, but I am big enough that my BMI and my liver problems would allow me to have the weight loss surgery. So, when the nurse asks me to remove my coat before stepping on the scale, I just looked at her and said, "Like I'd step on the scale with it on." Not that it mattered because I had put on 10 pounds in two weeks...I have a friend that says that's not possible...but I have a scale that says it is.
So, when the doctor comes into the room...takes care of everything I had come to see her for...she then tells me (like she does 1-2 times a month when I come in for monitoring) that I am overweight and need to lose weight if I want my liver to heal and work properly. Does this woman think that I don't know that??? Does she think that I don't realize that my clothes don't fit??? That I don't have a scale??? That I haven't packed on 5o lbs. since my son was born (and remember...he's adopted so I can't blame this on hard to lose baby fat!)??? I'm pretty sure that I scrubbed the "I'm an idiot" tattoo off my forhead before I went into the Dr.'s office.
Am I the only person out there that has this happen to them? Although when I picture myself, I see a size 8...I know I am much bigger than this. I've seen pictures of the person that I'm told is me. I've seen the fat person that stands between the me that's a size 8 and the mirror. I've tried to make her disappear but the witch just stuck out her tongue and got acne. Now, I think she's trying to grow a beard!! UGGGGHHHHHH!
I think I just need to go take my meds and go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better. I know for sure that I would if the fat chick between me and the mirror would just go away!
Pleasant dreams!
So, anyway, I get to the doctor's office and wait for an hour (like I have nothing better to do with my time...but in their defense, they did tell me they would "squeeze" me in). Then when they do call me in the nurse says, "Please take off your coat and step on the scales." Ok, something you 'need' to know about me is that I am very heavy... not in my mind (where I'm a size two...or at least a size 8) and not so obese that I need 2 chairs or am wheezing after a short walk, but I am big enough that my BMI and my liver problems would allow me to have the weight loss surgery. So, when the nurse asks me to remove my coat before stepping on the scale, I just looked at her and said, "Like I'd step on the scale with it on." Not that it mattered because I had put on 10 pounds in two weeks...I have a friend that says that's not possible...but I have a scale that says it is.
So, when the doctor comes into the room...takes care of everything I had come to see her for...she then tells me (like she does 1-2 times a month when I come in for monitoring) that I am overweight and need to lose weight if I want my liver to heal and work properly. Does this woman think that I don't know that??? Does she think that I don't realize that my clothes don't fit??? That I don't have a scale??? That I haven't packed on 5o lbs. since my son was born (and remember...he's adopted so I can't blame this on hard to lose baby fat!)??? I'm pretty sure that I scrubbed the "I'm an idiot" tattoo off my forhead before I went into the Dr.'s office.
Am I the only person out there that has this happen to them? Although when I picture myself, I see a size 8...I know I am much bigger than this. I've seen pictures of the person that I'm told is me. I've seen the fat person that stands between the me that's a size 8 and the mirror. I've tried to make her disappear but the witch just stuck out her tongue and got acne. Now, I think she's trying to grow a beard!! UGGGGHHHHHH!
I think I just need to go take my meds and go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better. I know for sure that I would if the fat chick between me and the mirror would just go away!
Pleasant dreams!
Saturday, February 18, 2006
If I Had Enough Guts I'd...
I received this earlier tonight in an e-mail (I don't know who came up with these...it wasn't me). Some of these things I would have done when I was a bit younger and didn't care what people thought. Sometimes I wish I had more of that person in me still. The four you could still talk me into doing are 2, 5, 6and 12. My favorite three are 8, 14 and 15. Which are your favorite?
15 Things to do at Wal-Mart while your spouse/partner is taking their sweet time:
1. Get 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's carts when they aren't looking.
2. Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.
3 Make a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the rest rooms.
4 Walk up to an employee and tell him/her in an official tone, 'Code 3' in housewares..... and see what happens.
5 Go the Service Desk and ask to put a bag of M&M's on lay away.
6 Move a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.
7 Set up a tent in the camping department and tell other shoppers you'll invite them in if they'll bring p! illows from the bedding department.
8 When a clerk asks if they can help you, begin to cry and ask 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?'
9 Look right into the security camera; use it as a mirror, and pick your nose.
10 While handling guns in the hunting department, ask the clerk if he knows where the anti- depressants are.
11 Dart around the store suspiciously loudly humming the "Mission Impossible" theme.
12 In the auto department, practice your "Madonna look" using different size funnels.
13 Hide in a clothing rack and when people browse through, say "PICK ME!" "PICK ME!"
14 When an announcement comes over the loud speaker, assume the fetal position and scream "NO! NO! It's those voices again!!!!"
( And; last, but not least!)
15 Go into a fitting room and shut the door and wait a while; and, then, yell, very loudly, "There is no toilet paper in here!"
15 Things to do at Wal-Mart while your spouse/partner is taking their sweet time:
1. Get 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's carts when they aren't looking.
2. Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute intervals.
3 Make a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the rest rooms.
4 Walk up to an employee and tell him/her in an official tone, 'Code 3' in housewares..... and see what happens.
5 Go the Service Desk and ask to put a bag of M&M's on lay away.
6 Move a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.
7 Set up a tent in the camping department and tell other shoppers you'll invite them in if they'll bring p! illows from the bedding department.
8 When a clerk asks if they can help you, begin to cry and ask 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?'
9 Look right into the security camera; use it as a mirror, and pick your nose.
10 While handling guns in the hunting department, ask the clerk if he knows where the anti- depressants are.
11 Dart around the store suspiciously loudly humming the "Mission Impossible" theme.
12 In the auto department, practice your "Madonna look" using different size funnels.
13 Hide in a clothing rack and when people browse through, say "PICK ME!" "PICK ME!"
14 When an announcement comes over the loud speaker, assume the fetal position and scream "NO! NO! It's those voices again!!!!"
( And; last, but not least!)
15 Go into a fitting room and shut the door and wait a while; and, then, yell, very loudly, "There is no toilet paper in here!"
Little Things
Have you ever noticed that it's the little things in life that truly make you happy? You can enjoy your dream house, your fancy car, and all of your gadgets and gizmos, but when you think about what really puts a smile on your face was it something that had a monetary value or was it one of the "little" things in life that are "free?"
First, let me just state that I am a firm believer that nothing in life is free. Everything comes at a cost. The cost may not even be something we think about or acknowledge, but everything costs something.
My "little" thing that made me smile today (like most days) was my son. I think from now on when I'm writing about him I'll call him "Peanut." It's one of his nicknames anyway. Anyway, my morning started out when I was awaken by a voice calling, "Momma," from down the hall. It wasn't a cry, a whine or anything else that would make me want to wake my hubby and send him instead. No, this was said more in a singsong voice...more like an invitation to come and play. So, I happily got up (at 6:30 a.m. on a vacation day...happily...whodathunkit?) and went to get him. When I got to his room, he was laying on his back in his crib smiling at me. It was below 10 degrees outside, the house felt like it was in the low 60's, but when Peanut smiled at me...I felt as though I was basking in the summer sun.
My day kept getting better. Peanut was feeling playful today, so we played...a lot!! He made my husband and I sit on the floor in his room while he "cooked" for us on his kitchen set. At snack time, the stinker offered my a bite of his snack but when I went to take it, he popped it in his mouth with a giggle and twinkling eyes. Although, at one point, he reached into his mouth and pulled out what was left and offered it to me again. I turned it down. Ick.
Kisses were plentiful today too. Usually, you have to catch him unaware to get a kiss or wait until nap or bedtime when he happily gives them out...usually in an attempt to prolong the time before he goes to bed. Today he came up to me, put his soft, sturdy little hands on my face and pulled me close for a kiss. Then he said, "I hold you." Which means he wants me to hold him. So I did. We snuggled on the couch for a half hour.
I could go on with all the little things that gave me the "warm fuzzies" today, but I'd probably be here all night and I promised the other man in my life some time. I don't know what it is...the little things that make me happy are always there...but some days I'm just more aware...appreciative of them. Some days I just feel so...blessed.
Here's wishing you many days filled with the little things.
First, let me just state that I am a firm believer that nothing in life is free. Everything comes at a cost. The cost may not even be something we think about or acknowledge, but everything costs something.
My "little" thing that made me smile today (like most days) was my son. I think from now on when I'm writing about him I'll call him "Peanut." It's one of his nicknames anyway. Anyway, my morning started out when I was awaken by a voice calling, "Momma," from down the hall. It wasn't a cry, a whine or anything else that would make me want to wake my hubby and send him instead. No, this was said more in a singsong voice...more like an invitation to come and play. So, I happily got up (at 6:30 a.m. on a vacation day...happily...whodathunkit?) and went to get him. When I got to his room, he was laying on his back in his crib smiling at me. It was below 10 degrees outside, the house felt like it was in the low 60's, but when Peanut smiled at me...I felt as though I was basking in the summer sun.
My day kept getting better. Peanut was feeling playful today, so we played...a lot!! He made my husband and I sit on the floor in his room while he "cooked" for us on his kitchen set. At snack time, the stinker offered my a bite of his snack but when I went to take it, he popped it in his mouth with a giggle and twinkling eyes. Although, at one point, he reached into his mouth and pulled out what was left and offered it to me again. I turned it down. Ick.
Kisses were plentiful today too. Usually, you have to catch him unaware to get a kiss or wait until nap or bedtime when he happily gives them out...usually in an attempt to prolong the time before he goes to bed. Today he came up to me, put his soft, sturdy little hands on my face and pulled me close for a kiss. Then he said, "I hold you." Which means he wants me to hold him. So I did. We snuggled on the couch for a half hour.
I could go on with all the little things that gave me the "warm fuzzies" today, but I'd probably be here all night and I promised the other man in my life some time. I don't know what it is...the little things that make me happy are always there...but some days I'm just more aware...appreciative of them. Some days I just feel so...blessed.
Here's wishing you many days filled with the little things.
Proud Mama
Today I took my son to see Elmo's Coloring Book. I'm not sure that I have ever seen him so excited. When we told him that today was the day he was going to see Elmo...his eyes just about popped out of his head. It was all he could talk about. All the way to the theater all he would say was, "Elmo...here we come!!" and "See Elmo?" or "See Elmo!!!" The theater the performance was at is quite old and ornate. My son was looking all around. He could hardly walk, he was so busy looking at the people and the ceiling...everything.
When the show started he just sat there. He was mesmerized with all of the lights. I don't think the little guy blinked for the first ten minutes. Even when Elmo came out, it was as though he (my son) couldn't believe what he was seeing. I think my husband and I spent more time watching our son's face than anything else. When it was time to leave he cried. He didn't want to go. Except for a 15 minute intermission, my son (who is normally hard-pressed to sit still for five minutes) sat quietly for about an hour and a half to an hour and forty-five minutes. Amazing!
Just for the record...I think my little boy is the most amazing person I have ever known (this includes that times that he is naughty and/or just plain driving me nuts)! Of course, I imagine every parent feels this way.
Good night.
When the show started he just sat there. He was mesmerized with all of the lights. I don't think the little guy blinked for the first ten minutes. Even when Elmo came out, it was as though he (my son) couldn't believe what he was seeing. I think my husband and I spent more time watching our son's face than anything else. When it was time to leave he cried. He didn't want to go. Except for a 15 minute intermission, my son (who is normally hard-pressed to sit still for five minutes) sat quietly for about an hour and a half to an hour and forty-five minutes. Amazing!
Just for the record...I think my little boy is the most amazing person I have ever known (this includes that times that he is naughty and/or just plain driving me nuts)! Of course, I imagine every parent feels this way.
Good night.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Books and Biting
What a day!! It was cold and rainy (but at least it wasn't snow!) all day. We even had a thunderstorm...in February...go figure. I was stuck inside all day with two crabby guys except for when I got to leave the house to do two of my favorite activities...go to Dr.'s and grocery shopping. Yeah. However...on the up-side...I did work the library into my first trip and the book store into my second.
I must confess...I have a problem. I am addicted to reading!! There my dirty little (or not so little) secret is out. Even worse than that I guess is that in my entire life I have never gotten rid of more than 10 books...total...ever!!! I also keep a data base of all the books I own...at home and work. Altogether there are over 2000. I am a junkie.
I am getting better about using the library, but sometimes they don't have what I need and I have to get it at the bookstore. I am also not a bargain shopper and I am into instant gratification...most of the time. Today I went to the library and was looking for Kiss the Girls by James Patterson. I had just finished Along Came a Spider and wanted to read the next book (I had read London Bridges awhile back and I have this "thing" where I have to read a series in the correct order). Can you believe that they had just about every other book in the series except that one??!! So I checked the other libraries in the county to see about a loan...nope. I couldn't believe it. That left me with one option...bookstore. Thankfully they had it. Honestly, if they wouldn't have had it I probably would've had an anxiety attack. Ok. Probably not...but I would have been upset.
Ok...so anyway. I eventually had to go home to the two crabby loves of my life. My darling hubby has been a complete bear all week (we are both on vacation this week). He is normally a wonderful hubby and father and keeps me and our son "balanced." So, when hubby is off...we are all off. Anyway, our son has been into EVERYTHING lately (he is two) and it's been driving hubby nuts. Me too...but not as much. The last straw came today when "son" bit "hubby." This is the first time that "son" has bitten anyone. It was actually kinda funny (yes, I know it's not nice and it's wrong to think that)...he bit my husband's butt. I couldn't help it. Once I had made sure my hubby was o.k. (no skin was broken) and put the little guy in time out...I went to the bedroom and laughed!!! He got bit on the butt!!!!
I hope tomorrow is better. We are taking "son" to see "Elmo's Coloring Book." Yippee. Just the way I want to spend the day...with a bunch of wee ones crammed together (I'm am SO not crazy about crowds). Well, hopefully "son" will like it and hubby won't be cranky. I'm sure I will be my usual happy, cheerful self (right). Wish me luck.
Oh!! Lights just flickered!! Surprised I'm still online...better go.
Until next time...
I must confess...I have a problem. I am addicted to reading!! There my dirty little (or not so little) secret is out. Even worse than that I guess is that in my entire life I have never gotten rid of more than 10 books...total...ever!!! I also keep a data base of all the books I own...at home and work. Altogether there are over 2000. I am a junkie.
I am getting better about using the library, but sometimes they don't have what I need and I have to get it at the bookstore. I am also not a bargain shopper and I am into instant gratification...most of the time. Today I went to the library and was looking for Kiss the Girls by James Patterson. I had just finished Along Came a Spider and wanted to read the next book (I had read London Bridges awhile back and I have this "thing" where I have to read a series in the correct order). Can you believe that they had just about every other book in the series except that one??!! So I checked the other libraries in the county to see about a loan...nope. I couldn't believe it. That left me with one option...bookstore. Thankfully they had it. Honestly, if they wouldn't have had it I probably would've had an anxiety attack. Ok. Probably not...but I would have been upset.
Ok...so anyway. I eventually had to go home to the two crabby loves of my life. My darling hubby has been a complete bear all week (we are both on vacation this week). He is normally a wonderful hubby and father and keeps me and our son "balanced." So, when hubby is off...we are all off. Anyway, our son has been into EVERYTHING lately (he is two) and it's been driving hubby nuts. Me too...but not as much. The last straw came today when "son" bit "hubby." This is the first time that "son" has bitten anyone. It was actually kinda funny (yes, I know it's not nice and it's wrong to think that)...he bit my husband's butt. I couldn't help it. Once I had made sure my hubby was o.k. (no skin was broken) and put the little guy in time out...I went to the bedroom and laughed!!! He got bit on the butt!!!!
I hope tomorrow is better. We are taking "son" to see "Elmo's Coloring Book." Yippee. Just the way I want to spend the day...with a bunch of wee ones crammed together (I'm am SO not crazy about crowds). Well, hopefully "son" will like it and hubby won't be cranky. I'm sure I will be my usual happy, cheerful self (right). Wish me luck.
Oh!! Lights just flickered!! Surprised I'm still online...better go.
Until next time...
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Adoption
My heart aches and I'm...scared? worried? I don't know what the right word is. I've been looking at other blogs and came across one where the person was adopted. She was a great writer and talked about her adoption experience. She was so angry...with really good reason to be. Her life was HORRIBLE!!
Why does this worry me? I'm an adoptive mom. It scares the daylights out of me that one day my son may feel that kind of anger toward me. The posts I read covered anger at things like the fact that she had a baby book that said, "Our Adopted Child;" comments that people would make about how she was ungrateful; that she shouldn't find her biological family; that her birth certificate had no notation on it indicating that she was adopted; and much more. Alot of the items she had problems with...I did too. But there were also things she mentioned that I am guilty of doing.
One of the items mentioned above that I am guilty of is the baby book. Ours says something like..."Our Chosen Child." I guess I can understand why she's upset, but at the time that I bought the book I thought it was a good idea. I had looked all over for a baby book and most of them contained sections about how the mother felt while she was pregnant, who the baby looked like, etc. Things that I wouldn't be able to fill out. I finally found a book that told about what I did know...our "adoption journey" to our son. It covered the whole process and allowed us to records the "steps" that we took to become parents. After the "Finalization" section, it was a basic baby book. When we adopt our second child, I'm planning on getting another copy for that child. Is it really so bad?
As for the rest of the things she was bothered by...I really do understand. I was upset for her. My son's adoption is considered open. It's not my idea of open...but I'm doing the best I can to keep it as open as possible. When we met our son's birth mom, we discussed what "open" meant to us. She wanted pics, letters and maybe phone calls. We wanted all of the above and visits a couple of times a year...if and when she was ready. I totally understand that placing a child for adoption is a difficult decision beyond my comprehension. And to people that say to me that they can't understand how "someone wouldn't want their child" or "could just give their child away"...be thankful I haven't smacked you. Our son's birth mom does love him...and it was not easy to place him with another family to raise him. Anyway...I digress.
So...knowing that placing your child for adoption is not easy...we knew that "K" would probably not want visits at first. Well, we were very happy when that was not the case. We were there when our son was born. We (my husband and I, "K" and her parents and aunt, our son) all spent time together at the hospital. We were in contact quite a bit during the first year...there were even 3 or 4 visits. The last time I talked to "K" was on our son's 1st birthday...he's now 2. She had mentioned that she'd move and said that she would send me her new address and call me so that we could get together. We haven't heard from her since. I continued to send pics and letters, but the last batch came back with a forwarding address (forwarding had expired). So I sent it out to the new address. It came back. This time without a forwarding address. I was so upset. I even toyed with the idea of trying to track her down. However, others around me...including the social worker from the agency told me that if she wanted to maintain contact...she would have. She has our phone number and address. But I keep thinking...but my son is going to want to know her!! I want it to be easy for him to find her! But I guess she'll get back in touch with us when she's ready.
In the meantime, I try to read stories to my son about adoption. I have pics of his birth mom and 2 siblings (that live with her) that were taken when they came for a visit (the siblings didn't know anything...just that they were visiting friends of their mom's that had a new baby). I keep these pictures out in frames in his bedroom. We take the pictures down and talk about them. My hope is not to make my child think that he needs to be grateful, but that he will know that I am okay with him knowing his birth family...that I encourage it! Am I a bit worried that if this happens that he will like them more than me...yes...I'm only human. But, it's not about me. It's about him. I truely feel he needs to know that part of himself...my insecurities are not important.
On the topic of birth certificates...I was surprised that there is nothing on them to indicate that a person was adopted. Maybe it is so that the adopted child doesn't feel different?? I don't know. But it bothered me. I know some people that are adopting that don't want to talk about their child's adoption (which is a whole other issue that I can't even stand to think about...it makes me SOOO angry). What if something happened to these parents and they never got the chance to tell their child they were adopted?? How would the child find out? Ok...reading that...it sounds stupid...but...oh, I don't know. I just have a problem with it.
I think I need to sign off now. I'm looking at what I read and I don't think that it's very coherent. I also think I sound defensive...heck, if I'm brutely honest with myself...I probably am. I am trying very hard not to be one of the people that messes up their child's life...although I also believe that ALL parents mess up their kids (it's just the severity of it differs).
So...for now...
Why does this worry me? I'm an adoptive mom. It scares the daylights out of me that one day my son may feel that kind of anger toward me. The posts I read covered anger at things like the fact that she had a baby book that said, "Our Adopted Child;" comments that people would make about how she was ungrateful; that she shouldn't find her biological family; that her birth certificate had no notation on it indicating that she was adopted; and much more. Alot of the items she had problems with...I did too. But there were also things she mentioned that I am guilty of doing.
One of the items mentioned above that I am guilty of is the baby book. Ours says something like..."Our Chosen Child." I guess I can understand why she's upset, but at the time that I bought the book I thought it was a good idea. I had looked all over for a baby book and most of them contained sections about how the mother felt while she was pregnant, who the baby looked like, etc. Things that I wouldn't be able to fill out. I finally found a book that told about what I did know...our "adoption journey" to our son. It covered the whole process and allowed us to records the "steps" that we took to become parents. After the "Finalization" section, it was a basic baby book. When we adopt our second child, I'm planning on getting another copy for that child. Is it really so bad?
As for the rest of the things she was bothered by...I really do understand. I was upset for her. My son's adoption is considered open. It's not my idea of open...but I'm doing the best I can to keep it as open as possible. When we met our son's birth mom, we discussed what "open" meant to us. She wanted pics, letters and maybe phone calls. We wanted all of the above and visits a couple of times a year...if and when she was ready. I totally understand that placing a child for adoption is a difficult decision beyond my comprehension. And to people that say to me that they can't understand how "someone wouldn't want their child" or "could just give their child away"...be thankful I haven't smacked you. Our son's birth mom does love him...and it was not easy to place him with another family to raise him. Anyway...I digress.
So...knowing that placing your child for adoption is not easy...we knew that "K" would probably not want visits at first. Well, we were very happy when that was not the case. We were there when our son was born. We (my husband and I, "K" and her parents and aunt, our son) all spent time together at the hospital. We were in contact quite a bit during the first year...there were even 3 or 4 visits. The last time I talked to "K" was on our son's 1st birthday...he's now 2. She had mentioned that she'd move and said that she would send me her new address and call me so that we could get together. We haven't heard from her since. I continued to send pics and letters, but the last batch came back with a forwarding address (forwarding had expired). So I sent it out to the new address. It came back. This time without a forwarding address. I was so upset. I even toyed with the idea of trying to track her down. However, others around me...including the social worker from the agency told me that if she wanted to maintain contact...she would have. She has our phone number and address. But I keep thinking...but my son is going to want to know her!! I want it to be easy for him to find her! But I guess she'll get back in touch with us when she's ready.
In the meantime, I try to read stories to my son about adoption. I have pics of his birth mom and 2 siblings (that live with her) that were taken when they came for a visit (the siblings didn't know anything...just that they were visiting friends of their mom's that had a new baby). I keep these pictures out in frames in his bedroom. We take the pictures down and talk about them. My hope is not to make my child think that he needs to be grateful, but that he will know that I am okay with him knowing his birth family...that I encourage it! Am I a bit worried that if this happens that he will like them more than me...yes...I'm only human. But, it's not about me. It's about him. I truely feel he needs to know that part of himself...my insecurities are not important.
On the topic of birth certificates...I was surprised that there is nothing on them to indicate that a person was adopted. Maybe it is so that the adopted child doesn't feel different?? I don't know. But it bothered me. I know some people that are adopting that don't want to talk about their child's adoption (which is a whole other issue that I can't even stand to think about...it makes me SOOO angry). What if something happened to these parents and they never got the chance to tell their child they were adopted?? How would the child find out? Ok...reading that...it sounds stupid...but...oh, I don't know. I just have a problem with it.
I think I need to sign off now. I'm looking at what I read and I don't think that it's very coherent. I also think I sound defensive...heck, if I'm brutely honest with myself...I probably am. I am trying very hard not to be one of the people that messes up their child's life...although I also believe that ALL parents mess up their kids (it's just the severity of it differs).
So...for now...
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
My first time
Well...not to disappoint, but I mean blogging. I'm attempting to step outside of my "safety zone"...try new things...you get the picture. That and maybe find something else to do besides buy books and e-bay when I can't sleep at night. You'd think that a preschool teacher and mom of an active 2 year old would be exhausted enough to sleep and while I am tired...my mind just doesn't shut off. Unfortunately, it's also not busy thinking profound thoughts either. Mostly my mind creates lists...to-do lists, grocery lists, etc. So, if you're reading this...I'm sorry I probably won't be too entertaining. I'm looking at this as a way to try to relax...get my mind to shut down...maybe vent if I do this during the day. It'll be my time to "just breathe."
Things going through my mind...
...I really want to start the new James Patterson book I picked up today...but reading doesn't put me to sleep...it wakes me up so that wouldn't be a good idea.
...I should email the adoption profile to the lady that creates the marketing book (that sounds bad doesn't it?). My husband and I are adopting our second child. Our first is a beautiful, active 2 year old boy who is the light of our lives. We're going through the same agency as before and we've already received 2 inquiries...and our paperwork wasn't even finished!! Unfortunately, the 1st would have involved more fees than we felt comfortable with and the second...we'll see. The birth mom wants a Catholic family and we're not.
...I should go to bed...but am I tired enough?
...my to-do list for tomorrow...well, actually today...call the Dr.'s (schedule appointment, get refill for meds), clean (this is always on the list), work on next week's lesson plans, turn the computer room into my son's new bedroom and his bedroom into a playroom.
Wow. I think this is working. I'm suddenly really tired!! Yippee!
Good night...morning?!
Things going through my mind...
...I really want to start the new James Patterson book I picked up today...but reading doesn't put me to sleep...it wakes me up so that wouldn't be a good idea.
...I should email the adoption profile to the lady that creates the marketing book (that sounds bad doesn't it?). My husband and I are adopting our second child. Our first is a beautiful, active 2 year old boy who is the light of our lives. We're going through the same agency as before and we've already received 2 inquiries...and our paperwork wasn't even finished!! Unfortunately, the 1st would have involved more fees than we felt comfortable with and the second...we'll see. The birth mom wants a Catholic family and we're not.
...I should go to bed...but am I tired enough?
...my to-do list for tomorrow...well, actually today...call the Dr.'s (schedule appointment, get refill for meds), clean (this is always on the list), work on next week's lesson plans, turn the computer room into my son's new bedroom and his bedroom into a playroom.
Wow. I think this is working. I'm suddenly really tired!! Yippee!
Good night...morning?!
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