Muse Mama

Being A Writer

2012-01-11T19:00:00.000-08:00

I don't think of myself as a writer. I have 1000 things I want to write about, and more than a few stories to tell, but I've never given myself that title. I'm not sure if I really need to change my perception of myself, or maybe I'm really not a writer, and I just happen to be someone who writes.

There's something satisfying about the sound of my fingers clicking away at my keyboard, making words appear on the screen. But then, real writers know how to do much more than that. They know how to take a boring subject and make it interesting by virtue of their talent and skill.

And a Mommy Blog Writer? Well, they inspire, make you laugh, encourage you, or share the latest tips and tricks to make life easier. I don't know if I do any of those things. Especially not the last thing. While I've learned so much as a mom, I haven't learned a lot of short cuts. Most of what I've learned as a mom tells me that the most important things take time. It's the getting up in the middle of the night, the hour long nursing sessions, it's consistency when teaching a new skill or making sure that an unacceptable behavior isn't continued. Motherhood is not an easy job.

Still, if I'm not a writer yet, I think I'd like to be. I think I'd like to keep working at this and honing whatever talent I may have into a bona fide skill. I'd like to a writer. Or at least a better Mommy Blogger.

What Dignity?

2012-01-06T21:42:00.000-08:00

I'm going to preface this post by saying that I love my husband more than anything. He's an amazing man who loves me far beyond what I think I deserve.

When you're married, there's a certain amount of vulnerability that's needed to truly connect. Sounds sweet, doesn't it? But usually this vulnerability comes in the form of over-sharing (like I do here, on a blog, with perfect strangers). You watch each other do every day tasks that aren't always pretty.

My husband has taught our kids to announce it proudly when they've farted or burped. Teaching Quinn to say "Excuse me" after passing gas was a little like deprogramming. I'd look into his disbelieving face saying, "No, Sweetie, I know Daddy laughs when you say you farted, but it's polite to say, 'Excuse me.' "

Seriously though, in a house with a husband and five sons, I'm a little desensitized to this kind of thing. So color me shocked when tonight my husband told me that he wasn't going to mention that he heard me pass gas because he wanted to "preserve my dignity". I looked around the room. Were there other people in our bedroom that I'd missed? Nope, just us and the baby.

Dignity? This man has seen me cut open, he's caught a baby that came flying out of my hooha, he's seen me sicker than a dog and held my hair. And this is the same man who taught Bridget how to burp louder than her brothers. There's no dignity here! There's just us, living day-in and day-out in the same space and sharing every little intimate detail of each others life.

It may not be pretty, sexy, or romantic, but it's comforting to know that I can be violently ill and he's still going to love me when I'm done. Dignity has it's place. But not in a relationship where he likes to ask me to pull his finger.

Simple Beauty: Washing Your Face With Oil

2012-01-05T20:58:00.000-08:00

Beauty should not be hard. The world we live in is bent on convincing us that we need fancy and expensive products in order to take care of our skin. But maybe all we need to keep it clean and pretty, is...oil.

I had never heard of the Oil Cleansing Method (OCM) before reading about it on the Sorta Crunchy blog. But once I read about it, I knew I had to try it.

Here are the basics:

The oil cleansing method works on the premise that oil dissolves oil. So if you put the right oils on your face, it will soak into your skin, lifting dirt, grime, and impurities, and then it can all be steamed away, leaving clean fresh skin.

You need two oils. The first is Castor Oil, which is the cleansing oil. I read somewhere about someone who just used the other oil and had terrible results. I'm not surprised. You need that Castor Oil. It is not just for your grandmother's medicine cabinet anymore.

The second oil can vary based on your specific needs. I'm using Sunflower Oil. But Extra Virgin Olive Oil works and is great for normal/combination skin. Oils like Jojoba are good for oily or acne prone skin. This site lists a number of others that you can use.

For more oily skin you should use up to 2/3 Castor Oil to 1/3 secondary oil. For dryer skin, use 1/3 Castor Oil or less. Oddly enough, too much Castor Oil can actually dry your skin.

To use the oil, you take about a quarter sized amount in your hands, rub them together to warm it up, and apply. Massage your face for about two minutes and then let it sit for another minute. Then it can be steamed away. Some people use a washcloth with hot water to wash away the oil. You get the washcloth steamy (not scalding) and just set it on your face, letting the steam work it's way into your pores and cleaning them out. You repeat that several times to get the last of the oil off of your face. Or, you can just jump in the shower and let the steam work there.

And you know what I found? It worked right from the start.

At first, some people find that the OCM opens up their pores and allows their natural oils to flow, leaving them a little greasy for a few days. I didn't have that problem. My skin just felt amazing. I did have one spot that had been coming up before I started doing this, and honestly, if I'd left it alone it might have just gone away. That spot was my fault, not the OCM. It's finally gone and I"m so happy with how my skin looks and feels.. My dry patches are gone! I can use my mineral make up again and it sits on my skin the way it's supposed to!

So here's what I'm doing now. I do the OCM every other night. Every night was too drying for me. In between I clean my face with warm water and a little witch hazel. Some people who use OCM don't use any moisturizer. I do. I like the anti-aging benefits of my night cream, and I strongly believe in the use of SPF during the day. I'm fair and most skin damage comes from the sun. But that's an individual choice. Some people just use a drop of the oil mixture as a moisturizer.

The OCM keeps harsh chemicals off your skin, saves money, and is a simple, green way to take care of yourself. It's totally worth trying if you're interested.

Now I'm thinking about going shampoo free...I'm not sure I'm brave enough yet. But I'm hooked on the OCM.

Another Mommy Blog

2012-01-04T20:34:00.000-08:00

There are a million mommy blogs out there. Mine is not unique. There are plenty of blogs that cover parenting from the perspective of a Pagan, or having a big family, or dealing with Autism and special needs. I don't know that there are too many that do all of those things at once, but hey, I always did love being a little bit different. An old friend of mine liked to say that I marched to the beat of my own drummer. She was very...tactful.

Sometimes I think about all of the things that I want to write about, and realize there are already ten people who've tackled the subject, and probably done it far more justice than I would. After a while I started wondering why I have a blog at all. Is my voice so important to add to the cacophony of the internet?

To be honest, it's not. But I still want to be here. I want to write about what interests me, what's happening with my family, and my adventures in Motherhood. Because I know that someone will get it.

Someone will understand the frustrations of watching children struggle with things that should be easier, or hoping that you're handling the little crises of childhood in a way that will encourage them to have a strong sense of self as they get older. Someone will get how crazy it is to realize that you're getting older when it feels like you were just in High School a few years ago. And someone will see that there is magic in the mundane. As for me, I have an outlet for my family stories, personal thoughts, and changing mind. Sometimes it feels like the kids and I are growing up together. Maybe, in a way, we are.

A New Year, A New Focus

2012-01-03T20:01:00.000-08:00

2011 was not my year. I got pregnant, unexpectedly, at the end of 2010. Between the changes in my immune system, made to protect my baby, and having a bunch of kids in public school for the first time, I got sick. And because my work had changed their policies, giving me fewer sick days, I ended up in trouble. The last straw was in March when I contracted gastroenteritis and was in the ER. They actually told me not to come in to work, but considered it an "involuntary absence", and since no absence was excused under their policies, they fired me. I've never been fired from a job. Ever. And I was a good nurse. The only thing they had in my file was the attendance issue. Which, a year before, wouldn't have even been an issue.

I was so frustrated, hurt, and worried for our family. Then it got worse.

It was one week to the day when I was fired that we got Liam's diagnosis of encephalocele. In one week I'd lost a job I'd had for seven years, and been told that my baby might die. March sucked ass.

I had four months of worrying, waiting, and fear. Then a premature birth, a c-section, Liam's brain surgery, Liam's shunt surgery, and several financial setbacks due to lack of employment.

I will not miss 2011. Not even a teeny tiny bit.

I spent 2011 afraid.

2012 is a New Year. And while, sure I want to lose the baby weight and feel better about myself in the new year, I mostly just don't want to be afraid anymore. Not for my child, not for our family, and not for myself either.

This year a lot of bloggers have chosen a word as the focus for their writing. While I'd hardly lump myself in with some of the amazing writers who have done this, I have chosen one too. Mine is Courage. My goal this year is to find the Courage to do the things that scare me, to step out from the postpartum depression, and the fear that has pulled at my soul. I want to be brave enough not only to continue to work on myself, but to share it without fear.

Wish me luck.

Magical Mommy Mondays: Spells For Kids

2012-01-02T20:00:00.000-08:00

My daughters are at an age where they're starting to react to life from a Pagan perspective. This week my husband was watching a documentary about the Vatican and it was discussing the early persecution of Christians. Bridget looked up at him and said, "Wow. It's a good thing we're Pagans." I guess she hasn't heard about Salem yet. But I loved that she already sees herself this way.

While I love the Path we've chosen to follow, I don't want them to feel like they have to believe as we do. At the same time, since they're showing such an interest, I want to encourage them.

When they're having simple problems that I think could be helped with a bit of spell work, I've gone looking for children's spells on the internet.

Um, wow. From sites that want to send me a package of things labeled as a child's "spell kit" that I really don't need, to websites that engage in the just plain silly, it's been difficult. Now, don't get me wrong. I don't want my kids to engage in really intense spell work. But this is part of the practice of our faith, and I do want them to take it seriously. Simple but engaging is what I'm looking for.

One great resource I've found is the Pooka Pages. My kids love reading them and on the site there are stories, activities, and even a Book of Shadows.

Another thing I like to do is come up with my own simple candle spells. Take a candle, with a color that corresponds with their need/sprinkle it with an herb that's appropriate, light it while thinking of their need, let it burn out, then bury it to seal the spell. They're simple, and teach both some basic herbalism plus the power of intention. Small sachets are good, too. Especially if they're having a problem at school, we can make a sachet, and they can put it in their backback where it can work all day for them. This is also a really good time to remind them of our basic ethics.

However we choose to involve our children in our religious lives, I think offering them simple tools, along with the growing understanding of our responsibility as we practice, empowers them. And I want to give my kids every opportunity to feel strong and capable.

Motherhood Is Boring

2011-12-30T19:49:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, back in the olden days when grunge was played on the radio, I was a girl. No really, I keep telling my kids, I was a real-live-girl. Not just the mom they see before them now. I did things. Crazy things. I once ditched school so that I could drive around L.A. with a friend looking for Tori Amos. We took improptu trips to the mountains, just to drive. We went out dancing. We went to raves. We toilet papered the houses of mean ex-boyfriends. We had fun.

We had our down time, too. On Thursday nights my girlfriends and I would watch Friends, crochet, and then get a Starbucks and then catch E.R. George Clooney was dreamy and we couldn't party every night. But that is just not my life anymore.

I don't want to say that I'm bored. I'm not bored. There's always something to do. Laundry, cleaning, diapers, kids, husband. I am not bored. But I'm starting to wonder if I'm getting boring. Who cares if my baby has thrown up on me again, or how many diapers I've changed, or if I've found a fabulous new way of cleaning my sink (I haven't by the way).

The thing is, I know I'm living a crazy adventure. I share the secrets of little girls. I get the sweetest little boy kisses. I know what makes a Liam giggle. When I'm doing this right, every day is an adventure. Every day is a little bit magic. I'm sharing the moments that they will remember when they're grown and off in the world. And damned if my kids aren't funny. I sometimes wonder what I laughed at before they came along.

There's this kind of odd period when you have really young children. And I've been in this period for longer than most people these days are. Some people have the freedom of older kids. Some people have the freedom of no kids. And it can seem a little dull to spend most of your time picking toys up off the floor and reminding the little people to flush the toilet and wash their hands. But this is what the rest of it is all based on. The relationships we make with our kids when they're little, it's huge. So I'm going to keep drinking my coffee and sharing the magic as I find it, where I find it, and well, when I find it.

Oh, Yeah. Wine.

2011-12-29T09:49:00.000-08:00

You know what I hate most about blogging? When you've typed out something kinda lengthy and in one mis-keystroke, you wipe out the whole thing. Let me try this again.

I love my kids. I chose to have them. They're mine. At the same time, sometimes I want to be more than just their mom. I want to be me, too. And that's sometimes really damn hard. There's nothing special about having more kids. I don't know that my job is harder or easier than anyone else's. There's no prize for motherhood (though there probably should be). So, I'm not angling for one here. I'm just expressing what I think most of us feel from time to time.

We all can get overwhelmed, frustrated, or touched-out. There's only so many times a day that someone can pee on my floor before I start plotting my escape to someplace tropical...like Ireland. Only, then how would I get all my cuddles? So, I stay and hope that the next day is better and I feel refreshed. Sometimes, that even happens.

One of the best new things I've found for helping to preserve my tenuous grip on sanity, is a new friend. I have a new neighbor across the street. A single mom with two kids whom my kids adore, she has a great sense of humor and almost always a bottle of wine. Wine is good. Friendship, even better.

Over the years I've done a lot of things to connect to other women and other moms, since we no longer live in the kind of communities that foster that, and Dominic doesn't want to move to any commune that doesn't have wifi. I've joined message boards, found playgroups, had knitting dates with my girlfriends, and the occasional sushi lunch. However you have to do it, do it. Whatever you can. Find the women who will help you stay sane and remind you that there will come a day when you're not covered in spit-up and breaking up fights. It's worth it, I promise.

Surprise, I'm Published!

2011-12-27T16:48:00.001-08:00

So, what makes the bestest step-daughter in the world? One who loves her step-mom so much that she took her favorite posts from this blog over the last year and turned them into a book.

I think my heart might have stopped. And there might have been tears. I can neither confirm nor deny.

As it happens, my favorite English Major had a project this semester where she had to publish a book. And she chose this blog. As a belated Yule gift, she gave me my very own copy. I say it counts! I'm a published writer. So....there.

The front cover warns readers:

*Subjects may include politics, religion, autism, marriage, internet trends, rants, and how not to bitch slap a crazy person.

I'm so glad I'm teaching her all the important things.

Take note, publishing world, I think she'd be a good blurb writer. On the back of the book she says:

Follow internet Muse Mama, Anne Basso, in her daily adventures of being a mother to a brood of seven children. In these selected passages from her popular internet blog, you will find yourself laughing, crying and shaking your head at her funny anecdotes, pithy quips, honest opinions and sage advice.

She gives me way too much credit. But what were her favorite posts from the last year?

Epic Fail Day
I Will Not Be Afeared
And The Earth Shook...
And The Earth Shook....Part II
Babies Should Come Home
Some Things Don't Change
The Long And Winding Road
Remembering To Breathe
Where Is It?
Spectrum Saturdays: 10 Things I Wish People Knew About Raising A Kid With Autism
My Mother Will Be So Proud That I Wore Lipstick
To Train Up A Parent
The Beginners Guide To Pregnancy
The Christians And The Pagans
Make Way For Ducklings

I liked those too.

Thank you, Karina, for being you. I know I'm so much better for having had you in my life all these years.

Magical Mommy Mondays: The Magic of Children

2011-12-26T17:01:00.000-08:00

I haven't done a Magical Mommy Monday post in a while. Not for lack of material, but the simple and terribly unoriginal lack of time. As we hurdle headlong towards a new year, I've been left to reflect on 2011, which has been, truly, a really bad year. Unemployment, the fear of a poor prenatal diagnosis, a sick baby, and all the other troubles that real life brings aren't that much fun to write about, and even less fun to live. But then, I had a moment.

Between sick kids, furious holiday planning, and paying the bills, I found myself sitting in my easy chair watching a movie with two kids on my lap. Bridget, normally a total Daddy's girl, insisted that she just had to sit with me. And then came Quinn, also usually Daddy's, at my elbow, wanting up too. I sat, not looking at the screen, but at the little heads on my chest. I could lean down and inhale the smell of them, feel the weight of them, and soak up their warmth.

Later, after they'd gotten down, and I picked up my favorite vice (the computer) I found that a preemie I'd been praying for, had died. On Christmas Eve. His parents, faithful people, had to say goodbye to their baby on what should have been a happy night for their family. I could feel the tears rolling down my face as I thought of their loss. Then I thought of each of my children, here with me. I picked up Liam and didn't even mind that he pulled on my hair or drooled all over me. I was just so grateful to hold him in my arms and know that he's okay.

Sometimes, the Magical Mommy Moment isn't in how I parent them, but how they become the healing magic for me. Because at that moment, I wasn't at all concerned with what a crappy year this has been, but I was filled with overwhelming gratitude for the many gifts I have.

Bedtime Mayhem

2011-12-25T19:07:00.000-08:00

I topped off my Yuletide with a nice case of gastroenteritis. Thanks, Kids, for always sharing with your mom. After days of cleaning up after and caring for sick kids, it seemed like turn about was fair play. Right?

Truly, this year, holiday partying just wasn't in the plans. The kids were sick all the way up until Yule, and then on Yule, I came down with it.

But here's where it gets good, and gives a healthy glimmer into the excitement that is our house. Tonight I gave the 3 younger boys a bath. After cleaning out the tub, and getting them all in, I started in on cleaning up. With this many sick kids over the last week, it was getting kinda nasty. I got it all done in time for them to get bathwater all over the floor. Thanks guys!

So, I get the boys into bed, read a story and close the door. This should be the end of the story. Only, 10 minutes later, their bedroom is covered in fluff and stinks. In the effort to figure out what's happened, all the boys get out of their room. Well, it turns out Quinn's thrown up on the floor. But it took checking each of them for dirty pants and someone stepping in it to figure that out. And the fluff? That's from a tiny hole in a pillow pet. Meanwhile, Ciaran starts running around the house, and Brennan gets into the kitchen and pulls the casserole dish off the counter and onto the floor.

This is when Mama starts wistfully thinking about the bottle of Moscato in the fridge. I think I've earned a glass.

Happy Christmas and a Blessed Yule

2011-12-20T18:59:00.000-08:00

I have a feeling I'm not alone. I'm a Pagan who loves Christmas. I was raised as a Christian child. My dad was the choir director at the Episcopal Church where I went all through my childhood. Christmas brought the pageant. We dressed up like angels and shepherds and acted out a beautiful story of the birth of a baby. Christmas is more than a religious holiday. It's a time that symbolizes warmth, safety, kindness, peace, goodwill toward men. You don't have to be a Christian to love these things. And, to tell the truth, I have a soft spot in my heart for the carpenter of lowly birth, who sought to teach others to live in harmony and peace.

But I'm a Pagan. I won't be celebrating Christmas as a religious holiday. My religious holiday is December 22nd, Yule. For those who don't know, Yule is when the dark half of the year gives way to the light. It is when the Oak King, the Sun God who gives life, is reborn of the Goddess, vanquishing the Holly King. I always think of Christmas as the day that the Son is born, and Yule the day that the Sun is born. There are so many parallels between the two holidays, though (of course) each has a meaning that is uniquely it's own.

This year that we will not be celebrating Christmas at all. We asked the kids what they wanted to do. Celebrate Yule as a religious holiday and then Christmas as a cultural one? Just Yule? It turned out they were perfectly content to celebrate only Yule.

So, we've decorated the Yule Tree. We'll have presents. We'll make cookies for Santa. In fact, in my husband's tradition (Asatru), the God Odin was said to ride across the sky, giving gifts to his people. Odin looks a bit like Santa actually, if maybe just a touch fiercer. We will spend time with those we love, give thanks for the many gifts of the Season, and rejoice that there is a light in the darkness. Whether Christian or Pagan, these are great gifts, for which we should be grateful. And as much as I love Christmas, I've realized that I haven't given up a single thing that I truly love.

Happy Christmas and a Blessed Yule to all those who celebrate. .

Yule Resources for families:
The Pooka Pages for Pagan Kids
Celebrating Yule With Kids
Yule @ Pagan Kids N Kin

Mommy Dearest

2011-12-16T21:24:00.000-08:00

Earlier today Ciaran came home from school. My just-turned-six-years-old-on-Tuesday boy came in, demanded my tablet so he could play Angry Birds (I said no), sang a song, then went into the playroom with his brothers where he immediately peed his pants and stripped naked. Welcome home, Ciaran.

He peed his pants twice this evening. In my mind I could see what I'd like to do. Like Mommy Dearest with the wire hangers, I wanted to smack him with his own wet pants. Can't he see how crazy it makes me when he does this? On purpose? When he knows how to use the toilet?

No. Of course he can't. Autism has many things that make kids truly special, but one of the drawbacks is that he has trouble seeing anything from my perspective. I count it a minor miracle that he'll say sorry if he thinks he's stepped on my foot. After all, it didn't hurt him, and he didn't mean to, so why should he be sorry?

So, I can't act like that. Not that I would even if he didn't have Autism. Now, I'd be lying if I said I've always kept my cool. I'm human. But I'm their mom. It's my job to love and protect them even if they're making me want to flee to the nearest girlfriend who has an open bottle of wine. And there is a certain kind of parent that I can never be.

When I was very little, I had a caregiver who obviously didn't like children very much. She had two of her own, and I think she loved them. But us? The kids who spent their days with her? I don't think she liked us at all. And she made us all unhappy because of it. I can still remember how each day I'd leave her house thinking, "I like her. I'll be extra good and maybe she'll be nice to me tomorrow." With a child's innocence I continued to try to love her into loving me back. But I couldn't do it.

I'm lucky. She was just my caregiver. And when I was in Kindergarten, she quit, and I went to daycare instead. I think, even now, that experience colors who I am as a parent. I want my children to respect me. But I don't want them to fear me. I don't want them to feel they have to earn my love. I always want them to feel safe with me.

Tonight, Bridget has the stomach flu. Liam is attached to me as if he were made of velcro, and sleeps only short periods if not in my bed. Okay, he sleeps for short periods even when he's in my bed. Piper is sleeping on the couch since her room smells like a sick Bridget. It's probably going to be a long night. And I'll get through it, while taking care of my kids (with the help of an awesome husband, of course). Because that's what you do as the parent. I know there are women out there who don't do this. Women who abuse and neglect their children. I will never understand them. Ever.

Liar Liar Pants On Fire

2011-12-13T20:24:00.000-08:00

It's a familiar scene...once again one of my children has explained something to me, and I know for a fact that they're lying.

Tonight it was Bridget. Yesterday she told me that she'd been walking home from school and dropped her homework in the snow. Now it was all wet and she couldn't do it. Fine. Whatever. Explain it to your teacher and I'm sure she'll understand. But she tried to give me the same explanation today for why she didn't do her homework. But there's a problem. She's too smart to drop her homework in the snow two days in a row. She's just making this up, and I know it.

Reagan looked on, shaking his head. He knows from experience that mom's bullshit detector is fine tuned. I could almost hear him, in his head, willing her to just come clean.

I wonder why they lie to me. I always know. And they usually end up being in more trouble than they would have been if they'd just told me the truth. But she's not the first to lie to me, and she won't be the last. I pulled Bridget's homework, dry and ready to be done, out of her backpack. She's less than happy with me right now. But I don't have "stupid" tattooed on my forehead. I've been around a while, and I'm smarter than she is, at least for now. They'd all be better off if they realized that.

Good Enough Mom

2011-12-12T20:58:00.001-08:00

Hi, my name is Anne, and I can be an insecure parent.

"Hi, Anne."

I spend way too much time second guessing my choices and worrying about how one decision or another is going to affect my child for life. I've wondered how long each will need therapy, and which of my many mistakes they'll tell their shrink about. Is it the Lord of the Rings middle names we gave them? Is it how I made Reagan write me a paper on why the rules apply to him, when I know he hates writing more than any other consequence?

Then I remind myself that they'll have way more to tell their therapist about their dad than me.

I really thought my parents always knew exactly what they were doing. But here I am, flying blind and hoping that I'm getting enough right that someday they still come to visit me, bring by grandchildren, and pick out a really nice nursing home for me. Especially the nursing home part.

I'm trying to remember that as much as I'm not a perfect parent, they're not perfect kids either. So it'll all work out in the end. And as much as what we read may tell us that we have to feed our kids this, or dress them that way, or cosleep, or crib sleep, or whatever, it is not those decisions by themselves that make or break us as parents. It's the totality of who we are, what we teach them, and the relationships we form that
help make them who they are. And in that sense, I'm doing just fine.

10 Things You Should Know About Lice

2011-12-09T19:35:00.001-08:00

They are sent by Satan for the torment of you, and your children. I believe this with all my heart, and I don't even believe in Satan.
Lice eggs are brown. Nits are egg casing and are white. These are two different things, but both hang on for dear life. Those little combs that come in the packaging? They're a complete waste of time.
Over the counter treatments are becoming less and less effective over time. The lice are becoming immune to the ingredients. Fabulous. So this means that we have to become creative in how we attack them. Oh, yes, we are at war. The Cetaphil treatment is time consuming, but cheap, and according to this doctor, is 96% effective. I have to say I was actually pretty impressed with the Cetaphil.
There are a lot of myths about lice. Hair dye won't cure lice because it won't kill the eggs. Most things won't kill the eggs. And most of the things that are thought to loosen the nits, haven't been proven to do so. The best way to get rid of them is vigilance.
Once lice have been discovered in your children, you will itch. All the time. That said, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not after you. This is war! Never sleep! Or, you know, just have someone look you over from time to time.
Turns out that lice are persistent, but not that hardy. Then again they're apparently millions of years old. Millions. That's a lot of time to learn how to live through what we want to do to them.
It's okay to get lice. It's not okay to keep them and give them names. Or so says my mother. But I think it's fine to give them names. Just none of mine are very nice.
Lice don't jump or fly. They won't jump from head to head. But they crawl really fast. Like, ridiculous fast. Like, if we could tame them and race them, that would be...well it would be silly because they're the size of a sesame seed when fully grown. But, you get what I'm saying, right?
Not everyone itches. Apparently that's a reaction to the anticoagulant the louse uses while it feeds. That's not creepy. {{shudder}}
They will go away. I promise. Just never as soon as you want them to.

Bugged

2011-12-03T19:53:00.001-08:00

There are 3 things every mother knows:

Don't wash your pretty red tablecloth with the kids clothes, unless you'd like your sons to have pink socks. I hope my boys enjoy their pretty pink socks I made for them.
Laundry never ends, it just reproduces itself. I'll have to go tackle some more when I'm done here.
It's only when you're most frazzled and overwhelmed that you'll hear the dreaded words, "Your daughter has live head lice".

It's been one hell of a week. And the topper was every mom's all-time favorite: Lice. I was at the doctors office for a weigh in (Liam's, not mine) and found that my little guy has put on a whole pound in the last 2 weeks (Yay!) when the school nurse's office called. Piper had live bugs in hair, and they were going to check Bridget out.

Both girls were contaminated. Two hours and $30 later I was was bathing my girls and washing their hair with the nasty louse killer shampoo. I would love to have done the organic system, but that would have been $50 for one set. I just can't afford it. I did a damn good job, though with the washing and combing. I've been doing daily checks to find any missed nits, and so far, I've found very little.

I've decontaminated the house, bedding, clothing, and everything else, and am feeling very good about the job I've done. But I have to say, while I've had no real symptoms of lice, every time I really think about them, I scratch my head. Then I shudder a little.

I will be swimming in Tea Tree Oil Shampoo and Conditioner for the foreseeable future. I suggest everyone else do the same.

Liam Has Surgery

2011-11-25T19:52:00.001-08:00

He wasn't gaining much weight. He wasn't keeping much food down. He seemed to be in pain. And so, another ultrasound was ordered and we finally heard the words we'd hoped to avoid: Liam needed a shunt.

It was a rough week as I took him to appointments and did my best to prepare myself. Because I have the best friends in the world, I ended up with very little alone time, and a house full of food. Then last Friday, Liam had a successful surgery.

He and I came home on Sunday, after two days in the hospital, to find Karina home from college. Then my parents came Monday from California. They've been here all week for an incredible visit. I can't explain how much I enjoy watching my children spend time talking to and cuddling with their grandparents.

I may need a week to recover from Thanksgiving and from the stress of Liam's surgery. Don't get me wrong, I'm so grateful that he is able to get the care he needs. It's just still stressful to watch my baby have to recover from something else when I just want him to be healthy and happy.

I'm really grateful though. Grateful for supportive family. Grateful for friends with their casseroles, hugs, and humor. Grateful for medical professionals who've gone so far above and beyond for my son. Grateful for those who know what he needs and how to get it for him.

Happy Thanksgiving

Dear Liam

2011-11-13T21:37:00.001-08:00

Dear Liam,

When I got the diagnosis that you had an encephalocele, I was really scared. I thought, once you were born and I'd held you in my arms, I wouldn't be afraid anymore. I guess I just thought that with the weight of you, would come a feeling of permanence. Mommies sometimes have ways of kidding themselves. Because if we didn't, we wouldn't know what to do.

You'll be five months old tomorrow. You've done so much already. You've were born premature, had brain surgery, and worked really hard to do the things that other babies do very easily. But it's been a struggle, and lately you've been fighting too hard. We're not sure how much you can see, but we know you don't see us. You eat, but you can't always keep it down. You're gaining weight very slowly. You cry a lot more than you did. We wonder if you hurt.

It's been decided that next Friday, you'll have another surgery. This one will put a shunt into your brain to let the extra fluid out. They think it's that fluid that's making you have to work so hard. I have to be honest, kid, I'm scared again. I know this is a relatively minor surgery, and I should probably take a deep breath because in a few years you'll be doing things that are probably much more dangerous than this, but I'm your mom so I don't have to be logical or reasonable.

There are a lot of things you're going to learn about me as you grow up. I'm not afraid to talk to you about anything. I have a wicked sense of humor and probably rely a little too heavily on sarcasm. I don't let my kids get away with much. But most of all, I love you beyond what I can explain with words. And the day that you are old enough and capable enough to read this, I'm probably going to cry, like I've done when you've hit every milestone. You're my son, and I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you grow up healthy and happy. And I'll probably drive you crazy in the process. I'm pretty sure that's what mom's are for. I think I read that in the handbook.

So, you just get through this next surgery, and we'll see what comes next. I promise I'll be there every step of the way.

Love,

Mom

A Little Liam Update

2011-11-03T20:11:00.000-07:00

I have to say, being this cute little guy's mom is amazing. It's also a roller coaster of emotions as we seem to resolve some things just in time to worry about new things. The fluid in his brain kept increasing after he came home from the hospital, and a shunt seemed like an inevitability. Then, suddenly, a few weeks ago, it started to resolve, and it looked like he might be out of the woods. Maybe it was just going to take some growth to help stabilize his brain.

Then Dominic and I finally admitted a fear we were having. Liam doesn't look at us. When I say his name, he grins. But if I smile at him...nothing. He can't see me. He doesn't see bright toys, he doesn't track. He does see bright lights, but lighted toys don't interest him. Ophthalmology has decided that he should be seen. But it's non emergent, so it might not be until December or January. In the meantime, I'm trying to provide him with textured toys that he can explore through touch, and lots of sound.

Liam is also having some growth issue. When he was teeny, we were supplementing with fortified breast milk in addition to breastfeeding. It brought him up to the 50th percentile on the growth chart. Then the kids started school, brought home their crud, and Liam got sick, making it hard to nurse due to congestion. He dropped from the 50th percentile, down to the 3rd. My supply dropped, too. It's been six weeks of supplements for him and me, pumping, and doing everything in our power to bring him back up. It's not happening. He's growing and putting on weight, but he's still at the 3rd percentile.

So, our Pediatrician called gastroenterology. See, Liam's been treated for reflux almost since he first came home. That kid spits up like nothing I've ever seen. Gastro seems to think that the pressure in his head is making him spit up too much to be able to really grow and thrive. So, if the fluid doesn't fully resolve, and soon, then he may still need a shunt because it's affecting his ability to eat.

I worry a lot. Just when I think I can stop, I find something new to worry about. And I still wouldn't trade a single minute of it. I know Liam's here, when other's are not. I can give him a kiss, listen to him coo, and watch him sleep. I don't take that for granted. I can't. I think that's what happens when you know too much. It's the lesson of loss and survival.

It's Hard Out There For A Mom

2011-11-02T20:10:00.000-07:00

You have no idea how badly I want to open up this blog post with a line about getting money for the rent. And, no, I couldn't come up with anything more clever than that. What can I say? It was a really long day.

There are a lot of things that making my job as Mom harder. But I don't feel like taking an entire blog post to bitch about how hard things are. It's November. Thanksgiving month. I should be thinking about the things I'm grateful for. There are a lot of things I'm grateful for. And let's not pretend that there aren't 1000 other mom blogs out there sharing the woes of motherhood and doing it a hell of a lot better than I am.

But can I share something that's bugging me? After all, it's just us here, right? I'm sick of people telling me I'm a Super Mom. If I deny it (as I should), I sound like I can't take a compliment. But, to be honest, it's a bold-faced lie. Super Moms don't get overwhelmed by homeschooling and give it up. Super Moms bake cookies, always have the laundry done, have a clean house/kids/cats/whatever, don't lose their temper with their kids, have positive attitudes, and feed their babies only the best. Last week when I was sick, I served my kids poptarts for breakfast. They ate them. I called it good.

There's nothing "super" about me. But then, I think the real truth is that there is no Super Mom. There's only us real moms. And we're way better anyway.

All Done

2011-10-29T19:59:00.000-07:00

After Brennan was born, I was sitting in my hospital room, trying desperately to hook myself up to a breast pump, and missing my preemie in the NICU, when a nurse came in to take vitals and actually asked me, "So, you going to have more?"

Now, to be honest, I wasn't completely shocked by the question. I hear it all the time. But my first thought was that I wanted to get through having had that one before I even thought about having more.

As it turns out, I have had one more. Liam is a precious, sweet, little guy, and I'm so glad he's here. But I can finally say without any hesitation in the back of my mind anywhere, that I don't want any more.

Seriously, I have seven kids. I've done my duty, right? More than my duty. In addition to all of the needs of the seven individual human beings who need me as their mom, I have one with Asperger's, one with Autism Spectrum Disorder, and one who was born with a serious Neural Tube Defect. And they need even more. I think it's fair to say that I want to focus on being the best mom I can to the the ones I have.

I have loved my babies. There is something magical for me about staring into that tiny face and knowing that there is a special bond between us that has only just begun. And let's not underestimate the draw of new-baby-smell. It's like crack.

So, here's what it all boils down to:

Michelle Duggar Wins.

She gets the crown. I get my awesome kids. I'm good with that.

There Is No Prize

2011-10-28T14:22:00.000-07:00

There's no trophy. There should be (just for the effort), but there isn't.

When I first started down the path of an Attachment Parent, I remember thinking that the competition between moms was bizarrely fierce. Like, the kind of fierce that was way more about the moms than it was about the kids.

A conversation could start about what do you feed your kids for breakfast, and eventually someone would post about how they basically make everything by hand and baby is never fed anything less than 100% organic homemade food. And this would always seem to carry the mom's belief that if you didn't do what she did, you weren't as devoted. Now, hey, if you've got the time, good on you. But it doesn't make you better than anyone else around here trying to get the job done. Pop Tarts may not be the Breakfast of Champions, but if I'm really sick and my kids need to eat, I'll toss them a box and call it good. I know. I'm spectacular.

So what is it about us moms that makes us so competitive with each other? Why is it that our opinion can't just be ours, but has to be accepted as the right one? Can I say again that there's no trophy here?

I think what it comes down to is that we have so much invested in what we do as parents, that we sometimes have to believe that what we're doing is the absolute best way, and if others can't see that, it threatens what we believe. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but I know that the intense passion we put into the family that we love can sometimes come across as overbearing to others.

Since there's no trophy and no winning in motherhood, I wish some of the super competitive moms could just take a step back and enjoy. For serious.

Magical Mothering Mondays: A Mother's Touch?

2011-10-10T21:43:00.000-07:00

Alright, so I'd started with a big long post that says basically what I've said ten different ways to Sunday. That one of our most powerful Magical tools as a Mother, is touch. Are you shocked, surprised, and amazed? Me neither.

While there's a Magical side to mothering, there's a pretty mundane side too. As I stood over the sink this afternoon frantically trying to clean poop out of Quinn's (3) shoe before getting the three littlest boys into the van to go get their sisters from school, I felt about as far from a Powerful Magical Figure as I could get.

I know that in these every day things we are to find the Magic. And I like to be a voice of encouragement. But some days, it is really hard.

It's Fall. I want to be picking pumpkins and apples, and watching Brennan (2) squeal as he gets pumkin seeds all over his hands. I want to carve Jack-O-Lanterns and jump in piles of leaves. You know, like the moms in the pictures in the magazines and books. The ones who aren't doing 8 loads of laundry and freaking out on their 14 year old who was just caught on the computer again when he knows he's on restriction.

Not to state the obvious or anything, but this parenting gig is way harder than it looked in the brochure.

I actually got a call while at the grocery store today that, while I was out, Bridget (7) stepped away from her homework to find out what flour tasted like. She grabbed a handful out of the canister, ate it, and then threw up. I wish someone had taken a picture of my face when I got that phone call. I'm seriously telling myself that it's her brilliance and Scientific mind that made her conduct such an experiment. I have to. If I start thinking about the alternative, I might have to open that bottle of Chardonnay

Maybe what's Magic about us sometimes, is that we get through the day without drinking, hurting anyone, or giving up on the whole thing. Because while I love them fiercely and more than my own life, they sometimes make me think I'm losing my already fragile mind.

Evidence of Something

2011-10-09T20:36:00.001-07:00

I used to go listen to a Pastor at a Calvary Chapel in Orange County. He'd ask us, frequently, if we were on trial for being Christians, would there be enough evidence to convict?

My idea of being "Christian enough" became the answer to that question. I was "Christian enough" if there was enough evidence in my life to convict me. Did I read my Bible? Did I quote enough scripture? Did I watch the right movies, read the right books, talk about the right things, vote the right way? Most importantly, how did I parent?

So, it's really not surprising that a book promising to answer all my parenting questions, and show the world my "Godly" family, would be appealing to me as a young overwhelmed mom. Especially when I thought I had to show the world my religion.

I've written more than once about the Pearl's and my experience with their book, To Train Up a Child. I'd like to say that it's just another chapter in my parenting book, but I think it's probably the only chapter that I wish I could rip out and pretend never happened. While I figured out pretty quickly that to follow their methods meant that I would end up beating my children, I still feel like a complete idiot for accepting their authority with so little work on my part. It is truly my biggest, most epic, parenting fail.

So now, with another death linked to the Pearl's parenting book, even newspapers are wanting to cover this angle, and they're looking for people to talk to. People who, like me, stopped drinking the Kool-Aid. I'm considering talking to them, but it scares me a bit.

I've considered that Pearl's followers will look at me, no longer a Christian, and dismiss anything I say as I'm so obviously Satan's mouthpiece now (that was sarcasm, just in case anyone missed it). But then, if I can get even one parent to reconsider, or if I can help encourage Amazon and other vendors not to carry their books in the first place, it really may be worth it.

In the end, I'm sure that at one time I would have been convicted easily of being a Christian. But the trappings and evidence of a religion are not necessarily the same as a deep and abiding faith. It's a shame to confuse the two.

For more posts on the Pearl's, what they teach, and my experiences with them, click on NGJ under the "Labels" heading or in the footer of this post. And see this site, as well.

The Crone

2011-09-19T19:00:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again. The weather is changing. The leaves are turning into all of my favorite Autumn colors. The fruit is ripe and ready for harvesting. Mabon is coming. We've been preparing, this week, for our Mabon celebration on Friday. The kids are anxiously looking for little pieces of Fall nature that can decorate our alter. We're thinking about the fresh baked bread and cookies we're going to make. And we're talking about what Mabon is and what it means.

I explained that this is the second of the three harvest festivals. The one where our ancestors celebrated the harvesting of fruit, like apples. We talked about how that day will be just as long as it is short. And we talked about how the Goddess is moving into her third aspect: the Crone.

The girls and I talked (since the little boys are too little to understand much of this, and Reagan is really not of a spiritual mind, most of the spiritual/religious conversations are between the girls and me) about what the Crone is. While in my mind, that Goddess aspect is older, I don't think of her as decrepit. She is the embodiment of wisdom and learning. She is The Wise Woman. I pointed out that the three aspects of the Goddess are seen all over nature, and in us too. But, you know, I'm not at all the kind of Wise Woman I'd like to be.

I have this picture in my mind of myself, living in a home with a big pantry full of herbs. A friend drops by with a sore throat, and I know exactly what to do for that. Within minutes I've brewed up a tea. But I'm not at all like that, really. Not yet, anyway. With herbalism, there is so much to learn. I haven't studied nearly all I would need to in order to really be good at it. At the same time, since I'm not yet a woman with enough knowledge or time to do that, I am at least smart enough to make myself familiar with good herbal companies that have done the work for me. And I can Google.

So tonight I have two teas brewing in the kitchen. A Mother's Milk for me (I'm having some supply issues) and a throat coat for my husband. Maybe knowing what my limits are and what I'm capable of, and doing the best I can within those limits, is being a certain kind of wise woman.

That's the Poop

2011-09-16T20:17:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, I have poopy."

It's every mother's dreaded moment. You're somewhere out, and you expect your potty trained child to act like he's, well, potty trained. You're unprepared. And now your child is poopy. Mentally, you start figuring out a solution. It usually means completely revamping your plans so you can take a trip back home.

Me? I don't even get the notice. My Quinn (3) is smart enough to hide it. Smart enough to lie to my face when asked. Smart enough to refuse to answer when asked if he was poopy, for fear of embarrassing himself in front our pediatrician. And yet, he couldn't think to ask me to use the potty before pooping at the doctor's office. I was not thrilled.

Our pediatrician's office, however, was well prepared. They had loaner clothes. Oh yeah. I got a circa 1979 set of polyester pants with a matching jacket. Now, being the grateful mom that I am, I plan to launder them and return them to the office. But I'm wondering if it can't wait until just after Halloween. They'd make a great costume.

I walked in with three clean kids, a diaper bag, and a double stroller. I walked out with a garbage bag full of soiled clothes and a tiny boy who either needed a bowl haircut and a shirt with a big collar, or maybe a hat with a feather. He could be a 3 year old Huggy Bear. Oh,yeah. But you know, kids have accidents. It happens. I could stress out and be upset, or I could calmly change him and put the episode on my blog so that when he tells me how much I embarrass him, I can show him how I've earned the privilege. And make no mistake, parents do earn it.

Meditating Mama

2011-09-15T19:37:00.000-07:00

Meditating Mama Meditates. This kind of sentence has become popular in my house. Things like "Angry Brennan is Angry" and "Sleepy Liam is Sleepy" are common. My children enjoy their ability to state the obvious. And as weird as it sounds, I kinda like it. That may change as they completely wear it out, but for now I'm good.

I have been putting off my giveaway post, but I'll likely put it up tomorrow. I think it will be my last. As much fun as it is to give something away, and even have a few new people check out my blog, it's not really what I got into this for. This blog has been a journal of homeschooling, a storage place for family stories, and a place where I've been able to pour out what is happening in my life. I poke at these stories, these thoughts, and these experiences and hopefully gain some insight.

It would be nice if insight into oneself could also be remembered. I somehow forgot that a Mama who meditates, is better. It grounds me, focuses me, centers me, calms me, and allows me to better care for myself and my family. Meditating Mama Meditates. If she's doing it right, she does it at least twice a day, and more often if she's about to lose her shit. Make no mistake, I have seven children, I most definitely can lose my shit from time to time. So tonight, after a long day, I sat back in my chair and meditated. I can't explain how good it felt just to have those minutes that were mine. It's always like that. I have got to remember that it's worth it to make the time.

I don't know that this works for everyone, but it's sure worth a try. And, for the novice, if you have an iPod Touch or an iPhone, there are some great free meditation apps. I like anything that makes my life easier. After all, I'm not in an Ashram, I'm in a recliner, stealing five minutes until the next diaper, feeding, blow up, or whatever else it is that needs my attention.

I just realized that this is my 1000th post. Crazy!

Pagan Pride

2011-09-10T21:15:00.000-07:00

My blogging vacation is over. Between Summer Break with kids home and a new baby, I really didn't have the time. But now school is back in session (I could cry that Reagan started High School and Ciaran started Kindergarten) and I have a teensy bit more free time. You know, when I'm not needed as Liam's personal Lactation Station.

So today was the Twin Cities Pagan Pride event, which I think was a success. I came across several Pagan-y things that I wanted, and was able to help some friends cart things to and from. I found that I really enjoy people watching at Pagan events. They seem to run the gamut from "gosh, I wouldn't have pegged them as a Pagan" to (as my friend S. put it) "How did that much crazy wind up in one package?". Not that we judge, in fact, probably because we don't judge, many kinds of people feel comfortable in our ranks. We came through the day no worse for wear. Just a little hot and a parking ticket. My day pass had expired and I didn't realize it. Turns out the park police take parking very seriously. Who knew?

Many of us there today have kids, but many of us didn't bring our kids. I think in the future that may need to change. I know my Pagan kids need to understand that they're part of a larger community and one they can be involved in. I want them to have some Pagan Pride.

In other news, I've survived the first week of school and finding the routine of this year. I hope it's a good one. Seriously, Ciaran's in Kindergarten and I really want it to be a good year for him. Coming up on the blog I have a giveaway/review of a parenting product. For now, I'm going to watch Dr. Who with the husband and then fall into a coma like sleep.

All The Small Things

2011-07-31T20:36:00.000-07:00

Randomness rattling about my head, this evening:

When does the dream of a baby become a nightmare? When it's very literally a dream, but in it you still know you just has a c-section 6 weeks ago, and that being pregnant again would be a very bad thing.

If my dreams are going to go around picking on me, shouldn't there at least be fun in them too? I've had dreams where I've cheated on my husband. But do I get face time with Nathan Fillion in them? Nope. Just guilt.

I know dreams are trying to tell us something. I just wish my sub-conscious weren't quite so cryptic. Or mean.

The lady who threaded my eyebrows today wasn't cryptic. "Would you like me to clean up your lip?" she asked. My lip? I'm not exactly a hairy woman. I'm pretty light on the body fuzz and hadn't really noticed an issue there, but was suddenly worried. "Do I need it?" I asked. She just nodded sadly. I told my husband about it and his reaction was, "You have a mustache?" Um, not anymore!

Liam keeps growing. Unfortunately, his hemoglobin is low, so I have to keep forcing these awful vitamin drops into him. He doesn't like them, and he smells funny after taking them. But iron is vital, so I've become religious about them.

I've been doing well with working out and curbing my eating habits. Now to watch the numbers on the scale go down. Please go down, numbers. Please?

Giveaway post coming next week. In the meantime I'm hoping for a few nights of better sleep. Oh, and Lughnasadh!

A Mothers Bag of Tricks

2011-07-29T21:57:00.000-07:00

Please tell me you've been there. It's 4 am and you've nursed so long that your breasts are nothing more than deflated balloons hanging from your torso. You've rocked, burped, bounced, and held your baby. You've changed their diaper. They don't want to be picked up, but God forbid you should put them down. They let out another cry with it's implied "Mommy fix it!" and it starts to feel personal.

If you've never been there, please, lie to me.

Obviously, I've done this whole baby thing before. At this point, I felt like I was getting pretty good at it. I think Liam is Mother Nature's way of reminding me of where I stand. You see, if he doesn't want to eat, doesn't need changed, doesn't want to be held, isn't gassy and doesn't want to be put down...that's kind of all I've got. As I write this, he's on my chest, all wrapped up in a sling, and screaming at me as if I've pinched him. What the hell? This chair rocks, so I type, rock, listen, and hope that soon he gets tired, and maybe we all can sleep. Maybe.

Today was supposed to be a giveaway post. But that will have to wait until next week. I just don't have it in me today.

I love this baby so much, and I'm so grateful he's here. But he's exhausted this mom's bag of tricks. So, I'll just keep trying to comfort him until he's comforted, and remind myself that it's really not personal. He is a high needs baby.

Why Cry It Out?

2011-07-27T21:41:00.000-07:00

I actually don't know how to answer that. Seriously, I can't figure out what the upside is to letting a baby cry by themselves.

Earlier this week, on a message board I frequent, members were asked to define what it means to let an infant cry it out. Personally, my definition of crying it out is somewhat broad. It's first, ignoring the importance of baby's crying as a communication tool. Then it's leaving them to soothe themselves when the parent is capable of responding (sometimes we're in the car, or going to the bathroom but will get there when we can. For me, that doesn't count). It usually goes hand-in-hand with sleep training.

Babies cry. This is normal. I've seen some Attachment Parents get so hung up over their abhorrence of letting baby CIO, that they try to make it so that baby never cries. I don't think this is practical or normal. Baby should cry. That's their first form of communication.

But we should respond to a baby's cry.

First of all, it's a mother's instinct to go to her baby. Baby cries, we answer. This is how they know their needs will be met. Some parents think this will spoil their kids. But while we're not born as blank slates, there are still a lot of things we humans need to learn. Having their cries met will teach our babies two things: that someone is there to take care of them, and that they can trust us to do so. These things are so important, I think it's partly why we're so strongly wired to respond. And I'm distrustful of anyone who tells me to ignore my instinct as a mother.

Apparently there's an MD in New York City (I read about it here) who actually tells people to put their babies in a room and leave them. Period. The blogger who wrote about her experience with it actually had her baby crying for five hours the first night. She says she's not sure how she survived it. Honestly, I'm not sure either.

Her baby was only 10 weeks old. And she was told to ignore her baby for 9+ hours at night. Yes, you read that right, 9+ hours. Apparently, it's important for babies to "self soothe". I don't know how babies are supposed to know how to soothe themselves. They're just babies. Sometimes I still need soothed as an adult. And if my husband were to ignore my tears, insisting that I needed to learn to calm myself, I might have to throw something heavy at him.

During the night baby may cry because he or she is hungry or thirsty (breastmilk is digested fast, and formula does not take too much longer), because he or she is lonely and needs to know that comfort and protection is still there, or they may cry because they're in pain, sick, or have gotten themselves into an uncomfortable position. I'm disgusted that a pediatrician would encourage such stringent sleep training, but even more so that they would do it at 8 weeks old (which is when she recommended they start).

The doctor in this story apparently compared night feeding an 8 week old to eating a 3 am pizza. I can't tell you how many levels on which this comparison fails. Breastmilk is nutritionally not comparable (being healthy, unlike pizza). Babies need to eat more frequently than grown-ups, and breastmilk meets a need for fluids as well as food. I know I like some water in the middle of the night. My baby doesn't know much, but he does know when he's hungry.

In the blog post, the baby eventually gave up on the hope that someone would come to her, and her crying stopped. To me, that's the saddest part of the story. I want my children to know that I'll be there, even at night, to go to them if necessary. Sleep is important, I know. Believe me, I'm not getting much of it these days. But so is his learning that he has a voice. A voice that is valuable, and will be listened and responded to.

Responding to a baby's cry acknowledges them as people who deserve to be heard. It teaches them that they are cared for and loved. It allows us to meet their needs for food, fluids, and comfort. And it plays into our most basic instinct to nurture our infants. So, honestly, I really can't see the sleep being worth missing out on all of those things.

Magical Mommy Mondays: A Healing Kiss

2011-07-25T21:01:00.000-07:00

I've always thought there was a certain amount of Mommy Magic in a kiss. How many of our kids really seem to feel better after we've laid lips on their "owie"? Mine can go from sobbing mess to off and playing in seconds flat with a well placed Mommy-Kiss.

Usually when one of my kids hurts themselves, I rub my hands together to work up a little energy, and then I rub it into their sore spot gently, with a healing intent. Afterward I seal it with a kiss. Thus, it becomes a tiny and pretty darned effective work.

But what about when the "owie" is a lot bigger? Say, a baby who's had brain surgery? Daily, I would raise energy and lay my hands on Liam's head, picturing his brain functioning normally. He was healing beautifully, and doing everything he was supposed to. But the fluid began to accumulate in his ventricles. I decided it should be a family project. I told each of the kids that, with every kiss we gave to Liam, we'd give him a little bit of healing magic. Every kiss became a spell and a prayer for the fluid to decrease.

Whatever the outcome of Spellwork on the physical realm, it has a very powerful effect on the psyche. There is so little we, as a family, could do for Liam. Love him, kiss him, that was well within our control. So, kiss him we did. There might not be so kissed a baby in all of North America. Not just Mommy and Daddy, but all his brothers and sisters, kissed his little head repeatedly, throughout the day.

Our latest ultrasound shows that the fluid has (for now at least) stabilized. And I noticed the other day (when our pediatrician pointed it out) that his forehead, which has previously bulged out under the pressure from inside his head, has gone flat. There's no skull there at the top of his forehead, so it doesn't feel exactly like another baby's head might feel. But it's so much better!

We may not always need to use our Mommy Magic for such big things. But big or small, there is no one for whom our magic is better used, than kiddos.

Fancy Things

2011-07-24T19:51:00.000-07:00

I have a lot of descriptors for my dream home. They include words like: warm, cozy, comfortable, homey, and inviting. The word "fancy" is never used. I think we did have something fancy once, but the kids attacked it with Crayolas and kicked it until it ran away.

Our house is lived in. It's not messy. Seven kids is chaos enough. If I had a messy house, I might crawl into my bed and never come out. Likewise, my house is not dirty. It's a pain to keep it clean, but we do it. The alternative is just not something that works for me. That said, it's not super clean or super tidy. We don't want to spend every waking moment taking care of the house. We'd kind of like to live in it too.

I have wanted to entertain at my house for the longest time. But I'm always afraid of what people will think. We've made couches last longer by throwing a cover over them and calling it good. Our playroom has housed potty training children (which is sort of like having dogs, in that there are some accidents) so our carpet needs replaced. We have some spots where Ciaran has damaged the drywall or even one place where he put a hole in the wall with the handle of the rocking horse. The walls have been colored on. Again. I swear I have washed those walls so many times, I'm amazed there's paint left. The crayons go rogue and disappear, only to reappear in the hands of an artistic toddler. It's some kind of law.

We do not have fancy things. We have things that the children have not killed. Yet.

This has made me...uneasy. I've not wanted anyone to look at my house and think less of me for it. But, and I mean this truly, I had an epiphany yesterday. I have made friends with really nice people. They may notice that my garden is in desperate need of weeding. They may notice the scuff marks on the wooden floor. And yet, they're still going to like me.

I have absolutely NO idea where I got the idea that people would judge me. Because I don't surround myself with those kinds of people. And, to be honest, if they were going to think less of me because I don't spend my money on fancy furniture, but in keeping clothes on the kiddos, I really wouldn't need them anyway.

There's an Ani DiFranco song (probably my favorite) called Present Infant which says:

"lately I've been glaring into mirrors picking myself apart. You'd think at my age I'd of thought
of something better to do, than make insecurity into a full-time job, make insecurity into art. Aand I fear my life will be over, and I will have never lived it unfettered. Always glaring into mirrors, mad I don't look better."

This is who I've been for so long, it's hard for me to remember that no one is looking to pick me apart anymore (childhood can be a bitch). And I don't have to continue that work on myself. I can enjoy the people who I've been blessed to have come into my life. It's like Ani says in the song: "Don't give the sellers of stuff, power enough, to rob you of your grace. Love is all over the place. There's nothing wrong with your face." or your house, either. I don't need fancy things (nor do I particularly want them). I just need the love of my (as my friend Sherry puts it) Honey Family. Lucky for me, I have that.

Busy and Not Apologizing

2011-07-22T20:04:00.000-07:00

Usually when I've fallen behind in blogging, I come back and apologize for neglecting my space here. I think I need to stop doing that. I have loved having this blog, but sometimes life just interferes and I have to do other things.

Liam's fluid in his brain....has stabalized! Can you believe it? It's stabilized! I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but they're willing to give him another month. He'll have another ultrasound and best case scenario, he's grown and started reabsorbing some of that cerebrospinal fluid. Worst case scenario, he still needs the shunt but he's had another month to grow and mature so that surgery will be safer.

We've been busy spending time with friends, and as a family. We've gone to the park, we've watched movies, and we've enjoyed just being together. If I were sleeping at night, it would be absolutely perfect. But, hey, sleep is overrated, right? Once he gets the whole side-lying nursing thing, we'll sleep!

So much to talk about, but at least I can put out an "I'm still here" post. I'm still here!

Parenthood

2011-07-08T19:22:00.000-07:00

Does anyone remember that movie, with Steve Martin? In it, he loved to daydream about how doing something right would lead to a very successful child while doing something wrong would lead to his kid trying to pick people off from a clock tower. That's a lot of pressure.

I wish I could say I was more like his wife's character who takes her kids as they are and enjoys the ride. Actually, in some ways I am like her. I do love being my kids mom, and it's often one hell of a ride. But I also worry a lot. I really want things to work out for them.

When I was younger I worried that I wouldn't be able to have kids. Now I just worry that I'll completely screw them up. What's even more frustrating is that all the factors aren't totally under my control.

Liam had a doctors appointment today. Several actually.

They showed me a series of ultrasound images of the ventricles of Liam's brain. They're still growing.

They're going to do one more ultrasound next week, and then plan a shunt surgery.

I know that there are stories of mom's whose kids face medical issues, and they just take each bump in the road like it's no big deal. They just keep moving forward, focusing on their child, and never complaining that things haven't gone as they would have wished.

I'm not that mom either.

The doctor kept saying, "This isn't a big deal" when I'd finally had it. For me, this is a big deal! This is my baby. They may do this every day, but I don't! This is another surgery, for an infant, that I hoped he'd never need.

For them, because it's routine and won't affect his development or potential development, it's really not a big deal. But since I'd really hoped that taking of the encephalocele meant that everything would be fine, it's a reminder that the road has only just begun.

I'm trying to remember that Liam's writing a really good story so far, one where the hero has already beaten so many odds. But he's my baby. So for me, it's a story filled with suspense. It's like Parenthood, only mixed with heavy dose of Fear.

Living On The Edge

2011-07-02T21:03:00.000-07:00

As I type this, sweet little Liam is asleep on my chest. We brought him home on Tuesday, and to be honest, I hardly put him down for about 24 hours. I was so happy to finally have him home where he belongs, I just didn't want him anywhere but with me.

Sometimes I get brave. After finding out that there are You Tube videos about encephalocele's, I went to watch some. Now, here is my baby in my arms, and they still managed to scare me. As if it could come back and still steal him away. He's done so well, I think I sometimes let myself forget how many babies are diagnosed with this, and don't make it.

I was told that I might wonder, why me? Why Liam? Why this? And knowing that one of Sarah's diagnoses was encephalocele, I certainly have wondered how this could happen to us twice. But I don't think, why me, with regards to the diagnosis. I think, why me, when I think of him being here in my arms. Alive.

Why did we get to keep our baby? Why does he seem to be okay? I'm not looking for anything to change, mind you. Sometimes I just can't believe we've been so lucky. He's here, growing, and getting stronger, and I'm so overwhelmed by gratitude.

I have so much blogging to catch up on. But for today I'm just going to say a giant Thank You to the Universe, the Gods, and all of those who've thought of us.

Children's

2011-06-26T20:10:00.000-07:00

First of all, my apologies. I thought I would start blogging again on Monday, when I got access to the network here that allowed me access. Instead I got all caught up in the hospital routine. Most of which involves pumping, cares for Liam, feeding, and playing Oregon Trail on Facebook. It's exhausting. The pumping and all, not the Facebook thing.

Anywho, this has been a very different experience for me than any other time I've had a pre-term baby. Probably because I didn't just have a run-of-the-mill pre-termer. I had a baby with a rare neural tube defect. And, just so we're clear because I haven't typed it out yet today, I still think that blows. Of course, it doesn't blow as hard as other things, so I keep counting my blessings as opposed to railing against the unfairness of it all.

Having a baby at Children's hospital is also whole different ballgame. I see kids who are sick here. I meet moms seeing their babies through heart surgeries, cancer, and a whole host of other illnesses. We've become like prisoners, looking across the table at dinner, asking each other, "Hey, what are you in for?" and commiserating as we hear another mother's fear and hope. I've talked to a mom about a shunt for her baby, since if Liam's fluid in his ventricles doesn't improve, he may need one (ultrasound is tomorrow, and I'll update, I promise). She and I ended up discussing all the wonderful possible side effects of neural tube defects. Her baby has spina bifida so she knows. She's been playing this game for a few months longer than I have.

I've found that I'm getting kind of surprised by people having healthy babies, and taking them home. That happens? Seriously? But of course I know it does. I've seen it. I've experienced it. It's just not really the norm here. I'm counting the days till I go home and start the waiting game. Is he really okay? How many neurologists will we have to see? Pediatricians? Will I freak out if he catches a cold? I know it was naive, but I really thought I'd stop worrying when he was born and had his surgery. I should have known better. When do you ever stop worrying about your kid?

We're lucky, Liam's a fighter and we have decided that the doctors aren't really going to be able to tell his story. He's got to write it himself. We hope he continues to surprise everyone.

Not everyone is as lucky as we are. So, if you're the praying kind, keep these families in your prayers tonight. Think of them as you light a candle, or a stick of incense. Send thoughts of healing and peace. Whatever you do. In the grand scheme of things, I know we're taking Liam home, and a lot of other parents are fighting much harder than we are for their kids tonight.

Baby Liam Is Born: Recovery

2011-06-17T21:12:00.000-07:00

Continued from Baby Liam Is Born: Delivery

After Liam was born and I had been repaired, I was moved to a gurney and taken to a recovery room to be monitored for an hour. There they did the things that they do after any surgery. They monitored my vital signs and gave me pain meds. They were giving me small doses of Fentanyl through my IV and that was working pretty well. After the hour was up, I was taken over to Children's to see Liam.

When I got there, he was all arranged in his bed. He looked so tiny and lost in all that bedding and under the big bright lights of the NICU. I loved seeing him, but I wanted to cry at the same time. In a hospital bed is really never the way anyone wants to see their baby.

He was turned away from me, and I couldn't even see his face. It sounded like he was crying softly, but the nurse explained that he was grunting, as he worked to breathe. But they weren't doing anything about his respiration. Despite the grunting, he was breathing well and keeping his ozygen saturation high. I was with him just long enough to get the run-down on the plan for him and learn that his weight was really only 4lbs. 14 oz, still a good size for a baby his age, and then I was taken back to my post-partum room.

Now this is where having a morphine allergy starts to seriously blow. Normally, the morphine in the spinal block would continue to provide pain relief long after the surgery. But since I couldn't get that, I was starting to have a lot of pain. They gave me Demerol IV push, and that gave me about 45 minutes of coverage. I could only have it every 6 hours.

This was starting to look bad for me.

Thankfully, my nurses were angels, and called to get orders for a patient controlled analgesic pump, or PCA. That provided me small doses of Fentanyl up to every six minutes and with that, I could start to stay ahead of the pain. One of the nurses finally told me to stop trying to stretch it out, but hit the button every six minutes until I could sleep. Sometime around midnight I finally crashed.

Sleep can be Bliss.

At 5 am I woke up for vital signs and to try to get up. Now, I hadn't pushed that little button the PCA pump in five hours, so quickly pushed it, but I only had time to do it once. Then the nurse tries to help me out of bed for the first time.

I don't have words to describe the pain. Scratch that. I do have words, but they're inappropriate for a blog my mother can read.

By the second step, I was crying out loud and the nurse put me back to bed. Which, to be honest, was as excruciating as getting out of it. Of course my first question for my nurse was, "When can we try that again?" Not that I'm a masochist. Seriously, I'm so not. I just know that the quicker you can get out of bed and get moving, the sooner you start to really recover. And I would really like to get better.

I tried again at 10 am, after a lot more pain medication through the PCA. It was painful, but it was manageable. And it meant I could get my catheter out, get my IV out, switch to oral meds, and best of all I could go see my baby.

Over the last few days I've recovered slowly. I took for granted how much my abdominal muscles for. Recovery has been painful. But overall, a c-section wasn't as bad as I'd thought it would be. I'm still having some swelling around my incision, and I'm still struggling to balance pain meds, but I'm getting better. And I may be rushing it a bit, since I want to be able to take care of Liam.

And Liam's progress is another post.

To Be Continued...

Baby Liam Is Born: Delivery

2011-06-17T03:24:00.000-07:00

Continued From Baby Liam Is Born: Labor

Before they took me back to the OR, the doctor had to make sure I knew what to expect. I told her that I belonged to a message board where I'd asked for tips, tricks, and information from mom's who'd been there, done that. When she found out what I'd learned, she was actually kind of impressed. Usually women get nothing but horror stories. I got real information that would help me be prepared. Then she informed me that she would likely need to perform a classical incision into the uterus. That means that instead of a small incision across the bottom of my uterus, she'd need to do a long cut vertically in order to have plenty of room to get Liam out safely with his encephalocele. I hadn't really thought about that, but it seemed reasonable. Low horizontal cuts don't offer as much room to pull baby out.

Then the anesthesiologist came by. She and her nurse would be in charge of my spinal block and drugs during the surgery. Because I have an allergy to morphine, I couldn't have it in my block. But I'd still get fentanyl. I'd have good coverage for the delivery, but I wouldn't have the continued pain control that Morphine offers. I also learned from my anesthesiologist (who looked about my age, and was thin and well caffeinated, so she told me) that I'm not crazy to think that fried pickles and a haagan-daas milk shake from SmashBurger is awesome. She said the Minnesota State Fair has the best food of any state fair. With very good fried pickles. I'm also not supposed to tell anyone that a doctor encouraged me to eat that food. So, everyone quiet, okay?

I was moved to a labor/delivery room and brought the proper consents to sign from my nurse Jari (who was freaking awesome). The perinatologist returned to say she would definitely need to do the classical incision. I was okay with that. She told me what the risks were associated with a surgical birth. I told her that I trusted her. After all, she'd done this a couple of times, right? Sure, she told me. She's even allowed to do it by herself now! Awesome.

I think we might have been a bit too deadpan. Dominic got scared that she'd really only done a c-section a couple of times. He was now very uncomfortable with this doctor cutting me open. I had to assure him that in a specialty like perinatology, she'd done many many c-sections. In fact, I think she'd been doing them all day. they had several scheduled and several surprise sections before I got there. Hence the reason everyone was so well caffeinated, and warmed up. I preferred "warmed up" to "burned out" and it seemed to be more accurate. My team was awesome.

Around 5pm Dominic was given his scrubs and I was taken back to the OR for my spinal. The OR was smaller than I expected, and attached to a small room full of NICU equipment. I was positioned on the table, and talked to while I got the spinal block. A spinal, by the way, is so much easier to get when you're not between excruciatingly painful contractions. It was over very quickly and they had me on my back getting prepped.

Everyone was very upbeat and talkative. We discussed Liam, and families, and all sorts of things. Then Dominic was brought in and they got started!

I didn't get the shakes, cold, or nauseated. I'm very grateful. I could feel my body being moved around, pulled on, and tugged at. And then we heard it: the cry. Liam cried loud, strong, and hard. He headed straight for the NICU room off the OR and Dominic went with him. They continued on with me, rinsing, suctioning, and sewing me up.

Then they brought Liam to me, and he was still crying. I kissed his head and talked to him, at which point, he started to calm down and listen. Smart boy, knowing to listen to his Mama. After all, I'm the lady with the food. His head was all wrapped up in a turban, but I was told he had lots of dark hair. As quickly as he'd come, he was gone again. Off to Children's Hospital next door, with Daddy following along. And of course, I was totally in love.

They finished stitching me up, and before I knew it I was all done, and on a gurney headed for recovery. My baby was here, and he was beautiful. I already missed him, but was grateful that his birth had been so uneventful. In the OR he'd weighed in at 5 lbs. So, I knew he was a good size for his age. Now I just wanted him back in my arms where he belonged.

To Be Continued...

Baby Liam Is Born: Labor

2011-06-16T18:14:00.000-07:00

It was a really nice day. It was Dominic's second day off and his plan was to let me rest for. I had been feeling "off" for a day or so. No big contractions, but I just didn't feel right. I planned to take advantage of Dominic's plan and practice some serious bed rest.

Silly me, I thought I might feel better with a shower. So, I got up to take one. After my shower, I was standing in the bathroom when I felt a pop, and I felt the water go. I yelled for Dominic who knew immediately what happened. He walked in on me, still leaking and calling for a towel and a baby diaper.

I got dressed, cleaned up the mess I made, and called the doctor's office. They called the hospital to let them know I was coming and then called me back to let me know not to eat or drink.

How did they know I wanted to eat? They ruined my plan. But then again, I hadn't eaten since 9 am and my water broke at noon. I needed to be without food or drink for six hours before my c-section and I was already halfway there.

I packed my bag, called my Sonya, and updated Facebook. (Yes, I over-share, and I'm a geek.)

Once Sonya came to stay with the kids, I put on a second diaper, I'm very cool aren't I? And then we were off to the hospital. Dominic got to eat something. I was jealous.

At the hospital I was supposed to be checked to verify rupture of membranes. A lot of pregnant women just wet their pants. And, honestly, with my first child, I did too. But this was not my first go around. When the nurse saw me pull out a fully soaked second diaper, she didn't doubt that I knew what I was talking about. She was also kind of impressed. I guess some women don't do anything, and just ruin the upholstery in their car.

I quickly found myself in a room, hooked up to the monitors, and contracting regularly. Things got moving for a c-section. The doctor came in to talk to me. While I knew that I was 34 weeks, their count was a bit off from mine and they considered me 33 weeks and 6 days. Usually before 34 weeks, they try to stop labor, and even with ruptured membranes, will let you stay ruptured and just watch for infection, trying to buy more time until 34 weeks.

But I was already contracting, and they didn't want me to end up in full blown labor and not have time to do the surgery. Not when, by their calendar, I was 12 hours away from 34 weeks. The section was then scheduled for 5 pm. And I was grateful. He was coming.

I might have been a bit nervous too. But a girl's allowed, right?

To Be Continued...

I'm Still Pregnant

2011-06-12T21:21:00.000-07:00

This is not me now. This was a picture I took at 29 weeks pregnant with Brennan.

Dear Liam,

I love you so much. I've loved you since you surprised me with a positive pregnancy test. I loved you when I first noticed that I was growing bigger after losing 50 pounds. I loved you when I felt you move for the first time. I loved you when they told me you had an encephalocele. But, I was very scared.

You are such a strong little boy. Somehow you've managed to beat all the odds. I wonder if you will be as fearless on the outside as I imagine you are on the inside. I think I imagine that you're so fearless since, like I said, I've been so scared.

You've continued to grow and thrive and do absolutely everything we've asked of you. So now, I have a few more requests. Listen carefully.

Please stop making my uterus contract. It's too soon, and it's exhausting. Not to mention unnecessary. You're being born via c-section.

Please stop hitting me in sensitive areas. My cervix is not for punching, and my bladder is not a trampoline.

Please wait at least another week to be born. 35 weeks is even better than 34 weeks. Not only will you have beaten Brennan in the who-can-stay-in-Mommy-longer contest (and how often will you get to one up your older brother?) but by then your sister Karina will be here, and I won't have to ask so many people to come and help us.

Please sleep when I do. I'm getting dark circles under my eyes because I'm so uncomfortable and you apparently think there's a circus whenever I lie down.

Please calm down when I move, and move when I sit still. This is how the other fetuses do it. You can too.

Please come out and be okay. I know you can get through surgery without frightening me anymore. Right? Right!

I love you and I'm excited to meet you. I can't wait to see your fingers and toes and look you in the eyes and see you for everything you are. I'm sad that I won't get to keep you with me every second and bring you right home to the family that will love you as much as I do. But I'm so glad that such good people are going to take care of you. And I won't be far away.

Love,

Mommy

The Last Day of School

2011-06-10T20:09:00.000-07:00

It was the last day of school, today. The last day.

I can't believe it's over.

My first year not homeschooling anyone.

It was liberating. And frustrating. And overwhelmingly busy.

Now my Reagan will be off to High School. Piper and Bridget moving up to 4th and 2nd grade. Ciaran will be starting Kindergarten.

I will be left at home with 3 little boys. Which, to be honest, doesn't really scare me. Right now my biggest challenge is Ciaran, who has the advantage of size, and the disadvantage of poor communication skills. So, when he can't ask for something, he can become abusive. Quinn doesn't take that kind of thing lying down. But being a small 3 year old, he doesn't exactly have an advantage. I actually think it will be much more peaceful next year with just my three littlest guys.

Now I have to survive the Summer. No more super early mornings. No more quiet afternoons when they're all gone. There are some advantages to this whole "school" business.

It was the last day of school. And I'm both a little happy and sad about it. Huh. It seems like so much of parenthood is like that.

Random Updates...

2011-06-08T20:14:00.000-07:00

First of all, I've noticed that I seem to have a lot of new followers. So, please let me take a moment to say thank you for checking out my blog and supporting it with your readership. It really is nice to know that someone reads what I write. To be honest, I write for myself in that I write about what I think is interesting or about my family, but at the same time, I don't like the idea that I'm just here talking to myself, if that makes sense.

Secondly, I've started a Caring Bridge Page for Liam upon the advice of the Social worker I spoke with today at the hospital where he is to be born. I'm counting down the weeks here, people. I think he's actually going to come into the world sometime soon whether I like it or not! I go back and forth between excited and scared. But hey, that's just parenthood right there. So, check out the links at the top of the blog and I'll be sure to post here when I update over there, but that's where all the information will be centralized from here on out.

Now, just to get it out of my system, say it with me, "Encephaloceles are bullshit. Modern Medicine rocks!"

Aw, thanks guys, you're the best!

And finally, Congratulations to MrsB of Confessions of a Pagan Soccer Mom, who has officially won the Faith Blogs contest over at Circle of Moms. While it was discouraging at first to see it become the Christians vs. the Pagans, I was amazed at how much support was ultimately given by both Christian and Pagan alike to the idea that women, regardless of faith, deserve to be treated with kindness and respect.

Pagan Family Values?

2011-06-07T19:02:00.000-07:00

Stacy, over at Inspired by Life, wrote a post yesterday about Pagan Family Values. Apparently, it's Pagan Family Values month. Who knew? Well, obviously, Stacy, but that's beside the point.

It turns out that this is a topic I've been thinking about for a while. See, I became a Pagan in High School. But by the time I had a husband and kids, my spiritual path had moved to Christianity. And while I knew in my heart that Wicca was a gentle nature religion, my experience with it had been as a sort of hedonistic teenager, not a responsible adult. Values had not factored into my time as a Pagan, except for the basics which I was not applying as a mature adult.

Interestingly, my values really didn't change, as my views broadened, and I found myself back on a Pagan Spiritual Path. And as I've read the blogs of other Pagan moms, I've found that much is the same no matter what your religious path.

Our values do have a basis in our faith. Not all Pagans believe in the Rule of Three, that all energy put out into the world will be returned threefold. But most of us believe that it will be returned in one way or another. I think most of us can see that. Smile at someone, and they'll likely smile back. A small example, but it makes the point.

And, in the form of Paganism I follow, the Wiccan Rede teaches "An it harm none do what ye will". Our actions should always be thoughtful, our decisions shouldn't harm others, ourselves, or the world in which we live.

When you combine these ideas together, it ends up incredibly similar to "Do Unto Others". It is our job as Pagans to treat others with respect and kindness. To protect and stand up for those unable to speak for themselves. To be good Stewards of the Earth we live on. Like any other parent, I want my children to grow up safe and happy, not aged too quickly by a world that moves too fast. In our house, we cultivate the same values as other parents, teaching our children honesty, integrity, kindness, charity, and responsibility.

Yes, Pagans have family values.

It's Only Love

2011-06-06T21:06:00.000-07:00

I know who I am. Not that I have discovered my "true depths", or even all of my own facets. But I have a somewhat realistic idea of who I am, faults and all. I know all of the ways in which I'm selfish, irresponsible, thoughtless, and obnoxious. Granted, I hope these things aren't the bulk of who I am, but they exist in a very real way and I'm very aware of it.

So, when I realize that my husband still gets up every morning and tells me that I'm beautiful, or that he loves me, I wonder how I got so lucky? How did I find someone who could look past all of those faults which seem so glaring and obvious to me, and still choose to wake up and love me every day? And how can I make sure I don't screw that up?

But, of course, love is like that. It's not that we don't see each other's faults, it's that we know all the good that is inside of someone despite them. We make the choice to accept someone as a whole human being with positive and negative attributes. And we are better for making the choice to love and care for each other. Well, at least when it works the way it's supposed to.

While my mind can rationalize that my husband gets something out of this relationship, too, I'm feeling somewhat vulnerable these days. That he continues to patiently take care of me makes me feel incredibly blessed. Love is a powerful thing, and I'm so grateful to have it in my life. It's not always perfect, and it's not always pretty, but it's mine. As for the not-screwing-it-up, well, I'm still working on that. But it's been 10 years, and he's still here. I think we're off to a good start.

The Clothes!

2011-06-05T21:28:00.000-07:00

What is wrong with me? Wait. Don't answer that.

I have a system. When things are outgrown, I put them in a big hamper in my closet. When the hamper fills up, I sort the clothes into the keep and giveaway piles, and then put the keeper clothes in the appropriate size box (I have storage boxes labeled with kids sizes 0-3 month, etc.). This is a great system. I've never had a problem with it.

When I'm ready to pull out a new size of clothes, I go to the box, take out what I want to use, wash it (even though it was clean when it went in) and I have clothes!

When Quinn was born a dear friend brought me a bunch of preemie clothes. I figured this is the third baby who will get to wear them. Only, maybe not so much. They're gone. As are the newborn sized clothes. They should all be in the 0-3 month box! How could the 0-3 month clothes be there, but not the Preemie or Newborn?

All of my onsies, outfits, layette gowns, everything. Gone. They're not in another box, I checked. They're not in any closet or chest of drawers. I checked. Even if I'd given them to Goodwill, there are pieces I would have kept as I hope to make a quilt at some point, out of old baby clothes that I loved.

It's like they just vanished.

Now, I'm pregnant, hormonal, stressed out, and not being able to find clothes for my baby is starting to freak me out. Partly because I don't have clothes for him to wear, and partly because there were things that I really loved. Things that every single one of my babies wore.

Hopefully tomorrow I'll be rational, and think of something I haven't thought of yet. Tonight I'm having a crying jag and wanting my baby's clothes. Where are my friends Ben & Jerry when I need them?

I'll Never Understand

2011-06-04T19:14:00.000-07:00

I am absolutely fascinating by the Casey Anthony trial. I started following the story, like much of America, 3 years ago when the sweet little girl was reported missing. She was born in August of '05 and I kept thinking, she was the age Sarah would have been, had she lived. Another little girl, lost to her family. I prayed that she would be found.

Like many others, I was also baffled. I always hate to believe that a parent could have anything to do with the disappearance of a child. But I couldn't wrap my mind around how Casey Anthony could have let her daughter remain missing for a month, knowing who took her, and not tell anyone.

I had been a girl, pregnant at 19, like Casey. I also stayed with my parents, and began raising my child under their roof. Reagan belonged to all of us, as Caylee did to the Anthony family. I knew that I would have gone completely ballistic within half an hour of a babysitter not returning my child, and nothing would have kept me from calling the authorities. If she was a scary lady, who could threaten my family, I wouldn't have left my child with her to begin with.

I hated to do it, but I suspected that Casey had something to do with her daughter's disappearance, and it broke my heart for that little girl, and for Casey's family who obviously adored them both.

Now, after three years, I think it's clear that Casey is guilty of the death of her daughter. I only hope the truth is made clear in court, and some justice is done. Part of me still wishes she'd just come clean, tell us all what happened. Fill in the holes in the story. Make us understand.

But how can we ever really understand? How can any of us who work so hard to keep our children safe, ever understand how a mother could hurt her daughter? I want ration and reason to be brought to this story, but there is no rational answer that will ever satisfy me, because it was such an irrational act. There will never be a way for me to understand. And honestly, I'm not sure I'd believe her anyway. I don't know if Casey Anthony would know the truth if it bit her on the ass.

I have no compassion for Casey, but I don't envy her the rest of her life, living with her thoughts and her guilt. I'd like to have some kind of sympathy for her, but somehow my allotment was all used up on her precious little girl who died after being chloroformed and covered in duct tape. And it's with her parents and brother who've suspended reason to try to keep their faith in her, and have been rewarded only with more betrayal as she accuses her father and brother of molestation, and now says that it's her father who disposed of Caylee's body after she accidentally drowned.

It will be interesting to see how this case finishes. I know I will never forget Caylee Anthony who now plays with my Sarah in the gardens of the Summerland. Rest in peace, Caylee. I'm so sorry.

Adventures In Pregnancy

2011-06-03T10:51:00.000-07:00

I'm ready for there to be less adventure in my pregnancy. Tuesday afternoon I started noticing some contractions. By about 4 pm they were coming regularly and some of them hurt. Then I noticed the bloody show. Fabulous. Off the the hospital I went to be checked out. The doctor found me a fingertip dilated, with a soft cervix, and a "bulging lower segment" to my uterus. She said she could feel Liam turning his head. And now my contractions were coming every 5-6 minutes. She immediately put me on Magnesium Sulfate and had me transferred to the hospital where I will ultimately deliver.

After the drive with the cute Nurse (he wants to have 10 kids and a farm) I was installed in a new room, with a new IV (the old one had infiltrated) and was hovered over by a new doctor.

Thankfully for me, I adjusted quickly to the Mag Sulfate, and it really worked. The contractions went away. Instead of having to stay on the Mag for 3 days, I managed to only be on it for a little over 1 day. I also got the steroids to help mature Liam's lungs, should he decide to come early after all. These are all good things.

Now I'm back home on modified bedrest and oral medication. So far, so good. But this staying off my feet business is really hard.

My goal is to cook this guy a little longer. The only thing he should have to get through is surgery! Hear that, Liam? Relax!

The Christians And The Pagans Sat Together At The Table

2011-05-31T23:53:00.000-07:00

"So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table,

Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able,

And just before the meal was served, hands were held and prayers were said,

Sending hope for peace on earth to all their gods and goddesses."

Dar Williams - The Christians and The Pagans

Circle of Mom's is having a contest for it's Top 25 Faith Blogs. What a great way to put moms who blog about their faith (among other things) together to be easily found and appreciated.

Unfortunately, one of the bloggers on the list is upset that she, a Christian, should have to compete with Pagans and Witches in the "Faith" category. I'm not sure what she thinks she knows about the beliefs held by Pagans and Witches, but it's a shame she didn't use the opportunity to learn sometihng as opposed to getting angry and becoming disrespectful toward other people of faith. From an outside perspective, it doesn't look very Christian.

Christians and Pagans don't see Deity in exactly the same way. Certianly the way we choose to reach out and touch the Divine is done differently even among Christians and Pagans themselves. But in focusing on our differences, we miss so much that we share.

Both Christians and Pagans are taught to do good, and to harm none.
We're both taught to find the beauty of the Divine in th mundane, the everyday, and the world around us.
We're both taught to be good stewards of the natural resources and the gifts we've been given.
We both want to use our faith to bring positive change to the world.
We both want to protect our children, help them to grow up safe and nurtured, so that they can go out into the world as responsible and prepared adults.
We both look to our faith as a source of strength, comfort, and as a way to bring peace and balance to our lives.

I don't think it's enough that we learn to tolerate one another. Instead I'd like to see us show each other the respect due any human being. Whether they worship ancient Gods and Goddesses, or no God at all.

For some Pagans, I think this is one of those times when it's easy to remember what about Christianity may have made them angry in the past. After all, many Pagans have come from Christian backgrounds. But the faith at the core of Christianity focuses on kindness to others, loving one's neighbor, peace, forgiveness, and charity. And there are Christians who know and attempt to live that.

For some Christians I think it's important to remember stories Jesus loved to tell of who was really Godly. There are many times that Jesus spoke to and listened to those who would have been considered hopeless to the "Righteous". I don't think it compromises Christian beliefs to show others kindness and respect, even when they disagree on matters of faith.

Faith is something that connects us, whether our faith is in a God and Goddess who's love we see reflected in every living thing around us, and whom we worship in accordance with the cycles of the Moon or our faith is in the Triune God who's love is reflected in every act of kindness done by the hands of those who follow him, and in the world He created.

I hope that those of us who write Mommy Blogs, especially those of us who openly share our faith, can continue to discuss how to reach out in love to those who believe differently than we do. Or at least acknowledge that a faith we don't understand is no less a faith.

"And it was Jane who spoke, she said, "It's true, your cousin's not a Christian,"

"But we love trees, we love the snow, the friends we have, the world we share,

And you find magic from your God, and we find magic everywhere.""

Dar Williams - The Christians and The Pagans

Make Way For Ducklings

2011-05-30T19:16:00.000-07:00

If there is something much cuter than a baby duckling, please don't tell me. I think my head might explode.

I was waiting in the car this afternoon for the 13 year old to get in so I could take him to his friend's house, when I heard the sweetest little...chirp-quack. I looked down from the van window and saw...a duckling. Then I saw seven more.

Their mother was on the other side of the neighboring fence (the house is currently a foreclosure sale, and unoccupied) and every so often she would call them back where they'd all fall in line. She'd look them over, lead them around a bit, and then let them all run off again.

I made the girls come out and look. The ducklings came almost right up to us. Then their mama would quack for them and they'd run off to her. I swear, they were cute enough to put in our pockets and take home.

I'm hoping they come back, as I'd love for the boys to all see them, too. It's entirely possible that they're living underneath the neighbors deck. But I'm glad the girls at least, got to watch them for a bit. Sometimes I get frustrated living in Minnesota where the weather always seems a bit wonky and I still don't feel much like I fit in. But I must say, I definitely feel a bit closer to nature here, where I can see it regularly in my own back yard.

And the cute! Good God, I could drown in the downy, fuzzy, cute!

Blessing His Way

2011-05-28T22:05:00.000-07:00

"Hi, my name is Anne, and I have a gazillion children."

"Hi, Anne"

Okay, my Blessingway wasn't really like that, but I've had fun trying to explain what it was or what one is.

I have had more than my fair share of babies. I don't need a high chair or a crib or a lot of the other things you might get at a shower. What I need is the love and support of my friends and family as I head toward the end of my pregnancy. That's what a Blessingway gives you.

So yesterday, the Bestie threw me a Blessingway. Friends came, there was food and chat, and I came away with several special things to take with me as I (with the help of the surgeon and medical team) bring Liam into the world.

My Sonya, looking at the picture above, had a fantastic idea of doing a henna art piece on my gigantic pregnant belly. Um, we had trouble finding henna. Even the Indian grocery store that I was sure carried it, managed to disappear since the last time I was there. But my Sonya is not a quitter! She grabbed her colored eye liner pencils and sent the teenage girls to decorate me. This is what I got:

I love those girls. To be honest, I think the henna may only work on those cute little first time mom bellies. I, however, have an I've-gained-50-pounds belly covered in stretch marks from babies past. This is as pretty as it gets, folks.

My friends brought beads to make me a bracelet that will go with me to the hospital and remind me of the love and strength that go with both Liam and me. They made me a book with bits of love and good wishes, and they decorated onsies too. I have to say, there were many clever and artistic people. But I do have a fondness for the one I made for my son:

I love Mommy, Daddy, & Riding in the Tardis

Yes, we are that geek family.

I owe a huge thank you to my Bestie for making the day happen, her family for helping her, and the people who've poured out their love and support to Liam and me. You all know that this pregnancy brought some unexpected surprises, not the least of which was that he was expected at all. I know the hardest fight for Liam is still ahead, and as his Mommy, it's going to scare me, even if he does as well as I hope. All the care I've been shown has been a real strength to me, and I'm very grateful for it.

It's Friday I'm In Love

2011-05-27T20:04:00.000-07:00

Today is my husband's birthday. I was going to start this blog post out saying that despite his being an ass, he's my ass, and I love him. But damned if he didn't just walk in the room singing Cat Stevens to me and being all sweet and wonderful. That's just like him. Always messing up my best laid plans.

He knew he loved me within 24 hours of meeting me. Which is crazy for a thousand reasons, not the least of which is that I'm kind of a pain in the ass, too. See, aren't we perfect for each other? But love me, he did, and still does. Which is a good thing, since I'm pretty crazy about him, too.

Life is never perfect for any couple, and we're no exception. We've had a lot of rough times. Financially we're never fantastic. On top of that we've had loss, stress, babies, cross-country moves, and of course the difficulties that come with raising a bunch of kids. But through it all he's remained my partner, and my best friend.

I won't say how old he is today, but I hope he's not even halfway done. I sometimes can't remember my life before he was in it, and I can't imagine my life without him, either.

Happy Birthday, Baby. I love you.

Blogger Is Against Me

2011-05-26T19:11:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to blog for several days. No, seriously, I have! But for some reason, Blogger has had issues on and off for me and I haven't been able to. So, let me just give a run-down of the things I wanted to talk about:

The Casey Anthony Trial:
I wonder if my strange fascination with this case stems from the fact that I was once a young mom with a toddler who lived with my parents. I can only imagine how my folks would have freaked out if I didn't come home for a month and they hadn't seen their grandson. I can't fathom how the Anthony's can still have faith in Casey after all of her lies. But maybe they just can't imagine how they could have raised someone so selfish and self absorbed. I never saw my son as an impediment to my freedom. He was, but it was my choice to have him, my choice to keep him, and my choice to raise him. So if I lacked freedom, I was to blame, not him. I'm interested to see how the trial plays out, though. Her defense is not impressing me.

Liam!
Had a doctors appointment on Wednesday and Liam is still looking fantastic. The measurement of his encephalocele has changed a bit, but the doctor thinks that's because it's being compressed. It was longer in one direction and shorter in another. He's still a very busy baby. As I type this, I'm watching my belly move as he rolls around inside me.

I was sent to Physical Therapy today for fairly severe lower back pain. The therapist didn't seem to know what to do with me. He suggested I come back and see a "gal therapist". Um, yeah. Maybe. Because I definitely don't want to see you again.

The Knot Genie:
My girls have really difficult hair. Fine, fragile, and thick. I got one of these brushes in the mail today and will shortly be writing a review.

There's more, but that's a good start. Maybe now I can do this more on a daily basis, so it doesn't back up on me. Blogger? Is that okay with you?

Magical Mommy Mondays: Monsters...

2011-05-23T21:32:00.000-07:00

There is a monster under the bed. Maybe it's in the closet. Maybe it's behind the door. Wherever it's lurking, it's in there, and it's going to come out and Eat Your Child!

Sometime around 4 am when Reagan was about four years old, I was ready to find that monster and strangle it with my bare hands.

But Mommies are magical. We can banish monsters, and empower our children to be bigger and stronger than they are. I have three solutions for the monster problem. And each of my children so far, has had a monster problem.

1. Monsters are made of chocolate. While they come at night to frighten you, they aren't allowed to get very close, because if you get close enough to one, you can bite it, and they are made of they yummiest chocolate Ever. If my children are willing to believe that monsters are essentially giant chocolate bunnies in disguise, suddenly they are not scary at all. My kids have really liked this.

2. Anti Monster Spray. We put water into a spray bottle and maybe a protective herb like Chamomile and we say a prayer that this spray would banish any harmful thing that might enter their room. Honestly, my kids have taken the spray bottle to bed, but somehow have never actually needed to use it. I figured worst case scenario is a wet spot on the floor. I can live with that. Especially if I haven't been up all night trying to banish the monsters myself.

3. Anti-Monster Smudging. There's something about smoke and seeing Mommy do something that makes kids feel safer. So, if I can take a Sage smudge stick around their room saying a little prayer of protection over their space, that's a powerful tool for helping them calm their minds.

Mommy Magic is broad and capable of so much. Maybe there isn't a "monster" in their room. But all of my kids have found a period of time where they became aware that things were mysterious in the dark. And anything that I can do to help them find power in those times where they're aware of their own vulnerability, well, that's big. That sense that they have some control over their world is going to be valuable long after they stop worrying about the monsters under their beds.

Butterflies and Regrets

2011-05-22T19:29:00.000-07:00

I did not work hard enough to earn the level of exhaustion I feel.

Since my Bestie and I are due just a few weeks apart, and she never had a baby shower with her first child 15 years ago due to bedrest, I was determined that she should have one this time. Oh yes, my Sonya would have a baby shower.

Lucky for me, my Sonya is beloved, and a whole troop of friends came out of the woodwork to help put together a party that I simply could not afford to throw myself. One friend took care of food, another decorations, another invitations and thank you cards. My job was to organize and make it all come together at the end. I think that happened pretty darn well thanks to everyone's hard work, and she had a great day. That of course, makes me very happy.

But still, at the end of the day, I'm SO wiped out. I don't think I should ever be a professional party planner.

In other, totally unrelated news, Facebook keeps telling me I should reconnect with old High School classmates. It seems most of those I went to school with went on to College, Grad school, Med/Law school, and have incredibly successful careers and spouses. Being the underachiever/depressive I was in High School, I'm still really proud that I didn't end up a single mom dating some random guy in a band. At the same time, I'm angry with myself that I had so many opportunities that I wasted by making such ridiculously bad choices. I love my family, my friends, and the life I've built for myself. I just wish I'd made my path easier instead of harder.

If a life without regret is an unexamined life, I can honestly say that I have examined my life thoroughly. I definitely have regrets. One day, maybe I'll learn to forgive myself. Still, young me owes 30-something me a Big Fat apology. And I probably owe my mother one, too.

Back On The Horse

2011-05-20T20:25:00.000-07:00

I don't lack things to write about. From the GI bug that has gone through our house again this week, to breastfeeding laws in Georgia, there's plenty to talk about.

The truth is, I haven't felt good for part of the week, and the other part I felt good enough to actually get things done! Yay for getting things done!

So, that's left me with either no time to blog, or no will to blog. Not exactly a great combo. So, while this post isn't all the excitement I wish it were, it's my getting-back-on-the-horse post. Since, writing something, gets me going better than writing nothing at all.

So, after a day of headache turned backache turned back to headache, I'm going to bed. And maybe then I'll be inspired to discuss something important. More than how I'm torn between wanting to enjoy every minute of having Liam inside of me and desperately wanting my pregnancy to be at 37 weeks already so he could safely be born and I could have my body back.

Magical Mommy Mondays

2011-05-16T20:48:00.000-07:00

It's a Full Moon tonight, and let me tell you, I'm in no mood. I've got nothing planned. Usually the girls and I enjoy doing something together, but tonight I just can't. So, I'm going to light a candle and some incense and just meditate a bit.

For Full Moon Celebrations with the girls, we make it simple. We have a circle with cookies and milk, and it always ends up being this time where we talk, make plans, and enjoy the feel of the night together. I'm kind of sad I don't have more energy. But then, I think Liam is calling upon a lot, and I'm going to let him have it. Have I mentioned that there's just 9 1/2 weeks until D-Day, if I go that long? Woot!

As a Christian Mom, I was taught to find the Sacred in the mundane. But the truth is that I have continued to do that, even now. Why shouldn't we find that in whatever path we take? If one Pagan idea of Magic is to channel energy into bringing change to the world, then doing it through Motherhood seems especially powerful (though maybe a kind of long and somewhat unpredictable spell). I don't see Magic as...fancy or all in the ritual or the words. Magic can be and often is, in the small things. The kissed knees, the bedtime stories, the meals, the snuggles, the lessons, and the hard things too. I pour my prayers for my kiddos, my energy, and my love into all of those things.

So, I'm thinking I'll take Monday's and try to write about the Magic of Motherhood. While I may feel large, uncomfortable, and more than a little awkward at the moment, I'm most definitely feeling magical as well.

The Fix

2011-05-15T19:53:00.000-07:00

It's like crack.

When it's nearby, I need it. It's new baby smell.

I got me a baby fix this afternoon, holding a friend's two week old baby boy. He's so sweet and new, I just soaked in the cuddling and enjoyed the company.

I knitted some more of Liam's baby blanket, too. I want to finish it and sleep with it for a bit before he's born, so I can leave it with him in the hospital and he'll have something that smells like me.

There's magic in a day like this. Not just the healing and love that I'm putting into each stitch of Liam's blanket, but the company of such incredibly supportive women. It's healing and encouraging for me, too. And I will take all of that I can get until my own little bundle of addictive baby is my arms, safe, where he belongs.

Just Like the Birds, Baby

2011-05-14T20:10:00.000-07:00

I have a lot of jokes about why I have so many kids: Yes, I know how this happened, but I've stopped borrowing my husband's toothbrush so this should be the last one! Why, yes, I am crazy. Every so often I just need six weeks off from work, and having a baby every two years totally does that for me. Every once in a while the house needs a good cleaning, and there's no better way to do it than by nesting.

That last joke, is really more true than funny.

I was starting to think Liam had kicked my OMG-WTF button so hard, that my Holy-Crap-I-need-to-get-the-house-ready-for-a-baby button might never be pushed. Today, I think he hit the nesting button. Finally!

I did laundry, cleaned the bathroom, helped my husband hang a new shelf/towel-rack-thingie in the bathroom, bought a push lawnmower, mowed some of the lawn, put up new clothesline, and so on.

I'm hoping that at soon I'll start feeling ready to get out baby stuff. I realized I haven't bought Liam one single thing and I think it's that I'm still afraid that if I do, I'll jinx it, and he'll never come home. I need to get over that. Soon. Besides, I know that the truth is that no one can protect themselves from hurting when their kids are at risk in any way. Even under the best case scenario, it's going to be hard just watching him go through surgery.

But at least for now, a lot is getting done. And I think it's made me tired enough that I'll actually sleep well tonight.

Giveaway Winner!

2011-05-13T11:57:00.000-07:00

The beautiful necklace offered up by Bandia Solas for my Thank You! Giveaway was chosen by Random.org

The number chosen was two, which makes the winner:

MELODY from Tiggrrl's Den!

Thank you everyone who joined in the giveaway, as well as Penny, from Bandia Solas for her generous gift. Melody, please send you contact info to AnneBassoATgmailDOTcom and I'll have Penny send that out to you.

Let It Go?

2011-05-11T18:40:00.000-07:00

Sometimes a girl's gotta ask herself the age old question:

Do I let this go? Or pound on it until it bleeds?

In the past, I'd pound on it until it bled. Even when that was a bad idea. Even when sometimes, I should have just let it go. In a verbal argument, I could go all Fight Club, and totally ignore when it should end. You know what the seventh rule of Fight Club was? Fights will go on as long as they have to. I haven't always been good at judging when that is. I know better now. That doesn't always make it easy.

It should be enough to know I'm right, and to be comfortable with that, whether the other person (you know, like my husband) will admit it or not. And once in a while, I have to know that I'm not right, and leave myself room to be wrong.

In the short run, this thinking generally makes me crazy. I'm frustrated, and I want it to be acknowledged that I'm giving something up for the sake of peace, love, and a piece of cheesecake with chocolate sauce.

In the long run this means I spend a lot less time on ridiculous arguments that probably aren't worth having in the first place and in which it probably doesn't matter in the end who was right and who was wrong.

I'm not sure if letting go makes me a weak-willed idiot, or a mature and understanding woman who is big enough to know when it's just not worth it.

After all, it feels good to be right. But I think it feels better to be happy. I think I like that since I choose my battles and don't have to win every single one, it means more when I plant my feet and become unmovable on something.

But letting it go can still make me crazy. Isn't being the grown up fun?

Mentoring Moms

2011-05-10T20:04:00.000-07:00

Recently a friend of mine had a baby. We're not super close friends and I don't want to be that person who's all bossy and seems like they know it all. But it's hard when you have really good information. Her healthcare professionals were telling her things like "don't feed the baby any closer than every two hours so that you have a good milk supply."

Um, what?

Breastfeeding is a demand and supply principle, the more they demand through nursing, the more you'll supply. Trying to make your baby wait for the clock to catch up with their belly, is not sound breastfeeding advice. (Yes I know that's a very basic description, but nursing less to ensure a good supply defies logic completely.)

Do I say to my friend, "Hey, I'm actually more knowledgeable than your nurses. I've breastfed a lot of babies, and I swear they're wrong."? No. I don't. I didn't want to be that friend. The one who knows so much better than the professionals. What I did say, was that in my experience, it's best to watch your baby to figure out when to feed him, and I'd hate to see her breastfeeding relationship damaged by clock watching. Then I sent her some info on Facebook from a breastfeeding website. Even that might have been a bit pushy, but I really couldn't help myself. New moms getting bad breastfeeding advice makes me crazy.

So, how can a mom with some experience be helpful to a newer mom and maybe get some support too? I was thinking that it would be awesome to have some kind of local group that met and allowed a sort of mentoring relationship between newer and more experienced moms. A place where moms could meet, hang out, share information, and a new mom could maybe find a "sponsor" mom. Someone they can call with questions or for advice. But as a general group it would be a place for all the moms to find support and encouragement as moms.

I'm not sure exactly how this would function in real life, nor how to make it go from an idea in my head to an actual thing. But I think I'd like to figure it out. Wish me luck!

Update On The Go

2011-05-09T17:59:00.000-07:00

I had several ideas for posts today. But a poor night's sleep led to a nasty headache, which led to nausea, and then I spent several hours contracting. Things have slowed down, as I expected them to, but the whole day has left me exhausted and my brain feels....muddled. Anything I might write tonight would likely not make much sense.

Knowing this is my last pregnancy is making me want to savor every moment. But, to be honest, on a day like today I kind of look forward to having my body back under my own control.

Happy Mother's Day

2011-05-08T19:45:00.000-07:00

While my Mother's Day started with a "Hey, Mom, Ciaran pooped in his sleep again and got it all over himself and his bed. What should I do?" that was thankfully not how the whole day went.

I don't know why my five-year-old's poop clock has suddenly changed to where he's going in his sleep every night instead of predictably in the morning like usual, but hey, this is part of the "fun" of motherhood.

Poop aside, there really is a lot to enjoy about being a mom. I got so many hugs and kisses today. I got a lot of "Happy Mother's Day" wishes from the kids. I got a new rocker recliner which I'm sitting in Right Now! Honestly, I'll be sleeping in it again tonight but that's really related to the joys of pregnancy.

This Mother's Day was lovely, but more than anything it's the time I get just hanging out and enjoying my kids that means more to me than anything (although being able to sleep in this chair is pretty sweet).

I hope all the Mamas out there had a great day as well. Greeting Card Holiday it may be, but I think there's something to be said for taking one day a year to say thank you to those doing the hardest jobs out there. Like parenting children who will one day vote, lead, teach, protect, and of course, pick where we live when we're old.

Spectrum Saturdays: A Week In Autism

2011-05-07T21:25:00.001-07:00

This has actually been a pretty good week. Ciaran's language seems to be taking off again, and the things he's saying can be kind of amusing. Things like "Knock it off, both of you!" to his dad and me. Gee, I wonder where he might have heard that before.

While affection is sometimes hard for kids with Autism, Ciaran has been really affectionate with his dad and me. I know some of it is a desire for sensory input. He likes good, long, strong hugs. But they're still pretty wonderful, in my opinion. He's also started to become affectionate toward my belly. The idea that there's a baby in there is kind of abstract for a little kid whose communication skills are limited. But he keeps pointing to my tummy, explaining that there's a baby in there, and kissing it.

I think sometimes we Spectrum Moms take a lot our blog time explaining how difficult it can be to do the best for our kids with Autism. But I think it's good for people to know that we have lots of good times, too. Weeks where our kids come along with their language, or reveal a sense of humor that's developing in a way we didn't know. Or we find out that they have memorized all of Toy Story 3.

Now, how do I get him to memorize his age, phone number, and address? I wonder if I can get Buzz Lightyear to teach him...

A Thank You Giveaway!

2011-05-06T06:12:00.000-07:00

In the more than 7 years I've been writing a blog, I've been amazed at the support given to me by those who took the time to read it. Through several blog names, and several blog addresses, I've had people kind enough to check in with me and follow my long and winding path through faith, family, loss, birth, and all the rest of it.

To say Thank You to both my long time blogging friends, and my newer readers, I wanted to do some kind of giveaway. So, with the help of my friend Penny over at Bandia Solas, I am offering one lucky reader a lovely, handmade necklace:

Penny is a Pagan mom, jewelry designer, and lover of all things beautiful and made this necklace especially for me to give away here on Muse Mama.

The necklace itself is a 40mm swarovski Montana blue teardrop, wrapped Sterling Silver wire and suspended from an Aura in sterling and niobium on a handmade sterling and niobium 16-20 inch adjustable chain with handmade sterling wire clasp. I've asked Penny to ship it to the winner so I'm not tempted to keep it all for myself.

So, how do you win? Here are my rules:

One entry each for the following:

Comment on my blog and tell me something about yourself or how/why you started reading here. Or, head over to Bandia Solas and tell me what your favorite piece is and why.
Like this page on Facebook. Include your Facebook ID in your comment, so I know it's you.
Follow me through the Google link in my sidebar.
Post about this giveaway on Facebook (provide a link to your post in your comment) or Tweet about this giveaway (please use the hashtag #BandiaSolas in your tweet an provide your Twitter name in your comment so that I can identify that it's you).

So, each person can have up to four entries.

Please provide a separate comment for each entry. This means posting more than one comment, but each comment gives you a better chance of winning.

Giveaway will be open until Thursday 5/12/11 at 11pm Central Time.

Winner will be chosen via Random.org and posted here on Friday May 13, 2011. The winner will have 48 hours to e-mail me to claim the gift. After 48 hours if no contact is made, a new winner will be chosen.

Good luck, and thank you for the kindness and support.

Giveaway Closed

Take A Deep Breath: A Liam Update

2011-05-05T05:32:00.000-07:00

When Ciaran is angry, he's learning to "take a deep bref, squeeze your hands togever, and count to ten to calm down". It's not working for him so well. He'd rather throw something (hey, who wouldn't) but he likes to tell his Dad and me to do it if he thinks we're upset about anything.

I think I might need to take his advice a bit more. Especially where Liam is concerned.

I had another appointment with the Perinatologist yesterday morning. They did another ultrasound to measure growth and to check on his encephalocele. There's good news.

His encephalocele hasn't grown. It actually looked smaller to me, but I think that's just because his head is getting bigger.

Liam 28 weeks 3 days

The ventricles in his brain aren't getting any bigger. They're still at the fuller end of normal. That is awesome. It means there's no obstruction to the cerebrospinal fluid. And the doctor said if it hasn't developed yet, she's optimistic that it won't.

Apparently if his ventricles had continued to get larger, they would start talking about intentionally delivering him early to put a shunt in his brain so that he wouldn't get hydrocephalus. Can I say what a huge relief it is to hear that isn't the plan at this point?

The rest of him is growing beautifully. If they take his head into account, he measures a touch behind. But that's not really accurate because his head is being compressed a bit by the 'Cele and they don't really know how much to measure. If they only take into account the rest of him, he measures ahead, which makes more sense to me since they have my due date wrong. They have me due the 30th which A) doesn't work with when I ovulated and B) was determined by a second trimester scan which took into account his head. It kind of annoys me a bit because if he comes early, I'd like them to know he's not as early as they think.

Liam already has his lips like Brennan and he just loves having his hands up by his face.

My next appointment is in two weeks, and I'm grateful. I think it will be good for my nerves to have nice regular peeks inside to see that he's doing well. As always, I'm so appreciative of all the good thoughts, energy, and prayers people have been sending our way.

Oh! And I passed my fasting glucose. Which means no one is forbidding me to eat ice cream. I've had a 40 pound weight gain. Someone please take the ice cream away from me!

It's Not Just For Cats Anymore

2011-05-04T14:29:00.000-07:00

There are so many tools of parenting that have been helpful to me. 1-2-3 Magic, The Accountable Kids program, Time Out, Basic Common Sense. But there's one tool I think not enough parents know about.

The Squirt Bottle.

It's not just for cats anymore.

Need the kids to focus and clean up? Squirt 'em.
Need them to stop fighting with each other? Squirt 'em twice.
Is someone mouthing off? If it's bad, unload on 'em.

This has amazing results. My best friend and I have even equipped ourselves with squirt bottles while chaperoning her teenage daughter's parties. It's freaking brilliant.

It doesn't hurt. It's just water, and it's a super quick reminder of who's in charge. It's also silly and lighthearted, which makes it more fun. Well, for me at least. Sometimes it's the surprise alone that makes them stop what they're doing and pay attention.

We're not a spanking family. But don't think for one minute that means that my kids are not learning exactly who is in charge here. That would be me. The lady with the squirt bottle.

Of course, I hope I don't need a nursing home for a very very long time.

Not My Daughter

2011-05-03T17:41:00.000-07:00

Bullying, Blows. And it's even worse when it's your kid being bullied.

I remember coming home, day after day, praying that my mom would stop working and stay home so that I didn't have to go to daycare anymore. I remember faking sick a lot, so that I could skip school.

I don't know that I had it worse than other kids, but I know that I was very sensitive to it. Their voices became the tape in my head that, for years, kept repeating the things they said to me. Long after they no longer cared enough to tell me I was ugly or stupid or useless, I had learned to say those things to myself. I became my own bully. Nice, huh?

So, now I have this little girl. Piper is 8 years old and so much like me that it hurts. She's all heart. She wants to be friends with everyone, and wants so much for people to like her. That's why she's an easy target for children who haven't learned that there are things to do to make you feel good about yourself that don't involve being an ass to other kids.

My parents didn't realize how bad the bullying had become for me. I'm not making the same mistake. I went down to Piper's school this afternoon and made her teacher sit down and talk to me about it.

We made a plan to help Piper get the attention she needs when this is happening in class. And her teacher switched her seat so she's not sitting next to her #1 Bully (because making her sit next to her tormentor is a crappy idea, in my opinion).

But this is one of those moments where I wish I could wrap her up in some kind of protective coating so that these things didn't hurt. I wish there was a filter that would only let her hear the things that were true about her, and not the rest. In the meantime, I'm going to make damn sure the school meets it's obligation to protect my kid.

Liam Liam Liam

2011-05-02T05:40:00.000-07:00

I am not comfortable. I walk and I contract. Some days I seem to have misplaced my sense of humor. And, let me tell you, I'm not nearly as much fun without it. I'm hungry, I'm cranky, and I stepped on the scale this week. Big mistake. Huge.

So, you know, pretty normal pregnancy for me.

Emotionally...well, I still seem to be ~~inwardly freaking out on a regular basis~~ somewhat out of sorts. I've been thinking a lot about the c-section. I'm coming to terms with it, I think. For me that means accepting that, yes, this does mean that not everything is ok. But, at the same time, that they know what's going on and can plan for it means that I can be hopeful that it all will be ok.

Reading the stories of those who've made it through and are doing fantastic is really helpful. But I know that there are no guarantees. Just because their baby did terrific doesn't mean mine will. I think my challenge is finding the balance between optimism and being realistic and pragmatic. I'm an optimist by nature. But I'm also superstitious. I have to remind myself that nothing I do will change this. So, I feed the fear monster just enough to make him leave me alone most of the time.

As I get closer to the end (I'm 28 weeks now, and have a ways to go, but my last came at 34 weeks and that's only 6 weeks from now!) it's getting more...real. I'm starting to think about what I can expect when he gets here. I'll admit it, I'm am kinda scared about it. A hospital I'm not familiar with, surgery. Even what his 'cele will look like. I've looked at Dr. Google, but the images can be terrifying! Still, I'm trying not to feed the fear too much. What good would it do, even if I did? He's my baby, and I think some of these may just melt away as soon as he gets here.

I have a doctor's appointment this week, and hopefully we'll get positive news, or at least an update that things have remained stable.

Happy Beltane!

2011-05-01T21:29:00.000-07:00

The Beltane Fire has been lit! The Oak King Lives!

When I was young, and a solitary practitioner, I never much cared if the music was just right, or if I was getting the tone of things the way they should be. My rituals were for me, and I always felt connected through them. I figured the Gods didn't much care what my words were. It was all about doing and feeling.

Now, coming back to these rites after so many years, I have these two little girls who want to be a part of everything. Now I want to get the music right. I want to say the right words to teach them what it is we're doing, but not use so many that they don't connect.

After a very long day and chaperoning a teenage party at a friends house, I, quite last minute, set up for Beltane. I explained to the girls what the ritual was about, and began. The space was cleared, the circle cast, the elements and the directions summoned, the Goddess and God called forth. We extinguished and re-lit the Bel-fire. We chanted and danced.

I asked each of the girls to think about what they would like to grow inside of themselves as the wheel of the year turns. They came up with qualities they'd like to cultivate. Like kindness and patience. I said I'd like to learn to be creative with our money and make much grow from little. I'd like our herb garden to grow so that each can be used both in our kitchen and in our Magic. We visualized all of those things being put into our Bel-fire candle and bound it. We ate our consecrated animal crackers, and drank our milk while the girls asked questions about what the Gods might look like, and the wheel of life, death, and rebirth. Bridget says she never wants to be part of any family other than ours.

After the circle was released, we let the candle burn out. The Spell was cast.

I've been surprised by how our little rituals are impacting the girls so much. At almost every one, Bridget has begun crying happy tears, and the girls seem to connect, whispering over candles and feeling that they're part of something magical. And maybe that's part of where the magic lies. That they feel so connected to something beyond themselves as well as to each other. Suddenly they're willing to work for something bigger, something better.

For me, sharing these things with them adds a whole new layer to my practice. I'm grateful for their presence, and their genuine wonder. It makes me feel part of something bigger, too.

Oh Look! Shiny!

2011-04-30T06:48:00.000-07:00

I have so many things floating around in my head, it's hard for me to pick just one to talk about. There should be tons to blog about, but somehow, I just can't focus.

I don't know what I want to share most. Everything is so shiny.

So, we've thrown over the ~~evil empire~~ cable company in favor of a spankin' new Roku box and we're pretty darned happy about it. Suck it, Comcast! Lots of TV and the loss of $100 a month in unnecessary cable costs.

My husband has flown through nearly all five seasons of the new Dr. Who series. And he thinks Amy Pond is pretty hot. River Song, too. He's now thinking we should call Liam, River. While I can see the appeal (Firefly and Dr. Who reference) I'm thinking that explaining he was named after not one but two fictional girls will be even harder than explaining to Reagan that I didn't name him after the President, but the chick from the exorcist. When I told him that, his head spun around, and I was reminded that I totally made the right choice.

Some couple got married in England, it was on the news once or twice. We caught the highlights and were amazed that people not only manufacture some hideous hats, but that others both buy and wear them. In public. There were beautiful hats, and I can't for the life of me figure out why some wouldn't choose those instead. I'm looking at you, Princess Beatrice! Stop taking fashion tips from Lady Gaga.

I discovered this week that while I like deviled eggs, the hubs not so much. I think if I make them again this week, he might divorce me.

See? Lots to talk about, not exactly a lot of substance.

What They Don't Tell You About Having A Baby

2011-04-29T05:34:00.000-07:00

My best friend and I are both expecting. We're due just a couple of weeks apart and both of our pregnancies were a surprise. I don't think we could have timed it so well if we'd tried. So the other night she and I were sitting around talking. We'd had a little chocolate (the closest thing we pregnant women get to booze) and talking about a friend of ours who was expecting her first baby (he was born the next day). We were talking about the first time we went through the whole process and all the things no one told us about. We came up a LOT of things we were totally unprepared for. We may have frightened her 15 year old daughter off of having a baby for a while. Which, honestly, we're okay with. Sometimes there's no better birth control than reality. We were hoping to let D. know about what we'd come up with, but damned if she didn't deliver that baby before we got the chance. Lucky for her, we're super nice friends who went to see her in the hospital yesterday and filled her in on what she still might not know...yet.

Well, you know me. After that talk, I thought I'd make a list:

Generally speaking, it doesn't hurt to deliver the placenta. Once the baby comes out, the best/worst part is over. I was afraid the first time, but I really didn't need to be.
After you give birth, stuff keeps coming out of you. The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy rightly calls it "The Torrential Yuck". This is not a sign of your wickedness, the apocalypse, or impending doom. This is in fact, normal. If you start passing clots the size of your baby (or more realistically, a silver dollar), you should probably ask for help. And, don't wear socks you intend to keep and/or ever wear again.
You may not be able to control your bladder the way you once did. If you find you suddenly have the control of an 80 year old, fear not. Chances are it will get better the farther away from the birth you get. And of course you talk to your doctor if it doesn't.
When colostrum changes to milk, it sometimes looks like Orange Juice. This is normal. You've not suddenly filled with Minute Maid. Though that would be kind of nifty.
When you nurse, you may cramp. It's oxytocin being released. It's worse with subsequent pregnancies. Isn't that a nice little gift? Sure it's nice if your uterus clamps back down and you don't bleed to death, but after labor, I'd sure be grateful if that process were somewhat less uncomfortable.
Nursing can be painful. But make sure your latch is good. Good latch = less pain. Check out Kellymom.com for great breastfeeding resources. There are also these awesome packs you can get like these, and you can have a warm set to get your milk going, and a cold pack for afterward. I pikced mine up at Target. Also, have some Lansinoh or comparable product on hand. Your nipples will thank you.
When your baby is hungry, he will look for a nipple anywhere. Including the neck of whoever is holding him. It's very cute.
Boys pee a lot in the first days. Have your next diaper handy in case he starts doing his impression of a geyser.
While you may feel like all dignity went out the window during your labor (you know, when you were on all fours, panting like a dog, barfing your guts out, and not caring at all who was looking at your hoo-ha) you will want it back, and you will get it back. In fact, if there was advice I could give to anyone there in the labor room, it might be to never speak of it again without written permission.
Your baby does like you. When he/she is crying at 3 days old and you think you've done everything and so it's obviously personal, it's not. I promise. That's the hormones talking. And the hormones are crazy.
Slings are your friend. Find a friend who uses them and can help you get the hang of it.
Find a friend who has successfully breastfed. I won't tell you not to trust the books, especially since I love mine, but sometimes having someone who knows and can help you out personally, makes all the difference.
It may feel like you're living in one long day, since you don't have that clear break of a chunk of sleep between one and the next. That will pass. I promise. And you will sleep again. Of course, a lot of moms find that they sleep sooner and better once they learn to nurse lying down and sleep close to their baby.
Try not to stress too much. The newborn stage is gone so fast, you should enjoy it while you can. They seem to change every day and it's amazing to watch.

Alright, moms, what are your tips, tricks, and things you wish someone had told you? I have a feeling I left out a lot.

Attitude Problems

2011-04-28T05:13:00.000-07:00

No one (least of all me) can possibly be surprised that I ended up with a kid with attitude problems. Honestly, after all I put my parents through, I should have more than one. Oh, wait, never mind.

But I have to say, Quinn seems to be in it for some kind of prize. This three year old child actually looked at me last night and told me to "shut up". The kid has never heard anyone speak to me that way. You know, because they don't. But despite this fact, Quinn apparently thinks he's going to be a rebel. A teeny tiny little rebel. Poor thing doesn't realize just who he's dealing with.

I like to think of our little family as a team. But, he should never forget, Daddy and Mommy? We're the damn coaches. And anyone who's ever been involved in a team sport should know, you never piss off your coaches. I can't exactly make the kid drop and give me 20 (although, let me tell you, if I could he would have been giving them all day). But there are consequences. I treat my kids with respect and I expect the same in return.

Once in a while he gets it. Tonight, head against the wall where he'd been put yet again for not staying in bed and talking some smack to his mom, he stopped saying "no" for a while and answered every question with "yes". Ok, maybe he didn't completely get it.

This child is freaking adorable. He walks, he talks, he has the sweetest smile. And we are a non-violent home. But when his attitude starts to remind me of a 16 year old with a chip on his shoulder (yelling "fine" over his shoulder at me after being asked to do something isn't endearing) I understand why some animals eat their young. And I hope I don't change my mind on that practice before he turns four.

A Different Kind of Mom

2011-04-27T07:33:00.000-07:00

I want to be a different kind of mom.

I had such a narrow view of my parents when I was a kid. They were teachers, singers, church types, and most of all, my parents. I didn't realize they had hopes and dreams, or whole lives beyond what I knew of them. I don't want my kids to think of me that way.

Of course, I was wrong about so much. Like that surprises anyone. My parents are actually much more interesting than what I thought when I was little. But I still want my approach to my kids to be very different than theirs. Interestingly, my parents have watched enough Dr. Phil at this point that there are things they wish they'd done differently, too.

Looking back to how I had it all planned (you know before I had kids and knew ~~everything~~ nothing about it), I had some great ideas and some ridiculous dreams. My ideas about my kids as individual people deserving my respect as well as guidance, is still one that I'm proud of. My dreams of things like...walking through a nature center with my children and pointing out different plants and what they do? Being that kind of Wise-Mom? Well, that might have been less than realistic considering how much I know about that kind of thing.

My parents were more than who I assumed them to be, and not everything I wished they were. Which is how I usually feel about myself. If I'm ever the person walking along a path and naming flowers, it's not going to be soon. Right now I'm just not that outdoorsy and I don't have the time to learn.

I can't be Betty Crocker, Mrs. Brady, and Samantha Stevens all rolled into one 21st Century Mom. Not only is it not practical, it's just not... me. To be honest, I'm kind of sick of beating myself up over who I'm not. Though I am pretty good at. Years of practice and all.

So who or what can I be instead?

I will be the mom that is willing to talk about anything. I will be the mom that my seven year old daughter felt comfortable enough to ask if boys can be lesbians (very interesting conversation, by the way). I will be the mom who thinks the big adventure for the year is taking the kids to a Sci-Fi convention. I will be the mom who's not afraid to let her kids explore themselves, their faith, their world. Who knows, maybe I'll be the mom that their kids friends feel like they can talk to. I don't know. But I do know that the sum of who I am cannot be put into how many hours of TV my kids watched this week, or any of the other arbitrary standards we put on ourselves to decide who's a good mom and who isn't. Equally it can't be based on the standards I set up for myself when I didn't know jack about being a mom.

I think it's possible to be the mom who knows her own limits, and instead of crying over what she can't do, enjoys what she can. A mom who's resourceful enough to know that if the kids want the low-down on Physics, I have a friend for that. If they want to learn to sew, I've got another friend for that. If they want to know what it's like to live the life of a writer, I have several friends for that. If they want to dance the Sun up on May Day, well, I have a whole group of friends for that. I'm pretty sure I've even got the friends that will happily take them to get pierced and tattooed. Though I think I'd like to be along for that ride. And I'll be the mom who's there for them always and who they can count on.

My kids are still going to be kids. Ciaran punched his brother in the nose yesterday (drew blood and everything) and then asked me if I thought his shirt was pretty. They are all individuals. They're going to screw up, make mistakes, do things that irk the crap out of me, and sometimes they're going to be just plain wrong. At the same time, if they see that I'm strong enough to accept myself, working out the things I want to improve on, and accepting the parts of me that are really just fine the way they are, maybe they'll learn to do the same.

Of course that begs the question, can I really do that? Be that person who's content with who they are while still trying to improve themselves?

What if we don't have to be just right (not even the ever-popular perfectly-imperfect) to teach our kids? What if we can just be ourselves, knowing that who we are isn't static, but is always changing and that we're still growing up? I think it's possible. I just have to step out into that knowledge with a little trust in myself and a little faith.

Can't A Girl Get Some Real Sleep?

2011-04-26T05:47:00.000-07:00

This man, is seriously messing with my sleep:

My wonderful husband is busy catching up on his Dr. Who, and I fell asleep during the Series 4 Season Finale last night. Combine that with the start of Series 6, which premiered on BBC America the other night, and this girl spent most of her night traveling through time. But not taking down Daleks or Autons. Nope, I spent it meeting younger versions of my parents, and even my teenage self. And then there was some issue created within time and space that sent teenage me on a murdering spree.

Does this sound restful to you?

Maybe it's really the fault of this man! Er, boy.

Being all cute with his little kissy face and kicking me in the bladder all night long. That's not particularly restful either.

This mom wants real, restorative, restful sleep. NOW. Please?

Anyone have tricks, tips, a dreamcatcher? Anything?

What Makes You A Good Mom?

2011-04-25T07:37:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking. If we're such confident together moms (even carefully not-quite-put-together, you know, just enough to let other moms know we're human) why is it that so many of us have such a hard time writing about what we're doing right? I don't know that I want to read about perfect moms with their perfect kids and their perfect houses all time. But I do want to hear what's working for other families. These are the things that I think, "Huh, that might work for us, too."

I mean, do you really want to hear about all the different ways I lost my temper this week? Or how many times I used a Disney movie as a babysitter so I could take a quick nap? No? I didn't think so. I'm betting most of you already have your own daily #momfail stories to tell, and probably only want to hear mine if it's really exquisite (and those do happen from time to time). So I thought, for today at least, I'd try to think of some things I've done this past week that I think were really good.

I'm giving Ciaran more pressure. Not pressure to succeed, I mean actual physical pressure. We're playing tug o' war with jumpropes, and giving long squeezy hugs. It's already helping him stay more calm (at least when we're together) and he's better able to communicate with me after doing some of this heavy work. With his sensory issues, it seems to be something he really needs, and I'm glad I figured it out.

I'm teaching Piper and Bridget to communicate. I realized that the vast majority of their arguments were because they weren't really listening to one another, or communicating what they wanted. Now I make them sit down, work it out, and come up with a way of talking that they both agree on. It's really cutting down on the fighting.

What I'm proudest of this week is that I'm remembering to actively parent. What I mean is that I'm not just sitting and reacting to what's going on. Having the right reaction to things is important, but I'm putting more thought and into being pro-active. No, I'm not a perfect mom, not by a long shot. But I think I'm a pretty good one most of the time. And, you know, we are all so aware of what we screw up on. Sometimes don't we need to pat ourselves on the back for what we've done right, too?

It may not be as pithy and clever as the self-debasing posts. But honestly, if I write to many more of those I'll be tempted to think they're all better off without me.

Weekly Liam Update

2011-04-24T09:17:00.000-07:00

I don't know how much I can post this week without it sounding like the same whiny bullshit I posted last week. But I'll give it a shot. New whiny bullshit! Aren't you excited?

I thought every week that passed, I would feel better and more comfortable. But instead I feel like the closer I get, the less secure I feel. I've started to think past actually getting him here, to what life will be like afterward. What I want is a sweet, mellow, babymoon. What we're going to have is the NICU, post-op procedures, and frequent doctor appointments. And, of course I'm scared by that.

So, what do I do for support?

Well, I'm not part of any support group anymore. I'd found one that virtually imploded after a new mom joined to get support before an induction. When she wasn't well received by some of the moms, I took it personally. Can't imagine why. So, I left the group and I wasn't the only one.

In real life, I have tons of people who are thinking of us and praying for us. And I wish I could explain how much each one of those people mean to me as we go through this. At the same time, people have their own lives to deal with, and I kinda feel like this is just something I have to deal with on my own.

My mom used to say that you do things, just because you have to. I always thought she made all the rules, so I didn't understand that. Now I do. I go through each day and try to get done all that needs to be. Not because I'm particularly strong or brave, but because I have no other choice. Don't get me wrong. I'll be fine. I'll figure things out. I'll get through it. It's just not the easiest thing I've ever done. But then, I guess motherhood is always a labor of love.

Earth Day Resolutions

2011-04-23T07:54:00.000-07:00

So, it's Earth Day. Or at least it was yesterday. But, you know, I got all confused by the school holiday and thought it was Saturday. Cut me some slack, I have pregnancy brain! But this is the one day a year we're supposed to think about our Mother Earth and how to keep from destroying her. Wow, just one day for that, huh?

We live in a time that is at least starting to think about how to live in a more environmentally friendly way, and for that I'm grateful. But I know there's more we can do. Mrs. B., over at Confessions of a Pagan Soccer Mom, has written this great post about simple ways to improve the environment. And to tell you the truth, while I do many of those things, I still felt a bit convicted.

So I made some Earth Day Resolutions:

1. I'm going to get the reusable grocery bags from the car, into the store, and start using them! Heck, Target gives a $0.05 rebate for every reusable bag you use. I have managed to do this, but most of the time they sit forgotten about in the van until it's time to check out.

2. I'm going to make better use of my reusable coffee mug. I don't need a disposable Starbucks cup every time I go in.

3. I'm going to use my cloth diapers more. I've been cloth diapering for six years now, and I've always loved it. But when I get tired and don't feel like doing more laundry, sometimes the cloth diapers are the first thing to go, or at least get cut down on. And, to be honest, cloth diapers are not only better for the environment, but better for our family budget, too.

With so many things we can do to help keep the Earth we live on clean and healthy, what did you think about this Earth Day? Do you have any resolutions?

A Beltane Giveaway!

2011-04-22T11:17:00.000-07:00

Kallan Kennedy, over at the Secret Life of the American Working Witch, is having a giveaway for Beltane! Now, not only does she write a pretty nifty blog, the giveaway is pretty cool too. There's a cookbook, a gift certificate to http://paganstuffcheap.com/ and even a hand made prosperity pouch with some extra goodies.

Check out the blog for more details, and a Blessed Beltaine to all who celebrate!

Spectrum Saturdays: 10 Things I Wish People Knew About Raising A Kid With Autism

2011-04-22T06:34:00.000-07:00

There have been some amazing lists lately about what an Autistic child wishes people knew. They address so many misunderstandings people have about how to communicate with, or understand an Autistic child.

But there are things I wish people knew about parenting an Autistic kid, and Autism in general. So, here's my list:

Autism is not your worst nightmare. I'm sure those who say it mean well, but I wish they wouldn't tell me that. First of all it makes me feel like they pity me or my kids, and second of all it misses something really important. My Autistic kids? They're here, with me, now. They're alive. Trust me, planning a funeral for your child, that's your worst nightmare. Autism isn't anywhere close.
My son isn't a problem. Ciaran is 5 years old, and communication is still difficult for him. He sees and hears so much, that it's hard for him to figure out which sights and sounds deserve his attention. It's even harder for him to communicate what he's experiencing. That's not a behavioral issue, nor a sign of my parenting ability.
My son isn't stupid. Most people realize that Reagan is smart. He's 13 and communicates on a fairly advanced level as many Aspies do. But Ciaran is still small. Since his communication isn't as good as other children his age, it's easy to label him as not being very smart. Nothing could be further from the truth.
There are a million and one ways out there to treat Autism. While I'm always on the lookout for tools that will make their lives easier, I have no desire to put them or myself through hell trying to fix something that I don't think needs to be fixed.
I don't speak for all parents with Autism. Many of them do want to fix or cure their kids. While my feelings are different, I have no desire to judge them or their experiences. Life's tough enough. I can only speak for myself, and do my best to speak for my sons.
I wish people talked to their kids about Autism and how to work with kids who have it. We spend so much time teaching tolerance and diversity, and that's awesome! But how many parents do you know who've really explained to their kids what Autism is? We have so many children affected by this disorder, it's a virtual guarantee that your kids either already know one, or will. If they understand it, they'll be nicer to my kids. That would mean so much to them and to me, too.
I think we're good with Autism Awareness. I want to move on to Autism Acceptance and understanding. People are aware that Autism is out there, but if not personally affected, they may not actually take the time to find out what it is and what it means.
Socially inappropriate behavior on the part of my kid is a time for teaching. Telling my child, "When it's Amy's turn we have to keep our hands off the toy" is so much more helpful than saying "Stop it.", "No.", or "Time Out!". Again, he's not being bad, he just doesn't get the social nicety yet. This is me working with the understanding that he did it because he doesn't know better. Trust me, when he's just choosing to do something he knows he's not allowed to do, I'll be the first to put a stop to it. Although, again, because of his Autism, the way I handle that may not look the same as it would with a Neurotypical child.
I have two sons who have Autsim. While this doesn't solely define who they are, it does affect almost every aspect of their personality. So, if I use the word Aspie, or say I have two sons who are Autistic, please don't think that I, of all people, don't understand who they are. I do, quite well. I love and accept all of who they are.
While I don't need pity, I do often need support and understanding. Raising kids is hard. Raising kids with Autism has it's own set of unique challenges. I often feel like I'm not doing enough, or not doing it right. I need encouragement. Especially on bad days.

I'm grateful every single day that each of my kids is here with me. And I hope one day that I've done well enough that they have all the tools they need to go out into the world and make their own way. In that way, I'm just like every other mom.

Authors note: This Spectrum Saturday post was brought to you a whole day early because the school system gave my kids Friday off, which confused me. So, happy Spectrum Saturday/Friday!

If you'd like to write a Spectrum Saturday post on your blog, feel free! Leave a link back here and feel free to grab the button from the Link Sharing page.

The Brochure Lied

2011-04-21T05:56:00.000-07:00

They made it look so easy. Happy pregnant women, bright shiny babies.

Can't you just tell from these pictures that once you get pregnant, you learn to do yoga?

And of course, I knew I would be bathed in that soft dewy glow lighting all the time.

But you know what? I'm not glowing. I don't look dewy. I look mostly a bit uncomfortable, which by the way I am. But still, as weird as it sounds, I love this. I love growing a baby and being a mom. It's what I've always wanted to do.

I have been re-reading a book about modern Paganism that talks about Feminism, Witchcraft, and power. Some Feminist Witches interviewed for the book saw motherhood as a powerful thing. Others saw it as the source of a woman's oppression. I have to say, the second idea made me kind of sad. If Pagans see in the Goddess the three faces of womanhood, Maiden, Mother, and Crone, how can one of those faces be the source of our oppression?

Maybe then, women were thinking that motherhood really wasn't all it was made out to be. But they were still recovering from the 50s when we had been so far removed from our natural state of being. Everything from the birth experience to parenting a child had been changed for us. Put women in twilight sleep and take away their power in childbirth. Tell them to formula feed for convenience and have them miss out on the bonding (and anti-depressive benefits) of breastfeeding. Begin introducing devices so that they don't have to hold their babies so much. Maybe by the late 60s and early 70s women had a reason to be disconnected from the power and potential of motherhood and to think that the brochures they were given, were a big pack of lies.

But I embrace this phase in my life. I see the Magic in every day that I carry my baby. I see it in the way my body provides for him. Even after birth. I see it in how a mother's milk changes based on the gestational age of her baby, providing more nutrients for a premature infant. I see it in the face of my baby, asleep on my chest in a sling, or cradled in my arms in bed. I feel that magic every time one of my children has a milestone and learns something new. I am raising a whole generation of new people who will go out and change the Earth in some way. How can there not be power in that?

So, while I'm not good at yoga, and I'm not sitting around the beach in billowy dresses, staring out at the ocean (and didn't even when I lived in California), I know that I don't need a brochure to explain to me how amazing it is to have a baby. And thank the Gods for that. Because honestly, sometimes pregnancy is not fun. Not by a long shot.

My Mother Will Be So Proud That I Wore Lipstick

2011-04-20T05:04:00.000-07:00

You know how on TV mother's are always telling kids to wear clean underwear in case they're hit by a car? My mom's kind of like that, only she thinks I need lipstick. Apparently, I can be half naked and wearing no underwear at all when hit by a city bus. But if my hair is brushed and I'm wearing lipstick, that's what my mom will tell people at the funeral.

So, yesterday my husband had to go sign up to get a new shift at work. It's a pretty standard thing that happens every so often and we try to take in at least a couple of whichever kids are being cute that day to show off to the co-workers. We took Quinn and Brennan since the rest of them were all at school.

Me? I fixed my hair and wore lipstick.

There was something big going on, and we couldn't quite figure out what. Lots of people in suits and ties, shaking hands. We hid in an office, but there was no escape. Someone spotted the cuteness we'd brought along. Before I know it, this guy is shaking Dominic's hand, shaking my hand, shaking Quinn's hand, and touching Brennan's head.

He looked like this:

The cameras were out and the flashes went off. After he left, the CEO of the company came in and repeated the scene only with fewer cameras.

Now, I'm confused. And, since I don't particularly enjoy being confused, I asked my husband's co-worker who it was, and tried not to look like a complete idiot. Emphasis there should be on tried. I did not in any way succeed in not looking like a dumbass.

"That was the Governer." she said, giving me that how-could-you-not-know-this look.

"The Governer of what?"

"Of Minnesota! That's Governer Dayton!"

And the tiny little metaphorical lightbulb went off over my head. I'm not usually that slow, but A) Who expects to see the Governer? and B) I'm a California girl. The current CA Governer is the same guy who was doing the job when I was a kid. And the last Governer was the freaking Terminator. They're sort of hard to mistake for the average businessman.

So, while my mother was very proud that I was wearing lipstick, I'm thinking we're both grateful that I wasn't half naked with no underwear, even though she's not drilled that into me as being very important. Although, that would have made the story that much more interesting.

The Evil of Sleeping With Your Baby

2011-04-19T07:28:00.000-07:00

For thousands of years our ancestors did certain things virtually the same way the world over. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not about to give up my indoor plumbing and go live in a yurt. I'm well aware that sometimes the way people did things was not better or preferable. Some things we've improved on (I'm a big fan of advancing medical knowledge and electricity myself) but some things we'd already figured out with just a little maternal instinct. Crazy talk, I know.

I mean, who needs instinct or common sense when our local authorities can just tell us the right thing to do, like Hennepin County has done here locally?

Attention parents: Baby's own bed is best

Now here's where I start to take issue. When parents find babies who've died in their cribs, do they start issuing statements about how you should never sleep a baby in a crib again? NO! They figure out what the cause is and try to educate the public. Put baby on it's back to sleep. Avoid using crib bumpers. Don't allow the slats of the crib to be too wide. The list goes on regarding how to make a crib safer. But when it comes to co-sleeping? No dice. With co-sleeping they say:

Parents may want to snuggle with their infant in their bed, and mothers sometimes take a baby to bed for breast-feeding. That's OK as long as the baby is returned to the crib before anyone falls asleep, she said.

Hey! Big time professionals? Did any of you consider that while many of the points you make about the dangers of co-sleeping are valid, that it can be just as safe as crib sleeping if not safer if some basic safety rules are followed, just like anything else? No, you just tell people not to do it, and lose the many benefits parents may have found from sleeping with their babies out of unnecessary fear.

Here are the co-sleeping rules:

DOS:
Take precautions to prevent baby from rolling out of bed, even though it is unlikely when baby is sleeping next to mother
Use a large bed, preferably a queen-size or king-size.

DON'TS:
Do not sleep with your baby if:
1. You are under the influence of any drug (such as alcohol or tranquilizing medications) that diminishes your sensitivity to your baby's presence. If you are drunk or drugged, these chemicals lessen your arousability from sleep.
2. You are extremely obese. Obesity itself may cause sleep apnea in the mother, in addition to the smothering danger.
3. You are exhausted from sleep deprivation. This lessens your awareness of your baby and your arousability from sleep.
4. You are breastfeeding a baby on a cushiony surface, such as a waterbed or couch. An exhausted mother could fall asleep breastfeeding and roll over on the baby.
5. You are the child's baby-sitter. A baby-sitter's awareness and arousability is unlikely to be as acute as a mother's.
6. Don't allow older siblings to sleep with a baby under nine months. Sleeping children do not have the same awareness of tiny babies as do parents, and too small or too crowded a bed space is an unsafe sleeping arrangement for a tiny baby.
7. Don't fall asleep with baby on a couch. Baby may get wedged between the back of the couch and the larger person's body, or baby's head may become buried in cushion crevices or soft cushions.
8. Do not sleep with baby on a free-floating, wavy waterbed or similar "sinky" surface in which baby could suffocate.
9. Don't overheat or overbundle baby. Be particularly aware of overbundling if baby is sleeping with a parent. Other warm bodies are an added heat source.
10. Don't wear lingerie with string ties longer than eight inches. Ditto for dangling jewelry. Baby may get caught in these entrapments.
11. Avoid pungent hair sprays, deodorants, and perfumes. Not only will these camouflage the natural maternal smells that baby is used to and attracted to, but foreign odors may irritate and clog baby's tiny nasal passages. Reserve these enticements for sleeping alone with your spouse.
Taken from Dr. Sears list here

This list might seem a little long, but it's mostly just common sense! Seriously, don't sleep with your baby if you've been drinking or are on certain meds. Don't wear clothes that could catch around baby's neck. That kind of thing. Just like sleeping a baby anywhere, there are things you should do to keep them safe.

And why is co-sleeping so good for many babies and moms too? (I'm all in favor of using whatever works best for your family, and if that's crib sleeping, good on you. No holier-than-thou here, trust me!)

Sleep more peacefully
Research shows that co-sleeping infants virtually never startle during sleep and rarely cry during the night, compared to solo sleepers who startle repeatedly throughout the night and spend 4 times the number of minutes crying 1. Startling and crying releases adrenaline, which increases heart rate and blood pressure, interferes with restful sleep and leads to long term sleep anxiety.

Stable physiology
Studies show that infants who sleep near to parents have more stable temperatures 2, regular heart rhythms, and fewer long pauses in breathing compared to babies who sleep alone 3. This means baby sleeps physiologically safer.

Decreases risk of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome
Worldwide research shows that the SIDS rate is lowest (and even unheard of) in countries where co-sleeping is the norm, rather than the exception 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. Babies who sleep either in or next to their parents’ bed have a fourfold decrease in the chance of SIDS 10. Co-sleeping babies actually spend more time sleeping on their back or side 1 which decreases the risk of SIDS. Further research shows that the carbon dioxide exhaled by a parent actually works to stimulate baby’s breathing 11.

Long term emotional health
Co-sleeping babies grow up with a higher self-esteem, less anxiety, become independent sooner, are better behaved in school 12, and are more comfortable with affection 13. They also have less psychiatric problems 14.

Safer than crib sleeping
The Consumer Product Safety Commission published data that described infant fatalities in adult beds. These same data, however, showed more than 3 times as many crib related infant fatalities compared to adult bed accidents 15. Another recent large study concluded that bed sharing did NOT increase the risk of SIDS, unless the mom was a smoker or abused alcohol 16.
Full article with sources, here

Did you see that last one? SAFER than crib sleeping. But by all means, Hennepin county, instead of educating parents, please, fear-monger instead. Because that's so much better for babies, isn't it? Especially since many mothers are still going to cosleep, if for no other reason than convenience. And now you've missed an opportunity to educate them on how to keep their babies both safe and happy. Way to go!

Sleep Is For The Weak!

2011-04-18T06:09:00.000-07:00

Note: Sleeping Beauty here is not me. She looks comfortable and can sleep on her belly.

There's this article that says a healthy adult needs 7.5-9 hours of sleep a night. That sounds like heaven. Now, I'm not thinking about just those hours dedicated to sleep in a 24 hour period. No, what sounds really awesome is those hours, all strung together, without interruption. Think about it....nice, huh?

Instead, I'm having amazingly vivid pregnancy dreams. I have a tiny little person kicking me in the bladder if I adopt any position that's even remotely comfortable for me. I have children who wake up obscenely early, even when they don't have to, and an amazing husband who might possibly snore. (Love you, Sweetie!)

I'm not getting nearly enough sleep.

I love the positive people who tell me that one day my children will all be older, and I'll miss these days. Don't get me wrong, I don't doubt that there is much I will miss about having a house full of rugrats who actually love me. But really? I'm not ever going to be unhappy about being able to sleep. I'm also not going to miss finding food in the fridge where I left it. I'm definitely not going to complain about having a few more people in the house capable of cleaning up after themselves and wiping their own butts. Come on, now, that's no one's favorite part of motherhood.

But just for this morning? While I eat my steel cut oatmeal that comes out way better in the crockpot than off of the stove? Today, I'm going to daydream about sleep. And in those daydreams I will be having dreams of smoking hot cabana boys instead of neonatal neural surgery. Call me crazy.

A Weekly Liam Update

2011-04-17T19:44:00.000-07:00

I feel like a title like that should be followed with some very official news music.

This just in!

But, you know life isn't really like that. And since people keep asking me how he's doing, I thought maybe I should try to address it at least weekly.

Right now it's partly how he's doing, partly how I'm doing. He seems to be doing great. I need some kind of Tellytubby type TV thingie that I can turn on at will and see inside my uterus. Can a girl get an in-home ultrasound? No? Well, fine.

He kicks me like crazy, especially when I lay down to sleep. He's got me sleeping like some kind of stretchy cat, because he is NOT happy unless he's given as much room to stretch as possible. And he still thinks kicking me directly in the cervix is just the best time ever. I may not be entirely on board that party train.

What that makes him as far as my pregnancy experiences go, is normal.

Me? I spend most days going about this like any other pregnancy. Most of the time, I'm fine. Then I see something like a woman in labor and I cry because I can't have that. Not just the labor (part of me won't miss that at all) but just the ability to give birth to a perfectly healthy baby and not think about anything else.

Sometimes I let the fear get the best of me, and I think about his surgery, and if he'll be okay through it. I pray that his ventricles don't get bigger, especially since I don't know exactly what it would mean for his prognosis if they do. I pray that his encephalocele gets smaller. I pray that he can just have the surgery and be as close to normal as any child of mine has the possibility of being. To put it bluntly, I'm like a freaked out pregnant woman. And I've decided that's okay, too.

I'm allowed to have moments of fear and doubt. I'm allowed to worry about a baby that I love so much already. I'm just...allowed.

Tonight was the full moon and the girls and I did some healing work for Liam. If nothing else, it's good for me to feel like I'm doing something for him. It's important for me, since getting a diagnosis of a major birth defect does a lot to make a mother feel completely powerless.

Again, for all those interested, we gratefully accept prayer, good wishes, positive energy, rain dances, or anything you feel like sending our way. It's nice to know that people are thinking of us, and wishing good things for Liam.

It's Not Okay

2011-04-16T19:33:00.000-07:00

Bullying...just sucks. I was not a confident little girl. There was a time I thought that perhaps it was my early abuse that made me different. But looking back after raising a child with Asperger's, I wonder if I wasn't a mild Aspie myself. Whatever it was, I was a target.

Kids can smell different. They didn't know why I used words they didn't, or why I preferred to read during recess instead of play handball. They couldn't understand why I didn't enjoy group sports, or why I didn't always understand their non-verbal social cues. So it was on. I was teased mercilessly and frequently emotionally toyed with. School became torture.

By middle school I had decided if I was going to be considered different, I was going to be really good at it. And I was. I reveled in everything that set me apart, and began to find others like myself.

In High School I became one of the only openly practicing Pagan students. It was the grunge era, and it fit me just fine. I was emo enough to fit in great with long black tee-shirts and flannels. I wore different like a suit. If I was going to be bullied, it would be on my terms. Somehow, that didn't make it hurt less.

I survived my bullying, and it did get better. But I thought when I was a grown up, the bullying would be over. I was shocked to find that the mentality was alive and well on the internet. Women with the benefit of anonymity and a keyboard could say things they'd never imagine saying to someone's face. Moms turning against moms. I can be like childhood all over again. Just with a much better vocabulary. It turns out, I'm not the only one who's bothered by that.

We're focused as a nation on changing the culture of bullying in our schools. It's time to do it for grown-ups, too.

So I've taken the Mom Pledge:

I am a proud Mommy Blogger. I will conduct myself with integrity in all my blogging activities. I can lead by example.

I pledge to treat my fellow moms with respect. I will acknowledge that there is no one, "right" way to be a good Mom. Each woman makes the choices best for her family.

I believe a healthy dialogue on important issues is a good thing. I will welcome differing opinions when offered in a respectful, non-judgmental manner. And will treat those who do so in kind.

I stand up against online bullying. My blog is my space. I will not tolerate comments that are rude, condescending or disrespectful.

I refuse to give those who attack a platform. I will remove their remarks from my blog with no mention or response. I can take control.

I want to see moms work together to build one another up, not tear each other down. Words can be used as weapons. I will not engage in that behavior.

I affirm that we are a community. As a member, I will strive to foster goodwill among moms. Together, we can make a difference.

Read the pledge for yourself, here.

So, who else wants to take the Mom Pledge?

An Herbal Garden

2011-04-15T06:16:00.000-07:00

So, it's about that time. You know, for planting herbs. I always have this image of myself as the woman with shelves of herbs, who knows which to go to for what. Who, when a friend comes by, complaining of a headache says, "I know just what will fix that!" and proceeds to make tea. Granted, come by my house and I'm more than likely to make you tea already. But that's not the point.

So, since I'd like to start small and build up over time, I wanted to start with some "essential" herbs. I haven't grown herbs in some time, and this year I'd like to put a bit more thought into it. My gardening budget is virtually non-existent. But for this, all I need to start are some paper cups, seeds, and a bit of potting soil. I have plenty of space in which to grow things. I just usually don't. Unless weeds count. I don't think they do in Minnesota. So, they the question became, what do I want to grow? What are my essential herbs? Here's what I've come up with.

My basic Herbal Garden

Sage - "For thousands of years sage has been used for a variety of culinary and medicinal purposes. It has been used in connection with sprains, swelling, ulcers, and bleeding. As a tea, sage has been administered for sore throats and coughs. Herbalists have also used this herb for rheumatism, menstrual bleeding, strengthening the nervous system, improving memory, and sharpening the senses." Magically it's uses are "wisdom, psychic awareness, long life and protection. As secondary aspects, spells for money use sage. But, by far, its most potent aspect is wisdom and learning. Sage is often bundled tightly into smudge sticks and burned as a scent." and it's great for cleansing spaces, as well.
Rosemary - "it is an antiseptic, a gentle stimulant to the entire body, a wonderfully aromatic garden aid, a headache dispeller, a folk medicine heart tonic", helpful with colds, coughs, and stomach spasms. Really, this one is good for a lot! Magically it's uses are "mental ability, healing, love and purification"
Lavender - It's uses are for bites, bruises, aches, relaxation, and it's a great natural insect repellent. Magically it's uses are peace, love, health, and balance.
Basil - It's uses are to bring on delayed menses, to relieve the pain of bug bites, and as an additive to insect repellents. Magically it's uses are for love, prosperity, and to help with communication.
Mugwort - It has so many uses! It's a digestive aid, an anti-inflammatory, a detoxifier, the list goes on and on and on. I won't be able to take it for anything during pregnancy however. It can cause miscarriage in pregnant woman. Be warned! Magically it's uses are for safety and protection, to keep travel plans, and to assist in psychic or clairvoyant work.
Mint - It's uses are for digestion, headache, cramps and spasms, and to treat sinus trouble. Magically it's uses are for prosperity and healing.

Does anyone have any other suggestions? What are your essential herbs?

The Balancing Mama

2011-04-14T05:42:00.000-07:00

So the U of M put out this study about how moms aren't as healthy as their non-maternal counterparts. Well, of course we're not! Most of us have days that revolve around our kids and families, and we don't have the time to work out, eat right, and do all the things we'd do if we didn't have kids.

Me? Well, with me it starts when I get knocked up and eat to my hearts content. I'm not kidding, there's an open package of Hostess Crullers looking me in the face right now. And I'm only holding myself back by not eating them all right now. Maybe one for every paragraph? We'll see.

I did manage to get back in shape after Brennan was born, but that was with a lot of help from Weight Watchers, and finding exercise routines that I could do with my kids. You know, like work outs on the Wii, walking outside, or Walk Away The Pounds DVDs. But it's hard to find enough time to do everything I want to do for the kids, the husband, and some time for me too. I will say I have an awesome husband who encourages me to go knit with my girlfriends or get time away. And that's great for me emotionally. But with the way I eat with them, it may not always be the healthiest thing I do.

I suppose it's nice to see I'm not the only mom who has trouble finding the balance and remembering to take care of herself. At the same time, I think maybe balance is not something you find, and then you've got it. I think it's something that you have to work for. Like making the little corrections on a steering wheel to keep going straight down the road.

I do take time for blogging, for working and practicing my faith, for looking up which herbs I want to grow this Spring and begin to harvest. I take time to laugh with my kids, and play tickling games on the sofa,, and for spending time with other people I love. But that doesn't mean I'm always balanced.

Maybe working for balance is more important than actually having it. And maybe being a bit more understanding and forgiving with ourselves would be helpful, too. I think moms are so much harder on themselves than they need to be.

To Train Up A Parent

2011-04-13T05:29:00.000-07:00

An Open Letter To Michael Pearl:

Hey, Mr. P. I'm sure you don't know me at all since you rarely deign to speak to your critics. Your followers show up from time to time, though, when I when I write about you. They try, valiantly, to defend you. Honestly, for the life of me, I can't understand why.

You don't just teach about how to train up children. You essentially train up parents, too. You train them to ignore every instinct they have to love and protect their kids. You train them to punish and condition their children in a way that is totally out of proportion to what they deserve, and offers no temperance, no grace, no mercy. You train them to set their own children up to fail, and to whip them when they do.

You tell women that it's "Godly" to stay with child molesting husbands, to only report physical abuse if they leave bruises lasting longer than two hours, and to forgive all because "God hates divorce". In fact, you tell women that the time their husbands might spend in prison for the abuse of their family, is a time to work on the "romance". That made me throw up in my mouth a little. What an ignorant and misogynistic thing to say. Do you know what that means, Mr. Pearl? Should I make the words smaller for you? It probably doesn't matter since you've already decided that those who disagree with you just plain aren't Godly. I'm okay with that.

You, your wife, and your organization pervert the teachings of a Peaceful Christ, to teach the abuse of women and children. It's disgusting, and you should be ashamed of yourself. I read on your website, how you have attributed your negative publicity, not to the deaths of children like Lydia Schatz (who died after being whipped with the plumbing line you recommended), or the many legitimate issues with the things you've said over the years, but to the Lesbians and leftists who are maliciously misrepresenting you.

Well, Mr. P, though I'm sure you could find many reasons to hate a woman like me, I would chose to stand with the Lesbians and the leftists any day of the week rather than overgrown, pompous, self-righteous, and deluded bullies like yourself. What you teach is wrong. And you should beg those you've harmed for forgiveness. Not that you ever would, of course. You strike me as a man too proud for that kind of thing. I wonder if you could manage to fall to your knees for the Jesus you claim to believe in.

Unless there's any further news, this will be the last I write of you. You and all you stand for disgust me. That this is actually an issue for discussion among people who are faithful to a loving God, disturbs me even more. I can't imagine Jesus telling people to buy quarter inch plumbing line to keep around the house for beating their children with.

One day, I hope you shut up. Not because I particularly care anymore about what you have to say, or how you defend your bullshit methods. More because I know that someone, somewhere will keep reading what you have to say, and I'd hate for more innocent children to die because you're an arrogant ass.

A Little Mommy Magic

2011-04-12T11:59:00.000-07:00

Not exactly that kind of Mommy Magic. But maybe...

Mommies are magical. You don't have to agree, but that's what I've decided. Not magical as in, calling upon the supernatural to do the unnatural. Here's one definition I found to explain what I mean:

Magic is the art of affecting the manifest through the Unmanifest. The manifest is all that can be seen, touched, perceived, manipulated, imagined, or understood. The Unmanifest is none of these things. It is the place, or rather the non-place, from which everything issues.
Source

So what does magic look like in my house? Well, Ciaran sliced the bottom of his foot open and has had stitches. In addition to antibiotic cream and bandages, I also put a salve on it that's made with comfrey. Comfrey has long been used by local wise women, as well as average women in their homes to treat all kinds of injuries. Of course, Science has come along and explained it by now. Turns out it's great at reducing inflammation and encouraging cellular growth. Go figure. Yesterday's magic or Witchcraft, todays Science. But watching my son's wound heal is magical to me.

When my children are hurt, I have instinctively always rubbed my hands together, and touched them where it they were injured. Anyone out there kiss booboos? Isn't that kind of magical? Maybe it's all in our minds, and touch and energy don't make any difference at all (I think they do of course, and there are some interesting studies about touch and healing). But then, the power to influence someone's mind into healing itself, well that also seems kind of magical. I wonder if this kind of magic that I practice today, will be tomorrows Science as herbs and potions once were.

I've seen Christian parents lay on hands and say a prayer. That seems just as magical as a Pagan parent applying a bit of healing energy with a little blessing of the Gods or Goddess. But however you or I or our neighbor do it, it's just a little Mommy Magic. And our children, I think are pretty grateful.

My Boy Is A Headbanger

2011-04-11T09:58:00.000-07:00

No. Not that kind of headbanger.

So, I'm Not Always Ok

2011-04-10T18:49:00.000-07:00

They tell me that right now my little Liam looks something like this:

Pretty cute.

Most days, the knowledge that I've gotten this far, makes me happy. But then there are other days. Days like today. I have the scary diagnosis and the positive prognosis. And most of the time I hold on to the positive for all it's worth. The problem is, I don't know how this all ends yet. I'm only halfway through the story. I don't like being halfway through stories. That's why I read books so fast. I want to know how they end. I also have ridiculously little patience. So, having this many kids was a great choice, right?

The thing is, I'm genuinely scared. I've realized that I'm not really scared of having a c-section. I'm scared because there's something wrong with my baby. If there weren't, a section wouldn't be in the plans at all. I'm scared because I can't see the future and know that he's coming home safe with me.

I don't know that this is reasonable on my part. I'm pregnant, hormonal, and almost always hungry. Seriously, I had to go buy size large pants today. I can fully admit that I'm not reasonable or rational at this point. And, to be honest, I don't want to be that hysterical pregnant woman who makes everyone crazy because she's freaking out when she shouldn't. I know that most of the time people don't want to hear about this. Not unless I'm saying that everything is going to be great.

But sometimes, just sometimes, I completely lose my grip of all things positive and encouraging and am almost completely overwhelmed by this abject fear that it isn't all going to work out. Then again, I can't follow my fears to their possible conclusions, because even I can't let myself go to worst case scenario.

So here's what I'd like: If anyone has a crystal ball I can borrow, so I can see exactly what's going to happen, I'd really love it if you'd share. The scary place just sucks. So do the contractions on top of round ligament pains. There's just no good justification for any pregnant woman to have both of those at the same time!

The Beginners Guide To Pregnancy...

2011-04-09T16:03:00.000-07:00

All righty, Peeps. What happens when the Muse Mama runs out of blog ideas, or thinks if she writes about her kids she'll alienate her readers by rambling on about how much she wishes muzzles were legal for small kids? A list, that's what. So tonight, before I get away from my children, I offer you the following:

Top 10 Things Every Woman Should Know About Pregnancy:

Morning Sickness is bullshit. It doesn't just happen in the morning, and it doesn't always magically disappear at 12 weeks. The Bestie is 3 weeks ahead of me in her pregnancy and is still having Morning Sickness at 27 weeks. How crappy is that? There are medications that can help, and God knows that there are a million-and-one folk recipes. But the best advice I can give you is to follow your gut. Pun intended. If you think it will help, do it. If you think it will make it worse, don't.
Your boobs will be awesome! And no one will be allowed to touch them. Finally you'll have the cans you've always wanted. Your partner will be so excited, until they want to play. For most of us, touch our breasts while pregnant, and you might lose your hand.
Ice Cream is not a food group. Okay, so maybe not everyone has the same cravings I have during pregnancy. Not all of you are driving in circles around the local Sonic, trying to talk yourself out of Chili Cheese Fries. But whatever your craving is, unless it's for carrot sticks, it may be sneaking up on you. Maternity clothes are forgiving. Especially with a big baby in front of you to take the focus off. Once that baby comes out and you can see your thighs, it's scary. Be prepared.
I don't care what your friends have told you about stretch marks, you can't keep them away if you're predisposed. But Cocoa butter is your friend. It will help the itching. Yes, there's itching.
Not everyone gets beautiful hair, nails, and a glow. Some of us are lucky if we don't have horrible acne or broken capillaries from all the throwing up. Don't worry, it will end.
Babies are heavy. Even in utero. A pregnancy belt is your friend, especially if you work a job that keeps you on your feet.
Mood swings are real. Keep a stash of whatever makes you feel better. Chocolate and a hot bath work for me. And by all means, tell you partner that you're crazy and to go with it. It doesn't help if they tell you you're irrational. You know that already.
Don't Read What To Expect. I swear, it's a great reference book, but it won't give you the kind of important information that you can get in books like The Girlfriends Guide to Pregnancy or Pregnancy Sucks.
Don't listen to the horror stories. Everyones labor and delivery is different. It's better and worse than you expect it to be. It's too late to go back now, so don't listen to anyone who scares you. Even if it's your mom.
Enjoy. This is the only time you'll have this particular relationship with your child. Savor the kicks, even when they're in your ribs, bladder, cervix, or that really tender muscle down low. It feels like forever, but it's not, so take your time and remember. Write down your thoughts, feelings, and experiences. It's worth it.

At War With The Pearl's...

2011-04-08T21:32:00.000-07:00

I don't have too many Internet Enemies. I'm sure there are people out there who can't stand me, but generally we all leave each other alone. Still, if I could pick an Internet Nemesis, I think I might like it to be Michael Pearl.

Don't get me wrong. It's not that I wish the man any ill will. I mean, I might have wondered what it would be like if someone could treat him for a few days the way he recommends treating children. Somehow, I don't think he'd like being beaten with a switch. But that's not the same. I genuinely loathe all that he and his teachings stand for. As a parent and as a person whose spirituality focuses on how important love is, I just can't fathom why anyone would teach parents the methods he does, or how he can call it Godly.

One of my BFF's told me that I'm a prime example of how people can raise their children exactly the opposite of how Pearl teaches, and be raising great kids. I'm sure Michael Pearl would disagree. I'm the kind of mom Michael Pearl warns people about! This gentle parenting mumbo-jumbo led me to kids who don't always listen, no longer homeschooling, and worst of all, leaving Christianity behind. Of course, my faith still leaves room for me to love Jesus. And I do. But I had to leave the religion before I people like Michael Pearl made me toss out the good with the bad.

I hope Michael Pearl learns whatever he needs to and one day stops teaching people that the way to raise good kids is by training them through ritualized whipping. I hope that no other kids are hurt or killed at the hands of parents following these methods. I'm sure he hopes I come to my senses, and start raising my kids "God's way". In the meantime, I'll be proud to be someone who speaks out against all that No Greater Joy teaches.

I'm sure they'll have all kinds of ways of dismissing anything I say. But I'm not going to shut up. Not when children like Lydia Schatz have died because of what this man teaches.

The Paradise couple accused of beating their adopted daughter to death and critically injuring another will not be going trial after reaching a last minute plea deal with prosecutors. Trial for Kevin and Elizabeth Schatz was to begin Monday, but on Friday afternoon Kevin Schatz agreed to plead guilty to all the charges against him, including first degree murder and torture, in exchange for a reduced charge of voluntary manslaughter for his wife.

More on the plea deal in the Schatz case

Read my other Pearl's Posts here..

Perinatal Appointment

2011-04-07T17:32:00.000-07:00

So, it's my first appointment with the Perinatologist since The Big One. The one where we got Liam's diagnosis and I started on this roller coaster of pregnancy induced stress emotions. I was and was not looking forward to it.

I had the same Sonographer as last time. She was happy to see me, since she'd heard nothing about Liam's prognosis and was not sure at all what had happened to us, or if we were okay. She was an absolute sweetheart.

Everything looked pretty good:

His growth is normal. He's measuring ahead, which doesn't surprise me at all. My babies tend to grow fast in utero, and I don't think they have my due date right. They're still going by my last period, and I ovulated early in my cycle. Yeah, all that FAM training didn't go away when I left the Catholic Church.

There was only one thing they noticed. Apparently with Encephalocele, they worry about the ability of cerebrospinal fluid to circulate. One of Liam's ventricles was bigger than it was before, but still within normal range. They'll be watching it closely to make sure it doesn't grow any more. Of course, I didn't ask what it would mean if it got worse, or what they could do about it. So, yay me! I'm not on top of things at all!

After the ultrasound we talked about continuing care and monitoring, the c-section, and I was able to ask the questions I did have. I'm feeling hopeful and as as calm as I can at the moment. I can't help but be scared. He's my baby. Though, I gotta love that it looks like he's already trying to blow me kisses:

Dear Young Muse Mama

2011-04-06T19:12:00.000-07:00

I have to give a special thank you to Aunt Becky of Mommy Wants Vodka for giving me the idea for this post.

Dear Young Muse Mama,

(Cruel)
I was once asked what the young me would say if she could see me now. My reply was that she wouldn't get much of a chance to talk, what with my hitting her repeatedly in the face.

Frankly, I think you're making a lot of stupid choices and I wish I could make you stop. Yes, people are mean, but they aren't all mean, and you're making choices for the rest of our life as if they'll somehow be punished. They won't. Only you will. It's bad.

(Tear In Your Hand)
You love people. And you believe in them. I don't ever want you to lose that. At the same time, you need to protect yourself. The sexual abuse you suffered when you were very young will cause you to do crazy things. Say crazy things. And you'll look for love in all the wrong places.

Sex isn't a terrible thing, but the way you will use it will damage you on a deep level. Sex doesn't bring love. It doesn't. And guys who are much older than you? I know they'll make you feel special, but they have nothing to offer. They'll take everything, and leave nothing in it's place. Focus on the important things. It may be boring to get homework done and study, but it will allow you to do anything you want with your life.

You have parents who value education. And who will treat you like an adult as long as you act like one. I know you don't think they get you. And the truth is, they don't. But give them time. They'll try, and ultimately they will. And they'll love you. They'll be your biggest supporters. You'll be so grateful for them. But if you go around trying to punish them for not being exactly what you want, you'll end up hurting yourself. They're doing the best they can. They're not perfect, and they've never had a kid like you before. If you keep acting the way you are, you'll close all the doors that should be open to you. You'll do fine, eventually, but you should have had so many choices. And you won't.

(Playboy Mommy)
Sex has it's dangers. Especially for a girl who wants so much to be loved. That guy? The one with the 2 kids, who's way too old for you? He'll get you pregnant. And he'll pressure you to have an abortion. At 17, it will be hard to resist the pressure of your boyfriend and your parents. At least their motives are good. They want you to have all the opportunities you should. He just doesn't want to be attached to you forever. No decision will make you happy. The decision you will make to have an abortion, will nearly kill you. Could you maybe avoid this scenario entirely and just not get knocked up?

No? Well, since you will decide to abort, and because it will rip you up inside, you'll get pregnant again at 19. Sure, you weren't trying to get pregnant. But you weren't really avoiding it either. And J. doesn't love you either. In fairness, you don't love him. You love his family. But you won't keep them. Your son will be awesome, but once again, you'll be making choices that make it harder for yourself. Which is why I usually want to beat you with my shoe. I live every day with the choices you made. I love my life, but I'm frustrated with you.

(God)
You're going to look for God. You're going to look to Paganism, as an escape from everything you've ever been taught. You're such a rebel. It will appeal to you for everything that is beautiful in a peaceful earth religion. But you'll be there for a lot of the wrong reasons. You can't pick a faith just because it's not Christianity. The truth is that you want to experience your faith. Stop looking for the right way. It will drive you crazy. You'll go to every church imaginable, and study totally different religions too. And when you see God reflected somewhere in them, or experience a connection to God through their teachings, you'll question everything you believe, and wonder if you should switch it up again. I think the truth is that there is no church or faith that has all the answers. They all have some, but it's the experience of God that matters. It's being able to connect to that force in the Universe that created all things, and is in all things. That will lead you back to the beginning. And that's okay.

If it works, do it, so long as it harms none and shares love with others. Please know that you're not perfect, and you don't have to be. While I'm still mad at you sometimes, it's fair to make mistakes. Don't try to hold on to those who can't forgive. You're able to forgive so much. Especially with those you love. If they can't return that, they're not worth the time and energy you'll want to put in. You can't make people love you and you don't have to. Some people will like you, some people will love you, some people can't stand you. And, honestly, those who don't like you, rarely matter in your day to day life.

The idea of harming none is something you try to take seriously when it comes to others. Don't forget to apply it to yourself.

Love,

You at 33

Now, how I do I get this letter back to her?

Thank you to Tori Amos for the song titles.

Hey, It's Art!

2011-04-05T15:13:00.000-07:00

I used to make crap. No really, it was crap. Coloring, painting, crafts, even a semester each of woodworking and metal working. And I created nothing but crap.

Sometimes I created useful crap. Like the wooden key-like thing that I made that would both pull out and push in an oven rack. I kinda wish I still had that. But it was still really ugly and very poorly made.

But now I'm a mom. So do my children make crap? Of course not! Now that I'm the mom, it's freaking ART.

It's a...um...well...it's a pencil holder! And doesn't she look proud?

Daddy is gonna take Piper's...creation...to work. He's gonna put pencils in it. And pens. And....whatever. And he's gonna tell everyone that it's beautiful. And in a way, it kinda is. Because she made it. And she's beautiful. Even if this pencil holder does sort of look like an escaped textile from the world of Dr. Seuss.

Not Me Monday

2011-04-04T06:38:00.000-07:00

Bridget looks up at me, her hazel eyes wide and sincere. "Dad is way better than that guy!" She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. Supernanny was on the TV. "Is he not a good Daddy?" I ask her. "It's the contents of your character that matter, Mom". I smiled with pride thinking of how she must have been paying attention when they studied Martin Luther Kingb Jr. at school, or maybe when we talked about him at home. "I learned that from My Little Pony." she said, in all seriousness. The moment was over. The most important things in life she's learning from cartoon horses. Fabulous. Could that have happened? Nope. Not me! Not my Bridget. She's memorizing the words of the great minds of the 20th Century, not Pink Pancake Pony!

I was not off taking a shower while my Five year old son somehow managed to slice his foot open on God knows what. Nope. Not me! I'm always right there, in their faces, making sure they never ever hurt themselves. Ever.

Crap. You people read my blog enough to know that's not true. Huh. What else have I got?

I did not have a child yelling "God Dammit" in the ER when he got sick of waiting. I did not consider telling innocent passers-by that he had Tourettes, rather than a dad who plays World of Warcraft and sometimes might occasionally say that when doing badly in a battleground or raid or a mommy who gets frustrated when children get into the pantry without permission. Nope. Not me! Everyone in my house always uses the best of language, myself included.

Furthermore, I most certainly did not finally break down and put a combination lock on our pantry as if my children live in prison. Nope. Not me! The children are totally trustworthy, never take any kind of food without asking (while refusing to eat the meals that are given them) and would never require such drastic measures. I mean, it's not like a put a huge stop sign on the pantry that Ciaran just looks at and says, "Stop! Hammer time!" My parenting is so much more effective than that.

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.