Carrying Charlie Linden

My 4th baby, Charlie weighed TWELVE pounds when he was born. Twelve. I have so many outrageous memories of his pregnancy, and I have often wondered if my experience wasn't more like a twin pregnancy than a singleton, at that size. Here are a few memories:

Being really big at Greta and Mickey's June birthday party. I had a little fancy non-stretchy cotton blouse top from Motherhood Maternity and it was to the full max. Charlie was born November 1st.

Having to lie on my side constantly, while somehow caring for my own three kids and the 2 I was babysitting. Ages 8 7 5 4 and 1.5...

To make this possible, we rearranged our living room so that we had a futon in full open position right next to the fron t window. We had a big old fashioned porch and we put a sandbox on it and a big babygate in front of the opening to the steps with bungee cords. I would lie on the futon and watch Casey and talk to thim through the window. When we saw the mailman I would shout "just a minute! just a minute!" and one of the kids would run out and have the mailman hand our mail over the babygate to them.

The side-lying was about the Pubis Synphasis Disorder that came from carrying such a big child after vaginally delivering an eleven pound child less than 2 years before. My pregnancy with Charlie was the worst case of this I had, despite the fact that it usually gets worse with each pregnancy. I could not sit up on my bones. It would be like jumping on a broken ankle. You just can't do it. When you're pregnant you can't lie on your front, and you can't lie on your back, and I couldn't sit, so....I could stand and lie on my side!

The first twinges of wondering if this was a very big baby came when we went out to eat for my birthday April 3rd and we had to leave the restaurant because I couldn't get comfortable enough in the basic restaurant wooden chair to even eat my meal. April third. Born in November. *sigh*

I had only experienced getting pregnant in the fall and having a baby in the summer. So getting pregnant at the beginning of the year was really significantly different. It was dark and bleak and cold out. I would gag everytime cold air got in my mouth and our winter plans were immediately cancelled due to Mommy is barfing or asleep. We never went back to a homeschool co-op we went to one time, and we never sledded or skated or did anything. I remember February as Girl Scout Cookie Time for Greta's troop and driving around as a family one Saturday delivering all the cookies, and pulling over to throw up in the blackened road side snow, exhaust going into my face, the descriptions on the cookie boxes in the backseat mocking me with their descriptions, each word more gross and woozy than the next--minty! buttery! rich! peanuty! ohhhhhh so so gross.

I remember an inordinate amount of energy going into us not telling anyone I was expecting, and how negative that experience was.

This was my first experience with (I'm so sorry baby Charlie! We of course couldn't imagine life with out you now!) not being overjoyed at finding out I was pregnant. This was also my first time not "peeing on the stick" with Steve right there outside the bathroom door. I did it in private on a Sunday evening when spaghetti dinner smelled yucky (again) and my boobs were sting-y and my newly upstarting period hadn't been around for a while. It went positive and I got covered in chills and I smiled and I had tears in my eyes and I came and politely ate a little spaghetti. For the baby. The Baby??? Oh good Lordie. We already have a baby, and a little one at that--Casey was 17 months old and nursing 'round the clock.

I didn't tell Steve until Thursday. It was a very strange and new experience keeping this secret from him. I am not good at keeping silent, as I am not the stew and brew and contemplate type. I did it for many reasons, some of which are still unknown to me. But I could feel that this not telling him was somehow a big deal. I tried to experience holding the secret as an intimate exercise in personal growth and empowerment. I tried to think of holding a little egg-ball thing somewhere deep in my belly and visualizing my secret as something peach and fuzzy and watery and minuscule and enormous and full of potential and nothingness as well. Exhaustion and nausea and winter's darkness made that a truly psychedelic week of primordial ooze and otherworldly wonder and worry.

It got to the point where I was so all encompassed with my secret that I couldn't really believe people, my husband at least, couldn't tell. Empowerment and quiet knowing took only a handful of days to turn into resentment (at nighttime nursing, at stinky foods, at changing not only my own toddler but the babysat toddler's diapers, at any and all suggestions that I do anything that took any effort whatsoever...) By the evening of the fifth day I had to come out with it. I had been teary-eyed and completely weird all week. I was very weird in how I told Steve. It was basically a really shameful female head trippy sideways passive aggressive bit that involved me smiling all freaky and asking him how could he just act like he doesnt know and...it was really uncool. I wasn't able to see at that point whatsoever that a lot of this was about me fearing he would not think this was good news. Or to be very hind-sight is 20/20, me putting all of my own trepidation and guilt onto him somehow. Because I was not "excited". I was already to the throws of morning sickness (all day) by then and there just isn't anything to do but hang on for the horrible boat ride. I was *this* close to thinking tiny, tiny, teeny little thoughts about miscarriage. Not abortion. Just....a kind of quick terrible little thought when I went to the bathroom and peeked for blood on the undies (like I assume every single woman does every single time she pees, there they are, right between your knees, you look, right?) and I just had this fleeting thought about how I have been almost too lucky in never having had a miscarriage and how maybe I might, and how if I did, we would not even consider pregnancy for like 2 years and...just little stuff like that. Normal terrible secret little stuff. But no blood, not one speck. A baby is surely coming. As sure as tomorrow being as nauseating as today. As sure as knowing you will "have the flu until summer" is in February. Heavy stuff.

Being pregnant while mothering an EXTREMELY INDESCRIBABLY hyper 18 month old was just horrid. I could see that there would be no cuddly loaf-y afternoons of Blue's Clues and hummus, no cozy coloring books while Mama semi-dozed, no mother and baby swim class with Panera afterwards. I was the proud owner of a full time daycare and the mother of a real live monkey--and this was scary.

The pregnancy mosie-d along, and it was a long year. We eventually told everyone, and --eh--the reactions were about par for the course. A lot of the relatives who literally pretended I did not just have a homebirth a year and a half ago were now stumbling over themselves with the "Whos yer doctor--or--whatever--" kinds of stuff. No one saw my homebirth with Casey as a success story, as a triumphant VBAC, or as anything fit for discussion, really. So there I was with my big belly and truly feeling ignored, left out of even the most basic polite conversations. No what do you think your having, nothing. I think they were so scared I was going to talk about Homebirth that they just couldn't deal with me as human.

(I didn't start blogging until Charlie was 12 weeks old. I was very closeted as a birth-junkie, and nobody besides a few few people knew how passionate I was about homebirth, midwifery, or what my homebirth of Casey meant to me. My fault, nobody's fault, just how I did stuff back then.)

I remember taking oodles of baths later in the pregnancy. Sometimes 3 a day. We got a pool in the summer and I liked it but it wasn't super deep and so I would sit in it and Casey would jump on my belly and it kind of was awkward. But after my tepid baths or my times in the pool, there would be a nice hour or so when my feet weren't swollen and my legs weren't swollen and my Braxton-Hicks stopped.

Oh man speaking of Braxton-Hicks...I was EIGHT WEEKS pregnant and I decided I had to take my own kids and the babysitting kids to Home Depot to buy a big rug for the front porch. it was the first springish weather and I wanted to get these kids out on the porch for some freshness. So there I was, pushing the cart through Home Depot and I had that bladder-cramping, pulling hard feeling because I was briskly walking. Are you kidding me? Braxton Hicks? I stopped walking, drank some water, and it stopped. As soon as I started walking again it started up. Eight weeks pregnant. I feared twins.

By July, I was a huge, huge, when are you having that baby, lady? huge. We went to music in the park with my sister and her son, and I stayed at the blanket when the kids all went down to the dancing part. I couldn't walk that far and be expected to make it back to the car later! July. For all I know Charlie did weigh 6 or 7 pounds by then, I really looked and felt 9 months pregnant. July.

Charlie's due date came and went, and his October 20th due date blurred into a Halloween labor and an All Saint's Day birth of the second biggest baby that particular doctor ever delivered.

So that was a bit of what it was like to have a twelve pound baby so soon after an eleven pound baby. I promised you all I'd write about his birth and I will. Someday.

This is just so, so good.

Not hilarious, not amusing, simply brilliant post. A consent form for the doctor. If I had the wherewithall, I would distribute these like hotcakes.

Kudos, Kudos, Kudos.

How did you ever shop before you knew me? ;)

Here are some fab new products I have tried lately:

Clearasil Blackhead Eraser. This is a little creepy vibrator that you velcro little soap-laden pads onto and scrub your face with. It takes like ONE treatment to have a whole new face. Its insane. I look better than when I was 25. Ok maybe 28. I guess I just needed to scrape and fry off the top layer of my face. Who knew? Under 20 bucks, any drugstore.

Axe Body Detailer. A buff-puff of sorts marketed to men. My husband got it and I quickly became obsessed with moving beyond the face to scouring off my whole body. Whats with the new cultural obsession with exfoliation and why didnt we all do this sooner? I fricking LOVE it. My wierd dry arms feel like some fake-ly soft stripper or something. See, why do I have to say stripper? Why cant I just say SOFT? Because I am not depressed anymore--you should be happy about it! Anyhow, buy this, it was like 4 bucks.

***While youre already in that aisle, get your man the Red Axe body wash. All the rest smell like some nightclub perv from 1991 but the red one smells like oh my god black pepper and sunshine and cinnamon or something...dude its yummy. Or use it on yourself, I definitely am ok with smelling like a yummy cinnamon guy now and again.

Krusteaz instant pancake mix. At Costco and Sams Club. this is not only a just-add-water pancake mix that actually tastes good, but it is cheap! You get this enormous bag that you can barely lift for like 7 bucks. The pancakes are puffy and golden and you can jazz them up with apples and cinnamon, etc. Do not be afraid to buy this, you WILL go through it all. Just add water! Do you realize that that means no matter how poor you get, you can have yummy pancakes and be this cool fun mom who does pancakes for dinner? Im just sayin'...

Also, just an all-out plug for an intensely righteous website with all things amazing and gorgeous and perfect: http://www.shanalogic.com/ Who is this person and why has she tapped into my every dream of cuteness? Hooray! I am already begging for the acorn necklace---it is very difficult for me to look at this website without screaming and squealing. Just warning ya. Dont wake your baby when you see this stuff. Clasp your hand over your mouth as you run for the debit card. (Is it just me?)

Well thats all for the reviews 2-nite. Please share your own experiences with any of these or any other products, good bad or otherwise!

Housefairy is alive

Where did that breathless fun blogger go? You know, the one who blabbered on incessantly about Birth and Makeup and Fashion and Family and Rock and Roll and Hair and Sex and Body Image and DIY everything and Budgets and Houses and Beauty Supplies and Indie Films and Breasts and Bellies????

She went down that slippery scary waterslide of hormones and sleep deprivation and poverty and insecurity and depression and self doubt and fear and death and pain and loss and change and growth and lack of basic everything and there just was no place for Blue Hair or Cherry Skirts or Guitar Amps or Slurpees or Homeschool Tips or Nursing Bras for Tall Moms or Painting Little Chairs With Bluebirds and Smiley Clouds or Clever Quips or, most sadly of all, any insight whatsoever into Birth-Related-Anything. Nada. Zip. And when she got into her car alone, she did not BLAST The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, she usually just cried.

A little hand reached up out of the water that she splashed down hard into at the bottom, the bleak-as-hell-rock-bottom of the waterslide and she got a hold of some Zoloft. That helped tremendously. Then people sent her and gave her a few things that literally, LITERALLY, saved her and her family from actual homelessness. Food. Books. Gift Cards. Loving emails that she never write back to, but held in her heavy heart as she tried to sleep at night. Unheard of patience and generosity and support. A little lifeboat made out of tiny antidepressant pills and donated food and good reading material, and kind emails and phone calls, she floated on while her own Mother died in her arms.

July kind of has floated around, and past, and yet its still there. And Zoloft got to be a little too cocoon-y and fuzzy and although it cut the sharp pain of the depression, it also left her pretty vapid. Nice for a while, but not truly a lifestyle, but more of a warm and neutered quilt. Now she is on Wellbutrin. Now she has to watch her temper again, and she has to get sleep and eat right and now she can cry hard and now she can laugh hard and now she can remember stuff and now she can read and now she can write and now she can enjoy sex (*uncool uncool side effect of zoloft...youre finally not depressed but you have the sexuality of a piece of clay*) and all that stuff is really important for Living, not just making it through.

So, faithful, faithful blog people: She is me and I am her and I am back and although I am without a mother now, I am happily moving right on through this incredibly hard period quite swimmingly! I cannot thank you all enough, anonymouses and acknowledged friends, for all you have done for me. I PROMISE to pay it forward.

High on it

Ah, my Jill. Go read her cool post! Then send this link and other stories like it to the nearest ignoramus who tries to compare your natural childbirth ecstacy to dental work or other idiotic misinformed yucky medical events.

Hello

Well a alot has gone on but I havent felt like blogging...thank you for reading this and not forgetting me!

I bypassed the system and took Casey to the pediatrician and got him on Concerta. It is a stimulant medication for ADHD. It seemed to be helping tremendously for a couple of days but now I dont know. He is on a microscopic dose and can go up 2 more levels if needed. If you are freaked out or shaking your head at me thinking I am doping my kid, all I can say is that I understand and I felt like that too before ?I was a parent of a child with this disorder.

The ahndouts they gave me about what can happen to your kid of they do NOT get treatment were what really hit home for us to decide to try it. Besides the ominous and somewhat...to me...not the number one issue...claims of poor school "performance", there was alot about car crashes and drugs and prison and I tell you what it was all the stuff I thought in my bed as I tried to picture someone so impulsive and hyper growing up--what kind of life will he have, etc.

The two days we had that were super, he was a five year old boy. Not sluggish not doped not boring or "sitting still", just a nice boy who chatted my head off all day and did NOT hit me with branches, break dishes, run across the street and not tell anyone, not kick the cat, not pour juice on the floor in the bathroom on purpose, not squeeze glue into the heater vents. He talked and talked and talked to me and was really fun and rational and thoughtful. He asked permission to do stuff, he apologized when he spilled or knocked something over, we read books, we started a little sticker chart, it was amazing. But the past three days he has been mean and hyper and impulsive again. This will be an ongoing thing with the doctor ?I am sure but that glimpse of how it could be was really heartwarming.

Eska had a mysterious fever for 6 days that had her at the doctor 3 times. They ended up giving her 3 shots of a broad-spectrum antibiotic which immediatrly ended the fever. But we still dont know what her deal was.

Mickey and Greta are fighting alot, the first time in their lives. Greta is playing the role of exasperated older person and he is playing the role of non communicative pouty spaz. Sigh.

I dont know what we are doing in the fall but we are NOT all five kids gonna be home with Mama. i am looking at a Waldorf day school for ages 3 to 6 on Friday. For Casey and Charlie to go a couple days a week. The lady was SO cool on the phone but avoided my questions about pricing so I am already worried it will be unaffordable.

There is also public kindergarten for Casey, or Mickey, and Gretas best friend goes to a charter junior high about 15 miles from here that sounds really open minded (you can have purple hair and listen to ipods! woo woo).

I also am considering just having lots of activities, and being some car mom who is always driving the kids somewhere. but something has to give. This blows right now-- all of them floundering and bickering and loafing and complaining.

I wish with all my heart that there was 2 or three days a week school. Ive said it a million times. maybe 9 to 3, no homework.
Advice?

Love to all,
Joy

My beautiful mom passed away Tuesday night after nearly a 9 year battle with ovarian cancer. She was 59. I was there with her when she died. She suffered for so long with tumors and surgeries and chemos and I know for sure now that she is no longer suffering. I do not have anything eloquent to say yet, but thank you to everyone who has offered us help, it means so much.

Rest in peace, truly, Mom.

tiny update

We got Casey into community mental health last week and they said "cut and dried, ADHD." I was relieved and feel hopeful about medication, which they feel could help him "dramatically, witthin hours". But we don't get to see "the doctor" until AUGUST 12TH!!! grrrr. Long summer of him breaking everything and exhausting all of us.

My beautiful mom is not long for this world...spending every possible moment at her hospital. Her husband made the wise decision (he had no choice, she tried to get up every 5 minutes, 'round the clock, couldn't take meds any more, and basically lost her mind...he didnt sleep for weeks...) to bring her to a respite care place late last week, where they are doing everything they can to help her transition be comfortable. Shudder.

Never ever imagined having to literally watch her die. It is harrowingly sad and disturbing and traumatizing. Going back tonight. Jumping at every phone call. Wanting her to just finally be at peace but dreading IT with all my might. No appetite, in a fog.

Free Range

Thanks to a link via Facebook from Pamamidwife, I found this blog. It is about letting kids ummmm live? Go outside? Not feel like they are going to get "stolen" everytime we run back into the house for our coffee we forgot?

What do y'all think? I think its great.

So much has transpired

So much has gone on in a week or so, I will attempt to share a bit of it with you. First on my mind and in the hearts of everyone is my mother, who in about ten days time has gone from coherent and weak to completely out of it, and a skeletal ghost. She speaks as though in a dream state and I will never again have a conversation with her. This has not sunken in at all and I have been by to care for her, to spell off my stepfather from his 24-7 devoted care, and to just pet and kiss her and chat to her, though she cant tell me anything that makes any sense at all, she doesnt seem frustrated, just like someone sleepwalking, sleep talking is the best way I can describe her now. Its just about the saddest thing I can describe, and I did not not expect this to go this way, if that makes any sense.

I got on an antidepressant, Zoloft, and I will certainly impress upon all depressed mothers to CONSIDER THIS if you can, if you need to--I will not buy into any shame or guilt, if "working out all your issues" is what you want to do for the next 50 years, by all means, go for it, but this helps, too, immensely, and does not need to replace any inner psychology stuff. Meditate, journal, pray, reflect, read, grow, think, see therapists, thats all good stuff, too. But I didnt have 50 years. And Im gonna tell, ya, it didnt take "six to eight weeks" it took about a day and a half to feel significantly better. I HATE SECRETS KEPT FROM MOTHERS! Its no one's f-ing business whats in your purse or your medicine cabinet so if you wanna get on some anti depressants, DO IT. I am deciding to NOT be secretive about it, because, I love you-all and well, frankly, it is just too obvious the way I was writing and they way I am writing that something changed. So, get some help if you need to.

So, How does it make me feel? Like I am NOT buzzing with helpless rage, like I am NOT confused and overwhelmed, like my skin is NOT electrified with nervous tension, like my toddler spilling a cheerio is NOT a big deal or a day ruin-er. I feel more comfortable, more at ease, well rested, intelligent, clear minded, rational, and able to do the things that need to be done. Not all fake ahppy, just stable. Functional; I have done some work with our "budget", I have made an appointment for Casey to see a counselor, I have contacted our utility companies, I have cleaned and taken care of the home----did you all know I was not able to do any of this for some time now, mostly just crying and shaking and obsessing about my "bad and ruined" children?
So, Zoloft. And I also got 2 different anxiety pills to be taken as needed. They havent been needed more than 2 or 3 times and I probably wont need them. One is Xanax--the big famous xanax, I thought it would turn me into some 1950's sedative Mom but it didnt. I felt a little tired, but not sleepy. The other one is Klonopin. This one is a doozy, but before I got on the zoloft, I was wringing my hands and gasping for breath walking back and forth in my kitchen--so if anything like that happens again I would take this. But it puts you to sleep. Take at night if you are really freaking out AND you have a husband who would be "on call".

We are still up in the air about Casey and school/daycare. The little daycare up the street (the one thats so nice and the lady cooks the kids organic meals and encourages you to drop in anytime and the "Tumble-Bus" comes once a week...) is twenty bucks a day. Twenty! Less than a babysitter. So we dont have any money but yet......maybe for July, even, you know? They want a health check and shot records and that alone would have sent me into a self pitying panic attack but now (that I am on Zoloft) I feel like hey, ok, Ill call the pediatrician in the morning.

I have to stop right now and give a huge thank you and mention of the generosity that our friends near and far have bestowed upon us this past week or so, as well. Babysitting, long hours on the phone, kind sympathies, food and diapers, and surprise gifts for the kids' birthdays which were extremely uncharacteristically uncelebrated this year-they ended up with some really kind surprises and cash that they are being quite frugal with--we will have some kind of little summer party at some point, but we just cant right now, and yet I know that each of them ended up not feeling like they didnt get anything special, so thank you everyone for advice and thoughtfulness and just being steadfast, etc : )

This weekend we got a new cat! The Humane Society has waived their adoption fees for adult cats for a little while and we found a sweet black kitty--I have always wanted a little black cat, everytime I see him I just smile, he is so pretty and shiny. We read up extensively on "how to introduce a cat to another cat" but in truth, it took less than an hour for our dear Sonic to accept him and they are good pals already. I am really glad we found such a nice one--although I really love cats, I am strangely picky about what kinds I dont find very cute--well this little guy is just adorable--we dont know what to name him yet. Soon!

We still have a long, long way to go in our child training. We have some very very bad habits that have been going on for a while now, and I have allowed myself to be emotionally manipulated, to put it mildly, by screeching little boys, by ridiculous hijynx not only at mealtime but bedtime, cartime, schooltime.....yes.

We have a long way to go. But I do feel stronger and happy in my decision to get some medication. I dont know if I will be blogging or not for a bit. My heart is with my mom, and on putting my family back together through these strange times of economic hardship and change. Love and peace and clarity to everyone--
be safe--
Joy

pop on pop off

As an actual mother who has actually breastfed "exclusively" and "on demand" five babies for many many years, I have not ever thankfully put much stock into anything written on the subject by professionals, and by that I mean anyone who is not a mama with a baby on her breast.

As my friend Trish once said "Schedule? Yeah, she comes up for air every four hours!" I liked that one.

Perhaps as in so many mysterious things about motherhood that "they" dont tell us...like what does labor feel like and how much do you nurse a newborn, it is kept under wraps for our own good. So we dont get scared and say hey ya know what, I was gonna have a baby but I think Ill just join a ska band instead. But of course, like all secrets and lies, they end up hurting the intended protectee exponentially, because now she feels weird, which is alienating, which is depressing, which is uncool.

So, how many times a day do you "feed your baby"? Good old Hathor has a nice little comic about it. Here it is. As for me, Eska has had a sip or two probably 12 times already this morning, but then decided that the squirrely out the window or the cheerio stuck to my shirt or her brothers shouts were more interesting and *POP* off she went a-scrambling. Did those constitute as "feeds"? Who cares?

Charlotte Mason dreams

I have really stumbled onto some great stuff today, huh?

Heres another gem: a blog devoted to using Ann Botsford Comstock's Handbook of Nature Study. We have had this book for 7 years but as much as its turn of the century wording warms my heart, have we used it? Not really. Well some thoughtful soul has put together some lesson plans using it.

Technology is officially so so good to me today.

Blog, She Wrote

Blog, She Wrote. Its a blog that has me all choked up because she is doing everything I was getting ready to do until I got pregnant with missy-moo.

Bless you, cool science Mama who uses Five In A Row (FIAR)

I am feeling the slightest tingle of hope and inspiration for fall. Cant wait to delve in! She did ALOT of the work for me. Soooo cool!

boysie stuff

Very interesting thread on MDC about Boys and homeschooling...really made me smile. My boys each had two baths today, it was a filthy good day, and all after 5 pm! Two parks and a big walk--and a new toad found by Casey as a present to Greta! He was so pleased to give it to her and she loves it.

Of course there are wild n wiggly girls and calm and bookish boys. Duh.

u.p. homeschooler advocate

A well put blurb from someone up in Munising:

As for homeschooled children: I happen to know many parents who have homeschooled their children. What I have seen is children who are homeschooled often have a greater knowledge base when it comes to history, geography, the law, classical literature and music, actual useable mathematics and algebra and geometry. They seem to be more in control of their emotions as well and most have not been exposed to "trash". By "trash", I am not talking about people, I am talking about ideas and concepts which are imparted through the schools either by other kids (some of who may be troubled) or by teachers and the system itself. These homeschooled kids are not "indoctrinated" by any "right-wing radicals" or other such nonesense. Most of the homeschooled kids I know have gone on to major universities and become doctors, lawyers and just about anything anyone could wish to become. They are not fruitloops or lunatics who cannot think for themselves, unlike some of the publicly schooled kids who are simply "followers" of any given crowd. Many colleges and universities SEEK OUT homeschooled children because these children test high, are well disciplined and are self-disciplined when it comes to studying.
Are there some parents who do a poor job of homeschooling? I'm sure there are. But I would rather have one parent teaching poorly one or two of their children than one teacher teaching poorly hundreds of students.
I just wish I had made the decision to homeschool my children....and from what they've told me, they wish the same.

Diginity? Why, indeed

This is an intensely gorgeous photo montage (very discreet nothing rated even pg) of a lovingly supported homebirth.

What I want people to think about is, truly, how different this is from the hospital. the birthcenter. Anyone of those. How truly, truly, qualitatively different. and HELL Y_E_S, BETTER.

Better better better. So all of you who have grown wishy washy about homebirth, grown jaded or tired or lost some of your fire or passion for this, for women, for families, shut up and think for one moment how very very different this is from the other ways.

Thank you.

brainstorm

I think I should brainstorm how I want our homeschool to be. And I think I should do it on this blog. Because the thought process might strike a chord with others, might show people with one or two kids how different it is with five, might cause someone with 9 kids to tell me no no no, might be something to look back upon.

Alot of my dreams and ideas are all tangled up in nostalgia, and that has been a very pervasive and persistently life-draining emotion for me for literally the last 5 years. And I am trying to slowly pick through what is nostalgia for something actually experienced and what is nostalgia for just being in my twenties and having it all be still an open wide field of dreams. Painful, painful nostalgia and regret and guilt....blech such a wierd depressive type I am. Why cant I be the loss of appetite stay up all night writing cool songs type? ; ) kidding.

We have quite alot of things coming up, and it all feels like a big hill that we are climbing whether we want to or not: My mother is rapidly dying now, and with this impending loss will be a flurry of activity and I have no experience with such things, blessed has been my life devoid of any deaths whatsoever. My grandmother is also very ill and in hospital and is going to be most likely going into some kind of nursing home out of state to be under the care of my aunt--so coming to grips with the real fact that no, I am not driving up to see her "any weekend now" is hurting my throat like a stone clamp.

After these events, there will be the question of money. Will be be able to afford some part time day care babysitting preschool for the littler boys? Math tutor? Music lessons? Sports? Swimming? Ice skating? Curriculum of some kind, even just a few things? Some maps and atlases? Paint and brushes, a printer with ink, zoo passes, camping, bicycles? We are still hoping things turn around financially but I cant pretend to assume anything about inheritances. We job hunt. We scrimp. We hope our landlord is more patient than the electric company. We take
Casey to the medicaid psychologist and hope they help us all deal with the chaos.

But still I dream. I dream of the day when my children sit with me around the table and we do our lessons. Not all day everyday. But when I say so. I am a really really fun mom and I have so many wonderful ideas. Too bad lately just trying to vaguely vaguely make it through breakfast diaper change nursing re diaper change fighting spilling crying nursing can i make eggs myself mama whoopsie kid running out in mud fighting nursing be quiet for the baby goddamnit you woke her up im hungry again can i use a hammer wheres charlie diaper change choking phone calls spills fighting im hungry again no we arent having pop it is 930 am...........is just not cool.

i never ever meant for it to get this way but 99% of homeschool is relationship between the parent and child. So when that is out of whack then the little books sit on the shelf and just mock you.

So I will brainstorm. Thats all I can do for now.

diets

Ok one more:
This post about not dieting is great. Because even though I got into some anorexia stuff with counting calories and depriving myself and hating myself and all that in college, for the most part I have stayed away from those head games. My body disturbs me only when I am depressed. but really, I feel good. I feel medium. I feel totally ok. I feel like this has been my size for many many years, I havent yo-yo'd, There was a body I had before I got pregnant with baby #1 and there is this body. It was vaguly a toned size 14 to a smooshy size 18. But I am a busy woman with alot on my plate, and I eat well. I dont lay in bed with donuts, I dont sneak in the night to horf down ice creams, I really dont do any kind of crazy bingey stuff. But I like my head to be not floating off and so I like hearty meals, and I eat lots of vegetables, and lots of good homemade stuff and I eat about as much as Greta does--one big plate. So this is me, and there is not one iota of room in this Mama for added stress of self hate. Self love would be awesome, and its there, too, but mostly I am trying to run a family and thats enough work for me.

I dont begrudge my friends who diet, who have had surgeries, who yo-yo. I totally understand. But for me, right now, it would be the absolute ticket to the looney bin if I was adding self hate kinds of stuff to the pile.