Enough is Enough

I fear I'm heading in the direction of a blogger flunkie based on the number of blogs I manage to spit out into the www. I'm writing constantly in my head where thoughts and stories whirl around each other like square dancers on speed. Maybe I should cut down on the java. Anyhow, Sam and I had an interesting discussion this morning on the way to preschool. It was about jail. Fascinating.

Sam asked me if I remembered to lock the front door. He wanted to be sure no one would enter our house because it's OUR house. I think he's been watching too much CSI after we all go to bed at night. I assured him that I had to which he replied in his usual round about fashion, " It's a good thing, mama, 'cause 'cause they'd not be- our house inside - it's OUR house - and if they got in - that'd be very naughty and they'd have to go to a BIG time out."

"Yes, they would." I responded.
"Where would time out be?" he asked.
"Well, Sam, there's a special place where grownups go for time out when they do things like go into houses that don't belong to them. It's called...well, it's called jail."

That led to a discussion on laws and how they differed from rules and that children don't ever go to jail, just grown ups. I decided to pass on letting him in on juvenille detention centers for now. That can wait until he's at least 5. He then wanted to know who would take care of a little boy or girl if their grown up went to live in jail. I assured him that his daddy and I would never go to jail because we don't break the laws. He was visibly relieved, but then joyfully said, " Just Grandma Rose and Papa Bob." These are Bob's parents. Hmmm....I would love to have known what was going on in Sam's mind to cast his grandparents as criminals. "No, honey. Grandma Rose and Papa Bob don't break the laws. So they won't go to jail either." "Oh," he answered nonchalantly and changed the subject. I gave his teacher a head's up about the jail thing in case the school thought someone in our family had been arrested by the end of the day. The look on the teacher's face told me that talking about jail with a 4 year old was probably inappropriate.

So, I then went on to Target with Lucas and Skyler to buy a cartload of organic baby food and formula because it was on sale and I had some coupons. Later that day while everyone was napping I looked up, in my earthy crunchy baby book, when I should start feeding them more than thin watery fruits and vegetables. I came away seeing the look on the author's face if she could see my shelves stocked with jars, boxes and cans. And I reply weakly, "But it's organic! Well, some of it is!" And the author shakes her head and reminds me how easy and quick it is to make my own homemade cereals and freeze my pureed vegetables in enormous batches of ice cubes for convenience. And why would anyone in their right mind buy a jar of bananas when you can mash your own organic banana in the comfort of your own home. And I say, but what if it's not ripe or it's too ripe and I'm were too busy scraping the poop off of the cloth diapers I insist on using and hanging out to dry on the line for natural bleaching and to reduce your carbon footprint and it's sort of nice to bathe the children once in a while and it would be a good idea to actually empty the dishwasher instead of taking out the clean dishes as we need them because the dirty ones are piling up precariously and I like to eat and sleep and I'm working too and the kitchen floor looks like a science experiment gone bad so mash your own damn banana lady! I bought mine on clearance at Target in a JAR!!! And I slam the book shut before I read the bit about if you must use jars make sure to clean them before you open them to avoid....damn - I couldn't help myself - I read it. But then I did shut it and put it back on the shelf.

So when is enough enough? Sam and I had a year of bonding as I nursed him and he fell asleep peacefully in my arms. These babies are lucky when I stick bottles in their mouths and keep them in by propping them up on towels. Whichever one I'm not holding is usually looking pissed off or crying. Sam is constantly scaring them until they cry. And now they've been relegated to sleep in the basement because they cry too much at night and we're trying to space out their feedings so we shut the door and set an alarm for the next feeding. In the interim, what goes on downstairs stays downstairs. I don't need to know about it.

So I don't wear them, nurse them or cook for them. Will they be okay? Sam lives mostly in time out, still only eats about 4 different foods and we have discussions about jail. Will HE be okay? Since the babies were born, we've stopped composting, started using occasional paper plates, eat more frozen food, consume more coffee and the Board of Health would shut down our house if they visited unannounced. Will WE be okay? What IS okay? And what is enough?

My uterus as a playground

1/9/09

Sam has been talking about the babies more lately. Today, he seemed very put out upon learning that they do not have to wear clothes even though he does. And recently, a very concerned Sam asked me if the babies in my belly had any toys to play with. I answered no and Sam, disturbed by this news, said that we needed to get some to them. Every so often since then, I ask him what he thinks the babies are doing. Sometimes he thinks they’re sleeping, but mostly he thinks they are playing. So, I’m trying to envision what he thinks it looks like inside my uterus. I think he sees it as a sort of playground or maybe like his day care with a couple of cribs for them to nap in when they are tired. It’s like the first time I walked up all those stairs in the Statue of Liberty. I was certain after the claustrophobic ascent, there would be a little coffee shop or something at the top where we could stop and rest. Instead we only had a few minutes at the top to look out the observation windows at the top of the crown before being ushered back down the stairs of the narrow chamber. Once we got to the ground, I looked back up at Lady Liberty’s head while shaking my own. How exactly did I think a refreshment stand with tables and chairs was going to fit in there? So, I can understand the warped perception of what’s going on in my abdomen. However, I also think there may be some truth to it.

It seems like my bladder has been turned into a makeshift trampoline making me feel the need to pee whether or not it’s full. My intestines are being used as a ropes course based on the bouts of flatulence and constipation that even a half a bag of prunes a day can’t seem to remedy. And from the amount of back and hip pain I’m experiencing, I’m quite certain that the boys are looking for handholds and footholds in my pelvis and spine to begin their budding rock climbing careers. My first guess would be to say they’re learning to boulder, but technically they are always tied in by their respective umbilical cords. During certain excruciating moments, I wonder if they’ve also dislodged a kidney in order to play dodge ball.

So, yes Sam, the babies do have toys. They’re called viscera. I’ll be a little happier when we can hand them those puppets that you used to love so much and some teething toys.

The Magic Pull Up

11/29/08

So, we’ve tried just about everything to get Sam to poop on the potty. We’ve tried bribing with M&M’s (worked once), begging, demanding, insisting, promising, lying, holding him hostage on the toilet etc to get him to poop (and then guiltily adding money to his therapy fund) and all has failed. The only thing we haven’t tried is the magic pullup. That is, until 2 days ago.

We were in the house for the day – in no hurry at all. And we decided that today was the day for Sam to take the next step in growing up. He needed to poop and demanded his pull up for the occasion, which is our usual ritual. However, on this day, we said no. It was time for him to poop in the toilet. He would get hugs and prizes and treats, but he would not get a pull up. He begged and pleaded and cried. He ran toward the bathroom and then stopped himself and ran away. He sat on the toilet for about 1 second and then jumped off like it was a fire pit. He rolled on the floor in anguish.

And then I remembered the magic pull up. It was something my friend Diana told my friend Megan who told me. I never thought it would work so I never tried. But Sam was desperate and so was I. So I took a pull up and cut out a hole in the back toward the bottom. I told Sam that he couldn’t have a regular pull up, but he could have a magic pull up as long as he promised he would sit on the toilet with it on. He agreed. We put it on and he sat down and before you know it, he pooped in the potty. We laughed, we sang, we cheered , danced and immediately set him up in the kitchen with a bowl of chocolate ice cream. So happy were we.

The next day he said nothing about having to poop. The second day, each time he told us he had to go, we mentioned the magic pull up and he changed his mind. This went on until we had dinner in Friendly’s. We must have taken him to the bathroom 3 times. Nothing. We then went to Loews to look at flooring. I spent most of the time in the bathroom with him going so far as to sit on the toilet with him because of how scared he told me he was. Nothing.

Returning home, he first refused the magic pull up, but finally relented. He pouted and cried for a while, but finally…finally sat on the toilet and pooped. He was so happy that he ran out to the living where my in-laws were and proudly announced his success. We cheered, danced, sang and gave him M&M’s.

My God this is a lot of work, but thanks to the magic pull up, there is hope.

Fertile Ground

8/27/08

 

How do I feel right now?  I wonder if it’s like finding out you just won the lottery.  First you’re jumping up and down with joy, but that only lasts a short time.  Then you get really quiet inside.  You aren’t sure who to tell or if you should tell anyone right away.  You can’t quite wrap your mind around this – it’s sort of surreal.  You know your life is going to change in indescribable ways, but you don’t know what they are.  You have no idea what your future life will look or feel like  But you know on a deep level that you are incredible lucky and blessed.  There are lots concerns to worry about, but for now, they’re not really on the radar.  There’ll be plenty of time to deal with them

 

So, that’s pretty much how I feel.  Of course, I’m scared of another loss.  How can I not be?  But I feel a sense of security in this pregnancy.  It feels like when I was pregnant with Sam.  I’m really tired and hungry a lot.  My feet are a little sore and I’m out of breath when I walk up stairs.  This all happened really early on with Sam, but not with the others.  What were all their uterine names?  Speck, Gumball…..hmmm…I can’t remember the last one.  It’ll come to me.  We’ve already named these two (just in case there ARE two, we don’t want one to feel left out) – They are Jake and Shmo.  I don’t know why.  It just happened that way.  Good luck Jake and Shmoe.  Burrow deep, my friends, and hang on tight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fertility and Waiting

So a couple of mornings ago I woke up with swollen fingers.  So I could be pregnant.  Or not.  But something is making me retain water.  Or ice cream.  Maybe I’m retaining oreo cookie frozen yogurt in my fingers.  My body couldn’t process the 1/2 gallon I put away the other night so it’s being pushed out to my extremities trying to find egress through my digits.  I’m also having little mini dizzy spells.  Does that mean I’m pregnant?  Or is it a side effect of all the progesterone coming from the 6 foot long needles Bob pushes into my butt every night (we do the most romantic things, don’t we?).

 

This is the part of the fertility cycle where I put every thought, feeling, emotion, sensation, ache, pain, dream and black cat that crosses my path under the microscope.  I’ve already taken a home pregnancy test, foolish mortal that I am.  Of course it was negative.  The official test is Monday.  It would be wonderful if I could make it until then without testing myself.  I buy my tests on-line in bulk which cost a fraction of what they do in the drugstore. I can buy 25 test strips on-line for the same amount of 3 at CVS.  If you know anyone dealing with the same mishegas as I am, I beg you to pass on the link: http://www.early-pregnancy-tests.com to them.  You will be their new best friend. 

 

Waiting is by far the worst part of the cycle.  It makes me tired. I need to go take a nap now.  Does that mean I’m pregnant?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kirtan and Ants

One day in late spring, I was sitting in my friend’s living room taking part in Kirtan.  For those unfamiliar with kirtans, I’ve included a description from my friends e-mail reminders at the end of this post.  Essentially, I’m cross-legged on the floor chanting devotional songs about and to various Hindu deities with a bunch of strangers.  Why am I doing this?  Well, it’s something to do besides watching reruns of Law and Order, it’s social, it’s spiritual, it’s fun, it feels good and I like to sing even if it’s in Sanskrit.

Anyway, in the middle of chanting, I notice a big black ant crawl out from under the upholstered armchair to my left and walk cautiously out.  He sat for a bit listening to the music then walked rather aimlessly around.  I watched him wondering what to do about this.  And decided that unless he walked on top of me, I would do nothing.  Every so often I would check on him to see what he was up to until he disappeared across the room.  A little while later, another big black ant crawled out from the same spot, maybe looking for his buddy, This one crawled around in front of me and meandered toward two woman sitting further down my row.  They deliberated for a bit before deciding to liberate him.  They caused a bit of a distraction as they guided him up onto a piece of sheet music and carefully carried him to the front door gently placing him outside.  They seemed pleased.  Shortly after, a third or maybe the same ant that had been transported climbed out bravely from beneath the armchair.  It paused, and then made it’s made down the row stopping this time in front of an older woman.  She noticed him at once and deftly pulled a tissue out of her pocket, placed it around the ant and triumphantly crushed him.  Wadding up the tissue, she set it down beside her for future disposal.  She seemed pleased.  Was this gross disregard of life in the middle of such a mindful practice such as kirtan?  Or was it completely practical – After all, who wants a houseful of ants?  I pondered for a while content that my decision had been to not make a decision as to the fate of the ant.  I was pleased.

 

What is Kirtan?  (explanation from somewhere on the web)

 A jewel among the various spiritual practices associated with Hinduism is kirtan, or devotional chanting. Kirtan is one of the most beautiful and expansive forms of bhakti yoga- the path of opening the heart through devotion and surrender.

The meaning of "yoga" is "union," and the goal of yogic practices is to recognize our true Divine nature. In bhakti yoga, each deity in the Hindu pantheon is seen as a different aspect or face of the Divine Beloved, and devotional practices are used to bring one closer and closer to the Beloved, until devotee and Beloved become One. Although kirtan involves singing or chanting, it is not necessary to have any musical talent or background, or even a good singing voice. Kirtan is the music of the heart, and it is sung freely from the heart.

Traditionally, kirtan is sung in call-and-response form. A leader sings a line or two of a song, and the participants sing it back. The words to kirtan songs are often repetitions of different names of the deities, usually in the Sanskrit language, or in a language derived from Sanskrit. The focus on the deities, and the repetition of their names releases the mind from it’s usual associative patterns, which keep us caught in the cycles of pleasure and pain that come with the ups and downs of everyday life. The vibrations of the Sanskrit sounds expand our hearts and minds beyond their normal limitations, into the depths of Spirit, and the recognition that we are never away from the Beloved.

 

 

My Ovarian Update

8/14/08

Day one of waiting is over. Since dinner, I’ve eaten the rest of Sam’s grilled cheese, a bag of popcorn and am wolfing down my second WW latte bar. Could be worse. Yesterday went really well despite my very frayed nerves. Out of 9 retrieved eggs, 4 fertilized. Their grades were 8A, 8B, 6B and 4B. Since 4B probably won’t make it, we had the option to cryopreserve 6B and transfer the two 8’s. But even if we did that and have to do a future cycle, we would still have to harvest a new batch of eggs because they’re not going to transfer just one embryo. So we’re going for gold and transferred all three embryos. So, at this very moment, I could be cultivating our future triplets. Strangely, this possibility isn’t freaking me out. It’s also not likely that all three would take at my prehistoric age of 40 or so I’ve been told. Liane went with me to the transfer yesterday so Bob wouldn’t have to take another day off from work and the staff thought we were a couple. We were laughing our heads off. Should go to bed as it’s getting late and tiredness only makes the stress worse. Am immersing myself in Kite Runner to keep busy and may set up a facebook account just to pass the time. Maybe I’ll actually get my blog up and running.

8/16/08

Day three of waiting is complete. Made it through the last couple of days with lots of movie theater popcorn, troughs of Chinese food and tiramisu. If I don’t get pregnant, at least I’ll look like it soon. My mom is here visiting so that’s a great diversion. We engaged in marathon retail therapy today. Sam’s potty training is going well which also takes a lot of time and much patience. He’s terrified of public toilets flushing, but won’t pee in a diaper anymore so today was spent running through Target and other stores to get to the bathroom in time so he could shriek in terror as he sat on the toilet. Last week, I got so freaked out from him getting so freaked out that neither of us remembered to be mindful of his aim and he ended up peeing in my shoe.