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Hidden meanings

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It was probably about a week ago, I was talking to my 16 year old while she was using my laptop to play songs on Youtube.

You know that Beyoncé song….. drunk in love??

“Drunk in looooooooove”…. it’s catchy, really.

So, it’s on and I’m listening to the words, and ask “What’s surfboarding?”

“MOM!” “Oh my God!” You don’t KNOW???!!!

I’m referred to urbandictionary.com like, right now.

Oh. Well. Ok then. I’ve become my own mother. That older, hopefully sexless woman who should just NOT ask questions that might lead to a discussion of a sexual nature. And by the way, how does my DAUGHTER know what that means???  Because it’s COOL to know what that means. Because there are sites like urbandictionary.com, bless it’s heart, to teach her when she wonders the same thing.

Days later.

Although I don’t love the song, it’s in my head and I find myself just spouting off phrases. “I’ve been drankin’, watermelon”…… somehow  the way she speaks those phrases just sticks in my head. So we’re in Target, and I’m all “Surfboard”……. “Watermelon”……… “I’ve been drankin'”…… when that same 16 year old has to spoil it all by saying, Mom….do you even know what she’s talking about?

Duh. She loves her husband. She’s “drunk” in love with him. she’s been drinking. something that tastes like watermelon. Obviously she’s drunk. She’s TALKING like she’s drunk….. and by the way, drinking is bad, you should NOT do that. See what happens when you drink?? This surfboard thing. You should definitely NEVER do that……

Oh no. I am completely off base. Do you know that song is like a whole secret code for sexy nastiness? I can’t believe I am basically yelling out these phrases, around my CHILDREN for God’s sake…. and I have no idea what I’m talking about!! Back to urbandictionary.com. Well, yes, that does sum it up pretty nicely. Huh. I had NO IDEA Drankin’ meant THAT. Watermelon!! Really??!! Oh. God. Ugh. And now I feel like I have Tourette’s and I’m just compelled to belt out these phrases because Dammit they are still catchy!!!

Why couldn’t she have just been singing about watermelon Vodka??

Lesson learned. Now I’m afraid to speak.

Sure, I might be telling you I’m going to cut the crust of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich….but what am I REALLY saying?? Better check that out… Or at work, “Ok Mr. Smith, I need to check your lungs and listen to your abdomen. Yeah… lungs… you know what SHE’S talking about….. I’m totally paranoid. I need an app to check everything I’m saying to make sure I’m not soliciting sex from anyone, or selling any of my kids into slavery unintentionally.

This is how I felt in high school…. I never KNEW half the stuff that was going on around me, just went over my head! Kept me out of trouble then, since I didn’t even realize all the trouble I could have gotten into. but now, I need to be in on these hidden meanings, for no other reason than to catch any of my kids who even think of getting away with anything shady.

Surely other people my age, my peers are in the same boat. My best friend, same age…. on the phone with her tonight. I tell her I’m going tomorrow to get a facial, and ask if she wants to grab a quick lunch after. Her response? 

“Facial… you said facial….he he he”.

Really??!

 

I am the worst best friend.

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Do you ever hang up the phone and think back on your conversation….and come to the conclusion that you are a complete ass??

Is it just me?

It’s not my fault really, I blame it on my best friend.

This friend and I share the same first name, the same birth month, the same sarcastic sense of humor and the same thoughts on so many things. From the time we met, it was inevitable that we would know each other forever. We talk almost daily, tell each other EVERYTHING, offer support, criticism, and chocolate to each other as needed. She is the person who inspired me to recycle out of guilt, has me terrified of putting plastic in the microwave, and does not call child services on me when I vent after a long day with a million kids.

It just so happens that she also has a couple kids of her own, and her oldest was born with Spina Bifida. She needed to have surgery once she had doubled her birth weight, and recently had another very extensive surgery to help improve her ability to walk. I am being extremely general here with the details. I just want to give you a little idea of life in her household…. lots and lots of therapy, and although Maddy can walk, she can’t run, she can’t wear “pretty shoes” which is probably one of her biggest issues with her condition. Leg braces, patchy sensation in her legs leading to pressure ulcers because she hadn’t felt something rubbing on her foot…or stepped on something and didn’t realize it… these things have led to weeks or sometimes months in a wheelchair, wound debridement, LOTS of frustration as she has to wait for healing before she can get on with her life.

My friend has cried in the face of an uncertain future… will her spinal cord retether? Will she lose bladder sensation? My god, when she was younger, any pee accident was cause for major concern and surveillance. Yet, at 13, Maddy is a completely normal teen in all the ways teens are normal. She knows EVERYTHING… she has more attitude than she can responsibly handle. Sarcasm??? OFF THE CHARTS. She likes boys, she feels like she can’t breathe without texting or face timing with her friends, and she has confidence that neither I or my friend had at her age. She’s beautiful and definitely knows it.

Clearly my friend is an amazing mom, and she is dealing with so much more… her husband has a genetic kidney disease that her kids have of chance of inheriting, it was found completely by accident. I could go on, but you get the picture…she’s got a lot on her plate.

Oh, yea, she also thinks everyone is going to have cancer…. her daughter was having some stomach issues….BAM, she’s got stomach cancer… Oh, your leg hurts??? Oh my god, it’s bone cancer!!  Her period was funky that month, Crap…. definitely uterine cancer…. I think this stems from being blind sided by her husbands and daughters issues….. in a way she must think if she just expects the worst, at least it won’t surprise her when it comes.

Over the years, I’ve developed a very therapeutic way of dealing with this. It goes something like this……

Her: I’m so worried, Maddy still says her stomach doesn’t feel right….she’s getting kind of nauseous after she eats….it’s been like 2 weeks, what could it be?

Me: Cancer. It’s definitely cancer.

Her. You’re an ass.

Or sometimes I will call and catch her crying. And those calls will typically go like this:

Her: sniff-sniff…hello?

Me. Are you crying?? (bitchy sounding)

Her: a little.

Now there are two tactics I like to use. I either yell at her and tell her how stupid she is for crying, or act like I’m thrilled to catch her crying because I love nothing more than to wallow in the misery of others. Makes my day when I know other people hate their lives.

The end result is usually her calling me an ass, again…. but at least I can get her to laugh for a minute.

I love my best friend. So much. Partly because she doesn’t hate me for being a completely horrible, shitty friend. I am, frequently.

Here is a conversation we had today, literally….:

Her: “I was asking Maddy what she would prefer to be called instead of “disabled”, neither of us like that term. She said she doesn’t know”….etc. etc. etc….

Me: God, I hate that my hair is so freaking curly now, I wish it was straight again-it looked so awesome when it was straight, I didn’t appreciate it enough. I’m so depressed….

Do you know how much this happens?

She will be freaking out that she, or someone in her family has cancer…again….and I will totally make fun of her, and then complain about a “real” issue, like how I hate the pacifier but my husband keeps giving it to the baby anyway.

I suck!

Sometimes I catch myself, like today. I asked her, how are you not offended by me constantly? She said that most of the time she just laughs at my stupidity, and she knows I’m not being maliciously selfish. It just sucks sometimes. She is such a better person than me…even without her amazing efforts with her kids, and her ability to help her daughter grow into the confident and beautiful young woman she is….. my friend is still better overall. She has no microwave, doesn’t use plastic, is at war with GMO’s, artificial food coloring and all preservative. She COMPOSTS!!! She recycles EVERYTHING. (she came to my house once because I was moving and told her I was throwing away some books etc…). She actually removed all the “trash” from my home and sorted it herself, dropping off what she could to be recycled.

Oh My God. I probably just need to kill her.

I’m not going to kill her. It would take way too long to break someone else in, I just don’t have the time for it!

No, I’m just really thankful for our friendship. It works for us, and although it could appear very dysfunctional and even hostile to outsiders, we’ve developed the ability to read each other, and truly appreciate the sarcasm each of us has to offer, as well as the support and caring we have for each other and our respective families.

So while she’s waxing on about how the high school needs to have wheelchair access, and I’m fantasizing about cool laser lipo, we manage to forge ahead in this completely unbalanced but somehow very satisfying friendship.

I plan to make her blog on here…. in the meantime I did get permission to talk about her and her daughter…. I’m not a COMPLETE ass.

 

Naked in the context of KIDS

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I realized today, as I shouted the words “everybody get naked!”……just HOW much my life has changed from that era of Before Kids.

My request was not made in a daring, funny, or sexual way. I was not at all hoping to see anyone close to my own age in their birthday suit. I’m not sure how it happened, but I find that comments that might have been racy or suggestive in my past, have taken on a whole new meaning.

For example, “Get naked! Now!!”  This does not mean I want you, I need you, I’m dying for your touch. It means literally….get naked. now. I have to give you a bath, like I do every night, I don’t want to chase you around anymore, and I don’t want you throwing your underwear at my head.

Talking about naked. So in the past, if I found a camera in the house with some blurry and close up photos of some sort of body part…..I might wonder what kinky stuff my husband was up to….??  But, no. I find said photos on my 3 year olds leap pad…..and when I tire of tilting my head, squinting my eyes, and trying to decipher what the picture is….I ask him. “It’s probably my butt”… “Oh, really? Well what is THIS picture of then?”, “It’s probably my butt too…”. So this kid then tells me “you weren’t supposed to see those, mom” He had taken his leap pad into my room and tried to take pictures of his butt, saved them, and used them as backgrounds for some of the drawing applications he used. Budding artist, or weirdo??  Probably too soon to tell. In fairness to him, he had done the same with various more acceptable body parts, like an eye, a foot, and also used them for backgrounds. But still…….

So yea, naked is a little different than it used to be.

A taste of my life

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I love food.

I think about it a lot, and recently realized that so many of my important memories and “great moments” have been cemented in my head partly because of their association with my digestive system.

Not just those stolen moments with a bag of little chocolate donuts… of which there are many…..

but really significant and special moments.

Like being 4 years old. Kneeling on a chair in the kitchen as Grandma rolls out the dough to make noodles for her chicken soup. I can smell the flour, feel it spread over the cheesecloth she had covering the table; cool, smooth, whispery between my fingers, the dough soft and eggy. Grandma in her housedress, one of thousands it seemed. I can hear her voice talking to me, I can close my eyes and I am THERE. God, I miss her. And her soup.

My first trip to France, what else to do but literally eat my way through Paris?? We found the best gelato. Amazing. And it became necessary to stop and get more at that same gelato stand each day until we went home. I still pine for it, both the chocolate and the mango. It was too good for me to even try another flavor. Refreshing, yet somehow complex, like all things should be in Paris. We walked everywhere there, ate crepe’s from a street vendor (of course!), took a very long walk to the Sacre Coeur, and found a delightful candy shop along the way. Finished our walk eating from a bag of bulk candy and ended with an amazing view and black licorice breath.

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Oh, there are the bad associations of course. Who could ever forget the flavor of mom’s steak teriyaki after tasting it at dinner…..and then repeatedly during the night as the entire family shared a delightful gastroenteritis. I won’t. I won’t ever forget that taste. And I will never eat it again. We always remember what that last meal was before our GI tract shifts into a hard reverse….

No photo necessary.

I think it must be true that when we really experience a moment using all of our senses, including taste,  that moment stays with us. Forever I hope… at least the good moments.

My many trips into the world of Post Partum Depression

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How could something so wonderful, make me feel so bad?

ImageMy first two…

When my first child was born, I was 21. Excited to have her, never believing it would truly happen. I couldn’t comprehend parenthood, as much as I looked forward to it.

Following the birth of my 10+ pounder (come on, do ounces even MATTER after you hit the 10 pound mark??), I fell into a very dark place. I came home 2 days after having her, and remember waiting as long as I could to call my mom the following morning. It was probably around 7am before I dialed the number, and began to sob uncontrollably at the sound of her voice. What followed was seemingly endless days of sobbing, as I failed to adjust to this new role. The anxiety, panic, fear, depression….overwhelmed me, but I had NO IDEA what was happening to me, other than I knew I didn’t like it, and at one point I remember standing in the shower, wishing I could die.

Thankfully, I never wanted to actually do harm to myself or my baby. I still videotaped her from day one, and watching the video’s now, you would have no idea of the conflict going on inside of me, other than the scratchy voice that gave away just how much I’d been crying.

Two weeks later, I felt like I was coming out of the darkness. I was willing to move forward with life, instead of trying to ignore it. I chalked it up to being so young, and a somewhat difficult birth, and went on to love my role as a mom, and adore my daughter to the annoyance of those within frequent earshot of my blabbering about her perfection. I truly believed I would never suffer through that again if I ever had another baby, now that I “knew” how to do it.

Three more babies later, I’ve learned a lot.

I’ve learned that you can’t talk yourself out of being depressed. You can’t pray yourself out of it, you can’t force yourself out of it.

My children mean the world to me, but after my second was born, and I found myself back in “the pit”, I realized I had been kidding myself all those months during pregnancy, believing that I was so much more capable of avoiding it this time. I felt GREAT the first 2 days, then fell off the cliff. I swear, I recall the moment it hit me, that chemical shift, or whatever you want to call it.

No appetite? check. Feeling of hopelessness? check. Anxiety and panic? check and check. I did seek help, and found Ohio was not a place for a big PPD support system. I managed, but it was very difficult, for me and those around me. I felt so alone, despite never being alone.

With my fourth, I prayed often during the pregnancy that I would remain as happy after the birth as I was to BE pregnant. I gathered my support staff around me, making my family promise to be there and not leave me alone. Although I “knew” it would happen, the depression, when it hit, was still a major blow. I felt like I’d failed again.

That time, I finally tried medication despite my internal struggle over it. It helped, and I actually got to enjoy some of the infancy of my Last Baby, instead of feeling overwhelmed and unsure, scared to do anything and feeling miserable.

I battled my depression, my anxiety, my adjustment disorder. With each baby I prayed to feel better, and was so scared that this time, I wouldn’t.

I never neglected my children. If anything, I overstimulated them, over nurtured them, and over compensated to make up for the guilt I felt over not adjusting beautifully. I did not blame these babies, I blamed myself for being somehow broken.

I learned a lot about myself, and I can empathize so much more with other moms who go through similar issues.

Although I am depression free, medication free, and newborn free (Last Baby is 14 months..), I am not left without scars.

When a friend or relative has a baby, I come to visit, but in a way I feel like I’m responding to some alarm. I need to be ready to help….I ask a lot of questions about how the mom is feeling…”really?”…… “you’re great??”… and I usually leave perplexed, am I the ONLY one who sucked at this??

I work at hospitals, and often see new moms being wheeled out, baby in their arms. When I see this, I automatically thank God it isn’t me in her place. Not because I didn’t or don’t love being a mom, I do, more than anything I do. But when I see that new mom, I see a shadow of myself, scared, alone, lost. Unable to bask in the joy of new motherhood, instead trying to quell the anxiety welling up inside my chest. Depression robbed me of those initial moments of joy.

My experiences gave me an insight I’d sooner not have, but I accept. Knowing what I do, feeling what I’ve felt, I would do anything to help another person in my shoes. Thank god for the internet. With each new birth, the social networking opportunities just got better and better. I found communities of women like me, and just reading their stories made me feel better about myself. Not alone. Understood.

I am grateful to have made it through depression four times, and Oh so grateful to have my children. They were worth it, I can easily say that now. (Not so much maybe 7 days in….). I did however recently make a choice that my mother said I would regret. My mom made the same choice after the birth of her 5th child. Not because she was depressed, more along the lines of being old and tired I would imagine…. anyway, she made this choice too….and afterwards she cried and cried, regretting it immediately. Mom never had depression.

I got my tubes tied.

I am STILL thrilled 🙂

I AM of course old and tired also, but the freedom of knowing I will never suffer through PPD again? ….Wow. I never realized what a relief it would be.

 

 

 

Talking about SEX

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I hate sex!  I hate it because I know my kids are going to do it, and at least one or two are probably thinking about it…..maybe now! AGH!

These teenage years, not the best to share over here on the parenting side of things. I just don’t know HOW to deal with this potential nakedness and sharing of things like spit, and sweat, and HPV…… shudder. more shudders. I was a much cooler mom during grade school. I’m very low on the cool mom scale right now. Just dealing with it. That’s all I can do.

As far as I know, all people in the house younger than me are still virgins. And I am pretty secure in that knowledge. I tell horror stories of diseases they WILL catch if they ever….you know. I am the mom who always has to talk to the other mom of wherever my 16 year old goes, and makes her send me random pictures of where she is at any given moment. I’m very embarrassing like that. I’m ok with it. I pretty much have her convinced that sex is the most dangerous thing possible, she will definitely get HPV, resulting in genital warts, cervical cancer, or both if she’s lucky. Or, HIV, herpes, our friend syphilis is making a comeback in some circles…. the possibilities are endless, really. My experiences in nursing are a great help in our conversations, I’ve seen a lot of crazy stuff and I am willing to share anything to put a healthy amount of fear into any kid who needs it.

Tonight, I was lucky enough to get my daughter to see a movie with me. Just the two of us, it’s a rare treat. And we only had to go one city away to make sure no one she knows saw us together….definite progress. We watched a preview about a girl with cancer who falls in love with a boy who beat cancer. It looks like she probably dies, but first they fall in love and I’m pretty sure they have sex.

I thought about it. I turned and told Rachel, “I’d be ok with you having sex if you were dying of cancer”. I was serious. So far, that is the only situation that has ever entered my mind that would be ok outside of the old standby “AFTER your married.” I would forego my desperate wish for her to maintain her virginity at all cost, if I knew she’d never live long enough for that to happen.

Yes, I think I probably do have some issues. I can’t DEAL with my kids growing up. Doing grown up things. Making possible mistakes that I can’t fix for them. Getting a disease, getting hurt, hurting someone else. It’s rough over here for me right now. It is so HARD to watch this transition into adulthood. Knowing things will happen, both good and bad. And knowing I control NONE OF IT. It makes me hold the baby that much tighter. Thank God she’s still 100% mine. And maybe by the time she’s 16, we can find a cure for sex…….

This is what being a Mom IS…

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I love to smell my daughters feet…….

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I don’t know how I realized this, but I find myself grabbing those little feet and just inhaling whenever she is near….and just loving that they are so soft, and little, and warm. And they ALMOST smell…..like feet. I cherish it, because one day they are going to REALLY smell like feet, and doubt I will willingly bury my face in them anymore.

I have these little moments, in the middle of the chaos that comes with having 4 children, where I just take a minute to savor the odd moment, before I need to scream at someone for tracking play-doh all over the floor. again.

I’ve got two teens, and they find great pleasure in suddenly turning on me, usually in the middle of my speech about growing up, taking on more responsibility, chewing with their mouths closed…and holding me down to tickle me. This freaks me out, and I really fight to get away, all the while laughing and trying not to pee myself as I try to call them off. My gasping pleas for release are ignored, as they assume my threats are not real because I can’t stop laughing. I really hate that. But I love it, and then I ground them…. for like 5 minutes.

It’s not always fun and games. I’m strict and if you ask my 4 year old who the “mean” one is, the pointer finger zooms right to me. BUT, I’m the one he runs to for kisses, I’m the one he picks as his “favorite” whenever I ask him (ssshhh, I know I’m not supposed to do that), in fact, the only time he runs to his Dad, is to get away from me at bedtime, when he decides he’s not so fond of me after all.

My days home are a blur of cleaning, laundry, cooking, spacing out at the computer for brief moments, changing diapers, feeding, shopping, and plenty of yelling and threatening to never get you a slushy from Target again if you don’t pick up those toys Right Now!

My own 16 year old daughter is convinced that being a mother is the worst job a person could have. I am her reason for never wanting children…as she loves to tell me. I think it’s funny that I felt the same as her, at her age, living with my mom and being one of her 5 children. UGH, talk about a circus.

And yes, I dream of sleeping in one day, and not having to take care of anyone but myself, getting my hair done whenever I want, or just going OUT…..alone!! It’s so exciting when those moments happen!

Yet, as I tell my daughter, I would be lost without them. I’ve had kids for so LONG, I don’t even know who I would be without them. They define me by this point. My time is measured by their first steps, first smiles, even the first time my son told me he hated me. Ouch. I don’t forget these firsts, and I love to remember and cherish those million random things that just make this job extra special.

Like squeezing little butts, using social media to embarrass my teens, and trying to squeeze them all onto my lap for a quick pic before I am squished to death. They are crazy kids, they often do really really stupid things…. no really, it’s true. But they are MINE, and I cherish it, I do. I love watching them grow, sharing their lives, and of course…smelling their feet. 🙂