Tag Archives: motherhood

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That’s So Random

The first note to start of my unorganized random thoughts edition of today’s blog, I’d like to point out that I enjoy shamelessly promoting my first venture into sucking it up and publishing a story. You should enjoy buying it too, and for only $0.99 you didn’t really lose more than the equivalent of what change falls out of your pocket weekly without you knowing. Enjoy!

My first random thought brings me to the school shooting. I didn’t want to read the list of names of the victims. It’s not that I didn’t want the event to be humanized to me, as what the real intent of releasing those names to the public. It’s partly because it seems to me like it should be private, that these people should be allowed to mourn without having it all over the internet that their kid died. The reminder of those Christmas presents under the tree should be bad enough, they shouldn’t have to see the names everywhere they look. Plus, the selfish part of me admits I didn’t want to look and see my son’s name on that list because that would make it more real, and I didn’t think I could handle it. Against my better judgement I did look, and I did see my son’s name. I read the little note about him, I saw the picture. From then on, I realized more and more that could’ve easily been my son’s school and that could’ve been my son. It wasn’t though, and you can’t help but to feel guilty by being extremely happy for that. Sending him off to school made me be a little nervous, but unfortunately you can only do so much to protect your children, even if you are there every second.

My second random thought also is bordering about the shooting. I can’t help but be happy that Anonymous decided to hack into the Westboro Church member list and make it public to us. I won’t feel guilty if one of those bigoted loud mouths gets hunted down and killed, and I know I shouldn’t say things like that aloud but I mean I can’t be the only one who thinks that. It’s bad enough they go to our soldier’s funerals to protest for no other reason than to make themselves relevant, to protest these innocent children makes me wish that they had to go through the pain. Maybe it isn’t that God hates gay people, maybe God hates intolerance.

The Patriots were terrible last night and I fell asleep at halftime again. Apparently they became less terrible but not quite good enough to make up for all the terrible. The refs are terrible too, but I won’t blame them for the loss. The terrible calls by the refs didn’t make up for all the bad the Patriots did to themselves. I still love my team though, and they’ll do better next week.

My baby is growing up, rolling around on the floor like a champ and lunging forward. He’s a strong little bugger, and it’s hard to keep him down. It’s both awesome and sad to watch them grow so quickly. I love every second, and know that he’s doing so well because he has the love and care of people around him. There are worse things than growing up too fast. He’s very well mannered and just as perfect as his brother. So far (knock on wood), I’m 2 for 2 in the angelic children category.

In the end, you can’t protect your kids or shelter them forever. They are eventually going to find themselves in a position that is scary, they are eventually going to hear things on the news and they are eventually going to ask questions or be told things at school that go against our beliefs. You just have to make sure that you did your best to prepare them mentally for anything that they might come across on the news or in life. That’s our jobs as parents, to protect and prepare.

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My Face Was Red With Anger and Awe…

… while I wrote out the check.

Several years ago, my son seemed to have a cold that just wasn’t going away. After what seemed like the 3rd week of a bad cold, I took him to the doctors. It turned out that my son just from lack of contact with many kids prior, just didn’t quite have the immunities so every cold he came into contact with, he got. While there, the doctor noticed my kindergartener had a tissue stuck up his nose. At the time, I had awful insurance with a $600 premium and a $4000 deductible because for some ungodly reason I didn’t qualify for cheaper insurance. (Thanks Romneycare.) The politics isn’t the point, the point happens here.

The doctor was our new doctor, so it was only our 3rd visit with him. This doctor took a pair of tweezers and pulled the tissue out of his nose. Easy and done, right? I thought so until when I got the bill for the visit, I had to pay $700: $100 for the visit and $600 for “object removal”. I called my insurance company, and since we were so healthy we didn’t need our deductible I had to pay for object removal. When I told her the object that was removed, she laughed with a “tough poop” attitude. (I don’t miss you Blue Cross, but I do love you Tufts.) I immediately decided to call the doctor’s office billing center to reason with this. She laughed when I told her my story, and when I thought I was going to get sympathy I get that “so would you like a payment plan?” No, I’d like you not to charge me $600 to pull a tissue out of my kid’s nose.

I forgot that story for a while. Then I got a bill from a Pathology department shortly after my return from the hospital for the items that come out after your birth. (Seriously, I thought they threw that out, not send it out for testing that costs $200.) It came back to me how much in awe I am for some things we end up getting charged with and for how much. This became even more apparent when I received a bill in the mail over the weekend from the doctor’s office. My newborn son had one rare condition that will hopefully be easily fixed in a few months by surgery. He had another rare-ish condition called “umbilical granuloma”, which is a fancy way of saying “part of the umbilical cord is still there and needs to be removed”. The doctor said all we needed was some nitrate and it’d heal right up. He took a q-tip looking thing and put it on my son’s belly button. It did exactly what he said and all was mostly fine. Then, I get my son’s first bill of all neonatal services done and I just quickly looked saying “$144 isn’t bad.” It wasn’t until I read the bill to write out the check when I noticed all the hospital services were free. That $144 was for a q-tip. I looked up in anger and said to my husband “that doctor has expensive supplies. A $600 set of tweezers and a $144 q-tip!”

This made me wonder if the real issue with healthcare wasn’t the cost of the insurance itself. Maybe the problem is really with the doctors and hospitals and the ridiculous prices on necessary services. I cringe to think of the monetary issues with the surgery as well as the “holy crap, my baby needs surgery”. I think the problem is the medical offices are allowed to charge whatever they want on things and there’s nothing as a patient or a consumer that you can do about it, which I guess is a problem with the insurance too. They choose what they cover and what they don’t, and don’t see a problem with these costs because everybody wins. Right? By everyone, I obviously mean the heads of these hospitals and insurance companies, because the everyday person that needs these services are definitely not the winners here.

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My Name is Brianne, and I’m an Ephebiphobic.

Made you Google that word, didn’t I? Even if you didn’t, I’m going to pretend that you did to make myself smile that I was able to cause my readers to something. The word itself isn’t entirely correct for this purpose; my  issue doesn’t simply lie with children that are teenagers. I simply have an issue with kids. I’m not ashamed to admit this fact: I have a problem with kids, they make me feel uneasy.

I love my sons, and this doesn’t apply to them. My own spawns are immune to this general feeling I have. I understand them, I know what to do with them. I’m more comfortable around them. I excel at mothering them. Throw another kid in the mix? I have no clue at all, and it makes me anxious. I don’t know what to do with these little people running around my house, screaming and hitting each other. My instinct is to threaten to throw poopy diapers at their head, because it’s not painful and very hilarious. (Seriously, imagine a bratty kid covered in poop. Try not to laugh.) Would I throw one at my kid? No way. Would I throw one at my nephews for being annoying? Definitely, or at least they know well enough not to find out.

I wonder if it has to do with the fact that people are most comfortable with their own kids. Or something more. I remember when my first niece and nephew was born. I never had an urge to hold them or coo over them. Though, I don’t coo over my children either. I speak to them as I would an adult, minus the inappropriate things that come out of my mouth. Babies are stinky balls of poop and drool, and the 14-year-old me wanted nothing to do with all that. I don’t think I ever really wanted kids until I had my first son. Then I realized I liked my kid, just had a problem with other kids that weren’t mine. I go to birthday parties for kids a lot now, and a friend laughed at me as a bunch ran by yelling and throwing torn paper napkins at one another and I muttered “I hate kids”. There might be truth there, I definitely hate annoying kids.

Maybe I just don’t feel comfortable around other kids, related or not. I don’t know  how to relate to them, nor do I get a giddy desire to play with them. I smile at the cute ones, I can smile at them. Ask my friends how many times I’ve asked to hold their babies, I don’t recall ever doing that. I’m good with kids, I’m great with them. I wonder if that makes me weird, that feeling of disconnect with other children. It’s not to say that I don’t love the little ones in my family, I just admire them from afar. It’s one thing to drop your own child on his head; you drop another person’s kid you suddenly become the devil.

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And He Laughed… and Squealed. And It Was Perfect.

You spend 40 weeks with this monster growing inside of you. You’re happy, but the time you spend with your head over the toilet or dreading the numbers on the scale makes you wonder why you got yourself into this mess. All the planning in the world doesn’t help you at that moment. All you can do is sit and imagine the little person’s first smile or laugh and dream of its personality and you hope that reminds you of why you’re doing this.

Pregnancy isn’t for control freaks. You can’t control anything really, and you’ll lie to yourself if you think you can. Those people who freak out in the delivery room because they lose control should’ve done one thing to prepare: let go of the idea you can control everything. The minute you do that, it does get a lot easier. Do you go “I can’t wait to get induced and have extremely painful contractions that are worse than natural labor” when you find out you’re pregnant? Do you think “Hey, let’s just cut me open right now and get this sucker out because his heartbeat kept dipping”? I doubt either of these things were ever said. The reality is when you’re there in that moment, anything can happen and you need to prepare mentally for the fact that whatever happens you had no control over.

My midwife said that I did the best thing I could for myself when I when in for my induction. I studied enough about what was going to happen to not get freaked out but to be fully prepared mentally. I went into the hospital with the expectation that everything I didn’t want to happen was going to happen and I was going to get a c-section and a healthy baby. I was mentally prepared that I had no control over any outcome, but was mentally ready for the worst case. I was elated that my mental scenario didn’t happen.

It doesn’t end there, control freaks. You think that once that kid is born you regain control. Excuse me a moment, I just laughed a little. You can’t control a baby, it controls you. You might believe parenting books when they say “you just lay them down and they’ll know it’s bedtime”. The fact is sometimes you lay them down and they squeal with delight for playtime. They say “schedule feedings”, but I wonder if they actually had a kid. You can’t control when they eat or how much they eat when they do. You can’t control how many diapers they use in a week and you definitely can’t control when they wake up at night. Just know that this lack of control should help you know in life, you just can’t control everything. At least letting go of this control is worth it with the glowing smile and the high-pitched squealy laugh your little one shows off to let you know he loves you too.

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Text Text Text

A prepost shameless self promotion: my first short story publication is on sale now in e-book form on Amazon Kindle store for $0.99. It’s cheaper than most candy and you should definitely check it out. The link to my author page is on the side bar.

My husband and I have debated a while now, whether we should give our now 10-year-old social butterfly a cellphone. It wasn’t so much a debate as my flat-out refusal. Maybe I refused because I didn’t want to admit he was growing up, maybe I refused because I’m cheap. Maybe I refused because I just simply thought 10 was way to young to have a cellphone.

My husband needed to upgrade his phone, and ended up with that incredibly large Note II. While there, my husband got the sales rep to convince me that only good things could come of our son having this cellphone. He had me at “you can GPS track him”. I agreed, and he walked away with a smartphone, because what’s $10 extra from the basic phone when you’re already paying that much for a phone. Our son was elated, his cousins all had a phone and he jealously looked on. My son isn’t one to beg for anything, he asks a few times but gives up a spoken fight. Now, he had something he never dared to ask for and he couldn’t have been happier. He immediately downloaded every free Angry Bird game, including that Bad Piggy one. He had me download Fun. “Some Nights” as his ringtone. He immediately started playing games on it. Then, while I was in the other room working while he played next to Daddy with their new phones, I realized my upside: I was able to text him “Go brush your teeth”… and he did.

I didn’t realize the other benefits until he went over his grandmother’s house to spend the weekend. He constantly texted us and called us. We found out that he might actually miss us when we’re not around, and that made me a very happy Mom. He constantly texted that he loved us, or that they had bought him fast food, or that he played Halo 4 and it was awesome. I felt better about flip-flopping my stance on him having a phone because he’s an incredible little boy, and that phone helped me realize I may have done a great job with him and would do a great job with our new one.

I look at my growing too fast newborn/infant. He rolls over like a champ, and rolls to his side to move around the floor. He’s only 2 months, but he seems bigger. He seems like he’s just getting too big. They both are getting too big, and while that makes us sad as parents, we should look on with pride and not teary eyes of sadness. This should be a sign that we did something very right to watch our children excel as nicely as they are.

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It’s Officially Been a Decade

Today, my oldest wakes up a 10-year-old. I keep telling him to not get his hopes up, that he won’t technically be 10 until he gets home from school. I wonder if I’m delaying it for me or him. I’m not entirely sure if I’m delaying it because he’s getting older or because that means I am. Either way, my baby is officially entered into the double-digit ages.

It’s sad in either case, but mostly because it’s actually a little difficult watching the kids get older. I’m by no means an emotional person, but I become a little softie when it comes to my boys. According to the paperwork from his doctors’ office, he’s a tween. A tween? I remember when I didn’t want to admit he was a potty trained toddler though that was an incredible day realizing you were done with diapers. Of course, until you realize you’re still cleaning up his poop just instead of in a diaper it’s all over the walls and toilet. And even the “oops” in the bathtub. A tween? Scary.

I cringe every time he says, “Mom, I’m almost a teen!” I’m not ready for that. I wonder if I’m not ready for that because I don’t want him to grow up or because I’m convinced all kids become the devil when they become the dreaded teenager. Maybe my son will prove me wrong, and not all teenagers are Satan spawns. I try to hope, but something tells me I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Maybe if I keep the fear alive in him of being punished he’ll stay my sweet angel.

Whatever the case, he’s growing into a fine young man and I have faith that if he continues on this direction he really will change the world. Or at least whatever place he finds himself. Eventually we as parents need to step back and cross our fingers that we raised them right and set examples for them that they can use to become amazing adults. I can take comfort any moment I hide my teary eyed pride that, at least in this moment, he’s on the right path to be an incredible grown man. But he’ll still be my little munchkin that walked around Wal-Mart with his pants down to his ankles because he was too small to fit in his clothes but didn’t have enough words to say more than “uh oh’s” to let me know there was a problem.Happy 10 lil’ man.

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Pride and Trepidation

Before I get into my post, I would like to say how proud I am of my older son. Today as part of his student council duties is collecting canned goods for the student council food drive to help our local soup kitchen. The fourth grade seems to be winning their competition for what he called “the best prize of all: the warm fuzzy feeling of helping people in need”. I don’t know what I did, but I must’ve done something right. That boy will change the world I think.

Now that we got the “pride” part of our title out of the way, I enter into the “trepidation”. As my last post pointed out, I was terrified at the idea of publishing my chapter-ed short story. I always tell my son, “sometimes no matter how afraid you are, you need to suck it up and dive head first”. That post made me realize that I said a typical parental hypocritical statement. How could I tell him “you can be anything in the world you want to be if you want it enough” and “just hold your worries and do it” if I wasn’t going to do the same. As parents it’s our job to show our children that you need to always aim higher to accomplish goals, no matter how impossible it seems. Teaching your child to settle for what they have in life, to me, teaches them that they don’t need to dream and that settling for mediocrity is ok. (I know I’ve said this point a dozen times, but it needs to be emphasized.) It’s never ok to settle.

I took this to heart, and took and deep breath and uploaded my story to Kindle epublishing. Yes, I am officially published. So you can own this piece of art for only $0.99 on the Kindle. Don’t have a Kindle? Get a nice Kindle app on your phone, iPad, other tablet, etc. The title you ask? “Teagan” by Brianne LaRochelle.

I’m terrified. I’m afraid that I failed at that the story is crap and people will insult me and I’ll decide to give up instead of getting better. But if I didn’t just suck it up and do it, I’ll never know if people actually will enjoy it. I’d never know if following my dreams of writing would pay off. Most importantly though, I’d never be able to tell my sons that “mommy was scared, and she did it anyways.” Our actions, as unimportant as they seem, will always affect our children because they look up to us to show them everything.

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We

In the morning, it’s hard to find anything worth watching. You’re stuck with baby reality television shows, infomercials, or biased news talk shows. So, I generally chose the baby reality shows. It makes me feel better than I’m no longer pregnant anymore and I get to laugh at how silly they look talking about normal things making it seem like they’re the first person to have to make a cold lunch for one child while pregnant. Yeah, we’ve done that move on. I find reality shows are really just comedies for me to sit around with my popcorn because the way they make every day life seem like an over-dramatic soap opera is really just hilarious.

Something did catch my attention on Monday, and I decided to watch 3 hours worth of these shows for an experiment. On the first show at 7 am, the husband of this woman who was having a difficult time with the pain begs for an epidural after several hours. Her husband stood outside talking to the camera while they were putting the epidural in and said “we really wanted a natural childbirth so we’re pretty disappointed by this. Maybe next time.” I took the controller to rewind this (thank you DVR) to see if I heard this man correctly. It turns out, I did. I couldn’t believe my ears that a person could be that idiotic.. or selfish I haven’t decided yet. So I watched for a week and it turns out that in more than half of these shows the husband or partner says something like “we had hoped to have a natural birth/breastfeed but she couldn’t do it and we’re disappointed.”

If I had heard my husband say anything like that, I’d probably punch him in the face. It wouldn’t be hormones, it would be my short temper. The “we” part of the baby process ended with the making of the fetus. “We” cannot have natural childbirth, “I” can  have natural childbirth. He can be a part of the decision and most definitely was a part of every decision that was made. But there certainly was only one of us squeezing a child out. You could say “my wife wanted a natural childbirth but was disappointed she couldn’t” and it would be perfectly acceptable. I understand, maybe the “we’ makes him feel more involved. But it seemed like “he” wanted the natural birth more than she did, and to be disappointed that she “failed” him is incredibly aggravating.

Personally, I’d like to see him pop out a baby naturally and see how long he lasts. I give him 5 minutes before he offers to do unspeakable things to the anesthesiologist for pain relief. Then I hope he’s too far along to get one and has to go at it alone. No, I don’t feel bad for saying that. The most important point of this whole rant can be applied in mostly every situation in life: It’s easy to make decisions for other people without knowing what they’re going through. In pregnancy and birth, nothing ever really goes as planned. And no one ever realizes how excruciating it is until going through it. Instead of being disappointed that your wife couldn’t “suck it up”, sit by her every second of the way at your place next to the bed and let her decide if she’s in too much pain. Get her ice chips and rub her back and make her feel better, not worse. And to you reality show “supportive” soon-to-be dads, understand that any woman who had gone through childbirth and sees you say something like that, realize that we’re all thinking about punching you in the face.

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Why Halloween,It’s Good To See You.

Last year a freak October “Snowpocalypse” postponed our Halloween. This year, a freak hurricane headed our way. My son’s first reaction was “oh no, I’m going to miss school and my first student council meeting”, causing a pouty nearly 10-year-old walking around the house. It wasn’t until afterward when he heard a local town had already cancelled Halloween that his pout went into an angry face. “Not again!” I pouted on the inside too, the one holiday I look forward to every year was not going to be taken away from me again. It was bad enough all the stores saw fit to put out the Halloween decorations the same time as the Christmas ones. Christmas, you will not take this one away from me. The madness needs to stop.

Back to the point, without those cute little costumes and bonfire and all the candy I never eat this month means nothing. This year would almost mean nothing if it weren’t for the additions to my family without Halloween, that’s how serious I am about this holiday. It brings me more joy than it probably should, but I would find God and stab him if his stupid natural disasters had interrupted my favorite holiday again. He would regret it assuming I make it to Heaven, even assuming I believe in it. Don’t cross me, natural disasters.

All joking aside, (mostly joking) I hope people made it out of the storm alive. Stuff can be replaced, but loved ones are irreplaceable. The damage in other areas are terrible and we’re very fortunate here to walk away with nothing much but some downed branches. It’s times like this you really can sit back and think about how lucky you are, seeing other people lose everything. I’d say it’s times like these where we need to help each other out, but we shouldn’t be helping people only in times of extreme crisis. This is the same principle I hold on Thanksgiving and Valentine’s Day. You don’t need a day to tell someone you love them or that you’re appreciative of what you have. You should do it every day. My thoughts go out to people who are in need at this time.

Today I can smile while my boys are dressed up in their cute and overpriced costumes. As much as my husband and I love this day, it’s mostly for our kids. The tradition of getting dressed up to eat a ton of candy and get sick is as timeless as leaving cookies for the jolly fat man. Plus, they’re only young enough to do it for so long that you need to live in that short moment. Yes, that short moment where they only wear that overpriced costume once for an hour. It makes them happy though, and that’s the most important thing. Except for our baby, his costume and everything is more for us than him. But they’re both still very adorable. Happy Halloween readers, and donate to the Red Cross to help out. Every bit counts.

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6 Weeks Later

I’m sitting there, embarrassed that my first “holy crap I leaked, and it’s obvious and embarrassing” happened, but pleased at least it was at the doctor’s office where they’re used to that sort of thing. I’m waiting in the uncomfortably cold room wondering why if they’re going to hand you something to “keep you warm”, they don’t give you something that’s actually warm while you wait to be examined. It could be worse though, I could still be pregnant. Or maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing considering I got more sleep and could sit down and enjoy more of a meal than a granola bar or something else I only need one hand to eat.

Then the door opens, a troupe of people cheering and applauding me. My midwife comes in with a microphone… “3 minutes?!! 3 MINUTES??!! How does it feel?”

I look at the camera and asked “..3 minutes…?” I had no clue what was going on.

I shook my head and closed my eyes a minute, they were drooping from being exhausted. I opened them and my midwife and her student P.A. were standing there, waiting for my answer. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

She laughed, “I think you set a record. A 3 minute push time. How does that make you feel?”

“Really, that only took 3 minutes? It seemed a whole lot longer…”

“Don’t tell your friends, you’ll lose them all afterwards. Both deliveries happened quick and the last one was 3 minutes. I’m afraid to see how your next one goes. I might have to hospitalize you before your water even breaks. You might not last the 10 minute drive.. in fact you probably won’t. You’re famous. Everyone was talking about it. It’s even in your notes all capitalized.”

I laughed. I wanted to be a famous writer… apparently my claim to fame is getting a kid out of me because it was the only way to stop the pain. I’ll take it though. Obviously I ignored the whole “not telling anyone” thing, because honestly it just makes a funny story. Or gives me something to brag about. I don’t get much to brag about but how awesome my sons and husband are. This achievement.. this one is mine. I should feel sad that this is my accomplishment, but I made a friend with the labor nurse who said to call her next time.

The real lesson here is no matter what you do, you take pride in it. Whether it’s mastering making one son breakfast while holding an infant and making his bottle and feeding him after while making your son his cold lunch for school. These may seem minor, but minor victories are all the rage. Even the littlest of them to others are huge moments for you. Embrace them. No matter how boring or meaningless they seem to everyone else.