While I was nursing the baby today, Jameson clogged the bathroom sink with string cheese, turned on the water and the light, and closed the door (but not without locking it from the inside first).
Thanks for mopping the floor, dude. Now to take apart the sink drain to fish out the rest of the cheese...
Monday, July 27, 2015
Monday, June 22, 2015
Postpartum Bradycardia
I've had some bradycardia, slow heart rate, since Sawyer was born. No doctor I talk to seems to know why, or what is wrong, and they don't mention ever seeing it before. I can't find any published articles or studies on it. In fact, I can only find stories of postpartum bradycardia on message boards and blogs. So, I wanted to document my experience to bump up the google juice on this issue (not that my blog is a Technorati star. Is Technorati still a thing? I miss 2007.)
First of all, my heart and lungs look perfectly healthy. The foreboding feeling that I'm about to drop dead has subsided. I'm OK.
Now lemme tell you what happened.
I was discharged from the hospital on Thursday, June 4th. Other than my blood pressure dropping when I got my epidural, no one taking my vitals during my stay at the hospital mentioned anything about low pulse or abnormal blood pressure. I should have paid more attention so I could have that context.
Shortly after coming home, I noticed that my swelling wasn't going down. In fact, my feet and ankles were much more swollen than they had been my entire pregnancy. I thought this was strange, but thought I'd give it a week to go down. My milk came in on Thursday and I was drinking about a gallon of water a day, which doesn't seem like a lot when I'm breastfeeding!
On Friday, I started noticing a heaviness in my chest and palpitations, like my heart was beating really heavily and clear up in my neck. It felt like My 28-lb Blake was sitting on my chest. I believe he has actually done this before, so I have a pretty solid point of reference. Ha. It felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen. I had to consciously take a deep breath every so often to keep up.
This continued, and reckless googling led me to believe that I had a blood clot, postpartum preeclampsia, or some other condition that could be very serious.
On Sunday, it hadn't gone away and I decided to go to urgent care. My BP was around 150/97, super high for me. They sent me right to the ER.
In the ER, I was hooked up to a heart monitor and my pulse rested right around 41 the whole time we were there, though my BP normalized to 130/70, give or take. This is high for me, but not "high." I had an EKG to measure my heart rhythm (it was normal, but slow), a CT scan to check for clots (lungs were clear) and a chest x-ray to look at my heart (it was normal and also showed that there was no fluid in my lungs.
They did a blood workup and I was normal. But I was freaking out. Why was this happening? Why didn't anyone know what it was? I couldn't breathe laying on my back, but sitting up was killing my tailbone. I was exhausted because I hadn't slept in 5 days. I had milk dripping all over me (they finally brought me a pump, thank goodness). I was thinking about the ER visit we were still paying off from last year when I had my appendectomy. I felt guilty that my dumb heart was costing us so much money, especially now, right before all our baby bills started rolling in.
The ER doc came in and said that his first thought was that the slow heart rate was my body's compensation for all the fluids it was trying to flush out after having a baby, but that theory was ruled out once he saw that I didn't have fluid in my lungs. In my bloodwork, the marker for blood clot was higher than he'd like, but tests ruled that out as well, too.
He had me walk around with a heart monitor to see if my heart responded to the stimulus of movement and increased. It did. Walking around, my HR quickly got up to about 60 bpm, but as soon as I sat down again, it went right back to 41.
They sent me home with a 24-hour holter monitor to track my heart rhythms for a full day, and I was discharged after four hours of ER misery.
Sitting here now, two weeks later, my heart rate is 54 bpm. (I'm not 100% calm because my three year old is trying his darndest to make me blow a gasket today, so this is probably a little on the high side). Most days it hovers around 50. The heaviness in my chest is mostly gone. I get it here and there, but it's mostly cleared up.
And that's my story, out there for the Internet.
If you've experienced this, leave me a comment. I'm interested to know who else has had this happen and what came of it!
First of all, my heart and lungs look perfectly healthy. The foreboding feeling that I'm about to drop dead has subsided. I'm OK.
Now lemme tell you what happened.
I was discharged from the hospital on Thursday, June 4th. Other than my blood pressure dropping when I got my epidural, no one taking my vitals during my stay at the hospital mentioned anything about low pulse or abnormal blood pressure. I should have paid more attention so I could have that context.
Shortly after coming home, I noticed that my swelling wasn't going down. In fact, my feet and ankles were much more swollen than they had been my entire pregnancy. I thought this was strange, but thought I'd give it a week to go down. My milk came in on Thursday and I was drinking about a gallon of water a day, which doesn't seem like a lot when I'm breastfeeding!
On Friday, I started noticing a heaviness in my chest and palpitations, like my heart was beating really heavily and clear up in my neck. It felt like My 28-lb Blake was sitting on my chest. I believe he has actually done this before, so I have a pretty solid point of reference. Ha. It felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen. I had to consciously take a deep breath every so often to keep up.
This continued, and reckless googling led me to believe that I had a blood clot, postpartum preeclampsia, or some other condition that could be very serious.
On Sunday, it hadn't gone away and I decided to go to urgent care. My BP was around 150/97, super high for me. They sent me right to the ER.
In the ER, I was hooked up to a heart monitor and my pulse rested right around 41 the whole time we were there, though my BP normalized to 130/70, give or take. This is high for me, but not "high." I had an EKG to measure my heart rhythm (it was normal, but slow), a CT scan to check for clots (lungs were clear) and a chest x-ray to look at my heart (it was normal and also showed that there was no fluid in my lungs.
They did a blood workup and I was normal. But I was freaking out. Why was this happening? Why didn't anyone know what it was? I couldn't breathe laying on my back, but sitting up was killing my tailbone. I was exhausted because I hadn't slept in 5 days. I had milk dripping all over me (they finally brought me a pump, thank goodness). I was thinking about the ER visit we were still paying off from last year when I had my appendectomy. I felt guilty that my dumb heart was costing us so much money, especially now, right before all our baby bills started rolling in.
The ER doc came in and said that his first thought was that the slow heart rate was my body's compensation for all the fluids it was trying to flush out after having a baby, but that theory was ruled out once he saw that I didn't have fluid in my lungs. In my bloodwork, the marker for blood clot was higher than he'd like, but tests ruled that out as well, too.
He had me walk around with a heart monitor to see if my heart responded to the stimulus of movement and increased. It did. Walking around, my HR quickly got up to about 60 bpm, but as soon as I sat down again, it went right back to 41.
They sent me home with a 24-hour holter monitor to track my heart rhythms for a full day, and I was discharged after four hours of ER misery.
Sitting here now, two weeks later, my heart rate is 54 bpm. (I'm not 100% calm because my three year old is trying his darndest to make me blow a gasket today, so this is probably a little on the high side). Most days it hovers around 50. The heaviness in my chest is mostly gone. I get it here and there, but it's mostly cleared up.
And that's my story, out there for the Internet.
If you've experienced this, leave me a comment. I'm interested to know who else has had this happen and what came of it!
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Sawyer's Birth Story
Sawyer was due on June 8. Taking into account the experience I had with Blake (shoulder dystocia, not dilating even at 41 weeks), I wanted to make sure that I didn't go a full 41 weeks this time. I wanted a smaller baby that didn't get stuck!
As soon as I could, I scheduled an induction for Thursday, June 4.
At my 37 week appointment, I was discussing my concerns with the doctor. I explained that the whole story and expressed my worry that I wouldn't be allowed to be induced early because of my unfavorable cervix. This is one of probably seriously 8 doctors I rotate through at this practice. I like them all, but I do a lot of rehashing because every appointment is like a first appointment. *le sigh*
He gave me the whole "every doctor has their own comfort level" speech and suggested a growth scan at 38 weeks to get an idea of how big the baby was, with the idea that if he was really that big, most doctors would be in favor of inducing at 39 weeks no matter what my cervix was doing, given my history.
So I reschedule my induction for Friday, June 5, not because of the baby but just to make it easier for me to manage childcare, since my mom wasn't coming till the weekend, and schedule the growth scan.
When I got the results of this growth scan, I almost fell off the table. I was 38 weeks and 1 day, but measuring 39 weeks and 5 days. The baby weighed 8lb 9 oz. I was wigging a little bit and hoping so hard that I could be induced early, and thinking that I REALLY didn't want to wait until my scheduled date of June 5, which at that point was still a week and a half away.
I talked to the doctor and he told me that these scans are notoriously wrong, always erring on the big side, etc. I didn't feel awesome about that news and decided to come back later in the week to see the doctor on call for Tuesday, June 2 (3 days before my scheduled date, or 39 weeks 1 day).
This is sure a lot of backstory.
So I talk to the doctor on call for June 2 and he has a completely different view than the last doc. (Why on earth do I have so many doctors with so many different ideas?) He says of course he will induce me on Tuesday and why wasn't I doing it on Monday and do I even want to TRY for a vaginal birth? Maybe we just go right for the c-section?
I have whiplash from the differing opinions and decide that Tuesday it is.
So we go in on Tuesday and wouldn't you know, they switched doctors on me! Ugh, after rescheduling appointments and dates and making extra appointments to see certain doctors...why the heck do I even try?
The doctor on call is now the doctor that delivered Blake. He got the job done, but was weird to communicate with. With Blake, he insulted my cervix's unfavorability and then wasn't even going to tell me what Blake's issue was, but then made a big deal about how important it was that I tell my doctor about it for future pregnancies because it puts me at high risk. Sheesh.
I wasn't thrilled to be working with him again. And my IV took three tries. And I was so un-dilated and un-effaced and posterior and high and tight and everything else that he couldn't even break my water. One nurse couldn't even FIND my cervix because it was so high and back.
They got my pitocin going at about 11, along with my antibiotics for GBS. This nurse was awesome at diluting the antibiotics. I couldn't even feel them going in. It was very impressive. To help me dilate faster, they inserted a foley balloon. They fill it with some water and insert it into your cervix, then pull on it every hour. When it comes out, they know you're at least dilated to a 3. The idea is that with contractions, the baby's head pushes on the bulb and it forces your cervix to open faster.
I think that finally came out at about 3:50. I was a stretchy 4 and the doctor broke my water. I had my epidural placed a couple hours earlier, and it made me feel reeeeallly nice. Best epidural of my life, though it did make my blood pressure drop a lot, which I've never had happen. The good news is that Sawyer handled the epidural really well. No decels like the other boys. Of course Sawyer had a much younger, more chipper placenta helping him out, being born at 39 weeks.
I dilated to a 7 pretty quickly from there. Then I was a 7...and a 7...and a 7...for about 3 hours. They had me using a peanut ball to open my hips and bring him down a little bit. It did work and I did feel pressure, but still I was at a 7. This whole time my pitocin was at an 8 or 12. It never got higher than a 12 (it was 18 with Blake, with no epidural...I am pretty much amazing for handling that as long as I did).
I was tired but couldn't sleep. I hadn't eaten since 8:00am, and I was losing steam. I couldn't believe I was stuck at a 7 like this!
Then the night shift came in. The new nurse checked me and said, "I actually put you at a 5 1/2." I cried. I was so defeated. I didn't want to talk to this nurse. She was just not making my day at all! She also told me that I had a fever ("probably just an infection in your uterus...oh, and your baby's head is swollen." what the crap? "Can I screw an internal monitor into his head to track the contractions better?" why the heck not.)
I cried to Mark that I was ruining the baby. He was getting way too much pitocin and way too much epidural and I wasn't going to have any strength left to push and they're going to have to do a c-section and this could take 10 more hours and I am so embarrassed for being so upset. Was my thinking.
The doctor came in and was so encouraging. I started to like him more. He made sure he understood all of my concerns, said that I was progressing fine and that he wasn't worried, and that I was dilated more than a 5 1/2. It made me feel a little better, but I was still down. Then he said, "we'll come back and check you in two hours." Two effing hours! This was at 8:30pm.
It started to get real, right after that conversation. I was on my side with my leg in a stirrup to keep my hips open, and I started to shake uncontrollably and feel incredible pressure during every contraction. It look a lot of concentration to get through them and I started to do that horsey blow with my lips, just kind of automatically. I guess maybe it helped?
Before long, it felt like something was coming out of my body. I thought the baby was crowning or I was pooping all over the bed. Neither was the case, but I was at a 9! Glory be. I had a lip of cervix on one side, so I switched sides, and it got way more intense. I could feel myself pushing and the nurse told me that the doctor was at another hospital and to "just breathe." I could feel him inching down with every contraction. I was telling Mark that they needed to get in here and set up the table and turn on the light, because this baby was not waiting!
Finally the doctor came. They had me do a "practice push" to "see if I remembered how to do it" and They only counted to 5 before making me stop. Then I pushed 3 times, and a couple of "mini" pushes, and his head was out.
Shoulders were stuck again! So I had 6 people pushing on me and yelling at me and pulling my knees up to my ears, trying to get him out.
Sawyer was born at 9:48pm. He weighed 9 lbs 2 oz! That growth scan the week before had been spot. on. His apgars were 7 and 8.
I didn't get an episiotomy, and I didn't have a single tear! I was amazed! My doctor made a joke, "well, that's it for me! I did my two shoulder dystocias for you! I'm done."
Are you telling me not to attempt another vaginal birth? He had said that it sometimes comes to that.
Then my doctor became himself again when I asked him how bad the shoulder dystocia had been. "Well, he was stuck." Aaaaaaaaaaagggggg. Facepalm. Yes, thank you. I hadn't noticed.
Sawyer was pretty hungry right away. I have heard of newborns, like, army crawling up their mother's abdomen to latch on. I of course don't believe this. I also don't believe that in the olden days, women would work in the field harvesting wheat, then go lie down in a meadow and painlessly push out a child before taking up her sickle promptly to return to her duties. This is all poppycock.
But Sawyer was totally rooting around while we were having skin to skin time right after they weighed him and wiped him off. He nursed twice while I was eating my amazing turkey sandwich and cookies and drinking sugary juice from a huge styrofoam cup, which is always the best meal in the world after you have a baby!
Once we went down to mom and baby, got his bath, and had all our vitals taken and everything you have to do right after the baby is born, it was past 1. Long, tiring, amazing day!
Another fun tidbit: Sawyer wasn't named until 5 minutes before we left the hospital! He was the hardest to name of all of our babies.
As soon as I could, I scheduled an induction for Thursday, June 4.
At my 37 week appointment, I was discussing my concerns with the doctor. I explained that the whole story and expressed my worry that I wouldn't be allowed to be induced early because of my unfavorable cervix. This is one of probably seriously 8 doctors I rotate through at this practice. I like them all, but I do a lot of rehashing because every appointment is like a first appointment. *le sigh*
He gave me the whole "every doctor has their own comfort level" speech and suggested a growth scan at 38 weeks to get an idea of how big the baby was, with the idea that if he was really that big, most doctors would be in favor of inducing at 39 weeks no matter what my cervix was doing, given my history.
So I reschedule my induction for Friday, June 5, not because of the baby but just to make it easier for me to manage childcare, since my mom wasn't coming till the weekend, and schedule the growth scan.
When I got the results of this growth scan, I almost fell off the table. I was 38 weeks and 1 day, but measuring 39 weeks and 5 days. The baby weighed 8lb 9 oz. I was wigging a little bit and hoping so hard that I could be induced early, and thinking that I REALLY didn't want to wait until my scheduled date of June 5, which at that point was still a week and a half away.
I talked to the doctor and he told me that these scans are notoriously wrong, always erring on the big side, etc. I didn't feel awesome about that news and decided to come back later in the week to see the doctor on call for Tuesday, June 2 (3 days before my scheduled date, or 39 weeks 1 day).
This is sure a lot of backstory.
So I talk to the doctor on call for June 2 and he has a completely different view than the last doc. (Why on earth do I have so many doctors with so many different ideas?) He says of course he will induce me on Tuesday and why wasn't I doing it on Monday and do I even want to TRY for a vaginal birth? Maybe we just go right for the c-section?
I have whiplash from the differing opinions and decide that Tuesday it is.
So we go in on Tuesday and wouldn't you know, they switched doctors on me! Ugh, after rescheduling appointments and dates and making extra appointments to see certain doctors...why the heck do I even try?
The doctor on call is now the doctor that delivered Blake. He got the job done, but was weird to communicate with. With Blake, he insulted my cervix's unfavorability and then wasn't even going to tell me what Blake's issue was, but then made a big deal about how important it was that I tell my doctor about it for future pregnancies because it puts me at high risk. Sheesh.
I wasn't thrilled to be working with him again. And my IV took three tries. And I was so un-dilated and un-effaced and posterior and high and tight and everything else that he couldn't even break my water. One nurse couldn't even FIND my cervix because it was so high and back.
They got my pitocin going at about 11, along with my antibiotics for GBS. This nurse was awesome at diluting the antibiotics. I couldn't even feel them going in. It was very impressive. To help me dilate faster, they inserted a foley balloon. They fill it with some water and insert it into your cervix, then pull on it every hour. When it comes out, they know you're at least dilated to a 3. The idea is that with contractions, the baby's head pushes on the bulb and it forces your cervix to open faster.
I think that finally came out at about 3:50. I was a stretchy 4 and the doctor broke my water. I had my epidural placed a couple hours earlier, and it made me feel reeeeallly nice. Best epidural of my life, though it did make my blood pressure drop a lot, which I've never had happen. The good news is that Sawyer handled the epidural really well. No decels like the other boys. Of course Sawyer had a much younger, more chipper placenta helping him out, being born at 39 weeks.
I dilated to a 7 pretty quickly from there. Then I was a 7...and a 7...and a 7...for about 3 hours. They had me using a peanut ball to open my hips and bring him down a little bit. It did work and I did feel pressure, but still I was at a 7. This whole time my pitocin was at an 8 or 12. It never got higher than a 12 (it was 18 with Blake, with no epidural...I am pretty much amazing for handling that as long as I did).
I was tired but couldn't sleep. I hadn't eaten since 8:00am, and I was losing steam. I couldn't believe I was stuck at a 7 like this!
Then the night shift came in. The new nurse checked me and said, "I actually put you at a 5 1/2." I cried. I was so defeated. I didn't want to talk to this nurse. She was just not making my day at all! She also told me that I had a fever ("probably just an infection in your uterus...oh, and your baby's head is swollen." what the crap? "Can I screw an internal monitor into his head to track the contractions better?" why the heck not.)
I cried to Mark that I was ruining the baby. He was getting way too much pitocin and way too much epidural and I wasn't going to have any strength left to push and they're going to have to do a c-section and this could take 10 more hours and I am so embarrassed for being so upset. Was my thinking.
The doctor came in and was so encouraging. I started to like him more. He made sure he understood all of my concerns, said that I was progressing fine and that he wasn't worried, and that I was dilated more than a 5 1/2. It made me feel a little better, but I was still down. Then he said, "we'll come back and check you in two hours." Two effing hours! This was at 8:30pm.
It started to get real, right after that conversation. I was on my side with my leg in a stirrup to keep my hips open, and I started to shake uncontrollably and feel incredible pressure during every contraction. It look a lot of concentration to get through them and I started to do that horsey blow with my lips, just kind of automatically. I guess maybe it helped?
Before long, it felt like something was coming out of my body. I thought the baby was crowning or I was pooping all over the bed. Neither was the case, but I was at a 9! Glory be. I had a lip of cervix on one side, so I switched sides, and it got way more intense. I could feel myself pushing and the nurse told me that the doctor was at another hospital and to "just breathe." I could feel him inching down with every contraction. I was telling Mark that they needed to get in here and set up the table and turn on the light, because this baby was not waiting!
Finally the doctor came. They had me do a "practice push" to "see if I remembered how to do it" and They only counted to 5 before making me stop. Then I pushed 3 times, and a couple of "mini" pushes, and his head was out.
Shoulders were stuck again! So I had 6 people pushing on me and yelling at me and pulling my knees up to my ears, trying to get him out.
Sawyer was born at 9:48pm. He weighed 9 lbs 2 oz! That growth scan the week before had been spot. on. His apgars were 7 and 8.
I didn't get an episiotomy, and I didn't have a single tear! I was amazed! My doctor made a joke, "well, that's it for me! I did my two shoulder dystocias for you! I'm done."
Are you telling me not to attempt another vaginal birth? He had said that it sometimes comes to that.
Then my doctor became himself again when I asked him how bad the shoulder dystocia had been. "Well, he was stuck." Aaaaaaaaaaagggggg. Facepalm. Yes, thank you. I hadn't noticed.
Sawyer was pretty hungry right away. I have heard of newborns, like, army crawling up their mother's abdomen to latch on. I of course don't believe this. I also don't believe that in the olden days, women would work in the field harvesting wheat, then go lie down in a meadow and painlessly push out a child before taking up her sickle promptly to return to her duties. This is all poppycock.
But Sawyer was totally rooting around while we were having skin to skin time right after they weighed him and wiped him off. He nursed twice while I was eating my amazing turkey sandwich and cookies and drinking sugary juice from a huge styrofoam cup, which is always the best meal in the world after you have a baby!
Once we went down to mom and baby, got his bath, and had all our vitals taken and everything you have to do right after the baby is born, it was past 1. Long, tiring, amazing day!
Another fun tidbit: Sawyer wasn't named until 5 minutes before we left the hospital! He was the hardest to name of all of our babies.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Another open letter, this one to the middle-aged moms who tell me to "enjoy every minute" or that "it gets better" when I'm wrangling two toddlers across a busy parking lot trying to not get anyone killed.
Prompted by a recent experience and this article.
Dear Experienced Mom,
Thanks for your concern that I have to assume comes from a place of love.
But...two things.
Secondly, it IS about enjoying your children and I do think that even the most stressed-looking moms are doing just that. Judging how a mom is acting when she's out in public, trying to get things done while a little person is throwing a tantrum and she has no time to herself, like ever, is not a good measurement of how much a woman loves motherhood or enjoys her kids. In those quiet, normal moments at home, even when the kids are being crazy but you know they are safe and contained, or in those moments when you see their eyes light up because they just learned something new or in those moments when they say, "hey Mom, look at this!" and they can hardly wait to show/tell/share something with you...those are the ones you remember.
So, that's why it irks me a little when moms with older kids tell me to enjoy it. It feels a little patronizing, because you don't know me and you don't know that I AM enjoying it, even if this trip to Kohl's was a little more exciting than I would prefer. Yeah, I am not cherishing the moment when my child runs hog wild into the middle of the street. I'm trying to get stuff done and keep the kids alive. Later, we'll go home and eat lunch together and make silly faces, then we'll read a book and he'll give me a hug and invent a funny dance, and I'll look a lot more like someone who is enjoying it.
Enjoy every moment of talking to your pre-teen about the naughty internet searches you found on the family laptop. I'll take the public meltdowns while I can get them.
Love,
Young Moms Who Love Their Kids
Dear Experienced Mom,
Thanks for your concern that I have to assume comes from a place of love.
But...two things.
First of all, you are undoubtedly looking at the past with rose-colored glasses. I'm sure that the time you had at home with your (singular, mind you) toddler was really special. I am already mourning my time like this with Jameson, even as it happens, because I know it will end quickly. It's a special age. But I'm also sure you had your share of grocery store trips that pushed you to the brink of insanity. I'm sure your son peed all over the carpet and then poured a box of Cheerios and a bottle of pancake syrup all over the kitchen floor, and that hearts were not shooting out of your eyes in those moments. We don't remember those things. We remember the good things, and the non-happy memories get fuzzy and pushed to the back (or we laugh about them - later), because the hard days aren't what it's about. (Hello, why else would any woman ever give birth twice?)
So, that's why it irks me a little when moms with older kids tell me to enjoy it. It feels a little patronizing, because you don't know me and you don't know that I AM enjoying it, even if this trip to Kohl's was a little more exciting than I would prefer. Yeah, I am not cherishing the moment when my child runs hog wild into the middle of the street. I'm trying to get stuff done and keep the kids alive. Later, we'll go home and eat lunch together and make silly faces, then we'll read a book and he'll give me a hug and invent a funny dance, and I'll look a lot more like someone who is enjoying it.
Enjoy every moment of talking to your pre-teen about the naughty internet searches you found on the family laptop. I'll take the public meltdowns while I can get them.
Love,
Young Moms Who Love Their Kids
Monday, July 7, 2014
An open letter to my hypothetical daughter on why I will not call her "Princess."
Dear Harper,
I want to tell you something now. I know that you may never exist, but I feel like I need to get it out.
I need to break it to you: I won't be calling you Princess.
Yes, I know I can't control what you are interested in. I know. Your brother Jameson, now 2 1/2, loves BYU basketball and won't root for anyone else. ("Say 'go Utes!'" "No, just BYU.") This inspires so many deep sighs and so much time spent wondering how I will break it to your grandpa. So I know you might be a big Disney princess fan. And that is okay.
Secondly, I know that you actually are a princess, because you are the spirit daughter of a king, meaning God. And so is every other girl and woman IN THE WORLD. This does make you valuable, but it also makes everyone else on earth just as valuable.
It all happened when I read this article in Forbes. Giving girls strictly appearance-focused compliments and telling them what special princesses they are has always bothered me, but mostly because I feel awkward when unattractive children are told they're beautiful. Call me mean, but why lie? Why not just find some other stuff they're good at and give genuine compliments? Why is being beautiful the most important thing?
But the more I think about it, the more I realize, yes, doing this would actually damage your future. I'm not talking about allowing your to watch Tangled or play with Cinderella dolls. I'm talking about telling you that you ARE one of those characters.
Think about what a princess is portrayed as in these stories:
1. The most beautiful
2. More important than everyone else
3. Rules an entire kingdom
4. Is given everything without working, suffering, or going without
Can we now debunk those, one by one?
Firstly, a princess is the most beautiful. (Have you seen actual princesses? Not true.) Even if I believe that you are the most beautiful, (and what parents doesn't believe their children are the most beautiful, let's be honest) what a little bitty will you be when you get to school and start telling everyone you're the prettiest and acting like you're the prettiest? You have seen the little girls that look up at an adult just expecting that compliment about how adorable they are. It's not their fault. The world has been programming these little divas for generations and it needs to stop. We adults do hold some power.
Secondly, a princess is more important than everyone else. This is inherently flawed. First of all, a real princess serves her subjects. But as it concerns you, read this. I think it's very healthy for parents to tell their children that they are special...TO THEM. And I'll be doing that plenty. But no kid should be raised with the mentality that she is more special or important than anyone else. Hello entitled, hello inability to deal with rejection or failure, hello inability to make friends.
Thirdly, a princess rules an entire kingdom. Girl, you do not rule here in my house. Heck, this is not even a democracy. Sure, you're my child, I love you, and I want to hear about your thoughts and concerns and wishes and hopes. I do. They will be taken into consideration and validated. You will feel safe and heard. But you do not get a vote. I get a vote. Your dad gets a vote. The end. If it's more important to Dad than it is to me, he might get two votes. But regardless, there are only two people voting here, and you are not one of them.
Fourth, is given everything without working, suffering, or going without. I want you to be feel like you can achieve what you want, but I think my generation got pushed a little too hard toward this confidence. So far, in fact, that we overshot a little bit and were made to think we deserved, say, a high paying job with a company-paid iPhone right out of college, where we earned some history degree or something because it was our "passion," giving no thought for what would actually earn us a living, and no requirement to pay back our student loans. We've got these problems because our parents made us this way. They told us we were the prettiest princesses ever and also the most special and that we could have anything we want. But we can't! We just can't. So I hope that as parents, my generation can do a better job of keeping your feet on the ground. You'll work for your allowance to buy that toy. You'll do chores. Learn basic life skills. Be responsible for your stuff. Understand the disappointment of not being able to have everything you want, and learn to be okay with that.
I tell you this because I want to give you the skills and confidence to be self-reliant, to have perseverance, to try new things and to love and serve others - all beautiful traits - because I know you are strong and special (just like everyone else) and a loved daughter of God.
I hope to meet you in the coming years. Your brothers will love you, but beware, they show their love by wrestling and head-butting. You'll develop a thick skin at a young age. Your dad and I will love you. You'll have daddy-daughter dates. We'll bake together, do our nails together. There are lots of hugs and kisses in our house. Lots of playing and lots of laughing. You'll love it here, and we will love you! But we won't call you Princess. I hope that works for you, cuz that's how I roll.
Love,
Mom
I want to tell you something now. I know that you may never exist, but I feel like I need to get it out.
I need to break it to you: I won't be calling you Princess.
Yes, I know I can't control what you are interested in. I know. Your brother Jameson, now 2 1/2, loves BYU basketball and won't root for anyone else. ("Say 'go Utes!'" "No, just BYU.") This inspires so many deep sighs and so much time spent wondering how I will break it to your grandpa. So I know you might be a big Disney princess fan. And that is okay.
Secondly, I know that you actually are a princess, because you are the spirit daughter of a king, meaning God. And so is every other girl and woman IN THE WORLD. This does make you valuable, but it also makes everyone else on earth just as valuable.
It all happened when I read this article in Forbes. Giving girls strictly appearance-focused compliments and telling them what special princesses they are has always bothered me, but mostly because I feel awkward when unattractive children are told they're beautiful. Call me mean, but why lie? Why not just find some other stuff they're good at and give genuine compliments? Why is being beautiful the most important thing?
But the more I think about it, the more I realize, yes, doing this would actually damage your future. I'm not talking about allowing your to watch Tangled or play with Cinderella dolls. I'm talking about telling you that you ARE one of those characters.
Think about what a princess is portrayed as in these stories:
1. The most beautiful
2. More important than everyone else
3. Rules an entire kingdom
4. Is given everything without working, suffering, or going without
Can we now debunk those, one by one?
Firstly, a princess is the most beautiful. (Have you seen actual princesses? Not true.) Even if I believe that you are the most beautiful, (and what parents doesn't believe their children are the most beautiful, let's be honest) what a little bitty will you be when you get to school and start telling everyone you're the prettiest and acting like you're the prettiest? You have seen the little girls that look up at an adult just expecting that compliment about how adorable they are. It's not their fault. The world has been programming these little divas for generations and it needs to stop. We adults do hold some power.
Secondly, a princess is more important than everyone else. This is inherently flawed. First of all, a real princess serves her subjects. But as it concerns you, read this. I think it's very healthy for parents to tell their children that they are special...TO THEM. And I'll be doing that plenty. But no kid should be raised with the mentality that she is more special or important than anyone else. Hello entitled, hello inability to deal with rejection or failure, hello inability to make friends.
Thirdly, a princess rules an entire kingdom. Girl, you do not rule here in my house. Heck, this is not even a democracy. Sure, you're my child, I love you, and I want to hear about your thoughts and concerns and wishes and hopes. I do. They will be taken into consideration and validated. You will feel safe and heard. But you do not get a vote. I get a vote. Your dad gets a vote. The end. If it's more important to Dad than it is to me, he might get two votes. But regardless, there are only two people voting here, and you are not one of them.
Fourth, is given everything without working, suffering, or going without. I want you to be feel like you can achieve what you want, but I think my generation got pushed a little too hard toward this confidence. So far, in fact, that we overshot a little bit and were made to think we deserved, say, a high paying job with a company-paid iPhone right out of college, where we earned some history degree or something because it was our "passion," giving no thought for what would actually earn us a living, and no requirement to pay back our student loans. We've got these problems because our parents made us this way. They told us we were the prettiest princesses ever and also the most special and that we could have anything we want. But we can't! We just can't. So I hope that as parents, my generation can do a better job of keeping your feet on the ground. You'll work for your allowance to buy that toy. You'll do chores. Learn basic life skills. Be responsible for your stuff. Understand the disappointment of not being able to have everything you want, and learn to be okay with that.
I tell you this because I want to give you the skills and confidence to be self-reliant, to have perseverance, to try new things and to love and serve others - all beautiful traits - because I know you are strong and special (just like everyone else) and a loved daughter of God.
I hope to meet you in the coming years. Your brothers will love you, but beware, they show their love by wrestling and head-butting. You'll develop a thick skin at a young age. Your dad and I will love you. You'll have daddy-daughter dates. We'll bake together, do our nails together. There are lots of hugs and kisses in our house. Lots of playing and lots of laughing. You'll love it here, and we will love you! But we won't call you Princess. I hope that works for you, cuz that's how I roll.
Love,
Mom
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Jamerisms II
After holding up half a bell pepper at his request, "*gasp* It's his nose!"
At the reminder that Grandpa was coming and he was going to get ice cream, "I love ice cream!" With his hands high in the air while sitting in a shopping cart.
While camping in our tent in the family room and trying to remember the word for sleeping bag, "I get in my blankie box and go to sleep."
Upon receiving his freshly laundered blanket after a puking spell, "*gasp, did you wash it off?!"
He loves Buzz, still. "Buzz Lightyear to the rescue!"
Growing impatient of Blake hogging the swing, and wanting a turn, "he wants to get down."
Running out to a 5-ish year old boy on his power wheel in the street, "hey little guy, are you riding that truck?!"
At the grocery store when an older man was walking our direction down the aisle, J: Look out, little guy! Me: He's not a little guy, he's a man. J: Watch out little man! Watch out! I'll catch you!
Seeing me carrying paint and supplies into the house: "Is that for painting? Are you excited for painting?"
"Mommy, where are my green shoes?" So much expression, inflection, perfect enunciation.
Mark and I excited to see Pineview Reservoir and trying to get Jameson pumped up: "Calm down, guys."
First words as he wakes up at our family reunion: "I eat candy, watch Lego Movie! Does that sounds good?"
"Did you got your ____?" This is how he makes conversation. He sees you holding/wearing/using something and just fills in the blank with that object.
In his car seat with his blanket over his head, "look, I'm hiding!"
Trying to stall bedtime, "first Wreck it Ralph, then Curious George."
Holly: Jameson, what's Daddy's name? Jameson: Mark! Blake, what's Mommy's name?"
"It's 'bout called _____." To tell us the name of anything.
"That be fun?" Whenever proposing an idea.
Suddenly, as we carried on a conversation in the car, "don't talk to me."
Both boys were drinking bath water with bubbles all over their mouths. Mark: Don't drink the bath water. You'll get diarrhea Do you WANT diarrhea? Jameson, taking another sip: I want diarrhea!
"Can you come outside wif me?" "Can we do it togever?" EVERYTHING. Playing outside, eating lunch, running in circles, etc.
I hosted bunco last week, and when Jameson saw his primary teacher coming up the front steps, he let out one long, shrill screech while running around in circles.
Every time he sees camping gear in the garage: "That's for camping with Daddy." He went on the father-son campout with Mark a couple months ago and still talks about it.
When I was wearing my floral apron: "Did you got your bib on? Does it have weeds and grapes on your bib?"
Excited about going to the museum with Dad: "And you take your bib off and get in the car! And we go to the party with Mommy! With my blanket and my sandwich!"
Holly: I love you boys, but at 7:30, I'm ready to clock out. Jameson: I want to clock out, too! I want to clock out with you!
When I was wearing my floral apron: "Did you got your bib on? Does it have weeds and grapes on your bib?"
Excited about going to the museum with Dad: "And you take your bib off and get in the car! And we go to the party with Mommy! With my blanket and my sandwich!"
Holly: I love you boys, but at 7:30, I'm ready to clock out. Jameson: I want to clock out, too! I want to clock out with you!
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Jamerisms
Jameson's getting to the age where I need to start writing down the funny things he says. Here are a couple:
The other night, Jameson flushed the toilet while Mark was helping him brush his teeth. Mark told Jameson to stop doing that because it wastes water. Jameson said, "It's not water, it's bathroom!"
A couple weeks ago, we were grocery shopping and I put a can of cashews in the cart, noting that they were for Daddy. "Daddy's nuts!" Jameson exclaimed.
On Sunday I was putting tights on, getting ready for church. Jameson stroked my shin and said, "it's handsome."
He is a bossy kid. Tonight he told Mark, "no dance."
He steps on the scale, looks down and says, "46 dollars!" Then, "you try too, Mommy." I'd rather not, thanks.
He is a hungry kid. He asks for snacks immediately after a meal. He asks for birthday cake pretty much every day. (boyday cake)
He is speaking in sentences now, even though it takes him a while to get through it sometimes. The other day at the park, he went down the slide, then said to Mark, "you go slide too, Daddy." Kind of stammering.
He is also learning his letters! I was quizzing him with some lettered blocks and I was so impressed with his retention. He has a puzzle that spells his name, and he knows those letters, but he also knows X, and any letter that has a long "e" sound, he calls "e." I think he can't quite hear the difference between them yet, but he will mimic the correct pronunciation when I correct him.
He tells Blake to calm down, and to stop whining. Like I said, bossy.
He likes makeup. He digs in mine all the time, sometimes successfully applying lip liner or eye shadow in broad sweeping motions on his cheek. He is almost always upset when I wash it off.
We're trying to get him to stop sucking his thumb. It's slow.
He sings Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star and is learning the ABC song.
Any up-tempo party song is "BYU basaketball music." He loves going to basketball games, and loves BYU. Sometimes when he's up in his bed (in time-out for hitting Blake, mostly), I hear him shouting "B.....Y.....U!" We try to get him to cheer for Utah and Utah State, but about half the time he'll respond, "just BYU."
He almost always says thank you. His please skills are slipping, so we're working on that.
He recognizes Conrad's house when we drive by, even if we aren't stopping.
He gives big hugs.
He tells Blake he's sorry when he pushes him down, throws toys at his face, or slams his head into the wall (although with how often he does these things, I doubt these are sincere apologies).
He likes Buzz Lightyear and will offhandedly mention to me that Buzz is stationed in Sector 4.
During breakfast, he likes to say "hi" to everything. "hello table, hello clock, hello bird, hello light," etc. Waving at everything.
He has a 100% success rate at hearing the garbage truck outside and hearing a plane fly overhead.
He is an encouraging kid. He says things like, "you can do it, Mommy!"
He gets frustrated, stopping on the stairs to hold his hand to his forehead and exasperatedly say, "holy crap."
The other night, Jameson flushed the toilet while Mark was helping him brush his teeth. Mark told Jameson to stop doing that because it wastes water. Jameson said, "It's not water, it's bathroom!"
A couple weeks ago, we were grocery shopping and I put a can of cashews in the cart, noting that they were for Daddy. "Daddy's nuts!" Jameson exclaimed.
On Sunday I was putting tights on, getting ready for church. Jameson stroked my shin and said, "it's handsome."
He is a bossy kid. Tonight he told Mark, "no dance."
He steps on the scale, looks down and says, "46 dollars!" Then, "you try too, Mommy." I'd rather not, thanks.
He is a hungry kid. He asks for snacks immediately after a meal. He asks for birthday cake pretty much every day. (boyday cake)
He is speaking in sentences now, even though it takes him a while to get through it sometimes. The other day at the park, he went down the slide, then said to Mark, "you go slide too, Daddy." Kind of stammering.
He is also learning his letters! I was quizzing him with some lettered blocks and I was so impressed with his retention. He has a puzzle that spells his name, and he knows those letters, but he also knows X, and any letter that has a long "e" sound, he calls "e." I think he can't quite hear the difference between them yet, but he will mimic the correct pronunciation when I correct him.
He tells Blake to calm down, and to stop whining. Like I said, bossy.
He likes makeup. He digs in mine all the time, sometimes successfully applying lip liner or eye shadow in broad sweeping motions on his cheek. He is almost always upset when I wash it off.
We're trying to get him to stop sucking his thumb. It's slow.
He sings Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star and is learning the ABC song.
Any up-tempo party song is "BYU basaketball music." He loves going to basketball games, and loves BYU. Sometimes when he's up in his bed (in time-out for hitting Blake, mostly), I hear him shouting "B.....Y.....U!" We try to get him to cheer for Utah and Utah State, but about half the time he'll respond, "just BYU."
He almost always says thank you. His please skills are slipping, so we're working on that.
He recognizes Conrad's house when we drive by, even if we aren't stopping.
He gives big hugs.
He tells Blake he's sorry when he pushes him down, throws toys at his face, or slams his head into the wall (although with how often he does these things, I doubt these are sincere apologies).
He likes Buzz Lightyear and will offhandedly mention to me that Buzz is stationed in Sector 4.
During breakfast, he likes to say "hi" to everything. "hello table, hello clock, hello bird, hello light," etc. Waving at everything.
He has a 100% success rate at hearing the garbage truck outside and hearing a plane fly overhead.
He is an encouraging kid. He says things like, "you can do it, Mommy!"
He gets frustrated, stopping on the stairs to hold his hand to his forehead and exasperatedly say, "holy crap."
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