All's quiet

It's amazing how quiet my house gets when I have fewer children in it. Really. It's eerily quiet, even when only one of them is gone. For the moment, my two girls have gone to visit family for the holidays. Even though the one remaining behind is my toddler son, who is loud and rambunctious and full of energy and has a scream so loud it breaks your eardrum, my house is so different.

I remember when I had my first baby. My life became completely hectic overnight. Suddenly, everything I did took longer. Just getting out of the house for the most simple tasks, like grocery shopping, required at least 15 minutes lead time. There was the diaper bag and the clean clothes and the burp cloth and the car seat and the extra socks. Should I feed her now before I leave or pack a bottle, just in case? I couldn't just go to bed when I wanted. Life was crazy. I was sure I would never recover. Then, it got a little easier and I kept having more babies. Now, my three kids are my life and I don't even imagine what couples with no children do with their time. One of my best friends just had a baby. He's a sweet boy and I am so happy for her. But it kind of makes me laugh, because I was there once. And now, I only have one at home and my life feels so peaceful and relaxed.

It will go back to crazy and frenetic when the girls come back, but for now, I am going to enjoy the quiet. And go to bed when I want.

The tilted and naked tree

We promised the girls we would put up our Christmas tree this year. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas and having a tree is part of the tradition. But we haven't put it up for the last couple of years for a variety of reasons. Last year, Runway (our Australian Shepherd) was new to our house and she chews on everything. We were totally afraid of putting up the tree only to have it completely destroyed by the dog while we were out. The year before, it was buried in the garage and we didn't want to dig it out. The year before that, I was 9 months pregnant and just didn't feel like putting up the tree. The tree is now UP!

There are a couple of challenges with our tree. The biggest problem is that the stand it came with is missing. It's an artificial tree, but I honestly don't remember if the person who gave it to us also gave us the stand. I have tried and tried to find an artificial tree stand, but apparently all fake tree manufacturers assume that if people never lose pieces, because I have yet to find any kind of stand that is made for my fake tree. Lots of real tree stands, in all shapes and sizes, but no stands for artificial trees. We're using a real tree stand, but it doesn't stay upright at all and it has to be propped up against the wall and it tilts to the side. It looks rather strange.

The second problem is that we have no real decorations. I should have started collecting ornaments when the kids were babies, but I didn't. For a while we were getting those cheap ornaments from Walmart, but they break too easily and we keep losing the hooks. Most of the ones we had left have broken, either because of the dogs or the curious little boy of the house. Whatever the reason, our tree is mostly naked. It has great lights, so it's more like being covered with a fig leaf, but we just call it naked.

But we have a solution. It's called the day after Christmas sales!!! We're going to hit a Target or something this weekend and stock up. We hope the trees will be 75% off (it better come with a stand) and we'll see what kinds of ornaments are left. Tinsel, wreaths, decorations - they're all on the list. Then we'll shove it all in the garage and hope we feel like putting it up next year!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Taking on too much

I posted a while ago about the sudden death of my OB/GYN, Dr. Cliff Kahle. It was a real blow to me and I have recently been wondering about whether his death was just because of too much, and whether I am taking on too much. I heard he committed suicide, but I didn't know if that was true. In just putting his name in a search engine, I came across a number of his other patients who also blogged about his death and much he meant to them. One of them looked like she had worked with Dr. Kahle and it said he was found in a remote location, still in his scrubs, with a gunshot wound to the head. I need to be careful about getting what I wish for, because now that I know more of the specifics, I'm crushed all over again.

I always had a very high opinion of Dr. Kahle. He was quiet and kind. He was funny and obviously smart, and he cared very much about his patients. And I am consumed with why this happened. I think I might know why and it makes me wonder about me (and some people I care about very much).

Cliff Kahle was an excellent doctor. If the comments on his obituary are any indication, every person who ever came in contact with him LOVED him. He has a wife and four young children. He also was the medical director for both the family planning clinic at the Southern Nevada Health District and a medical spa. He was clinical faculty member for the University of Nevada School of Medicine. He was active in his church and (I think) had some kind of leadership role. Is all of that just too much to keep up with? I know some doctors who can manage their family lives and their practices, and that's all. How is it possible to keep up with 1) family; 2) a thriving practice of emotional, hormonal, pregnant women; 3) resident doctors and medical students; 4) private enterprises that want your expertise; and 5) a government agency overseeing the needs of high risk population and 6) the various callings of your faith (regardless of denomination)? In a way, it's no wonder this man was under pressure. I would imagine that when you have always said yes, it becomes impossible to say no. When everyone thinks you are perfect, it becomes unacceptable to start making mistakes.

I've had my own bouts with depression before. Pretty serious depression. I certainly don't know what he was feeling, but I understand the demon. Dr. K helped me get through the last one. After two devastating miscarriages, I wasn't sure I would recover from the trauma. The first one in particular was especially rough. I had seen the heartbeat. I was out of the danger zone. I was ready to enter the second trimester. Then, "this is the pregnancy tissue here, and that is not normal. I am so sorry". I didn't want any baby, I wanted THAT baby. The second miscarriage was just a cruel joke. But he assured me I would be ok, that he had experienced this pain in his own family, and that he would do whatever it took to help me. And he did.

So I am going to start being mindful of what I am doing and saying no. No more trying to be all things to all people. No more bending the rules to make someone else happy with me. No more taking on more that I can manage. But I am also going to start saying yes. Yes, I would love to take my kids to the park and play Candyland and read bedtime stories. Yes, I am going to take better care of myself. Yes, I will be a better mother, wife and friend. And I want all of you to do that too. Don't take on more than you can manage. Don't sacrifice your family time to take on one more obligation. Don't go to bed a few minutes later just to finish another project. Take care of yourself.

By the way, if anyone knows where Dr. Kahle is buried, please let me know. I'm sure it's somewhere in Las Vegas, but I don't know for sure and I would like to leave flowers at his grave site.

This is a test

I was traveling most of last week and then got sick while I was in Charlotte, in case you were wondering where I went. It was a work trip and I had one good day before I got miserably sick. And it's not like I can just take a sick day. I had pretty important business and several pre-arranged meetings, so I had to suck it up and self medicate. And I had to move, a lot. Lots of walking in heeled shoes and aching feet. By Friday, I was ready to amputate at the ankles. But at least Friday was a sit down day.

Now, I've been home for a few days and still sick. Yes, I have been to the doctor. Yes, he did give me a prescription. No, I am not going to fill it (this is a test, because I'll know if Mom reads this, since I told her I picked up the meds). I have bronchitis. According to the handout the doctor gave me, bronchitis is usually a viral infection and antibiotics will not help a virus. I'm sure the doctor wrote the prescriptions to placate me. And in truth, I only went to the doctor to get a note for DH. His employer won't allow him to use sick time unless he or a family member is sick for three consecutive days. He doesn't have to miss three days, he just has to show I was sick for three days. I tried explaining all this to the doctor, but it was hopeless. Ultimately, I did get the note, but it came with some seriously funny looks. I didn't go to work today, though I did a fair amount from home and I am not going tomorrow. I can't be hacking up my lungs in the work place. It's just not cool.

There will be more when I am healthy.

Come on in, the store's on fire

I have made a command decision: I am no longer shopping at Walmart. Yes, money is tight and they do have pretty good deals on groceries. I have shopped there for several years, but it's just not worth it anymore. Here is why I am an ex-Walmart shopper.

I took my kids shopping this morning, as I try to do on Sunday mornings. It's good for them to get out of the house and it makes to day go by faster, since DH is at work all day and we tend to get stir crazy. We piled into the van and talked about the rules as we found a nice space close to the door. It was unusually un-busy for a Sunday morning in the few weeks before Christmas, but I try not to gripe too much about these types of blessings. I promised the kids that we could take a stroll through the toy aisle and they could point out some things they might like to see under the tree. We spent a few minutes doing that, then headed down to the grocery side for the weekly essentials. As I approached the dairy section in the back of the store, I was met by two employees who told me the store was being evacuated and I needed to exit using the other side of the building. When I asked what was wrong, they said they "thought" there was a fire and people were being evacuated as a precaution. Makes sense: things burning, people getting out. We quickly made our way to the front, and as I moved, the distinct smell of smoke became evident. We moved quicker toward the exit. As I reached the front doors, there were still plenty of people shopping, checking out and entering the store. I could see police cars and fire trucks in the parking lot.

This is the part that really gets me. I told the greeter at the entrance that the store was being evacuated. She told me not to worry and that the store was not being evacuated. I insisted that I was told I had to leave the store because there may be a fire. She was sure that there was no fire and continued to allow people into the store. OK, so the fire may have been small and confined to a small area. Maybe it was really some burning dust on a heater that hadn't been used in a while. But we are talking about a FIRE, people! What I know about fire is that it moves fast (raise your hand if you thing that Walmart doesn't have a piles of boxes in their receiving area) and it can kill people. If you thought it was serious enough to summon eight ladder trucks from the Gilbert Fire Department and a squadron of cops to establish a perimeter around the parking lot, then maybe people should get out of the building.

Oh, wait! I forgot, this is Christmas. People were inside spending money. Silly me, why didn't I think of that? Walmart was just trying to salvage what it can from this toilet bowl economy and make a few bucks with the hope that the fire wouldn't be seen by anyone but the fire marshal and they could go on spreading Christmas cheer. That's why they were only keeping people out of the dairy section and away from the groceries. Hanging out in the toy aisles, they're totally cool with that.

Rise up friends! No more Walmart!

Drops, drops and more drops

I can see clearly now!! Yesterday, I had LASIK done on both eyes and it is AMAZING!!!! OK, the surgery part, not so amazing. But the after part is fantastic! See all the exclamation points? That's how I feel about my vision. It's a very awesome thing to wake up and be able to see the numbers on the alarm clock without reaching for my glasses. I had it done at the Schwartz Laser Eye Center in Scottsdale, AZ. There's a link to Dr. Schwartz if you're interested.

The procedure itself was not painful Not really fun, but it didn't hurt. I panicked in the middle of it (I think because I am still upset about other things, see below) and when I came home I was afraid I wouldn't be able to open my right eye. But I slept for six hours after the surgery and my eye opened just like it's supposed to when I finally climbed out of bed. There was no pain at all, but it was a little unsettling "watching" the doctor peel back the flap in my cornea, than scrape it back into place. But the machine just made a bunch of clicking noises and it was over pretty fast.

My vision pre-surgery was 20/200 in my right eye and 20/400 in my left eye. One day post-op, I am at 20/20 in my right eye and 20/25 in my left. That should stabilize over time and I can probably get slightly better than 20/20 in both eyes. My eyes kind of look like they have been bleeding (I suppose technically they have) and I have four different kinds of drops. Over the counter lubricating drops for every hour that I am awake, antibiotic drops and anti-inflammatory drops four times a day, and more prescription lubricating drops twice a day. I think the airport might stop me for having too much liquid when I travel next week.

There are varying reactions to mom without glasses. One of the kids told me I looked funny. But DH thinks the me without glasses is a softer version of me and wants to know if that's the new me. Who knows? I suppose we'll see. For now, I am just looking forward to being able to pick out a pair of non-prescription sunglasses.

I'm stuck in stage 4

I did receive confirmation that my doctor did pass away unexpectedly. His obituary with a smiling photograph is in the newspaper. I've chosen not to speculate too much on the details. It won't accomplish anything. But I see myself moving through the five stages of grief, which are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I denied it was true when I didn't know for sure. I was angry that he left me without a good doctor. I tried to tell God what I would do if only it wasn't so. Now I am stuck in depression. Not a raging depression, but more like a lulling sadness. I just feel so sad for his wife and children. His kids were little, and he spoke of his family often. I will be praying for them for a long time.

Say it ain't so

I heard something today about my doctor that, if it's true, devastates me to my core.

First, you have to understand my relationship with my doctor. He is amazing. I found him when I was pregnant with my first child. It was 2000 and I had been married for 2 short months. The doctor I had been seeing couldn't fit me in until mid way through my pregnancy, so I started shopping around. He delivered all of my babies, saw me through a couple of miscarriages and some other medical crises. He came to meet me for the first time while I still had my clothes on and he hugged me at every appointment. I have pictures of him holding two of my kids after they were born.

Two and a half years ago, I moved away from the city where he practices (nearly 400 miles away), but I still fly to him once a year for my annual check-up and I imagined I would do that until the day he retired or threw me out of his office, which ever came first. I saw him only two weeks ago. He had recently moved to a new practice where they give you real gowns instead of paper towels with arm holes. He thanked me profusely for following him to the new office and wanted to make sure it hadn't been difficult to find him. He was meticulous about his schedule and always apologized for any kind of wait, but at the same time, I never felt rushed and he was always available. So, what else can I say? He is amazing.

This evening, my friend called me to ask if I had heard. The doctor had committed suicide over the weekend. This, I had not heard. She is going to call me tomorrow to tell me if it's true. It doesn't make sense. My friend was supposed to have an appointment with him tomorrow, but his office didn't call to cancel. She heard it from someone else. But it just blows my mind. This cannot be real.

I hope it isn't true. It can't be. But if it is, may he rest in peace.

You have a bead where?!

I went to a women's family reunion with my husband's mother in Portland, OR over Labor Day weekend. It was a blast. I got to meet a whole bunch of family that I hadn't met before and we did some really cool things. We did some wine tasting at a couple of wineries and took a dinner cruise on the Willamette river.

On the last night of the get together, a psychic came to the party and gave readings. I thought it would be a fun experience, having never consulted a psychic before. My mother in law had been to one a very long time ago and got some spot on information about her life. I never intended it to be a serious thing and didn't plan on consulting her again after the reunion was over. But she gave some pretty amazing readings to a lot of people. Hearing what she said to some , and how many of those predictions had come to fruition, was just spooky. (There's a link to her website to the right in case you are interested). When it came to be my turn, she gave me some information about my job, my husband and my kids. Something incredible was supposed to happen with my career in only nine weeks time! Well, it never happened, and most of what she predicted for me just never made it to reality. But finally, I have one thing I can say has finally come true. She predicted that I would have some minor medical emergencies with my children that would sending me speeding for the nearest urgent care and/or emergency room.

Yesterday, KC put a bead in his nose. I didn't see him do it. I only heard the words "nose" and "bead" and I knew enough. His little finger was slightly bloodied from his own attempts to dig it out. With a steady hand and a flashlight, I plopped him up on the counter and peered up his nostrils to see a green bead perched just out of reach. I tried to get it out myself with a pair of tweezers, but I only managed to push it up even further. So I cancelled my plans to take my friend out for her birthday and trotted off to urgent care for the nose bead-ectomy.

I could tell the doctor was trying not to laugh too much. I'm sure she has seen her share of this. But we happened to get the same doctor who only a few months ago removed a bead from my daughter's ear. In all fairness to me, I didn't know the bead was in her ear. I had taken here there with a fever and a sore throat. KA claimed she didn't know how it got there. It was only discovered accidentally. But the doctor must wonder why we still allow beads in our house.

My first order of business this morning was to vacuum between and underneath the couch cushions. Slowly but surely, I will rid my house of all signs of beads.

Not a first timer

I have blogged before. Nothing earth shattering, but I lost my motivation with the topic, so I stopped. I think my last post on the other blog was sometime in July. But this is different. This is a blog about being a mom. I happen to be a working mom, but a mom is a mom in my view. I make no judgements about those women who choose to stay home and I ask no one make judgements about me choosing to work. Everyone is welcome. And I'm not mad like angry mad. Just crazy. Running around in 10 different directions with my head cut off.

I'll start by telling you about me. I am married (eight years), have three great kids (two girls ages 7 and 5 and one boy age 2). I have a college education and own my home. I drive a minivan five days a week from my house in the burbs to my cubicle 17 miles away. My younger kids are in a daycare three days a week. I wish I could tell you what I do, but I can't. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you (kidding). It's not really that ominous, but it's not a can of works I want to open. And in case anyone wonders, I don't do anything of questionable moral value, like take my clothes off, just for a paycheck. I have an office, for Pete's sake (and if anyone can tell me who Pete is, I'd appreciate it). I carry a Blackberry, check my e-mail from home too often, there are business cards at the bottom of my purse in a lame vinyl case. So it's a legitimate job. I don't like to think of myself as a soccer mom. But with the minivan and the Girl Scouts and speech therapists, I probably am.

For purposes of this blog, my husband is DH (dear husband) and my children will be affectionately referred to as "Kidlet A" or KA (the 7 year old), "Kidlet B" or KB (the 5 year old) and (can you guess?) "Kidlet C" or KC (the 2 year old). Those initials in no way correspond to their real names or initials. It's just how my husband I started referring to them when we didn't want them to know we were talking about them.

Today is Thanksgiving (unless you are my relatives in Canada, in which case it's November 27th). My son brought home this adorable picture he made at school. I've had these kinds of things for Mother's Day, but I've never gotten one at Thanksgiving. Isn't it cute? I want to put it in a frame and I know it's one of those cheesy kid things that I'll never throw away. I have the perfect place for it in my cube.

Motherhood starts at different times for different people. For some, it's the moment of conception; for others, it's the birth. I have a sister who takes in foster kids. For her, she becomes the mom as soon as those kids walk through the door, even if they don't stay very long. The one thing I notice that we all have in common is that being a mom is hard. Whether you work or not, all moms start by having to diapers and feeding (don't get me started on how hard breastfeeding was), then it becomes potty training and and toddler beds. I'm in several different stages at the moment. KA is working on spelling words and using the Internet to practice. KB is in a half day Kindergarten for kids who just miss the deadline for regular Kindergarten and is working on counting to 100. She's doing pretty well, but she always seems to skip the number 15. Not sure why. And KC is struggling with certain elements of using the potty. I am seriously buying stock in Fruit of the Loom. I refuse to wash poop out of underwear.

Sometimes I may be humorous and laugh at all that being a mom has to offer. Some days, I may just be flat out exhausted and rather crusty at all that being a mom requires. Laugh with me, cry with me, share with me. I need all the help I can get. This is my diary - the diary of a mad working mom.