Of dogs and children

The Three Amigos

As long as they know who's really in charge!

"It's okay to be green"

Motherhood is probably the only job you'll never quit for being overworked and underpaid.

One day I will look back and "remember when Maddox grabbed the neon green bottle of nail polish in the store when I wasn't looking"... one day...

My pregnancy and The evolution of mother's dreams

This week Maddox and I visited the Jones family who recently welcomed a baby boy into their family. It's been joyful to see the couple anxiously anticipating their son's arrival, preparing the baby room, and going through all the happy moments leading to the grand finale. Watching mother and child relaxing together on a Friday afternoon made everything seem so right.

It also brought back certain points in time for me. (Whose own son, I will mention, was reluctant to go inside and then decided to be shy and stand in the corner almost the entirety of our visit! Understand readers, that this is despite the fact that Heather has kept him overnight on more than one occassion and he always cries when he has to go home.)

I would like to be able to relate to those who had such a pregnancy, but mine was full of stress and worry throughout the entire 9 months. Thankfully, everything physically went smoothly but nothing else seemed to come easily.

The announcement of Maddox's presence came at what I believed was the worst possible time. I was only days from moving to Dallas and had a lot of plans forming for work and opportunities that did not include maternity leave. On top of this were other unanswered questions like Do the father and I stay together? Should I move or stay? Where will we get the money for a baby? How long will I have insurance? (The answer to this was that I had coverage until 6 months into the pregnancy, which at that point my employer dropped everyone's insurance and I was forced to apply for state coverage-- twice actually, but we will get to that later.)

Soon after the news that a baby was in our future, I became an emotional, dry-heaving, insomnia-at-night-and -napping-during-the-day, and hormonal mess.

At seven months, we moved to a brand new city. This was a blessing and a lot to handle in the last trimester. My only memories are 1. Packing the moving truck by myself since our friends were working and my significant other wouldn't be back in town until midnight (we had to hit the road around 7am the next morning) and 2. A very long drive with a rediculous number of bathroom stops.

Upon arriving in Nashville, I had to re-apply for insurance coverage. The process in Oklahoma was simple-- bring in a few pay stubs and various information forms to be approved on the spot. But in Nashville, which was also in the middle of a job market crisis that drove hundreds to apply for state benefits, it was not so simple. On a Monday, I went to the office between 6 and 7am to wait for the doors to open at 8. Everyone who hoped to MAKE AN APPOINTMENT was there lined up in an endless stream of people. I was too late and was dismissed that day. Two days later, I had to return at 5:30 am (mind you I was still having insomnia and often did not fall asleep until 8am so this was completely exhausting) and by 10 am I received an appointment to meet with someone who would review my eligibility. Later that afternoon I met with a counselor who filled out some forms for me and submitted my application.

Then I waited... and waited... and waited...

By month 9, I called the office every day asking where my approval and insurance cards were. "We're sorry," they'd say. "We're just very backed up right now. I'm sure they will be there soon." I finally hit my limit and in an exasperated moment told the telephone operator that if I didn't get my card I would be having the baby in my bathroom and NOT be delivered in a hospital where they expected me to hope insurance would pick up the bill later. My card arrived the next week.

In our first-time-parent preparedness, we did not do lamaze classes. We did not read any books (although I did read a very good book written by a midwife whose name I can't recall). We did not have a "birth plan." We did not have a hospital picked out. We did not have a delivery doctor (the clinic I was going to did not do deliveries, only pre-natal care). Most of our baby clothes were donated by a nice family that didn't need them. It all seemed like such a mess.

One week before juniors big arrival, I decided to walk through Vanderbilt hospital and spoke to a kind receptionist. I told her of my hesitation about hospitals and doctors and how I would like to possibly deliver at home but the father flatly refused that option. She suggested a midwife group that delivered at Vanderbilt and I made an appointment (not knowing that this far along most doctors will not begin seeing a new patient).

There was only time for one office visit (after a long debate about whether or not they would take me on) that was cut short due to overscheduling that day. They took my blood pressure and tried to gather my medical history, then sent me out the door. Less than a week later they delivered my child. 

Anxiety? Yes, let's say there was just a little!

My water broke on a Friday around 6pm at a small shopping mart by our apartment. I was in the middle of making dinner and had run to the store to get salad ingredients. On my way to the check-out counter I felt a slight wetness. Hmmm... then a little more... time to get home. Just as I handed my credit card to the checker there was a gush, gush, SPLASH! My water erupted and began dousing my legging-covered legs in an embrassing torrent. I raced out of the store, groceries in hand, and drove home.

Three clothing changes later I realized there was nothing I could do but put on a dress and grab a towel. Hastily I packed a bag for the hospital, not really knowing what to bring but remarkably doing a decent job. I texted dad who was still at work who texted back "Are you sure your water broke??" Ummm.. yes. Or I have major bladder issues that defy physical limitations.

I made him a quick salad and then drove to pick him up. To my dismay, every guy at work came outside to satisfy their curiosity about what a woman in labor looked like. I wasn't amused and refused to get out of the drivers seat with my giant towel tucked in place. I handed dad his salad and drove us to the hospital. (Well, kind of. The contractions were causing me to get light-headed and I ended up getting lost and turning a 30 minute drive to a one hour drive in rush hour traffic.)

23 hours later, Maddox was born.

I would like to say I was in love from the moment I saw him, but that would be a lie. I was certainly in awe, but also very surprised by the whole thing. How did the moving, growing bump I'd been carrying for so long and over so many miles suddenly turn into a tiny human? By the next day, we were happily bonded and still share a special closeness that is stronger than any other.

Children were nothing new to me, but a newborn was an entirely different responsiblity. I loved taking him with me and taking care of his needs, but also couldn't wait for him to grow up. His fragileness scared me. His helplessness made me rush home after leaving him home with dad for only 45 minutes. I slept restlessly, listening to each sound he made and to make sure he was breathing. I looked forward to "bigger."

Even more than his dad, I looked forward to discovering the world together, to play in the fall leaves, run around the house in a game of tag, read books together, and even fill a companionship that I yearned for. I couln't wait to hear him call me by name, tell me what he was thinking, see who he would look like, what color eyes he would have, and what kind of interests he'd develop.

Looking back, both moments in time were equally precious. Infancy has a sense of innocent sweetness that eventually changes. Not that children aren't sweet, but babies don't even know how to be naughty or disobey. They just do what they do and are...

Another thing I've learned is that as children get older, your role changes. Things like discipline, teaching good habits, showing a good example, and guiding makes your job more complicated. It takes more planning and consistency.

And yes, I do love the toddler stage.. most of the time.. but there are also times when I fail to enjoy THESE moments because THESE moments also completely wear a mother out.

It's funny how your hopes and dreams evolve over time. Childhood is a time for dreams, the making of theirs and the evolution of your own.

Weekend Recipe: Versatile Chinese Peanut Sauce

This week I made a wonderful peanut sauce as a dip for baked tofu. The recipe I found on http://www.epicurious.com/ was a big winner!

The verstile taste and adjustable texture could go with many different rice, noodle, chicken, salad, or fish recipes. It would even give stir fry a nice finish. I would say though, that if you're not a big garlic fan you'll want to cut the chopped cloves at least in half. For a creamier or thinner consistency, simply adjust the water. For less peanut taste, add more soy sauce. And for a little extra flavor, try adding a few Tbsp fresh chopped ginger.

Whatever you do, this easy sauce is sure to be a crowd pleaser!

Chinese Peanut Sauce

• 1/2 cup creamy peanut butter (do not use old-fashioned or freshly ground)
• 2 tablespoons soy sauce
• 4 teaspoons minced garlic
• 1/2 cup hot water
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
• 3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
• 2 teaspoons sugar
• 3/4 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper

Mix peanut butter, soy sauce and garlic in medium bowl. Whisk in 1/2 cup hot water. Add remaining ingredients; whisk to blend. Season with salt and pepper. Let stand at room temperature 1 hour or cover and refrigerate up to 1 day.

Read More http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Chinese-Peanut-Sauce-15580#ixzz1IxxF9nLd

Mission Knits: Adorable find for a great cause!

Late last year I discovered a cute little online store run by a pre-teen girl named Mady. Her store is called Mission Knits. Maddy makes and sells knit items that include toys, baby clothes, and wearables to help fund her mission trips.
These knit items are adorable, well-made and AFFORDABLE! Prices start at around $15. Sometimes there is a waiting list depending on how many orders Maddy is currently working on.
Here are a few more examples of what you will find from Mission Knits.

Maddox loves his Mom and Baby monster we had made in blue and brown. He stays entertained by taking the baby in and out of the momma's pocket and you never know where you'll find them.

It's a fast-paced life... when you're 2

Have I mentioned that this boy has no less than four cell phones? A future business man, no doubt.

Wind, Rain, and Downed Power Lines... Oh my!

"Today we will see clouds moving in with severe weather picking up late in the afternoon. Expect strong winds, heavy rain, and possible tornados." The weatherman set the day's prediction right as I stepped off the treadmill and prepared for another morning of wet diapers, picking up last night's discarded toys, and a rush to fit everything in before the storm overtook our day of errands.

"Whaaaaaa!" Maddox's morning cries erupted from his bedroom and I swooped in to save him from the prison of his bedroom.

By the time we returned that day, the clouds had already begun to darken and loom eerily in the sky. "Okay buddy, we have to hurry and walk the dogs," I told Maddox while buckling him into his stroller and grabbing a few bites of homemade spiced apples to calm my own growling stomach. Being Momma often means a meager breakfast. Especially when those precious few moments when my two-year old is strapped into his high chair are perfect for popping laundry into the wash, sweeping up, and starting my day.

The minute we stepped outside, the first few drops of rain began to fall. By the time we turned back for home, a full downpour erupted and doused us with a cool spring shower. By the time we turned into the driveway, our clothes stuck to our skin. I quickly un-hooked the dogs to dry in the garage and whisked our wet clothing into the dryer while simultaneously throwing together a quick lunch. (Mothers are wonderful multi-taskers, aren't we?)

By the time juniors naptime came, I was looking forward to a few moments of solitude and a gripping episode of Pit Bulls and Parolees. Just as I was about to learn if a sick dog was going to live or die, the wind and rain roared at speeds topping 90 mph and flicked our power on and off in a teasing game of "will I or won't I go out." At the most gripping moment of doggie survival, the power shut off with a snap. "Oh great," I grumbled. "So much for 'me' time."

After glancing outside, it was all too obvious why. A large tree across the streeet had snapped in two, landing in a hammock made of power lines, some having snapped and laying in a maze of twisting coils across our lawn and driveway.

That night we sat in candlelight, optimistic that the lights would be on in no time, and made the best of a fun family night.

By the next night we were still waiting, only this time with a grumpy toddler who had no chance of a nap without his Veggie Tales cd. Tired, grouchy, and unable to remove our car from the garage due to the cluttered driveway, we tried to stay patient.

Soon a truck made it's way up the hill and rounded the corner. Hoop hoop hooray!!!! I stifled the desire to dance around the room. The joy was short-lived however when the driver proceeded to chop the tree, shred it, and then drive away without restoring our precious electricity.

Naptime was... increasingly difficult. It began with: "Juice! Juice! Snack! Snack! Snack!!!" Which led to "Whaaaaa!!!! Whaaaaaaa!!!!!!" And eventually gave way to short cries and shrieks. And 45 minutes later had turned to "Mom? Mooom? MOOOOOOOM!!!"

Needless to say, naptime was a loss and my grouchy little man quickly turned into a firefighter who happily munched Honey Bunches of Oats (for the moment at least) on the sofa while I tried to gather my energy.

Day 3: Spirits were low. Most of the remenants of our fridge were either trash by now or safely stored in a mini fridge at dad's work. Mom was tired and wanted a nap. (This wasn't possible thanks to grumpy pouts, a wayward toddler, and being a highway at the moment for multiple large plastic trucks). Maddox was full of energy, impatient, and emitted angry cries of "Go! GO!!!" every few minutes, begging to be freed.

Lunch was pancakes and homemade brown sugar syrup on the gas grill. It would have been a fun picnick, had both our nerves not been so fried. Maddox spent most of the warm afternoon hauling our French Bulldog up and down the stairs and throwing himself on the ground if the dog resisted his directions.

By naptime, I still hoped  for fatigue to kick in and knock my little bullet of energy out for at least an hour. No luck...

After a few more hours of shouts, screeches, whines, and general displays of unhappiness (including four necessary trips to time-out), I'd had it. I was ready to do everything in my power to find freedom. At least car rides put junior to sleep and could ease some of the tension brought on by a naughty, tired pint-sized terror.

Without fully thinking of the possible consequences, I unlatched the safty lever on our garage and swung the door high. Ahhhhh, freedom was at hand!

I then grabbed a broom and a large branch and carefully moved the trecherous coils fully into the grass. (Note: Please do NOT attempt this on your own! Any contact with electrical wires is very dangerous and can result in death, as it did with a man in Memphis after this same storm hit them.)

At the moment though, I either didn't consider the full extent of the danger or my fried brain didn't care. I was free!!!! Or so I thought until realizing the car seat was safely strapped into my husband's car!

Panic set in as I desperately tried to drum up a plan that included getting to Walmart and buying the first toddler car seat I found. But the neighbors weren't home and as much as I wanted to tie Maddox up and drive to the store, it still couldn't be justified.

Thankfully, my husband agreed to be home in 30 minutes or less. (Which might have had something to do with threats of what would happen if he didn't intervene.)

Alas, the car seat was returned and my car was free to roam. I spent some time with my horse, then enjoyed a nice dinner (alone, listening to a talented guitarist) at a lovely french restaurant called Bicyclette that I've been dying to try, and by 9pm our lights were restored. Life was restored to normalcy once again and my sanity was safe for one more day.

But our moment without power leaves one to wonder: Why is it though that the son you desperately love and who is the center of your world also weilds the power to drive you to the verge of insanity?

Ahh love, is such a complicated thing!