Home From the Hospital with Sophia

I will update more later.  For now, just know that Sophia is doing much better.  And now the question is, are the rest of us gonna go down, too?  I guess you will know the answer if you don't see any posts within a day or so!  ADD IN Friday AM:  Ella is succombing to the bug...and I may never sleep again.  Her 1st strep test was negative.  We are staying tuned for ongoing readings of her culture b/c the child is SICK.

And One Blog Becomes Two

Last week or the week before there was a letter to the editor in my local newspaper.  I tried to find it online because I wanted to provide the link so that you, the reader, would believe me when I said it was written by a crazy person.  

The man (a conservative) who wrote the letter indicated that there were "takers and makers" in the world, and that "takers" were outnumbering "makers."  He then indicated that women especially were "takers" in our society.  

His warped view served as a distraction of true issues and actually fixing anything.  So I decided an angry retort to the editor was not warranted.

Expressing passionate opinions -- especially about political issues -- brings out the crazies.  I'm talking about me, though, now. Give me three nights of minimal sleep, five hours at MD offices the day before, and a high maintenance child that becomes even more high maintenance while throwing up every 15 minutes into a bucket

THAT HER BABY SISTER THEN DUMPS ON HERSELF

and there you have it. 

A sure way for me to come un-done.  

Have you ever come un-done?  Maybe misread something, acted angrily, and then find out you inserted snarky sarcasm where there was none? 

I have.  Today. 

I thought a crazy man had posted to my blog.  And the first thought I had was "Oh God. I've gone too far.  I never should have written OOC I & II on this blog." Doing so had possibly brought in an audience I didn't want anywhere near my children.   The poster's wording didn't make sense to me.  There were no verbal cues, body language cues, and I had no idea who in the hell he was or what he was really trying to communicate. 

So I consulted four people whose opinions I trust and respect.

Now as it all turns out...  Yes... Here's the funny part.  The person was probably trying to be "cute." Really?

Or perhaps they were a "tired liberal, I hear that sort of statement all the time at meetings of democrats."  And then he continued, "You know being a great writer also means you should have good reading comprehension.  Way to go, Superstar." 

Ouch. But deserved.

 Hmph.

My Readers

...Happen to be pretty compassionate and respectful people.  I know this because, even as I write very strong opinions, the numbers on the blog have been clicking up at a fast pace recently (who in the hell, I wonder, cares what I have to say?), and while some have directly disagreed with me, they were respectful.  I tolerated it.  And after meeting Dr. Boyt, I appreciated it.  Because it meant they still had their voice and they were still engaged, and in a good way. 

So I'm not proud of going off half-cocked. You are very lucky if you are even-keeled.

As the day went on and Sophia threw up all over the leather couch, the throw pillows, the carpets and the rugs.  And as Andi screamed that she couldn't hold the throw up bucket.  And Ella complained OVER AND OVER that she wanted to go to the park, or watch TV, etc. 

I realized 

That I needed to offer an apology to Salt. I'm sorry.  The loss of one's dignified bearing is often sudden. -- Jerry Van Amerongen

That I needed to keep up my courage to keep going with Change Writing and stay engaged with A and Dr. Boyt.  This gave birth to Giving Voice to Passion: My Journey Towards Change  which will contain OOC type writings. Nothing, yet, is written on that blog.  I've spent today wondering how to clean up vomit and my self-created social mess.

I need to lessen chances of crazies being attracted to my blog. That being said, for now, it will not be privatized, but it will no longer be a place for me to express political opinions.  It will be a mom-blog, but I will still write using brutal honesty, and humor, though that is often accidental. 

Upcoming 

 ...Are my thoughts on pregnancy loss.  October 15th is Remembrance Day, and I want to contribute my voice so that the three little babies I never met, who would now be 6, 7 and 10 years old are not forgotten. Nor are the other babies lost daily.  

He who speaks without modesty will find it difficult to make his words good.  -Confucious

Processing What the Hell Just Happened

I looked at A.  I had not seen her in a good six years; since I had left my position as her nanny while she sported the job as freelance writer.  I couldn't take the corporate bullshit of the job I was in as a mental health counselor and I went back to my roots -- caring for children. 

A looked beautiful.  She had make-up on, killer knee-high black boots and I swear she melted away some weight.  Her hair was scrunched into, I imagine, natural curls that hung around her face and her black-framed glasses that she took off and put on again throughout the meeting made her look, to me, all the more sophisticated and beautiful.  And smart.

And she led the meeting with this great man I had the honor of meeting today,  Dr. Harry Boyt.  I'm afraid to try to summarize the meeting for fear, that out of my naivete and meager understanding of what he is all about, that I will get something wrong and do him and his work a disservice. 

As he spoke about activism and engagement in civic matters, I was left speechless at moments, struck by the truth of what he just said.  The brilliance of his thoughts.  His years of work,practicing what he preached (successfully) and study showed. 

At times I was overcome with connection to what it was he was saying.  When he said "everyone has a story.  You must speak to someone with radically different beliefs than yours.  And you must do it with curiosity." I wondered if he had met me in a past life.  I have uttered the words "everyone has a story" countless times.  And I am wildly curious about people's stories.  All their stories.  And so why it had never occurred to me, in one of my daydreams of talking to someone just to get their story, to talk to a person with a "conservative" viewpoint, I don't know.  But Dr. Boyt's advice made sense.

And non-partisanship is beginning to make sense to me.  But, and that is a big but, letting go of our own stance to begin problem solving is hard, hard work.  I have no answers. 

After the meeting, A and I caught up with one another on a more personal level.  And then we began talking about my writing, my views, how it can fit with her writing, her organization.  She pointed out that I don't like bullying, or imbalance of power, or exclusion.  Yes.  Now what?  I don't know.  We are meeting again to shake things out further. 

We talked about mothering

I talked about the time I landed in therapy when the twins were four or five months old.  Depressed and anxious, I told the grandmotherly therapist, who also happened to be a grandma of twins, that "all the moms of multiples I met 'loved' mothering.  They were happy in their marriage.  They were managing their double load of babies and toddlers, still cleaning and cooking.  And smiling and laughing."  I told her how I couldn't do it.  That it was really fucking hard, just about every moment of it.  That at times, I would dislike my twins or feel burdened by them. I was horrible.

Unspeakably horrible.

She looked at me and said,

"I think all those moms are smoking crack.  Quit meeting with them."

I told A today that she appeared strong and solid during the time I worked for her.  A told me that she didn't feel she was strong, and that she was often overwhelmed.  I still think she was and is strong.  Sometimes being strong is not about holding it all together, it's about having the courage to let it all fall apart and having faith that the pieces will get picked up.  That's what I should have said to A today when I met with her.

And I wish I would have asked her if, as an introvert, raising a curious, energetic, spirited-child was draining.  Did she ever, as I do with my -- high needs, for lack of better language -- four-year-old just feel the need to say "Go away. Please, I beg you.  You are swallowing me whole."?

We talked about my ability to be real in my experience as a mom.  To say things that others think, but dare not say.  She validated the difficulty of living up to impossible rules of being a  perfect white suburban mom.

The meeting had to wrap up.  The topic of pay came up.  It will be scant.  But A can teach me to be more effective as a Change Writer.   "That's ok. I'm not here for money."  And while part of me didn't want the moment that I had been waiting for -- but never knew I was waiting for -- to end, I was drained. 

The topics, the conversations, the ideas were intense.  Even more intense, was the realization that by sticking with my guns, staying true in my voice, and daring myself to give into passion, I was accepted.  And I was acknowledged -- as a writer -- who can make a difference. 

I'm arriving.  And I couldn't have planned it better myself. 

Update to the Update:

Sophia asked for a drink. Long-time readers know what happened next.  Vomiting.  We headed to the ped.

Diagnosis: Strep Throat

Not a good day for the Sophie...broken foot, throwing up, and a big old shot of penicillin in the leg.

Update to below post:  

According to the orthopedic doc, Sophia's foot is broken.  I had this *feeling* that was the problem and that we needed to be at the orthoped the day it happened. But managed care, etc. happened and 1.5 weeks later, he tells us that "the worst is over."  She will continue to have pain, probably another 1.5 weeks left of healing.  No boot or cast since she is able to hobble around without terrible difficulty.  "Keep her quiet and give her motrin. Come back in two weeks if the limp keeps up."

I picked her up from a friend's house this afternoon.  She bolted to the door, "I am READY TO LEAVE." That was strange for my social butterfly.  Now, hours later, as she is plastered to the couch, I realize not only is her foot broken, but she is also sick. 

Update on how my meeting today went with the writer and the great man I mentioned in a below post will have to come later.  Still processing everything.

Family in the Last Week- Flying Fairies, Hurt Feet, and a Chatty Toddler

This is a typical-type mom blog entry that is about to occur. You know the type.  The type where I go on and on about my kids.  And the relatives will appreciate it, I think.  But everyone else is going to skim for pics and click out...Not that that doesn't happen with my other blogs.  But, well.  Fair warning.  Mom-blog ahead.  And it's not even funny.  It really is a Mom-Blog. Ack.

Trip to Iowa

These past couple weeks have taken us all to Iowa.  I have no pictures of our trip to Center Grove Orchard.  I forgot the camera.  The bro brought his along -- and he is professionally trained in photography, as that started as his major -- so I can only hope to get those fine pics from him sometime.  

The girls had great fun jumping on the Jumping Pillow, swimming in a huge corn pool, sliding down the Super Slide, visiting the homes of the Three Little Pigs, and petting farm animals.  I had great fun eating.  This was Iowa.  A farm in Iowa.  A farm in Iowa that made everything homemade.  Due to poor organization and large crowds, we had to wait 40 minutes for our burgers and apple pie.  The bees buzzed by me.  But I was unshakable and focused.  All the Iowa girl in me could think while waiting for lunch was, 

"This is gonna be good."

And it was. 

How We Spent Our Afternoons

Everyday last week the girls and I toured a different park. This is Minnesota and nice weather is drawing to a close.  

The Fairy with a Heavy Landing

Ella jumped on Sophia's foot. Ella wanted to fly like a fairy so launched herself off the table.  

Two sets of x-rays one week apart do not show a break.  But the foot is swelling and painful, so we head to an orthopedic doc on Oct 5th. 

Smashed Pumpkins

The girls and I went to a local nursery and picked the biggest pumpkins from the patch, got a steal of a deal on them, only to have someone remove them from our front step and smash them in the cul-de-sac.  The girls are sad about this, but I am relieved that the scarecrow we made the same day (out of Dave's clothes) is still standing. 

Andi at 15 Months

BUSTED!  Coloring on the wall while STANDING on the table.

This photo catches Andi in the moment of tickling her own tummy.  "Tickle tickle!"  And she "tickle tickle!" everyone else's tummies, too lately.  It's like living with Elmo.

Andi continues to blossom her vocab.  It is odd to hear her talking so much.  She has 40+ words in her vocab, jumps up in the air, runs, and has the most amazing temper tantrums around, especially when I won't let her stay in the girls' preschool classroom.  Last week, I counted to five, as I so often do when I am warning the twins about their behavior.  Andi joined in. 

I yelled "ONE"

Andi interjected "TWO!"

I yelled "Three, Four"

Andi interjected again "FIVE!"

I tell her things and she says "I know."  I yell for her and instead of coming to me she says "WHAT?" and then walks away. Mocha tried to lick her and she yelled "CA-CA NO!"  She plugs her nose and says "P.U. Stinky." And pushes Dave from behind telling him to "GO!"  She laughs like a lunatic as the twins push her in a buggy at full-speed.  I standby and picture our trip to the ER.  She comes up with new words on a daily basis, out of the blue, announcing the thing on her foot is a "sock" and pointing to my sister, blurts out "Kelli."  Her healthy development is not lost on me.  Not one minute of it taken for granted.  In fact, all three of my children's health is not lost on me. 

Andi's 15 month check up showed her height above the 97th percentile and her weight at the 50th percentile.  She has four teeth coming in beckoning the pediatrician to comment on the "busy mess" in Andi's mouth.  And her swallowing issues that once prompted 911 calls seem to be under control, and hopefully fading away. 

In awe, Andi rides in her big girl car seat for the first time.  She warmed up to it fast, pointing and exclaiming "OOOH!"

Twins Activities

The twins love preschool.  They are in the same class, but it is going well.  Soccer is ending, and (glory hallelujah) they have decided to return to ballet/gymnastics.  I love pink...and tutus...and dancing...and music...and watching them do something they are good at and love. 

Sophia experienced that rite of passage known as cutting her own hair.  Standing in a pile of blond locks, she denied she had cut her hair.  In fact, that wasn't even her hair!  Hmph. 

We bought a season pass to Minnesota Children's Museum.  The girls LOVE going there and participate in all of the exhibits with the exception of the Live Animal Exhibit.  They drew the line at touching rats. 

Ella the postman

Sophia

Ella

Andi driving the bus.

The twins, exhausted after a busy day, curled up together.

Ella the turtle.  I see a lot of symbolism in this picture.

Mice and Death

There's been a fair amount of wildlife around.  Today the girls and I watched four deer prance out of our neighbor's yard and into the preserve.  We also spent an afternoon watching a mouse slowly succumb to the poison Dave set out in the garage.  I was conflicted about killing anything.  And certainly didn't want it to suffer.  But, they were destructive...and the neurotic part of me is fearful of the Hanta virus being transmitted.  Is that here in MN?  

And I appreciated the opportunity to further speak with them about death as I am wondering how much longer our 15 year-old Pomeranian has to live.  When death comes for her, the term death won't be completely foreign for the twins, which, I think, will afford them a little less confusion.  We had examined a few dead birds this summer. One smashed in the road by a car "And that is WHY you don't run in the street!"  And another one dropped in our drive-way by a larger bird of prey.

I'm sure there is more. But this catches things up a bit.  

Shaking in My Boots

"Cautious, careful people, always casting about to preserve their reputation and social standing, never can bring about a reform.” Susan B. Anthony

 

Interesting things have happened in the last couple weeks.  A reader of my blog, who I don't know, but who knows my dad sent me a thank-you note in the mail.  I had sent some diapers her way for her beautiful new baby.  That made my day -- her unexpected show of gratitude. 

 

 Another reader of my blog, who I don't know, has become a wonderful person to chat with between our children falling off chairs, planning parties, and trying our darnedest to maintain our sanity as we lead each other on fantasies of what it would be like to take each other's children for a full week while the other completely and thoroughly organizes her home. Fantasy is the key word -- she lives states away. 

 

A writer -- whom I knew years ago and before I knew that I too wanted to be a writer -- popped back into my life and invited me to meet her and an internationally known expert in civil engagement.  My OOC pieces, it turns out, were spoken with enough passion to get her attention and take me down a new road that begins tomorrow when I meet them both.

 After writing the OOC pieces, I realized that some people decided they didn't like me too well.  And some days that bothered me. Other days it didn't. I am still conflicted about it. 

  

Apprehensive about tomorrow's meeting, and about continuing to express my new-found voice of passion, Susan B. Anthony whispered the above statement to me. 

 

 

 And a friend's words to his daughter seemed advice I need to follow as well... 

 

"Be kind - Don’t be soft, but be gentle. Don’t crawl over anyone on your way up, but don’t stop crawling up either." Unconventional Wisdom Author

 

 In the past couple weeks, I have come to realize that one neighbor must certainly be made of sugar, she is so kind.  That sounds sappy, but it is what comes to mind.  She gladly takes my children for me -- even at the drop of a hat when I had to run Sophia in for X-rays after Ella jumped off a table and crushed Sophia's foot.  This woman is always there, and I don't know if she knows that I am humbled in her presence.  And that I consider her a lifesaver. And a safety net.  She's always been there...I am only now letting her in.  

 

These three woman who have, even after my riled up OOC rant, have shown me kindness.  I'm not sure if they agreed with me, but they have modeled to me the importance of staying engaged with one another-- even with people who don't have the same views.  It shows respect. It shows human-ness.  And acceptance. 

 

And it takes away defensiveness, game-playing, and power struggles for who is right and who is wrong.  

 

It gets me to wondering how much we could accomplish if we all truly tried to improve things and let go of building our egos. 

 

 

Well, that's all I have to say for right now.  I don't know politics.  And I don't know what "citizenship" means when paired with civil engagement.  So I'll go tomorrow. And meet a great man while re-uniting with a writer I once knew.  And, in all my smallness, I will listen while Susan B. Anthony holds my hand.