Posts have been few and far between on this little ol' blog lately. I'm sorry for that. To be truthful, I've just been too exhausted to contemplate writing. And, no, it's not pregnancy induced exhaustion (to stave off all those well-meaning but totally wrong comments.) The exhaustion? It stems from Giuliana's new nighttime pass time. Namely, running into our room two or three times a night between the hours of 2-4am for a little snuggle, a little chatter, a whole lot of wiggling and bed hogging. Toddler Sleep Regression. If it's not a real thing, I'm making it up and labeling it that anyway. It's real enough in our house.
It all began with her recent illness. We spent a lot of time curled up on Mommy and Daddy's bed, wrapping ourselves in the comforting accouterments of blankie, "nice piw-whoa" (her warmed up corn pillow to ease her aching ears), a sippy of orange juice or perhaps "cha-co-late milk", with Dora and Boots adventuring with pirates and super spies on DVD. If you are two, this is as good as it gets, apparently. I cuddled with her sweaty little body, warm pillow on my chest, her head on top of it, soothing her pain with whatever made her happy. And of course, most nights she either started or ended the night ensconced in the safety and comfort of our bed as I monitored her fevers and dosed her with all those medications at every un-Godly hour.
Now, she's all better. Much to her chagrin, I think. She has, since infancy, toted her Nana-made Blankie around with her wherever she goes. Now it is accompanied with Nice Pillow, her new best friend. She requests it at bed time, of course, and naptime (so we have to make sure it makes the trip to Grandma's house every day.) She wants it warmed and waiting for her during her TV time in the evening. And she drags it with her when she sneaks into our room in the wee small hours, Blankie clutched firmly in one hand, Nice Pillow in the other.
The dog is the first to hear her. Like an alarm bell, he jumps up from his position in the hall, long tail excitedly whacking back and forth between the walls, smacking doors and generally creating both a noisy racket and a gauntlet for G to wend through. She makes it, maybe suffering a few painful whips of the dog's tail to her face, and runs up to my side of the bed (lucky me, I sleep right next to the door.)
"Mommy! Mommydaddy bed, peeeeeeeeeeas? Mommydaddy bed!" She climbs up, blankie, nice pillow and all, usually kissing me and snuggling her head under my chin while she croons "Mommy, mommy" in a sweet little voice that makes it impossible for me to return her immediately to her bed. She knows my weak spots. I tell her it's still bed time. She can snuggle for a few minutes, but then she has to go back to bed. I tell her it's time to be quiet and go back to sleep. She buries herself between John and I, usually anything but quietly, making sure her blankie made the climb over my body with her, and telling me where she wants nice pillow positioned. Some nights I'm lucky and she falls right back to sleep. Most nights, though, she's chatty and wiggly.
"Giuliana, shush. It's bedtime. You need to be quiet."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Shhhhh."
Then she spends the next several minutes alternating between shushing herself and, if she can't contain it, whispering her chatter, eventually getting louder until I quiet her down again. After five or ten minutes of this I gather her up and tell her, "Ok, it's time to go back to bed now. It's still nighttime, you need to go back to sleep."
Generally she goes fairly willingly, often requesting some milk along the way. I have caved on that request a few times, usually after the second or third trek back to her bed with her. But mostly I try not to give in to this plea. I'm not entirely dumb. I don't want this nightly habit to escalate into a full-blown intricate routine that has me running all over the house at 3am every night. Sometimes, if she's really awake, I open one of her curtains so a little moonlight spills across her bed and tell her she can look at one of her books until she falls asleep. Eventually she succumbs and spends the rest of the night in her own bed, and I'm left to toss and turn as I try to do the same. Somehow, most of this entire scene is accompanied by the soundtrack of my husband snoring away blissfully unaware. Hrmph. What is it about the male genome that allows them to sleep through the squalls, cries, whispers, even wiggles of their offspring while we mothers wake up to the softest sneeze 30 feet away in another room?
So, dear readers, Kami is a tired mommy these days. You will forgive me for not keeping up with you all for a few weeks, yes? Thank you.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Revealing Vague Insecurities
I don't even know what I want to say here, in this space, right now. I have a lot of thoughts swirling around in my head, emotions running loose around my heart. I just got out of a long, hot shower. You know, one of those were you just let the water pound on your brain, hoping it will bring some clarity along with a cleansing, but somehow the healing water doesn't penetrate to your insides. One of those. And now, hair dripping, I just feel like I need to get it OUT somehow. But I don't even know where to begin. Or what to say. The internet is a very big place and these feelings are very personal. Blogs are so strange, aren't they. So self-important. So easy to put waaaaay TMI about yourself out there for absolutely anyone to read. So we self-censor and somehow it defeats the purpose of this space. But that is a topic for another time. This is how my brain seems to be functioning lately. Spinning, jumpy, preoccupied.
I'm feeling incredibly selfish this week. But at the same time, I feel like it's not time to give it up yet. We've had the long talks, are in agreement. But I can't help feeling that his pain is exacerbated and prolonged because of me. Because I feel like there is meant to be something else. This can't go on for too long. It's just not fair. But I have no control over my own body, let alone his. I keep getting slapped in the face with that truth, over and over. Over and over. For years now. No control. No control. I can't WILL things to happen, no matter how hard I think about it. No matter how meticulously I plan. My body and my mind have a disconnect. They don't communicate. I'm sitting here, prescriptions in hand, a perfectly conceived plan to be followed. But my body is ALREADY not cooperating with itself. How am I supposed to get there when I can't even get past here?? I'm stuck. He's stuck because I'm stuck. And yet I can't give up. I can't just stop. It doesn't feel right. It's not time to make that decision.
In August, if all goes well, he'll be returning to grad school. There needs to be some changes before then. We'll keep the status quo for now. The doctors assure us it's the right way to go. There's a time table. A vague deadline, looming out there. And I have no control over what happens between now and then. But each attack, each "episode" as we call them, will feel like a selfish act on my part. I guess that's all I know for sure right now.
God. I hate this. I'm so exhausted from big, life altering decisions. For wishing and hoping for things I can't will into being. I get it. I have no control. It's all an illusion. I get it, already. Can we get beyond this lesson? Does it need to keep beating me over the head?
I'm going to bed.
I'm feeling incredibly selfish this week. But at the same time, I feel like it's not time to give it up yet. We've had the long talks, are in agreement. But I can't help feeling that his pain is exacerbated and prolonged because of me. Because I feel like there is meant to be something else. This can't go on for too long. It's just not fair. But I have no control over my own body, let alone his. I keep getting slapped in the face with that truth, over and over. Over and over. For years now. No control. No control. I can't WILL things to happen, no matter how hard I think about it. No matter how meticulously I plan. My body and my mind have a disconnect. They don't communicate. I'm sitting here, prescriptions in hand, a perfectly conceived plan to be followed. But my body is ALREADY not cooperating with itself. How am I supposed to get there when I can't even get past here?? I'm stuck. He's stuck because I'm stuck. And yet I can't give up. I can't just stop. It doesn't feel right. It's not time to make that decision.
In August, if all goes well, he'll be returning to grad school. There needs to be some changes before then. We'll keep the status quo for now. The doctors assure us it's the right way to go. There's a time table. A vague deadline, looming out there. And I have no control over what happens between now and then. But each attack, each "episode" as we call them, will feel like a selfish act on my part. I guess that's all I know for sure right now.
God. I hate this. I'm so exhausted from big, life altering decisions. For wishing and hoping for things I can't will into being. I get it. I have no control. It's all an illusion. I get it, already. Can we get beyond this lesson? Does it need to keep beating me over the head?
I'm going to bed.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Reflections
My little family has survived another week.
That's about the only way to sum up our crazy life lately.
I went to work 14 hours this week. Giuliana had both pneumonia and a severely acute (no, that's not redundant or hyperbole) double ear infection. John had electrical devices implanted in his back. I've taken to providing a sound track for him every time he moves: "na-na-na-na-naaa," ala The Bionic Man. (Google it, I'm old. I know this.)
So, what, you might ask, is life like with an acutely sick toddler? Oh, let me tell you. For one, I am on Nick Jr. OVERLOAD! She hasn't had much energy for playing, so the TV has been on pretty much constantly. I couldn't take it anymore and called for TV-Free Day today. I got my wish for the most part, with a concession to my headache. I let her watch Sesame St. On Demand while I napped on the couch. Also, for two, the whining? It has hit all new levels. A two year old with a fever and a constantly painful earache is rarely happy. And lets you know it. She screamed at me because she wanted to do everything herself. Then she screamed at me because I wasn't helping. Then she screamed at me when I tried to help. Lather, rinse, repeat. For 2 WEEKS. For three, remembering to dose this child with Tylenol every 4 hours for her fever, Motrin every 6 hours for her pain, 2 different antibiotics every evening, homeopathic ear drops, fill her sippy cup with juice on demand (which felt like every 5 minutes) and heat her "nice pillow" (one of those microwavable corn pads) for her ears every 10 minutes just flat out wore me down.
But all of that pales in comparison to having to hold your daughter down three days in a row while she sobs and pleads with you as the nurses puncture both of her little thighs with a painful dose of antibiotics. Or lying in bed with her fevery little body smooshed up against yours, sweaty and shivery, as she thrashes back and forth in pain you really can't do anything about. Or the terror that grips your heart when you pull the thermometer out and read the temperature- 104.5. That can't possibly be right, can it? Strip her down to her diaper, give her cool juice. Sit and sing and pretend you're not freaking out. Coax her into a bath and lean over the edge and hug her while she cries and shivers and grips you tightly and generally breaks every inch of your heart. Or making the decision to allow the doctors to place your precious child under anesthesia and lance her eardrums.
Yeah. Those. Those are not good times. Especially when those things coincide with your husband traveling 400 miles round-trip to have surgery on his back and have electrical leads places on his spine. A trip you were supposed to take with him, to help him, to talk to the doctor and get the straight story. A trip you ended up having to skip and trust his father to get the straight story while you sat at work for 8 of those 14 hours worrying and fretting.
But, we all made it through a very long and unenjoyable week. John and his dad drove down to Manhattan early Thursday morning and made it back by 12:30 Friday morning with wires running from the middle of his back to a device he carries in his pocket. He dragged himself out of bed again at 5:30 AM so we could take Giuliana to the hospital for her surgery. And today, we've all caught up on our sleep, no one had a fever, medication regimens were much less stringent, and Thank God the TV was off. The whining subsided throughout the day, there were more giggles and less tears. Next week. There is hope for next week to be much better than this week.
****************
I thought I was finished with this post. I sat back and re-read it. And a horrible thought occurred to me. My little family survived another week. There are many families that didn't survive this week. They weren't anticipating not seeing each ever again. They didn't get to comfort each other. Some didn't even get to worry and fret over each other.
My little family survived another week. For that, I am blessed. For that, I am grateful. For that, I'll take what life hands me. Just as long as we all survive another week. Together.
That's about the only way to sum up our crazy life lately.
I went to work 14 hours this week. Giuliana had both pneumonia and a severely acute (no, that's not redundant or hyperbole) double ear infection. John had electrical devices implanted in his back. I've taken to providing a sound track for him every time he moves: "na-na-na-na-naaa," ala The Bionic Man. (Google it, I'm old. I know this.)
So, what, you might ask, is life like with an acutely sick toddler? Oh, let me tell you. For one, I am on Nick Jr. OVERLOAD! She hasn't had much energy for playing, so the TV has been on pretty much constantly. I couldn't take it anymore and called for TV-Free Day today. I got my wish for the most part, with a concession to my headache. I let her watch Sesame St. On Demand while I napped on the couch. Also, for two, the whining? It has hit all new levels. A two year old with a fever and a constantly painful earache is rarely happy. And lets you know it. She screamed at me because she wanted to do everything herself. Then she screamed at me because I wasn't helping. Then she screamed at me when I tried to help. Lather, rinse, repeat. For 2 WEEKS. For three, remembering to dose this child with Tylenol every 4 hours for her fever, Motrin every 6 hours for her pain, 2 different antibiotics every evening, homeopathic ear drops, fill her sippy cup with juice on demand (which felt like every 5 minutes) and heat her "nice pillow" (one of those microwavable corn pads) for her ears every 10 minutes just flat out wore me down.
But all of that pales in comparison to having to hold your daughter down three days in a row while she sobs and pleads with you as the nurses puncture both of her little thighs with a painful dose of antibiotics. Or lying in bed with her fevery little body smooshed up against yours, sweaty and shivery, as she thrashes back and forth in pain you really can't do anything about. Or the terror that grips your heart when you pull the thermometer out and read the temperature- 104.5. That can't possibly be right, can it? Strip her down to her diaper, give her cool juice. Sit and sing and pretend you're not freaking out. Coax her into a bath and lean over the edge and hug her while she cries and shivers and grips you tightly and generally breaks every inch of your heart. Or making the decision to allow the doctors to place your precious child under anesthesia and lance her eardrums.
Yeah. Those. Those are not good times. Especially when those things coincide with your husband traveling 400 miles round-trip to have surgery on his back and have electrical leads places on his spine. A trip you were supposed to take with him, to help him, to talk to the doctor and get the straight story. A trip you ended up having to skip and trust his father to get the straight story while you sat at work for 8 of those 14 hours worrying and fretting.
But, we all made it through a very long and unenjoyable week. John and his dad drove down to Manhattan early Thursday morning and made it back by 12:30 Friday morning with wires running from the middle of his back to a device he carries in his pocket. He dragged himself out of bed again at 5:30 AM so we could take Giuliana to the hospital for her surgery. And today, we've all caught up on our sleep, no one had a fever, medication regimens were much less stringent, and Thank God the TV was off. The whining subsided throughout the day, there were more giggles and less tears. Next week. There is hope for next week to be much better than this week.
****************
I thought I was finished with this post. I sat back and re-read it. And a horrible thought occurred to me. My little family survived another week. There are many families that didn't survive this week. They weren't anticipating not seeing each ever again. They didn't get to comfort each other. Some didn't even get to worry and fret over each other.
My little family survived another week. For that, I am blessed. For that, I am grateful. For that, I'll take what life hands me. Just as long as we all survive another week. Together.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Bathing Beauty
Giuliana is loving bathtime lately. Her usual schedule is every other night, just before bedtime. But for her birthday she received the toy she lovingly calls "Dora-Boots castle" and well, it's rocked her world. She is begging for a bath several times a day, and anytime she is in the bathroom and sees the "Dora-Boots castle" it's a fight to get her to leave it alone. We've added some Little People and Elmo to the mix, as well as all her "old" bath toys. But the castle remains, well...king.
I've been using more big-girl bubble bath with her, too, because she likes to pop the bubbles. She "swims" and blows bubbles in the water. She hides her toys under mounds of bubbles and then makes you search for them. She kicks and splashes and is generally silly.
We've introduced the shower. I began using the shower head to rinse her hair months ago and she hated it. She put up with it, but protested...loudly. She is finally beginning to like the feel of the shower. She leans her head back and lets the water run over her head and face, she even asks for it on occasion.It's the little things like this that give me pause. The little, unexpected, totally familiar little girl things that she does. Every day, it seems, she becomes more kid and less and less baby. The first time she layed on her stomach in the bath and told me she was "swimming," for example. I REMEMBER doing that as a kid. She's just two, but she's already advanced to levels of play that I can recall from my own childhood. This is just a little scary to me. Up till now I've been seeing things through her eyes, for the first time, the world is all new experiences, yada yada. Very cool. But now she's moving on and doing things that I vividly remember about being a kid. Still cool. Slightly unnerving.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
We Wish You A Merry Christmas And A Happy New Year
So, I've been on vacation for the past two weeks. I don't know about you, but we've had Christmas and New Year's around these parts, so these two weeks have been pretty busy. Before I jump back into work and the 154 voicemails and 642 emails that will await me on Monday, I thought I'd take a moment to show you what we've been up to.
There was cookie baking and fudge making. I conquered gingerbread cookies...finally. They had me beat until this year.
My taste-tester was satisfied with the fudge so it was taken to the annual Christmas Eve Eve bash hosted by this gal. That party was awesome, per usual, with the added bonus of the whole house singing Jingle Bells with my G, to her extreme delight, not once, not twice, but three or four times through.
We wrapped and wrapped presents. Giuliana adorned her handmade wrapping paper with glittery Christmas stickers and together we finished her gifts to her favorite people.
Christmas Eve was spent at Nana's house with family and the traditional seafood dinner.
Obviously, there was also the formal Christmas Eve Tea Party. Later, those two cuties in plaid gave a caroling concert at the piano as well.
There was also a candle-light service at church...our church this year, which was a nice switch, though I did miss seeing my nieces and nephew in their Christmas pageant.
After church it was bedtime for our little Christmas star and time for Mommy and "Santa" to get to work. "Santa" put together G's trampoline while I wrapped the rest of her gifts and spread the Christmas joy out under the tree.
Hmmm....maybe that makes me "Santa", but that wouldn't fit the song ("Iiiiiii saw Mommy kisssssing Saaaaaaaaaaanta Claus...") Oh, and I also discovered that I had inadvertently left my camera at my mother-in-law's. On Christmas Eve. Perfect. So, it was cell-phone pictures to capture those magical Christmas morn moments.
Christmas was indeed magical this year. Giuliana "got" the concept of Santa bringing her gifts. We sang Santa Claus is Coming To Town about 4,000 times and she walked around saying "Santa Claus, Ho ho ho!" for a week. But she also "got", at least a little bit, the significance of that little baby Jesus in the nativity scene. She pointed out Baby Jesus in every creche she saw. I think we balanced the two pretty well.
And Christmas morning? Once the grogginess of being dragged out of bed by two over-excited parents wore off, she had a pretty good time. She adored her "Ni-Hao, Kai-Lan" coloring book and her Dora, Boots, and Swiper figurines (it was totally a Nick Jr. Christmas at our house.) And she loved, loved, loved her trampoline. She got into the reggae spirit by jumping and bouncing to the "B is for Bob" CD early Christmas morning.
We packed up and headed back to Nana's for the rest of the day. We had a fabo brunch and much more gift exchanging.
Five gorgeous Giglio/Duvinsky kids on Christmas morning.
And, of course, there was a Jingle Bell concert, given by my little Jingle Beller herself...and anyone she forced the microphone upon.
There were other events I didn't bring a camera to. We had a great time celebrating Christmas again with Nick and Kate, and our friends most recently from Vermont, Jeff and Sarah and their two boys, as well as some of John's old high school buddies. John and I babysat for our nieces and nephew while his sister and her husband finally moved into their new house the day after Christmas (yes, they are that crazy.) And there was also a trip down to NYC for another doctor's appointment and a chance for Nick and Kate to spend all day with an energetic two year old (too late now, guys, you're already 6 months committed...you'll have your own two year old before you know it!) John got the news that he will be having surgery next week to implant a neuro-stimulator on his spine to try to relieve his chronic pain. Keep fingers and toes crossed that this works.
New Year's Eve brought the annual kid's sleepover party at Nana's with hats, horns and confetti at 8pm (that's 12am somewhere, right?) while we parents celebrated in a low-key fashion with dinner and a movie. BTW, Avatar 3D...awesome, but it totally killed me. My brain is not ready for 3D. I had a hang over all day on New Year's and it wasn't from the one margarita I had with dinner.
The snow on New Year's Eve/Day made perfect sledding conditions and that's exactly how we spent NYD. We drove over to my parents' house (who have been in Georgia this whole time visiting my brother's family) to feed their cats and sled on their super-duper hills.
And that, my friends, is how I spent my vacation. I promised it would be busy, but I also predicted it would be fun. I think I was right on both accounts. I hope you all had a very Merry Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa and a Peaceful New Year.
I'm feeling surprisingly and happily optimistic for 2010. I feel it's going to be a good year for my little family. So far, two days in, it's been pretty swell. Here's hoping that trend continues. For you, too!
Peace and Blessings!
XOXO
Kami
There was cookie baking and fudge making. I conquered gingerbread cookies...finally. They had me beat until this year.
My taste-tester was satisfied with the fudge so it was taken to the annual Christmas Eve Eve bash hosted by this gal. That party was awesome, per usual, with the added bonus of the whole house singing Jingle Bells with my G, to her extreme delight, not once, not twice, but three or four times through.
We wrapped and wrapped presents. Giuliana adorned her handmade wrapping paper with glittery Christmas stickers and together we finished her gifts to her favorite people.
Christmas Eve was spent at Nana's house with family and the traditional seafood dinner.
Obviously, there was also the formal Christmas Eve Tea Party. Later, those two cuties in plaid gave a caroling concert at the piano as well.There was also a candle-light service at church...our church this year, which was a nice switch, though I did miss seeing my nieces and nephew in their Christmas pageant.
After church it was bedtime for our little Christmas star and time for Mommy and "Santa" to get to work. "Santa" put together G's trampoline while I wrapped the rest of her gifts and spread the Christmas joy out under the tree.
Hmmm....maybe that makes me "Santa", but that wouldn't fit the song ("Iiiiiii saw Mommy kisssssing Saaaaaaaaaaanta Claus...") Oh, and I also discovered that I had inadvertently left my camera at my mother-in-law's. On Christmas Eve. Perfect. So, it was cell-phone pictures to capture those magical Christmas morn moments.
Christmas was indeed magical this year. Giuliana "got" the concept of Santa bringing her gifts. We sang Santa Claus is Coming To Town about 4,000 times and she walked around saying "Santa Claus, Ho ho ho!" for a week. But she also "got", at least a little bit, the significance of that little baby Jesus in the nativity scene. She pointed out Baby Jesus in every creche she saw. I think we balanced the two pretty well.
And Christmas morning? Once the grogginess of being dragged out of bed by two over-excited parents wore off, she had a pretty good time. She adored her "Ni-Hao, Kai-Lan" coloring book and her Dora, Boots, and Swiper figurines (it was totally a Nick Jr. Christmas at our house.) And she loved, loved, loved her trampoline. She got into the reggae spirit by jumping and bouncing to the "B is for Bob" CD early Christmas morning.
We packed up and headed back to Nana's for the rest of the day. We had a fabo brunch and much more gift exchanging.
Five gorgeous Giglio/Duvinsky kids on Christmas morning.And, of course, there was a Jingle Bell concert, given by my little Jingle Beller herself...and anyone she forced the microphone upon.
There were other events I didn't bring a camera to. We had a great time celebrating Christmas again with Nick and Kate, and our friends most recently from Vermont, Jeff and Sarah and their two boys, as well as some of John's old high school buddies. John and I babysat for our nieces and nephew while his sister and her husband finally moved into their new house the day after Christmas (yes, they are that crazy.) And there was also a trip down to NYC for another doctor's appointment and a chance for Nick and Kate to spend all day with an energetic two year old (too late now, guys, you're already 6 months committed...you'll have your own two year old before you know it!) John got the news that he will be having surgery next week to implant a neuro-stimulator on his spine to try to relieve his chronic pain. Keep fingers and toes crossed that this works.
New Year's Eve brought the annual kid's sleepover party at Nana's with hats, horns and confetti at 8pm (that's 12am somewhere, right?) while we parents celebrated in a low-key fashion with dinner and a movie. BTW, Avatar 3D...awesome, but it totally killed me. My brain is not ready for 3D. I had a hang over all day on New Year's and it wasn't from the one margarita I had with dinner.
The snow on New Year's Eve/Day made perfect sledding conditions and that's exactly how we spent NYD. We drove over to my parents' house (who have been in Georgia this whole time visiting my brother's family) to feed their cats and sled on their super-duper hills.
And that, my friends, is how I spent my vacation. I promised it would be busy, but I also predicted it would be fun. I think I was right on both accounts. I hope you all had a very Merry Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa and a Peaceful New Year.I'm feeling surprisingly and happily optimistic for 2010. I feel it's going to be a good year for my little family. So far, two days in, it's been pretty swell. Here's hoping that trend continues. For you, too!
Peace and Blessings!
XOXO
Kami
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