Hello Mrs. Myers, is your groove missing?

Yes.

Because I can't have just one neurotic crisis at a time.

The post baby-body blues were hitting particularly hard. It seems so easy the first time. I ate whatever I wanted, breastfed, walked my sweet puppies, and the weight melted off. By the next summer I was back in my bikini and feeling pretty good about it. But this time life had conspired against me. Horrid winter weather kept me (and my neglected puppies) indoors both before and after Fiona was born. My pain issues in my back and hips were well documented during this pregnancy. And the jump from one to two children blew both Kevin and I out of the water.

I also struggled with balancing the needs of everybody in the house on my baby. Children wanted nursing, cuddling, holding, carrying, playing, and snuggling. The doggies wanted walking, petting, and scratching. The husband wanted...all of the above. So here I was with this body that was unfamiliar and frustrating, and the whole damn crowd wanted a piece of it.

I vented and whined to my husband. What do I do about this? How do I feel better about myself?

What else would Kevin suggest except shopping?

As a side note, my husband has NEVER ONCE told me I couldn't buy something I wanted. He's quite lucky that he's married to somebody cheap (although not as cheap as my mother. Hi Mom!). But if he was married to somebody like an unnamed coworker who said, "I need a new purse, I've had this Coach purse for two whole years" it might be a different story.

I was excited to go shopping but frustrated as well. I had lots of clothes, just none of them fit. Not even my early pregnancy fat clothes. And even though I was sick of my maternity clothes I had a hard time getting rid of them because I could still wear them! But I forced myself to clean them out. I knew I'd never buy a thing if they were still in my closet. And it felt so GOOD to get them out of there. (Emily, they are in bags waiting for you!) Then I took another look through my regular clothes to see if anything would work. While most pants needed some more time, a number of shirts were fine.

We had a shopping date one Friday night after a dinner party cancellation fell into our laps. With the baby sitter already scheduled, we decided to hit the mall. There was no time for leisurely perusal of various stores and sale racks. I just hit Old Navy and called it good. I now have two nice pairs of pants and one pair of shorts.

I also got a haircut, jazzed up my color a bit, purchased some new skin care, and got rid of the granny panties. I feel like I'm heading in the right direction. The weight is slowly coming off, and Kevin and I are getting a good routine in place with the kids. He's doing so great with the kids while I'm at work that it's easy to pop out for a dog walk on my own.

It's still too slow for me, but it's just the way it is. But inspired by my 90 minute massage gift certificate from Kevin for Mother's Day, I'm saving my allowance for a spa day!

Quick weekend recap

First, I have to pause and try to remember this weekend...

Friday, we ran the hell out of Patrick at the Tube-and-Ballpit place. Kevin was a champ, and I bragged about him to all the other mommies as I sat their nursing Fiona and reading O magazine. Both he and the toddler were all sweaty. Kevin went off to work, and I took my sweet, crazy boy home for a nice nap. The afternoon was a bit of shopping, and then throwing rocks at Owen beach. Thanks to a call from Raissa, we crashed dinner with Joel and the kids. She was off having adult fun time. This week I'll make her tell me all about it, as I only have fun vicariously through my friends at this time. So if you are going on vacation, I would love to have dinner with you and see all your pictures when you get home (hint hint Don and Barb). The kids managed to enjoy each other for 60 minutes, very impressive at the end of a school week.

Kevin had the day off work and my mom came up on Saturday. Yeah for Grandma! Patrick is so excited to see her every time she arrives, it's so sweet. We toured the farmer's market, played at the library and playground, and took the dogs on a walk. Mom is on this very strict eating plan, so she didn't take us out for dinner like she takes Dave out for dinner. I always knew she liked him best :) Kevin found this fab recipe for Sushi Rice Salad that fit her needs but tasted amazing. Plus, she stayed home with the kids (after they were both asleep) while we hit Pour at Four! The evening almost fell apart when we started to talk about money. Then we ordered another glass of wine, made up, and critiqued the outfits of the other customers. Kevin was feeling pretty sassy with his new hair color, he's now blond!

Sunday was church, a little birthday party, various errands and too short a nap for all the children. Weather has been fickle, but we did get some sunshine at the end of the day. Patrick got some park time for 30 minutes before heading home for a rushed dinner and bedtime. Kevin was at work this afternoon, so I snuck over to see him while the kids were asleep in the car.

I work the next few days. Hopefully it's sunny so Patrick can get some outdoor time. I think a million factors are conspiring against him to make him rather difficult right now. He's housebound from rainy weather, hitting some sort of growth spurt (brain and body, the shoes we bought a size big five months ago are getting tight), almost three, still adjusting to Fiona in the family, and learning to use his verbal skills to argue and procrastinate. We have control over very little of this, at least we can run him ragged!

DAT!

"Don't go home and google this. It will just freak you out."

This was the sage advice that Miss Carol, Patrick's speech therapist, gave us after discussing his diagnosis of Pediatric Speech Apraxia. I did not take that advice. Kevin had to talk me down after catching me crying at the computer screen. But first he said, "Quit looking that shit up on the computer!"

Until Patrick turned two, I wasn't worried about his speech development. All kids develop at their own pace. Friends told me, "Boys always talk later." I was reassured by others that their kid didn't do much talking until three or so. But he wasn't just late, he wasn't talking at all. Speech development guidelines suggested that most two year olds had a vocabulary of about 50 words and also showed lots of mimicry and babbling. I was hard pressed to think of 10 words, and he wasn't making animal noises or other sounds that would exhibit some development. An aquaintance-friend had a child with a speech delay, and they discovered a significant hearing loss at three years old. Not wanting to miss something, I asked our pediatrician for a referral to a speech pathologist.

He testing about a year behind in speech development. Six months later we got off the waiting list and onto a regular session with Miss Carol on Wednesday mornings. She said we got Patrick in at the perfect time. He's interested in learning and hadn't been "turned off" yet. Carol explained that apraxia occurs when brain wiring is just a bit screwed up. These kids have a hard time retrieving words and sounds. They can say 'baby' but can't put the b sound with bubble. It can take a long time for new words to stick, and their vocabulary develops slowly. A problem can develop when a kid gets so used to failing in their speech that they no longer want to try.

Patrick was very excited to try and pleased with his successes. We loved watching him focus and learn. Even though growth was and is slow, his progress has thrilled us. Being able to communicate with him has been such a gift. And we are now seeing the reality our friends told us about. "Once he starts talking, he'll never stop!"

Patrick's vocabulary is growing quickly now. He tries new words all the time, mimics us constantly, and is persistent when we don't catch on right away. We are getting sentences! He can still be difficult to understand, as he rarely puts letters on the end of words. C's and K's are still tough for him, as are Gr's. But the improvement over the last six months has been outstanding.

Kevin and I still have our moments of struggle when we hear kids his age (or younger) talk with greater fluency or clarity. We worry that Patrick can't stand up for himself because he can't clearly give his side of the story. I still worry that his speech with make it harder for him to make friends later on. There is no way to tell how long he might need speech therapy, or when his apraxia will be "fixed." Some kids need help through second grade, Carol said.

But I'm grateful we were in a position to get help early on. The school district wouldn't assess him until he's three years old. We have an appointment for September, but by then he might be doing well enough that he won't qualify for the state programs. We have insurance to help with the cost. And it's just not a good year for our family if SOMETHING doesn't come up for us to pay $1000+ for unforseen medical expenses. At least this feels like it's worth it.

Firsts

When Patrick was little and I went back to work, Kevin and I made a deal. Nothing happened for the first time until both of us witnessed it. Then neither of us would feel guilty about missing something. Although this really seems to be mostly a Mom-thing, another way to punish ourselves for not being present to our kids every second of their lives.

Fiona was laying on her tummy when I got out of the shower this morning. Huh, I thought. She didn't start the night out like that.

Kevin then reported that she successfully flipped from back to front during evening playtime!

I call that a dual-parent witness...our baby girl can roll over! Now when she can do it on command, she'll officially be better trained than our puppies.

Being Real, or Self-Indulgent Navel Gazing?

When Patrick was about 12 weeks old, I hit a rough patch of the Baby Blues. I started worrying that Patrick would never love me. Perhaps he would like me, or appreciate being raised by me, but he wouldn't love me. My brain knew it was a ridiculous notion. But it still felt real.

For several days, I kept quiet. I was too embarrassed. But these thoughts continued to eat away at my gut. One night I wrote an email to my college group of girlfriend, all parents themselves. I told them I was struggling. I sent it before I had the chance to think about it too much.

Even before I heard back from my friends, my heart felt lighter by the telling. Of course, the emotional support from my friends and husband was amazing. But healing began with the courage to talk.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've found myself struggling again. Baby blues? Long standing anxiety? Does it matter? Several nights ago I finally opened up to Kevin. I mentioned it to another close friend at the park the next day.

So hey! Might as well go big, right?

I've been feeling very insecure about the state of my friendships. I worry they only hang out with me out of habit. I've been scared they don't enjoy me or my children anymore. I find myself thinking they don't really like me much, and any potential new friend already has their plate full and wouldn't want me on it.

I told Kevin, I know this isn't real. I've been blessed with wonderful friendships. These fears aren't coming from anybody else's behavior. But it feels so real that I start interpreting every little thing from this false lens. And if you're looking to make something true, you usually can.

The anxiety is a tight hole in my chest. It makes me cranky and irritable. I'm short tempered with people I love. I can't enjoy my friends when they are around. I attended a church meeting where we showered each other with praise and love. I couldn't enjoy the lovely comments others made because I only read the (non-existent) criticism between the lines. And I was so sad that I had ruined it for myself because of this nutty, pervasive anxiety.

It doesn't help that this anxiety is an old one. I remember feeling like this in grade school. I've always worried about making friends, keeping friends. In high school I had friends, but no tight group, the kind who hung out on weekends and double dated to the prom.

An old casual high school friend caught up with me in the blog world (hi Kim!) and commented to some jest I'd made about my high school self that she remembered me having many good friends. It got me thinking that maybe I could have had more friends in high school if I'd been more open to others or more willing to make the first step. How many other kids were like me, wishing for more connection but terribly afraid of the rejection? How many came across as snobbish when we were really just shy?

So here I am, an adult with the mentality of a 12 year old when it comes to making friends. Throw in some post partum hormones, a toddler in a challenging phase :) and the natural change of friendships as our kids of all ages enter school. And I am left feeling scared and lonely. It's isolating. Nobody else would understand, everybody else has their act totally together and is filled with confidence.

Right? :)

I don't say this to have everybody leave comments blowing sunshine at me and assuring me of my overall desirability as a girlfriend. With the telling, I want to lighten my heart. I want to share the darker pieces of myself, and I hope it helps somebody else feel a little less alone with what pains them.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
Matthew 11:29-30

Three Months

Dearest Fiona: You are three months old! I realize that I never wrote you a letter when you turned two months. I'm afraid you are a second child, and these things are going to happen quite frequently. You'd better adjust.

Your Daddy and I often ask ourselves, "Did Patrick do this?" And we find we usually can't remember. So we find ourselves newly amazed by your developing skills. Like how you hold up your head, getting THIS CLOSE to rolling over, and chewing on your hands with such vigor. We love watching you grow and change, seeing how you interact more with the world every day.

But my goodness, you are opinionated. Conditions must be perfect! You get easily distracted while nursing, and you only like the swing when you are theeese close to falling asleep. Thank goodness you like the carrier or else I'd never get anything done.

You are still sleeping (mostly) through the night, to which you have my eternal gratitude. It makes up for the fact you are a difficult napper during the day. You are fitful about the whole thing, even protesting the concept until you pass out in the carseat and the carrier.

And oh, the carseat. Otherwise known as The Seat Of Torture. You are not fond of the carseat At All. Until you fall asleep, you protest your carseat loudly and consistently. I feel bad for your grandparents, because this habit of yours will directly impact my desire to drive down for a little visit. Perhaps I'll get brave in the next month. Or maybe not.

Having two kids does not double the work. More like quadruple it. I'm always figuring out how to balance out your needs and your brother's needs. I'm more tolerant of your unhappiness. I know that you are fine in the carseat/swing/crib/floor while I take care of something that is a touch more urgent than your unhappiness. While this doesn't mean much to you at this age, it means a lot to me. It means I have faith in both of our abilities to handle discomfort for 30 seconds. It means that I leave you be to enjoy yourself and you can figure out how to handle life without being hovered over.

Your brother is also starting to learn these lessons and is significantly more unhappy about it than you. Poor first born.

And speaking of your brother, he just lurves you so much. Like George and Bugs Bunny, he wants to hold you and squeeze you. He wants to help you nurse! He wants to push your stroller. He wants to know where you are at all times. I never would have thought he'd be so tolerant of sharing his parents attention. Knowing you have each other is a real blessing. Someday, you'll have to tell me what it's like to have a big brother.

You have made our family complete, my sweet beautiful girl. I love you so very much.

Love
Mommy

Kevin and I decided to ignore the fact that we were making each other crazy tonight.

This is maturity in marriage.

Or maybe we're just getting lazy.