Baby Poop and Business Suits

Dear Gerah: Believing in the tooth fairy

Thought I'd share this email from a friend that I received this morning. It goes:

Hey G,  

I'm just sitting here at the computer again, ruminating, and waiting for something important to happen, like a ball game...  So I thought I'd start my first draft of a letter to the editor or somebody else real important:

Hey,  I'm not a Democrat or a Republican, but I was sitting here wondering if we ever conducted a war before that we asked no one to pay for except our grand children...  Yes, maam, put it on the tab...  I'd like to believe that in 10 years, when we may leave, the Sunnis, Shia, and Kurds are going to shake hands, put down their guns, and evenly split the riches, but I also believed in the tooth fairy.  And will we be known as the great founder of democracy, not an occupying power (who didn't get the lights turned on soon enough)... ???  Anyway, as someone said, How many times must a man look up before he can see the sky, and how many deaths will it take till he knows that too many people have died?

And for some reason this email hit me just right this morning and I too, began to ruminate. So I replied:

Dear Top Secret Friend who sends me thoughtful emails,

Thanks for your letter to the editor Gerah - I feel quite privileged to be the recipient of your very real concerns. My advice: Go ahead and send it in to the local newspapers. Most the good ol' boys around here won't care, or even read it; hell, how many of them even read? Remember, you are not alone, there are many out there who are like us, and feel EXACTLY THE SAME WAY YOU AND I DO. And, those who read this short thought, question, and quote of yours in the paper will think about what you have said.

Key word here: THINK. We need more of this "thinking" business to go on...

... and when they think about what you have written, like I have, they will realize that all we can do is raise our children and grandchildren to be thinkers like us. And for our children to teach others to think, as you are doing with me right now. Herein lies the reason I take parenting way too damn seriously. I take it seriously because I know that us thinker-types are in the minority, and our children are in for a tough road. On top of everything else, we didn't circumcise Niko - and poor Kyra's destined to at least 6 feet tall and I'm sure you've read my blog posts or heard my rantings as growing up as a ginormous female. It just ain't easy. These kids have to be tough. Remember Johnny Cash's A Boy Named Sue?

Yeah. It's kind of like that.

Gerah

Back to Basics: BEATING A DEAD HORSE

I am happy to report that, since shortly after my previous post regarding an icky withdrawl from Cymbalta that I wrote with teary eyes and a troubled mind, the fog seems to have lifted. I didn't want to get ahead of myself and report to YOU, internet, that everything is dandy too early...

But it's been about a week and a half since I wrote that - and for the last week, I feel good! I feel fine! No more brain zaps or crying jags or creepy anxiety!!! I even did the "10,000 Maniacs Litmus Test" - I stood in my kitchen, turned on the 10,000 Maniacs MTV Unplugged Album, started doing the dishes and....

...well, I won't lie. I still got a little verklempt. But I didn't sob. And, come ON - what post-child bearing woman (or gay man?) doesn't get a bit verklempt when Natalie Merchant belts it out???

But anyway. Life is moving along and it feels good. Let's cross our fingers, shall we?

And now for the dead horse: I am going to attempt to touch on the topic that got me writing this blog in the first place and that I just can't shake. There is something within me that has such a damn hard time leaving my little ones when I work. Such a hard time. It eats at me.

I trust my daycare provider completely. I really love her. If my children aren't with her, they are with my mother a day and a half per week. I even feel guilty sending them off with their grandma.

I just feel - these are MY BABIES. Mine. Mine mine mine. (Not even so much my husband's. He does so much for them, sure, but, he didn't grow them and nurse them and do all those things that we mothers know that we mothers do!) I think: How dare I pass them to someone else during these years that pass so quickly? I'll never get these years back.

I know we all have to make choices, and we have to do what we have to do. I guess I might take mothering too seriously, maybe. I know I can be a bit neurotic about this. But is there anything MORE important than caring with all your heart and spending your time molding and nurturing the little humans that you created?

Is there?

The Withdrawl

I am currently on day 8 of my attempt to walk away from anti-depressant medication (Cymbalta, to be specific). (Yes, I'm doing this with the guidance of my doctor, and yes, I weaned off before I stopped medication completely.)

The good news is, I am doing this, because over the last few months life has been fabulous, and I have felt strong, happy, and really, really good. And, as I've said in previous posts - I would rather not be on drugs. I'm more of a tree huggin' hippie organic herbal yoga deep breath natural  childbirth walk in the woods type of person, if you catch my drift. Basically, I'd like to to do everything I can to try to live happily without prescribed medication. It's just me. It's just what I want for myself.

The bad news is, that with drawls from Cymbalta are NOT PRETTY. Quite ugly. I feel like am in a very, very dark place right now. (And so of course instead of writing about it in my private journal on my bedstand, I have to tell the whole world and internet and god about it, as any proper blogger and modern mother would!)

I am so irritable... my poor children - my patience is non-existent. I am moody, sad, weepy, and anxious. Have you ever felt that you needed to laugh hysterically and cry like you've never cried before at the same time? That's how I feel. A bit mad, as in mad-hatter mad.

And then there's the BRAIN ZAPS. Seriously. Over the last week, I feel as though my brain has little seizures or something, that zap my whole body. My lips go numb and tingle. I feel like I'm floating around instead of walking. It's just strange.

I'm also having very violent dreams. And sexy ones! (Okay, Borat.) (Yes, the sex drive is returning. My husband is thrilled. I think his skin is glowing. Watch out good looking men walking past me on the sidewalk, I may attack.) The violent dreams have been strange: One night I dreamt of tornadoes and water spouts and natural disaster. The next night I dreamt a close friend's teenage son looked us straight in the eye and then shot himself in the head in front of me and her. And last night, I dreamt that we were being invaded by a military presence, and I was trying to run and hide and get away from them... Very Anne Frank and Gestapo-ish. Very creepy.

I am telling you this because, for one, I need to write about it, just to talk. Secondly, is there anyone else out there who has gone through this that can support me here or share their experience(s) with weaning off anti-depressants/ Cymbalta?

I really hope to get through this. I have so many wonderful stories to share!!! I want to write again! My little Niko is practically a MAN, baby and I haven't even blogged about his baby years!!! I looked at him the other day in his car seat and he is not even much of a toddler! He's a kid. A tall one!

(Oh, great, here comes one of those happy/weepy moments. Give me a moment.)

Moment.

Another moment.

Okay, it's passed.

So please, share your stories, I need you right now, my internet friends. It's springtime, and everything is beautiful! Life is way too good to feel so bad.

My Ooomph

I'm beginning to wonder if I've lost my writing "Ooomph". It seems when I began this blog, the stories and topics just flowed and poured out easily - I'd get an idea and immediately stop what I was doing and just sit down and write. That just never happens to me much anymore.

It's not like the subject of my writings doesn't present itself anymore - when I change my 22 month old's diaper he flops around and squeals like some sort of combination of what I have experienced when taking a hook out of a blue gill's mouth and trying to get my cat to swallow a pill... I am still a working mother and have frustrations and passions and precious moments where I look into my darling childrens' eyes and wish I could freeze that moment in time for all eternity. I certainly have hundreds of experiences daily that could be turned into hundreds of stories - but yet, my blog writing seems to have shriveled up and died.

Maybe it's because I've found other creative outlets in my career and my community work and I'm putting my Ooomph energy toward those projects. Maybe it has something to do with the scary bouts of depression and panic I experienced shortly after Niko was born - part of me feels like that experience changed me forever and I'll never be quite the same old Gerah that I was.

Who knows. I will say that I refuse to "quit" this blog anytime soon. There are too many poop stories and crazy mommy rants that I have in me still waiting to come out.

Ah, yes. Niko has found the cookies and has covered his face with chocolate and has probably shoved a few of the cookies in the DVD player. I must go be the evil mother I am and pry the goodies from his chubby little sticky fingers.

Ooochie Goochie Goo, Spring has arrived!

The new business is keeping me busy, folks. This is good, yes? Not good for the blog, but good for my family's checking account balance...

Spring is here! Also good, no? I love the new season so much, I've been catching myself talking in a baby voice to crocuses and other sprouting greenery in my perennial garden.

"Hi there little purple flowers! Hi there! I love you! Welcome to the world little friends!!!" I say to the plants in a high pitched voice as if they were newborn babies, as my children look at me and then at each other with an expression like, "Wow! This is acceptable? This way of speaking to greenery? I never knew! Cool!"

Little do they know they were born to a whack-job and they will most likely be teased at school because of it.

I'm just preparing them for the worst, that's all. Check out the new Flickr photos over here to the right. The kidlets are getting all gosh darn grown up. (Sniff, sniff.)

Crow's Feet Discovered

Guess WHAT!?

I'm officially old! My thirtieth birthday was Saturday. I attended a party at the home of one lovely and one handsome friend(s), and we drank Sangria and ate lots of yummy appetizers. I am quite sure I woke up the morning of my birthday, and new wrinkles appeared near my eyes. And ya know what? I don't really care. What can you do, eh?

In other news, my new business is rolling! Things are happening! No riches quite yet, but I'm not going to give up on dreaming.

On another topic, the children and I (and then my dad, and then my sister visiting from Chicago and her new boyfriend) were recently were cursed with the gastrointestinal flu. I'm going to assume you know what I mean when I say "gastrointestinal". Let me just say that I was so happy to have lost four pounds in one day!!! (Yes, I gained it back in another day or two.) I recall going down the highway, and my husband, next to me in the driver's seat, turned to me and said, "I've been puked on more times this week than I have in my whole life," and I knew it was no exaggeration on his part. Little did he know he was about to be puked on again twice later that day.

Deep thought: If teens knew how gross, slimy, dirty, and stinky having children would be, I think they'd use a condom more often and give in to unprotected sex less. Somebody should hire me to put together a marketing campaign for abstinence or avoiding unwanted pregnancy.

My campaign would include multiple billboards with poop and vomit on them, I'll tell you that much.

Speaking of stinky little mess-makers, my children are great. Little delights, they are. I am happy to announce a development I've been patiently waiting for since I became a parent:

Child Slave Labor and/or Child Housekeeping!!!

I used to always wish my polydactyl cat, Elliott, would learn how to do the dishes or pick up a broom, but he just never seemed to have any interest in these tasks, so I gave up on him years ago. But, now, I'm happy to report that both children now seem to enjoy using the vacuum and cleaning glass surfaces! Kyra's got a fondness for toilet bowl cleaning, as well. That's my girl. Aren't they sweet? (They have a fresh breeze/sometimes orange scent too!)

An Epiphany

As far back as I can remember, I've always had a thing for older men - but it has puzzled me as to why. I've never understood.

But, yesterday, my husband Jeremy, called me to the computer. He sat in the computer chair, and I stood behind him as we watched together, and after a few moments, he squirmed in pain - and I realized I was gripping his shoulder with a tightening clench that could draw blood. I was so excited I wanted to yelp, and yet, I felt weak in the knees.

After all of these years, I now realize why:

Dr. Jones.

Oh, Doctor Jones! (Dabbing my brow with a hankie).

Indiana!!!

Career, and Community

So my "real life" friends are already aware of this, so if you're reading this, real life friends, just know that yes, I acknowledge the fact that this is old news to you.

But, all you fake or pretend people in my computer, I have some news: I have quit my job and started my own business.

Whoopee!!! I'm nuts!!!

Allow me to direct you to this link over here in the right column above my Flickr photos that says "Richmond Creative" (or just click here). That's my business. What this means is, I'm working out of my home for now. Sure, I'll still be busy and want to rip my face off due to stress sometimes, but, now, I've got

FREEDOM.

and I will be the head honcho, so I will make all of the

DECISIONS.

and the work I will do will be creative, and great, and beautiful, and what I enjoy, and I will be

HAPPY.

and maybe,   just maybe, if all goes as planned, this business could be successful, and I could make some

MONEY.

It's been a couple weeks that I've been home working on getting this project up and running and I am very, very happy. Everybody else living in the state of Michigan is disgusted with the snowy, cold weather - and at the moment they seem to hate everyone and everything. Grumpy bunch of shivering, pale skinned Michigan people, they are. But me? I'm just smiling. (My husband, on the other hand, is supportive, but ready for me to SHOW HIM THE MONEY.)

"I'm starting a business damn it! Lay off, man!" I say. "The money will come!" (I hope..??)

Speaking of money - as you may have noticed, I'm testing out the Google Ad thing. Up until just recently, I had decided not to bother with ads on this blog. I was fine with my blog being my hobby and that was that. But, times have changed and I thought I'd give the ads a try. I've even had an advertiser contact me about putting their ad on my blog, and we're currently giving it a test run. That would explain the ad you see in the upper left hand corner. (I'm not sure if I'm allowed to say that, but I'm just saying.) If I can make enough money sporting ads on this blog to pay for my monthly typepad fee, then groovy. If I can make a little more than that, I'll be ecstatic.

As you've probably gathered, I feel that, overall, life seems pretty darn good right now.

I'm loving being a mom more than ever... and raising a little boy is turning out to be quite a wonder and a joy. More about that topic will come in a future blog post. I'm spending a bit more time with my kids - again, "flexibility" - it's a wonderful thing -  Kyra's in preschool four mornings a week, and she and Niko are now going to day care just one day a week for now. My mother, or "GrammaNanny" as I've nicknamed her, is going to help out a day or two a week on top of my daycare to give me some time to focus on my work and go to meetings, etc.

So, I'm still a part-time worker, full time momma.

Love it.

I couldn't wish for anything more.  Okay, okay, so I wouldn't mind a new Volvo XC90, personal yoga instructor, and new wardrobe. And a new body. Still a tall one, just a new one. That's it.

Other happenings I should mention... I am heading up a civic movement in my small town aimed to turn our struggling community around and promote positive change and entrepreneurship... and what started out as a simple idea between myself and some friends has turned into quite a big, fantastic, exciting project. I'm planning on posting a website soon - I'll keep you, my imaginary friends in the computer, posted.

Last summer, I organized a music event in the downtown where I live and it seemed to be a huge success (see the Viva Brady Street event poster and news article on my Richmond Creative website portfolio...), and so, we're planning on making it an annual event. Move over, Austin City Limits Music Festival!!! Viva Brady is gonna be HOT! HOT! HOT! (Oh, and speaking of music festivals and HOT! HOT! HOT! Jeremy and I went to Austin, TX, for ACL last fall, too. It was there I fell in love with Devotchka, and a few other fabulous acts. This all happened during my blogging lapse. Oopsie Daisy. Sorry bout' that.

And one more thing I should note on the career/civic/community involvement front: I am planning on co-authoring a book! It is to be a book detailing the historic homes in the city where I live - with pictures, stories, facts, and histories of the homes... Should be exciting.

So, head on over and visit the Richmond Creative website! Let me know what you think! And, if I  go missing for a while, now you understand why.  Until next time... and wish me luck...

One of the reasons why I'm consistently never nominated for a Mother of the Year Award

Kyra is now 4 1/2 years old, and in pre-school. The pre-school program is indeed very impressive - before she was enrolled, I assumed I'd send her to school and they'd sing songs and play with finger paints... ya know, PRE-SCHOOL STUFF.

But, oh no no no nonononono. To my naive-rookie-parent-adult surprise, (I have SO MUCH to learn) they do a little bit of that baby pre-school stuff, but mostly, they learn the the-real-deal-school-stuff, such as:

1) all of their letters, upper case and lower
2) the sound each letter makes
3) how to write each letter
4) numbers 1 through (I dunno, something surprisingly high)
5) and other impressive stuff like the correct way to use the word "actually", how to zip their own damn coats, and plenty more things that I fail as a parent to teach because I'm too busy doing dishes or smoking crack or whatever it is that I'm doing instead of spending quality time with my child.

So any way, Kyra is learning how to write real words and letters. And here, my story continues:

Yesterday, as Niko was napping, I was doing some work on the computer and plopped my dear daughter in front of cartoons (to her delight!) as I do many days lately, it seems.

(Yes, I hate TV, too. And yes, I know children watch too much of it. Trust me. I am the queen anti-TV activist, and, obviously, a hypocrite).

After about an hour and a half of me on the computer, and my kid in front of the TV, she walks up to me and hands me a note. "Oh? What's this?" I wonder. I look at it for a second, and it didn't quite register.

Mag... Na.. LOY? Mag... Na.. VOT?

Oh.

Oh, yes. Just like on the front of the TV. RIGHT below the screen.

Funny!

Ouch.

New Word: Schnuck

I've decided I'd like to create a word, because I've racked my little brain and I can't think of another word for it. And lately, in my life, this word is a constant. I can't go five minutes in the morning without having a need to use it, experience it, or witness it.

The word is:

schnuck
 
–noun 

1.	The crusty streak of snot featured on the shoulders of parents, or caregivers of toddlers; usually accompanied by schnucks on the opposite shoulder, or on nearby furniture and/or glass surfaces. (See exhibit A.)

[Origin: Derived from word(s) snot, streak, schmuck, guck, and yuck.]

I'm not aware of the existence of any other word that describes what I'm trying to describe here... So if anyone out there is aware of a word used currently, please set me straight. Otherwise, I hope to get some credit on Wikipedia and the next version of Oxford's English Dictionary...

Mommy Wonka and The Snot Factories

We are covered in snow here in Michigan. Everybody is going mad with cabin fever - I look out the window and it appears as though we're on some planet not fit for human life; I even went down to the store and bought some bird suet hoping we'd attract some feathered friends and that they'd keep us company in the back yard, but, apparently the birds would rather starve than go out in this god-forsaken weather.

And EVERYONE is sick. Everyone. My parents, my friends, my neighbors, my kids.

I went out to dinner at a local establishment with a couple of girlfriends Friday night, and as I was leaving, I walked past the table where my neighbor, Ellen (Hi Ellen!) was sitting.

"How are the little snot factories doing?" she asked, referring to my children.

At the time, they were simply snotty, phlegm-y, and a bit sneezy, but otherwise, doing okay. Well, over the weekend, things decided to take a turn for the worse. Niko woke up Saturday morning with rosy(er) cheeks, bloodshot eyeballs, and crusty eyelashes. (Even writing that makes my eyes begin to burn and itch). And because, he didn't look and feel bad enough, he fell and whacked his face on the floor and gave himself a black eye. Handsome sun-uva gun, he is...

 

My life over the past four days could best be described as follows:

Fevers. Pink Eye. Goop. Snot. Nebulizers. Steam. Babies that squirm around like  greased sea otters and fight like a trapped gator. Warm, wet washcloths. Cold, wet washcloths. Kleenex. Crusty stuff. Mucus. Runny, rancid B.M.'s (HEY. I'm talkin' about the baby, here!).

More goop, more snot, more crusty stuff. More washcloths of various temperatures. No appetites, except for mine, of course. Toilet paper.

Dried snot on shirts. Dried snot on furniture. Dried snot on pillows.

Consumption of various over the counter and prescription products with packaging that features various un-pronounceable words and names such as "guaifenesin", "dextromethorphan polistirex" or "phenylephrine"...

...and I think to myself, "Golly, I'm not quite sure if I should feed this stuff to my baby"...

...but then I read where it says "12 hour cough relief" or "relieves chest congestion" or "thins and loosens mucus" PLUS it comes in orange, grape, and cherry and is probably a better choice than the other option: a sippy cup full of rum and coke for the kid and a second sippy just full of the rum for myself.

I guess the best thing to do is find the humor in this situation... Like when Kyra asks me,

"Mom, can I watch a movie when Niko takes his nap?"

but it comes out sounding like,

"Mob, gan I watdg uh moobie wheg Neego taegs hig nab?"

So I laugh at her as she looks at me strangely. Then, I reply "Yes, you may watch a movie, but com'mere, let's blow your nose first."

"Blow. Harder. Take a deep breath in your mouth. Kyra, TRY! Good, good! One more time. Yes! Thata girl.... okay, one MORE time. Okay, good. Now hold still let me see. HOLD STILL!!! Look up. Look UP. Look at the ceiling so I can see up you nose!!! Excellent. All clear. Does it feel better?"

(Kyra pauses, looks around.) She turns to me, and proclaims, "MOM!!! I CAN SNIFF!!!"

Oh, happy day. We hug with joy and tell each other how much we love one another. The cabin fever has made us all a bit overly emotional and mental (as you can see from my photo above).

I must go now, it's time for a relaxing boat ride on my river of Nyquil; after that the Ooompa Loompas and I plan to gather the harvest from my cough drop trees.