Sundevils know how to party!

I’m coming out of hiding after a week of family-wide illness. I forgot how bright the sun is! Thankfully, only one of our number came down with the tummy-sicks. I attribute the containment to a lot of soap, a ton of GermX and one tall can of Lysol. That’s right. Watch out germs! I’ll take you out.

Although October already seems like a distant memory, what with the halls of all my local shopping outlets decked in green and red, I would be remiss if I didn’t recount some of our Halloween festivities.

ASU Polytechnic Housing threw one heck of a party for residents this last weekend; their annual Boo Bash. We took ‘em for all they were worth and had a great time doing it!

Dracula and his minions Trunk or Treated:

Dined on hot dogs, popcorn and cotton candy:

Tossed:

Bounced:

Some other people climbed… totally not us:

Well, I guess we did some climbing:

We slid:

We also ran an obstacle course, saw a Tae Kwon Do demonstration, and William won a fish. Meet Laney:

Thanks ASU Poly housing! We had a blast and plan to take full advantage of all your hard work again next year.

On a semi-unrelated note… See! I wasn’t exaggerating when I said my kids climb the walls:

Laundry challenged

From what I’ve gleaned over a couple years of stealthy reconnaissance, most moms do laundry at night. They put the kids to bed (or even better, Dad does it), settle in with a favorite show, and fold. That sounds awesome! It also gives me an excuse not to get the laundry done. I do all of my work at night. I’m gonna’ say it also explains away my sticky floors, dusty piano and smudgy walls but that’s beside the point.

My simple system of living out of laundry baskets has recently come under scrutiny and I’d love to be able to find matching socks for everyone but I can’t seem to figure out when I’m supposed to get it done. (Yes, thank you, I do realize how ridiculous I sound.)

I talked with organizer Susan Stewart about laundry for an upcoming article (watch for the January issue) and she recommended getting the kids involved and making them responsible for putting away their own laundry. That sounds like a lot of work. Susan started helping her son put away his laundry when he was three and her daughter wasn’t much older… basically my kids’ ages. Now it’s a regular after-school responsibility. I’m diggin’ this idea but I can’t even get the laundry put away myself, let alone train my kids in the procedure on a daily basis. (Again, ridiculous. I’m aware.)

So, work-at-home moms, mompreneurs and PTO presidents, how do you do it?

Too wild for my wild things

If you’re planning to take your kids to see Where the Wild Things Are this weekend, think twice. I sent my husband, two of my boys, my 11-year-old sister and my in-laws to the movie last night without me and 2-year-old Jack. That turned out to be a good choice. According to the crew I sent, the movie was well done, the special effects were amazing and the storyline valuable but this cinematic interpretation of one of our favorite children’s books is not for children.

*spoiler alert*

The plot is heavy. Max, the main character has trouble at home and has a couple of traumatic exchanges with his sister and mother before he runs away to an island of monsters where the movie takes a violent turn. The monsters play hard. Too hard. One game consisting of “wild things” throwing clumps of dirt at each other took place over others’ pleas for a merciful end, leaving one monster significantly wounded.

Later, when asked what their favorite part of the movie was, my kids responded thus:

Chris (4): Zero

Will (5): When the monsters were throwing dirt at each other! And when he ripped that other monsters arm off! And when she knocked those birds out of the sky with rocks.

Hmmm… Between Max’s real life tantrums, threats from spike-toothed monsters to eat him and weighty emotional themes, I would have probably spared my kids this experience. On a positive note, said my husband, “Parents of young kids might really enjoy this movie. If they leave their kids at home.”

New mommy prep

Most pregnancy books end after the birth of the baby or within weeks of the blessed event. This sounds logical if you’ve never had a baby. End of pregnancy = end of pregnancy book. But it’s not the end. There’s a whole “fourth trimester” and I hate for new moms to see the birth as the finish line.  Your baby’s birth is just the beginning! Mommies, you have nine long months to prepare for that crazy “fourth trimester”. Use it!

By prepare, of course, I don’t mean draw up a birth plan, paint your nursery or wash your onsies. A matching crib and glider, changing table and your baby’s name hung in designer letters over his crib don’t even make my list. What will you do if your baby doesn’t latch on correctly when you are trying to nurse him? Your baby will probably nurse at least every two hours so you won’t have time to think about who to call or what to do. What if you are overproducing milk or your baby twists, screams and won’t eat?

Take a breastfeeding class now. Get to know moms who are due ahead of you that you will be able to call and ask for advice. Ask around to new moms and have the name and number of a good lactation consultant handy just in case. Chances are you will use this information. If you have concerns, call your consultant before baby comes. Most will be happy to answer your questions over the phone free of charge.

Don’t know any new moms? Lactation consultants are not all created equal and it is worth putting in some effort to get a good recommendation, again, before baby gets here. Believe it or not, a big belly and baby-less arms are not an uncommon sight at La Leche League meetings. La Leche League is an organization designed to support and inform breastfeeding mothers. Sounds creepy now but trust me, the awkwardness will never outweigh the potential pain and frustration of serious nursing problems. LLL meetings are the perfect place to score a good lactation consultant’s information.

Just because breastfeeding is natural doesn’t mean it will come naturally. There is nothing cooler than picking up your three month old baby and realizing that he is all you. Every inch. There is no faster or easier way to calm your baby and no cheaper way to feed him than the breast. Breastfeeding is worth it! Being prepared makes it more so. Visit kellymom.com for more information. Read up!

More awesome information:

Preparing for breastfeeding

Four families share their breastfeeding experiences

What do you expect?

When your baby is born, who will get up in the night when he needs to eat? You? Your husband? Who’s doing the cooking? The laundry? Is your mother coming to help? When she gets here, what do you expect of her? Dishes, laundry, cooking? For all you know she’s planning to hold the baby while you get things done. Sound unreasonable? You might think so but she might not.

Near the top of the list of things I wish I’d known before I was a mom is that I should have discussed my expectations, and others’ expectations, before my baby arrived.

I planned on my husband spending the night with me and our new baby at the hospital. He planned to go home and get the house ready for us.

I planned on his help in the middle of the night while I was still learning to feed our baby. He planned to sleep.

I expected my mom to be over periodically helping me learn to care for my infant and get housework done. She realistically couldn’t.

I planned on meals from family and friends. They didn’t.

I later learned that the lack of support and aloneness I felt in my first postpartum period was the direct result of a communication breakdown that started with me. There was no shortage of people in my life who would have loved to bring in a meal or do a load of laundry. Everyone wanted to get their eyes on my  baby! But when people asked what they could do, I said, “Oh, nothing, we’re okay.” Duh… It seemed way too weird to assign people tasks but having been on the other side of this conversation, I now know that when people ask, they really want to help! Communicate your needs to the people around you and I promise, most of them will just be excited to be involved in this time in your life. And eliminate surprises from the people you depend on by being clear about your expectations of each other and clearing up any misconceptions.

Fighting fire

A friend and I had been out to dinner while she was home visiting from college. We returned home to my apartment to find my roommate waiting, phone in hand. Both mine and my friend’s parents had been calling. My friend’s little brother had gotten ahold of a box of matches and tossed one onto the couch. The house was a total loss.

I visited the following day and am still haunted by images of family photos melted down the wall, blackened skeletons of furniture and the Twilight Zone imposter of a house that I knew so well.

As a result, I’ve always been paranoid about matches and lighters in our home. Having three little boys I know that if it can happen, it will. If they can destroy it, they will. And I know better than to underestimate my little darlings.

Well, I slipped up. I had the matches out last night and left them on top of a stack of boxes on the edge of my husband’s desk. They were safe there and I just wasn’t headed the right direction to put them away.

So, today I walked into the office to find Jack standing on the desk, a streak of disappearing Christopher in the periphery and the smell of smoke hanging in the air. I don’t know how they spotted the matches. I don’t know how they figured out to light one. And I don’t know what happened to the offending match. But everything seems to be okay. Everyone is safe. And the matches are put away.

So help me, this better be my last learning experience on that subject.

The ultimate hands-free device

Yesterday I spoke at Banner Del Webb hospital about the five things I wish I knew before I was a mom. In light of the fact that I only covered about half of my material in the 30 minutes provided, I would probably call it five categories of things I wish I’d known.

It was awesome to have the opportunity to pass on information I learned the hard way to new and expecting parents in the hopes that they will be better prepared for what’s coming than I was.

So, today I wondered, why am I not sharing those things here on my blog? I think I should. Since I just received my October issue of RAK magazine with my article about choosing the right baby carrier for you and since it is the end of International Babywearing Week I will mention that my ring sling is the #1 lifesaving item I wish I’d had with my first baby. Mine is a Taylor Made, created by Chandler mom LeAnn Contessa and has made my job about 300 times easier than it could have been.

I had a Snugli with my first but it just didn’t get the job done and now I hear concerns about their safety with young babies’ spines. It worked okay at the mall or on a hike but for day to day activities I needed something that would move with me naturally leaving no tiny limbs flailing about. My baby was almost five months old when I found out his brother was on the way. At that point, a good sling shifted from a want to a need.

My second was days old when we arrived at Contessa’s home to choose our first sling. She helped me get it properly adjusted, showed me how to nurse my baby in it, answered my questions and sent me home where I unloaded the dishwasher while feeding my baby. Glorious freedom!

You can learn more about babywearing in the October issue of Raising Arizona Kids Magazine or here and here.

Another first

It was one of those moments that tests your mothering mettle. I had to pick up one thing at Ikea. Ikea doesn’t make it easy to get just one thing so I decided to take advantage of the time until I had to pick up my oldest from school. I dropped one at the play place after a quick restroom visit and took the other to wander the aisles with me.

The little one turned out to be more of a handful than I had imagined. I’m still adjusting to the new two year-old version of my baby. Before he could handle too many breakable items I filled his hands with a bendy fish ice-cube tray and flattened storage boxes. This bought me approximately 10 minutes (not too shabby) until he abandoned the items to sit on a chair and another chair and another chair and open a cupboard and another cupboard and another cupboard and bounce on a bed and another bed and another bed… you get the idea. After a good 20 minutes of shopping, the buzzer the child care people gave me went off. Oh no, he’s had an accident. “Come on, Jack,” I beckoned to my to my toddler who was busy peeking behind the door of a tall black secretary. He turned and smiled at me and then ran the opposite direction. My heart rate sped up as the buzzer buzzed and beeped and buzzed. It has to be an accident. Or what if he’s scared? What if he got nervous without me and started to cry. He couldn’t be hurt could he? What if there was some freak accident in the ball pit? In two giant steps I overtook Jack and raced to the stairs, down them and around the corner to the play place.

A woman was already at the desk waiting for her child. The girl behind the desk glanced my way and gathered the other child’s things. She called the child. She called and called. She called some more until the woman in front of me shouted, “Jaeden! Get over here now.” They’re seriously going to make my child just sit in his own pee while they bring this other kid to his mom. They’re not even in a hurry. Where is he? Like they can’t do two kids at one time!

And then it was my turn. Still moving in slow motion, the woman who hadn’t checked me in said with a nervous frown-smile, “He’s had an incident.” My thoughts stalled. “Your son was fighting with another child,” she gestured to the previous boy whose mother was tying his shoes. “I think it’s just kind of an off day for him.” She nodded and crinkled her nose. “He was chasing other kids and jumping into the ball pit onto other kids and, well, just not listening very well.” More frown-smile. I was frozen. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t apologize for him immediately the way I normally would in similar situations. Half because I’m trying to quit and half because I was still trying to process what I’d heard.

The ladies rounded up my boy and his things, sent him through the gate and with the appearance of that sly little grin my mind checked back in. I pulled my son, still bouncing with excitement, to a nearby bench where we talked. Do you know what happened? Did you know they had to call mommy? I know you didn’t get hurt but other kids did. How do you think they felt? You know better. Do you want to be able to come back? Do you have something to tell those ladies?

I held his hand as my son willfully approached the counter and waited as I got one employees attention. “He has something he wants to tell you.” True to character he laughed, avoiding eye contact and drawing inward. “What did you want to say.”

“…sorry,” he mumbled.

“What was that,” the girl said, smiling.

“I’m sorry!” And breakthrough! Truly, I didn’t think it would happen.

“I’m sorry,” I echoed, breaking my new rule.

“It’s okay,” the girl reassured me. “It happens a lot. A lot!”

“Well, it’s a first for us,” I replied. And hopefully, a last.

The flu that took us down

I don’t know for sure if it was the swine flu but I do know that it sucked. I don’t recall much of our weeks of flu but it hurts just thinking about it. At first I thought William’s allergies were flaring up. He had the usual symptoms, leaky nose, cough, sore throat. His lethargic behavior worried me a little and when he spiked a fever and complained of body aches, I knew he needed to see a doctor. But he never had the chance. Within twenty-four hours our entire family of five was incapacitated by fevers, cold symptoms and intestinal trauma. If anything could go wrong in our bodies, it did. It felt like an all out total-cellular rebellion. I slept through the first two days while my husband fought his symptoms and then we traded off. My usually spastic, hyper, crazy boys sprawled out on couch cushions strewn across the floor for a week and a half. We carried buckets in front of our faces, went through boxes of tissues, consumed copious amounts of ibuprofen and acetaminophen and cried. Sound dramatic? A day or two might have been a bummer but the way this bug hung on to our insides for weeks was maddening. For me, nothing hurt quite as bad as my complete inability to get my kids the medical help they needed. They shook under blankets, sweat it out on top of the covers, ached, vomited and coughed uncontrollably day after day. I was helpless, plagued with the same symptoms.

Weeks later we were up and around… pale and tired but getting around, but the cough hung on. With the onset of symptoms befalling our family around July 12^th we were surprised to be barely well enough for a family reunion on the 25^th. Allen’s brother and his wife braved the drive to St. George with us and the kids did well sucking on cough drops most of the way. Only one managed to cough ‘til he triggered his gag reflex… everywhere, which was almost more than my poor sister-in-law could handle. (It was pretty gross even for me. Thanks to Uncle Bart for saving the day!)

As talk of the H1N1 virus intensifies, I feel pretty safe. I can’t confirm we suffered from this particular virus but we usually test out every bug making the rounds before we pass it on to friends and family. Due to safety concerns over the vaccine, I think we’ll take our chances. As a precaution, I’ve stocked up on hand sanitizer cough drops, Gatorade and pain medicine. If another round is coming, we’ll be ready.

Feeling the loss

Braden's last school picture

Senator Ted Kennedy succumbed yesterday to the same monster that took my little brother. Two decades ago (can it have been that long?) we discovered by blessed chance that my brother had an aggressive and deadly tumor taking over his brain. This discovery bought us time. Time to cope, prepare and say good-bye. There were surgeries, lots of radiation treatments, chemotherapy, all things no eight year-old should have to deal with. Within a year [correction by my mom: 5 months] my brother was gone.

I mentioned the cancer to an oncologist I met at a Phoenix Children’s Hospital lunch a couple of years ago. “My brother had glioblastoma multiforme.” His gaze fell ground-ward and wandered. I didn’t need to tell him the outcome.

I continue to be grateful for the time we did have after Braden’s diagnosis. His doctors gave us an awesome gift; those late memories of my brother are clearer than any others. He played Nintendo every spare second, continued to go to school when he could and even felt well enough at one point for a Make-A-Wish sponsored trip to Disney World in Orlando where we caught a baby alligator on a fishing line. He wore a hat, always, to cover his funny haircut and stitches and a smile below the brim. He was calm and seemed to have a better understanding of what was going on than any of us. He didn’t cry or complain but played the hand he was dealt.

My heart hurts for the Kennedys whose world has been ravaged by this heinous disease and I continue to hope and pray that “someday” will bring a different ending to stories that start like ours.