theNest

My men…

That’s it. No more cold Easters where I am shivering in a pretty dress. After 32 chilly Easter Sundays, enough is enough. I want to enjoy the day in warm and comfortable cothing. I don’t think I am asking too much to be warm on a holiday but I still feel guilty like I am breaking the rules and “not giving God my best.” However, as I know God wants my heart in the right place and takes me as I am, it is apparent it is not His rules I am breaking. So, I am going to wear a nice pair of jeans – yes, jeans and maybe black ones – and layers on top (because CA weather changes in a heartbeat). You also know what? I am not going to make my daughter wear a dress – if fact, she can wear what she wants. She can wear pajamas to church if it helps her to know and experience the love of God. I am on a roll. I just can’t stand the “stand there and look pretty” facade. “Pretend you are getting the meaning behind the day even though you are outside, sitting on a cold chair, in 50 degree cloudy weather, and you are wearing little more than a thin sheath over underwear, with bare legs and sandals.” No sir, no more. Done…and done. Happy Easter!

Honestly, both Garth and I have put forth valiant efforts into teaching our kids manners and socially acceptable (read: non-criminal) behavior. However, at the most crucial times, one would never know it and could fairly assume that our kids were born in a barn. In general, kids do not think twice before acting or speaking and certainly don’t consider any feelings as they quickly throw “whatever adult figure” under the bus. I have been under that bus many times and I consider it a parental duty – and a public service – to correct the situation before anyone gets any wrong ideas about me or the kids. Sometimes, I come out victorious and other times, people just look at me and shake their head like, “It’s like she doesn’t even try!”

I have to admit that I have received the most judgment from people who have never had kids or, more importantly, people who have never had an Owen. There is no other way of saying it because I know plenty of people whose Owen is a girl, a third child, or just a curious and rascally child. Owens take the manner (and publicly decent) thing to a whole other realm. Let’s just say that if my Owen is half as mannered or clean as my daughter – who is naturally polite and tidy – I am ecstatic. And it’s not that he isn’t capable, because he is. It is that he could careless about what other people think. He seems unaware that anyone would be bothered that he is picking his nose, burping loudly, or building a monster truck out of his mashed potatoes. And if they are bothered and were to alert him, he would be thrilled and would take it to another level to shock his audience even more. Luckily, he still does care what I think – for the time being anyway – and I harness that power as much as I can. I try my best to keep the rules consistent and to remind him of inappropriate actions and consequences, including exposing himself to get a rise out of the neighborhood girls. Lovely. Regardless, I am so in love with the little bug and I really do try to see the humor in every awkward situation he puts me in.

Recently, I have experienced my darlings’ conspicuous – and loud – observations of people’s physical differences. At the grocery store, it thoroughly embarrassed me having to explain to the kids (in front of the poor victim) that no, the older woman in front of us – who is clearly past childbearing years – is not pregnant. What else am I supposed to say?! I don’t want to offend her more by explaining that she is too old to have a child. So, after turning bright red, I prayed that the offended party didn’t hear, which of course she did because my kid said it so loud! Then, I prayed that she would have enough sense to dismiss the comment as coming from a child. I did not make eye contact with the victim at any cost. Then I got a look of shame and felt embarrassed that maybe she thinks I am teaching my kids to say such rude things at home – which I am not! It was an innocent mistake as my kids assumed that a woman is capable of getting pregnant all her life, which I later corrected as we were driving home. Still, it is embarrassing that the kids would point out her round tummy, which I also addressed later on. One observation I have made is that people are much more tolerant and civil when my daughter states the obvious than when my son has chimed in. Hmmmm, interesting. Maybe it is the girl factor or maybe they feel more threatened by an Owen.

A few weeks ago, we were at our church’s feeding ministry and the coordinator asked Owen and I to hand out juice and sparkling water. Owen immediately started rifling through the box of juice bottles and when he came across a green glass water bottle, he yelled, “Cool! Beer, Mom!! Who should we give this to?!” My good friend laughed but a few others were aghast that a 5 year old could (1) possibly identify a bottle of beer and (2) would think it was so cool to give out free beer to the needy. Good, good. Thank you Son. Oh well – we try, we really do.

I was warned that getting a puppy is similar to having a new baby. The verdict is in and it is WAY easier to get a puppy, as tiresome as it may be. However, I am getting flashbacks to when I was a new mom with the feedings, letting him out to wee-wee, and with the crate training. Not that I crate-trained my kids, but the puppy is rather dependent on me. I think he almost has potty training down with #1 but going #2 needs a little work. It is hard to hear him whine and cry as I train him but at least it doesn’t induce lactation “let-down.”

The flashbacks take me to a dark place almost 6 years ago, when I had an infant that was very dependent on me, a severe case of PPD, and a needy 2-and-a-half year old. It has always been hard for me to accept when others are dependent on me because I doubt my capabilities. With good reason. I think it is because I have bottomed out with depression so many times and during those times, I can’t take care of myself let alone needy small people. Enter Garth, who did more than his share of the child-rearing during the early years when I had to work hard to pull myself together with cognitive therapy and a lot of meds. It is no wonder that the puppy responsibilities fall heavily on me as he has told me he has “been there, done that.”

The anxiety I have felt in the last few days has really challenged me to think back and hopefully heal from those dark times a little more. It is so bad that when a friend has a baby, I have a tendency to disappear for a few weeks because I can’t handle thinking that she may have the same pain as I had with having a new baby. Sad. And selfish, but I don’t like to be reminded of my dark place. It does help when I see a new mom coping well – and most moms do. I didn’t. Most people think of a sweet little baby as sugar and spice and all I can think is morbid thoughts of suicide, almost leaving my family, and crying continually for almost a year. Not what I anticipated as when I was a dreamy 18 year-old, thinking romantic and very unrealistic thoughts of my future. God has a good sense of humor. As painful as it was, it did bring me closer to Him…almost too close. There were days I prayed He would take me “home” and away from the pain but now I am glad He didn’t.

I feel bad that I think so terribly of my first few years as a mother, but depression will do that to you. I don’t want to sugar-coat it or somehow deny what it was. If I could have made it any better I would have but I don’t feel that I was given a choice in the matter. Depression and anxiety do not give you a choice. My good friend Renee always reminds me, “it is what it is.” What I do hope is that somehow I can pull away from the anxiety of having someone (a puppy in this case) so dependent on me.

1 new dog, named Piper:
6 – number of rooms he has pooped in
3 – number of times Karna woke up last night to let the dog out to “wee-wee”
2 – number of very irritated cats, named Sam and Eddie
15 – number of “piddles” Karna has cleaned up since Saturday
7 – number of chew toys laying around the house
2 – number of baths that Piper has had since Saturday because he rolled around and stepped in his poo
50 – percent Poodle
25 – percent Shih-Tzu
25 – percent Maltese
100 – percent a LOVE!