Best laid plans...in reverse

So, remember how I said I wasn't getting a tree and was going to really take it easy with the crafting/cooking/decorating this year, on account of being pregnant and having a toddler running around? Psych!

Today I was driving around and saw so many Christmas tree lots...and one in my neighborhood had cute little "apartment sized" ones, so I thought I'd pull over and just check them out...five minutes later it was in my front seat. I figured what the heck - it's light enough for me to easily carry up the stairs, and back down a month from now. I can put it on a table where B *hopefully* can't reach...and get to decorate and light it, and it was only about $10 more than the itty-bitty potted ones I was looking at previously. So tonight after B went to bed I had fun decorating (still not going to light the outside of the house - just too dangerous). I am utterly puzzled as to where my wreath hook and tree skirt went. I will have to keep digging around for those.

Also, in contemplating Christmas gifts today, I decided to make stuff. After promising no craft projects. I just can't afford to buy people presents, but it pains me not to give people anything. I get such enjoyment out of giving gifts. So I sat down with Pinterest and reviewed some of last year's un-attempted recipes and crafts, and I think I'm going to take next weekend which is pretty empty and go for it. Hey, anything I don't give away I can always freeze and save for later when I'm breastfeeding and can eat all the candy and crap I want, right?

I'm going to hit up the dollar store also for wrapping and stocking stuffers. Although today I did splurge on B's one big gift - a wooden play kitchen just like the one at the coffee shop play area we go to, which is actually pretty cheap and comes with all the accessories unlike all the others I viewed. So other than that I plan on this being a very frugal but hopefully still bountiful and fun Christmas. Hey, when you're a broke single mother you have to get creative, right?

Here is a picture of a creepy 1950's Christmas baby that freaks my friend and I out:

Holidays with Toddlers

This seems to be a theme in my blog feed tonight, and is certainly a theme in my life at the moment, so I think I'll run with it. Holidays with babies are magical and fun. Holidays with toddlers are exhausting and difficult.

This is well traveled territory for this blog, but I'll say again that the minute my child threw his leg over the edge of his playpen and skittered to freedom, my whole life turned upside down. Up until that moment I could still largely go on about my business as I always had. Sitter cancel? No problem, bring the baby and keep him up until 1 AM - he'll be up anyway! Low on groceries? No problem, you've got boobs! Need a nap? Great, because the baby does, too. Need to work on a project? No worries - the baby will sleep, or play in one spot on the floor, or hang out safely in a swing or playpen. All of that is shot to hell now. And even months and thousands of dollars in baby proofing later, I am still reeling from the aftershocks of that one moment B's feet hit the floor after climbing out of his playpen. 

I felt it for sure this Thanksgiving. Despite all my planning ahead, things still didn't go as I would have liked. I got a jump on the cooking the day before - and B drove me completely nuts the whole time. He whined and cried and yelled "no!" and threw things the whole time as I rolled out pie crusts and chopped apples and zested lemons; he kept squeezing himself between me and the counter, then pushing me away from the counter with all his strength. Not to mention the floor strewn with crap he pulled out of the garbage, and the need to move everything higher and higher so he couldn't reach. It was an ordeal. However, I'm pleased with myself that I didn't snap - I stopped and played with him when I could, devised things he could play with, made sure I paid attention to him. I didn't rush or get annoyed when it all took forever to do; I knew expecting him to sit tight while I cooked for hours would be a lot to ask. But boy, was he irritating!

On Thanksgiving day thankfully my sister and brother in law were here to entertain him while I finished everything; and finish I did - glazed parsnips, apple pie, pumpkin pie, sautéed Brussels sprouts, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, gravy, a brandy cheese ball for a appetizer that never made it to the table in time. But any ideas I had about me, or the table, looking presentable, were shot to hell. I never even got to brush my teeth, much less do anything with my hair or put on a cute outfit or any makeup. I wasn't able to do anything with the table other than just throw everything on it in a desultory manner and have us sit down to eat. This is all unimportant stuff, I know. In the end my relatives were gracious enough to come to me this year, everything I cooked was good, B was happy, I got to use my grandmother's dessert plates for my homemade pies, and it all worked out. Still I have to say it just wasn't how I pictured it. I just wasn't as organized nor creative as I wanted to be. I'm an event person and everything has to be perfect; and it wasn't. I felt frazzled and too wired to appreciate the moment, too worried about B losing it any minute, too worried about the lighting not being right and not having enough serving dishes or spoons, etc. Yet another instance of my not being able to relax and be in the moment. I swear planning big dinners is always more fun than actually having them. 

Today it poured rain all day so there was absolutely nothing for us to do. We did get out for a nice Mexican lunch, and B did ok with that, but the rest of the day we had to just sit around the house. We didn't dare go out to any public shopping type areas, and the weather meant we couldn't go to any natural outdoor spaces either. I hope it clears up tomorrow so we can get out and get some much needed exercise!

I am definitely learning that all bets are off when it comes to toddlers. You just have to drastically lower your expectations of everything - especially yourself - and cling to the hope that when the kids are older you can start feeling somewhat normal again. So I'm having a mellow Christmas - no tree, just some basic decorating in high spots B can't get to. I probably won't hang lights either - I don't feel safe climbing around the outside of the house while pregnant, and there is no time to do that unless it's after dark when B's asleep, and I'm sure he'll get all tangled up in any electric cords I'd have to jerryrig. So this year it's just not worth it. 

I will: do a Santa train and get a Santa pic, send out cute holiday cards, make coconut balls for the one party I'm attending, do basic decorating, get B some cute presents.  

I won't: attempt any crafts, buy any presents for anyone other than B, do an expensive holiday photo shoot, throw a party, have a tree, light the house, or drag B to anything past his bed time. 

It's all about managing expectations. Accept these little kids for who they are and what they can handle, and keep in mind some day they'll be older and the real fun can begin. Until then - just hang in there!

Here is the one picture I had the presence of mind to snap of B's second Thanksgiving:

The Great Doula Search

Yesterday for the first time in ages, maybe forever, I began to actually think there's a chance this birth experience might actually be ok. It might be just my being on a general mood upswing, or it might have been the doula I met with.

She was an older lady, very experienced (500+ births!), and very comforting without being saccharine. She recounted her own crappy birth experiences in the 60s & 70s where they just knocked you out and then handed you the baby (which honestly doesn't sound that bad to me - but that's me for you!), so she gets the bad birth experience. She also was the first person I've talked to who said she *might* be able to arrange transport for me if necessary - she said she got stuck driving herself to the hospital one time because the neighbor that offered to do it got stuck with no car at that moment. I'm sure I have people who would agree to drive me if I needed - but everyone is at least 1/2 hour away (most more like an hour or more away), most have kids and jobs and things that can't just be dropped at the last second. So even with the best of intentions I may find myself with no way to get to the hospital. It would be nice to know I could use a doula's resources as well as my own. Or worse comes to worst - cab it, or drive myself!

So I really like this lady but she's twice the cost of anyone else. I can cut the fee by a few hundred if I agree to have a trainee along as well (totally cool with that), but still. Ouch. But then I ask myself - is a few hundred $$ more than another doula that much money, in the scheme of things, for the sense of comfort and protection this person could offer me? Ten years from now am I going to look back on this birth and wish I'd saved a few hundred dollars to work with someone I felt less comfortable with? Probably not.

So I am definitely leaning towards her. But I meet with another in an hour and have one more I can call; I also may meet with the one I just talked to on the phone. 

For the most part, I'm finding these ladies are all very similar. They're all nice women who love birth and think the way it's done in this country is largely all wrong; they want healthy babies and happy mothers. They go with your wishes even if you want super medical. They just want you to have the birth you want. So beyond that it's just a question of their fees (ranging from $850 to $2000 so far) and your level of comfort with them. But after yesterday I'm beginning to think age and experience are worth paying for.

Dark night of the soul

Last night I had one of those dark nights of the soul. I didn't feel well (lingering nausea and intense fatigue, making me worry that, like a friend of mine and her family, we survived the stomach virus only to catch it all over again days later). And I had had a rough day with B and was just miserable. And so The Thoughts came in. I'm not going to get into what The Thoughts consisted of - just the usual self-pitying crap. I kept telling myself, "just go the fuck to sleep. You know by morning all of this will be over." And it was. Funny what a night's sleep can do, isn't it?

Both of us still have wonky tummies - B absolutely refuses any kind of dinner and starts screaming if I even take out the pot with his favorite meal in it. Then he wakes up in the morning too early and positively hysterical from hunger. It SUCKS. Every night since Wednesday I have tried to introduce his usual dinner to no avail, and have found much to my chagrin that he'll only eat cottage cheese and strawberries. At least it's something. But I can't wait for him to be back eating a proper meal! This morning was an hysterical kicking/scream fest as I blearily tried to strip off his soaked and poop-filled diaper, get him dressed, get him in the kitchen, and then have to try to repair his broken high chair before putting him in it (the center strap for between his legs broke). The whole time with him screaming that intense bone-shattering scream right in my ear until I snapped and yelled at him to SHUT the HELL up and that he was driving me CRAZY. So yeah, good times. Just how you want to start your day, huh?

Honestly I'm just so glad I'm no longer scrubbing puke out of carpets while feeling like puking myself that I think I'll take whatever kind of day I can get. Let's face it - we've been through an ordeal. I think it's ok if I'm not completely cheerful and full of joie de vivre at the moment. Here are some things coming up that I'm looking forward to:

Thanksgiving, and the visit of my sister and brother-in-law. I'm excited to cook us dinner and set a nice table which is something I never get to do because I'm always someone else's guest. They'll be here all weekend so we'll have lots to do. I just hope B can handle all the excitement and that it doesn't screw up his sleep/eating, make him behave badly, etc. 

I've talked to two doulas on the phone and am meeting three this week. Hopefully I will have one chosen by next week so that will be nailed down. I'm pretty bummed that doulas by trade are not allowed to drive you anywhere or technically help with your other kids - so I still have those elements to figure out, which sucks.

A friend is loaning me her maternity clothes, which is great since I currently have one pair of pants and three shirts that actually fit - and the pants are way too long so I have to roll up the cuffs which means sand and bark from playgrounds always get caught in there and then get strewn all over the house. It's extremely irritating. And I hate not having anything to wear, ever. But can't really shell out for a whole new wardrobe I'll only wear for three more months, either. 

One of the doulas I talked to on the phone made a comment that has been resonating with me. When I recounted my lengthy, shitty birth experience, she said "there's a difference between pain and suffering." We all know and accept labor pain - it's pain with purpose; it gets you somewhere. But the suffering, the suffering! That's the part I remember most vividly - how it dragged on for three days, how hungry I was, how thirsty, how fed up being strapped into a bed and sleep-deprived. That's what I remember. She said she would have snuck me food! So far she's the front runner.

Surviving the Plague

So, I have now faced one of my biggest fears regarding becoming a mother, and especially a single mother - both being horribly ill at the same time. And it wasn't pretty.

While the worst of B's intestinal distress was over by Thursday, that's when mine started. I started to feel awful while djing, and then had a horrible night crouched by the bathtub. I won't elaborate. It was horrendous.

Yesterday I still felt pretty bad so just had the two of us locked up in my bedroom all day. It was all I could do - just let B dump out all my drawers, and be there to take the Legos he handed me over and over. One of the worst things was because it was Friday and shopping day, we had no food - we pretty much lived on applesauce and rice cakes all day, and it was miserable. I thought I could rally enough to get to the computer and order some food from the grocery store, but I couldn't even do that, and everyone I know works, and I figured I could wait until today to go buy some food, which I will. But all day I had this panic going because there was nothing to eat. We desperately needed bananas, oatmeal, milk, etc. I'm a little too efficient in making sure all my food runs out just as I need to buy more, apparently. 

It was definitely one of those moments when I wished I had a partner - but of course reality sets in there, too; you'd have to hope that this partner could take time off work and wouldn't be sick himself and become yet another person you'd have to take care of. Let's never forget that the burden of children's illnesses has always, and probably always will, fall on the mothers, whether she's sick or pregnant or not. 

So after B went to bed I busied myself in cleaning the whole house - I just had to get a sense of order and normalcy back. I folded the 50 shirts B had pulled out of my drawers, I did the piles of dishes, I tidied and picked up. Then I put some scrambled eggs on my wonky stomach and went to sleep. B had applesauce for dinner. He screamed pitifully when I tried to feed him anything else, and I figured this is not the time for a "no dessert without dinner" lesson. 

So being as it's been cold and rainy for days anyway, we're just going to hang out at home today (short of grocery shopping). I still feel pretty weak and lousy and B isn't 100% either, so I have no problem spending much of the day on the couch. Baby T still kicking around, so that's good. Sigh.

Viability tomorrow

So yeah, another milestone met. If born now, baby T has a chance of making it. Which is a huge relief, even though I know the prognosis for micro preemies is fairly grim, at least I know if I went into labor now the healthcare providers would make some effort to save him rather than just throw up their hands. 

No danger of this scenario, however. Had my appointment yesterday and cervix is long and closed. Yay for that. Also, good fluids, despite the fact that I never feel like I drink enough. So as of this moment everything is a-ok for baby T. No protein in the urine, either.

Thanks for the helpful medical advice about B's illness. As some of you may know I have zero experience from my own childhood regarding normal treatment of children's ailments (my mother's method involved handing me a bible to read) so I desperately need the help! I do believe what we're dealing with here is a bug and not a reaction to food. Apparently every kid in Los Angeles has been throwing up all week. After a two-vomit night, B was ok yesterday apart from the large pile of diarrhea I discovered on the floor (hardwood and not carpet, thank GOD) at one point, and a random throw up as I was putting him in his high chair for dinner. We were both shocked and upset by this. Pretty random after a whole day of nothing. There is no rhyme or reason to this stuff, which makes every minute of every day stressful and unpredictable. What if he throws up in the car? What if he throws up in my bed? What if he throws up on the couch? I've been restricting us to the linoleum floored kitchen for the most part, but that gets old FAST. And now it's raining, and I don't want to take him up to the play room because that is the WORST place for him to throw up. What the hell do we do???

The good news is he never had a fever or even seemed remotely bothered by any of this other than upset right after vomiting - he's happily ransacking the house as always, and sleeping normally (apart from me checking him at the slightest sigh or movement all night). Also despite feeling pretty queasy yesterday I have not actually been sick. Although I recognize this thing could hit me at any time; I won't be convinced we're out of the woods until several days have gone by with both of us being well. And of some concern B is off his food - he's lived on cereal puffs, bananas, and bread pretty much exclusively. But God knows I'm not about to push food on him right now!

Anyway, so I have survived one of my biggest fears about being a parent - how to handle your sick child throwing up on everything in your house. The only thing worse would be B being really sick - fever, lethargy, etc, which would scare me to death - and/or me being simultaneously sick. Which would be awful. How glad am I this didn't happen in my first trimester, or around my event??? Ugh. 

So tonight I am going to take a chance and nip out to keep a djing obligation despite some misgivings. He seems to be ok at night, and I desperately need to do something other than clean up vomit and worry about cleaning up vomit for a couple of hours. Let's hope this is the end of it.

I accept the vomit, part II

Shortly after this adorable picture was taken (yes, he put the horse in that box himself), Bumpus promptly and enthusiastically vomited all over himself and that nice white carpet. 

Just a warning, there is a lot of vomit in this post. If you feel the need to move on I promise my feelings won't be hurt.

I have never seen him throw up like that. He was immediately very upset, so I stripped off his soaked clothes, wiped him down with the burp cloth I keep up in the playroom for just such an occasion, and held him for a while to comfort him (I know to me throwing up is just about the worst thing ever, so I sympathized). Then I tried to formulate a plan to clean up the mess. Again, this is up in the playroom where I can't get access to the rest of the house unless I take B with me. So he can't be left up there alone while I go get cleaning supplies, and I can't leave him downstairs while I go up to clean. There was nothing to it but to wait four hours until bedtime. I cracked open a window and took us downstairs. 

Put B in a new outfit and figured we'd just have to mess around in the living room for a while. He played and flirted happily. I couldn't imagine what caused him to be sick other than the restaurant mac 'n cheese he had for lunch just didn't sit with him. On rare occasions when he's thrown up a little in the past it's always been cheese related...yet he'll eat some cheese, lots of milk, yogurt and cottage cheese with no issues. So who knows? 

Then out of nowhere he throws up all over the dining room carpet. I clean him, and it, up, and figure it's time to be in the linoleum floored kitchen now. I start piling the foul clothes and rags into the thankfully empty kitchen sink. It's almost dinner time and I don't want him going to bed starving, so I figure I'll see if he wants to eat. Maybe some stomach-settling food - banana, bread, apple sauce, milk - will be just what he needs. He eats it all enthusiastically, then throws it all up on himself. More crying, more comforting, more wiping down and adding to the pile of clothes and cloths in the sink. More wiping of the floor. More wiping of myself. Everything in the house positively reeks. I thank God I'm not nauseated myself but almost lose it a couple of times. It is just SO disgusting. How can that tiny little belly hold gallons of food???

He's clearly exhausted, so I put on his jammies, change his diaper, and hold him extra long before lying him down to sleep. He conks right out. I head up to the playroom to do the massive and ultimately utterly ineffective job of scrubbing the carpet clean and bring downstairs the clothes, toys, and cloths that have been soaking for hours, and start up a load of laundry on "hot" with lots of soap. I sit on the other side of his door, too nervous and grossed out to eat, wondering if he has a stomach flu, wondering if I'm going to get it now, picturing us all at the emergency room in the middle of the night, picturing the thousands of dollars that will cost, wondering when he'll stop throwing up, wondering how awful this night is going to be, texting the babysitter who's supposed to watch him through my dentist appointment, my OB appointment, and my book club tomorrow that maybe I'll have to cancel everything. 

Within an hour I hear coughing and he's thrown up all over the bed. More changing, more stripping of bed clothes, more laundry. I force some dinner down and retire to my bedroom with both of our doors open so I can hear him breathing. It's been three hours. I check him constantly. Afraid he's thrown up again and is sleeping in it. Afraid of the worst thing ever - that he'll choke on it and I won't even know. 

Realizing this was one of those scenarios I had so dreaded when I thought about being a parent - the all-night puke-a-thons all little kids have. God knows I had  plenty. How do you clean up the mess? When do you know to get them to a hospital? And what the hell is exactly wrong? He's been off his dinner for three nights, even when I made him his favorite. But he's eaten huge breakfasts and good lunches; I thought maybe the dinner issue was because we'd had lunch way too late and he just wasn't hungry. But why do kids just randomly throw up for hours? I think back on my episodes and there was no rhyme or reason there, either - it just happened. No other symptoms of anything, nothing I can put a finger on except restaurant food that may just have been too rich or strange for him. 

So I am steeling myself for a horrid night. I so hope he just wakes up well and we can put this behind us. But I don't know. If this continues into tomorrow I think we're going to the doctor.