“Natural Childbirth”
“Natural Child Birth”
January 28th, 2006
3:12AM: My 9-month-old ‘in uterus’ baby literally stands up inside of me and awakens me in a terrified state. (seriously- standing up in my belly, as my stomach looks like a cone)
“AAHHHHH! Oh my God, Oh my God! Is… this… it, Lord? What the…”
3:21AM: On the bathroom floor…still questioning…WOOOOHA! It hits again….the earth shattering violent eruption of the uterus.
“Okay….wow…will wait a little longer before I wake up my husband”
3:27AM: Uterus screams…and violently shakes. Wobble to my husband in a frantic state.
“This IS it! Honey, I think this is it. The baby is coming…NOW.”
Husband: “When did you last have a contraction?”
“NOOOOW! Oooooh….Aaaaahhh….!”
3:32AM: I call our neighbor’s cell phone to have someone come over to watch sleeping two- year old daughter. No answer. ‘Middle of the Night Birth Plan’ …gone terribly wrong… Oh dear. Husband flies out the door to run to the neighbor’s house to wake them, throwing rocks at their window!
3:36AM: I page doctor and politely ask if I could possibly go have my baby… while feeling another contraction…. “Ooooh…AAAHHHH!” I lie on the kitchen floor to support the thunderous roar within…
3:38AM: Husband comes back saying he woke the neighbors and our friend will be over in a minute. (Tick Tock Tick Tock…)
3:45AM: Neighbor stumbles in and apologizes for the Birth Plan mix up. (Of all nights, they forgot to put their cell phone by their bed! Classic!)
3:46AM: Husband drives 100 miles an hour, not stopping at any lights, to make it to the hospital. I scream in pain and wonder if my baby will pop out in the car.
3:58AM: Arrive at hospital front door as husband drops me off and escorts my grumbling raging enormous body into the entrance of the labor and delivery wing.
4:05AM: Nurse takes me to wheelchair and holds a clipboard full of papers for me to fill out and sign. She escorts me to a private room, while I scream in pain and tell her I am going to poop in my pants.
4:12AM: Nurse examines me and exclaims with a resounding squeal, “No time for paperwork my dear! The baby’s crowning!”
4:15AM: Wheeled to delivery room as house Doctor is paged, because my OB/GYN has not yet arrived. The nurses and hospital staff suddenly appear full throttle to apparently “catch” the baby.
“AAHHHH! WHERE’S THE EPIDURAL??? I NEEEEEED THE EPIDURAL!!! AAAHHHHHH!!!!!! NOOOOO! I WON’T PUSH!!!!!”
Head Nurse: “There is NO time for the epidural, the baby is here! Now PUSH!!! NOW!!!”
“GO GO GO GO GO!!!!! COME ON! DO IT!!!!” I say to the poor nurse fumbling under pressure, attempting to get my IV in, so I can get the epidural.
4:25AM: Head Nurse stops epidural attempt and tries to calm me down. House Doctor arrives and stands back ten feet and stares in absolute terror. (I’ll never forget his face… really??? Seriously??)
“HUBBY!!! WHERE ARE YOU?????? GET THE CAMERA!!! GET THE VIDEO!!! HURRY!!! GET IT!!!!!!!”
Hubby runs around the delivery room frantically unpacking video equipment, as I continue to scream in pain and, well…at him. (Yes, I wanted this moment recorded.)
4:40AM: Head nurse convinces me that if I push just once or twice, the pain will stop. And I will be holding my baby…
“OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD….I CAN’T PUSH INTO THIS PAIN! I CAN’T!!! OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD….Ooooooh aaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”
4:45AM: Nurse: “THAT’S IT!!! JUST PUSH ONCE MORE AND YOUR BABY IS OUT!!!!!”
4:49AM: Cade Epkins Carter is born.
Perfect in every way.
And there you have the “natural child birth”.
What is Normal?
What is Normal?
With things finally going back to normal around here, I have found myself realizing that normal is a relative word. I have been spending much of my time wondering what exactly is normal anyway? The dictionary defines NORMAL as:
Conforming to the standard or the common type; usual, regular, natural…
Hmm.
What is the “standard” or “common type”?
I wonder…
I’m not normal. My kids are not normal. My parenting is not normal. The weather is not normal. And well, the world is not normal…
I wear my socks inside out all the time. They are softer that way.
I still wipe my kid’s butt. He turns six in a few days.
My daughter has missed 16 days of school this year. It’s only January.
I serve tacos for breakfast. And cereal for dinner.
It’s 50 Degrees, here in Ohio. And it’s winter.
More U.S. Soldiers have taken their life, than those who have fallen in the Iraq war and Afghanistan war.
Not normal.
For the first time in over two months, both of my kids made it to school today. I had what you would call, a normal day. No one was sick. No one was shoved into any out-of-whack episode of “the abnormal” today. I had your common type morning, and somewhat of a standard afternoon, and even a fairly regular evening. Our “routine” has resumed, for now. Actually, as much as I begged for weeks on end, for one normal day and desperately ached for some structure and rhythm…now that I finally have it, I find it difficult to adapt.
I feel like a toddler learning to walk, a newborn fawn with buckling knees, or a flopping fish out of water. It feels down right abnormal. I am so used to things not being normal, that when these things we call “standard” or “common type” finally land and all the millions of particles settle themselves…I come out of it with a sort of “abnormal hangover”. I always need to re-learn what I would normally do… when things are going as they should. There are times when our abnormal lifestyle ends up being, well regular…standard…common.
I swing in and out of this twisted fate, as things often are not normal around here. And yet, does anyone really live in the land of “normal”? What is “standard” for all? Is there truly a “common type” of life? As I think through the social norm, the educational standard, and the regular routine of any given day… I find it almost impossible. It seems there is some type of “normal” out there floating around in this universe…almost an existential and surreal world of limitations, expectations and barriers that keep us all in line. But I have yet to find anyone or any life that is common or standard. I suppose there truly is no such thing…
The only word I see that fits this NORMAL definition is…
Natural.
NORMAL: A state of being that feels most comfortable; natural.
My Resolution…
Happy New Year to all you beautiful moms out there!!! Hope it came in with much joy and excitement filled with lots of kids screaming and running amuck! Now is the dreaded time to make those new goals and start the New Year off with a promise and a plan…
I like New Year’s resolutions. Call me crazy, but I love to look at my life and reflect on all the good and bad and everything in between. I immerse myself in the deep waters of reflection and probably swim there too long. Some of the water is murky, and I don’t like that. But much of the vast clear blue is a scene of bountiful blessings that have been bestowed on me. I do like that.
Now comes that “introspective investigation” or some might say “introspective interrogation”…
I investigate. I am not one to “interrogate” myself on New Year’s. I do that on a daily basis, why do it on a lovely holiday? No, there won’t ever be annual judgment and critical analysis of all my flaws. I for one, only delve into the desires of my heart and the yearnings of my soul (wow, that’s deep).
My husband feels the same, however his innermost desires tend to be measured in a completely different way…. He set his New Year’s goal with me in mind. Ha. His promise and plan? Higher frequency (if you know what I mean). So deep, isn’t he? And oh so thoughtful… Geez.
Last New Year, I came up with a brilliant resolution. You may find it quite ironic. I promised and planned to give myself more grace. Yep. As all the other souls out there were promising and planning to be harder on themselves, I promised and planned to be kind to myself. Brilliant idea. I’ve been kicking myself all year trying to be more forgiving of all my failings and weaknesses. Working so hard to accept who I am. With every critical snap, I tried to quiet that ugly voice within as I used every ounce of energy to accept and allow me to be, well…me.
This year I have set out to finally re-connect with my precious friends that I have lost along the way. Our parenting journey is much like a storm that sucks new friends in and spits others right out, depending on the season and the way the winds blow. I have had this growing burden to reach out and make the time (somehow, someway…) to reunite with these women I miss and hold dear to my heart. This promise and plan will surely fulfill the desires of my heart and satisfy the yearnings of my soul.
What is your promise and plan this year? Do me a favor…
Be kind.
No judging allowed. No critical voice ringing in your ear. No punishing or punitive thoughts to run wild in your self-defeating state. Only beautiful reflections of the year gone by and your deepest desires and yearnings of your soul please…
Promise and plan to be good-
To yourself.
Ebook Delayed…
Sorry about the delay! We hope to have the book ready to go soon! While you are waiting, perhaps you may enjoy some music of the Season… Mom-Carols! Can you guess what they are?
“God rest you weary mom-women, let nothing you dismay. Remember Santa’s coming soon so get those gifts today!”
“Roll out the clean sheets, wipe off the sinks that have the…toothpaste stuck to them. Hide all the clutter, and throw the dirty clothes in, all the closet space now! Cause we need a little Christmas! Right this very minute! Need a little laughter….done with all the vomit yes we need a little Christmas! Right this very minute! Santa’s coming in a hurry, so wrap those gifts with eyes still blurry…”
“Dashing through the stores, last minute things to buy…. running through the isles, wishing we could fly! (Ha Ha Ha!) Traffic stands so still, making spirits ache… Wishing we had bought a cruise to go on Christmas break, HA!”
“You know fevers and ear aches, coughing and tummy aches! Cough syrups, nose sprays, and pain relievers and fever reducers. But do you recall? Your most cherished medicine of all!” (fill in the blank! ie: Prevacid, Albuterol, Codeine, Benedryl, Allegra, Prednisolone, Wine, ETC )
“You better watch out! You better not pout! You better not cry us mothers do try! Parenting is always such fun! We see them when they’re sleeping. We know when they’re awake. We know if they’ve been bad or good….and we never get a BREAK!”
“What child is this? Who doesn’t rest?
In my arms, she’s wheezing…
I hold her tight and pray all night
For angels to care for her breathing.”
“Do you hear what I hear? Breathing surely isn’t clear… Way down in her chest, I believe. Listen to what I hear.”
“All I want for Christmas is a nap or two. A nap or two. A nap or two! All I want for Christmas is some time from you… To get a nap or two!!”
“HA-LLELUJAH! HA-LLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HALLE- LU JAH!” Kids are asleep for now and we are happy… HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! Now for some quickie time for JUST you and me! HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH!”
“Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, let the chaos start today! Family in town and running around, in the good ol’ fashion way!”
“Oh little children sleep tonight, how still we wish you’d lie!”
“Tantrums scream, ‘ARE YOU LISTENING???!!’
Hear them say, ‘I WANT THIS THING!!!’
Oh Santa just might, not come tonight!
Walkin’ in the store on Christmas Eve…”
“Twelve cookies frosted
Eleven gifts need wrapping
Ten Errands running
Nine cousins playing
Eight loads a washing
Seven meals a mooching
Six hours cleaning
FIVE HOURS OF SLEEP!!!
(da dum dum dum…)
Four calling friends
Three tantrums
Two Doctor calls
And one “quickie” under the tree!”
Happy Holidays MOMS!
eBook Maddening and Marvelous Motherhood!!!
Okay all you blog-reading friends!! This is the blog where I try to sell my new Ebook that’s out!!! It is on sale now! And for a low, low, low price of only 2.99!! Can you believe it? I have compiled and “tweaked” my stories for a great book that reads like warm, cozy flannel pajamas! I picked my favorite blog posts and added a few new thoughts.
Click here to buy my eBook for Kindle. You can download Kindle to your PC to read it on your computer go here to download Kindle to your PC.
I believe it’s the perfect gift for all your mom friends that need some inspiration and some laughter, don’t you? You are down to the wire aren’t you? And who has the money to buy manicures or spa treatments that we really need? With this ebook, you and your many, many mom pals can soak up some fun loving words and share the goodness with all those awesome and wonderful women you know.
I assume many people will be getting the kindle for Christmas if they don’t have it already. You can go to amazon.com and find my ebook to download on your kindle there. You can also buy it from this blog, by Wednesday, December 21st. I know it’s late, so if you already have all your Christmas shopping done, then beat those winter blahs with my encouraging and relatable ebook! Don’t you think it would be a fun book to buy for all your “super-hero-like” mom friends, just because you know they could use some chuckles?
How am I doing on the sales pitch? Should I go into sales for a career? Maybe I’ll just stick to my day job…
Motherhood.
Maddening and Marvelous Motherhood!
Yes. THAT is the name of the book.
Dear God…
We have been stuck in sickness for two weeks now. Awful. With my daughter’s asthma out of control, and my son’s asthma stirring wild…sleep has been but a dream. That unwanted, uninvited obnoxious guest has stayed in our home 14 days longer than planned. My daughter’s ear and adenoid surgery was cancelled during pre-op due to her asthma. Both my hubby and I have succumbed to this relentless germ that has now taken us over as well. We are worn. We are withered. We are waiting….
To heal.
With that said, I would like to share a prayer time with our family that occurred just the other night in the midst of this agonizing time. It reflects our burden for recovery and…. apparently the need to save the jungle animals in the mud. Read on:
Mom: “God, we are hurting. We need you. Please help us heal and guide us to find answers to help my daughter heal. I am weary and I am worried. Help me to find peace in your strength and your love. I know you will take care of our baby girl! You always do. I know you love our precious baby boy as well and will care for him too! I just beg you for strength and endurance while we are in this fight. We are a blessed family. You have given us such a rich life of love and comfort. I will not forget all that we have been given in this suffering. But we need you God. Please take care of our family…”
Dad: “God we ask for your help in all of this. Please guide us in caring for our children. Thank you for all you have blessed us with and for our beautiful family. Please help all of those that are in need and those that are hurting. There are so many.”
Daughter: “God, will you help me? I can’t stop coughing and my ears really hurt, my tummy hurts, my throat hurts, my head hurts, and I think I have a fever. I pray that you make us all better. God please help those people that don’t have any food or any homes or any clothes… God, why doesn’t Santa go to the poor homes? The poor kids need presents the most! I don’t understand that. And God, I really want to get my surgery over with so I can hear again and I don’t cough anymore. Thanks God.”
Son: “God, will you help the jungle animals that get stuck in the mud, and they have no one to help them get out of the mud when the volcano erupts?”
Hmmm….
Amen.
THE ELF ON THE SHELF…(that damn Elf.)
I made the insidious mistake of going public proclaiming the health and peace of my children and family. The day I posted this bit of glorious news, was the day sickness slammed into the front door of our home like an uninvited, unwanted obnoxious guest. It has continued to dwell here and spray its hideous bacteria through the ears, lungs, sinuses, eyes and even tummies of my poor chronically sick kids. The Christmas greetings I so hoped to put together during the minute of wondrous glee did not get sent.
After a beautiful Thanksgiving Holiday feast and visit from our cherished and beloved family, the earth decided to open up and suck us in once again. As the kids were fevering and coughing and snotting and whining and crying, my husband and I decided to start the long awaited (bought on clearance last year) “ELF ON THE SHELF” book I found packed in our Christmas decorations! Time to open up a world of wonder and delight for our children! It may be late, but my eight year old believes in all that is special, magic and mystical. I think she will believe in it all until she is 18. The Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and Santa are all still alive and well in her world! I plan on taking down the kid who pinches a hole in that beautiful pure spirit that surrounds her heart and soul. I start getting agitated just thinking about the day she comes home with her desperate heartache, crying “Mommy! Tommy said there is no Santa!!!! How could he say that???”
Look out Tommy.
So the Elf on the Shelf book was a hit! The kids were filled with newfound wonder and excitement and had tons of questions. We explained that the elf couldn’t come here until my son was old enough (5 being the lucky number!) and both were sold on the entire “program”. (thanks to my hubby for the great idea!) It was a new magical mystery added to our Holiday Season! The kids were squealing and running around the house looking for the Elf. I had put it on the mantle earlier that day, while putting up the Christmas decorations, hoping the elf spotting would be as magical as his story.
Here’s how this played out:
Daughter finds the elf on the mantle and starts to meltdown…
“OH NO!!! I TOUCHED THE ELF EARLIER!! I SAW IT AND I TOUCHED IT! NOW IT HAS NO MAGICAL POWER!!! NO NO NO NO!!!” (Sobbing hysterically…)
“Okay, now calm down honey! It’s okay! Really! The elf hadn’t started his magic powers until we read the book! Now calm down…it’s okay!” (My daughter goes into full-blown asthma attack…breathing treatment given and an hour later she starts to calm down.)
Midnight: Coughing and snotting and crying and fevering, the kids are nestled all snug in their beds…well, one is in bed trying to sleep and the other is still up coughing up the demon daggers within. She was a mess, and I knew she would be up all night with this asthmatic flare.
How will we move the elf? My husband decides to go ahead and put the elf up on the hutch so that it peaks down on the living room. My daughter comes downstairs needing help and crying because of her cough as I motion desperately for my husband to take the elf down and run it back to its original place… still too early to move the Elf now! He needs to be ‘awaiting his trip to the North Pole on the mantle).
I bring my daughter back upstairs to my bed and lay with her while the asthma continues to roar in her lungs. I tell her I will be back andI go downstairs and strategize with my husband…at some point we need to move the elf and make him “disappear” then re-appear the next morning, as we know she will wander the home through the night, in her asthma despair.
Hmmm…..
Meanwhile, during our planning meeting in the basement, my daughter floated downstairs looking for me and spotted the elf…
“The Elf is still here mommy. I thought he went to the North Pole to report to Santa? Why didn’t he leave? He LOST HIS MAGIC!!!!”
“No honey, he’s just waiting for you to go to sleep, so he can leave.”
“But I can’t sleep mommy! He’ll NEVER get to go!!
“Well, maybe he will stay to watch out for you tonight…we’ll see.”
After several failed attempts to get to the Elf, amidst the long and treacherous asthmatic night…up and down the stairs, flying back and forth….I give up. The elf is now in the drawer hiding…
“MOMMY, MOMMY!!!! (Comes running down hysterical….) I am scared! I don’t like the Elf. I don’t know where he is and he is alive and its scaring me. (She continues to cough like crazy…snotting and crying and fevering)”
“Oh honey, it’s a magical good Elf and he won’t hurt you!”
I look at my husband and we give each other that ‘look’…the look that says: “What the heck were we thinking doing this damn stupid Christmas Elf??!” knowing full well, we embarked on what would be a lovely and fun filled tradition in any normal home….just not ours.
She notices the Elf if gone.
“MOMMY!!! THE ELF IS GONE!!!! IT LEFT FOR THE NORTH POLE!!!! I hope it doesn’t get too wet in the rain! I wonder when it left! Do you think it will tell Santa about my cough?”
“Oh my! He did leave didn’t he? Well I’m sure he will report everything to Santa honey…now lets try to calm that cough down as best we can….(breathing treatment again)”
Now let me take you upstairs and try to get you comfortable. I know you can’t sleep but you need rest so at least try, okay? ( I need to get the damn Elf put in a new place!)
3:00 am. Daughter has been down again and stayed down on the couch with non-stop earth pounding cough. Nights are the worst…
When will I ever get it back on the shelf by morning if she is down here all night????
4:00am. Daughter still up with asthma and mama is crumbling under pressure about the damn Elf. If I end up falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning, how will the Elf appear? I know she will be up all night. I stay down with her and lie on the couch listening to her cough violently, as my heart aches and tightens with every spasm in her lungs. I get her the bowl to throw up in. I check her temperature and get her water and rub her back and hold her and lay back down on the couch to listen to her drama unfold into the deep dark night.
Gotta get that Elf…
Startled by my son screaming upstairs, I run up to find him crying, coughing and wandering around in my bedroom! I carry him back to his room and try to calm him down and wipe his face and change his pillowcase (drenched in fever sweat) etc etc etc.
Go back down to be with daughter, with that Elf still lingering in my tired discouraged mind.
If there is one thing I know about my kids, it’s this. They believe. They dream. And they live for the magic moments in their life. I intended to make this happen…
This Elf WILL APPEAR… this damn Elf.
My daughter and I ended up in my bedroom upstairs at some point in the wee hours of the morning, while my husband slept soundly in the guest room with the fan going on high so as to drown out the horrific asthmatic thunder. He awoke and placed the Elf in the perfect spot for the kids to find. Thank God.
Both kids staring wide-eyed at the little critter up hiding in the china hutch…
“Lets name it ‘little elf’! NO! ‘Christopher’!!! NO! How about ‘Little Chris’?? YEAH!!! Hey Little Chris, did you get wet last night? Did you know that I really want superhero powers? Little Chris, this is our home! See here? These are ornaments on our tree and these are our toys and by the way, I really want Barbie for Christmas! Little Chris, how did you become an Elf?? How do you get to the North Pole? You are so cute but you don’t look real! Is that a price tag mommy? Hey Little Chris! This is where we play a lot. You see my cars? You see my toys? MOMMY! LOOK AT LITTLE CHRIS!!!!”
The kids talked to the Elf for an hour and spent the day checking on him every other minute amidst the coughing, the snotting, the fevering, the whining and the crying. The day was filled with all the magic and mystery and wonder. That night, they shared excitement about finding the elf in a new spot the next morning, as they continued to cough and snot and fever and whine and cry….another long night ahead.
And another magical, mysterious and wondrous night for the damn elf.
What’s For Dinner?
It’s the wonderful Thanksgiving Holiday! I have successfully completed yet another year of getting out of cooking the meal! I call it the best “scam” I ever pulled! 44 years and counting, I have brought “appetizers and drinks” to any and all family gatherings every single year. Pathetic, I know…but I have yet to make a turkey with all its trimmings. I joke about this “annual freebie” all the time and am truly okay with the fact that I am and always will be…. A Thanksgiving moocher. I don’t really have to work very hard to find the home with the meal prepared…my sister does it every year and my Mother in law is quite the cook! This opportunity to feast on other’s food is quite easy to acquire! And although it’s quite embarrassing and humiliating to share this piece of evidence in the case of the loafing guest, I must confess that I enjoy nothing more than eating other people’s food. Do I feel guilty feeding off these lovely and generous souls? A little. But, I have both accepted and succumbed to the realization that I am not, nor will I ever be…
A good cook.
I do not enjoy cooking at all. I have about a dozen or so recipes I am good at preparing, and probably all I will ever be good at. I may find a stray easy recipe here and there that works, but I have slowed down the search. I have pathetically yet assuredly decided that with my husband’s strict diet and my picky little eaters, I will not feel the pressure to cook “mini-feasts” on a regular basis in my home. I have lamented and sweated over recipes gone bad. I have spent hours looking through recipe books searching for the one with the least ingredients. I get overwhelmed at measuring, mixing and cooking many things at once. I truly have a dis-ability, when it comes to the kitchen.
Some if not most women just love to find recipes and spend hours in the kitchen producing a delectable and delightful array of eateries. You can find me at the nearest Little Caesars picking up the five-dollar pizzas. I don’t have that sophisticated palate, nor do I care to develop one. We are the home of peanut butter and jelly, tacos, and frozen pizzas.
Recently, I have had the greatest pleasure in buying these “Dream Dinners” that are already made for you and all you have to do is cook or fry them up! Funny story about them though…
I showed up the first time to pick up my new order I delightfully picked out on line, realizing that this just may be the ticket to a variety of lovely meals for my family. The day I was to pick all these goodies up, I informed my husband that we will be eating a lovely meal soon! I told him to wait and I would be home with a fun dinner to whip up in no time! With excitement, I scurry to the store with a box to fill the frozen custom made dinners in. I enter and the woman says, “go ahead and put that apron on and we will get started”.
“Mama say what????”
In a panic to retreat, I looked bewildered at her and mumbled, “I’m sorry, but I am here to pick up my food order, not make it.”
“Well, here at dream dinners, you actually put your recipes together here and take them home to freeze. That way, you can make them to your tasting. So here are all the color codes and charts and listings of all your ingredients and each station has each recipe with all your spices and sauces etc. You just follow all the charts and you’ll make your dinners to take home. Go ahead and get started!”
“Mama say what???”
I then explained that the only reason I even ordered these meals was to escape the very thing I was going to be doing now. I confessed that I am illiterate in reading recipes and have no clue what to do in each of these stations. She was kind and patient, yet I saw the tiny horror in her eyes she tried to hide as she constantly stopped me with a “oh no you don’t measure the chili with this! You just doubled the serving. That would ruin the recipe.” I raised my hand too many times to confess I had no clue what I was doing, and she found herself just staying with me as I clearly showed both stress and confusion with this entire maze of meal making hell. There was another woman doing each station with ease and quiet content. She probably loved picking her spices and adding this and that, all the while scooping and mixing ingredients to her liking. I could see why people would love to have it all out and color coded and prepared for you to create your masterpiece. But…
I can’t do that.
Two hours later, (long after the other woman) I walked out of the store exhausted and defeated carrying my box of newly made “dreamy damn dinners” for my family. I had left my phone in the car, thinking of course that I would only be a minute picking up the food. My poor husband called three times looking for me, as my family’s hunger grew and they wondered where I was. I called him back and said,
“I am picking up little Caesar’s ”
I was done with cooking that night. Luckily, I found the “made for you” program and signed on before I even left the building.
Lesson learned.
Occupation Mother
I remember vividly, around 4:00am in the Hospital Emergency room, as my daughter is struggling to breath and in pain. After getting there in the midst of a major snowstorm and swelling anxiety for my daughter’s health…the head nurse asks me to fill out “some forms”. She comes back to look at what I finished and asks, “what do you do?”
Hmmm…
“I am a Mother.”
She replies, “I know that, but what do you do for an occupation? What’s your job?” The tone is filled with a resounding irritation.
Hmmm…
“I ‘do motherhood’ for an occupation. Being a mother is my job.” As I say with both confidence and clarity, sensing that this surely was not the answer she was expecting.
She finishes the interrogation with a dissatisfied and dismissive,
“oh.”
I sat holding my daughter waiting for the doctor to come in as I was caught in a blurry playback of the interaction that struck me with both confusion and frustration. It was clear that this woman was not impressed with my “occupation” nor was she sold on my “job”. The seamless exhausting night took over my defensive state, as the doctor came in and my “mother job” was consumed with fear and care for my daughter. The moment was over, and my “job” took over…
I sit here now years later and reflect on that night, wondering if this woman had children. I know many mothers work and do the “mother job” and do both well. I also know that staying home to care for your little ones can be a calling of great proportions and an honorable duty. There came a time when my kids needed me more than my work. And the decision was made to care for them with all my energy and time, due to their health issues and all that entailed. It was the right decision. It was time for my mother “occupation” to be full time… and full time it was!
I have encountered people like this woman many times since then. From time to time I still get the “But what do you do??” question that permeates my being and I continue to respond with both clarity and confidence…
“I am a mom.”
I fill out endless forms through the years that ask your “occupation” and I write “mother”.
It’s okay if people don’t know what that really means… because I live it, and I know. The past month has been a blur of long nights and busy days with my chronically sick kids. It has certainly put my “job” in “over-time”.
But for those who are looking to understand more clearly what the “occupation of fulltime motherhood” truly is all about, I give you a snapshot…“JOB DESCRIPTION” for stay at home mothers:
POSITION POSTING: MOTHER
Must have ability to wipe a child’s tears and a child’s bottom at the same time.
Must be available at all hours to run to hospital or doctor with any and all medical conditions that arise or continue for days and weeks, months and years.
Must be able to having nursing skills, but no degree necessary. Skills acquired through on site training as need arises.
Hours of job posted: 24 hours a day. Days open for position: 365 days a year.
Must have skill set in understanding all forms of communication, ranging from baby gurgles to teenage sighs.
Must have energy to stay up all night and function through the day for weeks on end.
There are no benefit packages offered. (ie: Sick time, vacation time, personal days, bonuses, insurance, disability, ETC.
Salary 0
Must have Competent Abilities in the following areas:
Problem solving on a minute-by-minute basis.
Meal planning and preparing on a need to feed basis.
Programming all activities and scheduling all events.
Tutoring and teaching all ages life skills and academics.
Daily housekeeping and hygiene a must.
Crisis management for any and all issues that arise in the day and night.
Good driving record for transporting children throughout the day to all various schools, events and activities.
Ability to care for additional children when necessary.
Discernment on when to call 911.
This position is of utmost importance in maintaining the health and safety of precious lives.
Must be sane enough to delve into the emotions that unfold in the identity quest of each child.
Must have patience with every and all duties that require repetition every day all day throughout the year.
Must have the ability to put needs of children first.
Must be able to endure hardships, trauma, sickness and humility at all times when needed.
Position open for a lifetime….
There is no retirement package and…well….
no retirement.
Transformation Time
Ah, it’s Halloween time! The glorious ghosts and goblins are here! The endless bowls of candy are sucked down through these days of bountiful harvest. The little cherubs run through the streets with a sugar-induced squeal and a gurgling growl wearing masks that can both scare a grown man or bring a woman to tears. It’s a frenzy of imaginary friends and fairytale dreams. Monsters come alive as nightmares unfold into reality for some little angels. Humorous and adorable figures roam the dark and narrow paths of each neighborhood, in search of the goods given out on Trick or Treat Night.
The air is filled with excitement and wonder! There are bonfires glowing and flashlights beaming. There’s both hot cider to drink to warm the body and precious and precarious costumes to spark the soul. It’s an event that is both over stimulating and underestimated. Its tradition for many is right up there with the day Christ was born. It’s a big one. It’s a celebration of being someone you’re not. It’s the only time of the year when your behavior can be both disgusting and inappropriate and the character you transform into is where you hide. For one night, you can be anyone you dream to be…
I know many adults who also savor the Holiday with an assortment of costumes that pursuit the inevitable quest….to become someone they’re not. It’s a wonderful creative outlet for them and they bask in the dwelling of another character they can escape to for just a moment in time. I just love seeing these costumes because they are the elite of the bunch. The adults know how to dress up….and when they do….it’s show time baby!
I’ve never been one to dress up. I find fulfillment in watching others transform, and seeing the magic that takes place. I am the “ooh! and aaah!-er” that stops to see every kid and responds with fright to the teenage Vampires. I cry and I laugh. I scream and I run. I enjoy…and question….and take it all in as I walk the streets with my little ones eating all the good loot they grab at each door. And I take in the night full of spirit and energy….where dreams really do come true! One glorious superhero at a time.
