I FUMED inside my head as I cleaned poop streaks from the shower walls and doors this morning. My son Elijah turned 3 on the 13th of July. We half heartedly attempted to potty train him when he was just past his 2nd birthday and it proved, in less than 3 days, to be a colossal waste of time. He picked up on it just fine as we showered him with candy, cookies, UN watered down juice (a very rare thing for him, indeed!), new toys, sticker chart and briefs with his all time favorite faux sentient being, Elmo. He cared little about his Cookie Monster undies or even the ones with Grover or Big Bird. He only ever wanted to wear Elmo. We were given advice (of course we were!) to NOT put him in pull ups when we were REALLY buckling down to train him. Pull ups, great as they are after the fact (in case of absent minds in public) still wick away moisture and mask the feeling of messiness that a child needs to become familiar with. I cringed, not once or twice but repeatedly at the thought of scrubbing poo from my couch cushions, rugs, bed sheets, chairs and wherever he would be sitting to discover that "messy" feeling. In the end, when he was two, it just didn't end up mattering. He wasn't able to figure out the coordination to pull down his own underpants. Few accidents were had on the rug or couch or anywhere else. I mentioned before, he had plenty of incentive to remember that pee pee and poo poo go INNNNNNNNN the potty. I think I cleaned 2 puddles off the living room rug, one off the couch (it wasn't much of a puddle) and a few off the pergo flooring (my all time favorite spot for him to become familiar with that "messy" feeling). He would scream back to the bathroom yelling, "pee pee mommyyyyy!". I'd race back with him and help him pull his underpants down. He'd sit, pause, strain.....and then the wonderful sound of a stream hitting the bottom of his little toilet. Music to our ears! I'd jump up from my crouching position, hoot and holler, turn a few circles...you know, put on a real show for the kid to let him know how excited he was hoping I would be. I WAS excited. Maybe he was really catching on. The first day passed with 4 accidents, the 2nd day with only 2 accidents and the last day I released him into the wild. Be free young child. You have now officially become part of....those of us who can relieve ourselves on our own with no one else's help. The right of passage was getting FULL TIME usage of his new "up up Elmo" toy. We saved it, those first couple days, for when he would use the potty successfully. I had full confidence that he was now graduated from diaper-hood and deserved sole rights to the toy. At the end of day 3 I made an executive decision to postpone ALL further potty training attempts for at least 6 months. Elijah hadn't a clue how to pull his underpants down. I showed him countless times only to receive back a reaction that told me he simply wasn't ready. Now, he still went to the bathroom on the potty...but fully clothed. Sweat pants, tighty whities....the whole bit.
Our second attempt came this past spring and Elijah was successfully fully trained in just 3 days! I beamed from ear to ear with accomplishment and satisfaction in my work of art (a child who could no relieve himself on his own without anyone else's help). He went nearly 3 months with few accidents. He was all grown up at 2 and a half in the department of... relieving himself without anyone else's help.
Then we moved.
Life is starting to calm down, finally. Elijah stays busy playing with his new friends and thoroughly enjoys having his own HUGE backyard fully equipped with his own 25 dollar blow up pool from the Walmart and his sun faded Little Tykes climber.
Things are falling in to place. This, among other reasons, is why I do NOT understand why he chooses, on a daily basis for some stretches in time, to mess himself. On many occasions it will be in plain sight of me or his daddy (when daddy is home). He'll be playing, doing whatever, having a grand old time. He stops, looks at me contemplatively.....and then there it is. That all too familiar smell, or puddle forming below his feet. Today was the most recent offense. We had gone on a walk early this morning. We got home and I sat down to feed Judah his breakfast before his morning nap time. Elijah was in and out of the room, here and there, playing and running. I don't even remember what happened. He did something naughty, and I explained what it was, we discussed it and I asked him to stop. He left the room without responding. I finished feeding Judah and loaded the boys up to clock the distance I had walked. I loaded Judah and went around to buckle Elijah. As I leaned forward to grab his buckle he stared at me, head pressed back in to his seat. I am so familiar with that look. It can't lie. I asked him if he pooped his pants and he squinted his eyes into slits. "No." I asked again. "No". I pulled him out of the van and pulled the back of his shorts out to take a peak. "You pooped" I informed him. "Yeah" was the reply. "But I just asked you and you said no, twice. Why?" I looked at him, confused. "My donts know." he said. We went back in the house. I took his shoes off and put him in the shower. I handed him 5 or 6 wipes, shut the shower door and asked him if he knew what to do. "yeah" he said, "clean up my own mess." (a well established rule in our house) He griped and whined for a while, wiping as best he could and then fell quiet. I listened....nothing....then, "vroooom vroom!" "Bang bang. Oh no!!!! No no." I walked in to find him flailing back and forth while holding on to the shower doors with his poop smeared hands.
The rest is easy to imagine. I showered him off, scrubbing his messed skin with my bare hands. I handed him a towel and sprayed the shower down with disinfectant. This has happened three times now. It is seriously infuriating to me that he chooses to poop his pants. I told Joshua this morning that I'm not at the end of my rope with potty training, I just don't have any rope left. I've asked Elijah on several occasions why he has chosen to poop or pee his pants and he, nearly every time, informs me that it's because he's mad at me for asking him to do something he didn't want to do or to stop doing something that is naughty. He gets mad, hides, and poops. It's his way of controlling the situation I suppose, when he's mad that he's not allowed to break the rules.
So, it's back to square one. Toys, stickers, junk food PACKED with sugar - rewards rewards rewards. Joshua told me that the frontal lobe of the brain is where we house our ability to understand cause and effect. Though there are MANY things for which he FULLY understands cause and effect, this apparently is having a harder time sticking. The "rewards" center of the brain (as my husband put it) is developed MUCH earlier. We enter the world with this clicking along at a healthy speed. Newborns scream as loud as their tiny lungs allow, to get what they want - food, comfort, a change of diaper, mommy (whatever it may be). Thats why they cry. To get what they want. Keeping that in mind, we will continue with the theme of cleaning up one's own mess, but it will be paired, much to Elijah's delight, with hoards of candy, cookie, sticker and toy rewards as a pat on the back for putting things where they belong....INNNNNN the potty! (I know. A run on sentence.)
Parenting doesn't come as naturally to me as I had hoped. I really have a hard time being a mother. I LOVE it, don't doubt that for a second. But it is, without a doubt, the hardest job I can imagine having to do. Sometimes I wish I had a part time job to get away from this full time job (a feeling shared by many of my peers, I'm sure). I suppose the fact that I thought I had potty trained Elijah in 3 days only to be STILL working on it 6 months later makes me feel like somewhat of a failure at my job. I'm not completely secure in my ability to parent my children (though I am blessed to know that God chose ME specifically to parent them), so it comes as a hard blow when something like this doesn't take successfully, for months! This child truly has a mind of his own and the will of an ox (a will that is much often opposite of mine) and I look forward to the day, with great anticipation, that he decides he is ready to buckle down and take the time necessary to relieve himself without anyone else's help.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
through the ringer we have gone. Or.....are going...
We introduced that plague of death into our house a few days back. It clearly hasn't killed any of us, but there have been times these past couple days that I have thought it would be easier to simply be dead than to have to endure the discomfort and pain this virus has presented to me. Elijah woke up from his nap time on Monday, walked out to where I was on Face book (imagine that!) and stated in a very matter-of-fact tone, "I watch movie, NOW!" He glared at me and stood, half awake as he stared me down. I chuckled a little and let him know that a movie wasn't on the agenda, but getting back in to bed was. He clearly had not had enough sleep. The hour or so following his nap I noticed abnormal behavior which culminated my confusion when he asked me if he could lay down on the kitchen floor. The floor is tile. I led him back into the living room and told him to hop up on the couch where he fell, exhausted, on to a pillow. I felt his forehead with my wrist and left to get a thermometer. 102.6. Oh man, here we go! I put my hand on parts of his body and said, "does this part hurt? We concluded that his tummy hurt, so I was preparing for vomiting, which has been absent thus far in the duration of this virus. I snuggled him in with juice and a movie and scolded myself for not picking up on the clues for the past hour of fussiness and lethargy. I gave him ibuprofen and kept about my work. Before bed that night I noticed I had a strange urge to cough, but I had to force myself to cough to relieve the feeling. The cough wasn't coming naturally. I thought nothing of it. I woke up Tuesday morning with a scratchiness in my throat and a sinking suspicion that this was no coincidence! Elijah seemed to improve throughout the day on Tuesday, which I was grateful for considering it was his birthday. My symptoms got worse throughout the day. I explained to my husband on the phone in mid morning that I "feel like I got hit by a truck!". If what I was feeling like then was the feeling of being hit by a truck, then the vehicle that hit me last night was march larger and more destructive! Every extremity ached. It didn't stop there, either. It felt as though I had been jamming the base of my skull on a hard service for some time. The pain in my knees resembled the pain that I experienced at the beginning of track season in middle school after my first practice on the hurdles. My elbows hurt, my wrists hurt, all my joints hurt. We got home from taking Elijah to eat at Chic-Fil-A (his all time favorite because of the airplane in the play place) and we still had an hour to kill before the kids bedtimes. I didn't know what to do with myself. I sat on the chair in our living room with Judah while Josh helped Elijah open his new birthday toys. I bounced Judah on my legs as he hummed. Josh looked over and said, "are you going to hold on to him, honey?". He was half way to my shins with only my hand on his torso keeping him in place. He didn't seem to mind so I just mumbled, "yeah" and closed me eyes again. I had turned the ceiling fan on because I felt overheated but soon after had Josh turn it off because the air it moved around hurt my skin when it blew by me and it was blowing my hair against my face. Even that hurt. We got the kids to bed and Josh packed up to go help a guy move furniture in to an apartment. I took an Excedrin PM, watched a movie for a bit and and went to bed when the P.M. portion of the medicine took effect. I woke up writhing in discomfort in the early morning and Josh brought me Tylenol. We woke this morning at 6am to Elijah standing at the foot of our bed with a blood soaked shirt and a red face and hands. This child picks his nose, incessantly! This isn't the first time he's given himself a bloody nose from picking, but is certainly trumped the others in blood volume lost. I was cleaning up a bit after putting the boys down for their naps this afternoon and found random blood splatters on the walls, around light switches, in the shower, and on rugs. That child is a bleeder for sure! It took Josh a good 15 minutes in the shower with Elijah to get the bleeding to stop. All the while I laid in bed fighting to gain full consciousness as I listened for any sign of Judah waking up. Elijah was wailing in the shower downstairs while Josh washed him. It had nothing to do with pain, since bloody noses don't really hurt, but everything to do with the fact that Elijah is terrified of blood! he panics and screams every time he given himself a bleed. I heard Judah wake at 6:15 and don't remember much in between when he woke up and when I brought him back to our bed to feed him at 6:30. Even nursing him hurt. He likes to pull on my shirt when he's nursing and I remember feeling like my skin under my shirt was going to peel right off if he kept pulling. We had to drive Josh in to the clinic because he left his car when we picked him up to go eat at Chic-Fil-A. I'm not sure how we made it back home without an accident. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open on the drive home. I stuck a movie on for Judah, continued to dab Elijah's nose every now and then with a cleanex and checked the clock every five minutes and desperate hope that it would skip forward to Judah's morning nap time. It arrived none-to-soon. After I put him to bed I put a movie on for Elijah and locked the front door. I told him to stay in the living room and that mommy was going to rest on the couch for a bit. I dosed in and out for an hour and a half or so. Maybe not the best idea but the only idea I felt I was capable of coming up with for the time being. He obeyed wonderfully. When I would jerk awake because it had been too quiet for too long I was comforted by the sight of him sitting on the rug with his legs crossed, quietly watching "Cars" and holding one of his new toys. Judah woke up earlier than usual from his nap but went down again an hour later for about 40 minutes. We toughed through the morning and sitting here I can honestly not remember all that much of it. Judah started getting uncharacteristically fussy before lunch time and I was disheartened to find that he's wince and cry with every touch on his skin. His hands and forehead felt warmer than usual. I didn't even bother checking his temp, I just gave him some Tylenol in the assumption that it was his turn now. I can honestly say that I'd rather take another couple days of this thing than have to watch him deal with it. It causes pain like few viruses I've had cause. I'm hungry as I haven't eaten much today, but it hurts my throat to eat so I've been avoiding it. Both Judah and Elijah woke up after an hour and a half nap. I gave Judah his pacifier and left him in bed. He fussed himself back to sleep. I came downstairs to find Elijah sitting on the rug holding a toy and staring in to the ground. I went to talk to him and his eyes were only half open. I told him he didn't have to get up just because he was awake. He stood up, walked toward the bedroom downstairs where he takes a nap all the while presenting a mild protest about how he didn't want to lay back down. I helped him on to the bed as he fussed at me, handed him his blankie and stuffed snake and left the room. He was asleep in less than a minute. I've been typing this since then. I'm sure this is completely scattered. I can say with certainty that my brain has not yet again reached full function and watching Elijah tells me it may be a couple days more until it does. Josh told me this morning that his throat was "pretty scratchy", so we'll see how he's feeling when he gets home. It's chicken and matzo soup for us tonight and early to bed with all of us.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
insecurities in a half full glass
This blog is prone to wander. I have the words in my head, but new thoughts always creep in and clutter what I'm trying to say. It could get long. It could get boring. It could get tiring listening to me recount who I am over and over, but it's who I am.
I tend toward pessimism. I'm perfectly capable of coming across confident, but much of the time I'm not. I'm timid, bashful, don't make friends easily unless introduced to them through someone else, second guess almost everything I do, lack confidence to pursue many things I know God has gifted me with, and fail to really take much on full force at the fear of failing or not being the best at it.
I went for a jog this morning. It was the first time in months I've done anything even remotely close to aerobic or exercise-y. I wasn't even able to make it a mile - at sea level none-the-less. I was sure both my sides were going to split in two and that my heart was going to jump ship to run away and find someone else to pump blood for. At sea level! I cut myself down the whole way home and sat on the back porch and cried. The "wog" wasn't the issue. It wasn't the sole reason for my weapiness. I woke up feeling uncomfortably mediocre this morning. This feeling is an on-going battle I fight. I don't remember not feeling this way and having to fight against it since I was a very small child. Satan knows my weak point and he will beat it to a bloody pulp if I'm lax and not paying close attention to fighting him off - which I haven't been of late. He's merciless! Not wanting to accept that this is simply the way I am I used to blame it on my childhood full of teasing and jeering. I was teased without avail when I was in grade school and middle school. Chances are if I was able to watch a recording of all the "mean" things the other kids said to me, they'd no doubt me out of line but I dare say they were probably not as hurtful as I remember them. It's just one more example of how my insecurities got the better of me. I do believe it has played a role in my life as I don't really remember feeling insecure about anything (even the fact that I looked like a boy) until I was teased about it, but I will no longer blame my problem with this battle on those girls (and I can name them all) or even the little boys(I can name them too) that teased me all those years. It's time to accept this as being MY biggest fault. This is who I am, but not who I HAVE to be.
There's much that I'm interested in and have been from a very young age. I've always found respite in writing my thoughts out in words and having those words being seen by others. It's never done to elicit any sort of response (unless otherwise noted), but I find comfort in other people knowing how I feel. Some people cloister away or mask or hide - I'm out in the open. Sometimes too much. Writing is one of my passions that I will no longer set aside. The vast number of "Facebook" friends I have will attest to this truth and this whole "blog" thing is another way that I'm able to be brutally honest about my humanness and the fact that I am indeed very mediocre (and I should be just find with that).
I have been fascinated, again from a very young age, with the idea and action of capturing a single moment in life in a snapshot and then being able to forever view that snapshot. There's that corny saying that talks about not looking behind, but ahead. This is something that I need some serious help on. I'm a sucker for pictures, memories, smells that conjure up past emotions and memories. I often dwell on the past. For me, often, the grass is greener in the pasture I was just grazing in. I HATE changing seasons in life and I don't do change well - I adapt alright, but I don't like to. The ironic part is that my life just seems to be getting better and better with each changing season. God never fails to take it up a step or two with every move we make (not like "every move you make, every step you take" - but every physical change of location in the U.S. - that kind of move). Even so, I find myself desperately searching for reminders of times that seemed easier. This last big section after the part where I mentioned I love taking pictures was one of those big rabbit trails I was talking about. They get out of control sometimes. The fact that I look in to the past too much has NOTHING to do with taking pictures. HA! Onward and Forward.
I LOVE taking pictures. My husband blessed me a year and a half ago by purchasing a digital SLR for me. It's an older model (we'd have to sell a kidney or worse yet, a testicle perhaps to afford the best SLR though I would love one so) and works just fine for what I do. SIDE NOTE (I will say for those of you looking in to getting an older SLR - I have a Canon 20D. I've been very happy with it but I just found out recently that it has an automatic cropping mechanism on it. No matter how wide angle of a lens you put on it, it will always crop the....wideness of it down to...I don't know the technical terms, not so wide. In other words, you can never get those sweet wide angle shots you see everyone getting. Go with the 40D. It's pretty much the same camera, but doesn't have the cropping and is only slightly more expensive used.) END OF SIDE NOTE). My favorite is taking pictures of children. They are the few left that are completely honest with raw emotion and it comes through full force in a photo. My 3 year old is a grand example of that. He HATES having his picture taken if it's not his idea. He gives aggravated looks that will kill and I end up with a whole load of photos of grumpy face Elijah. I don't usually tell people that I like taking pictures because I don't want them to expect that I am any good at it. I typically dumb down how much I know about photography (which isn't actually that much when I think about it) as to not come across as someone who should take good photos. I've taken some decent ones in the past couple years with the two cameras I've loved best. I've taken a few that my husband would claim are "professional" grade, but all in all I'm fairly average at taking pictures. You'll be hard pressed to find me putting up a "photography" website. Why? And here's where I get brutally honest - I feel like there's too many of them. It seems to be the craze right now and I see "photography" websites of peoples whose pictures I really wouldn't ever pay for. Is that a cut on them, NO! It's certainly NOT! If it's a love of there's then persue if full force! But I don't want to be the one with the website that people look at and think how not exciting and mediocre my pictures are. This again is my insecurities grabbing me by the hand and leading me away from being who God intended me to be. Is that a photographer, haha, I don't believe so. I would love to take flipping awesome photos that trump all other photos ever in the world some day, but I don't see that happening. But, the idea of someone looking at my pictures that I take for ME, that I take for US as a family, that I take for FUN and thinking that they just aren't that good is another battle against Satan that I fight often. Does it have to do with pictures? Nope! It has everything to do with him whispering destructive nothings in my ear, cutting me down and distracting me from the truth God is SCREAMING in my face from day to day. Why do I listen to the whispers instead of the screaming? Because I am a pessimist at heart. I focus on the negative. I dwell in the past. It's who I am, but NOT who I HAVE to be. This is my battle. Some days I am truly confident in who God created me and those days are numbering more than they used to but still too far and few between. Trust God with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper! I knit you together in your mother's womb.
Geez. I should really listen to the screaming. This God I'm striving to know (not hard enough most the time) adores who I am. Screw what other people thing. Screw even what I think. Screw it all! He created the whole flipping world and the universe and everything! He masters everything! He is the creator of ALL beauty! He created every intricate part of me! He created who he WANTS me to be. Stupid whispering. Stupid Satan, you worthless SOB! Go wallow in hell where you belong you bastard! I will NO LONGER live in my fears! I WILL NOT BE MASTERED by my insecurities! I will CLAIM who God has called me to be! This all is the way I am, but NOT who he created me to be and NOT what I am going to claim! I WILL claim the identity he has given me, which is in him!
I tend toward pessimism. I'm perfectly capable of coming across confident, but much of the time I'm not. I'm timid, bashful, don't make friends easily unless introduced to them through someone else, second guess almost everything I do, lack confidence to pursue many things I know God has gifted me with, and fail to really take much on full force at the fear of failing or not being the best at it.
I went for a jog this morning. It was the first time in months I've done anything even remotely close to aerobic or exercise-y. I wasn't even able to make it a mile - at sea level none-the-less. I was sure both my sides were going to split in two and that my heart was going to jump ship to run away and find someone else to pump blood for. At sea level! I cut myself down the whole way home and sat on the back porch and cried. The "wog" wasn't the issue. It wasn't the sole reason for my weapiness. I woke up feeling uncomfortably mediocre this morning. This feeling is an on-going battle I fight. I don't remember not feeling this way and having to fight against it since I was a very small child. Satan knows my weak point and he will beat it to a bloody pulp if I'm lax and not paying close attention to fighting him off - which I haven't been of late. He's merciless! Not wanting to accept that this is simply the way I am I used to blame it on my childhood full of teasing and jeering. I was teased without avail when I was in grade school and middle school. Chances are if I was able to watch a recording of all the "mean" things the other kids said to me, they'd no doubt me out of line but I dare say they were probably not as hurtful as I remember them. It's just one more example of how my insecurities got the better of me. I do believe it has played a role in my life as I don't really remember feeling insecure about anything (even the fact that I looked like a boy) until I was teased about it, but I will no longer blame my problem with this battle on those girls (and I can name them all) or even the little boys(I can name them too) that teased me all those years. It's time to accept this as being MY biggest fault. This is who I am, but not who I HAVE to be.
There's much that I'm interested in and have been from a very young age. I've always found respite in writing my thoughts out in words and having those words being seen by others. It's never done to elicit any sort of response (unless otherwise noted), but I find comfort in other people knowing how I feel. Some people cloister away or mask or hide - I'm out in the open. Sometimes too much. Writing is one of my passions that I will no longer set aside. The vast number of "Facebook" friends I have will attest to this truth and this whole "blog" thing is another way that I'm able to be brutally honest about my humanness and the fact that I am indeed very mediocre (and I should be just find with that).
I have been fascinated, again from a very young age, with the idea and action of capturing a single moment in life in a snapshot and then being able to forever view that snapshot. There's that corny saying that talks about not looking behind, but ahead. This is something that I need some serious help on. I'm a sucker for pictures, memories, smells that conjure up past emotions and memories. I often dwell on the past. For me, often, the grass is greener in the pasture I was just grazing in. I HATE changing seasons in life and I don't do change well - I adapt alright, but I don't like to. The ironic part is that my life just seems to be getting better and better with each changing season. God never fails to take it up a step or two with every move we make (not like "every move you make, every step you take" - but every physical change of location in the U.S. - that kind of move). Even so, I find myself desperately searching for reminders of times that seemed easier. This last big section after the part where I mentioned I love taking pictures was one of those big rabbit trails I was talking about. They get out of control sometimes. The fact that I look in to the past too much has NOTHING to do with taking pictures. HA! Onward and Forward.
I LOVE taking pictures. My husband blessed me a year and a half ago by purchasing a digital SLR for me. It's an older model (we'd have to sell a kidney or worse yet, a testicle perhaps to afford the best SLR though I would love one so) and works just fine for what I do. SIDE NOTE (I will say for those of you looking in to getting an older SLR - I have a Canon 20D. I've been very happy with it but I just found out recently that it has an automatic cropping mechanism on it. No matter how wide angle of a lens you put on it, it will always crop the....wideness of it down to...I don't know the technical terms, not so wide. In other words, you can never get those sweet wide angle shots you see everyone getting. Go with the 40D. It's pretty much the same camera, but doesn't have the cropping and is only slightly more expensive used.) END OF SIDE NOTE). My favorite is taking pictures of children. They are the few left that are completely honest with raw emotion and it comes through full force in a photo. My 3 year old is a grand example of that. He HATES having his picture taken if it's not his idea. He gives aggravated looks that will kill and I end up with a whole load of photos of grumpy face Elijah. I don't usually tell people that I like taking pictures because I don't want them to expect that I am any good at it. I typically dumb down how much I know about photography (which isn't actually that much when I think about it) as to not come across as someone who should take good photos. I've taken some decent ones in the past couple years with the two cameras I've loved best. I've taken a few that my husband would claim are "professional" grade, but all in all I'm fairly average at taking pictures. You'll be hard pressed to find me putting up a "photography" website. Why? And here's where I get brutally honest - I feel like there's too many of them. It seems to be the craze right now and I see "photography" websites of peoples whose pictures I really wouldn't ever pay for. Is that a cut on them, NO! It's certainly NOT! If it's a love of there's then persue if full force! But I don't want to be the one with the website that people look at and think how not exciting and mediocre my pictures are. This again is my insecurities grabbing me by the hand and leading me away from being who God intended me to be. Is that a photographer, haha, I don't believe so. I would love to take flipping awesome photos that trump all other photos ever in the world some day, but I don't see that happening. But, the idea of someone looking at my pictures that I take for ME, that I take for US as a family, that I take for FUN and thinking that they just aren't that good is another battle against Satan that I fight often. Does it have to do with pictures? Nope! It has everything to do with him whispering destructive nothings in my ear, cutting me down and distracting me from the truth God is SCREAMING in my face from day to day. Why do I listen to the whispers instead of the screaming? Because I am a pessimist at heart. I focus on the negative. I dwell in the past. It's who I am, but NOT who I HAVE to be. This is my battle. Some days I am truly confident in who God created me and those days are numbering more than they used to but still too far and few between. Trust God with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper! I knit you together in your mother's womb.
Geez. I should really listen to the screaming. This God I'm striving to know (not hard enough most the time) adores who I am. Screw what other people thing. Screw even what I think. Screw it all! He created the whole flipping world and the universe and everything! He masters everything! He is the creator of ALL beauty! He created every intricate part of me! He created who he WANTS me to be. Stupid whispering. Stupid Satan, you worthless SOB! Go wallow in hell where you belong you bastard! I will NO LONGER live in my fears! I WILL NOT BE MASTERED by my insecurities! I will CLAIM who God has called me to be! This all is the way I am, but NOT who he created me to be and NOT what I am going to claim! I WILL claim the identity he has given me, which is in him!
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Shenanigans in my head
At my ENT appointment last week the doc told me he was going to order an MRI, an allergy test and some weird electro cochleal something or other test. I haven't been called about scheduling any of them yet, but I'm hoping that will happen soon. It will sure we nice to get those out of the way and hopefully HOPEFULLY one of them will shed some light on what my head has been up to these past 7 1/2 months.
The boys and I went to the commissary this morning to get a load of groceries. My hearing in my left ear was especially bad this morning when I woke up. I can always tell it's bad. I have a litmus test - if I gently scratch the top part of my outer ear and can't hear the base sounds it should create the clearing of my hearing will likely cause vertigo and some degree of exhaustion (for whatever reason. I was expecting the trip to the commissary to be slightly complicated by that, and it was, as is everything when one of your 5 senses isn't behaving the way it ought. With Eglin being in Florida we find a HUGE number of our population of military folks to be retirees, usually ones that are significantly older than us and significantly older than even our parents. We're talking folks that are in their 80s and 90s. Many of the elderly crowd that I've seen frequenting the commissary have hearing aids. They ADORE the boys and come to pinch cheeks and ask about toys that Elijah is playing with and wiggle Judah's toes. A gentle old man walked up today and was talking to the boy and turned to me to ask a question. He was right there, I was just feet away grabbing a bundle of celery and my left ear was facing him - I heard NONE of his question, just the droning on of an unidentifiable voice. I felt like he should be the one saying "pardon?", but it was me, over and over again as I walked closer and got right up next to him. They are doing construction in the commissary right now. Between the jack hammers, surrounding conversations, the sounds of children laughing or crying (or both) and this little old man asking me a question I couldn't make out any one sound from another. The deep base sounds of the construction equipment resonate like a gong or base drum, drowning out an higher pitched frequencies. The trip was filled with me straining to hear what Elijah was saying or asking, listening for what people were asking or telling me and trying to keep from becoming completely overwhelmed with feeling like all the sounds in the world were trapped in my barrel of a head. Sounds anymore don't go in one ear and out the other for me. They go in my ear and roll around for a bit all collecting up in there and making a giant ugly gonging sound that drowns out everything else. This is common now, for me, but it remains outrageously irritating. I know, there's a lot more in life that could be wrong and there are hundreds of thousands of people around the world that hear a lot worse than I do and many that don't hear at all. I suppose the biggest struggle for me is the inconsistency, the not knowing what is wrong with me. I never know when it's going to hit, or what it's going to be like or how long it will last or if it will lead to vertigo, severe and not. It did today. I put the groceries in their respective places as quickly as possible after arriving home and proceeded to put lunch on for Judah. Elijah was spending a few minutes resting on the guest bed (where he takes a nap) because he was being more aggressive than I like him to be with a plastic toy and the wall in the dining room. He fussed at me when I asked him to stop beating on the wall, so I sent him to chill in the room for a bit while I made lunch. He sang to himself and rolled around on the bed for a while and was feeling much calmer after. I sat down to feed Judah his food and was hit with the familiar feeling. I knew what was coming down the pike. I placed a hand on the table and stared at a still object to be sure to keep my balance. First the white noise in my left ear disappeared. All feel silent for a few seconds and then the sensation of extreme pressure clear deep in the creases of my inner ear - we're talking really deep in there. Not where you get "swimmer's ear" or in your eustachian tubes, but REALLY deep in there where all the balance and equilibrium stuff happens. I felt like I was gently shoved side to side with a silent wind and then I heard it. If I closed my eyes and didn't know any better I would think I was standing in a metro station - the underground kind. The rush of wind that comes out the tunnel before the train comes squealing in at lightning speed and screeches to a halt. The problem is that this train needs several hours to come to complete halt. The grating screaming of the breaks can last up to 12 hours at times. After, I'm left with hearing everything through a tin can - the noises and voices I hear for the several hours after sound artificial and annoying. Just the simple every day noises like Elijah asking me a question with a tinge of whininess or Judah fussing can send me over the edge. I find days like this one especially challenging when it comes to keeping my temper cool with the kids and being patient for the storm to pass. No one knows whats wrong with me. The ENT doesn't think it's Meniere's disease (a disease of the inner ear that causes these symptoms), but the ringing is throwing him off, We thought for a while it was just an inner ear infection (Labrynthitis) but it's not behaving that way anymore either. I'm blessed to have seemingly been freed from the debilitating vertigo and nausea it used to cause. I'm not sure how I would manage. The boys are down for a nap now and it's a good thing. My head is starting to feel like it weighs 100 pounds and the whole room is starting to spin along with the ceiling fans above me. I better find a place to lay low for a while. I just don't get it.
The boys and I went to the commissary this morning to get a load of groceries. My hearing in my left ear was especially bad this morning when I woke up. I can always tell it's bad. I have a litmus test - if I gently scratch the top part of my outer ear and can't hear the base sounds it should create the clearing of my hearing will likely cause vertigo and some degree of exhaustion (for whatever reason. I was expecting the trip to the commissary to be slightly complicated by that, and it was, as is everything when one of your 5 senses isn't behaving the way it ought. With Eglin being in Florida we find a HUGE number of our population of military folks to be retirees, usually ones that are significantly older than us and significantly older than even our parents. We're talking folks that are in their 80s and 90s. Many of the elderly crowd that I've seen frequenting the commissary have hearing aids. They ADORE the boys and come to pinch cheeks and ask about toys that Elijah is playing with and wiggle Judah's toes. A gentle old man walked up today and was talking to the boy and turned to me to ask a question. He was right there, I was just feet away grabbing a bundle of celery and my left ear was facing him - I heard NONE of his question, just the droning on of an unidentifiable voice. I felt like he should be the one saying "pardon?", but it was me, over and over again as I walked closer and got right up next to him. They are doing construction in the commissary right now. Between the jack hammers, surrounding conversations, the sounds of children laughing or crying (or both) and this little old man asking me a question I couldn't make out any one sound from another. The deep base sounds of the construction equipment resonate like a gong or base drum, drowning out an higher pitched frequencies. The trip was filled with me straining to hear what Elijah was saying or asking, listening for what people were asking or telling me and trying to keep from becoming completely overwhelmed with feeling like all the sounds in the world were trapped in my barrel of a head. Sounds anymore don't go in one ear and out the other for me. They go in my ear and roll around for a bit all collecting up in there and making a giant ugly gonging sound that drowns out everything else. This is common now, for me, but it remains outrageously irritating. I know, there's a lot more in life that could be wrong and there are hundreds of thousands of people around the world that hear a lot worse than I do and many that don't hear at all. I suppose the biggest struggle for me is the inconsistency, the not knowing what is wrong with me. I never know when it's going to hit, or what it's going to be like or how long it will last or if it will lead to vertigo, severe and not. It did today. I put the groceries in their respective places as quickly as possible after arriving home and proceeded to put lunch on for Judah. Elijah was spending a few minutes resting on the guest bed (where he takes a nap) because he was being more aggressive than I like him to be with a plastic toy and the wall in the dining room. He fussed at me when I asked him to stop beating on the wall, so I sent him to chill in the room for a bit while I made lunch. He sang to himself and rolled around on the bed for a while and was feeling much calmer after. I sat down to feed Judah his food and was hit with the familiar feeling. I knew what was coming down the pike. I placed a hand on the table and stared at a still object to be sure to keep my balance. First the white noise in my left ear disappeared. All feel silent for a few seconds and then the sensation of extreme pressure clear deep in the creases of my inner ear - we're talking really deep in there. Not where you get "swimmer's ear" or in your eustachian tubes, but REALLY deep in there where all the balance and equilibrium stuff happens. I felt like I was gently shoved side to side with a silent wind and then I heard it. If I closed my eyes and didn't know any better I would think I was standing in a metro station - the underground kind. The rush of wind that comes out the tunnel before the train comes squealing in at lightning speed and screeches to a halt. The problem is that this train needs several hours to come to complete halt. The grating screaming of the breaks can last up to 12 hours at times. After, I'm left with hearing everything through a tin can - the noises and voices I hear for the several hours after sound artificial and annoying. Just the simple every day noises like Elijah asking me a question with a tinge of whininess or Judah fussing can send me over the edge. I find days like this one especially challenging when it comes to keeping my temper cool with the kids and being patient for the storm to pass. No one knows whats wrong with me. The ENT doesn't think it's Meniere's disease (a disease of the inner ear that causes these symptoms), but the ringing is throwing him off, We thought for a while it was just an inner ear infection (Labrynthitis) but it's not behaving that way anymore either. I'm blessed to have seemingly been freed from the debilitating vertigo and nausea it used to cause. I'm not sure how I would manage. The boys are down for a nap now and it's a good thing. My head is starting to feel like it weighs 100 pounds and the whole room is starting to spin along with the ceiling fans above me. I better find a place to lay low for a while. I just don't get it.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
I've been sitting tapping my fingernail on the counter the last couple minutes trying to decide exactly what to write. It's been a few weeks and I'm not sure how to cram everything in to one entry. And, I'm tired. The boys are down for their naps and the house in nice and quiet, other than Pandora playing on my computer and the ingracious squeak of the dryer in the background. I'm still not sure what all to write even as I write. I'm feeling snacky, but there's nothing snack worthy in this house.
I took the kids to the park down the way here to hang out with my new wonderful friend, Joia, and her kids. Elijah and Keenan, Joia's son, get along.....sort of. They are quite the dynamic duo together. Joshua often reassures me that 3 year old boys bickering and punching and pushing and shoving and shouting and hitting and stealing and screaming is a perfectly normal and even necessary thing in a friendship that young.... They are a hoot to watch. Joia and I often discuss how sometimes we feel the same way as they in certain situations, we just deal with our frustrations very differently. Thats where our job as mother's comes in. We pull them away from each other often, but when they are having fun, they really have fun. Watching them when they get at each other reminds me of the book "Lord of the Flies". They seem to have no reasonable control over their emotions or their actions when they get frustrated with the other doing something they don't like. I don't want to imagine what their behavior would evolve in to if we didn't intervene for them. Every now and then I will see one of them ball up their fist and wind up for a punch and then double think it and cancel the plan. That is a highly rewarding moment as a mother - to watch your child choose the right thing. All that hard work is worth it when your child CHOOSES for them self to NOT punch their best friend in the eye! Joia and I, I have found, are like minded any many ways, and parenting is one of those ways. Keenan and Elijah, I have found, are much a like in MANY ways. They are sensitive, loving toward their siblings, territorial, strong headed, and are both ultimately ALL boy! Moriah is Joia's 18 month old beautiful daughter. She adores Judah and Judah stares at her like she's the last blond toddler on earth. We are both excited to see how their friendship grows as they grow in to realizing they have a friendship. Judah squeezes Moriah's hand harder than I'm sure she likes if she holds his hand, and Moriah poked Judah in the eye a few nights ago when we had the Dooley's over to eat. Today at the beach they sat in Adirondack chairs side by side and watched the water lapping up on the shore as their pacifiers drooped in their mouths with the occasional sucking every now and then just for reassurance. We tried in vein to get both to smile without their pacifiers and look at Joia's camera at the same time. I'm not sure we succeeded. I haul my camera around most the time and don't use it and when I don't take it the perfect picture opportunity inevitably arises.
These past couple weeks have been filled with shopping trips taking care of the last little odds and ends that have to be purchased when trying to fit in to a new house with different rooms, different storage and different....everything. I just finished a face-lift on the kitchen and it feels so much better in their! The longer we live in this house the more I love it! We've been having a blast in our backyard in the evenings! I found a blow up pool at Walmart a few weeks back and Elijah spends MUCH of his time out back bouncing around in it. He's content in their by himself for sometimes more than an hour at a time. I've found that moving in to a new house and having this canvas to paint and decorate has been such a breath of fresh air. I just have to remember how it feels and keep project ideas for myself to do when the house is all put together and I run out of constructive, creative things to occupy my time.
Joshua came home from his first day of residency yesterday and nothing really felt different. He got home at 4:30, we sat down to dinner at hour later and went for a walk around a park close by while Elijah rode his bike in front of us. It's hard to believe he's a real live doctor now seeing his own patients - no more being a student. He's going to be a wonderful doctor.
It's been cooler here the past week or so and what a blessing that has been. It was scorching when we first got here in the middle of May and the thought of the rest of the summer continually getting hotter was a bleak view. It's been rainy, overcast and in the 80's for about a week and a half and I love it! There's been just enough sunshine to play in the water now and then if we feel like it and take walks down by the shore in the evening, but the rain is a welcome respite from the sweltering heat. I'm afraid this is a terribly boring blog. I'll be done with it now and go do some dishes.
I took the kids to the park down the way here to hang out with my new wonderful friend, Joia, and her kids. Elijah and Keenan, Joia's son, get along.....sort of. They are quite the dynamic duo together. Joshua often reassures me that 3 year old boys bickering and punching and pushing and shoving and shouting and hitting and stealing and screaming is a perfectly normal and even necessary thing in a friendship that young.... They are a hoot to watch. Joia and I often discuss how sometimes we feel the same way as they in certain situations, we just deal with our frustrations very differently. Thats where our job as mother's comes in. We pull them away from each other often, but when they are having fun, they really have fun. Watching them when they get at each other reminds me of the book "Lord of the Flies". They seem to have no reasonable control over their emotions or their actions when they get frustrated with the other doing something they don't like. I don't want to imagine what their behavior would evolve in to if we didn't intervene for them. Every now and then I will see one of them ball up their fist and wind up for a punch and then double think it and cancel the plan. That is a highly rewarding moment as a mother - to watch your child choose the right thing. All that hard work is worth it when your child CHOOSES for them self to NOT punch their best friend in the eye! Joia and I, I have found, are like minded any many ways, and parenting is one of those ways. Keenan and Elijah, I have found, are much a like in MANY ways. They are sensitive, loving toward their siblings, territorial, strong headed, and are both ultimately ALL boy! Moriah is Joia's 18 month old beautiful daughter. She adores Judah and Judah stares at her like she's the last blond toddler on earth. We are both excited to see how their friendship grows as they grow in to realizing they have a friendship. Judah squeezes Moriah's hand harder than I'm sure she likes if she holds his hand, and Moriah poked Judah in the eye a few nights ago when we had the Dooley's over to eat. Today at the beach they sat in Adirondack chairs side by side and watched the water lapping up on the shore as their pacifiers drooped in their mouths with the occasional sucking every now and then just for reassurance. We tried in vein to get both to smile without their pacifiers and look at Joia's camera at the same time. I'm not sure we succeeded. I haul my camera around most the time and don't use it and when I don't take it the perfect picture opportunity inevitably arises.
These past couple weeks have been filled with shopping trips taking care of the last little odds and ends that have to be purchased when trying to fit in to a new house with different rooms, different storage and different....everything. I just finished a face-lift on the kitchen and it feels so much better in their! The longer we live in this house the more I love it! We've been having a blast in our backyard in the evenings! I found a blow up pool at Walmart a few weeks back and Elijah spends MUCH of his time out back bouncing around in it. He's content in their by himself for sometimes more than an hour at a time. I've found that moving in to a new house and having this canvas to paint and decorate has been such a breath of fresh air. I just have to remember how it feels and keep project ideas for myself to do when the house is all put together and I run out of constructive, creative things to occupy my time.
Joshua came home from his first day of residency yesterday and nothing really felt different. He got home at 4:30, we sat down to dinner at hour later and went for a walk around a park close by while Elijah rode his bike in front of us. It's hard to believe he's a real live doctor now seeing his own patients - no more being a student. He's going to be a wonderful doctor.
It's been cooler here the past week or so and what a blessing that has been. It was scorching when we first got here in the middle of May and the thought of the rest of the summer continually getting hotter was a bleak view. It's been rainy, overcast and in the 80's for about a week and a half and I love it! There's been just enough sunshine to play in the water now and then if we feel like it and take walks down by the shore in the evening, but the rain is a welcome respite from the sweltering heat. I'm afraid this is a terribly boring blog. I'll be done with it now and go do some dishes.
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