Car seats, bedtime and Christmas

So I took a very big step about a month ago; I turned Emily's car seat forward facing.  I'm mostly ok with it now, but it was hard to do it at the time, and I struggled a lot with whether or not I should.  I know the law says they can turn at 2 years old, but I find that a lot of advice like that is “bare minimum”.  The law is to turn them no earlier than 2, because statistically it’s amazing if the majority of people have their children buckled in correctly, let alone not turning them too early.  So I think the overall consensus is yeah, they’re safer rear facing past two, but if you made it to 2 before turning them, then yay.

I’ve thought about turning her twice before.  Once was this time last year, I even did turn her for one night to go see Christmas lights so she could actually see them, and that turned into a week of keeping her FF and I considered just leaving her that way, but then my husband got into a bad accident and totaled his truck.  I was horrified to think of the what ifs...what if she had been with him, and FF?  My MIL came over to pick her up so I could go get my husband from the hospital (he was ok, just some bumps and bruises) but she didn’t have her car seat with her, so we had to trade cars.  I thought about turning it back RF right then and there before she left with her, but she promised me they were going straight to their house and would drive super slow.  But I did turn her back around the very first chance I got before she rode in the car again.

Then I thought about it again about 6 months ago when I was noticing how hard it was to get her in and out.  But that very night I read an article about a woman who lost her son because she unknowingly had him in a booster before he was ready, and he died in a car crash.  Not quite the same thing, but it was possibly (at least in her mind with the inevitable guilt all parents face in that tragedy) a preventable death and a crazy easy way to still have him here had she just known to keep him in a 5 point harness car seat.  So that was that, not turning her.

I had intended on keeping her RF until she maxed out the weight limit RF in that seat, which is 40lbs.  She has held steady at around 33-34 pounds forevvvvver and even took a long time to get to that.  My guess is she won’t hit 40lbs till she’s at least 5 or around then….she’ll be 4 in March.  My thought process was, even if I am still not jazzed about her being turned around then, we HAVE to because it would no longer be safe to keep her RF past 40lbs in that seat.  So I would have had no choice and the decision would have been out of my hands, therefore I would not stress about it.

But, I started thinking about it again.  It’s been hard getting her in and out for a while now, but especially now with it being winter, she’s got at least heavier layers on, if not a winter coat.  With her legs bunched up, it was a real fight every day to get her buckled over the bulky layers.  And that is one area that I do not agree with the pros, about winter coats in car seats.  Maybe I could get on board with avoiding coats that looks like it has literally been inflated and the kid looks like the stay puff marshmallow man.  But for the average slightly puffy coat, I just don’t believe that the material compresses THAT much to make them slip out of the straps.  I’m just not buying it.
 

When I strap her in with a coat on, her straps are tight and secure.  Yes, I know about the “test” of buckling them in with the coat, taking the coat off and then seeing how loose the straps are.  But again, unless the coat is literally many inches of fluff, it’s not going to compress that much.  Of course the straps are extended more for the coat and too big without the coat…because the material that is making it necessary to make the straps longer to fit, is now gone.  That’s like saying, if you normally wear a medium sweatshirt, you should buy a large or XL if you want to wear several layers underneath it.  But then being shocked when the sweatshirt is too big without the extra layers.

And yeah, I am not a physicist, so I acknowledge that my argument of “it doesn’t seem like a coat would compress that much” isn’t the most solid one.  But that is why there are tests to prove or disprove the theory: aka the crash test dummy.  If you haven’t noticed by now, I take car seat safety very seriously.  There are so many horrible things that can harm and even kill your child, why wouldn’t you take simple measures if it means making your kids so much safer in at least one way?  But, I’ve scoured the internet, looking for crash test dummy videos that show the two tests as being equal, and I have not found a single one.  Not one.

 

Every video I have ever seen, the dummy wearing the puffy coat is not strapped in correctly.  The chest clip (if there even is one) is down at his belly, the straps are often twisted and even slightly off the shoulders and loose, or the video is shown from the side view of the dummy so you cannot really see how the straps are done and if they are correct.  Then surprise surprise, the dummy with the puffy coat comes flying out of the seat during the crash.

But then, the test with the dummy not wearing a coat, is a nice clear shot from the front view, and little dummy kid has his straps tight, on his shoulders like they’re supposed to be and his chest clip is nice and high at his armpits.  Then the crash happens and aww, look at that, he stays put in his seat.  Well no shit, you strap the kid in properly, coat or no coat, and he won’t go flying. 

I can’t even begin to guess why they would want to falsely tell everyone that coats are unsafe in car seats, if they are indeed perfectly safe.  I admit, my stance does sound like a conspiracy theory a little, but again, show me a test where both crashes are completely equal and I'll change my mind.  I thought about the coats (Cozywoggle, which I was a sucker and did buy one….pain in the ass thing, my daughter hated having it shrugged up around her head while in the car, so she’d fling it off, which could have been done from the start using a regular coat that did not cost $150…and the Road Coat) that are specially made (and expensive) that supposedly keep your kid warm while ensuring safety in the car seat, but to my knowledge there are only two companies that I mentioned above and the Cozywoggle just announced the end of their business.  Surely doctors and car seat specialists and news people aren’t jumping on this bandwagon just to help a few entrepreneurs sell more coats.

My best guess is, there have been a few accidents where children were seriously injured who were wearing puffier coats and panic and mass hysteria set in.  But, who knows the conditions of the accident, whether or not the child was strapped in correctly to begin with, or if the car seat itself was faulty somehow.  But the fact of the matter is, if coats were not safe in a car seat and the kid really could be ejected, then there should be a crystal clear video showing the crash test dummy properly strapped in with the coat on, the chest clip where it is supposed to be, and shot from the front angle, showing the puffy coat kid still flying, and the only difference between the two videos is a puffy coat vs no coat.  AND, puffy coats are not the only winter coat available to children.  My daughter has four (yay for grandmas and second hand stores)....a thin but warm Columbia, a pea coat type coat, a thin layered (so the look of puffy without the puff I guess) coat, and then what I could call a true puffy coat, but still not the marshmallow man type puffy coat.  So why say no coats in car seats, why not just advocate against puffy coats?

So anyway, that’s my long winded explanation as to why I think the whole thing is bunk.  And, Michigan winters are coooold.  It's not all or every winter, but it's certainly not unheard of to have many days of below 20 temps and even some below zero temps like we have had for the past week or more.  I would not want to have to take my coat off and get into a cold car…yeah yeah, I have auto start, but in reality, the new factory auto starts are shit and do not really run long enough to warm up the car, and it's just blasting cold air when you get in.  And you can't autostart it from far away inside a store or someplace.  Is being cold less of a concern when the alternative could be serious injury or death?  Absolutely, but not when the theory cannot be proven to be true without seriously altering the test crash conditions.

So anyway, the options were to struggle every day to get her buckled in RF, or turn her around, not struggle and fight with her, and know that I kept her safer for much much longer than most anyone else I know with small kids.  Yep, that’s the winner.  She LOVES her new view.  She was just squealing and laughing with delight the whole car ride that first day she was turned.  She can now see things as it’s coming, rather than as they go away, and she can completely get in and out of the car seat and car without my help, which is nice some days, but not others….think rain or cold wind that feels like instant frostbite, and having to stand there in the rain or cold, waiting for the little sloth to slowly climb up into her seat so I can buckle her in.   I made this decision just in time, since we went to see Christmas lights the very next night.

 

So, something else I’ve been struggling with lately is bed time.   I had a small TV in my office so that I could put a movie on for her and I could get some work done if I needed to start working prior to her going down for quiet time.  Months ago, my husband decided a fun treat would be to put it in her room for one night and she could watch a movie in bed.  Well, I’m pretty sure that was in early summer (or possibly earlier) and it is now January and the TV is still in there.  Oh wait, it gets better.  Since we cut the cord with cable, she needed a DVD player so she could actually watch something on it since our local channels suck, so I took the small one out of my home gym.  And last summer we bought a Roku express (we have a Roku of some sort on all of our other TV’s since cancelling cable) to take to the camper.  It’s tiny, and does absolutely no good at the camper when we’re not there, so we bring it home with us each time, so yes, she also has Roku on her tv.  She’s 3 years old, and has her own TV with a DVD player and Roku.  Can you say spoiled?

But, I could take it out of there any time, I know….so I can’t complain about her being spoiled in that sense.  But I just dread the fight (and the peaceful quiet time I get while she’s in her room watching TV) of taking it away.  So there for a while we were cool with her watching a show or movie during quiet time.  She rarely naps anymore, but I do expect her to go to her room and stay in bed and be relatively quiet, for a couple hours a day so I can work and recharge myself, and so she is in the quieter environment to sleep if she decided to.  Most days she sits in bed and plays, and/or watches a movie, but there are plenty of times she either curls up willingly, or sleep takes over and we get in a successful nap.  I am totally fine with her watching TV during quiet time.

But I didn’t want her watching a movie at bed time.  I felt it was bad enough that our 3 year old has her own entertainment center set up in her room, but to let her watch a movie every night before bed too?  Oye.  So for a while, we were pretty strict with a movie at quiet time, but not at bed time.  Then on the occasional night when I really had to get to work, and we had gotten home late from a grandparents' house, I’d cave and let her watch something because it meant an easy bed time, and I could either get to work sooner, or I could enjoy my limited time to myself sooner.  But like a good drug, I became addicted to the easy bedtime.  No fights, no tears, no begging me to lay with her or snuggle her or read her just one more story.  No more asking for water, or saying she has to potty just so she can sit on the pot for 15 minutes, never really having to go in the first place.

But I struggled with it at the same time.  Am I creating a monster?  Is she going to be so spoiled rotten she makes Veruca Salt look like a choir girl?  Am I giving up all power and control by allowing this?  I was embarrassed to admit to other moms that I let her watch tv at bedtime, without feeling the need to hang my head in shame as I told them.  Then finally I decided ya know what, not every battle is worth fighting.  Bed time used to take anywhere from 15 to 45 minutes.  I would get angry, I’d yell, I’d be stressed because I’d be looking at the clock, knowing that every minute that went by meant I would have to work that much later into the night.

Finally I said screw it.  I’m a mom, its in my job description to be unfairly judged for a whole list of things I am “doing wrong” with my child.  So if I am going to be judged anyway, why not make bed time easier and more peaceful?  Now, we get ready for bed (which she still somewhat protests on occasion, so it must not be that wonderful) I turn on a movie for her, I read her a couple books, I turn on her nightlights, give a hug and kiss and say goodnight….then I do not hear another peep out of her all night.  Prior to the TV, she’d often take up to an hour to fall asleep, sometimes even longer, and that sometimes included crying for me so she could beg for something else that would delay bedtime. 

But now, I’d say she regularly falls asleep within a half an hour, but sometimes more like within 10-15 minutes.  The TV being on never disrupts her sleep, and if it plays in a loop like it often does, she has something to do when she wakes up before me, because for some reason she refuses to get out of bed and come get me.  I still occasionally question if it’s a good idea or not, but I feel so much better once I decided I did not give a shit what everyone else thought (or maybe more importantly, the bad things I was thinking about myself) and just enjoy our new hassle-free easy bed time. 

Maybe it will come back to bite me one day, but oh well.  I am sure lots of things will.  I never had a TV or any kind of noise in my room when I was a kid, but here I am, every night whether I am freezing at night or not, I have to turn on my fan next to my bed for the white noise.  So crutches can and often do come up later in life, despite not needing or having one earlier. 

So, Christmas.  My kid was fucking nuts about Christmas.  She was 10 months old for her first Christmas, so definitely one of the older points for a first Christmas, but obviously she still didn't know what was really going on.  For her second, I think she liked the lights, and getting the toys, but she didn't have much interest in opening the presents, nor did she even seem to understand that presents were in there.  Her third Christmas she was definitely more into it, and I thought it was a lot of fun, but this year she was full blown into Christmas, and it was so much fun to watch.

I loved Christmas as a kid, I still do.  But ya know, there for a while it got pretty sucky.  I remember one bad year in particular, I had just woken up at like 1pm on Christmas day, had no one to celebrate with until I went to my dad's later in the day, and I was still moping about a break up a few months prior when my best friend called to announce her engagement.  Yay!  Not a good moment for me.  Of course once I met my husband it got a little better, but there was still something very anti-climatic about two adults sitting around the tree, opening presents....especially when I had to basically threaten to leave him every year when he refused to go shopping until Christmas Eve.  I'll bet, as sucky as it is to work retail on Christmas Eve, it's got to be somewhat entertaining to watch all the clueless men stumbling around, trying to figure out what to get their wives at the very last minute.

Sorry guys, but I know most women are done shopping in June.  Actually this year I was way off my game.  I bought the last present I needed to buy a few days before Christmas, and I put off wrapping until the weekend of.  But Ryan was even worse this year, it's January 5th and I still don't have a present.  Haha, but he didn't forget...well he kind of did, but it was well intentioned at first.  We had first decided that our new recliner was going to be our gift to each other.  A friend who works at a furniture store had two 50% off coupons that she could give out, and we got one.  It's a rather high-end store too, so I was really excited to go pick out a nice chair that might actually last more than a few years.

So we went one day after a matinee date while the kid was at Nana's, and picked out this nice leather one with power recline and had a usb outlet built into the chair.  Sweet, no more digging behind the chair to plug the phone charger back in when the dog runs through there and unplugs it.  It wasn't one of the top top chairs, but it was nicer than some.  But like an idiot, I forgot about the fine print.  The 50% off was to be applied to original price only.  Plus sales tax isn't part of the coupon which I knew, but the store makes you take delivery, which is $100 and also not eligible for the discount.  So this chair that was on sale for $849 would be $1200 with the "coupon".  Are you fucking kidding me?  Why even bother, and make it out like you're this wonderful company giving away these awesome deals to employees' friends and family.  So by then I was too pissed off to even consider getting it at the sale price without the coupon, because that still would have been close to $1000 when I briefly thought we could get that chair for around $575 after tax and delivery.  

So now we had no gift for each other, so we decided on getting each other just something small.  I got him some beard pomade since he had been trying to grow his beard out but gave up when it got too itchy, and a graphic tee he had posted on facebook that he said he liked months ago.  To my surprise, the shirt, which was not expected to make it till after Christmas, arrived even a couple days early.  So he comes to me a few days before Chrismtas and tells me that he can't get my gift at the store nearby, and would have to go to another store about 45 minutes away.  I said in Christmas shopping traffic?  No, I can wait till it's back at our store.  Then I asked if he could order it online....he said he could, but when I saw the bank statement I would know exactly what it was.  So on Christmas eve we "exchanged gifts", I gave him his and he told me what mine was.  He's getting me a palm tree charm for my Pandora bracelet to commemorate our Hawaii trip.  Nice.  Although now I think he has forgotten.  So the dilemma....do I mention it, or at this point do I just say eh, we might as well save the money?  I don't know.

So anyway, now that Em is old enough to really love Christmas, it's like ten million times better than when I was a kid and loved Christmas.  Seeing her face light up when she heard Santa bells on the radio, telling me she wanted something and then said ok, I'll tell Santa!  Every morning she got up and excitedly ran around the house, looking for her elf,  Mixi.  I never wanted to do Elf on the Shelf...not because of the creepy aspect, and I am so not above using fictional elves to try to get my kid to behave.  But I just cannot stand jumping on the bandwagon of whatever big thing everyone is doing.  I've even not done something that I've kind of wanted to do, just because everyone else is doing it.  I HATE trendy stuff, and I hate even more that I think a lot of sheep do some of these things just because it is trendy.  I swear you could probably get people to walk around with dog shit on their head as long as a few top fashion magazines and someone like Kim Kardashian said it is the latest hot thing.  

But, my husband, the big child, insisted on getting an elf last year.  Fine, whatever, he took care of moving it every night last year, so I didn't care.  She did seem to like it, so that's cool.  But this year, on the nights that he didn't move her before work, I did it.  But I got really into it, and it was fun.  I took to pinterest for some cool ideas.  One night Mixi got in Em's book wagon and hooked up her my little pony's and went for a ride....another night she was roasting some marshmallows over a candle flame.  That one was fun to do, I took some mini marshmallows and put them over a lighter flame long enough for them to brown a little bit, and I burned a few on purpose.  Em has this tiny little Beauty and the Beast tea set....the tea cups are so tiny, like smaller than a penny, so I set them out and had the marshmallows on the saucers and put the tea cups out like she was drinking tea with her marshmallows.

One morning she found Mixi in the fridge with a washcloth wrapped around her to try to keep warm, and one day she found her "asleep" on my printer after a wild night of photocopying herself.  I swear I had more fun with that damn elf than she did, and that's saying a lot because she loves her.

So Christmas was great.  On Christmas eve we went to church and then to my brother and sister-in-laws for dinner and to open presents with my family.  Emily had a blast having her uncle at her beck and call all night, and she loved playing with their new-ish kittens, who are now both full grown and so big.  She got a Leapstart from my dad and stepmom, the one that has books that you put in it and a special pen for interactive learning.  My stepmom had originally wanted to get her a tablet type one, but she already has a Kindle Fire.  Even though the Leapfrog one would be more educational, I was worried the two devices would be too similar and she would neglect one for the other.  She got some new clothes, a koala crate, and a wearable blanket with a cat head for the hood.

We got home late, and told her that we thought we might have seen Santa landing on a roof a few blocks away, so she had better get to bed so he didn't pass our house.  I didn't hear much from her once we tucked her in, so I don't think the dreaded Christmas eve insomnia has hit her yet.  So once she was in bed we ate the cookies she put out for Santa and we put her presents under the tree.  This was the one time I am so grateful for a child who refuses to get out bed and come out of her room on her own.  We were pretty much in the clear to go get her presents as soon as we said goodnight and shut the door.  We didn't have to worry about being caught mid-present delivery. 

So Ryan and I stayed up a little later, drank some eggnog out of our Marty Moose glasses and watched some TV.  Christmas morning I think we woke up around 10 or 10:30 and we had to actually wake Emily up.  Haha, I know all parents hate us.  My SIL said their kids had them up at 6:30am, and even that was after telling them to get their butts back to bed earlier.  Emily is just a really mellow kid for the most part.  I mean, she's loud and a bull in a china shop when she wants to be, but stuff that riles other kids up doesn't seem to faze her.  Even next year and the year after I can see her just casually waking up on Christmas morning, not being in a huge rush.

I hated to do it because half the fun of Christmas is not knowing what you got, and tearing the wrapping paper off.  But her Barbie Camper was just too big for any boxes we had, and since I got it second hand, it obviously didn't come in a box.  So that was the only gift I didn't wrap, I left it sitting out in front of all the presents with a big pretty bow tied around it.  So when she came out in the morning it was the first thing she saw.  I think she was kind of in awe over it all.  She loves her camper, she's played with it every day since.  We also got her the Happy Helpers' Headquarters, which she lit up when she opened it and even hugged the box.  That child is wild for her Minnie Mouse.  She's loved Minnie since she was a little baby, and I love that Minnie hasn't been a phase so far. 

So also got the Seapony lagoon from the latest My Little Pony movie.  She got the game Pie Face, and some Little Golden Sheriff Callie books (which have put her back on a Sheriff Callie kick, we watched her all day today), two seaponies to go with her lagoon and the one that it came with, and in her stocking she got some candy, a Minnie Mouse play dough set, a can of slime (that farts when you put it back in the can, oh good), a Shimmer and Shine "make up" set, a flower magnet from Hawaii that she loved, oh and she got the mama and baby turtle she asked Santa for.  She was excited for sure, but I was hoping for some recognition that she got the one gift she asked him for, but she either didn't make that connection or just didn't express it.  I think she got a couple other things as well...I went a little overboard with her stocking.  We have a stocking for Kayla too of course, and we always buy her a new stuffed animal for Christmas to put at her grave, so the stuffy goes in her stocking so it's not empty.  But I bought so much damn stuff for Emily's stocking, I had to use Kayla's too.

I definitely went overboard with her regular gifts too.  I stayed within budget, but I'm a good shopper and got a lot of good deals so I got a lot for the set amount, which she of course does not need.  But, it was technically her first Christmas that she was really really into...I'll go easier next year.  So we relaxed for a bit and then got ready to go to Christmas dinner at Ryan's parents'.  Dinner was great and she had fun playing with her cousins, and she got great gifts from all of them too.  Some more clothes, and her aunt accidentally got the seapony lagoon for her too, but when Em opened it she jumped up and exclaimed another one!!!  She was so excited.  So also got her a duplicate of one of the seaponies we got her, to which Em was very excited about too.  We kept the pony because it doesn't hurt to have two, but she'll take the lagoon back and get something else, there is really no need to have two of those. 

So now hopefully we can get the basement cleaned up soon and get some of the toys down there.  My gym is in one corner of the basement, and Ryan's mancave is in the other.  But we've decided to move his mancave into the center of the basement and basically make it a family room (but I did give him permission to decorate as he likes as long as it's tasteful).  We were going to make his old mancave into a playroom for Em, but it just makes more sense to have her playroom where my gym is, which is right next to where the family room will be, it's really just an extension of the space. 

So right now my gym is full of my equipment, some of her toys, and a ton of laundry that Ryan just never does.  So we've got to clean out the mancave so we can move my gym over there, and then spruce up that space for her playroom.  Then when I go down there to work out, she can play, or when we're down there hanging out once we get the family room done, she has her own space to play in.  I wish we could have it all done right now.  I'm dying to get some of these toys out of the living room, and I am also having to work out in the living room which isn't fun.  Some day.  

One of those nights

It's been almost 5 years since we said goodbye to our angel.  Most days, I do ok.  Nowadays I really only get very emotional when I visit her grave, or if I let myself get too far inside my own head, thinking about how unfair it all is, and letting myself relive the emotions I felt that night.  I went on to have the sweetest little girl, and I know I will see Kayla again one day.  So most days I am ok.  Today is not one of them.

I've always said that if I have to, I can find a silver lining in losing Kayla.  It doesn't make it ok, it doesn't erase the pain, but sometimes you've just got to find that silver lining.  You just have to or you'll go insane.  My silver lining is that I've been given a unique gift that only parents of angels know, and that's the ability to appreciate and love your living children every hour of every single day.

Don't get me wrong, I am human like everyone else, and there are plenty of times that she drives me insane.  But I am content in knowing I can love my child more than life itself, but still want to sell her at times when she's being impossible.  But I feel like when you've been on the other side, when you've heard those crushing words, "your daughter will not survive", it makes it possible to set aside daily stress, and really appreciate what you do have, and to know how very lucky you are.

But with that knowledge and appreciation comes the curse, and that is knowing that it is far too easy to lose them and it can happen in the blink of an eye.  I don't sit around shaking and hugging myself, I don't lay in bed all day, unable to accomplish anything due to the fear.  I live my life and most of the time I can keep it at bay, and if you were standing right next to me you'd never know I'm experiencing it, but it's always there.  That fear of something happening to your child, that worry that you've been too lucky, you've been happy for too long and the happy police is going to come take it away.  For the most part I have my shit together, but those moments are always there, lurking....it's the waiting for Emily to get home when one of her grandparents drives her.  It's that silent sigh of relief when she walks in the door, safe and sound.  It's those first noises you hear in the morning over the monitor, telling you she is awake, and indeed ok. 

But some nights the fear rears its ugly head more than usual.  I was reading a post on facebook where parents were invited to say the names of their children that they are missing this Christmas, and I just sat there reading the names, crying.  Crying for them, crying that they were all so young when their lives ended...crying for their parents who will never ever be the same.  But selfishly, I'm crying for myself, and feeling that, even if only for a few minutes, that debilitating fear of something happening to the precious little life you would literally do anything for.  I am not this shattered person, it doesn't consume my life.  But I am still, and I think I will always, be waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Having lost a child gives you this blessing of super human ability to appreciate the good, even when you're screaming mad.  But it's also a curse, giving you the knowledge of how easily that good can turn bad.   

Oh toddlers

Whoever coined the term "terrible twos" ought to be shot.  There is nothing terrible about the twos.  Ok sure, she had a tantrum now and again, she used to bang her head on the floor when she was really mad, but that was not bad.  I know, at the time I probably thought it was, and I probably thought man, two year olds.  But I knew nothing.  NOTHING!

After hearing all your life that the twos are terrible, you get through them and they're not so bad, you think ha, I got this.  I got this parenting thing.  Why does everyone say it's the hardest job in the world, I can do this.  And then, right then is when your kids can smell your over-confidence, and that's when they strike, and break you down.

Even this whole last year, I thought wow, threes are so much harder than twos.  She'd have a tantrum, she'd be mad and cry, she'd refuse to do something I told her to do.  But then it was over and we'd be good.  The bad meltdowns didn't happen all that often, it was really more the whining and the lack of listening that got to me.  But nothing can compare to these last two weeks....not even the rage peeing.

It's like she went to bed one Friday night my sweet little, mostly even tempered girl, and woke up some hairy beast who does nothing but whine, and complain, and defy and do everything except listen.  That day we decided to take her to see The Star....the whole time before we left for the movie she was being so whiney.  So we get to the movie and it's sold out, the next one isn't for 2.5 hours.  We didn't want to wait that long, so we decided to go to the theater closer to our house (but didn't have the nice leather recliners, booo) that had a slightly earlier show time.  So we were trying to figure out what to do to kill the time, and I was trying to order tickets on my phone and she's in the backseat just talking non-stop, question after question after question.  She was like Donkey from Shrek when they were driving to the Kingdom of Far Far Away.  She just would.not.stop.talking.

I think in order to not go insane, my mind has blocked out some of the day's events, I just know she was uber whiney and complainy all day, despite having a very nice day at the movies and going to lunch and then to the mall to run some errands.  It was either that day or the next that she peed her pants TWICE, after not having had an accident in months.  So long ago I cannot even remember.  Every single day since the day we went to the movies, she's been insane with her tantrums and behavior.  A few days later we went to Target.  I try not to always let her get something, but she saw these really cute tiny snowglobes and they were only $3 so I thought why not.  I told her if she was good we could walk around the toy section when we were done.  So as we're going through, she sees some toy, aqua beads or something like that and she said she wanted it.  I said no, ask Santa.  That's been my answer for the last six months.  I dread January when it'll be harder to convince her to ask Santa...next year.  Oh but her birthday will be coming up soon.  Is it too early in April to start telling her to ask Santa for the toys she wants (which is all of them).

But ask Santa didn't cut it this time.  Please mommy, please.  It was $20, which I try not to let price be a known factor to her, because it doesn't matter what the price is, if I say she's not getting it, she's not getting it, but if I've already decided she can get something, it's going to be something that costs next to nothing.  So then she says, I don't want the snowglobe.  I said ok, but not getting the snowglobe doesn't mean you get the aqua beads.  She says no, I don't want it.

I said alright, let's go take it back then.  So we walk back across the store and put it back on the shelf.  I asked if she was sure, and she said yeah.  I said ok bye snowglobe.  We get two aisles away and it's "whaaaaa, I want the snowglobe"!  I knew she would do that, I was trying to figure out how to make it look like I was putting it back but really hang onto it so we didn't have to go back to get it once she decided she wanted it.  So we go back, and by now I'm pissed.  I cannot stand these games.  I want it, I don't want it, wha wha wha.  I know, all the non-parents and parents whose kids are grown and cannot remember how their kids were as toddlers are collectively shaking their heads saying, "oh she played you, you did exactly what she wanted".

Yeah well, you gotta pick your battles.  I seriously could not deal with her screaming all through Target because I wouldn't let her have the snowglobe again.  Being the fourth day in a row of this sudden "new Emily" I just couldn't take it.  Besides, I do the tough love lesson of "well you should have thought about that before" thing plenty of times.  Yeah, it doesn't work.  I can do that 60 times in a row, but the very next day she's going to try it again.  Like I said, break.you.down.  I mean, I'm sure if I do it consistently and often enough, eventually she will grow into a kid who doesn't thrive on drama and learn she cannot get her way just by screaming, but she's not going to learn that today, so I chose to avoid that war.

Then at the check out the cashier asked if she wanted a sticker,  and she put her head down and said no.  I told the cashier, she's the only kid in the world who pouts even when they get their way.  Before we made it out to the car, "whaaaaa, I wanted a sticker".  That's when she got the, "well too bad, you should have told her yes", speech.

Then last Friday, oooooh last Friday was bad.  She and I met my sister-in-law for a couple hours of shopping.  She is usually a great shopper, she has always been content on going pretty much anywhere as long as it's with me.  She loves to hang with me.  She did pretty well at the first store, and with her aunt being there I figured she would be good the whole time out.  She doesn't too often act up in front of other people, which leads people to think I am insane when I complain about a tough day with her.  "Oh stop, she's an angel", they say.  *Eyeroll*.

So at the second store, I had to run and get something and when I came back she had a puppy dog christmas ornament.  My SIL said she wanted to hold it and carry it around the store.  A few minutes later she handed it to me and asked me to put it in the cart, so I started to and she says no no no, I want to do it.  Through clenched teeth I said, well do it then!  I think she went to throw it and I said ok, you're done and I grabbed it from her and put it on the shelf.  She starts crying so loud and yelling, mommy pleeeeeaaaaaase.  I started to push her in the cart and she kicks me.  I grabbed her leg and said do not kick me.  So she kicks me again.  This time I grabbed her arm and repeated it, which caused even louder crying and claiming that I hurt her arm.  Oh my God, I barely squeezed it, I was just trying to get her attention.  So by now she is crying and yelling so loud; full-on toddler meltdown in the store.

I used to proudly say I never got embarrased when Emily acted up in public, but I have to say, that time, I was embarrased.  It was easier when she was little because she was still a baby.  If anyone wanted to judge me, I didn't give a shit, she was a baby, baby's get tired and they get upset.  But now she's at the age where people see "crazy brat having a tantrum in a store".  Plus she wasn't calming down after a minute or two like she normally would, so I grabbed her and told my SIL that we'd be outside for a minute.  So I take her out front and I knelt down and I told her what she needed to do, what she needed to stop doing, and she needed to stop hitting and kicking me.  What does she do?  Kicks me again!

Time out works really well at home, often times just the threat of time out will squash bad behavior.  So there were some brick pillars on front of the store that formed a corner, so I told her to go stand in the corner.  Just then I realized I had left her coat in the cart.  It wasn't insanely cold, but chilly enough to need a coat.  So we're standing there, people are walking in and out of the store and my kid's standing there screaming and crying with no coat on, yelling "I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared"!  I'm surprised the Novi police didn't come knocking on my door later on.

So I knelt down and told her if she could stop crying, we'd go back inside but she is not to yell and scream, she is not to kick me or hit me again, or we were leaving.  She said ok.....we went back in and I was on pins and needles.  I had just threatened something that I had to stick to, or risk showing her that she had all the power.  I may occasionally give in to the I want it/I don't want it games, but I try very hard not to make threats that I don't intend to make good on if need be.  Thankfully it wasn't a long shopping day, my SIL had an appointment so we would be leaving soon anyway, but I wasn't ready to leave right that minute, so I was praying I didn't have to follow through with my threat if she continued to misbehave.

She was pretty good for the rest of the time, and then as we were checking out, she asked if we could get McDonalds on the way home.  Ordinarily I wouldn't reward her for being so bad, but I was thinking about getting it before she asked, and we had nothing for lunch at home.  And, I really wanted McDonalds.  So I had to make her think it was all dependent on her behavior on the way home, and I was really hoping she would be good, because I wanted McDonalds too.  She said I'll be good, see...and she flashed a big corny smile.  Ugh, toddlers.  One minute they drive you to the edge of insanity, and the next they break your heart with their charm and cuteness.

So luckily she was pretty good on the way home, so we got lunch.  Then I had to work for a bit, and I was really hoping she would take a nap during quiet time.  So I sent her to go potty while I cleaned up lunch, and when I came in the bathroom she had her panties on and everything....I asked if she went and she said yeah, I did.  It seemed fishy, but she had never lied about going before, so I believed her.  Dumb!  Not even five minutes after I closed her door, she starts crying.  I go back in and she said, oh no I peed!  Her sheets were soaked, so there is no way she actually went potty before like she said she did.

So I had to put her in the shower and clean her off, get fresh panties and pants and strip her bed.  Luckily I still follow the tip my friend gave me when I was pregnant with her....always make the bed in at least two layers.  So all I had to do was strip off the top sheet and mattress pad and toss them in the laundry room and she had nice dry sheets to lay back down on.  God Bless the waterproof mattress pad!  Once I was done working and she got up, Ryan helped her write a letter to Santa, and we went out to dinner, intending to mail her letter afterward.  A woman in the next city over announced on the neighborhood website that she had put a mailbox to the North Pole on her lawn, and kids were welcome to come mail their letters.  She even promised to write back to the kids from Santa.  I can't wait for Em to get her letter!

So we went to dinner, and it was not good at all.  She misbehaved the whole time, wouldn't eat her food, kept waving her crayons in my face, wasn't listening.  Ryan was grumpy too, I think he just didn't feel good, so it was overall a very crappy dinner.  After mailing the letter, we were going to go drive through the christmas lights that we go see every year, but she was doing such a bad job of listening, I felt like we probably should cancel.  But I didn't want to, I was looking forward to going to mail her letter and seeing the lights, so I made her work for it and told her she had to be very good from that moment on or we were going home.  So she actually was good, for the most part.  We mailed her letter and then drove through the lights.

Last year was really her first year being super into Christmas, seeming to know what it meant and the idea of Santa.  But this year she is really into it, she gets excited over everything.  So it was a lot of fun listening to her exclaim over all the lights and be amazed at every new one she saw.  But I swear, the second we pulled out of the park, the whining and complaining started right back up again.  I lasted a couple of minutes and then I just lost my shit.  I had been annoyed with her all week, but I hadn't really yelled a whole lot or got overly mad, but now it was boiling up and I was about to explode.  I yelled at her so loud, I threw my phone on the floor of the car and I hit the door with my fist.  I was just so angry and fed up, I thought I was going to self-destruct.  I think I scared the shit out of her, cause there wasn't a peep from the backseat for a while.  We all rode in silence, and then my husband quietly put his hand over mine, and I just broke down and quietly cried.  Em has always been such a sweetheart when I am upset about something, so even though it was at her, I know she was still concerned.  We stopped at the gas station and Ryan ran in to get something, and after a minute or two, in her tiny little voice she said, mommy?

Despite still being so mad and frustrated and exhausted, just her saying that one word made me want to swoop her up in my arms and tell her how much I love her.  I'm a pretty even-keeled person (ok, except in traffic) until I am pushed too far, but then I unleash my wrath and I am pretty sure my head sometimes spins around and I vomit pea soup.  It's a bad habit of mine, I hold in my anger until I cannot take it anymore and then I blow up.  I had gotten frustrated that whole week, but that night my limit was reached and I couldn't take it anymore.  As soon as we got home I sent her to her room because I just needed her to not be in my sight right then.  My husband came over to me and hugged me and I just sobbed into his shoulder for a few minutes, and when I had calmed down, I went in to tuck her in and talk to her.  I explained to her that mommy just gets mad when she doesn't listen and doesn't behave, but no matter how mad I get and no matter how much I yell, I will always always love her.

I don't want to be her friend, I want to be her parent and teach her right from wrong and raise her to be a decent person.  But every now and again when I lose my shit like that, I worry that each time, it's chipping away a little bit of love and trust that she has for me, and that terrifies me.  So far I have not seen any evidence of it, she still crawls into my lap on a daily (and sometimes multiple times a day) basis to tell me how much she loves me and that I am her best friend.  But still, I wish I could get my point across without having to yell like that.

I know as a parent I cannot be perfect, no parent is.  And I know it's normal that once you're pushed past your limit, it's not uncommon to lose it and just go berserk.  But still, I feel very bad about yelling like that, and I just don't want to be that kind of parent.  She has continued to be a challenge over the days since then, and I have lost my cool a little bit a couple times, but for the most part, I am doing much better at being firm, but remaining calm.  It's so hard to not get sucked in, and expect behavior from your child that they are simply not capable of yet.  It's too easy to get mad and think they are acting this way just to make your life miserable, and they are trying to ruin your day.  But when I think about the fact that she is still so little, and trying to figure out her emotions and her actions, testing us to see what she can get away with and what she cannot, it's so much easier to be empathetic, yet firm, to teach her what is expected and what is not allowed, but to do it in a way that will help her learn, rather than scare her into behaving well.  I love the quote, "When little ones are struggling with big emotions, it is our job to share our calm, not join their chaos:.

Still, it's so much easier said than done.  But, all I can do is keep trying, and keep learning from my mistakes.  I may mess up sometimes and lose my temper and yell, but I think it's only human, and let's face it, adults aren't all that much better than toddlers at handling their emotions.  We're both learning as we go, and discovering what works and what doesn't.  I know it is all normal, I know she is not doing anything that every other toddler has done since the beginning of time.  But it's so hard because it's like overnight she went from being this relatively easy kid who had tantrums here and there, but quickly corrected herself with some guidance....to this crazy monster who has acting badly every single day for almost two weeks solid.  She has been napping much more than usual.  For the last several months, she would nap one, maybe two times a week during quiet time.  But last week she napped almost every single day and even this week she's napped more than usual.  So my only guess is she is going through a major growth spurt, which is requiring more energy, which makes her more tired, and therefore more crazy.  At least I hope that's what it is...a phase.  A phase that will hopefully end very very soon.

So, I wrote all of the above a few days ago, and I am happy to report that the crazy fog seems to be lifting and she has been doing much much better.  She's back to normal toddler behavior that I can handle, and now seems like a walk in the park compared to before.  My step-mom is convinced it was because of the full moons.  I am not sure I believe in that stuff, but after the time I've had with Em lately, I am beginning to.

Healing others-Capture your grief

"For whatever it's worth, I see you.  I hear your guttural sobs.  I feel your ache deep inside my bones.  I notice the grit and guts it takes to pry yourself out of bed every single day and force your bloodied feet to stand up and keep walking".

-Angela Miller

I can still remember the day like it was yesterday.  I believe it was 3 weeks to the day Kayla was born and I had to get up early because my husband was running a 5K that morning.  I tried, but I could not sleep the night before.  As the hours ticked by, it became more and more clear I was not getting any sleep that night.  I think I finally did doze off for about 45 minutes on the couch before my alarm went off.  

I was dreading this day.  It was the first 5K we'd be going to since Kayla was born.  The last time I went to a race to support him was about a month and a half ago.  Before.  Before.  I think just about anyone who has gone through a major loss in their life knows the phenomenon of before and after.  Suddenly all time is irrelevant.  There is no "last year", or "next month".  Everything is split into one of two categories.  Before it, or after it.  The last time I went to a race of his, I was happy, I was content.  I was pregnant.  Now I was not, and I hated this.  My grief on this day would have been bad anyway, but my lack, or complete absence of sleep just made it even worse.  I think getting that 45 minutes actually did more harm than good.  I somehow got through the race, and even breakfast afterward.  

My family was going out for dinner that evening to celebrate my brother's birthday, and I was asked if I wanted to go or not.  Everyone said they would love for me to come, but they totally understood if I was not up to it.  As the day went on, I couldn't make a decision.  I wanted to go so badly, I wanted to be surrounded by my family whom I needed so much right then.  I want to go more than anything.....AND I wanted to stay home and going was the last thing on earth I wanted to do.  I can't describe that feeling anymore than I just did, but I remember feeling it.  I wanted two completely opposite things at the very same time.  My dad called to ask if I was going and as soon as I said no, he asked....."rough day"?  

I couldn't hold it in any longer.  My dad's voice was the representation of all that was right in the world, and it was such a comfort at that moment and I just let it out.  We talked for a good 30 minutes and while he did make me feel much better, I decided not to go to dinner with everyone.  I didn't want to risk bursting into tears at the Olive Garden.  But the point of this story is that, that day was when I hit rock bottom.  Nothing majorly significant happened.  You'd think it would have been the day of her funeral, or the day I had to return to the hospital where I had her, and go to my follow up appointment at my OB's office that was filled with pregnant woman and the sound of a healthy baby's heartbeat coming from one of the ultrasound rooms.

But no, it was just a day.  Yes, going to the race was hard...going to do something that was a happy, fun event the last time I did it was hard.  But for the most part it was just a regular day.  But being 3 weeks out, I think the pain was still so raw, but it had been long enough for the shock to have warn off.  I think it was the first day my body and soul was really feeling the pain, and it was hell.  I had been through difficult losses before.  Losing my mom was probably the biggest life-altering loss I had experienced, and losing both of my beloved grandparents 3 weeks apart was no walk in the park.  I was no stranger to grief.  I knew the steps, I knew the unpleasantness that was to come.  But in that moment, my world felt like it was pitch black, and I could not see a thing.  I couldn't see my way out.  I couldn't see how I would ever not be in the enormous amount of pain that I was in that very moment.  It felt like something that was flat out impossible and the pressure of not feeling like I could ever climb my way out of this hole felt like I was being slowly crushed to death, one well placed stone at a time.

Another day I remember having a very hard time was the few days before Ryan went back to worth,  I had 6 weeks off work, and he had 2 or 3.  I have always been an independent person and I like my space and alone time.  My husband and I always enjoyed our time together, but I at least, always enjoyed my time alone as well.  But for the last several weeks since Kayla was born, we had spent nearly every waking hour together.  He went to the gym one day for a couple of hours without me, and one night out to the bar.  That was it.  Roughly 6 hours on my own, out of several weeks.  Those weeks we had off work together, we had a schedule.  We tried to go somewhere every other day.  Some days it was a quick trip to Target...others it was a couple hour shopping trip and out to lunch.  I just knew we had to make a conscious effort to get out of the house, otherwise we might shut ourselves in forever.  As that final weekend together approached, I felt the dread wash over me.  

If one could see into my heart to know what I was feeling, you'd think I was preparing to say goodbye to my husband for several months or a year.  Not just a work day.  But thinking about him going back to work made me short of breathe, it made the weight on my chest heavier, and I felt scared, panicked and sad.  The idea of him not being with me 24/7 anymore brought on a feeling of being homesick.  Me, the once super independent girl that craved my alone time, was now terrified to be home without him, even for 8 hours.  The actual day turned out to be not so bad, and I of course got through it, but that final weekend together felt like we were on the precipice of eternal doom.  

The last day that I wanted to write about was my first day, or I suppose, my first week back to work.  Before I went, I was slightly looking forward to it, to get back into a routine, to get back into something that would make me feel normal.  But despite being nervous about going and even throwing up in anticipation the day before, nothing could have prepared me for how bad it was going to be.  The stares I felt as I walked in to my desk.  The sympathetic smiles and feeling of dread that someone was going to ask me about it, and the anger and hurt when people didn't.  My co-worker and friend, was loudly asking her cube mate how his baby is and what he has been up to.  My hands curled up into a tight bawl, almost insane with anger that they could be so heartless as to talk about this happy, healthy, living baby within inescapable earshot of the girl who just returned to work after losing her baby.

I went home at noon that day.  It was just too hard; way harder than I expected.  The moment I walked out those doors, I could breathe again.  I was beyond giddy to be going home, to be outside in the sunshine, in my car alone, away from the sympathetic yet pitiful people who meant well but just couldn't seem to do or say the right thing.  Going home, and picking up some sort of yummy comforting food, and thinking about putting on my pj's, laying on the couch and snuggling with my cat sounded like the best damn thing in the world.  For a while, I felt amazing.  I was sad and in pain, but I was home, and I was happy....until about 8 that night, when reality set back in, knowing I had to go back to work tomorrow, and that I had to stay all day....and the next day, and the day after that.

By the time I got home that second day, I was in a full on panic.  I've never had a panic attack before, and I don't know if what I was experiencing was one,.  Bit all I can remember is feeling dread, and panic, and desperation.  I was wracking my brain, trying to think of something, anything that could keep me from having to go back to work.  Anything to allow me to stay home all day, in my pjs and not deal with anything or anyone.  In that very moment I could briefly understand, or at least relate to the crazy, and often illegal things people do when they are desperate.  I felt deep down that there just had to be a way that I could quit my job and not become homeless because we could not get by on just my husband's salary at the time.  I think had the devil himself showed up to offer me a work-free existence, at the bargain price of just my soul, I was desperate enough at that moment to have taken the deal.  Every time I arrived back at the only result there was, which was not quit my job, I became angry and desperate and panicked all over again.  Work slowly, very slowly got better.  But it took a long time.  It took months.  I would say a solid 3-4 months of being back to work went by before I felt even a shred of being "ok" with being there.  

The reason I shared these particular 3 difficult days, was because at the time, I couldn't see it.  I couldn't see that I was in a hole.  A temporary hole that I would eventually climb out of.  Despite knowing for a fact that I would climb out, I didn't believe it because it sounded so implausible.  Miscarriage, infant and pregnancy loss can be so horribly isolating.  Often times people do not share these hard times with just anyone, so most people in their lives do not know it ever happened.  That is why raising awareness and reaching out to say "I am one in four"and "I am a loss mom" is so important, to help bring comfort in numbers to all of the silent sufferers out there.

It's important to know you are not alone, and that you are fortunately/unfortunately surrounded by people who know exactly what you're going through.  But coming out of the "loss mom closet" is important in another way too.  It shows people that others foughtt through it, others felt the panic and despair that you are feeling, and they got through it.  It shows people that there is "the other side" and that we are living, breathing proof that you can and you will get through it, no matter how dark your world is today, there is sunshine coming.   It may not be today, or tomorrow, or next week.  But it's out there, and it will be yours.  Someday.  And that knowledge of someday gives hope.  

Today, 4.5 years after I was in one of the darkest places in my life, I now stand in the sunshine.  I once again love my alone time and some days even look forward to my husband going to work.  The decision to go out to dinner or not is not a major conundrum, and talking to my dad on the phone does not make me burst into tears.  I once again go to work (well sort of) every day like everyone else, and I actually enjoy my job and feel happy about doing it.  I no longer have any desire to find some way to quit my job.

If you're reading this, and you recently lost one of the most precious things to you in the world, please know that it can and will get better.  The grief will never go away.  Nor would I want it to because grief is just what is in place of the love I have for my daughter and the love will never go away.  If you feel hopeless, panicked, desperate and cannot for the life of you see how there is any way things will ever be good again, know that the above 3 days were 3 of the worst days of my life, where the emotional pain was so intense I think I would have chosen physical pain in its place.  But I got through it, and I am still standing, and so are you.  I see you, I hear you and I feel your pain.  

   

Capture your grief-Reflection

The silver lining is never a reason to want something bad to happen...but it makes that bad thing just a little bit more tolerable, and focuses on the good.  There is nothing, nothing that can make me say, yeah, I suppose it was for the best that Kayla died, or figure that "it all worked out in the end". 

Losing a child in utero is very different from losing a living child...or at least I can only imagine.  The pain I went through losing Kayla was raw, and real, and horrible.  I think back to when I was in the the very worst of it...laying there in OB triage, being told my baby would not survive....feeling my water break and knowing this was it, there was no longer any hope of keeping her in for a few more weeks or even days....sitting at home, marveling over everything that had just happened, but still not being able to wrap my head around the fact that I was no longer pregnant, my daughter was no longer safe and kicking inside me (despite the phantom kicks that really mess with your head), and we were never going to get to bring Kayla home, not then, and not in July.  It was absolute hell.  I cried every.single.day on my drive to and from work for months and months.  I was desperate, I wracked my brain, trying to figure out some way, somehow I could quit my job so I could just stay home, curled up in a bawl and cry all day.

But, things are so much better today, and I credit most of it to Emily.  The joy of finally getting your take home baby, the feeling of being whole, because you now have a baby to hold in your arms, not just in your heart....Emily saved me.  She saved me from a lifetime of hurt and sadness.  Emily was my shining light, in my very dark world.  But in many ways, Kayla saved me just as much.  I cannot speak for other parents because never having been a parent before I lost my baby, I don't know how the day to day life is without the horrible knowledge of how dark the other side is.  But if I had to guess, I would say that most parents do not get to enjoy their kids as much as they would like to, as much as they should.  Between working, and house work, and taking care of the kids, and worrying about money, and signing them up for soccer practice, and getting them to the dentist and doctor, and buying their fall/winter clothes, it's very hard to just sit and take it all in.

Whenever I read of something tragic happening, I read lots of parents commenting, wow, this makes me really appreciate my child and enjoy the little moments with them....and it definitely sounds as though they are so busy living life and taking care of their child, that they do not always get to do that.  But knowing what I know, having gone through having to give a child back and say hello and goodbye in the same day, I feel like I have been given the gift of appreciation and gratitude.  I am human and busy just like everyone else, and some days my daughter frustrates me beyond belief.  So no, I don't sit and marvel at her all day every day, but I do just that, every day.  I think I would be hard pressed to come up with more than a couple days in her entire 3.5 years so far on this earth that I haven't stopped at least once, if not more like 3 or 4 times to just watch her, and study her face, and smile as she is lost in play, completely oblivious of me watching her, and think to myself, man am I lucky.  What did I do in my life to be so deserving of this amazing little girl?  I don't know, but I am so thankful for her, and I cherish her...not all day everyday, but every day and I don't think that is something someone can do when they haven't been shown how fragile life is, and how quickly in a blink of an eye things you love more than anything can be taken from you.

The time flies by...she's already 3.5.  Before I know it she will be 10, and then graduating high school, getting a real job, getting married and then marveling at babies of her own.  I cannot slow down time, but I can appreciate that time and I don't think I could do that without having lost Kayla.  It doesn't justify her loss, or make it ok, but it's a beautiful gift to receive, to see that there is still good in this life.

Capture Your Grief-Healing

So per usual, October has snuck up on me, and I am three days into it and I had forgotten all about the Capture Your Grief project.  As much as I love Carly Marie and her words and her ideas for this project, this year, I am just not feeling it.  So rather than not do it because I cannot think of what to do for each day's topic, I decided to do something on my own this year.

I am going to copy her model by starting out the month (or the 3rd day of the month) with a sunrise, and end it with a sunset, because well, who doesn't love them and it's a beautiful way to book-end the month.  But I've decided each day (and it might not even be each day, I'll just write when I feel like it) I'll write about a different experience with Kayla, be it a happy memory, a bad day, a way in which I helped heal myself, etc.  I guess just wherever the day takes me.

So this morning's sunrise was taken somewhere between Ann Arbor Mi and Canton, Mi.  My husband actually took it, because as the father of our lost daughter, I think it is a nice way to include him in a project that he is likely to not be a part of otherwise.  Ok...so maaaaaybe I partly have him take the pic because he works midnights and is just getting off work at that time, and I am still snoozing.  BUT, it still makes for a nice way to include him.

So today I want to write about something that helped heal me...or at least maybe was a small start to healing, even though everyone knows the path to healing is a squiggly mess that turns and dips and backtracks a million times.  But, every little bit helps I guess.  It was about a week after our loss, and my husband and his friend were going to go work out at the gym.  I decided to come too...before we had gotten married I had gotten into really good shape and was eating well and working out a lot.  After our wedding, I gained a few pounds back, but the weight really starting coming back once we starting trying to conceive and had problems right from the start.

As the months went by with no baby, I got more and more determined to get the weight I had gained off, certain that it would bring my periods and ovulation back, but all that did was put on so much pressure to lose, that I experienced the opposite affect.  After about a year of TTC, and already having had one loss, I had officially gained back all of the weight I had lost, and those pounds even brought a few friends with them.  So needless to say, I was not at all at my ideal weight when I got pregnant with Kayla.  But I had GD, so I had to stick to a strict diet, and I managed to not gain a single pound in the 22 weeks with her.

So the only silver lining I could find, was now that I was no longer pregnant, and no longer diabetic, I could get back into working hard to lose the weight, so I jumped at the chance to go to the gym and start my healthy journey.  I was only about a week postpartum, so I decided I was going to take it easy for my first time back, and just walk on the treadmill.  My body was still healing, and despite not gaining anyway, I was totally out of shape, and exhausted.  As I walked, I felt like people could read it on my face, like I had a big sign above my head, telling the world of my recent heartbreak.  To my surprise, I kept upping the speed on the treadmill, and with each speed bump, the lump in my throat grew, my eyes filled with tears and a good song came on with a good beat, so I upped it some more to the point where I had to run to keep up.

Normally when I run on the treadmill (which isn't often, I am NOT a runner, even in my best shape, I just do not enjoy it and cannot go long before I am totally out of breathe) I do a very slow jog, perhaps even the speed that some very tall people may walk quickly at (have I mentioned I am short...like 5'2, these legs don't move very fast).  Basically I am not doing much more than just walking fast in a jogging position.  But that night, I wiped away the tears and I ran.  I ran as fast as I could, and it felt amazing! It felt like with each step, I was kicking my grief's ass.  I was so angry, I could feel it build and build, and the running just felt so good and counteracted it.  I'm not sure if I was running away from something, or to something, but for that few minutes I felt strong and empowered.

When my high ran out, I slowed to a walk, and then decided I was done for the night.  I was exhausted, mentally and physically.  My husband and his friend were over in the weight section.  We had rode with his friend, but we lived just a couple blocks away so I decided to leave then, and just walk home.  So I went to find my husband to tell him I was leaving.  He knew I had planned on taking it easy, and he had seen me running and asked why I decided to run.  I opened my mouth to answer but I got shakey and the tears sprang back into my eyes.  With a quivering voice I told him I was so angry and it felt good to run it off.  Without missing a beat, he told me "there's no crying!  There's no crying at the gym"!  And I laughed, and wiped my tears and I am pretty sure I blew snot out of my nose when I laughed.

So then I walked home alone in the dark, and I felt good.  I felt "wrung out" but good.  Who would have thought I quick run on the treadmill and a quiet walk home in the dark would be so healing, but it was one of the first times I felt like I had made some real progress confronting my grief since we had lost her.  I felt like I had control, and that is a very important emotion when everything around you is so very obviously out of control.

Cute date

I had a date tonight...and my date was really really cute.  She was about 3 feet tall, blonde, and most of the night had some kind of food smeared on her face.

Ryan had a concert to go to today...like an all day concert.  He left around noon and likely won't be home till the wee hours of the night.  So I thought, well we're on our own for dinner, what should we do?  But then I decided, we should do something more than just our usual Friday eat-out dinner.  So I decided a mommy-daughter date was long over due.  We hang out a lot during the day, of course, since I am the one with her all day.  But we've never specifically made plans like these and went out.  So we did.

I was hoping for a better dinner than McDonalds, but, it's kid friendly, and I only had to spend a couple bucks for food she wasn't going to eat, rather than $7 or $8 for food she wasn't going to eat.  We hung out with some friends last weekend and their youngest is Em's age, and she apparently fills her time between meals by dreaming of the next meal.  I need to send Emily over there for a week so she can learn how to eat.

Some days I seriously don't know how she is still alive.  Like for dinner tonight, she had maybe 4 (tiny) bites of her cheeseburger, though I am pretty sure her bites were 75% bun....not even half of her fries (those tiny fries that look like they belong in a doll house) and her little jug of chocolate milk.  Thank God for milk, or some days she would get no calories at all.  Oh and she did eat her go-gurt...I can almost always count of yogurt of some kind to appeal to her picky palate. 

Then we went to the movies.  Though there was a minor meltdown at McDonald's because she wanted to go in the play area, and we didn't have time.  Granted when we get McDonald's, it's almost always drive thru, but you can see the huge play area through two story windows, surely she has seen them before.  But tonight of all nights, when we have some place else to go, some place fun at that, is when she wants to go in the play area.  Last February my Godson's birthday was at a McDonald's but she wanted nothing to do with the playscape....what a difference 6 months can make.

Thankfully she gets over her tantrums quickly, so off we went.  We saw Tangled....this theater near us is playing a different Disney movie each week and we lucked out that Tangled was playing.  She loves Tangled, she's even going as Rapunzle for Halloween, and aside from Beauty and the Beast (on a night we couldn't have gone anyway) it was the only one I really wanted to see.  This was only her second movie at a theater, her first was about this time last year to see Trolls.  She did alright, she was pretty antsy and talked too loud sometimes, but I guess that's what you get when you take a 3.5 year old attention span to sit through a movie she's seen dozens of times.  She'd likely watch it again tomorrow, but at home she can play and walk around and come in and out.  Had it been one we'd never seen before, it would have held her attention better.  She also had to go potty 3 times...well the third was on the way out, but still.  I am a camel and can hold it for hours, so getting up during the movie is not something I am used to or fond of. 

But we had fun, a nice little night out together.  I just put her to bed, I don't have to work tonight, and my husband won't be home for hours, so I have at least 3 blissful hours all to myself.

I've been obsessed with selling stuff on Facebook Marketplace lately.  It's great for getting rid of baby stuff we no longer need....I also sold some bigger stuff like furniture.  I think in total I've made almost $400.00.  Yeah there were a couple higher priced things, but a lot of that is puny $10.00 and $20.00 sales.  It's so nice to make some extra cash, and free up some space in the garage and basement.  But lately I've hit a dry spell....none of my stuff is selling.  Maybe the other stuff was more in demand, but I would think a My Breast Friend pillow would be in demand, and a cute little humidifier for a nursery, especially considering I priced them pretty low just to get them out of the house.

But I've got some baby feeding supplies for sale.  These have become the bane of my existence.  It's a collection of maybe 20-25 baby spoons, a couple snack bowls with no spill lids, one of those netting things to put fruit in so baby can suck on the juice, and a few spoons that screw on to the baby food pouches, so when you squeeze the pouch, the food just come out right onto the spoon.  Those were AMAZING when Emily first started eating solids.  I'd say altogether those things would cost about $35 new, and I am asking $15.  So far tonight makes the 8th person to blow me off over these damn spoons.  People message me and when I respond saying they're available, then they never say a word again....or they'll make a plan to come pick them up, and not show and not even tell me they're not coming.  I had forgotten about it tonight, but when my headlights hit the bag still sitting on the porch when I got home, I was like man, are you kidding me?  I really thought this lady was coming since she right away asked if she could come get them today at 5.

At least half, if not more of those 8 people have tried dickering on the price.  Really?  They're $15.  I get that some people don't have money for this stuff, but don't take something that is $15 and offer $8.  One lady last week, when she offered $8, I said the lowest I could go was $10...I mean yeah, I could take $8 just to be done with them, but it's the principle dammit.  And I feel like if something is not effected by use and age, then they should be worth a little more.  Baby spoons and bowls can so easily be sterilized or just washed in the dishwasher and be good as new.  Being used does not affect their ability to get food into a baby's mouth, so dickering on price just annoys me for stuff like this.  Plus, I'd already be going down $7 to take her offer, she couldn't come up a measly 2 to make a sale? 

And the no call no show shit really pisses me off.  I communicate via text or facebook messenger.  If you decide you don't want the item, or cannot make it when you said you would, fucking send me a message and let me know.  Jesus, a little common decency is not too much to ask.  A few months ago I sold a pack n play.  I asked a bit more for it because it was practically like new, Em only slept in it a few times when we were in our camper, and it had a lot of stuff like the changing table and the newborn napper, a mobile and a sound machine.  So this lady messaged me on like Tuesday and asked if she could pick it up Friday.  I was leary to hold it for her, but I did.  Even when I think two people messaged me and could have picked it up that day, I said it was pending until Friday.

I was going out of town, and was leaving the day before.  It likely wouldn't be hurt by rain, but still, I tried my best to protect it from rain so I dragged Em's inflatable pool over and stuck it under there, got a tote, and found a heavy rock to weigh it down so they could leave the money in there.  She was in good communication with me all up until then, and then she never came to get it.  I messaged her several times asking if she was coming, and I know she saw the message, but never responded.  I know it's a small thing, but I just think that is so damn rude. 

After that I got a couple of go-nowhere messages about it, and an offer to buy it for less, but luckily I did end up selling it for asking price a few weeks later, but it still burns me.  She's the reason I now put no holds on all my stuff.  So yeah, I don't get what the deal with these spoons are.  I sold a bed frame for $100...well actually I listed it for $118, but that was really just to have room to negotiate.  I would have been thrilled with $115 or $110, but I was still very happy with $100.  I sold a desk for $90...no negotiating at all, just showed up, paid and off it went.  But everyone wants to negotiate with these damn $15.00 spoons.  I just don't get it.

I actually went and bought something from FB the other day.  Since I've began my obsession, I've bought four things I think.  A fat chef serving tray (my kitchen is fat chef themed), a mickey and minnie Pandora charm...I hadn't gotten a charm yet from our Disney trip, so I snapped those up as soon as I saw them.  And again, being "used" did not affect the appearance of them, so I got them for 50% off just because I bought them from a person rather than a store.  Sweet!  I got a roller coaster for Em for the yard...that was another steal.  New they're about $100, most people wanted at least $60 for them, but this particular one was filthy, and I mean filthy....mud caked on them.  Even scrubbing them with soap and water didn't get it all off, but it still rolls down the track, dirt or no dirt. So I took my husband's truck to pick them up because I didn't even want the cargo area of my car getting dirty.  So I got that for $30 or $25 I think.  But my greatest find to date was DVD shelves from Ikea.  I forget the weird Swedish name, but they're really simple....no muss no fuss, they get screwed to the wall and hold about 25-30 DVD's.  I had two I bought from the store, and they were like $6 each, but they discontinued them and I needed more.  Since you can't get them anymore, people are selling them for $40 and sometimes $60!

So I kept search and keeping my eye out for several weeks...I even found some, but then discovered from the map that they were in London (I was like um, I don't think the Thames river is around here).  So finally I found some, 4 of them for like $20 total, but she ended up just giving me them all for $10.  That's even cheaper than when Ikea sold them, and they were just in the city next door!  So now I can finally use the storage bench to hold other stuff that was cluttering up my office since I have a nice organized place for all my DVD's. 

So anyway, Emmy LOVES our camper.  Loves it.  Poor thing practically gives herself a stroke when she talks about it, or we go camping, or even if she sees another camper.  On a whim I searched for Barbie Camper, and came up with quite a few.  I found one for $30 and I did a quick google to see what they go for in stores.  That one is discontinued now, but you can still get a few on Amazon for around $230 I think.  What?!  Um yeah, I'll take it for $30.  I instantly regretted it when I put the address in the GPS and it said it would take 40 mins to get there.  I considered telling her I'd changed my mind, but I am glad I got it now.  It's way cooler and bigger than I expected.

I've fallen prey to buying too many toys for my only child...she gets toys on non-birthday and holidays all the time and our house is over-run...toys every where.  I almost bought her the tower and a few figures from Tangled the other day, but seriously, I've gotta stop.  I don't want her to be spoiled, and really there is no reason for her to get toys (aside from maybe a small thing here and there) outside of her birthday and holidays.  She's got two grandma's that spoil her enough, I don't need to be doing it too.  So I decided the camper will be for Christmas.  Luckily she is still of the age that I can give her a used toy in a plain cardboard box and she won't question why it isn't in fancy packaging and have all the accessories annoyingly twist-tied to the inside of the box.  I can't wait to see her reaction when she gets it.

So, I've got to find a new anti-depressant.  I was on Wellbutrin years ago after my mom died, and I felt like it helped a lot.  I don't remember why or when I went off...maybe when we started trying to get pregnant.  After we lost Kayla my OB was more than happy to prescribe me something again to help me deal....I told her I did good on Wellbutrin, and she said it was fine, but her personal preference was Zoloft, so I said ok I'll try it.  I liked it as far as I can remember....but had to go off again when I was trying to get pregnant with Emily.  She put me back on it again after Em was born and I had been on it ever since, up until about two months ago.

I didn't see an issue with it, but my dad was also on it and he was complaining about being so tired and not being able to get off the couch.  I'll admit, I kind of thought he was exaggerating.  He is old school and wasn't happy about trying an anti-depressant, but he has struggled some since retiring, and then he had the accident with his fingers and the table saw, so his girlfriend insisted he try something.  I didn't think I had a problem with the Zoloft.  Yes, I did spend a lot of time on the couch, but before, all my time on Zoloft was when I was working full time outside the home.  If I wanted to keep my job, I had no choice but to get up every day and go to work. 

But once I became a stay at home mom, and then a work from home mom, I suddenly had a choice.  Yeah, I have a kid so I do have to be up and present, but she is so good most of the time, so if I spend the morning snoozing on and off in the recliner, I was right there for her to slap and say momma, I need you...or she'd happily sit on my lap while I caught some zzzs and either watch TV or play.  And some days I didn't sleep, but I'd still just sit in the recliner.  I had no motivation to get up and do anything, but then I would feel so guilty for wasting the whole morning and getting nothing done.

But, I blamed it on having a bad sleep schedule....not having to get up at a certain time for work means you can stay up late, and have a wonky schedule.  Even if I got 5-6 hours sleep, which is typically enough for me, it seems that getting that block of sleep from 4am till 9am still messed with me and made me groggy and blah.  But my dad kept telling me, it's the Zoloft, you should try going off.  I didn't believe him, but then one day I hadn't taken it for 4 days because we had been out of town and I just kept forgetting, so I thought, this is as good a time as any to go off....within a week I was amazed that I didn't spend as many mornings on the couch or in the recliner anymore.

Yes, there are still days when I am sleepy as hell and don't want to get going in the morning, but I can power through it, whereas on Zoloft, I couldn't.  It was the difference between being physically tired, and mentally tired.  The physical I could force myself to get up and get going, the mental, I could not.  Now I feel kind of bad for doubting my dad, because he was dealing with the exact same thing I was.  I just never knew before because when I worked full time, I HAD to power through, but when I didn't have to, I lacked the motivation to do it.

I've been trying to make it without going on something else, but it's not going so well.  I know medications are important, but right now I am on so many, I was hoping I could kick one of them and not suffer from it.  But it's obvious I need to go back on.  My issue isn't really depression though, or at least not the depression people think of when they hear the word.  I don't feel despair, I don't feel sad, or hopeless or down.  In fact, for the most part, I am a pretty fucking jolly person.  It takes almost nothing to make me happy, and I can find joy in the smallest things.  So aside from periods in my life where I dealt with grief and situational sadness (losing my mom, losing Kayla), I don't really experience what people think of when they think depression.  But, I have a short fuse.  Sometimes very short and my therapist says depression is rage turned inward.  So I am depressed, it's just turned outward into rage.

And again, for the most part, I am very laid back and easy going.  I like to think I am easy to be around and get along with.  I don't expect a ton from other people, I don't throw a hissy fit over stupid stuff.  And sometimes I have a really long fuse and go with the flow.  Sometimes I can sit in traffic and be like la di da, sure, you come on into my lane even though you knew yours was ending two miles ago, or that's ok that it took you 5 years to make your turn.  But more often than not, once I am annoyed, watch out. 

A guy I dated once marveled at the fact that I get such bad road rage....even as a passenger.  By about 7 pm, especially if I am trying to cook dinner, people need to just leave me alone, and I have no tolerance for Emmy's whining, especially when she and the dog start horsing around and are in my way, and Emmy inevitably gets hurt.  I just want to clunk their two heads together and make them go away and leave me alone for a while.  This apple did not fall far from my dad's tree at all.  I definitely got his temper.

He is also a very friendly, easy going guy....until he is annoyed or mad, and then, take cover.  So since going off the Zoloft, my already short fuse has gotten way shorter.  On Z, it's pretty manageable and only is an issue when things are really piling up.  But off of it, don't even look at me wrong or I might snap you in two.  My temper has earned me a few nicknames over the years....When Animaniacs used to be on, there was this short cartoon called Katie-Kaboom.  It was this sweet little girl, but if she didn't get what she wanted, she turned into this monster that could blow up her entire house.  So my one friend affectionately referred to me as Amy-Kaboom.  At another job, this guy used to call me Slappy because he said I always looked like I was about to slap somebody.  Sometimes it would get shortened to slap.  Funny story and a bit off-topic, but when I think of this I always smile.  Bill, the guy that gave me that nickname was about 12 years older than me and my best friend.  I think we were 19 and he was 31.  But we always hung out at work with him and sometimes outside of work.  He was this tattooed, shaved head, looking like he just got out of prison guy....not a guy you'd want to run into in a dark alley.  But I loved him, he was so fun. 

So one day I was standing at my register and Stevie Wonder's "I just called to say I love you" was playing on the store's speaker system when my phone rang, and I knew from the ring that it was an in-store call.  I looked down and it said furniture, which was directly in line with my register about 20 yards away and there is Bill, lounging in one of the office chairs for sale, on the phone.  I looked at him funny, wondering why he didn't just come talk to me, and he motioned for me to answer my phone.  So I picked it up and he says, "Slap, I just called to say how much I care". 

Man, those were the days.  It's nice making real money now and having a house and a family, but sometimes, back then, working retail with all my friends....it could just be a lot of fun and I miss those times.  He was a good one to rant to when I was pissed off.  He wouldn't even have to have been there to see the situation, but if you told him about it, he'd get all pissed off with you, it was great.  He was the kind of guy that would go kick someone's ass if you told them they did something even slightly bad to you...just say the word.  Not that I ever would, but he was a good guy to have on your side.  I miss him.

So anyway, yeah.  I need some drugs!!  I'm also soooo emotional since going off Z.  I don't cry all that much, like actual crying, but I get choked up over EVERYTHING.  Like tonight, before the movie there was that little commercial or whatever you call it with girls playing sports or dancing and what not, set to the song Hall of fame by The Script.  It's that Dream Big, Princess campaign.  That was choking me up big time.  And the end of Tangled when Rapunzle is finally reunited with her parents....I wasn't just choked up, I had tears in my eyes, and had I been at home and/or not had eye make up on, they would have been rolling down my face.

I mean, I've never been a stone wall.  I cry, maybe not as much as some, but I certainly cry my fair share.  But I don't remember being this emotional in the times I went off anti-depressants before, or before I went on them.  Maybe it's just the fact that I am a mom now, so things affect me differently.  I don't know, I know hormone changes are huge during and for a while after childbirth, but do you go through permanent hormonal changes after kids that just make you more emotional?

Or maybe it's just that I see things differently now.  Before the ending of Tangled maybe wouldn't have made me emotional, because, while I love my parents, I never had to experience being taken from them or whatever, and for much of my life they were annoying who didn't understand the struggles I went through because they were "old".  But now as a parent, your biggest fear ever is something happening to your kids, so I see that scene from the parents viewpoint and how they must have felt being reunited with their lost daughter after all those years.  And the dream big, princess gets me because it makes me think of who Emily will be, and picturing her discovering her talents and her love, and see her succeed and being proud of her.   

I don't know, but it's a pain in the ass.  I don't like crying in front of people, even in situations where crying is totally expected and the norm, like funerals.  I do my crying behind closed doors, so tearing up or choking up MULTIPLE times a day is not cool with me.  So, as much as I want to say I don't need it, I have to go back on something.  I tried doing some research...some sites list the best anti-depressants according to what major thing you're hoping to fix, or a side affect you're hoping to avoid, like which one to take to avoid weight gain, or which one helps with sleeplessness.  Hmmm, I couldn't find one though that says it will help you to not want to punch people in the face.

But, I did come to the conclusion though that I will try Welbutrin again.  I don't recall disliking anything about it when I was on it before, it said it's one of the best to be on to avoid weight gain and it's a stimulant...that's not the right word, but it's the closet I can think of since I cannot find the word I am looking for.  In other words, it says if your depression causes a lack of motivation and fatigue, Wellbutrin can be a good choice since it will "energize you", again, for lack of a better term.  I am not like that, but since the Z makes me blah and lazy, one that gives me more energy is likely a good choice.  And I am struggling enough to lose weight, I do not need anything to fight against that, so since Wellbutrin typically doesn't make you gain weight, it sounds like a win all around.  So I guess I had better go see my doctor soon so I can stop screaming at people and then crying 5 minutes later.

Speaking of weight, that's going pretty well.  As of today I have lost 18.5 pounds.  I know it is a good start, and it's 18.5 pounds closer to being healthier and looking and feeling better, but still, it's frustrating to not be able to really see or feel it.  Around 10 lbs lost, I felt a lot better and felt like I had more energy and my pants fit better, but now at almost twice that amount, I don't really feel it.  I guess maybe because I am used to it now, so I'll need a more dramatic loss before I can feel it again.

I get frustrated when I feel like I am doing so well, and really getting somewhere, and then I look in the mirror and think what the hell?  I'm still fat!  Like, I don't look any better, like not even 5% better than I did before the loss.  But, when you have way more than just 18.5 lbs to lose, I guess you're still going to look fat in the mirror, lol.  But I do know that it is a very good start, and I'm so close to the first milestone of having 20 lbs lost under my belt(no pun intended).  You can't lose 40 until you lose your first 20, and you can't lose 60 before losing 40....so it's slow, but pretty steady.  And it's a hell of a lot better than losing nothing, or gaining 18.5!!

I just hope I can work hard this coming week to lose 1.5 so I can hit that 20lb mark and take my next set of pictures.  I took pics at 10 lbs lost, so I am really eager to compare.  It's not really enough to see in the mirror, especially when the loss is a slow and gradual 1 pound a week, but when your compare pictures side by side with 10 lbs difference between them, I should be able to see something, and I think THAT will give a boost to my morale.  We leave for Hawaii in less than 30 days.  Back when we first decided to go, I had really hoped to be at my goal weight by then, but I am not even close. 

But, hopefully by then I will be at 25 lbs down, and ya know, it's something.  I just wish I could go with more color.  My forearms are a little tan, just from being outside here and there through out the summer, but that also means I have pretty pasty white upper arms thanks to my t-shirts.  If I can't be at my goal weight, I wish I could at least be tan...I feel so much more confident when I am tan and I swear it's an instant 10 lbs slimmer.  But, there is no way I am going to waste money in a skin cancer booth, and I have yet to find a decent self tanner.  Years ago before my best friend's wedding, she and I did a spray tan trial to see if it would look good for the big day.  It did not.

The first day it looked amazing.  I went swimming the next day and while I would normally feel self conscious in a swim suit, my confidence was through the roof with the tan.  But by day 3 or 4, it started flaking off, especially in the shower and then I looked like an alien with some weird skin disease.  If I could find one that would last the week or just about I would consider it, but I don't want a weird flaky tan just 4 days into our trip.  Oh well, such is life.