The Reason We Have a Kitten Is Because I'm So Sick of Poop!

Let's talk about poop. I know, everyone poops, right? There's even a book called, Everyone Poops by Taro Gomi. But, I am sick of dealing with poop. Apparently a common side effect of having ADHD and potty training is not being able to use the toilet consistently. So, although my daughter has been potty trained for quite some time, she has always struggled with pooping.

I blame myself, because I pushed her to potty train - but, the reality is that children with ADHD often struggle with potty training and she is no exception to this. She really struggles to end a task that she is engaged with and move to a less pleasant task like going to the toilet. So we've been through the addition of Miralax, Pedia-lax, prune juice, an increase in fruits and vegetables, and she still fought constipation.

We've been seeing the GI specialists since she was 3 - and for five years it didn't get a whole lot better. In June, I agreed to see the child psych clinic at the University of Iowa. Three visits later, we have a plan that is working - and a kitten.

I was desperate and a long-term bribe seemed like the way to go - so we set a goal of sitting on the toilet and attempting to poop to earn a trip to the animal shelter to pick out a kitten. I started out with a simple, achievable goal - one that already was happening - she had to sit on the toilet when she woke up and she would earn a check mark toward the addition of a kitten. The next two weeks would add in an additional time where she needed to sit on the toilet, and the last week would have a third time where she needed to sit on the toilet, but the resistance was strong! She is extremely stubborn - and she DID NOT WANT TO SIT ON THE TOILET. But she really wanted a kitten, and even that was not enough to get her to sit on the toilet consistently.

At our second child psych visit, the child psychologist showed us an enhanced toilet training technique: hold in your poop, play for 2 minutes, push out for 2 minutes. She also encouraged us to really focus on sitting on the toilet after dinner - since this is when our brain will most likely want to release the excess waste. It required a lot of my attention. It required coaxing, coaching, and being extremely positive about all of my daughter's attempts. But it worked!

In two weeks, one of extreme illness on my part, my daughter has only had one accident where she pooped her pants - and has not been constipated since she's pooped nearly everyday. I know that most parents of eight-year-olds do not have to worry about their child still having poop accidents, but if you are struggling with your child who has ADHD and using the toilet - please know that you're not alone and there is hope.

Princess Zoom Zoom

Introducing Princess Zoom Zoom - the newest addition to our family. She is a sweet 8 week old kitten that we adopted from the local animal shelter. The next post will explain the reason we adopted a kitten.

Pneumonia

Last week, I was diagnosed with bronchitis. This week I have pneumonia. I'm on day 4 of a very powerful antibiotic used specifically to treat pneumonia. I already had vacation planned for Thursday and Friday this week with no real vacation, but was hoping to do things like purge the clothes that don't fit anymore and work on my writing. My goal is that by June 30, 2019 I can launch a freelance writing career that actually pays close to or more than I currently bring home, but I will miss students. 

I hate disappointing my students, the schools I work with, and my colleagues - so I tried to power through the bronchitis on Monday. After 2.5 hours of teaching and having someone tell me that I sure didn't sound better, I called my doctor's office. I also left for the day taking my laptop with me knowing that I could at least respond to some emails while I was out if at all possible.

My doctor's office called me back and ordered a chest x-ray. I transported myself to the hospital and got the x-ray accomplished at 3:30 and right before 5 PM the doctor's office called me back and confirmed pneumonia. Thankfully, I was able to start the Levaquin immediately and was told to stay home Tuesday and Wednesday also. 

For those of you who have never had pneumonia, I hope you never get it. It makes the simplest tasks really hard to do. Things like standing in the shower took all my energy - and reading to my kids was a huge task. I made it through one book last night before I powered down my voice. It's incredibly hard to speak when you're fighting pneumonia. 

I'm glad to know that my children love listening to me read and that it is an important part of our nightly ritual, but I am equally as frustrated that they only want me! Their dad can read to them too, but mom does the voices. Mom says yes to reading the same story over and over and over - even when I don't want to.

Thankfully, I feel slightly better. I mean, I feel human again - but I won't be running a marathon anytime soon (and the reality is that I wouldn't have anyway).

My Story - The Reason I Am Pro-Choice- Part 3

This is part 3 of my pro-choice series. I again preface this with I am not here to change you from pro-life to pro-choice, but I am here to tell you my story - and why I believe the most critical decisions that you make regarding life and death should be between you and your doctor. You can read part 1 here and part 2 here.

There was nothing highly remarkable about my day on July 7th, 2012. It was a pretty low-key day where I was packing up my kitchen and preparing, in general, for our upcoming move. The move was scheduled for Friday, July 20th and my dad volunteered on that fateful Saturday to come help with maintenance and packing while my stepmom visited the outlet mall. I remember that it was sunny. I remember carefully climbing on the step-stool to hang up the curtains that I had washed. I remember taking breaks and resting before I felt like I was overdoing it. I remember feeling very normal for a woman thirty weeks pregnant. I don't remember exactly when my dad and stepmom left my house, but I remember being alone with the dog for the evening and retreating to bed.

My husband and daughter were at a family wedding with my husband's parents three hours away. I missed my daughter a great deal, but the wedding was in the evening - so I didn't get to say good night to her. I pulled on my blue and gray pajamas and crawled into bed about 9 PM. I may have read or watched TV, but I honestly don't recall exactly what I did that night before I fell asleep. I do remember that it was the middle of the night when I woke up feeling awful. The distance from my bed to the bathroom was not great, as it was only across the living room, but the pain that I felt was immense. I vomited. I had diarrhea. I had a massive pain in my upper right side - right under my breast and high in the rib cage. I focused on breathing - and made my way to the kitchen where I kept the blood pressure monitor.

My stepmom encouraged me to take blood pressure readings daily - and I did. I took them upon waking most mornings and for the most part, the readings weren't of concern - until June and that's when they started going up. That night I sat at the kitchen table, pulled the cuff on my wrist, and pushed the start button. The reading was high. It was so high I was scared, but I was alone. I said a silent prayer, "Please don't let anything happen to me. I know that I'm not a good Christian, but my daughter needs me. If the baby has to die, I will be okay, but my daughter needs me." I pleaded with God to keep me safe for the time being - and I needed to lie back down. So I did.

When I woke up, I was hoping that it had all been a bad dream. I hoped that I hadn't really woken up in the night and I just had a very real, very scary nightmare. But - I didn't. I had a very real, very intense night and knew that I should call Labor and Delivery to find out if they wanted to see me. The call went something like this, "Labor and Delivery, may I help you?"

"I am not feeling the baby move as much and I am having some problems with my vision."

"If you're concerned, you can come in and we can hook the monitor up to you." The woman on the other end had no concern at all in her voice. It was matter-of-fact. It made me feel like I was overreacting. I did not rush in getting to the hospital, but I also did not wait for my husband and daughter to get home.

I simply said, "Okay." I had no one to take me to the hospital. Everyone that I knew was either gone for the weekend, had kids at home that couldn't be left, or had a high probability of not being sober. I drove to the convenience store and got a Gatorade. It was fruit punch flavored. Then I drove myself to the hospital. I took the back road. It went straight to the hospital. There is no way I should have driven myself though.

Upon arrival, I was escorted to a triage room. The triage room was at the end of the labor and delivery unit and I remember that it was dark. There were no windows in that room. I texted my husband, but he never responded. So I texted his mom and let her know what was happening. I arrived at the hospital about 12:30 PM. By 1:30 PM, my husband, his parents, and my daughter came to visit me. I remember the technician getting irritated with me because I used the bathroom 4 times in the hour, but I don't remember saying good-bye to my husband, daughter, or in-laws. I just remember darkness.

In part 4, I will continue the birth story of my son.

Taking Care of Yourself

I haven't been this sick since the first year that I taught. I have my first-ever case of bronchitis and I haven't felt 100% since I can't remember when. In the last two weeks, my respiratory health has gotten worse and I am finally on antibiotics to help with the bronchitis now - and I stayed home today. I feel guilty every time I take a sick day. I was conditioned that you don't miss work unless you have a fever, but when you never run a fever, it's hard to make that case.

I can't remember when the last time was that I felt 100%, because I've been seeing spots in my vision. They stay in relatively the same area of my eye and don't generally grow or shrink. They've been there so long that I make note of it and move on. But, this week, I saw neuro-ophthalmology at the University of Iowa. My optic nerve is swollen.

There really wasn't more that they could tell me - other than my optic nerve is swollen and I will need an MRI and an additional test. Apparently there are lots of reasons that an optic nerve can swell, but the doctors that I saw really didn't elaborate on what it could be. They said sometimes it can be as a result of weight gain - but, I've lost weight. In fact, I've lost about 25 pounds since the beginning of 2018. To anyone else that sounds like a ton of weight. I feel like it means nothing.

I whisper that I've lost 25 pounds. I should be shouting that I've lost 25 pounds, but I feel like it's invisible because I need to lose about another 100 and I will still be in the obese category, but I will be comfortable at that weight. The doctors asked what I did to lose the weight. I said a variety of things. I joined Noom. I read The Slight Edge. I purged my basement. I started meditating with Calm. I focused on my mental health more than my physical health and that has produced the greatest results with my weight loss. Sure, the stars aligning to make sure that everything I did aligned perfectly helped greatly to get me started.

I got started on a journey to take better care of myself, but I have had a slip on the journey. I still journal and meditate everyday, but my use of #theslightedge and being a #noomnerd is not thriving right now. I want to live in the important, but not urgent quadrant of Steven Covey's 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. I want to make sure that I am eating well and exercising, meditating and journaling. I want to take better care of myself, but the first step in doing so is to acknowledge that sometimes you have to give yourself permission to rest. You have to give yourself permission to be okay with the circumstances life throws at you. You have to give yourself permission to be human - even if that means that you spend a day on the couch resting.

My Confession

Before I share the most horrifying thing that I've ever thought, let me be clear - it was a THOUGHT - not an action. It was a horrible thought at a horrible time in my life and yet one of the BEST things came out of it.

The birth story of my son is one where nearly everything that could go wrong did go wrong - and not just the birth - a lot of things happened in the 6 months after his birth that made it the hardest year of my life.

To start, my son's pregnancy started out with every indication that it wouldn't last. I was a lucky (or not so lucky) woman that had continuous bleeding for the first 16 weeks of the pregnancy. With the miscarriages before my daughter and the one in between my children, I was prepared to lose my son too. When we got to the 24 week viability, I breathed a sigh of relief and carefully scheduled out all my prenatal visits to not interfere with our upcoming move.

I planned to take some time off to be with my daughter right before the 4th of July so that we could participate in swim lessons at the local pool. She had an ear infection and couldn't take the class - but they refunded our money, so we just had some bonding time instead. Then she and and her dad were going to go to a family wedding while I stayed behind to pack.

When my husband and my daughter left for the wedding, I felt well. I had planned what items I could pack up, what items I needed to leave behind, and what items really needed to be thrown away. My dad and stepmom came over and we did things like wash the curtains and hang them back up to dry. There was absolutely no indication that my life would topple in the middle of the night on July 8th, 2012. But - when I woke up, I felt horrible. I had every single symptom of pre-eclampsia. My stepmom and dad had given me a blood pressure monitor - and my numbers skyrocketed. I can't remember the numbers for sure, but I am thinking in the range of 189/120. The pain in my upper right abdomen was awful and my vision suffered. When I called the hospital to see if I should go in, they said, "If you're worried, we can hook you up to the monitor." It was matter-of-fact, no emotion.

I was struggling at this point to figure out how in the world I could love someone as much as I loved my daughter. My thoughts on going to the hospital weren't whether or not the baby growing inside me would survive, but whether I would survive to be there for my daughter.

Once at the hospital, the monitors hooked up, and the baby moving, I got admitted. Indefinitely. My blood pressure wasn't going down and there was absolutely no way that this baby would be born term. In fact, he was born at 30 weeks and 5 days. Two days shy of being able to hold him right away.

The list of things that went wrong with his birth included having pre-eclampsia, my placenta abrupting, my baby not only wrapping the cord around his neck, but also tying a knot in it, and being born 10 weeks before his due date. To quote the doctor, "The baby needed to be born - for both your sake."

The birth story is horrifying, right? But that's not even the worst part of this six month period of time! The worst part was the postpartum depression (PPD) that I still deal with to this day. My PPD started early after delivery. I don't remember much of the first day of my son's life because he was not near me, but I remember anger. I remember rage. I remember sadness. I remember thinking, "maybe I should just use the Safe Haven law," which is the biggest confession that I have. I almost walked away from my baby boy.

Loss

This week, we lost our kitty. He was seven and I had been trusted to care for him by a friend when she could no longer give both of her kitties a good home because he was bullying his sister. Zeus was a cuddly feline at about 9 PM at night and he only bonded well with me and to a certain extent my daughter.

Since this wasn't our first experience with death, it was not too hard to let the kids know when they woke up yesterday morning that Zeus had passed away overnight. My son reacted by blaming his sister (how much brotherly love can one show?). My daughter reacted by saying that she wouldn't talk very much yesterday because she was sad. Then she went on to tell me about her art teacher's goats that had also passed away. 

Zeus is now at peace, which tends to be how I view death. I do mourn the loss of my kitty. I do mourn the loss of my best friend. I do mourn the loss of my grandparents. But I think of the quality of life they had at the end of their lives and I don't mourn their peace. I rejoice that they are no longer suffering. I rejoice that they can no longer have earthly pain. I rejoice in the memories I have shared with them. 

Bravery

Do you ever feel brave? I sure don't. I like things to be stable. I prefer when things are easy. I don't like confrontation. I don't like to admit when I am scared, overwhelmed, or uncertain. There are few people that I confide these things to - and I miss one of the bravest people that I have ever known fiercely.

Last weekend, my family and I went to the play Kazoo by a local playwright, Matt Falduto. The main character loses her mom and the story is about her best friends being there for her and helping her choose the bravery of living. I didn't lose my mom - I lost one of my best friends. She was brave. She fought cancer with a positive attitude, accepted everything that happened, and finally was free of suffering by passing on, but that left an emptiness in me, our circle of friends, and her family that will never be fully gone.

She was brave because she never stopped living. She was brave because she kept living even when she knew the cancer would win. She was brave because she admitted to her doctor that she was sad and crying a lot. She was brave because she asked for help when she needed rides to her appointments. She was brave because she called her close friends and family and said, "I have cancer." She was brave because she fought not one type of cancer, but two types. She was brave because she asked for prayers. She was brave for so many reasons and I want to be brave like she was, but I sure don't feel brave.

I am not fighting cancer. I don't have to be that brave. I need to make some life decisions that require bravery though. I want to be brave enough to quit my job and launch a full-time writing career. I want to be brave enough to not have a steady income. I want to live more courageously. I want to be brave.

Super Skate

I used to skate ALL. THE. TIME. I was never talented enough to skate backwards, but my mom would drop me off on a Saturday afternoon and I would spend the afternoon at the skating rink while she corralled my sister. Then the skating rink closed - and there was nowhere to skate nearby, so I hadn't found myself on skates for more than two decades when I bravely put them on last spring. It's like riding a bike - you may have a few tumbles, but you once you get going, it's second nature.

Remember my persistent daughter - she gets her persistence from her dad - and she nagged all day long to go skating. She did everything I asked her to with minimal complaint and she survived not being able to go to her brother's make up gymnastics class - so I decided that I could take both kids skating tonight. I had never been to the skating rink Super Skate in Cedar Rapids prior to tonight, but both of my kids had been there with daycare.

I knew that I expected an older skating rink, but I didn't expect to have wonderful customer service and a few songs that I actually knew - but none that date back to the Skateland days in Ottumwa. I chose not to skate tonight so that I could do some writing, do some applying to different jobs, and let my children exercise some independence.

Once I got my kids' skates laced up, I sent them out to practice skating. I knew that the snacking question would undoubtedly be asked, so I was proactive and ordered drinks and a cheese pizza for us. When I ordered, the staff were so kind and exceptional at their job. They made me feel welcome. The gesture of turning the menu so I "didn't have to read it sideways." Having a permanent marker to put my name on the lid of my cup, and their smiles made me feel welcome.

Their friendliness was very kind, very genuine - and maybe it's because I look like a tired mother who is just trying to provide some activity for her children, but it was so nice to be at a venue where the customer interaction was of a genuine nature.

I am happy to say that we now have another indoor activity that we can do as a family for the winter and the customer service is exceptional.

Books and Authors

My son says, "By Victoria and Pllbth Kann."

Then I say, "What about Pinkalicious?"

He laughs and then asks, "Mom, who wrote Silly Sally?"

I say, "I think it is written by Audrey Wood."

"What about the Gingerbread Man?"

Okay, kid, now you're stumping mom. I say, "I think it's an Aesop's fable, but I really don't know."

I am proud of him. I am glad that he is recognizing the author as an important part of the story. We talk about the title page, the author and illustrator. He enjoys reading and playing. All of his dramatic play tells a story.

This morning, while I was off doing my own thing, he was off building all the islands and headquarters for Inside Out out of Legos. He plays hard, but when it was time to clean up - he did not want to put the blocks away. I cleared off a shelf so that he can proudly display his masterpiece.

Now, if I could just capture all the wonderful stories he tells me and the emphasis that he puts on the words at exactly the right time, I would have a delightful arrangement of stories to bring humor and warmth to everyone.

Grocery Store Nightmares

It's after school and work on a Friday afternoon and I need to make a fast trip to the grocery store so that we can have something for dinner. I decide to pick up my children and let them go with me. Once there, I realize how big of a mistake this turns out to be.

By five o'clock the stimulant medication for ADHD is long gone and my daughter is ready to dart across a busy parking lot and plow a cart through the store. My son often follows his sister's lead, but thankfully pauses and waits for me to give him the signal to cross the parking lot.

I just want to get soup - just the kind that you pop in the microwave and drink directly from the cup. Near the soup is spaghetti-o's and macaroni. My son wants spaghetti-o's, until he sees the Trolls Easy Mac. My daughter has no desire for anything in this aisle. She wants a Lunchable. We go past chips, desserts ("Marshmallows!"), sunglasses from the Claire's display ("I just want to look at the pretty sunglasses"), bath bombs ("Put that back! We're not getting one"), and finally get to the aisle with the Lunchables. She hates bread - but chooses one with a sandwich. I point this out and she chooses nachos instead.

I'm frustrated at this point. As we work our way back to the front of the store, we see the bins filled with treats of special deals and my daughter pipes up and says, "Can I get a gift for Ms. T? She's so nice and I want to show her that she's special." I say no to the ridiculous requests that make no sense (dog food?), but I let her put an extra box of popcorn in the cart for her teacher and her brother's teacher.

We stand in line. There's something to touch everywhere around us. I give my daughter the directive to unload the cart on to the conveyor belt. Finally, it's our turn to check out and the cashier asks, "How are you doing today?"

I respond with, "I'm wishing I would've just left my children at daycare." As I am taking care of the business transaction, my daughter is right there asking for a sticker or a sucker. She knows the drill - and kindly includes her brother.

In my mind, picking the kids up and taking them with me to do the errands was a way to include them in some of the day-to-day activities of life. However, in reality, I think I'll just leave my kids at daycare next time.

Inside Out

If you have been around animated movies in the last five years, you will know of Frozen for sure, but you will also most likely know the movie Inside Out. Inside Out raised awareness of mental health and brought a really abstract concept to life.

It's Friday. I'm tired - and still not feeling "normal" - so I took the kids to the grocery store to let them find their own dinner tonight. Once home and our highly nutritious meals of Easy Mac and Lunchables were served and the popcorn popped, we settled in to watch Inside Out.

I'm struggling right now. The seasons are changing (heading to fall and then winter in the U.S.) Our daylight hours are much less and I haven't broken out my "Rise and Shine" yet - although I keep thinking that I should. I suffer from seasonal depression. It sucks energy and joy right out of you and all you can feel is sadness.

Inside Out precisely reveals why it is so important to have sadness in our lives - and yet most of us wish we were a little more joyful. Once Joy and Sadness disappear from headquarters, they are fighting like crazy to get back there. I think this demonstrates that those of us who do have depression - be it Seasonal Affective Disorder, Post-partum depression, manic-depressiveness, or any other form of depression, would love to be happy, but the emotions are pulled away from our conscience and anger, fear, and disgust run the show.

Right now, I am living in fear of the unknown. What if my plan doesn't work? What if it does? What if it changes twenty times between now and my deadline? What will happen if we have to move? What will happen if we stay where we're at? What will happen for the benefit of my family? What will happen as a detriment to my family? I can't answer these questions immediately, but I can tell you that my success rate has been 100% so far of getting through both difficult and exciting situations.

I am also angry that life can seem so lopsided in some people's favor. The reality is, though, that everyone has a struggle that they are dealing with and no one knows what someone else is going through. I remember being so mad that we had bought a starter house - and then the economy tanked. Now the trend is to build "tiny houses." Unfortunately for us, the trend didn't come at the right time, but our property is rented out and our tenant has been there for 5 years.

There are many things to be disgusted with in the world too, but generally I get most disgusted with myself because I believe that I should be able to be a superhero and keep everything together. I believe that I shouldn't have emotions, but should be constantly happy. That's not reality - nor would we appreciate the happy ones without the sad ones.

Overwhelmed

I think of the movie Clueless when I think of the word, "overwhelmed." The quote in the movie is, "You can be overwhelmed and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?" I have been overwhelmed for awhile. Occasionally I am underwhelmed (although that's not very often).

The list of reasons that I am overwhelmed include:

1.) Back to School

2.) A child with ADHD

3.) A husband with ADHD

4.) A new supervisor

5.) A mission to become healthier

6.) A desire to quit my job

7.) Being PTA vice president - and the president resigning

8.) Getting my children to daycare

9.) Paying for daycare

10.) A need to write

1.) Back to school means back to routines. It means that bedtime is critical and reading is important (okay - it always is, but sometimes we aren't very good about reading in the summertime). Our routines are categorized into before school and after school and each day I try to engage with my children about their day. Seesaw helps with this. I looked at my daughter's seesaw entry yesterday and wondered if she had meal worms in her class. She gave me an in-depth explanation of them. But remembering those details - even if they're at my fingertips can be overwhelming.

2.) A child with ADHD - This is one thing that overwhelming isn't quite enough of an adjective to describe. It is exhausting. It is frustrating - for both of us - because she literally forgets what she is doing. We're about 4 months into having her take a small does of a stimulant and it helps a lot. The resistance that I got from my husband was high because he was afraid that she'd be treated differently if she had to take medication. I'm more worried about her inability to focus and her distraction to other students when she makes noises she's unaware of. Also, now that her ADHD is more controlled, is it possible that she has anxiety? Sometimes they go hand-in-hand.

3.) A husband with ADHD proves to be a challenge on most days. He focuses on things that are interesting to him, like screens/TV/shows. The have-to stuff gets done, usually. But the projects are never-ending. They get started and then pieces of wood sit around in the dining room for months. We've had pieces of wood to build a sturdier bed frame in our bedroom for YEARS. It is overwhelming. He's attached to stuff (and we both are generational pack rats, but I am proud to say that with the help of some friends I got rid of a dump truck full of junk from our basement in January). Impulsiveness is rampant and I never know what new gadget may be waiting for me on the off chance that he decides to clean out his truck.

4.) A new supervisor is always challenging, but it's even more challenging when there's reorganization going on. There's a lot of invisibility in distance learning (my day job) and up until she became my supervisor there wasn't a lot of love for distance learning. She also went from my peer to my supervisor - so that makes things a little awkward as well.

5.) I am on a mission to be the best version of myself. It is hard. I usually do okay in some areas of health, but not others. For example, my mental health is usually okay, but getting exercise and eating well are not the strong points of my health. I recently finished the audiobook The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and I looked at what was urgent and important in my life and am striving to live the quadrant II lifestyle. But this overwhelms me, because I feel like nothing should ever be urgent and important - unless there is blood, barf, or bullying involved - and that's not how society or my job works.

6.) There is never a good time to quit a job, but as I look at all the job advice out there and have recently taught a class on careers, I want nothing more than to take a huge, huge risk and become unemployed. The fact that I am professional staff and not faculty never made a big difference to me - until I had a conversation with a colleague about how what I did sounded an awful lot like teaching. Couple that with looking into what is in the faculty contract and then reflecting on working in three Learning Management Systems, grading more than 1500 chapter tests in a year, working with school districts, parents, students, and online facilitators - I am overwhelmed.

7.) At the time I was volun-suggested to be the PTA vice president for my children's school this year, I didn't think I would ever have to take the stage, especially not this early in the year, but our PTA president resigned due to personal reasons and the other three of us on the executive committee will be glad when we can host a special election on Monday and get a new leader - because I really don't want to be PTA president this year.

8.) Remember, I have a child with ADHD. Getting her up, out the door, with taking her medicine is usually challenging. Last year, I bribed her with donuts on the Fridays that were paydays. It was a good bonding time, but this year we've changed course and both she and her brother catch the bus from daycare. It's overwhelming to get the kids out the door with their shoes (on the right feet) and socks on and their backpacks. I've got to get myself out the door too - and try to take care of my morning writing and meditation needs. Overwhelming because neither are ready at the same time and by the time one gets to the door, the other is messing around. I know, normal kids, but it takes single step directions for my daughter to get her shoes on, get her backpack, and get to the door. For my son, it takes one!

9.) The cost of daycare is high. By the time I am done paying for daycare, I could probably have financed my entire post-graduate degree. I don't know a single person who wouldn't say the cost of childcare (especially quality childcare) isn't overwhelming.

10.) Finally, I am overwhelmed by the NEED to write. I am overwhelmed by sharing stories with others. See number 6. I want to quit my job, but I want to quit my job so that I can start a freelance career or publish a novel. Or both. The more I write, the more that I need to write.

Maybe while I contemplate all the reasons that I am overwhelmed, I will also contemplate if I can ever just be whelmed.

Justice

We were all tired yesterday. None of us slept well on Saturday night. Me, because I listened to three girls have a cousin sleepover experience; my daughter because she was part of the sleepover; my son because he slept over at Papa's house; and my husband because he took care of the dog in the middle of the night.

The girls went to bed sometime between 10:40 and 11, which for two eight year olds and a nine year old is fairly late. They were also up by 6:30 where they happily fulfilled their desire to make my husband and I breakfast in bed. The intention behind it was good. The reality behind it meant that we had a significant mess in the kitchen and they burnt at least one slice of toast. But, they were very excited to do something that felt adult-like! Memories can't be recreated, but messes can definitely be cleaned up and since the girls only get to spend quality time together, sibling-free, about once a year (or less), I can survive having a mess in my kitchen.

Once everyone was back with their respective families, I noticed a significant neediness from my daughter. She clung to me the way that she does when she's not received enough attention from mom and wants some one-on-one time. There's a few things that we've done - gotten our nails painted, went swimming, visited the library, etc. But there was one thing we never did - until yesterday. We visited Justice. 

Justice is a store that is marketed to preteens. (How the bleep did my little, tiny girl transition into more of a preteen?) She'd been asking me to go to Justice, but never suspected that I would actually take her. When we got to the mall (if you can still call it that with more vacant stores than occupied ones), we entered and her first thought was to ride the carousel. (Now that doesn't sound like a preteen). I walked her to the store and told her to read the title.

"J-u...jus...just...JUSTICE!" Her face lit up and she headed right for the backpacks that have the sequence sewn on to reverse the image. Each section of the store required concentration and silliness of trying on slap bracelets, and investigating how the stuffed animals fit in their carriers. At the puppies and the kitties, she asked how much they were - $9.90, I told her, followed by "You have enough money for the kitty or the puppy (I had given her $10), but not one in the carrier."

My eight year old, in true preteen fashion, replied, "You can put it on your credit card. You have enough money on there." 

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