I don't know if it's the years or the miles...

Today my youngest child turned three. I remembered his birthday sometime Friday evening. Somehow I think the "Mommy of the Year" is going to bypass me again this year. It's not so much that I forgot his birthday, it just snuck (sneaked?) up on me. One day it was October 9th, a few days later it was the 11th... the time in between is a bit blurry (and no, I wasn't drinking... this month). We threw together a dinner party in his honor, invited the family (although only grandparents could attend on such short notice), made cake, served ice cream, and a good time was had by all.

If we only had one child it would be so much different. I remember Chris's first birthday. It was amazingly organized. I set the party date a couple months in advance. The invitations were designed on the computer using MS Publisher. It was a dinosaur theme. I decorated the cake myself. It was homemade carrot cake baked in a dinosaur shaped pan. The cake was delicious and it was a work of art. You should have seen it. The color scheme for the evening was green and orange (to go with the dinosaur theme... being a 4-H Program Coordinator involves some event planning, don't ya know). The dinosaur was green with orange spikes. He was some of my best cake work ever. I made treat bags for all the kids we invited to the party.

We used the good china. I think we may even have used the silver (the real silver silverware, not the stainless steel silver colored silverware). I served homemade raspberry lemonade in an antique glass pitcher. Secretly I marveled over how simple it was planning and throwing kid's parties. I wondered why some moms just gave in and served food from the freezer section (value added product) and glopped store bought frosting on a cake mix cake. I mean really, how hard is it to just put together a simple homemade party?

Fast forward seven years. Can you believe I didn't even think about setting a date for the birthday event until 2 (!!!) days before the kid's birthday? Not only that, I didn't even decorate. There was no party theme, no decorations (unless you count the chair where I piled presents as grandparents arrived), no color scheme, no good china, no silver, no antique pitchers (although I did serve pop out of a plastic bottle). The cake started it's life in a box on the grocery store shelf. Jake came out while I was cleaning the puppy pool and crumbled one edge (about 8") of the cake into a bowl to eat while he was waiting for me to return to the kitchen. I just put extra frosting on that side.

One question that keeps returning to my mind is: Are people with multiple children different than people with no children or only one child? I think they are, which leads to another question: Were these parents different before they had more children? Or did having more children change the parents? I think the children changed us. If Chris were my only child I would not be the woman I am today. If Chris and Sam were my only children I would not be the woman I am today. If I have three more children I will not remain the woman I am today (and really... heaven help us all!). Life's experiences shape us. Things I believed to be vitally important seven years ago (like color schemes for birthday parties) don't even register on my radar for importance today.

Some stuff I thought might be nice (like visiting one on one with grandparents) I now find incredibly, amazingly essential. Keeping a set schedule, providing party favors, decorating the cake with a set pattern (you know, so you can tell that white blob of whipped cream is a puppy instead of an inkblot)... it doesn't really matter. Having our family with us to celebrate Jake's birthday, that's much more essential. Relaxing and enjoying the day instead of stressing over whether the invitations were mailed with the best looking stamp... much more important to my children.

P.S. That pink cake is a Raspberry Cake. All Jake wanted for his birthday was Raspberry Cake. We've never eaten or made a raspberry cake before (at least not that I can remember) but it was his main request. This recipe has raspberry jello powder as well as a package of frozen raspberries baked in the batter. It is more violently pink on the inside than it is on the outside. The frosting is whipped cream mixed with a package of frozen raspberries. The whipped cream really tones down the color. Just in case you were wondering it was delicious :-)

I wasn't sad

I always thought depression was about feeling hopeless and sad. It was about crying at the drop of the hat for no apparent reason. Depression was a deep black hole with no visible exit sign. I was not depressed. I loved my life. I loved my children. I loved my husband. I could see a rosy future in front of all of us.

I also could barely stand to bathe my 2 month old baby by myself. It was so easy to see all the calamities that could befall us. I could slip in water he splashed on the floor. Then I might hit my head. I could be knocked unconscious. My baby, despite my best efforts, could die because of some freak accident. Some car might cartwheel through our yard hitting the bathroom. We could all be crushed when the walls collapsed. Oh my goodness, we won't even go into the scenarios where random acts of violence could be perpetrated against my poor, small, innocent children. But I wasn't sad. I was just a little bit anxious.

I watched other mothers, some with way more children than I had, do a tremendous amount of work in a day. I worked hard all day and yet there were still piles of laundry to fold, dishes to wash, carpets to vacuum, and meals to cook. It seemed like no matter what I did I just was not good at being a housewife. Working with 2 kids in tow felt like trying to run in chest deep mud. My body was slow and heavy. I was lazy, and apparently a poor housekeeper. But I wasn't sad.

When Sam was 9 weeks old my grandmother had cataract surgery. She needed someone to come stay with her the first couple of nights. Since we're all comfortable at Grandma's house I volunteered to bring my little family to visit until she could see well enough to get around. Dave came home early that night and stopped by Grandma's (where I was with the kids). He still needed to go home and pack a bag and I needed to go buy some milk and salad ingredients. Chris was almost 3 and he wanted to stay with Grandma. Since my mom lives just up the road from Grandma and she was on her way home, I called and she offered to stop by and stay with Grandma and Chris. I took Sam, since he was nursing every hour and a half or so, and Dave and took Dave home to pack a bag.

It made sense that while Dave was packing I'd go do the small amount of grocery shopping we needed. Usually when Dave was home I'd leave the kids with him when I went to the store. That day he was in a hurry and didn't want to deal with Sam too. We had a conversation about it and I said I'd take Sam grocery shopping with me. Sometime between our house and the store I forgot that Sam was with me. You hear about mothers "forgetting" their kids in the car and I always assumed that they must have some horrible character fault that enabled them to absentmindedly forget a child.

That's not at all what happened. I walked across that parking lot and into the grocery store thinking about my family, thinking about my baby. I hurried because I didn't want Dave to feed Sam a bottle (I HATE pumping!!).

I saw babies in the store and thought about how Sam compared with their size and weight. It wasn't until I returned to my car that I had even an inkling that Sam was still there. It was as if all the thoughts in my brain were on separate pieces of paper and somehow the page that knew Sam was with me was stuck behind the sheet that had me planning to leave Sam with his dad while I went shopping. I was forgetful, and apparently a horrid mother, but I wasn't sad.

Thinking about it later, I realized that there were several occasions I left the house and forgot where I was going by the time I got to the stop sign on the corner. Usually I just went to the grocery store at that point because I was guaranteed to find something we needed. I also had a hard time reading and getting into the story before I was needed elsewhere. I would rather give up breathing than not read, but I certainly wasn't reading at the rate I did before the baby was born. Before I had Sam I had a photographic memory and as for focus and concentration... well, let's just say I earned the money for my first car working as a labratory technician. I definately didn't have trouble with memory or concentration. After Sam it was different, but I was just distracted and overwhelmed by my inability to be a good housekeeper as well as a mother. I wasn't sad.

I went to see my doctor after THE INCIDENT. From the time Sam was born until after that doctor's visit I had one huge, long, horrible migraine. I assumed that the hormones were to blame (and they were) and so I didn't seek medical attention. After all, it takes a while for everything to get back to normal after you have a baby. After finally seeking help and telling my doctor about THE INCIDENT he prescribed beta blockers to stop vascular spasm (since they're safe while nursing but migraine meds aren't). The migraine stopped 3 days later. I still felt like I was working in deep mud, but at least the pain in my head had stopped.

Dr. Martin also told me not to beat myself up over THE INCIDENT. He told me that the only difference between me and every other mother is that I had a more dramatic occurance when my memory failed. I didn't really believe him, after all I FORGOT MY BABY IN THE CAR!!! How could that be a common occurance? How do you forgot you have a child with you? Dr. Martin suggested that I was suffering from post-partum depression and I didn't believe him. I was worried and sure that my children would have been better off being raised by wolves, but I wasn't sad.

I did a lot of research about sleep deprivation and that did offer me some comfort and explanation for how the memory lapse could occur. It didn't help me sleep better at night or become a better housekeeper, but it did offer some great solutions to make sure nothing similiar ever happened again (now I never put my purse anywhere other than between the smallest child and the door of the car, then I can't get my purse without seeing my child).

I was incredibly tired, my mind obviously wasn't functioning at it's normal capacity. Although I loved my children I kept wondering if they wouldn't be better off in daycare because at least then I'd be bringing money into the family. My skills as a wife, mother, and home maker were not on par with the skills of those around me. Never in my life had I experienced the feeling that I couldn't be the absolute best at anything I chose to do. But I wasn't sad.

One morning I woke up and realized that the laundry was caught up, the dishes were washed, the floors were vacuumed, my children were fed, and we were all playing and laughing together just like all those other families I saw. It seemed to have happened almost overnight. That day I realized that even though I wasn't sad I had been depressed.

About 8 weeks later I commented to my best friend that I'd only had one period since Sam was born. I knew that nursing makes such things irregular but still, I wondered if I should be concerned. Amy suggested (while laughing really hard) that perhaps I should buy a pregnancy test. Of course, she was right and I was pregnant. In fact, I was 8 weeks pregnant. My whole life changed when Jake implanted and the hormones shifted. The depression was gone. I'm positive that Jake was a gift from God, sent just when he was most needed. If Jake hadn't surprised us I would never have chosen to give birth again because I just wasn't as good a mother as others I saw. If I couldn't hold everything together with two children how much worse would it be with three? Thank GOD for Jake.

Jake's 15 1/2 months younger than Sam. My house isn't always spotless. Okay, it's rarely spotless. The laundry isn't always folded, but it is clean. We eat nutritious home-cooked meals and we play together as a family. I go through life towing 3 small children behind me and it doesn't feel like I'm moving in deep mud, it feels like I'm walking with my family.

Before Jake I might not have said this, but I believed it none the less. Depression affects people with weak minds. If you just try a little harder, work a little more, it will go away. It's not true. I have a good mind. At times I even believe I have a great mind. The lesson I learned is that it's not infallible. I was so ashamed of most every aspect of my life that was touched by the depression that I would never talk about it. It's still hard to share my story, but it's made easier because now I realize that even though I wasn't sad I was depressed. If anyone who reads my story sees even a few things that sound like what they're living with now... know that you're not alone. It's hard to talk about depression and so most of us who've experienced it are silent. Every woman should know, depression is not what you think it is. Sometimes it's forgetfulness, sometimes it's a rage that's so tangible you can almost feel it moving underneath your skin seeking a target to aim for, sometimes it's the inability to move without feeling like you're carrying a 100 pound weight with you. Help is out there. Even nursing moms can take some of the depression medications. Life does get better.

The things I put up with

This morning Jake (he's almost 3) came and sat on my lap. He kept opening his mouth and trying to show me something. I couldn't see anything of note going on so I asked him what I could do to help him. He kept mumbling something with his mouth wide open. I finally got him to look at me and quit showing me his mouth. What was he saying? "There's hiccups in my mouf!!!" He thought I could get the hiccups out. I have grown shorter in the eyes of my child. I cannot get the hiccups out of his mouth.

Women everywhere should rejoice!

This evening I watched Sarah Palin accept the Vice Presidential nomination at the Republican National Convention. For several days now I have been reserving judgement about whether she is a good choice as McCain's running mate. Tonight I am certain... I like Sarah Palin. It doesn't matter what goes on in her personal life. This is one tough lady. She stands for reform. Not only does she stand for reform she has a track record that shows she can accomplish it. We live in a country rich in natural resources. She is for using them. What a concept. Her oldest child ships off to war on September 11th. She's for winning that war. Sarah Palin is not part of the old guard political machine- and that works in her favor.

In an earlier post I questioned how she would be recieved by other conservative women. Browsing blogs on the internet I've found that many think her place is at home with her family. I am a stay at home, homeschooling mom. I believe God called me to stay home and he gifted me with some special children who really need me here. I don't think God gives every woman the same calling. I don't think God gives the same calling to every mother. There are women out there who serve an even greater good. There are women like Sarah Palin.

Today I spent some time reading up on Darfur. The plight of the Sudanese people really moved me. We are so lucky to live here. In the United States we are incredibly safe compared to some other regions of the world. The day to day struggles we face are not usually struggles to simply survive. We take that for granted.

A mother in Darfur would most likely be willing to do anything to make her home safer. I celebrate that we have the opportunity to voice differing opinions on a wide variety of subjects in my country. How lucky am I that I can choose to stay home and educate my children in the manner I believe is best for them? How lucky am I that many people fought and died in order to give me the freedom to criticize my government? Not only can I criticize my government I can change my government. Yes, that's right; I have that power. And so do you.

Sarah Palin is one tough lady. Her campaign platform, while running for Governor in Alaska, was to reform corrupt government and give the power back to the people. And she did it. Motherhood doesn't make us weak and put us at the mercy of others, without our own voice. It makes us strong. Motherhood clarifys our purpose in life. It makes us question what we need to do in order to ensure survival and safety for our children. Sometimes it gives us reason to stand for something, and risk everything, because it's in the best interests of our children. I cannot criticize this woman for not staying home and postponing her career. She has a message, and an imperative to move forward in political office. She is a driving force for change, for honesty, and for common sense. She is working not just to raise her children, but to improve the world they live in, on a very grand scale.

Naked Children

Have you ever had company over and then looked at your own house and family with new eyes and been astonished at what you see? It amazes me how many truly odd things we take for granted around here. My children (the 2 youngest) are always naked. Why does that not seem odd in the normal couse of events? Almost always anyway. Last night we had company over for dinner. Before we were finished eating our dinners... there was a full moon out. It was Jake. He just can't possibly use the toilet and leave his clothes on. And once they're off why would he think to put them back on? It's not like it's cold here or anything.

There are two microscopes in our living room. They've been there for as long as I can remember. I even use them sometimes while identifying fungi or making sure the animals or kids don't have parasites (because I'm really creeped out by parasites). One wall of the room is floor to ceiling bookcases (20' long by 8' tall). The opposite wall houses the entertainment center which is also full of books. There are books on and under every table in the room. There are even baskets of books on the fireplace hearth. In an earthquake it's the books that would kill us.

Even the walls in the living room aren't exempt; we have pictures of naked ladies painted by my grandfather (badly) as well as a lovely aerial photograph of the house and land taken before the area became so built up. There are photographs of my children as well as pictures taken of my grandparents and mother when they were all young. The Playboy calendar has moved to the shop sometime within the past seven years.

Of course there are also toys everywhere. I noticed a Transformer in the midst of the figurine shelf. There is was between the Three Graces, David, and Venus (minus her arms). Modern art meets classical I guess.

Palin for Vice President

I grew up in a house where it was emphasized that not only were women equal to men- they were competitive with men. If a man could do a job then a woman could do it better. My mother was one of five women studying animal science at her university when she was an undergrad. One of five females in a large department taught only by men. She had a lot to prove. My adviser was also my father's adviser when he was an undergrad (or possibly the professor he worked under while obtaining his master's.. I get confused). Dr. Bull told me (also an animal science major) that there was a lot of competition in this field. There are not nearly as many jobs available as there are college freshmen majoring in animal science. He also told me that if you were the top of your field there would always be positions available to you. Mom never lacked for job offers (or higher education offers).

So, as I was listening to yesterdays news, and learning about McCain's choice of VP, my feelings were mixed. First, I'm thrilled to think there may be a woman in the White House. I'm even more thrilled to think that the woman elected may be an advocate of wise use of natural resources (vs. no use or overuse). It's a benefit even that this woman isn't a career politician. She's a real woman, like me. She's a business owner, a wife, and a mom. She's even the mom of a special needs kid. She is a lot like us (all the women in the 30- 40 year age bracket).

And therein lies my ambivalence. She's a mother of 5. One of them is less than a year old and has Down's Syndrome. When I think how much like the rest of us she is, I worry. I worry because her children will change so much while she's in office (if she's elected). I worry that the needs of a developmentally challenged toddler will be difficult to balance with the needs of a nation. I worry that her marriage will be strained by the demands of her job and her family. I worry about a host of issues that would affect me and my marriage if I were the woman running for office.

Is that fair? It did briefly cross my mind when I saw how young Obama's children are that he might be a little bit young to be President. However, I didn't have the myriad of concerns I feel when I think about Palin (Of course there's no way I'm voting for Obama either). I am disappointed in myself. Just because I choose to stay home with my children (and boy am I ever home with my children now) doesn't mean that other women need to do the same thing. I'm sure Palin has very good childcare (and probably more flexibility in her schedule than most working moms). I'm positive that she thought long and hard about the challenges running for public office would create for her family.

There's no reason to question her ability to balance family and work unless we're prepared to question Obama's ability to balance both as well. Why is it automatically assumed that women are the sex who need to accomodate everyone's needs? Isn't it possible that her husband could just as easily meet the children's needs while she's working as Michelle Obama can care for the Obama children? If I worked and my husband stayed home and cared for our lovely offspring would that make me less responsible as a mother? Would it make him less responsible as a husband? Heavy social prejudices raise questions in my own mind about how well this election will turn out. It should be interesting to see what the rest of the conservative moms have to say. Will it be possible for them to "forgive" this mother for being something that the rest of us don't even have the energy to aspire to? Or will the conservative women be able to embrace this woman, so like us and yet different, and really support her running for office?

What my mother didn't teach me

I spent all day today working on the house and fall cleaning. As I was discovering the joys of ammonia in a cleaning solution the recurring thought running through my mind was, why didn't my mother teach me how to clean house? Isn't that what mothers do? Teach their daughters how to keep house? Truly, who else do you learn these skills from? Everything I know about cleaning I learned from a college roomate, the mother of one of my 4-H kids, and our old next door neighbor.

In the years I've been a mother I've come to understand that there are two types of women, the stick mop women and the down on their knees scrubbing the floor type of women. The women in my family have always been the sponge and stick mop type of women. I never really understood the appeal of crawling around on your hands and knees while scrubbing the kitchen floor. Today (after meeting my new friend ammonia) I finally understand. It's really dirty down there. There's sticky stuff that resembles strawberry jam around the bottom of all the baseboards (and we have house cleaners come in every two weeks, I shudder to think what it would be like without them!!!). The table legs have deposits on them that resemble inkblots. Red Kool-Aid powder has coated everything (seriously, even on the plant shelves). I thought I was doing a fine job cleaning with my handy sponge mop, but I barely even touched the surface of the dirt. Why didn't my mom show me how to truly clean while I was a teenager and living at home?

Well, let me try to remember back.... hmm.... I remember Mom working a lot. She worked really physically hard every day at her job as a USDA, FSIS red meat inspector. We spent a lot of time doing the 4-H thing. Every Saturday morning we did the laundry, mopped the kitchen floor (with a sponge/stick mop), and vacuumed.

Hmmm.... maybe Mom taught me other important things. Cleaning's not the most fun thing I've ever learned and I sure wish I knew what I was doing before things got built up, but it's possible that the things Mom did teach me were more important and more relevant to our lives. She did teach me how to give shots (subcutaneous, intramuscular, and intrvaenous). She taught me how to turn transverse lambs so that we had one end or the other presenting for delivery instead of the back. She also taught me how to figure out which legs went with which triplet. She taught me how to divide perennials and how to start willow cuttings to make new trees. She taught me to saddle my own horse, and how to train a new horse to load in the trailer. She taught me everything I know about herding and handling critters, whether they're sheep, dogs, horses, or kids (the human variety as well as the goat variety). She taught me never to loose my cool during an emergency because that helps no one. She taught me that fences can be mended but trees won't survive a girdling (or to be precise, they won't survive if movement of water and nutrients through the phloem and xyleum is disrupted in a circle completely around the tree). She taught me that rainbows are light reflections through water drops and you see out of your eyes because of a complex arrangement of cones and reflectors (although I really wanted to know what the world would look like through someone else's eyes).

It is entirely possible that I am better off for having had to learn how to clean late in my life.