Dear Caleb

I can't say this will be appropriate to share in it's entirety with my sweet boy but it's to him, about him and how much he is cherished so I'm going to write it that way. It's also to all those mommy's out there who have struggled with how they felt about their baby during pregnancy (and maybe even after for a bit).


My dear Caleb,
I can't believe you are ONE today! I have to admit, I'm quite proud I survived it! Some days you and your sister (more your sister) can be quite a handful. It makes me sad that time seems to go by more and more quickly the older I get, and especially since becoming a mom, but boy do I love to watch you grow everyday!  Just try not grow up on us too fast, C-love, k?

I honestly didn't know it was possibly to have this much love. I was raised as an only child. When your daddy and I decided to have another baby, and I found out about a month after that you were working on growing into that little baby, I felt a bit guilty. Rylie was only 11 months old and I felt I didn't have enough time with her, just us. She was my world and I worried how I could possibly split my time and energy but most of all my love. I had nothing to base how to do any of this on. I had all my mom's love and attention, I didn't have to share her with anyone. All I could think was, how do parents do this?!

It wasn't long after this when I accepted that daddy didn't just drink too much, he was in fact an alcoholic. I realized that there was a good chance he wouldn't be in recovery by the time you arrived. I realized he may never be and I realized I would have to go through another pregnancy without all the TLC mommy's to be deserve. I became anxious and I began to resent the decision to have you. The more I realized just how bad daddy's drinking was and just how many lies had actually been told over the past couple years, I began to feel trapped. I was pregnant, with a 1 year old, no longer employed and I had recently taken vows which I take very seriously (even if no one knew daddy and I were married yet). Feeling trapped and resenting you, because you were the easiest one to take all these mixed up emotions out on, turned into wishing I wasn't even pregnant. I just couldn't handle it all. One thought on repeat was, I can't take care of two babies on my own without a job. I just didn't know what to do.

As I felt this way on and off the entire 9 months I was desperate to feel more of a bond before you were born, I was also terrified I would suffer from postpartum depression because I was already so depressed over the situation I was in and felt I had no way out of. I felt so GUILTY. I felt I was a horrible mom and person for feeling this way about an innocent unborn baby, MY baby! Moreso, I was beside myself with fear that these feelings would still be there after you were born and I wouldn't love you. A part of me thought, well, maybe I will find a way to love him but there's no way I will love him like Rylie, because she is my baby.

I was an awful mommy. Or, I felt I was. I lost more sleep than usual over these fears and the unrelenting guilt that came along with them. I cried at nearly every OB appointment, I was so anxious I even considered medication despite being pregnant, I was rarely happy.  I was a wreck.

I did find joy in feeling you kick and move. I loved hearing you were healthy and seeing the ultrasounds. I was relieved when the prenatal tests came back good and I was overjoyed that you were a BOY! We both wanted a boy so badly. But daddy's drinking was real bad then, so I often felt the resentment more than the joy. I thought for sure with all the stress I was under you were going to come early, or at least a couple weeks before your due date. So, when you decided to hold out until your exact due date I was frustrated and oh so ready!

Like your sister, labor was pretty easy, especially since I knew what to expect. Well, I knew what to expect up until the moment you were born and I held you in my arms, because I didn't expect my heart to skip a beat when I saw you! Not literally skip a beat, but it was as if time stopped and in that instant this wave crashed over me and all that love I feared having to share was this silly concept I never thought of again. My heart grew, my love doubled and I was absolutely, without a doubt, unequivocally in love. And I was so relieved. I already had a plan with my doctor not to stay at the hospital more than 24 hours. I was nervous about your sister and wanted to get you home and start adjusting to life with two (for what felt like) on my own. Then there was the next thing I didn't expect. Your tiny sister, became this giant kid! She was so little she was still rear facing in her car seat, yet she felt like she grew double her size in those 24 hours. And, so our journey with 2 under 2 began, with my sweet little boy and my giant toddler.

You were a dream baby. You slept pretty well. Granted, you slept in the swing in our room until about 4 months because of your reflux but you slept, which made you my dream baby! In no time we saw how sweet you were. It's the only word I can find to describe you over and over. Once you started smiling that's all you did. People asked if you ever cried and always remarked how you were always smiling...and always had your tongue out :-p You were patient as your sister demanded my attention but were quick to snatch up your cuddle time. I loved every second I got to snuggle with you, still do. I told daddy not to "ruin you" so I don't think you got as much bonding time with him as sister did. He only knows how to fly and throw you guys around and I wanted to keep you sweet and gentle and not turn you into a little wild child like sister is. I think it worked, or maybe you were just born this way, but sweet you remain and I don't think that will change. Some day, many, many, MANY years from now, you will make one lucky lady very happy.

Until then, I don't care if daddy calls you a mama's boy because you are my sweet little boy! Love is simply not near a strong enough a word to describe how my heart melts when I see you. Your smile lights up my life and gives me hope. My heart breaks when I hear you cry because my smiley, sweet boy never cries so I think something really awful must have happened. Daddy reminds me, "he's fine". I could hug you and kiss those little cheeks all day and at night when you fall asleep on my shoulder...that must be a bit of what heaven feels like. I'm sure of it. I never dreamed this is what having two children would be like, but I sure am happy you filled my heart with more love than I knew was possible, just when I needed it most. Don't ever let anyone tell you different, everything happens for a reason, everything. You are a true blessing my love. You fill my heart with joy and this joy gives me hope. Please always know that you are loved and cherished and always will be.

My dear sweet boy, Happy 1st Birthday!

May you be blessed with many more and a lifetime of memories to cherish as much as I have cherished your first year.

playing at the park on actual birthday 

I've Learned...

I love reading those words to live by type art works you can buy at Target or anywhere really. I always want to buy one but often there's just one line that I think, ehh, that's not really me. So, I am going to make my own; a way to have something in print for my kids about some of the things that are important to me; and something I can come back to and read on difficult days. Despite having learned a lot and wanting to pass what I've learned and value on to my kids, I sometimes forget to live out loud some of the more important lessons and things I believe in. I'm sure I'll be able to add to this list, maybe even change it, as I continue to grow because one thing I learned is I didn't actually know everything at 24, like I thought, so I'm sure the same goes a decade later. Though, I'm now smart enough to realize I don't know it all!

I tend to get caught up in my anger, my lack of trust, my exhaustion. My thoughts trick me into second guessing things, I judge when I don't want to, including myself. So, I figure a shortish version of the things I've learned without the commentary is the perfect solution, plus, I don't have anywhere to hang one of those not so perfect ones from Target so where better than to hang my personal life lessons learned than in my blog?

In no particular order of importance, though because I'm obsessed with organization, I did attempt to organize it a bit!

Dear self, please don't forget.....

Most things important I really did learn in Kindergarten! Tell the truth, be respectful, treat others the way you want to be treated, don't hit, don't kick, take naps. Share. Be polite, say "please" and "thank you". And it probably isn't a good idea to run with scissors, or with lollipops in your mouth. I've learned that the classic, if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all is better phrased, say what you mean, mean what you say, but do your best not to be mean. Say you're sorry if you hurt someones feelings. Forgive. Fight for those who can't fight for themselves. Justice is not an eye for an eye, if it were, we would all be blind. Do the right thing solely because it's the right thing to do, no other reason. Don't judge others until you've walked in their shoes. Reminder, it's not possible to walk in another's shoes. Be compassionate. Be yourself. Don't pretend to be someone you're not to make others happy. Don't forget to laugh. Do things that make you happy. Happiness for me includes yoga, traveling, writing, reading a good book, watching a good movie, playing with my kids, adult dinners out, Shabbat services, visiting friends, going to the beach, winning at roulette!

Learn from people who are different than you. Never stop learning, education is the key to EVERYTHING, it bridges barriers between those who are different and reduces hate. Teach others what you know. Education may not make you rich or even successful but it's the only thing that combats ignorance. Knowledge is power. Power is not the key to gaining respect. Respect and fear are not the same thing. More money won't make you happy, it simply allows you to pay for things you want and need without stress. Don't believe everything you hear. History always repeats itself so learn it. Learn about politics, even if just a little. There are people who are mean, vengeful, who lie, cheat, steal, take advantage of the goodness in others.... stay away from these people, even if they are family. Blood is not always thicker than water. If someone doesn't like you/love you, move on. Choose your friends wisely. Choose any person you want to be a part of your life with care. Don't be afraid to distance yourself from people who do not make you happy or unhealthy relationships. When you find love, true love, don't let it go. No matter your religion or if you do not believe in the institution of religion, read 1 Corinthians 13:4 because this is what love is.

Be kind, give to charity, volunteer, plant trees, especially if you need to cut one down. Don't be wasteful; of water, food, energy, anything; there are far too many who need what you waste. Dream big, set your goals high, don't be afraid to fail. If you fail once, try again. If you're not good at something, find something you are good at. Give all you have to the things you believe in. Nobody is perfect. There will always be someone who is better than you at, at least, one thing. Be humble. NEVER give up. Be a good sport. Always strive to win but don't be afraid to lose. There's a lesson to learn from everything.  Everything happens for a reason.  Give people a second chance; rather than fooled once shame on them fooled twice shame on you go with the 3 strike rule. Help those in need. Treat animals with respect. Don't disrespect the elderly; listen to them, learn from them. When a loved one is about to depart from this existence, say goodbye and hold their hand; send them off in peace, knowing they are loved, not for you, for them. Grief sucks. Know your family history. You can't know where you're going if you don't know where you came from. Respect your children; not just because they will be the ones to take care of you one day. Take care of yourself. Believe in yourself. Believe you can do great things.

God is Everywhere

Driving long distances is always a self talk overload for me. A round trip, on my own with the kids, in less than 24 hours, for a funeral, is the epitome of thought overload though. I'm not surprised by my meltdown, frustrations and anger that overflowed today after not being able to find the time to write, until now, after such an overload. Now, I have to try to remember it all because as always, I find what I write in my head, especially while driving (with the kids asleep), to be much more beautiful than what I ever seem to pour out here. But out it must come because I don't like the mean, angry, annoyed, short tempered mommy, wife, Jaci one bit.

Death is a part of life and I'm okay with that. I've always been. I haven't experienced much death in my life though either. I also tend to believe if a person is older, at least 85  in my mind, and their health has been failing, mentally and/or physically and if they feel they have led a happy, wonderful life then I shouldn't feel sad per se. If they were at peace or "ready", as ready as one can ever be when facing death, then I'm okay.  I feel their life should be celebrated. I do cry when I see the pain of others though, even in these cases. I cried for Craig's pain at the sudden death of his grandma a couple years ago. Despite her age, it was unexpected. I cried for him again and for my mother in law a year after at the passing of his other grandma, who met my "criteria" for why we should celebrate her life. I didn't know my grandma, I was only 5 when she was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's in her 40's. She passed when I was near;y 12, but she was already gone for a long time and it was very painful for my family to see her like that. I cried for my Pap when he lost his best friend and brother, my (great) Uncle Schmully. And I didn't really know my Uncle Jimmy well, who just passed. I don't know most of my dad's side of the family very well, but I know he'd been in poor health for years and was dealt a pretty crappy hand in life. He fought a lot of adversity but I never heard him complain. He always asked about me and my family and genuinely cared which always meant so much to me. I pray he's at peace but my heart hurts for my grandma. I can't imagine losing a child at any age, under any circumstances. And that's all I know of death really.... Except for my Pap.

I used to talk about my Pap all the time. There wasn't a person in my life who didn't know him, personally or from my stories. And they all loved him too, they all called him Pap. I think I can safely say he was the most important person in my life for a very long time, along with my mom, of course. He passed last Father's Day and as I try to grieve this loss, I often wonder if the ache and emptiness will ever subside. So, I try not to think of it. I smile when I look at the pictures of him I have around. I smile when I'm driving and think of some of the funny (and terrifying) times in the car with him. I smile because he gave me so much and I'm so thankful he was a significant part of my life. I always knew I was loved because his love never faltered. I always knew I had someone I could count on because he never let me down. I look at my kids sometimes and think, they won't know him, and my heart aches. I want to cry, I tear up, but I fight it because I'm afraid I won't ever be able to stop the tears.

All these thoughts talked to me on my drive back home. Maybe funerals will always result in such thoughts now, now that I've felt the pain of death. But my thoughts of death took a turn as I thought of my Pap and some of our talks and stories.

Going to church always leaves me very confused. I've never been able to wrap my head around some of the things that are said and I simply don't understand what some words and concepts even mean. Once again, I pondered many of the things I just didn't understand after the Catholic mass I attended for my uncle's funeral and this always brings me back to why and how I turned to my faith as a Jew. I was born a Jew, just like my mom and her mom and her mom's mom and so on and so on. I always knew and felt I was a Jew, despite not being raised Jewish or even having many of my questions sufficiently answered growing up. (This is a long story not for this post.) So, all these thoughts were swirling around together with my Pap and my mind wondered to one of my favorite memories with my Pap.

I had finished grad school and moved back to my hometown after recently returning from Israel. I was living with my Pap, again. I was working on my Israel scrapbook and as we had a couple times in my life, my Pap and I started to talk about God. My Pap was raised as an Orthodox Jew but had many embarrassing and unpleasant memories growing up that he had shared with me over the years. Combine that with my grandma getting sick and losing her so young, it was no secret he questioned God's existence. He, I feel safe saying though he never said these exact words, was angry with God for a very long time, probably still when he passed which makes me sad. Seeing his so angry when he passed on is one of the most difficult things for me to move past. But as I glowed, as only a person can after being in Israel (in my opinion), I excitedly told him about my trip, showed him the pictures, talked about him coming with me next time and proudly got his approval upon finishing each page, somehow our conversation turned to God. Not exactly a far stretch considering the topic but the part I remember the most went like this...



Pap: How do you know God exists?
Me: I don't know, I just do.
Pap: Well, where is He?
Me: Everywhere.









He looked at me with his beautiful hazel eyes and I could see both pain and pride.

Sometimes I'm surprised by this response. I didn't even think about my responses to these questions. The words just came out naturally. Maybe because I was still on my high from being in Israel, the culmination of a couple year whirlwind of finding myself as Jew, "catching up" I like to call it. Maybe it was because of the Kabbalah picture I bought from a wonderful man named Avraham (I think) in Tzfat means just that, God is everywhere and that was deeply moving to me. All I know is I'm not big on talking about God. It sort of makes me uncomfortable actually. I like to have my own relationship with God and I tend to just leave it with that. But this conversation has so much meaning for me. When I think about my words, they were quite powerful. The idea that God is everywhere is difficult for many to reconcile when dealing with things like death, for instance. I'd imagine that was the look of pain in my Pap's eyes. Wondering how God was there when my grandma got sick, so young and with so much life left to live. The look of pride, I believe, was because no matter what he felt, despite all that anger towards God and all that sadness, he was a Jew. Jews can't change being Jewish.  Sure, we can convert, it's not all that common though. Most simply lead secular lives if they choose not to practice. But being Jewish is more than a religion, which many don't understand. It's an ethnicity, a culture, a way of life and he was proud that I found my way.

As I smiled at this fond memory, filled with a multitude of meaning that my talk could take in more directions than I could keep up with (thankfully it's just one long road home) I had to pull it all together. Why did my thoughts go this direction considering I started off being utterly perplexed by the Catholic mass? All I could figure was to understand something I can't, my brain had to find something comforting to wrap around. Otherwise, I would get lost. Being Jewish is fundamentally who I am, it's comforting to remember who I am. With life being so uncertain in my home, I tend to feel lost often and easily. So, I figure this was my Pap reminding me of what I once reminded him, even if he didn't quite buy it... God is everywhere, you don't even have to look. Now I realize my Pap will always be with me, which is also comforting. And because of this memory, my Pap will always be able to remind me that I don't have to feel lost.

I just hope it doesn't have to take a death or attending mass to let my Pap in more often. It still hurts, I miss him so much, but I believe this is what us therapists call Acceptance in the stages of grief. I can't go back, and I can't stay here, so the only place to go is forward.

Control is an Illusion

It's not everyday my husband makes an accurate observation about  me and says something that makes me stop, think and then feel a bit better. Granted, it's not everyday I get to talk to him about anything of substance either. I previously mentioned (in Truth) my fear of having potential trigger conversations, so we tend to stick to sports, tv shows we watch, his job and the kids... but not parenting decisions because those can definitely be treading in dangerous water. More like our poop conversations, silly things they do, what to feed them, schedules... We all know parenting is so much more than this, marriage is more than this, but when addiction is part of the family and you're terrified of jeopardizing recovery efforts, you hold back. Well, I hold back. So, I've been holding on to that fear in the back of my head, that fear I think most parents have at some point, if not immediately, after seeing, holding or maybe even finding out you're going to be a parent .... what will happen to her (them) if something happens to me? This may be a passing thought for some parents, some simply get their will together and don't think about it too much again, but living with an addict makes this a heart crushing fear for me, numbing even at times. Adding to the mix that I'm a Jew and our kids are being raised Jewish puts a whole new spin on the anxiety of, what will happen?

Craig and I have actually had this conversation a few times over the past couple of years, though it often results in a disagreement and/or simply ends without a decision. I completed  a will online prior to my son arriving but was a bit frustrated that they had an area for details on how I want my dog cared for but not my kids. Nope, no details of my wishes on how I want them reaied, just insert names in priority order, I mean, seriously? I guess they figure whoever you list would know your wishes but I want them written, because the written word never dies. Well, unless it's tossed or destroyed, but it makes me feel better that it's in black and white in a legal document. People are forgetful and these are MY kids! I probably could go to a lawyer and not legalzoom.com too, but that's beside the point.

So, I never did file it and that fear continued to weigh on me and it would become compounded with each drink my husband took. I'm a planner, I like things to be in order, as much as they can be anyway. Really, all you can do is plan since you never know if things will work out how you want, plan or expect them to. I could be a poster child for planning and things not quite working out as expected. Despite being a planner, I have procrastinated one of the most important things a parent needs to plan, making sure things are in order should the unthinkable happen. While I certainly don't dread or linger on thoughts of a premature death, I do worry about what would happen to my babies more often than I care to think about it. Things remind me of how fragile life is almost daily. A blog I read (have mentioned a few times) helps mom's diagnosed with cancer so I read these stories. I worked with a young mom fighting breast cancer, a former teacher with 4 young children just passed a couple months ago, I watch movies like, Life As We Know It and shows such as Law and Order SVU or Criminal Minds or heck, I read the news, and it all reminds not to take life for granted. Then every time addiction rears it's ugly face in our home that fear is at the surface again coupled with all these reminders in the back of my head.There's the obvious fear of what can happen to these two precious little beings God entrusted to me if they grow up with an active alcoholic, but it's that numbing, heart crushing fear of what will happen to them if I'm not there to protect them.

I rack my brain over and over....who will protect them, who will teach them the values I want instilled, who will raise them Jewish?

All of these things are vitally important to me and while I'm sure most could manage protecting them, even instilling most or all of the values I find important, I have no one who can do all three. So, I worry, I fear and I become anxious over something that is 100% out of my control. That's exactly what Craig made me realize; what I'm trying to do is control something I simply can't control. I'm trying to control how my kids would be raised if I couldn't be the one who raised them. Sounds even more ridiculous when I write it.

One thing recovery teaches is, you can only control your own decisions. I can't control what anyone else does and if I can't control what others do while I'm here I sure as heck can't control it if I'm gone! I honestly never even looked at this situation that has been incredibly trying for me as a control issue, until he pointed it out. It was a very freeing feeling. So, as a couple and as parents, we talked, for quite a bit, and he even had some really great ideas for me to do; concrete plans even. If I sound a bit astounded by this, it's because I was! Like I said, these serious types of conversations are not common and Craig helping me emotionally to relieve a bit of stress, fear and anxiety, versus being the source, is even less common. So, I took a deep breath.... I've needed a lot of those these past few days as I work to stop trying to control something I didn't know I was trying to control to begin with. Now, rather than worry I have been trying accept that all I can do is make a decision, express my desires as clearly as possible and pray what I want is respected by whoever we choose.

Despite the specific issue that burdens me, as I read this I see a bigger theme. This all sounds very recoveryish. I'm still not really feeling the whole Al Anon thing but what Craig said came straight from his meetings and control is certainly a common topic with my online Al Anon group. I've been to therapy myself a number of times throughout the years, I've provided therapy for others, I know these things. I know I can't control what other's do, the choices they make. Logically, I get it. But life with an addict feels so completely out of control and unpredictable nearly all of the time. For a few years I've been desperate to control anything I can, so it's still a difficult concept to grasp or more so accept, especially when it's about my kids and their future; their lives. Craig sure nailed it this time though, made me stop and think.There's still things to decide and conversations to have but maybe this recovery thing isn't so bad. I fear being hopeful which is what recovery means to me, but letting go of the illusion of control... I think I can start there.

Insomnia

After over 36 hours of not writing, the euphoria of releasing some major emotions has worn off and today has been pressing on me. That's what it feels like, like this weight on my shoulders I can't shake which makes me more irritable and less able to deal with the mundane. Well, the pressing and antsy feeling started last night but I couldn't do much to alleviate it since I couldn't keep my eyes open, literally, they were closing while I looked for a new laptop, because writing on an i Pad SUCKS! Anyway, I forced myself to go to bed at 9:30 and the insomnia and tossing prevailed, again., as usual. I know insomnia is something many people suffer from but I also know many people who go to sleep and wake up the next morning. Every time I think of such a thing, sleeping a whole night, it makes me shake my head in disbelief. For me it's the equivalent of attempting to read Chinese, it's simply a concept I can not wrap my head around, and for most of my life it's also something I have longed for and been envious of others who have the miraculous ability to sleep.

Yup, I said most of my life, so all the advice givers out there, it's not from the abundant stress that engulfs my life or the fact that my daughter seems to be plagued with this same inability to sleep, though neither of those things help the chronic insomniac either! I've been to a sleep doctor, talked to countless regular doctors I've had over the years and I've tried every medication from over the counter to prescription narcotics. I've tried painting my room a relaxing color, getting things for my room to make it a calming place, not watching tv before bed, listening to music, yoga,  reading, deep breaths, reciting a variety of mantras in my head such as, relax, sleep, relax, sleep. The list is endless, I've read every article that crosses my path, asked others what they do, you name it. NOTHING works. I used to get annoyed when I would complain about my insomnia while pregnant, when it was at it's worst, because people would say, oh it's your body getting ready for the baby, oh just wait until the baby is here or, I totally understand, I couldn't sleep when I was pregnant either. No matter how I responded that this wasn't something new or how badly I wanted to yell, really, you couldn't sleep just those few measly months when you were pregnant, I'd take 9 months over 29 years ANY DAY and even secretly thought, there is NO WAY a baby can make this worse, I realized that these wonderful people, full of good intentions, were simply  trying to provide support. I was grateful for that, so I would smile and accept it because just as I can't wrap my brain around the idea of what it would be like to sleep through the night, those sweet people couldn't wrap their heads around the concept of not sleeping, ever.

I can remember my multiple night wakings as early as age 8. Perhaps because I was traumatized, on more than on occasion, by the neighbors who I could see in their kitchen from my bedroom window, walking around naked, naked and eating. It was difficult to get that image out of my head to fall back asleep, sometimes it keeps me awake now! Probably will tonight since I just thought if it, damn. Note: if you walk around naked in your house, close the curtains! Anyway, the next memory of waking up numerous times per night was when we lived with my Pap a few years later. I remember recurring nightmares about deer, yes, as in Bambi. I saw my first dead deer on the side of the highway around then, or at least it was the first one I remember seeing. Maybe I couldn't see out the car window until I was 11! (Yes, I'm perfectly comfortable taking a crack at myself for being vertically challenged)  Either way, I used to have a nightmare that Bambi and his friends were pissed at us humans for hitting them with our cars/taking over their homes with our roads so they would come stampeding into the house. That was scary enough to wake me so there's no more to the nightmare for all you Freudians and Adlerians out there trying to analyze it right now.  There are other nightmares that used to wake me at various times in my life and years which I just don't have many memories of. Though, I know I used to wake up and climb in my mom's bed many nights during those years, so the same pattern of not sleeping is evident even if I can't recall all the nights. Now in college, I slept great! But as I said in another post, my college life is for another post, another time.

Skip over some more years of sleepless nights, which is when many of the doctors and medications came into play, including at one point a hefty cocktail of antidepressants, anti anxiety and sleeping pills as I fought through letting my emotions spiral out of control following my first miscarriage. That lovely drug cocktail resulted in hallucinations, then a change in the sleeping pill and then a max of 4 hours of sleep at a time, which is damn good for me! I was able to pull myself together long enough for all those medications to eventually become a thing of the past and THEN.... my first child arrived. And now, I laugh at that previous secret thought that there is NO WAY a baby can make a chronic insomniacs sleep worse. It never crossed my mind that my perfect little baby would choose to eat, cry, want comforted, lose her binky, scream, talk, bark like a dog, sing or otherwise decide sleep wasn't necessary all during those precious hours of sleep I would get in between my multiple wakings and/or inability to fall asleep. I guess I thought she would get on board with my sleep issues and just be up when I was up or better yet, I had this crazy idea that she would just, well, sleep. Isn't that what babies and kids do at night? I thought that's where that saying, he sleeps like a baby, came from. That silly phrase gave me this false notion that all babies sleep, soundly, eventually anyway. I also have a close friend whose daughters both slept 12 hours a night from 6 weeks on. No one really ever told me any different so what did I know. I didn't hear of sleep training or Dr. Ferber and CIO until I realized most of out darlings don't just figure out that sleep thing on their own. By then, I was so sleep deprived I thought I would feel insane forever.

Again, I hear all the well intentioned mommy's and doctor's.... do you have a routine, stick to it, let her cry, don't pick her up, pick her up but put her back down as soon as she's calm but before she falls asleep, play music, get a nightlight, give her a lovey, take all distractions out of her bed...... Blah, blah, blah. Everything contradicted because everyone has a way that works.The best thing I've heard was from our last pediatrician at Rylie's 2 year check up. Rather than going through the whole spiel about her sleep issues, I simply said, and she still doesn't sleep. She sings and barks like a dog and talks for about 3 hours 3 or 4 nights per week and naps well, but she doesn't sleep, even if she doesn't nap. She finally knew us well enough to stop spewing all the same b.s. she tells every other parent that complains about their child's sleep. Instead, she smiled and said, "she'll make a great surgeon someday. This is just the way she is, she doesn't need a lot of sleep'. Freaking great! The chronic insomniac is blessed with a vampire child. What luck! (vampire as in the Twilight vampires, I think others might sleep, in case that wasn't clear) But, after spending a year and a 1/2 following every sleep idea out there by the book, dotting every i and crossing every t, this way of looking at it enabled me to let it go, well eventually. I was as anal as a parent could be with sleep training and when one thing didn't work after a realistic shot, I was anal about the next. It was frustrating and exhausting! I relayed my daughters sleep issues to our new doctor recently and I smugly smiled inside by the way she looked at me as I nodded at her advice and sporadically responded, we've done that, yup, okay, sure... Yeah lady, we'll try a routine, umhmmm, like we haven't done all that! The smug smile came from knowing what she wanted to say to me was, yeah right, you're not being consistent, just like all the other parents who say it doesn't work. But what I didn't tell her was that I  was a behavior specialist when I had my first child, that I lived and breathed consistency, taught it, earned a living by implementing consistent routines for the families I worked with and for children with much more challenging behaviors than this. I didn't tell her this, I just smiled when she gave me this advice and after I mentioned Rylie did well in our bed but we transitioned her back to hers and it's bad again, one of the last things she said was, keep her in her bed. A week later, after about 2-3 broken up hours of sleep per night for weeks, our daughter is now nice and cozy in the middle of our big king bed. After 2 and 1/2 years of "doing it by the book" I said to hell with it, and about 1/2 the time she does that thing I can't comprehend, she sleeps through the night. The other half she bugs us and keeps us up as usual, but I'll take 1/2 the time over week after week after week of my few precious hours of sleep being stripped away along with the little sanity I have left.

Caffeine can only get you by for so long. And all you fix it people out there who just had an 'ah ha' moment, I've tried the no caffeine thing too, still, no sleep. Actually, I've only been hooked on caffeine for about 5 years so that's not the problem. I even tried a no yeast diet once, and while I felt good, healthy, it didn't do a thing to help my sleep. Truly, I've tried about everything except electroshock therapy. So, I will continue to be a glutton for caffeine and sugar because I NEED it to cope, and to survive! Seriously though, bottom line, every child is different and every parent NEEDS sleep; multiple hours at one time sort of  sleep. In my case, even if it's just my normal 1-2 hours before waking up, it's still critical to survival; my survival, my kids survival, and especially the dog's survival (who is another post for another day as well). So, mommy's and daddy's, do what works for you and your family as far as sleep goes, because EVERYONE will have an opinion and there will always be those who don't agree with what you choose, but parenting is hard enough so caring about those who disagree is a waste of the precious energy I need to keep up with my two little monsters. And anyone who says parenting isn't hard as heck must have kids that sleep 10-12 hours a night "like a baby" or, they are flat out lying because there's a million other things that make it tough, but without sleep it's just plain old miserable. I'll tell ya, it's not so bad when you get some sleep though, and I know my little girl isn't going to want to cuddle with us forever.

PS- I'm in no way saying I don't appreciate all the support and advice from all my mommy's out there! I tried pretty much everything you all have suggested over the years and I thank you!!!

Another POOPY Day in Paradise

Despite what is a clear overdose of caffeine and sugar which might imply today has sucked, it's actually been a good, happy and even productive day thus far. Guess the 'Truth' really can set you free. Of course, the warm sun in early February doesn't hurt either. Well, except when I think of the poor bears all confused and coming out of hibernation much too soon, but that's a major digression in my head chatter, sorry.... Back to my happy poopy day, which I believe all mommy's with two (or more) in diapers can attest, even the best of days still can be called poopy days! Oh yes, poop fills my days, my thoughts and conversations now that I'm a mom. Mostly the poop conversations are with my husband, but really anyone who will listen, and of course there is the almost daily exclamation of, holy God, how does that come out of your little body?! even though my little ones obviously can't explain this baffling phenomenon to me. And yes, 2 & 1/2 years later, I am still baffled.

Since I continued to have my mind boggled by poop daily I of course have to share with my husband throughout the day. Common texts include.... What did you feed this child? My God, this kid's diaper could wake the dead! Seriously, another shit? You're changing diapers all weekend. And if he's in charge I'm still thinking about poop while away... Has she pooped yet? How bad was it? What? No more cheese! Oh the list goes on and on. Upon walking in the door, it's not uncommon that the first thing one of us says has to do with poop. It's not uncommon to call each other for the sole purpose of discussing the kid's poop. We laugh about the kid's poop, we worry about the kids poop, Craig gags at the kid's poop and at the worst of times I've had to obtain samples of my dear daughter's poop, on a couple of occasions. I mean, seriously, there's GOT to be a better way to run tests on a kid's poop! If you never had to do this, I won't disgust you with details. If you're not a parent you are probably feeling a bit nauseated by now anyway or at least uncomfortable with the use of the word poop being used so often and freely. Less than 3 years ago I would have probably been both. If you are a parent, well, you are probably nodding and even laughing as you start to reminisce about all of your poop stories. Oh the poop stories we have!

Some parents save their babies first tiny shoes or cap, we saved the little book I used to keep track of our first born's feeding, peeing and pooping for the first few weeks. Yes, we were like most impressionable new parents and actually kept track of that nonsense! I'll never forget Craig's reaction when he came home after my first day on my own and I showed him that list. He thought I made it up! How do babies poop 12 times in a day?! My gosh, why don't people tell you this BEFORE the baby arrives? I'm convinced that we as mommy's are a little devious that way and secretly get a laugh out of the anticipation of new mommy's finding this out for themselves. I'll admit to secretly laughing in my head at this thought when friends tell me they are expecting for the first time, but I also talk about the poop. Hiding such things from these happy soon to be mommy's is just plain mean because lets face it, there's a hell of a lot about mommy hood no one can be prepared for so let's not hide the poop! Thankfully, we are past the newborn days in this house and if I can help it we will not be revisiting those 12 poops per day ever again. Yet, for soon to be parents out there, the poop gets worse, yes, worse.... much, much worse! For instance, yesterday was one of those out loud exclamations of Holy God... sort of days. By nap time my day was full of poop, 5 to be exact, FIVE in 4 hours. No, no one is sick (that I can tell) it was a perfectly normal type of poop sort of day. What boggled my mind, more than usual, was that the main culprit, HE who I won't embarrass in 15 years by using his name, has been an all out PITA when it comes to eating for the past few days. (Pain In The Ass, yup I lovingly call my kids pita's) Seriously though, how is it possible to poop 3 times in 4 hours, with another one for good measure last night, when you are barely eating?! The funny part is it's the other one we worry about. Those of you who know us know my daughter has had a variety of digestive issues since birth. Both my kids are reflux babies which they are not "outgrowing" but Rylie, in my opinion, (despite doctors never wanting the mom's expertise) seems to have IBS (irritable bowel). Since she is an extremely picky eater we are constantly having to keep track of how she's pooping to add more of something or less of something, thus the no more cheese text mentioned above.

As you can see, I feel it's realistic to guesstimate that 50% our days here in the Hoosier house consist of thinking about, talking about and changing poop. Any future mommy's out there, have no fear there's plenty of other fun things to fill the other 50% of your thoughts and conversations. I mentioned the reflux in this house so puke is an issue from time to time. Speaking of puke, Rylie hit a milestone last week.. her first major puking episode... in the car... for no reason. I had just been reading reviews a month or so before trying to decide what big boy car seat to buy my son and one commented about not being able to get puke out from the base of the seat and I thought, I wonder what's wrong with their kid for this to ever be an issue, they must get car sick, mine don't so no biggie. So, I bought that one. Of course there's pee too. A few days ago, just before bedtime, I went to put my son's pj's on and found a surprise poop. The surprise ones are lots of fun. In the 30 seconds it took me to go grab an extra wipe I came back to his surprised little expression. As we both looked down, in that instant of me realizing what his cute expression was about he realized what fun it would be to kick his feet in the puddle. I mentioned this was at bedtime, right? Oh and Craig was out at a work dinner. How do single mom's do this?! Bless their hearts. Then there's the tantrums, the toddler practicing her wrestling moves on the newly mobile baby, the spitting and throwing food, the grabbing the dogs nub (we have a boxer) and hearing "butt", yup, you just touched the dog's butt hole, that's right baby, fabulous.There's the taking your best guess to stop the damn screaming as to whether they are sick, teething, in pain, too hot, too cold, want held, want put down, are tired, or just being a plain old PITA! Trust me, the lists are endless for things you can fill the other 50% of your thoughts and conversations with, but I'm here to be honest, and poop is a huge part of parenthood! At least right now it is.

Sometimes I fear that my honesty about parenthood may somehow result in a population crisis someday, you know if all the people I tell these stories to plus if some 1 million people read this...hey, anything is possible, so just in case I thought some giggles might help.
Well, it's a beautiful day and I'm running out of nap time freedom so I better go clean up all the dog poop in the yard. Yup, just another poopy day in paradise!

PS- Craig was very upset I left out the farts, he specifically said, What about the farts, what about the farts?! You have to talk about the farts!
Yes, yes, the farts. Truth: You can hear tiny little 6lb babies fart from across the room. I'm talking old man farts. If someone would have told me that 3 years ago I would not have believed them. Hmm, maybe that's why no one warned us.

Truth

Most days I feel like my life is an illusion to the majority of people watching. Maybe no one is watching, at the very least, not many people read these posts, which I'm okay with. I started writing again for myself because to be honest, I don't really do anything else for myself anymore. Well, with the the exception of ensuring my obsession with sweets and caffeine is satiated daily! I read some good advice last night from another blogger who is "making it" and she said, show up every day and write for yourself, the people will come. If they (you) come, wonderful, I really do hope the things I write about can someday help someone other than myself in someway! but if not, that's okay too. I'm still going to be here and that is a start to breaking down this illusion, and building a life of truth I can be proud of. When I started this blog I told myself I wouldn't write this post, not for a long time anyway. I didn't feel it was mine to write but it is, because it's my life, and unfortunately the life of thousands of others. If we all decided it wasn't our story to tell then we would all continue to feel helplessly and hopelessly alone.

I've always heard others say, every family has secrets. I'd venture to guess that throughout my family there are many; many that are unbeknown to me, but it's my little family of four I think of when I hear someone say that now because we have barely been surviving with our "secret" for far too long. I told my husband I was going to write this and his eyes went wide as he realized what that meant and said, for the blog?! I said, Yes, Craig, for the blog. What's the point of having a blog I say is about all the thoughts in my head and being honest about those thoughts if I'm going to leave out the biggest part? I reminded him of the blog that inspired me to write again and to be honest and open, to share rather than hide and he nodded, reluctantly, but he nodded. Despite his (and my) fear and hesitation over this post, we both know that our secret is one that plagues too many families and ruins too many lives and if I'm serious about this being my self therapy, which can hopefully help others someday, well, it all comes back to... if not now, when, right? So, deep breath, here's me taking off the kid gloves when it comes to walking the walk....

I live with an addict, an alcoholic, and anyone else who lives this life can attest that life with an alcoholic (any addict) is pure misery. Perhaps some who believe in such a place might call it hell. My life, like yours, for those living with an addict, has been swallowed up in lies. The endless lies my alcoholic tells to the lies or half truths I tell to keep this secret; a secret I kept or denied to myself for years, in part out of fear that people knowing the truth would just make him drink more. In part, because I didn't want to hear what others had to say, or feel their judgements. In part, because I thought I could fix him myself, by loving him, shouldn't that be enough? I smile as I write that because as a former therapist I am fully aware of the irrationality of that belief and I know like the rest of us know, an addict has to WANT to change and no one and nothing can do that for them. Those words mean nothing to those of us who love an addict though, do they? They also say an addict needs to hit "rock bottom" (whatever that may be) to want this change... I believe we who love them need to hit that same rock bottom, and mine is now. Mine is in excepting that the love for my addict, my husband, is completely overshadowed by resentment, even hate at times, anger that is more of a fury than just plain old anger, fear of the possibility of raising our kids without him, fear of raising them with him, and desperate longing for the life I know we could have, if only......

We've all lived in that "if only" wonderland, it's what keeps us here for those who don't understand why we don't just leave. My husband, like so many alcoholics, is very successful in his career, never misses a day of work even when he was getting drunk most nights. He's a wonderful father, when he's sober. The kids both excitedly run or crawl towards the door as soon as they hear him come home. He gets up with them on the weekends so I can sleep in, helps with baths, helps with dinner, changes diapers, plays with them, hugs them, loves them. When he is sober, he is a wonderful husband and father. He also has never been violent, though I tend to use this as an excuse to stay. For those of you who are saying, this is my life or was my life, you know as well as I do that just because we are thankful that we are not in a physically abusive situation, those hurtful, hate filled drunken words your addict says ring through your head and heart every day and every night. They are there even when you are sitting next to the man you fell in love with, not only when you are screaming hate filled words back at the drunk man you wish you never met.  Some days I wish that when I woke up I could forget those words like he does, go back, like they never happened. But they did and they cut like a knife and I scowl as that childhood riddle comes to mind... sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.... because some words do hurt and some are damn near impossible to forgive. Unfortunately for me, forgiveness has never been one of my more endearing qualities. I hold grudges and I remember and I hurt.

Though more than wishing I could forget, I feel trapped. Trapped like I am trying to claw my way out of a tower with nothing to grip to start my climb, with the walls closing in on me and no one can hear me scream. Except of course my kids when I yell over something as trivial as my toddler making a mess, just like she's supposed to be doing. My patience is low and some days I feel like I can barely breathe. Like a trapped animal, scared, this often evolves into unparalleled anger. I slam kitchen cabinets to make myself feel better but would prefer to take the dishes and smash them outside. I'm easily frustrated and angry and inside yelling at myself, there's no reason for this little thing to make you angry, get a grip! So, I eat a cupcake or go buy a white mocha (or both) and I'm okay. Some days I actually get anxiety if there isn't something sweet in the house. Thankfully I was blessed with good genes and a high metabolism! My daughter actually says coffee or cupcake every time we pull into a parking lot now which I can't help but giggle at just a bit. Bottom line is, my babies don't deserve a mean mommy just because I can't handle this life with an addict.  I feel many are stronger than I am, can handle this myriad of emotions more gracefully, with less anger, with less resentment, with less yelling! That's never been my personality though. My mom calls me "passionate about the things I love". So, I try to tell myself, I must REALLY love my husband! I also know fear can cause equally passionate emotions in people, so I worry my inability to handle things less dramatically is more out of fear than love. It's very difficult to remember the person you love when the addict becomes that person because there is no love for the addict. Like the rest of you living this life, I don't hate my husband, I hate what alcohol has done to him but I especially hate what it has done to me. The only time I remember having such anger was when I used to drink, a lot, in college. It's part of many reasons why I rarely have even one drink now. I didn't like that person I was then (another post at another time) and I don't like the person I have become now either.

Some may be thinking, you need to get some help, you need to leave, you need to do something.... Please don't judge though, it's always easy to look in from the outside and say what you would do.  But do you really know what you would do? No one can know, therefore you would just be assuming and we all know what assumptions are... I used to think I would know too, until it became my life. I'm still trying to figure it out day by day. Isn't that what recovery is, day by day? On January 2, 2012 my husband decided, after a three day binge which the kids and I didn't stay around to watch, that he reached the point where he couldn't stand what he saw when he looked in the mirror and that he wanted to get better. He's started the slow recovery process and has found a meeting that helps but he has slipped in these 5 short weeks and it's these slips I find myself unable to deal with. The hope of recovery is just that, hope. The disappointment of losing him to a bottle for a day or two is indescribably devastating because crushing ones hope over and over again leaves one hopeless. He has said he waned to stop before  but never acted on those words and never really meant them. So while he works to recover from this disease that traps everyone, not just the addict, I'm trying to figure out how to recover too. The issues of trust, trying to move past the years of lies, secrecy and pain along with the inability to communicate about anything of substance, for fear the wrong thing will drive him to drink, is all consuming. Without family or our close friends anywhere nearby, without having become a part of the Jewish community here yet like I had planned to (we moved out of state 5 months ago), without any time for ourselves because as any parent with young children knows, they take up every waking minute (and when we are lucky, sleeping minute too) all I have come up with to help myself on my road of recovering from life with an addict is writing. I know there are a lot of people just like me out there. So, if my writing can help me recover, maybe it can give you hope too. And maybe when your hope is crushed like mine has been so many times over, you won't feel hopeless and alone, because you're not.


Thank you in advance for your comments being respectful rather than judgmental.

I WORK, I WORK!

I started my blog with a post about admiring people who walk the walk and don't just talk the talk. I then followed up with a preachy sort of post. While I made sure to include that I am far from perfect, because I'm not, the things I preached are all values I hold dear and truly strive to live by day to day. As such, I often (sometimes multiple times per day) reflect on how not only my actions but also my thoughts/self talk are meshing with these values.  Because really, negative thoughts send out just as much negative energy as actions do. I think so anyway. So, the other day when I was filling out a survey and I became extremely agitated when asked if I was a, "student, employed or unemployed" and my head when into overdrive screaming... I WORK, dammit, I WORK, I thought that might be a good time to reflect on why this question continually makes me so annoyed, even angry.

My chatter immediately was rambling on about how I work harder now than I ever did when I was employed. At least when I was employed I got a break from my current "job" when I left the house to go to work. Now my job is a 24/7, 365 days per year with no vacation, EVER. I lie, in the past 31 months I have had 2 days worth of vacation (zero days since becoming a mom of two nearly a year ago). There are many reasons for this....see future posts. So, while I'm fully aware the basis of being "employed" implies getting a monetary paycheck on a regular basis I don't see why I can't check employed just because I get paid irregularly through giggles, heartbreaking smiles and hearing my oldest child tell her baby brother, "I love you" for the first time. Which, by the way, happened the night this reflection began! But, my angry chatter wasn't alleviated by this thought as I got the overwhelming desire to yell, Hey, until I had kids I had a job and/or was a student every day since I was 16 years old! And quite a few times I didn't even get paid for this work! (internships and Americorps) Not to mention babysitting jobs since I was 12. My brain took a break from the defensive screaming at, well, at no one really, and I realized that checking unemployed makes me feel like I'm lazy or should be doing more, or more so, I feel like others think I am lazy for being unemployed. Some of you may think I'm overreacting, maybe I am, it wouldn't be the first time, but this actually happens more than an employed person may realize (more than I realized when I was able to check one of the other options anyway). Every application I fill out; medical, insurance, surveys for whatever, even the First Baby Study I participate in asks this question. Actually, that study asks if I'm happy with my employment status, or maybe it's if I'm currently seeking employment, either way, ahhhhhhh, (screaming at no one commences again)  now I'm really lazy because I don't even care to find employment! I swear people, I WORK!

Since I realize this frustration is coming from my annoyance at what others may think of me, I wonder how I may have always thought of people who are unemployed to bring about this reaction. Since I try very hard not to judge people, even if just in my head, this concerns me and I'm back to thinking, damn, I'm one of those talk the talk people again. I am in no way insinuating that people who are unemployed are lazy, truly, I don't believe this, I'm not a Republican.... dammit, there's that judgement and negative energy, is it still negative energy if it made me giggle a bit? Seriously though, I realize not EVERY person of a certain political party believes the exact same things so it is an unfair blanket judgement to make. (I'm trying, really I am) As usual, I digressed....  Anyway, back to what I think of those who are unemployed. There are many reasons for being unemployed and I believe most are legit (many these days are very sad stories) but I'm also realistic and know that many people do associate unemployment with laziness or a lack of desire to work and that must be where my possible overreaction to this question is stemming from.  I quietly process this for a moment... And the first thing that comes to mind is the image of a man standing on a corner at a stop light holding a sign that says "help, will work for food" or something along those lines.  I always wonder what his story is, if it's a sad one, or if he's scamming people. My heart tells me it's probably a sad one but I've been "trained" to believe it's some sort of scam and they will use the money for drugs or alcohol. I'm usually home, unaware of my commute, by the time I let these thoughts go...until next time.

I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this being what I first think of when I think of the word unemployed and my brain takes a bit of a turn, but still with those images. I remember my first trip to NYC, before they "cleaned up the streets". I was overwhelmed by the homeless (unemployed) and would have gone broke giving everyone a dollar had my friends not pointed out my naivety. I can't remember giving money to the homeless since (though I'm sure "my bleeding heart" has at some point since 1997).  I did however give food to the homeless when I lived in Miami, where I was also overwhelmed by the homeless population.There was this amazing pizza place that gave you way too much to eat in one sitting and it was cut in squares so I would leave the two or so pieces I couldn't eat by someone who was sleeping under a palm tree on my way to work or home. I also remember working around the holidays, it may have been Christmas. A coworker and I packaged up all the left over food into about 10-12 containers (I worked at TGI Fridays) and we walked around after work until they were all gone. It was one of the most rewarding things I've ever done. The eyes (of those who were awake) lit up with genuine gratitude. It's making me smile just remembering those eyes as I think of this long lost memory. It also makes me remember that I'm not such a bad person, even if I do struggle with "always" walking the walk. (Always is in quotes because all encompassing words like that simply don't exist)

Despite realizing that my desire to shout at these people, I WORK, I WORK comes more from my fear of what others think of me, I also realize it equally stems from what I think of myself. Deep down I do feel like I should be doing more than being a stay at home mom. I don't think I should feel guilty for feeling that way, but I do. That relentless mommy guilt my friends requires another post, or two, or ten, so for now my solution.... I think there should be a "stay at home mom" option to check on those forms so all of us who work our asses off all day, every day, don't have to go through this debate which leads to guilt (irrational guilt or not) for doing what I still believe (despite feeling I should be doing more) is THE MOST important job there is.

My most recent paycheck....

New thought based on a recent status update on Facebook....Maybe I should start a change.org petition, Include SAHM as a viable "work" option, even for resume updates when/if we return to work outside of the home....Would you sign it?