I realized today, thinking to myself, that I have a hang up about perfection. Not that I’m trying to achieve it, but that there are certain things that Must Be Done A Certain Way and that’s just not accurate.
This came around because I want to take the kids to storytime, but we don’t have the time, energy, or space to make it part of his routine. But like, does it have to be A Routine in order to be worthwhile? Yeah, he probably could benefit from a weekly or biweekly storytime routine, but we could also just …. go to storytime.
We could go to the park just to go to the park and not as a part of Building His Routine.
I was poking at why I feel this way about routines and their importance, and I realized how much pressure we’ve been under because of his behaviour to Build Him A Routine. “If he knows what to expect he will be less chaotic” I hear all the damn time- from his home teacher, from his OT therapist, from his pediatrician, from the internet and moms in the grocery market. “Just build him a routine and he’ll get better” but like. That’s not true? Life is chaos. Not just mine, life as a whole is just crazy. And I’m not saying a routine wouldn’t help, but it helps nobody if he never does anything ever because I can’t do it every day. Brushing teeth sometimes is better than never. Eating vegetables- better sometimes than never. I can’t think of any positive thing where it’s better to never do it than only do it sometimes!
I’m doing my best but I’m tired and overwhelmed. I need to find a better routine for me, I think XD
I’m gonna see what I can come up with for how to ease some of this stress in my brain.
So I don’t talk a lot on here about my eating disorder, because I try not to think too much about my eating disorder, but ARFID is sort of awful. Objectively. It’s just terrible. But exposure to foods I won’t eat is a major part of my therapy, and I do a lot of that through cooking for other people.
Today’s experimental recipe was thin sliced pork (very thin, like for hot pot) and eggplant with sauce. I quartered the eggplant and then sliced it into like 1/2cm slices. Then I soaked those while I prepped the sauce and everything. I fried the pork up, then added the eggplant and cooked it until it was golden, mixed it all thoroughly together, and then added my favorite sauce (1 tbsp sake, 3/4 tbsp soy sauce, 1/2 tbsp sugar, and 1 tsp chicken granules. Increase as needed for the amount of food you’re cooking) and cooked it all together.
Apparently, it was tasty as heck! I’m rather proud of that one.
Today’s Bentos: I only photographed one, but made two.
Eggplant and pork over rice with takuan (daikon) and pickled cucumber salad.
The second bento was teriyaki chicken with gyoza on rice. I got to play with my little flower veggie cutters so they both got decorated with little flowers cut out of carrot, but that was after I took the picture. XD
I’m trying to find a word for this year’s endeavors, and I know in the past I’ve used very dynamic active words, but I’m so tired. I feel like if I burn for this year, I’m going to be left ashes and dust. I want to sleep the whole year, and I know that’s a big part of my life right now because I have a new baby and a toddler and three big kids and a small business and a life, but I’m actively working on finding something to help me through the year.
Self care is hard right now, just because so much stuff is going on and I’m juggling a million things- and some of those are plastic and some of those are glass, and I feel like every time I drop a plastic ball (something I can pick up later, that I can drop without breaking) someone tosses me a glass one (something I cannot drop and pick up later, that will break if I drop it).
I have so many things I want to do this year- preserving and cooking, life survival skills, improving and enhancing my business, and taking care of my family and myself. I want to do some new hobbies- fabric basket weaving sounds fun. Gardening sounds nice, and Josh would love it if we had a garden. I want to build a new firepit for outdoor cooking. I want to go to events and meet people and have a social life again.
But when? How? I’m so tired I cannot function in my daily life. My house feels like I’m losing a game of Jumanji, all empty boxes and giant mosquitoes (okay, not actually mosquitoes).
“Rest” might be a good word but I cannot in good conscience choose a word I know I won’t manage, at least for another six to nine months (Under One is not a good age for ‘resting’).
What do you think, friends? What’s a good goal word?
So we’re trying to potty train Ian, who has decided that he does not want to. Not just does not want to, but Refuses™. He will sit on the potty, pee, and then put on a clean diaper, and immediately poop in it.
I’m very tired.
Kellen is teething (has it been four months already???) and has two leetle teeths showing up in his bottom gums.
The big kids are doing well too- middle school and high school agrees with them!
September 23, 2023, on Mabon no less, our Kellen joined us Earthside!
I was at work (at a wonderful local event called Paganfest), and about 430p I decided to head home- I was having contractions, and I couldn’t keep my Customer Service Face through them and I figured my customers would not appreciate me having to stop and make faces while it passed so I headed home.
Slight backstory, Kellen has been flippy floppy since he started moving- alternating head down, breech, transverse, oblique, just all over the place. So on the 23rd, I called my midwives, and even as they were palpating him (did I use the right word?) he was literally flipping under their hands. My delightful lead midwife finally was just like “Look, I think we should see if we can jump start labor, so the contractions can pin him in place and we can at least make a plan.” Her theory was he either had a very short umbilical cord which was keeping him from descending properly, or a very LONG umbilical cord which was resulting in him getting tangled.
One (very gross) castor oil milkshake later, I was heading out of the clinic about 715p. I chugged the (exceedingly gross) shake, which was actually almond butter, castor oil, and some herbs and had nothing in common with a milkshake at all, and I wasn’t even out of the driveway when the first contraction hit.
Was it the castor oil? Maybe. Maybe it was also all the poking and prodding we were doing on my belly, or maybe he just finally decided it was time. Regardless, I wasn’t even 100 yards down the driveway in the car when the first contraction hit and I gasped with intensity. They continued throughout the 20 minute drive home, every 4 or 5 minutes (instead of every 20-40) and so intense I was moaning to cope (a great resource, by the way. Make some noise up in here!)
By the time I got home, I had to have help getting upstairs to my room. I really should have just called the midwives at that point, but I was thinking this was going to be like Ian’s birth- six hours of labor, working him down and opening up and all that jazz.
I was, uh. Mistaken.
Ayla (who is 11) wanted to be at the birth, and Josh (14) sort of got roped into helping during the first half. Kaeli (11) absolutely realized what was happening, patted my arm awkwardly and said “I’m gonna take Ian downstairs, good luck” and fled like monsters nipped her heels XD
While my beloved wonderful husband made the bed up, finished up last minute things, ect, Josh rubbed my back and held my hand and murmured soothing words during the lesser contractions, and summoned Brian (amazing husband, and I realize I forgot to tell you guys who he was!) when they started to get more intense and I needed more intensive support.
Josh did, however, bail at some point. I don’t remember him leaving, to be completely honest. (No shame! He did amazing while he was there, but he didn’t want to be present to begin with!)
Ayla quickly found her rhythm for support- every contraction, she would sing along with my playlist in her sweet voice, and she would tuck our stuffed Wolf plush under my hands to give me something to hold while I groaned and moaned through the wave. (I recall listening during one contraction while I was focusing and she turned to Josh and laughingly said “There’s more moaning than I thought there would be!”)
When I hit what was (unbeknownst to me) transition, I was bouncing on my toes during the height of the wave, and getting a little wobbly in my vocalizations, and Ayla very seriously looked at me when it ended and said “I think these are getting a little out of control for you, Mom.” I remember laughing a little breathlessly and answering her with “I think you’re right!”
I get ahead of myself, though! When the waves were 1-2 minutes apart and so intense I was a little lightheaded, Ayla insisted I call the midwives, and Brian agreed, and then while we looked for the phone, my water broke. According to my texts, that was at 947p, which seems sincerely shocking.
No more denying it now!
Chelsea, the amazing (technically student) midwife who arrived first was watching the situation, and reassured me several times that I was doing fine, which was good because this was remarkably fast- as in, she arrived about 955p? I think? I’m going to have to ask. I didn’t really look at the clock, to be honest. But she was closest and arrived first, and shortly after she arrived, I decided it was pool time. My sister arrived as well for photos about the same time, and a few times had to hold my arms to support me while Brian and Chelsea got the liner in the pool and the water flowing.
The pool didn’t even have time to fill. I had a wave of a different nature, and I went from low moans to a feral growl, and glanced up at Chelsea, who was watching me completely calm. “I think…. I might need to push???” I said, completely confused because it was really really fast. She nodded, didn’t miss a blink, and said “Then push.”
“Am I ready? What if I’m not fully open?” “It wouldn’t feel good if you weren’t ready. If you feel good, do it.”
I made it into the pool when it was about 2/3 full, not even fully full, and then my midwife Kayla came up the stairs pulling gloves on and then I was distracted. I pushed, literally ONCE, and then I looked up, startled, because I was crowning. It was literally that fast.
“Uh, guys? Baby’s here.” No response (that I heard, but I was distracted.) “Guys? Baby’s here RIGHT NOW.”
Brian, who was right there with me, put his hand down to check where the baby’s head was, and then I pushed again and he was here, just that fast- born at 10:10pm, less than three hours from that (really disgusting) milkshake! Kayla didn’t even have time to get into my bedroom.
Turns out she wins the jackpot- his cord was VERY long, 47″ long to be exact, almost four feet. It was wrapped about his neck (not tightly, just coiled) and tangled around his body.
He didn’t catch his breath immediately, and Kayla (who was right by the pool by now) scooped him up, unwrapped him quickly, and then gave him a “kiss” to clear his throat and then he was in the clear, just the tiniest little bit of liquid in his throat.
We cuddled in the pool for a bit while everyone came in for a visit (we had family over to help with the event and so the house was more full than usual) and everyone came in (which was awkward, only a little, as I was naked in a pool of bloody water) to greet Kellen and congratulate me.
The placenta took a little longer to come out than expected, and then for the first time Ayla got uncomfortable. Apparently during all our prep for labor and birth and everything…. I, uh, forgot to prep her for that. She was really good about it, but definitely preferred to keep her distance.
Then we had our beautiful quiet family time, while the midwives cleaned up everything, emptied the pool, all the stuff we were not able to do. A quiet hour or so, and then we had newborn measures and weights, some more pictures, my exam, all that fun stuff, and by 1am they were heading out for the night with hugs and goodbyes, and we had the space to ourselves!
(Side note: Brian went downstairs to tell family that the baby was here, and Dave woke up just long enough to smile lopsided, say “That was fast! Congratulations!” and then go right back to sleep, which I found incredibly funny.)
He was born at 7lbs 9oz, 20.5″ long, and quite wonderful, under the care of Chelsea, Kayla, and Aubrey.
And now I have a new wonderful screamy potato baby.
I’ve been struggling with Ian going through a toddler phase. Which makes sense, since he’s a toddler, but he’s been a screaming biting throwing things toddler, and he refuses to eat, and he refuses to listen.
I was reading old blog posts, and it turns out Josh went through a similar phase of rage and hateful behaviours. Kaeli also refused to eat. He’s not some abnormal screambeast, he’s just a toddler, and I had just forgotten.
I’ve been lax at posting, because four kids and a business make for complicated times. But this pregnancy is driving me bonkers.
Being pregnant in your 40’s is different than in your twenties, and I’ve been exhausted. We had a rough start with a subchorionic hematoma that had some bleeding in the beginning of this pregnancy, but otherwise it’s been very dull. Everything normal, everything simple.
Until now.
So a) this baby is breech at 31 weeks, so we’re looking into Spinning Babies to flip his stubborn butt, and possibly another ECV like his brother.
And b) we’ve been using the same midwives we used last time, who were a wonderful, attentive clinic for Ian’s birth. But this time around, I’ve been feeling neglected and brushed off? It’s not great. And then last week, they announced that in spite of being hired on as a home birth midwife, they will not be doing home births any more. With two months left on my schedule. “But!” they tell me reassuringly, “We’ve talked to some local home birth midwives and they’re offering discounts/prorates for people to transfer care to them for home births!”
This is not true. What they did was just (reluctantly) inform me today that what I need to do is to “call around” and “let people know what happened” and basically hope they take pity on me. Five clinics I called, and four of them didn’t even know about this situation. I’ve been offered some very generous discounts- $1000 off the fees, payment plans- but when my total is still $4000, due by 36 weeks (five weeks from now!!!) it’s as unachievable as the moon.
I’m endlessly frustrated right now.
So we might wind up having a birth center birth, which is going to require so much more planning and finding babysitters and climbing the stairs when I get done because – oh yeah! We moved! Into a larger house with more room for the whole family. But our house is now three stories (basement, ground, and second) and my room is, of course, on the second floor. So I get to climb the stairs immediately after birth.
Well, I’ll make the best of this. I’m just /tableflip angry about it.
It’s been an amazingly difficult year. I haven’t updated much, and I know that.
I chose, last year, the word Nourish for my yearly dedication. I didn’t realize how vital that would be to our existence this year.
This year, we had a global pandemic that took away our ability to visit friends, go to places, or see loved ones. We had a political fiasco and crisis in the form of a fraught and frightening election.
I also started eating disorder treatment.
So nourishing my body became a vital thing, something we focused hard on. We worked on eating regularly, on choosing foods based on their energy density and how they made me feel, instead of on what was ‘right’ or ‘good’. We worked on removing moral judgements from bodies and food.
We’re still working on all that.
We also worked on nourishing our relationships as a family, growing into a new phase of parenthood and relationship and growth.
And the time has come to again think of a word, something to carry me through the year.
I’ll think about it over the next week and see what I can find.
Love to you all, be safe, and have an amazing day.
Ian wound up in hospital for three days, because his doctor felt that he wasn’t growing fast enough.
Mind you, this doesn’t bother me. However, instead of explaining “Oh, he’s growing slower than we anticipated, and delayed growth can sometimes be a sign of metabolic issues, and can cause developmental delays,” all he would say was “He’s not gaining weight.” “What does that mean?” “It means he’s not gaining weight. Put him on formula.”
No amount of explaining that formula made him sick was valid to this man. That was his battle cry, from about four days old. “Put him on formula.” After several frustrating weeks, he suggested bloodwork. We agreed, set up an appointment for that, and went home. He called us a few hours later to tell us that he changed his mind and wanted Ian in the hospital. We agreed to an appointment the next afternoon to discuss that. We went to that appointment. We finally got some answers, agreed to take the baby into the hospital for evaluation. The doctor kept insisting that it was vital, right this instant, no delays, so they could order stat bloodwork on him to make sure he wasn’t dying.
So, frightened, we hurry home to pack an overnight bag for hospital.
Which is when CPS shows up at my door.
Cue me, confused, and angry. Apparently, someone from the clinic called them to tell them that we refused to take the baby to the hospital, and were medically neglecting him. I am more confused by this statement, as we are literally ON OUR WAY to hospital.
Apparently, someone filed the complaint the previous day. You know. Before they even suggested the hospital to us. Someone preemptively decided that we were going to refuse, and filed a report on us.
So after a humiliating home tour in which I had to show a stranger my dirty laundry and piles of dishes because I had been busy and hadn’t had a chance to do them, we hurried off to the hospital.
Where we were admitted promptly, and then basically left to our own devices. Nurses checked in on us, were quite kind and caring, doctors poked their heads in to check on us occasionally, but no tests were done aside from getting his weight (not even his measures, just his weight) one single time. When I asked about these tests we were told were so vital and desperate, the doctor looked confused and said “No? He’s fine? We’re just monitoring him right now, but he seems fine?”
The biggest change was that they saw him on supplemental formula, crying, cramping, and being generally miserable, and promptly put him on pure breastmilk. He’s sensitive to formula. It makes him sick and wastes calories by making him scream and cry and refuse the bottle.
Three days, they never did a single blood test. He was seen by several therapists- a speech therapist for eating therapy (we were using the wrong sort of nipple for a baby with a tongue tie, even a clipped one) and a nutritional therapist who announced that breastmilk is perfect, he just needed a feeding schedule to encourage him to eat a little more in one go instead of “snacking” all day, and a physical therapist was assigned to check his muscles for strain because he might have reflux.
Day three, he’s released with his paperwork saying he’s fine, he’ll be fine, just keep feeding him like we’re doing, he’s great.
Mother Otter 