I just returned home last night from a little road trip up to Paradise, in Northern California, where I visited with a beloved family friend who is in her last days after a long fight with Cancer. I can't properly tell the full accurate story but it has been years that she's been having chemo off and on for cancer in her lungs, getting the thumbs up sign from her docs only to be back in chemo before long. Just earlier this year she underwent a surgery to remove a portion of one lung which the docs felt might very well deem her Cancer free, leaving her to enjoy the rest of her life, which there should have been plenty more of. It was probably only 3-4 months later she was told she had a tumor in her brain and various other places in her body. To me it was like the Cancer was extra pissed after she had the surgery and thought It would show her who was boss. I know, Cancer doesn't think. She decided to forge on with treatment, hoping to get through radiation and chemo with enough energy left in her to make it worth while - this was a very active woman who loved hiking, bicycling, walking, traveling and kayaking as often as she could, she swam everyday at home and taught at the local gym. When it wasn't just her adoring doggy by her side, perhaps it was one of her two grown children (friends so near and dear that we consider ourselves cousins) enjoying nature with her. She has 3 grandchildren (4 1/2, 2 3/4 & 2) to play with as well. After 15 radiation treatments to her brain she found out her white blood cell count was too low to move on to the chemo and at this point she decided she'd had enough. Who can blame her? Poor quality of life wasn't her ante for continued Cancer treatment. She is now at home for her last days with the help of her two children and hospice. Her son or daughter is always there with her, spending the night with her, taking care of her, enjoying their time with her, keeping her comfortable, etc. It's pain management now. And goodbyes.
When I told Tony I had to go up and see my "aunt" Nancy it was clear to me he didn't realize the importance of this woman in my life. Sure he knows how close I am with her children, aka my cousins, but not their parents. Other than my two grandmothers, I've been fortunate enough not to have gone through the pain of losing anyone else except my "uncle" Chris, Nancy's husband, who died from Cancer in a similar fashion when he was just in his early 50's. That was a hard one for me and this one is going to be even harder. My parents were good friends with Chris & Nancy before I was born and then when their son was born just 4 months after me it was pretty much set that we were as good as family. My parents divorced and my mom moved all over but we made many trips to Paradise to visit our "family" there before ultimately moving there when I was in 8th grade. To make a long story short (too late) this family might as well be my real family for all the love and memories I have for them all. It has been shitty watching Nancy going through chemo after chemo after recovery after setback after chemo etc. Of course not nearly as crappy as for her own kids. They've all always put on such a strong, positive front - whether or not that was how they felt behind closed doors who can say - and really, how else can you look at it? Gloom & doom will get you nowhere fast even if that's where you're headed.
On the drive up to Paradise I grappled with how to conduct myself during my visit with Nancy. After all, I was basically going up to say goodbye. I imagined what she might look like right now and where she would be seated in her house, then going up to her and hugging her and asking her how she is. Well hell, you can't ask THAT question! "Hi tiff, nice of you to visit, I'm dying thank you and how about yourself?" It's not funny at ALL. Same goes for her kids, my good friends, what do I say to them? "Hi Julie, so good to see you, how are you?" "Nice to see you too Tiff, my mom's dying and I have to watch the process every day, it sucks more than you'll ever know, thanks for asking." Son of a bitch. I talked about it with my mom and she helped me see it in a less morbid light. Nancy looked good, all things considered, and I greeted her with a hug & kiss and told her it was good to see her.
It comforts me to know Nancy lived a very full life, despite it being cut unfairly short in her mid 60's. It just feels like such a fucking raw deal. As I sat by Nancy's recliner, admiring the juicy orange nail color on her toes, I wondered how she was handling all this. As she's not needing to take any major narcotics, yet, she is still pretty with-it. At times I thought she wasn't so much there but then she'd answer whoever's question and it was clear she was just taking a little longer to think and/or answer. Her wedding came up as she talked with my mom, who was at the small ceremony in 1972, and Nancy asked her son to get her wedding album for her to look at. I have no idea when the last time was she looked at it but it felt really heavy to me now and I wondered what she was thinking. She'd lost her husband almost 20 years ago! She'd watched him slip away at home just as she was now. How bitter must she feel that this fucking Cancer stole her husband from her too early and is now stealing her from her children and grandchildren or has she already made her peace? I guess you have to make peace in order to save yourself the mental anguish in the end. Knowing these are your last days, not knowing how many more there are but at this point do you really hope for more than less as the pain increases, your faculties fail you and you look into your children's eyes wondering if it's the last time you will? Maybe if you are holding out for a special someone to come visit you. That's the other awkward thing - all these great friends, family, acquaintances coming to see you - to say goodbye. To enjoy a few final moments with this person. I suppose I'm looking at it terribly negatively. I mean, obviously I think it's wonderful that everyone is going to see her and visa versa and that she's still with-it. I wanted to go see her as soon as I could, I didn't want to see her as she gets worse. I didn't want that to be my last memory of her. Is that terrible to say? My last memory of her husband was seeing him driving through town in his adored VW bus, the biggest smile on his face! That was just before he died. So I'm glad for that short visit Sunday night, seeing her smile as her grandchildren, and my Tyler, played in the living room by her. She still looked great and I'll probably never forget those awesome soda-pop orange toenails!
But then there's the anger. Frustration. Bitterness. Confusion. Sadness. Those are emotions I'm struggling with now. I know we all have to die, just as sure as we are born we have an end to our time here. When I was discharged from the hospital after having Teagan and the nurse was pushing me down the hall in a wheelchair we passed a very old woman, walking hunched over and with a cane, her daughter(?) holding her arm for added support as they made their way slowly down the hallway. As I passed by with my treasure I couldn't help but feel a weird flood of emotions - guilt, sorrow, understanding, fear and acceptance. Here was a brand new life passing by one that is at the end of theirs. So many people are born, and die, everyday. But I don't know them all, I don't love them all. I have loved Nancy for 37 years, she has given me great support, advice and laughs and I'll always remember her infectious smile and the how she always thought things were "wonderful." She always had such a fun way of looking at things and was such a free spirit. I try to parent as I saw her parent because I thought & think so highly of it. It's just impossible, I'm finding, to paint a vivid picture of her with words, to try to do her justice. Alas, it's crystal clear in my mind and I hold fast to that. Her caringbridge website guestbook now has over 800 messages! 800!! She has touched so many people's lives.
When we left I gave her a hug again and another kiss and told her how great it was to see her. She thanked me for coming and told me it was good to see me too. Then she told me, as she looked across the living room at Tyler playing quietly with his Matchbox cars and at Teagan who was in the arms of my cousin's wife, that I have great kids and that Tyler is really neat. My eyes well with tears now remembering that. What a compliment! I'll never forget that. Last night before putting Teagan down for the night in her bassinet I just held her close and swayed gently, felt her little body breathing, kissed her warm head and cried. My precious little girl. Someday she and Tyler will lose me and they will live on to someday be lost by their children. To think of my children as old people and passing away makes me so sad. Why I sit and think about any of this when it is so far, hopefully, in the future is beyond me. Right now and today is what we have and I'm trying to remember to enjoy every minute of it.
I want to know everything, maybe someday I will
What I want is to find my place
Breathe the air and feel the sun on my children's face
That's what I want
I go round and round just like a circle
I can see a clearer picture
When I touch the ground I come full circle
to my place and I am home, I am home
I want to let go of all disappointment that's waiting for me
What I want is to live forever
Not defined by time and space
It's a lonely place
That's what I want for me
- from the album American Life
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
Disclaimer
I've had to think, rethink, sleep on, start writing, delete, sleep on again, think and rethink this post so I sure hope it comes out the way I want.
I've been mulling around the issue for about 2 weeks now and have had some very interesting conversations with people about it. Everyone has their opinion, their individual situation and history. I've gone back and forth with the question - should I even be writing this blog? I post it on FB and I've got...wait, let me check...where the hell do I find how many friends I have?? Well, I've got a few, nothing outlandish like some people, but a comfortable chunk. How many of them are even reading this?!
I usually spend a couple hours writing each post, despite my lightning fast typing abilities ;) I think, I type, I stop and look out the window at people walking by my house, I check out the line across the street at Mitchell's Ice Cream (it's overcast, windy & cold out right now at 12:28 p.m. on a Friday and there's a couple sitting on the bench outside licking their ice cream cones and probably wondering which one of them had the bright idea of freezing their asses off like that!), I reread what I've written, delete some things, type some more... I have stories to tell, funny (I think) anecdotes I want to share, frustrations I want to air, etc, hoping to elicit emotion & provide food for thought for my readers. However, I never intended for those emotions or thoughts to be hurt or offense. Not to say I can't handle criticism (lie - but I'm working on that!) but what I mean is I never meant to hurt or offend anyone, and I have. I have apologized to these people but it strikes me that perhaps there are others who, for whatever reason, did not call me out and so for those of you I apologize too. If you know me well you know I have a rather crass sense of humor, a warped sense of reality & a vivid way of describing things. Some of this comes out in my writing. Sometimes I say things that make no sense or it's an inside joke or I mean it one way, and think my readers know what that way is, but they don't. How can they? Just like how can I know about everyone's situations, histories, sensitivities, etc? I would NEVER intentionally hurt or offend someone, that's not me. I'm also not a racist, I hate everyone equally ;) (that was a joke)
So all this has gotten me thinking about humor, criticism, opinions, judgements, etc. When is it ok to make fun of someone? Never? Comedians do it all the time - and I suppose they offend and make enemies along with gathering a following of devotees. I love Howard Stern but I know a lot of people don't and even though he makes me laugh he still causes my eyebrows to raise a lot as I mutter "wow, that's harsh!" I mean, he really speaks his mind, but that's his job. I'm not a shock-jock and nor do I want to be. Anything I've ever written that has offended anyone was purely accidental. I suppose I'm a bit naive and ignorant about the P.C. thing, not all of it but some. I want to raise my children to be intelligent, non-judgemental, polite people so maybe I need to look into a book on being P.C. - is there such a thing? I'm only half serious there. To be honest, I think everyone has the right to their own opinion, they have the right to judge and think what they may of anyone so long as they keep it to themselves. It might not be fair or right or any of that, but who is to say how we can feel? I don't agree with a lot of cultures' ways of treating women but that's their culture. Do I wish I could change it? Sure. Is that even possible? Not really. Is that a shitty attitude? Maybe.
Apparently it's ok to make fun of a certain group of people including lawyers & politicians - but why? They are people with feelings too. Don't they get upset when they are the brunt of a joke? Don't we care? Then there are drug addicts, homeless, murderers, etc., those people are all free reign right? But maybe not, we don't know what got them where they are. That old saying about not judging (or making fun of?) someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes is pretty solid advice. Then again sometimes I just want to say, Hey the world is a wreck, can't you take a joke? Why...So...Serious?
I've been advised by different people to either alter my writing or not change a thing. Well, I am who I am and if I can't write like me then I don't want to write at all. However, I recognize I need to think outside my little bubble sometimes and realize what I've said may be taken offense to, and therefore shouldn't say it. Other times I know not what I say. So here comes the disclaimer:
My blog is about me, my life, my experiences. Please do not take anything personally, I do not judge you, I am not even thinking about you and I don't mean that in a bad, selfish way. When I write I'm in my little world and I talk about the world according to me. If I offend thee, please forgive me. And please feel free to tell me if I do! I want you to enjoy reading my blog, but if you don't then please stop reading it. No offense taken.
I've been mulling around the issue for about 2 weeks now and have had some very interesting conversations with people about it. Everyone has their opinion, their individual situation and history. I've gone back and forth with the question - should I even be writing this blog? I post it on FB and I've got...wait, let me check...where the hell do I find how many friends I have?? Well, I've got a few, nothing outlandish like some people, but a comfortable chunk. How many of them are even reading this?!
I usually spend a couple hours writing each post, despite my lightning fast typing abilities ;) I think, I type, I stop and look out the window at people walking by my house, I check out the line across the street at Mitchell's Ice Cream (it's overcast, windy & cold out right now at 12:28 p.m. on a Friday and there's a couple sitting on the bench outside licking their ice cream cones and probably wondering which one of them had the bright idea of freezing their asses off like that!), I reread what I've written, delete some things, type some more... I have stories to tell, funny (I think) anecdotes I want to share, frustrations I want to air, etc, hoping to elicit emotion & provide food for thought for my readers. However, I never intended for those emotions or thoughts to be hurt or offense. Not to say I can't handle criticism (lie - but I'm working on that!) but what I mean is I never meant to hurt or offend anyone, and I have. I have apologized to these people but it strikes me that perhaps there are others who, for whatever reason, did not call me out and so for those of you I apologize too. If you know me well you know I have a rather crass sense of humor, a warped sense of reality & a vivid way of describing things. Some of this comes out in my writing. Sometimes I say things that make no sense or it's an inside joke or I mean it one way, and think my readers know what that way is, but they don't. How can they? Just like how can I know about everyone's situations, histories, sensitivities, etc? I would NEVER intentionally hurt or offend someone, that's not me. I'm also not a racist, I hate everyone equally ;) (that was a joke)
So all this has gotten me thinking about humor, criticism, opinions, judgements, etc. When is it ok to make fun of someone? Never? Comedians do it all the time - and I suppose they offend and make enemies along with gathering a following of devotees. I love Howard Stern but I know a lot of people don't and even though he makes me laugh he still causes my eyebrows to raise a lot as I mutter "wow, that's harsh!" I mean, he really speaks his mind, but that's his job. I'm not a shock-jock and nor do I want to be. Anything I've ever written that has offended anyone was purely accidental. I suppose I'm a bit naive and ignorant about the P.C. thing, not all of it but some. I want to raise my children to be intelligent, non-judgemental, polite people so maybe I need to look into a book on being P.C. - is there such a thing? I'm only half serious there. To be honest, I think everyone has the right to their own opinion, they have the right to judge and think what they may of anyone so long as they keep it to themselves. It might not be fair or right or any of that, but who is to say how we can feel? I don't agree with a lot of cultures' ways of treating women but that's their culture. Do I wish I could change it? Sure. Is that even possible? Not really. Is that a shitty attitude? Maybe.
Apparently it's ok to make fun of a certain group of people including lawyers & politicians - but why? They are people with feelings too. Don't they get upset when they are the brunt of a joke? Don't we care? Then there are drug addicts, homeless, murderers, etc., those people are all free reign right? But maybe not, we don't know what got them where they are. That old saying about not judging (or making fun of?) someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes is pretty solid advice. Then again sometimes I just want to say, Hey the world is a wreck, can't you take a joke? Why...So...Serious?
I've been advised by different people to either alter my writing or not change a thing. Well, I am who I am and if I can't write like me then I don't want to write at all. However, I recognize I need to think outside my little bubble sometimes and realize what I've said may be taken offense to, and therefore shouldn't say it. Other times I know not what I say. So here comes the disclaimer:
My blog is about me, my life, my experiences. Please do not take anything personally, I do not judge you, I am not even thinking about you and I don't mean that in a bad, selfish way. When I write I'm in my little world and I talk about the world according to me. If I offend thee, please forgive me. And please feel free to tell me if I do! I want you to enjoy reading my blog, but if you don't then please stop reading it. No offense taken.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Quiet on the set
and...Action!
These days my life seems to be resembling a stand-up comedy routine, which I suppose is better than a drama - oh wait, that's another blog entry.
Take One: Whip out the boob in the middle of my therapy appointment, which actually suddenly makes me more uncomfortable than if I were in a crowded restaurant since I've been trying to figure out if my therapist is a lesbian or not - which wouldn't change how much I worship her one iota but just makes me feel extra aware that my now bare flapjack is not just for feeding babies and my mind drifts to wondering who (lesbians? straight men? anyone?) finds the sight of a woman breastfeeding sexually attractive. Generally when I let out one of my ladies to feed in front of anyone other than say my mom, husband, sister or close girlfriend who is or has breastfed her own, I feel this sudden change in the air so slight it's like the whistle only dogs can hear. It's as if I can read on the invisible electronic scrolling banner on their foreheads them thinking: Ok, she's going to breastfeed 2 feet in front of me without covering up, it's cool, I'm not fazed, just keep eye contact, keep eye contact, keep eye contact. There's just something about someones gaze when you know they are trying so hard to keep eye contact. Why don't they just look? Get it over with, take a glance down, it won't bite you and I won't freak out. If I didn't expect, or care, for it to be looked at I would use the hooter hider I have, but I just can't be bothered it. I feel like I have to be some double jointed cirque de soleil acrobat to use those things. Maybe it's just me. I also feel like the baby can't be too comfortable with it either, the air getting stale in there etc. Interestingly though, I was way more free about where I fed Tyler (after I got over the first time of "oh my god, I'm whipping out my boob in public!") than I am with Teagan, as if having a girl has brought out some modesty in me.
Where was I? Oh yeah, therapy. So I'm burping the lil girl as I like to do with her sitting upright laying against my chest as I pat her back and I'm staring out the window blurry eyed from tears in the middle of a particularly emotional memory recount so I'm rather mechanically and absently patting Teagan. At first I just hear the burp, but it sounds wet and then I feel a warmth cascade down between my ladies as I'm snapped out of my story. Lovely, she's urped right down the front of me and I have no burp cloth (which of course is meant to be used BEFORE this happens) or more importantly no change of shirt for myself. Oh well, I'm going right home afterwards so I give a little chuckle, grab a bunch of kleenex from the box on the side table next to me and wipe myself off. After my session ends I head for the bathroom, the tear spigot still not turned off, needing to take a minute to bawl in the privacy of a stall before composing myself to face the elevator crowds and of course to make sure I wiped up all the urp. On my way I see a 20-30'ish attractive guy in the OBGYN waiting room with a tee shirt that reads "I love my girlfriend" and I want so badly to go up to him and tell him that's the best shirt ever but of course am in no state to do so. Can only imagine his reaction to some crying lady smelling of baby vomit commenting him on his shirt as he's already uncomfortable waiting for this girlfriend to finish up with her girl doctor business. As I'm heading to the elevators post bathroom bawl, composure & clean-up I notice the dude is gone since I was going to go compliment him then but it was probably for the best.
Lessons learned: carry burp cloth AND USE IT, find Tony a shirt that says "I love my wife".
Take Two: Back in therapy the following week, I whip out my handy and somewhat fashionable burp cloth (if that's possible, it's pink vs plain white) after having breastfed again (maybe I should try to time my feedings better so I'm not always doing so in therapy!) and am pleased to get a big, fat belch outta my little angel but no liquid cottage cheese down the front of me - or at all for that matter but hey, better safe than sorry! This time though, Teagan lets'r rip out the other end. Ooooh, good thing I ran back into the house to get the back-up diaper change supplies even though I was totally running late for my appointment. After my session ends I change Teagan in the bathroom and am surprised not to see any poop but the diap is heavy with pee so I give her a fresh one anyway. It just so happens I have my 6 week post-delivery follow up Gyn appointment immediately following therapy (they are in the same building) so soon I'm legs up in stirrups discussing birth control options with my doc as I hear the loudest butt squirt imaginable from such a tiny human come from the stroller and I think "oh thank gawd I brought 2 extra diapers with me!" Well, what I didn't bring with me was a change of clothes for Teagan for what turned out to be the biggest diap blow-out of her little life so far. Mustard yellow baby poo-goo halfway up her back, on her little jumper and on the swaddle blanket she was laying on - Fantastic! And here I'd been dropped off by Tony with the stroller so I could head downtown for a little Tiff shopping after my appts. Well the outfit was brown so the disaster wasn't visible and I did my best to clean her up so after assessing my qualifications as the worst mother ever by going ahead downtown to shop with Teagan wearing her poo, I boarded the muni bus 37 Geary bound for Union Square. Teagan was not impressed and made me pay for it by refusing to stop crying unless I held her, and even then not always, which made clothes shopping and trying on very difficult. I was determined to find some new things for myself though now that I've purged virtually my entire wardrobe and tried to ignore the concerned/irritated/disapproving sideways glances I was getting right and left as I weaved my way through Old Navy and ultimately purchased a few sweet tops. If only it had ended there. Oh no, now I had to get on the bart train to get home. What a long journey...I draw the line at breastfeeding on public transportation and by now Teagan was hungry (I actually had fed her when we first got to Union Square, using the ladies "lounge" at Saks but that was a little while ago) and since the wind was blowing like some baby hurricane on my walk home from the bart station I had to let my baby cry in the stroller as I duck walked as fast as I could those 7 blocks. What a completely frazzling day.
Lessons learned: Bring change of clothes for Teagan whenever I leave the house. Don't leave the house unless absolutely necessary and only for the shortest amount of time possible. Hahaha - but seriously, that was supposed to be therapeutic shopping time for me?! I just need to chill and wait for Teagan to get a little older, say 3-6 months old, when she's not so overstimulated by everything outside home and I'm more well rested and she's just plain 'ol easier to take out.
Take Three: So much for bringing a burp cloth and change of clothes for Teagan...back at my old nanny gig as a fill-in for my mom one day this week, Lil Girl does more than just urp on me, she yacks up all that she just sucked down. All over my shirt, my bra and my skirt. I've heard you should carry a back-up shirt for yourself but a whole outfit?! I know I must sound like a first time mom but Tyler just never spit up or threw up! I managed to keep any of the vomit from getting on Teagan since I'd already changed her outfit because she'd blown out her diap and I didn't bring 2 changes of clothes for her. I contemplated throwing my pukewear into the washer but didn't think it would look so cool if one of the parents came home and I was running around with the 3 little boys just wearing my bra and undies, and I wasn't about to go rummage through the mom's drawers for something to throw on in the meantime. So I just stank like puke the rest of the day!
We were supposed to go out for dinner that night for a good friend of Tony's birthday and we'd be cutting it close time wise by the time I drove home from San Jose. It was a warm day and that hour drive home made me feel sweaty and gross since I didn't want to turn on the a/c and I already needed to do something about the vomit smell emanating from me so I figured a quick shower would solve everything. Tony had run out to get a birthday gift so my plan was to put Teagan in the bouncy chair while I took a quick shower but that didn't take into account Tyler waking up from sleeping the whole ride home a total toddler wreckage. From the minute I stopped the car and he opened his eyes he started crying. Unfortunately this had become routine when I was nannying twice a week before Teagan arrived, he'd sleep all the way home and upon arrival wake and turn into Inconsolable Ian, crying & screaming & garbling "momma." I've tried many different tactics to calm him or just get through it - hugging him, ignoring him, threatening him with a time-out, you name it. Generally it has to play out OR sometimes when he gets some food in his tummy it stops but that's a challenge since he's too upset, bawling and has his fingers in his mouth. I usually end up feeding him myself and something I know he really likes, then once he's calmed down he can feed himself and the storm has passed. The best resolution was making sure he got a nap during the day and therefore didn't sleep on the way home and arrive as Hyde. But that wasn't the case this particular evening and I was trying to get ready to go out and Tony still wasn't home. I tried ignoring him as I got Teagan into the bouncy chair and sat her in the bathroom and then I offered him a granola bar which he took and actually quieted down briefly as he ate but as I stripped off my clothes he ratcheted up again so I sat him on the closed toilet lid and just headed into the shower. He sobbed the whole 3 minutes I was in there while next to him down on the floor Teagan stared into space like a zombie but was quiet. As soon as I stepped out of the shower she decided to chime in with her brother! I had too little time to stop and try anything I knew wouldn't work anyway short of cuddling Tyler up in my lap and sticking a boob in Teagan's mouth so I just stayed the course of getting ready. I picked up the bouncy chair with Teagan crying in it, told Tyler loudly over his crying that I was going upstairs to get dressed and he should follow me if he wanted and I headed up. He made it as far as the bottom of the staircase and just sat there wailing and crying "momma, momma" which was utterly heartbreaking and yet I knew he was ultimately ok. As I raced around getting dressed Teagan screamed and screamed. I heard Tony come home and try to console Tyler to no avail and then I heard what I almost never hear, Tony got frustrated and his tone changed and instead of "it's ok Babu, don't cry" it was "STOP CRYING TYLER!" I half smiled to myself that Tony was feeling the frustration I do more often lately and that it got to him too. So then it was me and the screaming little girl upstairs and Tony and the wailing little man downstairs and so I called out "Yay Parenthood!" to which I heard Tony chuckle. We somehow made it into the car without murdering our children or turning on each other and as soon as the car started the howling ceased completely. Aaaaah, we made it and we gave each other a look of exhausted triumph and squeezed each others hands.
Lessons learned: none. Well actually there's various little things I learned but I'll spare the explanation and just say sometimes you just can't help these times but the biggest key to getting through it is to stay calm and as unaffected as possible.
CUT!
These days my life seems to be resembling a stand-up comedy routine, which I suppose is better than a drama - oh wait, that's another blog entry.
Take One: Whip out the boob in the middle of my therapy appointment, which actually suddenly makes me more uncomfortable than if I were in a crowded restaurant since I've been trying to figure out if my therapist is a lesbian or not - which wouldn't change how much I worship her one iota but just makes me feel extra aware that my now bare flapjack is not just for feeding babies and my mind drifts to wondering who (lesbians? straight men? anyone?) finds the sight of a woman breastfeeding sexually attractive. Generally when I let out one of my ladies to feed in front of anyone other than say my mom, husband, sister or close girlfriend who is or has breastfed her own, I feel this sudden change in the air so slight it's like the whistle only dogs can hear. It's as if I can read on the invisible electronic scrolling banner on their foreheads them thinking: Ok, she's going to breastfeed 2 feet in front of me without covering up, it's cool, I'm not fazed, just keep eye contact, keep eye contact, keep eye contact. There's just something about someones gaze when you know they are trying so hard to keep eye contact. Why don't they just look? Get it over with, take a glance down, it won't bite you and I won't freak out. If I didn't expect, or care, for it to be looked at I would use the hooter hider I have, but I just can't be bothered it. I feel like I have to be some double jointed cirque de soleil acrobat to use those things. Maybe it's just me. I also feel like the baby can't be too comfortable with it either, the air getting stale in there etc. Interestingly though, I was way more free about where I fed Tyler (after I got over the first time of "oh my god, I'm whipping out my boob in public!") than I am with Teagan, as if having a girl has brought out some modesty in me.
Where was I? Oh yeah, therapy. So I'm burping the lil girl as I like to do with her sitting upright laying against my chest as I pat her back and I'm staring out the window blurry eyed from tears in the middle of a particularly emotional memory recount so I'm rather mechanically and absently patting Teagan. At first I just hear the burp, but it sounds wet and then I feel a warmth cascade down between my ladies as I'm snapped out of my story. Lovely, she's urped right down the front of me and I have no burp cloth (which of course is meant to be used BEFORE this happens) or more importantly no change of shirt for myself. Oh well, I'm going right home afterwards so I give a little chuckle, grab a bunch of kleenex from the box on the side table next to me and wipe myself off. After my session ends I head for the bathroom, the tear spigot still not turned off, needing to take a minute to bawl in the privacy of a stall before composing myself to face the elevator crowds and of course to make sure I wiped up all the urp. On my way I see a 20-30'ish attractive guy in the OBGYN waiting room with a tee shirt that reads "I love my girlfriend" and I want so badly to go up to him and tell him that's the best shirt ever but of course am in no state to do so. Can only imagine his reaction to some crying lady smelling of baby vomit commenting him on his shirt as he's already uncomfortable waiting for this girlfriend to finish up with her girl doctor business. As I'm heading to the elevators post bathroom bawl, composure & clean-up I notice the dude is gone since I was going to go compliment him then but it was probably for the best.
Lessons learned: carry burp cloth AND USE IT, find Tony a shirt that says "I love my wife".
Take Two: Back in therapy the following week, I whip out my handy and somewhat fashionable burp cloth (if that's possible, it's pink vs plain white) after having breastfed again (maybe I should try to time my feedings better so I'm not always doing so in therapy!) and am pleased to get a big, fat belch outta my little angel but no liquid cottage cheese down the front of me - or at all for that matter but hey, better safe than sorry! This time though, Teagan lets'r rip out the other end. Ooooh, good thing I ran back into the house to get the back-up diaper change supplies even though I was totally running late for my appointment. After my session ends I change Teagan in the bathroom and am surprised not to see any poop but the diap is heavy with pee so I give her a fresh one anyway. It just so happens I have my 6 week post-delivery follow up Gyn appointment immediately following therapy (they are in the same building) so soon I'm legs up in stirrups discussing birth control options with my doc as I hear the loudest butt squirt imaginable from such a tiny human come from the stroller and I think "oh thank gawd I brought 2 extra diapers with me!" Well, what I didn't bring with me was a change of clothes for Teagan for what turned out to be the biggest diap blow-out of her little life so far. Mustard yellow baby poo-goo halfway up her back, on her little jumper and on the swaddle blanket she was laying on - Fantastic! And here I'd been dropped off by Tony with the stroller so I could head downtown for a little Tiff shopping after my appts. Well the outfit was brown so the disaster wasn't visible and I did my best to clean her up so after assessing my qualifications as the worst mother ever by going ahead downtown to shop with Teagan wearing her poo, I boarded the muni bus 37 Geary bound for Union Square. Teagan was not impressed and made me pay for it by refusing to stop crying unless I held her, and even then not always, which made clothes shopping and trying on very difficult. I was determined to find some new things for myself though now that I've purged virtually my entire wardrobe and tried to ignore the concerned/irritated/disapproving sideways glances I was getting right and left as I weaved my way through Old Navy and ultimately purchased a few sweet tops. If only it had ended there. Oh no, now I had to get on the bart train to get home. What a long journey...I draw the line at breastfeeding on public transportation and by now Teagan was hungry (I actually had fed her when we first got to Union Square, using the ladies "lounge" at Saks but that was a little while ago) and since the wind was blowing like some baby hurricane on my walk home from the bart station I had to let my baby cry in the stroller as I duck walked as fast as I could those 7 blocks. What a completely frazzling day.
Lessons learned: Bring change of clothes for Teagan whenever I leave the house. Don't leave the house unless absolutely necessary and only for the shortest amount of time possible. Hahaha - but seriously, that was supposed to be therapeutic shopping time for me?! I just need to chill and wait for Teagan to get a little older, say 3-6 months old, when she's not so overstimulated by everything outside home and I'm more well rested and she's just plain 'ol easier to take out.
Take Three: So much for bringing a burp cloth and change of clothes for Teagan...back at my old nanny gig as a fill-in for my mom one day this week, Lil Girl does more than just urp on me, she yacks up all that she just sucked down. All over my shirt, my bra and my skirt. I've heard you should carry a back-up shirt for yourself but a whole outfit?! I know I must sound like a first time mom but Tyler just never spit up or threw up! I managed to keep any of the vomit from getting on Teagan since I'd already changed her outfit because she'd blown out her diap and I didn't bring 2 changes of clothes for her. I contemplated throwing my pukewear into the washer but didn't think it would look so cool if one of the parents came home and I was running around with the 3 little boys just wearing my bra and undies, and I wasn't about to go rummage through the mom's drawers for something to throw on in the meantime. So I just stank like puke the rest of the day!
We were supposed to go out for dinner that night for a good friend of Tony's birthday and we'd be cutting it close time wise by the time I drove home from San Jose. It was a warm day and that hour drive home made me feel sweaty and gross since I didn't want to turn on the a/c and I already needed to do something about the vomit smell emanating from me so I figured a quick shower would solve everything. Tony had run out to get a birthday gift so my plan was to put Teagan in the bouncy chair while I took a quick shower but that didn't take into account Tyler waking up from sleeping the whole ride home a total toddler wreckage. From the minute I stopped the car and he opened his eyes he started crying. Unfortunately this had become routine when I was nannying twice a week before Teagan arrived, he'd sleep all the way home and upon arrival wake and turn into Inconsolable Ian, crying & screaming & garbling "momma." I've tried many different tactics to calm him or just get through it - hugging him, ignoring him, threatening him with a time-out, you name it. Generally it has to play out OR sometimes when he gets some food in his tummy it stops but that's a challenge since he's too upset, bawling and has his fingers in his mouth. I usually end up feeding him myself and something I know he really likes, then once he's calmed down he can feed himself and the storm has passed. The best resolution was making sure he got a nap during the day and therefore didn't sleep on the way home and arrive as Hyde. But that wasn't the case this particular evening and I was trying to get ready to go out and Tony still wasn't home. I tried ignoring him as I got Teagan into the bouncy chair and sat her in the bathroom and then I offered him a granola bar which he took and actually quieted down briefly as he ate but as I stripped off my clothes he ratcheted up again so I sat him on the closed toilet lid and just headed into the shower. He sobbed the whole 3 minutes I was in there while next to him down on the floor Teagan stared into space like a zombie but was quiet. As soon as I stepped out of the shower she decided to chime in with her brother! I had too little time to stop and try anything I knew wouldn't work anyway short of cuddling Tyler up in my lap and sticking a boob in Teagan's mouth so I just stayed the course of getting ready. I picked up the bouncy chair with Teagan crying in it, told Tyler loudly over his crying that I was going upstairs to get dressed and he should follow me if he wanted and I headed up. He made it as far as the bottom of the staircase and just sat there wailing and crying "momma, momma" which was utterly heartbreaking and yet I knew he was ultimately ok. As I raced around getting dressed Teagan screamed and screamed. I heard Tony come home and try to console Tyler to no avail and then I heard what I almost never hear, Tony got frustrated and his tone changed and instead of "it's ok Babu, don't cry" it was "STOP CRYING TYLER!" I half smiled to myself that Tony was feeling the frustration I do more often lately and that it got to him too. So then it was me and the screaming little girl upstairs and Tony and the wailing little man downstairs and so I called out "Yay Parenthood!" to which I heard Tony chuckle. We somehow made it into the car without murdering our children or turning on each other and as soon as the car started the howling ceased completely. Aaaaah, we made it and we gave each other a look of exhausted triumph and squeezed each others hands.
Lessons learned: none. Well actually there's various little things I learned but I'll spare the explanation and just say sometimes you just can't help these times but the biggest key to getting through it is to stay calm and as unaffected as possible.
CUT!
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