Reflection

The end of the year is supposed to be a time of reflection, right?  I've been reflecting lately on how motherhood has changed me as a person.  It's amazing to think how different I am in a few short months.  And I do feel the changes have been most dramatic since Wiggles birth, rather than since finding out I was expecting.

One of the big changes is my pack-rat-ish tendencies.  Thank goodness they've lessened.  I've struggled for years my entire life with the urge to save, preserve, and store everything.  I kept the boxes and packaging things came in.  I kept old movie stubs, receipts, clothing tags, etc.  Just in case.  And then there's the things that have meaning.  Like...old notes from an ex-boyfriend.  REALLY!?  Really.  I felt the need to keep them.  In a little box in the closet.  I scrapbook now, so that helps with some of the preservation of things in a nice way.  But I've just felt this strong need to keep STUFF my entire life.  At the same time, I've been incredibly frustrated by how this pull leads to clutter.  I don't actually like clutter.  I admire model homes and the like for their incredibly clean and uncluttered atmosphere.  But such an environment has been elusive at best with my pack-ratish tendencies.

Finally, finally, I've found myself changing in this respect.  It sounds cliche, but things are just no longer as important.  Now, there have been a few times already that I've recycled packaging only to regret it mildly later.  If I'd still had it I could have returned the object - but in the end, it didn't reallllly matter.  I guess this particular change started when I was pregnant - we got rid of a ton of stuff when we moved.  But since Wiggles was born I find myself looking over the apartment wondering what else we can do without.  I no longer feel compelled to keep gifts I have no use for (thanks MIL!) because they were a gift.

And, the best news for Wiggles and other future children, nieces and nephews - I no longer have such a strong tie with my toys.  Yes.  Toys.  I.....have a collection of lovely plastic toys (like Playmobil) that I have loved dearly and cared for meticulously.  And while one would assume it'd be natural to pass such a thing onto one's children, I had no intention of such.  No sir.  These toys were MINE.  Mr. Random thought it was quite ridiculous, but I brought the toys into the marriage so he could do little about it.  Guess what?  I'm now happy to pass them on.  When they no longer present a choking hazard, I hope Wiggles enjoys them.  And if we end up with children who have no interest in the more girly toys...I'll be happy to pass them on to a niece who would like them.  I think I nearly stopped Mr. Random's heart when I told him this.  This is a HUGE change in outlook for me.  And I couldn't be happier about it.

Mr. Random's Deal

Mr. Random is wonderful.  He is an excellent husband and father.  He's smart, funny and good-looking (of course).  But he lacks one thing.  A dream.  And it's driving him nuts.

It has been for years, actually.  Part of the reason he's worked mediocre jobs that bring no satisfaction, but thankfully a stable paycheck, is because he didn't know what he wanted to do.  And in the absence of a strong desire to do something specific, he just did whatever he found.  Which lead to retail and other less-than-fun positions.  Positions he found miserable.

So, here we are - 4.5 years out of college and still...he's not sure what he wants to do.  He thinks he'd be happy as the stay-at-home-dad.  Unfortunately for him, we had a baby a few years too soon for that dream.  If we'd waited until I was done with my PhD and gainfully employed it might have been an option.  He's though about being a teacher off-and-on for years, but for some reason has always resisted it.  He's not entirely sure why, but thinks it might be because it's not "prestigious" enough for his dad's approval.  Despite that, the job of teacher fits a lot of his personal requirements for a job he'd enjoy.

He wants a job that is respected.  That helps people.  With lots of time off so he can travel.  (is there any other career besides teaching that fills those 3 things?)  So he's going back to school to be a teacher.  But he's still not 100% sure it's the right "career" for him to be happy.  So that's what I was alluding to in the previous post.  Not only is it a bad financial move, it's a bad financial move for a "I'll-probably-maybe-hopefully enjoy what I'm doing after" career change.  Gulp.

In our defense, while Mr. Random is doubtful...I feel pretty confident he'll find out he loves teaching.  And I do know the guy pretty well.  :)

To move or not to move?

We have about a week to decide if we want to renew our lease.  Our apartment is raising our rent about 10%.  It's roughly $70 we really don't have.  I don't remember if I mentioned it on here, but Mr. Random is leaving his miserable job.  He's going back to school.  We're equal parts terrified and excited for this next chapter.

Financially, it's probably a bad decision.  It means we'll be living on my meager income from my RA and teaching at community college and student loans.  For 1.5 years.  Then we hope, pray, etc. that he gets a teaching job upon graduating.  So we can start paying back his loans.  I should graduate the following year, when we'll once again, hope, pray, etc. that I get a job.  So we can start paying back my loans.

So, financially, it doesn't make a lot of sense.  It'll mean a lot of debt that would have been nice to avoid.  And, if I get a teaching job, it's possible he could have gone back to school then for free.  But, finances aren't the only thing to consider when making life decisions.  A major factor was Mr. Random's happiness.  He's been truly miserable in this job.  Quite frankly, he's not been happy since we moved here for my educational pursuits.  He's worked one job or another for 4 years with the main requirement being income, not his own personal satisfaction or happiness.  It's definitely time for him to be able to pursue something he'd enjoy.  (if only he knew what that was...but that's likely another post - yes, he's not 100% sure this is a path he'll enjoy...yes, definitely another post).  Also, there's the issue of daycare.  It turns out part-time care costs more than full-time care (!!!) and would basically negate my income.  Or halve Mr. Random's income.  And things are pretty tight as it is.  So - instead of scrimping and scraping by with Mr. Random in a job he hates and Baby Wiggles in daycare, we'll take turns caring for the little one and scrimp by with student loans.  It doesn't make financial sense, but I really believe all 3 of us will be a lot happier for it.  And that's definitely worth something.

Anyway, complicating factors is this raise in rent.  It's going to make things even more difficult.  So...do we stay?  Do we move?  I've looked into other properties.  But we like the area we're in right now.  Though our neighbors are somewhat noisy and there are somethings about the apartment (floorplan, and noisy vibrating AC unit) that I greatly dislike.  We could probably rent a house for about $100 more per month than the new apartment rent.  But that's yet another $100 we really don't have.  And I do look forward to taking Wiggles to the pool this following summer.

What to do?  More research probably...and it looks like I need a pro/con list.

Gender Lines

This post has nothing to do with Christmas - but it has everything to do with a thought I had while laying back down after a 5 am feeding.  So I'm going ahead and writing it down...before I forget. :)

***

Growing up, I wasn't happy to be a girl.  I didn't want to be a boy exactly but I didn't much want to be a girl either.  It felt limiting somehow, but not in the way I think it does for most people.

You see, instead of feeling like I was limited to girl-specific undertakings...I felt instead that I ought to take on more boy-specific projects.  And excel at them.  That I needed to strive beyond "girlish" things.  It's hard to explain exactly, and I have no idea where I got this drive.  But in the last few years, becoming a wife and now a mother, I realized that all I had ever really wanted, was permission to be "just" a girl.  And do stereotypical girl things.  And enjoy them.

It's like the song, "everything you can do, I can do better."  I felt like that was my calling.  Like I had to prove that motto - in everything, and most especially boyish things.  I played a musical instrument that usually is played by males.  I excelled in science and math - all of my classes in these subjects were male-dominated.  I wanted to be an astronaut - also a male-dominated field.  I fought hard against showing emotions - especially crying.  I had this overwhelming sense that I needed to prove I could do whatever a boy could, and could do it better.  Hell, I even tried to learn how to throw a football (but am too innately clumsy to get very far in the world of sports).

But here's what I'm coming to realize.  While there will always be individuals that will blur gender lines, and excel in areas that are not typical for their particular gender - not everyone has to be such an individual.  In fact, if everyone was, there would be no gender lines to blur.  We'd probably cease to notice male or female as much.  And I think we'd lose something important.

So, it's really only been in the last few months that I've realized I'd like to be female...and that is okay.  I can be a girl, a woman, and enjoy the things women are "supposed" to.  And I'm not letting anyone down.  It doesn't make me less of a person or a failure.  It just makes me me.  And I happen to be female.

New Years Resolution

I've already decided on my New Year's Resolution.  It might be a little early, but not by much.  So, here goes:

For 2011, I resolve to be less cranky.

Yessir.  I am high-strung by nature, and run at a level of heightened anxiety...pretty much 24/7.  I stress over things.  Big things and small things.  And it's not healthy.  Or necessary really.  Most often my stress and anxiety do very little to help with whatever is causing the stress and anxiety in the first place.  In fact, mostly it is an obstacle by rendering me either completely useless, completely bitchy, or both.  And...it needs to stop.

I realize it's not going to stop completely, and especially not right away.  This is a hard habit to unlearn and is probably going to be a life-long project.  But I want to get started.  So - here's to 2011.  The year I will start mellowing out, releasing my anxiety, and learning to just relax and roll with the punches a little more.  All in the name of personal happiness and setting a better example for a sweet wiggly boy.

PhD, not MD

I may be working on adding a Dr. to the beginning of my name, however; I need to remind myself that that Dr. has nothing to do with medicine.  The experimental weaning from ranitidine was most likely a total failure.

I say *most likely* because, well, you never know for sure with a baby, do you?  So, we stopped Wiggles medicine on a Sunday.  Our theory - it was interfering with his ability to poop, and this was causing discomfort, which was disrupting his sleep.  Now...upon stopping the medicine our boy started sleeping better at night(4 hour stretches y'all!) but there was still no poop.  For a week.  Which...as he is breastfed could be normal, but was a bit of a long time without poop for his "normal".  And the trouble was, by the end of the week, he was definitely straining and then crying.  And farting, and then crying.  It was heartbreaking.  Meanwhile, we'd had that one sudden cry in the night...but nothing more.

So...was it reflux?  Gas pain?  A very urgent need to poop but for whatever reason it wasn't happening?  Finally, it all came to a head on the 7th morning, exactly 1 week after stopping the medicine.  He woke up and just cried.  It was like a flashback to his 4th week of life (just before starting the Zantac) but with much greater lung power.  He was definitely unhappy, and definitely uncomfortable.  :(

Meanwhile, Mr. Random had left right as he was waking up to go get some dark corn syrup.  This was recommended by the pediatrician's triage line as a potential cure for the no-pooping issue.  So I was supposed to wait to feed Little Wiggles until he got back - because we were going to mix the corn syrup with the breast milk I had pumped just for that purpose.  I was literally 5 seconds from giving in and nursing the hysterical baby when Mr. Random got back with the syrup.  So we gave him that.  And his Zantac dose.

And he did poop a little later that day.  And he hasn't been quite as hysterical, though he's still been more upset than normal.  And cried after farting.

So...was it reflux?  The need to poop?  Both?  Or - the wildcard, teething?  Because we think he's teething.  There aren't tell-tale white bumps in his gums yet, but if you feel his gums they're feeling thinner and you can kind of feel teeth.  And he's definitely chomping on things with his mouth.

That's the trouble with babies.  Far too many variables, and no way to control all but one.  I'm just glad he seems to be doing better.  And we'll definitely be keeping him on the medicine until we see the pediatrician at his 4 month visit.

Frustration

Ugh.  So, we're trying the no medicine thing.  And it's been 6 days.  And it's been going reasonably well.  We started seeing a longer stretch of sleep at night (at least 4 hours!) and there was more frequent farting and burping.  I was feeling good about our decision. 

And then last night around 2:30 am he woke with a LOUD cry.  Usually he coughs a little, makes some noises, and then starts with a cry that kind of winds up.  This was a 0 to 60 in .3 seconds kind of cry without any warning.  And it freaked me out.  At first, I wasn't sure what was wrong, but was incredibly worried.  Mr. Random thought maybe he was still asleep, but immediately after the no-warning cry he started the cough, cough and then crying in earnest.  I went and fed him and he nursed to sleep.  When I put him back in his bed I smelled that his breath was a little like stomach acid. 

Ah.  The Reflux.  Most likely anyway.  So then I stood there, unsure what to do.  I mean, he was back asleep.  Do I wake him up and give him his medicine.  No, of course not, you never wake a sleeping baby.  Do I give him a dose when he next wakes?  I decided I'd give him a dose if he did that screaming-cry bit again.  Which he didn't.

So now what?  Was it an aberration?  Was it because I ate a pre-packaged lunch that had onions in it, and only discovered this when it was too late?  Do we continue without the medicine or do we just dive back in?  Or perhaps go to half a dose? 

And why, why did we start on this endeavor without consulting the pediatrician?  I mean...at the last appointment I went to she had said we would probably try him without the medicine soon.  But, she was implying after his next appointment still another 3 weeks away.  And we just went ahead and did it.  Maybe because we've had such a crappy pediatrician up until this point we felt on our own anyway?  Ugh.  I just feel frustrated.  With myself and the whole situation.

Anyway, Wiggles is sleeping...so I best be off to bed.