Christmas came early! (kind of)

I should have taken pictures of the whole thing, but I didn't.

This year, James and I decided to give each other something a little different for Christmas: genetic testing! Woo hoo!

The packets came in the mail yesterday, and we should have results by the holidays. It says not to eat or drink 30 minutes before, well, it's gross, but... spitting into the vial. And I didn't. However, the last thing I'd eaten, about an hour or so before that, was a red Airhead. So my sample is decidedly pink, and it'll be interesting to see whether that makes a difference or not.

I didn't notice until I'd produced enough to pool, and then I wasn't sure whether I could empty and rinse the tube out, so... I sent it in with my best wishes, and time will tell.

Incidentally, the paperwork said it most people could fill the vial in about six minutes. It took me half an hour. Another thing I read said it took this lady's male friend 4.5 spits. It took me like 20. It took James under 3 minutes, and his spit was super bubbly! Weird! And gross, I know. But you read this blog, and you get what you pay for.

So, you have to sign some permissions and acknowledgements, including opting in to receive three medical reports that they say professional organizations recommend you DON'T receive: namely late-onset Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, and I forget the third. However, we both opted into those because we're not worriers and because the knowledge will just be a tool in our arsenal if, thirty years down the road, we need it.

This was interesting to me:

"There may be some consequences of using 23andMe Services that you haven't considered.

"You may discover things about yourself and/or your family members that may be upsetting or cause anxiety and that you may not have the ability to control or change.
"You may discover relatives who were previously unknown to you, or may learn that someone you thought you were related to is not your biological relative."

Dad and Mom, is there anything you want to tell me?

More updates as we get 'em!

Super Sensitive, but Super Sweet

D was fairly easy-going as a little one. Puberty brought on some stuff, but it's a lot easier to deal with a verbal child in distress than one who can't speak (although it still took me a couple of years to really plug into what was happening).

You may remember (I SURELY DO) that Mal just cried for 4+ hours every day for the first 4+ months of his life. They kept asking me when I wanted to rejoin some volunteer stuff I was doing, because once a newborn isn't a newborn anymore, you expect that they don't "need" as much. I never went back because Mal never stopped needing.

He wants so much. He feels SO MUCH. He has so many opinions. He isn't super open to alternative ideas. He's, frankly, exhausting but I'm very grateful I came upon gentle parenting as he was born. If I'd tried parenting him the "I'm-not-taking-no-nonsense" way in which I parented D, I can't imagine what would have happened.

As Mal has gotten older, it's both easier and more frustrating to deal with his moods. On the one hand, we know what he wants. On the other hand, sometimes he wants things that aren't even physically possible, and he cannot understand that we're telling him the absolute truth; there IS no way to do it, and an hour of cajoling, asking more politely, crying, and whining won't change things.

He has a thing he does now where he will say, for instance, "I want to go to the Disney Outlet." "We can't because I have to take the car into the shop since the 'check engine' light is on. If we drive it too much, it might break." "I like the car being broken." "No, you don't. It means you can't go ANYWHERE any time."

"Don't be rough like that or you'll break your mirror." "I like broken mirrors." 

"I like to scare the cat."

"I like you being sick."

"I like not being nice."

Etc.

I know it's just his way to steamroll what we just told him is the barrier, but, guhh, you can't reason with someone who... can't reason. And it is taxing.

In as much as it is possible, I try to accommodate Mal's requests. If he asks for baked potatoes and I make them, then he says, "I wanted broccoli!" I will make broccoli. Whatever. He'll eventually eat both.

And there are times when I genuinely cannot help him out. Those happen frequently enough, I typically don't dig my heels in if I don't have to.

To that end... we have recently decided to take a break from hanging out with a child Mal always is excited to play with, but who delights in upsetting him. I acknowledge that my child is easily upset and dramatic. That's something he will hopefully mature out of. In the same respect, this other child will hopefully mature out of purposefully pushing Mal's buttons.

Every time we get together, within ten minutes, the other child is telling Mal something he can't do (and this child has no right to tell Mal what to do, but Mal takes it seriously and then tattles to me that this other person just told him he can't whatever) or that this child doesn't like Mal anymore and doesn't want to be his friend, or teasing him with "You can't" play with a toy or have my snack, when Mal hasn't asked for either, but then being told "Here's this cool thing you don't have access to!" upsets Mal.

It's just draining, and I deal with it enough with Mal alone. I don't need someone antagonizing and stoking the fires.

So.

Last night, Mal looked SO tired. He'd looked fatigued most of the day. By about 8:30, I had pulled out the trundle bed and was snuggling in with some new blankets we just bought to deal with the fact that our house is drafty. We played for 45 minutes or so, then Mal said he was ready to watch TV. Great. It was plugged in 3 feet from where he was. He didn't want to get it.

He hopped into bed with me and covered up, saying his legs were tired and he couldn't get the computer, but that I (still further away) needed to. I said I was not getting up.

For literally 45 minutes, he cried, begged, opened the closet door so a light would shine in my eyes, got up and grabbed something that was right next to his computer, and was generally a mess. Like I said, I usually will try to keep things easy-peasy, but this night, I was just not going to do it. I wasn't unkind. I wasn't harsh. I chatted with him about other things. But when he fell back into that, "I need YOU to get me my computer!" again, I just laid down.

At one point, James came into the room to chat, and Mal said, "No, Daddy! I don't want YOU to get my computer! I want Mommy to get it! I don't want you or me to get it! MOMMY!"

James went to the store, and when he got back, Mal was still on about my getting his computer. At 9:48, he sat up, eyes rimmed with purple, and cried, "I just love you so much!" He buried his head into my neck. He was snoring in 15 seconds.

THAT KID, guys. 

It's the earliest he's gone to sleep in weeks, so it was a nice chance for James and me to catch up.

Today's been easier than yesterday. Then again, at 5:15 PM, the night is still young...

PS One time recently, when Mal was aggressively demanding something, I asked him, "Can you say 'Mummy, *I* want an Oompa-Loompa! Get *me* an Oompa-Loompa!'" He did, and it was HYSTERICAL.

The End of an Era

International Breastfeeding Awareness Month is in August. When it rolled around in 2015, I was both pleased I was still breastfeeding after almost a year, and tired... of breastfeeding. I was unable to nurse D at all because of a tongue-tie (and my unwillingness to mechanically intervene to address the tie) and especially since Mal was so so fussy his first couple of years, was pleased to have this tool at my disposal this round. Not to mention the savings we must have realized (or not realized, but sustained) not having to purchase formula. We did buy a few bottles, but by 4 months, I'd thrown them out. Mal has drunk one 4-ounce bottle in his whole life. Otherwise, it was all me.

I was more along the lines of "whatever" in 2016 when Breastfeeding Awareness Month rolled around and we were still going at it. I mean, the World Health Organization recommends feeding for at least 2 and up to 7 years, based on several criteria. Mostly, I wanted it to be Mal's choice to stop when he was ready, and at two years old, he was definitely not ready.

When I went to meet the resident pediatrician in early 2017, after we'd moved into our new house, he asked what kind of milk Mal was drinking. I told him and he said, "Oh, well, you can stop that any time. We definitely don't want to see that in a 3-year-old or especially a 4-year-old!" So I didn't go back to that doctor, even though I liked him.

Without a good reason, I wasn't going to force Mal to stop nursing. Even though I was way over it.

After he turned 3, Mal only nursed when he was going to bed or waking up, or when he was really, really upset or tired. And the reality is that before Mal was about three and a half, he'd never gone to sleep without nursing, unless he was in motion in a vehicle or stroller. I tried several things, but nothing else ever worked.

Breastfeeding Awareness Months 2017 and 2018 rolled by, and I didn't really notice. I was well aware. I was also pretty much dried up. I had a little milk left on one side, but Mal was clearly nursing solely for comfort. And, once again, though I was getting pretty sick of it, I didn't have that nursing aversion where women report their skin crawling and their wanting to punch something. I just started cutting it off after a minute or so.

Also, people who say that once a child is getting the majority of their sustenance from food and are just nursing for comfort so shut them off... Do they have that attitude about everything that brings their child comfort? "Oh, come on. You don't NEED this doll to go to sleep. It's a bunch of cotton stuffed into a rag that was sewn together. You just want it for comfort, ya big baby." I couldn't do it.

I was waiting to get to a point where the pain (physical discomfort, embarrassment, etc.) outweighed the benefits (easier bedtime, continued bonding, etc.). But it turns out, I didn't really have to.

As of now, it's been one week since "deedees." I think, friends, that I can call it: We're done!

Mal has asked a couple of times, but it was a good 4 days before he thought of it. And when he's asked, I've said, "Not right now, but let's snuggle" and he might persist a little, but eventually happily moves on.

I'm glad we didn't have to do it through nights of crying and begging. I'm glad I didn't have to lie to him about how he's so big, it doesn't "work" anymore. I'm glad I didn't shame him about being too big. I'm glad I didn't manipulate it, except to limit the time for my own sanity. I'm glad it sort of ebbed out because the time was right.

Someone asked me if I would miss it. Maybe some day. Like 15 years from now. Maybe. It's hard to imagine missing it, honestly. Maybe it's too soon to be sentimental about it. Right now, I'm just happy and relieved. I mean, I'm happy it's over, but I'm also happy for all of the reasons I detailed above. I feel like we did it well and ended gently.

If you've used any of the methods I described above, I'm not judging you. I get it. It's tough! It's weird that it was literally feast or famine, too. Might have been nice to do 2 years with each kid instead.

Another thing that has happened over the past 6 monthsish is that Mal is actually sleeping through the night. I mean, he doesn't go to sleep until 12:30 AM, but once he's asleep, he only wakes up like all of us do, mumbling a bit, turning over, asking for a blanket, going right back to sleep. That's huge. I really thought it would never happen. I mean, I understand it generally *does* happen, but not all kids ever actually sleep through well. I firmly believed we'd be one of those families. I'm grateful I appear to have been wrong.

Finally, a year after ditching diapers in the daytime, we're totally done with them! Mal will have the occasional overnight accident, as all children do, but during the transition, he surprised me. I'd often think, "He went to sleep so early; there's no way!" and would sneak a pull-up onto him; then he'd be dry in the morning, but immediately use the restroom upon waking.

So lots of cool developments!

I genuinely thought that when Daylight Saving ended this weekend, we'd get a reprieve from the 12:30 bedtime. Sleeping 11:30 to 9 seemed a lot better than 12:30 to 10, just because 1) I am DEAD by 12:30, and 2) stuff starts by 10 and we only sporadically make it to things like church and story time at the library. But, no. He absorbed that extra hour like it was nothing, so by the next day, he was right back on the clock.

But with the milestones we're erecting, I have to focus on the good stuff. There is plenty of it. Even running on fumes at 10 AM.

Birthday wishes and a bit of looking back

Happy birthday, D!

I won't say the trite things like "I can't believe you're 17" or "It all happened so fast," mostly because I CAN believe it, and it happened in exactly 17 years. I've been uploading pictures to the cloud from old back-up thumb drives, and have relived so much of your life through visual memories in the past few days. And I have some thoughts. (surprise, surprise)

Man, I've loved being your mom. Most of my best memories involve you, even if you don't remember them yourself. The pictures bear out those times. But they also testify quietly to some things you CAN'T see in the pictures. Every parent, every person, has things in their life that they would like to go back and tweak. I don't spend too much time worrying about those things. But there are several overreaching aspects of your childhood, and of being your mom, that I regret significantly and wish I had not done/could undo/had done better. They are:

1) Authoritarian parenting. I didn't ever think about whether there was another way when you were a kid. It was all I'd been exposed to, and so it was easy to fall into that. And when telling you what to do didn't work, I would tell you what to do again... either LOUDER or just with more words. Over and over again. And I hate that. I desperately wish that when you'd been born, I'd seen our relationship as more of a partnership than a top-down enterprise. I always tried to respect your opinion and personhood, but it was always with the idea that I was in charge. I am sorry. I'm sorry it took me until you were a teenager to realize that there was another way. 

2) Lack of empathy when you were genuinely in need. There have been times in your life when I've been incredibly impatient with you when you expressed exhaustion and frustration at times that were inconvenient to me. When I look back on them, I can think of only a few reasons I reacted in such an ugly manner.

The first is that, when I've recognized that you absolutely COULD do something (like math when you were 6, or riding a bike a few miles when you were 11), I thought pushing you to complete it using whatever means necessary would eventually help you see that you were capable, too. How stupid. That doesn't work for me; why would I think it would work for someone else?

The second is that, in some situations when you were ready just to give up, I didn't have an out or know what else to do. So I reacted in my own stress and inability to your stress and inability.

The final one is that, in times when I've been extremely needy and requiring the most support, I have found that same need in others to be ugly. So maybe I was kind of mad that you needed emotional support when I didn't feel like I had any to spare? 

Regardless, I'm so sorry. I wish I'd stopped everything every time and sat with you to figure out a way we could work it out together. The "reasons" I've thought of aren't an excuse, and I regret it deeply.

3) Related to the above, but encompassing a lot more: I wish that the day I filed for divorce, I'd started the habit of waking up every morning and looking at myself in the mirror and reminding myself, "You're the adult. You're doing what you need to do. Your feelings will save for later; take care of D's." I was so focused on my own hurt for a good year and a half after the divorce that I was not at all as attentive to your moods and needs as I should have been. I wish I'd left the church after the first meeting with the elders; that failed reconciliation process sucked so much energy and joy that I could have focused on you. I wish I'd not tried to maintain any extra-familial relationships that required energy and were draining. In general, I'd never want to live any of my life over, but if I could go back to that time and do it over, knowing what I know now, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I failed you on so many occasions.

Those things said, I hope you know or someday will realize that I have always wanted you to be happy and have made conscious decisions at the time that I believed would be to your benefit. Even when I was wrong.

There was one time when you were about 5, and it was a gorgeous fall day, and you'd dressed up like you were going to a party, but we weren't going anywhere special. Instead, we went outside, and you were crunching around in the leaves and chasing butterflies. I sat down on the driveway because it was warm, having been in the sun all day. I thought, "This is a magical moment." Everything slowed down. I didn't have a camera, and knew I'd have to carefully remember everything  exactly as it was. You were happy and free and I absolutely relished those moments of your childhood.

Another favorite was driving all over Texoma with you, doing mystery shops, listening to audio books and eating French fries and trying on clothes. You were such a great companion; I never could have done those things if you hadn't been game. (I'll never forget coming back to the car after a revealed shop at the Burger King near Love Field when you told me, "Dumbledore is dead." I felt like a different person the whole drive home.)

Also, all of those day trips into Dallas to visit the art museum, or the zoos, or Sharkarosa Ranch. I hope you are glad we homeschooled. I feel like I had a chance to live another childhood of wonder and exploration because of it. 

I have always loved spending time with you. As you've matured and come into your own, I don't wistfully wish for those times back; I'm just extremely grateful to have had them. It's been a blessing to watch you grow up. I will miss you in a few years when you set off into your own solo adventure.

I love you. I hope you have a great 18th year. 

Mom