Real Talk About Parenting

Maybe I should never have had kids.

I have thought this over the years, but recently especially because as of last month, both of my children have expressed to me that they doubt that I love them. I know, kids can be dramatic. I know. But I also know that the world is chaotic, and the one thing that a child should have as an absolute is that their parents love them.

I was a wreck when both of my kids were newborns. I chalk this up to being a control freak. Neither of them was the "sleep right through the night" happy-go-lucky infant that some people seem to have. D was hard, but then I had Mal and realized that D was actually easy. Both of my kids' dads got low-key (and maybe high-key) frustrated (or angry) with me about my emotional deficiencies when our kids were fresh.

Ken's breaking point was when he walked into the living room when D was a few weeks old and saw me just sobbing as the baby's body jolted with hiccups. His helpful advice: "You have to pull yourself together."

With James, it was that one day, when Malcolm was very tiny, James was at work (for reference: Mal was born on a Thursday afternoon, and James's bosses contacted him Friday and said, "No rush, but just so we can know what to expect: When do you plan to come back to work?" He went back on Monday.) and Mal just would not stop crying, as per usual. I was sleep-deprived and near the end of my rope. There was nothing to do, and nothing makes me feel crazier when there's nothing to do. I was scared of myself. Not scared that I'd just run away or even hurt the baby or anything. Just overwhelmed by the weight of the responsibility that it felt I was expected to bear on my own. 

I called James in tears and said, "He won't stop crying, and I don't know what to do. I need you to come home." By the time James got there, maybe 25 minutes later, Mal and I were on the porch and he'd calmed down. James sat with us a while, then went back to work.

Later, he admitted that this was the one time in our whole relationship that he'd been frustrated with me. He thought that the baby was hurt or that something was out-of-the-ordinary wrong, when it was just the normal stuff, but waves upon waves of it. Apparently, there was a meeting at work that had to be rescheduled because of my neediness. I was honestly shocked there weren't other times he'd been mad. I'd been a selfish jerk quite often and wouldn't have resented that. This baffled me. I needed... something.

Everyone needs something.

And something no-one tells you when you try to blend a family, especially if only one of you has kids, is that it feels like you're the single one who has to make sure that everyone's needs are met. It's your responsibility to make sure that no one feels inconvenienced or hurt by the decisions you made, because if they do, then it means that it's your fault and that you brought this on them.

So if you're a perfectionist like me, you try to manage. You try to manage resources and environment and activities. You try to anticipate needs and meet them in advance so no one feels left out or overlooked.

Then when you make a decision for your own life or even for the family unit as a whole, if one person doesn't agree with it, it feels even more fraught than if you'd started off all on the same page for the kids' whole lives. 

When I was married to Ken, I exercised my empathy until it was flawless. It was codependent and unhealthy, but I tried to operate in ways I knew wouldn't stir the pot. I assumed that when I got out of that relationship, things would get easier.

I was right, in terms of having an unconditionally loving partner. But what I didn't realize is that I took my empathy with me, and when D started having issues with the trajectory our lives were taking (unfortunate side effect of being a kid is that you get dragged wherever your parents' choices take you), I would start to pour all of that energy into maintaining normalcy as much as possible for my kid.

Once, when D was in therapy when I was expecting Mal, I met with D's therapist to discuss some things, and the therapist told me, "You're addressing this practically, but you're not addressing D's feelings about it." And recently, D has told me the same thing: I meet their physical needs, but not the emotional ones.

But, damn it, I don't know what else to do. I have two kids who have various sensory/sensitivity things that James and I both deal with, but I'm the day-to-day person who tries to manage things like sounds, fears, hygiene, food preferences, appointments, pet interactions... and maybe I'm just the kind of person who doesn't have a lot of emotional energy left over after all of that.

So maybe I shouldn't have had kids.

It doesn't seem to be something I can handle.

My kids deserve better than that, and I'm tired.

So... where do we go from here?

"Not a Normal Mom"

Mal came to me last week and said, "I'm glad you're not a normal mom."

Since I'm sure this is true on many levels, I wanted some specification. "What do you mean 'normal'?"

He said, "Like most moms are mean to their kids."

Okay, I got it. It's taken him six and a half years, but he realizes that we don't punish him.

I said, "Most moms aren't being mean to their kids; moms might punish their kids because they think it will help them be better people. Like, if they feel like their kid is using the computer too much, or used it without permission, they might take it away for a while so their kid will think about it more next time."

He said, "Yeah. I'm glad you're not like that."

Now TOTALLY changing the subject... on the Hidden Brain podcast this week, a guess was talking about the "comedy cliff," wherein at about the age of 23, people stop engaging in humor as frequently as they did when they were kids. One way this was determined was by asking survey respondents: "Did you laugh yesterday?" Almost all children answer yes (and most young kids laugh something like 400 times a day, and adults less than 20). Many adults answer no, until the age of 70, when I guess we start loosening up again.

I told James that those adults must not have kids like Mal.

He makes us laugh literally every single day, many times over.

One of the things I miss about our house in Sherman was the giant dining room we didn't use because there was just plenty of room at the bar in the kitchen... I mean, we have room at our bar here, too, but in Sherman, the seats faced each other because of how the bar was shaped. Here, we'd just be awkwardly facing the kitchen, like we did in the apartment.

Anyway, since we don't have a dedicated "homeschool desk," one of our repeated challenges is that Mal likes to get out his blocks and LEGO bricks and play sets on the kitchen table, and he wants to leave them out to play with "tomorrow." And the next day. And the next. And after a while, I just want to sit down to eat without having to shuffle small bits of plastic.

Yesterday was Day Three of Minecraft LEGOs on the table, and I'd told Mal I wanted to move the sets over to the coffee table. When I started, Mal followed me around, bringing the sets back to the table.

Later in the day, James was eating lunch while Mal was in our bedroom closet watching videos. As James and I chatted, I quietly moved things over to the coffee table. I figured that if I could get everything moved over, then Mal would be too overwhelmed to move it back. I was successful, and James and I continued our conversation. About five minutes later, Mal came into the room to show us something, and just said in a dead pan, "You monster."

He cracks me up every day. That's good, because he is also by turns demanding and emotionally exhausting. And his humor and mostly good nature goes a long way in injecting much-needed energy into the environment. 

Seeing a Specialist

Last night was not a great night.

Mal has been on Miralax (between 2 and 4 servings a day) since we went to the doctor back in May. It was hopeful at first, as he was going pretty regularly for about a week. Then it dwindled down and by early last week, we were down to maybe once a week. I tried reducing the Miralax when things got too runny, and it would stop. But we weren't loving the frequent seepage. And his belly is still bloated.

I sent Mal's doctor an email asking what we should do. He said to keep with the Miralax and if he hadn't gone in a week AND was uncomfortable, to try a suppository or enema. He also referred us to a pediatric gastroenterologist.

If you know Mal at all, you know that an enema is just not going to happen unless he's medically sedated, so instead I purchased a pediatric saline laxative (no stimulant). He took three doses Sunday, spaced about an hour apart, because I was giving it time to work. Very late in the day, he did go an impressive amount. But then it was back to nothing substantial, just lots of dribbles and cleaning of underpants.

Last night... last night was as bad as it's been. Mal went through 20 pair of underwear yesterday. He doesn't own that many underpants, so I did laundry. Twice. I also had to clean both toilets, mop the master bathroom floor, and wash several towels (we had him carry around to sit on) and his bedspread. I was exhausted, and I felt so bad for him. He'd want to play with me, but I'd notice that his pants were dirty and we'd have to go clean him up. Over and over. Every 10-15 minutes toward the end of the day.

I don't know what I would have done if we hadn't had the appointment today. We'd initially scheduled it for July 12, but got on a waiting list and had today's slot open up. I was ready to do it, but also had some anxiety. We know Mal's GP. He's a neat guy, very respectful of both of my kids, and really listens and tries to intervene in the least invasive way, with nary a hint of parent-shaming (like the "how did we get here?" kind of thing that makes you feel like, deep down, anything wrong with your kid is ultimately something you've let happen). But this is a new person, and... it's always a crapshoot with new providers.

Mal wasn't excited about getting up early this morning. "I'm having such a good time being asleep!" Same, little dude. We drove about half an hour to Round Rock, and when we arrived at the Baylor Scott and White complex, I realized that I wasn't sure which building was our target and... I'd left my phone at home.

We pulled in at one building and asked the gentleman wh was doing the COVID screening. He said we were in the wrong building, and pointed the right building out to us. We drove a short way and got there in plenty of time. We headed to the 3rd floor (something I remembered from the phone call where we set an appointment) and... it was also the wrong building. The building we were supposed to be in was actually across the street, separate from the hospital complex.

Eventually, we got there, only a few minutes late. One of the benefits of typically being chronically early. We were called right in. The nurse who did the intake was great. When Mal balked at having his blood pressure taken, she just waved it off and said, "Skip it! It's fine."

While we waited, Mal admired a photo of a bunny on the wall, and he wanted me to get a picture of him with it.

Then the doctor came in. He was much younger than he looks in his official photo online. He asked Mal, "Do you know what kind of doctor I am? I am a poop doctor. Hey, someone has to be a poop doctor. There's a pee doctor. There's an ear doctor. And I'm an expert on poop."

He talked about Mal's shirt and asked if he'd been to the beach. When I told him we'd been to the Gulf shore like Galveston and Port Aransas, which some people say isn't actually the beach, he said, "It can't all be Hawaii, right?" Then Mal said, "I did go to a beach once at Disney World!" Disney's Polynesian Resort has a beautiful sand beach. It might not be natural, but it's probably the prettiest beach he's ever visited.

The doctor also mentioned having a son a couple of years older than Mal, who had hair just about as long as his until he was 6 or so. He said his son was often complimented with, "What a beautiful girl" and that he got good at just pronouncing that he was a boy.

This is a lot of chit-chat to be allowed by a busy specialist. It helped Malcolm calm down significantly.

We looked again at the x-ray Mal had taken last month, and one thing this doctor pointed out was that Mal's colon has actually lengthened to compensate for the fullness. Then the doctor wanted Mal to get up on the exam table so he could feel Mal's belly. Malcolm did NOT want to do this, and started to whimper and insist that wasn't happening.

The doctor came and squatted in front of Mal's chair and asked, "Right now, what is it that you're afraid of?"

When Mal couldn't/wouldn't answer, the doctor said, "I just need to feel your belly to see if you've eaten any tigers or monkeys. Have you eaten a monkey?"

Mal said, "I don't eat monkeys!" As Mal laughed, the doctor felt around pretty deeply into Mal's gut. The doctor kept saying silly stuff, Mal giggled, and then at one point, tried to say "stop it; that hurts," but it wasn't completely intelligible. So the doctor said, "A turkey? There's a turkey in there?" Mal corrected him, "No, I don't eat turkeys! Just chickens!" And by then, the exam was over.

So guess what? Mal's still full of poo.

The doctor explained to him that the next thing we do is dependent on him, because no one is in charge of Mal's body but himself. I can ask him to go to the bathroom but I can't MAKE him. So, if this is going to work, Mal has to buy in. He looked at me and said, "Frankly, this can work or not. He's only 5. I have 8 and 9 year olds in here crying, begging me to help them, willing to do ANYTHING to fix the problem." He explained that this is very common, and mores with boys than girls, because boys are just busy and don't want to go. Then they get constipated and it hurts, so that is an encouragement NEVER to do that again, and it leads to what we have now. He told Mal it wasn't his fault, and that it made perfect sense that if he'd decided when he was younger to hold it instead of getting hurt, that was a logical decision for a little kid. But now...

So the doctor told me to get magnesium citrate and have Mal drink a third of the bottle every day for three days. Then he told Mal that, since his rectum was stretched out and the nerves are basically "turned off" and can't tell him when he NEEDS to go (if it always feels like you need to, that becomes your baseline, and your body stops "telling" you), that after each meal, he needs to sit on the toilet for five minutes and push, whether he feels like it or not.

The doctor also recommended maybe some kind of point system, like one star for sitting and two stars if he actually goes. We decided that we'd put a sticker on a calendar every time he does this, sitting and pushing for 5 minutes after each meal, and as long as he has 3 stickers for every day between now and his follow-up next month, that on the way home, I'll stop at Best Buy and get him Super Mario Maker 2, a game he has wanted for months and that I think he'll find very frustrating so have so far avoided purchasing.

Mal was down.

It took a couple of hours to get the liquid cold enough for Mal to drink, so we didn't start it today. We'll start in the morning, and if not earlier than Monday, by then Mal should start emptying out. THEN we go back to Miralax just to keep it soft so he will be encouraged to go. Apparently Miralax draws water into the colon, and it softens new stool but doesn't do anything about the rocks Mal already has built up in there. So we have to blow him out and start over.

Hopefully this works; if not, he'll give me some other things to do next month.

One thing he said we should absolutely do is eliminate dairy. He said it is way too constipating to be worth it, and that Mal definitely does not need cow's milk. This is going to be a chore, because that's like 1/4 of his diet: milk, yogurt, ice cream, string cheese. However, I did go right out and buy SO Delicious ice cream in vanilla and chocolate, and some SO Delicious ice cream sandwiches. Mal has eaten one of those so far and liked it. I am not going to try to give him the oat milk plain, but will try to use it tomorrow when we get our grocery delivery, which has his favorite cereal.

I was noticing as we came home how hopeful I felt. I did last month, though, too. I can't imagine the exhaustion of seeing a light at the end of the tunnel and then disappointment over and over again that parents with children who have chronic health conditions must feel. I do hope that Mal will clear out and we can start over with some better toileting habits. He's never been 100% on this, and it's been a long three years!

Wading Through Sludge

Last week, everything just felt hard.

Getting Mal to take his fiber gummies... hard. Getting Mal to brush his teeth in the morning... hard. Getting Mal to sit on the toilet a few times a day... hard. Getting Mal to go outside... hard. Keeping up with the cooking and cleaning while we're all in this space 24/7... hard. Keeping up with groceries and supplies and Amazon orders... hard. Remembering to put Miralax in everything Mal was drinking... hard.

It was just slow and heavy, and I was tired. I'm still a little tired, but I have changed things up just a tiny bit this week.

First, I ditched the fiber supplements and am looking for new ones. I ate them and they're not terrible; I'll probably finish them. They do have a "chicory root" aftertaste, but that's because... they're made out of chicory root.

Second, James has a 4-day weekend coming up, and just having something different to look forward to is helping.

Third, I am over the hump of trying to cut down on both caffeine and, mostly, caramel color (for my own reasons; you do you, love), so my personality has mostly returned, and I think I feel slightly more human than I did last week.

Now... has Mal made any progress on the gastro-internal health front? That would be a big old "not really." Somehow, even though we've had him on Miralax for a week and a half, I've given him Activia and sugar-free chocolate, he has seriously upped his fiber, and it's likely that everything in him is totally liquid now (we had a couple of eye-opening and nose-pinching incidents over the weekend that required much cleaning and erasing of memories), he WILL NOT POOP.

Today, I was trying to have him sit on the toilet every time his stomach growled. The second time, he just refused. I told him that he will never get better, never heal his muscle tone, never be able to feel when he actually needs to go, if we don't first get him empty so he can recover. He cried and told he he'd sit on the toilet tomorrow. I picked him up, as I often do, and carried him in there. But he's just over 50 pounds and my left thumb is messed up. When he struggles, it's like he weighs 150 pounds.

He was trying to run away from me, to get out of the bathroom. He was crying and complaining. I felt myself getting VERY angry, so I just sat him in the floor of the restroom and walked away. He ended up giving up, "Fine! I'll go!" and sat down. He did not go, though.

Everything I've read says not to make this kind of thing traumatizing for the child, not to get emotional, to make it fun. But it doesn't say what to do if your child is content never to go into the bathroom except to pee, and no amount of offering to read, let him play a game on his computer, chat, tell stories, play games, have a counting contest, etc. can convince him. He's already traumatized, and I'm worried that if we have to seek further, more invasive, medical intervention, it will be even worse. I'm trying to stay patient and stay the course, even as I see his distended belly and feel how rock-hard it is.

Anyway, here's Mal. He's precious. And he's a lot. I love him, and I wish I could say that I wouldn't change anything about him, but I do wish I could painlessly steamroll his abdomen and squeeze him empty like a toothpaste tube.

On Gentle Parenting... and Poop

In a much quicker update than I was expecting to have when I mentioned the restroom issues Mal was having yesterday: I took him to the doctor today. He had an x-ray. I can't show you the image because I don't have access to it, but here is the official description: "There is a nonspecific nonobstructive bowel gas pattern. Prominent colonic stool burden with redundant air-filled sigmoid colon. No suspicious calcifications are seen. The osseous structures are unremarkable."

To put it in layman's terms: My son is full of shite. His entire large intestine is stuffed. There are other things the doctor showed me on the x-ray that I won't go into here, because I know TMI when I see it, believe it or not.

I'm a medical minimalist, and I'm not sure I would have thought to take him to the doctor yet, if it weren't for some very wise fellow unschoolers in the Austin area. I reached out and asked for advice, and explained that I was not interested in the advice I've heard from some parents, to the tune of: "Make them clean it up if they soil their pants," and "Clean their bottoms off in a cold shower. I did it to my daughter twice, and she started going in the toilet."

I don't like those ideas because they're punitive. Even the "experts" who say, "Don't get emotional, but do make them clean it up. It's a natural and logical consequence," it's still a punishment. There's almost no other area in Mal's life where I insist he clean up a mess he's made with zero help, and this is actually a lot more involved than putting up Legos. It also requires a certain manual dexterity in order to clean without making a bigger mess.

And the cold shower thing? I don't want to take a cold shower. Even if I do something totally dumb and get myself very dirty, I would prefer to be comfortable when cleaning up. Why would I subject my child to something I myself would find miserable?

Fortunately, there are many like-minded parents in this group from whom I sought collaborative advice. All were in agreement: He knows. He's already stressed. You don't have to talk about it or make it a big deal. Two or three recommended I take him to the doctor and ask for an ultrasound. A couple tagged a pediatrician who offered to help me if I didn't have a family pediatrician.

We do, and so I made an appointment. I told the doctor that when all of this started, months and months ago, I think it *was* a behavioral thing. Mal would hide in his room instead of going to the bathroom, and just work really hard to hold it in. He's never just pooped his pants. He just didn't want us to see him working so hard NOT to go to the bathroom. But over time, I think this built up to the point that it crossed over into a physical problem, based on everything I read and then other people's input.

And today, we verified it. He has a medical issue that we're going to tackle with... medicine. I already feel bad enough about any frustration I showed him over the cleaning and the monitoring that we've had to do. So on the way home, I told him that the doctor confirmed that this was a problem inside of his body, and we're going to take care of it. That I appreciated how hard he's been trying not to dirty his pants, but it's not his fault if it happens, and he's such a good boy, regardless.

Imagine how much worse I'd feel if I'd tried manipulating him into a behavior that his body currently renders impossible. I'm grateful to be old enough to "know better" and reject bad parenting advice when I see it. Even if Mal were just a little booger who was crapping his pants intentionally, the fact is that there's always a way to approach solutions like you're on the same team with your children. I wish I'd realized this sooner, when D was much younger.

Changing the subject slightly: It WAS every bit as exhausting taking Mal to the doctor, then downstairs for an x-ray, then back up to the doctor's office as you might think. He complained in the lobby that he wanted to go home. He complained in the patient room that he wanted to go home. He cried a LOT in the imaging lobby that he would just lie on the floor out there and they could bring the camera out to take a picture there. He took a death grip on the chair when the gentle and patient technician came out to call us back.

One good thing about having the mask (#COVID19) was that Mal pulled it up to cover his eyes, too, so he wouldn't have to see the x-ray. It was incredibly quiet and non-threatening. Still, Mal was upset the whole time and insisted later that it was awful and he'd never talk about it again. He vacillated over whether or not to see "the picture," then just didn't care when we got to look at it.

After the doctor's office, we went to Target to get a LEGO set I'd ordered him for pick-up and we had to wait in a very long line to get into the store, even just to go to customer service and get out. THEN, because I'd promised my family In N Out, we had to wait in a VERY long drive-through line for that. Both moved pretty quickly, but by the time we got home, I was TIRED.

Mal, though, seemed to get a rush of energy from the adrenaline of the day, and has been bouncing off the walls pretty much nonstop since. We've been home six hours and he's jumping on the couch. I don't usually feel like an "old mom," but I definitely do today. After care-taking for such an emotionally wrought child for a good hour at the pediatrician's, I was ready to crash. Not so with my kid. And now he wants me to go play LEGO Minecraft with him, so I suppose I should do that. I'm actually ready for bed right now, but... guess it's time to be Alex.

Fully Five

Mal's birthday party was a lot of fun. We practically had Jump Street to ourselves, and his knee braces seemed to help him not to hyperextend his knee, as he is wont to do. Monday, we did chores and packed; and Tuesday, we headed toward Dallas for his birthday trip. Nana went with us, and we had a nice few days at Great Wolf Lodge (yay for super sales!), visiting The Crayola Experience and World of Peppa Pig.

I'd pre-purchased tickets both to the Crayola Experience and to the Legoland Discovery Center. First, it turned out that Mal got into the Crayola Experience for free since it was his birthday. Groupon couldn't/wouldn't refund my third ticket, but I forwarded it to my niece, who takes her son to Dallas fairly frequently to visit with his dad. THEN, the morning we were heading to the Lego place, Mal said he *really* wanted to go visit the World of Peppa Pig. He's been watching the television show again recently, and when I asked if he could only choose one, what would he pick... he picked Peppa.

Unfortunately, the Lego tickets were also non-refundable. Fortunately (unfortunately, I guess, but in our favor) the splash pad was waiting parts for a repair and due to that situation, I was able to get the money back. We happened to be at Peppa Pig during an off-peak time, so it ended up being a lot less expensive, and nearly empty. Mal played there for three hours. I think if they'd allowed re-entry, we could have spent more time later in the day. He loved it so much.

He had a thing the second day we went to the water park at Great Wolf where he noticed the big bucket dump before we walked in. The day before, he hadn't seen it... so in his mind, it wasn't operating the day before, but this day it was, and he did NOT want to go in. I got him inside, but he walked over to the kid pool and just cried. As I put my shoes away, I noticed an eagle-eyed lifeguard circling behind Mal, keeping watch until I joined him.

He was just standing there with his hand over his ears, sobbing, so my mom took him back out while I got my shoes. I didn't want him to leave terrified, though, so we tried one time. I carried him (ugh!) alllll the way to the back of the park, all the while he was crying, until we got to the one simply swimming pool they have. He ended up getting in and having a great time for an hour or so. I wouldn't have made him stay if he hadn't wanted to, but I felt like he'd probably be okay once he was past the bucket.

He has such big feelings and emotions. He cried as we left the hotel, as he does any time we leave a hotel (even after he's just visited Nana and Pappy at a hotel for a few minutes). He was a little weepy in the car for a while. But when we got home, he cooed, "Oh, house, I've missed you! I'm so happy to be home!" and went around and greeted the cats, and then the chickens, and showed his new toy his room.

And how he's a 5-year-old. Last year this time, he was saying that after he turned 5, he wasn't going to get any older. He was just going to turn 5 and stop. That seems to have died down over the past couple of months, as he talks about when he's 6... But last night, when we discussed that he needs to start trying to brush his own teeth with me there to finish up, he cried as I explained that I wasn't going to be brushing his teeth when he's 10. James had come into Mal's room for us all to chat as Mal wound down, and no matter what we discussed, Mal would only chime in every once in a while to beg, "Please still brush my teeth when I'm 10!"

I asked him if, when he was an adult and had moved out and was married and had kids, I was going to come to his house every night to brush his teeth. He said, "I'll never do that!" Moving out, that is. But since he wasn't going to age this time last year, I'm hoping that, by next year, he'll have at least tried to clean his chompers. Time will tell.

Blogging is Hard

In case you're wondering: Yes, we're still on the "go to bed at 12:30 AM, wake up after 10 AM" schedule. Which sounds kind of perfect, in terms of sleeping nine hours, but... It makes it difficult for James and me to spend time together, since he has to be in bed in time to get up early enough to miss traffic into his newish job; and it makes blogging a chore because I tend to actually wind down and start heading to sleep before Mal (waking up to tell him it's late enough and I'm turning off the lights). Then in the morning, there is waking up to do, and I try to get my chores done. Then that's just about the time Mal wakes up. Oh, and I watch TV. In fact, I just opened up my tablet, determined to blog, when I saw a video I'd started watching while I made dinner last night, but then got waylaid. I was about to press "play," but knew that would mean zero blogs today. :) So here we are.

Mal watching TV at the fun Disney Jr. play area at Barton Creek Square

First of all, an observation: The other day, it was a little chilly. In the middle of the day, I realized that what I was wearing -- leggings, a long-sleeved under shirt, and a man's button-up that fits kind of like a dress -- was pretty much the exact "outfit" I have on in a picture my mom took of my sister and me coming into my apartment from the store when I was in college.

For most of my life, I've skirted the edges of poverty, typically in the lower middle class. For that same time, I've also thought that it would be nice to have enough money that I could dress a little "better." Well, here we are with enough so-called "disposable" income that I could upgrade my wardrobe if I wanted to. And I DO purchase clothing that is more comfortable and better-made than I used to. But apparently having a little bit of cash in your pocket does not give you style, and so I'm pretty much always going to look like an out-of-touch stay-home cheapskate mom... because I am.

Similarly, we realized some caulking was coming up onto our dishes from INSIDE the dishwasher. At first, I thought I was pulling out some nasty stringy cheese, but realized, no... it was literally caulk. A brief internet research junket showed that it's dangerous to use any kind of sealant inside a dishwasher if it isn't aquarium sealant and therefore safe for animals (like humans). This was obviously the stuff you pipe around your bathtub.

Since the dishwasher was original to the house, built in 2007, we decided to get a new dishwasher. The first year we lived here, when we had the house warranty, we had someone come out about 4 times for various problems, and it's vibrated loudly through two cycles ever since then, but mostly worked.

We'll probably have to replace our refrigerator soon, too, and I've been eyeing these lovely candy apple red appliances. James did some research, but after he bought some Black Friday electronics, turned the dishwasher selection over to me. I found a couple of beautiful red ones. Both Smeg and Big Chill make them. And the morning I sat down to order, I ended up buying a Cyber Monday deal on a slate one (like the other appliances we have) from The Home Depot because I couldn't justify doubling the cost of a dishwasher just for it to be red. So that's how my brain works.

Mal seems to have even MORE energy than ever right now. We're going on a little trip next week, just the two of us, and I'm looking forward to getting and keeping him out for a while. He is loving being out. Wednesday, we went to south Austin to celebrate the Brownie girls' birthdays. Then we went to the mall because he loves Barton's play area (pictured above) but I can't justify driving down there just to visit the mall. After that, and being stuck in rush hour 360 traffic for 45 minutes, he wanted to play at Little Land. We closed that place down, then went to the McD's play area where he played with other kids for an hour and a half.

Yesterday, we met one of his friends at Chick-fil-A, then when they had to leave, we went to McD's AGAIN and he played there for a couple of hours.

Today, he's wanting to go to IKEA, where I can get 1.5 hours of child care for free! So it sounds great to me!

I was not premature in celebrating the end of "deedees." It's been a month since that post, and we're definitely done. The week after I wrote it was difficult. He remembered it, and wanted to go back. I didn't want to actively stop, but since we had, it was easier to say, "I'm sorry; it's too late." He cried himself pretty much to sleep a couple of nights. But he was fine. Yesterday, he was upset about a lot of things and said, for the first time in probably three weeks: "I'm not special anymore because I don't have deedees!" He has no idea how "special" nursing for four years is!

I've mentioned becoming a much more laid-back parent over the years. It might appear like "permissive parenting," but it's actually intentional and often difficult; I'm not just sitting back and letting my kid do whatever he wants because I'm lazy (which I can be, but that's not my overall parenting strategy). It's more about my trying to have empathy with where my kid is, and not allowing my pride or perceived authority be offended because how we interact doesn't look the way an authoritarian model looks. But it's so bizarre and sweet at times.

Yesterday, Malcolm was very frustrated because he had already eaten one of the Trader Joe's chocolate ornaments off of our tree. I don't control what he eats in general, but since the ornaments are for the whole family and not just him, I'm limiting him to one per day. He was furious, and kept saying that he was going to take another. I told him he was not going to do that. He yelled, "I am so angry with you right now!" I told him I was sorry he was mad, and I walked past him to see if he'd let me pick him up. He did.

I sat on the couch, and he nuzzled into my neck, crying and saying, "I'm just so mad at you!" while I said, "I'm so so sorry you are angry" and rocked with him. He eventually calmed down, and it seems so healthy to me to be able both to be mad at someone AND to receive comfort from them. 

Later, we reached a compromise of sorts in which I let him finish off his advent calendar, because that WAS his, and while I sliced onions for dinner, he ran over to show me his "ultra rare" finds, like a chocolate wreath or stockings or Santa. He kept saying, "I love doing this! I can't stop!" He enjoyed himself so much, and the calendar was for his enjoyment, so I'm glad he was able to have at it. We have a wooden advent calendar we can still use daily. It's not quite as tempting.

Oh, Mal wasn't as thrilled when he said he wanted another calendar and I told him Trader Joe's is out of them. I bought them in the middle of November because they're $1 and I know how they fly off the shelves. Ehh, life lesson, I suppose.

Here's a picture my dad took of Mal on the trampoline at the Brownies'.

We got our 23 and Me results back, and James has a much more broad base of ancestry than I do. We'll go into some of the results later, but it was a lot of fun to do. One thing it does if you want it to is it finds people who are likely your family. For both of us, it founds cousins we already know. So that was pretty cool.

We have a special project coming up that is part D's Christmas present, part a thing for the whole family. We're all looking forward to it, and I can't wait to share that, either!

Time to watch that video (hopefully) before Mal wakes up! Have a great weekend!

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.