Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Policies, Schmolicies!

I went to the gym today! Yeah me!!!!! It was raining, I'm in a lousy mood, and I just didn't want to go... but I did. And I got through upper body weights when the ever annoying intercom announced, "Amanda Green to the Fun Club. Amanda Green to the Fun Club."

So down I went praying for a dirty diaper because that's quicker to deal with than an upset Logan or, and it hasn't happened yet, a Carson who has broken a rule and now has to leave. (Oh and I'll get to that nonsense!) But a dirty diaper it was not. It was Logan, screaming because he was hungry, because he refused to eat before we went, because he refused to nap, so he was in a crappy mood and not cooperating with Mommy. So I, who came prepared (which I never am, so the preparedness was quite an accomplishment), took Logan to the locker room to feed him. And I had to sign him out. Of course! He is an infant and when someone removes an infant or child from the Fun Club they have to sign said infant or child out.

What I didn't know is that once signed out they cannot be signed back in! No one has ever told me this. No one has ever explained to me that a child can only be signed in and out once a day regardless of circumstances. No one has ever told me that even though you get two hours of child care per day, if you sign out your child after 45 minutes you are done... they cannot come back in. No one has ever explained to me that their policies are crap!!!

Oh I knew most of them sucked since when my children get dirty diapers I get paged, because the staff is not allowed to change diapers... yeah that is as stupid as it sounds. "We run a child care program but we don't change diapers." BLAH! I say BLAH to that! If a child cries for more than 10 minutes you are paged... now this one doesn't bother me as much because I don't really want my children getting that upset but... again, I don't get a phone call from preschool if Carson is having a tantrum do I? No! They deal with it. But this one? This one really pushed me over the edge today...

If I had known that by signing Logan out to feed him I would not have been allowed to bring him back I would have gone and gotten the bottle and fed him in the nursery. If I had known that by signing him out, he couldn't come back I just would have signed out BOTH of my children and gone home, and fed him at home, where it's more comfortable... and clean. And why? OH WHY? When I signed out my infant did someone not say... "Do you want to take Carson too?", because at least then I would have asked why? And then someone could have explained to me this ridiculous policy!

What if I want to take two 1 hour classes but they are at different times of the day? Too bad for me, I guess. What if I have an emergency and need to pull my kids out but I can come back later? Too bad for me!

Look, I love the people who work there, the place is really clean and well kept. And I've even found a couple of sitters. And I'm sure if you have potty trained 5 year olds than it's a great place. But for those of us who have small children, un-potty trained children, infants... it down right sucks. Most of the time I get through my workouts without and issue. Both kiddos are fine. But today when I needed... NEEDED... to work off some energy. To get on that treadmill and go... just GO! To sweat and move and release all of this tension. I get paged. And well, then I get screwed by policies. so tot hat I say, "Policies, Schmolicies!"

Monday, August 23, 2010

We just don't know yet...

This is quite possibly the worst phrase in the English language. And if I spoke other languages, it would probably suck in those languages too.

My husband has a heart murmur. Carson has a heart murmur. And Logan has a heart murmur. But because Logan's was not discovered until his 2 month well child visit, we got to go to a pediatric cardiologist to have his checked out. And this was a lengthy process. We were told not to worry at this point. We went in and his heart was listened to and blood was drawn. He was labeled with an innocent murmur and we scheduled another appointment for pictures and video to be taken of his heart later.

We went in and this was done... the pictures and video, and then we scheduled another appointment to go over all of the results. Again, don't worry. So really I didn't. I'm a pretty positive person. I believe there is always a time for everything and I had not yet reached the time in which I was supposed to freak out. All the doctors seemed calm and they seemed to have order to this process. So their calm order kept me calm and collected.

Today we went for this follow up. Today I watched as my baby was once again hooked up to this machine that I know does not hurt him but I can't hold him so how can I possibly know that he's actually safe... because as we know in Mommy world, my baby is only safe in my arms. Then we went to another room and in comes the pediatric cardiologist. "I want to show you something Mrs. Green." Thump, thump, thump! That's my heart beating which suddenly seams very much louder and now my brain is working and that calm, collected order I was talking about, well it has flown the coop.

So as my baby lies in his diaper alone on the sterile looking, white table the cardiologist preps to do another ultrasound. (Surely by now we have all realized that I have a very, very active imagination and it sometimes is very detrimental to my mental stability.) "Logan has what we call a Rhabdomyoma." Thump, Thump, Thump. Basically this is a growth on the left ventrical wall of Logan's heart. It is not blocking the valve. And it may go away and we may never have to worry about it again. Or... it can stay there his whole life and he'll have to have it monitored his whole life. Or... it can grow or shift, block the valve and need to be removed. Really, as serious as it all sounds this is not the worst news in the world and really I should not be freaking out and really, really, this is not where it stopped.

Rhabdomyomas are also symptoms of a genetic disorder called Tuberous Sclerosis. Now having done my scary WebMD, Wikipedia and Mayo Clinic website research I also know it is commonly referred to as TSC. This is an ugly, ugly disease. So now we get to go see a geneticist. So now I get to wait until said geneticists office calls me, probably tomorrow. So now is the "We just don't know yet" phase of my week. The cardiologist was highly optomistic that TSC is not in our cards as Logan has not shown any other symptoms. He told me not to worry. He told me not to search the internet... which had he not said I probably would not have done. He told me that until we know more we should just be positive.

That little boy is my baby! I grew him in my body, I loved him before seeing him and in my mommy brain, that is highly over active, I worry that I did something wrong. In my mommy brain I go to all of the places we tell others we would never go: What if I have such a happy baby because God knows I only get him for so long? What if he has this TSC and he will now live with us for the rest of his life? What if because of this TSC I will forever be bound to my home because I'm now "that" woman with "that" child? Have I mentioned that Logan has not actually been diagnosed with TSC? Because he hasn't... Remember... "We just don't know yet..."

And I HATE NOT KNOWING YET!

Friday, August 20, 2010

I work!

I don't get vacation days or sick days or personal days. I work through migraines, stomach bugs and fevers. I'm a maid, a housekeeper, a minor emergency nurse, a maintenance worker, a gardener, a chef (or special order cook depending on the day), a teacher, an interior decorator and an event/ party planner. I repeat myself constantly and on a daily basis am faced with the challenge of never enough time.

I grocery shop and menu plan. I budget and spend. I worry. I worry. I worry. And I care more than one person should.

I try my best to get a shower in everyday. I try my best to look presentable. I try my best to keep everything together.

I don't have a union rep but boy would I love one. Even though, let's be realistic, I can never actually go on strike. I don't get a paycheck or a tax break or aid from our government. Even though I'm solely responsible for two members of the future of our society and culture. There was no licensing exam for my job. No one checked to see if I was qualified. There was no interview process.

I've been entrusted with lives that are not my own and told repeatedly by society that it is important that I take time out for myself. Which I try to do. But that time to myself is usually spent wondering what is going on while I'm not there. My brain never shuts off, my lists are always getting longer and nothing is ever actually finished.

However...

I am supplied with never ending stories and laughter and smiles. Giggles and tickles and playful wrestling. I read and I play and I color and I bake and I eat and I'm brought to tears by the wonder that is the "first" time. The first smile, the first crawl, the first step, the first tooth. The first art project, the first big boy hair cut, the first hug... and most importantly, the first, "I love you too, Mommy."

I get bath-time and play-time and bed-time. I'm amazed at how much two little hands can change in two little years and how just by looking at those hands I knew my oldest wasn't a baby anymore. I change diapers and though lets face it, it's a job I could do without, I'm needed. My existence on this earth is priceless. I'm depended on. Two little men know that no matter where they go or what they do with their lives, their Mommy loves them. Or if they don't know it now, they will some day.

Because all those "things" that I do, I do for them. At no point in my life before children did I contemplate my life with children. And no point did I ever think I could gain so much joy and happiness from the word, Mommy, being spoken by a 1 year old. At no point did I think it was possible for my heart to literally fill and overflow by merely placing a baby in my arms. Before you have children you never wonder what it is like to hold a life you created and brought into this world. And it is impossible to put into words.

Motherhood is hard. It is often thankless. It is also more than often the best job you will ever take on. But make no mistake it is work. But anything in this life that is worth it is more times than not a lot of hard, thankless, work.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Now is the Time

How do you feel about the Mosque being built 600 feet from Ground Zero? I have to be honest, this question has been playing through my mind for weeks now. My initial reaction was, "No, absolutely not!", and then something told me to reconsider my feelings on this. People that I respect, have looked up to, have admired most of my life have a very strong stance against this Mosque. And then there are others that I have the same type of relationship with who say it doesn't matter. So in effort to hash out my feelings and learn more about my personal leaning where this Mosque is concerned I've come here.

I wonder what, if I had the immense pleasure of sitting down with them, Ghandi or Mother Teresa or even (yes, I'll go there) Jesus would say. Would they tell me that as a Christian it is important to stand for my beliefs? (And yes I realize that Ghandi was not a Christian.) That as a Christian what the Muslim believers did that horrible day is a travesty and that my belief in God should allow me the strength and conviction to stand against them in this debate. Or would they tell me that, as a Christian, my job is to love? To forgive? That my job on this earth is to know that I am saved and that my place is secure and that my ability to love all, given to me by divine forgiveness, should be where I turn to in these difficult times?

This has always been my Christian dilemma. I feel many Christians use their faith as a hammer. Something to beat others down with in the name of eternal righteousness. And at the same time I know we are called to bring others to Christ. And if we don't speak and tell the truth as we see it, are we failing in spreading the name of Christ? But I also have this; we are told to love all. This has always stood out to me. Jesus loved all. He taught all. He healed all. He lived a loving, caring and forgiving life. And in a world of so much hate, so much "dieing in the name of...", and so much war, I feel love is my calling.

Now don't misunderstand me, I fail all the time. I can be horribly judgemental of people and it is something I work on daily. But now, in considering this Mosque, I have begun to really wonder about my calling as a Christian. What am I here to do?

I could skip over the big things in the world and say that I'm here to be a good mother, wife and woman. Here to love and here help bring my children to Christ. I could keep it personal and go on with my day to day life as if the world was not in a constant state of war and hate. But that is, unfortunately, selfish.

And then of course I have to take into consideration my very, very strong sense of patriotism to this country. We all know where we were on 9/11. We all know how we felt. I was angered, hurt, extremely emotional. We, as Americans, felt safe. Felt above an attack of that caliber. It happened elsewhere to other people but not to us, here on our sacred soil. We are a young country and I believe, to those of us who have strong convictions towards the USA, that we still see our country as a place that our ancestors fought for. A place that was given to us and with that gift comes a responsibility. A responsibility that we had all begun to take for granted. And when I combine my beliefs, I am told that as a Christian I am to follow the laws of my leaders.

I am what I will call a presidential supporter. I won't always agree, and the man in office may not have received my vote, but I support and respect the decisions made. I have the right to free speech and my opinion. I can support those that are more closely in line with my thinking and I can speak against what I see as detrimental to our country but the president and the office deserve my respect. That is a job that I never wish to hold and the people who run this country are people who have taken on a thankless service. But that is another topic for another day.

With all of the above said... I think that this Mosque is a step in the right direction. We claim as Americans that our country is built on diversity and just as Christians have extremists who use God's name as a weapon, as a tool to spread hatred and violence, so do Muslims. And those Muslim extremists took something from me that day. A sense of safety that my 17 year old self had always known and will never know again. And I will never be able to teach my children or raise them within that safety net I was raised in. I can never blindly wrap myself in that American cloak and walk as if my world can not be once more shattered.

But I can also not judge all Muslim believers on the few that make the headlines. Just as I hope and pray that one day not all Christians will not be judged by the ones who use our belief system as their tool to destroy and claim in Jesus' name. I think it is time to place the focus on love. On forgiveness. I in no way want to be misunderstood as saying it is time to forget about 9/11. It is not and will never be the time to forget. But what is supposed to separate me from those who attack with hatred and violence, is my ability to forgive and move forward. We should rebuild and remember. Pay homage to the lives lost and continue to fight for our freedoms and the freedoms of those less fortunate. We should always wake and know that our safety is a privilege and not a right and that men and women, and in some cases children, have lost their lives to ensure that our freedoms are in tact. I pray that the images of that day are never removed from my television. I want all to remember and know that 9/11 changed us, as a people, as a country.

I also want all to know that we can't use what was done to us that day as an excuse to attack and hurt all Muslims. We can't use 9/11 as a tool to spread blind hatred of a misunderstood community of people. Especially as Christians. Especially since at one time we were that same misunderstood community of people. At what point to we start to spread love? At what point do we put others before us and learn to again walk together in our diversity? At what point, do we as a country stop the spread of hate? I think it is time.