UTERUS, O UTERUS...How do I love thee!

Yesterday, a doctor confirmed that I will need to have a hysterectomy in the next few years.  I need this because my uterus (aka my baby case, baby bucket, ol' trusty) has several benign tumors called fibroids.  I've had this condition since 2003 and have felt and watched them grow and shrink with each of my two pregnancies.  Now I have one big tumor (big bertha) and it's pressing on my bladder and just making life uncomfortable.  The uterus is an under-appreciated organ, the Rodney Dangerfield of the body.  It's not the heart, lungs, intestine.  It's just a fetus sleeping bag for 9 months and then it just fills and empties with blood every month after that.  Despite its low profile, I have the utmost respect for my uterus because it defied the odds and kept my babies safe by not expelling them prematurely (as many doctors warned me) and not leaving them with dented heads (not a real danger but one I conjured up).  I used to think that several of the fibroids kept my daughter company when she was in there.  In my imagination, they looked like that purple character from McDonalds (see image).

Now faced with losing my uterus, I feel very upset.  People need to stop messing with my abdomen!  I've had 3 abdomen surgeries in the last 6 years!  (2 c-sections, 1 appendectomy) Stop fucking with my guts! I know exactly how the recovery will be and it's not pretty.  I'm not a stoic person.  When faced with great illness or pain, I plummet into self-pity and usually depression.   I can't help it and I wish I could say it wasn't that way but I like to be in control and also am a creature of habit.  When you can't get up or walk around without feeling like you're going to rip open your guts, it's easy to get a little down.  So I don't know what to think about this...maybe writing about it will help.

Summer observations

1) Summer is actually very short.  Basically 9 weeks which are going by like THAT! (insert snap sound)

2) I've actually gotten closer to my little Sophie.  We have more stretches of downtime to hang out and be silly together.  

3) Both my children are growing up so fast.  Each morning they look a wee bit different.  A longer leg, a leaner face, or maybe even facial features that have been slightly rearranged overnight. Weird, right? 

4) Oh yeah, I also turned 40 but I'm ok with it.  (more on that later)

5) My 20 month old son talks now.  He says no, mine, owie, dooce (for juice), does (toes), mommy, daddy, ami (for grandma), points to his nose.  He also recognizes Thomas (choo-choo) and Elmo (Ellow).  

6) He's also is a little tyrant.  If he were a factory, his only product would be tantrums.  If he were a river - his only flow would be anger.  The one mitigating factor is that he has eczema and though it has ebbs/flows - it looks friggin awful and he looks miserable.  It's like torture to watch him scratch, howl, get up and then sit down, unable to figure out what to do.  All I can do is cover him in Aquaphor, cortisone, distract him and then call the doctor for another appt.  It's been hard on me and most of all on him.  

7) When he wants anything, he says Mommy at the top of his lungs, hurls himself on the floor.  When that doesn't work, he'll scratch his legs (because this always works) and howl "Owie!"  This makes mommy move fast like a kid at a carnival. 

8) The warm weather and long days are glorious.  I wish they would never end.  

9) Next weekend, I'm going away with some old high school (even gradeschool) friends for a 1969 birthday celebration.  Should be fun.  Ok, I lie - I'm nervous about leaving my eczema son and little girl and hanging out 90 miles away.  Deep breath....

10) I thought I would hate being 40 but I like it so far.  Feels like an accomplishment (not about aging) but about just building a nice life for myself.  Kids, nice hubbie, career, etc.  

Happy summer, dudettes!!!

Gooey puddle of mommy love

My girl has been out of school and in a science camp for three weeks. So I have six hours with just one kid, the younger one, the squirrely one. I didn't know what to do with him. So we went to the park, grocery shopped and hung out at the mall. He's a handful all by himself. Call him "the bigger pain in my ass." I love the little guy but he drives me cuckoo. When I was pregnant with my first child, I thought I would make a better mother to a boy than a girl. Now that I have one of each, I believe that I am a better mom to a girl. Boys confound me. They are physical rather than emotional. My 20 month old boy is a tasmanian devil. A whirling dervish and destruction machine. Today he broke several picture frames, destroyed his dresser drawers and ate dirt. Ick. He loves to dive headfirst down stairs and jams fistfuls of food (no matter the size) in his mouth. His hands are always sticky and damp. Gak. It's amazing he's in one piece at the end of the day. Good thing he's close to the ground and has a layer of padding all around. Though after a piping hot bath when he's clean and smiley - I melt into a gooey puddle of mommy love. I is a goner.

Turning corners...

I'm sleeping more!  My kids are 5.5 years and 15 months.  My 15 month old is finally sleeping through the night.  He is so cute.  I love his big cheeks and the ones on his face too (ba dum bum).  His big sister is a bona fide elementary school kid; she loves school, her teacher and recess (duh).  I love doing her hair before school; she wears pigtails or just a pin on one side. She just learned to read!  I can hear her reading to herself in her room some nights; it's so cute. During a visit to the library, I overheard her "reading" to herself which meant in a low speaking voice that disgruntled a lot of senior citizens.  I told her to be read to herself silently so she did:  now all you could hear was a loud breathy whisper:  "Clifford didn't want ice cream so he walked across the street to the car wash..."  I can't believe that her kindergarten experience is almost half over; school gets out June 10.  I already signed her up for summer camp after reading some mom's freakout online about getting a jumpstart on summer.  She is an overall sunny person, a great big sister.  She is always looking out for her younger brother - keeping him from getting hurt (grabbing a knife) and then turning around and (unintentionally) hurting him in the process (tackling him to the ground).

She is very observant and pretty mature for her age.  I sometimes feel like I'm speaking with someone twice as old as she is.  She's also a little bossy and exacting though not to an obnoxious degree.  She has a hard time with the girl cliques (yes there is such as thing as a 5 year old queen bee) but we're working through each situation.  It's so hard to do this with her because it brings up my own fear of rejection and disapproval.  I remember the many times I faced or avoided (girl) bullies in my school.  It was and is so much easier for me to tell off a man than a woman.  Bad of me, isn't t?

Wait, I can yell at pretty much anyone as long as I feel justified.  I have to be (extra/double extra) sure of myself but I have been known to yell at someone if I feel like I'm getting the raw end of the deal.  It's the crispy kimchee in me.  All that spicy fermentation needs an outlet.  I digress. My daughter is facing that pack mentality of (most not all) girls that drives me crazy.  I understand the need for companionship or common ground or even to not feel like a loner freak. But I don't understand or feel comfortable with the whole let's all dress like each other, do exactly the same thing and all hang out at the mall together.  I never understood it when I was 12 either.  I wish I could give her a mental shield and helmet to wear as she goes through these next 15 years so she can deflect the mean words, judgment and conformist bullshit thrown at her by her fellow girls.  Whew, I'm glad I'm turning 40.  

Nannyland....it ain't no Disney

I went to the library today with my two kids for storytime.  It was packed with children and their caregivers.  Not moms but caregivers, the PC word for babysitter these days.  I was astonished at the small number of moms that were present.  These nannies were fine nannies - their charges looked clean and well looked after but the whole scene made me feel strange.  It felt as though mothers were now extinct and nannies were the new species to care for children.  I felt like a weirdo like I churned my own butter!  The nannies gathered together and you could tell they were all friends by the ease in which they took care of each other's children and their conversation.  The library lego table was their water cooler and they obviously came here frequently to exchange gossip, talk about their employers and other stuff.  I wish, wish, wish that I had subtitles to the whole conversation.  I know a few Spanish words so what I picked up was mas (more), trabajo (work), quando (when).  So from what I could piece together one of them was bitchin about either having too much or not enough work.  heh. I can't say any of them were great a discipline or "being present" for their kids.  In fact, most were having fun than working.  $25 bucks an hour for hanging out at the water cooler.

Dbonz

Daniel is my smiley boy.  He smiles even when he is sick.  He has this persistent cough but he still manages to smile when you call him or meet his eyes.  He has this giant oval shaped head - it's hard to explain but it sits perched upon this stocky little body.  I'm so used to Sophie's tranquil girly serenity that his little ball of fists and fury sometimes overwhelm me.  Oftentimes, I laugh at it because it so cute.  I guess it's like when forest rangers take in wolf puppies.  So cuddly and soft until one day they eat your cat.  Ok, bad analogy.  I do think I'm in for a helluva ride with both of them.  Hopefully they won't challenge us too much.  Lord have mercy.  Even as I wrote that sentence I know they will challenge us for every ounce of sense we have.  But for now....

He is so sweet.  I can't pass by his room without him making a happy grunt or needy cry.  One time I actually got down on the ground and crawled by his room so he wouldn't see me.  It didn't work - he heard the scuffling plus I'm not that agile anymore.  I had to quit my job as a mime long ago.  I'm so curious as to what my little boy is going to be - will he be a stocky little athlete who's happy go lucky and hangs out with football players?  or will he be a quiet artist (please God no).  I guess I wish for him a very happy life - one where he knows who he is, how much he is loved, the fact that he can love others and finally that he has a passion in life - a focus where he enjoys putting his time and God-given talents.  But please don't become a minister, please not a minister.  Oy.