Curveball

Originally I was going to write about my son biting and how we are struggling with discipline.  Do we smack a 10 month old?  Do we tell him "bad!" and then punish him?  He likes to push the buttons on the PS3, and he likes to eat the kitty food.

And then my husband and I had an intense falling out.  So I was going to write about that.  About the ins and outs of fighting fair.  About how to know when to get counseling.  About when to leave and when to stay.

And then we started to heal.  And we went to a concert in the park with our son, and the sun started to come out in our lives.  And I was going to write about God's faithfulness and how in the midst of pain, we can find joy- finishing up with some quips about how our son danced the whole concert.

But then I was thrown a curveball.  And I was considering blogging about it, but then suddenly forgot how to write.  I forgot what words meant.  I forgot how to form sentences.

When you lose feeling in an extremity, it messes you up for a long time.  When I lost feeling in my left leg two months ago, I thought it was a pinched nerve.  Sciatica, some said.  The doctor said tendinitis and bursitis were to blame.  Give it time!

When it didn't go away and I changed doctors six weeks later, he sent me to a neurologist...

When I had the MRI and the neurologist called me back to see me within the next 24 hours...

When she told me I had MS...

For a moment, you heart stops. 

My husband's mouth dropped open.

I just stared at her.

You get news like that, and you suddenly don't care that your kid is biting.  You don't care that your husband is currently your best friend AND your worst enemy at the same moment.  You don't even really care about God's faithfulness, as hard as it is to type that.  The room starts to go in and out of focus.  The doctor double checks to make sure you're still "with her" and if you have any questions.

"Here!  Let me ask you questions about something I have no idea about!"

No.

My husband spoke for me, "We'll be as aggressive as we can with this.  How do we start."

The doctor outlined a specific course of action- a mega dose of steroids first, to get rid of the numbness in my leg.  A spinal tap to see the progression of the disease.  A follow up appointment in a few weeks.  We just nodded.  She said the services will call us.  We just nodded.  We left the doctor's office hand in hand- perhaps holding each other up, perhaps holding on to one another so one of us didn't fly away.

I'm sure this blog is now going to evolve into a blog about parenting with MS.  Maybe I'll be able to reach a whole new group of people.  Time will tell.

A Little Blurry

Here's a selfie of, um, myself:

 

Here's a picture of Liam in the ER riding around in his new favorite thing (besides the carts that look like cars at the grocery store):

 

Here's where I came to the realization that I have absolutely no idea what to do with Liam 100% of the time in a confined space.

 

 

On Wednesday during the day, I had an EMG or my right leg- my numb one- and I was in a TON of pain. If you've never had or known anyone who had an EMG, it's TORTURE! It's a two part test where they first shock your nerve endings and then they put needles in your muscles (and then get you to flex) and listen for the sound waves it makes. After about 10 seconds of that, I was done. The test lasted close to 20. It was just torture.

So Thursday I was really sore, but I called and they said to use Motrin and compresses and I'd be okay. Thursday night we were weeding and we were the whole way around the flower bed. We were going to put the garbage out and then go swimming in Liam's little pool. I was putting the weed bags over the pickett fence and I had half my foot on the cement path and half my foot in the flower bed, and my ankle snapped (same one I've sprained twice, now three times) and down I went.

I was just screaming because it hurt so bad. I knew it was broken. The pain was soooo intense. So Andy's all upset because he's like- you've done it again, now you can't hold Liam anymore, etc. He gets me an ice pack and some water, and by the time he gets back I'm passed out. So he called 911, and hands Liam off to a neighbor, (this of course makes him scream) and they come get me and take me to Hershey Med.

I woke up in the ambulance (Andy said after around 20 minutes, I'm not sure how accurate that was because I'm sure it SEEMED a lot longer than it was), and it was terrible, because the pain was so intense, my body was just shaking- like convulsing. Andy said it was terrible. They gave me oxygen and it helped to calm me down. I can hear Andy telling my info to the staff and as soon as I "came to," they gave me two percocet and I was VERY fuzzy. I was completely covered in grass and I was stinky and sweaty and I didn't even have on clean underwear!!! I was breaking ALL the doctor visit rules!

The X-rays came back that it was just a sprain- and the doctor said he would have rather it be broken, because a broken ankle can heal, but a sprained ankle never REALLY gets back to 100% for a VERY long time. So I stayed with my parents for the next week- Liam and I. I slept on the sofa and my mom helped me to get around.

Andy was just awesome. He took really good care of me at the hospital, and I just love him so much. I knew it was good for him to have a few days and nights to himself. He was sort of able to go and come as he pleased at home. But when I got home, I saw he hadn't changed the sheets, and my side of the bed had things on it. Boy if I was sleeping alone for a week, I'd take over the WHOLE bed!!!!!!!!!! I guess old habits die hard, and that's a good thing ;)

So that's my story. And also why I didn't write last week :-/

 

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I do need to say that if I ever doubted my husband's love for me, I was sorely mistaken.  When I was passed out, I was going in and out.  And I could hear him in a panic.  I could make out his voice among the paramedics.  I could hear him repeating "Oh God, Oh God" over and over again.  I could feel his hand on my arm.  I could hear the EMT tell him he wasn't allowed to help lift me.  I could hear the panic and worry and anxiety in his voice.  I heard him say, "She does all of this stuff, I don't know what to do."  When I woke up in the ambulance I started sobbing, not from the pain in my body, but from the pain I had caused my husband. 

 

I didn't try it.

 

But I do need to say- in some strange way, it strengthened our marriage in a way nothing can express.  I felt like I realized what he meant to me and I to him.  A week sleeping apart- a week of him coming to pick me up and take me away like a date- a week of him tending to me and our son (we went out to eat, and he had to change a poopy diaper in the public bathroom...).  All eyes were opened as we saw each other so vulnerable.

 

Blessing in disguise.

Nursery Floor

 

 

You would think that when your child comes home like this ^^ that it would be a SHOE IN for a full night's sleep.  Turns out, this is untrue.

 

 

Yesterday was Liam's baby dedication as seen above.  (I'll have better pics later.)  But it was HOT.  You like how we all coordinate?  I feel like I'm slouching...  Anyway.  We had about 50 people there, and it was amazing!  The ceremony was short and sweet.  We sang "Jesus Loves the Little Children" at the end and Liam made the sign for "more" after we were done singing.  More singing, please!  The cake was yummy and the decorations were noted.  I love when people say, "Everything looks beautiful!"  Because if you know me, you know how much thought I put into everything I do.  If you can see by the pic above, Andy and Liam had coordinating shirts on (same colors, different plaids) and I had on a dress with jewelry to match their outfits.  Which of course matched the cake, and the balloons, and the plaid napkins...  Obsessed much?  No, never.

 

 

I swear my son's feet never touched the ground all day.  With both sets of his grandparents around and 50 of his closest family and friends, the boy was well loved.  Which translated into a very clingy boy for the rest of the day, and the rest of the weekend.  The child refused to be put down.

 

Of course his sleep schedule is completely messed up, since his grandparents are down. MIL always told me how they would even leave parties to make sure the boys had their naps and got in bed on time.  This apparently does not count for my child.  Every once and a while, Andy and I would stop chatting and look for our son.  Sure enough, my MIL would have him off somewhere else in the park.  Poor kid didn't even get to enjoy his own party.

 

So that's why I'm asleep on the nursery floor.  I use the word "asleep" VERY lightly.  I'm stretched out on my college bed comforter with the boppee nursing pillow under my head.  Liam has somehow burrowed his way into the comforter and he is snoring soundly.  I'm sure I'm going to pay for this tomorrow.  But it's amazing what you'll do to get your child to sleep through the night.

This Weekend

This weekend we went to Zoo America:

 

 

This weekend we went to the Baltimore Aquarium:

 

This weekend we played outside:



This weekend we succeeded at making it though the weekend.

Marriage is so tricky.  It shouldn't be that tricky- but unfortunately, we are all human.  And when you get two humans joining their lives together for all time, you're going to have problems.

I chose to "stand by my man" this weekend, thanks, Tammy Wynette, and it was probably the single hardest point in our marriage...up to this point.  But I think I did the right thing.  There were threats to leave, threats to stay...that's all they were- threats.

I don't think you get married expecting, "Oh, this is going to be hell."  I think you get married with the expectation things will be hard, but you're just going to work at it.  And you stare at each other all doe-eyed and you're thinking, "Nothing bad will EVER happen to us!  Love is all we need!"

I know people who had an apartment fire only a few months after they were married.  All their wedding gifts were destroyed- it was a 100% loss.  I look on their loss and wonder if I could have survived it.  Because there are two types of arguments in a marriage- the outside argument and the inside argument.

The outside argument happens with something on the exterior happening, something you have no control over, and you are thrown into it almost clinging to each other.  It may go something like, "Well, if this wouldn't have happened, we'd be fine."

The outside argument happens when one of you did (or didn't do) something, and someone throws the blame and someone takes the blame.  It may go something like, "Well if YOU wouldn't have done (or not done) THAT, we'd be fine."

There is an art to taking responsibility for your actions.  I am not well versed in this art.  I will constantly take the blame just to resolve a situation.  This weekend I got very angry at my husband and I grabbed our son and left the house.  We walked to the park and I calmed down and then proceeded to apologize to my husband for my outburst.  He would hear nothing of it.  Even though he's left so many times I can't count, this was not an action I was allowed to take.  So again I apologized and we got it worked out.  In reality, he should have been apologizing to me.  But because I didn't want to prolong the fight, I just swallowed it and on we went.

I'm not typing because I have answers.  I'm typing because I have problems.  And I hope as soon as possible I will be typing because I have answers.  I talked to my husband about counseling- I told him I really thought we needed it.  Okay, maybe that's not true.  Maybe I presented it in the form of a question, thinking if he thought it was his idea, he'd be more apt to want to go.  (Are you with me, girls?)  Andy says, "Why, so your mother can come with us?  She's the one who needs the counseling.  Not us." 

The problem here?  He thinks we're having a #1 argument, when we're having a #2.

My job is to love him through it.  Screaming rarely solves anything, but neither does pushing it under the rug.  Real wisdom comes from knowing when to raise the flag, bare your neck, and walk away.  Because love keeps no record of wrongs, you are forced to walk away and not bring it up again...until the next time.  But in the meantime you're hoping there's not going to be another time- that somehow he internally solved his issues, never to be heard from again.

But in the meantime, I made it through the weekend.  One weekend at a time.

I'll take "Family Politics" for 2000...

The answer is: You're totally screwed.

What is...do I have any hope for having a good weekend?.

My husband had this great idea around Monday of this week: we should go camping as a family and invite your parents and sister.

Fabulous.

What this translates to is: I'd like to sit by the fire and read and sleep in until noon while you plan everything and cook everything and run after our son.

Okay, fine.

So I plan out the whole weekend from start to finish- purchase the "Double Take Deal" I find online for the campground- make the reservation- make the lists of everything to bring- begin the "camping line up" in the living room...pillows, blankets, food stuff, baby stuff...

We are sitting around the table, coming up with the final plans for the next day, and my sister drops the bomb, "Well, when will we pick up my boyfriend?"

If I could slow motion this moment, in a "The Matrix" style scene, and grab my sister's words and just shove them BACK into her mouth, I totally would.  It was like the phrase that started the war- the shot heard 'round the world.

Andy doesn't have a problem with April's boyfriend...he just doesn't want to go camping with him.  He's not "family."  Andy doesn't feel comfy in his gym shorts around the fire with him.  Not to mention, the campground has rules, and BF would make adult #6 at the campsite.  No room in the tent- rules say only one tent per site... etc, etc.

Mom had originally said "no" to the BF, and then turned around and said "yes" which she KNEW would make my husband unhappy.  So when my husband became unhappy, she got right up in his face and let him know what was up.

You can only imagine how well this went over.

So the moral of the story- I've got an angry husband, and no weekend plans.

He said I could go camping if I wanted.  He just wouldn't be going.  That and he was looking into daycare for our son.  My GOODNESS, the drama here is just so intense.  So of course I feel caught in the middle.  But I can't go camping!

Can you even IMAGINE? 

Me and Liam, my parents, my sister and the BF, and no husband.  Again I ask- can you EVEN imagine?  No way, it's not worth it.

Do you remember on "The Office" when Pam decides to go with Michael to start the new paper company and Jim just lets her go and supports her?  Do you remember on "Jerry Maguire" where Jerry goes all ape doo doo and Dorthy gets up and follows him?  And we supported Dorothy, didn't we?  We were like, YES, Renee Zelwegger!  Go follow Tom Cruise!

And in the same respect, I will follow my husband- even though I think he's off his rocker.  I do feel this is one of those "for better or worse" moments, that will eventually pass over.  Both parties are in the wrong, my mom a little more so.  But in order to keep the peace at home, I need to stay put.
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Why would I blog about this?

Because it's one of life's little unexpected moments and it's for real, and that's what I'm about here- being real.  When you get married, you are essentially bringing a stranger into a family who is already, (for the most part) cohesive.  And you know your family's idiosyncrasies and you know your husband's.  For the most part, it's almost like your "job" to be the bridge between the two families.  This means you get stepped on and walked on, unfortunately, but it IS the way it is.  When you're the oldest, and the first to be married, it's not like you can ask your older sibling any questions about how THEY got through it.  So you pave the way, one argument at a time.

So I have to go pick up my son now- from my mom- and deliver all my camping stuff to them so they can try to have a good weekend.

Any advice?  I'd welcome it.

Unsettled

You know as I'm going through things, I try to share them, to see if there's someone out "there" who will say, "Yes, I know what you're going through."

Marriage after baby is ten times harder than marriage before baby.

That should be the end of the post, but it's not.

So many of my friends are going through this transition phase between married, and married with children, and it hasn't been easy for ANY of them.  One of my friends has just gotten divorced- two little ones under the age of three.  It's a scary time in life for many people.

Next week, Liam will be nine months old.  If you can comprehend this, you'll see that this sentence is loaded.  Liam.  Nine months.  We have a son, and there went nine months of our lives.  As he ages, we age too.  It's a passing of time.  A coming of age.  We have a son, and we're all getting older.

We have many things going on for us right now- my husband has a new job, for instance.  It's a job he's more than suited for, in a field he knows nothing about.  The men at this new employment are a good deal "manlier" than his past job.  Cigars, Scotch, and Skoal.  Andy isn't into any of that, but he DID come back from his last manager meeting smelling like a gentleman's club.  Gag.

I'm plagued with the fact that I work 40 hours a week, teach two nights a week, take care of Liam and try to make our house function in a way that doesn't have neighbors calling the authorities on us.  I struggle with "me" time, with the added guilt of "I never see my son and want to spend every waking moment with him."  Not to mention that I'm really, really insecure at the moment.

Most of our arguments contain the phrase, "What do you want from me?"  Or, "I don't know what you want from me."  I know for a fact this stems from the fact- we don't know how to do this.  What's expected of us?  What do we do now?  Who are we in relation to our son, to our families, to each other?

I find myself calling my husband the pet names for our son.  I find my husband taking offense to everything I say, even when I don't mean it that way.  We find ourselves kissing our son first when we walk in the door, and forgetting about each other. 

Fuses are short.

Tempers run high.

And at the center of it all is this perfect, little being.  Who needs EVERYTHING from us.

So I start to blog, like I did yesterday, and it's this portrait of this lazy husband and this overworked wife who are grasping at straws to keep things together.  Who are desperately treading the waters of life to not only find the new normal, but to succeed at it.

Don't kid yourselves, folks.  No marriage is infallible.  I don't care if you married the "sweetest man on earth."  I don't care if you are the most chill woman that ever graced this planet.  You're going to struggle.  And if you're not struggling, someone isn't being truthful.  Because at the bottom of it all, we're all HUMAN, and people will fail us every time.

So as I learn, I will teach.  As I understand, I will pass along.  In the meantime, I pray and ask God to restore and develop this beautiful thing called marriage, day by day.

You haven't WRITTEN! You haven't CALLED! I'm beginning to think you don't CARE!

Sorry I haven't written in a while.  It's not you, it's me.  Being a mommy means no more time for yourself- roughly speaking.  You DO get some time off, after bed time.  But for me, this means you work from 8-4:30 and during THAT time, you do your work, but also your HOME paperwork (coupon clipping, meal planning, sending thank you notes, arranging and planning events and vacations, etc. Along with any kind of church work, lesson planning, fundraisers, etc.) 

After work you go get your son, which is really the highlight of the entire day.  You stand and chat with your mom for a bit while your son finishes his "afternoon routine" with his Grandpa (riding around in his little car and swinging on the swing).  And around the third time of, "We REALLY have to go!"  You load 'em up and head 'em out.

You come home from work at 5:30, son in tow, and two nights a week you jump right back into working mode so you can teach violin for another few hours.  Monday nights are your more advanced students, Wednesday nights are your...less advanced.

You starting thinking about supper.  Sure, you got your meat out ahead of time, but to actually make it, baby on your hip, usually requires a trip to the store either on your way or on your husband's way home.  But usually it's just easier to drop what you're doing and go than to listen to the grumbling on the other line.  Have you ever tried to cook with a wee one with you?  Everything takes twice as long.

Your husband comes in from work, and you try desperately to hand the baby off to him.  "Please, honey, I JUST have to dump the potatoes in the strainer, please hold him."  He mentions about how much he has to poop and goes off to take care of business.  The baby gets placed on the floor.  The baby screams.  You try putting the baby in another room and then running away so that it takes JUST long enough for him to get to you that you can finish pouring out the potatoes, dumping the sauce, taking the veggies off the stove and plating everything before you feel his little vice grip on your pants. 

We eat supper in front of the TV. So shoot me. Out table is usually too full of stuff to eat at it, and I sometimes like to have my feet up. Is it the way I'd like it? No. Will it be this way when Liam is older? No. But for now, it's how we do things. I will be taking no further questions.

Husband is done with his business and you hold out the baby to him, inquiring, "Daddy, my panties are dirty.  Can you change them?"  To which daddy replies, "Daddy's beat, Liam, have mommy change them for you."

Being the mom automatically makes you the responsible one.  Instantly, you're the designated driver, the grocery shopper, the meal planner, the packer, the planner, the appointment maker.  If it were not for you, literally NOTHING would get done.  As soon as my husband's bottom hits his chair, his off switch is starting to engage.  I bring him his food, most nights, and he has already started to scold Liam for getting into the DVD collection.  I put Liam in his high chair and get him HIS food, and then I sit down to pick at my food.  Of course it's disgusting because I just played in it for 30 minutes, and so I want nothing to do with it.  Cereal looks better.  I'll have that.

Supper dishes, wash, making beds, cleaning the cat box.  Husband says he is woozy, he's going to go back to sitting down.  Maybe he'll tackle the banking later.

Scrubbing the bathroom, picking up socks, watering the flowers I planted.  Husband is snoring in his chair.  What a long day he must have had.

Cleaning Liam up, new diaper, full bottle, clean onsie for night time, kiss daddy.  Off to bed.  Husband thinks he'll start banking in a little bit.

Pick up Kix off the floor, pick up Liam's toys, turn off the lights, sit on the sofa with my crocheting and check the time.  Exhausted.  Head up to bed.  I think the husband really is going to start the banking now.

Play a few games on my phone, fall asleep, receive text that he's going to do the banking another night.  Fall back to sleep again.  Barely hear husband coming up the steps and getting into bed.  No sex tonight, folks.  That's the thing- if you want some lovin' you've got to come to bed.  I can't be expected to stay up until you decide to mosey on in.

And THIS is why I haven't written.  Too many irons in the fire, too many responsibilities, too much to do and no time to do it in.  I just left out this extreme yawn as I was typing.

I had a doe-eyed, newly wedded, fitness trainer friend inquire how I was doing "Since having the baby."  I knew what she was getting at.  "I'm busy."  I told her.  "My life is non stop right now.  I'm busy being a mommy and a wife and working and I'm exhausted."  She cheerfully replied, "But, but what about exercise...?"  But what about SHUT YOUR FACE?  No, I didn't write that back- but I was tempted.  But then I think I fell asleep.