I Know You're In There…..

I've heard of Alzheimer's, dementia, memory loss…. but like many things, until these words become your reality, they are just words. I've had friends experience this with their grandparents, but I couldn't relate at the time.

When these words happen to someone close to you, and you read things like, "not reversible," incurable," and "degenerative"…. it becomes a different story, because someone close to you is becoming a different person. 

This is a letter I would want to give to my Grandma….

Dear Grandma, 
At times, I know there is clarity, and that's when the tears start. Yours on the outside, mine on the inside. Your words stop as quickly as they start because they don't make sense. I try to guess what you are trying to say, but your frustration stops me. I try to make the conversation light when I see you, because I feel guilty. I can drive, walk, punch in the code to the elevators in your building….. to leave. So many things you can't do. Behind every laugh and comment I make to you is a wanting… a wanting for the old Grandma to come back, just for a minute. 

You had nail polish on yesterday. Bright, coral, summery polish. In your 93 years of life, I've never seen a picture, or in person, painted nails. It made me feel sad to see your nails painted because, I'm sure someone asked you, and you nodded, but you didn't know what they were going to do. Maybe you look at your nails now and are sad because you don't know how to take the polish off. In the memory care unit, there aren't cotton balls you can use. They don't even have tissues out in fear of patients eating them, or real silverware for meals. Maybe I should look at your nails and be happy someone took the time to paint them, and make you feel good. To me they are a reminder of one more decision made for you, and at one time, you were so strong willed you made all of your own decisions. 

When I walked into your room yesterday and you weren't there, but a man who had stripped down to only his underwear was lying there, I wish I could have told you how funny that was, and you could have made some hilarious comment about the situation. But the truth is, he thought it was his room, so it really wasn't funny.

Despite all of that…..

I know you're in there Grandma. When I'm talking to you, it's as though you are another person, but I know you hear me. I know a piece of you has to remember. Behind those sad, brown eyes, that stare ahead, I know you see me. I see the corners of your mouth turn upward every time I say, "I'm Natalie, don't forget Grandma," while I squeeze your hand. 

I see you use your hand in a "shooing" away motion to other residents when you've had enough of them talking to me, or you say "goodbye" when someone is irritating you. I know you're in there. 

I see you calling after the man with the white hair and flannel pants, "Sam, Sam, get over here," because that's what you used to say to Grandpa.

I know you're in there Grandma, and that's what keeps me coming back. 

I love you,
Natalie

Perspective

I've always thought optical illusion pictures were very interesting. 

Take this one for example:

Every time I've seen this picture, I notice the girl looking away from the camera with a babushka type garment on her head. But, other people see the older woman with her face down in her coat. What do you see first? 

The other day, I stumbled across this cover from a Disney classic….  and what was either a coincidence, or a sneaky cartoonist behind the scenes.

Who knew for so many years as I stared into Mufasa's face, I was possibly staring into some stranger's butt cheeks? What you see depends on how you look at something, or someone, in this example.

I've been thinking about perspective with being a mom, and a woman, and just in general. How I see something, or someone may be completely different than another person. What I think is right, may not be in someone's eyes. I may use completely different styles to parent, organize, clean, prioritize, etc. It doesn't make one right and one wrong, it just is.

I used to think that one of the biggest parenting mistakes I've made (to date) has been to lay with Samuel every night at bedtime. When this first started I dreaded bedtime. "Here it is again," I thought, "another long night where I don't get to do what I want in the evening because of this long process." Bedtime should be "me" time. I've given my all to this kid all day, he should just go to bed, that's it.

But, I changed my perspective….

This parenting "fail" started the first night he had to sleep in his big boy bunk bed. The crib was no longer an option because it was disassembled on the floor when we moved a few summers ago. "I'm scared, please lay with me," he said. How can you say no to that little voice? Josh and I took turns the first week or so, who would comfort Samuel in this new bunk bed to make him feel okay. This wasn't five minutes of comforting. This was anywhere from five minutes to over an hour, depending on how long it took him to fall asleep. It felt like a waste of an evening. It felt like we were losing/had lost a part of parenting, and the same loss would come again….the following night.

We both felt frustration and torn that we were doing something right to comfort our little boy, but wrong because we were giving in, not being firm with bedtime. So for the past, um, 2 years, every nap, every night, this is the routine. Two books, prayers, bed, MacGyver style moves getting up without waking Samuel. This is especially hard while nursing. This is even harder when you are getting out of the top bunk and nursing, while trying not to wake your toddler, or baby. I feel like I can take on the world after I close his door and both kids are sleeping, even if one is hanging off my boob.

We've accepted that this is our bedtime routine. Some may disagree, some agree. Some parents let their kids in bed with them, some close their kid's door at night, and that's that. I'm not judging what anyone chooses to do. This works for us. If you asked me a few years ago, I'd probably sigh and describe bedtime as a "nightmare" and "not fair," but it's actually okay now.

I knew my perspective had to change. Even though I'm a SuperNanny fan, I don't have it in me to do a Ferber-ish method of going in his room at spaced out time intervals, until eventually he gives in and sleeps. I'm sure if we did that for a week, this routine would change, and he wouldn't "need" us to comfort him to go to sleep. I don't judge anyone who uses this method or is a stickler on bedtime. To each their own, to each perspective to be changed, your call.

What helped me change my thinking was…..

Anytime I needed my mom to lay with me if I was scared, she did.

This won't last forever.

It's nice to recap the day and talk about our favorite things from the day. 

The conversations and comments he makes to extend the night even more, are hilarious, even when I'm exhausted. 

Before, I felt by admitting this is our routine at night, we "gave in" at bedtime, I was admitting I failed in (one aspect of) the parenting world. I'm okay to mess certain things up, but with kids, this is one thing I want to get as right as I can.

But, I'm finding that everyone sees things a little differently, and shares their own perspective. What are your thoughts on how you used to see something one way, and now you've changed?

Wonder what he would say?

Multiplying Love

"Your heart just grows; doubles in size," people told me before I was a mom of two. How is this even possible? Skepticism took over and this piece of mom advice was not well received. After settling into the world of more than one kid, I was prepared to feel bad that I loved one kid more. You have to love one a little bit more. I mean your heart can't split the love you have for your first, so it's equal; it just doesn't work that way. People who tell you the love is equal just love one kid more and can't admit it.

I don't like being wrong, but I will admit when I am… Your heart does grow. I have so much love for these two little ones, it's amazing. One of my favorite times of the day is when the house is silent at night. Of course I love this time because it's peaceful and I can have some "me" time, but I love to think about the day I shared with these little ones. The tears, laughs, comments, moments, memories, that made our day what it was. Before this though, even better, is checking on these two and praying over them. Praying that they will fulfill the purpose God has for them. Praying that sickness and disease will not affect their bodies. Recapping the day as I stare at their little sleeping bodies… the moments of what the day brought; good and bad.

Looking at Jonah and wondering how he could be so pleasant all day without sleeping for more than 10 minutes at a time. Thinking back to when Samuel accidentally hit him with the end of the broom as we were sweeping the garage and how his one minute of wailing seemed to never end.

Looking at Samuel and remembering when he offered me his last bagel chip from his Chex Mix snack bag. Thinking to the tears when he hit Jonah with the broom. "I was just trying to help."

This is what is important. These little faces. Being a mom is such a journey, and I'm so grateful these two are my passengers. #momlife #bestlife

Pumping Sucks

Since most of the last few months have revolved around boobs, I want to keep it going with this post. While juggling everything and everyone on my plate, I also juggle a little one on my boobs. I am a food source to little baby Jonah, and hope to be for the next few months, #milkwilling. It fascinates me to look at my baby boy and think my body can create the nutrients he needs to sustain life. As beneficial and amazing as nursing is, Tina Fey said it best with, "Pumping sucks."

Carrying "Patty the Pump" with me every day has been a routine since going back after maternity leave. Assessing all of my work stuff, it's always, "Patty, work bag, lunch, and water." Patty is my passenger to and from work, and her favorite color is black. After work it's a race against time as she has to be chilled from her 98.6 degree temp. I feel like I'm carrying a heart or other organ in a cooler as I race home to pop em' bottles  pop the bottles, I mean… in the fridge.

Pumping, boobs, and E-cards…what do they all have in common? Well, the start to a pretty awkward conversation/relationship with my boss this year.

Flashback to Christmas time… I'm trying to find the usual Office calendar I buy my dad every year. The past two years have been a collaboration of "funniest" lines from the show. I guess they had to stop production some time, since there are no new episodes, and 2015 was the year. E-cards on social media are pretty funny. Appropriate enough for a dad gift, but inappropriate enough to replace the Office calendar and be comical.

So.. having a new boss this year, and with his reference of loving "The Office" and "Seinfeld", I also thought this was a good choice for a "Welcome to our Building" "Merry Christmas from sweet little old me" gift.

I called my dad after the new year to chat, January 3rd actually. "The calendar you bought me is a little risqué, you know."  #dropthephone   I just about fainted as my dad read the sweet little message on the calendar:

Not only is my dad reading this over the phone, #awkward but my BOSS is reading this on January 3rd, thinking I'm some weirdo for buying him this weird calendar gift #uberawkward


So, it is now after Christmas break and we are back at work. Every morning when I wake up, I think, oh no, what does the calendar read today?  Well, another January beauty was:

I knew I had to say something, ANYTHING, to address this horrible gift I bought. Here I am, trying to be nice, and it totally backfired, and on the back burner is the thought of my dad reading these too… #ugh

I saw boss in the hall one day and he screamed, "Natalie!"  Oh geez, here it is, my time to apologize.
He was very discrete and said, "The room upstairs is available to use if you need." AKA, we just had a one second convo about my pumping room…aka…boobs. Why did he remember to tell me this? #ecardcalendar

A week later I saw him again, bit the bullet and said super awkwardly, "Yah, so this may feel like an Office moment, the conversation that is about to ensue, (insert awkward silence, laughter, probably a boob sound)." Then I went on to explain the calendar I usually get my dad, and how he told me some of the jokes and I feel so bad and maybe to just throw it away (insert more awkwardness).
"That's okay, my wife and I just put it in our bedroom, away from the kids."
#amioncamera

A month later, I was in his office talking about a workshop (missing my pumping time) and after leaving his office (and talking about Jonah with him), I thought the water bottle I was holding had leaked on the bottom of my shirt. Upon looking down, I looked something like this:

                         Except it was both boobs, and running the whole way down my shirt.

Lessons learned:    Choose boss gifts more carefully, wear pads because you WILL leak, and keep nursing…it's totes worth it. :)

I'm Sorry If…That Was Me….

Love these little sweethearts!

As 32 is fast approaching (yikes), I appreciate the life experiences and people who have helped me along the way. I watch Samuel observe people and take in situations, and conversations. I hope I'm a little more subtle without the gawking and jaw dropping antics he displays. This post has been on my heart for awhile, and I am so thankful for situations I've worked through, God's grace, and the people who are in my life.

This post is for people who I have watched go through trials and tribulations, only to find years later, that many of these situations would be me.

I'm sorry if  as I saw you running, I mumbled something less than kind under my breath. Scoffing at your pace and how painful it looked for you to put one foot in front of the other. Thinking, ugh I hope I never run that slow…..

That was me….. after I had Samuel, after I had Jonah. Clumsily trying to regain my footing as a runner, post-baby. One step felt like one hundred. Five minutes felt like fifty. Hurting knees, joints, feet, chest, ego. Something I once loved, became a daunting task.

"Keep going; it will get easier."

I'm sorry if I downplayed the loss you experienced. If I turned the conversation on me as you were spilling a rawness you probably didn't even know existed until that moment someone so important to you, was gone.

That was me… nineteen and without a mom. When my whole body felt like it was drying up because I had cried out every tear in my body.

"It will get easier. Pray, rest, pray, rest. That person is always with you. It's not something you 'get over' it's something you learn to live with."

I'm sorry if you said you were going through a rough time in your marriage and I wasn't a listening ear, but said something to dismiss it.

That was me…. ring off, decision made, door closed. When the foundation of my world came crashing down. When I saw long hours at work as missed time and in me brewed a level of resentment I didn't know existed. Instead of being thankful for a hard-working and providing husband; I was done.

"Divorce is not an option." "What God has brought together, let no man separate."

I'm sorry if you said you didn't breastfeed and my reaction was anything other than supportive.

I read an article about postpartum psychosis which gave me a totally different perspective about women post-baby. Another girl I spoke with said shortly after giving birth to her son, her dad passed away and she was so stressed, she physically couldn't nurse. Who am I to form an opinion about you based on your decision to nourish your child? 

I'm sorry if I saw you at a restaurant or store with your child and he/she was crying, screaming, whining, fighting, running, (and so many other things).  I rolled my eyes, or didn't get the door, smile at you, make that moment a little easier….

You learn through your mistakes, experiences, and people. 

Thank God for forgiveness. 

"Always be kind, for everyone is fighting a hard battle." -Plato 

Mommies, friends, wives, sisters. If you are going through a tough time, keep pushing through. 

A peak is on the other side of your valley.