My husband and I are team teaching "Marriage and Family Relations" as a Sunday School class in our ward. Last week's lesson was on unity and appreciating each other's differences. To illustrate the point that men and women really don't think the same way, I told the following story from a couple of years ago. (Forgive me, I know I tell this story a lot, but I still find it hilarious.)
I was making bread one day when I dropped an entire canister of flour on the floor. It ricocheted of the fridge and coated the kitchen in mounds of white dust. Hearing the crash and my sigh of frustration, John poked his head around the corner. "You OK?"
"Yes, but I just made a huge mess and now I'm not going to get the bread done in time and we're going to be late. . ."
He cut me off mid-panic. "Leave the mess. Let me finish up what I'm doing and then I'll clean up while you bake."
"Great. Thanks so much."
So I salvage what I can from the piles of flour on the floor and continue mixing the dough. A few minutes later Ivan wanders in. . . . opens a cupboard. . . . pokes his head in the fridge. . . . looks at me and asks, "Did you need any help?"
Incredulous, I look at his feet. He is standing barefoot in nearly an inch of flour. He follows my gaze. "Oh yeah! I forgot." He was very helpful and cleaned up the mess for me, but he wouldn't have noticed it had I not pointed it out. My comment? "You are such a man." Not complaining, just stating the obvious.
So the next time one of the men in your life is relaxing in the middle of a room that looks like wild monkeys have been rampaging through it and you're thinking How can he just sit there? Does he not notice the mess? The answer is: No. No, he really doesn't see it. He wouldn't notice a mess if he stepped in it. Barefoot.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Postpartum
Journal entry June 25th:
My journal is usually long-winded and detailed, but I haven't written any more than that in weeks. Mostly because I can't really describe being depressed while I'm actually depressed. Not just because it makes me cry (it does, but everything does) but because I can't actually think the way I normally do. It is an interesting thing, to know I'm not thinking properly and still not be able to do anything about it. I wasn't suicidal or anything like that, but I could not shake the overwhelming sadness.
The first several weeks after the miscarriage I expected to be bad, and they were. After that I tried to get things back to as normal as possible. I started a bunch of projects to keep my mind busy, I exercised and did everything I could think of. It worked for a few days and then things started to get worse. And worse. Everything around me seemed so . . . dark. I still can't quite describe it.
The good news is that I'm writing this all in the past tense. I went to the doctor again and he was very good about understanding what I was not very good at explaining. Instead of recommending that I get pregnant again (like last time) he prescribed some anti-depressants. Three weeks later, I feel like myself again. I'm still very sad about the miscarriage, but I am able to see all the wonderful things about my life again.
So here is my little plug for Prozac. No amount of positive thinking is going to help a chemical imbalance - an actual physiological problem. I am a big believer that prayer, positive affirmations and will power can control emotions. But there is a huge difference between having a bad day and being clinically depressed. I was really not myself in an obvious, quantifiable way. I know that this is temporary and that my hormones will be back to normal eventually. But right now, I'm very very glad for the wonders of modern medicine.
And as much as my dear, dear husband insists that "human tissue" is part of the job description of a husband, and that he doesn't mind my crying on him, I know he is glad too.
"My days have fallen into a pattern: Fake happiness for as long as possible - actually enjoy a few moments with my husband or children, sob uncontrollably - repeat. I guess this is what is meant by postpartum depression. Whee."
My journal is usually long-winded and detailed, but I haven't written any more than that in weeks. Mostly because I can't really describe being depressed while I'm actually depressed. Not just because it makes me cry (it does, but everything does) but because I can't actually think the way I normally do. It is an interesting thing, to know I'm not thinking properly and still not be able to do anything about it. I wasn't suicidal or anything like that, but I could not shake the overwhelming sadness.
The first several weeks after the miscarriage I expected to be bad, and they were. After that I tried to get things back to as normal as possible. I started a bunch of projects to keep my mind busy, I exercised and did everything I could think of. It worked for a few days and then things started to get worse. And worse. Everything around me seemed so . . . dark. I still can't quite describe it.
The good news is that I'm writing this all in the past tense. I went to the doctor again and he was very good about understanding what I was not very good at explaining. Instead of recommending that I get pregnant again (like last time) he prescribed some anti-depressants. Three weeks later, I feel like myself again. I'm still very sad about the miscarriage, but I am able to see all the wonderful things about my life again.
So here is my little plug for Prozac. No amount of positive thinking is going to help a chemical imbalance - an actual physiological problem. I am a big believer that prayer, positive affirmations and will power can control emotions. But there is a huge difference between having a bad day and being clinically depressed. I was really not myself in an obvious, quantifiable way. I know that this is temporary and that my hormones will be back to normal eventually. But right now, I'm very very glad for the wonders of modern medicine.
And as much as my dear, dear husband insists that "human tissue" is part of the job description of a husband, and that he doesn't mind my crying on him, I know he is glad too.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
for Ryan
Ways to tell that my children miss their cousins who moved very very very far away from us for a summer internship.
1. Every play phone call is to Ryan or Adrienne.
2. They ask to go to Ryan's and play at least once a week and still look confused when I tell them we can't.
3. Every time we get on the computer we have to watch videos of Ryan on their blog.
4. We had an imaginary Ryan come to play.
5. Junior wants to grow up to be Adrienne.
6. When told that he couldn't grow up to be Adrienne (because she is a girl) he wandered around for the rest of the day saying: "I will grow up like Randy!"
We will be very glad to see them when they come back in a several weeks. In the meantime, we made a video for Ryan.
1. Every play phone call is to Ryan or Adrienne.
2. They ask to go to Ryan's and play at least once a week and still look confused when I tell them we can't.
3. Every time we get on the computer we have to watch videos of Ryan on their blog.
4. We had an imaginary Ryan come to play.
5. Junior wants to grow up to be Adrienne.
6. When told that he couldn't grow up to be Adrienne (because she is a girl) he wandered around for the rest of the day saying: "I will grow up like Randy!"
We will be very glad to see them when they come back in a several weeks. In the meantime, we made a video for Ryan.
Friday, July 11, 2008
A New Arrival
I got a new niece on Tuesday! I am super excited that my boys will (finally) have some cousins on my side of the family. Here are some pictures of my sister, her wonderful husband and their adorable baby.
I was a little worried about seeing the baby since part of the reason I was so excited when my sister told us the baby news was that we would have kids the same age. Now we won't, obviously. It made me pretty shakey, but it was good to hold a baby and just celebrate new life. Welcome to our family, Janie D!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Obviously
Watching TV with my dear husband the other night I saw an add for something having to do with the "Alien vs Predator" movie and (since I know nothing about any of the movies) we had the following conversation.
Me: "So in 'Alien vs Predator' what is the predator?"
Him: "He is an alien who came to earth and was hunting humans. He has his own movies too, the 'Predator' series, then they decided to make him fight with the alien from the 'Alien' movies."
Me: "But the predator is an alien?"
Him: "Yes."
Me: "So why can't they call it Alien vs Alien?"
Him: "Because the predator is an alien named Predator."
Me: "So what is the other alien's name?"
Him: "He doesn't have a name."
Me: "How can one alien have a name and the other just be called Alien?"
Him: "I think the Predator named himself. Every hundred years or so he and the Alien come to earth and have these epic battles. Hence the movies."
Me: "I don't get it."
Him: "I don't think you are the target audience for those movies anyway."
Me: "So in 'Alien vs Predator' what is the predator?"
Him: "He is an alien who came to earth and was hunting humans. He has his own movies too, the 'Predator' series, then they decided to make him fight with the alien from the 'Alien' movies."
Me: "But the predator is an alien?"
Him: "Yes."
Me: "So why can't they call it Alien vs Alien?"
Him: "Because the predator is an alien named Predator."
Me: "So what is the other alien's name?"
Him: "He doesn't have a name."
Me: "How can one alien have a name and the other just be called Alien?"
Him: "I think the Predator named himself. Every hundred years or so he and the Alien come to earth and have these epic battles. Hence the movies."
Me: "I don't get it."
Him: "I don't think you are the target audience for those movies anyway."
Opportunity cost
The price of my nap today: One pad of sticky notes. It kept my three-year-old quietly occupied for a good 20 minutes.
Totally worth it.
Cheap Thrills
JJ wore "big boy underwear" for half of the day today and is starting to get the hang of the potty thing. We are still a long way away from actually getting rid of the diapers, but it is a start. I know this is one of those weird mommy things, but I am SO SO SO excited!
Some construction workers were fixing the road in our apartment complex today so we sat outside and watched the tractors. It was very exciting. The crew was really nice and didn't seem to mind the audience too much. We even got to see the inside of the dump truck and hear the horn, courtesy of the driver. I didn't even get his name, but he totally made our day.
And we made lots of mud in the wading pool this afternoon. I usually try to keep the dirt out of the pool, but they were having so much fun filling their toy trucks with dirt and dumping it in the water. . . well, I figured it wouldn't hurt anything.
None of these things would have been exciting to me ten years ago; my, how things change.
Some construction workers were fixing the road in our apartment complex today so we sat outside and watched the tractors. It was very exciting. The crew was really nice and didn't seem to mind the audience too much. We even got to see the inside of the dump truck and hear the horn, courtesy of the driver. I didn't even get his name, but he totally made our day.
And we made lots of mud in the wading pool this afternoon. I usually try to keep the dirt out of the pool, but they were having so much fun filling their toy trucks with dirt and dumping it in the water. . . well, I figured it wouldn't hurt anything.
None of these things would have been exciting to me ten years ago; my, how things change.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Oops
This was a couple of weeks ago and I've been debating about posting it, but I still think its funny, so here goes.
It was a dark and rainy afternoon and the natives were getting restless. To break up the day I packed up the boys and we wandered around a local thrift store. I remembered that I had some leftover iron-on transfer paper at home and decided that we should make some personalized t-shirts. I found two small red shirts for $1.00 each and we headed home all excited. Here I am, being a good mommy and doing craft projects with my children.
We gather around the computer, me with one boy on each knee, and start searching for some favorite characters to print onto the transfer paper. Google is a great site, and their image search very helpful. We found pictures of giraffes and elephants, Curious George, and Buzz Lightyear. Then, since we can never get enough Toy Story lately I also googled Woody. Thinking every one's favorite cowboy would show up. As soon as I hit enter, I realized that I probably should have been a little more specific, since "woody" also has (ahem) alternate meanings.
BACK. . BACK. . BACK! I'm furiously clicking the mouse.
Fortunately, the images only come up as thumbnails and most seemed to be Woody Allen pictures, so I think I managed to save scarring my children for life for another day. Honestly, sometimes I can be such an airhead.
It was a dark and rainy afternoon and the natives were getting restless. To break up the day I packed up the boys and we wandered around a local thrift store. I remembered that I had some leftover iron-on transfer paper at home and decided that we should make some personalized t-shirts. I found two small red shirts for $1.00 each and we headed home all excited. Here I am, being a good mommy and doing craft projects with my children.
We gather around the computer, me with one boy on each knee, and start searching for some favorite characters to print onto the transfer paper. Google is a great site, and their image search very helpful. We found pictures of giraffes and elephants, Curious George, and Buzz Lightyear. Then, since we can never get enough Toy Story lately I also googled Woody. Thinking every one's favorite cowboy would show up. As soon as I hit enter, I realized that I probably should have been a little more specific, since "woody" also has (ahem) alternate meanings.
BACK. . BACK. . BACK! I'm furiously clicking the mouse.
Fortunately, the images only come up as thumbnails and most seemed to be Woody Allen pictures, so I think I managed to save scarring my children for life for another day. Honestly, sometimes I can be such an airhead.
Go figure
So I have been a little annoyed with my doctor. The last time I talked to him I told him that I'd had a headache every day since the miscarriage and though I know grieving is normal, I feel like I'm not handling it very well. He was sympathetic, gave me a prescription for the headaches and another for the panic attacks; then he reassured me that letting some time pass, getting out more in the nice weather and getting pregnant again would all make me feel better.
Excuse me? A pregnancy is not a goldfish. You can't just get me a new one and think that it will make me feel better. I realize why, as a doctor, he would want to reassure me that I should and could get pregnant again, and I also realize that I'm a little over emotional about the whole issue, But still, I thought it was a little tactless.
And then my cousin gave us a couple of tadpoles. I have been hoping we could get our hands on some this spring, because I thought the boys would get a kick out of watching them grow up. Their names are Dick and Dish (don't ask). So now we have a great science experiment right on our kitchen counter, and strangely enough (even though they are tadpoles and not goldfish, like I felt the doctor was implying) it does make me feel a little better.
Excuse me? A pregnancy is not a goldfish. You can't just get me a new one and think that it will make me feel better. I realize why, as a doctor, he would want to reassure me that I should and could get pregnant again, and I also realize that I'm a little over emotional about the whole issue, But still, I thought it was a little tactless.
And then my cousin gave us a couple of tadpoles. I have been hoping we could get our hands on some this spring, because I thought the boys would get a kick out of watching them grow up. Their names are Dick and Dish (don't ask). So now we have a great science experiment right on our kitchen counter, and strangely enough (even though they are tadpoles and not goldfish, like I felt the doctor was implying) it does make me feel a little better.
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