From Toddler to Little Man

My first born is growing into a little man.  As his birthday approaches I wonder what to do for his birthday.  Having watched all these crazy reality show about kid birthday parties, I know what I don't want.  We did a big dinner for his one month (tradition), but nothing big like that since.  We decided to do Medieval Times.  Swords.  Knights.  I sure hope he likes it.  With just immediate family we sit at 18 people.

It's bitter sweet having my son grow up.  Next thing he'll be going to school and I think I might either do a jig or die inside.   It's already choking me up sometimes to have a conversation with him.  To see his wheels turning in his head as he thinks about what he trying to explain.  He's so smart.  Sometimes too smart.  He's into the "why" stage.  He's just trying to understand why things are the way the are.  But, when you get the 10,000th "why", I now understand where "because I said so" originated.

I still have moments where the light bulb flashes bright and I can't believe I'm a mom.  What happened to the days where I'd go dancing each weekend, meet random people, hit the casino on a while at midnight, follow the charity casinos to play black jack, shopping sprees, etc

I've traded it for diapers, sleepless nights, random hugs of unconditional love, hearing "mommy", teaching, etc

Not better or worse.  Just different.  I liked being childless and the carefree life it afforded.  But, I love having my children.  Even when it comes with the poo emergencies, the 5:30am shows, loads of laundry, etc

Now to bake his birthday cake.  Blow up balloons.  Arrange rides for some of the family.  Make loot bags.

Three Kids - Truth Speak

Do I say this "out loud"?

If you read my Three Kids post last night, I talked about my insanity of wanting to have a third child.  Even when things don't make logical sense, making decisions is not always made with the brain.  The heart wants what it wants.

I want another child because I am selfish and afraid.  I do not want to be alone in my golden years.  I want to be surrounded by my husband and children.  As I pull my head out of the sand in the wee hours of the night and reflect on the weeks of struggle my husband is going through, I fear what future lies ahead in our golden years.  My biggest fear is that I am by myself in my 50's without my dear husband.  And it maybe more real than I want to admit to myself.  These complications the last few weeks breaths chills into my heart and flames my fears.

I wish for Franklin to live with me till our ripe old age, but if we poke the elephant that's in the room, it may not happen.  And that is why deep down I want another child.  It will be tough to have 3 kids under the age of 10, but all the hardships, tough days, and struggles will be worth having their hugs, smiles, and milestones experienced with my Husband.

I know if I tried to explain this to anyone in my family, they would 'shush' me and not to speak of such things.

I know I don't want to talk about it either.

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Three kids?!

I must be a total nutcase.  A glutton for punishment.  I would love to have a third child.

Life with a toddler and baby is challenging.  The sleep deprivation.  Food differences.  Laundry (mainly because of the amount of baby barf).  Trying to pack everyone up to go out takes at around an  hour.  Feeding.  Diapers.  Bucket car seat.  Diaper bag.  Snacks.  Cell phone.  I'm sure it could be done faster.  I just haven't mastered it yet I guess.  Any parents with kids would agree it can be tough at times.  Very much worth it when they say "thank you mommy".    or when they come out of no where and hug you and tell you they love you.  My heart melts each time I see him smile, when he gives me a high-five when he's proud of something he's done.  A house full of laughter and even sibling bickering (I'm sure I'll eat my words to that for sure) sounds like an awesome future.

I've always wanted three kids.  If I had to do this baby chapter in my life all over again, I wish I started a few years earlier.  I knew it was a lifetime commitment of sacrifice for their success and happiness.  No more ridiculous spending.  Those are all earmarked for their future.  I listed most of it in my Luxury, decadence, or just nasty? post.  I wasn't ready.  I still wanted to party.  Spend money frivolously.  Head out to the Casino on a whim.  We were living as DINKS and it was great.  But, as most woman can agree, the metaphorical internal clock was starting to DING! DONG! really loudly.

We were nervous at first.  When he started peritoneal dialysis years ago, the doctors said that dialysis could lead to infertility.  We froze sperm when we heard that.  Fortunately we didn't need it.  First try...is all I'm saying. :)  How so very blessed were we.   So many other dialysis patients are not as fortunate.  This fracking disease will steal your life, but also your future line too.  I hate kidney failure.

But, I digress.  I want a third child because I would love to have a little girl.  I love my boys.  They have each other to be friends with.  I knew I always wanted at least two.  Sadly, we will not be around forever.  So, I wanted to ensure someone will be around that will HAVE TO love you.  That is what family is all about.  LOL  I was able to reuse all of Boy 1's clothes on Boy 2.

Unfortunately, I did not start early enough.  To have a third child I considered higher risk.  That, and the glaring reality that Franklin would not be able to help as much as he would like.  If I find it tough when he's sick and dealing with my two boys, it would only be madness if I was to have another.  Yet, I still want to.  No one is on board with this idea.  Not my parents nor my husband.  My parents are not getting any younger.  They have been a main support system when I am at my darkest.  They help pick Franklin up from the hospital, watch my toddler, cook food - when I just had Baby 2, when Franklin is in the hospital, when Franklin gets out and she makes special nutritious Chinese soups, and just to talk.  My favourite brother also thinks it's an asinine idea.  I have my plate full as it is.

My mom was done having kids by the age I just started.  I also want to retire by 55, no later than 60, but really,  now would be good too.  I actually would love to have 4 kids, but would settle for 3.  But, is my fate to have only 2 be my reality?

Sadly, I think so.  But, I'll try to wear down Franklin and plant "Daddy's little girl" ideas.  mwhahaha

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Homemade Play Dough (aka playdoh, plasticine)

The benefits of having your kids play with play dough is huge!  They can play baker/scientist while you make it together, use their imagination, practice their dexterity, and create art, just to name a few.

Make it yourself and ensure it is nontoxic.  You know they might eat some, have it all over their hands, etc

Ingredients:

3 1/2 cup white flour
1/2 cup salt
2 tablespoon cream of tartar (find it in the spice section)
1/3 cup oil
2 cups boiling water
food coloring or powder drink mix (i.e. kool aid)

1. Mix flour, salt, and cream of tartar together in a big bowl


2. Add oil


3. Add food colouring or powder drink mix to boiling water and mix


4. Add coloured water to flour mixture


5. Knead dough

Play dough will keep for a long time stored in a covered plastic container or plastic sandwich bag.

Note:

• I like using powder drink mix because it gives it colour and a fruity smell


• Add additional smells by adding vanilla, lemon, etc oils (could try extract if you don't have oils)


• Try using rose water


• make several colours of play dough by omitting the colour to the water when following the recipe.  Then separate the dough into several bowls and add food colouring drops to each bowl.  And kneed dough to blend colour throughout

Art ideas:

• Roll out dough and use cookie cutters to cut out fun shapes.  Add glitter like sprinkles on a cookie!


• Easy: Leave out your sculptures/cookie cutouts to dry and harden (can take a couple of days to weeks depending on size and thickness).  Paint it.  Glue stuff on, etc.  It can crack, colour fades, etc


• If you have a special ornament/sculpture/etc preserve it with these steps

Balance Act III

The plan was to stay home.  Do 5 loads of laundry, wash dishes, bake cookies with The Boy, take a nap, and watch movies.  It started out o.k.  Both kiddies slept in 1-hr longer than usual.  They're tired too from all this.  I call to check how The Husband is doing.   Did he get dialysis?  The nurse's response was "weren't you here yesterday?".  What?!?  That set me off!  I still try to stay calm and explain that I was told in the morning he would be going in the afternoon, but he still hadn't received any when I left late afternoon.  A curt "yes, he got it" was her response.  Also,  Franklin pulled out one of the tubes. WTF??  Why?!  This b!t3h wasn't explaining anything.

I didn't want to bother W again considering everything she and my nieces have done for me.  Niecey had plans today.  But, fearing the worst I had to get down there.  I would bring the baby in with me if I had to.  I call W to ask her to drive down with me again.  As much as I hate to burden her again and the guilt I feel, I put that all aside because I need to find out what's happening to my Darling!  I woke her up (add another lbs of guilt) and explain the situation.  I start crying.  I am afraid of not knowing and thinking the worst.

She is a pillar of strength.  She calms me down.  Helps me line up what I need to get done so I can get going.  Feed baby.  Pump milk.  Dress children.  Arrange Marcus care.  Did I eat?  I wouldn't have even thought of that to even be put on the list!  I am determined to get going.

I pack up the car and drive over to get W.  I am ready to tear someone up!  If anything has happened to my Darling the poor person who has to explain it to me will feel my wrath.  Don't get it twisted.  I may live in the suburbs now, but I done grow up downtown.   I am angry and someone will pay.

To my surprise Niecey has canceled her plans and coming with us (add more lbs of guilt and burden).  I push all my emotions of guilt, burden, fear, and anger aside.  None of those emotions are helping matters.  I feel empty.

As we drive down Franklin calls.  His mom is there.  He is o.k.  He didn't even know he pulled out the tube.  It's been put back.  The journey to recovery continues.

I feel emotionally drained.

Balance between Husband and Children

The kids will win 99.9% of the time.  But, it breaks my heart to do it.

Franklin woke me at 5am.  "Babe, I'm in pain".  Oh no.  It was his day off of doing dialysis treatment (he gets two days off a week because his job is keeping himself alive with proper treatment).  I call the ambulance and the roller coaster ride begins.

I leave the kids with my parents for 5-hrs.  Then leave them with their Godmother for another 5-hrs.  Franklin is at Emerg at the hospital up here for 15-hrs before they transfer him to the proper hospital.  They have blinders on as soon as they hear dialysis.  "We do not provide treatment for that here".  No $h!t Sherlock!  Treat the issue while you make arrangements to get him dialysis at the right hospital.  Instead, it takes 8- hrs to finally get the go-ahead to transfer him to the right hospital, all the while only taking 1 x-ray and keep him pumped with narcotics for the pain.  It takes another 7-hrs to finally transfer him.  Note:  Since it took so long, the dialysis treatment centre at the hospital is closed for the night and he will now be 2-days without treatment.  Toxins, liquid level, and blood pressure  is on the rise.  His face, belly, and hands are already puffy.

I  have been popping in and out a couple of times to feed my 5-month old and to transfer him between caretakers.  He's not taking to the bottled breast milk that I've pumped which isn't much since I haven't pumped on the regular since the first month when I wanted Franklin to try to do some feedings.  I keep telling myself to keep an emergency supply in the freezer.  sigh.  When I finally pick up the kids, both my loving ad indispensable go-to offer to take care of my toddler tomorrow if I need a break.  My poor baby was crying a lot and very loudly with both of them.

I need to be there for m husband.  To speak for him since he is on morphine every two hours.  To rub his back with my reassuring touch.  To feed him ice chips since he can't have food, hasn't had food in a couple of days, and he drank half a bottle of iced tea in one long gulp he was so thirsty.

But, how can I be there for him?  Bring my 5-month old to spend hours at the hospital?  Every instinct says (and everyone else also) it is not a good idea to do that.  I agree.  Especially when I was with him at Emergency and saw 3 rooms where anyone entering the room had to put on a mask, gown, and gloves to enter.  Even the food server!  What kind of airborne stuff do they have?!  As a healthy adult, I might be o.k. but, I just cannot risk that with my baby.   Or can I?

I am torn.  It physically hurts to think of my husband drugged up at the hospital on his own.  But, I just can't bring the baby down there.  Baby wins.  But, really, there are no winners here.  We all pay the price of this horrible kidney failure.

I am afraid.  My uncle passed away several months ago very quickly (1 week!) when he went to the hospital.  He also had kidney disease.  Franklin has been in hospital many times, but this time with new baby, uncle's recent death, and my 5am wake ups (with no naps during the day) for the last few weeks, I broke down and cried a bit.  Sobbed actually.  Red rimmed eyeballs, puffy lids, snot drippings, just a plain mess.

I've been sticking my head in the ground and refuse to acknowledge the death sentence we are living.  Without dialysis he will die.  It is slowly killing him too.  The very thing that is saving him is killing him.   I live in my bubble and pretend he will be here forever and we will share our golden years exploring the next chapter in our lives.  It's the only way I know how to survive each day for the last 10+ years.   But, right now with him in the hospital alone feels too bright and harsh.  Too real.  I want him home and I want to stick my head in the sand again.  Ignorance is bliss.

Do I tell his mother?  He says no.  She will be upset.  If I tell, he gets mad.  If I don't tell she gets mad.  This is not the first time I haven't told her of his hospital stay.  I know as a mother I would want to know.  But, what do I do as a wife?

I hate incompetent, cold-hearted medical "professionals", bureaucracy,  shortage of beds in hospitals, and most of all Kidney Disease.

This sucks.

See the next day in Balance Act II

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Get the $%# UP and help me with the kids!!!

I contemplated whether to write about this or not.  Then I re-read my first post. This is to help me vent my feelings.  I also re-read the marriage post, and I have to say something otherwise I will grow to resent him (and it's starting).  So, instead of saying it to The Husband, because really it's not his fault, I will vent here.

I've been up several times over the night for feedings and newborn baby sleepness. So, when Marcus wakes up at 6am and Lucas is still sleeping, I go with him to his room and just have him lie down with me to cuddle.  By 6:30am he goes to our bedroom to wake up The Husband since I fell asleep.  Back and forth he goes until Lucas wakes up.  I bring Lucas into Marcus' room and together we fall back asleep.  Franklin is still sleeping and Marcus is watching SpongeBob in our bedroom with him.  All is right in the world.

Then SpongeBob is over, Franklin has yelled at Marcus to leave him alone, and Lucas is  now up and crying.  Time to get up!  Morning diapers and teeth brushing await before we feed my now hungry toddler.

So, the morning goes on with blueberry whole wheat pancakes (homemade of course.  even the pancake mix!), spread with a bit of peanut butter and topped with whipped cream (a Marcus request of toppings).  Delicious AND Nutritious!  We sing and dance while I cook, do dishes, and sweep up.  Watch Train your Dragon movie while we eat then play hockey with his newly bought foam hockey sticks.

I've changed 2 morning diapers and an additional 3 poopy diapers and it's not even 11am yet!  I want to go take a shower and take a nap since Lucas has gone back to sleep.  Franklin, it's 11:30am, think you could wake up by 12pm?  A mumbled 'sure'.

It's 12pm and Marcus is starting to get stir crazy.  The movie is done.  He's starting to hit Lucas with his foam hockey sticks.  Lucas is getting cranky and doesn't want to be in his Bumba chair, nor his bouncy chair, nor sit on the couch, or bounced on my knee.   He wants this monkey to dance.  You know....walk around and sing while I carry his 14 lbs.  30 minutes?   NOT ENOUGH!!  Marcus has taken off all his clothes on the pretense that he wants to use the potty and refuses to put it back on.  He's going to get his goo-goo juice everywhere!  He has climbed the outside part of the stairs so he can flick the living room lights on and off.  The patients are running the asylum!

Franklin, can you get the $#%!@ up already!  I was understanding when yet again I have to wake up with our toddler after waking up several times in the night with our newborn.  I was understanding when I changed several diapers all morning while you slept.  I was understanding when I came down to a sink full of dirty dishes that I washed even though  you said you would do them.  I was understanding when I swept the living room and kitchen even though you said you would help out more.

I know the dialysis is taking its toll on your body and you're exhausted.  But, what the hell was the excuse for not doing the dishes last night when you were feeling well?!  What was the excuse that you're going to use for not sweeping up?!  What's your excuse for leaving your snacks from last night on the coffee table yet again?!

The reality is, you could have taken care of all of it this morning and helped me if you were not surviving by doing dialysis everyday to save your life.  I'm just tired.  physically and mentally.

I resent the disease not you darling.  I say this now.  At the end of my rant.  I sure didn't feel this way when I started writing this.  Oh Blog.  You saved Franklin from my frustration.