The Unexpected . . .

Ok, I admit it.  I am a child of the '70s and so, I find listening to music of the '70s, '80s, and '90s to be very moving, energizing, a great way to unleash the frustrations of the day. So, on Dance Fridays, or Thrilling Thursdays, you may hear and see my children and myself dancing to 'YMCA', 'Thriller', or
the family favorite 'We are Family'.


Today, was no different, at least that is what I thought. We were going to listen to 'Ghostbusters' to assist us with getting ourselves ready for the day.  But because we no longer subscribe to the Pandora unlimited, what greeted us first, was a Johnsons and Johnsons commercial.  Entitled "A Mother's Intuition" I was not sure what was coming next.  However, Ladybug was transfixed. She watched as a woman in her mid-thirties was relaxing comfortably on a couch, white teacup in hand, like she was sitting in your living room, with you.  She is confiding in you about her difficulties with getting pregnant, the joys of finding out about her subsequent pregnancy with twins, and then the horror of how she went into labor at 26 weeks.  She reveals that her twins were born in an operating room, a boy and a girl under bright lights and palpable tension.  When asked what her son's name was, she answered 'Jamie', to which the doctor replied "Jamie is dead." 


In shock, the woman demanded to hold her baby, placed him on her bare chest, and requested her husband join them in the bed. Cocooned, the two of them wept as they softly spoke to their son about their hopes, their dreams.  They kissed him, hugged him, bathed him in their tears, and  held onto him for dear life. Then, the unexpected: the mother noticed that he was breathing.  The midwives were summoned, but they replied that Jamie was in the process of 'passing.'  But then, Jamie, opened his eyes, grabbed his father's finger and held on. 


Today, Jamie is five years old.  He has a twin sister and a little brother.  Jamie's mother is convinced that they provided the heat, warmth, and love that he needed to be ready for this world.  J and J's message, was to hug more, love more.


I was touched by this 2 + minute video.  I was not quite sure how LB felt.  She was quiet, subdued.
Ladybug: Mom, how did that happen?
Me:  That is a good question.  What do you think.
LB: I do not know.
Me:  Well, LB.  I believe that is what we call a miracle of God. 
LB: Hmm.
Me: They don't happen everyday. 
LB:  So why didn't this happen with my babysister? (Recalling the miscarriage from 2010).
Me:  I don't know, honey.  But maybe God did not think that it was time for you to have a sister. God knew Catalina was coming, but that maybe we needed to learn somethings first.


Dealing with the unexpected.  Not so easy for a person resistant to change.  I guess this will be one of my challenges for Lent and for Life. Perhaps my affection for disco music reflects this resistance to change.  Who knows?

The "Tail"

Little boys are intrigued by it.  Big boys take pride in it.  Years ago, Ladybug informed be that it was called "Daddy's Tail."Today, upon examining her own parts, Honey Pie informed me that my husband's parts are called "wiggle parts." Certainly sounds better than some of the euphemisms that I have heard.

"Me Big Girl"

Extended breastfeeding, or breastfeeding after one year of age, is something that is not well received in this country.  I breastfed Ladybug until she was four years old and weaned her when we were trying to get pregnant.  She knows that she breastfed until then, and still jokes that she wants "mommy-milk".  When she says this, I usually joke back with her, "hey, there is some in the freezer for you downstairs."  After much reflection, though, isn't she really asking for the closeness that comes with such an activity?

What can be frustrating is that everyone has an opinion on extended breastfeeding, even if it does not concern them. Forget the fact that babies who have breastfed over year have higher IQ scores, engage in more diverse diets, and theoretically have fewer issues with allergies, etc.  Forget about the fact that when GI illnesses strike and the kid does not want to eat or drink, she can still maintain hydration because her source of comfort when she is feeling ill just so happens to be a source of fluid and electrolytes. At any rate, the discussion of weaning really, in my humble opinion, should be made by the dyad in question. 

For a fleeting moment today, I wondered if Honey Pie's nursing days were coming to an immediate end.  HP is now 2 and 1/2 years old.  She is still nursing, although, not as intensely as her sister did.  Ladybug was a gymnastic nurser, trying various positions, working very hard to squeeze every last ounce of milk out of my body.  HP, on the other hand, usually lies quietly, coaxing milk out with her hands only when necessary. 

Imagine my initial surprise when HP and I had the following conversation right before nap.  Let me set the stage first.  Usually, we will sit in the rocking chair in her room and nurse while we read a few books.  Then, I will lay her down, sometimes rubbing her back to sleep or nursing her for another minute. 
Me:  HP, time to get in the chair to read stories.
HP: Me stand right here (next to the rocking chair).
Me: Don't you want milk while we read?
HP: Mommy-milk is for babies, me big girl. 
Me:  Babies?  Sometimes girls have mommy-milk.  So, you don't want mommy-milk? (Inside I was laughing, because this 'big girl' nursed all last night because she was not feeling well.)
HP: No (EMPHATICALLY!) Me big girl.
Me:  OK. (I proceeded to read.  Then asked her to get into her bed).
HP:  (Sly smile).  Me want mommy-milk. 
Me:  I thought mommy-milk was for babies?
HP: No, big girls want mommy-milk too!

In recounting this discussion with someone very dear to me, she asked if I would have been relieved, knowing that the ending of  the nursing part of the relationship would be over, but that HP was ready for this.  I will have to think that over.  Dealing with change and transitions have never been my strong suit. I will definitely need to think this over.

A Little Egg

I don't want the birds and the bees to be a total surprise to my children, so I guess that I have begun introducing them to how they were made very early on.  The other day, Honeypie and I were driving in the car in the old stomping grounds where my dear husband and I lived together when we were first married. "The old condo" is what we fondly call it.  It was also Ladybug's first home and she still talks about how she misses her room with "two doors".  At any rate, I pointed out to Honey pie the place where we used to live when the following conversation  ensued:


Me: There is the place where your mommy, daddy, and sister used to live.
H: Me go with you?
Me: Well, actually you were not born yet.
H: Me go with you, Mommy?
Me: Well, actually, you were with me, but you were a little egg.  In fact, you and your sister have been with me my entire life. You were just little eggs.
H:  Then me broke open.  Me biddy.
Me: Well, not exactly,but I am so glad that you are here.