tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71372634163443027752024-02-21T19:11:16.651-08:00In Between the PilesBath time. Blogging. Changing diapers. Cuddles. Dancing. Downtime. Hugs. Laughter. Love. Meals. Music. Potty-training. Prayers. Reading books. Tears. Togetherness. Walks. Work.
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-64473051273512961672018-09-01T12:10:00.000-07:002018-09-07T20:13:12.085-07:00Sol<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">It was May of 2000. I was standing in front of the office in Olympia, WA when one of my staff members asked if anyone could take in a kitten “for a few weeks.” I remember the white star on his nose, and I couldn’t say no. I took Sol in with the thought that it would only be a month and then he would go back to his home. Then I fell in love with the little guy, and I really hoped he would get to stay with me. Thankfully, we got to spend over 18 years together. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He was a dog-like cat in that he loved being around people, belly rubs, and eating. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He enjoyed being around people, including kids. I think of all of the little ones (now mostly grown) who got to love on him even if only for a visit - Cyrus, Anja, Kaia, Lucas, Grant, Miss S, Mr. C, Lil S. <span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One thing he hated was the vet. When he was a year old, the vet said she was going to have to anesthetize him in order to do his exam. I found a different vet that was better with feisty cats. A few vets and states later, we've especially loved <a href="http://www.larpenteuranimalhospital.com/">our most recent vet clinic</a> and all of the staff. The last three times I had to take him in, the staff commented that they knew he wasn’t feeling well because they were able to see him (versus him being covered by a towel to keep him calm).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">I learned what it meant to care for an elderly cat over the last year, and he honestly made the job easy. Despite having arthritic back legs, he made it in the litter box except for that last day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">On Sunday, I realized that he was doing worse than he had been. His back legs weren’t working well. I thought that Monday was going to be the end. We took him to the vet, and he had some labs drawn. Our job was to get him to eat more, and we got to take him home. I gave him a sponge bath on Tuesday which I had been doing on and off for a few months. He usually purred the whole time. He seemed to be enjoying it but wasn’t purring. On Wednesday the plan was to increase his medication for hyperthyroidism. That afternoon I checked on him, and I saw he hadn’t made it to the litter box and also hadn’t moved from that spot. I wiped him up the best that I could and made him comfortable. We went to Miss S’s 2nd grade school open house, and I was sure that he’d pass away that evening.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">He just couldn’t do it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">The kids had been checking in on him with me for the previous few days, saying goodbye when we left the home or goodnight when we went to bed. They also said goodnight with a little pet or pat on Wednesday night. I decided to make up a “bed” next to his spot and slept there on and off for a few hours. At 4 am on Thursday, I went to bed. In the morning, I made an appointment with the vet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">The only things that made it less painful for me were that he was so close to the end on his own - it was his time, he was listless and could barely lift up his head, but his heart and lungs just kept going. I was already off from work that day, and the vet that had cared for him the most was able to see us. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeX-wWh3PlsygKxMJWpH2j30xhZcATtXbKQvgoB_kbtadp6X0M03YOD2FWmsUSNTmj1EKzoJuLRNwuh2kerk1Eb4BEsWaOWT5rWCMHhNFijkLD070cokPjAv3Kv9MgnFac9CtR62i-ZM5a/s1600/IMG_3984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">All of the staff at our vet made the experience as best as it can be, from when I called and couldn’t get out what I needed to say without crying, to walking me back to the room and passing me a box of kleenex, to the vet tenderly caring for him while giving him the sedative and then the final shot. She had mentioned before how much she loved caring for elderly kitties and told me the things I needed to hear - that I had done all that I could and that I had helped him to have a great life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">I know it isn’t comparable to a human death, but it still hurts. It’s a bit of my history and life, and I always struggle when a chapter ends. It wasn’t just his dying, but of my no longer having a cat in my life. I know some day in a few months I’ll no longer think “I need to go feed Sol” before I go to bed or leave for work in the morning. And I’m sure in another 5 to 10 years, Miss S will beg Karl to have a kitten, and he’ll cave. But for now, what has been the cats’ bathroom or cats’ room is now the downstairs bathroom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">Yesterday night, Karl and I were talking and heard either fireworks from the state fair or thunder. He went out the front door to check and came back in with a delivery from a local florist. I had no idea who would have sent something to us and why.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-kerning: none;">The card read “Kristin & all Sol’s family - Our thoughts are with you on the loss of your beautiful boy - Dr. Julie & all at <a href="http://www.larpenteuranimalhospital.com/">Larpenteur</a>.”</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">To my beautiful boy, you will be missed. Thank you for being the first to christen me as mama.</span><br />
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Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-40827206953711517352017-01-09T17:37:00.000-08:002017-01-09T17:37:10.862-08:0016 Years, 6 Months, 6 Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This morning I found you asleep for the final time. You were
still purring when I said a final goodnight. Yesterday you showed me you were
done. If you made it to this morning, I was going to take you to the vet. But,
you went on your own terms.</div>
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Karl’s favorite memory of you will always be coming around
the side of the house and seeing you hanging on to the edge of the bathroom
window with your back paws scraping frantically for a hold on the stucco. <o:p></o:p></div>
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My mom’s favorite memory is of how sweet you were and kept
her company after her eye surgery when she recuperated in the “Cats’ room” at
our house in Scottsdale. <o:p></o:p></div>
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You were a cuddler, a climber, and an escape artist. If you
could get to a higher perch, you wanted to be there. If there was another door
leading closer to outside, you had to be there scratching and meowing for a
release. <o:p></o:p></div>
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You moved with me six times and were the only pet I’ve named
by myself (partially inspired by a band that will not be named here and a Tori
Amos song).<o:p></o:p></div>
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Your eyes were the prettiest green.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Opito, Joopitr, Jupiter. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Our solar system is lonelier without you.</div>
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You were loved and will be missed dearly.</div>
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3 July 2000 - 9 January 2017</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-64988030634035515892016-11-05T13:28:00.003-07:002016-11-05T13:31:32.362-07:00Blogging (Life) Obstacles ... and SMASHING Them<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times";">I originally started this blog when Karl and I were
in the initial planning phase of moving to Minnesota. That reality feels so
removed from where I am today. I'm sitting at a messy table (same one where
this blog started) in a different room in a different state. It's a gorgeous
November day, unusually warm for Minnesota standards (70 degrees!!) Ok. I had
to relocate to our back deck. I knew it was nice out, but wow!! The 3
kiddos are all napping. It’s bliss.</span><span style="font-family: "times";"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I haven't done a lot of updating since moving to
Minnesota. I've been busy with working 40+ hours/week outside of the home,
mama-ing 2 and then 3 littles, wife-ing, and doing at least the minimum on the
home front (with much help from Karl - the laundry, cooking, cleaning, start at
the top and do it all over again). The homemaking stuff (except for the
occasional inspiration that I have for a meal or baking or dessert) is lowest
priority for me. It’s becoming less of a mental battle. In the past, I had
a really hard time letting go of the messy counters, the laundry piles, the
vacuuming. I’m not living in squalor, but I don’t have the time or energy to
keep it all clean. My priorities are kiddos, daily needs (picking out clothes,
prepping bottles, feeding the cats/dog), and sleep. I do the housework but not
out of annoyance or because I JUST CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. I do it when I have a
moment and it works. The kiddos are playing and keeping themselves entertained,
so I take the time to vacuum. Or this morning, when Baby S was looking out the
front window, the old 2 helped me to clean it from Mars’ nose artwork. I’m
integrating it into the day instead of having it hang over me and nag at me.
And if it doesn’t get done? I’m feeling less guilt than I did a few months ago.
Which feels HUGE. Guilt is such an emotional and physical drain. Thank you
Lexapro and bupropion and counseling!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Besides carving out the time and just sitting down
and doing it, my three other obstacles to blogging are: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">1. Having the wrong mindset for why I'm blogging.
(My mission statement without having a mission statement? It's to stay
connected with my friends and family around the country when I'm literally in
between the piles of clean/dirty diapers, laundry, dishes, lunches to be
packed, leaves, you name it. To share my reality. For each of you who are
reading it.) Instead, I think of the witty, polished, impressively talented
bloggers that I read and then that puts a little grey raincloud over my reason
for writing. But when I read over my past posts, I find them pretty darned enjoyable
and am thankful for having them. What better reason to write than that? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">My second obstacle is the writing squelcher
of: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">2. What about those people who don't like reading
updates? I'm one of those people who enjoy reading the Christmas cards. Whether
you choose to share a little snippet or a long narrative about your family, I
love catching up on my people's lives. I know that there are people who don't
like those reading the page-long updates. My mental response to that (up until
today) has been hesitation or resistance to writing a post that might seem too
long or too sharing or too much about my kiddos for someone else’s interest.
Today, I’m freeing myself from that. Instead I’m choosing to be ok with the
fact that I can write a novel, and it may be just for me reread in the future
instead of worrying that someone might find it to be too much sharing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Finally...3. Pictures. I LOVE sharing photos of my
life. But, it takes a lot more time to add photos to a blog post. More writing
will mean more posts sans photos. That one is probably the hardest hurdle for
me. I’m still wanting to include a photo or 5, but that would probably mean an
hour more of time and might result in this post not being published. So sans
photos it is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Now I feel a lot freer which also could do with the
Vitamin D that I'm enjoying at the moment. And sitting outside in bare feet and
bare arms at the beginning of November…even though Scottsdale, AZ was left
behind over 2 years ago!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">A snippet of an update with hopes of writing more soon...life is going
well. I'm feeling more back to my baseline mood-wise than I have since probably
postpartum with Miss S. I’m SO thankful that I’m on a different medication path
because it feels really good to be living in a clearer mindset. I’m a huge advocate
of both medication and counseling/therapy (and none of this is meant as medical
advice other than sharing my personal story!) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">We’ve had a lot of changes in 2016 – my parents moved to Minnesota in
June, Karl’s parents are now living year-round in Minnesota, Miss S started
kindergarten in September. Baby S will turn 1 (WHAT??) in three weeks from
today. I have no idea how that’s possible. Karl is enjoying the last of his
“baby bonding” time (aka 6 weeks unpaid from his employer that he can use before
Baby S turns 1). Last night we enjoyed our 4<sup>th</sup> date night since
moving to Minnesota (we’re going to work on making that a more than twice
yearly event). It was a stay at home date night with a nice bottle of wine,
chicken wild rice salad, pasties (for Karl), and The Walking Dead. Simple and
lovely (and very Minnesotan - the wild rice salad and pasties) to be together
sans-kiddos for 3 hours (thanks Mom and Dad!) Not to leave out Mr C, as the
middle man…he is becoming more and more a very sweet, thoughtful, and loving 3
½ year old. Sometimes it’s so hard to remember in the throes of the 2s and 3s
that the psychological developments aren’t stagnant. The tantrums will become
further apart. The frustrations will be less often. That’s where we are right
now. We must be doing something right, because Mr. C is such a sweetheart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">I’ve become a listener to books on CD. I have a solid 35 minute commute
to and from work (against traffic) and am now on my 3<sup>rd</sup> book on
tape. I had to break past my mental obstacles that I’m not really “reading” if
it’s a book on CD. Or that books on CD are for the elderly or vision impaired
only and if since I’m not elderly or vision impaired, then reading print is the
only option. My kick this week (at least) is smashing down these life-hindering/ridiculous
obstacles and embracing life without these fake rules. And with the breaking of
each fake rule, the lighter I feel. It’s AWESOME! This week’s inspiration is
partially from my latest book on CD - Shrill by Lindy West. (Yay Seattle and my
Seattle girlfriends!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times";">Mr. C just woke up from his nap, so I’m going to go rake up piles of
leaves for jumping into. Actually all 3 kiddos are now up. Perfect timing. I’m
going to publish this novella before I have more time to rethink it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";">What’s going on it your life? I’d love to read about it. </span><span style="font-family: "times";">Thank you for being a part of mine!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-17833514150598034372016-08-10T21:05:00.001-07:002016-08-10T21:05:17.687-07:00One Step, Two Steps<div class="MsoNormal">
I normally write when I’m down or ugly angry or have had a
bad day. While it’s been a day of many emotions, it’s overall been a good day.
Lately, the good have outweighed the bad which, in turn, is helping the good
moments to come more often.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have a new nurse practitioner psychiatrist who is
wonderful. I’m so thankful that she happened to relocate to a clinic near my
work since the previous one is over an hour drive away. Besides the two
clinicians working in an office specialized that ante and postpartum periods,
she’s the first who has said that I have postpartum depression/anxiety.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some of you may wonder why that matters. I was pretty sure I
was struggling with postpartum depression and anxiety after both Miss S and Mr.
C were born. But, I’m not a nurse practitioner or doctor. Nurses can’t diagnose
(even though most of the time we are right with our hunches). Without having a
diagnosing medical professional say that I was experiencing postpartum mood
disorders, it was just my “thinking” that my symptoms matched.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
When everything is viewed through the lens of a mood
disorder, that view is distorted. The rational side of me was thinking, “For 15
years, I was on sertraline. That managed my symptoms well. (In addition to
counseling.) Now, my symptoms aren’t controlled. The best hypothesis (since I’m
postpartum) is that my postpartum state is the reason why sertraline is no
longer doing what it has before.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The irrational side of me was screaming, “You SUCK. You
can’t CUT IT. You are going to NEGATIVELY influence your kids because you are a
FAILURE. Come ON. You are such a LOUSY excuse for a mom. Get your s&*t
together already!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I went to my nurse practitioner psychiatrist at the
time, her response negated that the postpartum period had any influence. After
Mr. C, when I said that bupropion didn’t seem to be managing things as well as
it had after Miss S, her response was, “We can continue trying to throw more
chemicals at you, or we can try something else.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I heard was, “You just want
an easy way out, don’t you? If you’re really strong, you can do this on your
own. Medications don’t matter. Even if they help, they are the easy way out.
Buck up and deal.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Part of me was frustrated. I’m NOT someone who wants to take
medications for the heck of it. I chose to give birth medication free to my
babes. I’m not a martyr. I just believe in using medications only when I truly
need them and have exhausted all other options. (And, while I’m being honest,
an epidural scares the crap out of me. I don’t want a needle NEAR my spinal
cord unless absolutely necessary. Plus, I had heard horror stories of epidurals
only partially working or not working at all. Beyond that, I knew that
epidurals can prolong the pushing and ultimately can result in the need for a
c-section.) </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other part of me felt like she was right. She was the medical
professional. I needed to try something else.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My new nurse practitioner psychiatrist said (without
prompting), “Your symptoms match what we’ve learned about postpartum depression.
The symptoms tend to worsen after each subsequent birth.” Which was exactly
what I had experienced. Thank you, God. FINALLY. I had a medical professional
who understood and knew about what I was experiencing. She suggested we try a
different medication. I felt more hopeful that day when I left her office than
I had felt in a long time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m officially off of sertraline and am taking Lexapro (the
generic version). I’m also cutting back on my bupropion. I’m still having rocky
days, but oh. my. gosh. I’m feeling better than I have in so long. It’s
amazing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How do I know?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two weekends ago, for the first time in who knows how long,
I didn’t dread the thought of household chores. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not joking. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For SO LONG, weekend chores have loomed ahead of me, and my
desire has been to stay in bed. Or fall asleep nursing Baby S. Or not to start
because there was no way I’d get a task fully completed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wanted to avoid them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I couldn’t face them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were too many things to do. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I emptied the dishwasher and reloaded it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I stripped beds. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I did laundry. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You guys, I did SOMETHING. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I accomplished SOMETHING. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And, I didn’t feel dread.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While I can only speak for myself, it’s when I’m surfacing
above the mood disorder that I realize how much it’s been pulling me down. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I kept rationalizing that it was me. I just needed to try
harder. Get to bed earlier. Stop being angry. Stop being depressed. Stop being
anxious. Stop being ME. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s hard to do when that’s what I’m telling myself. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The medication just helps to quiet those thoughts. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s wonderful. It’s life. It isn’t a high. It’s normalcy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s awesome.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still know that I’ll have bad days because everyone does.
But, having more good days? It seriously is life giving. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m motivated to work out. To do laundry. To clean the
kitchen. Not even motivated necessarily, but just normalized. The dread is
letting up. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is amazing. And, I’m taking less medication than in the
postpartum period after Mr. C. Just different medication.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Please, mama. If you are suffering or you think something
doesn’t add up, as hard as it is or even if that stupid voice in your head
tries to talk you down, KEEP asking for help. If the first person can’t help
you, keep talking until you find someone who can. Because, YOU are the only
mama to your littles. YOU are the best mama they will ever have. Don’t ever let
anyone (including yourself) tell you otherwise. And, until your head starts
talking more nicely to you, keep asking for help. And prayers. And hugs.
Whatever you need. You are worth it. Really. (And, for a little more help if you need it, please visit:<a href="http://postpartum progress.com"> postpartumprogress.com</a>.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-78335843437748334212016-05-01T11:39:00.001-07:002016-05-01T11:42:12.281-07:00Climbing<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">I have a longer messier uglier post that might never get
published. This story is the short version.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">Hi, my name is Kristin. I’ve struggled with anxiety most of
my life. I was officially diagnosed with depression in college. In each
postpartum period, my anxiety has become worse. It isn’t as some moms describe
– I don’t feel anxiety about my baby. Instead, I’d be happy just cuddling my
baby while someone else cleans my house, cooks for me, and entertains my other
children (and the dog and the cats). My anxiety is about everyone and
everything else. I feel rage. It is a dreadful feeling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">I know that my plate is over full. Karl and I both work full
time. I’ve had 3 job transitions (within the same company) since September
2014. We have 3 kiddos 5 and under. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">Being overwhelmed is understandable. But overwhelmed and
perfectionism are a horrible combination. And overwhelmed, perfectionism,
postpartum hormones, interrupted sleep…I know. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">I’m working on surfacing above it. Some days are better than
others. On weekends when I’m alone with the kiddos, I often feel like a
failure. A rageful ugly failure. I often forget to pray in those moments which
I think would help me immensely. But, the redness of the rage cancels out my
ability to think rationally. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">What I look forward to is having more days where the joy
outshines the rage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am living my dream. At one point in my late 20s, I didn’t
think I would find anyone to spend the rest of my life with. I longed for
having a family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">I’ve met the one that I want to be with as long as we both
shall live. We have 3 amazing kiddos. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">I will overcome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">Something that has saved me multiple times is Postpartum
Progress. It’s an organization that focuses on helping women with postpartum
mood disorders, helps to educate the public about maternal mental health, and
(for me) gives hope to mamas who are struggling through. I found their website
through another blog, <a href="http://www.babyrabies.com/">Baby Rabies</a>. Jill (from Baby Rabies) <a href="http://www.babyrabies.com/2011/11/acceptance-postpartum-anxiety-and-me/">wrote a post about her postpartum anxiety</a> and how <a href="http://postpartumprogress.org/">Postpartum Progress</a> helped. It has helped me
each postpartum period. I’ve really loved following their Instagram account
this postpartum period. It helps immensely to know I’m not alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">A few years ago Postpartum Progress started <a href="http://postpartumprogress.org/climb-out-of-the-darkness/">Climb out of the Darkness</a> on the Saturday closest to the longest day of the year. This year’s
climb will be June 18, 2016. I’m really excited to be able to participate in it
because I’ve worked on the day of the climb the previous 2 years. Please help me to work toward raising
$250 (tax deductible donations) for Postpartum Progress and their important
work. Go to $1, $5, $50, $100 or more. Whatever you feel you can contribute would be
greatly appreciated. This organization has been a lifeline for me. Click <a href="https://www.crowdrise.com/sarahmaier1-COTD2016/fundraiser/kristinmaki">here</a> to donate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">I've been a fundraiser, so I know that this post isn't the best approach for asking for people to contribute. The post is more about my struggle and how Postpartum Progress has helped me. I'll plan to send a more official/assertive email to my friends and family, so be watching your inboxes! ;-) BUT, I'd love it if some of you were to donate before getting that letter!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">Please keep me in your prayers – for peace, for gentleness,
for forgiveness, for perseverance, and for me to give myself the grace that I
would give to another. Thank you for reading.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-29520120713155328792016-02-13T16:47:00.002-08:002016-02-13T16:49:13.860-08:00White Flag<div class="MsoNormal">
I know that it’s been a long while since I was on here
<a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2015/11/prodromal-labor.html">last</a>…back when we only had 2 kiddos. I have a lot to share (like introducing
you all to our newest family member, sharing the birth story, writing about my
imminent return to work after maternity leave), but today I really need some
input. This territory is dangerous…but I’m going there anyway. (Is it anyway or
anyways?)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m looking for recommendations. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On parenting. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Now picture me with a grimace on my face knowing that I
can’t take it back. I’ve <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">asked</i> for
it. Yikes.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a name='more'></a><br />
I’ll start with the positive. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love my 3 kiddos and am thankful for each of them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Miss S and Mr. C have done great with the transition to
being bigs, 2<sup>nd</sup> time around for Miss S and 1<sup>st</sup> time
around for Mr. C. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bigs both do good/great with their behavior at
preschool.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They are really polite kiddos.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Also, some qualifiers…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know that they have been through some major transitions
(as has the whole family – but considering their ages, their lives have been in
transition longer than us adults) over the last 1.5 years.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know that Mr. C is 2.5 and that age can be *difficult*.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, I know that having 3 kiddos, especially all under the
age of 5, can be challenging. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, I have days where I’m seriously at the point where I’m
ugly angry. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hate that feeling. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hate those moments of such immense frustration over things
that may or may not be really significant. The [fill in the blank] that pushes
my emotions over (splash in the tub, sound of duplos being dumped out of their
box for the 15<sup>th</sup> time, tattling for the 6<sup>th</sup> time about
behavior that isn’t life threatening).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Spitting, yelling, scratching, pinching, hitting, throwing,
sassing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Them, not me.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know that people reading this may be thinking:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1. You have 3 under 5, so … chuckle … good luck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2. Um, yeah. You have 3 kids under 5. Did you think about
all of this before jumping on the pregnancy bandwagon?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3. I have angels for children and have no idea what you’re
talking about. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4. Are you sure you wanted to ask for advice?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5. I understand. I’m right there with you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6. I’ve been there, done that, and I can say that I
survived. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For those of you thinking 5 or 6, I’d love to hear from you.
;-)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What would be helpful is<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
General commiseration<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Recommendations<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are there
resources you have found to be helpful/not helpful with parenting?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What strategies
do you use that are effective for your kiddos?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Prayers…for guidance in being the best mama to my kiddos and
peace of mind as I go back to work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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My goal is to see about writing another post within the next
few months, if not sooner. ;-) But, considering the above…<o:p></o:p></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-55958704125879171982015-11-20T20:27:00.000-08:002015-11-20T20:30:35.456-08:00Prodromal Labor<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">I've learned a new concept over the last 48
hours. Prodromal labor. Haven't heard of it? I hadn't either. Honestly, it's a
fancy way of saying false labor. Maybe it helps those of us experiencing it
feel a little better than just being told what we're experiencing is false.
Instead, I can intelligently state, "It's prodromal labor." It sounds
so much more sophisticated, doesn’t it? Bottom line, it's the same thing…contractions
which lead nowhere despite making a mama think the time is near. For all of my
pregnancies, I've been ok with going full term. I didn't make it with <a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2014/03/miss-ss-birth-story.html">Miss S,</a>
and then with Mr. C, I went 3 days past. (I still plan to post his birth story at some point). I shouldn’t complain
because my pregnancies have only been speckled with mildly annoying but
tolerable symptoms (heart burn, occasional back pain, inner thigh pain this
pregnancy, painful joints intermittently) which is nothing compared to a lot of
pregnant mamas. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">When I was leaving work on Wednesday, one of my
coworkers stated she thought I wouldn't make it past this week, which I think put
my mindset in the laboring mode. That evening I started having contractions.
They felt more significant/frequent/regular than any Braxton Hicks that I've
had, and they lasted on and off during the night. I didn't sleep well and woke
up multiple times aware of my tightening abdomen. That morning I was having
contractions, so I let work know I wouldn't be in. My contractions then decided
to stop around 9 am after 15 hours. They weren’t contractions than made me stop
what I was doing, but they felt legitimate and stronger than Braxton Hicks. I
had them on and off the rest of the day but without any consistency. I made
dinner, and since my parents are in town, Karl and I decided to head to the
mall to walk (since it was 32 degrees plus wind chill here). Around 8 pm, my
contractions decided to start coming regularly with mild intensity at about 3
to 5 minute intervals for an hour. In our Bradley class, we were taught that
once a mama is at 1 minute long contractions every 3 minutes for an hour,
that's a good time to head to the hospital. We headed home, and the
contractions became less frequent with only 6 in the next hour. They
continued though until I fell asleep. I set my alarm to get up for work since
they had slowed down so much. When I woke up this morning, I had the strongest
and longest contraction yet. I decided that I didn’t want to have a baby at
work and was thinking positively, so I told work I wouldn’t be there and would
update them on baby news later. Now, it’s almost 10 pm. Besides an occasional
contraction probably hourly and with them more frequent when I went for a walk,
I’m not feeling anything.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">I think most pregnant women will agree. Once you
<i>think</i> you are in labor, then
switching the mindset to the fact that labor may not be anytime soon can be really
challenging. My mood has been off this evening. While I can blame it partially
on hormones, I know it’s more because 1. I’m not in labor 2. It could be
another week or 2 before I’m in labor 3. I didn’t work the last 2 days (which
makes me feel guilty, especially since the days didn’t result in a baby)… 4. I
feel like this being my 3<sup>rd</sup> I should innately know if I’m really in
labor or not (plus I’m a registered nurse, which adds more fuel to the little
voice in my head telling me that I should know if it’s true labor or <s>prodromal
</s>false labor.) That being said, I really wonder if any woman ever gets to
the point of “knowing” she’s in labor without having her water break or her
having had more than at least a handful of babies. And, while I’m a nurse, I’m not
an OB nurse, so I’m really only slightly more knowledgeable than the average
pregnant mama out there on all things labor-wise.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">For anyone else
who might be experiencing prodromal labor, you aren’t alone! I read a number of
posts from women having contractions daily for weeks (bless your hearts!) and
with them sounding significantly more painful than my own. I found a few sites
helpful in maintaining perspective and another that just made me laugh, which
is always helpful: t</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">hese posts from
<a href="http://forums.thebump.com/discussion/12527540/prodromal-labor">The Bump</a>, t</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">his <a href="http://birthbootcamp.com/prodromal-labor-what-is-it-and-what-can-you-do-about-it/#comment-15286">particular comment from an MD</a> about prodromal labor, and </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">this humor
from <a href="http://its-fitting.com/2012/12/baby-eviction-how-induce-labor/">another mama blogger</a>.</span></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-77326982021528356542015-11-09T20:48:00.002-08:002015-11-09T20:48:55.812-08:0037 Weeks (and a belly photo)<div class="MsoNormal">
The weather has been incredible this fall. I went for a walk
today on my lunch break and didn’t need to wear a jacket. It was amazing! I was
hoping to get a nice preggo belly shadow shot, but the sunlight wasn’t at the
right angle. I’ll check in with my OB tomorrow, but as of last week, I was 1 cm
dilated…which is the same as with my other pregnancies at 36 weeks. I’m so glad
that I kept relatively good notes on each of my pregnancies (even though my
plan with each was to journal more than I did). It’s been helpful to look back
and compare notes. Of course, with Miss S, my note keeping (for my pregnancy)
ended with <a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2014/03/miss-ss-birth-story.html">her arrival at 36 weeks exactly</a>. We’ve passed that date (and my final progesterone shot!) and are
aiming for the baby’s arrival during my primary OBs next rotation, which is
conveniently the 6 days leading up to and including my due date. <br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>That’s been
one major change between prenatal care here and in Scottsdale. In Scottsdale,
the likelihood of my OBs delivering my baby was high, unless they were on
vacation. For both Miss S and Mr. C, my primary OB was there. This time around,
I go to a practice with 8 OBs who are associated with the University of
Minnesota. Since my primary doctor is on call for those 6 days, as long as this
baby is on time or a few days early, we’ll have our primary OB deliver.
Otherwise, it will be whoever is on call. We’ve met most of the OBs at the
clinic, and since this baby is our 3<sup>rd</sup>, we feel confident about the
laboring process…but we’d still rather have the doctor present whom we’ve seen
the most.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ki23Rk2ZI5NR5Xf30QFD3Km1Z2g1-NddGSj6S7AbBqYKdNLGX7kTGQy9RFuy0-h3j_7sVqYcMITd2qv6Xf_9TTOL8l3Diff1AHecTyLYb-Dajca4wsPr7CcRkLiBRfI7SUQZADNZtyR1/s1600/37+weeks+PM+IBTP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ki23Rk2ZI5NR5Xf30QFD3Km1Z2g1-NddGSj6S7AbBqYKdNLGX7kTGQy9RFuy0-h3j_7sVqYcMITd2qv6Xf_9TTOL8l3Diff1AHecTyLYb-Dajca4wsPr7CcRkLiBRfI7SUQZADNZtyR1/s640/37+weeks+PM+IBTP.jpg" width="368" /></a></div>
I had some minor cramping on Saturday evening, probably only
for 15 minutes, but it was enough to get a few more things accomplished on the
“to do before baby arrives” list. You know, like washing the newborn clothes
and cleaning the car seat. No big deal. You’d think with our 1<sup>st</sup>
coming 4 weeks early and this being our third that we’d be totally prepared.
But, with Karl and I both working full time (and me working Monday through Friday
for the first time since having kiddos), the to do list has been a little
neglected. On the weekends, my priorities are pretty minimal – making sure the
kiddos, dog, and I eat; making sure the kiddos, dog, and I nap; and attempting
to do at least a few things to make our house <s>cleaner</s> a little less of a
mess. (And for those of you wondering about the cats, they do eat. During my
pregnancies, all cat tending is done by Karl. But, once this baby arrives, I’ll
be back on litter box/cat feeding/pill giving duties).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thankfully one of the tires on Karl’s vehicle decided to
spring a leak tonight as he’s off the next 2 days. While his main plan was to
rake tomorrow (since the kiddos will go to preschool), he’ll first have a date
with Discount Tire followed by leaf raking. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s so nice to write up a little update. I’ve realized that
one of the reasons I enjoy blogging (even though it doesn’t happen as much as
I’d like) is because each time I’ve moved since living in Seattle, my community
has grown a little smaller. I used to sometimes feel gluttonous about how many
friends I had that I could vent to and process whatever needing processing. Realistically
(not pessimistically) I don’t think my community of friends will ever match
what it did in Seattle. Which is ok, although a little tear-inducing. (I can
partially blame it on the hormones). I don’t need the large community of
friends in the same way as I did then (as they were my family and friends
whereas I now have a family in addition to friends…if that makes sense), but I
do long for a larger community of friends. While my blog followers aren’t the
same as a local community with people to hug, drink wine with, laugh with, cry
with, celebrate with (ok a few more tears), this little place helps me to feel more
connected.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Considering how inconsistently I’ve been blogging, there’s
an excellent chance my next post will be about this wee one’s arrival. Eek!!
Quite exciting.</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-88373479218116115702015-07-17T21:18:00.001-07:002015-07-17T21:18:34.993-07:00Positive<div class="MsoNormal">
I just gave myself a progesterone shot for the 5<sup>th</sup>
time…with only 15 more to go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Miss S for the 2<sup>nd</sup> time around and Mr. C for the
first time will be “bigs.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
20 weeks and 5 days today. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Baby M is expected to make his or her debut around November
30<sup>th</sup>.<br />
<br />
Karl and I are overjoyed :)</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjVUCbqaD0Bsqp7PIN1dV3AbEdIZoPAXlr9kovm7mpGEUH0pfXFVz06_MHZCfm19898Fvgn0I6MRISyyfY2t_wvnLfDjGF6JqDCkISQK8lGcmi3QdamhYDb7X5PeGBxV0Im9uGpNa7nmsG/s1600/20+weeks+5+days.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjVUCbqaD0Bsqp7PIN1dV3AbEdIZoPAXlr9kovm7mpGEUH0pfXFVz06_MHZCfm19898Fvgn0I6MRISyyfY2t_wvnLfDjGF6JqDCkISQK8lGcmi3QdamhYDb7X5PeGBxV0Im9uGpNa7nmsG/s640/20+weeks+5+days.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Wingdings;"><br /></span></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-52121812262467002082015-05-17T20:36:00.000-07:002015-05-17T21:10:08.230-07:007 Years<div class="MsoNormal">
The first anniversary we stayed at the Valley Ho after a
dinner at Lon’s at The Hermosa.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For our 3<sup>rd</sup> anniversary (and 1<sup>st</sup> as
parents), we went to the Havana Café while Tom and Debb watched our almost 1
month old (and we never have lived down the stories of her crying the entire
time we were out).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On our 5th anniversary, we had a less than 2 week-old baby and a 2
year old. I’m pretty sure we celebrated at home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The seventh year we celebrated a day early with your
extended family at an Italian family restaurant that was kid friendly. It was a
lovely evening. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
Today, our actual 7<sup>th</sup> anniversary, has been low
key. I’ve been having fun with allergies/a cold over the last few days, so I
was treated to sleeping in (for the 2<sup>nd</sup> day in a row). We unpacked
boxes in the basement, you sorted laundry, I folded laundry, and then we had
leftover burgers and brats for dinner.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It sounds so unromantic, but I don’t need every anniversary to
be romantic. To be able to celebrate with you in our normalcy, that’s enough
for me. I know that we’ll celebrate a dinner out next month when your brother
and sister-in-law watch the kiddos, and that will be fun. But, the days in and
days out of everydayness, of laundry sorting and folding, of getting the kiddos
ready for bed together, of sitting on the couch with my legs on your lap while
you watch golf, this daily love is what I cherish.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The kiddos went to bed early tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other day we found a can of guavas (we checked just by chance, not expecting to find them, considering you drove over 45 minutes to find them when we lived in Phoenix) at the
local grocery store (a treat of ours since we discovered them on our honeymoon
in Puerto Vallarta) and are planning to enjoy those while we watch a long
overdue Walking Dead. These moments are the ones I cherish. Time spent in
togetherness.<br />
<br />
Happy Anniversary, my love.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OG39ediy8b88mXg9SVzojva5l0aWEne0zO-ExD6ig80KGY8Ky9RDQuAN9dGM9iOox74U7wmIq0_hIVqpAb0tPniJZAt0sEALLbSjXeEuiK3WzMBpwJ53vlLdguB8r434rfG0L_OH7D4U/s1600/7th+anniversary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="544" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OG39ediy8b88mXg9SVzojva5l0aWEne0zO-ExD6ig80KGY8Ky9RDQuAN9dGM9iOox74U7wmIq0_hIVqpAb0tPniJZAt0sEALLbSjXeEuiK3WzMBpwJ53vlLdguB8r434rfG0L_OH7D4U/s640/7th+anniversary.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-85498036578950816702015-05-09T10:43:00.001-07:002015-05-09T10:43:25.837-07:00To My Second Born, Happy Birthday Bubs<div class="MsoNormal">
Late in the evening on Wednesday, I downloaded the Time Hop app with the intention of posting a
photo from your actual birth day, but I was exhausted, flopped onto our bed in my
clothes, and fell asleep that way. Daddy and I worked that day and then started
barbequing drumsticks (one of your favorite foods) later than ideal. Your party
(celebrated with Grandma J, Grandpa A, mama, daddy, and Sisi…your name for your
sister) ran later into the evening, and we were all exhausted. So much so that
you and Sisi slept in the next morning until after 9. (And mama might have
overslept her alarm and gotten ready in record time).</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your Actual Birthday, with Ice Cream and Candles. You Guard your Ice Cream Fiercely.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicVhHP7VIxYgh42z-zDKo-_5bYs7E-eGjfk1SC8WR3sKo3Zg76BdRha0DKpXGKrCul4Ba7xvMSY1q9KZ5g_ihjtl4ledN0R7TeIqWc6OolaiRXNKIL_QlXYwCOn9mx0qdVtCVN67QyRNXP/s1600/Cs+cake+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicVhHP7VIxYgh42z-zDKo-_5bYs7E-eGjfk1SC8WR3sKo3Zg76BdRha0DKpXGKrCul4Ba7xvMSY1q9KZ5g_ihjtl4ledN0R7TeIqWc6OolaiRXNKIL_QlXYwCOn9mx0qdVtCVN67QyRNXP/s320/Cs+cake+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We celebrated your birthday on Sunday with family and had a fun day complete with a hailstorm. You did a great job of blowing out your candles on your coconut ice cream cake (since you don’t really like cake or cupcakes). </div>
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Mama had fun making the cake and was so happy with how it turned out
(and it was delicious!). You got a lot of fun presents, and you and Sisi have
been having fun playing with them ever since.</div>
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You are my bubs. My blue eyed baby boy who is ridiculously
patient in the mornings waiting in your crib for mama or daddy to swoop you up
into our arms. I know the day is probably just around the corner, but you
haven’t yet tried climbing out of your crib. You are my thumb sucker (just like
mama was), and you love your BeBe (your name for your blanket), trains, and
books. You give the best kisses and love bath time (so much that you might even
be known to lay in the bathtub after the water has drained because you don’t
want to get out).</div>
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I am so thankful for you and all the joy that you give me. I love you, my sweet boy. I hope you’ll always realize how
much I love you.</div>
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Happy (belated) 2nd birthday, Mr. C.</div>
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Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-48244932063947119712015-03-21T21:52:00.002-07:002015-03-21T21:52:11.219-07:00365 days, From 3 to 4Even though it doesn't seem possible, Miss S will be 4 on Monday. Tomorrow we will be celebrating her birthday with family and friends at our home.<br />
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The contrast of Arizona to Minnesota is striking with events like tomorrow.<br />
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Last year, we had her party outside at a park with her first friend, first sitter, my sister's family, my sister's in-laws, and my parents.<br />
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It was 84 degrees. I was wearing a tank top and skirt.<br />
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Tomorrow the high is supposed to 36 degrees with a 100% chance of snow.<br />
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Which is perfect for a Frozen themed party.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzqbFyMddP9MUTD11NRi29MCf8XHDbAaIr9FC2Tvo86xf1d0jeufJGtpoteghICvok-zwuZanM0Sy6XLuJSbFz4chUdFjvUvrTcU-Ip-XAdThnZt9zN1BobvxIiSRrb_RcbKlU5agnYiD/s1600/2014+to+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzqbFyMddP9MUTD11NRi29MCf8XHDbAaIr9FC2Tvo86xf1d0jeufJGtpoteghICvok-zwuZanM0Sy6XLuJSbFz4chUdFjvUvrTcU-Ip-XAdThnZt9zN1BobvxIiSRrb_RcbKlU5agnYiD/s1600/2014+to+2015.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">84 degrees/sunshine vs 36 degrees/snow</td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a>We'll be celebrating with Karl's brother, sister-in-law, and cousins along with some of the first people that I "met" when I was a baby.<br />
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Karl and I often compare the span of our lives to that of Miss S and Mr. C. It makes sense why time sometimes seems to move so slowly when you are little versus as an adult. A month in the scheme of an adult lifetime isn't nearly as monumental as a month in the life of an almost 4 year old.<br />
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Over the last month alone, Miss S became officially <a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2014/01/potty-training-i-must-have-lost-that.html">potty trained</a> (and has graduated from pull ups to underpants at night), had her<a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2015/02/late-night-shenanigans-what-happens.html"> early childhood screening</a>, graduated to Pre K at preschool, used an outhouse for the first time, and enjoys eating spinach salads with dinner.<br />
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Since I never had the time last spring to blog about her 3rd birthday party, I decided that looking through those pictures might help time to slow down a little bit so that I can savor the last few days of her being 3.<br />
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Or, at least it might help me to pretend that time isn't slipping by so quickly.<br />
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So here's a peek at what her 3rd birthday was like, in the Arizona heat where we often would have a 90 degree day before the end of the month...unlike here, where the kiddos are tucked into bed in their fleece jammies, and snowman building might be part of her birthday festivities.<br />
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Happy almost 4th birthday, our sweet, sweet girl.</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-29752614361002843542015-03-17T20:19:00.004-07:002015-03-17T20:19:46.971-07:00Happy St. Patrick's Day!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I might have a tiny bit of Irish in my blood, which means my kiddos have just a teeny tiny bit (if any). But, that didn't stop us from celebrating today and greening it up. <div>
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While Karl made corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes, I took pictures of Miss S and Mr. C in the holiday adornments made by my mom. </div>
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We hope you had a fun day, Irish or not. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Silly Faces! I couldn't decide on Mr. C's...so I had to use them both.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue Eyes and Brown Eyed Girl</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Happy St. Patrick's Day!</span></div>
<br />Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-90855503466239699932015-02-26T10:23:00.001-08:002015-02-26T10:23:16.839-08:00In Search of the Missing...(Fill in the Blank)Since I'm off from work today, I had planned to take the kiddos to preschool, come home, and hop back into bed. While getting to bed early <a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2014/05/30daysibtp.html">has never been my strong point</a>, I've been up a little later than normal lately. The idea of snuggling up under the covers when it's freezing cold outside sounded so luxurious and heavenly. Especially on a weekday. I came home, made a few work calls, and then knew that I couldn't avoid it any longer.<br />
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When I got ready for bed on Tuesday night, I couldn't find my mouthguard in its normal spot. I wear a mouthguard because I grind my teeth like its my part time job. I've been a teeth grinder since I was little. Mr. C likes to go into our bathroom drawers and pull out things, sometimes taking them near the toilet with a mischievous look on his face. Luckily, we've intervened on most of his attempts at toilet misadventures. My mouthguard is one thing he has taken out of the drawer more than once. Have I moved it to a safer location to prevent any potential issues? Of course not. I just hadn't really thought through the what ifs (I realize it isn't really rocket science...but sometimes in the life of a mama the brain short-circuits...or at least in the brain of this mama!)</div>
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I went to bed on Tuesday hoping that we could ask our detective daughter and son in the morning, and one of them would lead us right to it. "We've" misplaced other things, and they both have led us to some missing thing on more than one occasion. We asked Miss S as soon as she woke up. She came running into the kitchen, (and per Karl's description), squatted down and surveyed the floor. She was pretty sure that she saw it somewhere on the floor but couldn't remember where.</div>
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With having <a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2015/02/managing-anxiety-or-attempting-part-1.html">moved twice in the last 6 months</a>, we've been doing a lot of trying to find things. Even my computer went missing for awhile recently (a laptop...it had been pushed to the back of a bookshelf and fallen behind the bookshelf into a nice dark spot.)</div>
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I had ordered some leggings, had seen them in the box when they arrived, and then we finally found them 2 months later under a recliner when we were looking for the computer. </div>
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We still are hoping to find 2 Netflix movies that moved here with us from Arizona (that we still need to watch) and a disc with professional photos that I put into some special place in our home when unpacking.</div>
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I was hoping against hope that the mouthguard was in the trash or recycling and hadn't met its end in the toilet.</div>
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I pestered both kiddos last night after preschool asking them over and over if maybe they remembered putting it somewhere. But they wouldn't come clean.</div>
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As a nurse, I've dealt with a lot of blood, stool, urine, vomit, sputum...despite all of that, I really didn't want to dig through the trash. </div>
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But I really wanted to find my mouthguard. </div>
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On Wednesday morning when I woke up, my molars hurt from my nighttime routine. I needed to find it. I gave myself the, "I'm a nurse and trash is better than a lot of other things" pep talk, and I started with the bathroom trash full of diapers, with no success. </div>
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I moved on to the kitchen trash. </div>
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When I started to gag (really?! It's just trash!!) I took a break to go through the recycling in the garage. </div>
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Nothing. </div>
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Back to the kitchen trash, digging through coffee grounds (because we don't have our compost going since we moved into the house in November), and still no luck.</div>
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Humpf. </div>
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I thought I'd head to my computer to write a post, hopefully making the situation entertaining for someone's reading pleasure. </div>
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And, this was waiting for me. Under my computer. Where it's probably been the whole time.</div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Just like Miss S had said.</span></div>
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Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-37418973053559591782015-02-24T00:13:00.002-08:002015-02-25T23:05:00.576-08:00(Late Night Shenanigans) ... What Happens While Filling out Early Childhood Screening Forms <div class="MsoNormal">
I still can’t believe that our daughter is 3 years and 11 months old. How did that happen?! And, later today (because yes, I’m burning way
past the midnight oil), we have her early childhood screening.</div>
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Like any good mom, I’m filling the forms out, er…an hour
ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I think that early childhood screenings are great and
understand their importance for helping children to receive early interventions
that will help them to succeed. I know something existed like these when I was
little, but I think it was closer to kindergarten (or at least I know I
remember it). I doubt that they went into as much depth, and some of that depth
is necessary.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But, <o:p></o:p></div>
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I have a few issues. </div>
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Well, yes, my own issues. But, here I'm referring to issues with questions on these forms.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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My first frustration when filling out the forms was this
question: “Name/s and frequency of prescription medication,
tobacco/alcohol/chemical use during pregnancy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Before you start to wonder, I did not smoke nor do heavy
drugs nor have glasses of alcohol during my pregnancy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But, I am on prescription medications. I am now and was
then. I have an underactive thyroid, that gets me a prescription med. ** Yes, I
was on prescription medications during my pregnancy, but I personally don’t
think that it is anyone’s business (besides everyone reading my blog, of
course). To me, as long as my OB/my child’s pediatrician was aware that I was
taking the medication, really, those are the only people who really need to
know. I’ll admit that I got a little huffy about that question. Just ask my
husband! I **might** be a little hormonal right now, but seriously, this
question, to me, is really bothersome (if you can’t tell). <o:p></o:p></div>
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**Really, the heart of that issue is that people struggle
with diseases like anxiety and depression. <a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2015/02/managing-anxiety-or-attempting-part-1.html">(Yes, me)</a>. Medications exist and have
been studied to demonstrate their impact on babies in utero. Some medications
have been shown not to be safe. Other medications have been studied with
limited or no connections being made to the medication and potentially less than
ideal outcomes in infants/research animals. People may debate whether or not
they think a mom should be taking these medications. When the choice is between
having a mom who can function as a normal human being because she is on
medications (and which OB/Psychiatrist/Pediatrician are aware) or one who is
anxious/depressed especially because she stopped taking medications which
helped to control her anxiety/depression…Mental illness is a huge illness that
our society doesn’t want to address. Please, let’s start talking about it!
Maybe this question didn’t have anything to do with my little rant, but really,
who are they targeting with this question, and what is the response that they
are hoping for/what information do they think they will learn that will be
helpful in determining a child’s potential/areas of concern? Please don’t put
any more guilt on a mom than she already might put on herself. (And, if you
know of other reasons why this question might be asked, please educate me! I
mean that with full sincerity). <o:p></o:p></div>
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Stepping off of that soap box…<o:p></o:p></div>
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My next frustration (or as Miss S pronounces it frus ter a
tion. Which, that’s right, my sweets) is the next question: "Did child go home with mother?"</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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First of all, it’s a poorly written sentence. Beyond that,
what do they really mean by that question? What they really mean, I think, is:
did your child spend any time in the NICU after birth? Was your child
discharged from the hospital after birth to the birth parent(s)/adoptive
parent(s)/other?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’d rather they just ask those two questions. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And, finally, I’ll admit. I always thought I would be one of
those moms who wrote down every moment so that I could look back at a calendar
(or better yet a really well organized baby book) and could know exactly when
my baby did x, y, and z. </div>
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But, I'm not. I can't answer off of the top of my head when she sat alone, talked in sentences, stood with support, or spoke first words.</div>
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I know when she rolled over because that is documented
by a video thanks to my iPhone. She walked for the first time 1 year after her
original due date. (That is just stored away randomly in my overcrowded overtired memory.) When she sat up alone? Well, I know what she was wearing, does
that count? When she talked in sentences, um…does uh oh count? I found the
calendar where I marked that milestone. Stood with support? I have no idea, and
while I may have written that down, who knows where the box would be that has
the calendar/journal with that milestone. Spoke 1<sup>st</sup> words? Ditto. I
probably have most of those things documented somewhere. But, after 2 moves in
the last 6 months, I have only a potential idea of where that might be (in 2<sup>nd</sup>
kiddos room in the closet, and I’m for sure not going to look for it right
now.) And, speaking of 2<sup>nd</sup> kiddo, when did he do any of the above? I
cannot tell you by memory alone. I hang my head (especially as the 2<sup>nd</sup>
kiddo in my family) in shame.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I wonder how many parents can answer those questions. Huge
kudos to you (especially if it can be done just by memory)! I might be a little
bit jealous…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
How about you? Do you remember when your almost 4 year old/4
year old reached his or her milestones?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I really probably should go to bed now.</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-30237759732489279362015-02-10T21:42:00.001-08:002015-02-11T20:45:55.719-08:00Managing Anxiety. Or Attempting. Part 1.I've missed my blog, but even more, I've missed having the time to blog. Learning a new job, new city, navigating that new city and surrounding cities, settling kiddos into a new preschool, moving 2 times in 3 months...these are all good problems to have, but they definitely take time for adjustment. I've thought of so many things that I'd like to blog, but I went from working 3 12 hour shifts/week (usually more like 5 12 hour shifts every 2 weeks because I often had the luxury of asking for low work load, aka a bonus day off when our unit was overstaffed) to working 5 days a week for a month which then shifted to 4 days a week. The biggest change is that I went from being able to "leave" work at the hospital (except for when I would mentally process my day on the way home or in the shower and remember something I forgot to do, which I then could call a coworker and know that whatever I forgot to do was on another person's to do list) to bringing work home. Eventually I will ideally get most of my work finished between 8 am and 5 pm. That's the plan. For now, not so much. But, I'm working on staying afloat.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>I transitioned from being an acute rehab nurse to a home care case manager when I moved to Minnesota. Home care case managing involves having a caseload, which for 4 days a week will eventually be up to 24 patients at a time, who either I see for each visit or sometimes another nurse will see the patient depending on my availability. These patients have either recently been discharged from the hospital or have experience a change in health status that necessitates home health services, in the form of a skilled nurse to come to the patient's home for health assessments, disease/symptom education, medication education, etc. Ultimately, I oversee the care of the 24 patients I case manage, meaning that I help decide if therapy/social work/nursing assistants should be involved with the patients care and that families often see me as their life preserver as they navigate caring for complexly ill family members at home.<br />
<br />
On a side note, for any of you care takers out there, y'all are AMAZING. I wish somehow our society could better support caretakers because, wow, y'all do so much and often get so little praise in return, not because what you do isn't appreciated, but often because the person receiving the care isn't necessarily able to say thank you. So, from me, to you, thank you so much. You are a super hero. Seriously.<br />
<br />
I've written about my perfectionistic tendencies before, and while they serve a purpose, I sometimes wish I could be one of those people who is totally ok with B quality work. Because B quality work is solidly good, seriously. How many amazing people are out there in the world who were solid B students? A lot more than A students, and the B students are probably overall happier/less stressed than the A students. I'd wager.<br />
<br />
Anxiety is (for better or) for ill ingrained in my personality. Not in the way in which people just look at me and start to feel themselves getting twitchy (or, at least I hope not.) I'm anxious in the internalization way, where I let my anxiety smash its way through my body, and even though I wear a mouth guard, my husband gently wakes me up to tell me to stop grinding my teeth, that it sounds like I'm eating gravel. And, where I remember being in 1st grade (that teacher was something else, I know...you're probably thinking, "Really??? A 1st grade teacher? No way." Just ask some of my classmates, or classmates siblings, or my sister. They'll vouch for me) and feeling sick to my stomach, not just butterflies in my stomach, more like Mayflies in Northern Minnesota at their prime bouncing off of the side of the house, so many that you can hear their wings beating. That's how my stomach felt in 1st grade. 70% of the time, at least.<br />
<br />
(Be on the look out for Part 2. Hopefully not too far out in the near future.)<br />
<br />Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-2038425560137435232014-11-05T10:35:00.000-08:002014-11-05T10:35:05.909-08:00Two Months LaterI'm not sure how long this post will be, but I finally decided to sit down and write. Even if it's only a few sentences. I miss this little space for hashing out my thoughts and sharing our family's goings on. My problem is that I keep waiting for the right amount of time to take a break and blog. But, as y'all know, that break hasn't happened. I can't believe that it's been two months since my last post. Good thing I'm not counting on this blog for income! ;-)<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>I'm officially finished with my first two months of work which means I'll be working 4 days a week instead of 5. Hallelujah! In the thick of it, we did really well with the two full time adult schedule and for a split second I thought, "Maybe I should stick to working full-time..." Then, that moment passed. I know many families have both parents working full time, and you are amazing. Seriously. Amazing.<br />
<br />
<i>At any moment I may have to publish this post (polished or not) because I have a little guy who is sick today and napping on and off. If I waited for another moment to blog, I have no idea when that would come. He was stirring but seems to have drifted back to sleep.</i><br />
<br />
I was off of work yesterday and today. Tuesday will be my regular day off, but when I work the weekends (every 4th weekend) I will have 2 weekdays off. So today is my Sunday, and then I'll be working for 5 days.<br />
<br />
When I envisioned my first luxurious day off by myself in who knows how long, I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do. Laundry, maybe a walk...I hadn't gotten much farther with my big plans which is good because my job today is taking care of my little man. Mr. C woke up yesterday with rosy cheeks and a solid fever. He was moaning on and off in the morning and then took an early nap. I gave him some ibuprofen with lunch, and he took another nap. When he woke up, he was back to being his amazingly happy little self. This morning, the fever and moaning were back. He's definitely working on some teeth, so that may be the cause. I'm just thankful that I had today off to be home with him, right where I'm supposed to be.<br />
<br />
Miss S is at preschool, which she loves. She was quite excited to show off her wiener dog sparkly shirt and pink corduroy pants with stars, two cold weather clothing finds at a local second hand kids store. (Can I tell you how much I love second hand stores?) Yes, winter is coming soon. We already had a sneak peak on Halloween, trick-or-treating at 28 degrees. We weren't out there long, and Miss S was pretty easily convinced to head home for some hot chocolate, her new favorite.<br />
<br />
I am loving my job as a home care nurse. Right now I have a caseload of 5 patients which will eventually grow to 20-25 patients (at least). Baby steps. It's been awesome to learn new skills (or become more confident in skills I used infrequently or not at all in the hospital setting.) Since we don't have lab techs in the field, I draw blood samples for labs - prior to orientation for this position, I hadn't drawn blood (except from a PICC line) since practicing on a plastic arm in nursing school. I also have to admit that taking manual blood pressures used to make me nervous because we would rarely do it in the hospital setting (automatic blood pressure machines). I admitted my anxiety to the other nurses in my orientation, and they all said that after a few weeks of home care I'd be over that. It's so nice to feel proficient (and not nervous) about that skill. I know, it's a basic one, but I always tried to comfort myself by saying it was probably not uncommon for nurses of my generation (or younger) to be uncomfortable with a skill that we do so infrequently. Not that anyone would want to admit it...<br />
<br />
Karl's loving his job. His coworkers and managers are so appreciative of him which always makes going to work easier. Especially with a 40 minute commute. Which will soon become closer to a 30 minute commute because...<br />
<br />
We are almost officially home owners!!!<br />
<br />
The plan is to close in mid November, and we are so excited (and that's an understatement!) We are so happy with the house and that it will be closer to work for both of us but still not far from Karl's family. I can't wait to show pictures once we get settled.<br />
<br />
I think I'm calling this post good for today. Wow, it's been nice to be back here!! What have y'all been up to the last two months?Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-19945790249028821982014-09-03T14:30:00.003-07:002014-09-03T14:30:51.475-07:00Working (outside of the home) Mama<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I'm a bit anxious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">(Ok. Bit is an understatement.) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Depending on the moment, I'm excited about starting
my new job next week, and the next moment my head is reeling through all of the
lists of "What I Must Do Before Monday!!!!" (and other general
worries)...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I need to get all of the laundry done &</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">buy more business casual clothes <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">what about rain coats for all of us?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">and winter coats, too, because it will be winter
soon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">we need to think about getting boots for the kiddos<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I <i>have</i> to get more cat food today<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">if I don't get my hair cut this week, when will my
next chance be? I better find a new hairdresser asap.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I really should write those thank you notes to
people who donated to the Walk to Cure Arthritis back in May (yes, these are
the things that go through my mind at moments of stress...)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">do the kiddos have enough clothes & backup
clothes & backups to their backup clothes?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">label all the kiddos clothing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">decide on a daycare/preschool!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">and what about Halloween costumes?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">get my MN driver's license<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I never bought/sent that present that I meant to
send last month!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">I'm going to have to start making my lunch...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Shoes. I need business casual yet okay in the rain
shoes. Yikes. Why didn't I remember to pull my shoes out of the drawers in the
dining room side table (where I cleverly packed them in the moving truck)
before we put it in storage?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Stop. Spinning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Breathe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Then I attempt to pull my mind back into the Here
and Now. One moment at a time. Be gentle with yourself (my new mantra thanks to
<a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2014/08/godsend.html?showComment=1408807427656#c7956407818433102362" target="_blank">this comment</a>. It's already been life-changing.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">On Monday, I start my new job. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">First, I want to say that I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> thankful to have been offered this job. It’s for a great
company, & I’ll have more consistency with my schedule. Instead of having
to work every-other weekend (or every Saturday, like I did) I will only work
one weekend a month. I won’t be gone from 6:30 in the morning until 8 pm (on a
good night) when I work. Instead, I’m going to have more of a “normal”
schedule.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">During the first two months, I’ll be in training
Monday – Friday. I love learning, so I’m thrilled about learning new skills/responsibilities.
I also love that I’m taking my nursing career in a new direction. Plus, having
two months dedicated to learning a new job is awesome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">When I just focus on that, I'm good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">But...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">The last time I worked a 5 days a week job? It was
2007. I was single. My main responsibility (besides work) was being a cat mama.
I commuted to work by walking (or bike-riding). It was a whole 1.25 mile
commute.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Since being married, I've either worked part-time
or worked 3-12 hour shifts a week. Karl & I haven't balanced both of us
working 5 days a week. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">(I know that these are good "problems" to
have; we are both gainfully employed, and that is a blessing).<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">While I commuted to work
for my last job, it was a 20-25 minute commute & not during rush hour. I
could take back roads & avoid the freeway. (I have commuted longer
distances before – from Tacoma to Seattle – which was always at least 45
minutes. It’s just been over 14 years ago). This commute is still reasonable,
but rush hour traffic is a new one for me. Karl has it even worse. He’s worked
within 15 minutes (or less) from his work for the last 14 years. Now, he has up
to an hour commute to work (45 minutes on a good day).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">With this new position, Miss S & Mr. C will be
in childcare for 4 days a week instead of 2. (Just typing that breaks my mama
heart.) I like childcare because I feel like it’s great for socialization, but
2 days a week always seemed perfect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Sigh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">At least
the voice in my head is being really nice to me today telling me that it’s
going to be ok. It will have its bumpy & stressful moments, but just take
it one day at a time. We’ll all get through & be stronger because of it.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Once I'm finished with my training, I'll work 4
days a week. That one day difference seems so much more manageable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">My saving graces (besides frequent prayers &
breathing) are that I’m living with extended family until we find a house.
Extended family that enjoys making delicious dinners & knows what it once
was like to have little ones & two working parents. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: large;">Huge. Blessing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hopefully I’ll be able to write at least short
updates (because I really love writing these posts), but I’m working on being
realistic & shortening my worry-list. (Ha.) If any of you working parents
have any suggestions for us, please share! We’d love any helpful feedback or ideas
for simplifying life. As always, thank you for reading!</span></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-54811441389757672692014-08-22T20:41:00.001-07:002014-08-22T20:42:14.041-07:00Godsend<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">I
was having a rough morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">The
Mean Girl resident in the penthouse was beating up on me. All. Morning. Long. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">I’m
talking mean - "You're a bad mama. You can't handle any bumps in the road.
Anyone else would be just fine transitioning with this move. You’re overwhelmed
because you aren’t strong enough. You’re not a positive person & never will
be. Just get over it." and on and on and on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">Blah.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">I
finally pulled myself and the kiddos and the dog out of the house. Mr. C was
strapped on my front. Miss S was walking alongside me. Mars was leading the
show.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Our
destination was White Bear Lake.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">We
got there & Miss S went straight to the play equipment. I hooked Mars up to
the picnic table and took Mr. C out of the carrier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">Miss
S then took off her shoes and went straight to the water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">So
the day before, Miss S and her aunt had gone to the lake. Miss S was decked out
in her swimming suit. They were gone for awhile (plenty of time to swim &
frolic in the water). When they got back, Miss S’s hair was dry - she hadn't
gotten into the water. She chased ducks again and again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">On
our trip to White Bear Lake, Miss S was wearing shorts and a shirt. (Note to
self - anytime a kiddo goes to the lake not wearing a bathing suit? That's the
day that the kiddo will get in.) She was running back and forth parallel to the
shore. The legs of her shorts were getting wet. Then her shorts were completely
wet. Her shirt was starting to get wet. She was having fun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">I
decided to set Mr. C down in the sand and let him explore. He ate some sand but
didn't really care for the texture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">Mars
was restless. He'd lie down for a while. Then he'd pop back up. I was nervous
about leaving him unattended. I even told Miss S that we needed to head home to
take Mars and then we could come back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">Then
I told myself to breathe - Mars was fine. Miss S & Mr. C were having a good
time. Relax. Attempt to enjoy. I was outside. In the summer. It was in the 70s
or 80s. It was overcast. It was wonderful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">One
mama caught my eye from the beginning. She smiled. She seemed nice. I briefly
contemplated striking up a conversation with her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">Miss
S was getting in deeper and deeper, splashing & watching the bigger kiddos.
Her clothes were soaked. Her hair was getting wet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">She
went over to the other side of the beach where the mama was with her kiddos.
She came running back with a toy. I asked her if she had asked to borrow the
toy. The mama answered that Miss S had asked, and it was fine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">So
I introduced myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">From
there, the coincidences were awesome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">She
has a 20-month-old daughter. I commented that Mr. C was almost 16 months but
still not walking. Her response was that her daughter walked at 18 months. No
one else whom she had met had a kiddo that walked that late; they all walked by
12 months. I told her I was thankful to now know her since I hadn't met anyone
whose kiddo had walked late.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">We
talked more. It turned out that she was at the lake because one of her kiddos
went to orientation that day at a nearby preschool where I was hoping my kiddos
could attend. We joked about the ridiculous waiting list for the
infants/toddlers and how people must have gotten onto the list before they were
pregnant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">Then
it turned out that she attends the church that our pastor in Phoenix (the one
who married us) thought we would like and recommended that we attend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">She
moved her a year ago and is an advance practice nurse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">She
went on to describe the exact worries that were running through my head that
morning - how she knows what I'm going through - finding a doctor, dentist, childcare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">She
gave me a recommendation for a pediatrician (named Elsa…if our insurance covers
that doctor, Miss S will be beyond herself) & that she often fills out
forms for her oldest daughter who has Celiac disease. As does she. (I tested
negative for celiac disease but get major digestional issues when I eat
wheat…I’m definitely not comparing the two, because Celiac disease is just
that, a disease. Eating wheat causes much much more than just digestional upset
for someone with Celiac disease. But, I eat gluten free because I know for sure
I’m avoiding wheat & any potential issues.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">I
asked her name. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">Since
neither of us had our phones, I attempted to memorize her name and said I’d
look her up on Facebook. Thank God for social media!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">I
told her she was a Godsend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">On
our walk home, I saw her drive by. She waved. I smiled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: large;">Thankful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve
met a friend.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-2507859519998721132014-08-08T20:52:00.003-07:002014-08-08T20:52:54.592-07:00Snippets: 1st Minnesota Post<div class="MsoNormal">
We arrived in Minnesota on Sunday, August 3<sup>rd</sup> –
exactly a week after we planned to leave Arizona. Our departure was delayed,
but I believe that we left at exactly the right time for us. En route we
decided to take 4 days instead of 3 (or our normal drive straight through 30
hours). I’m still attempting to process the last three weeks of our lives. My
last day of work was 3 weeks ago tomorrow. Wow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since I’ve not yet been able to solidify my thoughts into
words, I decided to write a quick “hi” to everyone. Thank you to all of you who
helped us with our move – whether it was packing the truck, helping with the
kiddos, coming to happy hour, praying for our journey, riding/driving with us,
and/or unloading the truck – we truly could not have made it without your help.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6m80hEwIQhy69mERxHsJlK1NtTJVFvzQsmKwVOCqqGv_14B4545CxcRYp8h4Y_PT4slNukluC58DrIcAtS28kIKa8v62JD5ukL5LgJbTXi3RkQpinIv40QqvsAiq83ha5yMSGccpiHU5/s1600/Miss+S+and+her+Puzzles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6m80hEwIQhy69mERxHsJlK1NtTJVFvzQsmKwVOCqqGv_14B4545CxcRYp8h4Y_PT4slNukluC58DrIcAtS28kIKa8v62JD5ukL5LgJbTXi3RkQpinIv40QqvsAiq83ha5yMSGccpiHU5/s1600/Miss+S+and+her+Puzzles.jpg" height="492" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So far, Minnesota has introduced Miss S to a new love –
puzzles. She can’t get enough of (what I’ve learned are called) framed jigsaw
puzzles (25 pieces). She watched a little bit of PBS this morning, and then she
immediately started with the puzzles. I helped her with them the night before,
but now she’s kept herself entertained with them for hours (without help). It’s
so fun to see! I ordered a few more for her on ebay because I couldn’t find
these puzzles in any store (but we have limited resources since we’re visiting
in Northern Minnesota). Since leaving Arizona, Miss S has been fully
potty-trained. She still wears pull ups at night, but so far, they’ve been dry
(which is especially awesome with all of the transitions.) Even the little
things make me realize how much she’s growing; now she can climb stairs one
foot per step.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHYOSsyOfDRcKufARzsQ-dWkG5Avc6RGuFDOANpAb8Of1iA8oywdEk_pHqbp-NvgbuJmYvGXIe9ZIiKwQ_4cLDE_a1TzpXJRgbaHPHZ4HvOmj3q3jhQ4WqHl7b6k_MUyuedEAwRW0WLPB/s1600/Mr+C+Reading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEHYOSsyOfDRcKufARzsQ-dWkG5Avc6RGuFDOANpAb8Of1iA8oywdEk_pHqbp-NvgbuJmYvGXIe9ZIiKwQ_4cLDE_a1TzpXJRgbaHPHZ4HvOmj3q3jhQ4WqHl7b6k_MUyuedEAwRW0WLPB/s1600/Mr+C+Reading.jpg" height="320" width="249" /></a>After leaving Arizona, Mr. C had a 3<sup>rd</sup> tooth push
through and now has a total of 2+ teeth (2 bottoms and ¼ of two top teeth). He
has been enjoying “reading.” It’s adorable. Even though he could choose to
walk, he’s delaying. He can stand by himself and has taken 2 steps without
assistance, but for now, crawling and cruising are his forms of transportation.
He’s also an eating machine. Who needs teeth to eat? Definitely not this guy!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-ZicHU4qEB9wRvjQb0OAl04etmAzbvtMEK7llYuvZ-EHr6FR6cEVlSWo2XVP-7ijtRjVfs5lswkHxF2Pqqqr8K8v7pm-y9TLxRJdGDKSURyL2z8g9iqEkP2W0_F9cVNuMkL3a_jLbpxV/s1600/Mr+C+Hamming+and+Reading+8.8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-ZicHU4qEB9wRvjQb0OAl04etmAzbvtMEK7llYuvZ-EHr6FR6cEVlSWo2XVP-7ijtRjVfs5lswkHxF2Pqqqr8K8v7pm-y9TLxRJdGDKSURyL2z8g9iqEkP2W0_F9cVNuMkL3a_jLbpxV/s1600/Mr+C+Hamming+and+Reading+8.8.jpg" height="400" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hamming!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Right now I’m sitting at the kitchen table at my in-laws’
cabin. Cousins stopped by (not for a dinner – just to “stop by;” that concept
was foreign to me in Scottsdale), and I’m enjoying hearing them talk about days
gone by. Miss S is playing make-believe while working on puzzles, and Mr. C is
tucked in for the night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
I’m working on feeling less on edge but know that will take
time. I hope all of you are doing well, and thank you too to all of you who
told me, “Keep writing! I love reading your blog!” You don’t know how much that
warmed my heart.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
xoxo</div>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-50292427116289315702014-07-15T18:34:00.000-07:002014-07-15T18:34:33.760-07:00Pinch Me! This Post was Written by Diana Stone!!!Today is super special. Diana Stone (of <a href="http://dianawrote.com/" target="_blank">Diana Wrote</a>) wrote this post for me! Gah!!!<br />
<br />
Diana's blog was <a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/p/about-me.html" target="_blank">my first blog crush</a>. I had read friends' blogs but hadn't "followed" a blog of a stranger. Let's just say I was new to the world of blogging. Diana also was the main inspiration for my starting this blog. So when she said she'd write this post for me? Let's just say I was a bit excited.<br />
<br />
When Karl and I officially decided we were going to <a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2014/06/sick-day-and-other-news.html" target="_blank">move</a>, I turned to Diana's blog to seek out expert packing advice. (One of her gifts is keeping a tidy & clean house and being amazingly organized. My piles could use her help!) I searched her blog but couldn't find any posts that unlocked the secrets to successful packing and moving...so I decided to email her asking if she'd possibly consider writing about this topic, and maybe, perhaps, she'd be willing to write it for me to post on my blog...<br />
<br />
Without further ado, here are packing tips from Diana Stone! (And huge thanks to her for her tips and for writing a post for my little blog!)<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>----<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every few years, we move because of either work changes or
military stationing. This means that we spend a lot of time packing and
unpacking and making things that fit in one home or apartment fit into the
next. This can be a real challenge as time goes on. My husband and I
started out at the tender ages of 20 and 21 with my Volkswagen Jetta
crammed full of all our belongings. We bought a futon when we arrived in
California.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
8 years later in El Paso, we hired a moving company and
still packed two cars full of the rest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my marriage alone, I have moved 10 times in 10 years.
Because of this, I’ve gotten pretty darn good at packing up things in a hurry.
I’ve also gotten good at answering the question, “Do we need/want/really use
this?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Which at moving time changes to, “Do I want to pack, move,
and unpack this thing again?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A lot of the time, the answer is no.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What's a family to do? Here's our strategy for moving with
either ample or minimal time:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One suggestion I have is to “pretend move” on a yearly
basis. I take giant bags and boxes and fill them with everything we aren’t ever
going to use, that’s broken, or outgrown. Then I donate, giveaway, or throw
away depending on the condition. If you’re into yard sales, this would be great
for that. We don’t do them because I honestly don’t want the stress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the date to move gets closer, minimize purchases. If we
have gone without it so far, we can go without it till we get settled again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About 1-2 months out, start packing up small items and
seasonal things. Grab boxes, packing material, and disposable utensils/plates
as you shop. Check with your neighborhood for community garage sales.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few weeks before, take down decor and sort clothing. Make
weekly trips to donation sites (don't leave it sitting around the house, it
just makes more clutter).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Take a full morning or afternoon to switch services and
update to a new address.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When it's crunch time, hit it hard and fast. I try to put
several sized boxes in each room and keep things together. Bathroom things stay
in their own boxes. Clothing can stay on the hangers. Try to leave anything
that's in a container that way - wrap it up with bubble wrap. Old blankets and
towels can wrap pictures well. Pack small - the bigger the box the heavier
it'll probably end up being. Buy a lot of mid - small size boxes and just a few
bigger ones for lighter, bulky items.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Label everything immediately. As detailed as you can - maybe
put "Kitchen" but also include which items are in it. This is a
lifesaver later when you're moving in, just need the pots, and each box isn't
just all the same name.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Leave boxes open of things you still use. Although there's
nothing as satisfying as a closed and ready box during moving, it's also
horrible to find out at the end that you have a billion little items that still
need a box. You'll have that anyway, just minimize it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Any tips from your end? How do you make moves quicker or
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<br /></div>
<em>Diana blogs at </em><a href="http://dianawrote.com/"><em>Diana Wrote</em></a><em> about her life with a daughter here and three sons in heaven, life as an army wife, and her faith. You can also find her work on <a href="http://www.babble.com/author/stone2603/" target="_blank">Babble</a>, </em><a href="http://liberatingworkingmoms.com/author/diana/"><em>Liberating Working Moms</em></a><em>, </em><a href="http://shereadstruth.com/author/dianastone/"><em>She Reads Truth</em></a><em>, Still Standing Magazine, </em><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2013/05/27/are-americans-too-obsessed-with-cleanliness/good-moms-have-clean-floors"><em>The New York Times</em></a><em>, and </em><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/babblecom/my-miscarriage-grief_b_3064263.html"><em>The Huffington Post</em></a><em>, with smaller glimpses into her day on </em><a href="http://twitter.com/dianawrote"><em>Twitter</em></a><em>, </em><a href="http://facebook.com/Hormonal.Imbalances.Blog"><em>Facebook</em></a><em>, and </em><a href="http://instagram.com/dianawrote"><em>Instagram</em></a><em>.</em>
Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-16197982733362443962014-07-07T23:20:00.000-07:002014-07-07T23:21:21.595-07:00Saying GoodbyesI only have five shifts left at the only hospital where I've been a certified nursing assistant then a patient care technician and finally a registered nurse.<br />
<br />
It was all a dream 7 years ago.<br />
<br />
I was working in Washington state as a development associate (aka fundraiser) when I realized that I needed to do something else.<br />
<br />
****<br />
In high school, I wrote my first research paper on the destruction of rain forests in the Amazon.<br />
<br />
That was it.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
My second research paper was about Greenpeace, and my high school English teacher introduced me to Edward Abbey's, "The Monkey Wrench Gang." (I never was an extreme environmentalist, but to a high school girl in a town of 3800 in southern Illinois...I was excited and energized by this new world that was foreign to me.)<br />
<br />
I was introduced to a part of me that I never knew existed. I was overwhelmed and emotional and passionate about protecting our environment. One day I was going to work for an environmental non-profit. What I would be doing, I had no idea.<br />
<br />
When <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0105415/" target="_blank">Singles</a> came out on video, I rented it. I think after I watched it, I was in a post-movie emotionally-vulnerable state. I was probably quiet and contemplative. I might have even gone for a walk in my small hometown in my blue flannel plaid shirt.<br />
<br />
My goal? One day I would have a job like Linda Powell's (Kyra Sedwick).<br />
<br />
That movie (even if it's dated) is still one of my favorite movies.<br />
<br />
Like Linda Powell (Bridget Fonda), I often would think to myself (paraphrased), "If I can throw this crumpled paper towel, and it makes it into the garbage, that means that so and so likes me. Ok...two out of three."...as well as..."I like it when someone says...bless you."<br />
<br />
I moved to Washington state to pursue a college education on environmental studies. I thought it was the. best. place for my passion. My family was mostly supportive (even though this new fascination of mine was probably a bit mind-boggling).<br />
<br />
I ended up getting a job like Linda Powell's. In Seattle. In an awesome historical building in the same office space that Greenpeace had once rented. My job wasn't scientific, but it was for an environmental non-profit.<br />
<br />
A few years later when I was working for that same non-profit, I found myself in front of the apartment building featured in Singles. I have to admit that I was ridiculously excited about knocking on doors and telling people about the non-profit where I worked.<br />
<br />
While working for that non-profit, I ended up meeting many kindred spirits and friends who are still dear to me. One of those kindred spirits loved the movie Singles, too. We also had the same love for an obscure poem by Sara Teasdale - "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/There_Will_Come_Soft_Rains" target="_blank">There Will Come Soft Rains</a>" and often became contemplative and quiet after watching emotional movies.<br />
<br />
Fast-forward six years and five positions later (after being laid off because of financial instability...er...executive director mismanagement), I secured a job in the same building. In the only other office on the 5th floor. Which also used to house Greenpeace.<br />
<br />
Then after two more years of fundraising with the addition of auction-planning, I wanted more. I wanted to help people more directly. The further I became involved with environmental non-profits, the less connected I felt to people. The logical next step in my career would have been pursuing a position as a development director, but I had no interest in asking rich people for lots of money. Give me a neighborhood of average income people and $15-$35 donations (and the occasional $100, $250, or $1000 donation), and I could raise some money. A neighborhood of well-to-do folks? Generally they aren't as keen on door-to-door fundraisers. I usually failed miserably in those areas.<br />
<br />
******<br />
<br />
In high school, I contemplated the field of nursing for a high school assignment researching a potential future profession (this assignment was BRP - before the research papers). But, I wanted to push the envelope. I was a small-town girl who wanted to break free. I didn't want to play the flute in band. It was the obvious choice. What did I choose to play? The French horn. Nurse? I shrugged that off as "too traditional." Environmental advocate? That seemed much more racy.<br />
<br />
Eight years later? I was done with racy. I still loved environmental issues, hiking, moss, hot springs, camping trips on the oceans...but I didn't want to have to defend to others what I did for a living anymore. I'm a peace-maker and don't like confrontation. My profession often came up in conversations, and I often felt like I was defending what I did for a living. The thought of an uncontroversial position was really tempting.<br />
<br />
The organization where I was working advocated for limiting the toxics in our environment. It looked at the relationship between chemicals in our environment and our health. That was the link I hadn't realized I was seeking.<br />
<br />
My thoughts kept leading me in the direction of becoming a registered nurse.<br />
<br />
Health. Helping others. I had flashbacks to being in high school in the library researching the nursing profession. I thought of many people who I most admired, and many of them were nurses.<br />
<br />
Yes. Nursing. Of course.<br />
<br />
My sister's family was moving to Arizona and invited me to live with them while going back to school to switch careers. While I had an incredible support system of friends in Seattle, I was single and couldn't imagine ever affording a house of my own in Seattle. I packed up my apartment (with the most awesome packing crew EVER. I'll still never forget my beautiful friends who helped me pack & CLEAN!! Teri - I'll always remember that even though I didn't know you very well that you scrubbed my kitchen for me. It still makes me shake my head in amazement that you cleaned my kitchen. I never liked that part of moving.) and carried my two kitties into the cab of a Penske truck. I was off on the adventure of a lifetime.<br />
<br />
I had <i>no</i> idea what all the next few months would hold - living with my nephews, sister, and her husband; taking a CNA class; working at Starbucks; meeting my future husband through eHarmony (while I didn't know it at the time, he also worked for Starbucks); and starting a job as a CNA.<br />
<br />
I was hired on the rehabilitation unit of the hospital. Up until then, I only thought rehab meant drug and alcohol rehab. I didn't know how many patients I would meet and how many lives I would touch (and how many lives would touch mine) as I worked with patients (and their family members) who had experienced strokes, heart attacks, traumatic brain injuries, motorcycle accidents, car accidents, falls, aneurysms, brain bleeds, fractures....and the list goes on. Helping people? I had definitely signed up for the right profession.<br />
<br />
It's all that I've known as a nurse. My patients and my job still give me goosebumps and bring me to tears - goosebumps when a patient comes back and is a totally different (in an amazing way) person than the one I cared for in the hospital bed; tears when comforting family members through life-thrashing experiences and when my empathy gets the better of me. Even today I was brought to tears when I listened to a family talk about their health and financial situation & wished I could do more or wave a magic wand and make everything (and everyone) better.<br />
<br />
The first time I realized that stroke patients didn't always recover 100% was a shocking experience. It was one of the first stroke patients who came back to see us (since I had started). I had somehow been under the illusion that patients left us and kept getting better and better (which they do...just not often to 100%). His arm was in a sling because he never regained function. We're really good on our unit, but we aren't capable of miracles & we aren't God. My naiveté left that day, but I still want to imagine that my patients will all get better. Since most of them do to some extent, it makes it that much harder when a patient doesn't get better.<br />
<br />
Tonight I sit typing at my computer after working four 12 hour shifts in six days. I'm physically & emotionally exhausted. My work is draining, rewarding, amazing, sobering, and so much that I can't put into words. And, I'm so thankful and proud to say that I'm a rehabilitation nurse.<br />
<br />
I've already worked for the last time with some of my coworkers (I can feel the tears brimming), and I hate that I'll have to say a lot of goodbyes over the next five shifts (and that I might have worked with someone for the last time and not realized it.)<br />
<br />
One of the things I don't like about moving? It's saying the goodbyes. It's so hard.<br />
<br />
Because no matter how much you want to stay in touch and stay connected, it's not going to be the same. It doesn't mean it won't be good, it's just different.<br />
<br />
So, here's my goodbye. It's so much safer and less vulnerable at my kitchen table in front of my laptop.<br />
<br />
Thank you to all of you who I've worked with during my time as a nursing assistant and nurse. All of my patients. All of my coworkers. All of the students. All of the doctors and physician assistants and nurse practitioners. I've learned something from all of you. My life will never be the same.<br />
<br />
Thank you.Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-84547602464852360682014-07-05T23:38:00.001-07:002014-07-05T23:38:42.846-07:00Two Months from NowAs much as I really, really, really work to live in the now (mindfulness...not dwelling on the past or worrying about the future), I'll be honest. I'm a worrier/dreamer about the future. This future is a new future. In a new state. Searching for the first house that I will have ever owned. It's exciting and frightening all wrapped into one.<br />
****<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>I will have:<br />
a Minnesota driver's license, address, license plate<br />
<br />
a new job<br />
<br />
driven over 1800 miles with 2 children, <a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2014/04/geriatric-catsin-sickness-and-in-health.html" target="_blank">2 geriatric cats</a>, 1 black lab, and 4 adults in a caravan of <br />
a SportWagen & Penske truck hauling a Jetta<br />
<br />
I will be:<br />
experiencing a temperate fall for the first time in 8 years<br />
<br />
on the cusp of entering the coldest and snowiest winter I've ever experienced (& introducing my kiddos to snow for the first time!)<br />
<br />
house-hunting<br />
<br />
glove, scarf, boot, and winter coat searching<br />
<br />
driving around the Twin Cities etching its map into my brain's atlas<br />
<br />
missing my sister & her family as well as Arizona friends<br />
<br />
thankful that we made it safely to our "in-between" home<br />
<br />
****<br />
In all of it - the now & the future (because the past has already been lived) - my goal is to be thankful and realize the importance of each moment, from then to now, and how this path is exactly where I'm supposed to be.Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-74355552451838258102014-06-24T23:52:00.000-07:002014-06-24T23:52:02.414-07:00The R Word & One of My Soap BoxesI just watched a video about a dad's story of his daughter with Down Syndrome and have tears streaming down my face. A little background on this story...<br />
<br />
A word that I really dislike and that people use casually is Retarded.<br />
<br />
I've heard people who are over-the-top PC use it.<br />
People who<br />
never would speak derogatorily about another race<br />
abhor anti-homophobic putdowns<br />
despise the use a negative phrase to make light of a mental illness<br />
don't utter a curse word<br />
describe themselves as open-minded<br />
believe that everyone should be treated equally.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>I actually squirm a little when I heard someone use it so casually. It makes my skin crawl.<br />
<br />
I can't say that I've never used the word. One time in particular (back when you called to buy a plane ticket) I said it, and the airline employee hung up on me. I'm glad she did.<br />
<br />
Some people might argue that it's a diagnosis, but the word isn't used that way. Instead, people use it casually to refer to something they would describe as annoying or ridiculous or frustrating or stupid.<br />
<br />
Please don't.<br />
<br />
I'm stepping off of my soapbox now, it's just something that I've thought about a lot but haven't voiced (this post is my attempt to move in that direction).<br />
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<a href="http://espn.go.com/video/clip?id=8450488" target="_blank">This video</a> is powerful. Have your tissues handy. Wow. Please think of Paisley if you are attempting to break the habit of the <a href="http://r-word.org/" target="_blank">R-word</a>. All children and everyone like her deserve to be respected.<br />
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Thank you.Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7137263416344302775.post-27603131895108730332014-06-18T00:19:00.002-07:002014-06-18T00:19:41.944-07:00HumbledDo you know someone who has an amazing upbeat personality & positive outlook? Not just an at-the-surface pretending to be happy, but someone who emits happiness? Beyond that, she's someone who doesn't annoy you with her positive attitude. It's truth. It's beauty. It isn't sugar-coated. It's just who she is.<br />
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I wish I were that woman. I really work to portray a positive attitude. My viewpoint has always been that I want to portray a positive, happy, warm, and caring attitude. Each day I am consciously aware of not wanting to be negative. I attempt (most of the times) to hold in my negativity because I really believe it pulls other people down (and me). I want to help buoy others, not pull them under. But underneath it all, I have my grey side. <a href="http://inbetweenthepiles.blogspot.com/2013/12/melancholy-and-mental-piles.html" target="_blank">Melancholy</a>. Sadness. Perfection. People-pleaser. </div>
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As a nurse, I've often wondered what kind of patient I would be. I have patients who I would hope to emulate, but really you never know until it's you in the hospital bed. </div>
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<a name='more'></a>These last two weeks, I have been amazed and humbled by a woman who has experienced a major life-altering accident. A spinal cord injury. <a href="http://www.brainandspinalcord.org/spinal-cord-injury-types/t9-t10-t11-t12-spinal-injury/index.html%20" target="_blank">T-11</a>. No feeling below the belly button. </div>
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That would be overwhelming for anyone. </div>
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This woman? She was the first US female athlete to win four golds at a single Olympics game.<br />
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She woke up one day being able to walk, do cross-fit, play with her dog, and ride an ATV. That night, she could no longer feel her legs. The amazing thing? She is posting photos of herself on Instagram while in the hospital - in a hospital gown, wearing her <a href="http://www.uwhealth.org/healthfacts/neuro/5390.html" target="_blank">TLSO</a> brace, giving a thumbs up after her first shower, showing the real experience of being in a hospital after a traumatic accident...<br />
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She. is. amazing.<br />
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She's inspiring me. She's making me realize that I need to stop letting other things control my outlook. I have a choice to make. Every day. Do I choose to spread love, not just to others but to myself, too? Do I really look at the positive in each day, or do I let little blemishes form my outlook?<br />
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While other should be cheering her on, lifting her up, helping her to know that she's awesome, she's spreading happiness and positivity. From her hospital bed.<br />
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Wow.<br />
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One of my favorite books is "Man's Search for Meaning." <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viktor_Frankl" target="_blank">Viktor Frankl</a> is <i>so </i>humbling. Throughout his book, he describes his experience in concentration camps and how some people were able to embrace positivity even in the most grim of circumstances. A quote from his book described, "We who lived in the concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: <b>The last of his freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.</b>"<br />
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Maybe it's because I'm a rehab nurse and have cared for paraplegics. Maybe it's because I remember watching <a href="http://guardianlv.com/2014/06/olympic-swimmer-amy-van-dyken-will-she-walk-again/" target="_blank">Amy Van Dyken</a> win her gold medals at the Olympics. Maybe it's because she was brought to the l<a href="http://www.azcentral.com/story/sports/2014/06/11/colleagues-toughness-will-help-van-dyken-rouen/10314363/" target="_blank">evel 1 trauma hospital</a> where I work.<br />
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Her story has touched me.<br />
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I thank her for sharing her story for everyone, especially for those who have experienced a life-altering accident.<br />
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But also for me. Because it's humbled me.<br />
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It's reminded me that I have a choice to make every day.<br />
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Do I choose to let the perfectionist, people-pleaser, and sometimes melancholy person decide on my outlook? Or, do I choose a different outlook, a positive attitude that saturates my being and is positively infectious?<br />
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That second option sounds amazing. Sign me up.<br />
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Praying for you, Amy Van Dyken, and your rehabilitation journey. Thank you for already kicking paraplegia's butt and showing that it isn't what defines you. You define you. You are amazing.<br />
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Kristinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04271173135359649180noreply@blogger.com0