doggy paddling

First it was the flu. Then it was the general feeling of un-wellness. After a few weeks I got tired of feeling awful and went to the urgent care to find out what was wrong with me: strep throat and a sinus infection. Who knew you could have strep without a fever? It was worth the $200 to get diagnosed and get started on my $4 amoxicillin.* And then 3 days later, just when I was feeling good enough to fold the heaps and heaps of clean clothes that had piled up over the sick weeks, I took a 15 minute nap and woke up with a sharp pain in my back.

Did I mention that I really dislike going to the dr?

So instead of going to the chiropractor I decided to try the 20 min of heat/ice rotation. Surely it would go away on its own?? That was Wednesday. I think the pain is actually getting worse. It's like I'm being stabbed between my spine and my shoulder blade. It burns. 

I'm tired of trying to stay afloat and I'm ready to get back to my normal routine. Ready for clean bathrooms and crumbless countertops. The kids are now used to sifting through the piles of clean clothes in the playroom each morning as they look for something to wear to school. I'm ready to get back to my treadmill during nap time. I'm ready to stop taking naps! I'm ready to be the mom and wife I want to be. I'm ready to feel healthy.

Ok, whinefest is over. For today. 

*Can I tell you that I AM incredibly grateful for modern medicine and antibiotics? 

Anxiety

Everyone says my kids look like Joe. Even Grant--the one who I think looks most like me (it's the nose and white skin). But if there is one thing that the kids got from me. . . it's worry (except Grant, ironically). I worry. I think I'm getting better--only because I make a conscious effort because I want to live a full life, and you can't if you are fearful or worried about everything. Not many people know this, but I was diagnosed with anxiety about a year after Joe and I got married. I've learned a lot about how to deal with anxiety over the past decade.

Anyway, this wasn't supposed to be about me.

Here are some examples:  

Madison may be one of the only girls around who has absolutely NO interest in getting her ears pierced. Why? Because it involves a sharp object going through her ears. The other day she asked me why I didn't just get it done when she was a baby and couldn't think or remember it. (I, for some reason, do not fear pain. I wanted my ears pierced so badly that I did it myself with a dull earring.)

Logan (probably the most anxious of us all) is afraid of dogs. We went on a family walk and there was an unattended dog in a yard. It started barking and big-eyed Logan backed away in a panic. (Grant, on the other hand, walked towards the dog. He is fearless. . . mainly because he thinks he is a super-hero. Seriously.)

Logan has been especially anxious over the past three months. In September he ran into a fence while playing ball at school and he had to get some stitches in his bottom eyelid. I held him down while they inserted the gear necessary to put him completely under. The nurse blew something like 4 veins trying to get that needle into the boy (who was kicking and screaming). He miraculously held still for the plastic surgeon while the sutures were removed but the idiot doctor failed to remove the two that we found two weeks later--sticking out like blue eyelashes. Now almost 3 months later, after several canceled appointments (on their part) and one failed (on our part), and also after Logan had fasted 3 Sundays, said numberless prayers, and received a blessing from his father, we were excited for the final appointment where Logan would theoretically sit still while the doctor removed the final stitch. Well, Logan did his part, but it had taken so long that the suture had grown into the skin. The doctor informed us that he could get it out by injecting numbing stuff into Logan's eyelid and then recutting the injury in order to remove the suture.

WHAT!!

Well, we tried. Logan tried. But not matter how much he wanted to sit still, he couldn't do it.

Our initial response was to be furious. "Just sit still and let the idiot doctor finish this once and for all!!!!" 

It wasn't happening.  No threat of burning Pokemon cards or canceling the celebratory Chucky Cheese dinner was going to do it.

I've been told that he was screaming out, "NOOOO! Why was I playing ball? Why am I friends with those people? If I wasn't friends with them I wouldn't have been playing ball and then I wouldn't have run into the fence! Why did I have to run into the fence!? That is the worst day of my life!" 

A few hours and many tears later I've come to this conclusion:

He's nine. And he's got some anxiety issues. We shouldn't be angry at him because of something that isn't really his fault. 

I still don't know what we are going to do. I mean, does it really matter if he has a tiny dot of plastic in his eyelid for the rest of his life? 

And Logan and I. . . we'll continue to work with the anxiety. 

It's Personal

Something has been on my mind lately. Like I can't get it out of my mind, obsessed with thinking about it, and can't stop thinking about it. I think I'm going to post about it, but I might not leave this up very long. I'm not asking for advice, I just simply need to write out my thoughts.

In the past 11 1/2 years of marriage, we have produced four beautiful, intelligent, and wonderful children. I would say that at least twice a week I am asked (often by complete strangers) if we are done having kids. It's a very personal topic, and I usually just smile and say something like, "Who knows? We're taking them one at a time!" I enjoy being pregnant, and so far I've had easy pregnancies and easy-ish babies. We've been blessed to be able to provide for them and I think we for the most part do a pretty good job at being a family.

Ammon is almost 2, and this is the time where we start thinking about the next baby. Until recently, I have wanted another baby--or felt sad about not ever feeling life moving around inside of me, or cradling that newborn baby. I have been holding out for one more girl (although now I'm wondering if I would actually want a boy. . . but that's off topic). A few months ago I bought some maternity shirts that were on sale because I thought for sure there would be another one.

But lately. . . lately I am feeling like maybe I would be ok if I never had to be pregnant again. I'm feeling rested, my body is my own (well, unless you count kids using my body as a jungle gym), and I'm looking forward to potty-training Ammon in the next month or so. No more diapers ever? Enticing. Ammon woke up in the middle of the night last night--for the first time in. . . I don't know, a year? Man, it was hard to drag myself out of bed to comfort him. Yesterday my friend's baby was spitting up and had peed through--I do not miss that! We are talking about taking a big camping trip next year. . . it's hard to do those kinds of things when you are pregnant or have a newborn. And honestly, it would feel SO good to get rid of all those boxes of maternity clothes, baby clothes, baby toys, and baby gear. What a release! I mean relief!

Am I being selfish? Or is this what people feel like when they know they are done having kids?

To be honest, one of my big concerns is if I will be able to teach my kids piano lessons. I love music and I love playing the piano, and we have just gotten into the routine of having lessons every week and practicing every day. . . but being pregnant or having a new baby makes me SOOO tired, and I know (from experience) that piano lessons are the first thing to go when I'm tired. Is a talent in playing the piano the most important thing for my children? No, probably not, but how do I explain to you how I feel that it is one small gesture that helps me to know I have time and love enough for all of them? Like. . . if I can't teach my kids how to play the piano then it is like me not being able to sit down and read with them. Like, if I can't do this one thing that is really important to me, then it is a sign that I am not able to take care of them in other areas, too.

And honestly, I'm getting older. The kids are getting older. If we are going to add another McGregor then we need to do it now so that we can do things like take family camping trips and go on vacations together.

I do want a big family, and I do love kids. I love being a mom. One thing that I most look forward to is my children and their spouses and grandkids all coming to my house for holidays and being loud and playing games all night long. I want a lot of family surrounding me and loving me when I get old.

So I go back and forth. One day saying, "YES! I can do this!" And the next day saying, "No way, we are perfect just like this!" If only I could glimpse through the veil and know if there was one more child waiting for me, wanting to be part of our crazy family.

OH, and Happy New Year! Maybe I will update and make goals one of these days!