If They Could Bottle the Pain.....

....They could use it as a weapon of mass destruction.

Right now I am in the throes of a migraine. This is the second one in about 9 days, the first one having stuck around for 3 days. So I have been dealing with this pain for just about half of this past week. It sucks. Really, really sucks.

The only reason I am writing about it right now is because my medication kicked in about an hour ago, and it is not killing me to sit in front of a computer. Also, the only time I can really capture the true nature of such a headache is when I am actually experiencing it.

If you have ever had a migraine, you know just how bad they can be. If you haven't, then you have no idea how bad a "headache" can get. Mine are bad and have gotten worse as the years have gone by. They are truly debilitating. I would rather have a Mexican stomach virus than a migraine. Really. I feel like one half of my head is going to explode, like from my forehead down to my cheekbone is being hit over and over by a sledgehammer. And that is just the actual pain.

I also feel like I am going to vomit, usually for the duration of the headache. I can't stand bright light, loud sounds, or smells. I can't read, watch TV, or listen to music. The sound of my kids laughing and playing makes my eardrums want to pop. I can barely eat. I have a hard time driving, even moving too quickly. And then when I take the medication there is a whole other set of symptoms to handle. Drowsiness, tightness in my chest and jaw, tingling in my neck, heaviness in my head. The pain goes away for a bit, but it often returns. I never truly know if my headache is gone until I make it through about 4 hours without pain.

And I never know what is going to trigger one. Sometimes I can drink 3 glasses of wine. Sometimes a few sips will bring one on. Same with smells. The worst is walking through the perfume section of a department store......I often try to just hold my breath. Bright light, sudden loud sounds, lack of sleep (hello???), stress (again, hello?), weather changes, the list is endless. So I basically live my life and hope that this time the headache won't come.

I have been getting migraines since I was around 10 years old. I don't remember the first one, But I do remember many times where I would be in my dark room, in bed for days. I remember several MRI's, EEG's, and other tests to make sure that there wasn't any other explanation for the headaches. I remember missing an entire week of high school because the headache wouldn't go away. I remember keeping a journal for my headaches, and cutting out all possible migraine triggers from my life. I especially remember when I had to cut out all caffeine.....not a pleasant experience when you are a grad student! I also remember trying any and every medication that was available to try to reduce or eliminate my headaches. It wasn't very much fun. It still isn't.

I feel like my entire life has been a quest to find the right combination of lifestyle changes and pharmaceutical agents. That magic cocktail that would make it all disappear, never again to experience feeling like a searing hot ice pick was driving into my eye socket. It must be similar to what people with mental illness deal with, since most have to cycle through several medication changes and/or adjustments until they find something that works for them. And then there are the side effects. Ugh. The one medication that worked for me, really worked and practically eliminated the headaches was an anti-seizure med. Unfortunately it made me feel like my body was made of lead, I could hardly keep my eyes open, and it slowed my metabolism to the speed of a snail. Since I was going to graduate school full-time, staying awake and having some energy was necessary. And gaining 25 pounds in 3 months wasn't making me love the stuff either. I found another daily med that helped, although not quite as much. But hey, I was willing to take whatever I could get.

Thankfully my headaches have gone away when I was pregnant with each of my kids, especially since I was not allowed to take most migraine meds. I had a couple in each pregnancy, but they were short-lived, and managed with pain medication. But within 3 months of giving birth to each one, the headaches returned, and they were raring to go. I feel like over half of the days in the past 6 weeks I have had a migraine. And I just can't function like this. I just want to crawl into a hole, a dark, quiet hole. I want to sleep through the whole thing. Of course, this could never happen with 3 kids, so I have to find a way to get through the day. Most of the time I am counting down the minutes until everyone is asleep and I can curl up in my bed and try to fall asleep. I can not be a good mom when I have a migraine. All I can do is survive, and try to keep us all above water until the storm passes.

That is where I am right now. Just trying to get through it, and not drag us all down into the ugly muck that I am wading in. I am hoping that I can take some medication, get a half-decent night's sleep, and have a strong cup of coffee in the morning. If the headache is still around, at least it will be easier to face. 'Night y'all.

The First Sip

So having had a migraine for the past 36 hours, I was disappointed to wake up and find that the headache is still hanging on this morning. I am hurting, both from the headache, and from the fact that my medication makes me a little woozy. On mornings such as this I appreciate the little things much more.

There is nothing, really nothing in this world, like that first sip of coffee flowing down your throat. It is so amazing, both waking me up and soothing me at the same time. It tells me that everything is going to be okay, if I can just get through this first cup of coffee. It is a total placebo effect, as there is no way the caffeine can enter your bloodstream and get to work in less than a minute. But I love that first gulp so much, especially at 6 AM with a headache from the depths of Hades. Yes, I said Hades.

Clean Slate

I just checked on my kids, as I do every night before I go to bed. Every parent does it. Fix the covers, reposition the child who has turned themselves upside down, put the lovie back in their arms. And I stopped to simply take in the peace, the absolute quiet of a sleeping child. I took an extra moment in each room tonight to appreciate the complete and utter beauty in my children.

Georgia was curled up with her Ted, precious, priceless Ted, who will have his own blog post one day soon. She manages to find him in her sleep over and over again, keeping her secure and comfy in her lovely bed.

Noah had thrown off all the blankets, and wedged himself up against the side of his crib. He is such a light sleeper that I don't dare move him for fear of spending the next 30 minutes trying to get him back to sleep. I covered him up, and gently rubbed that angelic little blonde head of his.

And Sam. Sweet, cuddly, growing-like-a-weed Sam. I thank my lucky stars every night when I see him sleeping. I know how lucky I am to have a 3 month old baby that sleeps 12 hours at night. Believe me, I know. But tonight I realized just how quickly he is growing. Every night he scoots himself up his mattress until his head is up against the bumper. He actually has gotten so long that he takes up over half of the crib mattress! I love this stage of infancy....so much changing everyday in him. But I also know how fast he is growing right now, and that, before I know it, he will be crawling and walking all over the place. So I linger in his room every night, just staring at that little nugget of snuggly goodness.

I love my kids. I love that, no matter what crap has been thrown at me, no matter how crazy I feel, or how much yelling or crying has happened, at the end of the day the slate is wiped clean. One of the best things about this mommy-job is that every day gives you a fairly clean slate. You can start again, learn from your mistakes, and try to do it right. My kids not only give me a second chance to do my best for them, but a third, fourth, fifth, and so on. And I try to give them the same opportunity. I hope that is apparent to them.

Bedtime not only brings peace, quiet, and a close to the day, but it brings hope to our home. Hope that tomorrow we will have an even better day, that kids will listen and follow directions just a bit better, that mom will keep her cool just a little longer, that we all will appreciate and love each other a little bit more.

I love bedtime.

Mommies Never Need Watches

It is true. Completely and utterly true. If you are a mother, you will never need to wear a watch again. You will have this insane ability to tell time without so much as a glance at the clock. I finally figured this out today, after four and a half years of motherhood.

I can tell you what time it is when I wake up, or rather, am awoken, in the morning simply by opening my eyes. If I can wake up easily when I hear my children talking on the monitor or opening my door, then I know that it is 7 am, give or take 5 minutes. This does not happen very often anymore. If I am struggling to even open them a sliver, but can see the sunlight, it is 6:10 AM. My kids always wake up at 6:10 AM.....I have no idea why their little circadian rhythms have selected this time as the perfect time to interrupt my bliss. But 90% of the mornings, this is the time that they wake up and are ready to go.

I can tell you when 10:30 AM is coming up. My kids start to get cranky, they are at each other more, they whine more, and they are getting on my nerves. It is time to eat. They MUST have a snack mid-morning. My children are absolutely unbearable when they are hungry. Seriously unbearable. It is like the transformation into the Incredible Hulk. Once they are fed, they turn back into these sweet, normal, even charming individuals. The same thing tells me when it 12:00 PM. Lunch is a comin'......and they better get it as close to noon as possible or the beasts will return.

And the worst time of day....5:00 PM. I swear my kids have some chip implanted in their brains that sets off fireworks at 5:00. They could be playing so nicely together, building with blocks, doing a craft, make believe, whatever. But come 5:00 it all goes to pot, and suddenly my house is a whirling dervish of screaming, crying, whining, hitting, pushing, and flying objects. Today I knew it was that fateful hour when I looked over at my son half-laughing, half-crying as his older sister chased him around the room while stomping him on the head with her Barbie. Yup, Barbie = weapon at 5:00.

And I know when it is 8:00 pm. My house is quiet, calm, and getting put back together. All children are asleep (hopefully for the night), and I am finally starting relax a little. I have suddenly gotten my second wind, and no longer feel like I am falling asleep every 10 minutes. I can relax, and revel in the fact that we all made it through another day. I can eat dinner, have a glass of wine, put my feet up, and read a book.

A day in the life of a mommy.....always on time, no alarms necessary.

I love this dog. Or at least I used to. I am not so sure how I feel these days. Lately I feel as if he is on a personal mission to either drive me over the edge or teach me some extreme patience. We got Dante 6 years ago, when he was a lovable, wiggly ball of wrinkles. He used to sit on my lap everyday to cuddle. Now he weighs 60 pounds, so no laps for him.

He has a good life, no make that a great life. I often say I would give my right arm to spend one week as this dog. He is fed, has a huge yard to run in (not that there is much running for bulldogs), and has a very nice leather couch that he sleeps on for about 90 percent of the day. Why on earth would he want to screw this up?

I have mentioned the peeing problems, the exorbitant vet bills, and the midnight wake-ups before, but today he brought it to a new level. I had my house cleaned today, and I did not want to feed Dante until after the women had left. He is terrified of vacuums, so I knew he would run and hide upstairs for 2 hours. I figured if I didn't feed him, he wouldn't have to go to the bathroom. So while we are upstairs in my bedroom I hear this retching sound. Not unusual for a bulldog. I go into the bathroom, and he has puked. All over my newly cleaned floor. Okay.....I can deal with that. So I open the gate at the top of the stairs to let him down and for me to go get some towels. He runs down the stairs, I gather the children and follow. At the bottom I find the biggest pile of crap he has ever made. So now I have puke in my bathroom and poop in my foyer, and a dog who is lucky to be alive.

Seriously?

We go back to the vet tomorrow. Again. He may be staying there. We will see how tonight goes.

Funnies

So I was thinking about all the funny things my kids say and do on a regular basis. One incident from last summer came back to me, and I started laughing out loud, so I thought I would share.

Last summer I was giving the kids a bath when I noticed something funny on Georgia's stomach. It was a large oval-shaped dark spot. Not mole-dark, just darker than her skin, sort of like a birthmark. Since she has had all sorts of rashes and things, I thought it was a rash of some kind. I started trying to figure out what it could be, where it came from, etc. I called my parents, who are both medical professionals, to get their opinion. My mom was as confused as I was, and at the end of about 30 minutes trying to figure this out I decided to call the pediatrician in the morning.

So I get the kids out of the bath and Georgia asks if she can put some lotion on. I look at my many bottles under the sink and give her some hypoallergenic, unscented stuff to rub on her tummy when I notice that she is rubbing the lotion in the exact shape of the "rash." I start thinking of all the things she could have gotten into and ask her if she took anything from mommy's bathroom. She points to a gold bottle, and suddenly it all clicks. I erupt in laughter.

My daughter put self-tanner on her stomach. I am freaking out about what could be wrong with her, and she just wanted to have a summer glow!

Expectations

So a ways back I read the book, "I Was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids," by Trisha Ashworth and Amy Nobile. I also saw the authors, among other moms, on Oprah a few months ago, discussing their books and the pressures that we mommies feel in our everyday lives. I highly recommend the book (and their others) to any mom, especially if you one day find yourself wondering, "What the hell was I thinking when I decided to have kids? Really, what made me think I would be good at this?" Which is sort of where I find myself on a semi-regular basis.

I know, I know, I love my kids so much I could gobble them up most days. I know that I am a good mom, and my kids know they are loved and treasured. But we all have those days where you just feel like you can't do anything right. I have had quite a few of those recently, and they have me thinking back on things I read in that book. What has really stuck with me has been the notion of all of the self-imposed pressures and expectations we put upon ourselves trying to fulfill some June Cleaver meets Gloria Steinem fantasy of what we women can, and should be able to do with our lives these days.

Why do we put ourselves through all of this?

I have been evaluating a lot of things in my life these days, as you have previously been able to read. My birthday triggered a lot of it. But I think the living situation that we are currently in also has me thinking a lot about the stress in my life, where it comes from, and how I can minimize it. And I have discovered that the vast majority of the stress I feel comes not from my kids, my husband, my dog (although I am still debating this one), money, etc. but from my own crazy expectations of what I should be able to handle. I feel like I should be able to juggle any number of glass balls, ready to fit another one into the pattern at any time, without a single one crashing to the floor. And you know what? I can't. I just can't.

I have three young kids, all of whom have their own schedules that have to be woven together so that I don't have to be in two places at the same time. I have a house to take care of, basically on my own, which means cleaning, grocery shopping, laundry, yard stuff, phones calls to get things fixed, cleaning out the basment, and all sorts of crap that would be a lot easier if my husband were around. I have to feed people, clean them, play with them, chauffer them, teach them, bathe them, cuddle them, and comfort them. I am also trying to figure out how to fit my own needs into all of this, including trying to make some money with a direct sales job I have had for about 9 months.

I do have a nanny for 8 hours every weekday, and this helps TREMENDOUSLY. I pack as much as I can into those 8 hours so that at 4:30, I can just be with the kids, and focus on them. It also helps that I don't have to drag three kids through the grocery store, drug store, Target, whatever, because that is not fun for any of us. And I try to have some one-on-one time with each of them during the week. I am so grateful that we are able to have someone here to help out when Alex is away. But I am on solo duty the other 16 hours of the day, and it isn't like that stops when the kids are in bed. Just the other night, I was up until 2 AM with various children, fell asleep, and was back up a little after 5 AM with my oldest. And we had a packed schedule the following day, so it was tough. Add into that 3 children who all have colds, and it has been a rough week.

Now with all of this going on, why on earth would I think that everything would run on-time, with no problems? And why do I feel like such a failure when it doesn't? I have been feeling down on myself the past week for not living up to my own expectations. I have been thinking that maybe we need to move to Virginia sooner than next spring. We had this neat little time line in my head that we would get into school, get the house ready, put it on the market in January, and then try to move in the spring. Well, I don't know if our family will make it that far without a major crisis. The kids are really feeling the stress of daddy not being here, and so are Alex and I. So I have been thinking that maybe we should move sooner. And I feel like I have failed. I have failed in keeping things running smoothly, and managing the stress of the situation. I have failed in being the rock for this family. I have failed in living up to this artificial time frame that I created for myself. Seriously?

I think the kicker came the other day when I realized I hadn't taken any pictures for my 365 blog in a couple of days. I have been slow on posting, but I have been getting pics everyday of something. Well, I missed a few days recently, and I started getting really annoyed with myself. I mean, really, how hard is it to take a freaking picture everyday? Just one? Then I stopped. I would have kicked myself in the ass if I could. I was getting this down on myself over a blog? Do I not have seven million other things that are more important and worthy of my worries?

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we feel like we should be able to do everything that is asked of us, and do it perfectly? Where did this idea come from that we are not a "good" mom if we don't sign our kids up for all these different activities, go to a certain school, feed and not feed them certain things, that we have failed at motherhood? And to top it all off, we should do all of these things on time, with make-up on, hair done, and a smile on our faces. God forbid we actually give a truthful answer when someone asks us how we are doing. Anything less than, "Everything is going great," and people will get uncomfortable with the honesty. But we all feel the same way.....there is no way we can get it all done.

So I am trying to adjust my expectations, of myself, my kids, my life. I am trying to see things not as a failure, but simply as changing my mind. Because that is exactly what it is, and why do I feel like I am not allowed to do that? I think moms try to do way too much these days. I know this has been discussed many, many times before by others. The book does an excellent job of putting together conversations with real moms about what their lives are really like, behind closed doors, at the end of the day when no one is watching.

Anyway....I am hoping that a change in my own internal attitude will help change a lot of other things in our house. I am hoping that I can be a happier, more fun mommy by letting go of the feeling that I should be able to cram 20 hours worth of stuff into 5 hours. No one will suffer because the bed isn't made, the laundry isn't folded, or dinner gets delivered by the pizza guy. We will all be better if we stop a little more often and take time to enjoy each other. That is what my goal is right now.