Strechmarks

I can't even begin to describe how happy I am that Gianna can have dairy again. Wow! What a relief! It really wasn't that big of a deal because there are so many dairy substitutes around. But, I made mac-n-cheese for dinner last night, the first time in over 2 years! I rose to Goddess level in Zoe's eyes when I told her the dinner menu.

We've had Gianna on dairy for about a month, maybe a little longer. A week in we saw some "yucky poop" (of course, all poop is yucky, but Gianna's dairy poop was a different beast). Turns out it was a stomach bug.

I wish I could scream it from the rooftops! She's normal again! Food restrictions stink. Glad that's over.

I've recently noticed that nearly every time I visit a medical professional I am asked about the care of my children. Specifically, the inquirer wants to know who is watching them while I'm at my appointment.

I don't get it. I'm willing to bet my left shoe that my husband doesn't get that question every time he goes to the doctor. I'd be very surprised to learn that any father gets this question on a noticeably frequent basis.

Is this just an example of gender bias? Or perhaps stereotyping the stay-at-home mother?

Let's decide for the sake of argument that working mothers and fathers get this question in equal proportions to stay-at-home parents. Then that begs the question: How is that any of your business?

It just seems like such an odd question. It could be small talk, but it seems a little personal to ask a stranger or near stranger that question. Perhaps I could respond with a "They're with a sitter. And tell me, do you mow your own lawn?"

Yes, I'm overreacting. Not once did I feel like the inquirer was being rude or intrusive or judgmental. Taken as a whole, though, it feels like the manifestation of a larger cultural bias: women of young children should be home with them all the time.

One person's anecdote does not define a trend. Maybe I'll take a survey. Or maybe I'll just return the question with an equally random, personal but not too personal question of my own.

Tori is pretty great about playing by herself. She's not crawling yet, so I plop her down on a blanket on the floor (she spits up pretty remarkably) and give her a basket of toys. Tori pulls the basket towards herself, reaches in and grabs a toy. She shakes it. If is makes a sound, Tori beams from ear to ear while shaking, shaking, and shaking some more. If it doesn't make a sound, she turns her head and looks at it like it's the stinkiest piece of shit she's ever seen before tossing it to the ground. I noticed she always picks up toys and shakes them with her right hand. She transfer them to her left only to put them in her mouth (one at a time, mind you).

Speaking of not crawling yet, she's close. She gets up on hands and knees, rocks a bit, then collapses to her belly. Tori pushes herself backwards around the room pretty well, and she can turn herself around in a complete circle, but forward motion is a skill that escapes her. I saw her trying today, though, so it's a short matter of time.

And speaking of what Tori doesn't have yet, she doesn't have any teeth! None! Not to fear, though, for I see a place on her lower gum that distinctly resembles an emerging tooth. I can't feel it yet, because I think the surrounding gum tissue is too swollen, but I see it! Woo hoo! Did I mention the child is just 10 days shy of being 9 months old?

From the second she was born that girl has been simply delightful. Good eater, good sleeper, happy, playful, fun-loving. Beautiful. Sweeter than pie. Lovely, lovely, lovely girl. I almost can't get enough of her. And when I think I have had enough of her (she does yell at me sometimes - yell, not cry, yell), I put her in the sling and we're buddies again. And I so love that. Tori's sisters love her, too. Gianna's a bit more reserved and disinterested, not used to being a big sister, but Zoe is all about loving that baby. Tori laughs for her in a very special way, the same way Gianna laughed for Zoe when she was a baby. This sisterhood bond is something to behold.

All my girls make me proud. All my girls make my heart swell with love so much it almost explodes. And as soon as Tori learns to say "no" to me, I'll be able to say that all my girls drive me up a wall at times. But for now I'll enjoy the peace Tori brings to our family and hope it continues for a long, long time.

We took Gianna to see her dermatologist today. He prescribed a new treatment - Elidel - a topical cream often used for eczema. (Which she also has, so bonus for us.) We're to smear her head with it daily at bedtime, then return for a follow-up appointment in May. It should take about three months before we can hope to see an improvement. If nothing happens after three months, then we move on to something else. He also talked to us about a hair prothesis (aka wig) that he certainly recommends if she still has "total scalp involvement" before entering kindergarten. Apparently, it's equipped with some kind of space-age suction technology to allow for better attachment to the scalp. I hope her hair grows back before then, but if not, I'm glad this is an option and that with the doctor's prescription it may be covered by insurance.

1. Lose weight (30 pounds) - restarted Weight Watchers and almost daily gym visits
2. Read more books (at least one per month outside of schoolwork should be an easy do)

So far, so good!

On the 23rd we had a Christmas gathering at the Wunagles. The kids played, we watched football, and ate the yummiest homemade chicken wings. Presents were opened and fun was had by all.

In the Marini family, Christmas Eve is traditionally pizza-and-a-movie night. This tradition started when I was in high school, and the movie was Terminator 2. Ever since my kids were old enough to watch movies with us, we've switched to more kid-friendly shows. This year, we watched The Polar Express, and by some amazing coincidence none of us had seen it yet! We all enjoyed chocolate chip panettone for desert while watching the film. There was a bit of a mishap with the box of joe from Dunkin Donuts, which apparently is not microwave safe. A few thousand paper towels later and the show began. After the movie the girls put on their brand new Christmas Eve jammies, set out a plate of cookies and carrots for Santa and his reindeer, as well as a cup of milk, then off to bed.

Christmas Day was wonderful, too. The girls were thrilled to see the gifts under the tree. When Zoe opened her gift from Santa (who only brings one per child in our household - Mama and Da do the rest) she burst in to big ol' sobbing tears. You see, Santa got her a set of 12 animal puppets and a set of 12 princess puppets to go with the puppet theatre she got for her birthday. Santa took care of this in early November. Zoe was heartbroken because she asked him for Ballet Barbie. Of course, she didn't ask until December 23rd, but who's counting? Mama learned a big lesson that day - it's time to have the kids write letters to Santa. Never before had Zoe expected to get something so specific. She learned to be grateful (a little bit) and when she saw that half of the puppets were princesses she put them right on and began to play.

We went to my parents' house for Christmas lunch, which was yummy, fun, and filled with gifts. My parents love Christmas so much! My mom decorates all over the house, prepares a lot of food, and my parents give tons of gifts to us all. They put a lot of thought into what each of us would like, and I love our Christmases together. My sister and grandmother were there, this year. My brother celebrated the holiday with his girlfriend's family in North Carolina, and on Christmas Eve he proposed! They are planning a summer wedding!

The days after Christmas are always filled with more merriment. Theo and I went to a friend's house for dinner and a viewing of "White Christmas", which is my favorite holiday movie. My mother's birthday is the 29th, so we had a nice dinner with them, and my sister and brother and his fiancee joined us. (We celebrated Christmas again with them.)

New Year's Eve is about putting the kids to bed as soon as possible and enjoying the night together. Theo grilled some filet mignon for us (oh, so good), and I made salad and roasted butternut squash. Oh, and the mushrooms - Theo's fantastically prepared sauteed mushrooms. Dinner, hot tub, tv, a bottle of Asti, Happy New Year!

Finally, the holidays end with New Year's Day, which is my grandmother's birthday. We joined my parents, brother, sister, future sister-in-law, uncle, aunt, and cousin in Nonna's apartment for cupcakes and more Asti. It was a really nice visit with everyone.

Here's to the new year!

Zoe: Da, are there ever clouds at night?

Theo: Just like the day, sometimes there are clouds and sometimes there are not. They blow around in the wind. Clouds don't care if it's day or night.

Zoe: That's because clouds don't have feelings. But sometimes there's one feeling clouds have. It's called crying and that's when it rains.

We celebrated Hanukkah again this year, adding to our traditions. In addition to lighting the candles on the menorah made by Zoe, I gave the big girls gifts on the first night. They each received a Jewish-themed puzzle. Zoe didn't like her puzzle as much as she liked Gianna's, and when she expressed such sentiment we seized upon that teachable moment to help her develop a sense of gratitude. (With Christmas coming in a couple of days, we'll see how well that lesson stuck.) On the other nights, we read Hanukkah books, played the dreidel game, and even had latkes with sour cream and applesauce on the last night. Theo went out for jelly donuts one night, but the great DD was all out. We had chocolate cream instead!

The entire month of December is one big holiday celebration, whether you observe Hanukkah, Christmas, or both. It took awhile for me to get our Christmas decorations up (I wanted to wait for Hanukkah to end), but we did. On the 13th, I went to the store with Gianna and Tori to get some things, and came home with a small artificial tree. Theo and I have had a fresh tree every year since we were married, but between weather, illness, work, and the leaves that still need raking, I didn't see how we'd ever get to the lot and set one up. Theo was supposed to be gone on the 13th, too, so while the little girls napped, Zoe and I set up the tree with all the trimmings and decorated the house in it's full Christmas regalia. It was a nice surprise for Theo when he came home.

Activity-wise, the festivities have been on the calm side. The office party was on the 8th and the MOMS Club party was on the 14th. The kids had Hanukkah parties at school, but due to the nastiest cold I've had in years, I skipped those. We added a Christmas tradition - visiting Santa at the mall. We went today, the Saturday Before Christmas, with a bag packed with snacks and a little patience. The mall put on this elaborate experience, starting with a coloring table where kids wrote their letters to Santa. Then they were measured and given an official North Pole job title (elf, Santa's helper, etc.) They went to the Naughty-or-Nice meter, mailed their letter to Santa, and eventually saw the big guy in person. At each station, their picture was taken. We didn't stay to see the pics, though, so I'll have to go back to get them. They did allow us to take our own, though.

Zoe is five years old and I have never once taken her to sit on Santa's lap. Little kids cry. Santa scares them. What's the point? I could not have been more thrilled at the girls' reactions to Santa. After visiting all the stations, we walked around the corner to see Santa. Gianna ran and hugged him like an old friend. She had to be pried off of him and put on his lap - she just wanted to hug him for life. Even Tori and Zoe were enamored. It was absolutely worth the hour wait.

Next up, celebrating at various family gatherings tomorrow, Monday, and Tuesday. Can't wait!

I've got a vicious cold. I actually thought it was the flu, but I don't think I was ever that feverish. Anyway, I feel like crap. But the best thing happened today - snow. I love the snow. Love, love, love it! The way it clings to the trees, the way it smells, the way it changes the light coming into the house, it's all so distinctive. I never tire of it.

The timing is wonderful, too. As I drove home after picking up the girls from school, I tuned in to the local pop station that plays all holiday music for all of December. We came in, I turned on the fire and a Nat King Cole Christmas CD, and had a lovely lunch with my girls, watching the snow fall through the bay window. All my worries melted away.

I've been back to full-time stay-at-home-mom for a week, just one week, and I'm already exhausted. But despite it being a good and fun week, I couldn't help thinking about how I missed part-time work - with adults. My office job was stressful at times, but never strenuous. Goodness, parenting babies and preschoolers is strenuous! So, that's where my mind was as I drove the girls to a coffee shop for some much needed go-juice (for me, of course) before heading to their school.

Then something fantastic happened. We saw a rainbow just over the tree line behind the school. Both big girls saw it, clearly, and then Zoe said it was the first one she had ever seen. My mind raced - that can't be true, are you serious, this is the first one you've seen in person? But indeed it was. I showed them their very first rainbow. Even now, hours later, the size of that realization leaves no room for anything but joy and pride in my heart. I cherish this gift of time with my children. I love that I can share the wonders of the world with them and witness their reactions. And I'm thankful beyond measure for the rainbows that appear to break up the grey clouds when I need them most.

Thanks to my family for understanding our Thanksgiving plans and coming over to visit on the weekend.

Thanks to my nanny for being so fabulous and loving my girls so much! I know you will be a wonderful mother.

Thanks to my colleagues for all of the baby gifts for Tori. I wish I had sent out individual hand-written notes. I do really appreciate your thoughtfulness!

Thanks to my parents for everything you've ever done for me. Every day my own kids remind me of how much I love you.

Thanks to my husband for supporting me as I follow my heart on it's next great adventure.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Parents often reflect on how they want to be remembered by their children, and how they don't. I read about a mother who said she didn't want her son to remember her as the one who said "No" all the time. Worries about being remembered for yelling or being strict are natural and arguably serve a purpose, as long as they're not overblown. I'm sure my parents said no to me many times. I'm sure they yelled. I even remember being spanked. But none of that damaged me. None of that made me love my parents less, nor did it make me like them less. The reason for that is they spent more time loving me, giving attention, showing affection, and having fun with me than not. It's negative attention mixed with indifference in an absence of demonstrable affection that causes kids to remember their childhoods as painful.

Maybe I read too many parenting blogs and advice columns, but it seems like there is a parental angst machine at work in our culture that allows some parents to see problems where there really are none. I certainly succumbed to that in the past, and a couple of years ago I was convinced that I was a bad mother. Why did I think that? Well, I didn't like being home with my kids all the time, but I thought I was supposed to. I yelled at my three-year-old for being rough with her one-year-old sister. I said "no" more often when I was overtired/overcranky. I thought my three-year-old's mood swings were a sign of emotional instability in me. Now that I have another three-year-old and my emotions are much more stable than they were two years ago, I can see that three-year-olds, by virtue of their age and developmental stage, are emotional wrecks (which may or may not cause the same condition in their parents).

I don't really worry about most of my parenting decisions. Call it confidence, call it a zen attitude, but whatever it is, I'm not sweating the small stuff. Zoe whines and Gianna's still in diapers. I've seen enough changes in the first two to know that Zoe won't whine as much next year as she does now, and Gianna will probably use the potty before she's four. I'm taking it one day at a time, doing my best for them, loving them, enjoying them, entertaining them, and receiving all of that in return from them.

I do still worry about Gianna's self-image and ability to cope with her hair loss. Her baldness absolutely grieves me. I actually feel shooting pains from my chest down my arms when a family member brings it up. I don't want to talk about it with anyone but Theo. I'm her mother and I can't fix this the way I want to, which is to make her hair grow back. I'm her mother and I don't know if I can prevent the pain she might feel when other kids tease or ostracize her. I'm her mother and I don't know if she'll look back on her childhood and hate me for forcing her to stay bald, for not giving her a wig. I'm her mother and I don't know if she'll hate me for giving her a wig and sending the message that she's wrong and should hide it. I'm her mother and I don't know what to do to make it all alright. But, I am her mother, and I do know I can make her feel cherished and special and secure in our love for her. So Gianna may grow up and think that life would have been easier with hair, but if I do what I know I can do, she'll grow up to remember me as the mom who loved to tickle her, sing silly songs, kiss her boo-boos, and give her the warmest hugs that only moms can give.

Who comes first, spouse or kids? If we're serious about striving for balance in our lives, we have to stop talking about our priorities in such absolute terms. The spouse-first proponents make good points about cherishing and caring for your marriage. The kids-first side makes good points about nurturing and teaching your children to be the fabulous human beings we all want our kids to be. No doubt there are a few in the self-first group who argue that we can't be our best for our spouses, children (or anyone else in our lives) unless we meet our own needs first.

The problem with this kind of thinking is that it's impossible to obtain, and it eats away at our confidence in an insidious way. I realize that most people don't say explicitly that they put one above the other always, but by saying they prioritize one part of their lives over all else, it sets people up for feeling guilty about meeting the needs of the other parts of their lives. Meeting one person's needs is not an inherently damaging and neglectful act towards another person. I can get a babysitter to play with my kids while I go on a date with my husband or have a gathering with my girlfriends, and I'm not neglecting my children. I can have a hard day of work/mothering/chores/whatever and go to bed too tired for sex and I'm not neglecting my marriage. I can enroll in a night class to learn something new and meet new people, leaving my husband home with the kids once a week, and I'm not neglecting my children nor my marriage. It's when people do everything for one part of their lives (i.e. put it first) and not much for the others that they have a problem.

And talking about putting kids/spouse/self first in terms of choosing life for one and death for the other is ridiculous, and counterproductive. This is where it gets insidious. You start by saying, well if I only had enough time to push one or the other out of the way of a speeding bus, it would be my blah-blah-blah, then over time all of your daily decisions become clouded by that thought. You start to feel guilty about your choices, big and small. ("Why did I have children if I'd rather save my husband? "I'd like to go out with just my husband but my kids are whining for me to stay.") I have no idea what I'd do if my family faced certain death and I had to opportunity to thwart it for one of them. I hope I never have to decide, but if I do I'll decide it then. For now, I'll decide who needs to eat breakfast first, and who needs extra cuddles at bedtime, and who needs my undivided attention mixed with undiluted effort to solve their current problem. And I'll continue to make decisions in that manner each and every day, never consistently choosing the same person to be first or the same person to be last.

So, relax, do your best, but spread it around. You can't be all things to all people all the time, but you can be a lot of things to a lot of people at different times. Don't bite off more than you can chew, stay happy, and look on the bright side. This is the way to put everyone "first".

Five years into my life as a mother, and the worst thing isn't the sleep deprivation, the chaos of three kids, the tantrums, or the birth itself. It's the pain. The pain my children feel whenever they are hurt - skinned knees or hurt feelings. My kids have each suffered some pain in the last week that I felt helpless to prevent, or unable to remedy, and even the source of the pain in one case.

Of course we all have pain, and we all get through it, and as a mother it's my job to teach my girls about that. I have to raise them with love, support, boundaries, and empathy so they learn through experience and from example that the good things in life far outnumber and outweigh the bad, and that when bad things happen, I'm always there for them. What's amazing to me is that a hug can sometimes give them all of that.

Tori went to the ER a few days ago because she was struggling to breathe. It was probably the first time she was really, really scared. And I couldn't make it go away fast enough, but I was there and she was fine. Zoe had three shots today at her yearly checkup. And despite reading the Berenstain Bears story in which Sister Bear gets a shot and is so brave, Zoe was very much afraid. She was a sobbing mess at the first sight of the needles, and I had to physically restrain her in my lap using both my arms and my legs to keep her still for the shots. And lots of shushing and hugs and kisses later, she began to breathe again. And since she's such a smart and logical kid, I explained the reason for shots and the reason to not be so upset about them next time - after she was calm and could listen. But as I'm writing this now, remembering that scene, I'm crying thinking about how I held my child down to let someone hurt her for her own good.

And Gianna. Gianna, Gianna, Gianna. I'm so sorry I can't make her hair come back. I'm so, so sorry. I've said that the silver lining about the onset of her alopecia at such as young age is that she doesn't have the devastating sense of loss she'd have if it happened later in her life. She lost her hair before she even knew she had any. Before she even knew what she looked like. So, that's almost like a blessing, right? Instead, she starts life being the odd one. But it's worse than that. She's the freak. She's bald and has no eyelashes. Her classmates are still young enough that they barely notice each other and tend towards parallel play instead of cooperative games. But that certainly doesn't last, and pretty soon they are going to know she's different the way older kids do.

And Gianna is a full-on crying mess these days. Emotional wreck. She wants everything and nothing all at once. Sometimes it's like she's angry about being born. When I told her teacher about it, she suggested it might be time to get Gianna a wig. (Here's me, gasping under a ton of bricks.) It's a thought that had been creeping into my mind, not yet a permanent resident. I thought, I'll buy some inexpensive dress up wigs and see if she likes them. We had decided not to get her a wig when she first went bald because we didn't want her to make her feel like something was wrong with her and have her then think that she was wrong. And now I wonder if that decision actually hurt her instead of helped her. Maybe she's such a wreck because she knows she's different - and not in a good, special, celebrated way. And she doesn't know how to express it. Maybe she feels helpless, too.

Gianna just turned three years old. She told everyone that she planned to be a monster for Halloween. I was half tempted to tell everyone that she'd been practicing for such a performance for months.

But the other night I told Sherry that Gianna was a wreck, always crying at the slightest thing. I then felt a sense of deja vu - I'd had that same conversation with Sherry about Zoe about two years earlier. This isn't the first time I've seen behavior in Gianna that reminded me of Zoe and realized that what I thought was a "problem" when Zoe did it was really just a "phase", just normal development. But with each "Oh it's a phase" revelation, I learn to chill at the new the stuff Zoe throws at me.

Zoe has matured a great deal. She really is more resilient, and so I know that when Gianna's teacher tells me that Gianna is a sensitive child, but she will mature, she's right.