Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Noooooooo

I hate change.  Well, that is not entirely true.  I used to hate change and now I just don’t really like it, but when it comes to one anxiety ridden three year old that is asleep upstairs, I hate it again.  I wanted to write a happy post that I started about a little adventure we took, but then I received an email and that friendly little buzz just sent me into a tailspin of anxiety.  To summarize: the teacher that your baby girl ADORES, and is the reason that she wears certain clothes, and the one that she pretends to be at home, the same one your crazy girl loves because she was her brother’s teacher as well, and the one that is her reason to feel safe at school when everything else is too scary to move, yes, that teacher is LEAVING.  It said something about a personal leave of absence and wishing her the best and a new teacher taking over.  We didn’t even get to say goodbye! My heart! Breathe!

A new teacher may not sound too scary for many, but for Ivy, well words cannot describe how I feel right now.  My poor little girl has such anxiety and stress.  I even worry that she needs to be seen for it.  In certain social situations, she can barely function.  Now, we have made progress,  of which I attribute a large part of that to essential oils, but she still needs work.  At a birthday party over the weekend she was looking for me.  I saw one of the moms bend over and ask her if she needed something.  I paused, waiting to see what she would do.  She tucked her head in the usual fashion and stared into space…for a second…and then she lifted her head and asked for help unwrapping the cupcake.  This was a major breakthrough for her.  I have been around her when someone, familiar or not, has approached her with a question or statement and I have actually felt her emotional and physical stress.  Her body stiffens up, she looks away, she can barely think, and we often end up with tears.  

Once she truly trusts someone or she does not feel vulnerable, a different girl emerges.  You get a social, sweet, and chatty girl.  You get to see her sparkle and see how incredibly smart she is.  She sings, she dances and she shines.  Strangers in the store know things about us, because she tells them.  Ivy really is the extreme.  She is sort of like one of those boxes you see with a big old orange sticker stuck to it: HANDLE WITH CARE.  Honestly, wouldn’t things just be so much easier if we could send our kids out with a sticker.

NAME: IVY 

SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS: HANDLE WITH CARE 

and the small print underneath would say: Let her come to you, she needs to feel safe, she needs to feel comfortable, she is happiest in control, she doesn’t know how to play, she loves tasks, she loves to be in charge, she needs her one go-to person, oh and whatever you do - don’t make eye contact

Well, since I can’t put that sticker on her, I suppose I have no choice but to take a deep breath (or fifty), hopefully sleep this lump in the back of my throat away, say a little prayer, add a little extra essential oils to her (and myself) in the morning and go meet her new teacher….. either that, or curl into a ball and cry….

I think I just might do both.

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Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Well that was certainly sad & 15 month forgotten stats

On a Friday a little over a week ago we had just got home from Whole Foods.  The kids were crazy as usual from being contained at the grocery store and were excited to eat pizza, which by the way, if you ever want a good pizza, go to Whole Foods.  Anyway, Autumn and I were in the kitchen and she wanted me to hold her.  I put her on a stool and told her to stay there for a minute while I grabbed my salad.  She stands on the stools all the time, I know – not cool, so I wasn’t really worried about her.  But then suddenly, the tornado that he is, Owen came bounding in the kitchen, straight to his stool to eat his pizza.  As he climbed vigorously on his stool, it in turn bumped Autumn’s stool, which in turn knocked her off her feet, which in turn sent her flying through the air and onto the floor. 
I was close and almost caught her but instead watched her fall.  I picked her up and smothered her in kisses and so sorrys and rubbed her little bum better.  We sat back on the stool and she picked up her fork to eat.  I guess she landed on more than her bum considering she could barely hold her fork.  She tried lifting it to her mouth but it wasn’t working.  She tried again and the same thing happened.  We contemplated taking her in but throughout the night she seemed to use it more and more. 
We woke up the next morning and she seemed ok, until she climbed the stairs and tried to use her hand to push herself up, which left her lying on her face.  I decided to take her in and have her arm looked at.  3 hours later we were diagnosed with a broken arm and fitted with a little splint.  I was told it was a small break and would heal very fast and she needed to wear the splint 23 1/2 hours a day for a few weeks. 
We got home, she showed all of her friends her arm, they loved on her a bit, and Owen and I felt bad that it happened.    An hour or so later, as I was talking to the other kids, I heard something behind me…MAMMA, MAAAMAAA, MAMA.  I turned around and she handed me her splint and left to go play.  23 1/2 hours a day for 2 weeks, are you kidding?  I couldn’t keep it on for two hours, much less that ridiculous schedule.  She wasn’t having it and after finding the splint lying on the floor for the 10th time, we gave up.  The place of the break allowed her to do things still, but she couldn’t put pressure on her hand.  This is a serious problem for a 15 1/2 month old who is constantly falling down. It makes my arm hurt just thinking about falling down on a broken one! 
I took her in on Monday and she was fitted with a nice big pink cast to assure it stayed on and to make sure she wasn’t in pain. 
She doesn’t have to wear it long…thank heavens, considering she has suddenly realized it makes a nice weapon and keeps hitting us all with it. 
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(she is smiling here, she didn’t mind the cast…she even held her arm up on her own to help the lady put it on)

************POST EDIT*****************
One of these days I am going to look back and my life and wonder why I forgot to write about it, because I definitely won't remember it when I am old.

When Autumn turned 15 months she was
** 28 1/2  inches tall and in the 5.62%
** 17 lbs 14 ounces - .8%
** and for some reason our dr doesn't measure heads anymore at this age.

And I would write an update about what she was like at 15 months, but it is June, this was 1/2/13 and I have no idea.  Hopefully I have a post or two to remind me of that.
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Saturday, January 12, 2013

The Way we Are

If you would have told me 10 years ago that the year I turned closer to 40 than 30, I would almost exclusively buy and eat organic food, in large part to avoid GMOs, I would have pondered it but probably wouldn't have believed you and I NEVER would have believed that I would help gather signatures for a petition to label GMO ingredients in our food to assure it would make it to the ballot. 

If you would have told me that I would love peppers and regularly eat a huge salad made of spinach and millions of toppings with NO dressing, I would have laughed my head off and would have kept laughing if you told me I would be addicted to a boot camp class. 

If you would have told me that I would use dryer hedgehog balls in place of dryer sheets and would LOVE them, I definitely would not have believed you.  I hate static more than ANYTHING but bless those little hedgehogs!

Now, if you would have told me that I would learn about and use essential oils for all our ailments, I would jump for joy and rejoice because I have always wanted to use essential oils and my dream would be coming true. 

I have come so far. 

Peppermint for fevers, lavender and peppermint for burns, melaluca for rashes and eczema, a mixture of oils for upset stomachs, eucalyptus for coughs, geranium to help heal a cut (note – the smell of geranium is not my favorite so it has now been moved to the category of for emergencies only), a mixture of oils for helping Owen focus on homework and school, a mixture of oils for helping Ivy with EXTREME anxiety and to take her from a complete mental breakdown to happy and content within minutes, lemon to get rid of a pending sore throat, oregano to stop a cold from coming on, wintergreen for shin splints, a mixture of oils to help with sore joints and muscles, frankincense for everything.  I find the list goes on and on and adding to my oil collection is the highlight of the month. 

We put them on our necks, rub them on  what hurts, put them on our feet at night.  I love seeing the kids lying in bed with their feet ready to go, especially Autumn.  As I rub the oils on, I ask them if they have anything wrong with them for any oils.  We have a daily routine and add to it the oil for the daily ailment, if any.   I love being able to take care of the kids myself and help heal them without much use of medicine and doctors.   There is a place for doctors and medicines and I have no problem taking them, but if an oil will work first, I am going to use it. 

The closer to 40 than 30 me can’t believe my life and this is me. 

My favorite part of this is the image of my kids growing up here.  I can’t believe that my kids are those kids that smell funny and tell neighbors that they can’t eat things cause their mom wouldn’t like that.  And even more unbelievable is that I am the mother of those kids!  Unbelievable I tell you.  The life I am living now is so far from the one I grew up in.  We actually ate at McDonald’s sometimes twice in a day.  We made ourselves TV dinners all the time.  Emilee and I got the Salisbury Steak and Ben and Angie got the chicken nugget ones.  Ben regularly ate Miracle Whip sandwiches, we cooked hamburgers in the microwave, and we ate Instant Breakfast everyday.  There is a small part of me that feels bad my kids won’t be able to say those things, but you can’t undo what you know.  (most of the time it goes unnoticed, but Owen did ask for his old ranch dressing and syrup for Christmas, that was sad and I almost bought it).  They don’t eat this way all the time, we try for most of the time.  I read a blog that tries to eat healthy, the mom says she has an 80/20 rule.  100% healthy – 80% of the time and the rest is left for snacks at school and classes, birthday parties, going out to dinner, eating at the neighbor’s houses, Super Bowl snacks, the ice cream run, the still existing and having fun in the world day.  This works for me. 

They may not be able to say that they ate McDonald’s twice in a day, but they will be able to say their crazy mom tried really hard to keep them healthy and although the house was always a mess with a lot of chaos, it smelled good.