Where's My Cape?

I don't think I have bad self esteem when it comes to being a mother, but I certainly don't fancy myself anything special. I think that inherently most first-time mothers feel inadequate a lot of the time...it doesn't feel good to be "winging it" with something as important as your first born. I try my hardest, but I'm always on the look out for ways to improve.

Today was a rare moment when I felt like a freaking Super Mom. The most ironic part about the moment was that I wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. We were driving to the grocery store, and I was singing myself hoarse with "If You're Happy and You Know It" while Little Bug was laughing hysterically behind me. I was on my way to buy, amongst other things, a store bought chicken pot pie to feed Little Bug for dinner because, as always, I didn't feel like cooking...not exactly the stereotypical Home Cooking with a Lace Apron Mother. I was plotting ways to occupy Little Bug this evening so I could spend time stalking a blog of my friend who just brought her son home from Korea...Educator Mom of the Year right here! It was raining, and I didn't bother with an umbrella or jacket for the quick dash into the store...Uber Organized Mom, for sure.

Despite all this, running into the store with my 30 lb, laughing baby cuddling into me and sticking his chubby finger into my mouth to get me to keep singing to him, I had this overwhelming thought that

I am a freaking awesome mom.

I work all day and continue to cultivate adult relationships, come home and essentially parent my son on my own for the next few hours; work on his therapy, feed him, love him, clean him, play with him....and I like it and I'm pretty decent at it. Little Bug is a happy, well adjusted child making huge strides.

By the time I hit the check out line with my cart full of things I probably didn't need, my son whining because he wasn't getting a balloon (seriously, how many balloons does a grocery store need!?!), and the movie I wanted to rent not in the Red Box, I wasn't feeling cape-worthy anymore. The moment had past, probably as it should.


But perhaps when Little Bug is older I can start telling him some bed time stories about the dynamic duo of Everyday Mama and Little Bug.

Anxiety

I've always struggled with anxiety. I guess I always just thought I was "stressed" until I went into my doctor many years ago for a "pre-conception" visit armed with a notepad and piles of papers on every possible thing regarding getting pregnant and pregnancy. My doctor patiently answered all my questions (Exactly what foods should Appa avoid to increase his sperm count? How high can my body temp be during a workout without impacting a pregnancy?) and then referred me immediately to a stress class.

The class was a silly little stress management class that people probably take for work goals or something like that. It taught me some valuable list making tools (which really, I'm not sure that doesn't just further enable highly anal people), but it didn't teach me anything about stress...and certainly didn't give my particular brand of "crazy" a name.

Then I got in a car accident. A bad one. I was the passenger, and it is honestly a wonder that everyone involved walked away (well, I was driven away in an ambulance, but you know what I mean). My "stress" became debilitating in the car or even when we were getting ready to get in the car. Like....debilitating. It started spilling over into other parts of my life. So to therapy I went. I tried a couple before hitting on EMDR, which helped so much. It was there that my therapist straight up told me I had an anxiety disorder...to which I immediately went, duh. But she explained it to me.

Stress is getting frazzled when you are trying to clean your house for guests or feeling like you want to pull your hair out when trying to meet a deadline for work. It's feeling tired, grumpy, on edge, or worried.

Anxiety is that pit in your stomach on a beautiful summer morning with absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. It's waking up in the middle of the night and tossing and turning while worrying a plane in going to crash on your house. It's spending hours planning escape routes for your family in case of an emergency, only to conclude that your child will probably die anyway.....and if a plane hits your house, well, you're pretty much a goner.

Anxiety is a lifestyle.

I enrolled in a 15 week intensive Anxiety and Depression Management course that met weekly and had tapes and videos. It was life-changing. The 15 people in my group ranged from extremely agoraphobic and depressed to higher functioning individuals like myself. I was the youngest in the class, and I learned so much from each one of them. I also learned how to identify anxiety and modify behaviors that heighten it. I'm still an anxious person, yes, but I can manage it much better now.

At our final meeting, I shared the news that we had just turned in our adoption application. I credit that course for helping me get to a frame of mind where I could let go of my infertility and embrace happiness.

So anyway, fast forward another couple years of decent anxiety management (and, umm, a healthy court settlement regarding that accident that helped finance our adoption, ironically), and I have found myself slipping backward. It often happens with people who have anxiety disorders and learn to manage. Sometimes you just need a refresher course.

Little Bug is my trigger. Suddenly everything is heightened again for me. Driving in the car: I terrified we are going to get in a car accident and he will get hurt. Quiet night at home: maybe he has stopped breathing. No big strides in motor skills this week: Perhaps he will never walk. New food: He might be allergic and die.

Seriously, RID-ICU-LOUS stuff, and all classic anxiety.

I can usually tell myself somewhere in my head that I am being ridiculous, but that does little to ease my racing heart and mind. It was one thing when that plane was just going to pulverize Appa and I, but Little Bug.....no way!

I've been feeling very not-myself these last few weeks. This gloriously beautiful summer morning I walked into work facing a normal and low key work day feeling like my heart was going to explode out of my chest and that I simply COULD.NOT.DO.IT. It? Yeah, I don't know what "it" even is.

So, it's time for a refresher. I'm getting this off my chest to remind myself that it's all in my head and doesn't need to be there, and I am starting up my tapes again. (Thank you iPod.)

I read somewhere that parents can teach their children to be anxious, so I want to make sure I don't pass that on the Little Bug.

Because, you know, I'm anxious about that kind of stuff.

Side note: Talk about moment of panic. I wrote this post and published it, only to realize that I published it on our family blog....not the place I wanted it to go. Deep breaths, deep breaths, push delete, deep breaths.

Diaper Dinner

Tonight we went our to dinner with some friends. Little Bug was his typical usual angel self....just with a little more flirting with our new friends. Little Bug loves his attention....yes, he does!

Apparently Little Bug wanted my attention though and decided that since all his various forms of peek-a-boo weren't working, he would take the tried and tested route to get my undivided attention.

You know the one, the stinky one.

So, like any good mother and polite diner, I scooped my son up and headed to the bathroom, cooed encouraging words at him as I placed him on those too-small and cold changing stations, and pulled his pants down to change his diaper. Routine operation.

Until the mounds of poop spilling out of his diaper and down his legs and all over his pants became apparent.

Oh Gross.

It took me a minute to decide what to do. I've been blessed with very few Little Bug blow-outs, and all have been in the comfort of my own home, my own wardrobe, my own clean floors, etc. What was I to do in a public bathroom with no extra clothes (I had used the other pair earlier in the afternoon...I DO travel with a spare pair of clothes)? Without going into too many details, the poop was on multiple body parts and items of clothing for both Little Bug and Everyday Mama.

Little Bug ended up crawling around in only his shirt and diaper on the bathroom floor while I tried to clean us both up and clean his pants off enough to get us through the next few minutes.

Oh Gross.

On the way home, I casually asked Appa if most men's rooms have the changing tables. He said they did.

Then I told him the next 5 public diapers are all his.

UP!

Little Bug is a bit delayed in his speech. His jaw muscles continue to grow stronger and that helps tremendously with his speech. We've been encouraged and amused to see him mimic more and more and even latch on to words that he uses on his own. Little Bug doesn't aim for the easy words, instead he prefers to use words like "a-nan-a" for banana (3 syllables! My kid is freaking amazing!), "iet" for light, "ahhh-ta" for water, and "aemm" for arm, etc. He's also got words for "ocean, balloon, sand, raggie, bath, dog, Classical Baby, drink, all done, what's that, uhh ohh, home." He calls Appa "a-dada" and he calls me "omma." (Korean for mama.)

In pure mama form, the majority of these words are not super clear, but I am finding it increasingly easier to discern the subtle inflection between "uah-dah," which is balloon, and "wah-dah," which is "what's that?" and all those other little inflections that change the word he is trying to say. His hand signs for "more" and "all done" look identical to most people, but I know that "more" is a softer gesture and "all done" is very forceful. It's like part of an intimate parent/child language to know these nuances.

Little Bug has come out in the last week with two words in what we call his "big kid voice." It's not a baby babble, but a clear, deliberate word that sounds like a 3 year old. It's neat to hear him say these words and realize that yes, he is getting to be a big kid, not a baby.

A couple days ago as I was getting him out of his car seat (he usually chants "oooomm" for home when we are getting him out of the car) he looked at me and very clearly said "Ma-MA." It's hard to explain why this floored me, other than that Little Bug always has called me "Omma," and we were okay with him always doing that. However, I refer to myself as "mama" when we sing or play. To hear him say mama so clearly was reaffirmation that he is learning and listening and making connections.....and duh, it melted my heart.

The second word he is clearly saying is "up." He never really has bothered to say it, opting instead for the universal sign of waving his hands wildly in the air and occasionally headbutting our knees to get our attention. Two days ago he just started saying it clearly. Sometimes we still have to prompt him for it, but it's so cute to her his little voice.

This is a bit of a ramble with no real point, other than these two little words have made my heart soar lately and given me a glimpse of the Little Bug we will know in a few years from now. I'm so stinking lucky to have all those years with this amazing little boy ahead of me.

Mood for the day? UP!

Two Steps Back, Five Steps Forward

Last night I needed a break. Little Bug was in a particularly challenging mood (not the first time this week), and honestly, I just needed a little break. When Appa got home from work he took Little Bug downstairs, and they happily played together for half an hour. It gave me time to recharge.

I feel guilty when I hand Little Bug off and walk away, but I think everyone needs some mental health time. Children are so much work and sometimes even the best of us (of which I am not) need to take a couple steps back and regroup sometimes. It makes us better parents when we can be with our children with the right frame of mind.

So even though I took a couple steps back last night, I was certainly ready to take five more steps forward, cuddle my little son in my arms, and rock him to sleep.

One of the things I like about motherhood is how challenging and draining it can be (well, I don't love that part always), but I love how no matter how bad it gets, the smallest things make it all worth it.

Little Bug snores. How cute is that?!?

It's One of Those Weeks

Most of the time, I think I handle Little Bug's special needs pretty well, emotionally speaking. Before he was my son, I have to admit that I alternated between thinking that I would totally be able to handle special needs and thinking that there was no way I would be the right mama for the job. Turns out a higher power knew better than I did.

We didn't request Little Bug's special needs, nor did we even know about it until very, very late in the adoption process, at a point where it was nearly impossible to "back out." Yes, we were given the chance, but there was really never a choice in our hearts.

The fall out is that this research-obsessed oriented Everyday Mama had little to no time to prepare to parent a child with hypotonia and a lot of unknowns. Sure, I've had the last 11 months to research, but it's been hard. Not just finding the time, but I sometimes find it emotionally draining to research when Little Bug is slumbering peacefully. I love him so much that sometimes my mind just cannot process the possibilities for his life, so I don't.

This week I had a few of things happen that have forced me out of my protective cloud and back into the research chase. First was our vacation with family, specifically Little Bug's younger cousin who was so far ahead in every way that it made both Appa and I acknowledge that Little Bug still was so far behind. We tend to be really good about celebrating Little Bug for who he is without comparing him to other kids, but last week it was inevitable. Even worse is when you can see other people doing it.

Second, his daycare teacher, in a very positive conversation, mentioned that she thought he would be walking soon. She qualified it by saying "he might never walk normally like other children, but I think he will walk." I recognize that she doesn't actually have any medical basis for that and Little Bug's therapists have never told us that he will have trouble walking once he masters that skill, but it still burned to think of Little Bug always having trouble walking.

Third, I recently connected with another mother who has two sons who have hypotonia. Her sons are a bit older, so it will be helpful for me to have the perspective of another mother who has already walked in the shoes (and leg braces) that we will walk. She was honest with me, which is what I need and want, but it wasn't always easy to hear.

The truth of the matter is that something is causing Little Bug's hypotonia. We might never know what that is, but it is there and that unknown terrifies me today. I recently heard a mother of a special needs child say that she would not wish away her child's special need even if she could because it has made her family who they are.

I disagree. I would wish away Little Bug's hypotonia in a heartbeat. I already see where he is frustrated and sad that he can't keep up and it breaks my heart. My motivation to figure out as much as a I can for him, to stay positive even when it's not personally easy for me, is that I know that no matter what I feel, Little Bug is the one who feels it 10 times over.

If he can do it, so can I; because if his mama can do it, he can do it.

But in my heart, it's been one of those weeks.

Pity Me; I'm at the Beach

I'm on vacation. It's the kind of vacation people dream about; a beach front, floor to ceiling window house with family, good food and wine, and the sound of the ocean waves with you 24/7. I get to go on these cool vacations a lot, so I'm a little used to vacationing a la awesome.

So naturally, I am sitting here staring out at the beautiful ocean this evening crying and feeling pathetically sorry for myself.

Little Bug caught "something" a couple days ago and has been battling a high fever for the past 36 hours. He has been out of sorts and uncomfortable. I missed an all-day deep sea fishing trip yesterday to stay home with him, and today, after spending a few hours in the local clinic, I am spending the evening here alone while the rest of the family took a fantastic drive down the coast to go crabbing and enjoy some clam chowder. I've been looking forward to these activities for a long time. I'm not the kind of person who likes to spend their vacations sitting around and vegging. I like to do something, explore, experience, enjoy.

Appa half-heartedly offered to stay back this afternoon, but as much as it bums me out to miss these activities, it would really, really bum him out. So I am taking one for the team....one or two or three.

But yeah, once the cars drove off, I started to cry. How unfair it is that I don't get to go do all the things other people do, how I don't get to enjoy my vacation the way I wanted to, etc.

Then I told myself to shut the hell up.

How many people would kill to get on a plane and go on a vacation, let alone to the paradise I'm typing from? How many people would love to be able to spend the evenings in the bosom of their (functional and loving) extended family for a whole week? How many people are desperate to be able to spend hours and days nursing their babies when they don't feel well?

As I sat watching the sun reflect off the waves and listening to my baby take comfort in my presence, I remembered that I am so lucky. Not just about the vacation, but lucky that I am a mother. Being a mom is full of sacrifices, and some of those might just be crabbing and deep sea fishing and a carefree vacation, but would I sacrifice being a mother for those activities?

Not a chance.

So, am I bummed, yes. Do I regret my "plight?"

No. Besides, the view really is to die for.