The Sassy Uterus

Another day at our zoo...10/18/08

It is a funny thing:  From the very beginning of becoming a mother, right when you know you are pregnant, you begin to try to be healthier, sleep well, possibly sing lullabies, or pat your stomach to a special rhythm--all so you can have a healthy baby.  You choose the best food for this baby and make sure he (or she) goes to his (or her) well-checks.  You love the child more than you knew your heart could hold (or become amazed at how you can love each of your children with all your heart...perhaps you grow another heart).  You pour all this love and energy into the healthy well-being of your child.  Your hope is that he or she grows up into a loving, happy person.

And then your nine-year-old son stomps past your six-month-old son, (who is busy playing with his toes in his swing) saying, "Whoever took my paper is going to die-die-die!"  And your six-month-old looks up with a gleeful smile and his eyes a-twinkling and says, "Die, die, die."  Ugh.  The nine-year-old is now banished from saying negative things around his baby brother who is a sponge-sponge-sponge.

This was in the afternoon.  In the morning however, Piper (our family pet/cat/mascot) had left me a gift in the hallway.  A gift I narrowly escaped missing when I stumbled up the hallway in my full-morning-mental-fog (pre-coffee).  It seems that Piper, who usually slides in the house right before the nightly lock-up decided to stay out all night.  I'm not sure what housecats do at night when they get a chance to stay out, but it would seem as if Piper had a good time.  Yes, good 'ol Piper must have tied one on.  It would also seem that he had a bit of the munchies when he slid in the door as Phil left for work because he ate his kitty food.  And then he ralphed (as I guess all hungover cats are prone to doing) in the hallway.  It surely was kitty food, as some of it was still...hmmm....err...well-formed.  He's been sleeping it off all day and is curled up in the left-corner of the couch (Hmmm....what's that?  That's Mom's favorite place on the couch?  Oh well.  Piper sleepy) as I type now.

Mr. Owl, how many sicks (nesses) does it take to get to the center of a lollipop?

1, 2, THREE!

Alright.  So as the heading states, I've been ill.  Two weeks ago it was a horrific cold/flu virus that produced entirely too many bodily byproducts out of my nose.  That lasted...oh...about ten days.

Right on the heels of that I came down with a plugged milk duct.  Ouch.  No good.  And if you don't get that taken care of, it can mess up your ability to breastfeed permanently.  Babiest Boy doesn't get enough with the two he has, can you imagine if production won't down to one?

And this week, a bladder infection.   Listen folks, I'm tired.  And I keep pushing myself like I'm strong and stuff.  And really, I'm just really, really tired.  I took yesterday off of work because the antibiotic hadn't yet improved the infection.  I spent a full day telling myself *not* to feel guilty about taking time out for my body to rest. 

My question is:  Uh, when did I turn into such a martyr?  Seriously, I think it's time I get over myself and stop trying to be so damned strong.  I wasn't perfect during this time, far from it.  The kids were still (sigh) late for school (damn missing sock bin), dinner was still late, and the living room was still messy with school papers and such.  I'm definitely not Supermom, and will probably never become Supermom.  But don't cry for me Internet World, I'm okay with being Good-Enough-Mom.   Good enough is a beautiful thing.  It implies moderation, which is to only experience the goodness without going too far to either extreme.

So I'm not going to play the "The one who pushes through her pain and fatigue" anymore.  I'm not going to be push myself to be so damn strong.  Because, as it turns out, it just makes me weak.

Attention Scion XB owners!

Photo credit: www.desktopcar.net

You do get that, for all intents and purposes, you are virtually driving a cubicle?  Just checking. 

Something I've always wanted to say to the Scion XB drivers I see during my commute time.

Certain polite phrases that translate to rudeness

Today's commute home found me pondering the use of certain polite phrases that, when used, come out sounding really rude.  We've all heard the notion that a Southern woman can say any insulting thing she wants and if she ends it with, "Bless her (his, or your) heart" it somehow makes it more digestable. 

Now, I'm a bit on the sensitive side but I've always found that my back goes up at the abbreviation "FYI."  All I can hear when I read that is, "For your information...!"  and it doesn't seem good.  That was a pop phrase of the 80s that one could use right before they handed someone their ass, so I think that is where it stems from for me. 

Alternately, you can write a polite letter or note to someone, but as soon as you underline key words such as "you" they are taken completely different.  Unless it is, "You are the most beautiful person," which is a nice thing.  But if it is, "I need YOU to take the garbage out," then it's not so polite.

Another "nice" phrase that will tell you to beware is, "With all due respect" which I recently encountered.  That one is a surefire way to know that you are about to be sternly corrected or set straight, even if the person is misinformed.

When I first started thinking about all this, I thought perhaps I was alone and way too tuned in to the English language but then I did a Google search for related things and found this little tidbit by Ben Hofmeister at Reflector Online, Tips for Masking Rude Comments.  Which is something I think  American culture is lacking--more ways to be passive aggressive.  At any rate, he describes his past history with the use of, "With all due respect" and I think I was quite right in assuming the critical tone to it.

"Calm down" is yet another example, because you could say, "Hey, that is a nice teacup" and if the respondent says, "Calm down" it is anything but nurturing.  My niece said this to me recently (she's a teenager) and it was decidely not in a nurturing manner.

Another one is, "Wow, you look nice today."  Now, if you have spiffied yourself up, this is an understandable comment.  If you look like you do every other day, it kinda makes you think, "So I look like crap every other day?" 

Or, "Are you feeling well?"  I was until you said that.

Another good one is, "I'm worried about you..."  And what follows is anything but concern.

So I'll end my post with all due respect, and go calm down now.

Recipe for Spaz

Tonight was the night of my MRI appointment and either I've evolved into a cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) success story or (more likely) I've just been too busy, but I was pretty mellow about the whole thing until this morning.  Ten years ago I would have worried myself sick about it with all the possible "What ifs." 

When I first scheduled the appointment I asked the doctor if I could have an open MRI.  He said, "Are you claustrophobic?"  No, I'm just a spaz.  What I really said was, "Yes, a little."

It wasn't until this morning that I started to feel some panic about it.  So, being the good daughter of modern psychology that I am, I used one of the first steps in CBT to reduce my anxiety: Check my worry against reality.  I did a Google search to see exactly what this open MRI apparatus would be like.  I found this picture:

 

Photo credit: West Hills Open MRI

So this was an open MRI.  Not too bad, huh?  Co-workers were around me when I pulled this up and one said, "Think of it as a doughnut!"  Right on, I can dig that: Sliding through a doughnut.

What I failed to realize is that there isn't just ONE type of open MRI machine.  And more to the point, I didn't look to see what my local Kaiser Radiology would have.

The machine I was to spend a good 40 MINUTES in was not like the above picture.  The above picture actually looks like an open MRI.  What I was inserted in tonight could only be described as a "slightly ajar MRI."

If there was a recipe for spaz for me it would include the following ingredients:

1-Trapped, unable to move

2-Unable to leave

3-Loud noises that come and go without warning.  Really loud.  Like, the Tech actually gives you ear plugs.

Combine above things and mix for 40-minutes.  When finished you will have a finely spazzed out Jennifer.

I am trying to find an accurate picture of the Open MRI machine on the web to no avail.  The machine I was slid into was no more tall inside than that of a regular MRI.  Eventhough it was my low back that was the MRI target site, my full top of my body was in this circular thing.  I kept my head to right so I could see a *part* of the room and I found, what with all that time I spent there, that if I cranked my eyes up towards the right as if I was trying to look through my eyebrows I could catch a slight glimpse of the white wall behind me.  Other than that, I was enclosed.  Oh, wait, I was sort of strapped down too, with some weird clackety thing that went over my chest. 

At one point, staring at the corner of my left eye at the top of this thing I thought, "So this is what it's like to be swallowed by a whale.  A loud, percussionist whale."

And the vibration...wow.  You know how after you mow the lawn your hands are still feeling vibrate-y?  Try having that on your whole body.  It took me thirty minutes to stop feeling shook up inside.

I didn't spaz out, as it turned out.  But I did learn that the soles of my feet sweat when I am nervous.  Although...I could have gone my whole life and not known that about myself.

Expectations

I sometimes get my best thoughts at two times:

1-When trying to fall asleep

and

2-When I'm commuting

Both are poor times to have a revelation.  But yet it happens and I've often thought of having post-it notes stuck to both my dashboard and my headboard. But I forget to do that too.

I've been knocking myself upside the head for...oh, about six months now because I can't complete, finish, remember a lot of things.  But I really think I've reached my tipping point in terms of children.  There's five of them.  Three of the five are in school.  Of those three, they go to two different schools (elementary and junior high).  I work part-time, but that job is a 25-mile commute one way (which is fine because it gives me time for revelations).  

I also go to school part-time.  It's online, but that doesn't mean that I still don't have papers to write or chapters of stereo instructions text books to read. 

I used to say I couldn't stand being bored.  I would bring a book with me everywhere I went in an effort to keep from going insane by neuron inertia.  I'm so busy now I don't have time to be bored!

And for a long time I thought, "Push through it."  "It" being the pain, the fatigue, and the lack of motivation to get something done. 

But five is definitely the tipping point and I have to say, the focus is now on working smarter, not harder.  Simplifying what needs to be done.  No more pushing.  Somethings will have to idle. 

But this might lead to letting people down and this is the revelation I had today during my commute to work:

It is almost physically painful for me to feel like I've let someone down.  I hate it, and will avoid it at all costs. 

But here's the rub:  I didn't make those expectations of me.  I'm not even responsible for these expectations.  I didn't sign a contract that said, "I will always be on time.  I will always be centered.  I will always know the answer to your question within three seconds of you asking me." 

Expectations, as far as I can tell are based upon past experience.  I expect this because I experienced that.  So it is a human way of gauging what might be coming down the pike.  But the problem with that is we are human.  Human natures varies.  Widely.  Within the same person.  During any given moment in any given day due to outlook, personality, and experiences.

This all reminds me of a horrible time in Oregon where things were just falling apart and I had to take the medicinal approach to calm the 'eff down.  I'm not sure what the clinical definition of a nervous breakdown is, but I do know the Jennifer defintion of a nervous breakdown, and I was having it. 

At any rate, I kept repeating, "I've let people down.  I've let my co-workers down, I've let my parents down, I'm letting my kids down.  I've let you down." (This was said to Phil).  And I had this epiphany.  Alright, maybe it wasn't really an epiphany but rather just a little thought, but it seemed huge in the mental state I was in.  I looked up at Phil and said, "Holy crap, I have far too many people to keep up!"

When it comes right down to it, the people I have to keep up are hubby and my kiddos.  I'd like to not let my parents down as well.  I trust these people.  They have my best interests at heart, and I their's. 

Anyone else, other than those 9 people are just a bonus.  If I manage to somehow keep the other people in my life up and they are happy, cool beans, the tide is in my favor.  If not, it's not really my problem.  Complements are nice.  Criticism sucks.  I think I won't let either one sway me one way or the other too far from my center.

Which leads me to another point:  When you let someone's complements lift you up and you can't truly trust that person with your best interests, you are opening yourself up to let their criticism hurt you as well.  It is just the way it is.  In this regard...if it ain't your loved ones (those people in your life that truly love and accept you), don't take it to heart.

I think what I'm really trying to say is that I can understand why someone might have expectations of someone else, it's normal human behavior.  However, we are not responsible for those expectations.  They are assumptions.  They are a gamble.  You may win big or lose hard.  It's the stock market.  And as well know, that can drop like a rock one day and then start to levitate the next.