Just because he is sexy and I love him.
20 Aug 2012 Leave a comment
The other day, Jesse and I were driving home and I saw this:
That’s right- a lady with her kid on a leash.
Just yesterday in church, a family that I really like walked in the same way. I obviously couldn’t snap an incognito photo of my friends son with a monkey backpack/kid-leash on, but my mind was taking all the judgment-y pics it needed.
I know, I shouldn’t judge. Sometimes I think my children are animals that need to be restrained, too. But a leash. Really?
I have a friend who warned me ahead of time that she would be putting her future kids on leashes, and I haven’t told her, but I will be setting her poor children free often. Sorry, Lauren.
Am I wrong? Is there some untold joy/benefit in parents leashing their kids that I don’t know about. Besides getting random strangers to take pics and write blogs about you?
11 Aug 2012 7 Comments
Most people my age and older came from a household where spanking was allowed. For me, the two-and-a-half years in foster care and the subsequent butt-kickings from boyfriends have me completely “pro-peace.” I am almost incapable of spanking. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve tried it out on Jermahl. When I was raising him with his pothead father (who Jermahl was named for so we’ll call him ‘Druggie’ from now on), Druggie said you’re supposed to beat your kids. How else are you going to teach them? Mind you I was 15 when I got pregnant, and I thought, perhaps, there might be a difference from what I experienced and what he was talking about.
So if Jermahl was acting bad, I would pop him on the hand or the butt. Just once. But Druggie would slap him in the face or kick him. And God forbid I protested, I would get the same in kind. Well, one day, I was out with a friend going to the market. Jermahl just broke out into a tantrum in front the Food Lion market it was sooo embarrassing and I was getting mad. I kept telling him to be quiet and he wouldn’t so I popped his mouth. But he fell over and he bust his lip. I bawled in front of that store telling my baby how sorry I was. I probably looked like a crazy person, hugging him and crying. I will never know if my anger made that ‘pop’ a ‘slap’ or if he just didn’t have the balance (my friend tried to convince me it was the latter), but I refused to spank or pop him for a long time after that.
When he was about 3, Chris (sperm donor #2) and I moved to Houston together. Jermahl was out of control because he had been living with Druggie who doesn’t believe in teaching, just beating. So we tried to just show him love whenever he was acting out. Eventually, it got to be too much, and we decided maybe spanking should be part of his discipline. So we sat him down one evening and told him what would constitute a spanking (screaming, hitting, not listening for the umpteenth time, things like that). Well, Chris’ father used a belt, so he thought we should, too, and I figured, as long we didn’t hit him hard, or directly on his skin, just the idea of it would be effective. The belt terrified Jermahl, though, and it wasn’t teaching him anything but to be afraid of his parents. So we used it about three times and retired it.
I had to come up with more creative ways to punish him. We made him stand in the corner, took away his favorite toys until he earned them back. It all depended on the offense. We found something appropriate for his age that he would understand. But I never spanked him again. Recently, he’s been having trouble with lying. So every time he lies, we have him hold a phonebook up for a few minutes. Depending on the severity of the lie, and how many people he could have potentially hurt, determined the size of the phonebook he was holding up. And I explained to him the reason he was holding the phonebook up instead of being spanked, is that spanking doesn’t teach you anything, it just hurts; but, even though holding up the phonebook hurts, it also builds up his muscles and makes him stronger.
At his house, his dad just gets angry and beats him, punches him, hits with random objects (don’t wory, I’m working on getting him out of there). At school, the kids tell Jermahl he’s a weakling because he doesn’t like to fight. So I told Jermahl, and I truly apologize to anyone this offends, anyone who needs to hit or use violence to get their point across is stunted and stupid, and no one taught them how to use their brain to express themselves, so instead they have to use a fist or a belt or mean words.
Jermahl, who is now seven, remembers the 3 times I used a belt when he was three years old.
I choose to discipline with love and until recently, I’ve been under the firm impression that hitting your child is not love. However, a lot of my close friends use spanking as a punishment for their kids.
One of my girlfriends said, “The corner is all fine and dandy, but my kids will stand in the corner and make fun of me because the punishment means nothing to them. Spanking actually resonates with them and they realize they’ve actually done something wrong.”
Another friend said, “You don’t just start off beating the crap out of them. For my son, when he started crawling around 7 months, that’s when I took 2 fingers to pop his hands when he touched something he shouldn’t. Now that’s he’s almost 2, I pop his butt a few times when he does something he actually knows he shouldn’t. When he’s a teenager, I’m going to punch him the chest. I’m not going to actually punch him the chest, but the sight of my fist coming towards him is going to hurt way more than when I actually touch him.”
My sister-in-law says that with her 1.5 year-old nephew (whom she’s raising for now), when he touches something he shouldn’t, she says no, pops his hand and moves him. And she does this over and over until he gets the idea.
So what do you do? How do you discipline your children? When do you start? If you spank, how do you know you’re spanking them to discipline and not just because you are angry? Obviously, a punishment needs to happen immediately for a child, but if you are angry at the same time, is the discipline as effective? And how do you show your child you still love them after a punishment?
I’d REALLY like to hear everyone’s opinions on this this. What is the difference TO YOU between spanking and beating? And should it happen at all?
04 Aug 2012 3 Comments
Last Saturday, I announced I started my journey to quitting smoking. It has been interesting to say the least. I also did not stop smoking. I would make it to the end of the day, and then I would have a cigarette because…it was just too much. Jesse would get off work and come home all hot and irritated. I’d be irritated because I just spent the day with a crazy baby who likes to seize on people, so I’m watching him like a hawk. I’m stressed the heck out don’t judge me for smoking at the end of the day!! Sorry. It’s the lack of nicotine. It makes me cranky. Well, yesterday, I just knew that I was not completing my goal and it had almost been a week and I was still smoking. What to do…What to do…I know. I went to the store to pick up some things for Jess, but I lost the car keys, had a panic attack in the PX (I decided to forgo my Klonopin like a genius), and almost wound up walking home in 100 degree weather. Luckily, I found the keys. New plan: Occupy myself with the neighbors. My friend Emily has 3 adorable kids and she rocks so I figure I’d hang out with her all day. Well, her kids came over and played Kinect.
She is a professional hair dresser, so she gave me a rocking new ‘do.
Unfortunately, Jesse didn’t like the new ‘do. So, if anyone would like to donate some baseball caps…let me know.
Anyway, he and I got in a huge argument, and some precious things were destroyed, my simmering self-esteem just one of the casualties. And I skipped the Klonopin that day, so there was no hippie to calm me down. Somehow, though, I managed to not smoke. Unfortunately, that sent me into some serious crying fits. Crying is not something I do. It was Thursday. It was also something I do Fridays, too.
Well, Friday, I took my meds. I managed to go the whole day without smoking, but I got really tired of crying, so I smoked a half a cigarette, stopped crying, and went about my day. Seriously, though, who knew quitting turned you into a cry baby. Today, I have a horrible migraine but Jesse has the day off, so I’ll be occupying myself with family time, if I can get him to wake up.
Happy Saturday, everyone!!!
21 Jul 2012 10 Comments
I don’t actually drink scotch. I still don’t like my babies stiff. Which is why I am writing this blog. The last few days have been completely mortifying. Wednesday, Judas and I were watching YouTube videos together. He was being my usual super-sweet baby.
Judas stopped breathing. He may or may not have just held his breath on purpose, but he began turning blue. I have been taking care of babies since I was 4 and I have NEVER seen a baby turn blue. Ever. Unless, you know, they were dying. Apparently, though, there is a new brand of baby terrorist, and they go around holding their breath and scaring the crap out of their parents. Okay…That’s fine. After I took Judas to the E.R., and they put him on an oximeter, gave him some oxygen, and did a chest x-ray, I would have been able to accept that as an answer. Reluctantly, but I would have been able to.
Unfortunately, the very next day. Judas had a seizure. He started coughing, foaming at the mouth, and his eyes were very unfocused. Then he stopped breathing and got extremely stiff. I could feel my own body get weak, because I was terrified. I thought, oh, God. My baby is dying in my arms. DO SOMETHING, MIRANDA! So, I called 911. I started patting him on the back. I was afraid to do chest compressions because CPR on a baby lives on the very thin line of helpful and harmful. The dispatcher wasn’t even a dispatcher for my post, so she had to transfer me and I had to repeat my address to the new dispatcher three times. It took 6 minutes from the time I called to the time the rescuers got to my home. by then I had done 4 rescue breaths and got Jude breathing within 1 or 2 minutes.
My poor baby was so tired and lethargic. But he was breathing. I had to tell countless people over and over what happened. We went to the Weeds Army Clinic. They drew blood, ran an I.V., did a CT scan, even gave him a sterile urinalysis. I felt like a horrible person when they did that. Watching your baby boy get a catheter is not a pleasant experience for you or him. His dad and I just kept looking at each other the whole day, procedure after procedure, like…what next? Eventually, the doctor said they didn’t have the equipment to run further tests, so we were transferred to Loma Linda Children’s Hospital (120 miles away from home).
Another EKG and 4 hours later, we were ‘admitted’ to the Pediatric ward. They put us in a room with 2 other families. I guess they were saving money that way…There were more tests. They took his temperature so many times, I lost count. They took even more blood. They flushed his IV every 8 hours until finally they gave him fluids. They did another EKG and an EEG. He was miserable and probably feeling violated and scared. Their stupid cribs looked like baby jails.
Finally around 5pm on Friday, they told us they his baseline was so normal and healthy, they couldn’t find anything wrong with him and didn’t want to be more invasive unless absolutely necessary and discharged us. As we took him out of his crib and put him in his car-seat. He was SO happy all of a sudden. It’s like he knew we were leaving that place. 3 hours later, we were happy to be home, albeit a little miffed that they didn’t find the cause of the seizure. We follow up with the doctor next week. I just hope he stays healthy.
16 Jun 2012 3 Comments
So this past Mother’s Day, I woke up to kisses from my sweet husband, breakfast in bed, lilies on the nightstand and a spa day awaiting me, child-free. I was so happy that I—Oh, wait. No.
No, that’s what I wished had happened. Instead, I had a grumpy husband, who ignored me for his video game most of the day and…was less than verbally polite when he actually did acknowledge my presence. He went and spent around $300 dollars on himself and his brother, and I got a card…the next day. Mandi and our friend Jessica begged him to just tell me ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ and I wouldn’t be so mad, but he refused to do that. As a matter of fact, he didn’t say it until the next afternoon in Burger King. He told me that since the day before went so poorly, we were going to have Mother’s Day that day. I honestly can’t remember what we did. I think we went and saw a movie…but I was so extremely heated that it didn’t really matter to me. Of course, to keep the peace, I acted like he was being so sweet and I was so grateful for his generosity. In reality, I spent Sunday to Thursday crying whenever I found time alone. I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal. It’s just a Hallmark holiday, right? Wrong. I have postpartum depression, and everyday I plaster a smile on because I want to seem like a cheerful wife and mother for the sake of my family. So, I deserved a day to be treated like I was worth something like every other mother the one day of the year our kids/husbands make an effort to show they care. I didn’t get that.
So for Father’s Day tomorrow, I’m going to get a hammer, smash his laptop, sell his tools while he’s asleep, and get some scissors and cut the crotch out of all his…Oh, wait. No. No…That’s just what I want to do.
I’m actually going to wake him up with kisses, make him breakfast in bed, get him something special, and try not to knock his face off because I love him…
15 Jun 2012 Leave a comment
Jude rolled off the bed today while I was a sleep. It’s not the first time he rolled off the bed, but I almost missed it. I was dreaming I was a construction site, so when I heard him tumble…I assumed it was part of my dream for a second. Then I heard his little baby cry and popped up to see my sweet little Judas sprawled out next to the bed, screaming his head off, his pacifier a little ways off. I felt this huge wave of guilt. How could I not make sure he was secure before I fell back asleep?
When Jude was first born, he mostly slept in bed with me. I know that a lot of people say that’s wrong, but even though I’m only 23, I raised A LOT of kids in my time. I know that having a baby and then immediately trying to make them independent is cruel and takes away the security they got from you. So, exhausting as it was, Jude and I spent a lot of time together in the beginning. When he got to be about…3 months, he decided he wanted to be independent on his own. He rolled over. It was cute and exciting. It happened so fast I pretty much missed it. The second time he rolled over, he was laying on the bed atop a sleeping Jesse while Jermahl played with him and I was taking a much needed shower. That shower lasted all of 3 minutes until Jermahl burst into the bathroom, frantically inquiring about a bottle as Jude screamed his head off. Apparently, Jermahl tried to pick his brother up and…it didn’t go so well. I haven’t been able to relax while showering since.
Anyway, Jude’s been rolling more and more now. He’s also been sleeping in his crib except for late night feedings. Last night, I had a nightmare about Jermahl. When I woke up (3:15am), it was time for Jude to eat. So he stayed in bed with me the rest of the night/morning (however you choose to look at it) because nursing makes me sleepy. Yeah, well, even though he was snug in my arm, he managed to turn over and make his way to the other end of the bed. And fell. Of course, I had to Google what to do when your baby falls (even though I already knew), and saw all of the scary signs to look for in print. So when he projectile vomited, something he does at least once a day because he’s trying to sit up, I lost my mind. I got dressed to go to the ER, sat on the bed and stared at his pupils for about 15minutes while I waited for Jess to get home. Then I realized I was an idiot and put on Barney for Jude so I could stare at myself in the mirror… That is why rolling over, crawling and walking weren’t on my list: those are terrifying things. He can roll to his death, crawl to electrical sockets, run through my house smearing my mascara on the walls (Jermahl has done this…twice). Suffice to say, Jude is okay and Jesse is home from P.T. so he’s playing with his daddy now. That was my morning, though. How was yours?