State of our Union?

Dear Mr. Obama,

I may have been a bit snarky with my Facebook status update while watching you deliver the State of the Union last night. I can't apologize for it, so let me explain it.

I live in New York. This is a place that costs more to live than pretty much anywhere else in the world. We deal with the aftermath of 9/11 everyday, we continue to bear the brunt of the Wall Street bailout but as a state must metaphorically max out our credit cards to keep up appearances. The world can't see New York drooping.

But we are. Right now we have a State government, which hasn't balanced a budget on time in a good decade, trying to balance a county budget that even the most tight-fisted, coupon cutting housewife couldn't do. We've put taxes back on things like clothing, increased taxes anywhere imaginable, even considered an Obesity Tax for beverages.

The answer to the State fiscal crisis is to cut spending in EDUCATION. You encouraged the country to become teachers, we have so many unemployed teachers, and more to come, that we could fill the country's job openings. But no one here can move to fill them because selling a home is next to impossible.

Right now there are plans to cut SPECIAL EDUCATION budgets - because it's not bad enough to cut the arts and sports and kindergarten to half day, while superintendents make 6 figures. It's horrific that "regular" kids get crammed 40 in a classroom in schools that are falling apart, but we take from our neediest children to fill the coffers of a few. The special education program gives children like my daughter a chance to thrive.

You discussed upgrading our trains and public transportation. We have a public transportation system that is not worth using. You see from where I am on Long Island, I have to drive 20 minutes to the train station, wait for a train, and be on said train for 90 minutes to get into Manhattan. I can drive in and pay for parking for less money and less time, even including the $10 toll and crazy parking prices. I also get charged by the public transportation system for my car, a Ford by the way, which I must use because I live 20 minutes from the train. Oh, not the most local train, that's a mile away, but if I took it I'd get stranded because the train doesn't run regularly out my way - a mere 60 miles outside of New York City.

I think it's wonderful you're paying attention to Colorado and Wisconsin. But right now, living in New York, I don't feel like my daughters are getting the same opportunities as other daughters in this country, much less the sons. So when I laugh at your proposals, and question the likelihood of there success, it's not that I don't like what you're saying, I just don't believe I'll see it in my lifetime - and I'm 35.

New Year's Resolutions

Every year my husband asks what my New Year's Resolution will be. Last year I swore I would get myself better. This year is to finish that promise. But also with that is a pledge to do more for myself.

I need to exercise more - duh. I need to eat better - double duh. Who doesn't.

Here's my list of why I wasn't successful. I had two babies in two years, my body was ripped apart. I had post partum depression and the side effects of antidepressants for 5 years. I had some pretty nasty stuff going on in my body last year that messed with everything.

Here's what I think I need to do - I need to get my ass moving and exercise. (It's kind of hard to get motivated when you are getting just a few hours of sleep a night and feel like crap in general.) But I also plan to see a nutritionist because for years in my memory, even when I was young and skinny, I had problems, I wouldn't say with eating cause I enjoy that, but with how my body reacts to food. And how my body reacts to hormones that changes how my body reacts to food. I am aware my overall system is broken, why or how to fix it is to be determined.

I need to do more things that I enjoy. Like writing my blog. I have been sorely neglecting my masterpiece. In my defense the state I was in most of last year, and things happening that would have made my blog a bitch fest vs an attempt to be insightful, which would have been totally unacceptable.

I need to get a life - aka find a babysitter and escape a lot more often.

I want to master my sewing machine, and finally start learning how to quilt.

It's going to be a long process, this I know. But for the first time in my life last year I kept my New Year's Resolution, and I plan to keep up that success this year and in years to come.

Post Surgery Wellness

So about a month after my full confession to you things started getting strange again for me. I was still taking the antidepressants that had literally held me together for 10 months, but I was starting to sleep again. OK, I was sleeping like Rip Van Winkle for a couple months. Life was feeling good again, I was catching up on all the things I had neglected over the year, and I was happy.

Then some very strange things started happening. I was slurring words, my walk was unsteady, things of that nature. It was mild at first, so I didn't think anything of it, again it was a rough year, this was nothing.

Then one day I was speaking to a friend on the phone and she asked if I was OK, I sounded like I was drunk. No, I wasn't feeling well, I felt like I was slurring, but thought it was just in my own head, which had been in slow motion for days. So I started paying attention. I took my meds as usual when I woke up and the sluggish feeling and slurring started again, that by noon it was obvious something was up. I had a good night's sleep, no other illness, and just took the antidepressants that morning. I called my friend who confirmed I sounded as bad as the day before. Then I called the doctor.

I NEVER call the doctor. I google things, I complain, I'll make an appointment, but NEVER call for immediate help. That's how bad things were going. Let me tell you I adore my doctor. Through the year she has not judged, she listens and supported my commentary and trials of natural products. She said to cut my meds in half, the nature of the drug would lead to withdrawal and I would see her Tuesday (we hit a weekend).

So the next day, Friday, I cut the pill in half and hoped for the best. Not good news, I was as bad as the day before on full strength. And the dose I was on was the minimum, so we're not talking a lot of a drug.

The next morning I conferred with my husband and despite the possibility of withdrawal problems, decided not to take the meds at all. We both figured worse case I took it a few hours late.

I went out with my step-mother-in-law, with the kids, giving her a heads up as to what was going on. By the end of the day, with two tired, super-cranky kids, I was doing fine.

Day 3 off the meds I saw the doctor. All was well, my blood pressure was the lowest it had been in years, everything else was normal. I got a flu shot.

In the next few weeks the irritability that came with the anxiety and depression got bad, I went to the vitamin shop and got some Kava Kava, took for a week and on and off since then, eliminating the need for xanex during the day.

So now I'm anti-depressant free for 3 months, fully functioning with an occasional case of PMS. But I am still left wondering what if I hadn't trusted myself and everything leading up to and including the surgery hadn't happened?

Trust Your Gut

I've been playing with writing this for months now, I didn't want to air my female issues like a blathering idiot with no good reason. Post-surgery I have my reason. Guys, you might want to skip this one.

It started last July, on and off weight gain with no explanation. Then December it actually got worse, I wasn't feeling well, my husband and I were on the verge of taking a pregnancy test. Very scary when one has had an IUD in for 2 1/2 years. We didn't need one, I lost a bunch of weight things were going okay.

Except I had this odd nagging feeling about taking the IUD out. And I kept gaining weight around my middle. I spoke with my primary care doctor about it who agreed it was strange, but also made a couple decrees about my diet. Which I am still following.

My gut instincts won out and I made the appointment to get the IUD removed. It's a 2-second procedure, no pain, no fuss.

And then the bleeding started, and the light-headedness, and the trip to the ER because I fainted. All through this I'm getting slack for taking out a "successful" form of birth control, I upset my system, etc, etc. But no one had an answer as to why I bled like a stuck pig for two weeks when with an IUD there is no lining to shed. My hormones were a mess, exhaustion, hot flashes, acne, you name it anywhere between adolecence and menopause, I got hit with it. Three sonograms and two hystosonograms later (my insurance company hates me right now) they found a polyp in my uterus.

And I kept wondering what would have happened if I hadn't trusted myself and made the decision I did.

Fast forward to this past Monday when I had surgery to remove the polyp. The doctor took some really nice pictures of my insides to make sure of what he was going in for and found the fibroid that had been tucked into my uterine wall successfully through two pregnancies was hanging off my uterus.

I am recovering now from a more invasive procedure than anticipated, still wondering what would have happened to me if I hadn't trusted my gut?

A conversation with Grandpa

The weather today is crummy, rainy and cold.

I'm trying to decide what to grow in my garden this year - I hope we get more sun so my tomatoes grow. I'm doing the usual lettuce, cukes, beans...I might try some spinach this year.

Carl's enjoying his new job. He's writing again, which makes him happy.

The girls are huge, I don't understand why they won't stop growing. Kindergarden in the fall for Charlotte. She's talking so much more, but she's still so shy. Catie never stops talking - yup, just like Mom.

I'm not promising [to behave], but I will try.

Happy birthday Grandpa. I love you and miss you.

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Today would have been my Grandpa's 87th birthday.

Baseball season has commenced, he lived his entire life without seeing the Cubs win a World Series, so maybe, just maybe, they'll pull it off this year. When I tell you I was born a Cubs fan, Grandpa started the legacy.

He had the most amazing garden every year. It was half the size of mine and grew 75% more. Grandpa donated the abundance to neighbors and the neighborhood community center.

That's how people knew him, he was the first one out there to help. He volunteered on election day. He had the biggest heart.

And for those of you who know my politics, you'll laugh that he was a conservative republican who watched FOX news religiously. So when you say to me, how can a liberal democrat think that? - now you know where I learned it.

What I miss the very most, what I could use right now, are his hugs. The biggest and gentlest bear hugs available, that surrounded you with love and protection.

A different kind of depression?

So I guess Post Partum Depression doesn't qualify anymore, since my youngest turns 3 in two months. But I knew that last year and it scared me. I started on antidepressants a couple months after Catie was born in 2007, as I started experiencing the same symptoms I had after having Charlotte. (I had PPD after both girls) I was proud of myself, I saw the problem before anyone else did and got help fast. In the past few years I've changed drugs, upped my dose, decreased my dose, went off the meds but I still wasn't myself.

And I'm not talking about being a cheerful, outgoing person. The external expectations, whether I smiled enough, etc, didn't matter much because I can fake a smile in a heartbeat. It is all in my head, the lack of desire to get out of bed, the way I pay attention, but not really, the yo-yo effect of dieting, at some point I simply figured these things were like the stretch marks I earned and the residual back pain that I have from carrying two babies in two years. I was trying to learn to accept me.

The problem with trying to just be okay with being me was the anxiety. The tension that would build until I would snap. I was good at walking away, but it didn't make it easier for me to deal with. Everything and nothing would set me off. Stupid things like not being able to put a cap on a bottle could set things off. It's not fun.

And of course the issues coming at me from the outside didn't help. Having a family and trying to fix yourself definitely do not go hand-in-hand. Being a stay-at-home mom, for me, doesn't offer much job satisfaction. Dealing with everyone else's problems 24/7 wears you down. There is rarely quiet time.

The biggest issue was being frustrated with my husband for not taking care of himself. Always cranky from being in pain from his spinal fusion it drove me insane that he refused to go to the doctor for a prescription. Months would go by and all he did was complain. But it seemed it was always my fault, my issues that caused the fights, my fault for snapping for no good reason. At least I was trying to get help, I was medicated and fighting hard. At some point you stop liking a person when you feel like you are being scrutinized. And it got to the point where I considered leaving him, more than once.

The next big one was Charlotte and handling her delays. The judgement from all around about how I was or wasn't handling things, the doubts I had, the questioning myself, feeling like I had failed her somehow never helped my mental state. Catie's reflux, the constant crying, throwing up and being on my own with her for 10-12 hours a day, on top of trying to handle a toddler who couldn't talk almost broke me.

I am very upfront about what is going on, you'll see in previous blog posts I've talked about many of these issues. And I hope it helps friends and family understand. I don't want to sound like I was left hanging out to dry all on my own - I have help and support, but you also need to be able to lean, my problem is I prefer to hide. I've gotten better, with my husband I can say I'm not feeling well today and more often than not, he understands what I mean, and ups his effort with the girls and around the house. Last month, in the midst of a major funk, he sent me a bouquet of flowers. My sister, my mom and friends call just to check in and sometimes just listening helps. Sometimes just talking about nothing when I can't escape things can make my day.

A couple months ago, after my latest dieting failure, I gave up trying to get down to a weight I thought would get me less lecturing and went for a physical - my first in many, many years. I hunted up a doctor from my provider list, one who claimed to specialize in women's issues. I met with her, and really, really liked her - she was a psychologist before becoming a DO. She suggested a new medication and asked me to look into it instead of just prescribing it. I had my blood work done and went back. My cholesterol is not good - not that it ever has been, thanks grandma! But what also came out of my blood work was that my thyroid function is diminishing. So I'm on cholesterol meds, and a thyroid vitamin supplement - because the doctor said my numbers aren't bad enough to warrant a medication that will mess with my system. But she also changed my antidepressant. It was a ten day switch over, and the difference was almost immediate. The insomnia is gone, so far the anxiety is too. All the little things that I had thought I would have to deal with forever are coming under control. I am writing today after months of writer's block.

So what's the official word? Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder(PMDD) and hypothyroidism.

As for my husband, well, he had surgery over the summer, the second on his back and is a totally new person. I am falling in love with him all over again and it's wonderful.

I'm not going to tell you a new medication is all it took, but it's making things easier for me. While there is still some internal fight every day, for the first time in over a year I'm looking forward to things, planning for life instead of just stumbling through it. And I'm smiling, because I want to, not because I'm expected to.

Potty Training Secrets Revealed

Not really. Sorry, I've got none. I totally suck at potty training. I have no patience to sit much more than 15 minutes in the bathroom. I get distracted and forget to ask if the girls have to go. Of course it doesn't help when you're faced with serious resistance.



Charlotte was a hard case, she was hit or miss when you got her on the potty. She has less of an ability to sit than I do, so there were no bribes to get her to stay put. I tried chocolate, gifts and finally a potty chart. When she finally did complete it she did get gifts, really nice ones from her grandmothers who spent as much time, if not more, sitting on the bathroom floor with her than I did. She actually stayed put for them, she wanted to make them happy. But there was never consistency.



I have my excuses - some really good ones. She didn't walk till she was 18 months, her sister was born when she was 20 months and I had a rough pregnancy. Then Catie had her reflux issues. Just a litany of things that made things harder.



When she was accepted into the special ed program they of course asked if she was trained. I had to say no. Charlotte was 3 at the time. It took them a good 5 months to keep her dry, which made me feel a little better about my failure. By Christmas she was in panties full time. She regressed a tad for overnight, then one day told me she was done with pull ups and that was that.



In light of my failure with Charlotte I swore Catie would be different. Then I met Catie. The obstinate little bugger wanted no part in potty training. The problem we had was that she was smart enough to know better. She started telling me she needed to be changed, specifically telling me that she peed. But she never went on the potty. Charlotte even sat with her a few times 'reading' to her. But as soon as the pull up was back on she went. We knew she had the control she needed, just not the desire.

This past June I decided with the nice weather coming we would stay outside in panties, saving my carpets. So much for nice weather potty training. We kept pushing, she started screaming. Literally hysterics at the suggestion of going on the potty. September rolled around and I was completely fed up with buying diapers. I kept pushing. Charlotte taunted her sister by calling her a baby cause she was still in diapers - and I let her do it. Then one day I was sitting with her and suggested she try to do on the potty what she did in her diaper. And that was it. She got it. Peed right then and there.

Two weeks later, present day, she is in panties during the day, diapers at night. She has done three hour plus outings in pull ups staying totally dry, even asking to go potty. We're having some issues pooping - she will neither go in a pull up or the potty - but I expect the progress to continue. Catie's 2 1/2, so I don't consider her a success story, I'm simply relieved that she's going on the potty. And of course thrilled with the money we're saving on diapers and pull ups!



So no, I don't have advice for others potty training. The best I can do is say to hang in there, eventually something will click and you'll be as thrilled as we are now.