K's Birth Story

K. was our first child born in Michigan. I wanted to see a nurse midwife as I had with the previous 3 children. There are 2 nurse midwife practices in my area. One is a group of 9 and the other is a group of 2. I called the larger practice and was told that the clinic nearest me had 2 of the 9 midwives practicing there, and that they did their own deliveries. I was concerned that with such a large group, I would not get to know them all and have a relative stranger at delivery. At my first appointment, however, I found out that the information I was given was incorrect, and that all 9 midwives rotate being on call. She assured me that they have common practice guidelines and that they go over their cases biweekly so that any of them would be aware of any situation pertaining to me. They hadn't wanted to see me until I was 10-12 weeks, so by 18 weeks I'd had 3 visits, 2 with one midwife and one with the other. I just didn't get a warm feeling from them. The one I liked better had a very flat affect, as though she was depressed, and the other one was perkier, but brusque. My Arizona midwife was so wonderful, warm and loving, and we had grown very close over the years.

At that point I called the other midwifery practice in town and switched to them. I had seen one of their midwives before for an annual checkup and really liked her, and really wanted fewer people in the practice. Unfortunately they were a 30 minute drive away, while the other midwives had been only 10 minutes away.

I really like the new midwives and things went along fine until it came time for the GTT. They gave me the bottle of glucola and told me to drink it before I went to the lab for the blood draw. I forgot to make the appointment and promptly lost the glucola. (We got a new car and it was discarded when we sold the old one, I believe). At my next midwife appointment they gave me another bottle and told me to do it ASAP. I did, and it came back at 145. Anything above 140 is considered too high and you have to take the 3 hour GTT. I didn't want to take the 3 hour, so I convinced them to let me redo the 1 hour, arguing that I'd had a large lemonade about an hour before the test. This time I was very careful to not eat anything sugary, and it came back in the low 150s.

They told me it was important to eat at least 10 carb servings per day for the 3 days prior to the 3 hour GTT. I proceeded to binge on carbs, not realizing that this might have an impact on the test. In fact, the last thing I ate before the 12 hour fast began the night before was a Dove bar! My scores on the 3 hour were 105 fasting, 185 at one hour and well below the cutoff on at 2 and 3 hours. That was 5 above the cutoff for fasting and right on the cutoff at one hour. If you have any 2 scores above the cutoff you are considered to have gestational diabetes. I was so borderline that I didn't really believe that diagnosis, and there are actually 2 sets of criteria, the National Diagnostic Group and the Carpenter Coustan. The latter is more conservative and that is what the OBs that supervised the midwives I was seeing used. If they used the former criteria I wouldn't even have been diagnosed. The American College of OB/GYN endorses both sets of criteria.

So off I went to the dietician. I followed the diet religiously and tested my blood glucose. After only 5 days there wasn't enough improvement in my fasting blood glucose (the after meals numbers were fine) so they sent me to the endocrinologists to begin insulin. I had done enough reading to know that this treatment was definitely in the gray area of effectiveness. Basically, people with mild GD don't see many benefits from aggressive treatment--mortality and morbidity are unchanged but they do have smaller babies, less shoulder dystocia, and MANY more inductions, c-sections and interventions performed on them. I cried over this for days, and argued with the midwives, who told me that if I didn't follow the treatment, dictated by "standard of care", which was dicatated by their OB supervisors, they might not be able to continue my care as I would be high risk.

I began taking the insulin, which wasn't as bad as I imagined it would be. The endocrinologists, however, were awful. They were rude and condescending, often refusing to explain things to me and treating me like a child. They only saw patients on Tuesdays and were often running an hour behind. You have to pay to park at the hospital clinic and I had 2 small children with me. After the first time I was kept waiting that long, I informed the nurses on each visit that I had another appointment in an hour and would have to leave if I hadn't been seen. Although my blood glucose numbers were almost always the same, they kept insisting they were "creeping up" and raising my insulin dose, which was very small anyway. Initially they saw me every two weeks, doing basically everything the midwives did: urine test, blood pressure, weight check, etc. except the actual belly exam. Then they said they wanted me to come once a week, which I objected to, since I was seeing the midwives that often by now as well and their examination of me was redundant. I had to call in my blood glucose numbers to a nurse once a week anyway, so I made up excuses why I was unable to make the appointment every other week. (By now I was really angry with them and being really passive aggressive). At 38 weeks they said, "Well, this is your last appointment. What is your plan for giving birth?" "Going into labor and having the baby." "You mean you don't have a plan to be induced? You must call your provider TODAY and discuss this with him." People with gestational diabetes often have their placenta begin to deteriorate sooner than normal, and induction is the rule. I had been going for nonstress tests twice a week at the midwives' office and they were all perfect, so I wasn't very concerned. I usually go to 41 weeks, and we'd agreed to go at least to my due date as long as the baby and I seemed fine.

I began a regimen of walking, sex and herbs which exhausted me and gave me nonstop Braxton Hicks contractions. By 39.5 weeks I was 4 cm dilated and very stretchy! My due date came and went, and I agreed to be induced at 40 weeks and 4 days, mostly because that was a Thursday and this hospital didn't do elective inductions on the weekend and there was only one midwife available on Fridays, who would be dividing her time between people in labor and office appointments.

I called at 7am Thursday, per instructions, and the hospital said they were too busy. The midwife called later and arranged for me to go in at 1pm. I had only slept for about 4 hours due to tremendous anxiety about the induction.

Got there and got in a room, with a total nazi by-the-book, threatening nurse. The midwife asked the charge nurse to switch nurses for me, but it turned out that the Nazi was off in a half hour. My initial finger prick blood glucose was 5 points over the cutoff for needing pitocin, although that wasn't taking into consideration that I'd just eaten before I left for the hospital, but Nazi nurse said it didn't matter. It turned out that when they got the lab blood glucose back which was drawn at the same time, it was 25 points lower! I knew the finger prick machines had a margin of error of +/-15, but not 25! So I was well within the correct range.

We'd agreed that if the baby was low enough to not risk cord prolapse, they would break my water instead of using Pitocin, and see if that got labor going. Unfortunately he was very high, and breech as well! This hospital will not do breech births, but will do external versions. I spent the hour waiting for the doctor to arrive with my rear propped up high and my head low, praying a lot, hoping he would turn over. When the doctor turned on the ultrasound, he had! I was so happy. They wrapped a large belt called a binder around me to try and prevent him from flipping back over. Interestingly, I hadn't felt a movement that seemed like a 180 degree turn. Unfortunately they'd already given me a shot to relax my uterine muscles for the version, which also makes you feel really jittery, so we had to wait for that to wear off before beginning pitocin.

They finally began Pitocin around 6pm. I had to be constantly monitored (due to my previous c-section 5 births previously!) and have IV fluids so I now was tethered to the machine and dragging a heavy IV pole around. The bathroom doorway had a raised threshold which made it hard to get the pole over and really irritated me. My favorite midwife was off at 10pm and I was sad when she left. I'd hoped she'd be there for the birth. By 11pm I was very tired, so I laid in bed for a while, dozing. There were constant contractions, but not really hard. By 2am, the midwife suggested we stop. I was on the maximum allowable dose of pitocin, and still no action. Both the midwife and I were astonished that the pit hadn't worked on me, considering I was 5cm and very stretchy by this time. She said I could go home and come back, or stay overnight at the hospital. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to sleep in the hospital but she said she'd give me a sleeping pill and tell the nurses not to bother me. This sounded preferable to driving all the way home (30 minutes) and being awakened early by very excited chilren who would be so disappointed that I was STILL pregnant. First the nurses scavenged up a frozen dinner for me. The sleeping medication worked well, and I slept till about 10am, got up, showered and had breakfast.

They resumed the pit around 12pm Friday. The afternoon was very boring. Around 5:30 pm, in the absence of any real contractions, the midwife suggested we have the doctor perform a procedure called "needling the membrane" where they put tiny holes in the amniotic sack with a needle and slowly push the baby down, the fluid leaking out the holes allowing this to happen. When the baby is low enough, they go ahead and break the sack. This must be peformed in the OR due to risk of cord prolapse. While waiting for the doctor to arrive, I noticed that the contractions picked up some. When she arrived and examined me, she felt that the baby was now low enough to break my water without needling the membranes. Once again, my prayers were answered and I was relieved.

Unfortunately, the amniotic fluid had a lot of meconium in it. They told me that meant that they wouldn't put the baby right on my chest, but would examine and suction him first, and that there would be a pediatrician and pediatric nurse in the room in addition to the midwife and labor and delivery nurse. At this point, we decided not to call our parents, who were at home with the kids and supposed to bring them to attend the birth. I was worried that if the baby had trouble breathing or other problems from the meconium it would be too intense or frightening.

The contractions had really picked up after the water was broken. I was still on pitocin, which the nurse kept turning down. The labor was very intense and I was tired and afraid. I requested an epidural, which the midwife, nurse and D. tried to talk me out of, saying it was going so fast that it would soon be over. I said that I wanted to be able to request it and if the anesthesiologist got there too late, so be it. Daryl began reading me the consent form, and once I heard all of the conditions, I changed my mind.

I walked/paced as much as I could tethered to the monitor until it was time to push. I pushed for 2 contractions and he came out easily, no tears. He was born at 6:45pm on Friday, June 20. I got a brief look at him and then the pediatrician examined him. The midwife had suctioned his mouth when only his head was out (she made me pause in pushing) and not gotten anything, and he was biting the tube! The pediatrician didn't get anything either, so he was fine. I didn't know whether he was a boy or girl, so I called over to D., who was grinning ear to ear when he told me it was a boy. He weighed 9lbs. 14 oz, my second smallest baby at that time. His blood sugar was fine, so no signs of gestational diabetes. Our parents and children arrived within an hour of his birth. After they went home, D. went to an Italian restaurant we both like and got a really nice dinner, pasta and bread and salad and even a split of wine which the owner gave him for free when told him what the occasion was. I was excited to eat all the carbs I wanted!

We named him Ian initially, which both of us liked but neither of us was crazy about, so we changed it the next day. I stayed 2 days in the hospital after his birth.

He is so happy and full of life, a real joy to be around. We treasure him.

Daddy's Boy

Daddy's Boy, originally uploaded by PaulaK.

Gee, who does he look like?

Horse Cake

Horse Cake, originally uploaded by PaulaK.

Another masterpiece!

Can I do it?

Can I do it?, originally uploaded by PaulaK.

He did it! Blew them both out all by himself.

Two!

Two!, originally uploaded by PaulaK.

K. turned 2 on Monday, June 20.

Magical Solstice

Today I have been musing on how lucky I am to live here in Michigan. It is truly home to me, and I still marvel at the beauty of the landscape. Gentle hills, lush greenness everywhere, giant graceful trees, rivers and lakes abound. I think my 9 years in the desert may have sharpened my appreciation for the beauty of my home state. I longed for it so when I was far away.

Tonight on our drive home from visiting my parents, it was very misty and foggy in places, with fireflies twinkling everywhere. It looked like a fairyland. Then, just as we approached home the moon came into view and it was the most stunning harvest moon I have ever seen. Enormous, a deep orange and as bright as the sun, just beginning to rise above the treetops, with the shimmering mist alive with dancing fireflies below it. Alas, I didn't have the camera.

It was 10pm, and not yet totally dark here on the longest day of the year. To the west the sky was still light, pinkish violet, and to the east the brialliant moon lit the landscape. A vision I will not soon forget.

No More Teachers, No More Books

Wednesday was the last day of school, and we had our annual Last Day of School Pool Party. It was a half day, so kids were invited over afterschool for 3 hours. Daryl was out of town, so I hired a lifeguard, a teen we know, and had a college girl/former babysitter as well as a mom that currently babysits for me all here helping me out. It wasn't too expensive, the lifeguard only charged $5/hour (but I gave her a little extra!) I bought hot dogs, buns and Kool-aid and asked kids to bring a snack to share. There were 22 kids including mine.

Each kid was originally allowed to invite 3 friends, which quickly escalated to 4. Unfortunately, two of my kids are part of a tight knit circle of 5 (including themselves) in their class. In both cases, although I told the kids to be discreet when handing out invitations, and they were, the other kids who were invited were talking about it in front of the one who was not. I felt SO bad, just about makes me cry at the thought of excluding a child and making them feel bad. With L's friend, this happened several days before the party, so I just sent an invitation with him the next day to school. His friend had been badgering him to ask his mom if he could invite one more person anyway. In the case of J's friend, she didn't find out until the day of the party, and she didn't say anything, but J. came home concerned, said her friend had a very long face about it. She called her and was able to reach her and invite her by phone, so we were both relieved.

I am so happy to have them home!

Becoming a Mother

We had always planned to have children, but were completing graduate school first. As my birthday in August of 1991 approached, I was suddenly overcome with the feeling that I should have a child. I kept teasing Daryl, saying, "I'm 27 and childless." Our first child was conceived about 2 weeks later.

We were living in Syracuse, NY, a town where we had no family and a few acquaintances. We'd moved there for Daryl to complete his postdoctoral fellowship at Syracuse University. Shortly after our arrival in Syracuse, I'd discovered I was pregnant. We were thrilled. We had always had the nagging fear that we would have trouble conceiving, yet had succeeded on our first try!

I was underemployed as a social worker for the Salvation Army, a job that I not only didn't enjoy, but paid about 40% less than my previous position as a Public Health Program Manager and grant writer for the City of Detroit. Although I had always assumed I would work most of my life, during my pregnancy I became certain that I both wanted and needed to stay home with my baby. The feeling was both overwhelming and certain. Unfortunately, we had a lot of student loan debt and needed my income, since Daryl's trainee position didn't pay well. We had enough savings for me to stay home for several months past my maternity leave, and the Salvation Army granted unpaid leaves of absence, but I was refused one on the grounds that I hadn't worked there long enough to deserve one. They had no written policy on this, but since I had been pregnant but not yet showing at my interview and very noticeably pregnant on my first day on the job 6 weeks later, I had been viewed with suspicion and subjected to some harassment. My supervisors were sure that I planned to quit working after I had the baby, and accused me of having a poor attitude.

Several weeks before the baby was due, Daryl was invited to Arizona State University to interview for a tenure track faculty position. He was chosen from a pool of 350 applicants and offered the job. His professional salary would be about what we'd been earning combined, so I wouldn't have to find another job.

It was a week past my due date. I went to bed at 11pm, and the baby began kicking vigorously and would not stop. After a while, I got up and did some stretches. I began having some contractions. Around midnight I got D. out of bed and we started timing them. When they got to be about 5 minutes apart, we went to the birth center. It was 5am. They said I was in labor, but not active enough yet, and sent me home with instructions to take a nap. I took a bath and laid down, but just could not sleep through the contractions. They weren't really painful, but definitely noticeable.

We went out and walked around town, had lunch, browsed a bookstore and went to my weekly prenatal appointment. I was seeing an obstetrician named Pierre Rizk, who was head of obstetrics at the hospital. He had a solo practice and was unfortunately at this time out the country, visiting his native Lebanon. A colleague was seeing his patients for him. He examined me, promclaimed me 4cm, and said, "You will have a baby tonight."

By dinner time the contractions were getting stronger, so I only ate a yogurt. Daryl went for a run, and when he got back we went back to the birth center. This time they admitted me. Around 10pm the doctor on call came in to check on me. He suggested that I take a sleeping pill and a small shot of morphine to dim the contractions a little and try to sleep, knowing I had been up all night the previous night and had not slept all day. He said if I could sleep for just a couple of hours it would be helpful, and maybe things would progress while I was sleeping. I was exhausted and this sounded like a good idea. I took the medication and laid down. D. laid down with me since there was a double bed in the room, and we turned out the lights. Immediately the contractions seemed to get stronger, and within a half hour my water broke--a huge gush. I buzzed for the nurse and she came and helped me change and changed the bed. I laid down again, but now the contractions were much too strong to even think about sleeping through. Unfortunately, the medication left me rather woozy, and their rule was that I could not walk unaccompanied until it wore off, which they estimated would take about 4 hours.

The nurses walked me up and down the hall endless times, got me in and out of the bathtub, had me squatting, etc. By 9am I was about 9cm and not at all stretchy. I had been at 9 for a while. The baby was high, at -5 station. The doctor on call was now the one I'd seen in the office the day before. He suggested that I go into the hospital, which adjoined the birth center, and have pitocin. I really wanted to deliver at the birth center and he said I could come back there for recovery. He said, "You should be fully dilated within an hour." Again, this sounded great. I was REALLY tired and wanted it to be over.

When they began the pitocin, I requested pain medication, which they put in my IV, because I was seated in a bed/chair attached to an IV and a monitor. At some point the nurses came and got Daryl, saying we had phone call at the desk. It was his parents, calling on behalf of themselves and my parents. We had called them when we left the house the second time, and after such a long time and no word, they were worried. He assured them that the baby and I were OK and hurried back to me. Around 2pm the doctor returned. He said that in view of the fact that nothing had changed, he was now recommending a c-section. He said that neither the baby or I was in distress, and that I was welcome to continue trying, but after this amount of time had passed with no progress, he felt it was unlikely that I would dilate the rest of the way. By this point I was totally out of it. My eyes kept rolling back into my head involuntarily. After 2 entirely sleepless nights, I was at the end of my rope. Although I had wanted Daryl to support and encourage me to have the baby naturally, at this point I wanted to quit and I hoped he wouldn't try to talk me out of it or be disappointed. The doctor left the room to let us discuss it and when I said I wanted to go ahead and have the c-section, he immediately agreed.

They turned off the pitocin and began preparing me for surgery. At this point the contractions had entirely stopped. I commented on this to the nurse and she said that happens sometimes when the uterine muscle just poops out from overwork. The other interesting thing was that there must not have been much amniotic fluid remaining, because instead of a round belly, you could now see the outline of the baby perfectly.

They gave me a spinal and did the surgery. It was very quick, and I only felt a pulling sensation. Daryl stood up and was looking over the curtain they had put up, but they asked him to sit back down. They were concerned that he might faint, not knowing he had performed many animal surgeries. When they pulled him out, they exclaimed at his size, and he screamed REALLY loud. It echoed in the operating room. He weighed 10lbs., 2oz. and had a ridge in his forehead where he had been stuck on my pubic bone. Since he wasn't pressing on my cervix I wasn't able to fully dilate, in fact it's surprising I got as far as I did.

They showed him to me, wrapped him up and gave him to Daryl to hold while they stitched me up. Then I went to the recovery room where we called our parents. At this point I was in and out of consciousness. I remember holding him, but can't believe they let me!

I never had any pain from the incision, nor did I have the bad gas pains some people get after abdominal surgery. The nurses commented on the fact that I wasn't using any of the self-administered morphine, but it just didn't hurt. I was hungry, but I was only allowed flat soda. I went to bed around 7pm, and I remember how very nice the nurse was to me. She helped me brush my teeth and rubbed my back with some lotion. She said I was supposed to get out of bed, but she was satisfied with seeing me sit up and dangle my legs over the side of the bed. The nursery was great about bringing my baby to me every time he cried, not giving him pacifiers or sugar water or formula per my request.

Unfortunately, I developed a spinal headache the next day. Now in addition to residents in several specialties coming in and asking me if I passed gas every few minutes, I had anesthesiology residents quizzing me on the qualities of my headache, when exactly it began, etc. Apparently this complication is fairly rare these days with improved techniques, around 2%. They started me on IV fluids and liquid caffeine drinks, both believed to speed spinal healing. When that didn't work, they prescribed Percoset.

I had requested a private room, but they didn't have any available, so they put me in a double with no roommate. On my third day there, I got a roommate. She was still pregnant and having complications. She was had a fetal monitor on, and the TV on (you had to pay to use it and I had not been watching prior to her arrival), and enjoyed talking on the phone. After several hours the noise was driving me crazy, and a private room had opened up, so they moved me. It was torture because they had to move my entire bed, and remove the clean bed that was in the room, which took some manuevering, during which time I was sitting in a chair. Any time I was not absolutely prone, the pain in my head was intolerable.

The food in the hospital was truly awful, and D. was bringing me carryout for most meals. He was working some, but spending a lot of time at the hospital.

By the morning of the fifth day in the hospital, I was despondent. I just wanted to go home. In addition, my ears had begun ringing. My doctor had returned from Lebanon and was not pleased to see the condition I was in. When I complained that my ears were ringing, he said, "That's because they are drugging you!" He explained that their reluctance to more aggressively treat me was in part due to the fact that they were reluctant to admit the mistake had been made. He also said that I could not go home because I could not take care of my baby in my current condition, which was true. He was angry, and marched off to talk with the anesthesiology staff. A short while later, the nurses informed me that they would be coming to get me soon to perform a blood patch, a procedure the nurses thought should have been done much sooner. It involves drawing some blood and injecting it into the spinal cord, where it will usually clot over the hole. Once spinal fluid is no longer leaking, the headache goes away. There is always the risk that they will create another hole, which is why they try other less invasive techniques first.

The procedure was quick and painless. I was soon back in my room and my head still hurt. I was worried because they promised instant results. Daryl brought some lunch and I was able to angle myself up a little bit to eat, something I'd previously been unable to do, and believe me it's hard to eat every meal laying down. By the time we were done eating, I could feel that the pain was subsiding, was almost gone, yet there was another feeling, which I would describe as the memory of the pain. It was as though I could still feel the pain but it no longer hurt. Soon I was able to get out of bed and go to the nursery and get my baby. The nurses cheered when they saw me in the hall. Later that afternoon we all went home.

Daryl, who had been unsure about my decision to stay home with our baby, felt much differently once he'd arrived. He told me he felt that no one else was good enough to care for him.

Once home, we had to learn to be parents. The nurses had done all of the baby care at the hospital, which used cloth diapers. It took both of us and many wipes to successfully change the first diaper at home. I was also struggling with breastfeeding. It took 8-10 tries to get him latched on at each feeding, amidst a lot of crying from both of us. My parents arrived after we'd been home for 2 days, and it was wonderful. They were helpful and good company. Daryl was now back at work full time. My parents stayed a week, and I began to cry the night before they left. I cried all day the next day after they left and kept crying into the evening. I went to bed early, but was unable to sleep. I felt so alone. I heard Daryl talking to my parents on the phone when they called to say they'd arrived home safely, and he told them he was concerned about me, that I wasn't coping very well.

The next day 2 things happened that helped a lot. My mother suggested I call my doctor about how blue I was feeling, and I did. They weren't very helpful, but they did give me the number for the lactation consultant at the hospital. I made an appointment with her and she was wonderful. Of course I was able to latch him on easily in her office, so she coudn't see the problem, but she was very sympathetic and encouraging. I told her how a perfect pregnancy had turned into a nightmare delivery and recovery. She reinforced that I was doing a good job taking care of my baby and breastfeeding him. More than breastfeeding help, she gave me confidence that I badly needed. I also talked to my mother-in-law, who suggested that we drive home for the family reunion that weekend, which we weren't planning to attend since it was a 9 hour drive. When Daryl came home, I told him what she'd said, and he went out and rented a car for us to drive home in the next day. We had a tiny hatchback and he thought I'd want to ride in back with the baby so I'd be more comfortable in a bigger car.

By the time we got to Michigan, my breastfeeding difficulties had begun to diminish, and it was a lot of fun to show off a new baby and have everyone make a fuss over me. Daryl went home after the reunion, but I stayed a week and my in-laws drove me home.

I had a meeting with my boss near the end of my maternity leave. To my surprise, she offered to let me have the unpaid leave, since the agency was undergoing some financial struggles at that time and wanted to save some money. To her surprise, I quit!

Upon my return to Syracuse, it was time to get ready to move to Arizona. Our lives went through so many changes in such a short time. Becoming a mother was the most glorious of those changes.

My First Teenager

My First Teenager, originally uploaded by PaulaK.

Our eldest turned 13 on June 5. The birthday hat is a family tradition.

So far having a teen is smooth sailing. He is our easiest child at the moment; helpful and cooperative, enjoys our company. He is also highly intelligent, athletic, good looking, witty and a talented trombone player. If he wasn't mine, I'd find that level of perfection annoying!

Last summer he began to shoot up and physically mature. He is currently 5'9", wears size 11 shoes, and has a deep voice.

Rainbow

Rainbow, originally uploaded by PaulaK.

Caught this beautiful rainbow on camera.

Finding a Balance

I have 3 children who participate in club soccer. Our experience is that the level of participation required is really more than we desire, yet there are no alternatives in our community. We struggle to find a balance, being committed players/parents while not letting soccer totally rule our lives.

For instance, when you enroll in soccer, you are required to sign a document that states that you understand that they play both fall and spring seasons and you are committing to play both. There are 2 practices and at least one game per week. Once your child is on the team, you are informed that they also play several sessions of winter indoor soccer so they can "stay in shape and keep up with their skills." Often a coach will suggest that the team play in a tournament, which take place over a holiday weekend: Memorial Day, Independence Day, Labor Day. They insist that "the kids will have a great time." Tournaments involve multiple games over the 3 day weekend. Will they have a better time than they would have socializing with friends and family, attending parades and bbqs, going on family outings, and relaxing?

The year round schedules make it almost impossible to play more than one sport. It also makes it impossible for my husband to coach. He could commit to a 2-3 month season, but his work schedule would not allow him to leave early 2 days a week year round, and his travel schedule would mean missing many games. He does often volunteer to substitute coach when one of our kids' coaches can't be there.

As if playing year round weren't enough, kids are encouraged to attend sports camps in the summer, to work on their skills!

Living in a town too small to sport an entire league, out teams participate in regional leagues. This means that away games will take place in towns a 30-45 minute drive away. Players are supposed to be there 30 minutes before the start of the game. If a family has more than one child playing, soccer games can really dominate a weekend with the total amount of time involved.

Soccer is expensive to play, yet all the teams hire trainers to work with the kids, which almost doubles the cost of the season.

Our daughter played on a team for several years where the coach, who lived out in the country and had built a soccer field on his property, held practices at his home, which was about a 25 minute drive from our home. His reason for doing this, rather than practicing at the centrally located schools where the rest of the teams practice, was because "all the comings and goings at the school are too distracting for the girls." They were 8-9 years old at the time and this struck me as silly.

Her current team has been "noticed" by the league director who wants them to do more intensive training this winter because they "have potential" and "they could really go places." Go where, exactly? They may play more competitive teams, but they are certainly not pros in the making, and will the extra effort to play in a more competitive league be worth it, if they are having fun now as they are?

I realize that we have a choice whether or not to participate in club soccer, however, it is not that simple. Many of the other sports; hockey, baseball, swimming, football; are conducted the same way. It can be difficult to play for the school if you don't have any experience. Some school districts in our area are going so far as to not allow kids with no experience to try out.

I personally believe that this level of intensity reflects parental agendas rather than children's desires. What happened to sports that were played during only one season, with time off for down time or other sports? What happened to playing for fun, which didn't require a trainer? Back when I was a kid, most organized sports didn't even begin until middle school, and then you played on the school team. Now private sport leagues begin as young as kindergarten. It seems our culture has embraced Extreme Youth Sports to go along with Extreme Everything Else.

The result of all this for my family is that we sometimes feel burned out by the relentless demands of soccer. My children also take music lessons and attend religious education. Juggling all these activities makes us sometimes late. On a rare occasion, if a child seems particularly overwhelmed, we have allowed him or her miss a game or a practice. As a family, we also set priorities, and important family celebrations take priority over soccer games. Sometimes events are planned well before the soccer schedule is announced, but we do our best to notify the coach of conflicts as soon as we are aware of them. We have voted against tournament partcipation and inwardly cheered when a child's team has been eliminated early in a tournament. The zealous coaches and team managers have sometimes thought less of us or questioned our level of commitment for these reasons, but we believe part of our job as parents is to teach our children to find a balance in life. While we feel sports are very important, given the choice, we would participate at a less intense level.

Advantages and Disadvantages

Since 90 degrees and humid is my favorite kind of weather, and I do NOT have air conditioning, I decided to list what I love about it.

Advantages

Too hot to cook.
Too hot to eat.
White noise created by fans drowns out whining of hot children.
Swimmers ear acquired by constant swimming to cool off drowns out any noises that rise above the sound of the fans.
Swimmers ear allows me to pretend to not hear anything I don't wish to respond to.
Makes the 2 hours of driving around each afternoon in my air conditioned van seem much more pleasurable than normal.
Our summer fruit fly breeding program is off to a good start.


Disadvantages

Constant swimming caused me to get swimmer's ear.
Dh suggested "just cover your ears" while swimming. ?!?!
Swimming creates a lot of wet, soon to be skanky towels.
Towels do not dry naturally even when hung up.
Children haven't heard of hanging up towels.
Wet towels left on the floor invariably have at least one large insect under them when I pick them up.
Swimming requires lots of clothes and diaper changing.
The reduction in cooking is offset by an increase in laundry.
Children think it's too hot to do chores.
I feel generally witchy when I get really hot.

An annoying aside: my dishwasher is currently broken.

Nightime Adventures

No, they are not those kind of adventures! LOL

The past several nights I have slept very deeply, in part due to plugged ears, so that waking feels like coming up from deep underwater. Last night I was surprised at 1:30am to be awakened by my baby nuzzling at my breast, and opened my eyes to find both her and my husband staring curiously at me. She had been sleeping in her crib, which is only about 10 feet away, yet I hadn't heard her crying, and didn't even wake up when Daryl got her and brought her into bed to nurse.

At 4:15am she awoke again to nurse, and as I was laying there drowsily I saw what looked to my sleepy brain like a sock go flying by, as though someone had thrown it across the room. I observed that Daryl was sleeping deeply, not throwing anything, and determined that it must have been my eyelashes as a I blinked. A moment later I saw the shadow of a bird on the wall. Since it was dark out (we have a nightlight on so I can see the baby in the night) I knew that wasn't possible. A second later I saw the winged creature go by. I nudged Daryl. "There's a bat in here!"

"Is the door shut?" he asked groggily. On its next lap it swooped low over our bed and he saw it. He rocketed out of bed and out the door, yelling, "I hate bats!" leaving his wife and baby behind. I pulled the sheet over my head, but A., who had awakened when we started talking, pulled it back off. Sighing, I scooped her up and scurried out of the bedroom. I sat and nursed her while Daryl went back into the bedroom to see if was still there. He had opened the front door in the foyer right next to our bedroom door on his way by, and was hoping it had flown out. It wasn't in our room so he checked around upstairs, in case it had gone up the stairway in the foyer instead of out the door.

Determining it was no longer in the house, he sat down to work, since it was now about 30 minutes before his alarm would go off anyway. I had no intention of getting up at 5am, but A. thought it was playtime. I deposited her on the floor by Daryl with some toys and went back to bed. Just as I was drifting off, I heard her cry. He gave her some kitchen utensils, since baby toys get boring, and I began to drift off again, only to be once again jarred awake by her cry. Daryl felt she was now sleepy, and after a few minutes of tossing and turning she settled down and nursed back to sleep.

This marks the 5th bat we've had inside the house since moving here 4 years ago, not counting 2 that were in the vacant house before we moved in, surprising friends of ours who spent the night in the house. I know how the bat of last night got in. I asked J. to open windows as the evening began to cool off, and she mistakenly opened the one with no screen (it was removed by me when locked out of the house a month ago).

Memorial weekend

We had a lovely weekend. D. took Friday off. In the morning a photographer came to our house to take A's 6 month picture, and I had arranged with her to do some of all the kids together, too. Since he was here, she did the entire family. The only bummer was that she had suggested something simple to wear, so I got the kids plain white t-shirts, but since I didn't know that D. would be here and we'd all be in the photos, he and I didn't have plain white shirts, so we each wore a shirt with a design on the front inside out. The photographer didn't seem to think it would be very noticeable. I guess we'll see. The photo shoot was outdoors under our favorite majestic 200 year old oak.

Later that evening, we went out to dinner downtown. Many of the restaurants had outdoor seating, and some people stared at us like we were a parade as we went by. We ate at the Parthenon, a casual Greek restaurant. The older kids wanted Gyros and since that is one of my favorites, and they serve the ubiquitous chicken strips favored by the under 10 set, we were all happy.

After dinner we walked to campus and all around town. I took L. into a store I've walked by many times and never gone in that has action figures of a style I've never seen in the window. Inside it was even better; there was tons of neat action figures that you won't find at Toys R Us or other traditional stores. Some were expensive collectables, but many were affordable. I had told him (and the 3 sisters that accompanied us) that we were only looking, NO asking for anything. He was so sweet, and never even hinted at anything, that I did buy him a set. Actually it was a loan--he paid me back at home. Unfortunately his younger sister broke the head off the really cool dragon within 2 days. But I will go back there--his birthday isn't until November but I'm dying to get him some more cool stuff. He is my only child that really likes that type of thing--he has always favored plastic "guys" of some sort to act out stories with--and since he is already 9, he won't like it forever. :-(

At the end of our walk, we got frozen custard, which I would walk MILES for, and went home. Everyone was so well-behaved that it was as much fun as a date with just D.!

Saturday afternoon I took the kids to the metropark and we walked/biked around the 3 mile loop. When we got there my MIL had arrived for a visit. We had dinner and a nice visit.

Later that evening things took a turn for the worse when L. told us his head itched. He had contracted lice a few weeks ago, and I combed them out once, finding 20 or so nits but no live lice, and then spot checked his head every day for about 10 days and found nothing. Apparently we were much too complacent. This was our first experience with head lice. When I checked his head on Saturday night, I immediately saw nits. Since the initial outbreak I'd ordered and received a Licemeister comb from the
National Pediculosis Association, a 25 year old nonprofit organization that are lice experts. One thing I learned is that they do NOT recommend using the shampoo type treatments. Apparently soaking your scalp in pesticides can be somewhat dangerous, and the most important element of treatment is the combing out, whether or not you use the shampoos, because they kill live lice but not all nits,so they must be manually removed. We combed L. out with the new comb, which worked MUCH better than what we'd been able to get at the local drugstore. Both that evening and again the next morning we found LOTS of nits and live lice. EWWW! We also combed everyone else out twice on different days and so far it appears that no one else has them. We have combed, not spot checked, L. twice a day. Now that several days have passed without finding anything, we are only doing it once a day but will continue doing it daily for 2 weeks.

Sunday morning I felt sort of depressed and overwhelmed by the lice discovery, and by the time we'd combed L. out thoroughly and everyone else, we'd missed mass. We'd been invited to an evening pool party, but the weather was cool and rainy, so we decided to stay home and watch movies.

Monday we had friends over for a pool party at our house. The pool was full, ice cold (we had the heater on but since we'd just filled it with water from the well it only got the temperature up to about 69), clear and a bluish-green color. The kids swam briefly and then played badminton and otherwise amused themselves. The food was scrumptious. I grilled salmon, since some of our guests don't eat meat, and hot dogs and Italian sausage. I made Middle Eastern rice pilaf, which is a combination of brown, white and wild rice cooked in chicken broth, slivered almonds toasted in butter, currants plumped in hot water, all combined and mixed with fresh chopped mint. Our guests brought a lovely green salad, upside down pineapple cake, chocolate chip bars and fruit salad. We sat outdoors and stuffed ourselves--YUMMM!