Missed Moments: The Birth (of Declan)

So my birth experience with Eleanor was, overall, even better than I had hoped for. It was very quick, I made it through without pain meds, and I woke up already in labor so I didn't spend a lot of time worrying about false contractions. The second time around, I hoped for more of the same.

Ha! First of all, as I have already extensively complained about, Declan was a week late. A week! That's like a whole other 9 months to a hugely pregnant woman. The waiting is excruciating. Plus, I had serious false contractions on 2 or 3 separate occasions. I woke up in the middle of the night with a tingle of anticipation, sure that it was happening just like Eleanor ... and then nothing.

I tried very hard to wait patiently and go into labor naturally. As we waited for Declan (or "Little Sibling" as we called the baby before it was born) to decide to make an appearance, I had several non-stress tests and an ultrasound to make sure the baby was still safe and happy in the womb. The ultrasound estimated the baby's weight at 8 lbs, 13 oz, and my doctor strongly encouraged me to think seriously about inducing.

I was adamant about waiting, though. I would let this baby come when it was ready; I wasn't going to be induced just because it was more convenient and easier for me. Plus, if I were induced that labor would probably take longer, and I would probably be more likely to need the epidural .... I felt like inducing would start a domino effect of many choices taking me further and further from the natural birth I had experienced with Eleanor, and wanted again.

And yet. I had another follow-up appointment on a Monday, exactly a week after the original due date. Sunday night, Keith and I discussed it and I was still firm in waiting as long as possible before being induced. My doctor had told me he was willing to wait until Wednesday, and that's how long I would give it. But as I stood in the shower Monday morning before my appointment, I suddenly had this feeling that this baby was NEVER going to choose on its own to come it. It was digging in its heels (quite literally, it seemed like I could feel them poking my ribs) and would not be coming out unless forced. I finished my shower, got dressed, and came downstairs.

"I want to be induced," I announced to a very surprised Keith.

We were still surprised, however, when we got to the appointment and I told the doctor I wanted to be induced. I figured he'd tell me to check into the hospital that night to be put on a Pitocin drip, and the baby would be born in the morning. Instead, he told us he's not at the hospital on Tuesdays, so I could either check into the hospital in a couple hours and the baby would be born that very night, or I could wait and check in late night Tuesday, so the baby was born Wednesday morning.

Well, since I had decided I was done waiting, hanging around for another day and a half before checking into the hospital for an inducement wasn't really an option. If I was going to be induced, I wanted to just go ahead and do it!

So we went home, made sure our bags were packed and made arrangements for Eleanor's care, and headed to the hospital. It felt so surreal, to be casually driving to the hospital on a beautiful, sunny afternoon, knowing that next time I drove home, it would be with a baby.

As I had feared, choosing the induction changed the whole progression of labor. We were at the hospital for nearly two hours before the paperwork and initial assessments were done, and I was put on the low level Pitocin drip. Then I was on that for about 3 hours with very minor cramping--definitely nothing strong enough to feel like I was in labor.

We'd asked my parents and Keith's mom to bring Eleanor up to the labor and delivery room during this low-key phase of the process. When we'd said good-bye to her before preschool that morning, we had been expecting to pick her up a few hours later and continue on with life as normal. Instead, we went to the hospital and she went to a friend's house, and it made me sad to think that it had been our last moment as a family of three and we'd missed it.

Unfortunately, with Eleanor's nap the timing worked out that they arrived mere moments after the doctor broke my water. That meant it wasn't low-key and casual anymore, but getting to serious labor very quickly. I wanted so much to enjoy some time with Eleanor and our families, but immediately the contractions were very intense. Keith saw the look on my face as I tried to refrain from showing Eleanor that I was in any sort of discomfort and he quickly shooed everyone else out of the room.

The doctor stopped by again not long after that and told me that everything was progressing quickly; if I wanted an epidural, it would have to be soon. This time around, I didn't really even try to resist the lure of a nearly pain-free labor and delivery. I'd had too much time sitting in the hospital, thinking about what was coming. Add to that the fact that the real contractions started when Eleanor was visiting, and I felt completely unprepared, mentally, to handle a natural birth.

In retrospect, I don't think the pain was any worse than it had been the first time around, but my reaction to it was the polar opposite. Instead of breathing through it and focusing on something else, I focused 100% on the pain and kept telling myself just how painful and terrible it really was. That's not really a good pain management strategy.

So, shortly after that, I got the epidural and Keith and I settled back into the low-key waiting phase. We watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy!. By this point I was starting to feel more pressure, so I figured the epidural was wearing off.

The doctor reappeared (what do they do in-between?) and announced that the increased pressure actually meant that I was ready to start pushing. Which also meant I'd been ready to start pushing for some time, but hadn't realized it. Whoops! "That happens all the time," the nurse assured me. Well then, why didn't anymore warn me that increased pressure did NOT mean the epidural was wearing off, and I should call for the doctor?!?

But I digress. One minute we were watching Final Jeopardy in a comfortable hotel room with low lighting. The next minute, the end of the bed was ripped away, people in surgical gloves and masks surrounded me, and intensely bright surgical lamps were shining in my face. It only took a few pushes, maybe 15 minutes if that, before Declan was born.

I was honestly surprised Declan was a "he." I was surprised when Eleanor turned out to be a girl, because for some reason Keith and I both thought she would be a boy. And I guess there was a part of me expecting Baby #2 to be a girl just because that's what happened the first time, even though I know logically that there's a 50/50 chance of either sex.

But a "he" it was. Keith and I immediately started crying and smiling as I held the baby in my arms. Eleanor was now officially a big sister, and we could finally meet and hold our new baby.

Missed Moments: The Birth (of Eleanor)

Alright, so this post is 10 weeks after the big event. You may all be over this and ready to move on. But since Declan's birth, I've tried to remember with more precision what the early days were like with Eleanor, and I have no record of that, which saddens me. I'd like to better know what I was thinking and feeling in the moment, and be cognizant of how it's changed this time around.

So, with that in mind, this is really a story of two very, very different births. To review, Eleanor was born 3 days after her due date. I woke up in the wee hours of the morning already experiencing some pretty intense contractions. I got a quick shower (Why? Because people had said to, and it was stuck in my head.) By the time I got out of the shower, my contractions were more intense. Still erratic, but wavering between 4 and 7 minutes apart.

After all my worry about what we'd do with the dog, we did nothing. It was the middle of the night, and he rolled over and went back to sleep. By the time he was ready to wake up in the morning, my in-laws were at the house to let him out.

The precise times are a bit fuzzy, but I think I woke up a little before 4am, checked into the hospital by 5ish ... and Eleanor was born at 9:14am. When we got to the hospital, I was experiencing a lot of lower back pain. I told Keith through gritted teeth that I wasn't sure I could go through with a natural birth. Bless him, he tried so hard to say the right thing.

"You can do it ... if you want to ... but if you don't it's okay .... but if you do, then I'm sure that you can...."

I settled in and decided to try and use breathing and visualization techniques to at least get me through the next few contractions. Then I could always re-evaluate.

What followed next seemed very independent of time or outside influence. When I felt a contraction coming on, I started my deep breathing and focused on my calming image: Beckett and I taking a nap on the living room couch on a hot, sunny, quiet afternoon. I kept my eyes closed during and between the contractions, and even fell asleep sometimes.

"Can I do anything?" Keith anxiously inquired. "Do you want a back massage?" Unbeknownst to me, he was worried because I was acting like the contractions were very intense, but they were barely even registering on the monitor ... until the nurse adjusted the monitoring belt, and then the next contraction was through the roof. Keith breathed a sigh of relief.

A nurse (on-call doctor maybe?) came to check and see how far along I was, to see when they should call the Ob-Gyn from my practice to come in and deliver. I think at that point I was already at an 8, or at least definitely further along than they were expecting.

When the doctor arrived and checked me, he was surprised (as we all were!) to find out that I was fully dilated and ready to push. Keith tells me I pushed for about 45 minutes (I had no clue about the time throughout the entire process). Finally, Eleanor was born.

to be continued

To Induce or Not to Induce?

Well, I had my first post due-date doctor's appointment today. The appointment that, when I made it last week, I kept thinking to myself, I really hope I have the baby before this appointment!

But I didn't. So I went to the appointment and we talked induction. How long past my due date would he feel comfortable letting me go? How long would I feel "comfortable" (the term being relative) waiting?

He offered to induce me tonight/tomorrow morning, but I wasn't quite ready for that. He said the latest he's willing to wait is a week after the due date, so Monday or Tuesday next week at the very latest. Somehow, just have a firm end in mind (by next Wednesday, this baby will be here, one way or the other!) calmed me down a bit. I said "no" to being induced tonight.

Currently, I have an ultrasound appointment for Thursday morning. If the baby's not born by then, we need to make sure he/she is still doing okay in there. The doctor went ahead and scheduled an induction for Thursday night/Friday morning, but said we can cancel it if everything looks okay and I want to keep waiting.

I don't know how I'll feel by Thursday. Of course, my most fervent hope is that I don't make it to Thursday and go into labor on my own in the next 10 minutes! (To that end, I've posted the flower picture because I've read that visualizing a flower opening can bring on labor.) But I still have to consider the possibility.

I've heard that being induced can mean that labor goes more slowly, and it can be more painful/intense. Overall, I was very happy with the way that my first labor went. It was fast and ... well, that was the main point in its favor. I liked letting nature take its course, and letting Eleanor come when she was ready.

On the other hand, I must admit that I like knowing induction is an option. This pregnancy isn't going to drag on for weeks. (Weeks!) I sincerely hope that labor starts on its own, ASAP. But if we make it to Thursday or even--perish the thought!--next week, I'd imagine my resistance to induction will significantly lessen.

How To: Get Rid of Drugs

I understand that the title of this post may be a bit more scintillating than the actual content, so I apologize if you feel misled. This post has nothing to do with illegal drugs or kicking any bad habits, etc. It's related to the fact that, throughout our house, we have numerous expired prescriptions, vitamins, and other somewhat-controlled substances that we can't figure out how to get rid of.

You're not supposed to flush them down the toilet and contaminate the water supply. Nor is it safe to throw them in the trash and risk someone else taking them or releasing them into the landfills. What other options are there?

Well, apparently the DEA (Drug Enforcement Administration) sponsors National Prescription Drug Take Back Days every six months. The next one is October 29. I clicked on the link to find a site near me, and saw that I can turn in prescription meds at the Cleveland Clinic Beachwood Family Health Center, which is my home away from home of late, since that's where my OB-Gyn's office is.

On the DEA's website, there's also a link to an FDA flyer about Disposing of Unused Prescription Medicines, which might be handy as well. So if I can't turn in non-prescription items like expired vitamins and supplements, hopefully at least I'll know what other options are safe.

I know I've talked to at least a few of my neighbors (and fellow parents) that were having problems with this same issue. So hopefully this information helps!

Decadent Toast

I've been having a really hard time with heart burn and indigestion during this pregnancy. A few weeks back, I spent an entire weekend with constant heartburn and the consistent feeling that I could be throwing up at any moment. After spending most of the weekend in bed, leaving Keith and Eleanor to fend for themselves, I talked to my OB, who told me to take an over-the-counter stomach acid inhibitor before bed every night.

This has been a huge help, but I still need to be more careful with my food than I was with the first pregnancy. There's some foods that I've cut out entirely (tomato soup, which seems a bit odd) and others that I can only eat early in the day, or risk a sleepless night of burning fire in my esophagus.

I'm guessing it's these terrible food experiences that have me craving simply weak tea with toast and butter. And not just any toast; it has to be the least nutritional of all: white bread toast.

I finally bought some the other day at the grocery store, and it felt so decadent. No whole wheat! No added seeds or nuts! Eleanor didn't even really understand what it was, since we've never had white bread. I mean, she's seen it, and we've had white hamburger burns, but we've never actually bought white bread for our house. In general, this doesn't feel like a sacrifice to me. I prefer the stronger, nuttier taste of the more nutritional breads. So why would I buy white?

Except for lately, when even a mundane food can make my digestive tract rebel, and suddenly white bread is one of the most appealing foods there is. I've luxuriated in white bread toast and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches ..... on white bread!

I think my digestive issues are resolved enough that I'm mostly over my white bread obsession. At the grocery store today, I picked up my usual oat nut bread and barely glanced at the Wonder Bread's gleaming loaves. But I also know that there's still a half-loaf of white bread stashed in the pantry, for a few more bland yet delicious treats.

Clean-Up Time

I think part of what's held me back from blogging over the past week or so is that I've been casting around for positive, light-hearted topics to write about. But really, I'm in a pissy mood so I've given up on going for light and breezy. Just to warn you.

First of all, I'm feeling stressed. Why? Well, primarily because I'm me. Hi! Have we met? If we have, then you already know that I have the type of personality that gravitates towards Stress and Panic and Insane To Do Lists. Or even if we haven't met in person, reading a few of my blog entries should clue you in pretty quickly.

However, I have been working on these tendencies (and will continue to until the day I die, I'm sure. It's on my to-do list!). And there are other circumstances for the increased stress level. Eleanor's third birthday party is a week and a half away. So we're trying to buy presents, organize party details, and clean the house. Except we haven't really done any of that, because we've been focused on getting her new room (the former study/guest bedroom) ready at the same time. It's a lot.

But that's not all! And this is the part that's really bothering me. Our next-door neighbor, whose tan house is visible next to our driveway in the picture above, is getting his house painted. The paint has been peeling for awhile and it's long overdue and it will be great when it's done.

The part that really bothers me is that it is, of course, lead paint. His house was built the same year as ours, and I have no doubt there's lead paint all over the exterior. But see, he hasn't tested for lead paint so he doesn't know 100% for certain that there's existing lead paint.
Plus, no children under 6 or pregnant women live in the house—I guess the fact that we're two feet away from the offending exterior paint is completely irrelevant—so he and his contractors aren't required to follow any lead-safe practices in paint removal.

They've been scraping, sanding, power-washing his house for over a week now. Since July 4th weekend, I've been watching as lead paint chips, large and small, and lead paint dust (which is even worse) coat our house, side porch, yard, etc. Watching from inside the house, running our air conditioner with the windows closed on beautiful summer days.

Our neighbor is not a bad guy. He is actually quite a nice person, and a very considerate neighbor. He even scheduled the workers to start on a long weekend when he knew we were planning to be out of town, because he knows about all of our lead issues. I don't really think, as an individual homeowner, he should have to choose on his own to follow lead-safe practices that will cost him significantly more to get the job done.

I do blame the government. I haven't quite decided yet which branch. But I don't believe that homeowners who live 2 feet from a 2-year-old's driveway/play area should have the choice to release lead paint and dust all throughout the environment. Something is very wrong here. You're telling all consumers that lead paint is very dangerous to a young child's brain development, and as parents we need to spend more than $20k to make our home safe .... but 2 feet away, the same rules don't apply?

For a week and a half now, I've been watching with despair as lead paint chips and dust covers our property that we've spent so much money to have cleaned up and remediated. It makes me feel helpless to ensure a healthy life for my children in even the most basic way. If I can't keep a known hazard out of our immediate environment, what can I do?

In 2008, the EPA issued a "rule requiring the use of lead-safe practices," and it was due to start being enforced in April 2010. (I say "due to start" because I know there was push-back from contractors' associations and it's not clear to me if it's actually being enforced or not.) This required contractors who were disturbing more than 20 feet of exterior paint to follow lead-safe practices in "pre-1978 housing and child-occupied facilities." According to this, the government has just recently decided that the house next door to children and pregnant women does need to be treated the same way, with the same precautions. I can guarantee you that more than 20 feet of paint has been disturbed.

So now what?

Vacation Exercise

Our plan all along for this vacation was to "do" as little as possible. Beach, pool, reading/napping at the beachhouse, repeat. This was all fine and good, except Eleanor and I both have incredibly fair skin. By the middle of the week, even with constant, if somewhat haphazard, sunscreen application, we were both getting a bit crispy. So we decided to spend a day away from the water, out of direct sun.

We went to the Currituck Beach Lighthouse, which was just a short drive from where we were staying. I think the Currituck lighthouse is one of the smaller ones in the Outer Banks, but it's still nothing to sneeze at: 214 curving metal steps, up about 150 feet.

Added to that, Eleanor wore me out before we even set foot in the lighthouse. There was a short, slow-moving line waiting for the privilege to climb all those steps. While the rest of our group waited in line, Eleanor felt the need to run. She and I ran back and forth across a grassy patch, racing from one tree back to Grandpa's legs (and one unsuspecting guy whom Eleanor mistook for Grandpa) back to another tree, back to Daddy's legs .... she couldn't get enough. Clearly, from the above picture taken before the climb, I could get enough.

Finally our group was at the front of the line. This is the point where we explained to Eleanor that Mommy can only carry one child up 200+ steps, and that was the child in my belly. Eleanor would be sticking with Daddy for this adventure.

And of course, when I'm off the hook, she doesn't even get carried! She told us that she was going to climb the steps by herself, and that's exactly what she did. Every. Single. One.

Yet, when we finally reach the top, I'm actually not a big fan of heights. The lighthouse didn't seem that intimidating from the group, but the view from the top was still dizzying to me. Especially knowing that my 2-year-old was wandering around, sticking her head between the bars. Luckily, Eleanor actually felt the same way about being up there, so she and I headed down together while Keith hung out and took some pictures.

And of course, when I was in charge of Eleanor on the way down, suddenly she was tired and wanted to be carried. I tried carrying her down one flight of the stairs, but they were an open metal staircase and between my inherent pregnant off-balance and carrying Eleanor, I was convinced I was going to trip and throw her over the railing to her death. By the bottom of one small flight, I was practically hyperventilating.

Keith came to the rescue and carried her down the rest of the stairs. Between the running and the climbing and the panicking, I think it was the most exercise I got the whole week. I enjoyed a bit of sightseeing, but I was also happy to go back to the beach/nap/pool routine, too.

End of the Workouts

Yesterday morning, my alarm went off at 4:51am. Like I've done since early January, I hit snooze and rolled over to snuggle with Keith for a few more minutes. When the alarm went off a second time I turned it off and stumbled down the hall to get dressed for my 5:30am Cleveland Fitness Bootcamp workout.

The biggest difference is that yesterday was my last day for bootcamp. When I first started, I was only going to do a month. But I enjoyed it so much, I ended up signing up for 4 months in all. The workouts have been varied and challenging, and I can definitely tell that I've become stronger since I started, particularly my abs and my arms.

In the end, however, the 4:51am alarm has become too much for me. I didn't miss one workout for the first month or so .... and then, due to the pregnancy, I started getting nauseous and fatigued. My attendance suffered. Some weeks I only made one weekday, but made up the other day on the weekend. Other weeks I considered myself lucky to get in one day at all, and I even had at least one week where I didn't make it even once. It was getting very frustrating.

And then, even though I started feeling better, I still had problems getting there. Once my "perfect attendance" was gone, it didn't seem so bad to miss a day here or there. I started missing workouts because I had grading to do the night before and stayed up too late, or because, quite frankly, I just didn't want to get up.

I'm definitely going to miss the workouts. But now I can focus on my running and also hopefully fit in a few strength-training workouts at home. They won't be as challenging, but they also won't be at 5:30am! I'll miss the workouts .... but I'll relish sleeping in next week, I'm sure.

To Sleep or Not to Sleep?

What has happened to me?!? Every month, I barely eek out 10 posts ... and then I disappear off the face of the blogging planet until roughly the middle of the next month. At which point I repeat the process all over again. There's always hope for next month .... but I guess I'm saying: Don't be surprised when I have a flurry of posts the last week of April, and go incommunicado for a fortnight in May.

What am I doing while pointedly not blogging? It's hard to say, really. I've been having a serious dilemma lately about how much to sleep. As I reported on March 9 (my first blog post of that month!), I am (on and off again) reading The Happiness Project. It's set up as a 12-month project, with one large goal for the month, and several smaller, more specific goals to help reach the overall goal. So if the overall goal is, say, Boost Energy, the smaller goals will be "Get more sleep" and "Exercise more."

At first I was really excited, and read straight from January into July (I've stopped short of contemplating eternity in the August chapter). But it really did all just seem like a whole lot to do. So I put the book down and focused on one thing. One small goal, not even a larger one: Get more sleep.

It worked really well the first week I focused on it. I decided that getting up at 6 o'clock was a reasonable goal; two days a week I'm up earlier for my bootcamp work-outs, but I'm not going to set my internal clock to wake up at 5am every day. That's just ridiculous! So if I want to be up, well-rested at 6, I tried to follow the guidelines of stopping my day 9 hours before that. Stopping at 9 o'clock would give me a half-hour to sort of close out the day: get ready for bed, clean the kitchen, pack my bag, lay out tomorrow's clothes. Then I would also have a half-hour to decompress and get mentally ready for good night's sleep.

As I said, it worked really well for about a week. Did I mention that I started this on Spring Break? Like the one week where I didn't have to have anything done, absolutely, within the next 24 hours? Since the semester started back up again, it hasn't gone so well.

Does anyone out there feel like they get enough sleep? I want to wake up feeling refreshed. I want to stop choosing between being ready for tomorrow (in terms of my task list: lesson planning, grading, clean house, lunch packed) and getting enough sleep. I want to make it through a day without feeling the need to rely on caffeine and sugar to prop my eyelids open for half of it. I want Eleanor to stop turning around when I'm "reading" (actually falling asleep and mumbling bedtime stories) and saying, "Mommy! Wake up!" Or, when I'm already falling asleep again at 8 o'clock in the morning, she pokes me and says, "Stop sleeping! You already slept!"

I remember a year or so ago, reading a short advice column in a fitness magazine. The reader's question was a very familiar one: I work out in the mornings, but I don't always get to bed on time. If I have to choose between 1) only 6 hours sleep and get a good morning workout, or 2) get a full night's sleep and skip the workout, what should I do?

I feel like I'm faced with this decision all the time. And I was so incredibly pissed at the columnist's answer; I can still feel my irritation level rising today, just thinking of it. Essentially, the columnist said, "Both working out and sleep are important. So you should get a full night's sleep AND work out."

Um, when was that an option?!? Do you have a house? A job? Kids? Pets? This is not an AND situation. This is strictly either/or. And most of the time lately, I've been choosing sleep. I'm trying to blame it on the pregnancy, but I can choose sleep and go to bed a little earlier ... and then still feel the need to take 2 naps the next day, like I did on Saturday.

Alright, this rant is getting a little long-winded, so I'm going to shut it down. I should already be in bed, asleep, anyway, since I have bootcamp at 5:30am tomorrow morning. So now I'm wondering: sleep? workout? Just stay up all night, trying to get ahead, and live on caffeine and sugar tomorrow?!?

*The picture is from just a couple of weeks after Eleanor was born (August 2008). It's much harder to get sleepy pictures of her these days!

I'm Working on Six-Pack Legs

Ha! I do recognize the ab wheel, and am familiar with its tortures!

Since I started this Bootcamp, I have used all different kinds of workout equipment that, until this point, I had only seen on The Biggest Loser. The ab wheel is one. Those huge ropes that they fling around with such abandon? Yeah, those are really heavy.

The most challenging piece of equipment, I don't even know what to call it. Suspended something or others? They have hard handles for you to grip and do pull-ups or suspended push-ups and more (so much more!) or soft handles that hang down from the hard handles for you to shove the front half of your feet in there and perform various excruciating moves, all from a suspended plank position. Here's something close to what I'm talking about:
Finally, I can also tell you that I know that this thing is called a Prowler Sled, and it makes my thighs burn while pushing and pulling it. Then I can barely walk for a day after a workout involving the Prowler Sled.

I had no idea Bootcamp would be such an educational experience. And I thought I was just going for the workout!

MY WTF Moment and the Idea of Margin

I finally got around to telling you all about my new 5:30am workouts because I really wanted to tell this story and it's important to know that it takes place before the sun has even considered touching the horizon.

Last Thursday, I got up at 4:50am (okay, 4:56) and got dressed and drove to bootcamp. I didn't take my phone or my wallet because, really, who was I going to call? What was I going to buy? I suppose Starbucks would be open ... but who needs caffeine after an invigorating workout?

In case you can't tell where this is heading, I was only halfway to the workout place when the empty light on the gas gauge pinged on. I can't stand driving with the gas light on. No matter how many times Keith tells me that I still have a good 20-30 miles to go, and it's only 5 miles to the workout place .... I don't really believe. I may logically understand it's true, but I spend the entire time in the car gripping the steering wheel, imagining all the horrible things that will happen when I run out of gas and get stranded.

So I did manage to make myself drive to the bootcamp and deal with it afterwards. But I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with it, exactly. I had no wallet and no phone. What are my options? Am I brave enough to risk driving all the way home? Even if I were, Eleanor had a check-up at 9:10am and then I needed to leave for work at 10:45am. Lately, getting Eleanor out the door has been difficult, to say the least. If I didn't get gas on the way home, what were the chances that we would be late to her appointment or I'd be late to work?

My brain couldn't handle it. I had to get gas ASAP or my head was going to explode from the anxiety and fear. I remembered I had a few bucks in the glove compartment. So after bootcamp I hurried out to the car and checked.

I had $3 in bills and one more dollar in quarters. So that would be enough for just over a gallon of gas. I'd feel stupid buying $4 of gas with change, but it was better than not getting any gas at all.

I went out of my way to go to the gas station closest to the bootcamp. I pulled up to a pump wit a sigh of relief. I had made it! The world wasn't going to end!

I went inside to pay my measly $4 to get the pump turned on. Some irate woman was leaving as I was entering and she said something about having difficulties paying. I said I had cash instead of a card, and figured it wasn't a problem. I went in, paid my cash, and went back out to the pump.

And then.

It didn't work.

The cashier came out and yelled something to me that I couldn't hear so I went back in. He handed me back my cash and said the pumps weren't working. I stared at him.

"BUT I NEED GAS." I stated, slowly and clearly. "This is all of the money I have and I'm out of gas."

The young man shrugged apathetically. "All I can tell you is that I'm pressing the buttons and they're not working."

I walked out, my $4 in hand. What now? Surely the car was going to run out of gas now; it seemed destined. I just kept thinking, "What the F#@k?!?"

(Digression: Keith and I don't swear much at all. Honest! Which is especially important now that Eleanor repeats everything we say. Like that time we were in the car and Eleanor kept telling us to "Strap Up!" instead of "Buckle up!" or "Strap in!" and I told Keith, "It sounds like we're a bunch of trannies!" and Eleanor happily chatted about being trannies all the way to the Botanical Gardens. So I'd never drop the F-bomb at home, but it seemed warranted in this situation.)

I mean, really. How does this happen? The gas station DOESN'T WORK?!? Who does this happen to? It was one of those moments when it feels like the entire world is part of a conspiracy to drive me insane.

But, no matter how much I overreacted, the world didn't end. I drove to another gas station and got gas there. I was nervous when I pulled up because the car at the pump ahead of me was running, its owner was standing by the pump. Just standing—not pumping gas or doing much of anything. I paid my $4 (again) and went back out to the pump to hear him talking to a woman who had just pulled up, explaining how his keys got locked inside. Whew! Not my problem.

My $4 got me to a quarter tank of gas, and the rest of the day passed uneventfully.

Once I calmed down, I kept thinking more and more about how the morning only became such a disaster because I was unprepared. I had known for the past week that I needed to get gas, but I kept putting it off because I felt like I really didn't have enough time to stop. I consciously decided to leave the house that morning with neither cell phone nor wallet, because I thought I wouldn't need them. My WTF moment was completely of my own making.

And it reminded me again of an article I had read almost 3 years ago over at a personal finance website called The Simple Dollar. The article was actually a book review about Margin by Richard Swenson. I had even blogged about it in "3 Jobs Too Many" when I first read it.

At that time, I said:

My understanding of the concept is that people function best when they have margin in their lives—space and time that is unaccounted for. This way, when something takes more of your time and effort than you had expected, you have some leeway in which to deal with it. Minor catastrophes and time-sucks can be dealt with.

On the other hand, many people today schedule their lives without any margin at all. (Can you see me raising my hand?) No margin in time, so I'm always racing from one activity to the next. And no margin in mental tasks, so I get worn down because I'm constantly thinking and evaluating and planning something else. When you're living with no margin, the smallest glitch can cause a ripple effect and suddenly it feels like you've completely lost control.

It drives me crazy that I still feel the same way. I absolutely think that I would be calmer and happier if I had margin, but it is still a foreign notion to me. I'd like to blame it on being the parent of a toddler, but the reality check is that I originally wrote it in March 2008—several months before Eleanor was even born.

What's it going to take to get a little bit of breathing room in my life? So I'm not stuck at the gas station at 6:30am with $4 in my hand, no gas in the tank, and a rock of anxiety and fear in my chest?

I might need to actually read the book.

I'm Ready for Bed by 7:00am

Okay, I really have been slacking on the blog. I can't believe I haven't written about this yet! A little before Christmas, I got an email from our pediatrician's office saying that, as a gift to the parents, they were offering a two-week free trial at Cleveland Fitness Bootcamp. After a few weeks of dithering, I signed up. For 5:30-6:30am, two days a week.

This appeals to me for a lot of reasons. I've finally come to accept that I MUST workout before Eleanor is awake; otherwise, it won't happen. There's too many other things going on, either legitimate needs or convenient excuses. I was actually doing well last winter, working out, but then in May Eleanor started getting up at 6:00 or 6:30am and I couldn't work out before that (okay, I refused to) so my workouts slid. Next thing I know, it's Christmas and I'm like a lump of sugar cookie dough waiting to be formed, all jiggly and, well, lumpy.

I also do like working out in the morning. Getting up at 4:50am to work out at 5:30 is a little early, even for me, but I love getting home by 6:45 and getting a shower and being done by 7:30. Keith hates to see me in the kitchen after I get back.

"Hi!" I beam. "Isn't it a wonderful morning?"

He grunts and avoids eye contact, like any normal human being would.

Days like today, however, can be rough. It was a tough workout this morning, and I have a hard time getting to sleep early enough the nights before. So it's nice to be done and showered by 7:30am ..... except when I'm already dragging and I open the bathroom door and Eleanor is already awake. Most days I have at least a half-hour of downtime so I can recuperate before starting my full-time Mom gig. Today was not one of those days.

But! I have made it to every workout so far, which is a good thing. I haven't lost any weight (mostly because of my diet, I'm sure). My usual daily workout of picking up/putting down Eleanor 50+ times and carrying her the equivalent of 6 miles or so throughout the day has gotten a bit easier. In the end I signed up for 3 months, so I can keep doing this until the weather warms up and Beckett and I can start running in the mornings again. Hopefully I can make it that long!

Photo Challenge: Control

Yup, that's right. I haven't posted since last week's photo challenge! I got sick Thursday night and it was a rough couple of days. Plus, once I felt a little better, I had to finish getting ready for this semester, which started yesterday. Which essentially means that, ready or not, the semester is started and hopefully things will soon fall into a nice, easy, manageable rhythm. Right? Right????

Keith had a hard time being inspired by the word "control." Everything we thought of seemed too obvious. And, what with the sickness and frantic lesson preparation, we didn't really make it out for a photo field trip.

Last night after I put Eleanor to bed, I came downstairs to see Keith taking some photos of computer innards. He said, "I had another idea for control that has to do with yoga ...."

I said, "Do you want me to pose?"

Keith said, "Sure!"



And there you have it. My masterful yoga-ness. On the negative side, I think I'd like the picture more if it had more context. Like if I were actually wearing something I'd wear to yoga class, and not jeans and a sweatshirt. But on the plus side, I'm pretty proud of myself for holding that pose. He took a lot of pictures! So maybe I haven't been doing much yoga lately, but apparently I haven't forgotten it all!

The rest of the Control pictures from the group are here.

Lead Free!!!!

I'm not a big exclamation point person, but I thought this situation warranted it.

Eleanor had her 2-year check-up the other week; this was the last time they would be checking on her lead levels. She had her check-up on Thursday, and Friday afternoon the doctor's office called us to say that all of her levels were normal.

I may have done a little jig. The nightmare is over! We can move on!

There's only one small lead abatement project left that is in process. The 2 doors in the living room are currently being stripped and repainted. But compared to everything else we've already had done, that's small potatoes.

On an unrelated note .... this is a picture taken in the backyard by our friend, Melissa. It makes me laugh because sometimes I think every single picture of Eleanor should be blurred like this. Every picture of every toddler, ages 2-4, should be blurred. Or passed out asleep. It's so hard to catch them still!

Allergic to .. parties?

These lovely flowers were the centerpiece for Eleanor's birthday party.

Unfortunately, Keith made me put them outside the very next day, because he was sneezing constantly. He didn't know for sure if the flowers were the culprit, but it was worth a shot.

Actually, he walked into the living room, vase in hand, and said, "Can I get rid of these?"

So the move to the back porch was a compromise. I missed having them in the house, but they still looked nice in the sunshine!

The Sweet Sound of Distant Hammering

As I write this, Eleanor is napping in her crib. I am sitting on the porch swing, enjoying a warm breeze and sunshine. Since we found out about the lead last July, the side porch has been off-limits. But now with the siding and indoor/outdoor carpet, we can again swing in peace and tranquility.

We are done hiring contractors. The only lead abatement item left is stripping the two living room doors/frames that we weren't willing to replace. I've ordered some paint stripper and we are going to take care of that ourselves. (And of course, pictures will be posted!)

I said that we're done hiring contractors, and I desperately hope that's true. We are done with all the work that we were planning on. But of course, it's the unforeseen that always gets you!

But the contractors finished the siding in early May—just in time for my month off before summer semester started this week. It was perfect timing. I've greatly enjoyed being home with Eleanor, and again feeling safe and healthy in our home.

We did one more massive cleaning, top to bottom, after the contractors were done. Since then, we've let the cleaning slide a bit. We're not on a total cleaning strike, but I am enjoying the feeling that I can see a little bit of dust on a picture frame without worrying that I'm poisoning my child. Now that it feels like the danger has passed, I do want to institute a saner, gentler cleaning schedule. I'm sure I'll get around to that soon.

Eleanor's lead levels have been normal since last November, but she does get tested one more time, at her 2-year appointment in July. I feel like we've done everything we can to protect her since we realized the magnitude of the problem, but I will be reserving my final sigh of relief for when I hear her levels are still okay.

But for now, I'm enjoying the peace and quiet. I'm enjoying being outside without guilt and fear. In particular, I'm enjoying that a house on the street behind ours is getting a new roof. I hear hammering, chatter, nailguns, the radio, and miscellaneous clatters. Which reminds me that we had our roof replaced the week before Eleanor was born. They finished on Saturday, and Eleanor was born on Sunday morning. So the whole contractor ordeal started even before she was born.

And now, it's over. Or at least hopefully on a long hiatus. Working on the garden around the deck felt like we were moving on. Getting back to projects that we wanted to work on, instead of being in disaster-containment mode. I know that the list of house projects never really ends. I just hope that, in the future, the projects are ones of our choosing, on our own timeline.

A Mother's Release: Permanent Solutions

When weighing our lead-abatement options, we had a county lead inspector come and look at our house. According to his findings, none of the interior paint was a problem. The only issue was the old windows and exterior paint on the house and garage. The soil right next to the house and garage was also contaminated.

Replacing the rest of the windows was a given—that we would find a different contractor was also a given. We also needed to do something about our 4 exterior doors, and then make the big decision: whether or not to install vinyl siding.

The two doors in the living rooms have gorgeous, beveled glass panes and would cost a fortune to replace. We tried to find someone who would strip them and repaint them, but didn't have much luck. While we continued to look at our options for those doors, last Fall we went ahead and hired someone to replace the two doors that don't face the road and that weren't particularly attractive.

It was a miracle! It was only a small job, but the contractor showed up on time, kept the work area very clean, and finished in a timely manner. So when it came time to get quotes on the rest of the replacement windows and possible siding or repainting, that contractor was at the top of the list.

We found all of our contractors on the list of state-certified lead abatement contractors. It was a pretty random, frustrating process. I'd search on the state's database for contractors with current lead abatement licenses. I'd get a lot of results that were irrelevant: contractors from all across the state (I couldn't figure out how to narrow it to just our area), or contractors who only did inspections and not actual abatement work. I had a goal: every week or so, I'd call 5 more contractors. Of those 5, 2 might never answer or call me back. Two might talk to me on the phone, but never get around to actually coming to the house. If I was lucky, 1 would actually come and look at the house and give me an estimate.

The estimates ranged from under $2o,000 to over $40,000. In the end, we did decide to get vinyl siding over our original wood siding. We preferred the look of the natural wood, but it was just not cost-effective or particularly safe to stick with the lead-painted wood. We would have to repaint at the very first sign of cracking, which meant a recurring cost every 3-5 years, instead of 5-10, which we had originally planned on. Plus, it would need to be lead-safe painting, where the painters put drop cloths on the ground to pick up every paint chip that falls so that it doesn't further contaminate the soil. The paint can't be dry-scraped, because that would also release lead dust, so the whole process would be much more time-consuming and, of course, costly. It just made more sense to get the vinyl siding now and be done worrying about it.

We also hadn't realized that we would need to replace our garage doors and windows. The garage and the doors were painted with the same paint, and any friction surface creates lead dust, so that added on to the total, too.

Unlike the first window replacements, everything became much simpler once we made our choices and hired a contractor. We used the same contractor who had replaced the two doors, and again they did an amazing job. They worked diligently, cleaned up every night, and the job was done in a few weeks. So although we've had some very bad contractor experience, at least now I feel like I have one contractor that I would want to call again!

A Mother's Torture: Cleaning

Before Eleanor's elevated lead levels (ELL), I had never really cared about dusting. Keith would notice if things were dusty before I would. I just never saw the dust gathering, and, therefore, certainly never did anything about it.

That particularly held true for the first year after Eleanor was born. I was wearing myself out, trying to keep up with everything, and enjoy time with Eleanor, AND get some sleep, too. Something had to go, and I made the conscious decision that housekeeping would be it. So there were tumbleweeds of dog hair blowing through the living room on occasion. So what? I just needed to stop running myself into the ground and let the house get a little messy. No one ever died from a little dust, right?

But post-ELL, everything changed. Suddenly, we were bombarded with information about how to clean our house, from top to bottom, and do it repeatedly. Once again, I felt overwhelmed with new information and incredibly frustrated. Why did I not hear anything about this before she tested above normal? Prior to the testing, anything I'd ever heard or read focused on incredibly expensive fixes—replacing windows and doors, installing vinyl siding over lead paint, removing tainted soil down to 2 feet and filling in with clean soil. We did what we could afford and what we thought was most urgent when we replaced the majority of the windows. But we couldn't afford to do all of it at once, so we stopped and kept our fingers crossed.

But just now, at this point, I'm learning about all of the low-tech solutions? Why the hell wasn't this info available before?!? If I had realized that the solution (at least a part-time one) could be so cheap and easy, of course I would have done it! Again, I blamed myself for not being well-informed. Somehow, I should have known this.... but now, nearly a year later, I wonder. I have an MA in English. I and my web developer husband spend a lot of time online. In my prior hours of searching for lead poisoning prevention, if I had never really come across this information, then surely it's not just me?

And thus, our cleaning purgatory began. In the short-term, we closed all of the old windows, never to be opened again. We forbid wearing shoes in the house, since they could track in lead-contaminated dirt. That patio project last August? That was to cover up the bare ground outside the house that was Beckett's landing spot off the back porch, because bare soil is a big "no no." We took down nearly all of the blinds in the house, because blinds hold a lot of dust. The only blinds that are still up are in the bedrooms, and those were washed and re-hung.

While we started looking at all of the expensive long-term solutions mentioned above, we cleaned exhaustively and repeatedly. At first we were advised to use Dawn powdered dishwasher detergent because, for some reason, it picks up lead dust particles better than your average cleaner. So we did use that for a few weeks, but then switched to our regular cleaners based on the advice from the lead inspector who said it wasn't necessary to keep using them on a regular basis.

The cleaning schedule went through many revisions. At first, we tried to clean the house from top to bottom, every week. This takes a serious amount of time and effort. Think of every knickknack on every surface of your house. If you have kids, picture all of the toys on every floor. Now imagine handling every single one of those items, carefully washing them down to get rid of any possible dust ... doesn't leave much free time, does it?

Additionally, we stopped sweeping because sweeping could kick up lead dust, and instead we started used our HEPA-filter vacuum everywhere. The main problem with this switch is that it meant we couldn't clean while Eleanor was sleeping. We could wipe down surfaces, but the vacuuming would have to wait and, therefore, so would the mopping.

A few times, Eleanor spent the night at my parents, which gave Keith and I a whole day to clean. It felt like the only way we could get it done. By the end of the day, we would be exhausted and frustrated. Was it even doing any good?!? We had implemented so many changes—how could we know which ones were effective? Was it really the monotonous cleaning, or was it simply the fact that we closed the old windows, and all of the cleaning wasn't really necessary? There was no way of knowing, and we didn't want to take any chances.

It quickly became apparent that we couldn't keep up with cleaning the entire house on a weekly basis. Plus, it was pretty hard to believe that a significant amount of lead dust was entering every floor, all the time, especially once it got colder and we closed all the windows. By this past Spring, the cleaning schedule had changed to:

• The first floor vacuumed and mopped every week
• One other floor vacuumed and mopped each week
• The additional floor also has all hard surfaces wiped down

So one week we might vacuum and mop the first and second floors, and then wipe down everything on the second floor. We moved from basement one week, to first floor the next, then to second floor and attic. That meant each floor was getting extensively cleaned once a month. We felt like it was a decent compromise between our original, massive amount of cleaning, and a more reasonable schedule that still left us feeling like our home was relatively dust-free.

Of course, all of this was just an interim solution while we figured out what the long-term solution would be, and how we would pay for it.

A Mother's Confession About This Old House

If you were looking carefully at the landscaping, you might have noticed some other changes around the house.

When buying an older home, we knew that lead paint could be an issue. But what did that mean, exactly? Where was the lead paint? How much of an issue? Since lead has been outlawed in paint since 1978, surely it had been resolved by now, right?

And then, when we were painting the nursery, we used an at-home lead paint tester and discovered that all of the old windows were testing positive. This completely threw me off balance. At this point, I think I was already 7 months pregnant. There was no way we could figure out a solution and have it implemented before the baby was born.

We did our best, but I felt completely overwhelmed. No matter how much research I did, I still didn't feel like I really understand what was needed. I kept trying to get companies out to test everything around the house and tell us our options, but it didn't go well. Some refused to do any residential work. Many just didn't call me back. One company sent a guy out who looked around, told me we should probably replace all of the windows, took a soil sample, and never called back.

I felt underinformed, in over my head, and like I was swimming in a sea of knowledge and experts without actually having a clue about what was useful, relevant information.

We did the best we could. We found a local contractor to replace the majority of the windows, and took out two loans to do it.

He was horrible. I've already blogged bitterly about this experience here and here. It was just such an awful experience, and it dragged on for over a year .... which was, of course, the first year of Eleanor's life.

And then, after Eleanor's one-year well visit, we found out that she had an elevated lead level.

When we got the phone call with the results, I was so shocked and horrified. And, instantaneously, so very, very guilty. This was my innocent baby that, through shoddy, ineffective parenting, I had allowed to ingest poison. I think I spent the next week in tears. It was constantly weighing on me. Everyone knows that lead is a hazard; how could I not have known exactly what to do to protect her? How could I let this happen? What kind of defective mother am I?

So yeah, you can understand why it's taken me nearly a year to admit it publicly, that my daughter had an elevated lead level (ELL). It's been this deep, dark secret that I carry around with me, that I think about every time someone compliments me as a mother. I smile and nod, but inside I'm thinking, "You might think I'm a good mother now, but if only you knew the truth ..."

Here's the good news: Eleanor is okay now. A normal blood lead level is <3 micrograms of lead/deciliter of blood. What is concerned the "Action Level" by the CDC is 10mg/L or more. At it's peak (that we know of), Eleanor's was a 7. So she was in the "warning" stage, and wasn't actually considered poisoned. A month later, she was down to a 4, and by her 15-month appt, she was back at the normal level.

The bad news, and what I will always have to live with, is that we are not meant to have any lead in our systems at all, and there is no safe level. We will never know how even that brief exposure has affected her brain's development. If she ever has a learning disability or even is a particularly unruly teenager, it could be caused by the lead. I'll never know.

And we'll never know what caused the elevated lead level. Were the original windows the culprit? Or did replacing them make things even worse? Even though we made it clear to the degenerate window contractor that we were doing this because of lead paint concerns, I know now that he didn't take any of the precautions he should have to prevent lead dust from contaminating the work environment. You know: Eleanor's nursery, playroom, living room--all the rooms where she spends the most time. Is it his fault? Or is it our fault, because we didn't replace all of the windows? Did she just chew on some defective toy from China? We have no idea.

All we do know for certain is that her level was elevated, and there will always be a risk with that. We didn't do enough before she was born. We've done everything we could since to remedy the situation (but I'll get more into that in the next post). I am now fully aware of how impossible it is to be the perfect parent. No matter how hard we try, I have to believe that some failure is inevitable. A letting down of the guard here or a misstep there. I can only hope that I do enough things right to make up for that.

It's a Blessing ... and a Curse

A few weeks ago, I bought a book about running for Keith, since he was in the midst of marathon training. It wasn't a training manual, though, but more of a writer's thoughts about the act of running. In What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, Haruki Murakami ruminates on what running has meant to him throughout his life, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Why does he consider himself a runner? What does that mean? What traits set runners apart from others?

How do I know that's what the book is about, when it was a present for Keith? Because I gave it to him, and promptly stole it off his nightstand and started reading it. Keith did steal it back a few days later, so I'm not very far into it. But I've already read quite a few ideas that have stuck with me.

In particular, Murakami talks about why he started running regularly. Pretty much, when he quit tending bar and started writing full-time, he also started to put on some weight and wasn't happy about it. Unlike his wife, who could eat whatever she wanted and never gain a pound, he sat at a computer all day and his waist was expanding. So he started running.

This is pretty typical. What I found refreshing&mdash;and challenging&mdash;was how he turned his slowing metabolism and new-found love for running into such a positive. He argued that those of us (and I am definitely included in this group) whose bodies are more sensitive to bad influences like the lack of exercise and an overabundance of unhealthy food are actually the lucky ones. We have motivation to change our bad habits because we dislike the way we look and feel. People whose bodies don't reflect their unhealthy lifestyle are much less likely to change, and will be more unhealthy in the long run. In Murakami's words:

But when I think about it, having the kind of body that easily puts on weight was perhaps a blessing in disguise [....] Life can be tough, but as long as you don't stint on the effort, your metabolism will greatly improve with these habits, and you'll end up much healthier, not to mention stronger [....] For the reasons I give above, I think this physical nuisance should be viewed in a positive way, as a blessing. We should consider ourselves lucky that the red light is so clearly visible. Of course, it's not always so easy to see things this way.

I agree with so much about this attitude. Both that it's healthy and affirmative to see my body's sensitivity to food and exercise as a blessing .... and that it's a very difficult attitude to maintain. I'm working on it.