Transitions

Closed is such a funny word. Closed. Closing. closed. If I type it enough it starts to look incorrect, like maybe it should be "clozed" or "cloased."

Today is the last day of ghia, my store. I'm going to concentrate on being a full-time mom for awhile. Actually, I already was a de facto full-time mom, and the store as getting short shrift. So I'm closing it.

I'm excited to close it. I'm excited for the extra brain space it will give me. I'm excited that I will no longer have to do paperwork and taxes. I'm hopeful that I will become less likely to define myself by what I do and more apt to define myself by who I am.

I'm sad, too. Sad that I will no longer go on fair trade shopping sprees to find products my customers will like. Sad that something I worked so hard to create will no longer exist.

But the hardest thing for me is the change. I liked where I was before, and I like where I am going, but the journey can be quite rocky and painful. Closing the store today involves me clicking a button, but the emotional toll feels like 12 hours of work. I want to be done and through the process and in the happy fields of freedom, not on the foggy plains of transition.

This time is reminding me of when we bought our house. As we were leaving our apartment for the last time, I got kinda teary and wondered if I was ready to leave apartment life, despite the awesomeness of the house that was waiting across town.Of course I was excited about home ownership, but the finality of leaving the apartment scared me.

Transition really seems to be the word around here. Ian is transitioning to his big-boy car seat and stroller right now, and he's also transitioning to somebody with teeth! That, too, is a bit stressful for me -- when do we install his new seat? When do I put him in a restaurant high chair for the first time? When can he eat a teething biscuit?

So the moral of the story, kids, is that I don't like change, even when it is good. But, as Relient K so eloquently puts it, "When the burden seems too much to bear, remember, the end will justify the pain it took to get us there."

Calling Control -- Come In, Control

For much of his short, little life, Ian has been on medicine for acid reflux. Originally I hated the thought of giving my baby medicine, but it provided him such relief that I learned to be grateful for the option.

The medicine is supposed to be given four times a day before a feeding. Sounds easy enough, but those four doses often could be challenging for Mommy and Daddy to remember. Once Ian was down to a solid 6 meals a day, we developed a good system wherein we gave him his dose at all of his "inside" meals: i.e., not the first nor the last meal of the day.

Of course, once we went down to 5 meals, we lost our groove (is it possible to have a medicine groove?).

A couple of weeks ago, I gave Ian his medicine and his bottle and then put him to sleep for the night. A few minutes after he fell asleep, I realized that I had given him an extra dose of meds that day.

At first I figured, hey, no big deal. He started on this dosage when he was several pounds lighter, so logically he can handle more of the medicine now. But then my mind starting churning. What if it DID make a difference? I mean, this is MY CHILD, it's not like put too much baking powder in cookies.

I think about calling poison control, and my mind develops two scenarios -- one involving them sending a racing ambulance with paramedics who laugh at me for worrying two much, and the other involving me trying to give Ian ipecac to get him to throw up the extra medicine. Ummmmmm, no thanks.

Where to turn? The pediatrician's office is closed, and they don't have a nurse line. I could call my pediatrician at home, but I hate to disturb him if this is no big deal. Hey! My husband's company has a nurseline; I'll call them! Hmmm......looooooong wait..............waiting.......waiting.........DON'T THEY KNOW MY BABY COULD BE DYING?!!!!!?!?!

Okay, the pharmacy, they would know. Argh! They closed 5 minutes ago!

At this point, feeling rather sheepish but determined to keep Ian safe, I call a 24-hour pharmacy.

"Hello?"

"Hi, um, I don't have a prescription there but I'm hoping you can help me with the question anyway????" ("Yes, I said it as a question.)

"What can I help you with?"

"I gave my baby an extra dose of cimetidine, and I need to know if that's okay."

"Well, let me get you the number for poison control...."

So it comes down to it. Looks like I'm calling poison control anyway.

"Hello -- poison control."

"Hi! I gave my baby an extra dose of cimetidine, and I need to know if he'll be okay."

"How much does your baby weigh and what was the dose? Oh, yes, ma'am, he'll be just fine."

That was it. No ambulance, no ipecac. Just a very intelligent, very helpful staffer who probably had a handy dandy computer program to look things up for panicked callers.

I had no idea that calling poison control would be such a positive experience. They're, like, my best friends now. Maybe I'll call them again this week.

Actually, I hope I never call them again. But I'm glad they're there.

Stroller Struggle

My little guy has become a tall guy, and he's about to outgrow his infant carrier. Thanks to the generosity of family, we already have our next car seat. However, the search is on for a stroller.

Paul and I are both leaning towards a Maclaren Volo. I'm embarrassed to admit that I want a Maclaren because I always told myself that I could do without one of those fancy-schmancy, high-end strollers. If I get a Maclaren, then Nancy might revoke my "baby minimalist" title. It really is a nice stroller, though. I love how lightweight it is, plus the fact that it includes a stroller strap so I can sling it over my shoulder when I need to go up stairs or something.

Several people have recommended the Maclaren Triumph, which costs about $50 more than the Volo. The Triumph has extra seat padding, a one-handed folding mechanism, and reclining positions. I don't care about the padding, and I like the folding mechanism of the Volo just fine, but I wonder about the adjustable recline. Is that something I'm going to need?

And then there's the whole jogging stroller question. I definitely don't need a jogging stroller, but I would love to walk a 5K race with Ian occasionally. I don't know if a regular stroller can take a 5K, although I'm guessing it might be able to do it at my slow pace. I don't think I want to buy a jogging stroller and not a regular stroller, though, because jogging strollers are so bulky and heavy. I'm not sure I could even fit one in my tiny car.

So, as usual, I have a question for you guys -- how important is the reclining feature on a stroller? Do you use it, or is it just an extra bell and/or whistle? AND have you ever used a regular stroller to walk a 5K?

A House Too Quiet

The house is too quiet. Ian and I are here, with Cameron keeping watch in the backyard. But the house feels a bit empty.

Loa the kitty is at the vet. I took her to the vet last week after she started drooling, but they sent us home and said to watch her for a few days. I found some fleas on her, so I decided to give her a flea bath and -- a day later -- put some topical flea medicine on her.

That was a big mistake.

I just grabbed some flea treatment from Kroger. I figured it wouldn't be as effective as the stuff from the vet, but since she's an indoor kitty I decided to risk it.

Now she's not eating, and the area where I put the flea medicine is an irritated neon pink.

I know I am at fault here. I should not have treated an already sick kitty with flea medicine (even though I thought I was doing what was best for her), and I should have waited more than a day between the bath and the topical treatment.

However, my Loa kitty is not the only animal to experience problems. Other people have had very experiences, and you can read their stories at HartzVictims.org. Apparently these over-the-counter flea meds are not necessarily ineffective, but they are dangerous. So why are they still on the shelves?

I guess I'm writing this post half as a warning to other pet owners, and half as an outlet for my own sadness over Loa's predicament. I'm hoping to get a good report from the pet this afternoon.

UPDATE: Loa is okay! Just a little dehydrated. Her skin is still irritated, but the vet says she'll be fine. 

Contribute 2009

As pointed out by Nashvillest, this weeks is Contribute 2009, an effort to encourage consumers to support local businesses. If 100,000 people spend $50 at a local business this month, that's $5 million going into small businesses across the country!

Sounds like the perfect excuse for Castrillo's Pizza and Pied Piper ice cream to me. And I did hear about a new chocolate factory about a mile from my house....

For more info on Contribute 2009, visit Scentsy.

GTD

Okay, ladies, what's your secret? Does an army of house elves clean your house every night? Do you plop your kids in front of a TV so you can fold laundry? How do you keep your home up and running AND find time to remember your name?

When I worked in the corporate world there were seminars and systems for being more productive. All I can think is that somehow I miss the seminar for stay-at-home moms. Maybe they forgot to send me a postcard.

Each day I have wonderful dreams of how much I will accomplish, only to fall into bed every night and wonder where the hours went. The laundry piles up, the floor stays dirty, and the cat has to wait one more day for a litter change. I mean, yes, the baby gets fed and nurtured, but that's about the extent of my productivity. And I know the baby care is super important, but hey, so is having clean clothes.

There are temporary fixes, of course. I can hire some housekeeping help or let someone else watch Ian while I work. But I'm looking for a long-term solution in how I handle everyday life.

A few months ago I spoke with a friend who is one of those amazing, do-everything people. She owns a business and chairs a food bank and teaches piano lessons while taking care of three kids and maintaining a charming personality. I asked her how she manages to be so productive. Her answer? "You don't want to be as busy as me."

I think I may need a closer look at a saying I hear from time to time -- Don't compare your insides to other people's outsides. That's pretty much what I've been doing. I look at my friends who work outside the home or find time for lots of playdates or style their hair perfectly every day and wonder -- how? How do they do it? How are their lives so perfect? And I miss the sacrifices they've made, the tough decisions they've fought through to keep the things that are important to them.

I guess I'm in that process, figuring out what goes and what stays.

But in the meantime.......spill it! Tell me your secrets for keeping your household sane.

The Book Not Taken

Two books diverged on a library shelf....


I went to the library the other day to find some new reading material. Since I'm pumping milk for Ian, I spend a lot of time sitting at a desk, and books are terrific distraction. I've been reading a guilty pleasure series that sets the Robin Hood legend in England at the time of the Norman conquest, but I balanced out the first book in the series by reading Eat, Pray, Love at the same time. So when I went to pick up the second Robin Hood book, I figured I would pick out another New York Times bestseller or some thought-provoking fiction favored by NPR. Maybe a book about refugees.

I approached the shelf, eager to find some intellectual delight...... and I saw it. I knew I was doomed from the first glance. The book had the silhouette of a black kitty on the spine, along with the Sherlock Holmes avatar denoting it as a mystery novel. I glanced at the back for a description, but it was all a charade; I knew that book was going home with me. I was powerless. The New York Times bestselling NPR refugees would have to wait.