Mother Hoodwink

Clear Head or Good Grammar?

I'm on day 3 of ADD meds and I can't believe how much everything has changed. I feel amazing! During the first day I cuddled Maggie before I put her down for her nap. Instead of thinking of fifty different things as I swayed quietly holding her, I found myself staring at the wood grain of her crib and realized that I wasn't thinking of anything! All I could focus on was the design of the grain. I had no other thought in my head. That has never happened to me before. I told Josh about it and he was all, "What? You could never just not think of something?" Uh, no! Hence, the ADD diagnoses.

I have found one tiny drawback. I am all of a sudden making huge grammar mistakes when I type. Like my mind is so focused on what I'm writing that I just type too fast to think about which they're, their, there to use. This is quite worrisome for me. I like good grammar. I admit, I probably make minor grammar mistakes all the time, but there is no excuse to not know which word to use or not know how to use an apostrophe. I get very annoyed with people who make those kinds of mistakes if English in their first language. I mean, it's the only language you know! Might be a good idea to know how to use it. You do have to take twelve years of English classes before you become a legal adult.

Apple's auto spell check is my backbone right now. The above paragraph was riddled with all kinds of mistakes before I fixed them. I wonder if that's why teenagers today write like they just learned English last week. So many kids now are on this medication. Maybe some kids just don't have the wherewithal to correct their grammar mistakes.

I just wanted to warn anyone that knows me though type. If I all of a sudden have a bunch of grammatical errors in my writing, please understand that I do know the rules. I just missed one of the many mistakes that I have to correct now.

I should have written this post ignoring all the dotted red lines under the misspelled words and not re-read everything to make sure I was using proper grammar. I'm sure everyone would have thought a thirteen year old had taken over my blog. Maybe next post?

Even with my new ability to constantly make grammatical mistakes, I like having a clear mind and motivation.

You down with ADD?! I am. :(

I've been convinced for a couple of years now that I have ADD. If I'm not genuinely interested in something, it's very difficult for me to pay attention. My mind wanders constantly. I was a smart kid but never got good grades unless I loved the class. I've always been complimented on my patience. It's not patience I have. It's the ability to daydream at the drop of a hat. Or shift my attention to observe the people around me. I like to people watch so waiting in line rarely bothers me. My years of people watching have made it so I can read a person within the first couple of minutes of meeting them. So it's been good for something.

I finally got around to seeing someone about my ADD. I kept putting it off because I was nervous to see a psychiatrist. I've never been to any kind of therapy before and pride myself on being able to work things out myself. I don't fault people who need therapy, it's just something I personally don't feel comfortable with.

I had a mini meltdown an hour before my appointment. I was scared the doctor would ask me all kinds of personal questions that are no one's business. I know he's trained and has a medical degree but he's still a virtual stranger. I'm not one to confide easily to people I don't know well. What if he asked me about my family? That's their business that I would be putting out there. I'm way too loyal to my loved ones to talk in detail about my issues with my family with a stranger. (When I say family, I don't mean my marriage.) The idea of emotionally opening up to stranger scares me more than a major surgery does. It's not hard for me to talk about my feelings at all but if you aren't the person I have the issue with, I can't get any peace from discussing my problem. So I see no point in talking to a stranger who doesn't really know me.

Josh calmed me and reassured me that my problem was physical, not emotional. To just go in there and act as if I was talking about a hurt foot. I was nervous up until the moment I met my doctor. He put me at ease immediately. He's this tough New Yorker guy. I read a few reviews of him online and a few people said he's easy to talk to because he's heard it all. He used to have mobsters as patients before he moved to innocent ol' Virginia. 

The whole session was so much more relaxed than I thought it would be. There was nothing personal talked about other than my symptoms for ADD and my medical background. At one point he asked if I had ever smoked marijuana. When I told him no he asked, "Not even as a teenager?! Why not? You could have had a lot of fun!" That pretty much solidified the fact that I liked this guy a lot.

Today was my first day on medication. I'm on the smallest dose today and if doesn't do exactly what's it's supposed to do, then I take a little more tomorrow and if that doesn't work then a little more the next day. I took my medication this morning and feel what I guess normal feels like. I have motivation, focus and energy. My mind is clear. It's bizarre. I only have those things if I'm doing something that I want to do and find interesting. It didn't last as long as it should have so most likely I'll need a larger dose.

I don't want to be on any mood altering drug for the rest of my life so I'm hoping it's possible for me to take this drug for a year or so and learn habits and get into a routine. So when I'm off of the drug, I'll still be able to function because I'll just be doing what I'm used to. Until then, I'm excited about my new outlook and how much greater my day to day life will be.

This is so asinine.

The other day while looking at a friend's family blog, I read a post where she was talking about how tired she was because her husband was out to sea with the Navy. She's in a foreign country and doesn't know too many people so she's was understandably drowning in housework and raising small children. Her mother-in-law left her a comment to try to comfort her. She said, "This is why some mothers choose to work outside the home. They just can't handle the day to day needs of children so they take the easy way out."

First of all, What the Fuck, bitch?! I'm a stay at home mom and yes, it can be challenging at times. Mothers who work outside the home, can say the very same thing. Both have their pros and cons but one is not easier or better than the other. I was raised by a working mother and I saw how hard my mom worked at her job and when she came home, there was no real relaxation for her. There was always crap to do around the house and of course she had to make time for me and my siblings. We didn't just sit in the same room watching TV and call it quality time. We actually did stuff together. We went on bike rides, went to the beach, museums, discussed things, craft projects, etc.

As a stay at home mom, I couldn't imagine having the energy to work a full day of work only to come home and clean the house and take care of kids. I would reach the end of my rope fairly quickly. There are working moms who would argue the opposite and say that they need that time where they are on their own; to remind themselves they are more than just a mother. I sometimes have a hard time reminding myself about that.

One is not more admirable than the other. I think motherhood by itself is admirable. Different things work for different people. That's ok. I've known great mothers who worked and bad ones. I've known horrible stay at home moms and wonderful ones.

Second of all, I'm pretty sure most mothers work because they NEED to. Whatever gratification they get by working is just an added bonus.There are a lot of working moms who would love nothing more than to be with their kids all day but they have responsibilities and have to work. It's expensive to raise a family. Maybe my friend's mother-in-law is living under a rock and has no idea about the state of our economy and how hard it is to get bills paid these days.

When will these bullshit Mommy Wars end?

Hey, lookie here! Religion AND politics!

I pray every night. I can't go to sleep until I do. I'm not part of any one religion. I believe in God and an afterlife. I believe in just being a good person. Help others when you can. Don't intentionally hurt people. You know, live life and try not to be a dick.

I pray the same way every night. I visualize the people I'm praying for. First that Gavin and Maggie have long, happy and healthy lives. Then Josh and I. Then all of our families and close friends. Then for other people who just need a prayer. Lately for some reason, I've been praying for Barack Obama. That probably sounds silly. I even thought it did. Then I saw this week's Post Secrets. This secret made my heart skip a beat:

"It's only a matter of time..."

I'll spare you all the reasons why I think this but I think Barack Obama will be one the best presidents this country as ever seen. I know he's going to win and as much as I want him to be my president, there's an equal part of me that hopes he loses so he won't lose his life. So his daughters won't lose their father. I can almost predict something bad will happen to him if he becomes president.

Sadly, I know psychopathic people that could be capable of doing something horrific like that. These people are so grossly uninformed. They think he's the anti-Christ. They think he's a terrorist. They think he's Muslim. As ignorant as those accusations are, the Muslim one bothers me the most. As if all Muslims are terrorists. It's like saying, "Oh, you're a Christian? You must be a Skin Head or part of the KKK." The ignorance is suffocating.

I'm realizing that the more ignorant the person, the more guns they own. I am NOT saying all gun owners are ignorant, just that the ignorant seem to own way too many guns. Automatic weapons that they show off on their personal websites where they call Senator Obama the n-word and say his wife is a "ghetto bitch" while praising Cindy McCain as a classy lady that doesn't talk and ruin things for her husband. Yes, Michelle Obama is quite ghetto with her Yale and Harvard degrees. Oh and Cindy McCain would be so awesome as a first lady. A known thief and drug addict turned Stepford Wife. I know I want my first lady to be a woman who has no opinion her husband didn't tell her to have. Please. Not to mention John McCain air quoting the fact that some woman can actually die if they don't end their pregnancies. As if that's an excuse women give so they can go through a heartbreaking procedure. Please read this if you haven't already. But I'm getting off topic.

I hope I'm wrong. I hope Barack Obama becomes president, has a safe eight years in office and goes on to live a long and happy life after his presidency. Please, God, don't let anything tragic happen to this man who was obviously born to be president. Amen.

I don't know what to title this.

When Gavin started solids I got a touch of depression. Not much, but enough for me to notice. When Gavin was eleven months old, I gave him his first cup of cow's milk. Breastfeeding pretty much ended there. He obviously liked it way more than my milk. He wasn't nursing for nutrition anymore but for comfort every night before bed. Our nursing sessions got shorter and shorter to the point where all he wanted to do was cuddle.

Postpartum depression then came full blast. I was a mess. I could not get my act together and it was pissing me off. At the time I had no idea I was having postpartum depression. I thought it was regular old depression. I didn't have the wherewithal to realize that when I stopped producing milk, my hormone levels would change dramatically thus causing postpartum depression.

I thought I wouldn't have any depression. All the books say at about two weeks postpartum, you might get the "baby blues" and if they last longer than to see a doctor. I practically got through the first year without any depression. I have a theory that if you're breastfeeding, you won't get the baby blues two weeks after birth. Two weeks seems just the right amount of time to stop producing milk after a birth which is why mothers who formula feed would get the depression then. I could completely wrong with my theory, but it makes sense to me.

My depression was not dangerous, just obnoxious. I didn't want to hurt myself or anyone else, just sit inside all day and not move from the couch. I hated the way I felt and was so angry at myself for not being able to snap the fuck out of it. I've always been a mind over matter type person. I couldn't convince myself to do anything. Nothing. I took good care of Gavin but if it didn't involve him, I was out.

I didn't want to get any drugs because I figured that in itself would be a huge pain in the ass. Figuring out which drug is right for you then figuring out which dose fits you best. That could take months and in the interim make me feel even worse. Luckily all of this depression crap only lasted two months. Right after it had ended I found out I was pregnant with Maggie. As happy as I was to have another baby, I was terrified of going through this again.

Maggie will be four months old tomorrow. She can start cereal but I'm cautious. I thought maybe I could wait another month or two before I start her on solids but I'm afraid it's just stalling the inevitable. I hope I don't  go through this again. I'm scared but this time willing to find a drug that helps me if I need it.

Where I sound pathetic...

When I was a teenager I would spend hours grooming myself and going through my clothes. Not because I was narcissistic, but because I had so much damn time on my hands. No job, no house to run, no husband and no kids. Now I'm lucky if I remember to tweeze my eyebrows. Which sucks because I am the type of girl that can't forget to do this task. It's a scary situation if I do. 

I never really have been obsessed with the way I look. Of course I do my best not to look like absolute shit when I walk out the door, but I'm not one who puts makeup on to go to the store or a clean shirt that Boomba has not gotten some random piece of food/drooled on. I'm a little apprehensive about what I'll look like after the baby is born. Makeup already seems like such a chore to me that I hope brushing my teeth and hair won't seem like one too.

My New Year's resolution this year was to wear earrings every time I leave the house. A small thing that I have already broken. I'm trying though. I figure if I make myself do something, no matter how little, to make myself feel better about my appearance, then maybe I'll walk a little more confidently. Something I have a hard time doing unless my handsome husband is walking by my side to show the world that I do have validation. God, that sounds so pathetic and against my feminist views. But it's true.

My weight is a big factor in my confidence. In fact I would say it's the only factor. I'm pretty much ok with everything else. Before I had Boomba my thyroid was all off and I was steadily gaining weight for two years even though I was eating right and exercising. Once I got on medication, I stopped gaining but I wasn't losing. Now that I've continued to eat right, I haven't lost anything. I'm already not a big eater so going on a diet will suck pretty hard for me. Maybe I'm being too hard on myself. Since getting on proper medication three years ago, I've been pregnant for 18 months of it and breastfed for another 11. Maybe I just need a couple years where my new medicated body is mine alone and I don't have any babies living off of it.

After this baby is born I'm counting on losing all of my pregnancy weight by breastfeeding. I lost all sixty pounds of pregnancy weight plus ten extra within two and a half months after Boomba was born by just letting that kid be attached to my boob all day. I really hope that my body pulls through with that again considering it looks like by the time the baby is here, I will have gained about sixty pounds again. The only thing is that after I had Boomba, things on my body were sitting differently even though I weighed less than before I was pregnant. Not a good different either. Like a sheet of wrapping paper that's been used a few times. It looks ok but it sags in certain parts and looks like it's been through hell. Most people just get a new sheet of paper. I want a new sheet of torso skin.

I am so ready to lose all of this weight. So pumped that I am ready to get over my gym phobia. I've never been without Dim. So I haven't been since I was pregnant with Boomba. I chose to take three mile walks or bike rides everyday instead since I didn't need a babysitter for those activities. But now, I'm ready to get over this stupid mind frame that everyone is watching me sweat and making fun of the big girl on the elliptical. Because, really, no one gives a shit. They're all busy doing their workout. I somehow have severe self-confidence issues and am completely self centered at the same time. I just think everyone is always staring at me in disgust, pity or contempt. I really need to get over this bull shit because it's really affecting my social life.

Here's to more confidence and less flab in 2008!

*Sigh*

My sister called me this morning. As soon as I saw her name on the caller ID, I knew it was something bad. She never calls me in the morning. My Nana passed away last night. My mom's mom. My last grandparent.

Of course I'm racking myself with guilt. Why didn't I get any pictures of us together when we had visited this past July? I usually do this with every visit. Mostly for this reason. I know that's morbid but if I don't think like that about some things, I would hardly have my picture taken with anyone I love.

My sister started to cry because she felt guilty that she had been so busy with work that she hadn't visited in a couple of weeks. Of course my Nana knew that we all loved her and we know that she knew, but we all have this guilt.

I called my mom when I got off the phone with my sister. She took care of my Nana. She said my Nana hadn't wanted to eat the past few days and all of a sudden last night, she was hungry. My mom made her a nice dinner and my Nana asked if she could have a vanilla milkshake, her favorite. She finished and said she was tired and going to go to bed. My mom checked on her before she went to bed and everything was fine.

My Nana was the sweetest lady. She always told me I was her favorite and not to tell anyone. But she told all of us grandkids that. She always flirted with her grand-daughters' boyfriends and husbands. Dim charmed her more than any other though. It made me happy that she thought so high of the person I fell in love with. When she first met Boomba, she told me he was beautiful just like his mother. Other than me and Dim, she was the only one who could make Boomba laugh at any moment.

In the past couple of years she started to get confused about things. Not severely, but enough for all of us to notice. The night before we were to go back home this past July, I stopped my Nana on her way to bed to say goodbye. We were leaving very early the next morning and I knew she wouldn't be up. I quickly realized she was more coherent than I had seen her in years. She told me to wake her before we left. She didn't care how early it was. I told her I would but Dim and I said goodbye before she went to bed anyway. We left the next morning without waking her. I thought I was doing a good thing. Now I feel horrible for not saying goodbye to her one last time.

I didn't really want to write about this but I thought maybe it would help me. Writing is always therapeutic for me. It hasn't helped at all this time.

I love you, Nana. I'll miss you.

I can't believe it's 2007.

The older I get the more I realize how naive I am. I guess everyone does. One thing I seemed to be really naive about was racism. I always knew there was some in our society but not as much as there really is. I thought it was going away. Now I'm not sure if it really is or people are just getting better at hiding it.

I haven't talked about what my husband does in the military because I don't want someone to search for it and come across my site. So I'll send you here to see what he does.

With that, my husband had a performance yesterday at a naturalization ceremony. They played the national anthem for every new citizen's home country. Afterwards, someone that holds a leadership position over my husband made a comment. (Yes, Kerry, you know him.) He said that instead of playing the South Korean anthem, they should have played the Virginia Tech fight song.

Dim said he didn't initially get it and when he told me I didn't either. Maybe because we're younger and racism slams aren't in the front of our brains. By the time he did get it, the person who made the comment had already walked off.

All racist remarks are offensive to me. But this one in particular was because I am a quarter Korean. My dad is half Korean. That idiot not just insulted me, my son and my dad, but an entire country. As if to say that that Korean man who murdered all those people at Virginia Tech represents all Korean people. The person that said this was, of course, a white man. If I go by this logic then I guess he'll be ok with people walking up to him and saying, "Hail Hitler." Or we can go ahead and rest the guilt of all the people that died in the Oklahoma City bombing and Columbine on his shoulders. Those were white men. Why isn't that the same?

Don't you just love the double standard? I want to state that in no way am I being racist to white people for saying this. Hell, I'm mostly white. At least I can see that not all white people are this ignorant. I just don't like that a quarter of me is supposed to feel bad because a Korean killed those people. I feel bad that those people were killed period. That day I was scrambling to contact my friend who had graduated VT last year and has a littler sister currently attending. (They both were ok.) The person that killed those people that day could have had the same name as me and been a quarter Korean, Russian and Polish, like me and I still wouldn't feel guilty. I didn't pull any triggers. He alone was responsible for all of his actions.

The other week I saw this postcard at Post Secret.

Under it there was an email posted in response to the postcard. It said, "Don't worry, after VT, we have more reasons to be scared than you do."

I more or less scoffed at this email. (Not as much as I did at the postcard though.) I thought that we were so much more evolved with racial matters than we were during WWII where we put Japanese people in interment camps. (Although, last week there was a secret at Post Secret that said America still has interment camps. S/he knew since s/he just got done building one underground. Take that as you will.) I really thought there would be no backlash towards Asian-Americans. I was wrong and I'm so sad about that.