Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Round Two Dealing With Discipline

It is 7:45 pm and I'm standing in my kitchen. The air is filled with sounds of pterodactyl screeching. My list of things to do is looming over me and my blood is beginning to boil. I am so fried I can feel the smoke literally coming out of my ears and all I can remember is a commercial on TV when I was younger. It showed a frazzled mom in the middle of a domestic nightmare throwing her arms up in the air and screaming "Calgon, take me away! I often find myself in situations like this pondering "To spank or not to spank?"

Spanking children has been a part of discipline for generations. Many adults remember the days of belts, wooden spoons or the good old fashion hand on a bare-bottom to pay the price for disobedience. As a mother, I too have felt it necessary to spank my children. For me it usually has to do with a safety issue. I spank when my child refuses to stop running away from me and towards the road. My thinking as a parent is I would rather have her bottom a little sore then to be hit by a car because she was being disobedient. Plenty of experts believe that spanking is not always wrong. John Rosemond, executive director of the Center for Affirmative Parenting in Gastonia, N.C., and author of several books on discipline, notes that 50 years ago almost all children were spanked. Yet by all accounts, children are more aggressive and prone to violence today, and at earlier ages, than they were back then. Rosemond isn't advising parents to break out the whip. He simply points out that existing research on spanking is not conclusive. "There is no evidence gathered by anyone who doesn't have an ideological ax to grind that suggests spanking per se is psychologically harmful."

The trick is finding some techniques to help with discipline. I have found two things really work for my family. During a conversation I had with Theresa A Hainer, FNP. I learned the importance of "Establishing house rules". It is important for children to know what to expect. One way to do this is by reminding kids what the house rules are. Give the child a list of rules and the behavior you want to see before you even get out of the car to go shopping. Set them up for success. When heading into the store I can be heard saying “Girls, when we go into the store I expect you to use inside voices, not to run, and to have on your listening ears. If you follow the rules I will let you get a treat out of the machine on the way out of the store. If you disobey you will not get a treat” In an online article on positive discipline written by Cheryl L Erwin, MA, MFT talks about “Following through with rules and consequences”. When parents are not consistent in their discipline it can be disastrous for both the children and the parents. “Don’t set a consequence that you know you won’t be able to follow through on” (Erwin). Why tell your child you are going to throw out their toys if they don’t put them away if you don’t mean it? This type of discipline leads them to believe if you don’t follow through on one thing, you’re not likely to follow through on others. I have found myself many times struggling with this. When the girls are fighting over a toy or being extremely uncooperative, I try to rectify the situation by threatening to take whatever it is away. I NEVER threaten to throw something away. I don’t do this because I know I am too cheap and to me throwing away a toy is just like throwing away money. In situations like this the toy usually takes a “time out” on top of the refrigerator for a few days. One of my favorite examples of this at my house was when Ella was being disrespectful of me and lost her dessert that night. Try to picture a 7 year-old girl standing in her front yard with her hands on her hips and head tilted back screaming out to the neighborhood “You’re the worst mother ever! Every other kid in American is getting a popsicle for dessert!” If you could have only seen the smile on my face as I looked at her through the kitchen window. That night, she did NOT get a popsicle.

For many families the “Naughty Seat” has become a tool that is used to discipline children. I first saw this technique used on TV by the Super Nanny or Nanny 911. Either way it was some British lady armed with a small stool and an accent telling parents to put their kids in this seat when they misbehave. The time is set by the years of age of the child. If your child is five years old, they get five minutes. Children are not allowed to get out of the seat until the timer goes off and the parent goes and speaks with the child. The child is asked what it is they did wrong to get them in the “Naughty seat” and if it is OK behavior. They also have to apologize. If a kid tries to get up then the time is started over and the child is brought back to the seat. The parent is supposed to kneel down in front of the child and tell them “You are in the naughty seat for (whatever reason), you may not get up. If you move out of this seat before I come and get you then we will start your time over again. The next time it happens the parent is supposed to just bring the child back to the seat without saying anything and then go start the time again. This is repeated until the full time is played out. Sounds easy right? Let me tell you that starting the time over and over again while dragging a kicking and screaming kid back to that darn stool is not the easiest thing in the world. On many occasions I have been inadvertently smacked in the face by a flying foot or flapping arm of my child in the middle of a psychotic break. It leaves me frazzled, frustrated and sometimes bruised. In spite of this I have found that this method does work; if we could only place the naughty seat in a sound proof room. This way when Evelyn is screaming like a ban chi I don’t have to hear it.

Another method I try at my house is earning dollars for good behavior. I got this idea from my youngest daughter’s preschool. I have a bunch of play money and each of my girls have an envelope on the fridge with their names on it. When they are good or do something kind they earn a “dollar”. When we reach a certain amount then they get a reward. For us a reward is a trip to the Corner Store to get a slushy or maybe a run to the family dollar. When the girls misbehave then a dollar is taken out of the envelope. I have found that this works too. The only thing is that I now am asked all the time. “Mumma, do I get a dollar if I?” It is never ending.
Whether you believe in the spoon or positive discipline raising children to be thoughtful of others and respectful is a challenge for all parents. What works for some families may not work well for others. Knowing you are not alone in the middle of your “calgon take me away” moments is reassuring to many. Though, it still leaves us pondering, to spank or not to spank?

Friday, December 3, 2010

"It's My Favorite Car"

The smell of popcorn greeted me when I opened the bathroom door. Grampy was already in his chair in front of the TV. Grammy was just walking out of her bedroom wearing her long flannel night gown. I grabbed the bowl of popcorn off the kitchen counter and headed into the living room. I had been waiting all week for this night, the night I got to have a sleep over at Grammy and Grampy’s house, stay up late, and watch the Dukes of Hazard. As I settled down on the couch next to Grammy as room was filled with a familiar song:


"Just'a good ol' boys
Never meanin' no harm.
Beats all you never saw
Been in trouble with the law
Since the day they was born”


A smile spread across my face as I reached into the bowl of hot popcorn, bringing it’s salty goodness to my lips. Grammy had melted the butter earlier as Grampy and I cooked Jiffy pop on the wood stove, he opened the silver bag releasing it’s steam. Each bite made my happiness grow. My eyes look to the TV. I know what is coming next, and then there it was, the General Lee.


“Staightnin' the curves
Flatnin the hills
Someday the mountain might get 'em
But the law never will”


It was love at first sight. Not just Bo and Luke Duke, but that sound. That purring that got louder and louder as the General Lee tore around corners with Rosco P. Coltrain in his police cruiser struggling to stay close. With each second he was getting further and further away from the General Lee. “Grampy, what kind of car is the General Lee?” I asked. “It’s a Dodge Charger, sweet girl; it’s my favorite car” He replied.


“Makin' their way
The only way they know how
That's just a little bit more
Than the law will allow.”


****


“Oh man” I said to myself, grinding my teeth as I catch yet another red light. “I am going to be late to work!” I whimpered as I sit alone in my Toyota. “I gotta go, gotta go, gotta go” I say as I tap my hands on the steering wheel. Then out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of Hemi Orange flying down Hogan road towards the interstate. I felt a jump in my heart as my eyes were glued to the dual round headlamps and performance hood. This baby even had the signature full-width tail lamp. No, it wasn’t a Charger, it was it’s brother, the Challenger. “Oh my God!” I exclaim as the roar of its 6.1 liter SRT Hemi with 425 horsepower got closer. I didn’t think I could contain myself, my heart was beating 160 beats a minute and I was starting to breathe fast.



I couldn’t wait to get out of work that night. The day seemed to drag on forever. In between emergency calls and run reports I found myself searching the web to see more of this retro-style pony car. I pick up the phone and call the nearest Dodge dealership. I HAVE to take this baby for a spin. I was impressed at it’s five-star frontal and side crash rating, though I certainly didn’t plan of ever needed to test out those standard advanced, multistage, airbags.
The dealer had it all warmed up for me as I pulled in on my way home from work. As I slid into its smooth, black, leather seats I felt a hot surprise, heated seats! “Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “It just keeps getting better”. I put the car in drive, hit the gas and took off like a modern bandit. I even squawked to Goodyear Eagle F1 performance F’s that were mounted upon a HOT set of 20 inch chrome-clad cast-aluminum rims. I hit the on ramp to I95 and it was on. The sound it’s engine taking me back in time, a smell of popcorn in the air and my long, gone Grampy sitting in his chair. “It’s my favorite car” he said once again in my ears; as the air was filled with a familiar song.



"Just good ol’ boys
Wouldn’t change it they could,
Fightin’ the system like a true modern day Robin Hood".

“Yeeeeeeee Haaaaaaaaaaa!” I sang as I pushed down a little further the gas.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

The Red Tent

Ihave been gifted with relationships in my life, more so then the average woman. I have shared countless cups of tea with two Great Grandmothers, practically lived with two grandmothers and been blessed with a mother who always told me to “reach for the stars”. I have shared secrets with my best friend since childhood and loved my sisters and cousins. Each relationship is unique, each having its own bond. I knew that these bonds were special. I just didn’t understand how special they were until I read this book.

When I first picked up the “Red Tent” by Anita Diamant I was excited to see where it was going to lead. I am a lover of historical fiction. This book is based upon a bond between women during biblical times. From the moment I first looked at the cover I knew this was going to be something special. I connected immediately to the woman on the cover. Dinah, is a daughter of Leah (a true biblical figure). Leah was one of the many wives of Jacob. On the cover of this book stands Dinah, she has a look of heartache and loss on her face; both are emotions I have felt many times over the many stages of my life. Dinah was raised in a tribe where the women were extremely close. They not only shared a husband, they shared each others hearts. Ones loss was another’s heartache as well. When a woman was barren or had stillbirths they all mourned that loss for her. The way they supported one another made me think of the woman in my life that had supported me through similar losses. The feelings were the same just thousands of years apart.

The Red Tent was a place where the woman of the tribe stayed during their monthly cycle. It was there that a young girl first becoming a woman was welcomed. Her body anointed with oil, her feet massaged, and her hair brushed while she learned the many secrets her body held from the older, wiser woman of the tribe. It was here in the tent that these women delivered each others babies while warm, soft, hands gently caressed the expectant mother through her pains of labor. It was here that these women came to find rest and the ability to recharge before heading back out to the tribe after seven days to resume the work of everyday life. It was here, in the Red Tent that some would come, even if they were not having their monthly cycle, just to get a way. They would just tell their husbands that it was time and head on down the hill to spend a week chatting among friends and regrouping among their “sisters”. How much alike we are today as these woman of old. Using a period to get out of having to be intimate with our husbands, only this time it wasn’t because he sold a goat for too little money it was more like he left his clothes on the bathroom floor again, and the toilet seat up!

I remember how anxious I was to officially become a woman. How frustrated I was that it had happened to all of my friends and not to me. Little did I know that I was only missing out on something that was more of an inconvenience. I long for the days when woman united together and took care of one another. Dinah felt the same way as I did. She felt left behind by the other woman in this book. She longed to be apart of the secret society of the Red Tent. How happy she was when the day came that she too could join these amazing women in whom she found so much love and support.

I hope and pray I continue to be blessed with the sacred bond I have with the women in my life. I hope my daughters and granddaughters look to me as the women of this book look to one another. Life is an amazing adventure and it is not always easy. I am thankful each day for my own "Red Tent". How througout the stages of my life I find support from what lies within. When the time comes and my girls are older I will give them this book and welcome them into the next stage of their lives. I will create my own "Red Tent".

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Wicked

Spending weekends at my Auntie Sue’s house was a regular thing for me growing up. My mother worked as a nurse every other weekend at Eastern Maine Medical Center. This left me spending lots of quality time with family. I was Sue’s “practice baby”. She didn’t have her own daughter until I was six years old. During those weekends together Auntie Sue introduced me to many different things. A teacher by trade, she would always call out some body part in French or Spanish and I would have to point to the part she was looking for. Though her love of language didn’t stick with me I was enthralled with her stories based on Greek Mythology. I loved learning about Zeus, Hera, Persephone and countless others. She let me watch Clash of the Titans and Jason and The Argonotes, each of those movies leaving a special place in my heart. However, nothing gripped me more than The Wizard of Oz.

For years I watched this movie alone or with Auntie Sue. It wasn’t until the birth of my cousin Noelle that the magic of this movie grew. Hours were spent on the couch snuggled down with “No No” all covered with blankets and a bowl of homemade popcorn on our laps. We watched it everyday; I mean EVERY day. We new all the words from start to finish. Over the years we continued to watch it, even when we got older and I didn’t spend weekends at her house anymore we would always watch when we were together. It was kind of “our” thing, still is.

Imagine my surprise when years later Noelle told me she had just read Wicked The Life And Times Of The Wicked Witch Of The West. It was first published in 1995 and was even made into an award wining play on Broadway. I was hesitant to pick up the book at first. I was afraid that reading a story about Elphaba would somehow ruin my love of the movie. Yes, that mean old Wicked Witch actually has a name! During the many days spent plowing through this book I was mesmerized. It was the tale of a young girl struggling through the uncomfortable time of being a kid, and green no less; a young woman’s first love and her eventual fall from grace. As much as I wanted to hate her I found myself relating to her on many different levels. The author had done his job. He had made the readers see this evil character as a person, actually, more then just a person. She was a broken creature tormented from years of being ostracized for the color of her skin and unique ways.

Someday I hope to make it to Wicked on Broadway. I want to see a young Elphaba on stage and how she interacted with Glinda before that fateful day in Munchkin Land. I want to be witness to her broken heart and her eventual quest for those Ruby slippers she so desperately wanted. Until that day I will keep this book close by. I will dust it off every year or two just to remind myself of the good and evil that lies within all of us; and, how it is a conscious choice we make to go to one side or the other.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Marine Clean

Ever since I was a little girl I have been into designing houses and decorating rooms. I remember drawing floor plans and deciding where everything was going to go. I drew pictures of the “Green Room” and where the bed, nightstand, dresser, etc. would go. From the color of the walls to the pattern on the curtains, I figured out where each items home in the room would be. Not only did I have my dream rooms mapped out but also my bedroom itself was immaculate. I seem to remember not even letting people sit on my bed because it would wrinkle the comforter. Obsessive? Maybe.

During my time in the Marine Corps I found myself surrounded by order and discipline. It was everywhere from how your uniforms hung in your closets to the hospital corners on your rack. There was no such thing as clutter. We were well oiled machines who took pride in our ability to find our gear in the dark under fire with no flashlight. It was during my four years in the Corps that I got some of the best sleep of my life. I was surrounded by others who like it or not were forced to live the life of an A-Type personality. That is just how it went and I loved every minute of it.

The love of designing and organizing over the years has led me to be able to get the most usage out of a tiny space. Knowing that everything has a place has been instrumental in helping me to multi-task. I am able to function at a much higher capacity then someone who is walking aimlessly in circles looking for where they put their scissors. When you first walk into my house a wall of hooks greets you. Some of these hooks are up high and the others are at the perfect height for my daughters. Here we hang our jackets and pack packs as soon as we walk through the door. A shoe rack sits on top of a rubber mat do place our shoes, boots and other footwear. Each is lined up according to your house status. My shoes go on the top rack, Ella’s in the middle and Evy’s on the bottom. They are also together on the shelf by color. I know it sounds a little “Sleeping With The Enemy” but it works for us. In our teeny, tiny apartment when one thing is out of place then the house looks trashed. I have baskets on a book shelve separating all of the girl’s crafts. Each basket holds crayons, markers, paints and stamps. Not only to they keep things organized, but they look fantastic as well. Instead of clutter I have decorative baskets holding the illusion of order.

Every time I walk into someone’s house I envision my stuff inside his or her walls. It doesn’t matter whose house it is, it just happens. However sometimes there is so much chaos going on in the persons home I just cant even begin to think of where my stuff would begin to go. It is at times like this that I have a hard time even being able to concentrate on a conversation with the homes owner. I have to limit the amount of time I am able to spend in one house in particular. Though I love these people more then anything, the tornado zone they live in leaves my head spinning, my stomach nauseous; I am overcome with the overwhelming urge to clean! It is not so much the cheerios on the floor or the dishes in the sink as it is the empty drawers, scattered books and every article of clothing strewn over the floors and hanging off the lamps. I know people get busy and have a lot to do. I don’t mean to judge but how is it possible to function when you can’t find the your way to the other side of the room.

My CDO (it has to be in alphabetical order) spills over into my professional life as well. Armed with a label maker and hyphen I have gone on missions to give everything a place. It is hard not to know where something belongs when there is a sticker on the shelf in front of you screaming out “Put me here! This is where I belong!” I am very fortunate that another of my co-workers shares my passion for organization. It makes going to work everyday more enjoyable. We share ideas on organization and I stand in awe of her “Tetris” packing abilities. She is able to fit more equipment into her tiny little car then the average person could fit into a ford station wagon. It is nuts, its crazy, It’s AMAZING!!

Maybe someday, if my life as a Paramedic doesn’t pan out I will become a Professional Organizer. I think I would find great satisfaction in going into someone’s chaotic world and making some sense of it. Whether it is to help someone find a way to see his or her floor again or to put his or her entire DVD collection alphabetically in order, I know that I would head home each day with a smile on my face. I even have a slogan for my business. Marine Clean “Put My Hyphen To Work For You!”

Saturday, November 6, 2010

To Spank, Or Not To Spank?

It is 7:45 pm and I'm standing in my kitchen. The air is filled with sounds of pterodactyl screeching. My list of things to do is looming over me and my blood is beginning to boil. I am so fried I can feel the smoke literally coming out of my ears and all I can remember is a commercial on TV when I was younger. It showed a frazzled mom in the middle of a domestic nightmare throwing her arms up in the air and screaming "Calgon, take me away! I often find myself in situations like this pondering "To spank or not to spank?"

Spanking children has been a part of discipline for generations. Many adults remember the days of belts, wooden spoons or the good old fashion hand on a bare-bottom to pay the price for disobedience. As a mother, I too have felt it necessary to spank my children. For me it usually has to do with a safety issue. I spank when my child refuses to stop running away from me and towards the road. My thinking as a parent is I would rather have her bottom a little sore then to be hit by a car because she was being disobedient. Neither the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) nor the American Psychological Association (APA) has come out fully against the practice. In 1998 the former issued a statement that said, in part, "Spanking is only effective when used in selective, infrequent situations" (Paul).

Plenty of experts believe that spanking is not always wrong. John Rosemond, executive director of the Center for Affirmative Parenting in Gastonia, N.C., and author of several books on discipline, notes that 50 years ago almost all children were spanked. Yet by all accounts, children are more aggressive and prone to violence today, and at earlier ages, than they were back then. Rosemond isn't advising parents to break out the whip. He simply points out that existing research on spanking is not conclusive. "There is no evidence gathered by anyone who doesn't have an ideological ax to grind that suggests spanking per se is psychologically harmful."

The trick is finding some techniques to help with discipline. I have found two things really work for my family. During a conversation I had with Theresa A Hainer, FNP. I learned the importance of "Establishing house rules". It is important for children to know what to expect. One way to do this is by reminding kids what the house rules are. Give the child a list of rules and the behavior you want to see before you even get out of the car to go shopping. Set them up for success. They already know what to expect. In an online article on positive discipline written by Cheryl L Erwin, MA, MFT talks about “Following through with rules and consequences”. When parents are not consistent in their discipline it can be disastrous for both the children and the parents. “Don’t set a consequence that you know you won’t be able to follow through on” (Erwin). Why tell your child you are going to throw out their toys if they don’t put them away if you don’t mean it? This type of discipline leads them to believe if you don’t follow through on one thing, you’re not likely to follow through on others.

For many families the “Naughty Seat” has become a tool that is used to discipline children. I first saw this technique used on t.v. By the Super Nanny or Nanny 911. Either way it was some British lady armed with a small stool and an accent telling parents to put their kids in this seat when they misbehave. The time is set by the years of age of the child. If your child is five years old, they get five minutes. Children are not allowed to get out of the seat until the timer goes off and the parent goes and speaks with the child. The child is asked what it is they did wrong to get them in the “Naughty seat” and if it is ok behavior. They also have to apologize. If a kid tries to get up then the time is started over and the child is brought back to the seat. The parent is supposed to kneel down in front of the child and tell them “You are in the naughty seat for (whatever reason), you may not get up. If you move out of this seat before I come and get you then we will start your time over again. The next time it happens the parent is supposed to just bring the child back to the seat without saying anything and then go start the time again. This is repeated until the full time is played out. Sounds easy right? Let me tell you that starting the time over and over again while dragging a kicking and screaming kid back to that darn stool is not the easiest thing in the world. On many occasions I have been inadvertently smacked in the face by a flying foot or flapping arm of my child in the middle of a psychotic break. It leaves me frazzled, frustrated and sometimes bruised. In spite of this I have found that this method does work.

Another method I try at my house is earning dollars for good behavior. I got this idea from my youngest daughters preschool. I have a bunch of play money and each of my girls have an envelope on the fridge with their names on it. When they are good or do something kind they earn a “dollar”. When we reach a certain amount then they get a reward. For us a reward is a trip to the Corner Store to get a slushy or maybe a run to the family dollar. When the girls misbehave then a dollar is taken out of the envelope. I have found that this works too. The only thing is that I now am asked all the time. “Mumma, do I get a dollar if I?” It is never ending.

Whether you believe in the spoon or positive discipline raising children to be thoughtful of others and respectful is a challenge for all parents. What works for some families may not work well for others. Knowing you are not alone in the middle of your “calgon take me away” moments is reassuring to many. Though, it still leaves us pondering, to spank or not to spank?

Is Spanking OK? By Pamela Paul Monday, May. 08, 2006 Time Partners with CNN http://www.time.com/time/connections/article/0,9171,1191825,00.html#ixzz0Wm9g5jjI

Follow through By Cheryl L. Erwin, MA, MFT Certified Positive Discipline Associatehttp://.positivediscipline.com/article/Follow%20Through.html

Theresa A Hainer, FNP Bangor Internal Medicine







Wednesday, October 27, 2010

What If?

When I woke up yesterday morning I never dreamed my day could possibly turn out this way. What started out like a normal morning, full of activity, kids, schooling, and heading to work; could possibly end with a trip to the Rite Aid. I had been feeling poorly for the past few days and now the nausea was kicking in. "Great!" I thought to myself as I hurried the girls to get dressed a little faster. I needed to be at the Station at 0800 and I was pressed for time. I loaded their lunches into their back packs and swallowed back the fear of upchucking my breakfast. "I'd better stop and get some Pepto on my way to work, girls" I said and handed them their coats. We jumped in the car and headed to Miss Heather's. We walked up the front steps and onto the porch. Miss Heather came out to great us with a smile on her face. "Good morning, ladies" she said. "Morning Miss Heather" said the girls in unison. "Is Finley in the playroom?" asked Evy "Where is Avalicious?" says Ella. "She is up in her room" says Miss Heather. The girls kick off their rain boots, give me a kiss and head into the house. "Are you feeling alright? You look like "shit" (she mouths the word). "Yeah, I am feeling a little crappy this morning. I think I might be coming down with something. I have a little nausea and have no energy" I replied. "Well, it is time for flu season" she replies, "Or, you could be pregnant" she says with a big smile on her face. "Get Out!" I tell her. "There is no way; I take all precautions possible, not a chance." She looks at me and says, "Ya never know, stranger things have happened". "You're crazy" I said as I head down the stairs and to my car. My stomach does another flip "Oh, God, What if?"

As I drive down the road my mind is racing. I begin to think about what it was like to be pregnant. I remember feeling the first flutter of the life inside of me. A life that grew until I could watch my belly roll around on its own like something out of a Sci-Fi movie.; How much I loved holding my hands to my stomach, the sadness of knowing that this private time with them would be over and soon I would have to share them with the world. I remember waking up in the morning and thinking that my feet would split open, due to the amount of swelling that had built up in the night. The constant peeing, the ache in my pelvis as I got stretched like a wishbone from a Thanksgiving turkey; all those things were gone the moment that tiny bundle was placed in my arms. Oh how I missed the soft smell of their skin, the teeny, tiny, pink, tootsies peeking out from underneath the soft blanket. I breathed a big sigh as another wave of nausea swept over me. What if?

I still have some things left over from the girls, not much though. I have given so much of it away to friends and family members who had children after me. There are bins of clothes separated by size in my Memere's attic. 0-3 months, 6-9 months, etc. I could use those if it was a girl. Good Lord, what if it was a boy? I never had a boy from scratch. Not even a little brother; I wouldn't know what to do with them. The last time I changed my nephew’s diaper I forgot to tuck it down and he peed all over the front of his jammies. How the hell was I suppose to know? Where boys easier? Or would I struggle? Would he look like me? Would he have brown eyes and a dimple in his chin? God, I hope so. Neither of the girls got my butt chin, at least one of my kids has to have this amazing McGlauflin trait. Can you imagine how cute that little bugger would be? What If?

When I walked into Rite Aid I headed over to isle 6 to grab some pink magic, I threw in some Tums for good measure. On my way to the counter I made a quick stop to isle 2, feminine hygiene products. There in front of me was an assortment of different pregnancy tests. Some simply told you pregnant or not pregnant, others just the classic "two pink lines" if you were expecting. As I stood there I couldn't help but think about every other time I had peed on a stick over the years. How disappointed I was if it was negative, how excited and hopefully I was with each positive result. How I paced in the kitchen while waiting for the kitchen timer to go over so I could go back into the bathroom and check. Can I do this again? Yes, I totally could. I would figure something out. Childcare would be an issue and I would have to stop lifting patients as I got really big, but it would be OK. The girls are older now; they keep talking about wanting a baby in the house. They would be the best big sisters ever, always wanting to hold their little brother. I giggled to myself, a boy. I just thought it was a boy, I felt a little flutter in my stomach. Was that just anxiety or something else? What if?