Doctor Frustration

Okay, so I've been stewing over this for a week, and the more research I do, the more upset I get.

When Miles was less than two weeks old, he started puking up large portions of every feeding. Trying to help him, we decided to try switching him to a formula labeled as 'sensitive'. Overnight, the vomiting stopped, and his formula intake increased dramatically. The formula was a low-lactose version, specifically for babies with a 'lactose sensitivity'. When we mentioned it to our doctor, he was very dismissive, and implied that he didn't think the switch was necessary, but if it made us feel better, there was no harm in staying on the sensitive formula.

Fast forward to Miles' first birthday. We decided to give whole milk a try. Within moments, he had puked up everything he had eaten in the past few hours. Same reaction to ice cream, and cheese. So, we went back to avoiding milk. And at his one year appointment last week, I again brought up this obvious (to me) sensitivity to milk. I had brought it up at his 9 month appointment, as well, and was told that it was probably just his system adjusting to solid foods. This time around, I got the exact same response, and the same dismissive tone. A few minutes later, the doc asked if Miles still had loose stools. I informed him that we had rarely seen anything but loose stools from Miles since his birth. Once more, he noted this fact and moved on. When I pressed him about it, I was once again told that it was most likely his system adjusting to his new diet.

So, I came home and did some research, hoping to ease my mind. Instead, I found that there are many types of milk sensitivities (not just lactose-intolerant or milk allergies, but a whole range of things). Several list vomiting and diarhea among the symptoms. And all suggest removing milk from the diet entirely for at least 2 weeks to check for changes. Until now, I haven't entirely cut out dairy because it's such a huge part of his diet, and because the doctor didn't seem to be concerned. But I know that his symptoms get worse when he has whole milk, or a lot of dairy in the same day. And I know that my mother, Patrick's mother, and I all have our own issues with milk - a fact our doctor has never asked about. And I have a gut feeling that there is something going on here. And I'm frustrated that our doctor won't even listen to my concerns.

So, what do I do? Do I go dairy free for two weeks and take the results to the doctor? Or am I being ridiculous and overly paranoid? And, more importantly, how do I express to our doctor that I do not appreciate his dismissive tone? I want him to take me seriously, and I'm no longer certain he does. But I also don't want to be (or come across as) that crazy parent demanding he listen to every half-baked theory that I have, either.

I don't know. I guess I just needed to put that all out there, to see what you all think. . .

Thanks for reading, and for any insight you might have.

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Rough Day

Our crazy-busy life finally caught up with Miles and me today. Too much was happening, and he only took one good nap today. (He had a second one this evening, but it was literally less than 20 minutes).

The result: a toddler who was cranky and over-tired, incessantly screaming for over an hour while his cranky and over-tired mother cried from frustration and a feeling of failure.

It wasn't pretty. I was at a loss. He had eaten. I had changed his diaper. He had plenty to drink, and I was doing everything I could think of to entertain and comfort him. Nothing was working. Through tears, I turned on the TV, desperate for some cessation of the whiny screams. The minute it came on, Miles was suddenly silent. I decided on Mythbusters, his favorite. For the duration of the episode, he was quiet and happy. Not that he really watched it the whole time. Mostly, he played near the TV, occasionally checking to see if anything was exploding. When the episode ended, he started whimpering again, and the tone told me it was about to get worse. I made a brief attempt to get him to sleep, but it was still too early, and he flailed, kicked, and screamed until it was obvious that it was *not* bedtime.

So, like the Bad Mommy I am, I started another episode, and enjoyed another 40 mintues of relative calm. When it ended, it was bedtime.

I took Miles through the routine, praying that he would go right to sleep. No dice. As I write this, he is upstairs, occasionally whimpering as he continues his fight against sleep. And I sit here, typing on my phone, trying not to cry from frustration and exhaustion, anxiously waiting to see if this time he will finally fall asleep, and put an end to this rough day.

Hopefully, tomorrow will be better. . .

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Settling In

With most of the major moving out of the way, we're beginning the long process of settling in to our new place. Unpacking boxes. Sorting through stuff. Throwing out the junk. And generally, still trying to deal with the day-to-day.

When we move next time, remind me to ask the world to stop turning for a few days so we can manage. :)

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Moving Update

We managed to get all of the furniture moved to our new place on Saturday, and spent the remainder of the weekend packing and moving various other essentials (hello, toothbrushes and food!). By the time I'm writing this at 9:30 Sunday evening, we have managed to unpack all of the boxes that we have brought over, and there are another 15-20 packed and ready to go. Unfortunately, there are about 30 boxes worth of stuff left to pack.

Ugh.

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Oooh! Technology Rocks!

I just found out I can post from my phone! If only I had discovered this months ago!

Look forward to more posts from my phone!

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Lounge Lizard

I know I promised pictures of the new place, and they are coming, just as soon as I have a moment to sort through them and find the good ones. :)

Meanwhile, I thought I'd share Miles' latest trick: lounging. I don't know why I find it so cute that he has bad posture, but there's something about the exasperated way he throws himself back until he is relaxed against whatever happens to be behind him. Whether it's a recliner:


Or just the back bar of the high chair at the Subway:


I think it's positively adorable. I love how he's becoming a little person. A person who gives hugs and kisses. A person who chatters at people on the phone. A person who lounges.

I fully expect to look back at this post in fifteen years and wonder exactly why I found this so adorable. By then, I will probably be incredibly exasperated by Miles' inability to sit up straight.

But for now, I will continue snapping pictures of him in all of his reclined glory. :)

Moving Day!

Today, we transfer all of our furniture (or as much as possible) into our new home! Tonight, we will be sleeping there for the first time!

If all goes well, I will spend this evening unpacking boxes and arranging things while Patrick is performing.

Look for updates and pictures of the new place in the next couple of days!

Mmm . . . Autumn

I love Fall. The season, not the thing I do because I am far too klutzy for a grown woman.

As much as I love the heat of summer, and I am dreading the cold of winter, there is just so much about autumn to adore. Like Chai tea on a cool evening.


And little arms reaching through the sleeves of a light jacket when it's time to go to work. And tiny feet stomping dry leaves.


And the relief of being done with Festival for the year. The only thing that remains is to wrap everything up and put it to bed for the winter. I feel a hundred pounds lighter.

Or I did, until I remembered that we're moving tomorrow. I don't know how I forgot, since this is what our apartment currently looks like:


And though I abhor the process of moving, I rather adore the feeling of stepping into a brand new place, and unpacking each precious item, and finding it's place in our new home. I love the feeling of renewal, and the inevitable shedding of things that have been kept for far too long. The idea of simplifying, downsizing a tad. Of the opportunity to find order and organization from the chaos.

And I look forward to crisp autumn mornings, looking out over our new, large (and shared, unfortunately) back yard. To cool autumn evenings cuddled around our fireplace sipping hot cocoa and chai. To cuddling under blankets on the couch and reading while Miles naps upstairs in his very own room, lovingly decorated just for him. To filling our new home to the brim with love and laughter, family and friends, and memories.

And next autumn, when the leaves begin to turn again, perhaps we will be preparing to move into our own house.

The Right Words, at the Right Time . . .

So, I know, I know. I keep promising more blogging. And I'd really love to do some.

Unfortunately, life disagrees right now. Patrick is now in rehearsals for Phantom's Feaste (where he plays the hero, Van Helsing - yay!!) three nights a week. Fridays are reserved for prepping for Festival, Mondays for the recovery. And on the weekends, I walk around in the mud in a stupidly-expensive court gown, talking in an English accent to every three year old who thinks I'm a princess.

Really, life could be worse. It just couldn't be much busier. And I'm tired. So incredibly tired. We move next week, and I have officially packed 6 boxes of books. And that's it.* I have projects that have been pending for weeks and months, friends who would like to see me some day, family who would probably appreciate a phone call, and a blog that I see on the rare occasion that Miles actually sleeps long enough for me to eat and type out a post.

And all of this makes me reflective. I have now spent an entire year trying to figure out how to juggle everything. And I still feel like I'm dropping things left and right. Work? It gets done, in a half-assed sort of way. Housekeeping? Pretty much non-existent, until it gets too disgustingly horrible and I stay up until midnight on a Friday scrubbing every surface in sight. Projects, writing, all of that me-time? Yeah, right. The only thing that gets constant attention is Miles. I pride myself on the fact that I will drop everything to play with him (or whatever) when he needs it. Even so, there are days** that I try everything, only to have him scream at me until I sit him in his crib to scream while I turn up the radio and pick up cheerios. And while I know that sometimes, there's just no other way, I still feel like a Bad Mommy when it happens.

And the fact that nothing else is getting done doesn't help.

So, I was feeling pretty depressive about being a Bad Mommy. And a Bad Assistant. And a Bad Wife. And a Bad Housekeeper. And pretty much, just a Failure.

And then, yesterday, at Festival, Verna (honestly, one of the sweetest women I've ever been lucky enough to know) said something that helped more than she will ever know:

"Tabitha, I don't know how you do it all - you take care of Jim, and the Festival, and Miles, and you balance it all. And you make it look easy."

I know, on a very real level, that it's not all perfectly balanced. And I know that it's not easy. But Verna's compliment tells me that perhaps I am, once again, expecting more out of myself than is reasonable. And I'm still managing.

I just need to find a way to be a bit more reasonable, and a bit less crazy-busy. I'm not sure exactly what that means, or really if there's any point in typing this out at all, but just knowing that others do not see me as a Failure helps my heart rest a little easier.

If you made it this far, thank you for listening to me ramble. I promise the next post will be more about Miles, and less about me. :)

Whenever I find the time to write again . . .

*And to be entirely honest, I did that much this morning. . .

**Like today.