Sluiter Nation

Banned Ham {or why I have high expectations for my students}

January 27, 2012 By katie 4 Comments

Today this conversation happened in my second hour Spanish 2 class:

Me: From here on out the saying, “Going HAM” is banned from this classroom.*

Students: Why? Because it stands for bad language? It’s a song, Mrs. Sluiter.

Me: I am aware of the song. I think we might even have the album at home. Or not. Probably not. Do you know why? Because “Going HAM” is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. I think the day I heard it, I got a tad dumber.

Students: ::chuckling:: YOU know that song?

Me: Yes. We listen to the rap. And while I could go on and on about how ridiculous and offensive the whole song is and how it makes me sad for Jay-Z that he collaborated on such a piece of garbage, my point here is that HAM? is a lunch meat. Going ham sounds like something you are doing for lunch. It does not sound like you are all hard and bad. It sounds like you are craving pork. And really? If you look at what it stands for it should be Going HAAMF. Yeah, not as catchy, but more accurate. So on the basis of good taste, accuracy, and overall common sense, I am going to have to ban that phrase from this classroom.

Students: ::in between dying from laughter:: Ok, you have a point. Can we say “Going Hard in the Paint”?

Me: Is that a basketball reference?

Students: Yes.

Me: While it’s still sort of dumb, it makes more sense. So yes. You may say that.

Students: Deal. Oh, and Mrs. Sluiter? You have been Going Hard in the Paint this week on grades. Good job.

Me: Gee. Thanks.

::end scene::

Why did I tell you this?

It’s not because I want to discuss rap lyrics and why teenagers are allowed to listen to it (if they are like me? They probably aren’t allowed to, but they do anyway. I mean, that’s what I did).

It’s not because I want to tell you how yes, Cort and I listened to (and still do listen to) music with vulgarity in it (but not in front of Eddie. Because that kid loves music so much, he memorizes everything he hears. Currently he is in love with “Brass Monkey” by The Beastie Boys).

I’m telling you this because I see the 100+ kids that walk through my classroom each day as my own. And if Eddie tried to tell me he was Going Ham on his homework? I would have had this same conversation with him.

I am honest and forward with my students. The same way I would be with my own child.

This extends beyond just dumb rap lyrics.

Yesterday my Quarter 2 grades were due. I had an obnoxious number of students failing because they weren’t turning in their work.

I told each and every one of those students that I was disappointed in them. I told each of those students that this doesn’t fly with me.

I had kids argue that my standards were too high. That I expected too much.

I thought about this claim, and realized that what I expect from them is no less than what I would expect from Eddie.

When Eddie is in high school I will expect him to do his class work and his homework and study for tests and prepare for class. I expect him to make up work in a timely manner if he is absent. If he does have problems and do poorly or fail, I expect him to do what he can to right the matter as soon as he can.

Why would I expect less from my students?

They are not my children, but….they are.

They are someone’s.

And regardless of whether those parents are still there for the kids, or whether something has happened along the way to where they are now, for the hour they are with me? They are mine. And I will treat them that way.

I will hold them to high standards.

I will expect them to treat me and others the way I teach my son to treat me and others.

And I will honestly tell them that Going Ham is the dumbest thing ever.

—————
*warning: this is a Kayne West song and it includes vulgarity that may not be appropriate for work.

Filed Under: Katie, teaching Tagged With: going ham is stupid, high standards in teaching, i teach, i teach it all folks, i teach more than my subject, jayz makes bad choices sometimes, kayne cannot make lunch meat sound badass, your kids are my kids for the hour they are in my classroom

the potty monologues

January 26, 2012 By katie 8 Comments

I really didn’t expect to be blogging about potty training any time soon.

In fact, I have been completely ignoring the fact that my child will have to be potty trained at all. I just keep telling myself, “he is two. I’ll worry about it when he is three.”

Little did I know he would take matters into his own hands.

Well, sort of.

Cort and I have discussed this thing called “Potty Training”. We often talk about pee and poop with Eddie. He knows mommy and daddy do it in the “potty” and that we wipe and flush and all that. He knows he does it in his diaper, but that eventually he will do it in the potty too.

About 8 months ago he showed some interest in sitting on the big potty and flushing, so we got him his own potty chair.

We didn’t try to train at all, we just let the potty chair sit in the bathroom. Eddie knows what it is for and likes to sit on it with all his clothes on when we are on the can.

He also likes to sit on it before and after bath with no clothes on.

Only once has he actually put about two drops of pee in the potty. And that was after grunting and trying because he wanted to be “like mommy.”

Ok then.

We never pushed. We just encouraged him to sit on it or ask to sit on it when he wants to.

Recently he started needing “privacy” when he did his number two’s. So we started enforcing privacy when Cort and I do our number two’s also. He seems to “get it”.

We have been totally following his lead on this.

In fact, each incident seems to be completely at random since we are never really occupied with getting him “trained”.

That is why Tuesday night was such a huge deal.

It seemed to be a regular Tuesday night. We had dinner, Cort put Eddie in the bath, I was busy grading papers.

You know we have dealt with aqua dumps, right? So it is often repeated that “we do not poop in the tub.”

Before Eddie got in the tub, he was complaining that his “buns hurt.” So we kept asking him if he had to poop. He said no, whipped off his diaper, and went running for the tub.

Ok then.

The regular hair washing and what not went on and then Eddie was allowed to play. Since the child feels the need to narrate EVERYTHING he is doing, we can pretty much let him play and sit around the corner to watch the news.

So that is what Cort did. And then we heard, “A poop tub”.

Wait. What?

Cort and I just looked at each other. We heard it again, “Daddy…a poop. tub.”

Cort took a deep breath, got up, and muttered, “well this can’t be good,” and walks around the corner. This is what I heard:

Cort: What buddy? Did you poop in the tub?

Eddie: No. Yeah. No. Poop.

Cort: There’s no poop in the tub. Do you have to go poop?

Eddie: Yeah. No poop in tub. Poop.

Cort: Did you want to get out and sit on the potty?

Eddie: Yeah. Poop inna potty.

Cort: Ok, then. Come on bud.

And then I heard some shuffling and some water dripping and then…

Cort: Are you cold? Here, put this towel around you.

Eddie: Go way.

Cort: You want me to leave? Ok. But STAY ON THE POTTY. Tell me if you think you need to get up.

Eddie: Ok. Go way.

So Cort walks out and looks at me. I look back silently, raising my eyebrows. He shrugs.

Then pee happens. IN THE POTTY!

We are all celebratory and cheering.

But Eddie insists he has to poop. So he keeps sitting, all the while announcing, “I PEE IN POTTY, DADDY. I PEE IN POTTY MOMMY!” from spot in the bathroom.

Cort is giggling about the fact that our son is completely nude, sitting on a plastic potty, draped in a hooded towel. He insists I take a picture…or at least peek at it.

And even though I feel that I have met my quota of embarrassing pictures of my oldest on the potty, I can’t help but grab the camera. As I am about to snap a picture, I hear a loud, juicy noise come from the bathroom.

I look at Cort to see if he heard it.

He did. (He didn’t have to say anything. The look of shock followed by uncontrollable giggles gave it away).

“Eddie, did you just poop?” I ask as I quickly snap a picture.

“Yeah, I POOP!” He smiles.

I cheer him on, as Cort comes in to discuss the “doneness” of this poop. There is wiping and congratulations and then Eddie asks to get back in the tub.

Cort and I promise him a treat when he gets out.

After bath, as he is eating his m&ms (which he thanks me for three times…with hugs), we talk about getting m&ms whenever he does the pee and poo and how if he can do that a lot, I will take him to pick out his own underwear.

He is excited.

So excited that it is what he talks about with me as we rock to sleep that night.

And what he announces to me in the morning before I go to work.

And what he tells everyone at daycare about.

Of course he hasn’t done it since.

But we aren’t pushing.

He’ll do it again when he is ready.

He’s only two after all.

Filed Under: Eddie, Sluiters Tagged With: i have no idea how to potty train, if i keep saying we are not potty training maybe he will just train himself, newbie mom, pee AND poop in the potty, potty training, thank goodness my child knows more about potty training himself than I do, we are not really potty training

belonging

January 25, 2012 By katie 16 Comments

Guess what! I have a new recruit for you this week! Don’t know what a Sluiter Nation Recruit is? Well hop on over here and read up. We can wait.

Ok…so you’re back. Good.

Today I get to bring you another one of my favorite DAD bloggers…J.R. from Sex and the Single Dad.

Don’t let that blog title fool you, while J.R. can let the raunchiness fly from time to time, he’s not writing a sex column over there or anything. In fact he writes about what it is like to be the full-custody single dad of a 13 year old daughter while trying to write and date. He is pretty funny…and from time to time very poignant. (although I am sure he would somehow make a dirty joke about the word, “poignant”, if I said it right to him).

I think I met J.R. through the good old Red Dress Club (now Write on Edge) and loved his writing.

Then we became twitter buddies and we all know where it goes from there…

quit being dirty! I’m talking about bouncing writing ideas off each other and exchanging stories.

He’s a good guy, that J.R.

No matter what he tries to tell you about himself.

*************

A month ago Kate asked me to do this guest post and I was all, “Hell yeah!” I then explained I had one request and this one was a deal breaker. Kate is well aware that almost every single time I read “Sluiter Nation” my brain reads, “Sluttier Nation” and she’s OK with that. (Admit it, you’re done that once or twice, right?) I told Kate I would write this, but only if I could make a reference to Sluttier Nation. There it is. Now on to my blog post.

I was told the topic was “Belonging” and I immediately knew I could knock this one out no problem. But I was wrong. At least a half dozen times I sat down trying to come up with the right angle, but never got more than eight or nine words in before stopping. There are a thousand different ways to look at belonging, but which way did I want to go?

The more I let it marinate in my brain I realized there was one angle I could take which not many others can accurately portray. “Yeah,” I thought in a very Jon Lovitz-SNL way. “That’s the ticket.”

For those who don’t know who I am, I’ll throw you the Readers Digest version. I lovingly refer to my 14-year-old daughter as Drama Queen and I’ve had full custody of her since she was five. My ex, who I call Baby Mama, has been in and out of the picture, though lately she’s been more in then out. [That’s not supposed to sound dirty]. You may think the job of full time single dad sounds glamorous, but I assure you it’s not.

How does this fit in with the whole “Belonging” theme? There are gaggles of full-time single moms out there, but there aren’t a lot of full-time single dads. I’m not slighting single dads with visitation or shared custody, because I’m not at all. Being a parent is tough period.

That being said, married parents have their group that they fit into and single moms do too. I did a few things with some other single dads, but I stopped because I got tired of explaining why I couldn’t drop everything at a moments notice to go to Vegas with them on their free weekends

I remember one particular moment like it was yesterday. Her Majesty was around seven and this was in the midst of a four-year absence by Baby Mama. We went to K-Mart to grab some clothes for her and I was asked to leave the store. Why was I asked to leave?

We were picking up shirts and jumpers for school (her district has uniforms K-12) and when we went to the dressing rooms I told the lady I wanted her to come into the men’s with me because she has a problem with turtlenecks and jumpers and I needed to help. The way the lady reacted; you would have thought I asked permission to kill her dog.

This chick raised her voice and made a scene about how what I was suggesting was inappropriate and said my daughter had to use the girl’s side by herself. I asked who would help the Queen when she got stuck and the lady assured me that wouldn’t happen. How the F can this person assure me of anything when the first time I saw her was 20 seconds ago? “Whatever,” I said as I waved my daughter forward. Less than 90 seconds later Drama Queen screamed, letting everyone as far as the grocery aisle know she was stuck inside a turtleneck

I looked at the guardian of the K-Mart dressing room and asked if she could go help my daughter. “I have to stay here,” she said in a monotone. The screaming continued and finally a woman came to the rescue and got the turtleneck off. At this point I demanded a store manager and when one finally showed up, he was all you would expect from the Assistant Manager of a mostly falling apart K-Mart.

I swear to God that the first words out of his mouth were, “Why don’t you have her mom bring her back to try on clothes later?” “Why don’t I what?” I thought. The long and short of it is the dude suggested that I leave the store before, “I call the police to tell them we have a shady character they should talk to.” I looked at the guy and laughed in his face. “Seriously?” I asked. “Go for it.” The manager stammered (probably because I didn’t pee my pants and run away like he hoped) and politely asked me to leave.

I’d like to say this was the only weird instance, but it’s not. I used to hear comments from the local chapter of the Snarky Moms Club when DQ’s hair wasn’t all fancy on picture day and they thought it was stupid that my daughter made me Mothers Day presents. It used to bother me, but then I realized they all must have unhappy marriages and that’s why they’re so shitty to people. Plus, the pack leader has a boob job that’s both off-center and with two vastly different shapes

Now that my daughter is in high school I have new stresses to deal with, but over time I’ve learned that “belonging” to a social group might be cool, but it’s not necessary for being a good parent. I’ve somehow managed to raise a daughter to high school freshman on the Frosh-Soph Tennis team without any major scars (physical or emotional) and no legal problems, so I must be doing something right. Ish.

*************

You should definitely pop over to his blog.

And “like” him on facebook (tell him “hi” from Sluttier Nation while you are over there…he he he).

And follow him on the twitters.

Filed Under: Sluiter Nation Recruits Tagged With: J.R., Sex and the Single Dad

mfc

January 24, 2012 By katie 13 Comments

I know how she sees me.

She is ashamed. She is frustrated. She wishes me gone.

It wasn’t always like this.

I can still remember the first time we met. It was a rainy fall evening, and she had zero intention of bringing anything home that night. She was only there to “check things out”.

She even brought her dad knowing he would slow her spontaneity…and know better what she needs.

I know my color was a turnoff at first. She wanted something less “average”, something that wouldn’t blend in with everyone else.

But after taking me out once, she was sold.

And then so was I.

She had never made such a big decision in such a short time…especially with her dad around. He was the king of “let’s just think about this for awhile first.”

That was eight and a half years ago.

I took her places.

I was reliable. I am reliable.

We celebrated so many joys. Fist pumping together when she got her Masters, her job teaching college, each pregnancy.

I held her when she needed a private place to cry.

I know she thought about ending it with me when she was lost in depression. I saw her eye those trees as we flew down the highway at 80 miles per hour.

I like to think I helped her keep going.

I’ve been with her through a lot. I was with her every time she got pulled over…and only once did it result in a ticket.

I have felt her hand sweat with panic.

I have felt her body shake with grief.

I have heard her voice ring out with joy.

It felt like it would last forever.

But eight and a half years is a long time.

She is growing out of me.

I am showing signs of age that can’t be ignored. I am rusty and slowing down. I can’t be trusted as much anymore.

She needs room to grow and spread out.

She needs something safe.

I have seen her through the part of her life that was about speed and getting things done. Now she is moving on. She is growing her family. She is settling down. She has bigger and more stuff that goes where she goes.

I am not enough anymore.

I know my time is limited. It’s just a matter of time and money before I am left for something bigger and newer.

Sliding out of reverse into drive.
This wheel will turn right, then straight.
Off in the sunset she’ll ride
She can remember a time, denied.
Stood by the side of the road
Spilled like wine now
She’s out on her own and line high.*

This week’s prompt was to personify an object that has “bore witness” to your life.
“Personification” is the act of giving human traits to something non-human.

*Lyrics from “MFC” by Pearl Jam

Filed Under: Write On Edge, writing Tagged With: i have been listening to a lot of pearl jam lately, Remembe{red}, this is the longest i have ever owned a car, this post is about my car...obviously, write on edge

a golden state

January 23, 2012 By katie 15 Comments

You are the hole in my head
I am the pain in your neck

One of us likes to make a list and check things off as quickly as possible…has a “if it’s going to get done, I have to do it” attitude.

One of us likes to make a list and hopefully get to things when the time and money is right.

One of us is afraid to nag.

One of us needs reminding, but hates nagging.

One of us holds it in until it bursts into rude nagging.

One of us hates feeling like a scolded child.

You are the lump in my throat
I am the aching in your heart

I reached out to you this week. Everything was catching up and blinding me and pressing on my chest.

You told me to breathe.

You told me, “Everything is ok, baby. We run this shit.”

You made me laugh.

Hand-holding.

Back rubbing.

Stolen kisses.

Tissues handed to you during a funeral service.

Random hugs that make Eddie run to join in.

We are tangled
We are stolen
We are living where things are hidden

I share a lot here in this space, but I also keep certain things ours.

The things that are too special.

The things that are too damning.

The things that are too petty.

The things that are too ours.

You are something in my eye
And I am the shiver down your spine
You are the lick of my lips
And I am on the tip of your tongue

The “guys” give you a hard time because you always say you have to “check with Kate.”

I know I’d rather be “in” with you than “out” without you.

You admitted in your vows that being lazy with me is the way you see your forever.

My safe place is your arms.

We are luck
We are fate
We are the feeling you get in the golden state
We are love
We are hate
We are the feeling I get when you walk away
Walk away

Your grandma, newly widowed, said this week, “My best friend is gone. I have no one to talk to anymore”.

Her children exclaimed, “that’s not true! You have us!”

She shook her head, “it’s not the same”.

She is right it is not the same.

After 63 years of marriage…of rehashing and giggling and discussing each night before bed, over dinner, in a quiet moment stolen away from the kids, in the car after an event…something grows. Something more than a marriage is made.

You are the dream in my nightmare
I am that falling sensation
You are not needles and pills
I am your hangover morning

We are tangled
We are stolen
We are living where things are hidden

Our friendship started many years before our marriage did.

There are times when I look around at this life we are living and giggle in awe.

I would have never ever guessed YOU were my forever…

That we would create this…

That I could be this lucky.

That we would be living in a golden state.

*Lyrics by Eddie Vedder from the song “The Golden State”

Filed Under: our family, our love, our marriage, Sluiters Tagged With: eddie vedder, love and marriage, my thoughts are all mushed together, the golden state is a song by eddie vedder that he has sung with natalie mains, this is probably actually about four separate posts but my ideas just vomitted all together, where i ramble about how much i love cortney to the tune of a song by eddie vedder

Project 356: January 15-21, 2012

January 22, 2012 By katie 11 Comments

This was a hard week on all of us.

Cort’s Grandpa died.

Eddie got sick.

No one slept very well.

But we still tried very hard to find something to smile about almost every day.

January 15: Eddie perfects the "Llama Face". If you have read the Llama Llama books, you know this look.

January 16: Thank goodness it's "Ash-ee Day" or as Cort and I call it "let's hope Ashley doesn't judge us too harshly when she cleans Day"

January 17: I realize Eddie has a LOT of books. Can't wait to organized these in his new Big Boy Room.

January 18: Our week gets rough. Funeral for Grandpa Potter and Eddie get sick. This is how he asked to sleep that night.

January 19: On our quest to "back up" the boy. He shows off his "binding" dinner.

January 20: It finally starts to LOOK like a Michigan Winter. And brrrr....14 degrees!

January 21: Eddie "plays" with his baby brother. "yook, mommy! He is moooving them!"

What did you smile about this week?

Filed Under: Project 365 Tagged With: january 16-21, rollercoaster week, week in pictures

Posts That Made Me Go BOOM! {2}

January 21, 2012 By katie 6 Comments

Welcome to the weekend.

If the view out your window today is anything like ours, I hope you have a snuggly blanket, a hot cup of coffee, and endless time to read, nap, and enjoy your Saturday.

By the way, the view out my window is 18 degrees and snow-filled.

Michigan gets cold this time of year.

Anyway, hopefully you have some time to read some great posts because I have a great line up for you!

You really need to start with a birth story because, well, come on. Birth stories are so fun to read! My wonderful friend, Emily of DesignHer Momma, gave birth to her fourth child, Paul Richard, on Friday and shared his birth story this week: Paul, you were born on a cold and windy night… Her strength and will completely amaze me. This post made me sad and totally glad at the same time that I would not ever go through this again.

Speaking of miracles, as irreverent (and AWESOME) Aunt Becky can be she never takes for granted how precious life is. This week she reminded readers of this in a cafemom post: My Daughter Makes Me Believe in Miracles. Nuf’ said.

Another one ’bout sweet Aunt Becky, but not written by her is this rap on Band Back Together: Mimi’s Rap. For the simple facts that it is awesome, The Band is awesome, and I said so.

One of my new favorite weekly reads is Tonya’s (of Letters for Lucas) Letters For You series. This week she had Liz (of a Belle, a Bean, and a Chicago Dog) to her blog writing a letter to “that” mom…I think we have all been around this woman, and it feels good to have Liz tell her off via this letter: Blah, Blah, Blah.

And the BIGGEST Boom I uttered this week was after reading Ryan’s letter to H & M, H&M, I Quit You. The Woven Moments is a new blog to me, but I will definitely be back. If for nothing else than to follow this journey and hope something great comes of it (ps, as a bonus you should read her reply to an email she got from H&M after the incident), but more likely because her writing jumps out at me as being fricking great.

BOOM!

Yup, that’s the sound of greatness.

(for more great pics this week, check out Natalie’s picks over at Mommy of a Monster and Twins)

Filed Under: Blogging, writing Tagged With: BOOM!, i reccommend reading these like NOW, quality posts, recommended reading

mental pacing

January 20, 2012 By katie 9 Comments

People?

I am getting restless.

Don’t get me wrong, I am exhausted. But I am restless when it comes to preparing for Charlie.

Up until this point, I have enjoyed the fact that this pregnancy seems to be flying by. I have been preoccupied with life and that has been just fine to me.

But now that Charlie is going to be here in LESS THAN TWO MONTHS, I am getting a metaphoric case of the paces.

My brain is doing the pacing, you see.

It is going back and forth and forth and back about what to do to prepare for this new Sluiter.

And no matter what way I look at it, I am stuck.

We have all the furniture we need for Eddie’s new room aside from a mattress and bedding. But we don’t have carpet yet, so the furniture can’t be assembled and set up. Which means I can’t move his clothes and toys down there. Which means the nursery is crowded and still covered with HIS stuff.

There is nothing in our house that says, “a new baby is coming”.

I have started the process of ordering custom lettering for the nursery wall to spell Charlie’s name.

I want to move big boy toys to a big boy room and sort out all the baby toys and put them in the nursery.

I want to wash itty bitty clothes and blankets and stash them into the nursery.

I want to decorate and organize a Big Boy room with Eddie’s help so he will love it and feel comfy there before his brother arrives.

I want to DO something to feel like the big change that IS coming is COMING.

At 31 weeks pregnant with Eddie we had the nursery complete and I was washing and organizing and storing diapers and lotions and baby washes and toys.

I had lots to keep my hands busy.

This time all I do is make mental lists with deadlines that just keep passing.

52 days until Charlie.

tick…tock…tick…is all I hear in my brain….

which continues to pace.

Filed Under: Charlie, Katie, pregnancy, Sluiters Tagged With: 52 dyas, a foiled nester, i tap my foot a lot when I look around the nursery, mental lists, preparing for baby

they might have had disco, but they didn’t have you, internet.

January 19, 2012 By katie 13 Comments

Long, long ago in the days of my infancy when people were dancing to disco and wearing platform shoes, the only resources women had to help them navigate through this thing called “motherhood” were their own mothers, their {almost exclusively MALE} doctors, and their friends.

I cannot even imagine.

First, my mom and I have had VERY different pregnancies, birth experiences, and postpartum experiences. She got pregnant quite easily, never had a miscarriage, popped us all out vaginally (and we were all pretty small), and didn’t experience PPD or anxiety.

It’s been hard for her to relate to all the stuff I’ve gone through, although truth be told, she has been one of my biggest supporters regardless of not being able to know exactly what I’m going through. But when I thought I had Postpartum Depression, I didn’t go to my mom.

Secondly, my OBGYN, while male, has been extremely proactive and helpful with all the pregnancy stuff. But when I decided I needed to get help for my PPD, I went to my General Practitioner–a woman. Dr. W is a successful working mom who I just felt would understand what was going on in my head better. And I was right. But doctors are hard to get an appointment with, and you can’t just call them up and chat over coffee about how things are going.

Then there were my friends.

I love my friends. I totally do.

Most of them live quite far away and the couple who are “local” aren’t really so local. They live a 30-45 minute drive away. I am not a phone person (yes, that is my own issue, but still).

So when I had questions or issues or just needed to hear that my kid (and my mothering) were normal, I usually just asked Cort. Because he was there. And he was honest with his answer: “I don’t know, Kate.”

If that was it? If there was no other place to go with my questions and concerns and observations? I don’t know if I would have made it.

The internet saved me.

With Eddie it was “just” facebook.

I hadn’t fallen into the blogosphere yet (even though I had already been blogging for 2 years), and I hadn’t really gotten then hang of the twitter yet.

But when I posted that Eddie was colicky and I was going crazy? “Friends” from my past who I had not conversed with on facebook before, suddenly popped up. They had kids, and some even had degrees in the medical field, and they helped me.

They held my hand through the tumultuous first three months.

They reassured me when I said I felt like a bad mom because I let Eddie take a short nap on his tummy on the floor by me just because I needed quiet.

They gave me a zillion home remedies for colic…and you better believe we tried each and every one of them!

As Eddie grew, this blog grew. And that means more help from the internet.

When we decided to try for another baby, the internet was there. You told me your stories, you reassured me, you prayed for us…even though you didn’t know us.

When I announced that Charlie was coming, you cheered us on.

When my placenta decided not to cooperate, you again shared your stories of hope.

And now, as I inch closer and closer to having two sons, you are still there. All of you with blogs, facebook, twitter, email.

Shoot, just last night when I was frantic about what to do with Eddie and his case of the scoots, I posted to facebook and twitter. This is what my facebook looked like (I don’t even have ROOM for all the tweets you all shared):

And it kept on going from there…

This sort of thing amazes me.

We have an army in our corner. And we don’t have to feel alone.

I wonder all the time how women did this mothering thing before the internet. How did they rally? How did they fight to survive?

Or didn’t they?

Did they have to sit at home {or at their jobs} and suffer in silence? Did they ever get help? Who could they reach out to?

Who celebrated the simple joys and “wins” of motherhood with them? They couldn’t post to a picture facebook of their twin infants FINALLY napping at the same time. They just had to enjoy that victory alone.

Alone.

That is something we never are now that we have the internet.

For all the negativity that is said about moms on computers and constantly checking facebook and twitter and writing blogs, I always respond with, “but the internet saved my life…and my sanity.”

What great things have come to you because of the internet? Share with me. Let’s smile today.