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and then Saturday

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It seems that every time I think of writing in this space, I’m down and looking to vent. But, I don’t want to do that to you guys, so I just stay silent until Liliana does some outrageous thing that I can’t not tell you. Like how on her second day of school, she got in trouble. The teacher pulled me aside after class — not to tattle on her, but to inform me since, you know, you don’t always get the whole truth from a four-year-old — and said that Liliana had been throwing grass at the other kids and that the teacher had pulled her aside to tell her not to and she didn’t take it well. You cannot say “no” to Liliana without the consequential WHY NOT DON’T GET MAD AT ME YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS. And the following meltdown.

She down-played it when I asked her to tell Noah, “just a little trouble, just a little bit”. She down-played it even more when asked to tell her grandparents, “no, no trouble, just maybe a little”. (We don’t make our kids tell all their grandparents when they get in trouble, but we know that these certain grandparents like stories about a certain little girl’s antics, and sometimes hearing the story straight from her is even better.)

The next day when I picked her up, she said, “I DIDN’T GET IN TROUBLE, TODAY!” I have a strange suspicion that she is going to be very different from her never-ever-in-trouble-at-school older sister. My kids, they make my live quite un-boring.

But there is the other stuff – the fact that I’ve been in a near-constant anxiety-like state for a couple weeks now and have been putting off seeing a doctor. Stupid, yes, I know, but it’s not nearly as bad as the post-partum depression I experienced after Liliana. It’s just shaking, hot flashes/sweating, weird vision problems, dizziness, headaches, my heart beats a little too fast sometimes, and I’m tired ALL THE TIME, but I think that the last one is from my teething baby. It’s not, like, wishing I was dead and googling fool-proof easy-for-the-finder-to-clean-up suicide methods, although that was really fun (and informative). The anxiety’s a little elevated with having a friend in the ICU all week, not knowing what the heck is going on, but I guess in those instances all you can do is pray, right? Well, prayer and Ativan.

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We’re in Regina this weekend for Kaylie to run in the Queen City Marathon. I’d planned to do it this year as well – the half – thinking that I’d have a quick recovery from pregnancy/birth like I had with Liliana and get right into a half-marathon training program. But, then a rough pregnancy (and an easy birth) followed by two surgeries, two ambulance rides, countless ER visits, and unknown dates on two additional surgeries has made the whole running a half marathon thing a pipe dream. So, maybe next year.

This year, Kaylie’s goal is to beat her last-year’s time. I’ve taught her that running is a sport in which her main competitor is herself. If she wins the race? Great. But, really, she just needs to do what she loves and improve at it.

And now, I need to have a nap. Noah, Lili, Preston and I just walked about 200 miles to pick up Kaylie’s race package (she’s on a sleep-over) and I don’t think I’m going to move ever again.

Categories: anxiety/depression

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