Some Final Thoughts on My Final Maternity Leave

(Okay, so technically, I have been back at work for a couple weeks now. I have been in a “transition” period of a couple five-hour days per week. Until I work the hours I did before, it really doesn’t count as far as “officially” being done with maternity leave.)

I know if I use the phrase “working mom” and only refer to what I do outside of the home, I’m sure I could stir up a few comments. I realize that being a mom, whether staying at home or working outside the home, is work regardless. Over the past six-and-a-half years, I have been all across the board. The only difference about me being a stay-at-home mom is that my stint has been paid, otherwise known as maternity leave.

And now it’s time to leave maternity leave behind. For good. Sigh.

Growing up, I wanted nothing more than to be a mother. I had no lofty career goals, other than that. Yet I never considered being a stay-at-home mom. My mom wasn’t (nor was Jake’s mom), and I (we) truly don’t feel that we missed out on anything by her working. She and my dad had flexible schedules, and someone was usually home with us. My grandparents lived right up the road, so I can only remember a couple non-relative baby-sitter stints that didn’t last very long. In retrospect, I am thankful my parents made such a sacrifice for us. God bless their 36-year marriage!

It seems ironic that a majority of my mom friends have Bachelor (Master’s, Doctorate) degrees and they stay-at-home, while I aspired to be a mother, have a (useless) Associate’s degree and I have a job. It’s been a source of some coveting in my life. I admit, I sometimes let my jealousies get the best of me. It can even be a source of contention for Jake and I, I’m not going to lie. Then he feels guilty that I can’t stay home… it’s a vicious circle. So by the grace of God, I’ve come to accept that my motherhood job comes along with an outside-of-the-home job.

I remind myself that my friends didn’t start off motherhood single. Not that it was a part of my plan either. Of all the ways I imagined my motherhood career beginning, being estranged from my (then) husband was never what I pictured. EVER. I look back upon that time that seems ages ago and think about all the crap I had to deal with on my first maternity leave: hiring an attorney to file for custody, filing for child support, dealing with my ex who was in a relationship with someone else and feeling ganged up on every time we had to speak… it was like my own personal episode of “The Jerry Springer Show.” Yet Averey brought so much joy into my life, and I am grateful to God that amidst the mess that I remember Averey’s first three months as a wonderful time to bond with my firstborn. Even though I had to return to work full-time, it was all worth it. We had to have a roof over our heads somehow!

My time off work with Kelsey was much different: I had a caring husband! The adjustment from one to two was more difficult than I expected though, and it was during a time I really had no friends in State College. When I returned to work, we decided I could go back part-time (up to 30 hours weekly). That’s when I got involved in a Bible study and found MOPS. That’s when I realized it seemed like everyone stayed home. So while I found friends, I also found that working outside the home was rarer than I thought. Back in Harrisburg, I worked with plenty of moms, so I never thought twice about it. Yet I reminded myself that some moms can’t cut their hours, and once upon a time, that was me. Thirty hours may seem like a lot to some people, but to me, it was a vacation!

And now I must say good-bye to my final maternity leave. While I thought I would cut my hours further, I believe God made it more apparent that I should be working with a servant’s heart (not an easy task as a pharmacy technician), and I should work more hours so we can achieve our financial goals of paying off our Jeep (so close), our car, and our home equity loan since we have a fixer-upper of a home. I follow Dave Ramsey who I consider to be financially wise, and he often comments about making sacrifices to get debts paid off. This is just one of those times that requires sacrifice. It also helps that my mother-in-law can watch our girls and be there to get Averey off the bus, along with a baby-sitter we hired in the spring who comes to our house. They are both wonderful blessings in our lives. I made a personal commitment never to have my children in a daycare setting, and thankfully, I (we) have been able to do that all along.

I’ve enjoyed being home this summer with my girls, but I’ll admit, it’s kind of nice to be back to a regular schedule too.

Maybe. We’ll see what I have to say in a couple months. ;)

Check My Brain

Since delivering Jacey, I thought for sure my forgetful pregnancy brain would vanish.

Today has proven me wrong. And it's only noon.

It started with remembering to send in a response card to a wedding that was due on September first. (And people who don't RSVP are a pet peeve of mine. I guess a late RSVP is better than none at all though.)

As I walked back into the house, my mind started working. "September fifth... why does that ring a bell?" I thought. Oh, because I had to send in Averey's signed 4B pledge today. (Be Prepared. Be Responsible. Be a Good Listener. Be Kind to Yourself and Others. Both the parents and student have to sign it. It has yet to even be signed. Oops.) Sure, I made her lunch last night, and even an extra PB&J for her lunch on Friday. We got her clothes ready for this morning. But I wasn't quite on the ball like I thought.

This morning, after Kelsey burned off some energy at open gym, we had to fill up my car with gas and get Pull-Ups at Target. (Oh, how I wish Kelsey stayed dry at night like she did before Jacey was born!)

Lately, I just go out and buy the small pack of Pull-Ups, which should technically last us about three weeks. Kelsey, on the other hand, makes the pack last less than two weeks. She decides once she gets one on before bedtime that she's free to pee in it... or worse. Gag me with a spoon.

This week, Target is running a special to buy two big packs of Pull-Ups and get a $10 gift card in return. I jump on these gift card deals when it's a good buy on something we really need. And I've come to face the fact that Kelsey will need Pull-Ups for at least the rest of this year. (Fingers crossed.) I printed off two $2 coupons for a single pack of Pull-Ups, and a Target $3 coupon for two packages of Pull-Ups. Score!

We walked into the store and Kelsey quickly pointed out she wanted the BIG cart. I'd tried to avoid using the behemoth before, but in the interest of Kelsey sticking close by me, I strapped her into the seat and put Jacey's car seat in the cart seat. It seemed a bit awkward to have Kelsey under me and Jacey so far away, and not to mention the thing barely fit through the racks of clothes. (Clothes? Wasn't I just going in for Pull-Ups?)

I grabbed the Pull-Ups, pushed the girls around the store, looking for some extra cheap good deals. ($1 for a bag of Utz Cheese Curls and $1.18 for a bag of honey roasted peanuts.) We wheeled to the register, checked out, and headed to the car. As I hauled the boxes of Pull-Ups in the trunk, I suddenly realized that I didn't receive my gift card. I browsed my receipt and saw one of the boxes was $25.99, not $19.79 like the gift card deal stated. (It wasn't my fault somebody put that box where the other was. Grrr.) So back into Target we went.

I explained the transaction to the lady at the return desk over Kelsey yelling, "Get me OUT OF HERE!" (Wait a minute, weren't you the one who wanted in it in the first place?!) We went back to the diapers, I grabbed another pack. And stupid me saw that I couldn't go through the automatic doors to get right back to the returns area, so I risked exiting the store to re-enter with an unpaid purchase. Gasp! As I entered the returns area again, I felt even dumber that she had been standing out in the open area, waiting for me.
"Of course I choose to do it the difficult way!" I had to redeem myself somehow as Kelsey was shaking the cart and Jacey was making her presence known.

A full exchange was made, and back to the car we went. But as I browsed the receipt, I noted that the coupons hadn't been deducted from this transaction. Sigh. Do I choose my sanity or saving $7? I chose the $7. I explained to Kelsey that mommy doesn't have her head screwed on straight and we had to go back into Target once again. By this time, I'm sure the lady at the register was thinking I'm a complete dunce, and Jacey was crying louder than ever. I told her about the coupons. She gave me $7 out of the register. She smiled as she heard Jacey wailing and said, "Somebody must be tired!" I was thankful for her empathy and promised her we would not be back again!

Phew.

As I've gotten older, I've found that while my photographic memory is still sharp (sometimes it can be a curse), my short term memory pretty much sucks. I make myself lists and try to stick to a single task, but even a list couldn't have prevented the Target ordeal today. As annoyed as I was at myself, I've recovered. And if anything, it provides a little blogging inspiration. Another (mis)adventure under my belt.

Making Muffins

I enjoy baking. I have a tremendous sweet tooth. My "For My Sweet Tooth" board on Pinterest has more pins than any other board. The three are a lethal combination. Fortunately, I have some willpower, and not often enough ingredients to whip up a goodie to satisfy a sugar fix.

In this final stretch of time before I go back to work after nearly 12 weeks of glorious maternity leave, I've been trying to squeeze in little snippets of "mommy and me" time with the girls. Now that Averey's gone back to school, I've added a few extra activities for Kelsey: open gym time, a couple mornings at Millbrook Marsh, and this afternoon, some time in the kitchen making muffins for this week's breakfasts now that they gobbled down the banana bread.

For as much as I enjoy baking and would love to have the girls be more involved in the kitchen (would it help Averey overcome her pickiness?), our kitchen is just too small. You think you have a small kitchen? Trust me, you don't. I guess Jake's gram spent a lot of time in the kitchen when she lived here. I just have to wonder why she didn't say to his grandfather, "Ira! Build me a bigger kitchen!" I know we would've appreciated that.

Anyway, since the mix came from a box, I could easily transport the minimal ingredients to the dining room table and work there. I thought that something as simple as pouring water, oil, eggs and blueberries would be great to instill a little instruction for Kelsey, and some patience for me.

Not that it worked out that way. It went a little something like this...

(My back turned to her.) "Mommy! Look at me!" Kelsey had placed the glass bowl on her head like a hat.
"Nooo Kelsey! We don't put clean bowls on our heads!" (Or any bowls for that matter. But I didn't bother washing out the bowl. Her hair had just been washed. Don't judge.)

"Mmm! This tastes yummy!" (Back turned to her once again. You think I'd learn by now.) There was a nice fingerprint indent in the dry muffin mix. "We don't eat that!" (Although I would totally scoop out a spoonful of the stuff and eat it. But whatever.)

"I crack this egg, and you crack this egg!" she exclaimed, grabbing the eggs out of the carton.
"Kelsey, put the eggs back!"

"Can I eat the blueberries?"
"No Kelsey, we need them for the muffins."

And so on and so forth. I decided by that time I'd had enough and I would scoop the muffin mix into the baking cups, because I could see her three-year-old carefree demeanor spreading the goop all over the table.

Not exactly a success, but I shouldn't expect that right now. She enjoyed her time helping, even with me raising my voice, admonishing her for every little thing. But for her, I'm guessing it's the little things, like making muffins with mommy, that matter the most.

Kelsey's Mystery Diagnosis--One Year Later

Kelsey is our middle child for sure--a little too adventurous for her own good, a sassy attitude, and the cuteness to get away with most of it. (At least, that's what I've heard about middle children. With Jake and I both growing up in two kid families, we don't exactly have experience with a middle sibling.) So leave it to her to end up with a medical anomaly.

For those of you not aware of this situation, and because I have a sleeping baby on my chest, I'll just add a link to the note I wrote on facebook last year about discovering her Atypical Mycobacterium lesion...

http://www.facebook.com/notes/heather-polk-gummo/kelseys-mystery-diagnosis-solved/10150293374829473

Post-surgery, she recovered quickly and much to our dismay, the anesthesia didn't even keep her tired for the rest of the day! The spot was covered for a couple days, and then we had to treat it with antibiotic ointment and a Zithromax regimen.

She's had periodic visits with the doctor that confirmed the diagnosis and performed the surgery. I think she'll continue to see him (or another ENT) for a while. There's a chance they could have to go in and scrape again, but it seems unlikely as long as it continues to heal the way it does. That includes, um, oozing, shall we say? Not that we see it ooze--it's not gross by any means. Some days she wakes up and you can see the scar exactly how it was surgically cut, and other days, it looks like there's a skin scab on top of it.

Prior to removal, Kelsey never cared if we touched it. Now, she flinches and squeals, "Don't touch it!" I'm not sure if it causes her pain, or it's just the awareness that something happened in that area on her face. If you ask her how she got it, she replies, "I ate dirt." If that keeps her dirty hands out of her mouth, then so be it! But so many kids eat dirt or play in stagnant water, and as far as we know, no other cases were reported in State College. Why and how Kelsey ended up with the infection? We'll probably never really know the answer. All that matters to us is that a diagnosis was made in the nick of time before things got ugly.

What I took away from this experience is that it is really handy to have a nurse in the family! All joking aside, I learned that it really does not hurt to have a second opinion and to ask questions. While my dad's discovery in the classroom seemed to piece the puzzles together, I had to take that bold step of making a phone call to the dentist/oral surgeon's office and giving them the information that I believed to be true of Kelsey's lump. Even though they brushed it aside, I was thankful that her pediatrician listened and got the ball rolling. Sure, he didn't figure it out the first time, but then again, it was basically a non-colored lump that was in the jawline. Those type of lesions generally appear on the neck, which added another curve.

(Funny thing: the day we were at Geisinger and Kelsey was in the OR, Jake, my mom and I ate lunch in the cafe, and Jake pointed out that the dentist who saw her was in there. The prideful side of me just wanted to say, "Ha! I was right, you were wrong! Nyah Nyah!")

Now it's already been a year since, and we have much to be thankful for since it hasn't affected her health in the least. She's our spunky silly girl, a doting big sister, and will likely keep us on our toes for years to come (and her medical paperwork file the thickest in our filing cabinet)!

I'm a Cool Mom, For Now...

Mark this one for the record books: I have been dubbed "cool" by Averey.

I decided to take the girls to the pool last night for some last minute summer fun. Since giving birth to Jacey in June, I missed out on a few weeks of swimming, so I've been trying to squeeze in as much pool time as I can. The girls can tread water and doggie paddle, but my goal of them swimming has fallen short once again. This is a slight source of stress for me, because quite honestly, I don't remember NOT knowing how to swim. We've done swimming lessons before and I had planned to this summer, but since being busy with the new baby, it sort of fell through the cracks. I could always put them in lessons in the winter in the State College High School pool. I'll be longing for that chlorine smell then anyway since I am especially dreading winter this year...

But alas, I am way off the subject.

I can trust Averey enough to watch her sister for a few minutes while I take a leap off the diving board to get wet. It always seems I'm in the company of teenage boys when I take a dive, but I don't care. It's still a thrill for me.

I returned to the girls and we swam around to the areas where their feet couldn't touch. They followed me around, doggie paddling with their floaties on. We swam under the buoy rope (okay, I lifted the girls over), and I proved to them I couldn't touch the bottom. (Up until then, they thought I was at least seven feet tall.) I rolled around, doing underwater front and back flips.

"Wow, you are so cool mommy!" exclaimed Averey.

I told Averey I used to do front flips off the diving board, but haven't tried it in years. I told her I could go off the board again if she and Kelsey would sit on the edge of the pool.

I climbed out of the pool and got in the line for the board. I planned on just diving, but as I bounced into the air, I quickly changed my mind and rotated into a front flip. I felt the water smack my bottom, but I still did it! I felt like a teenager again. (And today, I'm not even hurting like a grown up!)

"That was so cool!" Averey said excitedly.

I know I won't being hearing that phrase during much of my parenting years. Give her a few more years and she'll be saying, "Mom, stop trying to be cool by doing flips off the diving board!" I'll treasure this moment while I can, because I forgot that I failed at teaching them to swim. And as they paddled back to the shallow end, I'm pretty sure they didn't even care.

And by the way, shortly after that, Averey jumped into the pool with no floaties on and even went under the water. She was ecstatic. And go figure I missed her moment of "cool."

Ohhh, Back to School!

Averey started first grade today. She was excited, but did comment that she'll be shy around her new teacher and new classmates. (For those who know her would probably find this to be a surprising statement. I know I did.) After all, she will be one of four kids in her class that were in the same Kindergarten class last year. I was quite surprised by that; there were only three Kindergarten classes with less than 20 kids per class. 

I know that some people tend to get emotional on the first day of their children going back to school, but that has not been me. Sure, I can remember Averey being a sweet baby and toddler, but my life was so different at that time, that to me, it does not seem like yesterday. It seems ages ago, unlike me being in first grade, which sometimes does feel like yesterday. I don't recall my first day, but I do remember Mrs. Sullivan's classroom, writing exercises, and my poodle-curly permed hair. (Gotta love 1985. Lucky for Averey she won't face that same fate of hideous hair.)

The anticipation and excitement of the new experience of first grade may be similar for us both, but a lot has changed in 27 years. Averey gets to use an iPad for some learning exercises; I don't think I saw a computer in my school until the end of 4th grade in 1989 (and I'm pretty sure it was wheeled around between the three 4th grade classes). There's a peanut-free table in the lunchroom to shield the allergic kids from kids like Averey, who lives on peanut butter and jelly; I never heard of a peanut allergy until much later in life. During reading time, our class was divided into three groups by how well you could read; now the lines are blurred, and there's ADD, ADHD, Autism and classroom assistants. And we now have to buy Averey school supplies including markers, Clorox wipes and tissues, while we received a box of (sometimes used) crayons on our first day of school and minty-smelling paste.

And yet, some things will never change. Averey carried her backpack on both shoulders as she hopped on the bus, dressed in a colorful new Gap dress and cardigan (okay, there was no Gap Kids at our mall, so I doubt I was as trendy), and she gushed about how awesome her first day was. The rules may have changed a bit, but the game is still the same. 

In the meantime, Kelsey's preschool teacher stopped by for an introductory visit today. She yammered away and was convinced that the teacher was taking her to school today. As she insisted, "Today is FALL!" This should be an interesting year for her too.

So here's to new adventures for our bubbly girls (and hopes that I can be a little more organized in the mornings as I soon head back to work)!

Five Years in Happy Valley

Saturday, August 18 marks the exact date and day that I relocated here to State College five years ago. To me, it is simply a God-story, because there is no other way that this would’ve worked out by my own plan.

Being here for five years marks the longest I’ve lived anywhere (other than growing up in Montoursville), and the longest I’ve stayed at any job. My life is (somewhat) normal now that I often forget the life I had prior to moving here.

Jake and I had our first “adult” date 364 days prior to that: August 19, 2006. Who knew what a whirlwind that year would be (and the next couple of years after that)? After our first date, I had a good feeling about us. Two weeks later, he came to visit me again in Harrisburg. I tripped over Averey’s baby gate, and since he still wanted to see me after that, I knew there was a future for us! It was in October that Averey and I made the venture to State College. I’d made several trips over the years to State College, some in pursuit of Jake, and others not. I always thought it was such a nice area, and when Jake and I dated briefly in 1998, I momentarily considered trying to find an internship in the area when I would finish college. (Just for a nanosecond, because that’s probably news to Jake!) As our adult relationship progressed and marriage seemed to be in our future, moving to State College seemed like a real possibility. I loved living in Harrisburg, had a decent job and great friends (and awesome shopping all around), but I was a divorced single mother renting an apartment. Jake was living under his parents’ roof, waiting to (hopefully) buy his grandparents’ house, and therefore had decided not to waste money on rent. Having worked at Penn State since age 18, he had more roots planted in State College than I had in Harrisburg. It only made sense for me to be the one to relocate.

I realized that while I could look for a job, a place to rent and a baby-sitter for Averey, it was going to take a lot for things to work out just right. Having a failed marriage under my belt brought me to the understanding that if my relationship with Jake was meant to work out, that I was ultimately going to have to trust God that the pieces would fall into place. I ignored red flags before; I made sure that I would be paying closer attention this time.

When Jake called me and told me his friends had been in the pharmacy at one of the local Geisinger clinics and saw a “help wanted” sign, I could scarcely believe it. I called the pharmacy, but the manager there directed me to call the other pharmacy across town since they would actually be the ones looking for help. There would even be an opportunity for me to mix chemotherapy. Mixing IVs is my absolute favorite aspect of being a pharmacy technician (if I could mix IVs and compound all day, I’d be a super happy camper). Knowing that I’d be back in retail, this was a bright light for me. It just so happened that I was the only person that applied for the job, so upon salary negotiation and taking an eensy-weensy manageable pay cut, I had landed a job. (And I was sure that would be the most difficult thing!)

Those same friends owned a house and rented out their basement as an apartment. Their current tenants would be leaving in July. I would be moving up in August. While it was a smaller space, it was enough for me and Averey. To sweeten the pot, I wouldn’t be surrounded by college kids, had no lease to sign and had super cheap rent (three things nearly impossible to find in State College).

I found Averey an in-home sitter through the local newspaper, and her rate was even less than what I paid in Harrisburg.

Huge answers to prayer, I say! (And no red flags.)

Leaving Harrisburg was bittersweet. One of my BFFs threw me a surprise going-away party with my co-workers. I felt very loved since so many of my co-workers showed up, they had done all of this behind my back (and I just thought I was being purposely ignored!), and the fact that my brother had come down to watch Averey was all part of the plan was just incredible to me. While some of that night is a… little foggy, shall we say, I at least have some fun photos! I remember bawling as Jake and I pulled out of the parking lot of the restaurant. (And he probably thought, she’s moving to State College for me?!)

The night before I left, I wanted to go out to Zembie’s, a little bar downtown, and sing karaoke one last time. A group of co-workers and Jake and I went to eat, and then we headed to Zembie’s. I sang my “signature” song, “Killing Me Softly” by the Fugees. (Jake heard me sing karaoke when we went on a cruise a couple months prior, but it was one of my worst karaoke appearances. I was a bit nervous to sing in front of him again. Not that it would've changed his mind about anything.) When I finished that song, I think he said that he would’ve thrown his underwear on the stage for me. Or some un-Jake-like comment like that. Two of my other karaoke-loving friends sang too, and it was a blast for my last night in the ‘burg. I kind of forgot about packing up the truck and moving to State College the next day.

Waking up the next morning with Jake and my parents in my apartment quickly reminded me that it was moving day. Some of my closest friends stopped by to help and say good-bye. I stared at my empty apartment. A little sad, but excited for new beginnings.

I got settled in my new apartment, started my new job, and life in State College was underway. When Jake proposed to me two months later, we were in the throes of wedding planning. Six months later, we were married, in our new home, and shortly thereafter, pregnant with Kelsey.

Life was so crazy that once Kelsey was born, I realized I didn’t really have any friends here. I missed my Harrisburg friends, and while people said that would come and visit, company was few and far between. Even with facebook connections, I still felt a bit lonely and somewhat forgotten. I knew my roots were being planted in this town, and with me being more extroverted than Jake (and I don’t think I’m much of an extrovert to begin with), I had to take steps to change that. We (finally) started attending church and we’d found somewhere to worship that felt at home. I attended some play groups before I went back to work after maternity leave and made some little connections and conversation. I joined a Bible study at church, I found MOPS, and we joined a small group Bible study in our church. All of these were answers to prayer, and friendships were (finally) formed.

Five years have passed. We’ve made his grandparents’ house our own (and that’s always a work in progress!), we’ve found new friendships and in the meantime had two more children. Life has actually turned out pretty much like I dreamed—the loving husband, the noisy kids, a home to call our own. We’ve planted our roots, which isn’t exactly commonplace in a transient town like State College. For awhile, I thought Selinsgrove would’ve been my home (even though it never truly felt like home to me), and then Harrisburg actually did feel like home. Although getting to this point was never the way I imagined, reaching this point has made me appreciate the journey that much more.