Parenting an anxious child

Jul 23, 2014 by

Lovey has always had a personality that at times is difficult to parent.  She is generally a lovely girl (hence the name) but has from a very young age been slow to warm up.  It takes her a good deal of time to acclimate to new situations and she’s really only comfortable with something after she’s seen it or been exposed to it many times.  This is probably a big part of the reason why she walked late (17 months) or is such a “selective” eater.  She has improved greatly with her willingness to try new things but every once in a while she has a difficulty and as parents Honey and I are thrown for a loop over how best to support her.  We have never used the word anxious to describe her, but recent events have caused us to question if there is some underlying anxiety at play in addition to her cautious temperament.

Dead at Forty

Jul 18, 2014 by



I was so sick of everything the other day, that I just told myself that I would end my life upon reaching 40 years old, if I did not use the roughly four and a half years between now and then to get my life in order. That was it – things were either going to change, or I’d just be dead.

It was kind of funny, but kind of not really funny at all. Actually, after the thought went through my head, I felt my stomach turn and my breathing grow shallow. In my mind, I was making this extreme statement as a way to motivate me to lead a healthier, more productive, and more meaningful life. But my body knew better than my mind what was really going on; what should have been an inspiring moment was really just the most awful feeling. I tried to laugh it off as something too stupid for me to actually follow through on, but in reality, I was afraid that I meant it. And that I wouldn’t meet the terms of my bargain with myself, and that unfortunately I would end up pulling the trigger on the whole deal—literally.

In Search of a Dull Moment

Apr 8, 2014 by

I am in search of the “dull moment” that, supposedly, there never is one of.  I like the idea of “never say never,” so we’ll just say I’m questing after that dull moment like it’s the Holy Grail.  Except the moment it arrives, I don’t know what to do with it.


MUST.FILL.EMPTY.SPACE!  My wife will tell me to sit down, “it’s NOT normal!”  I’m not a great sitter.  Then there’s my mother-in-law, and next to her, I’m a slacker.  She not only is on her feet always and forever but there is no empty space.  Silence does not exist.  There is no such thing as pause.  Really.

What My Recent Emergencies Taught Me About Myself

Jan 27, 2014 by

A while back I blogged about my very traumatic birth experience. It’s been over 2.5 years since that difficult period of my life and yet I find that the trauma still lingers in unexpected ways.

This past October I had a random but very severe bloody nose. I was driving to an important work event, had just stopped home to shower and change into my fancy clothes and was minding my own business heading down to Southington. I had a cold but really was fine. All of the sudden I thought my nose was running so I grabbed a tissue only to discover I was bleeding. And profusely bleeding. It was like something I had never experienced. The blood was rushing out and nothing I did helped to control or stop it. Within a minute it was pouring out of the other nostril and I knew something was wrong.

Second Try at Breastfeeding

Dec 9, 2013 by

I had a tough go of it the first time around. After being “stuck” in the birth canal for about 4 hours, my daughter finally made it into the world. She failed pretty immediately to latch on. We soon figured out she was tongue-tied but the only local doctor that could help was in another country doing charity work and once he was back he was pretty booked up. I called daily, hoping someone would cancel and we’d be fit in. We went to a “baby chiropractor” for craniosacral therapy. She would latch on immediately after our sessions, but never again until the next one. I remember just breaking down when the therapist hugged me before one session – it was the motherly hug I’d needed, with my own mom so far away in Florida. I’d heard stories about blistered, bloody nipples, but not about a baby’s failure to latch. I tried and tried and tried, for weeks and weeks, shoving my breast into my daughter’s face. Her tiny head was smaller than my huge breast. All the while she screamed and screamed and I cried and cried. I would pump and my husband would do the finger feeding instead of starting her on the bottle so she wouldn’t get nipple confusion with the hope that one day she’d figure it out. He bonded with my baby while I sat strapped to the pump like a farm animal. We were holding out for the tongue tie snip – it was our cure-all. Except it cured nothing.

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