Semi-desperate Housewife

YAWN

2012-02-11T14:05:00.000-08:00

I have a boring question, but it's really important to me, because I am kind of boring. How do you wash your hard floors? (My answer: very sporadically! har har!) More specifically, with what do you wash your hard floors? I used to have this Bissell flip/mop thingy that you charged, and it vacuumed/dust mopped with one side and then washed with the other. It worked pretty well until it died a sad, motor-grinding death. I don't think they make them anymore. I also didn't like that you couldn't plug it in but had to charge the battery- the suction inevitably got weaker by the time I was done vacuuming.

So now I pretty much just spot clean it with a wash cloth or Lysol wipes, and occasionally go over it with my washable mop pads after spraying it down with some kind of hot water and cleaner solution. What I'm really pining after, especially since we're planning on eventually putting down tile in the revamped laundry area and the new dining room, is one of those floor steamer thingies, preferably one that will do the whole vacuum/wash process all at once or in separate modes.

Do any of you have floor steamers that you love or hate, and would you tell me about them?

Newsy

2012-02-09T08:31:00.000-08:00

Well thank you all for the name love! :) Still not totally decided, but that one is DEFINITELY on the Real Possibility list.

Also, guess what? Two awesome medical things: I finally got my blood work results and I don't have an active case of Fifth's Disease (they said I had enough in my system that I must have had it somewhat recently, but not recently enough to hurt the baby? I didn't totally understand on the phone, but I'll try to clarify at my twenty week appointment) AND my doctor found a pharmacy to order the progesterone shots from for WAAAAY cheaper than the first place. Like, fifty dollars a vial instead of four thousand. Yeah. What a racket the pharmaceutical industry is, AMIRIGHT, but I'm trying not to fume about that and to just be happy that I'm going to get to do them after all, and not in the process screw up our insurance premiums for ourselves and everyone else in the company. But still. RACKET. ANGRY FUME.

Another awesome sorta-medical thing is that I did another doula birth yesterday! Overall it went really well, and I got very nice scores and remarks on my DONA forms that the doctor and nurse have to fill out. The doctor, admittedly, had to fudge his a little since he wasn't actually there for the delivery (nurse: "try not to push!" baby's head: halfway out already) but the placenta delivery was pretty rough, so at least he got to see me doing my thing with her for that half hour or so. The actual baby came out way faster, let me tell you!

The crazy part was that it was an induction (poor NST at forty weeks) but the first bag of Pit they gave her didn't work. For almost eight hours they were upping the dosage every half hour and yet she wasn't contracting at ALL. Finally the doctor suggested switching to a different bag in case the first one was somehow faulty, and then, voila. Within an hour we had hard labor, and a baby in another four. It was ker-azy. She did a wonderful job not stressing though, her husband and mom were fantastically helpful, and the nurses were very good, too. They were really encouraging and facilitating her to move around as much and however she wanted to, despite all the cords and monitors she had going on. We managed to get her in a lot of good, productive positions and to work that baby down quite quickly once the Pit finally kicked in. QUITE quickly, in the end! Never saw a nurse deliver a baby before. It was kind of exciting.

I'm really glad I only have one more birth scheduled before my own baby comes, though. I was only there with her twelve hours, and on the road about an hour and a half, but today I am so exhausted I can barely stand. Being pregnant really cuts down on your physical endurance! A real news flash there, I know. You're welcome.

Discuss

2012-02-07T08:47:00.001-08:00

What do we think of the name Magnolia Jane? (Amazingly Jim actually kinda likes it too, so it's a for-real suggestion and not just purely of my own fantasy.) Possible nicknames being Maggie (Maggie Jane!) Nola, or Lia. Is it a little too out there, especially with our other kids' names? Or does it work? I feel confident that the nicknames work really well with the others, especially Maggie and Lia. But is Magnolia veering from the "elegant and old fashioned" category into the "excessively flowery/unusual" category? I'm especially looking for opinions from people from the Midwest, because I know full well that in many other regions of the country it'd be a perfectly lovely choice at which no one would bat an eyelash. But, around here the push towards older, stronger sounding names hasn't caught on full force just yet. Several of my choices from the original name post were weird enough for this town, but I feel like this one might really be pushing it. On the other hand, I absolutely love it. So there's that. But if you know me well and genuinely hate this name or feel it doesn't "work" with our family, please be honest. I'm sure there are names YOU love that I don't, so you're not going to hurt my feelings.

Side note: what is UP with me and the constant posting lately? I am totally in that second trimester happy space, right? And you should see my house, with the dishes done every night and the carpets vacuumed on a regular basis! It's astonishing!

Ahem. *brisk hand clap* Back to the name!

Before and After

2012-02-06T10:59:00.000-08:00

So all my kids appear to have inherited my insanely wild and thick hair, in texture if not in color. This means that a certain baby/toddler has been long overdue for a haircut for a few months now. And this past weekend, while the older kids were bowling with their cousins, Jim and I bravely got out the trimming scissors and took him from this...

...to this.

It was basically the hack job you must expect when trying to wield scissors around a squirmy baby's eyes, of course, plus he has this funny cowlick thing on top of his head that meant when his hair was wet it really did look straight across his forehead, but when it dried it was, y'know, not so much with the evenness. So I just keep sort of swooping it off to the side and tousling it a bit. Also, it's really hard to get good pictures of a haircut when every time your kid sees the camera he flings his head backwards and begins cheesing like he's trying to win an award for The World's Most Enthusiastic Smile.

In the meantime he just looks very very old and I am sadder than I've ever been about a kid's haircut. He's been acting pretty toddler-ish for awhile, but now he even looks like one. Oh, Jamie James. I wish you could've stayed a baby for a little longer.

Meet The Baby

2012-02-05T11:48:00.000-08:00

Here I am yesterday, at seventeen or eighteen weeks. This is the bump first thing in the morning, so imagine it a lot rounder by the end of the day! I feel kind of narcissistic posting a bunch of belly pictures, but I also feel very compelled to document this pregnancy a little more carefully than I have in the past, since it'll probably be my last. Yeah, just jinxed myself even saying that, didn't I? :)

And here are the ultrasound pictures from the 3D scan. She's in the breech position still, and for once I'm carrying kind of high. It makes it harder for me to feel kicks or distinct movements, since her head is basically butted up against my stomach and her fluttering legs are high enough in my pelvis that they aren't actually making direct contact with my bladder or anything. Not that I'm complaining about that! But it makes her movements just feel like vague, stirring sensations most of the time rather than definitive jolts like I'm used to from the boys, who liked to hang out low in my uterus and kick at my cervix all day long! Addy was more like this baby- it took me until the twentieth week with her to notice any fetal movement at all.

I know a lot of people think ultrasound pictures are kind of weird, or kind of creepy looking, especially this early, but I just think they're amazing. Especially after going from a six and half week scan of what basically looked like a jelly bean with stubs of arms and legs to THIS, a real BABY, albeit a very bony and kind of alien looking one. But the fingers, the toes! The perfect little ears! And I already think she looks like Adelay. :)

Processing

2012-02-03T10:02:00.000-08:00

So here's something wild: I am eighteen weeks pregnant today, according to the sonographer from my 3D/4D ultrasound. Or seventeen, according to my first ultrasound. We'll just see. I know it doesn't make much difference, for someone who has uncomplicated pregnancies and delivers around their due date, but for me, someone who is only allowed off bed rest at thirty six weeks, and who is only allowed to have a water birth if I make it to thirty seven weeks (this is considered term and even a few days earlier is preterm,) that week kind of matters, so I am eager to get it nailed down one way or another.

Either way, that's approaching the mid-mark of pregnancy. Firmly in the second trimester. Really and truly pregnant, not just bloated and tired and late for a period. How are things going so quickly? Fourth pregnancy is sure different than the first, when I marked off every single day impatiently, and felt ready to burst with impatience by twenty weeks. This time I am just now beginning to wrap my head around the reality that there is going to be a BABY here this summer. Another real live baby. Somehow that fact lingered only in the recesses of my mind until last week's ultrasound, when I saw my daughter's face, her long fingers and stretching limbs, and realized there is a real-live person inside of me, a person who is going to be here before I know it.

I'm starting to get that second trimester energy surge I guess; besides the physical ability to do more than the absolute necessities, I am also planning and thinking again, as opposed to what I had been doing the last few months, which was to shelve anything other than absolute immediate concerns because I could barely handle the day, let alone six months in the future. But now I'm starting to think about certain realities in a problem solving way rather than a stressy, panic attack having way: for instance, assuming the remodel is not move-in-ready when baby arrives, how long can she sleep in our room in the cosleeper before she outgrows it? If she does outgrow it before we're ready to switch bedrooms around, will I just sleep with her in our bed (doubtful; I don't sleep well at all this way) or put her in the crib and move Jamie to the toddler bed and move Eli to... a cot in Adelay's room? Also, where will I set up the baby's clothes and diaper changing station while she is nursery-less? We don't really have a spare dresser at the moment, but if I moved some stuff around I think I could theoretically fit all of both boys' clothes in one dresser and free up our changing table's drawers for baby girl's stuff...

These really aren't huge problems and will easily be figured out at some point, I know. As I said, I'm just pleased that I am able to consider them without immediately derailing into a meltdown about too much stuff! and too many kids! and not enough room! That's my point, I guess, is that I feel like I'm making progress. I'm accepting that everything will not be ideal and perfect when this baby is born, and that it's ok. It will still be fine. We'll work it out.

In fact, not feeling compelled to put together the perfect little girl nursery before the baby arrives is a blessing in disguise, perhaps. Much less work to do for everyone, and we all know the baby couldn't care less as long as she's warm and has a boob nearby, right? And it'll be kind of fun, getting to choose decor and paint colors after a baby arrives; I can match it to her personality a little. AND I'll actually get to do stuff MYSELF (which I prefer,) instead of hormonally trying to direct everything from the couch while on bed rest, which is how the last three baby rooms got put together.

Also, not to be all preachy and Pollyanna (but hey, I'm preaching at myself:) if my biggest concern when facing an unplanned pregnancy is where to put the multitude of baby supplies and clothes, I've really got it pretty good.

Twitter Ish

2012-02-02T08:14:00.000-08:00

Today's thought: It's probably a bad reflection on your housekeeping skillz when you're trying to fold laundry and can't find a non-cluttered or non-sticky surface in your entire house on which to stack the clothes.

Today's other thought: The expression "like ripping off a Band-Aid" is kind of misleading. I got my blood drawn yesterday and tore off the bandage this morning, and you know what? Sometimes those suckers hurt a lot more than you're expecting!

Today's other other thought: Yesterday's name post is still waiting and eager to hear your comments and suggestions!

The Big Bad Name Post

2012-02-01T08:28:00.000-08:00

Well, I feel a little better already. A lot better, actually. So I guess probably not the flu. Well, we'll see. No point in worrying about it, I guess, although that won't stop me of course. But the lady at the lab today said Parovirus 19 (Fifth's Disease) tests take four or five days to process, so I won't know until at least Monday. Therefore, we shall distract ourselves with... baby names!

One of the reasons I really wished for a girl is that while there are plenty of nice, solid boy names that I like just fine, there seem literally to be none (and believe me, I've looked) that thrill or tempt me quite like all the beautiful little girl names I've been drooling over like chocolates in a box for the last, oh, five years. Pretty much ever since the ink was dry on a certain Adelay Isabelle's birth certificate.

We have no official list yet, so bear in mind that these are simply a few of MY favorites. However, since Jim got final choice between our two favorites with the last baby, I'm thinking this time I should get that final vote, right? So, here's a sampling of the type of names I'm fantasizing about, along with (ridiculously lengthy) notes on each:

Bellamy (Means beautiful friend in French. So far this name is getting weird looks from the kids, but I love it so. The nickname Bella actually gives me pause though because of the Twilight reference, which to me is, uh... NOT a plus.)

Bronwen (I think the spelling Bronwyn is prettier, but it's a Welsh name and the -wyn ending is masculine while the -wen ending is feminine. The reverse is true for Irish names. Just a little PSA! I want to stick to the correct Welsh form since the origin is one of the things I like about it- Jim and I both have some Welsh background.)

Cambria (I really like the nicknames Cammy and Bria so that's an extra in favor of this name. This name sort of makes me think of Cambridge University, but that's not exactly a BAD connotation, it's just THERE.)

Calista (I have always loved this name, and I like the nickname Cally, but I do think pronunciation might be an issue- for example the actress Calista Flockhart: I've heard her name pronounced both "Ca-LISS-ta" and "Ca-LEES-ta." Anyone know which is correct?)

Evelyn, Everly (I like the general sound of both these names and love the nickname Evy, but can't decide which I prefer- the one seems a bit TOO old fashioned and the other a bit TOO modern to me. I also feel a little hesitant about repeating a first initial, so I'm sort of trying to steer away from A, E and J names. It's not a total deal breaker for me though. Just a preference.)

Felicity (Ok, this is the name I have been in love with forever, basically ever since she was my favorite American Girl doll. However Jim has always been decidedly against this name, at least as a first, so my best hope is to sneak it in there as a middle name. This is really okay with me, since I also prefer any name choices to have at least one cute and obvious nickname, and Felicity is kind of tricky in that way. The only one I can think of is Lissy, which rhymes with Sissy, which happens to be one of Adelay's most common monickers around here. Any of you have suggestions?)

Isla (Love this, but there is a pretty clear lack of nickname-ability. Also I imagine frequent explanations on how to pronounce it (EYE-la, for the record.) This one is in good standing for a middle name though.)

Marlayna (This is the German pronunciation of the name Marlene/Marlena, which I find gorgeous in its original spelling, but would probably alter because I do not wish to have to say "No, not Mar-LEE-na, it's actually Mar-LAY-na" to every receptionist and secretary for the next eighteen years. I also adore the nicknames Marly and Layna. Two drawbacks- Jim finds this name extremely old fashioned, and it repeats the "lay" sound and spelling in Adelay's name. I don't know if I like or dislike this fact. Thoughts?)

Tansy (This is one Adelay suggested out of the blue, and I found it unusual and charming, and endearingly, rather than off-puttingly, old fashioned. There's no nickname possibility, though, and it doesn't fit very well with our pattern so far of three syllable names, so this one is more on the middle name list.)

Feel free to offer opinions on these, or suggestions of others that you think might suit our style! Or just tell me YOUR beautiful girl's name that got away- the one you always had on the back shelf but never got to use for whatever reason.

But Of Course

2012-01-31T11:30:00.001-08:00

Urgh. So guess who had a suspicious looking rash on her torso and face last night? And who woke up with the telltale slapped cheeks look today that is basically proof positive of Fifth's Disease? No, it wasn't me at least, but I woke up feeling achy and tired and nauseous and told Jim that I felt like I was coming down with the flu. A few hours later I Googled around about rashes some more and realized what Addy had. Dum dum dum. I called our family doc, who confirmed without even seeing her that she almost definitely had it, and told me to call my OB right away since it's way more alarming for a pregnant woman to get it than a six year old. I'm waiting to hear back from the OB about blood work right now, but I certainly feel crappy enough that I'd say there's a decent chance I have it too.

I'm not entirely sure of what the protocol is if I do have it- one website said something about weekly monitoring and ultrasounds until they're certain the fetus didn't contract it, or weekly ultrasound until delivery if they can verify that the fetus does have it too. I know Katy had experience with this in her last pregnancy- anyone else have a Fifth's Disease anecdote for me? Preferably reassuring of course, but either way I'd like to hear about it.

*Oh, and how ironic is this? First thing this morning, before I put two and two together and realized what Addy had, my doula client who's due in a week called to let me know that she was diagnosed with Fifth's Disease about a week ago! Fortunately she's so far along that the risk of her baby developing anemia or anything is very very slim.

It's Monday- You Get Bullets

2012-01-30T07:39:00.000-08:00

-My second doula client is due pretty much any time now. I keep skipping chores in favor of going to bed early because what if tonight's the night I get a call? Gotta sneak in that sleep. My house is seriously suffering for it, since nighttime is when I usually clean. I was back in the routine for about a week once the whole morning sickness/stomach bug madness was over, then I realized that I should really be trying to make sure I'm well rested each night. So, we have returned to the chaos. At least we're pretty much used to ignoring it by now!

-Speaking of stomach bug, my mom is out of the hospital and they're chalking all her symptoms (passing out, alarmingly low blood pressure, elevated pancreatic enzymes, extreme dehydration) up to a bad case of food poisoning. I know I personally will be avoiding Taco Bell for awhile.

-The dog is getting a bath and a teeth brushing today at the groomer's. I'm very excited to see if he'll stop smelling like a gassy, unshowered old man for at least a few days.

-The refinancing is complete! Phew. And we're getting close to actually breaking ground on the addition. So far we have met our contractor, electrician and foundation guy, so now I know whose faces are going to be randomly coming and going for the next few months! Downside: does this mean I need to have my hair brushed and a bra on at all times? And no more schlepping around in sweatpants? BOO.

-GIRL GIRL GIRL THE BABY IS A GIRL! Still can't believe it. It seems too lucky to be true.

-I finished The Hunger Games trilogy this weekend and I cannot get it out of my head! Whenever I get into a series like that and am reading pretty much every spare minute, it always takes me a few days to absorb the fact that I have finished the last book and it is all over. It's like a grieving process when I turn that final page. Man I'm such a geek still. Also, beyond experiencing a total nerd-like immersion in the world of Panem, did anyone else who read the books keep feeling really old every time they remembered that the protagonists are teenagers? I get so wrapped up in stories like these, so lost in the world of the main characters, but with these books every few pages I would suddenly remember, "Wow, these kids are ten years younger than me. I would be way too old to even participate in the Hunger Games." What a buzz kill. Nonetheless, you can bet I am counting down the days til the movie comes out.

I will not, however, be camping out all night for tickets, or writing fan fic or lurking on message boards. Gotta draw the line somewhere. Apparently I will draw it at publicly admitting I got a little obsessed with a book that's aimed at sixteen year olds. (Or no? Is this technically YA fiction or not?)

It's A.... Stomach Bug!

2012-01-27T10:45:00.000-08:00

Hi! Everything is fine; sorry I didn't post the news last night, but I didn't even get home from the ultrasound, which was in a city almost two hours away, until eleven thirty at night. There was all sorts of chaos, including my sister, who was with me, getting sick on the way home, and my mom being hospitalized with food poisoning and/or pancreatitis while we were gone. Luckily we had the two older kids with us to make all the driving in the fog/rain and the alarming phone calls and the puking on the side of the road extra fun!

But.

It is a girl. :)

And I have some adorable pictures of her sweet little face to scan and post as soon as I get the kids settled with my sister and then leave to visit my mom in the hospital, and bring Sprite to my OTHER sister, the barfy one, who also got violently ill last night! And I did mention that our entire family eventually got the barfing flu after I did, and so I feel really guilty for apparently spreading my flu to every single one of my relatives?

AND I should mention that the ultrasound tech did a bunch of measurements and that she was finding me to be seventeen weeks along, not sixteen, which would be concurrent with my EDD based on the date of my last cycle but which is obviously a week off from the gestational dating ultrasound, which was done pretty early. The tech last night said sometimes in women with tipped uteruses (which I have, pretty severely) it's not uncommon to have trouble getting the gestational age right at the beginning because of where the embryo is or something? I don't know. I just know that one week disappearing before my eyes felt a little alarming! Guess we'll see what's what at my twenty (or twenty one!) week scan.

Kids, Bump, Teaser

2012-01-25T13:31:00.000-08:00

So this hairy little monkey has turned into quite the expert at mischief. Beyond the usual stuff, the constant "no"ing and the sudden appearance of temper tantrums at the slightest disappointment, he has also learned how to climb up into chairs. And further, apparently. Today I looked up from my desk to see him standing in the middle of the kitchen table, cackling wildly and waving at me. Not even ten minutes later, I found him digging in the kitchen trash can, trying to suck out the remnants of an empty milkshake container while simultaneously dripping it all over himself and the floor. When did he turn into a toddler? On a related note, I think I see the beginning of the end of my favorite stage of infancy, ten months to eighteen months. Might need to amend that to more like fifteen months, I think. At least he sleeps through the night regularly! A full night's sleep covers a multitude of sins.

More happily, it seems the internet has worked its magic again, specifically the never-failing phenomenon of posting about a problem with your kid only to have said problem resolve itself. The last two days, Eli has been golden. A model child, I tell you. No tantrums, no accidents, kind to siblings, polite to strangers, eating meals, behaving himself for sitters, handling minor disappointments with proportional dismay rather than falling prostrate to the floor in rage, etc. I have been lavishing him with praise and kisses such that you'd think he'd cured childhood leukemia, but dang, I have to keep this ball rolling, you know? When he's not a roiling pit of emotional lava just waiting to spill over, he is seriously the greatest kid to hang out with.

And since apparently I'm doing an update-and-picture (and brag) style post, I can't leave out my oldest child, who is now reading, full sentences and whatnot, and asking me to read her chapter books that don't have pictures. This child that I fretted over all summer because she was only mildly interested in books and hated practicing phonics with me, which I was sure translated to some kind of learning delay and a lifelong disinterest in reading. Ah, catastrophizing. It's my favorite hobby.

I obviously don't mean to imply that reading at age six is anything remarkable, but it's well within the normal range which is very relieving to us. She has a ninety eight percent in phonics, so there is absolutely no cause for concern. And! She has a hundred percent average in math. I think it's becoming clear that she and I do not in fact have the same brain or personality. Man, someone should tell you this when you have a baby, right? That they are actually not just a mini you on which to project your own hubris and anxiety, but in fact an entirely different person altogether that just happened to grow in your abdominal cavity for awhile? (At least we agreed on those Strawberry Shortcake lotions being awesome.)

And last but not least, baby number four here is still alive and kicking and all that biz according to today's check up. (Also at today's check up? Doctor walks in and says, "Oh dear, have you been sick? You are so pasty!" She actually said pasty. Gah. And then I laughed awkwardly and said, "Well, pasty with pregnancy acne!" and she laughed and nodded along and then said, "But seriously... low iron? How was your blood work last visit? Are you taking your vitamins?" Yes, hi, my name is Sarah and in the winter, like most Caucasians, I'm PALE. Get over it.) I'm fifteen weeks and five days along, all is well, and I have gained five pounds of ~~thigh~~ baby to prove it.

And guess what? Tomorrow I'm getting a 3D/4D ultrasound and we're going to learn the gender of this little bump. :) I'm so flipping excited. OBVIOUSLY. Anyone wanna really quick weigh in with their guess?

3 Out Of 4

2012-01-21T13:04:00.000-08:00

Hey guess what? I'm having a good day so far. I know. Mostly it's because I am getting brave about trying fun foods again (pizza with something other than cheese! chocolate! donuts! COFFEE!!) and even when it's a fail (see: chocolate, donuts) just knowing that I am totally on the tail end of this nausea thing is vastly relieving. Also, every single room in our house is tidy right now, which has only happened one other time (appraisal) since I've been pregnant. This time the contractor was supposed to come out to make plans about the remodel, but he actually rescheduled for tomorrow just as we finished our whirlwind-cleaning. I was slightly peeved, since I am super excited to get the ball rolling on Operation: More Than One Toilet, but overall I don't care too much because now I can even vacuum and dust before he comes, and really impress him! (Yes, I know that he's a guy and a builder and probably wouldn't notice either way, nor be impressed, but I will feel better about myself so WIN.)

It's kind of weird, though. I mean, our house used to regularly be this tidy. Most days, it looked like this. Now I feel like I'm in a house of glass and sand and that any wrong move will send the whole thing crumbling around me. Plus what are the kids supposed to do? Just tiptoe around, not getting anything out until tomorrow? How did we used to DO this? Wow, did my standards erode but quickly. Oh well. Isn't the secret to happiness lowering your standards, anyways?

By the way, the refinancing of our house went through, so that's exciting me too. Fifteen years, baby! There is a bit of a pang when I reflect that we could have stayed with thirty years and thereby lowered our mortgage by a significant chunk each month and had a lot more financial wiggle room, but I know in the long run this is a better plan. (I hope, fingers crossed.)

So those are the good things. But lest this post get too Pollyanna on you, it may comfort you to know that Jim and I keep getting in stupid fights about the remodel (we... have very different personality styles when it comes to timelines and deadlines and planning and communicating about said issues) and about how to deal with Eli OH WAIT I MEAN AN UNNAMED CHILD NOT THE ALWAYS PICKED ON MIDDLE ONE GAH. You should understand that for us a fight, like an actual yelling and saying things you really don't mean and swearing kind of fight, happens like maybe four times a year. So having two in the course of three days kind of sucks. Although, it often happens that way, I've noticed. Something about the catharsis of actually RAISING ONE'S VOICE and saying all the things you usually just mutter to yourself while you're loading the dishwasher later that night (what?) just emboldens you for awhile. It's the gateway drug into further yelling and unfair fighting practices. Yesterday I was even thinking about throwing a glass. I just wanted to break something. I was so. damn. tired. of thinking about and feeling guilt and confusion about my son's behavior and second guessing myself and Jim about how to deal with it and I just wanted to smash something.

Then of course today said son went and behaved perfectly and ate without complaint the apple slices that he yesterday ruined an entire morning over and is now happily playing with his sister. I just don't know. Every time I think, "Ok, these fits are just getting beyond normal, maybe he needs more than we can offer him, maybe I should call someone, maybe I need a referral, maybe..." he straightens up for a few days and acts like a model kid and I just shake my head and hope he's rounded the bend.

I do see that it's improving, bit by bit, from where we were a year ago, but it's still hard when I think about preschool this fall- I just start cringing, imaging his having daily angry/wounded meltdowns whenever another adult gives him instructions or another student won't share, and being sent home with notes from the teacher wanting to schedule meetings to discuss "discipline strategies" and diagnoses. I so badly want school to be a positive experience for him, not a place where he begins to question his worth or his capabilities, the place where he begins to compare himself with others and find himself lacking. I know that in some ways this is school for everyone, and there's no way around it, but... You know what I'm saying. I want him to stay at home in his jammies and play Super Mario and Candy Land with me and hide him from everything hard for a little longer. Or, for him to magically outgrow having tantrums by age five. And maybe he will. Either way, we all know what a lot of good worrying about it will do, right?!

Misery = Company

2012-01-19T11:48:00.001-08:00

So now everyone's had the flu but Jameson. At this point I figure he is nothing but a ticking time bomb, and everyone knows if someone's going to be puking, a baby is the worst- they have no clue how to aim and are totally unpredictable. And you know he's going to be clingy and want to sleep with me. Sigh.

All I can say is thank goodness I got it first and got it over with so I've been well enough to help with Jim and Addy. Eli actually got it the same night I did, so Jim took care of him more or less alone. And thank goodness the morning sickness is MOSTLY faded to the background so that I'm not (extra) miserable to be around barfing people. Still not my favorite thing, though!

Good grief this has been one nauseating winter so far. I have never spent such a long chunk of time trying not to throw up, throwing up, thinking about throwing up, cleaning up other people's throw up, etc. Just a suck fest, basically. Plus some extra family drama thrown in the last few weeks for good measure.

This is going to sound pitiful, but it's just the truth: besides Christmas, I can literally only think of three specific times in the last, oh, three months that I have had a good day. (I'm meaning one in which mentally AND physically I felt healthy and well.) Once, when Jim and I went out to dinner and Christmas shopping for the kids. I splurged with a Zofran, and ate a baked potato and felt ok and had an actual date night. Second was when my sisters and I went to see The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, and I was completely riveted and loved it despite initially being very wary. And third was a day a few weeks ago when it was unseasonably warm and the boys and I went to the playground and for a walk with some friends. Other than that, most days have more or less been blah or downright bad lately. That's kind of depressing.

Spring had better have some pleasant surprises in store for me.

The Wisdom Of Others, The Barfing Of Myself

2012-01-16T19:15:00.000-08:00

Oh man you guys. Nothing like a twenty four hour stomach flu to remind you that maybe the dry heaves and the nausea and the food aversions of morning sickness aren't so bad compared to an entire night of projectile vomiting and subsequent raw throat and painful dehydration symptoms. Perspective! See! Isn't that a cheerful spin to put on it!?!?!

Ahem. Moving on. So I'm a little tired and delirious and also woefully, woefully behind on laundry once again thanks to literally spending an entire day tucked in bed recovering from said flu (and begging God to please oh PLEASE not let anyone else get it.) The only interesting thing was that I of course lost a few pounds, in the course of emptying my body of every fluid and then not being able to eat anything but Jello and graham crackers the next day, and therefore my belly was much more taut than usual, giving me an unusually clear glimpse of my actual baby bump. Still not very big, I have to say. I hope that's ok.

I am feeling little twinges here and there that are maybe movement, but I couldn't say for sure. This is disappointing, since with Jameson I could absolutely feel him moving at least a couple times a day from thirteen weeks. I know that's a rarity, but I was hoping it would happen again. My stupid fetal heart rate monitor thingie also completely died on me, so I have to settle for waiting to be reassured at my sixteen week appointment, like a common CHUMP. Humph. Though, I guess I could let the only slightly lessening nausea (flu aside) comfort me that all is still well. When that magical fourteen week marker came and went and I was still retching at the smell of the garbage can, well... panic set in a little, I must admit. Is it possible to have had normal, done-at-the-end-of-the-first-trimester nausea three times in a row and then have it the whole unlucky nine months with your next? Never mind, don't answer that.

In conclusion to further barf talk and complaining, I give you, in lieu of anything meaningful from myself, Erin's wonderful, wonderful post, which is kind of about MLK Jr. Day and kind of just about life, and of course made me well up in tears and wish that everyone had to sit quietly in little kindergarten chairs and just listen to her. She also links to this post, written by a teacher and called "On Gifts and Talents," and it too was so wonderful and well worth the read. As Erin explains, the gist of it is so simple: are kids are ok, and will be ok, if we can only start actually believing that they are ok and making sure that they know it.

I have certainly had my moments of worrying that my kids were not ok, that something, somewhere was off and needed fixing. This was such a good, such a wise, such a calming thing for me to read. Yes, it's concerning that my four and a half year old still has almost daily meltdowns despite our constant attempts to help him control himself. But to my nagging fear that oh no something is wrong with him this post was soothing truth. One way or another, he is ok, just exactly who he is. And he is going to be just fine as long as he knows that his parents believe that.

Healthy AND Female

2012-01-12T14:10:00.000-08:00

So here's the thing, which everyone around me already knows: I really really REALLY want a girl this time. It would be a huge consolation prize for me in this unexpected pregnancy sitch, if this little belly bump turned out to be of the female persuasion. I know some people think it's kind of horrifying to admit even to yourself, let alone out loud and to others, that you have a gender preference. But I'm all about brutal honesty, like how I admit that finding out I was expecting a kid a year and a half before I had PLANNED to have said kid threw me for a total loop. You wouldn't think a year and half would make such a difference, or that choosing to try to get pregnant vs. having it just happen to me would make such a difference, but boy did it ever. Maybe it reflects poorly on my character, this reaction- in fact I think it does indeed, but it's the truth and I admit it. I am working on it.

However, I do not think it reflects poorly on anyone to say that they are hoping for one or the other sex when they're expecting a baby, and I get really tired of people kind of half whispering, "Well, I always thought I'd like a boy first but..." then rubbing their belly and finishing sanctimoniously, "as long as it's healthy!" I always want to be like, "Er... can't you wish for health AND male genitalia? You know that health and penises aren't generally mutually exclusive, right?" Obviously I get what they're saying, but I just think it should go without saying. Of course I know you hope for a healthy baby MORE than you hope for a boy, but that's not what I ASKED, is it?

I also think we're all big kids enough to let it go unsaid and assumed that of COURSE once you find out the gender, whether at twenty weeks or at delivery, you either instantly get over it or actively work on getting over it. You embrace your child for who he or she is, and, especially if you have a religious or spiritual perspective, believe that this is exactly the child you were meant to have and you don't wish it any different for a second. I always think of what a friend of mine's MIL says, when asked if she ever wished one of her four kids, all boys, had been a daughter. Apparently she laughs and says, "Which one? Which one would I trade in for a girl?"

So yeah, whenever anyone asks me if I care this time, I answer emphatically, "Yes, I want a girl!" I want Adelay to have a sister, to enjoy that experience that I had (threefold!) and if it's not now, I don't know when it will be. Will I try again when she's ten or something? That seems too far apart. Honestly I had already kind of given up worrying about it, because I didn't plan to have another baby until Jameson was three or so, and Adelay would have been eight-ish, already seeming too far removed from this hypothetical sister to have much of a bond during their childhoods anyways. But now there is this unexpected surprise, and Addy will still be six-ish when this sibling is born. Six years doesn't seem so horribly far apart. Six years seems like a bridgeable gap.

Also, and I'm just going to be SUPER brutally honest here: the idea of three boys in a row, especially within five years of each other, makes me want to give up on my sanity altogether and just go ahead and preemptively schedule a psychiatric evaluation for about two years from now.

How about you? Did you start out wishing for a different gender/gender combination/birth order than you have now? Did you ever admit it to anyone? Did you struggle with it much if/when you found out you weren't going to get what you wished for?

You Take The Good With The Bad

2012-01-11T14:06:00.000-08:00

Good: My sister gave me two giant bags of winter maternity clothes today, all of which are actually cute and fairly new, since she just bought them about a year and a half ago. My stuff is looking pretty dumpy after three pregnancies, and also, I had exactly one pair of jeans (with a bleach stain on the leg) since I've always had babies in the late summer/early fall and never really needed maternity pants, just maternity shorts and capris. With this kid though: fourth pregnancy, plus due in earlyish July, well, let's just say my rubber band to stretch out my jeans waistband trick just wasn't cutting it anymore. I mean, it still worked, technically; I'm not huge yet or anything. But it is so uncomfortable, and when your pants are unbuttoned the waistband always rolls when you sit down and... You know. It just looks dumb and it feels uncomfortable. I should have just asked her for the pants about a month ago, but for some reason it felt like a jinx to start wearing maternity clothes too soon. But I will be fourteen weeks Friday, so this seems like a safe, and not laughably early, time to start putting on the stretchy waistbands.

Bad: My van needs new rear brakes and possibly a new transmission. This is going to pretty much suck up (and then some) the three hundred dollars I was prepared to spend taking Fonz to the vet for a check up and teeth scraping. Crap.

Good: At least Jim can do the brakes himself.

Bad: I just found out that my client's OB refused to sign her birth plan, saying he "couldn't" based on hospital policy or something. I had a bad feeling about this doc right from the start, so now I'm nervous that we're going to have a fuss on our hands anytime she wants to deviate even slightly from the hospital norm during this birth. Sigh. That's never fun.

Good: My nephew turned one yesterday! Happy birthday, Smith!

WHAT TO DO?

2012-01-09T14:15:00.000-08:00

Well, I am able to eat salads again, and occasionally even chocolate, so I must be getting better! On the other hand, the smell of coffee is still awful to me, I am nearly homicidal towards the poor dog every time he breathes in my vicinity, and I am still violently dry heaving by noon-ish if I go without the Zofran. I keep skipping it in the mornings, seeing if today will be the day I magically feel well again, and I made until twelve forty five today without getting sick. We even went outside to a playground and for a walk! ...And then I bolted indoors, ran for a trash can and started gagging, but still. Kind of a win.

I've been in a big funk lately, I'll be honest, but getting some fresh air today helped a lot. So did scheduling an appointment to get the dog's teeth cleaned at the vet to see if that might significantly help his breath. (Two! Hundred! Dollars! worth of help, so it had BETTER be significant!) We also heard back from our appraisal and it went better than we had hoped, enough that I think we're going to go crazy and switch from a thirty to a fifteen year mortgage, so that we can hopefully be done with house payments around the time the kids start college. Doesn't that just sound... amazing? Not having a house payment?

What else... trying to think positive here, so yesterday's road trip to my sister's house, during which I got a five hour headache/migraine thing, probably doesn't count. Oh but the zoo! Saturday night we took the kids to the zoo's annual Holiday Light show, and we all walked around bundled up, sipping hot chocolate and enjoying seeing the zoo from a whole new perspective. That was fun, and it was something I had been bummed about, thinking we had missed our chance over Christmas, but they had one last encore of it this weekend and we somehow got our act together and made it!

I also have a prenatal massage gift certificate to use as soon as I feel better, which has to be pretty soon, so I'm getting excited for that.

Lastly, and off of the Being Cheerful topic but big enough and time sensitive enough that I want to get everyone's opinion: my doctors are strongly encouraging me to get progesterone shots (weekly from sixteen to thirty six weeks of pregnancy) due to very encouraging research showing that it can prevent cervical thinning and preterm labor symptoms in women previously susceptible. I didn't do it last time despite their urging, and now, two years later, the research is even stronger, and I'm a little bit more eager to do anything at all to possibly avoid being on bedrest, you know? BUT said shots cost FORTY FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS per five week dosage vial. I would need FOUR of those five week dosages.

Insurance doesn't cover any of it, but it does at least count towards our deductible, so basically if I agree to order the shots we will have met our deductible for the year by... February. This seems nice, but doing this will also absolutely jack up our insurance rates again for next year, for not only our family but everyone else in the company, and I really hate that. Our family has definitely been a real drain on our small company's insurance plan, and I hate making everyone else pay for our expenses, basically.

What would you guys do? If I had ever had a preemie I would say yes to the shots in a heartbeat, do anything for my baby's health, obviously. But since bedrest HAS always worked and we've never even had a baby have to stay an extra day in the hospital or anything, I'm basically spending this money gambling that it's going to spare me, and by extension everyone close to me, from the annoyance and frustrations of bedrest. Is that worth it? Am I being selfish?

More of the Same

2012-01-03T09:34:00.001-08:00

Wow, this may be the longest I've ever gone without posting. Sorry. As usual when nauseous, blue light from electronic screens makes me sick, so I mostly avoid looking at TVs or comnputers. I do remain pregnant, I'm happy (and slightly astonished, still) to report. Twelve weeks and four days, to be exact, and heard a heartbeat again last Thursday, so it seems all systems are go. Especially whatever system it is that makes my stomach churn and my mouth taste like metal and my gag reflex to kick in at the sight of a dirty sink or the opening of the fridge door.

I've been doing all sorts of things to suppress it: hiding in a dark room in bed, obviously; eating nothing but complex carbohydrates and drinking mainly 7-Up; sea bands, which help a little, I think, but really kind of HURT because they have to be pretty tight on your wrists to actually apply pressure, so most days I skip them; and Zofran occasionally. Not regularly, though, because a) I keep worrying about side effects to the baby and b) it's not helping that much this time anyways. It mostly suppresses the urge to dry heave, so when I'm going out in public for any length of time I usually take it to avoid embarassment, but at home I mostly don't bother because I still feel nauseous a lot of the time either way.

It is getting more bearable. I think I'm rounding the curve and that the nausea will recede with the end of the first trimester, as usual, so I just keep thanking God I'm not one of those women who feels sick the whole time. I'm also thankful I've been mostly able to keep from actually vomiting this time around. I have definitely felt just as miserable as in pregnancies when I was throwing up, but at least I've avoided the mess and grossness and dehydration aspects. I remember when I was carrying Jameson thinking that if I could just puke I'd feel better. Not so much. Then I just ended up throwing up all day. It was like uncorking a damn or something. So this time I really fought the vomit urge right from the start, until I could almost always force myself to just gag, but not actually throw up. (This is such a nice topic, no?)

But I know I'm lucky, and not everyone can do that. Whenever I read about people with hyperemesis gravidarum or whatever it's called, I just can't believe they go on to voluntarily get pregnant AGAIN, sometimes many times! Proof positive that the biological baby urge often utterly defies logic or self preservation instincts, no? Right now I am feeling like it would take an absolute miracle for me to ever want to get pregnant again. (Of course, it basically was a miracle that I got, and stayed, pregnant THIS time, so...) It's just such a bizarre and overwhelming experience: I go from being a fairly energetic and productive and fun person to being a miserable hag with stringy hair who drags around the house in sweatpants, cringing every time I enter a new room because of the unbearable smell of the dog or the kids or the coffee or the AIR.

So yeah, I was a lot of fun during the holidays, obviously. Feeling like a slightly depressed spectator at Christmas was possibly the lousiest part of the whole morning sickness thing. But I'm grateful: Jim did a LOT this year, from shopping to wrapping to making Christmas breakfast. And he's basically done all the dishes and tidying lately, and all the dog care and pretty much all the morning kid care during Christmas break, so that I could stay in bed until I felt okay-ish. Today he is back to work, and I miss him already. I also miss his ability to run out and try to find food that might tempt/help me, because I've already exhausted all my fail-safe foods and am feeling the queasy heaving coming on again, despite much teeth brushing and sipping on Vitamin Water and all my other tricks.

You know what else makes me sick? (You: Oh YAY, we're going to talk about this some MORE!) The sound of several of the kids' movies and video games, because they've been on so much while I've been sick that it's become like this... soundtrack to my misery. Every time I hear Mario Brothers I want to barf. I've also grown to despise the color of our kitchen and am desperate to repaint when I feel well, because that's the room in which I most often feel sick, and so, again, the color has become like this symbol of feeling ill, I guess. Anyone else ever get that? And anyone else sort of LOATHE their pets when they feel nauseous?

But there is good stuff going on. We're refinancing our house, which is very exciting to me, and plans are in motion to finally do that bedroom/bath addition very soon, which is THRILLING to me. It probably won't be finished before baby comes, but close at least, and since the baby will sleep in our room for a few months anyways it's not a big deal. But oh! A master bathroom at last. And a guest powder room, separate from the family bathrooms and free of underpants on the floor and mildewy bath toys lurking in hidden corners!

But before that, there is much, much work. Like today, when I desperately need to pick up this trashed house and vacuum before the appraiser for the refinancing gets here tomorrow. I was very optimistic about all my cleaning plans last night ("Tomorrow I'm going to feel great! I'm going to be back to normal and swing into action!" etc.) But I already just want to hide in bed again while the baby naps. Sigh. Oh well. Maybe if I appear truly, pitifully pregnant and forlorn, the messy house will work FOR us and the appraiser will take pity and give us a higher estimate?

HALP

2011-12-12T08:22:00.001-08:00

Hi. Can't talk. Busy barely functioning and swallowing back vomit every five minutes. And happy holidays to you all!

Seriously though,.... that's pretty much accurate. I'm sorry I'm MIA, but yeah. Very sick. So sick. Tried a B12 shot last week, which the doctor swore is this new miracle cure for morning sickness, and no dice. I was so disappointed.

So that's what I'll be doing the next two weeks. Trying to slog through the holidays while feeling like I have stomach flu. I'll try to blog more when I feel like myself again, promise. In the meantime, feel free to send me bland food and hugs.

I'm Still Alive Here

2011-12-01T11:57:00.000-08:00

Well, I'll be eight weeks along tomorrow, and I officially feel like death most of the time. Which is Such a Good Sign! as my doctor always loves to say cheerily. Meh. I call bs on that one. I know plenty of people who had lovely healthy babies without ever barfing, you know? But I guess since I seem to be one of the lucky half of women who DOES feel sick from pregnancy hormones, for me perhaps it is in fact indicative of a healthy baby. At any rate, my progesterone is now a whopping twenty four, which is the highest it's ever been with any pregnancy, so it seems that my body is actually responding to the supplements! (In the past, it often wouldn't... I'd be taking tons and tons of it, and then my levels would only raise a point or two. It was so weird.)

I don't have another check up until January fourth, which seems so far away, but I know the holidays will make it rush by. That's the kind of nice thing about having my first trimester coincide precisely with the holidays. Makes normal festive things like cooking, cleaning, decorating, shopping and general bustling around a bit daunting, but it will certainly make these draggy, sickish, still kind of iffy-feeling next four weeks go a bit faster, I imagine.

What seriously sucks, and without any silver lining, is that our roof is leaking again, into the same freaking closet, and the roofing company now says they're simply going to have to replace a section of the roof. Fun! But at the least the mold remediation company that came out for an inspection said there's nothing bad enough to be torn out, just bleached down, dried with fans and coated with an oil based Kilz. None of which I can do in my delicate condition, of course, so that's nice. The worst of it is that I am still short a closet- the closet I usually hide all the presents in! Not sure where everything's going to go once I actually get in gear and start shopping.

Oh, and? Just in case I didn't already feel like barfing? We have mice again. I didn't even play around this time. After two traps were... activated in one night (the night that it got really cold and snowed,) I called an exterminator to go crazy on the place, attic to crawlspace. Best of all, he's also responsible for coming back and emptying the creepy cages full of poison and glue pads that he placed around the "hot spots." SHUDDER. I know it's mean and I feel so bad about killing little creatures, but the idea of them in my house makes me NUTS, like seriously in need of anti anxiety meds to sleep nuts, especially now that Jamie spends his days all over the floors and putting everything into his mouth. The germs! The possible fleas and diseases and feces! THE CREEPY LITTLE RODENTS WITH THEIR CREEPY HAIRLESS TAILS!

Thanksgiving a Day Early

2011-11-23T14:31:00.000-08:00

Today I am thankful to have heard my baby's heartbeat, seen a little seahorse-looking embryo measuring at six weeks and five days, and to have received a due date of July 12th. I kind of can't even believe it. This... is happening. And the progesterone. It's working! For once it's working! It's so weird. I guess maybe all the other times it was a crappy egg to begin with so there was no saving it even if I took progesterone all day long. But this time, perhaps, there is a perfectly fine baby in there that just needed a little help taking off.

Sick Food, Kitchen Pictures

2011-11-19T17:04:00.000-08:00

The Good News: As of the last few days, I have morning sickness (all day,) which is never a bad sign when you're hoping your pregnancy is still viable, right?

The Bad News: See above.

The Good News: I am on my second bowl of egg noodles over mashed potatoes, covered in butter, and it is helping tremendously after a day of searching fruitlessly for something ok to eat. (Isn't the food search so awful when you're already feeling nauseous? You're hungry and know that eating will help the queasiness at least marginally, but then every time you open the fridge or freezer the sight of at least two or three objects in there is bound to make your retch.)

The Bad News: I don't think this is going to be one of those first trimesters in which I lose weight (see above re: carb fest.)

I have an ultrasound scheduled the day before Thanksgiving, when I will be eight weeks according to the usual period math, or approx. six weeks according to that crazy ultrasound I had, which I think is more reliable. But we'll just see what size baby shows up, hope it has a heartbeat, and go from there. Honestly, I think I'm rooting for just six weeks along. An extra two weeks to prepare is an extra two weeks, you know? Though, that would also knock two weeks off the estimated Amount of Time I Will Probably Feel Crappy 24/7. So hmm. Now I don't know which I would prefer.

Oh, here's a little morning sickness PSA after having done this... what, seven times now?

-Try to stay hydrated, but not primarily via plain water. Water often makes me sick. I try to do tea, hot or iced, apple juice, Vitamin Water, lots of oatmeal (instant with hot water,) hot chocolate, etc. but only do sips of water here and there to supplement.

-Pizza is almost always safe. If nothing else is working, try it. Eating it cold is sometimes surprisingly helpful.

-Scrambled eggs are often very comforting, but don't make them yourself! The smell of cooking eggs = obvious gag factor. Wait until someone can make them for you while you sit in another room.

And now, in honor of this boring food/preggo post, I will continue with the home tour and post pictures of our kitchen. Please note that these were taken a few weeks ago, well before the craziness of discovering I was pregnant/being in Michigan for three days/being at the hospital for two days with only one hour of sleep/having a major cold that I cannot medicate this entire week. Our house is possibly the most chaotic it's ever been right now, and I just don't care.

I think I have reached the point in domesticity at which I've realized that neither cleanliness nor clutter is a final destination. Homes are cyclic and I have gotten over exulting/panicking that the house is going to stay the way it currently is, whether it's currently spotless or currently a madhouse.

Anyhoo, side rant of zen realization there. On to the pictures- terrible as usual due to dinosaur camera, which I cannot justify replacing since I am in no way a photographer and am limited to point and shoot capabilities anyways.

If you click a few times to enlarge, you can see on the fridge the photo booth pictures of Jim and I from my friend Renee's wedding. Seriously, best reception idea EVER. It was so fun, and then a few weeks later, there was the added fun of receiving an email link to every single picture taken that night.

View of kitchen from sunken den.

(A side note about this kitchen: It is... very colorful, at least for a small room. Perhaps a little more so than suits my general preference, which showed up more in the initial decor of the kitchen: basically just blue on white with tiny touches of yellow and green. I added the more colorful elements in with the blue about six months (?) ago in an attempt to help the kitchen blend a little more seamlessly with the den without having to repaint one or both rooms. The curtain fabric was purchased online, and more or less picks up both the blue of the kitchen and the wheat/berry colors of the den, as well as a dash of brown, black, and olive-y green.

I used this same fabric to recover several pillows in the den, so the two rooms have a common element. Then I removed all the white pottery that used to sit on top of the cupboards and replaced it with inexpensive odds and ends that tied in those brighter colors. It was more or less a success, and while I am pleased with it and certainly don't DISLIKE it, eventually I dream of painting both these rooms softer colors, replacing the kitchen laminate and the den carpet with the same wood, and just lightening everything up a bit. You know, in my next life, when I have all the time and money and energy in the world.)

Jumping In With Both Feet

2011-11-17T11:46:00.000-08:00

Well, I have been an official doula at my first birth, and my goodness, what an introduction! The expression "baptism by fire" comes to mind. Literally every single thing that could happen, did, short of someone dying, pretty much. I don't want to reveal anything of a personal or detailed nature because there are obvious confidentiality issues, but the basic facts are that mom was induced, labor was prolonged, there was meconium in the water, the epidural had to be adjusted several times, Pitocin turned up and down, and mom was on oxygen the last half of labor.

She eventually did dilate fully but baby never engaged in the pelvis, even after four hours of painful but unproductive contractions. They finally gave up on laboring baby down and had her push anyways while they tried to manually pull baby down. They finally got baby into pelvis and used the vacuum for over an hour while Mom pushed with everything she had, but eventually a c section was performed, which I was allowed to watch.

Baby was extremely compromised at birth, and had to be resuscitated and put on a breathing tube. Mom also suffered minor surgical complications. Baby is currently in a children's hospital out of town, and the mom will join once she is recovered from her twenty six hour ordeal. And I? I am recovering too. I can honestly say that I did everything I knew to do, and that I believe I was a big emotional support to the family, especially after the c section, but I am obviously sad that the outcome was so interventive and that the baby wasn't healthy and able to stay with his mom. At least I can say that I've probably already gotten my hardest birth experience under my belt!

You Know The Drill

2011-11-14T10:27:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately this post is going to be very random and all over the place due to extreme fatigue and sinus-head. I came down with a headcold the last day of the conference and since I'm still pregnant I can't/won't take anything for it, so here I am, stuffy and mouth breathing and lightheaded. But here are the highlights of my life the last few days!

-my client is still pregnant, so her birth will count towards my certification! Yay! I am a little bummed that she's agreed to induction on Thursday if labor doesn't start on its own, but she has a lot of extenuating circumstances going on that make me very understanding of how much she wants to get this birth over with. She'll be thirty nine weeks on Wednesday, so she's close to being due, and the baby is thought to be over eight pounds already, plus she's already dilated/effaced a bit, so hopefully if there is an induction her body will be ready enough to go into labor that it won't be too rough of an experience. Either way, I'm super excited, and very intent on getting myself well before she has the baby so I can do a good job and not be blowing my nose and hacking while she's trying to get through contractions.

-the conference was AMAZING, seriously, so much better than I'd even hoped. I am so so happy I found this place and got to meet all these wonderful women and learn so much. There was such a wide variety of experiences, reasons for taking the workshops, birthing backgrounds and history, age, etc. but everyone really clicked and I felt like I made some great connections personally and professionally. And you guys were right, while I was going through some further concern about the pregnancy (I'll get to that later) there could not have been a kinder and more supportive group of strangers with which to go through it.

-I loved staying with my aunt. She is so awesome and fun, and treated me like a queen. I got delicious homemade meals, a spotless condo in which to relax, and someone to hang out with in the evenings. It beat staying in a hotel by a loooong shot. Thank you, Aunt Nancy!

-She also went over and above good hostess requirements by driving all over trying to help me find a charger that would work with my phone when I realized that I had forgotten to pack mine. Unfortunately none of the ones we bought would work, despite saying that they were compatible with my phone's make and model, and we even bought a battery in case that was the problem, but alas nothing worked and I ended up spending the last two days I was gone without a phone. It felt strange! But when I got home my own charger worked just fine. ??? MYSTERY. Also, craptastic phone.

-Related to the theme of electronic devices, I pulled over at a Meijer just outside of Ann Arbor and bought myself a GPS on my way home last night, after having managed to get myself turned around and confused for the third time that weekend. I had all my little maps and people had given me directions for getting back to the interstate, so I should have been FINE. I was trying to reverse my printed Mapquest directions that I used to drive TO Ann Arbor, but I just couldn't figure it out! I seem to have a) some kind of handicap re: following directions b)the world's worst sense of direction/spacial awareness in the world and c) once I make one wrong turn I just kind of freeze up and get confused. I seem unable to reason my way through the process of, say, getting back to where I started or of logic-ing out where I am in relation to other streets. So. I made a command decision to stop pretending I am a grown up woman who can find her way around and decided it was time to get myself a GPS and cease the wandering around in panicky circles once and for all.

-Lastly, I got a call from my doctor's office at eight thirty Friday morning on my way to the conference to let me know that my progesterone had dropped from the not-great-but-not-yet-terrible thirteen point five to a genuinely dismal ten. They wanted me to find a compounding pharmacy in Ann Arbor to which they could call in two different hormone supplements as soon as possible. So... I did (and my, what an adventure that was, trying to locate this random pharmacy in a city I've never driven in before, during my lunch break at the workshop!) I never took anything with Jameson's pregnancy and he hung in there, but his progesterone never went below a fifteen, so it was much better to begin with. I've actually never had my progesterone drop like this; it always stayed where it was or maybe went up just a titch. So while now I'm trying to resign myself to the fact that this is probably in the process of failing, I also felt within my heart that if I didn't throw everything medical at it that I could, I'd feel doubly awful if/when I did miscarry, especially considering I hadn't actually wanted to be pregnant in the first place. Guilt and all that, you know.

So I'm taking progesterone three times a day, in various forms (!), but I've also got a call in with the doctor to inform them that if I cooperate and do all the drugs, I'm going to require a weekly scan to assure me that it is in fact working and the baby's still growing and/or to let me know as soon as possible if it does stop growing. They didn't have me coming in for a scan until a month from now, but I am NOT going to walk around for a month hoping against hope that maybe the pills are working some magic when in fact the heartbeat stopped weeks earlier, you know? So maybe I'm being demanding, but this is what I need to stay sane. By this point in my reproductive game, I am an INFORMED CONSUMER who knows what she wants, dang it.

Seriously Crazycakes

2011-11-10T13:32:00.000-08:00

So, I had a dating ultrasound today, even though based on my last period I would only be just six weeks and they don't usually do them until seven. I think my obvious level of confusion about my low hcg levels/my stress about leaving town for three days/my history of miscarriage/my obvious state of CRAZY re: unplanned pregnancy led them to squeeze me in for a scan just to settle my poor little female head.

According to my ultrasound, my baby (which IS in my uterus, is a singleton, and doesn't have any little cohorts lurking in my tubes or ovaries, thank heavens) was conceived only about two weeks ago. Yeah. Like, two weeks ago as in right around when I was expecting my period. Two weeks out from when I had very definitely felt myself ovulate from my left ovary. And yet the corpus luteum from this baby is on my RIGHT ovary. Which means... wait for it... I was lucky enough to experience that rare double ovulation phenomenon, and happened to conceive at a point when I thought there was NOWAYINHECK that I could get pregnant.

Yeah. I know. And it also means that for where I am in pregnancy (barely four weeks, not six) my hcg levels are actually ever so slightly off the charts HIGH.

I just... I don't even...

I'm going to go lie down now.

Blah Blah Blah PLUS Bonus Verbatim Letter To Santa

2011-11-09T07:23:00.000-08:00

Urgh, apparently pregnancy brain has struck already, because I sought babysitting for today and wrote down in red, underlined ink, "Sarah-Dr-12:30!" in today's calendar square, and laid awake last night thinking, "To-MORROW! To-MORROW!" and then the nurse called me today and was all, "So we'll see you TOMORROW, Thursday, at twelve thirty!"

Or maybe I can't blame hormones. It's not like that's never happened to me when I wasn't in the family way.

This is still so surreal. Especially because I don't physically feel pregnant: no nausea, no tenderness in the chestal region, no unusual fatigue, no bleeding gums, nada. I'm MAYBE peeing a little more than usual? MAYBE a little bloated? But that's about it. Aside from the whole pesky emotional rollercoaster of crazy, which is definitely there. Oh, and the kind of melancholy fact that about two weeks ago I pretty much stopped producing any milk at all, so Jamie's been up multiple times each night lately, trying in vain to nurse and too sleepy and out of it to accept the sippee cups he willingly drinks from during the day. It makes me really sad, and also really tired in the morning, but I'm still not counting that tiredness as a preggo symptom because I'm pretty sure ANYONE would be tired in the morning if they were up all night with a sad baby suckling in futility and then fussing angrily.

Well, whatdya gonna do? Que sera, sera! One day at a time! God has a plan! One foot in front of the other! Shop and clean and bake cookies and browse online obsessively to distract yourself! (That last bit is my own contribution to the litany of platitudes one generally is offered at times like these.)

In news unrelated to the state of my gestating uterus or frantic squirrel brain, Jim and I went to Addy's first parent teacher conference last night, and it was so completely pleasant and relaxed. I just love her teacher, and I am well aware how lucky I am to be able to say that. She's lovely and patient and funny and also just so happens to live across the street from us. Yeah. It doesn't get better than that... except maybe for the times when our windows are open and the kids are screaming, or when I shuffle out to the mailbox in my robe and slippies, or when our lawn goes unmowed for too long. Then it's a little disconcerting to remember that your neighbor whose living room window looks into yours is also your daughter's teacher. But mostly it's good, and so is having a family with identically-aged kids just a few houses away with whom you can trade babysitting for these events. I seriously felt like we lived in Mayberry last night.

Every time I am waiting yet again for the bathroom, or feeling cramped by the size of our kitchen/eating area and the lack of central air and overwhelmed by the mess created by three small kids in less than two thousand square feet (looking around, I often hear in my head that line from One Headlight that goes "This place is always such a mess/ Sometimes I think I'd like to watch it burn") I remember that we literally could not find a better location in which to live than exactly where we are, and moving even marginally further away from our friends and families would really put a kink in my current ability to make it from home to just about anywhere I want to go in under ten minutes. Can't put a price tag on that, right?

So, we'll add on if we have to. Or install an outhouse in the backyard! Or maybe the baby can sleep in a dresser drawer in our room for a year or so! OMG BABY!

Oh, and as a reward for slogging through all this nonsense, you get Eli's letter to Santa, as dictated to me this morning after yet another whining fit about how it takes so long for Christmas to come. (Also, possible alternate title to this post, "How I Am Apparently Raising An Entitled But Very Expressive Child.")

Dear Santa,

I want some presents. I am angry and I really want them and I really want today is Christmas. I talked about it but I yelled about the Mario pajamas and I throwed a fit about them. I... I am crying for Santa to come and I was sad about Santa and I was really really angry about it. And I was really really really really really reeeeeaaaallly angry. I really want something. I want cookies for Christmas. And I really really angry about them. And... like, I want a Black Cat and a Black Spiderman for Christmas. And do you know what? Also I want more and more and more. I want a Bears jersey like Brian Urlacher, and an Ohio State number one jersey. I would like a football. I want, uh, mmm, I really want Adelay to get a new green dinosaur for Super Mario. Um, I want MORE. I want shin guards. I want some... I don't know what I want. That is just all.

Thank you Santa! Thank you Santa!

From, Eli

Shake It Off

2011-11-08T08:11:00.001-08:00

Okay, yesterday was emotional crazycakes day and today is back to business as usual- I feel brisk, efficient, and able to just shelve this whole being pregnant thing in the back of my mind until tomorrow's appointment. Mood swings, anyone? I mean, just last night I burst into tears because Jim glanced at the computer screen to check a score update while he was talking to me about the whole thing, and I immediately stomped away because PAY ATTENTION TO ME AND MAINTAIN EYE CONTACT EVERY SECOND GEEZ! And today I'm all, "Oh well! La la la! I'm just gonna pull a Scarlet O' Hara here and think about it tomorrow! Today, I shall shop for Christmas presents and a new winter coat and boots for Addy and spend hours trolling the internet for the best coupon codes, hooray!"

In that vein, does anyone have any recommends re: warm but not super bulky winter coats for girls, in the S (7/8) size range? And preferably not insanely expensive kthanx? I'm leaning towards this Lands' End one, using the 25% off plus free shipping code, of course, but there are no reviews on this item yet, which makes me twitchy. Anyone wanna weigh in? I'm also looking for a pair of boots that meet the following criteria: a) waterproof and insulated, suitable for walking around in actual wet snow and not just for looking cute with tucked in jeans, b) WILL still look cute with tucked in jeans, however, and will be okay to wear to school without totally frump-ing up an otherwise fun outfit and c) will not cost more than forty bucks. I know, that's pushing it, but I just have this THING about spending money on shoes, even for myself and especially for kids who outgrow them in a year.

Deep Breaths

2011-11-07T12:02:00.000-08:00

I don't even know where to begin. I wasn't planning on writing this post until weeks in the future. I was going to write something light and funny today, possibly about the surprise food poisoning we all got this weekend from our favorite Mexican restaurant! Instead, I'm so stressed out right now that my heart has been pounding in my throat all day long. Actually, it's been doing that for a week, on and off. I'll be fine fine FINE until I am not, and then I snap and yell about tiny little things, so much so that I'm trying to avoid my kids as much as possible except to hug them. Also, today I made the colossal mistake of reading the latest posts in the Faces of Loss blog that I subscribe to, and I finally cried, partly out of guilt because, oh, what is another miscarriage compared to losing twin babies at birth, right? But also partly out of grief, because while a miscarriage is not the same as stillbirth, no, it is also not the same as having a sweet (albeit unplanned) baby, or as never having accidentally gotten pregnant at all, and so it sucks and it hurts and it makes me angry.

Which is to say, I am pregnant. Surprise. Not planned, not at all, so much so that I was embarrassed to even tell anyone. Then, when we got the first blood draw results, when I would technically have been almost a week late already, my hcg was only thirty. Which... is terrible. It did double in forty eight hours, to eighty-eight, but that's still terrible for this point in pregnancy (technically I'd be considered six weeks on Wednesday, though I think I ovulated late, so more like six weeks on Saturday.) My progesterone is also very low, thirteen point five. Basically, all signs point to miscarriage (seventy-five percent chance, technically) or ectopic pregnancy. I know every pregnancy is different, and I also know that it's possible I ovulated a lot later than I thought or something, so that could explain the very low hcg levels, if I was just a week behind where I thought I was. But I also know what my hcg s were in all six of my past pregnancies and they have NEVER been this bad, not even with the early miscarriages. So.

I'm waiting, on pins and needles, for a call from my doctor to discuss the results of my third hcg draw on Saturday, and the possibility of an ectopic diagnosis. She has fifteen more minutes and then I'm calling to bug them again, because dear Lord, if I have to wait until tomorrow morning my head is going to burst from stress. It also sucks that I am leaving for the three-day doula workshop Friday morning. The last thing I want is to be in the middle of a miscarriage, or still in limbo or whatever. My client is also STILL pregnant, so I feel worried leaving her, especially now: she just had to have emergency surgery for a pregnancy complication, AND found out her mom is really sick. I feel so badly for her, and hate to leave her for any amount of time.

Oh, and then there's the food poisoning. Basically, I'm just a basket case right now and could use any comforting words anyone can scrape up. I just can't believe this HAPPENED at all. We've never had an accidental pregnancy, which I was proud of, so I guess this is my punishment for being cocky about using the rhythm method so successfully, huh? Sigh. I just can't believe I'm probably facing another lost pregnancy. I so wish I could figure out why my body doesn't want to hold onto my babies. My heart does. I don't know why I can't get in synch.

Quick Edit: I just got off the phone with my doctor and my hcg was at three hundred thirty one on Saturday! So that seems... good, right? She said it was a very healthy increase and to just come in on Wednesday for an appointment. Apparently if it were ectopic they'd be expecting to see it slow down by now, rising but not quite doubling, and this is twice now that it's almost tripled, so...? Maybe everything's ok. Still iffy, what with the low progesterone and generally low betas, but not definitively bad, yet. Still a surprise with a capital S, but better than a miscarriage. We'll see.

For The Germophobe In All Of Us

2011-11-03T20:39:00.000-07:00

It happens to every "mommy" blogger eventually, right? In other words, this is my first compensated review post, and before you raise lofty eyebrows and delete me from your feed, let me interject that I honestly do like this here stuff I'm peddling. Also I used the products BEFORE they asked me to write about them, so, you know, I'm not exactly turning tricks here.

The "stuff" in question is MyClyns, produced by Union Springs Wellness

MyClyns is a line of cleaning products and personal germ protection products which are unusual both in their gentleness and in their efficacy. Let's start with the hand sanitizer, which doesn't use alcohol (very important to me because of my sensitive skin) AND kills germs about four times as long as any ordinary Purell-type hand sanitizer. It's also a foam, so much less messy than the normal gels.

The cleaning products are non aerosol and nontoxic- they don't even have scary warnings on them about flushing your eyes and calling Poison Control if you get some on you, because they are free of phosphorus, bleach, carcinogens, surfactants and methanol. Also, they smell a LOT better than my usual Seventh Generation products, which always remind me of my grandfather's aftershave, and not in a good way.

But the clincher, and the thing that makes them so worth taking the extra time to order them rather than grabbing yet another tub of Lysol wipes at the grocery? After thorough application, the household surface spray, the floor cleaner, and the surface wipes kill germs for up to THIRTY DAYS. Thirty days, people! So you can get your counters really well once a MONTH, and just spot clean with some soap and water in between. Ditto for your nasty kitchen floor! Ditto for your doorknobs, your light switches, your cell phones, and your keyboards.

MyClyns also offers a laundry rinse aid which removes the smell of urine and sweat in one wash, as well as a fabric spray which smells honestly amazing and kills odor causing bacteria. There's even a food wash, which can be used on any meat or produce, and which removes 98% more chemicals, waxes and contaminants than water alone.

However, I think the coolest product is the Germ Protection Spray. It's about the size and shape of a pen, so it's very easy to keep on you at all times whether or not you're carrying a bag. You just spritz it into your face, right into the mucous membranes of your nose and mouth, to kill germs whenever you're exposed to them, be it daycare, school, your office, the subway, a play date with a sick kid, the mall, airplanes, or everyone's nightmare, the McDonald's Play Place. It is also a wonderful antiseptic/first aid product, and can be sprayed directly onto any cut or open wound to kill germs and promote healing.

So... how can this product kill germs and still be safe to spray into your kids' faces? Well, to start with, it's 99.9% highly oxidized water, which is famous for its healing properties. The other percentage is an FDA-approved solution of oxychlorine compounds called Microcyn. The compound in Microcyn moves through the cell membranes and deactivate the cell's essential enzymes and structures, rendering them non-viable.

It sounds a little crazy, spraying a germ killer right into your face, but I've used it and it just feels like a mist of water. And it will literally speed healing of those little cuts and cracks in your hands like you can't believe. But mattering just slightly more than my own testimonial is the fact that MyClyns personal spray is used by first response teams, firefighters, police officers and EMTs in eighteen different countries, and many medical supply companies, such as Emergency Medical Products, Inc. promote the spray as well. It's actually been around a long time, and was the product that started it all, so to speak.

As you can see from the link, the spray is a lifesaver for people in the medical and law enforcement arena, protecting them from potentially very dangerous pathogen exposures, but it's also available to you and your family, who are just as deserving of protection from this year's round of runny noses and Surprise Stomach Flu episodes. Any of the MyClyns products are can be purchased through your local wellness coach, or you can order online from Union Springs and they will refer you to a local rep. And of course, you can always get extra discounts and products by hosting a demonstration or deciding to become a wellness coach yourself.

The item I'm most excited about right now is this gift basket which I'm giving to Addy's teacher for Christmas this year. Pretty nice, right? And something kind of different, in a sea of gift cards and boxes of chocolates. Candy is great and we all like lotion, but what teacher wouldn't be a little extra excited about the idea of some serious germ protection, amiright?

So there you go: Sarah's Gift Guide 2011 suggests a big tub of surface wipes and a personal germ protection spray for everyone on your list. They'll thank you later, when everyone else is sniffling on their couch and they're out skiing this winter.

Want to learn more? Check out MyClyns products on YouTube

And like us on Facebook!

Home Tour, Volume 2

2011-10-31T20:34:00.000-07:00

Because I need to post, but am crashing too hard on Halloween candy to try to write anything, I present our living room, in a (mostly) toy and kid free state:

This is how we use our play yard when it's not set up in the middle of the room. I seriously think it's one of the most invaluable items of kid gear you can buy. You can gate off anything with that sucker, PLUS you can take it outside, either to use as a playpen or to hose it off if the idea of wiping every nook and cranny is a little too daunting. On a seasonal note, it may just go around our Christmas tree this year. We'll just have to see how Jamie does. Y'know, now that he's WALKING and all. :)

Parenting Fail

2011-10-26T07:52:00.001-07:00

Perhaps you, like me, have always sought to parent with an emphasis on frankness regarding the human body and its natural and normal functions, without shame and with acceptance and appreciation for the wide variety of shapes, sizes, and colors. Perhaps you have always, in private settings, permitted honest observations about the differences and similarities of our bodies, encouraging a dialogue about function over form and of the very subjective and changeable nature of the term "beauty." Perhaps, during your recent pregnancy, your children were encouraged to observe the growth of your belly and even the existence of your stretch marks, so as to foster a sense of normalcy and acceptance regarding the biological functions of the female body, and of the cosmetic changes sometimes rendered by those functions.

Congratulations on being so forward thinking and relaxed and hippie-like and whatnot! Now your child, too, might pipe up with any or all of the following questions and observations (if you're lucky, all within the span of a few days!):

-"Why are your front teeth so big, Mom?"

-(while tenderly patting your face) "Hey, Mom, you forehead skin feels bumpy! Why isn't it soft like the rest of your face?"

-(after bursting in on you as you are exiting the shower) "Huh, Mom, your butt doesn't look the same as mine- yours is sort of SAGGY, isn't it?"

Humph. I think maybe it's time to emphasize the importance of diplomacy and tact over honesty, now.

This Entry Would Be Good With A Nicely Aged Cheese

2011-10-21T13:14:00.000-07:00

I'm sure most of you already read Amalah (and sorry there's no link, but Blogger has been screwing up my links for about a month now,) but if you don't, or didn't get to read today's entry yet, let me just urge you to right this minute. Or at least to read this excerpt, which gives you the gist of it:

The thing is, I'm not unhappy. Like, at all. I love this life, this crazy minivan-full-of-many-boy-children life that I never, ever expected to be living, but oh, I'm so glad I do. Honestly, I could kind of see myself having baby after baby, if I only had a place to put them besides Ikea dresser drawers. Or enough money to keep them all in karate/braces/camp/pizza/college.

Or enough patience to promise myself that I wouldn't yell at them for taking too long to put their shoes on, thus making me get out of the car and show the world that I didn't have time to get dressed that morning, even though that was my own damn fault for not getting out of bed 15 freaking minutes earlier, because...what? I thought today was going to be the magical day when everybody puts their shoes on the first time I ask instead of the seventh? Come on.

Indeed. I am overall so grateful and content and even EXCITED about my Important Life Choices thus far, but boy can I relate. Especially to that bit about feeling teeth-grindingly irritated at your constant state of running behind schedule, even though you know you could probably head off the crazy by just regularly ASSUMING that none of your kids will function properly and compensating accordingly. I mean, how many times have I yelled at everyone to hurry up when what I really wish I could do is go back in time an hour and yell that very thing to mySELF, still laying in bed with an arm thrown over my eyes trying to wish away the call of duty?

Today was even a good day, overall, but sometimes this suburban, stay-at-home parent to three young kids, living-on-a-budget-much-tighter-than-we-anticipated-back-before-2008 life feels... about like it sounds, I guess. Huh.

I should be very excited right now: my friend/client is due with her baby basically any day at this point, and while I am disappointed that she will very likely deliver before I've attended my workshops, thus disqualifying that experience from counting towards my certification, I am happy that her difficult pregnancy will be over soon, and happy that at least I probably won't have to worry about heading for Ann Arbor for three days, leaving her a hugely pregnant time bomb at a week from her due date.

I also got a new client last week, a referral from my own doula, who is herself having some very serious health problems due to a surgical complication, and who may be out of commission for quite some time. While this is hardly good news (and please pray/think good thoughts for her if you would, as she went through some really scary stuff) it does mean I may be able to fulfill my three practice births requirement sooner than I anticipated, which would be fantastic. It was a really cool feeling to go and meet with a client who has no personal knowledge of me and whose only relationship with me will be as a birth professional... definitely a different experience than serving as a doula for a friend, though that is obviously a thrill too. But serving in that capacity doesn't feel quite as NEW, I guess, since I've been present at births of friends and relatives before.

But anyways, you know, I should be feeling pretty jazzed and instead I feel a little PMS-ish and frustrated and overwhelmed by all the different categories of to-do lists running through my brain. I guess part of my mood could also be due to a week straight of rain/clouds, and another part still to the ongoing Eli struggles: he's doing much better in terms of daily behavior than even a few weeks ago, thank goodness, but still battles so much with controlling himself once one little thing (and my, how fun it is predicting what that one thing will be, HA HA HA) tips his mental scales into the negative zone.

It's depressing mostly because I feel like the majority of the behavior improvement has been the result of Jim and me figuring out better ways to head off the temper tantrums. Which is GOOD, don't get me wrong, but I'd prefer for ELI to be the one gaining improved coping skills, y'know? I sometimes feel so exhausted at the end of the day from constantly navigating the minefield of his fragile and unpredictable emotions. And I LOATHE that our family is falling into this classic, middle child as the difficult child stereotype. Sigh.

In a side note, it is also WILDLY UNHELPFUL to my general frame of mind that the very bad word cluster very bad worst cluster roof is leaking into YET ANOTHER VERY BAD WORD CLUSTER CLOSET! A CLOSET IN WHICH MY PERSONAL CLOTHING RESIDES! AFTER HAVING BEEN ALLEGEDLY REPAIRED BY PROFESSIONALS! VERY BAD WORST CLUSTER. This, on the heels of Jim having to put our mailbox back up after last week's babysitter (who was a gem in all other respects) backed into it. Home ownership is for the birds, man.

Sweetest's Day

2011-10-17T08:17:00.000-07:00

Addy's dream come true.

How amazing is this cake?! I mean, right? I think this has Cakewrecks potential.

Welp, I did it! I gave a toast without reading from notecards, without sobbing openly, and without saying anything too embarrassing for the new couple or myself. Hooray! Another life experience under my belt. The wedding- the whole weekend, actually- went by way too fast, but it was an awesome time, and was totally worth all the driving and childcare arrangements (and coming home to find poop on a bath towel, what the sweet mother of...) and shoes that made my toes go numb. I got to hang out with so many people that I love so much and don't get to see nearly often enough, and now I'm going to feel weird and sad the next few days wishing I could... I don't know, take them all on a week-long cruise with me. Five hours of reception is not enough.

Sadly, I have no reception pictures, except for the cake and candy buffet, which I took before dinner. After that, well. That's between us and the awesome complimentary photo booth Renee and Justin hired, complete with funny prop box full of fake mustaches and feather boas. Speaking from personal experience and as a witness to the wild rustling and shrieking coming from behind the black curtain, that poor photo booth attendant was privy to many a special moment as the night wore on. My sister has most of the prints, I believe, and when she gets them scanned and emailed, maybe I'll share, assuming I get everyone else in the pictures to sign the necessary release of privacy forms. For now, here's a few of the bridal party pre and post ceremony.

The beautiful bride.

Shawn the hairdresser attempting to tame my hair. Despite repeated warnings from both Renee and myself that yes, I really do have enough hair for three people, he still had to express the obligatory shock and awe (and dismay) when he first plunged his hands in. Before bed that night, I pulled twenty five hair pins from my scalp, and even that hadn't been enough to keep it from tumbling everywhere after just a few minutes with the Black Eyed Peas out on the dance floor.

Subway!

The bride's sister Kelly, maid of honor (and Reese Witherspoon lookalike, amiright?)

My sister Rachel and friend Linzi.

Party bus! In which there was three bottles of champagne, but nary a glass or drinking receptacle of any kind. So uh, here's hoping no one had the flu, because there were a lot of basic hygiene practices dispensed with in that limo, let me tell you.

Excited/Stressed

2011-10-12T07:33:00.000-07:00

I am feeling a little wound up/frazzled this week. Friday afternoon I leave for Kentucky, where I am the matron of honor (ugh, I'm a MATRON!) in my friend's wedding- my best friend from, I don't know, probably our sophomore or junior year of high school. I can't believe it's been ten years since she taught me how to skip class undetected. We've certainly gone our separate ways since high school, and haven't lived in the same town since 2003, but whenever we reconnect it's like no time has passed at all. It's pretty astonishing, actually, how quickly a married mother of three can revert to acting like a high schooler.

I'm so excited I can hardly stand it! The wedding weekend is going to be super fun, but mostly I'm just so happy because I think I have never before met a couple so perfect together. I can definitely give the sappy part of my toast ("I know you two will be happy forever!") with a clear conscience, because I will be telling the absolute truth: they were made for each other. And that's the most important part of the wedding, OBVIOUSLY. All the rest are just minor details in comparison. But still. I want everything to go perfectly, and mostly I want to not trip walking down the aisle in the heels which I am being ordered to wear but which I am so not used to walking in anymore.

I am also kind of nervous about the speech thing, as I have been told to keep the mushy stuff to a minimum and aim for funny instead. I think in general I AM a pretty funny conversationalist, but giving a speech is different. I've never had to PLAN for funny before. It's just... tricky. Lord knows we've all heard some painfully awkward wedding toasts in which the speaker was clearly aiming for funny but instead the speech went full-tilt too much information. There's a very fine line between a funny story about the bride/groom and a mortifying story about the bride/groom which none of the new in laws (or in fact the person's own blood relatives) ever needed to hear, y'know? So. TRICKY. Anyone know a good joke or ice breaker?

Other wedding related frets include the following:

-I am leaving on Friday to attend the rehearsal/dinner, as well as the wedding the next day, obviously, so I will be gone from Eli and Jamie for over forty eight hours. This is making me feel a little teary, and worried about how they will cope.

-The boys will be with two different sets of babysitters between Saturday afternoon (when Jim and Addy leave for the wedding) and Sunday afternoon when we all get home. I am fretting about the logistics of this and also Eli's behavior with other adults, one of whom he doesn't know very well, unfortunately.

-Relatedly, I am fretting about making sure the house is clean and organized and that all possible child-related supplies are stocked up on, since there will be all these people at my house, taking care of my kids, while I'm four hours away. I need to leave all these NOTES and LISTS about food and bedtime (Pull Up must be on! and then probably sheets will need stripped in the morning despite Pull Up!) and how to work the streaming Netflix and when/if to give baths and vitamins and time outs and and and....

-finding my way around Louisville, since I am so terrible at directions and can get myself turned around and confused in my own hometown where I have lived my entire life.

But at least we found babysitters, THANK GOD. It was getting down to the wire there.

Adding to the stress of the week:

-My doula client has been in the hospital since last Thursday with preterm labor issues. She even failed her fetal fibronectin test, so she's on strict bedrest until she has the baby, basically. This sucks for many reasons, obviously, but it especially sucks because a) she gets out of the hospital the day I leave for Kentucky, and I don't want her to go and have the baby the weekend I am gone! And b) she will almost definitely deliver before I attend my doula workshops in November (just ten days before her due date) which means that her birth can't count toward my certification. And c) if she does deliver before thirty six weeks, which seems likely, her birth is going to be a lot more medical than we were hoping, for obvious reasons which I agree with but which nonetheless stink.

-Our doctor heard a heart murmur when Eli had his check up last week, so today I am taking him to the hospital for an echo cardiogram (sp?) Addy had one at three months old, and was fine, and my nephew had one a few months ago, and was also fine. So maybe heart murmurs just run in the family? But this seems more concerning, since both of the other kids' were heard as infants (i.e. the murmur was present basically from birth) but Eli's always been fine up until now, so this is a new development. I'm honestly not super worried, but, you know... It's never a breeze taking your kid to the hospital for something HEART RELATED.

Cold Feet

2011-10-10T14:44:00.000-07:00

Adelay and I were sitting at the kitchen table just now, me reading my library book and drinking coffee and she, oh scorner of books, working on a dot-to-dot, biting her tongue in concentration. After awhile I heard her sigh heavily, and asked her what was wrong.

"My feet are really cold!" she said crossly. "It's making me freezing!"

"Well, go get some socks or your slippers," I responded easily, returning to my book.

"No, because I'm too cold to walk to my room!" she moaned, and crawled into my lap instead.

Instantly, because I am an introspective, metaphorically-thinking dork, I thought of all the times that I myself know exactly what it is I need to feel better- more sleep, more exercise, more time with the husband, better eating habits- but am so full of excuses for why I can't give myself the very thing I want or need.

Just today I was bemoaning my lack of muscle tone to my friend, noting that even though I weigh a little less than I did pre-pregnancy, I feel that I look much flabbier and less shapely. "I think I'd take a higher number on the scale if it meant my body looked a little firmer!" I told her. But the next thing out of my mouth was, of course, a litany of reasons why exercise is so inconvenient right now: don't want to spend money on a gym membership, can't run or jog in our neighborhood because of my bad knee, can't buy an elliptical for the house because there's nowhere to put it, ditto for a weight machine, I can barely find time for the stuff I already have to do, blah blah blah.

Not that those reasons are not true or not legitimate. It's just that I still know I could find ways to tone up and strengthen my knee again if I really wanted to. I did it once and I could do it again. I have come to believe that ultimately, we do what we want to do. Everything else is mostly excuses, you know? So I think this is one of those situations in which I either need to suck it up and find a way to do some weight training, or I need to stop complaining about my lumpy love handles and jiggly thighs. Stop whining about having cold feet, or walk down the hall and get myself a pair of slippers, so to speak.

Chocolate Chip Cookies

2011-10-06T17:08:00.000-07:00

So, today was a little better. Eli had his four year well child check up (a month late, yes) and I talked pretty frankly with our doctor about my concerns regarding his behavior. Part of me was thinking, "Oh, why bother him, and anyways, he's a doctor of BODIES, not brains. What can he tell you that you couldn't google or read in a book or don't already know?" But the other part of me thought, "It couldn't hurt to bring it up, and anyways, might as well get your money's worth out of the visit!"

As it turned out, he did have an interesting observation. He asked if anything had changed in Eli's daily life lately, and besides Addy going to school full time, the only other thing I could come up with was the fact that I've been spending a lot of my free time doing doula training prep: reading, spending more time online and on the phone with either my doula mentor or with the friend who is my first "practice" client. I've also had to leave several times in the evenings and weekends for meetings with these people. Not a huge deal, and nothing I thought to discuss with Eli, but the doctor suggested that possibly he's feeling kind of abandoned by me since I have something new with which I am, admittedly, a little preoccupied. Huh.

Who knows if that's really it, or just the rotten fours (what was it Elisabeth said awhile ago? That she keeps looking for a book to help her with her own Eli, but that the title she's looking for, "Your Four Year Old: A Tremendous Asshole" seems to be out of print or something?) but after talking about it honestly with Jim, the doctor, my mom, my friend, you all... I decided that regardless of the root of the problem, the solution is probably found in that old saying, "Children need love the most when they deserve it the least."

So, after dinner tonight, even though he fussed and whined and refused to eat it, we made cookies together and had fun. That felt good.

Grow Up

2011-10-05T14:42:00.000-07:00

It is so beautiful outside today, so warm, so Indian-summer except that it's not quite late enough into fall for sudden balmy temperatures to qualify as that. So we'll just say it's a lovely autumn day. Adelay and I made sand art sculptures on the deck today, using a kit she got at her birthday party, and I was so grateful that it was nice enough outside to be dumping all that neon sand on the grass instead of our kitchen floor. It was so peaceful, watching the sand trickling down the tiny funnel and into the plastic hearts and butterflies. About as spa-zen as a frazzled mom of three gets during a normal afternoon, I suppose.

My dear middle child has been slowly taking it out of me the last few days, and I am just so tired. I feel kind of defeated today. On our way home from the afternoon's errands, all I wanted was to have somewhere to dump him off for a while, to walk away and say, "Not my problem right now." His behavior just seems to keep regressing: the running away, the throwing fits, the hateful language whenever he's angry with me. He will scowl at me from the floor where he has hurled himself and hiss, "Fine, then I don't like you anymore!" and I will think, while carefully schooling my features into a blank and impassive expression, "Right back at you, kid."

I had to physically carry him out of a store today while he screamed, and the baby in the stroller screamed too, rudely awakened by his older brother's fit about an NFL football player Christmas ornament he had seen dangling in a Hallmark display. But it could have been anything. Once he sees something he likes, any errand, any shopping trip is brought to a grinding halt, and it's like negotiating with a terrorist to get out of the store without blood, sweat and tears (there's usually at least sweat and tears.)

Yesterday, thinking that maybe his recent bad behavior has been due to boredom, I drove over to a friend's house and picked up their little boy to come play with Eli for a few hours. At first all was well: Eli and his friend played with action figures, Jameson napped, I folded laundry and peaked in occasionally to listen to their hilarious conversations. But as usual, it all unraveled as soon as Eli didn't get his way about something (this time, it was what snack to have) and he continued whining, throwing fits, hiding, yelling at me and at his friend, etc, until finally I just took the other boy home, after apologizing profusely for Eli's rude behavior. I have never felt so embarrassed and disappointed by my own kid. And like such a failure.

We have literally tried every sort of discipline in the book, short of, you know, beating him or something, and it doesn't seem to matter to him. You can literally watch the crazy come over him, and it's like he literally can't control himself, even if we've spent the previous half hour getting him psyched up to behave well and earn a prize, redeem a toy from time out, get an ice cream cone, whatever. We're trying so hard to give him the opportunity to make good choices, to not get him stuck in this cycle of being the "bad" kid, we're talking talking talking to him, praising him whenever he is good, giving tons of hugs and cuddles, and he's still just losing his shit on a daily basis. I don't know what to do. And I'm tired of feeling like a prisoner to my own child's hysterics.

Birthdays. Plural. So! Many! Birthdays!

2011-10-03T12:29:00.000-07:00

The weekend of hosting multiple birthday parties went off very well, but oh my word, I am FEELING it today. I just keep staggering around as though someone is sneakily refilling my coffee cup with decaf. I even went to bed early last night, but apparently sevenish hours of sleep was not enough to counter the effects of: a big family birthday dinner Friday night for both Addy and Jamie, a kid birthday party Saturday afternoon for Addy's friends, a family dinner and late night with my sister Saturday evening, and church and a Fall Festival on Sunday.

These pictures are not in any kind of order, and I am too lazy and sleepy to bother flipping them around, so, randomly, here are some photos of the weekend.

This morning, opening presents before school.

With some friends, at her Rock Star! themed party. (At which the theme was kind of a bust... The plan was for the kids to each get an instrument, or position of singer or dancer, and put together a little show for the grown ups performing to Addy's favorite dance music. Instead, the motley crew quickly fell apart due to the inevitable band problems: internal power struggles and ego issues. At least it wasn't drugs or alcohol, I guess. But the concert was cancelled.)

Awesome cake, courtesy of my sister Laura. (That's right, my policy is that I host the parties, but Sarah no bake-y. Let's all stick with what we do best.)

Photo board from Adelay and Jameson's joint party.

Jamers was utterly riveted by his singing card.

Notice all of the helping hands assisting the birthday boy with his gifts. Just one of the many benefits of having lots of cousins and siblings! Learn to love it, Jamie.

Addy with her pile of gifts, with which she needed NO assistance, thankyouverymuch. Like mother, like daughter.

As per his usual stance on... people, places, and things, Jamie approached the whole cake ritual with some skepticism.

Birthday boy may have been slightly underwhelmed, but the rest of us were blown away by the treasure chest cake my mom made. Pretty sweet, no?

And this is where I found myself this afternoon, trying to read that doula book there on the footrest, but instead falling asleep in the sunshine. Oh well. I've earned a nap. Maybe tomorrow I'll be productive again.

To: The Universe Re: Grievances, Commendations

2011-09-26T17:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Universe,

I greatly dislike the phase "it never rains but it pours" because it is so darn true. Always. For reference, here's what you threw my way in the last forty eight hours:

-a four year old who ran laughing away from me in a department store, and stayed lost for a half an hour, to the point that I had all the employees helping me look for him, had other employees watching the door to make sure no one was absconding with a wily looking four year old, and an older sibling who was weeping in terror, sure her brother had been kidnapped or would be lost forever, doomed to wander the clothing racks of Kohls eternally. That was fun. (We found him in a mens' dressing room, fyi, playing with a Christmas toy he had first snagged from a table REALLY REALLY FAR from where I first lost sight of him.)

The worst of that situation was actually that he just flat out refused to apologize to me or listen to my very stern lecture on the car ride home. He was clearly not getting it, what a big deal what he had done was and how he could never do that again. (This is something that has happened before, btw. More than once.) So I finally had to ask Jim talk to him instead, since he wasn't listening to me, and I really really loathe being that mom who's all, "Just wait til your father gets home!" My motto's always been, "If it happens on your watch, it's your problem." But what could I do? I just felt very strongly about getting across that we don't run away and hide in public places. It's kind of one of those hill-die-on issues, right?

-a kid who woke up screaming in the night with sudden ear pain, and had to miss school YET AGAIN today while I fussed around for six hours with the doctor's office trying to either get an appointment or simply get a prescription called in.

-the joy of being awake all night with said child, who didn't sleep from about twelve thirty to four thirty. The baby then woke up to nurse fifteen minutes after THAT, and then, just as I was finally drifting off to sleep, I realized that above all the rain outside, I could hear rain falling INSIDE, and flung open the linen closet door to discover that it was leaking again. A lot. All over the place. Including on my head. It was a long night.

-Jim stayed home from work today to deal with the roofing repair people... who never showed up, even after being called three times. *bangs head on table in frustration*

BUT. Here's the happy thing that almost evens out all the sucky. I met with my old doula Saturday just to get some general guidance for my upcoming birth, and she asked me to consider joining her when I get certified! This is exactly what I was hoping for, and I am so excited to have someone to learn from, and to be brought alongside a professional doula who already has an established business and a name in the community. What a gift, not to have to just jump in by myself, starting from scratch with putting together a business and a website and building a reputation for myself. It's certainly a big responsibility, since she's basically sharing with me her own good name in the community and trusting that I won't do anything to tarnish it. So that's weighty, right there. I'm so touched to be trusted that way.

It just feels like everything is coming together with this doula thing, and that this was totally the right time in my life to pursue this path. I'm so happy I finally found a passion, and a way to offer something meaningful to the community someday while still for the most part remaining an at-home parent. Every time I think about how it's all working out I just start grinning like an idiot. Call it luck, call it God's plan, call it fate, whatever. I call it awesome, and I am so thankful!

Lots of Topics. Take Your Pick.

2011-09-24T08:50:00.000-07:00

I don't even have anything specific to post about today, but I can't stand leaving that horrific BARFING post up any longer. I mean, what if I died in a car accident today and the last thing I published on my public blog was about throwing up on my own shoes? *shudder* What a way to go.

So I guess I'll just ramble about something or other for a few paragraphs... Um, Halloween! Two questions: What are your kids going to be? Are you going to make their costumes? And will YOU dress up, too?

Whoops, there were three, weren't there? My answers are: Addy wants to be a cheerleader or a cowgirl. We're still undecided on that, but I'm rooting for cheerleader because we already have that costume. Eli will be either Batman or a dragon, and he got both of those costumes for his birthday, so we won't have to buy anything new for him for sure. (Are you sensing that my kids are really into costume wearing in their everyday life?)

Don't know yet about Jameson. We have a Tigger costume that both the other kids wore when they were his age, but he is totally different in size than either of the other two were (Eli was really chubby, and Addy was really small- the costume totally sagged on her- but Jameson is more just thin and long, not tiny in general) so I don't think it's going to fit him right. Any adorable ideas for one year old costumes? I thought about dressing him as a dragon-slayer, if Eli does indeed opt for dragon, but then that seemed awfully... involved. And I am nothing if not uncreative and lazy about such things. Which brings to me to my answer re: whether or not I will make the costumes, which is a big fat NO. As for whether I will dress up with the kids, just depends on my mood that day, honestly. I have before (once as a cat, and as Sarah Palin, last year :) ) but it was pretty spur of the moment.

And hey, as long as I'm not writing anything creative or funny or touching, or, my specialty, humiliating, I will ask anther question! At what age do kids usually transition from a morning and an afternoon nap to one long afternoon nap? Jamie is still very hit or miss in this area; some days he's not tired until one or two, but other days he's falling asleep by eleven and I have to put him down.... BUT then he won't nap at all in the afternoon, which, weirdly, means a horrible bedtime because by then he's overtired and miserable. It's awfully hard to try to plan errands and library trips and so on when I never know when the kid is going to be asleep!

Oddly, I worried about his napping LESS when he was younger because he would always fall asleep in the car, so if he hadn't napped yet, I'd just take off for the store and he'd be out by the time we got there, and then remain asleep in his car seat for at least an hour or so. Ah, memories. This is no longer the case. He hardly ever sleeps in the car anymore, and if he does finally nod off, he inevitably wakes up furious during the transition into the house, and won't go back to sleep but is then grouchy and fitful for at least an hour. So car sleeping just sucks, now, and I'm always playing loud music and shoving toys and sippee cups at him to try to keep him awake until we get home.

You know what does NOT suck anymore, though, and which I keep meaning to do a big Gratefulness Post about? Eli does not. have. accidents. anymore. At least not on a daily basis, and never of the horrifying number two variety which was killing me slowly just a scant six months ago. Gosh, that seemed like it would never end, and then there was the constant leaking and multiple underpants a day, every single day, and now... now it is over. At last. Thank God. We've also noticed that he's actually using the bathroom less often and pees a lot more at a time, and we're wondering if maybe his bladder just finally caught up in size with the rest of his body? or something?

It makes me feel bad for ever giving him grief about it, if he really couldn't control it. I mean, I didn't give him MUCH grief, don't get me wrong. We certainly didn't punish him or anything. But one senses, after awhile, that people are tired of cleaning up your pee and rinsing your underwear. One catches that drift, I would think, after hearing sighs and muttered grumbles for months on end. So, if anyone's still stuck in that technically-potty-trained-but-never-quite-making-it-to-the-toilet-in-time phase, let me say: I don't think there's any magic trick to fix it. You just have to grin and bear it until it's outgrown, and try not to give your kid a hard time about it, because they probably can't help it.

Also, once they outgrow it, be sure to celebrate with new Transformers underwear.

Gag Me

2011-09-20T14:40:00.000-07:00

I've always said that the one gross part of parenting that I've never gotten used to/gotten over is throwing up. It just freaks me out, and I hate most of all that usually when your kids are throwing up, it means the whole family is more or less sick and so YOU are feeling kind of queasy, too.

Well, I think this weekend may have officially gotten me over throw up. First I went to my friend's bachelorette party, and it was awesome and fun UNTIL I decided to try a shot for basically the first time in my life, after having had quite a bit of wine and a few tequila sunrises over the course of the previous several hours. Usually I'm such a lightweight about alcohol that I have a no-doing-shots-ever policy, but I think what happened here was that I was JUST drunk enough to think maybe it would be fun!

Was. Not. Fun. I don't even want to describe it all, it would be too embarrassing, but let's just say there's a pair of suede boots that need dry cleaning, a club floor to which I owe a new mop, and I may also send my friends Kelly and Beth an I'm-so-sorry-I-threw-up-in-your-bathroom-SINK care package of Lysol wipes and Febreeze. (In my defense, I was on antibiotics, which definitely makes you more likely to get sick while drinking. But I apparently drank just enough that I FORGOT I wasn't supposed to drink too much. Nice. Also, the sink? There was someone on the floor of the bathroom- that's right, I'm not the only one who can't hold her liquor- and I was afraid of tripping over her on my way to the toilet, so I apparently just stumbled to the nearest receptacle of any kind.) It was a night of humble pie, let me tell you, as I have always been quite proud of my ability to drink just enough to have fun and not enough to get wasted or throw up. Sigh. Guess I can take that off my resume.

I was then horribly hung over all the next day, and then even into the next, which seemed kind of excessive until my KIDS started throwing up and I realized that possibly not all of my achy-ness and nausea was due to the weekend's unsavory activities. Yes, that's right, I returned home from a night of vomiting to... two more days of vomiting. And it turns out my kids aren't any better at finding a good spot to throw up than I am. I feel like I'm caught in the world's longest hangover, and I hereby vow, before the Internets and everyone, to never again as long as I live do a shot.

Sweet Spot

2011-09-15T06:37:00.000-07:00

Jameson (Jamie, Jamers, Jamie Boy, Jamie James, etc.) will be one in just two weeks. One year ago to the day, I was released from bed rest just in time to celebrate my birthday the following day. And then I spent the happiest two weeks of my entire pregnancy doing birthday stuff (presents!) cleaning and nesting, snuggling the older kids and doing last minute baby shopping. I still smile remembering that time- SO different from the end of my first two pregnancies, when I was counting down every minute, so miserable and ready to be done! Physically I was still quite uncomfortable this time, too, of course, with swelling feet and heartburn and constant contractions, all that fun stuff. But by that point I just expected it, and I knew not to think I was in labor at every twinge, so I tried to just go with the flow. I was so happy, and so mellow, that I could hardly even wrap my head around it when it was, in fact, time to have that baby!

Jamie has totally entered my very favorite stage of babyhood, possibly even of childhood thus far in my experience: from about ten months to about eighteen months. Still completely a baby, with nommable cheeks and chunky thigh folds and all that, but with so much blossoming personality as well, and just enough independence (can crawl/walk around! can feed self a cracker! can hold a cup!) to make those times when they DO want to be held and cuddled that much more special. But, again, still totally a baby in terms of size, so those special holding times aren't too taxing on Mama's arms yet. And and AND- sleeping through the night, most nights! This might be the best part. Babyhood is so much more enjoyable on a full night's sleep, amiright?

He's crawling everywhere, pulling up constantly, and occasionally squatting on those wobbly little thighs and ever so slowly rising to a stand all on his own. When this happens, he looks around in bewilderment, almost as though his muscles are propelling him upwards independent of any conscious mental decision. Which I suppose very well may be the case. Bodies are often doing things without express permission from the brain, in my experience. For example, despite being back to pre baby weight, my body seems to have slowly sculpted for me, as an early twenty-seventh birthday/ welcome to your late twenties present, a matched pair of dimpled saddlebags. Thank you, aging genes. Clearly you know best.

Frame of Mind

2011-09-11T18:19:00.000-07:00

So I know most of you long-time readers are aware that I'm kind of a clean freak. I'm sure you also know, without my even saying, that it is very hard to maintain a home's cleanliness levels to standards pleasing to a clean freak when three small kids spend the bulk of their time in said home. They even EAT in there, for frick's sake. (They keep rejecting my suggestions to eat outdoors for every meal. WHATEVER.) So, how does one survive the daily defeat of trying to clean up even as people make messes all around you? How does one lower their standards just enough that they do not become a resentful and miserable slave of a housewife?

I have two tips, both somewhat new found and both of which have proved enormously helpful to ME, anyways. Tip number one: read Biting the Dust and discover all about the crazy cleaning habits of yore, as well as some pretty crazy things people still do today. The book is both hilarious and informative, particularly in the chapters talking about how consumerism and ads really fanned the flames of housewives everywhere to out-clean each other (you know, back before feminism and the discovery that we could do things OTHER than clean our houses, if we wanted.) It really made me reconsider how certain standards came to be the norm, and who is really benefiting from all this cleaning fervor (hint: not housewives!) I think the main thing it changed for me is my use of the word "need" as relates to house chores.

I often say fretfully things like, "Oh I need to mop so badly!" But, what constitutes a need? Do I just mean that the floor looks dirty to me and so I WANT to mop it (or for someone, anyways, to mop it)? Do I mean that the baby is crawling around on the floor so it NEEDS to be germ free at all times? And if so, is that even possible?

Which brings up the other important issue the book addresses, namely, our modern obsession with killing the germs in our homes and whether this is necessary, harmful, or even attainable. Example: does the toilet bowl NEED to be sanitized? Is someone DRINKING the toilet water? Or is just that we don't want to look at smears or smell nasty odors? As long as we're practicing good hand washing habits and not constantly sticking our fingers in our mouths, does it really matter that much if every surface and every light switch has been Lysol-wiped religiously? Or, if we have small kids who very likely are not always practicing good hand washing and very likely ARE sticking their grubby hands into every orifice of their bodies and then all over every item in our house, is it even possible to hunt down every germ, anyways? Should we still try?

It's just a very thought provoking read, and really helped me relax about all the things I think of as "needing" to be done regularly. I came to the conclusion that each house has it's own comfort level of cleanliness/tidiness, and housekeeping is all about keeping it at that level. But it is literally impossible to have the entire house entirely clean at any one time. As soon as we're done wiping something, the dust begins to accumulate again, so... there's no point in striving for perfection, I guess is what I'm saying.

A few days after finishing the book, I had another epiphany, while happily dusting my living room late at night after the kids were in bed. (Yes, happily. I love putting on a good movie, getting out the Pledge, and really taking my time. Whatever. Don't judge.) It occurred to me that deep cleaning is basically my hobby. It's the thing I like to do when I have some free time, just to mellow out and kind of clear my head, all while feeling productive. I hate rushing around trying to cross things off lists, but I love to just kind of... zen clean, I guess is how I'd put it. Wipe hand prints off picture frames, dust bookshelves, scrub down every nook and cranny of the shower. This is deeply satisfying for me.

So, that's how I'm looking at cleaning from now on. It is my hobby, something fun and productive to do with my free time, but something that is not necessary for anyone in the house to carry on with their daily routines. Dishes, laundry, grocery shopping, picking up toys? Kind of necessary. Scrubbing the floors? Not necessary. NICE, especially to me, but not necessary, i.e. not something I should rush around trying to fit into my day, or should feel guilty about if it goes undone. It's just my hobby, no more or less virtuous than scrap booking or coin collecting. It's something I do if I have the time to sit down and enjoy doing it well, and something I just don't do if I don't have the time. Obviously, since I enjoy it, I do make the time frequently, but again, there is no inherent VIRTUE to it, or necessity.

I realize this might not work for every personality or household. Some people hate cleaning, but also hate messy houses, so they still clean just as much as I do, but grudgingly. Other people hate cleaning and don't care about mess, but the people they live with DO care, so there is an uneasy balance of who is obliged to does what and how often. This would suck, clearly, and you have my sympathy. Also, my ears. Tell me all about it. Also, tell me what things you consider to be NEEDS in the realm of house chores.

Kids, Lately

2011-09-10T07:44:00.000-07:00

Jameson would like to remind everyone that in just nineteen days, he will be one year old. He would like more jars of carrots, please, preferably of the Earth's Best variety.

Eli would like to thank everyone for his awesome birthday presents, and the gorgeous cake, which we just finished up a few days ago. He would also like to assure everyone that he is surviving his new found alone time during the day JUST FINE, thankyouverymuch.

And THIS one. Sniff. This one is setting off for her first day of school in the above, and returning, below, flushed with happiness. Literally pink cheeked. (She's also returning with mostly uneaten lunches, but we're working on that. One thing at a time.)

Discuss

2011-09-05T11:42:00.000-07:00

I am going to tell you right now that this is a touchy subject. I read this article today about twin reduction- aborting one twin because while you want to be pregnant, you only want to come out with one baby, not two. The whole concept gave me chills, even though I've always said quite honestly that the idea of carrying, and then caring for, twins terrifies me. But the article was extremely thought provoking, touching on lots of the blurry ethical lines being crossed ever since reproduction stopped being seen as a mysterious act of God and became something very much within our own hands, provided we have the money and determination.

While I can say without doubt that I would never reduce a twin pregnancy simply because twins are not my ideal, I have much less idea of what I would do with, say, the option of IVF. Is the whole thing creepy and against nature? Or a marvelous gift- even a miracle- for those otherwise infertile? What do you do with leftover embryos? Do you only implant one at a time so that you don't chance a risky multiple pregnancy, even though then your odds of conceiving at all might go down? There are so many questions, and I guess I'm just very thankful this is a bridge we never had to cross. Though I suppose really you could say that my use of Clomid to help conceive Eli, or our use of ultrasound to check on our fetus's health, not to mention the option of amnios or other prenatal screenings- all of these are playing God to a certain extent too, aren't they?

What do you all think of fertility/science related issues, from birth control pills to selective reduction? Are we playing God, or is this just another medical advancement, like organ transplantation or antibiotics? How far would you go, if it seemed like your only chance to be a parent?

Thus Far On This Lovely Sunday Morn...

2011-09-04T07:18:00.000-07:00

...I have:

-changed two poopy diapers.

-emptied and sanitized diaper pail.

-emptied and sanitized Frog Potty, which Eli still enjoys using occasionally for peeing (don't ask. Whatever helps him not have accidents, I say.)

-nursed the squirmy baby.

-fed the squirmy baby cereal.

-poured three bowls of cereal for two kids.

-took Addy's temp and realized she is running a fever, two days before HER VERY FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL.

-convinced her of the importance of resting and drinking fluids today, put her back to bed.

-unloaded/reloaded dishwasher.

-swept kitchen floor.

-wiped disgusting counter top.

-made coffee.

-put lunch in the crock pot.

-threw load of clothes in wash.

-attempted to unload dryer and realized that at some point a child threw a ballpoint pen in there and ink stains are now covering everything that was drying, including Addy's soccer uniform and my favorite skirt.

-googled "how to remove ink stains;" found very little hope of removing them.

-checked email and found out that my doula workshop has been cancelled due to low enrollment and that I will in fact have to wait until the November classes, which are ten days before my client's due date.

I think it's time to go back to bed and hope for better luck tomorrow.

But seriously, I need some advise now about this doula workshop thing. (Also ideas for removing ink stains, if you have any.) Here are the only three possible scenarios that I can think of:

~I put off going to the classes until next year, to ensure that I am there for my friend if she goes into labor early, and thereby give up using her birth as a credit towards my DONA requirements (you have to have attended the workshop before you can start counting births towards your official requirement.)

~I go to the workshops and risk the possibility of her having the baby while I'm gone. I would feel so disappointed both to let my friend down AND to miss out on one of those hard-to-get pre-certification births, of which I need three before I can become an official DONA doula.

~I am relieved of all choice in the matter by my friend going into labor several weeks early, and I am able to be there to help her but unable to count her birth towards my DONA requirements because it will occur before I attend the workshops. BUT I at least still get to go to my workshops, and guilt free at that, since she will already have had the baby.

Things

2011-09-02T07:37:00.000-07:00

Thing the first: Eli had two very fun birthday parties, both held at our house on consecutive days. Which means that this week I refused to mop or scrub or sometimes even to vacuum up piles of cracker crumbs off the carpet, because I had used up all cleaning energy preparing for said parties. I had also stupidly planned the family party for the day AFTER the kid party, which meant I basically cleaned for a party, had kids grimy up the house, and then had to clean again for the family gathering. Just very poor planning on my part.

*I was hoping the will to clean up would return by the weekend, but yesterday Mother Nature abruptly announced my return to the land of the fertile, if you catch my drift, so I'm mostly just feeling the will to lie around with a heating pad. Boo.

Thing the second: I wanted to post pictures from the parties, including the awesome cake my sister made Eli, but my camera and/or the computer is refusing to cooperate with the downloading of the pictures, so just suffice it to say there was much fun had by all. The weather was beautiful, we all hung out on the (freshly stained by yours truly) deck, ate a beautiful football cake, played with a giant foaming bubble gun, met my brother in law's new girlfriend (yay!) and admired: a new football helmet and jersey, football guy action figures, Transformers toys, a new Batman costume, and a new football, soccer ball, baseball bat and mit, etc etc.

Then on his actual birthday, Tuesday, his Neena and Aunt Laura and I took the kids to the zoo for one last hurrah, and to Ruby Tuesdays for lunch, including a birthday cupcake. If I were Eli, I would have declared it the best birthday ever, but of course in the days following the Weekend of Partying, he was just a little worn out and overwhelmed and behaved far more like a three year old than a four year old. Isn't that always how it goes.

Thing the third: Addy's kindergarten screening went very well, and today at two o'clock they will post teacher lists. FINALLY. I can't believe they put it off to the last minute like that. Apparently too many people were trying to switch teachers or request to be in classes with certain friends, things like that, so now they just don't even tell you who you've got until the weekend before school starts. Nice. We also got the bus situation sorted out, too (she and her friend down the street will ride to school with me in the mornings, but she will ride the bus home, since it's a much shorter trip for her in the afternoon.) All that's left is orientation day, and then we just have to... drop her off at school. Without us. For HOURS. Gah.

Thing the fourth: The last of my doula books are finally in, thanks to several inter-library loans, so I can uphold my honor code! Whew! I also had an informal meeting with my first doula client a couple of days ago, during her one hour glucose screening, and it went really well. She is an ideal candidate for a doula, as her husband is a first time dad and very nervous about the birth, so I feel like I will really be of use. I still have so much technical stuff to learn, though! I can't wait for the workshop!

Thing the fifth: Jameson has run a fever the last few days, and though he's no longer got a temperature, he is and has been SO. CRANKY. Especially during the night. He was like a newborn, only wanting to sleep on my body, but also like an eleven month old, wanting to flop around and change positions a gazillionty times. Ugh. Between that and ye olde return of the menstrual cycle, I am feeling in a VERY SPECIAL MOOD TODAY.

Scraped From My Tired, Tired Brain

2011-08-28T20:14:00.000-07:00

1. It appears, according to a calendar that must be correct because it's been working properly the rest of the year, that Eli is going to be four on Tuesday. He was the first of my babies to have his entire life, thus far, blogged in public. Kind of amazing if you think about it.

Ah, four. Four is... not a toddler. (Though you might not know if it to witness one of the tantrums he still occasionally throws.) It's a preschooler. So, I have a kindergartner and a preschooler and a baby. OH WAIT HOLD THE PHONE. Jameson will be one in a month. Which is... a toddler? Is that RIGHT? What is going ON?! I'm just about fresh out of babies again?! This feeling, this one right here, is why I can understand how it happens that a person could run out of space and money for kids long before they run out of interest in having another baby.

2. Addy starts school next Tuesday. Real school. And I will be outnumbered by boys all day. I'm so happy for her, but I'm a little scared for myself. Also, I'm pretty sure I will cry the first day. I can feel the lump in my throat already.

3. I'm getting so excited for my doula workshop, which is at the end of September (I rescheduled it from November; did I already tell you all that?) It's getting close! I'm also getting impatient for the library to track down the last three books I still need to read before I can go. I mean, it's kind of an honor system, but I am nothing if not honorable, gosh darn it, and I WILL read those books.

4. I've also got a bachelorette party in September, and a wedding shower, and four birthdays in the family. Plus soccer games twice a week, not to mention, you know, getting used to the whole SCHOOL REAL BIG KID SCHOOL thing. I'm just powering through on auto pilot, baby.

5. Also, on leftover birthday cake.

If Only My Backyard Was This Pretty

2011-08-21T11:35:00.001-07:00

Right in between the library and the museum, our city has a Children's Garden which is one of my favorite places to take the kids. It used to be funded by the city, but that was cut a few years ago, and for a while it wasn't very well tended anymore, though there were still some loyal volunteers from the gardening club who made sure the place didn't completely fall into disrepair.

This year, though, those volunteers really kicked it into high gear, because it is GORGEOUS. I have seriously never seen it look so beautiful and so well kept up, thanks to these hardworking people who spend hours weeding and pruning and thinking up fun new play areas, all for free and simply from a desire to make kids happy. Whenever I hear about human nature at its worst, it cheers me up a little bit to come here and remember that there are a lot of nice people doing nice things, too.

Love Me Some Jon Stewart

2011-08-19T07:51:00.000-07:00

I can't stop watching this; I crack up every time. "There goes Crazy Uncle Ron again!"

The Daily Show - Indecision 2012 - Corn Polled Edition - Ron Paul & the Top Tier
Get More: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

Just Look, Don't Touch

2011-08-16T17:18:00.000-07:00

Ever since Eli moved into a toddler bed, he and Addy have shared a room. But... it was getting to be a little much, those two sharing a room. I probably don't even need to say more than that, but for anyone confused, I will add: kids at these ages are fascinated with body parts and also think there is nothing funnier in the universe than much discussion re: said body parts. When you have a boy and girl, these discussions can get a little weird after a certain point. Ahem. SOOOO, a month or so ago, we moved Addy into her own bedroom, formerly Jameson's nursery, and moved him (and his nursery furniture) into the bigger bedroom with Eli.

I had many elaborate plans for this impending move, including repainting the rooms, organizing the closets, and possibly even refinishing the wood floors. But, only the closet organizing part happened. Basically, Jameson began pulling up, we realized we needed to lower the crib mattress ASAP, and decided that as long as we were dragging the mattress out and fiddling with screws and generally engaging in an annoying activity, we might as well go ahead and just move the darn thing. I had thought originally that we should wait until Jamie wasn't getting up at night anymore, so as not to bother Eli, but then realized: a) that may never happen, and b) half the time Eli gets up at night too, so with all the coming and going in and out of my bedroom (heh, upon rereading that sounds kind of dirty,) what difference would it make? Also, Eli's become a pretty deep sleeper, so it's never once happened that Jamie's nighttime feedings have disturbed his older brother.

ANYways, after everything got situated and cleaned and looking all pretty, I decided to take pictures of the "new" rooms while they were still in all their pristine glory. Behold: (And also try to imagine away all the various cluttery baskets of toys and trash cans and jumbo diaper boxes and fans.)

I had fun taking pictures of the preternaturally clean bedrooms, so while I was at it I took some of our room, too, which I had also cleaned that day. Then I was all excited and thought, "I should do a whole series of Home Tour posts! Then at least I would have a webpage of images of our clean house I could look at to cheer me up when it's a wreck as usual!" And then I thought... maybe that's really lame. So.

I Have No Idea If This Will Make Any Sense

2011-08-14T13:00:00.001-07:00

So the other day I was finally putting into albums several stacks of pictures that had been waiting for... a long time. A few belonged in the album which also contains all of Jameson's newborn pictures, and when I flipped it open, oh my... My heart (and uterus!) literally contracted at the sight of the wee little baby, the soft and fragile skin, the dark, downy hair and curled up limbs. Oh, and that strawberry birthmark over his right eye, which has since disappeared, but that I always used to kiss when he was sleeping.

Jamie, a few days old.

This was not a new feeling, this weird wistfulness. I get it almost every time I look at newborn pictures of any of the kids, and I sat pondering what exactly this odd sensation is- so different than the usual "oh look how cute and little they were!" feeling that other pictures of their younger selves elicit. I think I finally figured out what it is.

It's that I wish I could go back to revisit that brand-new baby time, but knowing what I know now about that particular baby. When I experienced them then, all I saw was the tiny, velveteen creature that just days before had resided within my pelvic cavity and was now either sleeping or sucking away my life forces via nursing and sleep deprivation torture. I of course appreciated the giant, blinking owl-eyes and that amazing smell and the general breathtaking cuteness of it all, but I didn't know THEM, those specific babies, yet, and wouldn't for another few months. I knew them on a primal, animal level of knowing, of course, in the way that every mother knows the baby she has gestated, but I knew next to nothing about their personalities. The sound of their names did not conjure any particular character traits or unique qualities in my mind. And now... now that Jameson and of course the older two are just EXPLODING into themselves on a daily basis, becoming these wonderful little people that I feel so lucky to know, let alone parent, the sight of their newborn selves just means so much more to me.

Newborn Eli.

I am so glad there are photos, at least, and that the sight of their thrilling newness will never be lost to me. That I can look at those old-soul eyes in those fragile, swaddled bodies and think, "Oh! That was you!" Not just the adorable, slightly foreign newborn handed up to me in a hospital blanket, but my Addy, Eli and Jamie. So strange. So amazing.

Addy, a few hours old.

In Which I Am Shallow And Also Negligent Mother

2011-08-08T07:11:00.000-07:00

I just finished season four of Mad Men Saturday night, and yesterday I experienced a full-on depression when I realized I had nothing to look forward to watching that night. I suppose this SHOULD be the time to ponder my tv addiction and find some more constructive nightly routine, like exfoliating my face or learning to knit or organizing my mysteriously overcrowded-yet-filled-with-nothing-useful-for-dinner cupboards, but all I really want is another show in which to submerge myself. I settled for watching Gordan Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares last night, and while it was certainly entertaining, I'm afraid that the horrors of undercooked mussels don't have quite the same dramatic pull as Don Draper's skinny ties, endless Old Fashioneds and dubious taste in women.

So. Tell me what to watch next, por favor. And DON'T say Tudors, because I am TRYING to watch the last season, and Netflix is having some kind of problem with that show and the screen freezes every couple of frames while the soundtrack continues unabated. I have been checking it daily for over a week to see if it's fixed, and am getting so annoyed I have to restrain myself from hurling the remote through the screen. I was halfway through this last season when the problem started, so until it resolves, I am just STUCK with all these mysterious loose ends (though, having read many a Phillipa Gregory novel in my time, I am PRETTY SURE I know how things are going to turn out.)

Oh, and as long as you're dispensing advise, maybe you could tell me how to keep my son from jumping into every body of water he passes. Saturday our town had its annual downtown fair, and Eli took the opportunity to hop waist deep into the center fountain as breezily as though he was splashing in a puddle. Then yesterday our family was at the pool for all of fifteen minutes when a storm suddenly rolled into the horizon. At the first thunder crack the pool was evacuated, and a few minutes later when the rain became imminent, they sent everyone home. So we were scurrying around trying to get everyone toweled off and pack things back up, and when we turned around to get Eli, he had flung himself back into the water and was paddling around gaily as a lifeguard approached to fish him out. He was literally the only person in the water, so that was a... proud moment.

Oh and also Jameson is crawling around everywhere and it's a lot of fun except that, now that he can sit up at will and pull himself to standing and all that, he views his crib as a the equivalent of a KGB cell. He instantly starts wailing and crying whenever I put him down, even if he was so tired that his eyes were literally falling shut just seconds earlier. This is very distracting when I'm trying to watch Mad Men, as you can imagine. Maybe a ciggy and an Old Fashioned would help.

At The Lake

2011-08-05T08:23:00.000-07:00

For those of you curious about how exactly one "goes to the beach" in Canada, here are some action shots from Lake Huron:

You ride in a golf cart down the bluff from the cottage to the shore. You could walk of course, but then you would also have to walk back UP, which might constitute exercise and is not part of a vacation.

You perform water dances similar to those of the Little Mermaid. Maybe several hundred water dances, all of which require an audience.

You gnaw on a plastic shovel for upwards of an hour.

You make sure to bring along a beautiful grandma who also cooks and babysits teething infants.

You enjoy the solitude.

You sit in a chair and read.

You wear proper sun protection.

You play in the clear, shallow water for as long as the grown ups will let you. (And I mean VERY shallow. It's the longest sand bar I've ever seen. To give you some perspective, we were probably a hundred feet out at least and Jim and I were on our knees in this picture.)

Summer. Fun.

2011-07-30T06:34:00.000-07:00

The past few months Jim and his brother have been running an informal soccer camp for kids three to six years old. Voluntarily. For free. In... heat. Not being what one would call a big sport's fan OR necessarily an "outdoorsy" type (is there an "indoorsy" type? 'cause that would be more me, in general) I find this very impressive of them. Although after seeing some of the pictures Jim took of one of their recent practices, I can see the appeal. Those sweaty little buggers ARE pretty cute. (There may also have been a hilarious video of Eli sternly lecturing the other kids not to take his ball or he was "going to get very very VERY angry!" but I felt perhaps it would ~~reflect badly on us~~ be unkind to post it.)

Heavy Heart

2011-07-29T06:42:00.001-07:00

So besides coming home to dog stains all over the living room (which did not come out all the way, SIGH) I also arrived home to some really bad news from two different family friends. First I heard that Anna, the SIL of my old babysitter, was in the hospital in a medically induced coma after falling off her bike and hitting her head, causing serious brain swelling. The worst part? She was forty weeks pregnant. They did an emergency c-section immediately before performing brain surgery on HER, and the baby is doing pretty well, but of course the family is not. And now they have a newborn baby for whom to care, as well as taking care of her two year old brother. They did another emergency surgery at four o' clock in the morning yesterday to remove more of her brain in an effort to further alleviate the swelling. At this point it seems like she'll make it, but she'll be in a coma at least another few weeks, and once they bring her back out, who knows what the lasting damage will be. It's just... it's awful. The worst part is that it was such a freak accident, and such an avoidable freak accident. It just makes me feel sick every time I think about it.

Then I found out that the sister of one of my high school friends was in the hospital delivering her baby girl at only eighteen weeks because of pPROM (preterm premature rupture of membranes.) This is the second time this has happened to her; her last pregnancy ended at fifteen weeks when her water suddenly broke in a Miami airport on their way to vacation. Obviously, she, and her whole family, are just devastated. The baby was born alive, and lived for a few minutes before passing away, which I almost think would be even more excruciating than a stillborn. I don't know. I just have no context to even imagine such a thing. A miscarriage early on is SO different than actually holding your tiny baby and then saying goodbye. My heart just breaks for them. And I know she's going to be terrified to try yet again, even though they want one more.

So, you know, just please say a prayer or send a comforting thought their way if you happen to think of it. Especially for Anna, for her survival and recovery, and for her family, who are still waiting in a miserable and anxious limbo to find out what their new normal is going to be.

Vacation!

2011-07-25T11:53:00.000-07:00

So this weekend we went to Canada again, to hang out on the beach for a few days with Jim's parents who are taking an (almost) two-week vacation at the cottage. His aunt was there too, a fun surprise, and it was a very relaxing trip except for, in no particular order:

-a baby whose top two teeth decided to start bulging from his gums about a nanosecond after we pulled out of the driveway, and who spent more or less the whole weekend wailing in misery with snot dripping from every orifice in his face.

-a big thunderstorm which killed the power the night of the yearly neighborhood luau (party hosts bravely soldiered on and it ended up actually being kind of fun, thanks to tiki torches and a battery powered ipod dock.)

-a line from the bridge at the border so incredibly long that we estimated, based on previous wait times, that we were going to be sitting there at least two hours. It was nearing dinnertime so we decided to pull out using the turnaround lane at the toll booth, head for Windsor, Ontario, and cross there instead. Except it turned out, after getting firmer directions from several fast food restaurant employees and gas station attendants, that Windsor was a TIDGE further away than we were thinking, so we ended up finding our way to some middle of nowhere, unpronounceable tribal reservation territory and crossing on this tiny, four vehicle FERRY instead, then finding our way back to Detroit where we FINALLY hooked back into our normal route home.

-storms both on the way there and back, the latter one so bad that at one point the car in front of us unexpectedly hit standing water under an overpass, lost control, and Jim had to blindly veer into the next lane to avoid hitting them, just as we ourselves had to go through the same water. I seriously have never felt so close to having a stroke as that moment- I had literally just looked up from my book (in which I had been buried, to distract myself from the stress of driving in the blinding rain) only to see all these cars ahead of us slamming on their breaks and/or hydroplaning, and us headed unavoidably into the same situation. My body tensed so hard before we hit the water that for the next half hour I was working the knots out of my back and shoulders.

-my getting food poisoning within twenty minutes of eating a highly suspect fast food burger. We drove around trying to find a bathroom, and when at last one was located, I left the baby with Jim and bolted from the van. But of course both kids decided they too needed to do Serious Business of their own, with which they also needed help (Eli's help including an OUTFIT CHANGE) all while I was still doubled over with stomach cramps. And naturally, a stranger needed to join us in my personal hell as well. This poor unsuspecting French Canadian woman walked into the McDonalds bathroom only to hear Eli wailing, "Someone come WIPE me!" as Addy held his door shut, snarling meanly, "You can't come out yet! Stay in there!" The woman asked in a worried (heavily accented) voice, "Can you let him out, dear? Are you children... alone in here?"

-finally, returning home to a lengthy note from my mom, who had watched the dog for us, detailing all the different places in the living room Fonz had had violent diarrhea which I am today waiting for the carpet cleaners to come extract from the rugs.

On the up side, I managed to finish Water for Elephants on the (lengthy) drive home!

All Eventualities

2011-07-19T04:29:00.001-07:00

So, I think I've mentioned a couple of times that I'm working through the required reading part of my doula training over the summer, right? And that in the fall I'm going to attend my various classes/workshops, and then right afterwards I have my first birth lined up? (!!) I'm very excited for the workshop part. VERY. I would have done it a lot sooner but it's a pretty intensive three day process, and you aren't allowed to bring babies older than six months to the sessions. AAAAAND even if I were allowed, I sure as heck WOULDN'T be bringing my wriggling, squirming, teething, not exactly crawling but sure not staying in one place, either, almost ten month old into a classroom of any sort. So, I'll be going in November, when Jameson will (oh pleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease) be sleeping through the night, and probably only nursing in the morning and evening; i.e., missing me less AND on a schedule that won't require me to be running back to my room to pump every few hours.

Anyhoo. Long winded introduction to the thing rattling around my brain when I woke up this morning, which was what exactly my goals as a doula are. One of the books I've been reading lately (not actually required but I'm reading anything I can get my hands on right now, basically) is called The Doula Advantage, and something it talks a lot about is finding the right doula for you. Some doulas have a certain agenda, albeit unspoken and probably even unacknowledged in their own minds, of getting all of "their" moms through labor medication and intervention free. That is, it is a failure on the DOULA'S part if the mom ends up needing or wanting either of those things, so she has motivation that goes beyond simply trying to support the laboring mother's wishes.

This, obviously, is a problem, or at least is a problem if the laboring mother's wishes happen to differ from the doula's. It is especially a problem if the laboring mother's needs change during labor but the doula is not sensitive or respectful to that due to some prior dedication to an ideal of "natural" childbirth. Most doula clients, probably, go into childbirth hoping to avoid medication, but in some cases even the most passionate normal/natural labor advocates will admit an epidural (or a sedative or a shot of Stadol or whatever) can be the difference between a vaginal birth and a c section simply for lack of progress brought on by exhaustion. A dedication to drug-free labor at all costs is an unhealthy and unprofessional mindset for a doula. One of the things The Doula Advantage really stresses is that the job of the doula is to support, empower, reassure and inform the mother, but not to impose the doula's own opinions or preferences on her at any point.

It also talks about how a doula's presence at an epidural or c-section birth can actually be just as important as at a vaginal, drug free delivery, if not more so! Since most doula clients aren't planning for either of those things, they might be upset, feel stressed or confused, and, at a vaginal delivery, need a lot more coaching during the pushing stage if they are still numb enough not to feel the natural urge to push. A c section, especially first time and unplanned, can be very alarming to both parents, but a doula who has experienced this before (or at least studied it extensively) can be a very calming presence for both mom and dad.

This was something I hadn't really considered before, that a doula can be just as useful at a birth with interventions as during a completely drug free labor. This makes me really happy, because the birth I'm scheduled to attend is for a mom in her thirties, who hasn't given birth in almost fourteen years and who I know experienced a long labor the first time around and was quite happy with her epidural decision. Her doctor has told her that since it's been so long in between births, and since she's at an advanced maternal age (worst term ever!), her body may very well handle this baby just like a first baby and that labor may be long/difficult. (I have my own thoughts about practically setting someone up to dread their labor with all this negative talk, but whatevs.) The point is, I think she may be planning on an epidural at this point, and it's nice to know that whatever she decides, I can still offer support and information.

Having had a doula myself, twice, I certainly know what was helpful for me during unmedicated labors and births. When thinking back on the boys' births, these are the things I feel our doula did for me: helped me go over, out loud and on paper, any specific wishes we had re: hospital policy; encouraged me to visualize and discuss ways in which I hoped to cope with labor pain and how I hoped to be supported by Jim and Stacy; during the birth, with massage, counter pressure, company during a long, restless night when I wanted the rest of my "team" to be resting up to help me later (!), aromatherapy when I felt nauseous, reminders to eat, drink, and rest, music (she brought her ipod and speakers,) discussion about pros/cons when we were deciding when and if to have my water broke, position suggestions as we tried to rotate a sideways baby, and then a lot of verbal reassurance during a fairly rapid transition/descent stage, and gentle reminders about staying loose and opening my pelvis during pushing. This was really helpful since pushing is generally the roughest part for me, mentally, and I always go through this little stage of physically resisting it and trying to fight it back.

So now I at least have my own experiences to go on in terms of what was helpful for me, what I might have liked even more of, in retrospect, and also what was helpful/what wasn't so helpful at other births I've witnessed. What I'm hoping you all can tell me is what YOU would have found helpful if you had had a doula present with you for labor (including how you think a doula might have helped other people there supporting you.) Or, of course, what you DID like/didn't like if you did in fact have a doula. I'm especially interested in how your doula supported and helped you if you chose drugs/interventions right from the start, or how she helped you if you hadn't wanted those things but ended up choosing or needing them.

Lord, Beer Me Strength

2011-07-15T05:59:00.000-07:00

It is not quite nine o' clock in the morning, and I have already dealt with three separate and distinct temper tantrums, one of which ended with myself being slapped in the leg with surprising strength for a little kid. These episodes were interspersed with your more garden variety whining and moaning about such atrocities as not getting the correct spoon, not finding the favorite pants in the dresser drawer, etc. All this from the same child. Said child has been in time out twice already (once marched there quite firmly) and has had a toy taken away AND has had a couple of come-to-Jesus-style talks with Dad when my time outs were ignored.

Said child has also, while doing somewhat better on the Number One issue, been having some serious issues with the Number Two issue, and I must say that while I anticipated the stress and chaos and toys and temper tantrums, I never, never could have fully comprehended just how disgusting parenthood can be sometimes.

Oh, and I do even have to say that Said Child is of course also Middle Child? This right here is why I must have four, and why I think perhaps four is our magic number: no middle child. Though perhaps once a kid has been a middle child for any length of time, the damage (i.e. the world is against me and all is unfairness and woe!) is already done. Thoughts? Advice from adult middle children?

Checking In

2011-07-12T07:18:00.000-07:00

Um, wow. How long has it been since I even got on here? Clearly that big move to my own site is going to happen any day now, seeing as I barely even bother to check my email most days so far this summer.

But it's good, honestly. This summer has been awesome so far, and promises to continue that way. Such a difference from last year, when I was waddling and contracting and generally miserable by mid July. This year, I am actually able to keep up with the three little sun-bleached blondies who adore being outside and ask for nothing more out of life than parks! and playgrounds! and pools! every day, please. Even baby boy is content to sit outside in his pack 'n' play for upwards of two hours at a time (with a sun cover!) and watch the older ones play while he practices his scooting and crawling skills.

Canada was wonderful (except for oh my word FORGETTING THE CAMERA) and we'll probably be back the end of the month with Jim's parents. We were in Michigan last weekend for a big family reunion/anniversary party, and that we lovely too, with some surprise swimming thrown in for the kids. And in between trips, it's all a giant blur of laundry and juice boxes and sunscreen and parks and pools and oh my, it's time to grocery shop AGAIN for more juice boxes. Time is flying, alarmingly. Addy will start school in less than two months. Jameson will be a year old in less than three. Neither of these situations is in the least acceptable. But I find that pints of Ben and Jerry's Peanut Brittle ice cream do soothe the soul.

I'm.... Not Sure What My Point Was Here

2011-06-30T13:00:00.001-07:00

Well, we're off to Lake Huron in approximately five hours! And instead of feverishly packing, or finishing up laundry, or cleaning out the ankle-deep SLUDGE of straw wrappers and ground up Skittles and decaying french fries from the van floor, I am sitting here emptying my Google reader and eating a disturbing number of Chips Ahoy! with Heath bits. Which are a-MAZING. I don't normally buy packaged cookies, in keeping with my only-eating-baked-stuff-if-it's-homemade-and-worth-the-fat rule plus my usual halfhearted attempts to keep the preservative/additive/fructose whatevers to a minimum. I mean it's not like no one in our family is ALLOWED to eat packaged products or fast food (see above as re: french fry detritus;) I just try not to have a lot of it in the house, so at least we're not eating junk twenty-four seven.

Anyways. Tangent. The point was, I did buy a bunch of packaged crap for our trip to the cottage because who the heck wants to spend their vacation stuck inside a tiny hot kitchen while everyone else chills on the beach? NOT ME, that's who. Plus, you know, VACATION, which means rule breaking time. So I bought, and then immediately broke into, these cookies, and my goodness if they aren't heavenly. I didn't know what I was missing. These are in fact just as yummy as any homemade cookie, I must say. I refuse to even look at the nutrition information, though, or I imagine it would spoil my delight. Ignorance is bliss.

Weekend Sugar

2011-06-26T17:02:00.001-07:00

Check out all the celebs who've given birth at home! I found some of them pretty surprising, including Pam Anderson!

Spoiler Alerts. Plural.

2011-06-24T19:39:00.001-07:00

So I was at the library the other day, officially for the kids to meet Brownie the Amazing Miniature Pony (who turned out to be, I kid you not, no taller than our very own dog... which I think means I win some kind of housekeeping award, considering our home is decent most of the time even while housing an animal who should apparently be living in a STALL) and I quickly grabbed a couple of novels for myself at random, as well as a CD of Elizabeth Berg's newest. I wouldn't ordinarily think to listen to an adult book in the car with the kids, but c'mon, it's Elizabeth Berg. How bad could it get?

Well, apparently I hit the most unsettling topics possible jackpot, because the Elizabeth Berg book unexpectedly led to a girl walking in on her mother swinging from a freaking rope in the garage (fortunately as soon as I realized what was happening I frantically slammed at the volume button until the CD player silenced, while meanwhile chattering loudly to the kids about Brownie the Amazing Miniature Pony.) Then the first book I cracked, Imperfect Birds by Anne Lamott, was just relentlessly depressing, what with its basic tailspin of parental delusion and teenage self destruction and drug/substance abuse the likes of which innocent little me has never imagined. (Did you know BLEACH apparently masks certain drugs in a pee test?!)

Finally, after skimming to the end of that one, I moved on to Every Last One by Anna Quindlen. Which is like a sucker punch to the gut if you, you know, have or plan to have a child, or a husband, or anyone you love in your life ever. I am not even kidding, it's like someone presented her with the writing prompt: "every woman's worst nightmare." And while it was admittedly well written and intensely captivating, it was just gut wrenching and miserable and had me staring weepily at my kids for the remainder of the day, hugging them to me so often they started pulling away and looking at me funny. I just... I don't feel I gained anything from reading it, despite it being, in a literary sense, excellent. I wish I could unread it.

So! I think for my next venture into entertainment I'll go rent Sophie's Choice. Might as well get it over with!

The Usual Format

2011-06-23T08:53:00.001-07:00

-I am currently eating strawberry rhubarb pie right out of the bakery box. The kids think it's disgusting because of the way the strawberry juice pools in the pie tin, and refuse to even try a bite. More for me, suckers. If there is a better pie, I've yet to encounter it. I swear, when the strawberries are super ripe and the rhubarb is so tart, the mingled juices almost taste boozy. Or maybe it's just me.

-I took a belly dancing class Tuesday night, you guys! It was so, so fun, and now I'm all sore in my side muscles. I really want to do it again, though. It felt very graceful and sensual, such a departure from the usual Western exercise classes- it felt like something you maybe already knew how to do, and just needed to tap back in and remember it, if that makes sense. And actually, some of the moves reminded me of laboring (friends and family: what doesn't remind you of birth?) So much of the work of labor is moving the baby down into your pelvis, so a lot of the shifting and circling movements we were making with our hips in the class felt similar to what childbirth educators refer to as the baby dance. (Yes, har har, the baby dance that comes forty weeks after doing the original "baby dance.") I decided to take at least a few more classes and learn some of the main moves to keep in my bag of tricks as a doula someday. Maybe saying, "Try this cool belly dance move I know!" might sound more appealing and fun than just "Try rolling your hips."

-Good Lord I am turning into such a hippie.

-Jameson is in such a delicious stage right now. Eating everything in sight, or trying; sitting up and playing with his siblings; screeching with delight about baths and the swimming pool and the sight of someone he recognizes. When he's happy to see me, he buries his face into my shoulder and just nuzzles around like a baby chimp or something, sometimes chuckling with happiness. Oh, I will miss him so much. I'm so ridiculously sentimental that I start to miss things before they're even over. The last few days of a vacation are always half torture because, oh, soon we'll have to go home.

-Speaking of vacation, we're going to Canada next weekend with the fam, and I'm so excited! Jameson's not been there yet, and I know he is going to love the sand and water so very much. How well he'll love sleeping in his pack and play remains to be seen.

-This means I have to schlep down to the health department today and finally get a copy of his official birth certificate so that we can cross the border legally. How have I not done this yet? Get the birth certificate, I mean. I have legally crossed the border before.

-Tonight we're filming a commercial for the family coffee house. Apparently I have been given a speaking part. This is the kind of thing I would have been frothing at the mouth in excitement about as a kid. Now I'm all: is it too late to whiten my teeth and lose ten pounds? Do I need to get my hair professionally blown out for this? Ahhck!

Dad's Day

2011-06-19T19:17:00.000-07:00

Happy Father's Day to the man who taught my kids to love Rolling Stones and Smashing Pumpkins (even if they sometimes get confused and refer to them collectively as "The Rolling Pumpkins",) Star Wars (which I personally could live without,) bacon (taught me to love it too, sadly,) and all things sports related. The same man patiently read "Arthur's Underwear" to them tonight when I was tired and grumpy and said no more stories, is helping Eli learn to pee standing up, and started a soccer class using our church's gym just so Eli would get to play this year, too. He is very laid back about all the things I fret about (baths, nail trimming, clean sheets, safety before fun, not jumping on the furniture FTLOG) but his kids love him for it, and seem none the worse for it. Maybe even better.

Jim, you are a fun loving, wise, patient and unselfish father, and I hope you know how lucky your kids and I feel to have you. Every morning after you leaves, one or both of them inquire, "Will Daddy be home soon?" And you always are, but never soon enough for their taste. I can't imagine what we would do without you, and I hope we never have to find out. We love you!

The Livin' Is Easy

2011-06-17T06:33:00.000-07:00

Oh dear, where to begin? I am still planning on making that move to my own site, yes I am, but holy heck things have been busy and crazy around here. Good busy, but still. See, all last summer while I was hot and pregnant and contracting and semi-bed resting and then total bed resting, I was all, "Next summer is going to be the BOMB! I am going to be super mom and we are going to do Fun!Stuff! and Be!Outside! all the time!"

I am keeping my little vow to myself, but I realize it doesn't leave a lot of time for, um, anything else. We have road tripped to the zoo multiple times already, got a membership at the kiddie spray park/pool, been on neighborhood walks and playground adventures and ice cream trips and picnic play dates and gone to nature exhibits and summer library programs and blah blah blah bestmomever. We are having a ton of fun, myself included, but yeah... I am falling into bed exhausted most days, just after I finish scraping the nastiness out of Jameson's high chair. He is at long last joining the world of food eaters, and while I am super happy about this since his weight was slipping down the charts there for awhile, I forgot how time consuming and messy and what a lot of extra work it is to have a baby eating with you at mealtimes.

Additional bits of stuff:

-We got viruses on both our computers last week, so half the time my internet is not available to me anyways. Grr. Sorry if you've had an email waiting forever for a reply. I shall check it today!

-I feel frustrated right now, because in the last week or so I had so many post ideas drift through my head. I tried really hard to sort of tack them in there so I could go back and gather them up, but of course as I sit combing my brain right now all I can think of is, "Do we need more sunscreen?"

-I think I spend approximately an hour a day just sun screening kids and then scrubbing them down at bath time. No wonder summer flies by so fast.

-Our landscaping actually looks kind of nice this year. We also put shutters on our giant front window, and it looks so nice I can't believe it took us six years to get around to it.

-I am in the process of finishing all of my required reading for doula training. It's great but it's so hard for me to simultaneously read and be engaged in real life. I get so lost in books.

-Speaking of, while at the library checking out my required books, I also grabbed a few novels. I absolutely loved "My Name Is Memory" by Anne Brashares. She also wrote "The Sisterhood of The Traveling Pants," but oh dear, don't judge by that alone. I mean, I never even read that book, I'm sure it's good; what I'm saying is she's much more than YA fiction and even though this book does deal mainly with fairly youthful characters, it is in no way exclusive to them as an audience. My teaser will be that it deals with the concept of reincarnation, which found me completely engaged despite the fact that I was raised in Judeo-Christian tradition and never once gave reincarnation a serious thought.

I loved the idea of time being only a minor constraint, a movable, shifting element rather than the most finite and concrete aspect of any of our lives from the second we are born and the exact time is recorded on our birth certificate. If you liked "The Time Traveler's Wife," you'll LOVE "My Name Is Memory." (As soon as that sentence entered my mind, I saw it written out on the side of some drug store imitation cologne bottle.)

-I am running out of ideas and motivation for dinners. I just want to make salad ever night, but the kids won't eat it and anyways, we aren't rabbits, after all. But other than cook out stuff, which gets old pretty quickly, I never know what to make in the summer. Can't we just exist on watermelon and Popsicles? And, um, wine?

Location, Location, Location

2011-06-11T08:46:00.000-07:00

Dear Blogger/Google Reader,

You are killing me. I can't mark-as-read, I can't comment on half of my peep's posts, and I can only occasionally even get into my own account to post the last week or so. I think this might just push me to finally USE that domain name I've owned for a year now and move my blog to my own site. (Though that won't help at all with the mark-as-read problem.) I do appreciate your free services and ease of blog set up, though, dear Blogger, and will always think of you fondly.

Love,

A no longer QUITE so desperate housewife

P.S.
You guys WILL bear with me if I'm MIA for a few (more) days as the hubs helps me set up a new local, right? Also! Blog design ideas/recommendations, anyone?

Getting There Is Half The Fun

2011-06-07T11:03:00.000-07:00

Highlights from yesterday's road trip to the zoo:

-woman in front of us on the highway steering car with her elbow while applying eyeliner, curling her eyelashes, doing all sorts of things with powder and brushes, and styling her hair. Now, I've certainly done the swipe of lip gloss and/or mascara at the stop light routine a time or two, but I have never seen this level of inattention to one's driving. At seventy miles per hour. I have to say though, despite watching her in fascination/horror for almost half an hour, she never did swerve too dangerously. I've certainly seen worse drivers. So clearly, she's had some practice at applying a full face of makeup during her commute. Scary, or impressive?

-Eli, tearfully, after I hushed him from talking to me until after I got off the phone: "You hurt my feelings, Mommy! You hurt my heart!"

-Addy, after pulling over to use a rest area bathroom (a whopping half an hour after using the McDonalds bathroom): "Oh my, this soap smells heavenly! Like cherries! I can't stop smelling it!"

Awkward Birth

2011-06-03T08:26:00.001-07:00

I know most of you probably check Awkward Family Photos at least periodically; if you don't, you are really missing out on some visual treats. Puts your last family reunion in perspective, guaranteed. Anyways, the recent Memorial Day Special was so wonderful I had to share. And after you've blinked and done double-takes, come back and tell me what you think.

Teaser: if you've had a water birth, did your PARTNER also jump in pants-less?

Best Face Forward

2011-06-01T11:52:00.000-07:00

Our little ray of sunshine, or, Mom sure is looking forward to three more months of this, this being "They splashed me!/There's a BUG!/I'm too HOOOTTT!"

Jamers is at last warming to the idea of solid food. As a mother I'm delighted. As the maid, I demand a raise.

School's Out For The Summer

2011-05-25T07:01:00.000-07:00

First of all, today is Addy's last day of preschool, and I am SAD and also a little FRANTIC, because I totally forgot you're supposed to give teachers end of year gifties. I think I'm just going to get them something garden-y, since I need to go get more mulch anyways. That cool, you think? Speaking of mulch, I so should have just ordered a giant truckload of it. I've already used TWENTY THREE BAGS, and I need MORE. I've also stained the upholstery of our van trunk, and about three of my t-shirts, with black mulch dye from accidentally buying the cheap mulch the first time. Live and learn.

But hey-o, look at me, gardening and landscaping up in here, just like I swore I would last year as I lay pregnantly sweating on the couch and staring forlornly out at the untended flower beds. I am actually amazed at what we've gotten done considering the weather (and the three small children,) but it's mainly due to the fact that despite the rain nearly every night for two months straight, including scary thunderstorm/tornadoes that send us fleeing to my mom's basement, it actually IS sometimes sunny, if incredibly damp, during the day.

But anyways, about the preschool thing. I am sad to see it end, even though I'm relieved to no longer be doing the frantic rush to and from four times a week. It was the perfect amount of time (two and a half hours a day) to give Addy a break from her brothers (coughcough and her nagging mother coughcough) and to give me a chance to run errands with only TWO helpers, both of whom can be contained in the cart. It also added some structure to our generally haphazard days, since I am not what you'd call a naturally scheduled person.

Take the kids' baths. I know lots of people have the whole bath-story-bed ritual, but us? Kids get baths whenever it seems they need them, be it every few days or twice in one day. Sometimes it's after breakfast, if they're all sticky from syrup and yogurt. Sometimes it's immediately after a trip to the playground or McDonalds, when I just want to scrub the dirt and germs off ASAP. For Eli, it's often following a didn't-quite-get-to-the-potty-in-time incident. In the summer, when we've been outside in the grass and slathered in sunscreen, they always get showered down before getting into bed, even if they already had a proper soap and shampoo kind of bath earlier.

I did use to have a cleaning schedule- I kept to it religiously for several years and it made me feel so organized. Mondays I would dust, Wednesdays clean the bathroom, that sort of schedule. Since Jameson, though, I just do stuff when I can get to it- it's more on a triage basis, as I remember Marie Green once said re: cleaning. I try to keep the kitchen cleaned daily, keep up on laundry and dishes, emptying trash, keeping things sort of picked up so no one breaks their foot on toys, etc. But there is no more regularly scheduled dusting. Sigh. It's ok though. I don't want to look back and remember that I spent my kids' entire childhood fretting over a never ending, constantly repeating to do list. Not worth it.

Do you see here that Addy has lost a tooth? And the grown up tooth is already halfway in? ZOMG MAH BABY! Stop being so big.

Same goes for you, Jamie James.

Ending on a Positive Note: FAIL

2011-05-22T20:39:00.001-07:00

The good: We got a lot of yard work done today, all of us outside working on various projects and playing in the dirt. I am sort of a task oriented person (more so now that I have kids; I think I just really need the feedback of seeing things getting accomplished) so watching projects being tended to always puts me in a good mood. And lest you think the kids were neglected, I also had a princess tea party on the newly swept and tidied deck with Addy, and had her help me plant and pot a bunch of flowers. Eli "helped" Jim a lot too. When we were going inside around dinnertime, Addy told me it was the best day ever. Coming from a kid who had been crying over a canceled playdate just hours earlier, that's pretty good.

The bad: We have a leak in our roof, coming down in our linen closet. It's also causing mold on an interior wall of our bedroom.

The good: At least we finally discovered what was going on with the mold situation.

The bad: The roof has to be torn up and fixed along an edge, and it can't happen until it's going to be dry for a few days. Which is literally not due to happen around here for about another two weeks. We have storms in our forecast EVERY. BLOODY. DAY. for the next ten days. This is without question the most sucktastic spring I can ever remember. It also means we can hardly ever mow, and our yard looks terrible in the back and is unusable for playing, and I feel sulky every time I look at it from my kitchen window. I realize these things are small scale, but they do contribute to an overall sense of grump which I have to fight off, or I end up snapping at the kids, who are also going out of their minds from boredom thanks to the two months solid of rain.

The good: At least the forecast of rain gives me a good excuse to skip the nightmare end-of-preschool picnic on Wednesday. And lest you think I'm a spoilsport for calling it a nightmare, let me explain that I spent last Sunday afternoon jammed into an auditorium with literally about ten relatives for every kid in Addy's school, which is also a daycare, and boasts quite a few students. Like, at least a hundred. And there were not enough seats, not even close (it's so comforting when your child's TEACHERS clearly cannot count and sell tickets without considering whether there's even room for each ticket holder to have a seat) and it was a hundred degrees and filled with restless angry people who despite paying money be there to support their kid, would now have to stand to watch other people's kids sing "Row Row Row Your Boat" for forty five minutes until their own child's class had a turn. All this crowding and standing-room-only sitch created a serious fire hazard, as well, and the parking situation was a nightmare. People were grumbling and shifting nervously and sweating, and basically everything about it except the lack of water felt like being aboard the doomed Titanic as the passengers realize there's not nearly enough lifeboats and it's every man for himself.

One Upping

2011-05-20T13:31:00.001-07:00

So I was mopping today (pauses for applause) and the older two kids were playing babies in the den while the real baby napped. The pretend babies were getting hungry, so Eli mentioned that he ought to nurse them.

Addy, in a superior tone, "Eli, boys and men have BREASTS, but they don't make any MILK. Only I can nurse the baby."

Eli: "Well my breasts make JUICE, so I think the baby wants ME."

The More You Know...

2011-05-18T07:29:00.000-07:00

I'm going to tell you this even though telling you is an admission of a pretty quick and rapid jump off the wagon of good intentions. I am eating sugar again, though not as much as before (i.e. I won't substitute a cookie for a MEAL. Must set a good example!) I have been for at least a week. And?

I've lost three pounds in about ten days, ever since I STOPPED worrying about what I was eating at all because my brain was so busy with all the stuff going on and all the stuff I needed to get done and remember and I just couldn't stand thinking about every bite I put in my mouth TOO.

Now, the goal of the sugar wean wasn't to lose weight, so it doesn't really mean all that much that I had very negligible, if any, weight loss while avoiding sugar, or that I have suddenly lost a few pounds since letting it into my body again. The real experiment was to see if I felt better after getting rid of sugar, and basically what I figured out was this: meh.

To elaborate on the meh: yes, by the end I think I was having fewer blood sugar spikes, so fewer ups and downs and feelings of total wipe out in the afternoon. But I also wasn't feeling GREAT and full of energy all the time, either, as many people had assured me I would. (Could be I didn't give it long enough to get to this point... Or could be that when one is getting up two or three or five times a night with kids, you're just never going to feel GREAT, regardless of what you are or are not eating.) Another issue is that I was eating ALL the TIME when I wasn't eating anything sweet because I was constantly looking for something to substitute for the sugar I was craving. I wasn't eating terrible things, but there were a heck of a lot of apples and cheese sticks and almonds and yogurts getting gobbled down throughout the day while I fidgeted and felt grumpy, wanting just one bite of chocolate. Again, my fault and probably something that would EVENTUALLY go away, but I was very tired of the feeling of constantly thinking about food.

One of my previous issues was that I couldn't seem to STOP nibbling on candy once I started- couldn't just have a bite and then be done. That problem does seem to have been somewhat helped by even a week or two off sugar. Now I have a few bites of chocolate and actually do feel satisfied, and kind of sick if I try to eat more. I seem to be enjoying chocolate and sweets the way a normal person would- as TREATS, not a staple of their diet. And I think I'm going to keep on eating treats at least once a day, because it gives me a lift and makes me feel happy and then I have some coffee and feel perky and go get some stuff done and stop thinking about how yicky I feel. And when I don't feel deprived (again, this is a MENTAL feeling of deprivation I'm talking about, not actual hunger) I'm much less inclined to roam around searching for further snacks later on.

So I guess I'm back off the bandwagon for now. I'm thinking of trying another sugar cleanse type diet after Jameson is sleeping through the night (so in another two years, I'm guessing! ha ha!) and see if I get different results when I'm regularly sleeping soundly and getting my REM cycles and all that. Because I did like not having the blood sugar dips and feeling more even keeled throughout the day. I just didn't like that my even-keel level seemed to be a low hum of moderate fatigue unsolved by coffee alone. Feeling only SLIGHTLY less tired, and then without any nice sugary pick me ups, didn't seem worth the effort.

Dashes of Annoyance

2011-05-15T09:55:00.000-07:00

-Every spring these determined birds (the same ones? the same... family, but a new generation?) force their way into our overhang and nest under the eaves right outside our den window. This hole in the overhang has been fixed, but they just keep finding the weak spot and shoving their way back in. So whenever we notice it happening, there are already baby birds living in there, chirping sweetly, and we're not going to evict them to their deaths, obviously. So we say, "We'll just fix it really good once they fly out." And then they're gone, and we forget about it or get distracted with some other urgent project (or the project of keeping three small people alive and reasonably cared for) and then before we know it the birds are back for another spring of baby making. I kind of think we should just tear it even further apart and open a Bird Maternity/Nursery wing of our house, with older, motherly birds bustling around in white aprons and wheeling little bassinets back and forth between the nests.

-Addy's dance recital was yesterday- or more accurately, dance RECITALS, since there were two performances, each lasting two hours, and they have to be there an hour early, so altogether six mother loving hours. Plus a dress rehearsal the night before lasting, I kid you not, four and half hours. And today, in an hour, is her preschool program! Whee! So! Many! Special! Moments! Leading to So! Many! Tired! Cranky! Attitudes!

-I was room mother for Addy's class during the last performance, which involved dealing with: Addy leaving her ballet slippers at home between shows; another girl losing her gloves- and we HAD to find her a pair somehow or the whole class had to skip wearing them, and HEAVEN FORBID they not get to wear their preshus white gloves; one little girl trying repeatedly to run away into the enormous backstage labyrinth, insisting angrily that she "knew her way around"; fourteen girls all having to pee at the same time; everyone forgetting to pack their kids snacks and drinks, seriously EVERYONE, and while I had brought enough stuff for a FEW kids in case a FEW showed up without water or snackies, I didn't have enough for everyone. So I was trying to ration stuff out fairly and also trying to dispense three water bottles amongst all these germy kids without just passing the bottle around and letting everyone take swigs from it. They could not understand why I didn't want them all sharing and were getting very upset that they could SEE water right there but weren't allowed to drink it.

-Oh and then one little girl (the same one who kept trying to flee) "accidentally" drew blood from her line buddy twice within five minutes! First they were lined up waiting to go on stage and she stepped on the other girl's pinkie with her tap shoe, then as they were leaving the stage she somehow "bumped" into her hard enough to cut the inside of the girl's lip with her teeth. Gah. It was really hard to comfort the injured girl and restrain myself from yelling at the annoying, roughhousing runaway. And lest you think I'm being mean, this girl has been a brat to the teacher and the other kids pretty much ever since Addy's been taking dance. And you know what? Her mom's kind of wench-y too. There, I said it. (*cleansing breath*)

-Everyone at our house is sick again with some kind of hacking thing. And not a single one of my kids yet knows how to blow their nose. Nor, apparently, do they yet understand the concept of not letting snotty tissues fall wherever they happen to be standing. (Side rant: how do you even begin trying to de-germ things when kids are wiping their noses on the back of their hands and then touching everything in sight? Seriously? I kind of wish we lived in a tent so I could just throw it in the washing machine on SANITIZE in between illnesses.) To make it worse, both my out of town sisters are in town for Addy's various programs and events this weekend, and now everyone feels like crap and yet we need to VISIT with them because we don't get to see them that much! But how do we see them without infecting them?! DILEMMA.

-The house is in utter disarray from all the running around this week, and I find myself filled with a strange inertia about it. It's like, if the house is generally tidy and one room gets a little torn apart, I hurry to put it right so that everything stays nice. But if the whole house is a disaster, I sort of mentally withdraw and just ignore it for awhile. I get that way about my weight too. If I'm doing well with my eating habits and feeling all slender and my pants are fitting well, then I try to keep it going and feel inclined to make good food choices. But if I've been eating on the go (i.e. crappily) all week, and am so bloated from the sodium that my rings aren't even fitting well, then it's like I throw my hands in the air and eat a chocolate rabbit for breakfast. Whoops, did I just admit that?!

Cycles

2011-05-09T16:48:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for your sweet comments on my last post. I try not to dive into despair too often, but every so often it just seems like all the small things of everyday life are piling up into one GIANT thing that is slowly burying me alive. What is that one saying? "The problem with life is that it is so very daily." That's exactly what it is. It's that the same dishes you wash and put away today are going to be waiting in your sink for you tomorrow. It's that the routine of laundry- pick up from the floor/basket/hamper, sort, wash, dry, fold, put away- seem ridiculously excessive, and I sometimes wonder if we shouldn't all just dress and undress right in the laundry room to cut out a few steps.

There's this Jim Gaffigan bit where he complains that the weird, cyclic continuum of shopping- we buy the box of trash bags, we take it home in a plastic bag, we open it up and put a clean trash bag in the can, we throw away the plastic bag IN the trash bag- makes him feel like he's being punked. I sometimes feel that way re: the daily grind. Am I being punked? THIS is what my life is? To wipe the same spots off the stove top twenty thousand times? To empty the diaper pail every single day? It's not that I'm unhappy, it's just that... that it often feels that there isn't any discernible PROGRESS being made; I'm just madly spinning my wheels trying to keep our household afloat, and all my efforts add up to a house that is still in a state of general untidiness, stickiness, and odor, and kids that are still shrieking and bopping each other with toy cars and changing clothes ten times a day.

But. I do know that it won't always be this way. "It's just a stage!" as everyone always tries to reassure me about every parenting problem. But I believe it, actually. And I know that there will also be a stage when everything isn't sticky, and when I have time not only to manage my own life but to help other women manage theirs so they feel a little less overwhelmed. I know this because I see it happening in my mom and mother in law's lives, so I have hope. Also? Gratitude. Happy belated Mother's Day, you guys. Thanks for taking care of us!

P.S. Kids, I know genuine, un-forced smiles are a little too much to ask for, but at least try to look in the same direction next time we do pictures, m'kay? And not look deranged?

This Is Just... Off The Rails, Here

2011-05-05T13:07:00.000-07:00

Um, this is a rapid fire, absolutely no rough draft or editing going on type post. Am frantically getting ready for Jim's birthday party, to which I optimistically invited almost thirty people because hey! May! It'll be spring time and sunny and we can all just hang outside! Except... it has rained for thirty days straight, more or less. Our backyard is literally a giant muddy sponge almost as soon as you step off the deck, ending in a sort of soup bowl of standing water which my husband and BIL are currently trying to reroute by way of a giant EFFING DITCH in our back yard. To which I say, heck yeah, if that's what it takes. I am unspeakably sick of having a huge backyard which is virtually unusable months out of the year because of the horrible drainage issues. I'll take a giant ditch if it means the dog isn't filthy to his ankles every time he goes out to pee.

Can you tell I'm a little cranky? I'm a little cranky. The week started with the horrible news of the two deaths I mentioned, then we found out a teacher friend had been fired due to some.... personal issues, I believe, more than professional, so that sucked. I've been getting more and more anxious about the state of the yard, wanting so badly to be able to use it for the party and becoming more and more resigned to the fact that we WON'T be using it and that thirty people are going to be milling around our (smallish) house with nothing to do but eat stromboli for three hours.

Oh, and Jamie fell out of his jumperoo the other day- or more accurately, the whole dang thing fell off the door frame somehow (the only thing I can figure is that I put it on wrong- hangs head in shame) and while I was tearfully calling the hospital for a reminder on what to watch for and an assurance that he was probably ok, I heard Eli start screaming and crying because he had HIT HIS HEAD while jumping on the couch, something I've only been lecturing them about for, oh, their ENTIRE LIVES. I had to hang up on the nurse to go attend to his head injury, then call her back to check on Jamie's. A fine parenting moment!

Oof, and speaking of Eli, his recent issues have just been killing me. (This is the part where I should say, won't be printing THIS post off to save for posterity.) I've always said if one of my kids were aiming to be my favorite, he could probably manage it, with his cuddly little ways and his face basically a cross between Jim's and my dad's, and his mama's firstborn boy status and all. And also our personalities just mesh really well. BUT. This week he's lucky I didn't abandon him at the firehouse and drive off, cackling like a lunatic, into the sunset.

He is still having accidents so often that there are always a pair of his underwear or pants hanging to dry after being rinsed. ALWAYS. His room ALWAYS smells like wet pull ups no matter how often I empty the trash in their room. He is ALWAYS insisting he doesn't have to go and throwing a fit when we make him. Dudes, this is going on a YEAR that this kid has been in the process of potty training. A YEAR, minus that blissful month or two when he was completely potty trained, before Jameson was born and then all was lost. I'm about to either give up, stick him back in freaking DIAPERS until he decides to take himself to the bathroom, or take him to the doctor to see if he's having some kind of physical issue causing this extreme and lengthy regression.

I try to make no fuss about it, try not to get irritated, try to stay positive. But I know he can feel my annoyance, and it's making him defensive and grouchy and defiant, which in turn gets me even further irritated, and on and on we go until one or both of us melts down. Ex: yesterday in the DMV, when he ran in screaming circles while I tried to handle the always smooth process of dealing with bureaucratic stuff while Jamie cried relentlessly on my hip. Finally as we were leaving and I was getting Jamers settled back into his stroller, Eli darted out of TWO heavy glass doors and into the parking lot before I could catch him, ignoring my warnings and frantic waving. I couldn't even speak because I was on the verge of tears- I was so scared, and so angry, and so furious with myself for not being able to control my kid. Once I got everyone buckled in, I'm pretty sure I was just ranting. "Do you know what a car can DO to you, Eli!? Do you want to get KILLED?!" Etc. Productive!

Ugh. Then I realized I had to get the kids dinner really quick because lo! It was Addy's night for dance class, and it started in an hour! So we went to McDonalds, where at least I knew the kids would eat, and they proceeded to fuss about every little thing, and I ordered the wrong flavor of milkshake for Addy, and Jamie lost his sock in the car, and then the lady at the register was like, "Ma'am? Did you know your baby only has one sock on?" SO loudly that the whole room turned to look at the sweaty mama with the sockless baby on her hip and the feral children clawing at her leg.

Basically the night continued like that: late for dance class, hurriedly running errands for the party while Addy was in class, Eli running off and trying to steal sunglasses and toy cars in Rite Aid and finally having to be physically removed from the store, HITTING me and yelling about the car, losing all his toys for the night, crying hysterically about that, pooping his pants, me grocery shopping until ten pm....

I am living the dream here. Sigh. Sometimes I wonder if I'm even doing my kids any favors by being at home with them while they're small. Would I be nicer to them, more patient, if I saw less of them?

Too Soon

2011-05-02T13:27:00.000-07:00

Well wow I've had a bad couple of days. Or more accurately, there has BEEN a lot of bad the last couple of days. Yesterday I found out that a guy I went to church with in high school and with whom my younger sister was pretty good friends died in a car accident, probably due to drunk driving, though the details aren't clear yet. He was twenty five years old, but all I can conjure up in my mind are pictures of a blond, smiling kid about fifteen years old, cracking jokes while we road the bus downtown each Sunday to pick up kids for church. He was such a sweetheart, and now he's just gone. Not here.

-

This afternoon, Jim learned that one of the girls from the soccer team he coached a few years ago was found dead yesterday, under suspicious circumstances. She was nineteen years old. And now she's gone. Not here.

Sometimes I feel like by having children I have basically bought myself a ticket to inevitable heartbreak at some point. Stuff like this makes me want to bubble wrap my kids and lock them in the house for the rest of their lives. I am so sad that these young lives are over, but the ones I am really torn up for are their families, for their parents. For their mothers, the women who still remember what it felt like to have those babies kick and jump inside them and who are now living out their worst nightmare: burying the child that they once delivered and cradled in their arms. God. I just can't imagine. How do you keep living when your heart is in shreds like that? I know you do, but just... how?

Really puts everything I was planning to post about- scratches on the wall, marker on the carpet, poop in the big-boy underwear- all into perspective. They can tear my house apart and I swear I'll watch it with a smile if they could just promise me to stay alive forever and always.

In Her Majesty's Secret Service

2011-04-30T16:06:00.000-07:00

So you all had British-type snacks whilst watching the royal wedding, right? Cause I felt absolutely COMPELLED, and the only thing we had in the house was.... dum dum dum. A Cadbury egg. Which I ate, because I'd be gosh darned if I let this historic occasion pass without the appropriate pomp and circumstance. But I only ate the one, and then I totally forgot about it and moved on with the day and did not start stuffing candy into my face Willy Wonka style, so I guess that's a good sign. I haven't physically craved sweets for a few days, but I also don't feel fantastically different without them, either, so... we'll see. And I swear I'm eating MORE than usual, albeit more healthy stuff. Well, I'm going to finish out the week, at least. Then we'll see. I might stick with writing down what I eat longer than the no candy thing, because boy does that make you think twice before shoveling random crap down your throat, and also makes you painfully aware of days when you've only eaten one item of produce (see: today.)

At any rate, that sugar-fast cheat was for you, Lovely Kate. I loved your makeup! I loved your hair! I love your immaculate yet not too thin eyebrows! Also, I love your super hot brother in law who happens to be only ONE DAY older than I am. (Your husband? Meh. He's ok too.)

Habits

2011-04-27T11:38:00.000-07:00

So it turns out afternoons are pretty rough without a nibble of chocolate here and there. As proved by... three whole days, which in my mind, apparently, equals a substantial body of evidence! So far each day, breakfast is fine, I get through the morning feeling fine, eat a virtuous lunch, continue to feel fine, and then two o' clock hits and... SLUMP. I make another cup of coffee, eat an apple or some dried berries to try to get a jolt of natural sugar, but man, literally from then until dinner it seems I cannot shake the thought of a pan of brownies or a couple of Reese's eggs from the kids' Easter stash. While I don't feel super tired, or at least any MORE tired than usual, I can literally feel in my bloodstream the craving for refined sugar. I feel shaky and headache-y and cranky, and have to distract myself with busyness or I just keep circling back to the kitchen, looking for SOMETHING. I need a patch, just like a nicotine addict.

It sort of frightens me that I could be this addicted to a substance. It also gives me a new level of respect for people who manage to quit smoking or drinking, which is surely far more difficult. Now, I'm sure that there HAVE been days in my life before where I just didn't eat sugar for whatever reason, but it wasn't an intentional abstaining, so it probably didn't get noticed so much. I was likely doing stuff and out of the house or traveling, and had other things on my mind. When I'm home alone with small kids (who are constantly asking, "Can I have an Easter candy since I did x without whining/since I ate my lunch/since I stopped hitting Adelay/?") it's like this ridiculous loop in my head of BOY DO I NEED SOME CHOCOLATE/CANDY/DESSERT-TYPE ITEM. It's kind of pathetic to be spending this much time thinking about food.

So pathetic that this afternoon I was thinking, "You know, this is stupid. I'll just have a Reese's cup, end the craving, and move on!" Except that I WOULDN'T just have one. The floodgates would be opened, and then I'd have five or six over the course of the afternoon. And feel sick, and mad at myself. So I just keep trusting that if I give it a few more days, or a week, I will get used to being without afternoon sugar to get me through, and I will stop thinking about it so obsessively. Because that's the goal- to not NEED sugar to feel normal.

I should clarify that I don't think it's generally good to have forbidden foods. This is more just trying to break a cycle of addiction, if you will, so that when I do allow myself sugary goodness again, it will be at birthday parties and as a special treat, not a daily necessity that I miss like a freakin' CRACKHEAD if I'm without.

This dependence on a cocktail of sugar to get me through the day is a bad habit I started when Eli was a baby, and didn't start sleeping through the night until he was a year old... and even then, not reliably for another year. By afternoons I was just so profoundly tired that it literally felt dangerous to even drive anywhere. And drinking pot fulls of coffee wasn't an option since he was always sensitive to caffeine in my milk- a cup a day was about all I could have without making him cranky. But that was when we were trying to sell our house, so falling into a drooling coma on the couch just wasn't an option- I had to keep up on the cleaning and laundry all the time. It wasn't long before I discovered that in the absence of coffee, a brownie or a cookie (or a brownie AND a cookie) was enough to jolt me back awake long enough to get through the dinner/bedtime stuff before I could collapse on the couch for the night.

Not coincidentally, it also took me until Eli started sleeping through the night, thus ending my complete and total reliance on sugar to sustain me, before I lost the last ten pounds of my baby weight. Now, Jameson had a brief window of being a pretty decent sleeper, and I was feeling and looking good and the world was a sunny place. But ever since his bouts of ear infection back in Jan/Feb, he has been up and down the whole night, most of it spent in my bed because I am too tired to put him back in the crib after getting him up to nurse yet again! So yeah... the profound tiredness is really starting to get to me with this kid, too, and I've been doing the sugar routine again hardcore, kicked off with boxes of clearance Valentine's chocolates.

But this time, I am going to nip it in the bud! Yes I am! I am also going to try putting Jamie boy back in his own bed after feeds, even though in the short term it will be a pain, in the hopes that long-term it might help him wake less frequently. Also because I've become concerned that I am SO tired I am no longer able to cosleep very safely... a couple times last week I woke up on my side and realized I had fallen asleep while nursing without first making sure the baby was safely arranged away from pillows, with blankets tucked away securely, etc. His face was just inches from my pillow. I felt really freaked out and guilty. So! Time to try something different. This cosleeping is also causing me back and neck issues because when I know the baby is with me, I literally don't move a muscle in my sleep, and every time I wake up, my back and hips are throbbing from remaining so stiff. I went to the chiropractor a few times, but it only gave short term relief; after a few nights of sleeping with the baby, the pain was back, and this time I was more aware of it since I had experienced brief relief. So I think it'll probably only go away for good if I change my habits.

So does anyone else get this way about sugar? Or do I just have a really addictive personality? I sometimes think I do; for instance, I had a really hard time weaning off of the painkillers I had after Eli was born, and I was only on them for a WEEK. But I just felt awful once they were gone! Is that normal? Is the sugar thing normal?

Also, is it mean to try ending the cosleeping for my own selfish reasons? I feel sort of guilty, but also just sort of DONE, you know?

Health Kick Post! And Also Some Nursing Questions

2011-04-25T15:52:00.000-07:00

So today I started the not diet diet, as in, I'm not counting calories and I'm not going to be hungry, because my milk supply is somewhat lame as it is, but I AM going to pay a heck of a lot more attention to what I'm shoveling into my cake-hole. Basically, I made a list of foods I know to be healthy and filling for me, and that's what I'm eating from, for... indefinitely. Until I get sick of it. Or something. This is SO boring, I know, but whatever, Tess requested it, so here is my list of foods:

-any fruits or veggies
-turkey
-eggs
-chicken
-almonds
-beans
-fish
-string cheese (low fat)
-cottage cheese
-Greek yogurt
-low sodium veggie soup
-a couple servings a day of whole grains like brown rice, Grape Nuts, oatmeal or similar
-popcorn
-fruit leather
(last two are my substitute snacks for when I'm craving crunchy or sweet)

Now, I like all these foods, and I'm eating enough to stay full, so it's hardly torture or deprivation here. Like for dinner I had tilapia and fingerling red potatoes (yes, I'm still eating potatoes- WHAT OF IT?) and asparagus. I seasoned the fish with a dash of EVOO, s and p, and herbs and everything else with just herbs, and it was a totally normal dinner for us and I was fine. But I'm a pretty genuine sugar addict, so ignoring the Easter candy has been rough today. I also realized that I have some sort of internal clock that goes off around two pm every day and announces, "Time to have some coffee and a sweet!" That was a rough couple of hours, even though I FELT okay (actually LESS tired than usual, interestingly) but I just felt all twitchy and weird and kept roaming back to the kitchen as though I had forgotten something. Forgotten my daily infusion of love handle fat, I suppose.

I wrote down everything I ate today, and that helped a lot with resisting the candy. Which I realize is simply a matter of willpower, but it didn't help that it was pouring rain again and I was stuck in the house, bored, all day long in the VICINITY of the candy. (Hilarious side note: it has rained like twenty out of the last twenty five days here! Oh, you delightful April showers! You have made our backyard so wet that a pair of DUCKS have taken up residence! For reals.) While I was at it, I also wrote down every time Jamie nursed, something I have not once bothered to do since bringing him home from the hospital. Can you tell I embrace the nurse-on-demand style of parenting wholeheartedly?

I had been worrying that maybe he wasn't eating enough during the day, and that was why he's still getting up three (3)(THREE DO YOU REALIZE HOW OFTEN THAT IS??!) times a night to eat. But I think... that's not the problem. He's nursed six times today already. (It's seven pm now, so he'll probably eat twice more before going to bed.) Now, he only ever eats for fifteen minutes at the MOST, and usually he nurses for seven to eight minutes exactly. I can't get him to go longer than that; he is just DONE, and when he's done he's done. The only time he'll nurse a full fifteen minutes is if, say, he fell asleep on a car ride right before he usually would have been hungry again, and then stayed asleep an extra long time, so that it's been four or five hours since he's last eaten. Then he'll nurse well, and actually stay on task and not yank his head on and off a bazillion times trying to simultaneously eat AND watch the world go by.

So, uh, any suggestions on ways to get him to eat less often/longer at a time? And not be so hungry at night? Because, you know, good grief. And also, Nephew Smith is sleeping through the night reliably, and that is just not fair. I need the sleep more! I have three kids! I call BS!

Filed Under: Diets, Baby Food, Breast Pump

2011-04-23T07:31:00.000-07:00

Wow, I guess partying has its price. I cannot seem to get it together this week, not to blog, not to keep up on laundry or housework or bedtimes, and certainly not to curtail the endless stream of white flour/sugar crappola I keep shoveling into my face. Though, that's partly because I know my diet/LIFESTYLE CHANGE (gag) is coming on Monday.

No, it's a diet. I always hork a little when people yammer on about lifestyle changes vs. dieting. I mean, yeah, things like switching to whole grain bread instead of white and using butter instead of margarine are lifestyle changes. But when you're talking about trying to lose weight, it's a DIET. Unless you're telling me you plan on NEVER EATING CHOCOLATE AGAIN as part of your lifestyle, then if you're currently avoiding it, you are DIETING.

I'm not so much trying to lose weight (though I certainly wouldn't COMPLAIN) as I am trying to stop feeling like crap and like my midsection is turning into squishy bread dough. I'm actually back to my pre-baby weight (thanks in no small part to nursing, I am sure) and even down a few pounds from that, but without exercise and with a regular routine of nighttime snacking in front of the TV, my body is starting to look and feel like a pale, unbaked bread stick. So I know with the advent of summer sun and a bit of gardening and walking the muscle tone and color will return, but I would like to feel like I'm nourishing my body more healthfully, especially since I'm still breastfeeding (is this the... very best bite for baby??)

Also, one thing I've learned over the years is that weight is just a number, and can have very little to do with how you look and how your clothes fit. When I was working out three times a week, I was almost ten pounds HEAVIER than I am now, but it was muscle, and I LOOKED a lot better. Especially my arms and belly. I also learned during Jim's Great Diet earlier this year that if you're eating a lot of carbs, your belly is bloating, whether or not you're actually gaining weight. When you're eating a lot of fiber and veggies and lean stuff on a regular basis, your skin looks better and your tummy looks flatter. Gah, I sound so annoying, but trust me, I'm really reminding MYSELF of this stuff, because currently I'm eating danish for breakfast and drinking my second cup of coffee and I do NOT feel excited about switching back to Greek yogurt and almonds and carrot sticks come Monday morning.

You know what else I've become sadly resigned to? Eating well is kind of expensive. At least it SEEMS more expensive. Maybe in the end it evens out because if you're buying a bunch of junk it takes MORE of that junk to feel full? I don't know. I just know that these days I about have a heart attack every time I check out at the grocery. Sorry 'bout your luck kids; please accept these nutritious skim-milk cheese sticks and fiber-licious Grape-Nuts in lieu of a college fund!

I wish I were joking. I just hope that all this (attempted) eating well pays off and enables them to focus well in school and get fantastic grades and earn themselves full rides to Yale.

In other eating related (read: probably boring) news, Jameson is really into solid foods now. That's SOLID. As in, not pureed baby food, but those Gerber puffs and also those weird rice rusk things that dissolve when gummed. He happily spends up to an hour at a time taking down a package of those bad boys, but still can't figure out how to OPEN HIS MOUTH for a spoon so I can get some oatmeal into his belly. (Not that I'm trying all that hard... I despise the whole baby food routine, and honestly prefer ridiculously frequent nursing for awhile until baby can manage some mashed up table food thrown on his tray. I have enough trouble getting the five and three year old to eat without spending another half hour after dinner playing airplane just to get a few tablespoons of Earth's Best into the baby's belly, and the rest of the jar on his clothes. Spare me!)

So, the James is still frequently hungry and nursing three times a night, every night. I am so used to being exhausted that I felt better than usual the night I was out at a freaking DANCE CLUB until two am, because at least once I got to bed I slept, uninterrupted, for seven whole hours. Everyone else was staggering around, bleary eyed, the next morning, and I was all, "Good morning! I feel fantastic! Where's the coffee? And also my pump? 'Cause the girls here feel like rocks! Also I am SO AWAKE WHEEE!"

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

2011-04-18T19:10:00.000-07:00

Well hellLLOOO! That was a nice little sabbatical, eh? Not sure what happened throughout the week, but I can tell you why I wasn't blogging on the weekend. Bachelorette party, baby. One of my friends from ye olde high school is getting married in May, and on Saturday night we joined her for a last hurrah, complete with party limo and jello shots. It was a really fun break from the real world, and I was quite proud of myself in that I drank exactly enough to have a good time and dance a little without feeling silly, but not nearly enough to throw up/act stupid/have a hangover. Success!

Also? I decided it's way better to be a girl than a guy if you're going clubbing. Kind of an established fact, I guess, but definitely reconfirmed.

Except for the lines in the bathroom, of course. But that's anywhere.

Love The One You're With

2011-04-10T06:13:00.001-07:00

I ran across this blog post the other day and I loved it so much I thought I'd share it in case it was just the thing any of you needed to hear, too. It's in a category of posts about decorating and decluttering, by the author of the adorable Clover Lane blog, and it's called "House Love." It's basically just about how to embrace and love the home/furniture/stuff you have right now, rather than constantly plotting and wishing and envying for other, better things.

It was perfect for me to hear right now, when I am often feeling a bit squished in our current home (just a BIT, but it's making me panic about what it would feel like to add even more kids!) and when I'm wishing the market wasn't so wretched and that showing a home wasn't such a staggering pain in the butt so that I could actually contemplate moving. This post reminded me that any house can be a dream home with a bit of love, work, and the right perspective: that is, that home is who you're WITH, not the composite of granite counter tops and double closets and professional landscaping. The happiness you feel in your home has very little to do with how it looks, really, but is more about how it feels. That's something I can improve no matter how much money or flexibility I have, right? That's a heart thing- if I can invest love in my home, even just by cleaning it or rearranging a chair or fluffing a pillow or watering a plant, I've made it feel a little better and more welcoming to me as well as my family and guests.

It also helped me to remember that what we HAVE in our current home (a truly perfect location, with wonderful friends both right down the street within walking distance as well as just a few minutes away in either direction, relatives five to ten minutes away on all sides, church five minutes away, SCHOOL five minutes away, Jim's office ten minutes away...) is something no other house could replicate, unless we magically found our dream home within a one mile radius. We have been very blessed in our location, and if we have to work a bit to make the home more comfortable and livable, well, that's a fairly small price to pay, and can even be kind of fun if you dig up the right attitude.

Here's what I did last night in our front hall to "love" my house a little more:

What helps you feel more content in your home when you're having one of those dissatisfied kind of days?

Day 30

2011-04-07T11:16:00.000-07:00

My hopes and dreams for the future, or something like that. Well, I guess now would be a good time to tell you that after years of toying with the idea, I am taking this year (or, next year or SO, I should say) to get certified with DONA as a professional doula. It's something I've considered doing ever since Eli's birth, but until just recently I've felt that my own kids/fertility issues/pregnancies were enough baby stuff for one woman to handle!

I'm definitely ready for a hiatus from my own personal baby-making adventures for the time being, though, so I feel I could now be free to concentrate on others. And after being present at both my sister and my friend's births recently, it was really confirmed to me that the whole pregnancy/birth/baby thing is a topic for which I can summon endless enthusiasm and interest. I've never felt that way about anything else. I also had a good talk with one of Jess's midwives, who told me that she thought I was a natural doula, and that she felt one day I could even be a midwife or a childbirth educator.

While the idea of actually being the one responsible for delivering the baby still scares me profoundly, I think I could DO it. Birth fascinates me and doesn't disgust me in the least, and I think for the most part I stay pretty calm when I'm at a birth. And I would absolutely, unequivocally love to teach birthing classes someday; it's something I've felt our area is sadly lacking in anyways.

So, that's that. Totally ready to get started on the doula path, and open to more someday, if that seems to be where the path is leading! I still haven't purchased the DONA kit, because once you do you're on the clock to get finished. Since a big part of the training is a (long) weekend workshop, I want to wait until I know Jameson can be without me for two or three days before I go. You're allowed to bring nursing infants with you up to six months old, but even if he were still young enough, he is an active and vocal baby, and I'd feel bad about inflicting him on everyone else trying to listen! So I think I'll be waiting until November, when there's a workshop scheduled at a really cool birth/breastfeeding resource center in Ann Arbor. Once I confirm that in stone (i.e. drop a deposit) I'll go ahead and buy the DONA kit, and get started on my reading list and on trying to find a breastfeeding class around here to attend.

I'm so excited, I won't lie about that. It's certainly not a highly lucrative or glamorous career path, here, that of birth junkie, but it's something for which I feel a lot of passion, and I was starting to think I might never find that niche. That maybe I just didn't HAVE passion for anything useful, or possible. (Like, I totally have passion for drinking red wine and getting in long winded religious/ethical/sociological debates in the wee hours of the morning, but that's not really something anyone gets paid to do, as far as I know.)

Introspection and Whole Grains

2011-04-05T14:15:00.000-07:00

Ugh. I just ate like half a box of Frosted Chocolate Mini Wheats. My gut hurts. Not as much as it will later, though! Fiber ahoy!

Er, anyWHAYS, I'm in a totally spaced-out mood today, so I don't think I'm up for finishing my thirty day blog challenge with a bang. I was supposed to write about hopes and dreams, I think? Right now all I can think of is, "I hope someday I don't feel so incredibly tired and unable to function right about this time every day." (I'm sure consuming all those carbs and sugars has nothing to do with it...)

I swear, every day, dinnertime is a surprise to me. Five o' clock rolls around and I'm all, "Wha...? We have to EAT again? And I have to plan it and cook it?" Whenever we go over to our neighbor's house she has her weekly meal plan on the fridge, with things like, "Italian subs and homemade coleslaw" on it, and I think about all the times I have tried and then inevitably abandoned various meal plans. Eventually they start to annoy and bore me, like any form of routine or structure (except bedtime, which feels more like FRANTICALLY DARTING OUT THE ESCAPE HATCH TOWARD FREEDOM time- hard to get tired of that.)

I dislike this particular character trait in myself, this extreme resistance to schedules, and I feel it makes me less of a parent sometimes. Yet here I am, closing in on twenty seven years, and I still struggle with it daily. I want to be spontaneous, to go with the flow, to follow my heart, ride off into the sunset etc etc etc unrealistic dreamer blah blah. Instead I wash sheets and I mop the floor and I give baths, and usually manage to do it all on a somewhat routine basis, but then there are fails, too, like this morning when it was breakfast time and our cupboards contained NONE of the following items: bread, cereal, crackers. And we're not on Atkins. Or there's the zillion times we're running late and I'm snapping at the kids to hurry HURRY HURRY! even as my inner voice whispers that it is way more my fault than theirs that we're behind schedule.

Sigh. Tomorrow I'll remember my strong suits. Today it seems I'll be eating my (newly purchased) cereal for dinner and pondering, yet again, how to do better.

I Do This Stuff So You Don't Have To

2011-04-01T12:46:00.000-07:00

So everyone knows that awesome April Fool's prank of having a pregnant friend pee on the test for you, and then waving it at your husband all casually over dinner, right? And it's so hilarious when he has a mini heart attack, and then so amusing to watch his relief/fury when he finds out he's been had?

Well, it turns out it's less funny on the other end.

The other day I bought a pregnancy test, since I'm nursing and still don't have the Monthly Reassurance of NOT being pregnant. I just like to check in every now and then, since I've heard plenty of stories (including one from my neighbor, whose girls are fifteen months apart) of women thinking they were without a period because of breastfeeding when it turned out they were actually, like, three months pregnant. Surprise!

So, it was negative, all was well, I threw it away and moved on. Fast forward a few days, and I'm out in the garage looking for something when my eye spots the white pregnancy test stick on the floor, the last remains of a whole pile of garbage bags that got ripped into and torn apart by some very determined animal when we forgot to put the garage door down that night.

I picked it up to throw it away, and... it was positive. Very positive. And then I had an embolism and stood stock still in the garage for like five minutes while my head exploded.

I told Jim, and told my friend, and they were both all "Pfft. That test is days old! You're not supposed to regard results after ten minutes!" But... this same thing happened for DAYS when I was newly pregnant with Eli: I'd get a negative, but then hours later, I'd dig it out and it would have turned positive. I finally got a blood test to confirm that I was indeed in the family way, but the experience forever made me suspicious of so-called "false positives" and also compels me to keep all tests out for at least an hour or so even if they're initially negative.

So of course I went right back out and got another test, and of course it was negative, and seeing as how it's a near impossibility that I could have been pregnant anyways, I'm going to go ahead and believe it. But holy crap that scared me. So I guess maybe a few hours is all right for an extended test observation period, but I'm going to go ahead and say PLEASE don't dig days-old tests out and panic if they're positive. It must be a fluke.

(I know you're all saying, "But maybe you're pregnant!" However, I really don't think so. I have no symptoms. And here's a classic cautionary tale about reading tests past the ten minute window, while nursing, that confirms my feeling of NOT pregnant.)

More Yucky LOVE Stuff!

2011-03-31T16:24:00.000-07:00

Ok, I have to do my Day 29 installment: a person I love. Um, I feel great pains about playing favorites in any way, so whoever did the last nice thing for me is going to win... Come on down to the front, Mom, you surprise bringer of Reese's peanut butter eggs, you!

Seriously, though, my mom is one of the nicest people I've ever met. She went so above and beyond when we were little, it was crazy: I don't even ATTEMPT to recreate my childhood for my kids, because I am just not that patient/creative/generous with my free time. Or maybe my kids are harder and I am more tired. We'll just say a little of both. :)

She home schooled my two younger sisters and me until high school, including all kinds of field trips and unit studies and vacations (well, Dad came on those too!) planned elaborate tea parties and birthday parties and Christmas-in-July parties and slumber parties with out friends, sewed us matching outfits (wait, maybe that was CRUEL...) made us clothes and food and furniture for our American Girl dolls, and searched yard sales and thrift stores for awesome prom and bridesmaid dresses to add to our dress up clothes box. She baked the best oatmeal raisin cookies every week, without ever looking at the recipe, which amazed me. The week we all had chicken pox she went to the library and rented every single musical they had so that we wouldn't get bored on the couch.

She used to load our bikes into the back of her station wagon and drive us to safe neighborhoods so we could learn to ride somewhere besides our own somewhat dangerous-traffic-area street. We went to the library every week and came home loaded with books, and Mom never even looked for herself, just helped us choose what WE wanted. She let us redecorate/rearrange/switch roommates in our bedrooms whenever we felt like it. On Saturday nights after our baths I remember her spending ages braiding our hair into many tiny little braids so that it would be wavy the next day for church, just like we wanted.

I don't think it even occurred to me until I was about ten or eleven that maybe Mom would like to have a life beyond taking care of us three 24/7. By the time I was in high school, I actually felt relief that she had gotten a job during our school hours... I was starting to feel guilty and worried that she had no mental outlet and that we might soon drive her slap out of her mind! She has worked outside the home ever since, but it has never altered her priorities: anytime we've needed anything as adults, she's still there in whatever capacity we need without a second thought. I can't even imagine how difficult my pregnancies would have been without her (and other family member's!) help. It amazes me to think that she handled three little girls (ages four and under!) as well as a stepdaughter without any help at all from family, and really without much familiarity regarding the sibling dynamic, since she'd grown up an only child.

So, thanks for the peanut butter eggs, Mom, and all the talks on all the road trips, and all the advise, and all the hugs, and all the times you've felt even worse for me than I felt for myself! It's pretty invaluable to know that no matter what, someone is ALWAYS on your side. Even if you're wrong.

Zero to Six- Pictoral

2011-03-30T07:26:00.001-07:00

Home from the hospital

One month old- Halloween

Two months old

Three months old.

Four months old.

Five months old.

Six months old- you're blond now!

(And here's the traditional "letter to baby" bit. Feel free to skip!) (Also, could the lighting quality of these pictures be any WORSE? Geez, I need a photography class. Or a new camera.)

Jameson, you are six months old today. Actually, TODAY you are six months and one day. So I guess this is belated... sorry 'bout that. But I did wish you a happy half birthday yesterday, so I didn't forget! I was just too tired to write. Being too tired has been a recurring theme of the last six months. I feel like it has gone by SO FAST, just like my pregnancy with you, because I'm too busy to even think about things too much. I wake up, make coffee, blink, and then I'm putting you to bed again and the day is done (unlike my to-do list.)

This is why I am snuggling and holding you as much as I can when I get a chance, even at the expense of mopped floors and dusted bedrooms. I keep joking to people that it took THREE kids to put my perfectionist pangs about housekeeping to rest. It finally happened that there literally are not enough hours in the day to properly take care of and enjoy my kids AND keep the house as clean as I prefer it to be. Something has to give, and most days, I let it be the housecleaning. It bothers me a little, but not as much as I thought it would back when I was fretting about the hypothetical reality of three small kids. Instead of taking pride in my smudge-free glass, I now feel accomplished when all my kids have been bathed in the last two days. Oh, and when Jamie's little butt is so completely rash free that the doctor praises it at his six month check up (true story!)

You are developing right on track for six months, and are finally starting to somewhat enjoy the tastes of oatmeal cereal and applesauce we've been giving you at night for the last few weeks. You are still pretty much strictly breastfed, with the occasional bottle on nights when you have nursed me dry and are still grousing for more. My milk supply has not been fantastic, unfortunately, and it's taken a lot of work to keep it up, especially while you had your ear infections and weren't eating well. You're making it up for it now, though, eating two or three times a night again like a newborn!

At least you WANT to nurse again, so I'm fine with it, but I do wish you were a bit calmer while you eat. Instead you grunt and grab and pull at me as though by digging in your nails you might somehow force out the milk a little faster. You horrified your Aunt Laura the other day, who watched you eating/groping and grabbing at me like a drunk frat boy, and demanded, "What is he DOING to you?" You remind me of a piglet, actually, who thinks if he doesn't force his way in at the teat he won't get his turn. Kind of a... graphic visual, but it's a pretty close comparison. And maybe it's just a subconscious third child thing... you know you'll have to fight for your share eventually?

Whatever hardships there may be in your birth order, I think your siblings' devotion to you should make up for it. I had no idea how MUCH they would adore and dote on you. I thought, when we brought you home, that we would have to protect you from occasional aggression. Instead, we've had to be ever vigilant for too violent expressions of LOVE from Adelay and Eli, who would happily stand over you and kiss your head all day long if you didn't eventually tire of it and start whimpering. We've recently let you start playing in your jumperoo (of which you are a huge fan) and I have to constantly check to make sure one of your big sibs isn't trying to elicit a smile from you by "swinging" you wildly or "helping" you jump, aka giving you whiplash. They will do absolutely anything to make you laugh, even if it's borderline dangerous to you or themselves. Or my brain.

This sounds dumb considering that the last two months I've been getting up with you at least twice a night, but you actually are a good sleeper. Before you got sick back in January, you were sleeping five hour stretches at night, and that was at three months old. I really think if you hadn't dealt with TWO bouts of double ear infections, and then this subsequent hunger fest now that you're feeling well again, you would be a model sleeper. You always go down to bed pretty easily, in your own crib with your nightlight and ocean sounds and snug in your sleep sack. You suck your fingers (no more paci for you!) roll over to your side and fall asleep within minutes. BUT once you wake up you generally won't fall back asleep unless you're in my arms, so I guess we practice an odd mixture of separate bedrooms AND co-sleeping. Whatever works, I say. And truth be told, your habits suit me well, because while I have a hard time initially going to sleep with anyone else in bed near me, once I'm in that dreamy, half-awake state, I don't at all mind tucking a warm little bundle on my shoulder and drifting to sleep together with you, listening as our breathing patterns become identical. Our cosleeper, which got a lot of use for about two months, is used now as either a playpen, when I bother to take it to the living room, or, more often, as a clothes rack for sweaters and jeans.

You finally enjoy the carrier, so we go on lots of walks now when weather allows, me wearing you on my chest, holding the dog's leash in one hand and grabbing for stray older kids with the other. You're heavy enough that it's kind of a pain to try to do any actual housework while wearing you, though, so I give huge props to anyone who manages to vacuum or do dishes with a sixteen pound baby strapped to their chest. What IS easy is plopping you in your Bumbo to watch while I do chores, though. Nine times out of ten this is the go-to spot for you, keeping you happy when other options have failed. That ugly purple chair is like the infant equivalent of a La-Zee-Boy.

You really like baths, and only cry when being REMOVED from the water. You also unfortunately have pretty sensitive skin, with what I think is eczema right along your hairline, so I have to be diligent about the lotioning and creaming, and you mostly despise that process, despite the fact that if I skip it even one day you're rubbing and scratching miserably at your scaly red forehead. Clearly cause and effect is not something you're yet aware of. (P.S The lotion I use, which works wonderfully on his sensitive skin and seems to control the eczema, is Nature's Baby Organics. It's a body/face moisturizer with calendula oil and aloe, and it works WAY better than the Aveeno for eczema stuff that I was using. I also used it sometimes in place of diaper rash cream, and I swear it worked just as well if not better at helping heal the rash.)

You're a very happy baby most of the time, and your hearty little chuckle is my favorite sound in the world. When you're happy to see me, you curl around me in your best imitation of a hug, bury your head into my shoulder and nuzzle happily. Your kisses are simultaneously precious and kind of... damp: you give a squeal of glee, then lunge at my face and gum wildly on my cheeks as long as I'll let you before I have to pry you away and wipe the spit off my skin. The kids find this hysterical, obviously, and dance around shrieking, "He's eating you! The Jamie monster is eating you!" Other times you settle for less violent expressions of affections, and instead engage us in very lengthy and vehement conversations. I think you're going to be an early talker; you've got most of your basic "ba-la-da-ma" sounds down pat already.

Not sure if you're going to walk or even crawl anytime soon, though, and that is JUSTFINE with me. You despise tummy time, and have only rolled over a couple of times, though you get yourself to your side constantly. You just don't want to flop over, and I could care less. Infant mobility is never something that has thrilled me, frankly, and I don't understand why people get all het up about it. As far as I'm concerned, you'll walk someday, and everything in between that first curiosity about moving and actual, independent walking is just a mess of falls and baby proofing and your own frustration with wanting to do more than you're physically able. So I see no reason to force you into having an interest in being vertical before you're ready. I wouldn't mind your staying my sweet little lap baby for as long as you want! (Er, up to a point. Probably past age two or so I might be nudging you from the nest just a bit.)

Your sweet, chubby little baby face, complete with multiple chins (despite the fact that the rest of your body is on the thin side and you are only currently in the tenth to twentieth percentile for weight) is a constant source of delight to me. You in general are a constant source of delight to me, actually, and have been since the moment I laid eyes on you and pulled you to myself from the water. I've never told anyone this, but while I was still holding you in the birth pool, I whispered "Hello Isaac!" into your ear. I still wasn't sure what your name would be, and had a suspicion that Jim would choose Jameson. I was fine with it, and love that name and think it suits you wonderfully. But I knew that in my heart you would always have a second name, and I wanted to be the one to give it to you, to christen you with this very special name before any other was given. You are my promised child, and I was reminded of it all through your pregnancy, even when things seemed (several times) to be going wrong.

I remember the morning after I had started bleeding heavily, when I was just five weeks pregnant and certain I was losing or had already lost you. I called my friend Jess to let her know what was happening, and ask her to pray for my own emotions as I went to the doctor to confirm by ultrasound what I thought was surely another miscarriage. She promised she would, and we hung up. But then she called me back to tell me that she also asked Adam (her husband) to pray, and that he had, and then told her that he felt certain everything was fine and that I was still pregnant.

This sort of thing happened several other times throughout my pregnancy- something would seem wrong or problematic, but I would be reassured by my own heart or by the assurances of others (including my mom, who told me she had been looking for comfort in the Bible and turned randomly to find a passage about Sarah being promised a son even when it should have been impossible) that all was going to to be fine. Just little things, here and there, but by the end of the pregnancy I felt so certain that you, your very specific little self, were meant to be in our family (going all the way back to your conception, in fact, when Jim and I both felt that it was time to "try" even though we weren't technically supposed to yet) that I had named you Isaac, my promised child, and I was sure you would be all right. (Isaac is the name of Sarah's son in the Biblical account, fyi- according to the story she gives birth to him at the age of ninety.) I didn't even care if that was your name on paper or if it was what we called you or not, I just knew that it needed to be your name as well as whatever your given name ended up being.

Many cultures have a tradition of giving multiple names, sometimes at different, significant times in a person's life besides their birth. Often these names are chosen for their spiritual meaning, including the Catholic tradition of adopting a saint's name upon one's entry into a monastic life- and I think also this is a custom for some at confirmation? So this is a little different, this extra name of yours, and following no particular tradition other than my own inclination. But it is yours, my sweet Jamie James, along with all my love and hope. We're so very glad you came!

Love,
Mama

A Place I Love

2011-03-28T07:13:00.001-07:00

Day 28... almost done! Now I can go back to having nothing specific to post about and publishing lists of bullet-point complaints!

One of my favorite places is our family's coffee house downtown. I don't want to link to it or say the name, because it would kind of advertise where I live and that's something I've tried to avoid doing. But it's basically one really cool, fun spot in an otherwise fairly blech downtown area that is slowly struggling to make something of itself after years of neglect.

How to describe our town? Just large enough to have many of the problems that you find in bigger metropolitan areas, particularly within the city itself, and JUST large enough to not have that cozy small town feel. People basically hang out on the fringes of the town itself, at the strip malls and in the suburbs, venturing within the city limits only to use the library or on occasion to attend an event at the civic center. Oh, or go to the doctor! We have two hospitals and more medical offices than a town our size could possibly need, it seems, and yet they just keep building more.

But eight years ago my sister in law decided she wanted to open a coffee shop, and that she wanted to put it downtown, of all places. Her husband and parents all got on board to make it happen, and her brother came to work there, too. Despite a lot of resistance and roadblocks, their renovated corner coffee shop finally opened in 2003.

In the fall of 2003, I was driving back from my job at a coffee shop a town away, a town I had been attending college in until various issues (my own complete lack of interest in any specific major being one of them) led me back home. I had to finish out the month at the coffee house I had already found work in, though, so I was now driving an hour one way to a job making minimum wage. I REALLY needed to find a different place. But the coffee house had spoiled me for other jobs (such as my previous place of employ, ye olde IHOP.)

And then I drove past Family's Coffee House (best pseudonym I could come up with in ten seconds) and randomly pulled in. I walked inside, looked around, thought "This will do!" and asked for an application. As it turned out, my brother in law, the manager, was there and interviewed me on the spot. I had stumbled upon the one place in my entire hometown wherein my newly acquired knowledge of how to make a real cappuccino was an asset.

A few weeks in, I met the daytime manager, a guy I hadn't previously encountered as I was working nights and weekends. He was training me on the cash register, and I was kind of annoyed because I thought he seemed gruff and too business like. I also noticed that he didn't seem to appreciate my careful makeup application or tight pants or red sweater, and since most guys (in those days) at least gave me a PASSING glance, thanks to my hours of preparation before leaving the house to go anywhere, I was slightly miffed.

...And about a month later we had out first kiss in an alley outside the restaurant. Less than a year later, we were married. Oh, and I finally allowed myself to leave the house without makeup or heels.

So the coffee house has a warm spot in my heart as the most fun place I ever worked AND the place where I met my husband. I genuinely like hanging out there, the food is delicious, and they have a toy and game corner with a kids' size table, so whenever I'm downtown for doctor's appointments (which is on average about once a week) I try to stop in and recover while the kids play. They also host cool concerts and events frequently, and each month they feature a local artist rather than having generic print art on the walls. It's my kids' favorite place to eat, and mine too, and it's also incidentally their food which I always demand after having babies. Why eat the hospital food when delicious wraps and salads and smoothies are available just a few blocks away?

So in conclusion, I wish to thank my SIl and the fates for deciding to open a coffee house in the perfect spot for me to drive by, wander in on a whim, and meet my future.

Day 27- A Child I Love

2011-03-26T08:26:00.000-07:00

How about three that I love?

Day 26

2011-03-25T09:21:00.000-07:00

How I Fail to Get Rid of a Vacuum Salesman

Today's topic is a funny, true story. This is one of the funniest things that ever happened- in RETROSPECT- to me in many years, so I'll just refer you to the post above.

A Favorite Photo- Day 25

2011-03-24T09:00:00.000-07:00

This was taken during my seventh month of pregnancy with Eli. It was by far my least pleasant pregnancy and in general I would characterize my mood as being fairly depressed, but I remember this particular day feeling such a strong bond with my unborn son, and a glimpse of the reality that all the current unpleasantness and discomfort was so very worth it. This was a day I felt joy, and I still feel it when I look at this picture.

Random Fret

2011-03-22T12:04:00.000-07:00

I am becoming reluctantly suspicious that we may have mold in the house somewhere. In fact, I know we had SOME, because it was visible in a corner of our bedroom ceiling, a corner that faces outdoors on both sides and is very very cold. ALso, we keep the heat really low in our room since we spend very little time in there, so I wasn't super surprised to see it creep up and I cleaned it with Lysol and it's gone. It was the garden variety type that appears in particular on the corners and edges of the white, newer type windows all winter long, the kind you just have to wipe away, and which the internets assure me is fairly harmless.

BUT. We have all been so lingeringly, stubbornly sick all winter with sinus-y issues and coughs, especially me and the baby (i.e. the only two who actually SLEEP in our bedroom, generally) that I am starting to think we should maybe have an inspection. I also worry about the bathroom area, because it doesn't have an exhaust fan (old house + two people not super inclined to do Projects beyond the kind requiring glue sticks and glitter) and I wonder if it's possible that somewhere behind that old plaster ceiling and walls there is just a hotbed of disgusting damp mold reeking havoc with our respiratory systems. If it were just me I'd probably continue to ignore it, as is my way, but since our kids are involved I feel a parental obligation to do something.

However, calling someone to investigate a suspected problem basically seems to me like TELLING them, "Feel free to claim there's a problem, whether there is or not, because I will never know the difference and now that you're here I will almost definitely whip out my checkbook and pay you whatever you require to save Mah Babies from this potential, unseen danger." You know?

Anyone have any suggestions of more concrete ways to feel at least Fairly Certain of mold, rather than just suspicious? Or stories of mold problems you know of that were happily resolved? Or stories of kind hearted contractors who came to check and then said, "Nope! All clear here; you guys must just have crap immune systems and will have this cold the rest of your lives!"

Day 24

2011-03-21T14:06:00.000-07:00

A travel story! How 'bout one from this weekend?

So my middle sister moved somewhat recently, from Wisconsin to... a place considerably closer. A place one can drive to and back from in one day. But I still hadn't seen her apartment, since that all happened right around when I was busy having ANOTHER baby. And after that, I... well, I had that little baby. So I was busy. But since he is now at the age where I am comfortable and used to him and he can go three hours or so without starving to death, the kids and I went to see her this weekend, along with my mom, and my youngest sister, and HER baby.

So my mom's minivan was seriously packed to capacity. A little beyond, even, to be quite frank. Like, I was wedged in the very back seat between Addy and Eli's carseats, sitting sideways to keep my hips from going numb, and my feet were buried under a pile of diaper bags. Unrelated to space issues but in keeping with the general theme of "indignities suffered by Sarah during the road trip," I spent a good hour singing and doing hand motions to keep Baby Smith distracted so he didn't cough until he threw up, which is his fun new trick, about which the doctor is unconcerned but we are all a little alarmed.

Anyways, we had tried to leave early, and in that attempt I had sacrificed pouring bowls of cereal and instead we drove through The Devil's Own Lair and got hash browns and one of those cinnamon-bite things to feed the kids. They gobbled it all down, and then settled in to listen to me read them the books I had packed. And then, just as I was beginning to think, "Wow, I need to stop reading; I think I'm getting car sick," Adelay threw up every bit of food in her stomach. Right next to me and a little bit on me and a LOT bit all over her clothes and car seat. Apparently I just kept saying, "Oh!" over and over again because dudes, it just kept coming. I have never seen someone throw up for that long!

Unfortunately we were on a back country road and it took a few minutes to find a place to pull over. That place was of course the grossest, worst smelling gas station ever, and of course the barf had gotten on every article of Addy's clothes, which my mom painstakingly rinsed out, dismissing my protests of, "Oh seriously, can we just throw them AWAY?" Luckily I had brought her extra pants on the off chance she had an accident, so we put those on her, and then I took off my fleece jacket for her to wear, and we called ahead to Rachel to have her buy Addy a clean shirt.

Addy stayed remarkably chipper about the situation, and insisted she felt fine now that the "yucky hash brown" was out of her stomach. We offered to go home but she still wanted to see Aunt Rachel, so we headed out again after nursing both babies in the van and rearranging the car seats so that Addy could be in a captain's chair instead of on the back tire. (Which meant that Jameson, in his much wider carseat, was back there with Eli and me, and this was when I switched to riding ON MY KNEES in the middle of the van.)

Things were smooth sailing from then on, until we tried to get back in the van after having dinner and realized one of the van doors was stuck shut. It's one of the automatic doors you open with a button on your key fob, and it sometimes acts up but you can always at least manually open it. This time, no dice. So from then out we had to get in and out of the van in a VERY particular way to manage all the carseat fastening and snapping of baby seats into their bases and passing of diaper bags and oh my GOSH, we must have looked like clowns spilling out of a toy car. It sure felt like it.

It was still a really fun trip, believe it or not, and at least once we got to Rachel's there was an adult to each kid, which is the perfect ratio in my book. Plus I found adorable stuff for the kids' Easter baskets in World Market and Target, neither of which are available in my hometown, so that was worth it right there. AND the check out guy at World Market flirted with me a little, which hasn't happened in a very long time and which I am directly attributing to My New Hair.

Day 23

2011-03-18T09:04:00.000-07:00

Hey look! I remembered about that whole thirty day blog thing! So what if it's actually going to take me sixty days or so. Better late than never, I say. So today's topic is a video. Here's what I found... the kids and me a few days after bringing Jameson home. You've got my nasal-y voice from the hay fever I was still enjoying, both kids talking in bizarro baby voices, plus there's a bonus view of all the disorganized boxes in the nursery closet! And also of course the sweet newborn Jamie James, with his thick head of dark hair which has since vanished. Three little towheads around here these days.

Drumroll Please...

2011-03-17T11:49:00.001-07:00

Here is my hair immediately following the chemical straightening:

And here it is two days later (immediately following having family portraits taken, which explains the sudden appearance of eyeliner and lipstick:)

Um, I can't even tell you how much I love it. This is not even my hair, you guys. Addy keeps commenting on it; she can't get over how that could possibly be my same unruly mop of waves and frizz and poofiness. I am so thankful now that I have in the past been so very negligent of styling/coloring my hair, because that's why it was so healthy going into the straightening process and why it turned out so shiny. I mean, I think it would still work on colored or frequently styled hair, but I'd be afraid of breakage and stuff.

Basically the stuff is like a backwards perm, though my friend assured me the chemicals aren't quite as harsh, and it certainly didn't SMELL as harsh as a perm. You just glop on the initial treatment, make sure every strand is saturated from tip to end, and then keep combing it through until your hair no longer waves or curls in the usual places. On my hair it took a full hour of combing and waiting and checking and re-combing until it was staying straight. Then you rinse, blow it dry- and voila! This is literally what my hair looked like just after DRYING it, no straightening! Then you put on a conditioning treatment and then a setting treatment, rinse again, dry again, and straighten with a flat iron.

Then you can't do ANYTHING to it for forty eight hours to make sure it "takes" without any little bumps or wrinkles. Like, I haven't even been allowed to tuck my hair behind my ears, which is a massive pain in the butt while doing things that require bending over. Hard to wipe butts with hair in your eyes, no matter how shiny and straight it is! And you have to sleep on a silk pillowcase for two nights so it doesn't crease (or you can just throw your old silk lingerie over your pillow. It might as well see SOME action, amiright?)

But it is totally worth it. Every time I see myself in the mirror I start smiling. I can't believe I finally (for at least three months, anyways) have Good Hair. The average cost is seventy five dollars an hour for the treatment, and for my hair it took four hours from start to finish, so, $300 without tip. But I paid... less than that. I won't say more for fear of getting nice people into trouble! It was still way more than I usually spend on my hair (that being nothing) but I am not sorry. And I am very touched that my husband gave me half of his Biggest Loser winnings! I WAS going to save it for boring house projects, but this is so much better!

You Can Always Tell

2011-03-14T07:48:00.000-07:00

Wow. It's nine o' clock and I've already changed two diapers, given one child a mini-bath, stripped a bed and put linens in to soak, taken out the trash, cleaned up two piles of dog vomit and let the culprit behind the piles of vomit outside, then back in, then wiped up his filthy paws, and I haven't even gotten to PEE yet.

It's Monday, isn't it?

Pictoral Updates

2011-03-11T09:10:00.000-08:00

First of all, my last post was totally lacking any baby shots because I left my camera at Jess's house after the birth. Whoops. And I also lost it in the shuffle during the labor, so I don't have any pictures of immediately after Grace was born, unfortunately. But here's a before and after of baby! With red eye of course, because I am the worst photographer/photo editor EVER. Seriously, it's all I can figure out to download and upload them, let alone tweak them. Ah well. Still cute!

Also, many requests were made for before and after shots of Teh Hair. I of course did not TAKE a before shot, so I had to scour my archives to try to find a picture of me that accurately represented how my hair usually looked pre-haircut. Here's the best I could find.

Basically, low ponytail/messy bun thing, because if it was a HIGH ponytail my head would throb by the end of the day from the weight of my hair. It didn't look terrible or anything, but it certainly didn't look especially pretty either, and there's just so much of it that I literally never ever did the work to straighten or curl it and leave it down around my shoulders in any sort of feminine/sexy style.

So when it WAS down around my shoulders, it just looked insane. How to describe it? You know how in movies, women are always releasing their hair slowly from it's bindings and then shaking it down all sexy-like and it just leaves the men drooling with desire? Yeah, imagine the opposite of that. Like it literally was so thick it was as wide as my shoulders on either side. It was kind of wavy, but the weight of my hair pulled out most of the wave, so it was more just like... bumpy. With a permanent crease from my hair elastic. HAWT.

Here we have post haircut, but not styled in any way, not even blow dried. I did brush it and try to tuck the craziest bits behind my ears. And yes, I purposely took this before shot right after rolling out of bed and without any makeup, to further enhance the better-ness of the following photo.

Hmm. I see my eyes look a little crazy. Oh well. Just trust me that it looks a lot better that way. Much silkier, and in the back especially lays much better- it's quite a bit shorter in back, and sort of stacked, though I do loathe that term for some reason. So that's presumably how it will look all the time once I do the chemical straightening. Or maybe even a little better! Dare to dream.

And then as long as we're doing updates, here's the two cousins together with my sister Laura:

Neither looks especially thrilled, alas. They'll grow on each other.