Day 9: Pet Peeves, Or, Ferber And Kevin Bacon

So today's topic is pet peeves. But first I must note, from the previous comment section, that it seems all of you are the normal type who focus on things like putting the heaps of toys where they belong rather than shoving them out of your way with your foot so you can vacuum yet again. I still hold out hope that one day I too will be more able to focus on the big picture rather than the details. I am getting better, though, and by better I mean, more practical re: a household with three small children. I do try to focus first on the kitchen and bathroom, as those rooms are always the first to deteriorate into frat house conditions, even if what I'm really in the mood to do is get out the furniture polish. (Um, that sounded a little weird. I promise I'm not running around in a tiny maid's costume with a feather duster and a suggestive smile.)

Ok, well this post derailed pretty quickly! Back on topic! Day 9 is pet peeves, so, ok, obviously one of my pet peeves is not being able to clean due to lack of time and/or energy. But here are two other biggies:

-People who are Nazis about trying to sleep train tiny babies or put newborns on a strict feeding schedule. Now before you break your scrolling finger rushing to the comments to tell me how babies NEED schedules and your children THRIVED on the Ferber method or whatevs, let me say that I don't mean you! I'm thinking of like two specific people that I've met in my whole life. In general I think most children DO feel better with some kind of a routine. I just think, especially if you're breastfeeding, that trying to put your newborn on some kind of feeding schedule based on your OWN needs (here's where the few specific people come to mind) is both selfish and unhealthy for the baby.

I could go on and on, but half of you already agree with me and the other half can refer to any pediatrician or lactation consultant for info on the needs of breastfeeding infants and when and how it is appropriate to attempt to implement some kind of feeding or sleeping schedule. And I'm sure you HAVE. AGAIN, I am not talking about you. I'm just talking about people who get their hands on some random, over the top book that appeals to a certain kind of controlling personality, and then kind of run wild with it, taking it as the absolute GOSPEL of child rearing and ignoring their own instincts and common sense. Some of the best advise I ever got was to parent by the baby, not by the book. And, I think most people DO, whether they know it or not. You can agree with certain schools of thought, but ultimately you're using your own head and you're learning from your child what their needs are, not from some book.

Sorry, I know I'm on a soapbox here and probably annoying about half of you. It's just something I've encountered recently and I nearly BIT MY TONGUE OFF trying not to lecture. So... you get to hear it instead, apparently. My apologies.

-Pet peeve the second: Kevin Bacon. Yep. That's probably even more controversial than the first topic, but there you have it. He creeps me out. You're free to disagree of course. But you can't win me over on this one. I've tried, I really have. I've seen Footloose. I even LIKE Footloose... I just don't like Kevin Bacon.

Day 8- Craving

Today's topic is something I crave. Well, sugar, definitely, but let's think of something a little less obvious. I crave cleanliness. Like, literally it's as serious a need for me as eating or sleeping. If I go through a whole day without having done a deep cleaning-type chore around the house, something besides just laundry and dishes, I feel irritated and like I'm drowning in filth and it's only going to be that much harder to dig myself out the next day.

I know that lots of people feel this way about tidiness, and can't go to bed, say, until all the toys are put away and the counters are cleared. For me it's slightly different. Today, for example, I got the kitchen mopped and did a thorough scrubbing of the counter tops. This makes me feel contented for the day, and it doesn't really bother me that there are still toys all over the living room. I'll probably leave them lying there and go right to bed, unbothered, but I WOULD have been bothered if I hadn't gotten that floor washed. Logical? Probably not, since the floor wasn't yet outright filthy, and since the toys pose something of a hazard as well as being far more noticeably messy to someone walking in the door than a grimy floor.

But tidiness is not my craving. Knowing something is CLEAN is the feeling I crave. So while you might walk into my house most days and assess it, correctly, as being pretty messy with toys and art project detritus, you can bet that underneath it's actually still fairly clean. It's just not TIDY, and that's a significant difference a lot of people don't recognize. Tidy is not necessarily clean, and cluttered is also not necessarily dirty.

Day 7- Favorite (Baby!) Photo. And Also Some Random Reviews

So it seems, upon glancing at my site, that I posted for Day 5 twice. So fun facts was actually supposed to be Day 6. Ah well. I'm betting if I didn't notice you probably didn't either. Right?

Anyways! Moving on! We are now on Day 7, favorite photo, and I really don't think I can whittle it down to just one. But I have a new baby, one whose siblings love to take pictures WITH said baby! Who can blame me?

So I'm downloading all the recent ones, and I'll try to keep it to THREE, how 'bout that? But while they're downloading, I have a few random (UNCOMPENSATED) reviews I've been meaning to do of things I just really love lately.

First of all, the Bumbo chair. We have it in purple with a detachable tray; I'm pretty sure my mom got it at a yard sale for like five bucks. Jameson is the first baby I've had one for, and oh my, how did I ever live without this thing? First of all, he LIKES it and will sit happily and watch us from it as we prepare and eat meals, pick up toys, and generally get things DONE. Secondly, it's so easy to plop him in and pull him out, no buckles or straps or dodging of mobiles. Thirdly, this thing is infinitely portable. You could just throw it in the car with the diaper bag for taking to a relative's or friend's house.

Another benefit is that with the tray it is an excellent stand in for a traditional high chair, at least for a smaller baby. The Jamers will be starting on solid foods in the next month or two, and I am so excited that I can just put the tray on and feed him in this thing rather than pull out the giant high chair, which takes up a lot of precious kitchen real estate and which I always dread getting out.

...AND I just tried to find a screen shot of it and discovered that it is being RECALLED. Lovely. Apparently kids are falling out of it? But dude, I don't see how that's happening unless people are leaving their kids in it unsupervised on tabletops or something, AND the kids are old enough and strong enough to somehow tip it over or launch themselves out of it. So don't tell on me, but I might still use mine for awhile, in the appropriate, intended manner, so as not to injure my baby.

Another thing that I am really loving this winter is the Netflix streaming option on the Playstation. We only have basic cable, so PBS is the only kids' channel we get. And there's only so much eye-wateringly earnest educational programming I can tolerate before I want to wring Sid the Science Kid by his felt neck. Enter, Netflix! You don't even have to insert a disc anymore, it just pops up automatically on the Playstation menu screen. I now have seemingly ENDLESS options for kids' movies and shows, sans any commercials, as well as, you know, tons of options for growns ups as well. (I think Jim is a TINY bit sick of watching Parks and Rec reruns with me, however.)

And lastly, Jim recently purchased the Active Life Explorer game for the Wii, and you guys, we LOVE it. It is easy to use, with lots of game/challenge options, it really gets your heart rate up, and the kids have so much fun playing. It is a fantastic way for them to get some exercise (read: burn off some of the energy otherwise used for making messes and torturing one another) during the winter months. If you have a Wii already, I would really recommend this game for kids ages 3 to... well, anywhere upwards, because frankly all the adults who have tried it had a lot of fun too.

Ok, product reviews over! On to pictures!



You guys, this kid is FOUR months old. And he is probably the least documented of our children so far, both in pictures and the written word, but he may be the most loved one yet. (Not by US, goodness, but in total, given the vast amount of kisses and attention his brother and sister lavish upon him.) He has the brightest, sunniest smile in the world; you can't help but smile back. Which means I spend a lot of the day grinning like an idiot.




Hats! Could you just DIE?

Day 5- Fun Fact

Um...? I'm not a super interesting person, to be honest. My life has followed a pretty straight path, and other than the semi-interesting, semi-sad fact of having been pregnant so often for a person my age, I'm having trouble coming up with something.

Wait, I thought of one. Apparently when I was four years old, I memorized The Velveteen Rabbit in its entirety and recited it to anyone who would listen to me. I actually have that famous "Real" passage from it framed in my kids' bedroom now (my mom found it for me!)

Oh, and here's something else kind of fun. Or FUNNY. I used to alternately plan on being, when I grew up: a nun (too many Sound of Music viewings) a missionary to India, or... AMISH. Or an actress, of course. A famous Amish actress! (Insert eyeroll here.)

Day 5- Favorite Quote

I read a lot, and the best writers are the ones that are not afraid to quote OTHER writers, so... I know a lot of quotes. When thinking about my favorites, however, I referred to the journal that I kept while I was pregnant with Addy. About a week before she was born, it occurred to me that all I'd written about so far were the mundane details of pregnancy and of our preparations for her arrival. I thought it might be wise to give her something of my life philosophy to read one day, rather than just knowing what I craved and how much weight I gained and what color we painted her nursery. So here are the quotes I wrote down for Adelay five years or so ago.

They were mostly about God, faith, and spirituality, something I am always wrestling with and mulling over. I suspect I always will be, but the older I get the more ok I am with it. The more I wonder if in fact that how it's supposed to be. If I had a faith that I could simply sit with for company, well, I might be tempted to forget it was there, no? (Forgive me if I'm getting long winded here. It is Sunday- old habits die hard.)

I think a lot about the story from the Bible in which Jacob wrestles with an angel the night before a terrifying confrontation which was awaiting him. They fought all night long, and Jacob finally said, "I will not let you go until you bless me!" Jacob was by no means a paragon of virtue, but his tenacity seemed to keep him always on speaking terms with God, something I find pleasing whenever I hear his story. Abraham may have found God by faith- Jacob seemed to find him by dint of sheer stubbornness. But it was the same God, either way.

"We both believe and disbelieve a hundred times an hour
Which keeps believing nimble."
-Emily Dickinson

"For the God who fills human hunger is at the same time the Unknown, the Stranger. Only his absence-presence allows a person to be oneself."
-Jean Sullivan

"The other gods were strong, but Thou wast weak
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne
But to our wounds, only God's wounds can speak
And not a god has wounds but Thou alone -Edward Shillito

"We know God exists because we miss Him."
-Perin Ireland

"Unclench your fists
Hold out your hands
Take mine
Let us hold each other.
Thus is His glory manifest."
-Madeleine L'Engle

"And the end of all our exploring
will be to arrive where we started,
And know the place for the first time."
-T.S. Eliot

Days 3 and 4

Whoops! Forgot to post last night- I was distracted by the FIVE sitcoms I watched all in a row, accompanied by a block of cheddar and glass of wine. How I love comedy night on NBC! How I love fattening, fattening cheese. AND how I love the fact that Jameson goes to bed easily and allows us to actually have grown up time at night. (He did actually fuss a bit last night, but he's been sick- of course!- the last few days, so it was an aberration from his norm, which is to coo while being swaddled, sigh and close his eyes once his back hits the crib mattress, then turn his head and fall asleep. Miracle child!)

Anyways, so: favorite TV show. At the moment my favorite show is probably 30 Rock. I mean, it never fails to deliver. And Alec Baldwin is so deliciously detestable, on screen and off, no?

But I kind of think the point of these sorts of blogging projects is to let people get to know you a bit better, so I'm actually going to reveal an OLD favorite show, which I watched reruns of in high school. You've almost undoubtedly never heard of it, and there were only a few seasons, but for whatever reason I LOVED this quirky show. (It was also on this show that I first heard Sarah Mclachlan's music, so it had that going for it too.)

I present to you... Due South



This show is also one of the reasons that Benton is permanently on my list of possible boy names.

On to day four! Favorite book. ACK. I have no idea, so I'm just going to tell you about the book I'm currently reading and love: Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith by Kathleen Norris. I've never read anything of hers before, and picked up this book by chance from my in-law's coffee table while I was nursing Jamie and looking for something to entertain me. It is SO GOOD, you guys. I thought it was going to be some kind of devotional, Bible study type book- which was fine- but it is so much different, and so much more fascinating, than that.

It's written by a woman who was raised a Presbyterian, left her faith for twenty years, became an author, writing teacher and poet, and then by happenstance ended up spending considerable time at a Benedictine monastery and in the small town church in which she was raised and had long ago left. She is now a pastor as well as a lay Benedictine- so she's Protestant AND Catholic, something I didn't even realize was... a thing. This particular book is about the language of Christianity, and each chapter examines a "scary" word that is often off-putting to both Christian and secular audiences- judgment for instance, or hell. (There's also quite a bit about feminism and religion, which I really found interesting.) And then she gives her own take on it, from the context of her considerable theological and church history studies as well as her own experiences.

There is SO MUCH I didn't know or realize about, for instance, how different the King James Version is from the original Greek and Hebrew texts, how much gets lost or mangled in the translation. So much I didn't know or understand about Catholicism. It's just a great, fascinating, eye opening book that makes you consider things in a totally different way. It's gotten wonderful reviews from lots of different sources, most of them nonreligious, so I can tell you even if you have no interest in Christianity per se, I think it's very interesting simply as a collection of historical and cultural essays. I (obviously) highly recommend this book. IN FACT, I love it so much that anyone who leaves a comment on this post today or over the weekend will get entered in a contest to win their own copy. (Seeing as how I need to order a new one for my father in law anyways, as I spilled my coffee on his copy. AHEM.)

Day Two

A favorite movie is a tricky thing to choose, MAYBE even trickier than the favorite song question. (Let's not even talk about favorite book. I think it's becoming clear that I am not a person given to choosing favorites.)

So anyways, let's just say I love many, many movies, but I'm going to cite my FIRST favorite movie, First Knight. The one I watched every single day for a month the year I was fourteen. The one in which I first discovered the concept of having a crush on an actor based purely on perceived sex appeal. (And now I have died at my keyboard of profound humiliation. Oh Richard Gere... I'm still waiting for you.)

Day One- Favorite Song

So I jumped on board to do this thirty day blog challenge thingie a lot of you all are doing too. I always avoid that national blog month business because what if I seriously have nothing to say? But since topics are provided in this challenge, I'm good.

So. Topic for day one: A favorite song

This is really hard, because I can think of at least five that I would call "favorite" right off the top of my head. Plus, there are at least five MORE that I am NOT thinking of but that, if they got played on the radio at the right moment, would totally be my favorite right then. Seriously, this question makes me about as twitchy as someone asking me to talk about "a favorite" child or sibling. JUST ONE? So anyways, this is a list of "favorites." Sorry, I'm breaking the rules already!

(The first links are to the lyrics; the second link is the music video. I really recommend The Killers' video if you only have time to watch one.)

-"Only Hope" by Switchfoot

-"For Me This Is Heaven" by Jimmy Eat World

-"When You Were Young" by The Killers

-"One Headlight" by The Wallflowers

-"Sunny Came Home" by Shawn Colvin

January: Two Thumbs Down

So. Clearly I did not resolve to blog more often, or more interestingly. Ah well. Here's what's going on with me: everyone in the house seems to be taking turns being sickly, in varying degrees. Addy and Eli have both had flu, been running fevers on and off, and then ear infections (including a very traumatic trip to the doctor that involved having to hold Addy still while a nurse irrigated her tiny ear canals.) I fortunately got put on a proactive dose of Tamiflu when Eli was first diagnosed with influenza, so I've basically just been fighting it off. I felt run down and my throat hurt for several weeks, and it still does some mornings, but usually feels fine by the afternoon. Jim's finally getting sick now that the kids are mostly recovered, but fortunately the baby never had more than some sniffles and a bit of a cough.

UNFORTUNATELY, Eli seems to have some kind of intolerance for amoxicillin, because he has had diarrhea for days and days now. It started at the tale end of his antibiotic regimen, and he's been off it for twenty four hours now, so I'm really hoping the tummy troubles will clear up in the next day or so, or I guess I'll have to take him BACK to the doctor to see what could be bothering his system besides the medicine.

As you may imagine, this has all really thrown a wrench into my plans to spend every spare moment with my sister and Baby Smith. Stupid winter. Stupid germy disgusting winter.

Oh, also Jim's doing this Biggest Loser-type diet with his coworkers so we've been eating a metric ton of fruits, vegetables, eggs, and whole grains around here, and no one's had red meat in two weeks. Jim's lost almost fifteen pounds already, but he's also come close to blacking out a few times, so, uh, my jury's still out on how nutritious this is as a long term lifestyle. I also think I'm putting red meat back into my own diet because I noticed my milk supply taking a noticeable dip about a week into the Healthy Food Project. (Worst part about the milk decrease? Baby, who had been going to bed routinely around ten and not waking until four or five, suddenly awake and hungry three to four times a night again. Ouch.)

Fortunately we got that sorted out, mostly by my, uh, eating more, and drinking more water, but also eating oatmeal twice a day and drinking a giant Guinness one night. Who knows if those things actually help that much, but it feels better to be Trying Things rather than just nursing and nursing and hoping eventually things will pick back up.

Also! Early this month I lost my wedding ring, and was feeling really tragic about this, though I tried not to mourn it too much vocally because the kids would either get all sad for me or chastise me for losing something so special. Which, uh, is basically what I was doing myself. But lo and behold, Addy found it tonight! And guess where it was? Tucked into a tiny rip in her bedspread, nestled between the top quilt and the backing. A spot which I keep meaning to fix but haven't, and in which I've seen Eli ferret away little treasures of his own many times. So uh, I'm pretty sure how it ended up there, but I couldn't even muster up the anger to care because I was just SO HAPPY to have found it (and to not be the guilty party in misplacing it, since obviously it got put there by LITTLE HANDS NOT MY OWN.)

And... that's about it, for us. Basically the highlight of this month for me, other than Smith's birth, obviously, has been the return of The Office and 30 Rock Thursday night. Livin' the dream, here.

In A Perfect World

I so wish kids had some kind of hidden healthometer so that you could just flip a panel, glance at the screen and see whether they are:

"perfectly healthy but hungry and/or tired"
"perfectly healthy but needing some attention"
"feeling a little under the weather but sucking it up because they want to go to school"
"feeling a little under the weather but being a giant drama queen so they DON'T have to go to school"
OR
"feeling horrible due to a raging ear infection but are backpedalling and saying they feel fine because they don't want to have to take more medicine."

Gah. Also, I'm already officially sick of winter.

A Mother Is Born

Dear Baby Smith Eliot,

Yesterday was your birthday! You arrived so quickly you had everyone in shock- you must not have gotten the memo that first babies are supposed to take their time. You were six pounds six ounces, twenty inches long, and arrived about a week and a half before your due date. I like your birthday. January tenth has a nice ring to it.




You are super cute, and look almost exactly like your dad. But I think you have your mommy's eyes. And we all think you have her feet! You were very alert from the second you came into the world, and only cried for a minute before settling down to stare at all of us. Not because you weren't healthy - you got two Apgar scores of nine, much to your parents' relief. Your birth went about as perfectly as a birth could go, though, so I bet that helped. Your mom's water broke at ten thirty in the morning (while she was on the phone with the OB discussing whether or not her contractions were the real thing!) and you had emerged by ten after one in the afternoon. Everything went so fast your mom didn't even have time for the epidural she had finally decided she wanted. By the time the anesthesiologist got there, she was already pushing, and sent him away with a sigh of resignation.

She did so great though! I think the transition phase was the worst for her, the part which I unfortunately missed because I had gone home- when she was still just at four centimeters!- to drop off the baby and get a quick lunch. By the time I had come flying back into the room, she was ready to push, and had really figured out how to listen to her body. She closed her eyes and rested very deeply between every contraction- so much so that she almost seemed comatose sometimes!- and then when it was time to push, she got right down to work. Everyone kept saying how amazing it was that this was her first baby, because she really seemed to know what she was doing, and was being so brave!

And then there you were, and your mommy's face just lit up. She has been waiting to see you for so very long. When I came back later, after everyone was cleaned up and settled in, I swear my baby sister looked just a bit different than I remembered her. You have made her a mom, and I am so proud of her, and so happy to welcome her to the club!





With lots of love to you both,

Aunt Sarah

January

Welp. Eli has an ear infection and tested positive for influenza b at the doctor's office. Addy now has the flu too, and is complaining of ear pain, so, probably another ear infection coming. They're both on Tamiflu, which by the way tastes TERRIBLE and is not easy to convince grouchy preschoolers to swallow. Baby's been sneezy and fussy, but thank God no fever yet. PLEASE DON'T GET THE FLU JAMIE. I feel like crap, all clammy and weak and achy, so the doctor put me on a prophylactic dose of Tamiflu to try to head it off. Which means that today at the pharmacy I spent.... drum roll of doom please... three hundred and seventy dollars. That makes me want to barf, flu or no flu.

On the plus side, I finally realized/remembered that if I need to hold Jamie to keep him happy, and am wishing to get on the computer at the same time, I can PUT HIM IN HIS CARRIER and still type with both hands while he's on my lap. Whew.

Also, I recently read an awesome book called The Piano Teacher. Jim picked it for me at Christmas, and I really really liked it and was so bummed when it was finally over. Don't you hate that about good books, how you can't put them down but then they're finished way too fast and you just wish you could go back to being only halfway through and still on the edge of your seat?

On the other hand, at least I'm not accidentally staying up until two thirty in the morning reading.

Personal Best in 2011, or, Mission: Lose The Sweatpants

So, resolutions... I'm never even sure if I want to make any, but I did think of a few that seem kind of important, not just "oh it's resolution time so I'd better come up with SOMETHING to better myself." They are important because the fact that I even have to MAKE these resolutions speaks to a tragic lack of self care bordering on lack of hygiene, even. It's pathetic. But here goes:

-Go to bed before midnight, preferably by eleven, even if things aren't picked up and tidy yet. Sleep is more important to my sanity even than a clean house, which became painfully clear the last few days when, after a stretch of three nights when I didn't get to bed until after two am, I was nearly incoherent with exhaustion. Also, not very patient or polite with my immediate family members. So. More sleep.

-Get dressed in something I wouldn't be embarrassed to wear in public by ten am. This is the one that's particularly sad and tragic, here. I realized it was becoming a problem when we were playing a game called ImaginIff with our friends the other night, and my question was, "Imagine if Sarah were a type of clothing. What would she be? ...And everyone chose BATHROBE. The choices were business suit, jeans, bathrobe, thong, and I think evening gown, and I blithely assumed everyone would choose jeans. Nope. Went to right to the bathrobe. Not a good sign.

-Make sure kids' faces are washed and hair is brushed each morning. More sadness here. But it's true that sometimes they can make it through a day without either thing happening, if they haven't eaten anything messy and it wasn't a Bath Day.

-Stop stressing when the house isn't tidy or I don't get around to deep cleaning stuff. I feel like the things I worry about are the things only I notice or care about. As long as everyone else is fed, has clean clothes and can find a path through the floor, they're happy, so I don't know why I fret so much about how regularly the tub is getting scrubbed. I need to focus more on things that effect everyone's general mood rather than just my own.

-Kind of on the flip side, I DO need to pay a little more attention to what triggers my descent into Bad Moods and then head them off at the impasse, so to speak. My own happiness is in fact very important to my kids, because once I'm grouchy there's not a chance the kids are going to stay pleasant and cooperative very long. It is in the entire family's best interest that I take care of myself to at least the extent that I don't feel exasperated/exhausted by the end of the day.

-Try to stay more connected to the two sisters who don't live nearby. I'm terrible about things like checking email and making regular phone calls, but I really need to make more of an effort to stay in touch with them beyond random text messaging. I feel sad and miss them when I DON'T make a point of talking. And, you know, I assume they feel the same. One hopes.

-Stop being late to everything, ftlog. I chronically underestimate how long it's going to take me to get out of the house with three kids. EVERY TIME, I underestimate. I need to just give in and PLAN on it taking a half hour from starting to get shoes on until we're actually pulling out of the driveway. Though, uh, I'm pretty sure I made this resolution last year. And every year since I got my driver's license and started being in charge of my own timeliness.

-And finally, enough of all this noble junk. No less than three of my friends from high school are getting married in 2011, and I am a bridesmaid in one of the weddings. I am WICKED excited, and I hereby resolve to have myself a darn good time, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN AND I THINK YOU DO. I had a fairly lam-o bachelorette party personally, as all of my bridesmaids and I myself were under twenty one. And I was pregnant and on bedrest when I finally did turn twenty one. So this is my year to atone for those tragic personal losses in my young life. My mission is to be mistaken for a single, childless person without a care in the world at least once. :)

Bootylicious

Are these not the cutest cut out cookies you've ever seen? I took pictures of them at every angle, so here! Look again!



I baked these for my sister's baby shower two weeks ago, and then she and my mom and I decorated each individual baby booty. It's the tedious SLASH sticky kind of task that usually makes me want to stab my eyes out, frankly. But I couldn't help but have fun because they were turning out just so cute, and it's so rare that I experience either baking success or artistic design success, much less a combination of the two.

My sister Laura is officially thirty seven weeks along tomorrow, so baby watch begins again around here! It's her first baby, a boy, and I get to be there to help him be born (er, moral support only, no ripping sheets and boiling water scenarios.) I am beyond excited. Though I will be sad to no longer see her adorable baby bump. Seriously, it's the cutest pregnant belly I've ever seen. Like she swallowed a watermelon, no? My stomach NEVER looked this adorbs.



Jameson (i.e. Wubzy, in case anyone was curious about what ridiculous nom de plume we had stuck this particular child with) was very excited by the sight of his cousin in utero.

And To All A Good Night

Merry Christmas everyone!

Not The Worst Mom EVER

This is a time of year when everyone is busy, I know. So while I am not COMPLAINING, I will say that if you have two preschoolers and a still technically in the newborn phase baby and are nonetheless trying to have a fun! and festive! and meaningful! holiday season, you might on occasion feel like your head is about to explode and that NO ONE has any idea how much behind the scenes work goes into keeping the family Christmas in the style to which it's become accustomed. You'll also have the Magical Memory moments, too, of course, and it makes the head-bursting worth it, but the fact remains that your head is no longer intact. (What was that one weird but also weirdly accurate little sing song rhyme I remember little girls saying when I was a kid? Something including the line, "Mama had a baby and her head popped off!" Anyone remember that? Anyways, now I understand the origins of that particular oddity perfectly.)

Jamie isn't sleeping well again, after a week in which he slept for five straight hours every night and I was starting to feel like a normal person again. One night he even slept SEVEN (7) hours in a row. When I woke up I felt like I'd been given crack cocaine or something. So! Much! Energy! But of course then I made the classic mistake of telling a few people that he was sleeping well, and now the last three nights we've been back to three feedings a night and Zombie Mommy in the mornings. Yay.

We're continuing to have a rough time with Eli, also, and my patience is seriously beginning to dwindle re: pooping in pull-ups without even an attempt to use the bathroom. Which happened THREE (3) times yesterday. Oh, and in the bathtub too! I've had a few days lately wherein I felt like between the two boys I did nothing but wipe butts and try to quiet screaming fits. Oh and soak dirty clothes of course.

Eli was being so obstinate at bedtime the other day, running naked from me and screaming, etc., all while Jameson wailed from his crib, that I finally lost it and broke my cardinal rule by smacking his butt to try to get his attention. Naturally, he just screamed even louder, then ran off and smacked his sister. Ah, the vicious cycle of poorly thought out and heat-of-the-moment corporal punishment! Then I sank to the floor of the nursery, trying to console Jamie while the other two ran wild, and cried for awhile, feeling like the worst, most inept mother ever.

I had that feeling in the store the other day, too, when Eli began tantrumming about a three dollar Nerf football identical to the one we have at home. I said no, explained that Christmas was coming and he'd get new toys then, and tried to move on, but he screamed about it the entire. time. we were in the store. He was still wailing at the check out counter when Addy asked if she could have her promised treat of Smarties. I said yes, but that Eli didn't get any since he hadn't been good in the store per the arrangement for treat-getting. I immediately wished I HAD just given him the dang candy when his screaming ramped up again, this time in fury over the candy. But, my auto-pilot parenting kicked in and I quietly explained that he could try for candy another day but wasn't getting any on this trip. Then I just ignored him as he wailed and thrashed in the cart. I was sure, though, that the entire store was thinking either a: I must be a mean mom since my poor kid had been crying for twenty minutes or b: my kid was a total brat and I was a lousy mother for not getting him to straighten up. My face was red and I stared straight ahead grimly as I waited my turn while the sounds of Eli's tantrum filled the air.

But! As I miserably collected my bags, two different people stopped to tell me I was doing a good job being consistent and not giving him the candy to hush him up. They both went on and on about how lots of parents are too lazy to foll through and that it made them happy to see people sticking to their rules even when it would be easier for everyone to give in. It honestly nearly made me cry. I had felt so sure everyone around me was wishing that my raggedy crew and I would just LEAVE already, and then they were telling me I was doing well! It was like a shot in the arm for my unraveling morale.

So yeah, it didn't make the rest of the day a ton easier, and Eli continues to struggle with the big-brother transition phase. But every time I feel that brain-exploding sensation, I try to remember the nice people in the grocery store who reminded me that for the most part, I am doing okay. My kids will be okay.

Quick, Hurry!

This is way last minute and I'm very sorry for that, but I'm sending out our holiday card tomorrow and I'd love to send one to any of you guys, if you want to email me your address speedy quick to semidesperatehousewife@gmail.com. Disclaimer: it's a CHRISTMAS card, since that is the holiday which our family and everyone to whom we are sending cards celebrates. But if you celebrate something else, I will still send you a card, and don't be offended that it says Christmas, ok?

I will just say, it's a pretty cute card. And a letter included! I'm pretty sure it meets almost all of Swistle's holiday card requirements for maximum points. Except the glitter.

Yes, This Site Is In My Reader. And It Should Totally Be In Yours.

This post of gift ideas is freaking hi-larious. Feel free to mail me any of the gifts on this list, for, sadly, it is all too true that I would love any of those items.

More Pics

Here are some recent Eli shots I love. His expressions were very natural at this particular shoot; I know when I look at these pictures twenty years from now I'll think, "Oh yes, that was three year old Eli. The cheeky monkey." (Also, his hair: I KNOW. He needs a haircut. The shag has gotten a bit too shaggy for cuteness. But we are unsure how to cut it while still remaining true to the... integrity? of the long haired look. And I am way scared to take him to an actual stylist. I seriously think he'd lose an eye in the process.)

Comparing Notes

Theoretically speaking, is it so wrong to wash kids' sheets only every two weeks in the winter, since their entire bodies are covered in socks and pj's and they're not really sweating much?

Also, should I be disturbed that every time I've baked Christmas cookies so far, they've only lasted about three days?

And here's a rhetorical one: Is it totally awesome that I looked up how much caffeine is safe while breastfeeding and it turned out to be a much more generous amount than I used to think?

On Second Thought

Aw, my kids went and got all sweet after I posted my crankiness.

I was laying on the couch yesterday afternoon, since there was nothing else to do while I was holding the just-rocked-to-sleep and oh so irritable baby and knew better than to try to lay him down. I was feeling tired and bored and frustrated by the things I should be getting done instead of just laying there. Meanwhile, Eli wandered up and climbed into a blanket at my feet, sucking his thumb. Then he randomly leaned over and patted my thigh. "You're a good boy, Mom," he whispered comfortingly.

Later, at dinner, Adelay asked to say grace, which she did very well, complete with "and thank you for helping Mommy make our food." Afterward, she told us very seriously, "After I go to bed tonight and you guys leave, I am going to say more prayers. I am going to say thank you to Jesus for mommies and daddies and grandmas and nanas and papas and grandpas. Also cousins and aunts and uncles and doggies, and little brothers. I love my family!" Then she went on about everything else she was thankful for: toys, food, our house, her school, her teachers, while I sat there practically welling up at the sweetness. It was so nice to hear some gratitude after I had just been complaining about feeling invisible to my kids. It seems they do love me after all. :)

Luckily, The Baby's Head Still Smells Amazing

Boy, I'm just a real Pollyanna these last few days. Seriously though, there have been many omg-my-head-is-going-to-explode-with-frustration moments recently. The baby hasn't pooped in two days, so he's basically grinching and fussing nonstop all day. He only sleeps in little increments here and there, no real naps even in the car, and thrashes his angry little head into our shoulders and then bonks himself and screams and makes us feel terribly bad for him and also terribly sorry for ourselves. I am really dreading the diaper blowout that is inevitably coming, let me tell you. And hoping there isn't something WRONG with him. I don't remember the other two ever getting, er, backed up when they were this little.

The worst thing about the fussing is that he also hates slings and carriers in general, so my hands are basically half tied all day long. I can't lay him down when he's awake, unless I'm sitting right beside him bouncing his chair and cooing at him, or he cries. So I basically spend all day trying and failing to get even the most basic things done, which makes me all kinds of crazy. Along with the general crazy of fatigue. He'll have good spells where he's not like this, but then every week or so he'll have a bad day and then it's back to Fuss Fest again for the next few days. There is no schedule, everything is unpredictable, and I basically count it a success if I manage a shower every other day. Bonus points if the shower occurs before noon.

Also, did I yet complain about how we had to get new tires and then of COURSE they found something else wrong the car? Never fails. At least my sister happens to be a rep for a tire company, so we could use her discounts. But seriously. Oh and they also discovered that we were completely out of power steering fluid, even though I JUST had the oil changed and they said that they had checked all the fluid levels and everything was fine. Nice.

OH and if anyone knows what to do about a three year old who was once completely potty trained and night trained and now requires a Pull Up all the time and is even sometimes POOPING in his pants again, do let me know. Something besides hiding in your room and screaming into a pillow, of course. I already know about that trick. Also: wine.

Ruminating

One of the occupational hazards of caring for a newish baby is frequent accosting in the supermarket or mall by middle aged or older folks (always, they themselves are shopping WITHOUT small people, I notice) warmly urging you to "Enjoy this, it goes so fast!" or "These are the best times of your life!" The worst, in my opinion, is when they ask YOU, "Aren't you just in heaven?" or "Is he a really good baby?" They always ask this so eagerly, so expectantly, that you know the only acceptable reply to send them on their way with their dreams intact is a radiant "Oh yes!"

And it's not that there aren't moments when I AM in heaven, or that Jameson is being calm and easygoing and could fall into that dubiously-named category of "good babies." But those moments, for one thing, are almost NEVER when I am out shopping in a hot, overcrowded supermarket worrying about budgets and milk letdown and my three year old escaping into women's lingerie. It's not a good time to compare my life to heaven and expect me to respond with other than a high pitched cackle.

I guess my point, which I have discussed ad nauseum with my husband, mom, friends, SIL and MIL is this: life with small children does provide probably the sweetest and most special MOMENTS upon which to look back fondly when your kids are grown and gone. But in general it is far from the most pleasant or fun phase of your life, and trying to pretend otherwise is disingenuous and sometimes downright dangerous. Certainly it is false advertising. I would not tell my friends, "Have a baby! It is so fun and fulfilling!" I would say, "Yes, have a baby! It is fun and fulfilling... And also confusing and discouraging and messy. It is expensive and all consuming and often a total buzzkill for your self esteem."

I would say that it is worth it, without question. I'm even still perfectly happy about my decision to have kids first, then go to school and decide what I want to, you know, BE when I grow up. If nothing else, given all the reproductive issues and pregnancy difficulties I've already had, I am very glad I got right on the baby having part of my life immediately, when I am (presumably) as healthy and fertile as I'm ever going to be. It's just that life as a stay at home parent, or ANY kind of parent, is not non-stop bliss and baby powder smells and story reading. It's also wet underpants and stickiness on everything and lost toys and inexplicable tantrums and feeling invisible to the very people into whom you are pouring the best of yourself every day. The view is breathtaking, yes, but the climb is all uphill.

Belated Thanksgiving

Thankful for...

Keeping Our Standards High

Adelay to me, upon hugging me after my shower on Thursday: "Wow, you smell nice! Where are you going?"

Me: "Well, nowhere yet. But Daddy was here to watch Jamie, so I went ahead and got ready after breakfast."

Adelay: "But... it's MORNING. Why are you getting dressed already?"

Me: (thinks back fondly to a time when I didn't have to make a point of scheduling showers and teeth brushing into my day.)

Jameson's Birth- The End!

First Thing: Baby Grayden is continuing to respond well to his botulism treatment, thank goodness. It will still be a lengthy recovery process, unfortunately, and he'll probably go home on a feeding tube, but at least he will LIVE and be fine. Things were very tense there for awhile, and we all feel very relieved. Also, thank GOODNESS his grandparents could come and be with their kids while all that was going on, right? So they have and will continue to have help with the babies, at least.

Now they just need help with all the hospital bills! Did you know botulism in infants is so rare they have to make up the treatment solution (which I guess is actually kind of like a vaccination: they infuse the baby with a form of the bacteria that caused the initial illness? or something? and then that causes the body to fight off the initial bacteria) on an as-needed basis. It's only made in California, by the department of health, and then gets shipped out whenever a case arises. So each treatment costs- wait for it- forty thousand dollars. That's JUST the actual medicine, not the doctor's bills or the hospital stay or anything. Hello! So, you know, try not to ever get botulism, is the moral there. Scary AND expensive.

Now, back to the birth story. And this will be the LAST installation, I promise! Good grief. (Parts one and two are here.)

So my water was broken at about seven fifteen in the morning, and the tub was filling. I was feeling different and weird, but still the contractions didn't all of the sudden start coming fast and furious like I expected them to. Also, we had been told that the baby's head was coming down sideways, so Stacy advised me that the best position to be in to turn him around facing down was to sit on the ball. So that's basically what I did, just bounced on the ball for the next two hours. I even ate breakfast and had a couple of monitor checks while sitting on it.

If you can believe, I didn't get my first real, hurty contraction until forty five minutes after my water broke. After that, they did finally start coming on a pretty regular basis and were intense enough that I wanted a heating pad on my back and to hold someone's hand during them. Around nine I apparently said that I could feel the baby turning, so I guess the ball worked. I don't remember anyone saying that he came out sideways, anyways, so I assume it did!

My mom and my SIL Jenn had arrived by this point, so I had quite a support team to keep me entertained while things started picking up speed. Around nine thirty I had a contraction that literally took me to my knees- I just kind of rolled off the ball and hit the floor with my elbows on the bed. And I stayed there for quite a while, at least it seems like it to my memory. It felt like one non stop contraction for about twenty minutes. I think that was the point when I began making some noise, if I recall correctly!

At ten o clock in the morning I got into the birthing tub, finally. I was still at seven to eight cm, and the baby's head was at zero station. Same place it was at thirty weeks when I went on bedrest, but it certainly feels a lot different to have a three pound baby's head there than to have an almost seven pound baby's head there! I stayed on my hands and knees almost the entire time I was in the tub. Every time a contraction came, about every two minutes by then, Stacy would put pressure on my tailbone and Jim would stroke my head. I would just kind of arch my back and try to concentrate on what I was feeling, which was the baby literally moving down my spine as my cervix opened. I just kept reminding myself that it was a GOOD thing even though it felt excruciating! I definitely felt very aware of what was going on with my body and the baby during transition, rather it just being a big blur of pain, so that was cool.

I started pushing around eleven. I still vividly remember the contraction when the pain went from lots of pressure to an urgent, must push right now because the baby's pushing himself out pressure. I think that's what I said, even- "You guys, he's coming out! After the second or third time I yelled at them that no, really, I HAD to push right then- 'cause you know, the first time you say it, they're always like, "Yeah, I know, honey, it's going to be soon now!"- the nurses ran across the hall to get my doctor, who had another patient out-screaming me over there. (In what was supposed to be my recovery room, by the way, but they got so full I ended up staying in the birthing room the whole time.)

I think the first few pushes, which were totally involuntary, happened on my hands and knees. I didn't actually want to give birth in that position, because I wanted to see him come out and pick him up right away, but I kind of felt unable to move once that urge kicked in. They finally got me to roll over, though, primarily by yelling "Sarah! You have to turn over first!" and it was about fifteen minutes from then until he was born. I got to the point where everyone was cheering, "He's crowning! He's right there!" and that's when I kind of hit a wall and stopped pushing for awhile. I think I was almost numb by that point, and I also felt this strong need to wait a minute. I told them, "I need a break." (Possible TMI: I don't remember actually thinking it, but I imagine subconsciously I was remembering that I really really didn't want to tear, and that it would be better to give myself some time to stretch.) After a minute or two I finally did start pushing again, and then there he was, and without any tearing whatsoever, and only minimal screaming and shrieking.

The scary part was that when he came out, he was more or less blue. The cord was wrapped around his abdomen four times, and it was also a really short cord, so we had a bit of struggle getting him unwrapped while also keeping his head above water. I didn't see that he was tangled at first, and was confused as to why the doctor wasn't letting go of him when I reached for him. When I saw what was going on I sort of panicked a bit and was trying to unwrap him myself. The doctor was like, "Just hang on a minute, let me get it!"

But then finally- really within just about sixty seconds- he was in my arms and looking up at me, crying and starting to pink up. He was just amazing. How could that moment ever be anything but amazing, holding this child who was inside of you one minute and in your arms the next? (Also amazing, and hysterical, is the picture of me, still holding Jamie in the water, when my doctor told me I wouldn't need any stitches. I seriously looked like a kid on Christmas morning; I was so delighted that I'd actually gotten what I was hoping for with the water birth!)

After a few minutes, once the cord had stopped pulsing and was cut, they took Jamie to put him under the lights and give him some oxygen, since his hands and feet were still pretty blue. I was helped out of the tub and delivered the placenta back in the bed. At that point I was glad I'd had the intravenous access port put in, because I bled quite a bit, just like in my previous births, and had to get a shot of Pitocin and a dose of it through an IV right away. I got pretty lightheaded and felt like crap for ten minutes or so, but then the bleeding slowed and I got to hold my baby again and all was well.

Jameson nursed right away then, and Stacy told me it was the best and fastest latch she'd ever seen on a newborn. He definitely has not had a moment's trouble figuring out nursing since then! It took us a few minutes to decide for sure on his name; it was still between Jameson and Isaac at that point. I let Jim get the final say since I'd pretty much named Eli all on my own, and he chose Jameson. The middle name, or names, rather, took quite a bit more hammering out, but we finally decided on Beckett Isaac.

After I got cleaned up and showered, we ordered a celebratory pizza, and man, doesn't your first meal after having a baby just taste like the best thing EVER? I still remember that pizza vividly. Then the kids came and met their little brother, and that half hour or so was just the sweetest thing. I want to remember it forever. It went so much better than I had ever dared hope. All in all, I really had a great hospital stay and the nurses were great about mostly leaving me be to rest and bond with my baby. I wish I had chosen to stay the extra night I could have, but I really wanted to get home to be with the older kids again.

And... I think that's it! Water birth was awesome, and I would totally recommend it, and I will definitely do it again if I have the chance. I don't know how much it helped with the actual pain level, but it definitely helped me cope with it better and feel more free to move around into positions that helped me work with the contractions the most effectively. And yeah, the no tearing part was amazing, compared with the thirty plus stitches from Eli's birth! I seriously could hardly even tell I'd HAD a baby the next day, the recovery was that easy. Two thumbs up for the birthing tub! (I know it doesn't always work for everyone, though, and some people straight up hate it, so you know, this is just MY experience. Don't sue me if you personally end up not liking it or needing stitches or whatever!)

Having a doula was also wonderful, yet again, and I also highly recommend that. Or, just hire my husband! He was a total rock star, to use a tired but appropriate expression. He did and said everything you would hope your partner would do and say during labor, and I definitely was never tempted to swear or throw things at him! And having my family and friend around me was wonderful. I was so happy they got to be there for such a special event in our family's life. Just knowing they were there really helped keep my spirits up when I would get bored, or scared, or freaked out. Also, of course, Jess took all those wonderful pictures for us! What an awesome gift.

And that is the end, really and truly, and thank you for hanging in there if you actually managed to read all of this! I feel very blessed that, after such a rough time trying to conceive and carry this sweet little boy, his birth went so smoothly and relatively easily. We are all very much in love with him, and he really does feel like a gift to our family. Sometimes when I look at him, sleeping in my arms with his solid, deeply breathing little body as real as my own, I still can't believe he's actually, finally here. He's actually ours. Our third baby.

Therapy. Also Known Less Kindly As Complaining.

At my ob/gyn's office they have these TV monitors in the exam rooms that endlessly loop through a Power Point presentation covering all possible female issues: UTI's, osteoperosis, STD's, PMS, pregnancy, preterm labor symptoms, and of course, post-partum depression. I have waited in those rooms so often that I pretty much have every screen shot burned into my brain. I could tell you exactly what to do if you experience a continuous trickle of fluid while pregnant, or what to take if you have vaginal burning and itching. Particularly, I have memorized the list of what to do to "manage" your stress. Exercise! Sleep! Don't eat crap! Hire a maid and a nanny so that you have time and energy to actually DO the above!

No, but seriously, one of the suggestions is actually a very good one, in my experience, and that is to write down every single thing that's currently frustrating you, rather than just letting random vexation to swirl around in your head all day. So um, here goes:

-MICE. Enough said. But I'll say more anyways. We've trapped three now, and it looks way more horrifying than I expected. Thank goodness Jim disposes of them and checks the traps. We also found one dazed and dying on the living room carpet, not even moving when Jim and the dog circled it. He had to carry it out and dispose of it while it was still half-alive. I feel just awful about all the death and poisoning and neck snapping and GAH, the poor little mouse MOMMIES whose babies are dying or who are leaving their babies orphans or whatever. But I couldn't find any of the humane kind of traps, and anyways, what's the point? Catch and release them so they can sneak back in next week? But it's still guilt inducing and also just downright grim. And I am so sick of feeling all nervous and jumpy in my own house. I basically live in the kitchen, den and bathroom right now, where thus far there has been no sign of mousal activity. Last night while (hastily and warily) changing clothes in my bedroom, I thought I felt a mouse dropping on my BED and just totally lost my shit. Jim went in to check it and found it to be a little wad of fruit snack, which he proceeded to EAT in front of me. And then I died, the end.

-Laundry. Oh my gosh, between Jamie's poo blowouts and Eli's constant accidents (yes, THAT'S still happening,) my washer is never free to do any of the regular stuff because I'm always rinsing and soaking someone's excrement or urine out of their rapidly fading clothing.

-The dog. The wily opportunist who runs away at every open door and free moment, refuses to even pee when on the leash, and likes to puke up violent green stomach acid at inopportune times which takes me a half hour to blot out of the rug. It's a fun new hobby.

-I was losing weight rapidly the first few weeks after Jamie was born, but I seem to have plateued and now, if it's possible, am getting fatter. Whatever happened to breastfeeding just MELTING away the fat?

-Eli. Is continuing to act out, some days worse than others. The last two have been just horrendous. In the last forty eight hours I've dealt with: approximately four pee accidents, five attempts to run away and hide while in various department stores, countless screaming and throwing himself on the floor fits (usually in public,) one setting off of the emergency exit alarm in Kohls, and more outfit changes than a Lady Gaga concert. Seriously, the kid is killing me with his passion for being either Spiderman, a "football guy," or a pirate, and he rotates between costumes all day long, until there are random clothing articles littering every floor. Sometimes I even think he wets his pants on purpose so he can change clothes again.

-Addy. Keeps hitting/physically bullying Eli, which is MADDENING to me.

-Odors. I swear between the dog, the diapers, and the constant wet laundry, the house smells funky no matter what I do.

But there are good things. The baby only woke up once last night, for instance, and is starting to coo and smile at us. I made a yummy lasagna AND pumpkin chocolate chip cookies yesterday, and both turned out well. Also, I just found out that a Cold Stone is coming to town soon. That's very good news, right there.

Grayden

I had planned on finishing up Endless Birth Saga today, but I'm taking another break to ask you to please keep my friend's little grandson in your thoughts. He and his twin sister were born just a few weeks after Jameson, and his mom had had health problems all through the pregnancy. They were born at thirty five weeks gestation, and initially were healthy, though the little girl had been much smaller than her brother. In the last week or so, though, little Grayden started refusing food and his cry was getting very weak. They first thought he had failure to thrive and were giving him nourishment through IV, but he's now been diagnosed with infant botulism. This is very serious and very scary, and also very very rare. They have no idea how he contracted it, but it's an illness that can actually be fatal if not caught in time.

Grayden has a feeding tube in now and began his treatment this afternoon. He had had high blood pressure going into it, so they were concerned about how he would tolerate it, but he did respond well and his blood pressure began to go down, too. So everyone's encouraged that he will hopefully make a full recovery, but things are still very scary for his parents and grandparents, who both flew up to be with their son and daughter in law. Grandma and Grandpa are staying at the house and taking care of Teagan, the little girl, while the mom and dad stay at the hospital with their son.

So please just keep the whole family in your thoughts and prayers the next few days, if you will. I can't imagine going through such a rough pregnancy, the scare of a premature delivery/nicu stay, etc., only to have to deal with this as well. It also makes a certain fussy but otherwise perfectly plump and healthy baby boy seem like the luckiest, most amazing thing in the world.

The Day The Baby Came, Part Two

So where were we? It was around eight or nine at night, I think, and I'd been walking and walking and talking and walking some more, and I was still at five to six cm and still not having regular contractions, but the baby's head had moved lower at least. (Here's where I'm running to the baby's room to get the birth story our doula gave us, because I'm realizing that the timetable in my head is fuzzy at best, and if I have a hard copy available with exact details, I might as well go and fetch it.)

OK, I'm back! And I immediately found a significant detail I had neglected to mention previously: for once, I was group B strep NEGATIVE, so I didn't have to have an IV! I did have to get an INT so that they would have intravenous access if necessary, so the painful insertion process was the same as an IV, but then once it was over, I had no cumbersome pole to drag around with me for the next night and day! I was incredibly psyched about this.

And my timeline was definitely fuzzy, because according to the paperwork here I didn't get my second cervical check until a little after ten, not eight. I had also forgotten that somewhere in between checks I had decided to try bouncing on the birthing ball, but the hospital's was flat, and they had no clue where to find a pump. So Stacy had to go down to her car and get her own ball, which she fortunately brings with her just in case. That was kind of funny at the time, I remember. The nurse had shrugged when questioned about why the ball was flat and said, "Well, no one ever uses it!" So I was the crazy lady in the bathtub room bouncing away on a big red ball to help open her cervix instead of laying in bed, hooked to an IV like a good little patient. :) (I may also have been eating all night long, too, here and there, which I'm pretty sure was technically against their rules. No one said anything to me about it, though.)

It was around this time that I kicked everyone out for a few hours so I could rest in peace. I had kind of been assuming that my doctor would have suggested breaking my water by now, since I'd been at the hospital for four hours or so with hardly any progress, but when the nurse called her with the results of my check she just said, "Sounds good!" So I was feeling a little tired and frustrated- I'd thought that I would be close to pushing by now, given the fact that the nurse kept telling me how the water bag was bulging and all. I had been sure they would've just broken it, or that it would have broken on its own, and then in an hour or so the baby would be out! But things seemed in limbo for the night.

After my family and friends left, Jim and Stacy and I discussed requesting to have my water broken and whether it would be wiser to git 'er done, as it were, or try to sleep through the night and gather some energy, then have the baby in the morning. I was hoping to have a magical water-never-breaking until the pushing phase birth like my friend Jess did, but once again, as in my previous births, not much progress past five cm. seemed to be happening with the water bag intact.

When the nurse came back in to check my monitor (I had gotten in bed to rest for a bit, so they did a twenty minute strip to check on baby and contractions) she said that my doctor had another patient who would be arriving early the next morning for an induction, and that the plan was to hold off on breaking my water until then, assuming it didn't break on its own. My doctor was currently at home and wouldn't be in until the morning UNLESS I insisted on having my water broken right away, and I hated to be the jerk patient who dragged the doctor out of her bed. I also figured that if the doctor wasn't in any hurry to urge the baby out, I guessed I didn't need to be either. Plus that would give me a little extra time to labor him down with my water cushion still intact, which is always less painful, and also to see if maybe for once my water would pop on its own.

So all that to say, I didn't end up getting my water broken that night, and opted instead to try to get some sleep while the contractions were still mild and infrequent. Jim and Stacy stayed, obviously, and so did my sister Laura and friend Jess- the room across the hall was earmarked for me, as a recovery room, so we were allowed to use it as a hotel room of sorts that night as well. Jim, Laura and Jess crashed out on the bed and pull out sofa over there (after making a late night Arby's run) and Stacy stayed on the couch in my room to keep an eye on me and take notes.

I slept fitfully on and off, I think, but most of the time I was just laying there thinking. I was trying to figure out why I still felt hesitant about the labor and delivery process, why I was still a little freaked out at the idea that the baby was COMING and was actually going to be here. With my other two I was always desperate to be done with pregnancy and thrilled to finally be at the hospital, but right then I felt reluctant and wanting to stall, despite the physical discomfort. I kept thinking vaguely, "What if we just went home? Maybe we can wait a week or so still!"

I did a lot of praying and meditating kind of stuff those few hours, trying to relax into the role of mom of three and accept the new stage of life that was beginning. I think that was the problem- I was still so much enjoying just finally being off of bedrest and getting to live my normal life and take care of my family. Everything felt fun, and I knew once the baby came it was going to be a rough jolt into sleepless nights and lots of work all of the sudden, as well as possible jealousy issues from the two kiddos who were currently being so happy and sweet because I was finally off the couch and playing with them. I was reluctant for that post-bedrest bliss phase to end, I think.

I did finally feel at peace, more or less, and also pretty awake again. I hadn't really slept much, especially since they were monitoring me on and off through the night since I was in bed anyways. I barely felt like I had had any contractions. But Stacy said that she had been aware, throughout the two and a half hours I was quiet, of every time I had a contraction because of the way my breathing changed.

Around four fifteen I was awake for good, and Stacy got up and went for a walk with me. I also had a cereal and orange juice snack- I was ravenous again! I don't know how women make it through labor without eating! When we got back to the room we somehow got on the topic of churches, religion and spirituality, which was very interesting and a good distraction from nonstop labor thoughts. Around five fifteen Jim, Jess and Laura woke up, and we went for another lap around the maternity floor. I would have contractions, but nothing on a regular timetable, and nothing I couldn't talk through.

Finally around seven my doctor arrived and checked me. Amazingly, despite pretty much an utter lack of anything I could honestly describe as PAIN pain, I had reached seven to eight cm! When she broke my water bag, the fluid was clear, but there was not much water left in there. We discussed the possibility that I may have been leaking fluid for awhile now, What I had been sure was just constant urine leaks from a giant baby on my bladder may have actually been a small tear in the water sac. But I had had an ultrasound just a week earlier which showed plenty of fluid, so if things had gotten unhealthy in there, at least it hadn't been for too long. Still, it made me feel very relieved that he was coming out now! The doctor reminded me to keep drinking lots of fluids to keep up the water supply for him since I didn't have an IV running.

At this point I was informed that the baby's head was asynclitic, or cocked to one side. This made sense since most of the pain I HAD noticed was in my lower back and tailbone. I was actually relieved- I had guessed he was probably totally sunny-side up, as they say, and at least sideways left a greater chance for turning him around the right way. I had them start filling the birth tub after my water was broken; I figured the contractions were sure to get intense pretty soon and I would want to get in. My body definitely reacted to the change intensely: the first time I stood up after my water was broken, my legs were shaking violently and I could barely stand. And mentally I felt different- I could feel in my bones that real labor had commenced, and I started to panic a little bit. I was afraid of the pain getting suddenly huge, instead of building up gradually like in a normal labor, and I was afraid of the pushing phase, which was now looming.

I remember pulling Jim into the bathroom with me, shutting the door on everyone else, and telling him, "I need you to pray for me now to stay focused." I knew the only way I could have the birth I wanted was if I kept my brain in sync with what my body was doing, instead of letting it freak out at what my body was doing! So we prayed together and hugged for a little while, and I calmed back down and came out feeling ok again. Which, you know, is what you always hope for out of a bathroom trip.

And now, duty calls and I have to stop again. Holy excessive details, I can't believe this is going to take me three posts! (You: no kidding.) But I wanted to tell it the way it came to me, and this is how it's coming to me: in very specific detail. Whadda ya gonna do. Hopefully I'll be back to wrap this up tomorrow!

Freak Out

I interrupt this birth story flow to say that while I was doing remarkably well emotionally the last few weeks, I have finally had evidence of post partum insanity in the form of absolute hysterics re: mice. I mean, mice are gross and their feces can carry germs and all and no one likes finding evidence of them in their homes, but people, I am losing my damn MIND over the sudden mouse spotting in our house. Every closet has been dug through, every piece of furniture moved and cleaned under. I do not understand how, in a house that is pretty darn clean by most people's standards, we are suddenly having this problem. To the point that THREE times now I have actually SEEN a mouse dart out from around our wood stove. SEEN IT WITH MY EYES. And then sat on the couch, frozen in terror for a good ten minutes. This last time, today, just when I was beginning to relax and think that for sure the poison had finally done its work... well, I saw the mouse and then burst into tears. I cried for... a little while, let's just say.

There is poison in every non-kid accessible corner and there are traps in every spot we suspect there to be mouse activity. I don't know what else to do short of getting a few tomcats. But if I see one more effing mouse in my home, I may have to be committed. Seriously.

It Only Took Six Weeks To Write This Post- Part One

SIDE NOTE: Before I launch into recounting my experience with water birth, I just want to mention in passing that having a new baby right before Halloween and the beginning of the holiday season, aka Pumpkin Flavored Everything season, is a terrible idea. Unless of course you're actually LOOKING for an inner tube of fat to cart around above your jeans. (I have to say though, if I could afford to go out and buy a whole new pants wardrobe, I wouldn't really even care right now. But I currently have only one pair of pants that fits me and that aren't maternity, and it's beginning to be embarrassing that I'm still wearing elastic waists. Or maybe not! If you can remember by the end of this sure to be lengthy post, comment and tell me how long it took you to get out of your maternity pants post baby!)

Ok, with that said, let us commence story telling while both boys are still magically sleeping! So if you recall- and you probably don't since even I barely recall it after six weeks- Sunday, September twenty sixth, which made me thirty seven weeks and one day pregnant, I had a lot of symptoms (some grosser than others, and I will leave it to your imagination and any standard pregnancy book to suggest them) that made me think I was going into labor. I laid down on the couch and tried to sleep, though, instead of rushing to the phone and then the hospital, since I'd had enough frustrating experience with false labor in my previous birth that I was determined not to jump the gun this time.

I kept thinking that the level of discomfort was such that if I just went to the hospital, I was sure they'd declare me in labor and let me stay. Keep in mind I was already four centimeters at this point. But I did, after a few hours and a lot of moaning and back pain, manage to go to sleep, and when I woke up there was no baby and no regular contractions. I did have a huge burst of nesting instinct that day, though, and got a ton accomplished from my Do Before Baby list.

Finally, on Tuesday afternoon I had my official thirty seven week check up, which revealed that the weekend's excitement had left me eighty percent effaced and five centimeters dilated. Or in other words, HALF WAY THROUGH LABOR by textbook standards. My doctor sat back, snapped off her glove and regarded me thoughtfully, then said, "So, what are you doing today?" And I looked at her face and said, "Uh... having a baby, I think?"

Then I back pedalled a little, freaking out at the idea that this was it, and also freaking out because I knew I couldn't have a water birth if I had to be on Pitocin, and going to the hospital before I was in an active contraction pattern made me much more likely to end up on Pit. However, I also knew that Addy's fifth birthday party was scheduled for that Saturday, and that I had all but promised her I would not go and have a baby on HER personal birthday. The fact was that if I dug in my heels and insisted on waiting for "real" labor, I was risking: a) going into labor during my daughter's party and/or having the baby on her actual birthday and b) never actually getting into a regular contraction pattern, having my water break suddenly, and then giving birth in my own bathroom while frantically trying to pack for the hospital.

On principle, though, I did weakly ask if I couldn't just wait another day or two and see what happened. My doctor basically said that yes, of course she couldn't DRAG me to the hospital or anything, but then said, "When you come in here five centimeters, I don't willingly send you back home, you know? You're having this baby SOON, one way or another. And if I strip your membranes, I think that should be enough to trigger more progress." I nervously started in with my concerns about Pitocin and still having a water birth, and she looked at me very seriously and said, "I promise there will be no Pitocin. We're not going to need it."

Well, that was good enough for me. I let her strip my membranes (which was a new experience for me! whee!) and then she sent me home to finish packing my bag, get the kids settled in with someone, and then return to the hospital within two hours. I couldn't believe how jittery I was as I got dressed and left the office on shaky legs. The nurse even gave me a hug and said reassuringly, "It's going to be great!" That drive home was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. I couldn't believe it was actually happening, after all these weeks of lying around trying to keep this baby IN. Now he was coming OUT, and I still wasn't sure I was ready for labor or for the reality of three kids. I spent that ten minute drive alternately calling everyone who needed to know and taking deep cleansing breaths, muttering, "Here we go!"

When I got home, my brother in law, who had been watching the kids during my doctor's appointment and had agreed to stay with them until the baby came, took off to run a few errands while I packed and got my head on straight. I totally wandered around the house in a daze, loading random cups into the dishwasher, beginning and then abandoning little chores, and slowly packing the last of my things. I remember Addy basically packed my toiletries bag for me. If it hadn't been for her, I would have forgotten my glasses. Through all this, I was having mild contractions here and there, but still nothing different than the last few weeks.

When I had finished doing every last thing, including sterilizing the breast pump parts and packing the clearance-three-dollar-wearing-in-the-birthing-tub-and-then-throwing-away dress, Jim arrived home to drive me to the hospital and Brett got back to watch the kids. I had no excuse to not get in the car, so I kissed the kids goodbye and heaved my pregnant self into the passenger seat for the last time. I was still in a total daze.

At this point we were running a little late, but I hadn't had dinner yet and I knew I wanted to eat before we checked in. So we stopped at our family's coffee house on the way downtown, where I promptly had several humongous contractions that led me to call our doula and ask her to hurry. This was unfortunate, since she hurried so fast that she ended up beating us to the maternity ward. Whoops. But I partly blame the tripping of the fire alarm in the hospital lobby right when we got there to check in, which seriously slowed down the process. In hindsight it was kind of funny, but at the time, I was just nervous and annoyed and beginning to go deaf from the blaring alarm.

Anyhoo, so I got wheeled up to the birthing suite, hooked up to the monitors for the routine twenty minute strip, asked a bunch of questions, and checked. Five to six centimeters, is what the nurse said, so it seemed I had made some progress already. I was having only irregular contractions on the monitor, but they were happening, so I was officially in labor by hospital standards. I still felt no different than I had the last few weeks, though, and was talking and smiling. We spent lots of hours just walking around the halls and talking with our various visitors, including my mom and dad, sister, and Jess. By the next check I was still five to six centimeters, but the nurse said his head was lower.

...AND break.

Mastitis

It really sucks. The end.

Oh and also, I am really sorry I'm barely commenting on anyone else's blogs since this bebe came along. I have yet to master the art of nursing while keeping my hands free, and basically every time I'm sitting down and free to read blogs, I'm nursing, so... I'm still reading you guys! And I miss you!