Friday, December 28, 2012

BAD DAY for Mommy

I have been one crankapatomus today. y'all better know its a GOOD thing that people can't read minds bc if they could there wouldn't be a whole lot of people speaking to me today.

I hope tomorrow is a better day for a lot of reasons.


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Monday, December 24, 2012

daddy

tonight j was super hard to calm down for sleep. he was very upset and so I laid down in his bed with him to calm him and this is our conversation:

j: "where's my daddy? I need my daddy!"
me: "daddy isn't here. daddy is in Qatar"
j: "my daddy! my daddy left me here! why did my daddy leave me? my daddy left me!"
me: "yes honey, daddy left us all here, but he misses us. he is where the Army told him to go"
j: "but I miss my daddy! we all miss daddy. I just want my daddy for Christmas. I just want my daddy!"
tonight be thankful for the ones you love that are near. we are blessed beyond words that daddy j isn't in harm's way, but there are 70,000 families who have to worry about their loved ones safety in addition to missing them. please hug and kiss your loved ones tomorrow for us... just because you can.
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Location:Belair St,Pascagoula,United States

Thursday, December 20, 2012

2012: the year of the rabid beaver

I thought after the 2 year molars that kids didn't get any more teeth until their permanent teeth?!? they really should cover that more in the what to expect guides. like "what to expect when your kid turns into a snotty raging maniac and starts gnawing on everything from wooden furniture to stuffed animals to twisted steel"

my son (who incidentally is turning 3 tomorrow) has been chewing on everything in the past week or so. everything. as im trolling through the house looking for new evidence that the he's been at it again, im reminded of that time that our dogs chewed completely through the tv electrical cord, while it was still plugged in. Darwin really failed me on that one.

things I've found chewed (in no particular order of grossness):

-a flashlight face
-a diaper (clean-thankfully)
-construction paper
-2 t-shirts (they both now have holes?)
-DVD case
-several book corners
-a remote
-iPad cover
-shopping card handles
-straps
and last but not least...
-the handle of the plunger (I can't even go into the depths of how much this one disgusts me)

if he were actually eating pieces, I'd have him checked for pica, but he isn't eating pieces of anything-- he's just a working on things like cud. biting them over and over and over in the same spot. the only explanations I can come up with is that he's A. teething or B. part beaver. a rabid one at that. I've narrowed down the teething thing- I thought- by taking my own appendage health in my hands and checking his teeth. I didn't see any new ones or hot spots. I'm stumped.

the whole thing is just so strange. I definitely am not a child psychologist, but stress chewing is the best I got on this one. if he doesn't cut it out soon, he is gonna get a birthday trip to the doctor. here's hoping. lets hope bobo (the stuffed panda) makes it out of this one alive.




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Wednesday, December 19, 2012

the corythosaurus and the dino junkie

anybody who has ever met baby jerry howser, paleontology PhD, knows that he has an uncanny, borderline rainman-ish ability to remember dinosaur facts. I'll be the first to confess that he watched a lot of PBS when I was pregnant with c and, thus, he watched a lot of dinosaur train. I don't know if you've seen it, but I have and thanks to Dr. Scott and the Conductor I'm better versed in the 3 major dinosaur time periods than I am in the Civil War.
I'm not really sure when the obsession started, but I know that it was in full swing well before his 2nd birthday. I look at c now that she's approximately the age he was when he started liking them. she has a much broader vocabulary than he did at this age, but words like "corythosaurus" "stegosaurus" and "ceratops" aren't really on her radar like they were for him.
but I digress... he loves dinosaurs so much that we took the Midwest USA Dino tour as our vacation last year when our half-assed planned trip to Yellowstone didn't work out (<- bc we are stupid... more on that at a later date). he loved every minute which means that I pretty much pick him up a dino for him every time I leave the house or buy a present for him for a special occasion. he has dinosaurs of all shapes and sizes and he's not particularly adept at picking up his toys.
today I was walking into the Hiroshima interior designed/decorated playroom when I stepped on a hard plastic stegosaurus. let me let you know right now that stegosaurus makes Legos look like a squishy doe-eyed bunny. I thought I was going to need at least 486 stitches. I can just imagine my conversation with the dr now...




tomorrow is his birthday and he is getting about 6 or 7 more Dinos between that and Christmas. I'm seriously considering exercising a vendetta on that little stegosaurus. do you think that it would be too extreme if I hack off his body parts and leave them around to serve as a lesson to the others? I'm like the dinosaur
Godfather.

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Tuesday, December 18, 2012

full of holiday jeer

I guess it's no surprise to anyone that this has been a tough year for us as a family. I say tough over hard because hard implies bad. tough implies that something is worth fighting through to get to the end outcome. this year definitely qualifies as tough, no doubt about it.

I'd be lying if I didn't say that I've had my moments. I've had days that were considerably better than others and days that were considerably worse. We have been incredibly blessed as a family to have the most dynamic and compassionate support network on the planet to encourage in the bad days and celebrate with us in the good. the old saying "I'd rather have a few good friends rather than a bunch of fair-weather friends" has never rung more true to me than in this last 7.5 months. I've been blinded by people's true colors on both ends of the spectrum, but feel closer than ever to the people who I love and who love me in return. In that respect, this deployment has enriched my life beyond what my words can express.

We've traveled a lot and have plans to travel a lot more in the next 4.5 months. It's really refreshing and so downright fun to be welcomed completely into people's homes and becoming part of their daily-life families for a while. We are headed out next to see our nurture-over-nature aunts, uncles, and cousins. We will be there for our "cousin w's" 2nd birthday party and we just feel overwhelmingly lucky to be part of this special time with him.  It's amazing to watch these tiny humans grow into amazing little people.  I am eternally grateful for these little children in my life who are my borrowed babies like my sweet w and my sweet r.

With all that said, I've been unusually snarky the past 4 weeks or so. It's especially disconcerting because I've been so acutely aware of how blessed and happy I am. what a contradiction, eh? it's like my plate is full of love and happiness and joy but I've only got 3/4 of a broken plate to work with in the first place. I guess I've underestimated just how much the holidays mean to me. It's been harder than I imagine not having us together to bake cookies, sing carols, cuddle, and just kiss each other goodnight. I know it's only temporary and that we will all be together next year, but somehow I still feel almost guilty for enjoying the holiday at all- so I guess that's why I've been full of holiday jeer.  I am trying to be better- I will keep trying too.

it's also that time of year again when baby j turns another year older. I took 1 fine, 2 in stride, but 3.... oh 3.... is keeping Kleenex in business. every time I think about my baby turning 3, I cry. I swear it was only yesterday I was baking his 1 year birthday cake and watching him learn to walk, and holding him when he slept. tonight I got a glimpse back into those moments when my nearly 3 year old boy crawled into my lap and laid his head on my chest for a snuggle. I had a million things I thought I *needed* to be doing, but in those moments where I held my beautiful baby boy, time did not move forward and I held my 37 pound miracle got as long as he'd let me. he only stayed for a moment but I made mental notes of the way his skin smelled and felt against me, the way his eyelashes tickled my chest, the way his back rose and fell rhythmically with every breath, the way his legs draped across my legs like he was my missing puzzle piece. it was such a special moment in our all too busy lives and I wish I'd have forced myself to remember when he was a baby more often. my big boy is turning 3. he looks like a boy, talks like a boy, walks and runs and falls like a boy. but in my mind he is still my tiny rosy cheeked wonder that heard my heart from the inside.




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Sunday, December 16, 2012

my first personal ad





I'm afraid if I don't go soon I'm going to miss an opportunity to see Breaking Dawn in theaters. That's a no-go. Desperate times call for desperate measures... it was time to put out an ad since I think I'm the last breathing Twihard that hasn't seen this in the theaters.

These books remind me of when I was pregnant with baby j. I couldn't work (drive, cook for myself, or operate anything w/ an on-off switch) when I was taking Benadryl every 4 hours. I remember distinctly raising the blinds in my den, sitting all Benadryl stoned on the couch for hours and hours a day, and reading the Twilight series in between naps (which amounted to about 3 pages at a time). I also recall that the first movie was out so I watched the movie directly after reading the book. I remember thinking "is it the Benadryl talking or is this the slowest movie of all time?" turns out that Kristin Stewart pretty much always makes me question my cognition when I'm watching her act. so, it's not me, it's you, K.Stew.

the movies have gotten progressively better and I am dying to see the last installment. lets hope I make a good impression on potential theater-mates with my ad. :) fingers crossed.


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Friday, December 14, 2012

Connecticut

I'm not one to succumb to conspiracy theories nor do I think the end of the world is coming next Friday, but I think a world where we can live happily and without fear has been slipping away from us for a long time. The shooting today in Connecticut culminates a past full of sick individuals without foresight beyond the tip of their nose. It's disgusting, reprehensible, inconceivable, even, the amount of venom and tar running through this shooter's veins where blood should flow. I do not know how this animal got so twisted, whether dealt by nature's hand or the hand of an abuser, but I sincerely hope that our future can be snuffed of individuals who are so sick and perverse as to harm innocent people-- children especially.

My solemn prayer is that our future turn down a more distinguished path where we nurture our physically and mentally ill over nature's fate, nourish our children, and live freely from fear all of our days.

Please join me in prayers for the families affected by the shooting in Connecticut today and prayers for America.


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Thursday, December 13, 2012

merry christmas

merry christmas from clara elf (on the shelf)



ok, I totally took her to get her hair fixed today at a salon. I couldn't take it. I think it looks pretty darn cute now...especially with her headbands. :) from billy ray to adorable all in about 6 snips from an actual professional.

the pic above is her elf outfit that the elves brought her. I took 289 pictures and that, literally, is THE only good one. oh well, when it's good, it's reeeeaaall good.


Wednesday, December 12, 2012

oh… I hate it when I’m wrong. I really hate having to say “you were right, I was wrong”…especially to my husband. come on, don’t act like you don’t. as a matter of a fact, I saw pillowcases today that were embroidered with “Mr. Right” on one and “Mrs. Always Right” on the other. I wonder if they have bulk discounts. but I digress…

it’s no secret that I had a bad last two days with my kids. (part of that no secret thing probably has to do with the fact I blogged about it and facebooked about it, and linked my blog from my facebook…but whatevs). today, ever the amateur child psychologist, I decided to watch my son to figure out what triggers were causing him to go from 0 to naughty in 1.2 seconds.

he usually watches PBS (aka the “babysitter”) for an hour in the morning. judge me if you want. I need that long to consume enough coffee to function, feed Clara, clean up after breakfast, and settle in for the day. the only way to avoid chernobyl is to let the kid drink some milk and watch tv. this morning I didn’t turn on the tv, but I wasn’t playing with him either. boyfriend lost his marbles. he started jumping on the couch, pulling books off the bookcase, throwing things, attempting to slap his sister… you name it. hmmm…interesting. I turned on the television and he played w/ his toys and acted like a good boy.

after his nap, I let him come out to the living room when he was ready which just so happened to be about 3 pages before the end of a chapter in my book. I finished reading and meanwhile seƱor grumpy was flopping around on the floor screaming like he had a compound fracture. when I was finished wrestling him and reading my chapter, I got down on the floor and we played. he was a totally different child. he was back to my little sugar dumplin. I’m sensing a pattern. I then took a step back to examine the events of the past 2 days. all signs pointed to boredom.

survey says? child acts like fruitcake when he is bored. solution? don’t let him get bored. when he took his afternoon nap, I looked up tons of activities that we can do to keep things interesting. I can only play with his toys so many times before I’d rather be jumping on the couch too.

ok, so his awful behavior the last couple days was kinda my fault. or my fault. period. gah. I hate having to admit that to other people, but it really stings when you have to take a good long look in the mirror and tell yourself that you were wrong.

I’m really surprised it took me this long to crack the code. I fancy myself quite the Nancy Drew. ha. anyway, I kept asking myself why the heck did I never get a bad report from daycare when he was going. you know, something along the lines of “please don’t ever bring your son back. we have put him on homeland securities watch list under the pseudonym “Osama bin toddler” duh! this kid had 9 other little rugrats (albeit, one with very sharp teeth and a biting problem) to keep him from getting bored.

thank goodness that Clara will be old enough to entertain him soon too. the reason God invented siblings is because parents are too old and require too much coffee to be good playmates.
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what do you wear to church when your pre-baby 2 clothes are 20lbs too big and your pre-baby 1 clothes are 5 pounds too small? you wear a dress that requires your husband to zip you up with the help of a little crisco on the zipper and a favor from the Lord himself.

actually the dress fit ok except for the boobs. Clara had a growth spurt last week, so I’m pretty much on jugs 3/4 full no matter how long ago Clara just ate. in case you were wondering what happens when you stuff 2 10lb potatoes in a 5lb sack…let me enlighten you. the result? one big 20lb potato and fabric that whimpers for mercy. in other words, I had one mean uniboob, crying fabric, and no hope of being able to discreetly feed C in church.

my complete disregard for my diaper bag PMCS left me at church w/ no way to feed my daughter and no bottle. about 2 minutes after we got to church J also started screeching so he had to head on down to nursery town. our church doesn’t have an overflow room, so w/ j downstairs and me in the fellowship hall feeding Clara w/o being able to hear the sermon, we decided it was best to go. we turned around and explained to the people behind us that we had to go. I don’t know why we did that. it’s not like Methodist require “get out of the service free” cards. I guess it was the guilty catholic mindset just creeping it’s way out from behind the pagan curtains.

anyway, it was a good weekend. yesterday I got to spend a whole…wait for it… 2 hours out shopping by myself. I used up some of my birthday money on a griddle and a new microfiber dusting wand. do I know how to have a good time or what?
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i almost went all chicken mcnugget crazy up in my local mcdonalds fine dining establishment tonight. i posted this on facebook earlier but i had a standoff with the cashier over coca cola. i ordered my #4 and when asked what i wanted to drink i said “coke.” the lady says to me “we don’t have coke” to which i said “like you are out?” and she says “no. like we dont serve it” um, WTF?!? coke is the official sponsor of 3 things: 1. mcdonalds, 2. the olympics, and 3. diabetes. i was just fixing to jump out of my car and give her the old drive through beat down when i decided that i would tell her to please cancel my order and that i would take my mcdonalds order elsewhere. she was quite confused and asked “because we don’t have coke?” um, yes the hell i am. i don’t even buy fast food from restaurants that serve pepsi (with the exception of arby’s and that’s only because they lace their arby’s sauce with cocaine and nicotine [that's the only rational explination for it to be as addicting as it is] and they serve dr. pepper, which i can be down with).

this whole interchange reminded me of all the times that i have been asked “is pepsi ok?” eff no it isnt. is it ok if i stab you in the eye with this here pencil? it’s not these people’s fault so i usually squelch the rude and respond “no, i’ll have *insert iced tea, lemonade, or root beer*” and jerry usually looks at me in horror as soon as the question begins to form at the servers lips because he knows and fears what my response will be. the absolute WORST is when they don’t bother to ask and they serve me up a steaming cup of nasty. its one thing if i know what im getting (and sometimes im even down w/ pepsi) but i dont like surprises. i realize that some people don’t get hot over the difference, but there is a definite faction of the population that will cut you with a butter knife for trying to pull a pepsi slicky on them. (and i guess vica versa). i suppose i fall somewhere in the middle. i definitely care, but i won’t pelt you with french fries either… unless i’ve been on a diet and haven’t had a coke in 4 months almost and then you step to me with some “we don’t serve it” nonsense. check yourself mcdonalds cashier or at least don’t act like you’ve never heard of a mcdonalds that sells coke. if you think my son is a terror during a blood sugar meltdown, you aint seen nothing yet.

speaking of my son… he is really loving his new weekly activity of little gym. he enjoys it so much so that today he pulled the towels off the towel rack and was going all parallel bar on that shit. i ran out of the shower when he was mid-ankles to the bar and we had a discussion about swinging on bathroom fixtures. he didnt’ go back to do it again, but he did ride the bathtub faucet like a pony screaming “yeehaw!” “YEEHAW!” you can take the boy out of texas, but you can’t take the texas out of the boy.
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first months with baby 2 2011

rapunzel, rapunzel… let down your oxygen tubing
14
JUN
2011
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by meaganmoving in Uncategorized

oh snap. it’s been a hot minute since i’ve updated this thing. well… 50,400ish hot minutes to be precisely imprecise. these last 5 weeks have been awesome. i am now the mommy of 1 nugget and 1 nuggita. as i write this, i have the nuggita dining at the milk factory. (it’s CRAZY how much i love bfing and how much easier it is than pumpfest 2010).

let me see… hmmm… whats a been goin’ on? we left the hospital after a full 72 hours. we tried to get c off of her O2 before we left, but her lungs just weren’t ripe enough for that. she is still on 1/32 of a liter (down from 1/16th that we left the hospital with). we stayed in the house for about 3 weeks except for trips to the doctor (which were plentiful). after about 3 weeks of house arrest, i finally decided that c needed to leave the house sometime and that they probably didn’t give us 2 portable oxygen tanks to help me with my weight training exclusively. on our first trip out, we went to the movie. my mom and i saw bridesmaids. i probably would have peed myself if 1. i hadn’t been a gold medal contender in the kegal olympics and 2. holding clara kept me from laughing to hard because she got startled. after the movie we stopped by colorado springs gourmet cupcake shop. the cupcakes were gross and stale and the chick at the counter said “whats wrong with her?” when she realized that c was tethered to a super sweet (and oh so out of fashion) oxygen tank.

**side note: i just remembered seeing a very old lady with a bedazzled O2 tank bag before c was born. i said “im totally going to do that when i get old.” hell, i am doing it now. i smell a joann fabrics and hobby lobby shopping trip. we are fixing to trick her ride**

anyway, i was so flabbergasted that this girl would just straight-up ask “what’s wrong with her?” i mean for jeebus sakes she worked in a cupcake shop… was there a shortage of sugarcoating? doubt it. i stuttered something about the altitude and hoped that she would just pack up my stale-ass cupcakes and we could split. it was at that moment that the lightbulb of “shoulda, woulda, coulda” came on and i realized that i should have said “she is perfect, whats wrong with you?” ever since that day whenever asked “whats wrong with her?” (it’s happened 3 times since) that has been my response. you come and me with rude, you get rude. so there.

ive seen clara without her oxygen tubing a few times and everytime she looks super weird. it’s funny how you just get used to seeing someone a certain way and then they take off their glasses or their oxygen tubing, in our case. i must admit, she is pretty gorgeous. i don’t care what she has hanging off of her face. well, except boogers. i don’t do boogers.

her brother doesn’t care one thing about her until she touches one of his toys and then it’s game oooooonnnnnnnn. i think he finally realized that she isn’t leaving. he is pretty ambivalent about that too, i suppose. since his sister arrived he has had all kinds of visitors and gotten tons of attention. he doesn’t hate that. i have been busy with my boob jewelry, so i haven’t changed many of his diapers but everytime i do i think “why am i changing this giant’s diapers?!?”

in the past 5 weeks original recipe nugget also learned how to parkour himself out of his crib. one day while i was at the grocery store j called and said that the baby was crying in his crib and then he stopped. j thought he’d finally gone to sleep. apparently, what actually happened is that he escaped his crib and was pulling every book off of his bookshelf and assaulting the pages with his teeny tiny weapons of destruction hands. we promptly removed the front of his bed, converting it to a toddler daybed. we had visions of the tiny sleep terrorist walking his crib railings like a tight rope and ddt-ing the night stand (headfirst). the first night in his toddler bed (a sunday… poor jerry) DID NOT go well. in the meantime, things have gotten betterish. we still have to wait for him to be on the verge of comatose before he will lay down and go to sleep. he also combat rolls to the floor during the night. half the time when we peak in (re: look under the door) he is asleep on the floor beside his bed. we go pick him up and put him back where he belongs. oh boiiii. i ordered a toddler bed rail from walmart that will be here tomorrow. it magically attaches to the springs under his mattress. he will still be able to get out, but shouldn’t be able to roll to the floor. we will see.

anyway, its after 8 here and i am an old woman now that must go to sleep early. i’ll write more later. holla.

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i think the best way to start this post is with this picture:


i am not thrilled that my son started drinking at 18 months, but i absolutely will not him tolerate drinking before noon on saturday.
this was my first week with the dueling nuggets. days 1 and 2 were fine. big boy was a recovering from the big week so he took 2.5 hour naps in the morning and 2.5 hour naps in the afternoon. thats right 5 of 9 hours that jerry was away, he slept. i gots lots of snuggle time with lil c. (defintely not the lil c from sytycd- my little clara.) i also got all domestic diva up in here. the house was spotless everyday right up until j came home from work and the 4-6 witching hour for my son.


so monday and tuesday were so good that i thought it would be smooth sailing and then wednesday happened. i got a glimpse into the terrible twos and i dont like it. i dont like it one bit. it’s not so much that he was bad as it was that he wouldn’t listen to reason. surprise, surprise a 1.5 year old can’t reason with me. this, i fear, will be increasingly frustrating as his vocabulary continues to expand. i mean, if the kid can say “cow, mooooooo” why can’t he understand that pressing the button that says ‘test’ on the carbon monoxide detector means that it’s going to beep very loudly and scare the pants off of him? (incidentally, it took us 4 screaming/crying tries before this lesson was learned the hard way). he also decided on wednesday to go all mike tyson on me and hit me. oh helllllllssssss to the no. i have never been so mad at a person less than 36″ tall. (and no, jenn arnold has never stirred anger in my heart. how could she? she is so darn cute) anyways, when he swung at me i was too stunned to duck and so he got me square in the eye. then i was like an angry pirate w/ only one functioning eye. i set him down and told him “get out of my sight” he either understood my words or he understood the anger in my voice. he didn’t get a spanking, he didn’t even get a timeout. MOMMY got a timeout. and that was fine. jman got to spend a little QT with himself in his bedroom shortly after. i put him in his room with his toys and went away. he played and then napped. i stewed and then napped. when i woke up all was forgiven. this, however, will not be a trend that we will be continuing. the “naughty spot” is all warmed up and ready for action if he EVER tries that again.

thursday was mostly better, but he was still so tired. thursdays are soccer practice days and this was the first time i was going to be on my own at soccer with j and c. i drove all the way to the soccer field and almost didn’t get out of the car. i knew j was still tired, but figured the show must go on. i strapped c into the carrier in the front, the o2 slung over my back, and j on my hip. we were off. the first 45 minutes were fine. he was his usual happy man self and cheerfully went about kicking the balls and attempting to pull down the coaches shorts. yeah, that’s not embarrassing at all… around the 45 minute mark though he was melting faster than an m and m in your hand. (i don’t care what hersey says… m and ms melt in your hand too, damnit) i have to give the kid some credit though. it was 85 degrees and humid and he did hang on about 10 minutes longer than the rest of them, but you can only listen to so much crying going on around you before you crack under pressure. with about 20 minutes left in the practice, ALL of the kids were flopping about crying, screaming, and running off the field. the coach looked as if he wished the ground would open and swallow him up. i felt pretty similar. im fairly certain that practice ended about 10 minutes early that day. i don’t think a single parent was sorry. i have never seen parents scramble to the car with their kids so quickly. ever seen cockroaches when you turn on the light? now, imagine those same cockroaches high on crack. that, my friends, was us, the parents of the lil kickers.

big j is home with me this weekend. i am hoping the parental reinforcement will do me and my sanity some good. so far this morning j has disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve a beer, banged on the piano, and twirled in place until he got so dizzy that he fell down. i think i am headed to target to get a baby pool. if the weather is going to be 90 and sunny, we are going to take advantage. and by we, i mean me. i will get a suntan. i will get a suntan. i WILL get a suntan.
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and God bless eh-mo, amen.
05
JUL
2011
1 Comment
by meaganmoving in Uncategorized

my son started praying with us lately. in other words, every night when we used to pray before bed or at meals when we would pray over our food he used to be silent (or rifling through the goodies on his plate, or picking his nose, or doing whatever toddlers do. he is a mixed bag) anyway, when his grandparents were here he started saying his prayers too. they go something like this:

“eh-mo, eh-mo, eh-mo, eh-mo. eh-mo, ahhhhhhh eh-mo” (eh-mo = elmo)

i really don’t know what elmo has done to require such emphatic, constant, and vigilant prayer but i am pretty sure he has gotten himself in some deep shit. let’s all take a moment of silence for eh-mo.

*moment of silence*

speaking of moments of silence, the family all packed up into the truck yesterday and headed to greeley, co to stay with my cousin and her husband for the 4th. our whole intention behind the trip was to ensure that we were in town and in position for the 4th of july parade in downtown mayberry greeley. apparently it’s totally cool in greeley (not only cool but encouraged) for people to lay claim to their parade spots weeks before the parade happens. my cousin went down a month or so ago and staked off a little square of land for us for the parade.

we mississippians are typically a bit skeptical that people would honor any kind of stake in the ground situation before a parade. i mean, hell, we have mardi gras parades in mississippi that are so thick with people that you end up miles from where you started and you would swear that you didn’t even pick up a foot. the tide of sweaty, drunk, old rednecks dressed like they got drenched in purple rain and gold leaf just move you right along. anyway, surprisingly when we got to our designated spot the stakes still stood. there was however, a family of folks that had parked their backsides in our spots. the couple next to us (incidentally rednecks, but they were colorado rednecks so i am assuming that they come from a tree that at least has one branch and have a good dental hmo) told us that “those peoples gots to honor that. you jus’ tell ‘em. theys gots to move” we complied because classy redneck or not, we decided that ignoring their advice would get us run off the parade route on this most patriotic of holidays. and we all know that no one and i do mean no one is more patriotic than a redneck. except maybe a drunk redneck in a dollar store american flag t-shirt and that, folks, is precisely what we were dealing with.

anyway, the situation was handled amicably. at least 3 of the 4 people plopped in our section spoke english and the thankfully i only know enough spanish to have caught on that the 1 that didn’t speak english was not pleased. to what degree of not pleased i do not know. i wasn’t too worried about it though because i am pretty sure that our new redneck friends could fashion a shiv from a tree stick and they’d have our back. truthfully though, this little town is so quant and mayberryesque that i really did think “i’m sure the cops would sort this out for us” ha. it’s not like they have better things to do like glittering up their horses hooves or putting glitter weave in their tails. oh wait, damn. that’s exactly what they were doing.




"i lead the pigeons to the flag"



and last but not least, i would like to point out that jerry took the opportunity of us watching the bachelorette tonight to give his 8 week old daughter her first life lessons on dating. yes, yes i know that she doesn’t have control over her eyes or head, or well, any part of her body yet but daddy wanted to make sure she knew exactly how a lady it to behave. here are a few of the gems: 1. never kiss on how first date. 2. all the people on that show are going to get mono. 3. don’t date a douchecanoe.

you are welcome.

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this was a loooonnnnnggggg day. it started with me waking up from a horrendous nightmare (i will spare you the details) at 5am to a daughter sleeping in her bassinet with her damn cannula on TOP of her nose instead of in it. i had a picture to show you of her and her cannula, but wordpress decided to bust my balls and have an error on the image page. i guess ill have to try that again later. anyway, after that dreadful nightmare i decided i might ought to just get up for good even though it was 5. little handsy mcdrew tugging at her nasal cannula while i was peacefully slumbering quietly suffering wasn’t really helping with my relaxation. somehow i got clara tucked back into her straight jacket swaddle as was able to go back to sleep for an hour and a half-ish. and that is when i woke up to fire truck sirens in the next room. about 2 seconds after i heard the fire sirens start, a firefighter carrying a small wailing labrador busted through my bedroom door. i turned around to see what was going on to realize that a) it wasn’t a fire truck siren. it was my son losing his damn mind and b) it wasn’t a firefighter busting through my door. it was my husband already exasperated at the wailing coming from the sleep terrorist that he was carrying. and i was hoping that my day would improve from my 5 am wakeup. aw, hellllllssss naw.

the day did not improve. as a matter of a fact, it went rapidly downhill. i glanced into my sons mouth at breakfast and realized that he is getting 4, yes ALL 4 of his canine teeth at once. if you think a teething baby is bad, try a quadruple dose of teething toddler. not only is he in pain and pissed about it, but he is mobile and can make poor tickle me elmo feel his rath. poor tickle me elmo. how much do you think it cost for sutffed animal therapy? im pretty sure i owe it to eh-mo to let him see a therapist to talk it out.

in addition to the teething terrorist (artist formerly known as sleep terrorist) screaming at the top of his lungs a better part of the day, i determined yesterday that sister has a milk allergy. damn you bessie. damn you. i recently uped my iced caramel latte intake as a survival strategy, but in a cruel twist of fate it turns out that uping my milk intake gives my daughter brutal gas. sure, because i am super mature its hilarious when something so loud and startling comes out of something so small the first couple times. after a few rocket blasts i realized that she was in serious pain. also, she started crying hysterically which tipped me off. i stopped my milk intake immediately, but her stomach hasn’t quite recovered from the milk od ive been subjecting her to since sunday. so, she cried. and she cried and she cried. and then she cried some more. (also, at some point today jack beamed her over the head with a large plastic boat and she unleashed the crying beast). so, one guy is crying and one gal is crying. the most awesome part of it all is that they also like to set each other off. one starts crying and the other one joins in the symphony for no other reason than just to give their ma a hard time.

so, like any good mother who is at her wits end, i look to the medicine cabinet for treatments. motrin for the boy, mylicon for the girl. but you can’t stop at one dose. oh, no. no you can’t. you have to keep it coming because you absolutely do NOT want to relapse into the horror that was before the medicine. i stared at the clock all day. i didn’t want to go over the next dose by one single minute for fear that things would start back up again. don’t get me wrong… the crying didn’t stop because of the medicine. we still had a rough day but at least there were brief moments of figurative butterflies and running through fields with my golden flax haired children that made me remember why i decided to be a full-time sahm. besides, today i would have been too embarrassed to let my son go to daycare. at least when i am at home with him i am the only one subjected to his bouts with crazy. all i can say is THANK GOD that we don’t remember teething, or baby gas, or getting bonked over the head with our siblings toys. it’s hard to be a baby.

oh please oh please oh please oh please Lord please let my child’s teeth come in quickly and if i swear to never ever drink milk, eat cheese, eat ice cream (*slight crossing of the fingers behind my back*), or consume any kind of dairy outside rational amounts used for cooking will you please let Clara’s tummy not hurt? oh and world peace. amen.



yeah, here is that pic from earlier. thanks for making it be out of context now wordpress. thanks a lot.
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a little bit of good press…
13
JUL
2011
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by meaganmoving in Uncategorized

alright, I feel like I owe my kids some good press.

awesome new tricks:
my son goes #1 on the potty before bath time every night. after he goes he stands up and screams “I did it! I did it!” and then does his little naked dance. it’s the cutest thing ever! i will get this on video and I will post it. In other news, he is talking up a storm. he can say a couple of 3 word sentences (i.e. I did it!). He is also mastering manners. he says “please” after almost everything which sometimes bleeds into the first word. The latest example: “up-plea” it sounds like uppie when he says it fast.

sister can stand up on her own with just me steadying her under her arms. no, she isn’t pulling up on things nor do I have intentions of entering her in the baby olympics. i guess it’s just cool to me because we had to do a little physical therapy w/ jman to build up his leg strength. baby hamhocks just comes by it natural. she is also smiling all the time now. im so thankful God blessed me with happy babies.


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hot.
17
JUL
2011
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by meaganmoving in Uncategorized

you seriously have to have a PhD in computer programming to be able to work this damn thing. (thing = blog setup. thing is the international word for any word that you are searching for but that you cannot find at the time due to extreme cases of mommy brain. i.e. “jerry, can you hand me that thing?” or “i was going to go to that thing and do that thing, but i forgot about that other thing”) but i digress. i was trying to make it so that my domain (whatever the Hell that is) would just be meaganmoving.com instead of meaganmoving.wordpress.com. i lost the whole kit and kaboodle when i tried changing it though. i was really going to be pissed if all my musings were deleted off the face of the planet. how else am i going to embarrass my children when they are grown. jeez. come on now, blogspot, get your shit together. oh wait, this is wordpress. well, wordpress you come on too.

last night my baby guyman fell asleep on his daddy’s shoulder at 5pm. we were all air high fiving and air dapping because we thought he would lay down for a little nap and then we’d be able to watch gnomeo and juliet when he woke up. you are damn right we had an exciting saturday night planned. turns out that homeskillet was plum tuckered because when we laid him down at 5 in just his diaper to sleep, he stayed asleep until 615 this morning. we figured out around 830 or so that he wasn’t going to be waking up until morning. we couldn’t decide what to do with putting him in pajamas. do we risk waking him at 830 to put him in jammers and have him be up until midnight or just let him sleep in his diaper and not turn on the air conditioner. like any lazy responsible parent, we opted to just leave the sleeping baby lie. NEVER wake a sleeping baby, not even when he is in a 4 hour old diaper and not even when he donts gots no clothes on neither.

jerry and i went to bed at 10 or so and our thermostat read 81. yes, 81 in the house. as i was laying there trying not to pass out from dehydration from my sweating i said “it’s so hot it reminds me of buckner” (buckner= camp buckner which is where cadet field training takes place. this is what we do after our freshman year at west point. in other words, if they didn’t make us miserable enough to be in full-on depression mode by the end of the first year, they want to kick off our second year with a bang [literally... a lot of bangs]). now i have most of my west point memories pushed waaaaaaaaaayyyyyy down into the darkest corners of my soul, but i got laughing hysterically last night thinking about how effin’ hot it was out at buckner that year and the shear ridiculousness of it all.

first of all: we were separated out by companies. each company had a section of land in the greater buckner area where they had bays for each of the 4 platoons. they guys from the platoon got 7/8ths of the bay and the girls got the other 1/8th. obviously, these measurements are imprecise. just go with it. there was a door separating the two and each side had our own bathrooms. that bathroom just so happened to be my bunkmate. literally, i was like a yardsticks length from the toilets. everytime someone went to the bathroom in the middle of the night i nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of the toilet flushing (which was damn near directly in my ear). it’s not a wonder to me now why i REFUSE to flush the toilet in the middle of the night. jerry won’t do it either for fear that ill fashion my toenail into a shiv and give it to him good. no jury would convict me.

my sheer proximity to bathroom germs was the least of my problems. i told jerry last night “i swear to God that’s the hottest i have ever been” jerry was doing his initial training that summer and he told me last night “it was the hottest summer on record”. nooooowwww, jerry doesn’t have a habit of lying, but “beast war story-wise” having the hottest summer on record would propel your badassness. just saying. anyway, because we slept next to the boys side of the bay, it was a military camp situation for chrissakes, and victoria’s secret doesn’t exactly have pop-up shops in the middle of the woods–our night attire was our physical training clothes. that doesn’t sound so bad except for that it was so hot i would have preferred to sleep in nothing but my sass mouth and what God gave me. we have established that one side of my bunk bed was the bathroom. the other side was a big metal locker. at night, i would get so hot i would try to flatten as much of my body against the metal locker as possible. i am sure i looked like some strung out tree frog. and can you imagine the site the bathroom goers saw when they were headed to use the facilities? seriously, ridiculous.

what you don’t know is they have something called the “million dollar minute” during our training where they basically shoot every damn big gun they can get their hands on. it’s a display of military chest beating in its purest form. oh wait, did i mention that they divide the some odd 1000 of us in half and do it twice!?! you mean to tell me that they spend approximately 2 million dollars in 2 minutes and these aholes can’t make it happen with some window air units? JUST SAYIN.

in other news, we did a little swimming today. my son kicked it off with a swimming party in the kitchen this morning around 7 am. he is obsessed (like, we might be having to get him on my strange addiction) with putting his hands or feet or whatever he can manage into the dogs water bowl. this morning he stomped his foot into the bowl and flung the entire contents on the floor. i was pa-pa-pa-pissed. before jerry could make it around the corner to put this fool in timeout he flopped himself onto the floor and started doing the breaststroke. yes, the breaststroke right in the middle of my kitchen. i didn’t want to laugh, so i turned around and just about bit a hole in my lip. he breaststroked all over the kitchen. jerry tried not to laugh too, but it was genuinely hilarious. we finally gave up and just decided to capture it on every form of media possible. see video: just kidding. wordpress is bustin’ my humps again. i’ll edit it in later.

after he breaststroked all over my kitchen, we promised him we would let him swim later this afternoon. and we did.



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call me crazy. no really. go ahead and call me crazy. this is the one time it’s a-ok and I won’t go all mississippi ghetto on you or start a fued the likes of which the hatfield and mccoys could have never seen coming.

why crazy? there have been many days during my life since clara arrived that I thought “I could totally handle 3″. i am by no means done being preggo and our family is not complete (God willing), but I had planned on not even starting to attempt number 3 until after my 30th birthday. I turn 28 in 1.5 wks for reference. I just love being a mommy so much that I had *almost* convinced myself that we should try a little sooner…and then today happened.

clara is still on o2 and I’d like her off asap. it’s not that we aren’t used to it or that she is suffering in anyway. personally, id just like to put her in a baby carrier and keep her with me all day. as it stands now, she is a gold-medal contender in the baby swing olympics as she has had plenty of pratice. her doc would not sign off on another o2 test until he saw her and he had exactly 1 set of back to back appointment slots in july. (c 2 month, j 18 month). the available time slots just so happened to be RIGHT SMACK IN THE MIDDLE of naptime. Lord help me. knowing full well that things could go downhill real fast, I just made the appointment and hoped for the best. I hardly slept last night for worrying about the tantrums (Re: explosions) that would make icelands volcanos look namby pamby. me and the big JC have been extra close today because I prayed and prayed that all would go smoothly and I would have to handcuff my child to any discount office furniture to get him to cooperate.

it all started out really well. both the kids were dressed cute and I had a genius idea (*pat on back*) to ask Jack to help me push the stroller. um, how effin adorable was I with my matching kids and my toeheaded son pushing his bowheaded sister in her stroller? I was feeling good. J even said “up-plea” (up please) to me while I was filling out papers. I picked him up and he flirted with the receptionist and I was high on the hog. when I was done we walked into the waiting area and from thin air appeared a little girl (about 8 years old) named grace who took a liking to my most precious and well-behaved son. he was so adorable I couldn’t stand it. he was well-mannered and respectfully and I was thinking “I got this” when the nurse called us back. this IS a cautionary tale: don’t ever for one second get cocky about your parenting. emotional karma will sneak around a corner and kick you straight in the junk before you know what hit you. and that’s exactly what happened.

I don’t know if he could smell the other childrens’ fear or if I was sweating pridefulness, but the minute we stepped into the exam room, my child lost his damn mind. the nurse mercifully helped me undress j so I could concentrate on c. we had to practically drag him caveman style to the nurses station to get him weighed. sometimes I swear he can read. without bothering a single other button he kept pushing “off” on the scale and laughing. after the 3rd attempt, I held his hands and this fool flung himself backwards at the velocity akin to space mountain at Disney. mr. rico suave from before was thrashing about clad in just a diaper and screaming bloody murder. WTF? I’m sure my face was as red as a tomato and even though he was the one in a diaper, i was the one who was caught pants down. the whole tantrum probably lasted maybe 10 seconds, but I will swear to it that in that ten seconds they had enough time to turn up the heat and for me to get pit-stains.

I won’t go into the rest of his bad behavior bc at least the rest of it was behind closed doors. the FIRST thing I did when I got home though was make a massage appointment if that’s any indication of the expertise with which my son misbehaved.

my massage started at 645. it had 3 stages: stage one (aka the stage where I thought the lady was going to snap my clavical like a wishbone), stage 2 (aka the stage in which I got so relaxed I’m pretty sure I drooled on the chicks foot) and stage 3 (aka the stage where I really had to poot but didn’t want to poot in the closed up room so I laid there and clenched my butt cheeks really tight for the last half hour). remind me not to scarf down my dinner before a massage. that’ll really ruin the last half. I probably should have just let it rip and left a bigger tip.

and I’ll leave you with my favorite quote from the appt. the doc said “she’s perfect. she has no neck, but really she is perfect”. sad, but true



**edit: i feel like my neck is bruised ALL over today. that lady worked me over good. also, clara gets to do her o2 trial. crossing my fingers and toes**




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im blogging so i wont be binging
21
JUL
2011
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by meaganmoving in Uncategorized

i make no qualms about the fact that i am a stress eater. i have been really trying to get a grip on my stress eating since i have had clara. mostly because i want to be a good example for her when she grows up. i don’t want her to see her mom binging every time the going gets tough. tonight is pretty tough. i would rank it easily in the top 5 most stressful days (or nights) of my life.

tonight we are doing clara’s oxygen trial for a second time. the first time we did the trial she was under 88% O2 saturation for more than 30% of the night. no beuno. baby’s under 6 months of age typically do this thing called “periodic breathing” basically, they take a big deep breath to get a lot of good oxygen in their lungs after they have had a drop in oxygen. last time that is what got us. i can tell by looking at the spo2 monitor that she is doing it tonight too. last time she would drop down into the low 70s when she was doing the periodic breathing. tonight (so far) we have only had a handful of times that she got to the low 80s, but mostly her sats are going from 96 to 88/87 when this happens. i hope that this trend continues. we are only 1 hour into the trial. 5 to go. i haven’t the foggiest what i am going to do to keep myself busy that doesn’t involve eating the rest of my caramel cake, but i’ll give it my best.

the last time we did the trial i wasn’t in full-on basketcase mode because i didn’t really know what to expect. i just stared at her for 8 hours and watched the numbers on that little machine jump around all over the place. jerry took the machine back to the O2 place the very next morning so that they could download the results and get them to my doctor. the doctor called at about 430 that day to tell us that clara didn’t do well. i am pretty sure at that exact moment someone reached into my chest and ripped out my heart. i mean it’s not like she was any worse off than she was when we started, but i wanted her to be all better. i dont exactly know how i managed to put a magical time frame on her wellness, but in my head that was time enough. you just want so much for your kids to be “healthy” and although she is healthy, i want her to be able to be tube free like a normal kid.

admittedly, i get a little jealous and frustrated when i see people who have kids straight away who get to come to the room with them after the birth, get to come home with their parents, and don’t have to get a nicu stay. i am 2 for 2 on nicu stays. i often times wonder what is wrong with me that i have had 2 kids and both required nicu stays. this gorgeous little cutie even upped the anty because she came home with oxygen. i know that she won’t go to kindergarten with her oxygen and that she will have to get it off sometime, but right now it just feels like its going to be forever. **she dipped into the high 70s one time (77 to be exact) and i nearly burst into tears just now**

i am not putting her through a whole night of catch up breathing if she starts dipping into the low 80s and high 70s often. i’ll just put her O2 back on and turn the monitor off. she deserves to be able to get a peaceful nights sleep without having to catch-up breath all night long. to me she is perfect, i just wish her lungs would get the memo.

i really don’t know what else to say. i am choking back tears. at about this mark last time is when she really got into a deep sleep and the periodic breathing became really pronounced and her numbers got back. it appears as though history is repeating itself. i’ll be sure to keep everyone posted.

i need to go padlock the fridge. *sigh*

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i keep trying to write but my girl is giving me binkie shout-outs every 30 seconds, so i keep having to erase what i have written and start over because my writing looks like an incoherent stream of bad autocorrects.

well, let me see… what has happened since we last spoke? oh yes, thats right! my boob jewelry is down one piece of jewelry of her own.


i've got no chin, but i've got no cannula either! boo-yah!


hooray for being off oxygen. i am thankful that she is off for a LOT of reasons and the fact that i won’t have to stress my way through any more overnight studies is definetly one of them. holy crap. seriously, that is mind numbingly stressful. she got hooked up to a pulse oximeter and it had little red numbers that jumped around to tell what her pulse oxygen level was. i would try not to look, but i pretty much just stayed fixated on the numbers all night. like seriously, crazy person fixated. anytime the number dropped below 88, my heart would stop dead in my chest. i think i was cumulatively on more hours holding my breath that night than the entirety of plebe swimming. bob and travel. bob and travel.

anyway, that whole ordeal is thankfully over and sister is tether free. tether free is the way to be. there is only one problem. i CANNOT stop looking up her nose. i literally haven’t been able to look up her nose from the minute she was born. now i can and it’s all i do. its hair free and rather unremarkable, but its fascinating all the same. i am so strange.

so yesterday i was feeding clara and texting at the same time. dangerous, i know. especially for someone who can’t walk and chew gum simultaneously. clara got all chuck norris on me and kicked my iphone into my glass of iced coffee. i’m still a little fuzzy on the details of how this happened, but all i know is my iphone took a little swim. at first i thought it was going to be all good and then i realized when my mom called that i couldn’t hear a damn thing. a phone without the ability to talk is kinda useless, so yesterday i had to get a new one. i wasn’t terribly disappointed because i had been eyeing the iphone 4 and my phone was due for an upgrade, so i got the upgrade price. i guess i could have put it in a bag of rice for a couple of days to see if it would pull the moisture out, but that would involve being without it for a few. yeah, not going to happen. im addicted and i admit it. i had to sync it to my computer when i got home and i was quickly reminded why i hate syncing my iphone. it took me 1.5 hours just to download the updated software. say whhhhaaaaaaatttt? i had just bought my phone 1 hour before and my software wasn’t the most up-to-date? i can tell you with certainty that this is the first and last time i will ever be updating my software for this phone. i also had to transfer my pictures. 5300 pictures, 3 hours, and 1 dinner prep, consumption, and clean up later i had all 5300 pics on my new phone. i am sufficiently armed to bore the shit out of whoever asks about my children.

so yeah, the iphone thing took up most of the day. we also went to lunch yesterday for what i am pretty sure will be the last time until both of my kids are 5. by then though i plan on having 2 more who are about the same age as these two though, so i guess i’ll get to really be surprised what restaurant food tastes like again when these two are old enough to go to college. the good news? i am turning into one hell of a martha stewart. i am really quite surprised at the amount of food out there that is rip-offable. the other week i made chicken and dumplings that were JUST like cracker barrel. only they were better because there was no threat of my son throwing cornbread at the table next to us and somehow that just makes a meal more enjoyable, you know?

today i suffered from another migraine. i had never had a migraine before and frankly thought that people were being a little wimpy when they said they were laid up from a migraine. …and then God shook me really hard until my teeth were rattling around in my head. no really, i feel like i was shaken really really hard. it feels like when you were a kid and you are on the zipper at the fair and some drunk carnie pulls the brake too abruptly. like, you are already sick to your stomach from all the twirling and then your brains get scrambled by your head slamming back on the cage. it’s really quite dreadful. it extra sucks because you can’t just walk it off or be distracted by the intoxicating smell of funnel cake. these migraines are legite and i’d really be happy never to have another one. it’s especially a bummer because when i am having a migraine my eyesight goes really fuzzy. it’s like being drunk, but without the fun of the buzz and plus nauseating pain. what bullshit. so today, if i ever silently made fun of you and your migraines… i am sorry. karma is.a.bitch.

headed to bed now to read my book. my friend told me about janet evanovich’s stephanie plum series. i am on book 3. i set a goal for myself on january 1 to read 6 books for pleasure this year. i finished my 6th book last night. 4 months to go and i am halfway through book 7. yay me!


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its my birf-day in 1.5 hours. I usually get real fired up over birthdays, but I already got my present of 1 very awesome kuerig coffee maker. amazing! one of the cool things about my birthday is that i share it with a couple of friends. I also share my birthday with a soon to be 28 year old who was born weighing in at a whopping 16 lbs and some change. in addition to being of gut busting proportions, this baby sumo wrestler was born in the room w/o a doctor. yes, this small toddler was delivered by nurses. I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but I’m fairly certain this ladies blood curdling screams has something to do with the fact that I am an only child.

speaking of children, my little j has started an interesting habit. for all intents and purposes of explaining his behavior we will call it a “war cry”. this child is all little boy and sometimes he gets a determined look on his face and goes charging off to do destruction or to just be naughty in general. now, I am pretty sure I’ve got jackenese figured out, but every now and again he slips in a word that I *think* sounds like something but it’s not even in the ballpark. Lord help me, I hope that’s what we are dealing with here. well, when j goes charging off to naughty-town he screams his “war cry” which just so happens to be a very shrill noise that sounds an awful lot like “tittttyyyyy!”. now, I’m not denying that the Army taught me some colorful language, but I can tell you with the utmost confidence I’ve never said titty in front of my son. that word makes me cringe…so don’t try pinning this on me. besides that word has 5 letters, not 4. also, if you know saint Jerry, my husband, you’d know jack didn’t go hearing that word from him either. I do not know WHERE he heard it or if it’s even what he is saying. I do know that it’s just a little funny and it does make one heck of an expletive. go ahead, the next time you stub your toe or lock yourself out of the house, just scream tiiittttyyy! you’ll be laughing so hard you’ll forget what got you to sayin’ it in the first place.
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Jesus. God. help me.
03
AUG
2011
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by meaganmoving in Uncategorized

after yesterday I was prayerful that today would go better. I don’t even want to get into yesterday. I have TTSD (Terrorist Toddler Stress Disorder). let’s just say that I sent a few smoke signals up yesterday that today would be better.

this morning was pretty good. Clara got over whatever drama it was yesterday that was making her need to be dining at the breastaurant nonstop. the weather was nice and jack kept saying “oupsite” (outside), so I put everyone in their swim diapers and out we went.

I really have no idea what swim diapers are good for because 5 minutes into our outside adventures, Jack had a very wet thong and Clara sharted and poop went running all down her legs and onto her chair. since we were at the baby pool, I stripped her down and dipped her butt-neked into the baby pool. I wiped her off and the cold water shock helped her remember how hungry she was. I couldn’t very well leave my 19 month old playing alone in the pool outside while I went inside. (don’t even tell me that I could bring him inside too bc that would have started world war drew). so, I did what any person desperate to have a good day would do… I picked up my naked baby, pulled down my tanktop and fed her. I have no privacy fence either. these are desperate times.

after swimming, j napped and c ate for 3 straight hours. in the meantime, I was phone accosted by a terd telemarketer. at one point he said “you aren’t going to hang up on me are you? I didn’t peg you as the rude type.”. I might not of been the rude type before but that sure turned me into one.

jack woke up in prime form from his nap. I thought babies were the ones who were supposed to scream non-stop. I have a 19 month old who obviously has one very loud and pissed off demon living in his vocal cords.

events of this afternoon: he told me he was hungry. I took him to the fridge and let him pick his food. he picked rice. I gave him some and he picked up his bowl and placed it on his head like a hat and then started screaming a shrill window bursting scream. (he did continue eating it though. he just started picking the rice out of his hair like monkeys do lice. keepin’ it classy) next, he asked me for a sip of water and poured a just opened bottle of water out on the couch. then, he walked to the bookcase and pulled off every single book. I looked up from feeding Clara when I heard pages of books being ripped. is there a destruction stage before the terrible twos? this is either a stage or I’m going to have to keep lighters and scissors hidden from him until he goes off to college. he also tried to use his sister as his step ladder today. I caught him before he got moving to good on that one. it’s like I can see his little naughty wheels turning under that thick skull of his. right now he is jumping on the couch for the millionth time today. I continually tell him he will hurt himself and he doesn’t listen. I’m sure it’s a metric shitton of fun, but I’d really rather not have to deal w/ a full-body cast.

please tell me that this is just a boy thing and that I didn’t sign up for this twice. Jesus. God. please help me!

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- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

merging blogs- pregnancy 2011


5 weeks on the labor train… and counting
19
APR
2011
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by meaganmoving in Uncategorized

i am convinced that my children hate me before i even meet them. i’m anticipating a record setting rough teen years if they are making the trends this early.

my darling son gave me PUPPP at 28 weeks and i had to suffer through until 38 weeks. for those of you who don’t know PUPPP… it is when little mignons of satan climb into your body through the scatchs on your stretch marks and take up residence. they bring little fiery wands of Hell with them and the wickedist batch of fiberglass insulation shards– just to make sure you itch and burn at the same time. the good news? there is no cure. the best my doctor at the time could do for me was sending me off to walgreens with marching orders to buy out the entire stock of benadryl. benadryl naps? awesome. benadryl comma for 10 weeks straight? = a great time to read the entire twilight series. team edward 4 eva and eva! if you think edward and jacob look good “sober” you should try checking them out in a solid 4 week benadryl haze (all while eating your 1000 hot pocket because you can’t operate the stove for fear of falling asleep on top of a burner mid- meal preparation).

my most glorious moment of my pregnancy with baby j was when i called my husband in tears at 10 in the morning begging him to come home. no, i wasnt in labor. i was wielding a disposable razor hoping desperately to shave my legs after weeks. i asked him to come home because i felt it was either shave my legs or check myself into the nearest psych ward. i itched so bad that i was afraid if i went to shaving i’d take my leg right off in an effort to relieve the itch. needless to say, my husband promptly left work and came on home (to this day i don’t know why he didn’t bring home a bulk bottle of prozac with him to crush up in my morning coffee). i got shaved legs that day. it was a small victory. i am pretty sure i didn’t shave again until the day of delivery as i didn’t want my husband running out of leave days.

and then on 21 december, my most precious and perfect little man came into the world. was it worth the itch? i’d say yes because today i sit here 36 + 3 days pregnant with my daughter.

on thursday my son will turn 16 months and i am convinced that if just the act of getting pregnant again didn’t secure a place in crazy-town for me, then the birth of my daughter 16 months after my son will definitley do it.

this little chick has upped the ante in miserable pregnancies too. she didn’t even bother waiting until 28 weeks to bring on the PUPPP. she sent teeny-tiny monogrammed invites to the mignons a little after 20 weeks to move right on in. i am very thankful that she at least laid down some ground rules that they would only be inhabiting my stomach strech marks. aside from the fact that i am down at least 13 layers of epidermis more than usual on my stomach, the PUPPP has been rather tolerable. or maybe the memories of my last torture are just so raw that my PUPPP PTSD won’t allow me to feel pain. either way, i’ll take what i can get.

in addition to hopping on the PUPPP wagon a little prematurely, this sister decided she was going to bust a move on out of my uterus at 31 weeks. um, no. after a solid thursday afternoon of brutal contractions that weren’t going away, i decided that i’d better make a visit to my dr. the midwife hooked me up to the nst machine and viola!… just as i had said… contractions lasting a minute every 3. the midwife came back in after a sweet 20 minutes of agony and said “ooohhhhh you are contracting close together” no shit sherlock. i was told to go home, lay down, do not pass go, do not collect $200. (and stay that way until 36 weeks).

for the next 3 weeks i did exactly as the doctor ordered. i laid, i lazed, and i lost my marbles. i was instructed to go to the hospital if i had more than 5 contractions and hour. my daughter must have quite keen hearing even in utero because guess how many contractions i had every hour from 31 weeks to nearly 34? 5. that’s right. not 4, not 6, not 5.5, just 5. i guess jerry and i will have to start spelling words instead of saying them when she is approximately 1 minute old to keep her from catching on.

after the 35 week mark, i was allowed to have as many contractions an hour as she wants as long as they don’t get worse. already an overachiever, i’ve been in “latent” labor now for nearly 3 weeks. as “latent ” labor was explained to me– “sometimes you just need to contract for weeks and weeks before your cervix starts to dilate” super. most people who don’t have a penchant for incubating difficult children have non-painful contractions for a week or two. then, there are those of us who have super stubborn cervixes and super stubborn nuggets. i’m on week 5 total of *painful* contractions and my cervix is sitting at sweet 2+ cm. this could go on and on til 40.5 weeks. damn, i need some ice cream just thinking about it.

seriously though, i wouldn’t trade either of my nuggets for any less stubborn kid (and easier pregnancy) on the planet. God gives us the perfect children and i realize just how lucky i am. i’d rather suffer for 40 weeks than not have these miracles at the end of my sentence gestation.

God is good all the time.
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and no, i don’t mean the whale sling they have to bring in to get my weight at my prenatal appointments. incidentally, having 2 kids back to back is about as good for the waistline as staring in the remake of Super Size Me.

yep, that’s me after two back-to-back pregnancies. i guess i’ll have to see a colorist soon.

what i actually mean when i refer to tipping the scales is the unnatural phenomena that happens to pregnant women around 35 weeks. i am so used to seeing myself in the mirror that i guess i didn’t notice the slowly forming “i am *bleseping* miserable” that showed up on my face. or maybe my sausage toes and fingers (and don’t forget the chipmunk cheeks) are startlingly noticable to the people i run across. twice just today i’ve heard a variation on the theme “you look like you are about to pop!” yeah, i feel like it too.
it must be so much the big pregnant elephant in the room that people can’t stop the words from coming out of their mouths. i could have sworn that i read a chapter on this in the secret code of women.

speaking of reading, i have been glancing back through jenny mccarthy’s ”belly laughs” from time to time to remind myself i am not the only person who has ever been nearly 37 weeks pregnant. if i could have just one wish today, i’d wish that i had half the notoriety of jenny mccarthy, so people would listen to me break it down for them. jenny does a rock ‘em, sock ‘em job of telling the pregnancy story, but what about the myriad of ‘ish that happens after the baby is born?

i get it that as new mommy’s we are enchanted with these little miracles that we’ve been growing from a seed to a watermelon over the last 10 months. i was indeed smitten and over the moon with my little nugget, but no matter how tired i was i never lost conscientiousness and cognitiveness about the crazies that were happening to my body. if you got pregnant after me and we are friends, there is a good chance i already tried to send you a smoke signal about this body drama. if you are not pregnant and thinking about getting pregnant… read at your own risk.

the very first thing i noticed and WHY did no one tell me about this: spoiled milk. i wish to you that i was just refering to coming home from the hospital to realize that you can’t have your fruity pebbles because all the milk in your house has gone bad. but, no. i am talking about the eau de toilette that oozes out of the pores of bfing women. i remember going to the va for a drs appointment a week or so after j was born. i would swear to you that everyone within a 10 foot radius had to get up a move because i smelled like a gallon of old milk left out all day in the middle of summer. it’s gross, it happens, and no amount of perfume or bathing will get rid of it. it does go away eventually, but it’s not pretty folks. just not pretty.

the next and MOST DISTURBING thing about the post partum period is the uterus flopping. i cannot confirm that this is a symptom that faces all women or if it’s just c-section women or if it’s just lucky weirdos like me. i swear to you, it is so disconcerting that i am thinking about writing a screen play and submitting it to stephen king. this shit will haunt your dreams. after i had my son i had to lay flat on my back for a week or so because of the c section pain. once the c section pain subsided, i was able to go back to the side lay position that i grew so fond of during my pregnancy. the thing i was not prepared for? the uterus flop. i don’t know why this happens (my best educated/scientifically unfounded guess- that your uterus pushes all your organs out of the way and it takes a while for everything to get back to wear it belongs). all i know is that when i rolled over to my side i LITERALLY FELT MY UTERUS flop to the side i was laying on. i am exceptionally glad that i have internal organs and that they all function correctly, but i do not now or ever care to have knowledge of their day-to-day movements. *shudder* you’ve been warned.

i won’t even get into the night sweats because they are just like what they sound like. my only suggestion for anyone who will eventually be post-partum is to sleep on a towel so that when you wake up soaked to the core- you can ditch the towel and sleep on dry sheets or another dry towel. you don’t need pnemonia in addition to taking care of a newborn.

now that we have covered the utterly disturbing, we can cover the downright commical: the caverness belly button. my belly button never became an outie because i swear my skin was so stretched to capacity that there wasn’t enough spare skin to let it go out. however, after my stomach went back to normal (only far more bulldogs face looking), my belly button had to be a full 4 inches deep. i was certain that keebler elfs were spalunking in there. what the hell they were hunting for i will never know. the inside is all bruised looking too and there isn’t much that can be done to make you feel better besides make sure that all of your mirrors only catch the top 1/3 of your body.
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after labor addendum
02
MAY
2011
1 Comment
by meaganmoving in Uncategorized

ok, it has been a minute. one of my bffs rolled into town with her wee nugget this week. we had a ton of fun and i got lots of baby snuggles! (when waiting for labor, i assure you that baby snuggles are absolutely the best medicine). i miss them already and they’ve only been gone 5 hours.

this week while she was here, we were talking about all of the after labor joys that i mentioned in my previous post. there were 2 that its pretty egregious that i looked over. here they are for your reading pleasure:

1) bells palsy- first of all, you need to know what it is. http://www.cnn.com/HEALTH/library/bells-palsy/DS00168.html

i had NEVER heard of anyone getting bells palsy, but you know i got it. because j was in the NICU for 8 days, i didn’t notice anything wrong with me since i was too busy worrying about him. (not to mention that in every picture of us as a family i was wearing a surgical mask) after getting the baby home and bringing my anxiety level from a solid 10 to a 2, i started realizing that whenever i smiled only half my face would move. i was straight swollen up like rosie o’donnell (on a good day) and thought perhaps my chipmunk cheeks were causing some facial anguish. 2 days after getting j home from the hospital we went for newborn pictures. my parents were in town so they went too. at one point during the pics my mom said to me “why are you smiling like that?” i thought i was smiling normally and brushed it off. and then, we got the pictures back. whoadies. um, WTF? only the left side of my face showed any form of emotion. as for the right side, it was completely paralyzed.

and that is why you will only ever see pictures of me and my newborn with my head down…



i really don’t remember when it went away, but thankfully it eventually did. throw a paralyzed face on top of a fresh 40 lbs of baby fat and you know i was feeling my best.

2) chin hair- don’t lie. if you have ever had a baby you know about the chin hair. this one unfortunately is a bleed over from pregnancy. sometimes it gets banging early on and keeps rearing its ugly hairy head for months after baby. i had nearly resolved myself to carrying around a little belt loop tweezer set so that i can could pluck everytime a random 1/8 inch newbie popped up on my chin

i used this earlier in life on my unsightly upper lip hair and unibrow, but it works fabulous on chin hair too. just fyi. don’t be embarrassed to get some. it’ll change your life. it doesn’t say this on the bottle, but for me it helps to slow my hair growth. i mean, really, i was plucking 2 times a day. it was getting out of hand. now, i pluck every two or three days. its AMAZING. i’m still convinced that estrogen is a biznitch and does cruel things to women, but at least sally hansen has my back.

so there you have it. these are two more of the things you should really know before your mini-home skillet pops out. don’t say i didn’t warn you.

i’ll be back this week. wait for it…

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alright. it’s official. if baby c isnt born VERY soon she is going to be coming out with a full-set of permanent teeth and a drivers license. and no, after this last 8 weeks of naughty behavior she will not be getting her own car… not even a barbie hot wheels car. (or at least not until she comes out and gives her mommy lots of good snuggles to recitfy the naughtiness).

today i woke up in a fowly fowl fowly mood. merely waking up on the wrong side of the bed is for chumps, i straight woke up on the wrong side of the house. i guess it’s the two week haul. it’s not like i am carrying around an exceptionally large amount of extra weight or anything– i just HATE waiting. when you combine the waiting with a couple of weeks of contractions with no results, it does not a happy mommy make. i really had some grand ideas about how i’d get out my aggression. first, i decided that i wanted to go for a run, but that wouldn’t work because i’d either only be able to run 5 steps or this child might have fallen smack out onto the concrete. the next idea i had was to put on my boxing gloves (pink gloves, of course) and do some boxing. that plan would probably have worked if i had a boxing bag. i don’t have a bag though and i don’t think my hubs would appreciate me being the crap out of the walls. my last idea and the one i inevitably acted on was to get a massage. whoop. it was a good call.

after my amazing massage, i thought i’d go mall walk. i did not arm myself with fresh white tennis, but i did see quite a few mall walkers who were pimping the white chucks. my thought? i’d go look for some keds for jackman and maybe all the walking (and jiggling) would shake me right into labor. i walked and walked and walked and walked, i looked in every store and no keds.



i almost never even bother to go into children’s place, but i did today. they were having a killer sale and it was like comedy hour on their tee-shirt rack. i also found adorable beige and navy saddle oxfords. my choices were size 4 or size 7. i went with the size 7s. we will be putting those little pretties on jman’s chub feet come winter. i am so excited.

so after all the mall walking (almost 3 straight hours), i didn’t find keds or labor. oh well. no surprise there. tomorrow is cinco de mayo. after becoming a texas resident, i feel very compelled to celebrate cinco de mayo every year. my daughter decided not to come beforehand, so i have been warning her that i’m going to burn her right out with the hottest salsa in town. watch out cici. feel the burn.


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merging blogs- birth story

“birth” story

i am taking advantage of the adrenaline, pain meds, lack of baby, and sleeping husband to go ahead and update the world on the “birth” story. i am using the term “birth” lightly because anytime you have a c section its really more of a surgery story. it’s a surgery story with a rocking outcome, but still a surgery.

and for a little background: i had my standard 38 week appointment last Monday and when checked my doctor said that i was 3 cm and that she could feel C’s head. i found this extraordinarily groovy considering the week before i was 0 and clara might as well have been floating in the black sea. encouraged, i went home and did all of the things that you do when you are trying to get a baby to get moving. i did not partake in any of the magical teas, or cod liver oil (yuck), or any other such drama. however, i did walk, do squats, work in the yard, work in the house, etc. i was trying to get sister to bust a move on her own. this weekend i was quite anxious about my tuesday appointment and told my husband several times ‘i dont need to rush the plan, but i’d love to know what the plan is” i asked him when he thought she would come. he said “late sunday night” i think i am getting this home dog a crystal ball. or hell, he doesn’t even need it.

we had a most excellent weekend with jack this weekend. we flew kites, we played in the sprinklers, we played in the baby pool, we played with toys, we went to Church, we got some yummy MDay lunch, we went to the Dairy Isle, and we generally just enjoyed the heck out of spending time together. i am so glad. tonight when we put him down for bed he was clearly exhausted. (exhausted from all the fun, duh). i put him to bed and went out to the den to watch Last Cake Standing and to cheer for Josh. (i still think he was robbed by the way). i made the observation that there should be no baby body part at 39 weeks that with my ability to put my arm down. yet, i had a piece of baby clara that did, indeed, interfere with me putting my arm at my side.

after LCS i hit the hay. jerry read for a bit and i played solitaire on my phone. sometime between 815 and 845 Clara lost her mind in my belly. her moving because VERY sporadic, frantic, and generally unpredictable. the only thing i knew was that it hurt like heck. this game of charades (or perhaps celebration of the up and coming kung fu panda 2) last about a half an hour and then crickets. no matter what i did i could not make her move. i pushed on her, i prodded her, i wiggled my hand around trying to get her to jiggle in the approximate place she usually does her moving and NADA. thankfully, i have a fetal doppler at home and i sprung up out of the bed to see if i could catch her heartbeat. i put it down low where i assumed that he hb would be. it was so all over the place i nearly passed out from fear. her hb was galloping horses for a couple of seconds and then a beat………. beat…………..beat….beat….galloping horses… beat…………..beat. it was then that i decided that i was going in to L&D. the worst thing that could happen is they’d call me crazy and send me home.

i took a 2 minute shower, threw on clothes, and ran out the door. i left j and j behind thinking i was merely coming to the hospital for some monitoring. when i got here, i had to go through the er entrance. i asked the gentlemen security guards “which way to l and d” a kind salt and pepper haired guy hopped up out of his seat and escorted me up. i told the lady what my problem was and she brought me back to triage. on the way to triage, i saw my doctors little brown ponytail and instantly felt relieved.

as soon as my amazing nurse nancy hooked me up to the machines, my doc was in with the portable u/s machine. she started down low (where her head SHOULD be) and all i saw was a flicker of feet. my doctor hopefully doesn’t fancy herself much of a poker player because he chin feel in surprise and she turned to me and said “can i sit down?” of course i told her yes and she went in search of clara’s head. all the while it was very evident to me that she was flabbergasted as to how this happened. i mean, i had just seen her 7 days ago. its unusual on a 2nd pregnancy for kids to have that much roon. i mean, if i had a floppy old michelle duggar uterus that would be one thing. however, my uterus should still be fairly taut. the only thing i said when my dr confirmed “she is breech” was “that means you are going to have to cut her out aren’t you”

i’ll save you all of the medical discussion that followed, but the sum of all the parts was that not only would we be doing a c section, but we’d be doing it tonight. i told jerry. he definitely didn’t see that one coming. i put him on the phone with my dr (amazing that she would do that btw) . she recapped our convo and we put the emergency baby train into action. i made all the phone calls and jerry prepped the baby and house. 1 hour later i was supposed to be in the operating room having a baby.

my nurse, nancy, started doing all the prep. we were afraid we’d be late to my c section date, but jerry wasn’t there yet anyway. jerry arrived about 14 minutes before they wanted to take me back. just as we were about to go for the ride of f lifetime, we got bumped. first, a lady who had been pushing for 1 hour decided to finally give her baby the old heave ho! then, a lady who had her blood pressure bottom out on her needed an emergency c section. although my c section wasn’t exactly leisurely in nature at this point, we could wait. and we did. i honestly have no idea what time we went back.

once in the room they scooted me onto the bed, the doc got me all hooked up with my spinal (which incidentally did not hurt A BIT– i don’t know what he did different from the doc in EP, but i like this guy exponentially better). after the spinal kicked in, i got very sick to my stomach. i told the doc i needed to throw up. he gave me explicit instructions and i followed. i ended up barfing. doc used suction to get it out, but i just spit most of it into a bed pan. how’s that for a heroic birth story!? after the barfscapades they drapped me up, and off we went. my doc used the exact same incision as last time, so she had a considerable amount of scar tissue to get through. while she was cutting, clara was kicking up a storm. finally they got all the way down to my uterus cut and POP! out comes a foot. like seriously, they didn’t even have to try. (apparently she has monkey toes. i cannot confirm or deny this as i have not seen them yet). one limb at a time clara made her entrance into the world.

at 222am she was 100% out and ready to meet the world. she was breathing on her own, but was a little paler than they like (i almost asked if they took a look at my skin color before making that determination). clara also appeared a bit floppy. she seemed awfully well-mannered for someone who was just pulled from their warm cozy home of 9 months (again, i almost asked if they were aware that he mother is a southern belle). jerry got to cut her cord and i am really not sure else what happened for the next 20 minutes becuase i was busy being tripped out on meds and wondering why it felt so weird that i couldnt feel my feet.

at some point she was wheeled over so i could see her and my first thought was “holy cow she looks just like that!” i am actually quite certain that i said that out loud. she does look just like him. the only forseeable difference right now is that she has lots of chunk. jman was a lean mean fighting machine. clara… not so much. although, i don’t think that 8lb and 1oz is particularly heavy the staff around here have been referring to her as “a bigger baby” so for now (and not a day past when she can understand what it is we are calling her) she will also be known as heavy c. kidding. really, i am kidding. and don’t you dare call her that or ill punch you in the nose.

soon after the c section, i went to the recovery room. i stayed there for approximately 1 hour and then my nurse wheeled me to the NICU. i got to gaze at my little gal for a few minutes before coming up to my room. at the time she was on 30% oxygen with the expectation that she would be weaned off over the next bit of the day. we will see. i certainly hope that is correct. cici will be spending at least 48 hrs in the NICU because they had to draw labs. although i really wanted to avoid a NICU stay this time, i would certainly feel much better about a baby with no oxygen and no real issues that was just in the NICU because she is waiting on labs.

after the NICU visit, i came to my postpartum room where i’ll be spending the next 48-72 hours. it’s where i sit now and why i had a little time to write. since i have been in here i already pumped once. my nurse didn’t bring in any containers to store my milk in because she assumed i wouldn’t get any. 2 oz of colostrum later, mary pat went on down to the storage room and brought me back a container. if she has to be in the nicu, i am proud that i can at least provide her milk. a bit ago, i ordered “room service” for me and jerry (yes, that is what they call it here). it should be delivered at anytime in the next few minutes and then my nurse assures me that i can get in a wheelchair and head back down to see my gorgeous girl.

and for now, that’s all she wrote….



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more sept 2011

what the Hell was I thinking


I write this as I am in the throws of toddler Hell. like seriously, toddler mother effing Hell. if you think my language is foul, you underestimate just how horrible this situation is that I am suffering through right now. 2 weeks ago, I decided to fly to Mississippi w/ my 4 month old and my 21 month old…by myself. what the eff was I thinking?

as if this situation weren’t on the verge of complete and utter insanity even IF my son had taken a nap today, please imagine for a moment how terrible it must be knowing that he didn’t nap. yes, I am currently ignoring him and writing this because I am afraid if I didn’t do something to distract myself I’m going to get off the plane as mother to one child, not two.

so far he has smacked his sister in the head with his toy as hard as humanly (toddlerly) possible. this sent my normally very reliably calm baby into a screaming fit. jack is quite the sympathy crier so then I had a symphony of wailing and I was getting plenty of nasty looks. I just wanted to scream at the top of my lungs “I’m doing the best I fucking can, ok!!!!!!!!” and then disappear into thin air.

in addition to giving his sister’s perfectly round head some character, he has also constantly kicked the seat in front of us and he threw his sippy cup like a garter and phwapped the guy behind us. I don’t know how to discipline that. he is currently strapped into his carseat so it’s not like I can do timeout. I’ve told him “no”, but that doesn’t do me a whole Hell of a lot of good if I can’t discipline him when he defies my “no”.

I brought along a bunch of toys and we’ve currently lost half to the floor with no hope of recovery. I don’t really care about that part but we have been playing “fetch” and I could do without that fun since I’m not a dog and have no plans to become one in the foreseeable future.

I planned to feed c on the way up, but she HATES breastfeeding covers and was whipping my cover around like zorro’s cape while it was still around my neck. I now have a “rug” burn on my neck and a hungry daughter who also has expertly taken 3 shadoobies in the past 2 hours. I can’t leave j to go to the bathroom so I’ve changed 3 diapers on my lap and been peed on. I’m also just whipping my boob out now. I’m waiting to see if TSA awaits me and my toddler terrorist when we deplane. I’m sure the stewardesses are informing air traffic control of nipplegate as we speak.

me and my piss jeans are O-V-E-R this flight. I keep staring at the clock and hoping that it’ll be over soon. i think I’m in some horrible parallel universe where the time actually stands still.

about 30 minutes ago I prayed and prayed about what to do. I’m not saying God led me to medicate my kids, but the idea of giving them medicine to help them calm down popped into my head shortly thereafter. j and c are now both finally asleep. thank goodness.

I forgot to mention that before we even got this show properly on the road (or air?), j was running on the people mover with his Daddy. he bit it hard and gave himself a bloody nose. at which time we realized that his wipes were left in the family restroom. and for the icing on the cake, someone on the plane keeps passing gas, farting, tooting, letting loose a weeping willow, or whatever the Hell you wanna call it. every single time I’m sure it’s one of my kids exploding out of their diaper. I mean Hell, my pants are already covered in pee…why not add a little solid to the show?

I got a significant amt of help from the flight attendant getting on the plane. I have no idea what kind of situation I’m going to be getting myself into getting off. I’m thinking we should probably wait and get off last but when things are bad, I want my momma and things.are.bad. I just want to be the first one running off the plane and go see my mom and dad. I think I actually just had an idea. hmmmmm. we will see if it’ll work.

I’ll keep you posted.





*Motrin*- a mom’s best friend



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

merging blogs- sept 2011

what the Hell was I thinking
23
SEP
2011

I write this as I am in the throws of toddler Hell. like seriously, toddler mother effing Hell. if you think my language is foul, you underestimate just how horrible this situation is that I am suffering through right now. 2 weeks ago, I decided to fly to Mississippi w/ my 4 month old and my 21 month old…by myself. what the eff was I thinking?

as if this situation weren’t on the verge of complete and utter insanity even IF my son had taken a nap today, please imagine for a moment how terrible it must be knowing that he didn’t nap. yes, I am currently ignoring him and writing this because I am afraid if I didn’t do something to distract myself I’m going to get off the plane as mother to one child, not two.

so far he has smacked his sister in the head with his toy as hard as humanly (toddlerly) possible. this sent my normally very reliably calm baby into a screaming fit. jack is quite the sympathy crier so then I had a symphony of wailing and I was getting plenty of nasty looks. I just wanted to scream at the top of my lungs “I’m doing the best I fucking can, ok!!!!!!!!” and then disappear into thin air.

in addition to giving his sister’s perfectly round head some character, he has also constantly kicked the seat in front of us and he threw his sippy cup like a garter and phwapped the guy behind us. I don’t know how to discipline that. he is currently strapped into his carseat so it’s not like I can do timeout. I’ve told him “no”, but that doesn’t do me a whole Hell of a lot of good if I can’t discipline him when he defies my “no”.

I brought along a bunch of toys and we’ve currently lost half to the floor with no hope of recovery. I don’t really care about that part but we have been playing “fetch” and I could do without that fun since I’m not a dog and have no plans to become one in the foreseeable future.

I planned to feed c on the way up, but she HATES breastfeeding covers and was whipping my cover around like zorro’s cape while it was still around my neck. I now have a “rug” burn on my neck and a hungry daughter who also has expertly taken 3 shadoobies in the past 2 hours. I can’t leave j to go to the bathroom so I’ve changed 3 diapers on my lap and been peed on. I’m also just whipping my boob out now. I’m waiting to see if TSA awaits me and my toddler terrorist when we deplane. I’m sure the stewardesses are informing air traffic control of nipplegate as we speak.

me and my piss jeans are O-V-E-R this flight. I keep staring at the clock and hoping that it’ll be over soon. i think I’m in some horrible parallel universe where the time actually stands still.

about 30 minutes ago I prayed and prayed about what to do. I’m not saying God led me to medicate my kids, but the idea of giving them medicine to help them calm down popped into my head shortly thereafter. j and c are now both finally asleep. thank goodness.

I forgot to mention that before we even got this show properly on the road (or air?), j was running on the people mover with his Daddy. he bit it hard and gave himself a bloody nose. at which time we realized that his wipes were left in the family restroom. and for the icing on the cake, someone on the plane keeps passing gas, farting, tooting, letting loose a weeping willow, or whatever the Hell you wanna call it. every single time I’m sure it’s one of my kids exploding out of their diaper. I mean Hell, my pants are already covered in pee…why not add a little solid to the show?

I got a significant amt of help from the flight attendant getting on the plane. I have no idea what kind of situation I’m going to be getting myself into getting off. I’m thinking we should probably wait and get off last but when things are bad, I want my momma and things.are.bad. I just want to be the first one running off the plane and go see my mom and dad. I think I actually just had an idea. hmmmmm. we will see if it’ll work.

I’ll keep you posted.





*Motrin*- a mom’s best friend



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