Look What I Made!

Now, I don't like to read about other people's baby stories.  People seem to love to blog about that.  However, Ima tell you mine because it was short (nay, RAPID) and to the point and that was part of the problem.  Although, on this side of things it doesn't necessarily seem like a problem, however the brain does have a way of erasing ones memory... that's why some people have more than one kid, I suppose.

All of my little people have been one week late, except for Coop.  Being my first, it was a blessing that my water just broke three weeks early with him and I didn't have to wonder exactly when to go to the hospital. 

I decided to lay down and take a cat nap 5 days before my due date and coincidentally, on my younger sister's birthday, when I felt a... pang.  Ten minutes later... same thing.  Nine or so minutes later... same thing.  That's when I got on the phone and told the Hubs, "Hey.  Be on time today."  This was somewhere in the neighborhood of 1:00pm.  Hubs gets off around 1:30.  I figured I had plenty of time IF this was "it", but hey, why be the only one miserable??  I had probably only enough time to dial the phone and have a little convo when, hey...  we're at the eight minute mark.  I called right back and told the Hubs, "naw.  let's just come home."  (You have to be on top of things like this with the Hubs...  he can talk to ANYONE.  I mean ANYONE. And if I didn't stay on top of it, five hours could go by and he may still be chatting someone up or mosey-ing on home.  Yes, even when I'm in labor.)

I decided to hop in the shower all "I'm experienced and have plenty of time" like.  Ima shave my legs!  Wash my hair!  Chill for a while!  It was when I began leaning all over the shower wall that I thought, "hmmm... lets cut this one short."  I drug myself out and checked my contractions app...  seven minutes apart?  oh.  fun.

2:30 rolls around and the Hubs strolls in.  There's no Dick Van Dyke-fall-over-the-ottoman for him or forget mama and pedal-to-the-metal to the hospital like you see on TV.  No, I had to poke and prod him on along and convince the house, "no.  for serious.  I need to GO".  I am just very glad I decided to leave when the contractions were five minutes apart the very first time and not wait an hour like suggested. 

The car ride was just ridiculous.  As I watched my little contraction app, I got a little more nervous with every mile.  They were coming closer and closer together.  At one point, through a voice much like Reagan's in The Exorcist... I requested a Pearl Jam CD in the stereo.  I just thought, "concentrate on every word like the contractions don't exist."  It seemed to work... for a while... then I had to get out of the car... that is just a ridiculous feat for someone in labor.  Partly because I am hella stubborn and partly because I needed someone to lean on, the Hubs and I parked (instead of dropping me off) and made the long trek to labor and delivery.  This was 3:30pm.  I said to the Hubs, (Reagan voice):  "I won't be getting an epidural today."  He says, of course, "Aw, sure you will, honey."

I must have looked pretty damn amazing because I was offered a wheel chair upon entering the hospital.  No paperwork, no nothing... get that woman out of here!  Upstairs, the triage nurse decides some of my blood needs to be taken to the lab... seems my blood pressure goes up with each contraction (pray tell, why would it not?!  Its a nerve wracking experience.) 

I will seal the deal here and you will know my obsession with Eddie Vedder.  Once in my room, I decided screaming (or rather, guttural weird noises) were wasting my time and energy.  I went inside myself and imagined Mr. Vedder throwing me my own personal concert.  I also used the mantra, "let your uterus do the work."... whatever works right?  I just figured I wouldn't want to be embarrassed in front of Eddie, so I must maintain composure!  Later the Hubs told me it was somewhere around here I worried him because I went absolutely silent.  Closer to "Time" I moved my inner self to a beach complete with margaritas and Bud Light, focused on the deserted island off in the distance... figuring I couldn't maintain enough composure in front of my imaginary Eddie Vedder. 

Somewhere within my imaginary beach-happy-hour... look who shows up... well... it's the anesthesiologist.  Labs FINALLY came back and everything was fine.  (duh.)  It felt like forever, but I guess in reality (not on my Eddie Vedder Beach) it was really not that long.  I sat up to receive the great miracle that is an epidural and BAM.  My water broke.  Confused as to how the hell I would have someone plunge something into my spine without writhing in pain because of contractions, I was doubly confused as to how it would help in time anyway.  I considered asking the nurse, "Will it hurt even more? (during delivery)" if I didn't have the epidural, but only imagined her saying, "Fuck yeah, its gonna hurt." and maintained my silence.  I only shook my head when she asked me if I still wanted the epidural. 

It was a pretty amazing little circle, filled with women (and the Hubs...) like some sort of Red Tent or something.  They let me sit up and call the shots pretty much.  (Why the hell would anyone assume it's best to lay down while trying to push a bowling ball out of your hootenanny, I'll never know.)  The room was full of cheering and I felt like I could actually participate fully (but, fuck yeah... it hurt.)  I will say that the worst part is the last few minutes.  Even I wasn't sure what I had experienced until later when my midwife asked me, "How'd ya like that 'ring of fire'?"  Oh.  Dear.  God.  But ya know what?  The instant... and I mean the INSTANT it was all over, I felt like a million bucks.  Like, pack-my-bags-why-can't-we-all-just-go-home million bucks.  It was amazing.  And the little guy was bright eyed and bushy tailed like I have seen no other because he hadn't been medicated either.  Absolutely amazing.

I would HIGHLY recommend this whole natural thing to anyone.  Only... I wouldn't study it up too much before hand.  Something like this could scare the hell out of a person if it isn't just forced upon them...  worked for me anyway... 

So there it is.  Felt a pang around 1pm.  Left for the hospital around 3pm.  Had a baby boy by 5:30pm.  It was nutso.  But here he is: 

Mr. Finn Scott

Welcome to our crazy little family.  Glad to have ya.





...and thank you, Eddie Vedder. 

A Preggo Update.

I'm "supposed" to be doing this right??? Do you like baby updates? Do you care? Would you hate me if I said I don't. I don't care. Once you have a few babies, its just not as mushy squishy. In fact, yesterday when the midwife said, "See ya in two weeks!" (instead of one month) I asked her why??! Well, it seems I'm just THAT far along. Oh. Good to know. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I do wish it was mushy-squishy-er... its just that life gets in the way and before you know it, you've got a full-on kid and you're wondering where the time went.  So for nostalgia's sake Ima fill out this survey thing that floats amongst the blogs and then add my very artistic picture of the 'bump' as the others do.

How far along?: 28 weeks and 2 days

Total weight gain/loss: 11 pounds gained, bitches. (This is an unfair question. I gained 60 damn pounds with Cooper. I simply don't need to gain a bunch of weight because so much of Cooper IS STILL THERE. Plus, I lived in complete luxury when I was pregnant with Coop... I'd sleep when I wanted, ate whatever and whenever I wanted. Now I'm chasing 5 kids (Lola should count for 3 though, honestly) in 100 degree weather. Damn, I am worn out.

Sleep: Well, I am blogging at 4:30am... so... you make your own conclusions. I'm telling myself I'll get a nap during "Quiet Hour" somewhere around 2pm. That should sufficiently eff up my sleep schedule. I'll catch my boyfriend, Jimmy Kimmel, tonight and then keep the cycle going.

Best moment this week: My mind is clouded with the fact that my thermostat, couch and washing machine "situation" (it is a situation. A rigged eff-ed up situation we inherited with the house... I won't go further) all shit the bed on the same day. So... my most interesting baby moment had to happen yesterday when the nurse at the midwives' office decided to cram in nearly every detail of her life in 10 minutes. She began the appointment thinking it would be hilarious to yell, "Come on down!" in the waiting room. She then babbled on about how clumsy she was as a child and all her various childhood injuries. She finished her long winded story by adding, "yeah, I can't walk and chew gum at the same time!" snicker. snicker. I did not give much thought to her saying this until I was standing alone in the next room, ass bared to the world, waiting on her to get someone to help her with the rhogam needle she had just fucked up. I hate shots like anyone else, but when the nurse declares something like this and then abandons you, its a little unsettling. I just don't know how people like this always find me...

Movement: my babies don't kick in a way that makes me say, "hardy-har-har! This one is a soccer player!" Nope, they SQUIRM. Its relatively reminiscent of the Alien movies. I say this with love. Every so often I hear one of my ribs click because of it.

Symptoms: I don't get this question. Of pregnancy? Well, I do look as though I am smuggling a bowling ball... I'm not nauseous, but I am just ridiculously tired. Mentally and physically. Other than that, I'm chugging along.

Focused on: a damn name. No, no, make that TWO names. What an ingenious idea to not find out the gender! Its been hard enough to decide on names otherwise. Now we need two... one for either! After having Coop, and nearly right before going home from the hospital, the nurse came in to remind us we needed to fill out the birth certificate info before we left. We procrastinated til the bitter end. It's only gotten harder since. I have parameters: must be a decent CEO name, must not have a weird and trendy spelling, yet must be unique, cannot be within the top 50 baby names of the year, must not remind me of someone that sucks. It's hard being me.

Food cravings: yes, please.

Food aversions: nope! Feed me, Seymour.

Nesting: I do not believe with a family my size, I am allowed to 'nest'. There's always shit that needs to get done. I HATE the term 'nesting'. Anytime a pregnant gal gets up to straighten something, some asshat needs to smile and say, "awwwwww, she must be nesting!" Mayhaps we like to keep a clean and organized home too?! ...stepping off the soapbox.

Gender: I've gone over this one. EVERYONE asks me what I think 'it' is though. I usually say 'human' so as to move the conversation along. I will say our family has a history of a bunch of boys. Lola came out of no where. ...But I am carrying a lot like I did with Lola. I truly don't mull it over very often. We will just see.

Labor signs: The more kids you have... the sooner, more often and more ridiculous the little fake-y contractions. Joy of joys!

Belly button in or out: always in. Due to a gall bladder removal, I do not believe I am capable of 'out'... did this question enlighten you? That's what I'm here for.

What I miss: running up and down the stairs without having to stop in the middle. Getting up and down off the floor without looking like an over-turned turtle. Seeing my toes.

What I am looking forward to: seeing the Little One for the first time. I thought I knew so well that Lola was the last... this little person is such a mystery to me!

Well, as promised. An artistic picture of 'the bump':





I'm sorry. I didn't say MY bump... did I? That's not a pretty picture at this point... for I do not have Photo Shop to make it so...


Happy Weekend!

Especially When It Looks Like Nothing

So I've heard I shouldn't blog if I'm bored.  Makes for bad reading.  What if I instead said I feel rather bored, yet I am also so damn busy I can't see straight.  I once read a book... well, okay it was pretty boring...so I skimmed it... but it was called "What Mothers Do (Especially When It Looks Like Nothing).  In it, the author brought up the fact that while a mom multi-tasks a hundred things at once (it's a hundred, right?!) if she was to answer the phone in the midst of it, she'd probably say, "Oh, I wasn't busy".  WRONG.  The author proved her point much better than I could, but I know exactly where she's coming from.  In a moment I'm going to go work on some first grade math while scrubbing my kitchen floor while the dishwasher's running while the dryer is running while the clothes washer is running while the kids are napping while the casserole is thawing while I'm wondering if I'll freaking know how to sew on Boy Scout badges when the Hubs gets home with them while baking a small human inside my uterus...  (and breathe.)  ...And if you were to call me right now I'd say, "Ah naw... go ahead... I wasn't up to anything."

Anyhoo...I damn near (gasp.) vlogged something today because it's been one of THOSE days.  Ie:  at breakfast the children decide to see if they can hit the same note at the top of their lungs in unison.  I was doing laundry at the time and could only just laugh and thought, "Boy motherhood is a... blessing...?"  And then I thought of you, dear reader, because that shit was funny.

I also caught this today:

This is a picture of two toddlers picking up a gigantic mess they made without being asked.  Now, I know they just like to sing "Clean up, clean up" together, but Ima pretend its a product of good breeding... mmmkay?  But proof my day is not all for naught. 

If you want a random track update, I thought I would add that this kid:

jumped 10 damn feet at district.  He didn't even get first place.  What the what??  What do Olympians jump?  This blows my mind.  I'm going to blame the hormones in food or some other soapbox.  Crazy.

Random skinny picture of me:

They don't come around often and simply must be shared.  I apologize. 

Happy Monday, ya'll.

Five For Friday

Oh lest ye should think I wrote a few times and gave this shit up again... I am here to prove you wrong.  WRONG I say!  But I would like to point out that this week has been mayhaps one of my craziest and I am fried.  (It IS 4/20, but it is not at all in a good way.)  So Ima just spit some shit out and we'll see where it goes.

1. We've had appointments every damn day for the last week and a half, Maximus and I.  I am still cursing the irritatingly-beautiful-unfrumpy-dermatologist, but moving on... next came the midwife on Monday.  The Hubs and I have decided to wait to find out the sex of this next wee babe.  I have to say, that'll be exciting in the delivery room, but for right now... it sucks.  Let's face it, and pardon me while I whine... this is the 5th baby... nobody cares.  Well, they care.  *I* care.  But you don't hear the "squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!" or the "oooohs" and "aaaaaaaaaahs" like with the first baby, or perhaps the second.  Frankly, people may just think it is odd-er when I'm NOT pregnant.  (Aww.  Look at me, I'm trying to make my own jokes about it.)  But there's also no planning.  I've got boy stuff.  I've got some girl stuff.  Bam.  Done.  I am as prepared at 18 weeks (or 19?  20?  see what I mean?  I can't remember.)  ...as I will be at 40.  I'm on a quest to figure out a way to make it more exciting... like Santy Claus coming or something.  I dunno... not knowing the sex... it's interesting.  Throw some ideas at me. 

2.  Moving on through appointments...  we had our first Occupational Therapy appointment this week.  I will tell you this, it should make my fried feelings a bit clearer:  in the middle of the appointment, the therapist asked if *I* was okay to go on.  I guess I had been sitting in the corner of my living room making some pretty twisted awkward faces.  We have the Dr. House of OTs.  Don't get me wrong, I totally appreciate it...  but its not always easy to watch.  She was out to show Max just who the alpha-dog is.  Whenever he'd cry (oh... 85% of the visit) she'd throw him on the balance ball, work him out and declare, "THERE IS NO CRYING IN THERAPY!" (Is it wrong that as shattered as I was to watch my baby get so distraught, some part of me was giggling on the inside and repeating, "There is no crying in baseball!"?  ...I think I'm sick.)  Anyway, Dr. House was wonderful and I feel we're on the right road... it's just not at all pleasant.

3.  Here's one for you.  A priest walks into a bar...

No, no, no...  how's about... a frazzled, frumpy woman who is distraught over the fact that the nursery volunteer did NOT show up again to church, walks up to the priest at communion time.  (This woman is me, did you catch that??)  All my duckies follow in their row.  Daddy is the caboose.  Before blessing each 'blessing' and handing me communion, the priest says in a booming voice (this is in front of the church), "How DOES this HAPPEN!?"  oh, you funny, funny man.  I giggled and said, "Ha!  Ha!  I just don't know!  Ha!"  Of course, I fall asleep at night developing new answers... I usually come back to, "Wouldn't YOU like to know.  Ha!"  See.  I am safe no where.  Not even a Catholic church.  I will have to get over this one and become a friendly person again.

4.  My babymama texted me a million times Wednesday night.  Don't get me wrong, we have a pretty good relationship and I like her fine... it was just dinner time... by myself... with all the minions, a guinea pig and a dog.  Caleb was at his track meet and vying for a place at district.  I'm excited for the guy, but when Lola gets hungry... all hell breaks loose.  I was starting to get irritated when she texts, "long jump:  8ft 1 in.  1st place.  We're going to district!"  I did one of those only-in-the-movies double takes.  I set my phone down and picked it right back up again.  What the what???  The next day the kids and I taped that shit out on the floor.  (home school math, right... right?!)  Damn is all I can say.  That booger jumped 8 FEET 1 INCH.  I'm proud.  Daddy's going to go watch our little Olympian this weekend at district.  (its so obvious I didn't birth him.  My stumpy self probably couldn't jump a foot... and by the time you have a few babies... well... nobody wants me to try, I am sure.)

5.  Something rare has happened tonight.  As rare as a big foot sighting.  Nay, the McRib!  I am home alone... well, with 75% of the babies.  This.  feels.  weird.  My Cooper has joined the Scouts.  He has jumped in with both feet.  I'm just not used to such enthusiasm from the kid.  Not that he doesn't get enthused... it's just that he doesn't always let us see it... out in the open.  Anyway, he and The Hubs are at his very first campout.  I am hoping nothing weird happens to take away his enthusiasm.  And yes, I know that kids have to go through stuff... it's part of the learning... but just not tonight!  I am so excited for him.  And as everyone's first question is always (gulp) 'WHAT ABOUT SOCIALIZATION?!?!" when it comes to home schooling, I am super-duper psyched that he is making new little friends.  (I am also crazy psyched that next time someone asks me about the 'S word', I can say, "BAM.  Boy Scouts, bitches.  done and done." ...only I'll be nicer... maybe.)  

So there you have it.  I'm gonna eat this night up.  Live out loud!!  Be wild!!  Ima paint my toes... and... and...  eat cereal in bed... and... and...  watch crappy basic cable television all night!  (Is 'What Would You Do?' really our best option for Friday night television, America??  Am I the only one with John-Quinones-Anxiety, fearing that guy is going to jump out of every awkward public situation in my life??) 

And then in the morning I will be so ready for everybody to be back home.

Happy Weekend, ya'll.

Excessively Douche-y Douche Bags and Other Matters of the Heart.

Alright, alright, alright (read as Matthew McConaughey... it'd be a lot cooler if you did.)  I apologize for my absence... sorta.  Had I been blogging for the last two months or so I would probably have felt pretty damn irresponsible.  Of course, I've been told lately I should take more time for myself... which makes me giggle a bit... psychotically... and wonder how I could make these 'experts' a fly on my wall.

So, I like writing.  Up until the point I don't.  And chances are, you like reading... up until the point you don't.  We will solve this by doing this 'Five For Friday' style just to catch you up a bit.  (I reserve the right to go past five.)  I will throw in a few (what I find to be) entertaining pictures and we'll call this done for the day.

1.  Probably the most interesting thing to happen in the last two months is that Maximus has been diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder.  I'll link it there in case you are a nerd like me.  If you decide to take on that rabbit hole, I will tell you he is affected proprioceptive-ly and perhaps vestibular-ly.  What this means for me is that all his little quirky-quirks that were so hard to explain are now being unraveled.  His speech delay has reasoning behind it.  Waking up screaming five times a night is explained.  Broken windows in the living room are explained.  Even the fact we've always called him 'The Brute' somehow makes even more sense.  It was not that long ago I began googling 'autism', if that tells you anything.  I knew something was up, I just couldn't put my finger on it.  Autism seemed like an awfully harsh diagnosis, but I knew there had to be an answer to his behavior and delays.  The diagnosis of SPD comes with a lot of relief and a lot of damn work, honestly.

2.  This happened:   

All possible chaos hits the fan around September 19th.  My excitement is squelched both by the stress of it all and the

3.  Excessively douche-y douche bags.  There.  I said it.  People suck.  I've gotten pretty sick of people lately and maybe that was one of the reasons I haven't blogged.  Picture it:  you tell someone, "Yay!  We're having a baby!" and it is met with:

"Have you heard from the discovery channel on having your own show yet?!"

"Giving the Duggars a run for their money?"

"Do you know what causes that?"

These statements seem to be all in fun, but I have heard them A MILLION TIMES.  It's like when Grandma tells the same damn story over and over again.  Eventually you want to smack her.  It wears on you.  I always answer, "yep... going for our own show!  That'll make diapers affordable!"  Or "YES.  SEX CAUSES IT.  WE LIKE IT."  Boxed up answers make me feel just as douche-y.  

Answering questions about my uterus or my husband's penis is also very fun whether at work, church or on the street:

"Wow.  Are one of you going to get fixed?"

"Have you heard of a vas-ect-omy!"  

"Will they tie your tubes after labor?"

I have now grown up in a way that allows me to tell nearly anyone, "Well, I really don't think that's any of your business."  

I also love when such a 'mistake' must be due to the fact I am Catholic.

"Is this because you are Catholic??"

"Well, I guess you'll just have a big Catholic family." (this was uttered by a Catholic "friend", without a smile and in a very sarcastic manner.) 

I didn't make up any of those.  Maybe it doesn't seem that bad to you, but I do not live through one single day without a sneer or joke at my expense.  After a while it hurts.  It hurt with the third kid.  It hurt with the fourth kid.  The fifth kid is getting it even worse.  The attitude from family and friends that the fifth kid is not nearly as important as the first is wearing on me as well.  

Okay.  I'm done whining.

4.  I have rosacea.   Nope.  Not as big as cancer.  For some reason I got a lot of hits on my whole rant on adult acne and I thought you deserved an update.  While acne just doesn't seem like the biggest deal, it gets pretty damn old after a while and I am crazy glad to be (nearly) rid of it.  I can now show my face in public.

5. We're still rockin' it homeschool style.  To the point that we'll finish up our curriculum about a month early.  At that point we'll be diving into science full force.  I am crazy proud of Coop.  His reading is amazing.  I don't know how parents get the exact numbers to brag about... 'my child reads on an eleven-teenth-kabillion-one level'... but I'm pretty sure he's up there.  Multi-syllable words are no challenge for him and second grade should get pretty exciting.  Just to update... I may be one of the only mothers to think "The Story of the World" curriculum sucks, but so be it.  We're on the search for history again...  

There you have it.  That's what I've been 'doing'.  Sometimes a whole lot of shit, sometimes a whole lot of 'nothing'.  It's true that as a mom the days are so freaking slow, but the years zoom past.  I look forward to being in touch with the world again...  until next time!