Guess What I Am Doing Right Now

Not homework, that's for sure. I have had it up to my eyeballs with homework, so I'm going to check out on the paper writing until at least Sunday afternoon.

Aren't I a good student? [Actually, I kind of am but procrastinating still makes me feel guilty.]

This weekend I've decided to do fun things instead. Today I taught Monkey how to play Uno-I can't believe how big he is! Old enough to play card games and everything (cue sentimental eye mist). I also played dress up with Baby Bug and sang with The Bean and made special trail mix for the kidlets for snack. Tonight I'm going to relax with Hubby and watch Bones and Big Bang Theory.

Yeah, that's way better than writing two sample introductions for my rhetorical analysis paper.

Tomorrow I am planning to sleep in. Like, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the way in until I wake up on my own. It's a glorious thing. When I do wake up, we're going to do a lot of fun fall stuff. The babies and I are going to make pecan pie from scratch. Then when Hubby gets home from his midterm I'm going to take a walk with the big kids to collect leaves and acorns so we can come home and make collages! There will be much glitter involved.

And we all know that glitter is far superior to a six page paper on national policy issues.

On Saturday we are all going to have a family movie day. All pajamas, all movies, all the time.

It totally beats going over my citation page.

Sunday of course is our eight year anniversary. I am really hoping that we can find a babysitter so Hubby and I can go watch a movie and go out to dinner, but we'll see. Even if we just stay in and have an early bedtime for the kids and a fireplace snuggly night for us I think that would be lovely...

...and much more important than any of that school stuff. Eight years is basically a third of my life after all-and I can't imagine a better way to celebrate these last eight years with the love of my life than by spending time with my Hubby and the beautiful family we've created.

For now, school can wait.

A Reminder

This is why my dad and I don't have a great relationship. I had this talk with him today, and it's a miracle I didn't rip my hair out.

Me: Hey, I just wanted to remind you that Monkey's birthday party is next weekend.

Him: Thanks, anything else?

Me: Uh yeah-I'm going back to school.

Him: What for?

Me: I'm, uh, first I'm going to get my AA, then a BS majoring in Political Science and minoring in Psychology, then I'm going to go to law school.

Him: You're going to be a lawyer?

Me: That's the plan.

Him: Are you sure you can do that?

Me: Well, I'm not sure I can start this semester, but I'm doing my best.

Him: No, I just mean you have the work ethic of a five year old and fewer social skills. What makes you think you can get and keep a job?

Me: I think I'll manage.

Him: Oh really now? You should really reconsider.

Me: I'll be fine-this is what I want to do.

Him: Well that's a lot of money to spend on something you're probably going to F-up.

Me: I think the words you're searching for are 'that's so exciting, I'm really proud of you-good luck!'. [and yes I really did say exactly that]

Him: Well you're going to need luck. I'm not trying to be a jerk [HA] but if I saw a sixteen year old with a Ferrari I'd think sure it's a nice car, but it's wasted if he goes out and wrecks it. It's fine to go to college, but if you waste a hundred thousand dollar education because you can't keep a job it's just pathetic.

Me: I have no problem keeping a job, I am a stay at home mom. On purpose.

Him: You're terrible with people.

Me: Yes, there are some people I don't get along with, but no one gets along with everybody. I have no problem being professional.

Him: All I'm saying is don't F* it up.

Me: Yeah, I'll do my best.

Him: See that you do. I'm gonna go into this store now, you go bathe your kids.

Personal, professional, and parenting attacks all in one three minute conversation-and that's why, in a nut shell, my dad and I will never be close. It does, however, make me even more thankful for the wonderful people I do have in my life.

For my husband, who believes in me even more than I believe in myself and loves me more than anyone ever has.

For my kids, who look up to me.

For my friends and bloggy friends like you guys, who encourage and unconditionally support me even though for many of you I'm a perfect stranger.

For my high school government teacher, who has Facebook-ed me several very sweet messages of congratulations and been kind enough to give me some advice. He even told me he was proud of me.

Some people are jerks, and a lot of them are in my family-but instead of letting them get to me I just take it as a reminder. A time to reflect on all of the people who love and care for me-who support me and believe in me.

Thank you all.

Family Matters

Okay you're all my friends, right? Good. Because I really need to blow off steam about my stupid family and Hubby's sleeping so...yeah, sorry.

I have just had it with them. My dad is being a total jerk lately. He told me months ago that he wanted to take Monkey out for the day for his birthday. Sure, okay fine...but then I call him to try to set something up and he avoids my calls for weeks. I leave messages and everything, but I get nothing. I finally have to call from Hubby's phone so that he won't recognize the number and he will actually pick up-what kind of ass doesn't answer the phone when their kid calls? Or at least call them back later? My dad, that's who.

So I finally trick him into talking to me (for about two minutes) and he says he'll pick Monkey up on Saturday and spend the whole day with him because my dad and step mom want to take him to the zoo and to dinner and ice cream. Super-sounds fun. Then I talk to my sister a little later and she mentions that, unbeknownst to me, my son will be coming to my niece's birthday party. That's an almost two hour drive from here, out of state! Is it just me or should my dad have mentioned that he planned on taking my child out of state?

And maybe my sister should have, I don't know, mentioned that my niece was having a birthday party. Perhaps even invited me to it...especially since she and my dad planned it so that my son was going to be there...but when I mentioned that I was a little upset about the whole thing my sister said "well, he can just take him wherever he wants-he's his grandpa". Uh F* THAT. I'm sorry, he might be his grandpa but I'm his freaking MOM. Then I flat out asked if I was invited to the birthday party and she said "I guess". She guesses.

It seems obvious that they're trying to do everything in their power to leave me out so I ask my sister WTF is up with that and she says that "not everyone agrees with how you're living your life". Really? What part of how I live is objectionable? I'm sorry if staying home to home school my kids, deciding to have three children, and not making as much money as everyone else in my family makes them uncomfortable but I'm not doing anything wrong-I'm just not doing it their way like they feel I should.

Because, you know, their way works so well. They all have happy marriages and happy children and...no? Well, at least they all have money and we all know how that puts you on the moral high ground.

I have half a mind to set up plans with my in laws before my niece's party and force my dad to bring Monkey home-since I can't just come out and tell my dad that he's being (a) insulting and (b) wildly inappropriate as far as I'm concerned. I don't know I'm just pissed-and, stupidly, hurt. None of this should come as any surprise to me really-they've all been crappy to me since before I can remember-but no matter how many times I go through it I can never seem to get over being just a little bit hurt by their actions.

I do my best at everything and I work really hard. I really truly believe I am doing the right thing by my husband and my children. I have been NOTHING but kind (and accepting, and eternally forgiving) to my entire family no matter how crappy they have been to me. I am a good person-and you know what? I'm kinda done with them.

*sigh*

I feel better. Not that anything is resolved (it probably never will be) but it's nice of you guys to lend an e-ear to a crazy person. I'm going to go get into a hot bath now and try to relax.

My Heart

When I was two, you sang me to sleep every night-You Are My Sunshine and I Love You A Bushel and a Peck. You patiently held my hand while I explored the world, and guided my every step toward the path of graceful womanhood.

When I was three you taught me to read, and instilled in me a love of learning. You let me sit in your warm lap for hours with Norma Jean the Jumping Bean and bragged loudly to anyone who would stand still about what a prodigy I was.

When I was four you gave me the gift of music. You sat me down at your beautifully polished piano and inspired me to play whatever was in my heart, showing me how to express myself through beautiful things.

When I was five you taught me to cook. You stood me up on chairs and put me in your lacy aprons and let me do all of the important stirring and tasting. You taught me what patience and careful measurement can create.

When I was six you taught me to laugh, and to find joy in little things. You let me do your hair and make up and proudly displayed your make overs to everyone. You gave me care packages of nuts and spice drops and M&Ms inside coffee filters with twisted tops and I ate them slowly and carefully one tiny piece at a time so that I would feel close to you as long as I could.

When I was seven, you went home to be with God-I am still jealous that He gets to have you so near to Him. For a long, long time I didn't know how to live without you-how do you live without your heart? I looked for reminders of you everywhere, grasping for something that I could hold onto so that I could pretend you were with me again, yet I should have known that nothing could replace you, or make the giant rip in my heart go away. To this day I can feel it aching when I think of you.

I do think of you. All the time. I think about when we used to watch Jeopardy together, and when we used to go to the Library and then stop by Tastee Freeze on the way home. I think about when you would drive through the KFC drive thru backwards, just so that I could order my food myself. I remember staying up late with you in my pajamas, reading stories and eating sugary treats and watching Country Music Television-Girl Parties we called them. I even remember making signs that said "No boys allowed, not even dad, except Captain the dog and Grandpa".

When life is at it's darkest, I try to remember little things about you to comfort me-I remember your hands, your eyes, your fancy gold watch, your yellow cook book, and your multicolored porcelain cooking bowls. When I need guidance I try to think about what you would do in my shoes-I want to be graceful, and kind, and generous, and strong just like you. Still, I think it is when I am feeling especially blessed that I miss you the most.

I hope that you can see me from heaven, and that you are proud of me. I know you'd love my little family. My husband is a good, strong man. He is gentle and and honorable and hardworking and loves me very much-and I love him back with all my heart. Our oldest is so much like me, only even more creative than I ever was. His imagination has no limits-I can just picture you having a ball together. And our girls are so precious, I know that you would fall instantly in love with them.

I really hope that you know that we named our first born daughter after you. She turned two yesterday and I couldn't stop thinking about how much she even looks just like a tiny blond version of you. I wish you were here to have tea parties with my girls. To let them eat as many cookies as they want and jump on the bed all night and teach them to sing and laugh and cook and crochet and how to grow up to be strong, honest, graceful women like you. Even though I think I am a poor imitation, I promise I'll do my best to honor the way you raised me in the time we had together and to be the best possible mom I can be to your great grandchildren-I promise to do everything I can to pass the spirit of your heart on in hopes that they will be as blessed by you as I was, even though they never had the chance to meet you.

I'm glad I met you and had the chance to be loved by you, even if it was for far too short of a time for my liking. I miss you a lot Nana, and I love you.

A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.






[Inspired by a writing prompt from Mama Kat]

Memories

I was talking (or typing, whatever) with Angela today and I mentioned that my dad's birthday is coming up on the 27th. I told her that my dad is going to be 44 this year and her reaction was "wow he's so young!" I guess that's true, though I don't think about it often. More often than not I think about how old my dad is getting.

Now before you comment-stone-me-to-death I'm not saying that 44 is old. It's just that when I think of my dad I always picture him in my head like he was when I was a little girl. My first crystal clear memories of him are from when I was about three or four and my dad was either 22 or 23...he might not be old now, but he has definitely gotten a LOT older since then.

When I was a kid my dad was a rocker. He used to wear tight t-shirts with holes in them and leather vests and jeans that were so ripped it was only the reinforced seams that held them together. My dad had long, shaggy hair and an earring (I guess he still technically does though I can't remember seeing him wear it for years). He used to drive 85 miles an hour in his 300z with the moon roof off. By the time I was 9 years old I had still never heard of Raffi but I knew all of the lyrics to Cheap Trick, Ozzy, Nirvana, Blue Oyster Cult, Smashing Pumpkins, Soundgarden, The Breeders, and Alanis Morisette. My dad was saving up for two things-a Harley-Davidson and a huge Celtic back tattoo.

Don't misunderstand me, my dad was a responsible parent. He paid his child support and drove from Arizona to Washington every other weekend for visitation. He listened to me talk, and taught me how to be well behaved, and blew bubbles with me in the yard...but he was still very young. A rock-n-roller at heart-this is still how I picture him in my head whenever I talk about him, and that's why it's so surprising every time I see him and I see how much older he is.

My dad has his Harley now and he rides it often during the summer, but he does it wearing his Levis and cowboy boots. His hair is short and is graying in a very distinguished way around his temples and in his goatee. Tired of putting contacts in and out, my dad wears his thick, oval, wire rimmed glasses nearly all the time now. He still wears t-shirts and a leather jacket-he bought them at JC Penny-but he is just as likely to wear a button down shirt. He listens mostly to jazz and country, though I've heard him break out the BOC every once in a while, and drives a big pick up when he's not on the bike.

Even more than what he wears and listens to, my dad's attitude has mellowed so much-especially since he turned forty. My dad may still go to the gym four days a week, but he also naps on the couch in the afternoons. He has gone from being weary of the word "grandpa" to actively attempting to train the children to make that be their first word. He's so much more open and affectionate now, and a lot less pig headed and grumpy (though I still wouldn't let him carry a concealed hand gun in traffic).

My dad has always been a good guy, but in the last twenty years he has grown. I suppose that's only natural of course-twenty years will change anybody. Still I will always picture him in my head as the Metallica-blaring butt rocker he once was. That's why it's so shocking to me to see him as he is now...why he seems so old-compared to how he is in my head.

I wonder if the kidlets will think of me that way. When I think about it I'm sure they will-If Monkey remembers me how I was when he was three that means I will be permanently burned into his brain at the age of 21. I'm not sure how I feel about that, though I certainly hope that he'll look back on me as fondly (and as kindly) as I look back on my dad in his youth. We all get older, and we'll all change, but what matters I think is making good memories with our loved ones no matter what stage of our lives we are in.

Merry Christmas (The First)

First, can I say how good it feels to be blogging? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah.....It has been INSANE here lately. Hubby got a second job, I'm working, and we've been doing holidays non stop for the last month. With three kids five and under all of this has been no small feat-but more about that later.

I'm too excited to post about chaos-today is Christmas the First! Like most married people, we celebrate Christmas several times-once with my family, once with Hubby's family, and once with just us and the kids. Every year we have Christmas the First, Christmas the Second (Christmas Strikes Again), and Christmas the Third (The Return of Christmas). We always celebrate Christmas day at home with just us and the kids, but the order of the Christmases changes and we just decided last week that this year's Christmas the First is going to be at our house, with my in laws.

OH JOY.

You know what? I choose to be happy about it. Monkey is excited to see Grandma and Grandpa and the girls (my sisters in law, ages 7 and 8) and open presents-and I'm excited because he's excited. So bring on the sniping, bitter comments from my husband's mother and the cold shoulder from my husband's step dad. I welcome their girls' spoiled rotten attitudes and penchant for destruction. I'm going to load up the Christmas play list and blast it and enjoy my kids' enjoying the holiday. Plus, before I know it we'll be spending Christmas Eve (this year's Christmas the Second) at my parent's house and then waking up the next morning and enjoying my favorite Christmas of all-the one we get to spend alone with our little family!

I hope everyone is having a great season so far (a special "shout" to my Jewish friends who just wrapped up Hanukkah!). It's felt so good to blog again, even for just a minute-I think I'll be back tomorrow!

~ Until then~

Ho Ho No-Christmas Without Santa

I love the Christmas season-I love the spirit of peace and giving, I love the lights, I LOVE LOVE LOVE Christmas carols, and of course above all I love Jesus who, according to my beliefs, is the Ultimate Gift that I commemorate this holiday. Still-no matter how and why I love Christmas, believe it or not, here in the House of M we do Christmas sans-Santa style. Monkey recognizes Santa, and knows about him, but as far as he is concerned Santa is like Kai-Lan....cool, and fun, but pretend. For obvious reasons our decision is not very popular amongst our friends and family, but what may be less obvious are the reasons that we have decided to forgo the jolly fat man.

I should say first that we don't have anything personal against Mr. Claus-we think the qualities that Santa stands for are very admirable, and we don't "do" the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy or any other imaginary house guests either. It should also be said that we don't have any problem with other people inviting the Claus into their Christmas celebrations-regardless of a person's beliefs he can fit in nicely into any home and create great holiday traditions. We personally just don't feel that Santa works for us.

One reason we don't do Santa is because we feel that he takes attention away from the focus that our family chooses to have during this season. For us, the holiday season is primarily about spiritual gifts, and about our faith, and while Santa is very nice we don't feel that he has a place next to Jesus.

We also feel that it is too easy for little kids to make a connection between Santa and Jesus-after all they are both supposed to be kind, both are supposed to be omnipresent and omnipotent, and both are invisible to kids but supposed to live in your heart...which is all fine and good until the inevitable moment when a kid is told or figures out that there is no Santa. What does this mean for their faith in God, which is based on so many similar ideas as a belief in Santa?

While we would prefer to avoid a major crisis of faith while our kids are too small to really think everything through, we don't ultimately have a problem with our kids questioning their faith when the time comes and they have the capability to-however during that time they spend discovering their faith, and in fact throughout their entire lives, it is important to us that our children trust us to tell them the absolute truth. No matter how pleasant the idea of Santa is, and it is, we wouldn't be able to both be honest and encourage a belief in Santa.

Whenever we tell people that we don't believe in Santa, there are always objections about 'the fun and excitement of Christmas'. I can assure you-the kidlets still have plenty of fun and excitement. We have regular family traditions for them to look forward to, and let's be honest-kids are excited for presents regardless of the occasion. They still learn about the spirit of giving and fraternity and faith, and they still have plenty of joy and wonder in the holiday from our faith. Our kids experience Christmas just like any other kids-we just don't get our holiday spirit from Santa Claus.

And we have plenty of holiday spirit-everyone in the House of M is counting the days until Christmas. The day after Thanksgiving, as is our tradition, we busted out the Christmas carols and everybody had a great time singing along. We plan on getting our tree next week, and Monkey and I are going to string popcorn and cranberries together. I'm looking forward to our annual watching of How The Grinch Stole Christmas and Merry Christmas Charlie Brown and our special family reading of the nativity story, and Monkey can't wait for Christmas Eve at Grandpa's and orange rolls Christmas morning.

We're all geared up for a very happy holiday-what are your family traditions?

How Many Kids Does It Take To Make A Mommy Nuts?

I know that there are a lot of people who don't believe in limiting the number of kids that they have and if it works for them that's fabulous. Still, I have to say, we have three kids and I feel SOOOOO done. I love the kidlets, and I love being Mommy, but I only sleep 3 hours a night as it is-and I don't even want to know what another kid would do to my sanity. Any more kids and I can just picture them swarming around my body while I'm passed out from exhaustion and running around in anarchy ala Lord of the Flies. No set meals, filthy house, and everyone fighting for attention....

This is not a good scenario for anyone.

I like to know my limits and I feel confident my limit is three. There is just one eensy weensy problem with that-Hubby has not had his vasectomy yet. We were going to have it done in July after The Bean was born when he got his vacation, but his work unexpectedly refused to pay out the paternity leave they promised him so we had to cash out his vacation to make up for our losses. Hubby works a very physical job and would have to be out at least 5 days after the procedure before he could return, but we can't afford to take unpaid time off to do it-so that means we have to wait until next July.

There's also another kink in our plan to have no more than three children-I cannot take hormonal birth control. It just destroys my body. When I first started birth control I took the pill. It was okay, except for one thing-we kinda sorta got pregnant while on it. Yeeeeeeeeah.

After Monkey was born, I went on depo....and promptly gained nearly 100lbs in less than a month. I had periods that lasted 6 months and then no period for three. I had constant nausea, and my hormones were entirely out of whack resulting in all sorts of other funness. So I went off of depo (and ruled out any kind of progesterone) and went back on the pill-then I started having chest pains. Since I was born with a heart condition, they immediately yanked me off of it and also ixnay'd both the ring and the patch. After Baby Bug was born I tried to go on the IUD, but it gave me migraines and proved-uh-uncomfortable to both hubby and I in-er-"private" situations. Hubby and I are both absolutely unwilling to abstain long enough to try natural family planning, so all that's left is ingenuity and rubbers.

No offense to our mental dexterity or our good friends at Trojan, but this does not an effective pregnancy prevention method make. Case in Point: The Bean-who, if you remember, is only 14 months and 28 days (64 weeks) younger than Baby Bug.

Needless to say I am scared poo-less. If only Hubby were less attractive, then I wouldn't want to have sex with him all the time and this problem would just solve itself. Unfortunately (?!) my husband is a smokin' hottie and knows all the places to kiss me to make me turn into jello.

Why do you care? Maybe you don't. But I am breastfeeding, so right now I'm missing periods and this makes me FREAK OUT. No positive pregnancy tests [Thank GOD], but I am crackhead-paranoid right now. I've never prayed for a period so hard in my whole life. [And before you say 'you can't get pregnant while breastfeeding', I nursed Baby Bug too...]

I am worried that the kidlets won't get enough attention, I'm worried about my sleep and sanity, I'm worried that we'll go broke, I'm worried that Hubby and I will never get to spend any time together (although spending time together is the whole cause of this mess in the first place), but mostly I'm worried about how I will react. I feel so very, very, VERY done having kids-what happens if I get pregnant now? I don't even want to think about how emotionally devastating it's going to be for me, not to mention I would't want to accidentally give the kid the idea that I had no desire to have more children (which is definitely the case, but kids shouldn't know that).

*SIGH*

All of this craziness better be from a lack of sleep and an impending period or I have no idea what I'm going to do.

Wordless/Wordful Wednesdays:Mama Bear

As I know I've mentioned before, I am generally an anti-social person. For some strange and wonderful reason, this doesn't seem to affect my blogging but when it comes to real life friends I am very choosy.

Don't get me wrong, I am polite, but that's where my interaction with most people outside of my immediate circle of loved ones ends-unless you hurt someone I care about. Woe to the person who does something to hurt the ones I love.

This applies equally to anyone who might do something I consider wrong towards those I love-be they in laws that treat my Hubby like crap, or boyfriends who commit some dastardly deed, or another kid making fun of my kidlets, seeing one of them hurt makes me go all Mama Bear. I find myself with mixed feelings-part of me wants to pin the offender in a tree and (metaphorically) rip their heads off, and part of me wants to take my little bear in need of love and nurse them back to health.

Usually I choose the latter, and I spend my time baking cookies for my loved one and giving them lots of encouragement, but the whole time, on the inside, I feel like this:
So crappy relatives, *&%$! exes, neighborhood bullies, stupid bosses, IRS agents, or any one else who might be thinking of slighting my loved ones:

You've Been Warned.

In Which I Grouse About Things I Cannot Change

I love my children more than life itself. I love spending time with them, and I love being a stay at home mom. Baking cookies, playing games, learning together-my kids make my life beautiful, and I would never abandon them for even the highest paid, most illustrious career.

I could however use a day off.

Just one little day when I don't have to cook or clean or wipe other people's butts. A day to relax, read a book, take a long bath, and sleep uninterrupted. There would be a lot of sleeping involved. If only I could get a family member to take the kids for the day. [Hubby can stay if he promises to go with the flow.]

Unfortunately that is seriously not going to happen. Do you know the last time I had one whole day of relaxation? I don't remember exactly but I can tell you this-it was before I got pregnant with Monkey. That's right, my last "day off" was more than 6 years ago and in the mean time we've had two more children.

Dates are nearly as scarce-since Monkey was born Hubby and I have been on exactly three dates, our most recent date being last November. We went out for our anniversary, and it was quite a special time together.....we went to the grocery store, hit the gas station, stopped at the thrift store for about five minutes, picked up some Jack in the Box (via the drive through) and went home.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

The problem is that our family just doesn't help out. I should clarify-in the case of an absolute emergency they will pitch in with the minimal amount of effort required to avoid disaster. So that's something. Still, when it comes to just being helpful they're sooooo not interested.

When we had Baby Bug my in laws drove up and watched Monkey, because he wasn't quite 4 and could not be reasonably expected to watch himself while I was in labor-but after we brought Baby Bug home they stayed for an hour and were gone. No 'can I help you with anything' not even a frozen meal.

When we had The Bean, they watched Monkey and Baby Bug overnight-but REFUSED TO BRING THEM TO THE HOSPITAL. [Yeah, still mad/sad about that one.] The only person who actually came to see us in the hospital was Hubby's step sister-who brought her boyfriend we'd never met, tried to pitch babies/childbirth/families to him, and left 10 minutes later. No one else came....although my sister did call less than 12 hours after I gave birth to The Bean to tell me about her stressful day.

That's right she called me. In the hospital. Just hours after I gave birth. With no pain meds. To complain about her day. You can't make that stuff up. All I can say is it's a damn good thing Hubby answered and decided to tell her I was busy, or she would have been joining me in the hospital.

No, our family is no help. If I'm going to get a day off it's going to be because Hubby watches the kids and I hole up in the bedroom all day....but that's wouldn't be fair to him, since he already works 10+ hours a day 6 days a week....he needs a real day off almost as bad as I do. It's so frustrating!!! But what is there to do?

Suck it up. Blog about it and move on.

RAWR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Alright, I'm done.

Quotable Sunday Strikes Again

Perhaps it's because today (since 630am yesterday) the kids have been shrieking-non-stop, maybe because my "days" last 21-22 hours, and maybe it's because I blog with a little one whining in my ear I don't know-but I just want to read (and share) a little Mommy/Housewife humor this week.

"My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint."
-Erma Bombeck-

"I'm not going to vacuum 'til Sears makes one you can ride on."
-Roseanne Barr-

"I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me at once."
-Jennifer Unlimited-

"A suburban mother's role is to deliver children obstetrically once, and by car forever after."
-Peter De Vries-

"By and large, mothers and housewives are the only workers who do not have regular time off. They are the great vacationless class."
-Anne Morrow Lindbergh-

"Son, I will literally give you money for two minutes of peace."
-ME! Today around 5pm (hour 11 of 21 hour shift) -

Mondays Our Way:I Heart Television

Do you want to know my dirty little unschooling secret? My kids watch TV.

I know.

Call me a black sheep amongst homeschoolers, but our family loves TV-and while TV has been blamed for everything from childhood obesity to poor SAT scores and ADD, I see absolutely nothing wrong with letting our kidlets watch quality educational programming whenever the opportunity arises.

I know it is trendy these days to not own a TV, or to not allow kids to watch, but none of our kids have developed a twitch, and our experience with TV has actually been enriching.

Yesterday, Monkey came up to me and said, "Mommy-let's count these pennies! En español! Ready? Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez!" Thank you, Dora The Explorer. Thanks to School House Rock he knows what a noun is, and understands what bones are and what they do. Thanks to an idea he picked up from Little Einstiens he now understands the process of metamorphosis. Go Deigo Go taught him about the diet, habitat, and skills of sloths.

Most recently, Monkey (okay, all of us) has fallen in love with Ni-Hao Kai-Lan...and it is because of this obsession that Monkey is now speaking Mandarin...and quizzing me on it. Regularly.

"Look Mommy! This car is hóng sè (red)...can you say 'hóng sè'? And this car is lu sè(green)...can you say 'lu sè'? Good job Mommy! You can talk like Kai-Lan!"

Besides 'red' and 'green', Monkey has also learned:

Hi-ni hao
See you later-zài jiàn
Thank you-xiè xiè
Grandpa-yé yé
Slippers-tuō xié
Push-tuī
Pull-la
Jump-tiáo
Up-shàng
Down-xià
Fast-kuài
Snow- xué
Dinosaur-kǒng lóng
Listen-tīng
[If you want to hear the pronounciation, I recommend going to this site.]

This is just in the past two months. As if teaching Monkey over a dozen words of a foreign language in two months wasn't enough, Kai-Lan is doing a fantastic job curbing fits. By encouraging kids to explore the feelings of others (How does this person look? What did this person say? How do you think they feel?) and by showing and explaining good behavior (teaching kids to listen with step by step instructions for example) Kai-Lan encourages her friends on the show and in the audience to deal with their emotions in a healthy way rather than in outbursts.

And yes, it totally works.

I never cease to be amazed by all the things that Monkey has learned, including all of the great ideas we have discovered and explored further because of quality TV programming...I just couldn't imagine going without a TV!

Plus, I won't lie-if the kids can learn Mandarin for a half hour while I pick up without them under foot, that's truly a win-win situation!

Mommy's Job Is Never Done

Last night was insane. The Bean woke up pretty much every hour on the hour. Which would be fine, except that it takes about a half hour to put her back to sleep nurse for 15 minutes, burp for 10 minutes, and then invariably she needs a diaper change. On top of that, Baby Bug woke up twice. Even Monkey had his annual 'wake up screaming because of a particularly vivid nightmare and refuse to go back to sleep' experience. For mommy's convenience, they made especially sure not to all wake up at the same time, but instead space it out juuuuust far enough that I could lay my head on the pillow for 10 minutes and just start dreaming before getting up again.

Of course this nocturnal restlessness deterred no one from waking up at 0 dark 30.

Thanks kids.

Today's a good day to be running on absolutely zero sleep too-my fabulous Mother in Law and Step-Father In Law (you know, the ones who hate me...oh wait all my in laws hate me) are coming over to inspect judge see us. Does anyone know how to get rid of (or cover up) hickeys in 2 hours without using a turtleneck since it's already 1,000 degrees here? What about how to get marker off of a painted metal door?

Better yet, does anyone know how to get obnoxious over-the-top-ear-splittingly-loud children to sit still and BE QUIET? Unfortunately, these are not my children...I know how to deal with them...I'm talking about my husband's sisters. They're 6 and 7 (I actually have 5 sisters in law ranging in age from 6 to 19, but my MIL and SFIL only own two of them) and they are the LOUDEST, RUDEST little germ carriers on this half of the country. They come over scream at the top of their lungs, stomp up and down my stairs, scream and cry if they don't get their way, and generally attempt to push my kids around. Of course, MIL and SFIL never step in and lay down the law-"that's just the way the girls are".

How do I momentarily fix that? Not their parenting-there is nothing I can do about that...I'm just trying to make sure my head doesn't explode.

*sigh*

I guess it's time for me to stop whining, pop two extra strength Tylenols, and hop in the shower. Here's hoping I survive the afternoon.

A Baby Story

I had a picture in my head of how this labor was going to go. I was going to be induced (despite my "practice runs" to the hospital I was still convinced I'd make it to induction day). I WAS GOING TO GET AN EPIDURAL!

Well, God certainly showed me.

I went in on Tuesday for my 38 week appointment and the doc checked me over. Still 3cm and 70%, the doc ended the appointment around 11:30 with a "see you next Monday"-I was definitely going to end up being induced.

Probably.

So I went about my business. I went upstairs to the L&D to drop off my registration paperwork, ran to the post office, paid a couple bills, and then ran into the store to grab some last minute supplies for labor-new socks for Hubby (that poor man goes through socks like no body's business!), a labor gown for me, premie onsies for The Bean (because our kids are pretty small, they generally wear premie clothes for the first two or three weeks even after full term), non perishable snacks, that kind of thing-when it happened. There I was at 2 in the afternoon, pleasantly moseying around the store, when all of a sudden I had this sharp pain in the top left side of my abdomen.

Maybe I'm walking too fast, I thought.

I slowed from a mosey to a crawl and continued down the isles. Then came a horrible cramp on my right side right above my pelvic bone. The cramp got stronger and stronger until it felt like it went all the way through my bone into my back. But only on one side, just like the sharp pain was only on the opposite top side. Then it went away.

Maybe I'm dehydrated?

So I go and grab some water at the water fountain. I'm only drinking the water for maybe a minute when the same pains come back...only worse. This is when I think to myself-

I don't know what this is, it doesn't feel like any contractions I've ever had, but whatever the heck it is I need to go to the hospital. Now.

One teensy problem though-I drove myself to the store. I left Hubby at home with the kids when I went to my doctor's appointment, and I can't exactly call him since we are the only living people without cell phones, but I don't want to alert any of the employees in the store to what's going on because they will then be obligated by protocol to call an ambulance which I'll have to pay $500 to drive me less than two miles across the overpass to the hospital.

It hadn't come to that, really. So instead I stood in the apparel department clutching my shopping cart waiting for the pain level to get down to the point where I could drive myself. I got trapped in the Freddy's for nearly an hour before I was able to abandon my cart, dash (okay hobble) to the car, and drive as quickly as I could (through one pink light even) back to the hospital.

Because the pain had gotten better for the moment, I decided to stop in at my doctor's office instead of heading straight for L&D. (What? I really didn't think I would go into labor on my own.) The nurses took one look at me and decided otherwise. They wrangled me into a wheelchair and ran me over to Labor and Delivery-the same nurse that I had dropped my registration paperwork off with earlier that morning checked me in-the irony escaped neither of us.

I got all hooked up to the monitor and around 4 the on call doc came and checked me out. I was 4 to 5 cm and 90%, but only contracting irregularly every 7-12 minutes...in other words, I was borderline. Yes, I had dilated-but it was less than 2 cm in 6 hours, and my contractions weren't regular. The on call doc decided to have my regular doctor swing in after clinic hours to check me out and see if we could make a decision.

Was I or was I not officially in active labor?

By the time my doctor got there at 6pm I was "pretty much" 5cm and my contractions had gotten down to every 5-10 minutes...but that apparently is still considered prelabor. My doctor told me that he could (a) break my water if I wanted him to (b)let me wait out the night and see if I finished labor on my own or (c) let me go home, but he didn't recommend that. [It's okay, I didn't feel inclined to do that either.] So I call Hubby and we talk about it, and we decide for the wait and see option, followed by a morning membrane rupture if nothing happened on it's own. My mother in law comes and gets the kids and drops Hubby off at the hospital and we are in business!

Hubby and I walk the hospital grounds. We walk and walk and walk and walk and walk. Then we go back and get hooked up to the monitor once an hour.

Then we walk and walk and walk and walk and walk.

And freeze our butts off in the rain (but it's better than burning up inside the hospital).

More walking.

Around midnight we go back in for the last time and the nurse checks us. We are 5 whole centimeters.

Woo.

At this point we decided to get some shut eye. Obviously this kid wasn't going to be born that night, so we figured we might as well get some rest for the next day. At 6:30am the doctor came in and checked me-yep, still 5cm-and he broke my water. Then he told me not to worry-I'd deliver really soon. After all, I was still contracting every 5-10 minutes and I was already 5cm and 90%. Absolutely this baby will be born soon!

According to him.

At 10:30 he came back in to check me and I was now magically, after 20.5 whole hours of labor, 6cm dilated. This was not going quickly enough. Now that my water had been broken, the risk of C-Section loomed if I didn't continue to progress. So what do they do? They brought in the Pitocin.

That's right-with The Bean I went into labor on my own AND I was induced.

Which was just fine with me, because after the Pitocin went in it was time for my very favorite part of labor and delivery-EPIDURAL TIME! I was so happy that I could have done a little jig (if I wasn't hooked up to IVs and monitors). The anesthesiologist came in and administered the epidural and I laid back in my bed waiting for the waves of numbing serenity to take over the lower half of my body.

Do you know what happened instead? Nothing. Around 11 I told the nurses,

"Uh, hey. Just so you know, I can still feel my legs."

"Oh, you're supposed to be able to feel your legs," they say.

"Yeah, I know what an epidural is supposed to feel like. I've had two. I'm telling you, I'm not epiduralized."

"Well, maybe it's just taking an extra minute or two," they say. So they lay me on my side, then they lay me on my other side, leaning me back and forth like an etch-a-sketch trying to "distribute the epidural".

It was non-distributy.

The nurses still seemed unconcerned-apparently they thought I was just failing to appreciate how numb I actually was. Then they did a cervical check and I clutched the ceiling tiles in pain.

Turns out my epidural wasn't working. At all. And I was still 6cm. They had the anesthesiologist come in and give me a refill, and continued to turn me this way and that-still no happy numbing feeling.

Then he came in and gave me another booster.

And another.

And another.

I felt NOTHING! Or, rather, I felt everything! The epidural was completely useless! Non functional. Defunct. Non distributy. Not happening.

So of course, being the rational person that I am, I begin to quietly sob at the realization that I am going to have to have a natural labor. I DIDN'T WANT ONE OF THOSE! At 12 my doctor comes in and checks me and says I am still 6cm. Perhaps there is time to take out my epidural and create an entirely new line. My doctor is willing to try, so I tell him sure-that'd be great-as long as I didn't dilate 4cm in less than an hour like I did with Baby Bug.

Of course I did.

I push on the nurse light at 12:30 and tell them I'm feeling pressure and it's time to push. The nurse looks at me-sitting in bed crying silently-and skeptically says "Well, the doctor is doing a c section right now, so I'll check you". She takes one look and changes her mind in a hurry.

"It's definitely time. You're 10 and 100% and the baby is nearly crowning. We'll call the backup doctor."

As they are calling the backup doctor I can feel The Bean moving from "nearly crowning" to "abso-freakin-lutely crowned" and I start to panic.

I start yelling at the nurse-WHERE IS THE DOCTOR? WHY AREN'T THEY HERE YET?!

The doctor is on her way, she assures me.

ON HER WAY? WHY ISN'T SHE HERE?! IF MY DOCTOR IS IN SURGERY, AND HE'S THE ON CALL DOCTOR, SHOULDN'T THE BACKUP DOCTOR BE IN THE BUILDING? JUST MAYBE?!

She'll be here in a few minutes, she promises. If I want to start pushing that's fine.

I CAN'T PUSH! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! I PUSHED THREE TIMES WITH OUR OLDEST AND TWICE WITH OUR LAST BABY-IF I PUSH, EVEN ONCE, THIS BABY COULD FLY INTO YOUR ARMS!!!!

Again, skeptical looks from the nurse. She looks at Hubby and he just nods frantically with his eyes as wide as saucers. [He's never been through a natural birth either.] So the nurse straps on her gloves, and calls another nurse in.

ARE YOU THE DOCTOR?! PLEASE GOD, BE THE DOCTOR!

Nope, she says, I'm here for the baby-just in case. But the doctor...

YEAH, YEAH. IS ON HER WAY. WHY ISN'T SHE HERE NOW?!

They continue to say things, to which I am completely not paying attention. All I can feel is the horrible burning cramping blinding pain and the urge to murder everyone within 100 miles.

Finally, after literally 5 minutes of waiting (which of course is approximately 10 years when you're holding a crowning baby between your legs) the doctor finally shows up. She takes one look and says,

"You are literally one push away from having this baby!" She gears up quickly and tells me to push, so I do.

BIG MISTAKE. That is, by far, the most excruciatingly painful...I mean, just a ridiculous amount of pain...seriously just...it was horrifying. I had made it through my entire labor with just a pant here and a sigh there, but now I was screaming profanities that would make bikers blush at the top of my lungs. At the end of the first push I looked the doctor straight in the face and screamed

I CAN'T DO THIS, I WANT A C-SECTION!

To which the doctor replied, "Look down honey-your baby is already out!"

Lo and behold, there was The Bean. Well, her head at least. It was a perfectly round little head with a mass of beautiful brown hair-she was here! All I had to do was one more push. That changed everything!

Well not everything-I still emitted a shriek like a blond girl in a slasher flick, with some generously applied obscenities-but I managed to do one more big long push, then it was over. There she was-my beautiful daughter!

The Bean
Born May 13, 2009 12:53pm
6lbs 14oz
19 1/2 inches

[A huge heartfelt thank you to Kirsty from Momedy for all of her support and for making these pictures possible.]

She is perfect and beautiful and healthy and we are all so happy to have her with us!

She's definitely our last child, though.

Ode To My Family

As someone once agreeably misquoted to me,

You can pick your nose, and you can pick your friends, but you can't pick your friend's nose and you can't pick your family.

This is certainly true on one level-no matter what you do, or what they do, the people you were born to don't change. There will always be these people walking around with a similar genetic make up to you (or married to those people), and there's nearly nothing you can do about it because getting rid of them is as socially awkward as picking your friend's nose.

This misquote takes on a whole new meaning for people like Hubby and I. As far as family make up goes, we are the stereotypical 20-somethings these days. Our parents got pregnant as teenagers, shot-gunned it to the courthouse, got divorced soon after, and eventually got remarried-giving Hubby and I 4 parents a piece and leaving us related by blood or marriage to literally thousands of people.

It wouldn't have been so hard if we had gotten to pick these people, but instead we end up with busy body Grandma Drinks-A-Lot, a Step Mom who is shallower than a puddle of spit, a sister who is too self centered to care about anything except for her career (including, sadly, her own husband and newborn), and a large group of genetically related people who can't be bothered when it's not about them.

It's difficult to grow up being seen as an inconvenience, and worse when you're constantly reminded that's what you are. There are a lot of people our age that have grown up this way, with disconnected families and self centered parents, and it has bred a generation where many people get bitter and decide not to have families at all. (The average age of a first time parent is now estimated to be 25-27 years old, and it is estimated by the US Census that 6-9% of married couples will remain voluntarily childless.) Those of us who do decide to have families, like Hubby and I, often struggle to create our own definition of what families are, and what they do. Obviously, to those in our position, a genetic or marital relationship (while technically accurate) is not a good practical definition of family. In today's world, blood is no longer thicker than water and marriage is easily ended (or, an opposite but equally unappealing idea, kept together miserably until death). So what does that leave us with?

We both decided (separately as children funnily enough, but our attitudes are identical) that family is an action not a genetic or legal state of being. Just because someone shares one or more parents in common with you, or marries your grandmother on the third go around, doesn't make them family. Those people are relatives.

To us, family are those people who love and support us no matter what, who are as devoted to us as we are to them, those who make our needs a priority, who are capable of giving selflessly, and people we can do these things for in return...these are not always relatives, and those who are relatives are not always family. It has been a hard lesson to learn, but it has been worth it.

Hubby and I, despite our relatives, have been blessed with a wonderful family. We have each other and we stay together-not because we "have to", not because we have a piece of paper telling us to, and not for the kids...because we love each other, we are equally devoted to each other, we give selflessly to each other, and we make each other the priority in our lives. We're family.

We give this love, devotion, and loyalty to our children because-even though we are gentically related and they didn't pick us-we want them to know that we aren't just genetic donors, we're family.

My best friend who lives in Pennsylvania is family because I can pick up the phone at three in the morning (her time) and call because my baby turned 5 and I needed someone to listen to me bawl. My husband's childhood friend, who even though he's young and busy with college and dating will still take time to ooh-and-ahh over my husband's exploits as Daddy, is family.

And, in your own way, you my bloggy friends are just like family. You come to my page, even though you're not obligated to. You let me share my stories with you. You offer encouragement. You give selflessly. Though I hardly expect you to be devoted to me, you certainly are here for me when I'm going through a rough patch.

I may have drawn a shorter straw in the genetic relations department, but my heart is full of the blessings of real family-and this is my tribute to you all.

The Good Old Days

"The children now love luxury. They have bad manners, contempt for
authority, they show disrespect to their elders....They contradict their parents,
chatter before company, gobble up dainties at the table, cross their
legs, and are tyrants over their teachers."--Socretes (469 BC - 399 BC)

Some things never change-the Earth revolves around the Sun, brownies are delicious and fattening, and the elders of the community will shake their heads and lament "kids these days". Even I-who some people consider still "kid aged"-have balked at what appears to be a 5 year old behind the wheel of a car and started a sentence with "when I was your age...." Perhaps it has something to do with brain chemistry and aging. And yet, every once in a while, a generation comes along that feels a particular kinship to an older generation--I think that time has come around again.

I suppose it shouldn't be surprising that I feel a very special bond with my Depression-era grandparents (though they are long passed away). With the economy being what it is, and Hubby and I being pretty much on the bottom of the economic pyramid, I have pulled a lot of 'tricks of the trade' from their generation to help us get by. I find myself keeping coin jars (something my Baby Boomer parents never did), making "remade" dinners (meals that use portions/ingredients/leftovers of other meals), and growing/making whatever I can with my own two hands. I can recognize the wisdom, love, and fear in my Nana's cavernous basement of canned fruits and vegetables and my grandpa's 40 year old (non-running) lawnmower that he never did part with...because Hubby and I feel that same apprehension about the future, and the same need to protect our children from true poverty.

Apparently it's not just me-many people in my generation seem to be reaching back into the past for help and guidance during hard times. We have decided-according to our increased participation-that sewing and canning are ever-more desirable skills. Saving is also becoming more and more important to us-according to Google there was a 150% rise in searches for home safes, and NPR reports that home safe sales rose up to 70% in 2008, reflecting a (warranted) lack of trust for banks in general. Generationally speaking, we're even giving our babies more traditional names (I know that's certainly true with Hubby and I!) naming them after and in honor of our grandparents (or great grandparents for some) who survived similar economic times.

The struggle for young parents to raise happy and healthy children in times of uncertainty and economic failure is bridging the generation gap between us-and while it is certainly a struggle that no one can really "enjoy" I hope that my generation will benefit from the values of our grandparents and great grandparents; that we are able to learn needed skills and enjoy those things that are more valuable than money...because, perhaps, if we build those skills and learn the meaning of true value someday, despite the hardships, we will be able to look back on these times as "the good old days".

Meet The Breeders

I haven't had any moments of hormone induced psychosis. I don't have anything in my teeth (I checked). *Sniff* *Sniff* Nope, I'm not especially smelly today....and yet somehow I have already managed to lose a follower.

I can only assume that I have offended someone with my post about marriage. I didn't think it was particularly offensive, but it was cavalier I guess. Maybe it was misleading-I actually take marriage very seriously, and work really hard at having a happy and healthy one...but I am "unconventional" in that I don't think a marriage is made by the ceremony or the piece of paper (which I find to be irrelevant paperwork), but rather is created by a commitment between the people involved and God. To me marriage is more of a verb-an action based on a mutual promise-than a legal state or a church-sanctioned ceremony.

Then again, I'm always bucking the system. Even within my larger family (parents, siblings)-who our extended family (aunts, uncles, grandparents) consider to be "odd ducks" at best and "black sheep" at worst-I am definitely stand out when it comes to doing things my own way.

In a family full of people who dream about sports cars and motorcycles, I salivate over the minivan with Stow N Go Swivel-seats. In a family full of public school teachers, I am an unschooler. In a family that eats like southern farmhands (bacon with a side of sausage), I went vegetarian-and though I'm not anymore, I still eat "leafy" according to my family.

And, most notably now days, in a family where two children is considered "more than enough" (my parents are my dad and step mom, who had two children a piece and then got surgically sterilized) I'm working on my third. My childbearing abilities have given rise over the years to a delightful new collective nickname for my husband and I.

We're "The Breeders". To be fair each kid/couple in our family has their own unofficial title or nickname, none of them are very flattering, and all of us get teased equally unmercifully. For me and Hubby it is our proclivity for popping out babies is something they have all enjoyed poking fun at over the years. When Monkey was born it was our "Head Start Program" of parenting (get it, because we're so young but I was the first one in my family to have kids?). When Baby Bug was born it was "Good. You guys know how to stop having kids right?" When we announced that we were pregnant with The Bean (right around the time Baby Bug turned 6 months old) they went full tilt.

I think the best was my step sister's reaction: "Geez guys, let the oven cool down before you put another bun in." Oh yes, it was laugh and point time.

Until THEIR babies were born. My step brother had his first in February, and my sister had her first less than two weeks ago. Guess who gets the 3am phone call asking whether or not to wake the baby up to eat?

At our last family gathering (which we try to do about once a month) they flocked around me and watched me with the kids, oohing and aaahing over the littlest parenting tricks and asking me for advice. Suddenly we're no longer "The Breeders" **chuckle**chuckle**, we're THE BREEDERS, SENSAI CHILD BEARERS, MASTER PARENTS teaching at the dojo of parenthood. My brother in law has even given me a new nickname.

The Pediatrician.

Yes, sometimes it pays to keep an odd-duck around.

Babies R Here

As predicted, I did unfortunately miss two whole days of Ultimate Blog Party 2009. However, in my defense, I have a super-excellent totally valid excuse.

Two of them even.

My first excuse is that MY NIECE WAS BORN! Oh, I am so in love with her. Little Chloe was born March 22 a little after 8pm. She weighed 8lbs 1oz and was 20 3/4 inches long. She has a full head of hair and bright pink, round little cheeks and a sweet little button nose just like my sister! I can't wait to fill her up with junk food and otherwise spoil the crap out of her. Mommy and Daddy are exhausted but doing well, and everyone is coming home tomorrow morning. My baby sister had a baby! I'm so proud of her (and her hubby, who has been a SAINT during this whole pregnancy-labor thing). Woo hoo for my baby sister and her little family!

My second, also totally reasonable, excuse is also baby related-only this time, it's my baby. The Bean has followed in the footsteps of her sister and decided to dilate me super early. You know, just for funsies. I was having some pressure and cramps and back pain and....well, other grosser things I won't share but isn't my water breaking or blood....so the doc wanted to check me out. I went in and they did a pelvic and found out that I am already 2 cm dilated with a soft cervix-and I just got to 31 weeks as of yesterday! The good news is that I have a history of doing this but no history of preterm labor, and I had a negative fetal fibronectin which means I'm almost definitely not going into "real labor" anytime in the next two weeks. The bad news is that means that I will probably continue to be in painful/uncomfortable slo-mo labor and be constantly harassed monitored until they induce me in approximately 8 weeks. Boo. The other good news is our baby girl is strong and healthy.....no matter how insane she is making her mother.

I go to the doctors again tomorrow to get poked prodded and otherwise generally annoyed monitored. Exciting. Hey-maybe if I'm lucky I'll get to see another ultrasound of The Bean. Wish me luck--and wish my sister luck too. She's a first time mommy and she might need it even more than I do!

Happy Birthday Baby

My baby boy turned FIVE ♥ That's right. Monkey. Five. I'm in shock.

Every time I look at him I know that it was his tiny little face, and his little bitty hands, and his trusting and loving heart that forever changed me from Person to Mommy. The moment he was born I was changed in ways that I still can't fully grasp or appreciate. I thought I knew about love and devotion and faith until my tiny little first born cried his very first cry. I have never felt such an instant and overwhelming sense of love as when I first heard his voice, and I cried when they put him in my arms.

I will never forget the very first things I said to him:

"Hello, my sweet baby. I'm your mommy and I love you more than I can ever explain. I am so happy to finally meet you. I am so proud of you-you did a great job being born, and I will love you and be proud of you every day for as long as I live."

And I knew, right then, that he was the reason I was born.

Since then everything is passing in the blink of an eye. I will never forget bringing him home from the hospital and staying up all night-while he slept peacefully-just to watch him breathe. I still look at him and see my sweet little baby, looking up at me with his big wide eyes and wrapping his little hand around my fingers while he nursed. I know that I'll always be able to instantly recall what it was like to have his tiny little body curled up next to mine at night, and watch him with the moonlight on his face, smelling his little head and knowing that is exactly what heaven must smell like.

And look-in the blink of an eye life is going by so fast. My tiny little newborn baby is walking around exploring the world. He can read and write, he nurtures his sister, he emulates his Daddy, he's forming thoughts and opinions and becoming his own person and I am slowly changing from the center of his world into one that is just blessed enough to watch and guide him. It is almost a kind of tragic beauty knowing that someday-much much sooner than I'd like-he'll be all grown up and leaving the nest...the man that I created. I'd be lying if I said that I am not a little devastated.

Still, there is another part of me that is so excited and fascinated with watching him grow. Now that he’s five we’re going to start enrolling him in different activities as apart of unschooling-this year he’s going to do Martial Arts, a drawing class, and volunteer work at the Humane Society. MY baby is going to be doing things and making friends and LIVING HIS OWN LIFE WITHOUT ME (in one hour increments, of course)! I am so amazed, and yes still proud, watching him grow up and I am so grateful that such a wonderful little person is apart of our lives. Every day he says or does something fantastic and new and I can see the man he'll someday be peeking out from behind his rocket ship pajamas. It's so exciting...and terrifying...and extraordinary.

I want him to stay five forever! Then again, I wanted him to stay four....and three...and newborn...but I can't catch a shooting star, or take a picture of my innermost feelings, and I know I can't keep him a little boy forever.

Still no matter how old he gets or how manly he becomes, even someday when he has children of his own, I will look at him and see that precious little baby-the perfect amazing little boy that made me Mommy.

In Recent News...

I did not fall off the face of the planet!

It is shameful-positively shameful-that I have not blogged in almost a year. It's not for lack of material, I assure you. In fact, I've had so many things to blog about that real life just ended up getting in the way entirely.

So what have I been doing in the last 9 months? What haven't I been doing?!

When I left you last June it was because we were trying to move. It seemed like a simple enough project, but alas-every time we managed to put together enough money for moving costs we had another unexpected and ridiculously expensive bill (isn't that how it always works?). Luckily, since we were moving toward the grandparents (who love and missed their grandchildren) they were very motivated to help us and, in a very generous gesture, offered to let us stay with them for a month to save a little extra money for move in costs to our new apartment.

It was a completely doable plan...until Hubby's job (which had transferred him to our new location) surprised him by cutting his hours to 18 hours a week.

So we extended our stay with my in laws just a little bit. No problem.

Until, because of that whole economy tanking thing, the standards for credit on apartment applications seemed to jump overnight. When you already have particularly terrible credit, this is not good news. The "one month, plus a little bit" ended up becoming indefinite.

No matter how much you love your in laws this is not a good idea-and it is especially not a good idea when there is something significantly less pleasant than love between you and your mother in law. It's easy to be civil over dinner or for a few weeks, but living together for any extended period of time (especially when there is no end in sight) is....well, unpleasant.

It becomes even more unpleasant when you have to look them in the eye after living with them for nearly two months-while your husband works just 18 hours a week and you are rejected daily from apartments that cockroaches wouldn't live in-and tell them that you are pregnant with your third child. New Baby Girl~13w2d Ultrasound

I don't think I've seen anyone turn that particular shade of furious before. It was truly awesome scientific phenomena that would have been worth studying if it weren't directed at me.

Thankfully, God heard my panicky prayers and things started picking up. Hubby was promoted to a new position which guaranteed 40 hours per week, and got a little pay bump to go with it. The private owner of a gorgeous 3bd/2.5ba 1500 sqft brand-spanking-new townhouse decided that we were good, hardworking people and practically gave us the place-no credit check, no first and last months rent-just days after we were turned down on yet another 1bd/1 ba 550sq ft public housing apartment. We moved in just before Christmas, and things have been going great!
Our Pretty, Pretty Living/Dining Area

We took January to get settled in, and February was busy with prenatal appointments and celebrating Baby Bug's FIRST BIRTHDAY (I can't believe she's a year old!!), and now it's March already. I'm starting my every two week OB/GYN appointments this week, Monkey will be turning 5 next Friday and we're having his party the following Saturday, then we're having the baby shower (my first ever!) in April, and having the new baby (another little girl!) in May. While it may seem like we're still going a thousand miles an hour (and I guess I am really)
things have gotten back into a nice-busy-routine.
I'm so excited to finally be able to get all of this stuff on paper....well, you know what I mean....and I'm hoping I can visit everyone's blogs really soon.

YAY! Time to start blogging again!

New Baby Bump 27w3d(a little bit ago)>>>>