Life Lately

I'm tired.

I need like 3 years of sleep.

But I'd settle for a solid 12 hours.

A quality nap would even do.

On that note, I have taken up coffee drinking in the last two weeks.  Because who doesn't need an additional bad habit?

It's a game changer, folks. Truly.

Well, until the caffeine jolt runs out.

Then I'm back at square one.

Life has been pressing on despite my fog of fatigue.

Happy has been busy fighting crime, flashlight and sunglasses style.

Lil Miss has been wanting to be potty trained for months.  Like any good mom, I've been ignoring her requests. Brandon took pity on her and put her in underwear a few Saturdays ago. She pretty much trained herself.

As well as froggy. 

I know it's not a hard and fast rule, but WHEW!  Girls are easier to potty train!

Especially if they do it themselves!

However, she is still struggling with the pants/underwear situation.

Backwards pants.

Complete body in one underwear leg hole.  It can't be comfortable.

Being the fiercely independent gal that she is, you cannot help her with this clothing issue.

MG continues to win the best sport ever award.

A few hundred toys on her.

Big sister wanting to constantly hold her.

Baby doll crammed in with me?  No biggie.

Seriously.  What a great sport.

We've also done some picnicking.

Both indoor and out.

(Almost) grown enough hair for pigtails. 

And done some serious park hopping.

 

 We've watered some plants that didn't need any extra water.

As well as spent some quality time in time out.

We've also observed some wildly inappropriate signs.

"Expose Yourself. Start Your Business Here."  Is it an issue of one's mastery of the English language or tasteless humor?

It's been a fun (and TIRING) few weeks!

Mother's Day Grumpies

For the past few years, on Mother's Day, I have noticed something a bit unusual.  There seems to be an abundance of grumpy moms.  More so than usual. 

(And I'm not judging.)

(I can be grumpy with the best of them.  Just ask my sweet, patient husband.)

I used to just think that I was more aware of the crabby mamas on that particular day because it was Mother's Day.  But this year, after an interesting interaction with an especially irritable mom at church, I realized what I was sensing.

As moms, we have this hope and expectation that this day will be special.  And that all of the ill-behaved children will be obedient.  All the attitudes will vanish.  All the dishes will be done (by someone other than us).  All the laundry will be tamed.

And if that's not too high of an expectation, we also hope that we can just get a simple picture, with at least some the subjects looking towards the camera.  Bonus points for a smile.

I actually wasn't even going to attempt a picture on that day.  I had decided that days before.  The grumpy mom at church?  Her issue involved a family photo.  I was trying to help assist her in that.

Call me pessimistic, but I went into Mother's Day with the same expectations and anticipations that I have everyday.  I knew there would be messes, screaming, crying, discipline, dishes, laundry, and, most especially, no children looking towards a camera. 

That's the special part that we are looking for, but don't recognize.

I wanted to embrace the disorder even more on that day than I normally do. 

Between the grumpy mom's photography woes and the solidifying thought that motherhood is messy, sweaty, and chaotic, especially so on Mother's Day, I decided to go for that family photo. 

And I'm glad I did.

The Tale of the Tattoo Tragedy (and, eventually, Triumph)

A few weeks ago, I brought Happy along with me to an appointment I had.  He was remarkably, possibly even astoundingly, well-behaved.  There is a Toys-R-Us in the same shopping center and, well, you see where this is going. 

Typically, when we go to the store, I let the kids look at toys but we don't buy anything.  Because of this, Happy is quite familiar with which stores have which Angry Bird paraphernalia (Angry Birds are the current obsession).  He knew Toys-R-Us had this particular Angry Birds coloring set that he'd been eying.  And he was thrilled for "Happy to take in car."

So excited!

When we got home and broke into the box, he discovered that there were temporary tattoos in there.  I guess he had never encountered them before and Brandon explained to him what they were and proceeded to put one on him.

Now, with temporary tattoo application there are a few things that apparently must resemble a shot to a young lad. You must first sit still, someone must hold your arm (or wherever you decide to place the tattoo), and put pressure on that arm to apply said tattoo.  And a tattoo looks remarkably like a band aid left behind after a shot.

Oh, my.  The screaming and tears that took place.  Unreal.

{Now, Happy is typically unusually happy, hence the pen name, unless you "do" something to him.  Haircuts, Dentist appointments, nails clipped.  Bless the souls whose professions are to "do" something to my child.}

Then, it was Lil Miss's turn.  She heard all the screaming from Happy and wanted nothing to do with it.  Brandon pressed on, namely by pinning her down to apply said tattoo.

Oh, the wailing.

We thought the kids would recover within a few minutes.  We were so very wrong. 

I had to Google how to remove temporary tattoos.

The removal. 

FYI-If you are ever in a similar ridiculous predicament, rubbing alcohol works best.

Happy referred to the tragedy throughout the day.  I decided to put one on myself that evening so that he could see I would survive such trauma.

He finally came around and decided to try it again, 9 hours later.

Mommy is still alive!

Ahh!  Happy is still alive, too.

Three weeks later, we are still well stocked with Angry Birds tattoos.  Today, I applied four tattoos to each child (well, not the baby).  And they still have to declare that, "I not sad. I okay!" while getting the tattoo.

Tragedy turned to triumph.

The Sass and The Salsa

We recently learned that Lil Miss, who we simply call Sass at our house, is a lover of salsa. The spicier the better, apparently.

At dinner last week, she commandeered the salsa dish and went to town. 

Don't let the chip in hand fool you.  She consumed no chips in the process.

Chips are simply tools to scoop said salsa into mouth.

Spicy, huh? (Yes, I was taking her pic and laughing. Wouldn't you?)

She consumed the whole bowl.  We had to get more for ourselves.

And, no, she didn't eat her dinner.  I assumed her stomach was on fire.  And I didn't want to push it.

Could There Be Anything Sweeter?

A few days ago, I took Little Miss upstairs to change her diaper. (Well,  I've changed her diaper since then as well.  But you get what I am saying. Yes?)

When I came back downstairs, I found Happy "reading" the Bible to MG. He was telling her about Jesus, the angels, and the animals.  I believe it was his version of the Christmas story. 

There couldn't have been a sweeter moment for me to witness.

Mollie Grace's Birth (Part 2)

Picking up from my first post about Mollie Grace's birth...

About 10 minutes into the 45 minute drive to the hospital (although I think Brandon managed to make it a 30 minute drive), I realized that there was not going to be enough time for me to get that epidural.  But I still had no idea that the baby would be born in the van.

Brandon had been on the phone with the doctor and was told to call them back if I felt pushy.  When he told me that, I thought, "I'm already feeling that way!"  But I didn't tell Brandon that yet because I knew we weren't even halfway to the hospital and I didn't want to scare him.  Plus, I think I was still in denial that the baby was coming so fast.  Within a few minutes, I screamed, "I FEEL PUSHY!"
Thankfully, because I had read up so much on natural childbirth, I learned a lot about how to deliver a baby without a doctor (though that was NEVER my intention!).  I learned that often a woman feels great relief when it is time to push and that she typically doesn't feel the urge to push unless it is the appropriate time (meaning, she is dilated to 10 cm).  I also learned that if you deliver the baby when there is no one to cut the umbilical cord, it is okay for the umbilical cord to remain attached to both mom and baby for a little while.

So, I did what any sane woman would do, I started pushing that baby out of me! I went slowly and tentatively at first. From my reading on natural childbirth, I knew to try to take it slowly. It really did feel like such a great relief to be pushing.  So much so that Brandon kept asking if I was okay because my yelling/groaning had quieted down significantly. I told him I was okay, but didn't tell him why.

I had my eyes closed to focus on the ordeal going on within me, but I could tell that we were no longer on the expressway and getting close to the hospital because of the frequent starting and stopping of Brandon's driving. The hospital is pretty much right off of the expressway.

This is where my memory gets blurry.  I know I was seriously pushing at this point.  I also was thinking about getting to the hospital and how there was no way I would be able to get out of the van in my current state.  Luckily, the baby was going to resolve that dilemma for me and not give me that opportunity.

Brandon pulled into the hospital parking lot, trying to find the door that the doctor's office had told him to go to, where people would be waiting for us.  He couldn't find anyone and, at one point, hopped out of the van trying to look for anyone.  Somewhere in that time frame, I pushed one last time and Mollie Grace was born.  I grabbed her as she was coming out.

Because my water had broken before leaving the house, I had towels with me.  I found one and wiped her down and wrapped her up in it.

At some point, I looked for Brandon and I could see my sweet husband running around trying to find anyone to help us. I wanted to yell to him that the baby was here, but I didn't had the energy.  Plus, I figured he would come back soon enough and find out.

He ran around the van and opened the door (either to tell me something or to check on me, I guess) and he had this look of utter shock and disbelief as he sees me in the back of the van holding a baby. (He later told me that I looked so calm and relieved!) We don't find out the gender of our babies ahead of time.  It was dark and the umbilical cord made it a little confusing for me to decipher the gender.  So apparently, I got Brandon out of his shock by only saying, "Well!  What is it?  A boy or a girl?!"  He climbed in and checked and said, "Girl!".

Right around then, about 10-20 people come running from the emergency room with a stretcher. (The hospital we go to is a teaching hospital, so for every one standard role like a doctor or a nurse, you have several medical students or residents with them.)  You could see the excitement on their face and then a touch of disappointment when they saw the baby had already been born. 

Just at that moment, I see my doctor walking in front of our van, going into the hospital.  It was providential that he was right there at that moment. He was coming to deliver my baby (or so he thought).  We called him over to the van.  He wanted me to get out of the van with the baby still attached to the umbilical cord, but I was shaking and too weak to do so.  So, the doctor climbed into the van, clamped the umbilical cord, and had Brandon climb back in the van and cut the umbilical cord with a razor from the emergency kit that someone had brought out from the hospital.  At this point, about 10 more people have shown up to help (or possibly just watch).  Brandon thought the crowd of onlookers was one of the best parts.  It was crazy how many people were there.  They took the baby and put her in a bassinet and then they loaded me up on a stretcher and wheeled us both into a delivery room. And it was pretty much standard issue stuff from there on out. 

Also, I did later learn from Brandon that adding to the stress of him trying to get us to the hospital on time was the fact that our empty light on our van was on.  We have a little feature on our van that tells us how many miles of driving we have left before we totally run out of gas.  Apparently we pulled into the hospital with 2 miles to go. 

Once we were released from the hospital a couple of days later, we loaded up the van in the same spot where all the excitement happened a few days before.  So I snapped a quick photo on the day we were released.  For memories and such.

A few answers to the most common questions....

1. Yes, it hurt.
2. Yes, I delivered her myself.  No one assisted.
3. Labor was an hour and a half from start to finish.
4. No discount that I know of, though that would be nice.  I think I should get a cut or a commission, if you will, at the very least.
5. Placenta was delivered in hospital.
6. My sweet in-laws took the van to be detailed a few days later.
7. My dad brought a small portable container of gasoline to the hospital to get our van to the nearest gas station.
8. Yes, my dad taught me to always keep my car with a full tank.  Yes, I see the irony in this.
9. No, I have no idea what we will do the next time I am pregnant, Lord willing. Move closer to the hospital?

Mollie Grace's Birth (Part 1)

Many people have been curious about the details of Mollie Grace's rapid entry into this world and I figured it could be the impetus I needed to revive my poor, abandoned blog.

Late Saturday afternoon (Jan 5), I melodramatically texted my friend Lindsay, who had just had a little boy the week prior, that I would be pregnant forever and that the baby was never coming. 

Brandon had Communion set up obligations at our church Saturday night, so I decided to take the kids to Target to kill some time and stock up on a few necessary supplies for the kids, were the baby ever to come.  (cue more melodrama) 

The kids, though they can have their moments, were behaving fairly well in the store, but they were just extra excitable that night.  When you are 1 and 3, there is a lot to point out and get excited about.  The current obsession in our household is ALL THINGS Angry Birds.  Happy can spot Angry Bird merchandise like an eagle to prey.  And if he ever fails to see something, Little Miss, who chooses to use more grunts than words that she is perfectly capable of saying, will loudly grunt about something Happy may have missed.

Well, just our luck that night at Target, we ended up in the check out lane with more Angry Birds paraphernalia than is fair to any parent.  The kids were beside themselves with excitement of pointing out stuff.  As my very pregnant self tried to load stuff onto the check out lane belt (with just a touch of difficulty) and the kids were begging to see Angry Birds items, the gentleman behind me in line said, "Boy!  You SURE do have your hands full."  Why do they always say that at the most chaotic time?  Is it because it is just so hard not to say it?  I politely responded that I did, but was happy about it.  If that poor man knew I was going to be delivering my baby in the van in just 3 short hours, he might have even run the other way.

Anyways, I got the kids home and, very fortunately, Brandon was able to leave his communion responsibilities earlier than normal and was able to help me get the kids to bed (otherwise, he may have gotten home after all the drama started and found a baby in our house instead of our van).  As soon as the kids were in bed, I started feeling contractions.  They felt pretty tame and similar to the false contractions I had been feeling off and on for 3 weeks.  After about 20 or so minutes, Brandon called his dad to come over to stay with the kids.  I thought the call was a little premature, but I didn't argue.

In the 30 minutes that it took Brandon's dad to get here, my water broke and my contractions increased in intensity.  I was laying on the hall floor when my father-in-law arrived.  Brandon was hurrying to get everything we needed in the van.  Fortunately, I had the foresight to ask Brandon to clear out the back bench of the van so that I could lie down while in labor.

A little background: With my labor with Lil Miss, it went very quickly and I did NOT handle the pain well.  So much so that nurses were coming in and telling to be quiet because I was scaring other patients.  I was that woman in labor.  And it took the anesthesiologist a sweet forever to get to me and give me an epidural.  Because of this, I had been reading up a lot on natural childbirth and pain management while pregnant with Mollie Grace.  I wasn't planning on a natural childbirth, but because I was reading all this literature that was so pro unmedicated childbirth, I drank the kool-aid a little bit.  A few weeks before Mollie Grace's birth,  I had casually mentioned to Brandon that I was interested in trying an unmedicated birth.  My sweet gentle husband who rarely has a strong opinion on how I handle things said, "What?!  Are you serious?!  That's crazy!!"  We eventually came to a compromise of me trying to labor naturally and if I couldn't handle the pain, then we would chose for me to get an epidural.

We left soon after my father-in-law arrived.  As we were getting into the van at our house, I told Brandon, "I want that epidural!"  He laughed and nodded, indicating that is what he thought would happen all along.  I laughed (as much as I could).  He usually is right, anyways.

About 10 minutes into the 45 minute drive to the hospital (although I think Brandon managed to make it a 30 minute drive), I realized that there was not going to be enough time for me to get that epidural.  But I still had no idea that the baby would be born in the van.

continued (Part 2)