Saturday, March 31, 2007
What I want to know is this: Do I really look that much better (nekked) than I did after Princess and Frodo were born (there is no contest with Eldest, I looked GREAT when he was three weeks old, I have photos to prove it. Probably in a bikini) or am I just old enough that flabby is my new status quo? Maybe I've been married long enough that I'm just more comfortable in my skin...all the excess skin.
Don't get me wrong, I don't want to stay here. I have AT LEAST 10 pounds to go, but having ONLY 10 pounds to go ALREADY seems too easy.
Ask me again in 6 months. The Blue Bell is tasting pretty stinkin' good.
Thank God, we didn't. Man, nothing like hearing one of your best friends slurring words and nearly incoherent while she asks you to come take care of her kids to make you hit your knees in earnest.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Don't you just love the flowering trees and spring bulbs? A couple years ago I planted a bunch of hyacinth bulbs in a corner patch of my front yard. I can smell them all the way up here in my dining room as I type. How I love the smell. (Princess thinks they stink like dog poop...I think it is due to the black dog that pees in that particular flower bed every stinking day. In other words, it is in her head.) My daffodils are blooming profusely. My tulips are trying (there are a few blooms). My lilacs have buds and most of my other flowering shrubs are either budding or in bloom. Oh, and the flowering crab trees....heavenly.
Is there any question why my mother has always called me spring fever?
Okay, but am I the only one who has noticed that Bradford pear blooms really DO smell like dog poop? And, seriously, every other house here has one. Some have whole rows of them planted. They are pretty, but if you are confined inside until the blooms fall off, what good are they?
It just figures that my three-year-old son has made it into a book before I have. Then again he can't read or type, so I suppose it is all thanks to me...
Thursday, March 29, 2007
This is where the faint of heart (or the not so cheap) give up nursing. I'm trying to decide how faint my heart is. There just comes a point in every woman's life where one must decide if they are indeed at that point where
I. Am. Going. To. Die.
If I don't get some sleep.
See, this week is where I am back full time. My big kids are back. Hubs is back to work. And everyone thinks they need clean clothes and food.
But, if one is up all night with a baby who thinks he needs to nurse every 30 minutes, and gets mad because he doesn't really want to nurse, he really just wants to be held, but he roots around
and mom is desperate and has no other ideas to get the baby back to sleep, but the baby acts less like a hungry baby than a kitten kneading mom's stomach with his feet and yanking with his gums and punching and fighting.....
you get the idea.
And the big kids need help with their reading, and they need to be held and loved and kissed and paid attention to and breakfast made and hair combed and to top that off wake the baby every BLASTED TIME MOM GETS HIM TO SLEEP BECAUSE THEY NEED TO HOLD HIM!!!!
So about 4:30 yesterday morning I decided that maybe bottles and daddy weren't such a bad idea after all.
But I found / figured something out yesterday before I got to my whine-blog. I have great friends. Far more or better or something than the friends I had four years ago when I went through this and sank into a pit of despair. Or maybe I'm better at admitting when I can't handle it. So far this week I've had several people check in with me. Offer to go to the store for me. Drop off casseroles for me (that weren't scheduled with the church). And, the topper, pick up my big kids for the afternoon so that I could take a nap.
It is amazing the difference a two hour nap can make. Like doubling the amount of sleep I'd had in 24 hours.
And then last night, Frog slept (I think) six hours in a row. Since I have strategically placed the clock so that I can't see it so that I don't know how little sleep I'm getting, I'm not sure. But I think it said 4:30 when he woke for the first time and I think he went to sleep around 10. What I do know is that he slept so long and so well I was ready for him to wake (if you know what I mean) and I got up to check if he was breathing three times.
What a difference a day makes.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
I once had a friend who told me, "You never know how selfish you are until you get married...and then you never know how selfish you are until you have children."
The truth is, I didn't want to make bread this morning while Frog slept. I wanted to sleep. I didn't want to let the big kids hold the baby when he was being nice, I wanted them to leave him alone so that he would continue to be nice. I don't want to mess up my nice loaves of bread to let Frodo eat the dough (even though it is his favorite part). I haven't read since my kids came home and I'm a book reviewer. I need to read. For my sanity and for my obligations. Need I go on?
Selfishness, thy name is Jamie.
BYW, I just found a peanut in the loaf of bread I disfigured to give Frodo a piece of dough (that I should have remembered to save out, but I'm suffering sleep deprivation). A peanut.
I can only assume that happened while my dough was "sponging" while I quickly rinsed off in the shower. Three year olds.
I'd tell you what I'm reading, but I'm NOT.
Monday, March 26, 2007
I technically have enough children to blog at www.largerfamilies.blogpot.com
I have four children now.
People have one accidentally, even two accidentally, or two because that is what you are supposed to do once you've been married X number of years (The magic number here is 2 for one 4 for two). People who really love kids may have three. I have four.
Four people are under my responsibility.
When you have four children you are no longer allowed to complain about the difficulties of parenting. You are supposed to know what you are getting yourself into by the time you reach four. And I did. Boy did I. I spent the last nine months mumbling aloud to myself "Four. Four people. Another person."
It isn't even that I want to complain about my kids. I don't set out to do so. But some days I'VE HAD IT! AND I NEED TO TELL SOMEONE! VERY LOUDLY!
Nope, no more. I am no longer allowed to the luxury of "real mom," I have crossed into saint.
Can't you see my halo? CAN'T YOU SEE MY HALO?
I ENJOY WAKING UP ALL HOURS OF THE NIGHT TO FEED THIS FOURTH PERSON!
AND I CAN'T WAIT TO GET UP IN THE MORNING TO BREAK UP FIGHTS!
AND I DIDN'T WANT A SHOWER TODAY ANYWAY, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
POOPY DIAPERS? LOVE TO CHANGE THEM!
NO I DON'T NEED ANY HELP! IT IS ALL UNDER CONTROL!
SURE, I DID HAVE A BABY ONLY TWO WEEKS AGO, BUT I'D LOVE TO TAKE THIS NAP TIME AND CLEAN THE GARAGE!
LAUNDRY? YOU'RE KIDDING, RIGHT? I ONLY HAVE SEVEN LOADS TO DO TODAY!
(I am quite mentally stable this AM, thanks for your worries. I'm just demonstrating my cracking point because when it gets really bad, I won't.)
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
First, his mother had the audacity to serve up something for his midnight snack that he didn't want. He couldn't tell her what he did want so he was FORCED to fuss for better than two hours. When she finally figured it out that he wanted to sleep on her chest in the recliner, he got a few zzzz's.
But not enough. His dad woke his mom at 6:30 so that they could make it to a doctor's appointment. He had to switch chests for sleeping and that really annoyed him.
And THEN his mom put his stinky sour milk self in the shower and WASHED HIS HAIR!!!!
If that wasn't bad enough. His parents strapped him into some contraption so that he could ride in the car...and no one held him for 20 minutes.
And then, and then, they strapped him into another contraption and someone cut his Peter.
Talk about your bad days.
Mom is having a pretty crummy one herself. Though I understand that her doctor prayed for them before he started cutting and let her cry with Frog.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Now Malinda, I understand. But Sanjaya?
But I'll freely admit this is the first full episode I've watched this season. (I have watched the closing credits enough to know who the people are and their little sound bites of music.) It may be the last.
Really, are there any guys who have a fighting chance?
And, hopefully, this is the last time I will blog about American Idol...
Monday, March 19, 2007
So, the night before I went into labor I made a pot of beans. For burritos. They are easy and my family eats them well. We had them a time or two. And then I suggested that my mom make "pan burritos" which is kinda like a layered enchilada (ala lasagna).
When Mom left with the kids on Wednesday Hubs and I were left to fend for ourselves. Except I've been sick as a dog. So when mealtime came around one of us would ask the other, "What ya wanna eat? Burrito, or burrito?"
We're pretty sick of burritos. Hence, I haven't been eating as much as I should.
So, Friday night, Hubs went over to a friends house to watch KU in the tourney. When he walked in our friend says, "Have you had supper? We have some extra burritos."
Canned chicken noodle soup has never tasted so good.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Speaking of milk...poor little guy. It's like trying to drink from a geyser. Not that I've ever tried that. But the way he chokes and snorts and gulps and spews...well, you get the idea. We've already crossed over into projectile vomiting, too. Thankfully he is my third to nurse and I have seen the pattern. It isn't my baby's weak stomach, it is my overabundant milk supply. I feel guilty cutting him off so quickly, before his suckling need is fulfilled, but I also hate to be soaked down to my skivvies every time he sits up, chokes and empties 9/10 of what he just ate.
When your stomach is the size of a walnut, you shouldn't eat a whole watermelon, no matter how good it tastes.
I'm finally feeling a little better today. Yesterday my fever spiked back up. I do this every time, I don't know why I don't just expect it. I don't remember the fever, but the respiratory thing, ugh.
Yesterday was my first "due date" (based on ovulation). Super glad I wasn't in labor. Tomorrow is the day I'd decided I wanted to have the baby. Glad I won't be doing that either.
All in all, a decent week.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Have you ever thought about the miracle that babies are? I mean, two half cells come together and make a whole cell that grows into this perfect person. And most of the time, it works just like that. They come out knowing they have to breathe, eat, and fill their diapers. And their bodies just do it. They know who their mamas are. They are a whole other person. Right from the start.
After three years of infertility, I thought I knew the miracle they were. I mean, I still do. But my brain is wrapping around it again now that this little lump of a person I call Frog is here.
My doctor once told me that even IF you (ahem) at the exact right time, there was still only an 11% chance of getting pregnant for most people. And that as many as 80% of those pregnancies end before the woman even knows she is pregnant. But for those of us who got beyond those statistics...wow.
Ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes that blink, a complete digestive system, good breath sounds, strong heart. Wow.
And there are still people out there that don't believe in God. Amazing.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Sunday, March 11, 2007
It's a boy (which we knew). 8 lb 7 oz born at 4:21 Friday afternoon in my bedroom in a decked out horse tank. (I just lost most of you, didn't I?) Those are the necessary details.
And now for the rest of the details.
In the interest of sticking to my accidental fantastical blog naming of my children, this one shall be referred to as Frog (like the frog prince) until he better establishes himself as a personality that isn't all hunched into frog shape. Hubs already calls him chipmunk. I think he means like those pink hairless newborn creatures not the hyperactive hole diggers that eat Fruit Loops out of your hands.
I did make it to the shower and I highly recommend women worldwide schedule a shower for their early labor as a nice distraction. Though, I have to say, by the end of the two hours, I was ready to head for home and less of an audience. Just as I was heading out the door, my friends grabbed me and prayed for me and man, my contractions took a turn for the hard. I consider that a good thing, I hate puttering along for hours on end.
My sister and I picked the big kids up from school, we took them home and fed them and then she took them to her home. I burst into tears like I always do at this point. So Hubs called in the midwife. Of course, as soon as she showed up I had no contractions for fifteen minutes. My body always does that.
However, I started packing up swimsuits and loading the dishwasher and stuff and, lo and behold, high gear.
We watched KU cream Oklahoma (? (as if I gave a rip at that point)) and then I took to my tank.
About 3:30 my doorbell started to ring. For. The. Love. Of all things holy. I'm sitting somewhere between a nine and full and people are delivering bouquets (which I'm thankful for, just the timing was a little, um, unusual).
Long story shorter: Hard labor for about 4 hours and done. Ten days early. All in all a great day. He is healthy. I have a supply of nourishment that made its appearance last night. I'm surrounded by people who love me.
(I'm a prisoner in my bedroom without internet.)
I can tote my laptop to the top of the stairs and get a good enough connection to post a blog and answer email. People continue to show up with flowers. My feet have made a reappearance. Sitting isn't a problem (read: no tearing). I have a wonderful new child to teach about Jesus, but he is already teaching me.
And for those of you that I would recognize if you show up at my door, Grand Central Station is open for visitors.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Just have little to say.
My house is a disaster area.
My "nesting instinct" has gone into hibernation.
My feet ache.
And the weather has turned nice.
And I realized last night I should wash some receiving blankets. It isn't like towels are made for swaddling.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Do you have a time period you just love to read? Or watch. Whatever. I do. I love the depression era, the WWII era (might as well throw on the roaring 20s). Maybe because I didn't have to live it. Maybe because I like the look of the shoes. I'm shallow, I admit it. But something about that time period fascinates me. It has ever since The Diary of Anne Frank or The Hiding Place. I can't remember which came first for me.
Imagine my joy and surprise when I found out that an author I love to read came up with another topic to write in my time period. But on a war I'd never heard of. The Spanish Civil War.
As usual, Tricia Goyer writes from several points of view that seem so disconnected until...they aren't. I just love it. And I love learning about history that I didn't know even existed.
She apparently didn't either. Here's what Tricia has to say about the story behind the story:
A few years ago when I was researching for my fourth World War II novel, Arms of Deliverance, I came across a unique autobiography. One B-17 crewmember I read about claimed to make it out of German-occupied
Nazi tanks rolled across the hillsides and German bombers roared overhead, dropping bombs on helpless citizens. Italian troops fought alongside the Germans, and their opponents attempted to stand strong—Americans, British, Irishmen, and others—in unison with other volunteers from many countries. And their battleground? The beautiful Spanish countryside.
From July 17, 1936-April 1, 1939, well before
Unlike World War II, there is no clear line between white and black, good and evil. Both sides committed atrocities. Both sides had deep convictions they felt worth fighting and dying for.
Loyalists—also know as the Republicans were aided by the
Nationalists—or Francoists were aided mainly by
During the Spanish Civil war, terror tactics against civilians were common. And while history books discuss the estimated one million people who lost their lives during the conflict, we must not forget that each of those who fought, who died, had their own tales. From visitors to
He said, "I wike you, too."
And Princess joined in to say, "If I had a step-mother and she was really mean, I'd want you back."
So I said, "What if she was really nice?"
And she said, "I'd probably just keep her."
...to teach your six year old propriety when he tells the doctor, "My mom bought a whole lot of junk food this morning." (translation: mom bought microwave popcorn that I've been begging for for a month and marshmallows to make a dessert.)
...to do something about your naughty kids when they can no longer hear you unless you raise your voice. They used to be so obedient. I have no idea what happened. Perfect mothers, I could use some advice.
...to bring on the tears (as if I could help it) when the doctor tells you what you already knew and tries to make that the end of the visit. Um, no, I have no intention of spending $89 to have you tell me it is not an infection. I knew that part...I want to know what it IS.
Since when is cash faux pas? Seriously, the receptionists look at you like you are nuts when you try to pay...and then try to do it in cash. Look, I don't get the discount if I use my mastercard, my checking account is empty and I'm holding out cash to you. Sure, you can run it through my "insurance," not get paid and six months later bill me. That sounds fantastic. Six months same as cash. However, I am holding green under your nose and you don't want it?
Then again, the "cash only" store (Aldi, which recently added debit cards) has also suddenly developed a cash allergy. What have we come to? (That wasn't fair, he did go into the back and get me some change. And they had only been open for 20 minutes.)
Costco is not cheap. They drew me in with their coupons, which were mostly good deals, but their rack prices are a bit, um, exorbitant. Why not just buy it at the grocery store?
However, they do have this product that I'm super excited about: Bolthouse Farms "Perfectly Protein" mocha cappuccino. At this stage of pregnancy I'm thrilled to find anything resembling coffee that also aids in my protein intake. When your stomach is the size of a walnut and you need to eat 100 grams of protein a day...let's just say the coffee replacement that has 10g per cup and no artificial sweeteners (which tastes quite good) helps. And no, at this point, I DO NOT look at carbs. Don't ask.
And I think I told you about a book list I was working though that recommends 100 books children should be exposed to before they are 12. I ordered the first 6 that we haven't read and we especially love this one: