I've made it a rule to never complain about my kids, and I try really hard to stick to that. Of course they aren't perfect, but most of the time it isn't their fault when they are driving me crazy and I don't think it is fair to them to announce to the world that they might be making me a little bit batty at the moment. Kids are kids. They need things. They want things. They don't have the capacity to be patient for things. And when you have 4 kids, who all need and want and aren't patient for things, all at the same time, you can get a little batty a little faster than you would like.
M has been gone for 5 weeks. 5 weeks of no contact, except for a short letter here and there. And it isn't like he's sending me a postcard with a picture of some gorgeous beach on it. He sends letters saying someone stole his laundry detergent and he needs me to send him some, and hand drawn pictures of him jumping out of planes. And believe me, I am thankful that I do get to hear from him at all, even if it is about how he probably got some swamp flu from trekking in the mud all day, but I want to *talk* to him.
So it has just been me, and the kids, for 35 straight days now. No reinforcements, no backup, no breaks. And they are generally good kids, except like I said, they just need and want a lot of things, and they need them and want them RIGHT NOW. I'm tired... so, so tired. I just want... sleep. That's it. I'll take 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Maybe even 6.
Last night's plan of paying the big kids 2 coins each if they slept until 7 this morning totally backfired, and both were in my bed at 6:13 this morning, asking if they could have their coins. (Yes, coins. Not nickles or dimes, or even quarters. They just want coins. Any kind of coins. Just to put in their piggy banks. Thank goodness for all of those random Euro coins I keep finding) So tonight, I've gone rogue. The battle is on. I need my sleep and I am going to get it.
A and MJs room has been stocked with a cup of water and a snack bag for each girl, along with a stack of books and some toys they haven't seen in awhile. W and CB's room is stocked with juice and dry cereal, bananas for each of them and a computer with a dvd. This is the one time I am very glad W can read, because when he wakes up he will see the note I have left for him: "DO NOT WAKE YOUR MOTHER UP, UNLESS YOU ARE BLEEDING OR THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE. And here's a dvd for you and CB to watch. REMEMBER,DO NOT WAKE YOUR MOTHER UP AND NO FIGHTING. Love and kisses, Mommy".
7 hours kids. Just, 7 hours... that's all I want... desperate times are calling for desperate measures.
Showing posts with label my husband. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my husband. Show all posts
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
freeeeeeeaky.
Last night we put the babies to bed and headed outside to finish up our container garden. Now, I'm not positive the container garden will survive more than a couple of weeks because I have absolutely NO clue what I am doing, but we tried, and that is all that matters, right? The big kids were helping us out, filling the pots with dirt and throwing away the trash... and running off to play soccer and put rocks in their "rock collection" which is really a huge pile of cement "rocks" they have thrown in a garbage can. And come to think of it, I really am not quite sure where that garbage can came from... probably the same place the extra soccer ball that magically appeared in our yard came from... unless my kids are kelptos, which is a very likely possibility.
Anyway, at one point as the sun was setting CB looked up in the sky and SCREAMED, "LOOK! AN ALIEN SPACE SHIP!!!!" and then ran around the yard. And we were like, yes, that's probably right so we didn't pay much attention and then she screamed it again and ran around the yard once more. Once she had run back to the porch near us, M asked her how many aliens were on the space ship and she responded, very matter-of-factly, with, "fifty-one." Yeeeeeah. I'm now 100% sure she is from another world.
Anyway, at one point as the sun was setting CB looked up in the sky and SCREAMED, "LOOK! AN ALIEN SPACE SHIP!!!!" and then ran around the yard. And we were like, yes, that's probably right so we didn't pay much attention and then she screamed it again and ran around the yard once more. Once she had run back to the porch near us, M asked her how many aliens were on the space ship and she responded, very matter-of-factly, with, "fifty-one." Yeeeeeah. I'm now 100% sure she is from another world.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
flow charts and venn diagrams
I need a series of flow charts and diagrams in order to feed my family. Excel Pro or Power Point or something. I have gotten part of my "diagnosis" from my GI "issues" and am officially allergic to wheat and peanuts, and probably some other stuff, like apples and some veggies, but we don't know what yet. And that kinda really sucks because I'm a big, BIG fan of carbs. Breads, pastas, lots of pasta, noodles, pastries, pasta, cinnamon rolls, pie... all of it are favorites. Did I mention pasta? Yep, love it. And I don't mean that healthy smart pasta either, I mean the wholesome goodness of enriched bleached flour pasta. And bread... again, not whole grain/ multi grain/ bird food bread. I'm talking the kind of bread that is so soft and preserved that you can roll it up into little balls and it will stay that way until you pop it in your mouth.
But alas, there will be no more delicious pasta or bread in my life. And that makes me sad because bread and pasta are the perfect catalyst for pretty much everything. Radishes? Gross. Until you put some Mediterranean yogurt cheese and sea salt on a piece of fresh bread and add the radish to it. Arugula? Disgusting! Until you add some olive oil, shrimp and capers, lemon juice, white wine, artichoke hearts, fresh oregano and parsley with some fresh chopped tomatoes and toss it all with some pasta... AMAZEBALLS. Have some fresh berries and buttermilk and eggs that are about to go bad? Make some French Toast!
Yes, there is rice pasta and wheat free bread but what is the point? The textures are wrong and it just doesn't feel right. And that is really lame for me to say because half of my kids have never even tasted real bread and pasta before. CB just started eating wheat last year. They have to suffice with the "fake" stuff so it should be good enough for me too. But I just can't do it. I don't want to do it.
Feeding my family is difficult enough already and now throwing my allergies into the mix make it even more ridiculous. The only person who can eat "normal" is M. He has no food issues, well, only if there isn't enough hot sauce... then there is a major issue. W can have almost anything but not "raw" dairy, like a glass of milk or regular milk in his cereal. Cooked milk, like cheese and yogurt are ok. But we do have to limit that and the amount of nuts he has. He also doesn't do well at all with processed foods or things that have sugars, preservatives and food dyes in them. So we pretty much keep him on a whole foods diet as much as we can.
CB can have wheat and eggs in moderation and she can have oatmeal too but anything with dairy, soy, beef and nuts are out of the question. She also can't eat apples or pears which eliminates most fruit snacks and juices.
Baby A is officially allergic to soy, barley and grapes (?!?!?) and can't tolerate diary, soy, wheat, oatmeal, eggs, nuts, beef and almost all fruits. Except bananas. Girl loves her bananas.
Baby MJ is not officially allergic to anything but will get a diaper full of blood if she has even a nibble of something with trace dairy, like a McDonald's french fry. She is also extremely symptomatic to everything Baby A is: soy, wheat, nuts, eggs, beef, and pretty much all fruits, but she can have barley and grapes.
They can do potatoes but we can't just get them french fries while we are out because we can't be sure they aren't made with vegetable oil, which is almost always made from soy beans. We can't just order them a chicken breast without a fuss because most are marinated or brushed with oil or butter while cooking. I can't just give them a cracker or a cookie to snack on and almost all toddler geared "snacks" are made with at least one thing they can't have.
W and CB have been eating Wheat Free/ Dairy Free Fig Newmans for years so I figured they would be ok with A and MJ. But, they are made with barley flour. So MJ gets to eat "two cookies" but A can't. I personally really love the allergen free Enjoy Life Snickerdoodle cookies and ordered a huge box for A, but then I saw they are sweetened with grape juice, so that is out. It is hard to bake anything for them. Most substitutions are not agreeable to them so that really isn't an option either.
So obviously, all of this poses a problem. If I want to make pancakes in the morning I'll need to make 3 kinds: one regular (flour, eggs, buttermilk and butter) for M and W, one with oat flour and the rest of the ingredients for me and one allergen free one for the babies and CB. Or I could make 4 kinds and make CBs with wheat flour and a diary substitute. And by the time I'm done cooking, Saturday morning cartoons would have given way to Saturday afternoon golf. And yes, I could make one kind but lets face it, the kind that all of us could eat is really not that tasty and is really super expensive to make once you add up all of the ingredients, so I'd rather make 2 cheaper batches and one expensive "half batch" for the girls.
What I need is a huge venn diagram to assist me. One that will fit nicely between W's drawings of Mario and CB's drawings of Frosting Princesses and a "box of wind". It would be a ridiculously lopsided diagram though-- the circle in the middle with what we could all eat would be, by far, the smallest of them all. As it stands now, the only things we can all eat are:
Starches: rice, quinoa (in moderation), potatoes and corn (in moderation and only in "ground up" form)
Meats: chicken, turkey and salmon
Fruits: bananas and blueberries
Veggies: carrots, sweet potatoes, spinach, kale, peas and green beans
Sounds delicious, right? By Tuesday night, we have exhausted most of our options for meals we can all partake of and then I end up cooking 2 to 3 dinners a night. And that isn't including lunch and breakfast because then we get into the fact that we have 3 kinds of "peanut" butters to choose from: natural peanut, almond and sun butter if we want PB&J and the fact that the babies and I can't have bread so we would eat it on a rice cake... yum. Or if we wanted to have, say, a chicken pasta salad I'd have to make 3 kinds, one with everything for M and W, one with everything CB could eat and then one for me and the babies with rice pasta and cheese and dressing on the side so I could add it later for myself.
And then there's the milk situation. In summery: 1% and Soy for M, 2% for me, Rice milk for W, CB and the babies and then Neocate for the babies also to make sure they are getting enough nutrients. 5 kinds of milk, for 6 people. Consumerism at its finest, I tell you.
I guess I should be thankful I'm still on the "tator tot and milkshake" diet-- at least it makes it so I have one less meal to think about.
But alas, there will be no more delicious pasta or bread in my life. And that makes me sad because bread and pasta are the perfect catalyst for pretty much everything. Radishes? Gross. Until you put some Mediterranean yogurt cheese and sea salt on a piece of fresh bread and add the radish to it. Arugula? Disgusting! Until you add some olive oil, shrimp and capers, lemon juice, white wine, artichoke hearts, fresh oregano and parsley with some fresh chopped tomatoes and toss it all with some pasta... AMAZEBALLS. Have some fresh berries and buttermilk and eggs that are about to go bad? Make some French Toast!
Yes, there is rice pasta and wheat free bread but what is the point? The textures are wrong and it just doesn't feel right. And that is really lame for me to say because half of my kids have never even tasted real bread and pasta before. CB just started eating wheat last year. They have to suffice with the "fake" stuff so it should be good enough for me too. But I just can't do it. I don't want to do it.
Feeding my family is difficult enough already and now throwing my allergies into the mix make it even more ridiculous. The only person who can eat "normal" is M. He has no food issues, well, only if there isn't enough hot sauce... then there is a major issue. W can have almost anything but not "raw" dairy, like a glass of milk or regular milk in his cereal. Cooked milk, like cheese and yogurt are ok. But we do have to limit that and the amount of nuts he has. He also doesn't do well at all with processed foods or things that have sugars, preservatives and food dyes in them. So we pretty much keep him on a whole foods diet as much as we can.
CB can have wheat and eggs in moderation and she can have oatmeal too but anything with dairy, soy, beef and nuts are out of the question. She also can't eat apples or pears which eliminates most fruit snacks and juices.
Baby A is officially allergic to soy, barley and grapes (?!?!?) and can't tolerate diary, soy, wheat, oatmeal, eggs, nuts, beef and almost all fruits. Except bananas. Girl loves her bananas.
Baby MJ is not officially allergic to anything but will get a diaper full of blood if she has even a nibble of something with trace dairy, like a McDonald's french fry. She is also extremely symptomatic to everything Baby A is: soy, wheat, nuts, eggs, beef, and pretty much all fruits, but she can have barley and grapes.
They can do potatoes but we can't just get them french fries while we are out because we can't be sure they aren't made with vegetable oil, which is almost always made from soy beans. We can't just order them a chicken breast without a fuss because most are marinated or brushed with oil or butter while cooking. I can't just give them a cracker or a cookie to snack on and almost all toddler geared "snacks" are made with at least one thing they can't have.
W and CB have been eating Wheat Free/ Dairy Free Fig Newmans for years so I figured they would be ok with A and MJ. But, they are made with barley flour. So MJ gets to eat "two cookies" but A can't. I personally really love the allergen free Enjoy Life Snickerdoodle cookies and ordered a huge box for A, but then I saw they are sweetened with grape juice, so that is out. It is hard to bake anything for them. Most substitutions are not agreeable to them so that really isn't an option either.
So obviously, all of this poses a problem. If I want to make pancakes in the morning I'll need to make 3 kinds: one regular (flour, eggs, buttermilk and butter) for M and W, one with oat flour and the rest of the ingredients for me and one allergen free one for the babies and CB. Or I could make 4 kinds and make CBs with wheat flour and a diary substitute. And by the time I'm done cooking, Saturday morning cartoons would have given way to Saturday afternoon golf. And yes, I could make one kind but lets face it, the kind that all of us could eat is really not that tasty and is really super expensive to make once you add up all of the ingredients, so I'd rather make 2 cheaper batches and one expensive "half batch" for the girls.
What I need is a huge venn diagram to assist me. One that will fit nicely between W's drawings of Mario and CB's drawings of Frosting Princesses and a "box of wind". It would be a ridiculously lopsided diagram though-- the circle in the middle with what we could all eat would be, by far, the smallest of them all. As it stands now, the only things we can all eat are:
Starches: rice, quinoa (in moderation), potatoes and corn (in moderation and only in "ground up" form)
Meats: chicken, turkey and salmon
Fruits: bananas and blueberries
Veggies: carrots, sweet potatoes, spinach, kale, peas and green beans
Sounds delicious, right? By Tuesday night, we have exhausted most of our options for meals we can all partake of and then I end up cooking 2 to 3 dinners a night. And that isn't including lunch and breakfast because then we get into the fact that we have 3 kinds of "peanut" butters to choose from: natural peanut, almond and sun butter if we want PB&J and the fact that the babies and I can't have bread so we would eat it on a rice cake... yum. Or if we wanted to have, say, a chicken pasta salad I'd have to make 3 kinds, one with everything for M and W, one with everything CB could eat and then one for me and the babies with rice pasta and cheese and dressing on the side so I could add it later for myself.
And then there's the milk situation. In summery: 1% and Soy for M, 2% for me, Rice milk for W, CB and the babies and then Neocate for the babies also to make sure they are getting enough nutrients. 5 kinds of milk, for 6 people. Consumerism at its finest, I tell you.
I guess I should be thankful I'm still on the "tator tot and milkshake" diet-- at least it makes it so I have one less meal to think about.
Monday, April 11, 2011
minor mental meltdown
I've had the physical meltdown, now I'm fearing I'm experiencing the mental meltdown. I'm tired. And everything is just... jacked. My control freak self has had to give up control of almost everything and in the midst of the chaos, I couldn't, and wouldn't let it bother me. But now that I'm "supposed" to be feeling better it is all starting to drive me a bit batty.
My kids run at 689 MPH. All of them. They never stop and there is always something to be taken care of. And that is the kind of chaos I normally crave. But since I am moving at 3 MPH these days there is no possible way I can keep up. Vortex. Tornado. Whirlpool. Blender. Black hole... Magic Bullet (which by the way is one of the greatest kitchen gadgets ever invented...) That is what I feel like I'm in. Everything is just moving around me while I try to grasp at something, anything, to hold onto.
A few nights ago was a prime example. At approximately 4:37, when dinner should have been cooking and kids should have been playing quietly, hell broke loose. After getting my fourth email in 12 minutes that needed to be answered immediately and dealing with some stuff over the phone I went upstairs to see why A was screaming at MJ and MJ was screaming NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!, only to find that they were just screaming to scream and A had a massive rash all over her torso. And her diaper was a mess. And she was screaming inconsolably, again, as she had done for much of the day.
At the same time CB decided she was going to go ahead and clean herself after using the bathroom, only she did it so thoroughly that she used half a roll of toilet paper. Then W was throwing some kind of fit because I told him he could not do something he REALLY wanted to do and it WASN'T FAIR that I wouldn't let him do it because he WANTED TO and I was a REALLY MEAN MOM. And then little MJ decided she wanted a diaper change too, and to steal her sister's blanket and binkie... and they all wanted to eat RIGHT NOW...
So as I was putting on gloves and fishing wads of soaking wet toilet paper from the toilet I was on the phone with the doctor's office, asking what to do about A, while she wanted to be picked up and was screaming into the phone. And after removing enough toilet paper from the toilet so it would actually flush, I fixed dinner and then squashed an epic battle between brother and sister because sister didn't PRAY BEFORE SHE ATE AND THAT IS NOT OK. YOU ARE ALWAYS SUPPOSED TO PRAY BEFORE YOU EAT. And sister kept insisting she PRAYED IN HER HEAD AND SAID AMEN OUT LOUD but brother kept insisting that was NOT OK because you ONLY PRAY IN YOUR HEAD FOR BREAKFAST AND LUNCH AND YOU PRAY YOUR WHOLE PRAYER OUT LOUD BEFORE DINNER. And how DARE she even take a bite of her food before we all prayed... And between all of that I was trying to get dinner for the MJ Monster and A, who was still crying, while scolding W and asking if he really thought Jesus wanted him to be talking to his sister and mother that way and if he would prefer to have a time out, instead of dinner.
And that is normal life. Any other day it would hardly phase me because it really isn't that bad but I don't have the capacity to deal with it like I should. I don't have the energy or the stamina to be a good mom to 4 very active and inquisitive and adamant children. And I don't have the mental strength to thoughtfully deal with all of the stuff that has been thrown at me in the past month.
I'm so thankful for my health. I know this could be so much worse. I really, really do. And that is why I feel so stupid for feeling run down and sad. But I'm scared of what is to come. If I will ever fully recover. If my body will ever function the way it is supposed to again. If I'm going to have to make some drastic changes to my lifestyle... If I'm going to have to slow down.
I've already slowed down and I hate it. I feel disgusting both mentally and physically. I went from running 15 to 17 miles and strength training 4 to 5 hours a week, to nothing. To literally sitting on my butt for 23 hours a day. And now all I see are large curd cottage cheese thighs and flabby arms. I hate cottage cheese in any form but especially hate it on my thighs. All of my hard work has disappeared and I barely have enough energy to go to the store to pick up a few things. I don't feel strong anymore.
Instead of continuing to drown in an ocean of my tears, I'm going to try to do what those pesky optimists say to do and focus on the good. There is so much good in my life and I really am thankful. I have an amazing husband who has borne so much more of the brunt than he should have had to in the past month... Waking up in the middle of the night with screaming babies, making sure the older 2 were entertained and fed, even taking the babies to the doctor all by himself while still managing to go to work every day and continuing his studies.
I'm thankful for my mom and friend J who were willing to drop everything and come save me with three days notice. Having to learn the schedules and feeding habits of 4 kids who are all allergic to different things and eat at different times, in addition to their sleep schedules, cloth diapers and other daily rituals is hard, hard work. And I'm thankful for my kids who shockingly haven't turned into total buttheads through this whole mess and have coped surprisingly well with all of the changes.
I know it is going to get better. I just want it to be better now. I want to be me again and to have fun and live my life instead of just watching it go by. So I will now go put on my big girl panties, pull up my boot straps and figure out how to make all of this work. And you are totally allowed to tell me to suck it up and shut up because there are plenty of people who have it so much worse than I do... I probably need to hear it.
My kids run at 689 MPH. All of them. They never stop and there is always something to be taken care of. And that is the kind of chaos I normally crave. But since I am moving at 3 MPH these days there is no possible way I can keep up. Vortex. Tornado. Whirlpool. Blender. Black hole... Magic Bullet (which by the way is one of the greatest kitchen gadgets ever invented...) That is what I feel like I'm in. Everything is just moving around me while I try to grasp at something, anything, to hold onto.
A few nights ago was a prime example. At approximately 4:37, when dinner should have been cooking and kids should have been playing quietly, hell broke loose. After getting my fourth email in 12 minutes that needed to be answered immediately and dealing with some stuff over the phone I went upstairs to see why A was screaming at MJ and MJ was screaming NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!, only to find that they were just screaming to scream and A had a massive rash all over her torso. And her diaper was a mess. And she was screaming inconsolably, again, as she had done for much of the day.
At the same time CB decided she was going to go ahead and clean herself after using the bathroom, only she did it so thoroughly that she used half a roll of toilet paper. Then W was throwing some kind of fit because I told him he could not do something he REALLY wanted to do and it WASN'T FAIR that I wouldn't let him do it because he WANTED TO and I was a REALLY MEAN MOM. And then little MJ decided she wanted a diaper change too, and to steal her sister's blanket and binkie... and they all wanted to eat RIGHT NOW...
So as I was putting on gloves and fishing wads of soaking wet toilet paper from the toilet I was on the phone with the doctor's office, asking what to do about A, while she wanted to be picked up and was screaming into the phone. And after removing enough toilet paper from the toilet so it would actually flush, I fixed dinner and then squashed an epic battle between brother and sister because sister didn't PRAY BEFORE SHE ATE AND THAT IS NOT OK. YOU ARE ALWAYS SUPPOSED TO PRAY BEFORE YOU EAT. And sister kept insisting she PRAYED IN HER HEAD AND SAID AMEN OUT LOUD but brother kept insisting that was NOT OK because you ONLY PRAY IN YOUR HEAD FOR BREAKFAST AND LUNCH AND YOU PRAY YOUR WHOLE PRAYER OUT LOUD BEFORE DINNER. And how DARE she even take a bite of her food before we all prayed... And between all of that I was trying to get dinner for the MJ Monster and A, who was still crying, while scolding W and asking if he really thought Jesus wanted him to be talking to his sister and mother that way and if he would prefer to have a time out, instead of dinner.
And that is normal life. Any other day it would hardly phase me because it really isn't that bad but I don't have the capacity to deal with it like I should. I don't have the energy or the stamina to be a good mom to 4 very active and inquisitive and adamant children. And I don't have the mental strength to thoughtfully deal with all of the stuff that has been thrown at me in the past month.
I'm so thankful for my health. I know this could be so much worse. I really, really do. And that is why I feel so stupid for feeling run down and sad. But I'm scared of what is to come. If I will ever fully recover. If my body will ever function the way it is supposed to again. If I'm going to have to make some drastic changes to my lifestyle... If I'm going to have to slow down.
I've already slowed down and I hate it. I feel disgusting both mentally and physically. I went from running 15 to 17 miles and strength training 4 to 5 hours a week, to nothing. To literally sitting on my butt for 23 hours a day. And now all I see are large curd cottage cheese thighs and flabby arms. I hate cottage cheese in any form but especially hate it on my thighs. All of my hard work has disappeared and I barely have enough energy to go to the store to pick up a few things. I don't feel strong anymore.
Instead of continuing to drown in an ocean of my tears, I'm going to try to do what those pesky optimists say to do and focus on the good. There is so much good in my life and I really am thankful. I have an amazing husband who has borne so much more of the brunt than he should have had to in the past month... Waking up in the middle of the night with screaming babies, making sure the older 2 were entertained and fed, even taking the babies to the doctor all by himself while still managing to go to work every day and continuing his studies.
I'm thankful for my mom and friend J who were willing to drop everything and come save me with three days notice. Having to learn the schedules and feeding habits of 4 kids who are all allergic to different things and eat at different times, in addition to their sleep schedules, cloth diapers and other daily rituals is hard, hard work. And I'm thankful for my kids who shockingly haven't turned into total buttheads through this whole mess and have coped surprisingly well with all of the changes.
I know it is going to get better. I just want it to be better now. I want to be me again and to have fun and live my life instead of just watching it go by. So I will now go put on my big girl panties, pull up my boot straps and figure out how to make all of this work. And you are totally allowed to tell me to suck it up and shut up because there are plenty of people who have it so much worse than I do... I probably need to hear it.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
how californians play in the snow
We haven't really been around snow since we left Germany, when we lived in a snow globe. I wasn't really expecting to be around snow this year, especially considering it was 74 degrees, 2 days before Thanksgiving. So when it snowed a good couple of inches the day after Christmas, and then stayed around for awhile, I was really surprised, and completely unprepared.
The kids REALLY wanted to go out and play in the snow, so I dug through all of our boxes and tried to find acceptable clothing for them to wear. I only had one infant snow suit, W's old red and blue one, which went to MJ, as she is the smallest. Who cares if it made her look like a boy?? A got to wear CB's old jacket and 2 pairs of pants, and boots that were 3 sizes too big for her. CB squeezed into the snowsuit W wore 2 years ago-- a size 3T snowsuit and size 7 boots. Except, she wears a 5T and size 9 boots, but at least she was warm... save for the 2 inches of leg where there was a gap between the bottom of her pants and the tops of her boots. And then there was W... poor W. There wasn't anything to hand down to him, so he got to wear some fleece pants from last year with a pair of CB's leggings under, his jacket from last year and some rain boots, under the stipulation that he was not to run, as rain boots don't exactly provide traction on slick ground.
When the kids had woken up that morning, they bounded into our room begging to go tobogganing. Tobogganing would have been fun, except we don't have a toboggan, or really anything to play with in the snow. I told W I would find him a garbage can lid, or a trash bag or even a piece of cardboard and we could rock the snow ghetto style, but he politely refused. After M and I had spent nearly an hour trying to cram everyone into their too small snow clothes and improvised snow boots, they headed outside. The older two really REALLY wanted some toys to play with in the snow, but I didn't have any, so they got to play with our beach toys. Because everyone builds "snow" castles with sand buckets and molds and digs through the snow with sand rakes and sifts, right?
The snow was perfect for playing in. Dry enough for it not to be really cold and wet, but wet enough to stick and make a snowman. And make a snowman we did. Not to be outdone by anyone else on the block, M made a snowman that was 6 feet, 4 inches. But because I was not prepared for snow, I didn't have anything for eyes, or a nose, or a mouth, or buttons, or arms... and because the snow had fallen on cut, dead grass, there were lots of little pieces of grass rolled up into the snowball, which made the snowman look like he had a big hairy butt. So for awhile, we had a naked, hairy snowman. It was gross, I'm not gonna lie.
Thankfully, I had radishes in the fridge. They were left over from Thanksgiving, but whatever. I thought they could be put to good use being used as eyes and buttons, and possibly a mouth so I took them outside, along with one lone wiggly carrot, most likely left over from Thanksgiving too. We carved some holes in the head to put the eyes and mouth in and it was great. Except, the holes we had carved kind of froze and made sockets, and the radishes, because they were round, kind of rolled around in the sockets. Which, really, would have been fine, except the "stem" part of the radish kept wanting to roll to the front which gave our snowman red eyes with glowing white centers, which made us look like the psychos on the street with the demon eyed, hairy butt snowman in the front yard. So we took the radishes out of the eye sockets and shoved some coal in there instead.
Our mammoth snowman lasted for a week or so. One sad morning I came out side to see its head had fallen off and then the rest went pretty quickly, and painlessly. It was fun while it lasted but I am so happy not to have snow anymore. The kids and M loved it and probably would have camped out over night had I let them but the babies weren't so impressed and after about 20 minutes of falling over repeatedly declared it to be cold and dumb and headed inside. I'm just happy I don't have to worry about my pipes freezing and dodging people who don't know that you don't break or accelerate when you are sliding in your car. And I am also very happy that it no longer takes me 2 hours to get everyone dressed when we have to go out.
The kids REALLY wanted to go out and play in the snow, so I dug through all of our boxes and tried to find acceptable clothing for them to wear. I only had one infant snow suit, W's old red and blue one, which went to MJ, as she is the smallest. Who cares if it made her look like a boy?? A got to wear CB's old jacket and 2 pairs of pants, and boots that were 3 sizes too big for her. CB squeezed into the snowsuit W wore 2 years ago-- a size 3T snowsuit and size 7 boots. Except, she wears a 5T and size 9 boots, but at least she was warm... save for the 2 inches of leg where there was a gap between the bottom of her pants and the tops of her boots. And then there was W... poor W. There wasn't anything to hand down to him, so he got to wear some fleece pants from last year with a pair of CB's leggings under, his jacket from last year and some rain boots, under the stipulation that he was not to run, as rain boots don't exactly provide traction on slick ground.
When the kids had woken up that morning, they bounded into our room begging to go tobogganing. Tobogganing would have been fun, except we don't have a toboggan, or really anything to play with in the snow. I told W I would find him a garbage can lid, or a trash bag or even a piece of cardboard and we could rock the snow ghetto style, but he politely refused. After M and I had spent nearly an hour trying to cram everyone into their too small snow clothes and improvised snow boots, they headed outside. The older two really REALLY wanted some toys to play with in the snow, but I didn't have any, so they got to play with our beach toys. Because everyone builds "snow" castles with sand buckets and molds and digs through the snow with sand rakes and sifts, right?
The snow was perfect for playing in. Dry enough for it not to be really cold and wet, but wet enough to stick and make a snowman. And make a snowman we did. Not to be outdone by anyone else on the block, M made a snowman that was 6 feet, 4 inches. But because I was not prepared for snow, I didn't have anything for eyes, or a nose, or a mouth, or buttons, or arms... and because the snow had fallen on cut, dead grass, there were lots of little pieces of grass rolled up into the snowball, which made the snowman look like he had a big hairy butt. So for awhile, we had a naked, hairy snowman. It was gross, I'm not gonna lie.
Thankfully, I had radishes in the fridge. They were left over from Thanksgiving, but whatever. I thought they could be put to good use being used as eyes and buttons, and possibly a mouth so I took them outside, along with one lone wiggly carrot, most likely left over from Thanksgiving too. We carved some holes in the head to put the eyes and mouth in and it was great. Except, the holes we had carved kind of froze and made sockets, and the radishes, because they were round, kind of rolled around in the sockets. Which, really, would have been fine, except the "stem" part of the radish kept wanting to roll to the front which gave our snowman red eyes with glowing white centers, which made us look like the psychos on the street with the demon eyed, hairy butt snowman in the front yard. So we took the radishes out of the eye sockets and shoved some coal in there instead.
Our mammoth snowman lasted for a week or so. One sad morning I came out side to see its head had fallen off and then the rest went pretty quickly, and painlessly. It was fun while it lasted but I am so happy not to have snow anymore. The kids and M loved it and probably would have camped out over night had I let them but the babies weren't so impressed and after about 20 minutes of falling over repeatedly declared it to be cold and dumb and headed inside. I'm just happy I don't have to worry about my pipes freezing and dodging people who don't know that you don't break or accelerate when you are sliding in your car. And I am also very happy that it no longer takes me 2 hours to get everyone dressed when we have to go out.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
super cheesy goodness with a side of halloween
Halloween is something new for us, this is the first year we've actually done anything for it. I don't really like the spooky and scary aspect of it, ok, I don't like that part of it at all so I try to keep things light and fun. Last year I cleared out Target's Halloween section the day after Halloween so we'd have plenty of decorations and fun things to look at for years to come.
I bought plates and cups and silly straws and towels... The kids have been using the plates and cups for the past month and the towels, well, they got turned into a dress by CB so who knows where they are. Our new house has a rockin playroom and I really wanted to do that area up for Halloween but wasn't sure what exactly to do. Then I saw this little craft project from parents.com and was inspired. So, 6 black socks, 2 sets of leggings and 2 sets of baby socks from the Dollar Spot, a package of fluff, a bunch of pompoms, a whole lotta pipe cleaners and googly eyes and 16 sticks of hot glue later, I had a wall-o-fun.
W really wanted a "super silly haunted house" so I got some cheesy garland and lights and tried to outline a house. On a side note, can we please talk about those new stupid LED lights they are putting into light strands?? Putting those things up was almost deadly. Those lights are evil! I didn't realize they were the LED lights until I plugged them in and started to hang them up. My eyes started crossing and the headache hit instantly... I don't really care if they reduce energy consumption by 88% or whatever. If they are giving me a migraine and/ or a seizure every time I look at them, the lower energy consumption isn't really going to matter, ya know? I'll pay the extra $3 a month to light the regular ones! I keep having to tell the kids, "DON'T LOOK AT THE LIGHTS! YOU'LL BURN YOUR EYES OUT OF YOUR HEAD!"
If you're looking for aesthetically pleasing pictures of perfectly done little Halloween craft projects, you aren't going to find that here. My pictures are snapshots, at best, and the projects, well, I'll just say the kids helped, even though they didn't, it was all me... but it looks as if a 4 year old did them. And that is fine, it is all in good fun. Good, cheesy, Halloween fun. So cheesy... really, really cheesy.
In keeping with the festive spirit, we took the kids trick-or-treating for the first time. Rather, M took them while I stayed behind with MJ and passed out candy and made sure no one smashed our pumpkins or egged our house. This was the first time I've ever passed out candy and it was definitely interesting. I'm shocked our house wasn't egged or t-peed when we woke up, given the amount of times I told teenage girls to go home and put some clothes on. I asked one girl who was probably 14 if she borrowed her little sister's costume. That thing was so small, I'm pretty sure it was a 4T and she, well, was not. As it got dark I kept seeing how there were all of these kids in pure black, without any kind of illumination or reflective fabric on them, so I broke out the glow sticks I had bought for my kids and started handing them out, thereby turning me into the over paranoid neighborhood safety patrol. I was half tempted to break into M's stash of reflective belts he wears for running and pass those out too. What are these people thinking, sending their kids out in all black on a dark night?? Hello!
I was well prepared for a barrage of greedy kids, but they were for the most part, polite and kind. Except for 1 kid who hit my house twice and was apparently pretty pissed off I only gave him 1 piece of candy the first time, so he decided to raid my candy bowl himself the next time. He was quick too! Little punk pulled like 15 pieces while I was sitting right next to the bowl, only stopping after I told him to get his grimy little paws out of my bowl or I'd take his entire bucket. You steal mine, I steal yours. I'm already that scary cranky old lady that lives down the street and I'm only 28... No, I wouldn't really do that, but seriously? Where are your manners?
Overall, the day was a blast and I loved every second of it. It was the 2 year anniversary of M coming back from Iraq and coincidentally, I made the same exact meal I made the night he came home. We had a great time with some new friends and their little girl and the kids had a blast.
L, here is the recipe for the soup and crisp! :)
Minestrone Soup
1 medium onion
3 cloves of garlic, pressed
1 large carrot, diced
2 stalks of celery, diced
1 large potato, peeled and cubed into bite size pieces (use 2 if you like a thicker soup)
1 zucchini, diced
1 yellow squashed, diced
1 tbsp dried oregano
1 tbsp dried basil
2 bay leaves
1, 28oz can diced tomatoes w/ juice
6 cups chicken stock
1 can dark red kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 can garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed
1 can great northern white beans, drained and rinsed
1/4 lb green beans, trimmed and cut into bite size pieces
1/2 lb kale, washed and cut into small pieces
Heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil over low heat in a large heavy pan. Add the onions and garlic and let cook until the onions are translucent. Add the carrots and celery and cook for a couple of minutes. Once those get soft, turn the heat to medium add the potatoes, zucchini and squash along with the dried spices and bay leaves and cook for about 5 minutes. Then add the tomatoes and chicken stock and bring to a slow boil. Add the beans and cook, uncovered, for about 20 minutes. When the potatoes are soft, add the green beans and kale and cook for just a couple of minutes, until the green beans are bright green.
Serve with a good crusty bread and Parmesan cheese.
You can add a small pasta, like mini penne or shells and if you do, add about a cup when you add the beans.
Apple Cranberry Crisp
Happy Halloween! Be safe out there and don't forget your glow sticks! And don't dress like a ho, or I'll yell at you.
I bought plates and cups and silly straws and towels... The kids have been using the plates and cups for the past month and the towels, well, they got turned into a dress by CB so who knows where they are. Our new house has a rockin playroom and I really wanted to do that area up for Halloween but wasn't sure what exactly to do. Then I saw this little craft project from parents.com and was inspired. So, 6 black socks, 2 sets of leggings and 2 sets of baby socks from the Dollar Spot, a package of fluff, a bunch of pompoms, a whole lotta pipe cleaners and googly eyes and 16 sticks of hot glue later, I had a wall-o-fun.
W really wanted a "super silly haunted house" so I got some cheesy garland and lights and tried to outline a house. On a side note, can we please talk about those new stupid LED lights they are putting into light strands?? Putting those things up was almost deadly. Those lights are evil! I didn't realize they were the LED lights until I plugged them in and started to hang them up. My eyes started crossing and the headache hit instantly... I don't really care if they reduce energy consumption by 88% or whatever. If they are giving me a migraine and/ or a seizure every time I look at them, the lower energy consumption isn't really going to matter, ya know? I'll pay the extra $3 a month to light the regular ones! I keep having to tell the kids, "DON'T LOOK AT THE LIGHTS! YOU'LL BURN YOUR EYES OUT OF YOUR HEAD!"
If you're looking for aesthetically pleasing pictures of perfectly done little Halloween craft projects, you aren't going to find that here. My pictures are snapshots, at best, and the projects, well, I'll just say the kids helped, even though they didn't, it was all me... but it looks as if a 4 year old did them. And that is fine, it is all in good fun. Good, cheesy, Halloween fun. So cheesy... really, really cheesy.
In keeping with the festive spirit, we took the kids trick-or-treating for the first time. Rather, M took them while I stayed behind with MJ and passed out candy and made sure no one smashed our pumpkins or egged our house. This was the first time I've ever passed out candy and it was definitely interesting. I'm shocked our house wasn't egged or t-peed when we woke up, given the amount of times I told teenage girls to go home and put some clothes on. I asked one girl who was probably 14 if she borrowed her little sister's costume. That thing was so small, I'm pretty sure it was a 4T and she, well, was not. As it got dark I kept seeing how there were all of these kids in pure black, without any kind of illumination or reflective fabric on them, so I broke out the glow sticks I had bought for my kids and started handing them out, thereby turning me into the over paranoid neighborhood safety patrol. I was half tempted to break into M's stash of reflective belts he wears for running and pass those out too. What are these people thinking, sending their kids out in all black on a dark night?? Hello!
I was well prepared for a barrage of greedy kids, but they were for the most part, polite and kind. Except for 1 kid who hit my house twice and was apparently pretty pissed off I only gave him 1 piece of candy the first time, so he decided to raid my candy bowl himself the next time. He was quick too! Little punk pulled like 15 pieces while I was sitting right next to the bowl, only stopping after I told him to get his grimy little paws out of my bowl or I'd take his entire bucket. You steal mine, I steal yours. I'm already that scary cranky old lady that lives down the street and I'm only 28... No, I wouldn't really do that, but seriously? Where are your manners?
Overall, the day was a blast and I loved every second of it. It was the 2 year anniversary of M coming back from Iraq and coincidentally, I made the same exact meal I made the night he came home. We had a great time with some new friends and their little girl and the kids had a blast.
L, here is the recipe for the soup and crisp! :)
Minestrone Soup
1 medium onion
3 cloves of garlic, pressed
1 large carrot, diced
2 stalks of celery, diced
1 large potato, peeled and cubed into bite size pieces (use 2 if you like a thicker soup)
1 zucchini, diced
1 yellow squashed, diced
1 tbsp dried oregano
1 tbsp dried basil
2 bay leaves
1, 28oz can diced tomatoes w/ juice
6 cups chicken stock
1 can dark red kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 can garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed
1 can great northern white beans, drained and rinsed
1/4 lb green beans, trimmed and cut into bite size pieces
1/2 lb kale, washed and cut into small pieces
Heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil over low heat in a large heavy pan. Add the onions and garlic and let cook until the onions are translucent. Add the carrots and celery and cook for a couple of minutes. Once those get soft, turn the heat to medium add the potatoes, zucchini and squash along with the dried spices and bay leaves and cook for about 5 minutes. Then add the tomatoes and chicken stock and bring to a slow boil. Add the beans and cook, uncovered, for about 20 minutes. When the potatoes are soft, add the green beans and kale and cook for just a couple of minutes, until the green beans are bright green.
Serve with a good crusty bread and Parmesan cheese.
You can add a small pasta, like mini penne or shells and if you do, add about a cup when you add the beans.
Apple Cranberry Crisp
Happy Halloween! Be safe out there and don't forget your glow sticks! And don't dress like a ho, or I'll yell at you.
Monday, October 25, 2010
on becoming a morning person
I am far from being a morning person. My internal alarm clock doesn't start beeping until 7:30 am and that is only after I've had at least 2 cups of coffee in complete silence, after 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, and we all know how realistic that is. So when we moved to our new town, the first thing we made sure of was that we were central to W's school, so I wouldn't have to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to get all 4 kids out of the house and to the school by 8am.
Now really, whoever decided school should start at 8am needs to be smacked in the head. That is just cruel and nearly impossible to accomplish when you have 4 kids, 2 of whom are in diapers and 2 of whom can't tie they own shoes or button their own jeans. When we found a house that seemed perfect and was only 7.8 miles from the school, we took it. And then after we moved in we realized that there were 4 schools on the way to W's school, all starting before his school did, and that it could take 14 minutes to drive 3 blocks, and if you got stuck behind a bus, you were even more screwed. So it turned out we do, in fact, have to be up at the butt crack of dawn anyway.
The first few days of school went ok. I was full of optimism and drive and we were able to get out of the house, sit through traffic, a 6 minute long bus stop and then get to school on time. And then that momentum came to a screeching, crashing, slam into a tree halt and it was confirmed to me that being a morning person seriously sucked.
The main problem was that I was waking up when the kids were waking up and didn't have any time to actually wake up and get some nice serum in my veins to deal with the chaos of 4 kids in a calm and sane manner. And the other problem was that we were eating breakfast an hour before we left (if I even got breakfast at all), and then leaving an hour before school started, so by the time we got to school and myself to the gym, everyone was starving and cranky again. That had to change and the only solution was to wake up earlier, which seems counter productive, and stop eating cereal and yogurt for breakfast. We all need a high protein, hot breakfast to keep us full so we don't crash before our day even starts. So in essence, by trying to make my life easier, I've really made it a lot more difficult.
Now I get up at 5, get my coffee, and in a blurry eyed stupor check the email and try to catch up on what all of my West Coast Peeps did while I was asleep and by the time I'm finally waking up, it is 6:30 and the kids are up and asking for seventeen thousand things at once. They got their dad's annoying "morning person" gene so they don't need a 2 hour jumpstart on the day like I do. Once they are up I make breakfast, unload the dishwasher, clean up breakfast, get W's lunch ready, pull the snacks for the girls and get the diaper bag packed. Then I get W and CB dressed, hair and teeth brushed and throw them in the car with some books while I get the babies up, changed, dressed and put in their car seats. Then I get the babies bottles, put everything in the car, and start the stupid drive to school. Drop W off, go to the gym, work out for an hour and a half, shower, pick up the girls, get everyone in the car, and make the dumb drive home. And then I make a second pot of coffee, effectively negating all of the work I have just done at the gym and proceed to pass out on the floor while playing with the babies, only to be woken up by a dirty diaper to the face or a toy stethoscope to the head. It doesn't work.
I just can't get this "morning person" thing down! Even if I don't go to the gym after dropping W off I still find myself falling asleep at 10am while the babies pull all of the DVDs out of the cabinet and CB finds movies to watch on my phone (dang Netflix App). And I'm not talking about taking a little "cat nap", I'm talking full on mascara smeared across the face, ring indentation in the forehead, drool in the ear kind of passing out. If I sleep in later, the chaos abounds. And if I try to make everything a little simpler don't do all that I do in the morning, I end up really far behind during the day and nothing gets done. I already prep everything for breakfast, W's lunch and the girls' snacks at night. I have my gym bag ready to go by morning... but am I never going to be able to start the day with a good attitude and be like, "OH YAY!! I get to wake up and unload the dishwasher!! What a GREAT start to the day!! I am SO blessed." And before you say there aren't really people out there like that, so calm down, there really ARE people out there like that, I've met them. I'm related to them, believe me, they exist.
So tell me, please, what do you do to wake up in the morning? What is your "elixir" that gets you going? How do you manage not to be cranky and be productive before the sun comes up? What is your secret to a good start to the day? I need to know. I need to figure this out. My husband and children thank you in advance.
Now really, whoever decided school should start at 8am needs to be smacked in the head. That is just cruel and nearly impossible to accomplish when you have 4 kids, 2 of whom are in diapers and 2 of whom can't tie they own shoes or button their own jeans. When we found a house that seemed perfect and was only 7.8 miles from the school, we took it. And then after we moved in we realized that there were 4 schools on the way to W's school, all starting before his school did, and that it could take 14 minutes to drive 3 blocks, and if you got stuck behind a bus, you were even more screwed. So it turned out we do, in fact, have to be up at the butt crack of dawn anyway.
The first few days of school went ok. I was full of optimism and drive and we were able to get out of the house, sit through traffic, a 6 minute long bus stop and then get to school on time. And then that momentum came to a screeching, crashing, slam into a tree halt and it was confirmed to me that being a morning person seriously sucked.
The main problem was that I was waking up when the kids were waking up and didn't have any time to actually wake up and get some nice serum in my veins to deal with the chaos of 4 kids in a calm and sane manner. And the other problem was that we were eating breakfast an hour before we left (if I even got breakfast at all), and then leaving an hour before school started, so by the time we got to school and myself to the gym, everyone was starving and cranky again. That had to change and the only solution was to wake up earlier, which seems counter productive, and stop eating cereal and yogurt for breakfast. We all need a high protein, hot breakfast to keep us full so we don't crash before our day even starts. So in essence, by trying to make my life easier, I've really made it a lot more difficult.
Now I get up at 5, get my coffee, and in a blurry eyed stupor check the email and try to catch up on what all of my West Coast Peeps did while I was asleep and by the time I'm finally waking up, it is 6:30 and the kids are up and asking for seventeen thousand things at once. They got their dad's annoying "morning person" gene so they don't need a 2 hour jumpstart on the day like I do. Once they are up I make breakfast, unload the dishwasher, clean up breakfast, get W's lunch ready, pull the snacks for the girls and get the diaper bag packed. Then I get W and CB dressed, hair and teeth brushed and throw them in the car with some books while I get the babies up, changed, dressed and put in their car seats. Then I get the babies bottles, put everything in the car, and start the stupid drive to school. Drop W off, go to the gym, work out for an hour and a half, shower, pick up the girls, get everyone in the car, and make the dumb drive home. And then I make a second pot of coffee, effectively negating all of the work I have just done at the gym and proceed to pass out on the floor while playing with the babies, only to be woken up by a dirty diaper to the face or a toy stethoscope to the head. It doesn't work.
I just can't get this "morning person" thing down! Even if I don't go to the gym after dropping W off I still find myself falling asleep at 10am while the babies pull all of the DVDs out of the cabinet and CB finds movies to watch on my phone (dang Netflix App). And I'm not talking about taking a little "cat nap", I'm talking full on mascara smeared across the face, ring indentation in the forehead, drool in the ear kind of passing out. If I sleep in later, the chaos abounds. And if I try to make everything a little simpler don't do all that I do in the morning, I end up really far behind during the day and nothing gets done. I already prep everything for breakfast, W's lunch and the girls' snacks at night. I have my gym bag ready to go by morning... but am I never going to be able to start the day with a good attitude and be like, "OH YAY!! I get to wake up and unload the dishwasher!! What a GREAT start to the day!! I am SO blessed." And before you say there aren't really people out there like that, so calm down, there really ARE people out there like that, I've met them. I'm related to them, believe me, they exist.
So tell me, please, what do you do to wake up in the morning? What is your "elixir" that gets you going? How do you manage not to be cranky and be productive before the sun comes up? What is your secret to a good start to the day? I need to know. I need to figure this out. My husband and children thank you in advance.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
a whole new world
A couple of weeks before we moved we made the 8 hour drive to the new area to find a house to rent and get W into kindergarten. I wanted to be able to move directly into a house instead of having to stay in a hotel for awhile as living the hotel life with 4 young kids seriously blows. On our way up I fell asleep and when I woke up, we were pretty close to the new town.
Everyone had always told me how awesome the area was and how much I was going to love it there because they had loved it so when I woke up and saw the surroundings, I asked Mark why we were lost and where he had taken a wrong turn. And then he gave me the devastating news that we were not in fact lost, but we were right where we were supposed to be. WHAT?! No, seriously. WHAT?! This was not at all what I was expecting.
For real, it was like the city planner had no idea what to do with the area so he was like, "I have a GREAT idea!! Lets give my 18 month old a box of crayons and a piece of paper and we will turn whatever he scribbles down into the road map for the city. Then I'll have my 3 year old play Monopoly and we will use her gameboard as the plan for where we will put our buildings." Because really, only here could it take you 25 minutes and 15 left turns onto side streets to get to a bigger street which will change names 6 times and then turn into a 1 lane gravel road that you have to take to get to the next bigger street. And only here can you find a Holiday Inn Express next to a Korean church that is between a Wendy's and a tobacco shop, which are located in the same strip mall as a day care and a health food store which are a less than a block away from a trailer park straight out of 1973 and brand new apartment complex.
And let us not forget the Super Walmart, which can be found approximately every 2.3 miles. Super Walmart, I'm coming to find, is this area's version of Starbucks. There is one on every corner and it is where everyone congregates. I should have known this was not the place for me when I realized that Super Walmart was the nicest grocery store in the area. Yes, I am a snob. I'll admit it, I'll own it, I'll wear a t-shirt that says it. I hate Walmart. HATE IT. I don't DO Walmart.
We've all seen that website peopleofwalmart.com. Hours of fun. But I was always like, whatever, that is staged, these people don't exist. Oh no. No, no no. They do exist and they ALL live in my town and go to the Walmarts I have to go to. Whenever I go I have to spend the day working up to it. By the time I have the courage to go, it is late and potentially dangerous because here, all of the weirdos come out at 8pm.
When we moved here M made a rule that no one goes out past 8-- he didn't feel it was safe and I was like, Ok, whatever. Holy overreact much. But this time, he was right. One night I had to go to Walmart and it was 8:13. And he told me not to go, just wait, go in the morning, but me being the stubborn freak that I am was like, no, I'll be fine. Seriously, what is the worst that could happen? HA!
Yo. When I got there there was a drunk guy too drunk to open the refrigerated beer case and spent a good 3 minutes cussing the fridge out and banging on the doors before he realized he had to PULL them open, instead of slide them open. That in addition to the load of screaming kids who were pulling juice bottles off the shelves and running around while their parents screamed at them to stop doing that and come back, but who didn't bother to actually GO GET THEM. And everyone was just mean, in bad moods and seriously rude.
It took me nearly 2 hours to navigate through the madness while I tried to decipher if what I was seeing was actually real or not. It was like entering an entirely different world and all the while I contemplated if I should get a permit to carry a concealed weapon. These people were crazy, and not crazy in a legitimate way where you know they need help and feel bad for them, but crazy in a way where you are like, "Hey, didn't I see you on COPS last week? We're you the one beating the crap out of your ex-husband's car with a crowbar? Or were you the one who was calling the cops because you hit on your neighbor's boyfriend and she proceeded to beat the crap out of you? Or were you the one who called the cops because your dealer "stole" 20 bucks from you after your "transaction" and it made you mad and you wanted him arrested, while forgetting you still had drugs on you and got arrested yourself"?
When I finally got to the checkout after waiting the requisite 35 minutes in line, I made small talk with the checker and found she wasn't from "around here" either and thought as highly of the place as I did. And then directly in front of us, in the Customer Service area, we heard a commotion brewing. There was a woman there demanding to see the manager. She was clearly unhappy, evidenced by the fact that every other word she said was a swear word. The manager came up and she proceeded to lay into him with her complaints. He was trying to calm her down but she just kept on, and on, and on, and on, and on... Her chief complaint? "I COME HERE EVERY TUESDAY NIGHT AND WHEN I GET HERE THERE IS NOTHING ON THE SHELVES AND THE AISLES ARE FILLED WITH PALLETS AND BOXES". Um, ok. Well, common sense would tell you that if there was nothing on the shelves and there were boxes and pallets filling the aisles, maybe you should come the next day, after they have restocked the shelves with the contents of the pallets and boxes??? Maybe?? Yeah...
He tried explaining that to her, which made her more mad, then she started laying into him about how they never have what she wants and they used to have what she wants but they don't now and they should know what she wants... and the manager tried telling her that it wasn't that simple and that things weren't how they used to be and things had changed, to which she responded, "YEAH?! WELL MY MONEY HASN'T CHANGED YOU DUMB@$$." Yeah...
So she started moving closer to me, and I'm thinking, no, you don't need to be closer to me, and oh dang, how am I going to get out of here? This situation is escalating and she's getting more mad. Meanwhile my checker is looking on the belt for anything sharp I may have bought so she can use it in her defense. It was time for me to leave and she was showing no signs of letting up and moving closer to me, so I calmly put my hands up and said, "Ma'am, go home. Just, go home. We've all heard your complaints, we understand them, just, go home before you get into trouble. It isn't worth it, just go home." And OH MY GOODNESS did all hell break loose. She came at me and put her fingers in my face and screamed at me like I have never been screamed at before. "YOU GO HOME YOU DUMB B!TC4!! YOU GO HOME! THIS IS A FREE COUNTRY AND I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT!! YOU GO HOME!!!." Yeah...
Well, 1) I'm trying to go home, but you are in my way 2) Did you really just pull the "free country" card with me? I mean really, by doing so you've just given me a full deck to play from, including the "what have you done for our country lately to ensure your freedoms and blah blah blah" card and 3) Are you really saying "free country" in Walmart? The symbol of oppression and everything that ISN'T "free" in America? Yeah, ok. Whatever lady, move along.
But she was relentless and would not stop. Calling me names over and over, following me, screaming at me to go home. I kept calm, told her I was trying to go home and that maybe she should walk out with me and go to her car so she could go home too... it was ridiculous. The entire time the manager had this look in his eyes like "Oh no. We didn't go over this in my training, what do I do??" He ended up having someone stay with the out of control lady while he ushered me out of the store. He was legitimately scared. He asked me where my car was, told me he wasn't going to leave until I had left and I kept assuring him I was fine, that I could take her if she came at me and that he should probably call the cops because the only way she was going to be leaving that night was in handcuffs, or on a gurney after someone tazed her or knocked her out.
Should I have gotten involved? Probably not. But I had to leave, she was right in my way. There was no way I was going to get out of there because she wasn't going anywhere and there was no way I was going to be sticking around to wait for her to be done. And Mr. Manager really had no idea what he was doing so the situation wasn't showing any signs of diffusing. I've worked with plenty of "questionable" people before... but dang. This was an entirely new experience.
So while I didn't get into trouble or really do anything malicious, I can officially say I have been escorted out of Walmart by the manager after getting into an altercation with another customer. I believe I am now a stereotype.
Everyone had always told me how awesome the area was and how much I was going to love it there because they had loved it so when I woke up and saw the surroundings, I asked Mark why we were lost and where he had taken a wrong turn. And then he gave me the devastating news that we were not in fact lost, but we were right where we were supposed to be. WHAT?! No, seriously. WHAT?! This was not at all what I was expecting.
For real, it was like the city planner had no idea what to do with the area so he was like, "I have a GREAT idea!! Lets give my 18 month old a box of crayons and a piece of paper and we will turn whatever he scribbles down into the road map for the city. Then I'll have my 3 year old play Monopoly and we will use her gameboard as the plan for where we will put our buildings." Because really, only here could it take you 25 minutes and 15 left turns onto side streets to get to a bigger street which will change names 6 times and then turn into a 1 lane gravel road that you have to take to get to the next bigger street. And only here can you find a Holiday Inn Express next to a Korean church that is between a Wendy's and a tobacco shop, which are located in the same strip mall as a day care and a health food store which are a less than a block away from a trailer park straight out of 1973 and brand new apartment complex.
And let us not forget the Super Walmart, which can be found approximately every 2.3 miles. Super Walmart, I'm coming to find, is this area's version of Starbucks. There is one on every corner and it is where everyone congregates. I should have known this was not the place for me when I realized that Super Walmart was the nicest grocery store in the area. Yes, I am a snob. I'll admit it, I'll own it, I'll wear a t-shirt that says it. I hate Walmart. HATE IT. I don't DO Walmart.
We've all seen that website peopleofwalmart.com. Hours of fun. But I was always like, whatever, that is staged, these people don't exist. Oh no. No, no no. They do exist and they ALL live in my town and go to the Walmarts I have to go to. Whenever I go I have to spend the day working up to it. By the time I have the courage to go, it is late and potentially dangerous because here, all of the weirdos come out at 8pm.
When we moved here M made a rule that no one goes out past 8-- he didn't feel it was safe and I was like, Ok, whatever. Holy overreact much. But this time, he was right. One night I had to go to Walmart and it was 8:13. And he told me not to go, just wait, go in the morning, but me being the stubborn freak that I am was like, no, I'll be fine. Seriously, what is the worst that could happen? HA!
Yo. When I got there there was a drunk guy too drunk to open the refrigerated beer case and spent a good 3 minutes cussing the fridge out and banging on the doors before he realized he had to PULL them open, instead of slide them open. That in addition to the load of screaming kids who were pulling juice bottles off the shelves and running around while their parents screamed at them to stop doing that and come back, but who didn't bother to actually GO GET THEM. And everyone was just mean, in bad moods and seriously rude.
It took me nearly 2 hours to navigate through the madness while I tried to decipher if what I was seeing was actually real or not. It was like entering an entirely different world and all the while I contemplated if I should get a permit to carry a concealed weapon. These people were crazy, and not crazy in a legitimate way where you know they need help and feel bad for them, but crazy in a way where you are like, "Hey, didn't I see you on COPS last week? We're you the one beating the crap out of your ex-husband's car with a crowbar? Or were you the one who was calling the cops because you hit on your neighbor's boyfriend and she proceeded to beat the crap out of you? Or were you the one who called the cops because your dealer "stole" 20 bucks from you after your "transaction" and it made you mad and you wanted him arrested, while forgetting you still had drugs on you and got arrested yourself"?
When I finally got to the checkout after waiting the requisite 35 minutes in line, I made small talk with the checker and found she wasn't from "around here" either and thought as highly of the place as I did. And then directly in front of us, in the Customer Service area, we heard a commotion brewing. There was a woman there demanding to see the manager. She was clearly unhappy, evidenced by the fact that every other word she said was a swear word. The manager came up and she proceeded to lay into him with her complaints. He was trying to calm her down but she just kept on, and on, and on, and on, and on... Her chief complaint? "I COME HERE EVERY TUESDAY NIGHT AND WHEN I GET HERE THERE IS NOTHING ON THE SHELVES AND THE AISLES ARE FILLED WITH PALLETS AND BOXES". Um, ok. Well, common sense would tell you that if there was nothing on the shelves and there were boxes and pallets filling the aisles, maybe you should come the next day, after they have restocked the shelves with the contents of the pallets and boxes??? Maybe?? Yeah...
He tried explaining that to her, which made her more mad, then she started laying into him about how they never have what she wants and they used to have what she wants but they don't now and they should know what she wants... and the manager tried telling her that it wasn't that simple and that things weren't how they used to be and things had changed, to which she responded, "YEAH?! WELL MY MONEY HASN'T CHANGED YOU DUMB@$$." Yeah...
So she started moving closer to me, and I'm thinking, no, you don't need to be closer to me, and oh dang, how am I going to get out of here? This situation is escalating and she's getting more mad. Meanwhile my checker is looking on the belt for anything sharp I may have bought so she can use it in her defense. It was time for me to leave and she was showing no signs of letting up and moving closer to me, so I calmly put my hands up and said, "Ma'am, go home. Just, go home. We've all heard your complaints, we understand them, just, go home before you get into trouble. It isn't worth it, just go home." And OH MY GOODNESS did all hell break loose. She came at me and put her fingers in my face and screamed at me like I have never been screamed at before. "YOU GO HOME YOU DUMB B!TC4!! YOU GO HOME! THIS IS A FREE COUNTRY AND I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT!! YOU GO HOME!!!." Yeah...
Well, 1) I'm trying to go home, but you are in my way 2) Did you really just pull the "free country" card with me? I mean really, by doing so you've just given me a full deck to play from, including the "what have you done for our country lately to ensure your freedoms and blah blah blah" card and 3) Are you really saying "free country" in Walmart? The symbol of oppression and everything that ISN'T "free" in America? Yeah, ok. Whatever lady, move along.
But she was relentless and would not stop. Calling me names over and over, following me, screaming at me to go home. I kept calm, told her I was trying to go home and that maybe she should walk out with me and go to her car so she could go home too... it was ridiculous. The entire time the manager had this look in his eyes like "Oh no. We didn't go over this in my training, what do I do??" He ended up having someone stay with the out of control lady while he ushered me out of the store. He was legitimately scared. He asked me where my car was, told me he wasn't going to leave until I had left and I kept assuring him I was fine, that I could take her if she came at me and that he should probably call the cops because the only way she was going to be leaving that night was in handcuffs, or on a gurney after someone tazed her or knocked her out.
Should I have gotten involved? Probably not. But I had to leave, she was right in my way. There was no way I was going to get out of there because she wasn't going anywhere and there was no way I was going to be sticking around to wait for her to be done. And Mr. Manager really had no idea what he was doing so the situation wasn't showing any signs of diffusing. I've worked with plenty of "questionable" people before... but dang. This was an entirely new experience.
So while I didn't get into trouble or really do anything malicious, I can officially say I have been escorted out of Walmart by the manager after getting into an altercation with another customer. I believe I am now a stereotype.
Friday, September 17, 2010
the whirlwind that was this summer
Oy. Just, Oy. What a summer this has been. I'm pretty sure the kids spent more time sleeping in their carseats and hotel rooms than they did in their own beds. We drove well over 9000 miles this summer, traveled through 15 different states, most of them twice, packed up a house, unpacked another, completed my 11th move in 6 years, W's 9th before he turned 5 (all cross country or across state lines or across the world), I gained 10 pounds, A started walking, MJ figured out how to unscrew bottle caps (not beer caps, I promise), W started kindergarten and CB, well, let's just say she's come a LONG way this summer. And to top it all off, I got escorted out of Walmart by the manager after getting into an altercation with another customer. Yes, yes I did. I can die happy now. I think my life is complete.
This is the first time I've had a chance to sit down at the computer in over 2 weeks. Actually, I don't think I've really sat down at all in the past 3 weeks, except maybe to sleep and I'm not sure that even counts given the number of nights we were sleeping on an air mattress. Thankfully, the house is unpacked and relatively organized, just please, whatever you do, DO NOT open any of the closets. I can't be held liable for anything that may fall on your head. The closets will have to come later, I need a break.
The freezer is full again after a marathon 3 day cooking stint-- 12 dozen turkey and quinoa meatballs (egg, wheat and dairy free), 64 cups of chicken broth, 6 batches of chicken and rice soup, 6 batches of my really awesome chili, 4 whole chickens worth of shredded chicken and a serious amount of homemade spaghetti sauce. That all should last us like, a week. Ok, maybe 5. Dang, this family can eat. And after cooking through 6 pounds of onions and 12 heads of garlic in less than 3 days I can officially say that my house, and my hair, reek.
Now I'm on to making and freezing a bunch of muffins, waffles and pie crust and pureeing and freezing my own pumpkin because we all know how much I love the pumpkin... I plan on going through at LEAST a pound a week of that stuff this fall. Speaking of which, I actually got to taste my first Pumpkin Spice Latte last week. I know, right?? My first?! Yes, my first. I can't believe it has taken me this long. But in my defense, the first year they had them I was on the elimination diet for CB, the second year they had them I was in Germany and last year I was on the elimination diet for the twins so I've never had the chance to try it. But oh my, was that thing delicious. If I wasn't on a mission to not eat out AT ALL for at least a month, I'd probably be partaking of one right now.
Even though we are (mostly) settled, there still isn't much time for rest. I have 9 voice mails to listen to, over 1300 messages in my inbox to go through, a billion facebook messages to respond to and a ton of phone calls to make, and no, I am not exaggerating, at all. Plus, I need to get my butt to the gym to work off my 10 pound love handles so I can fit into my winter clothes once it finally cools down-- I am WAY too cheap to buy new clothes this year. But first I am going to finish my coffee and sit here and savor the silence in the house as W is at school and M has taken all of the girls for a run. This is the first time I have been completely alone in like a decade and I'm going to try to savor it because Lord only knows when that will happen again...
This is the first time I've had a chance to sit down at the computer in over 2 weeks. Actually, I don't think I've really sat down at all in the past 3 weeks, except maybe to sleep and I'm not sure that even counts given the number of nights we were sleeping on an air mattress. Thankfully, the house is unpacked and relatively organized, just please, whatever you do, DO NOT open any of the closets. I can't be held liable for anything that may fall on your head. The closets will have to come later, I need a break.
The freezer is full again after a marathon 3 day cooking stint-- 12 dozen turkey and quinoa meatballs (egg, wheat and dairy free), 64 cups of chicken broth, 6 batches of chicken and rice soup, 6 batches of my really awesome chili, 4 whole chickens worth of shredded chicken and a serious amount of homemade spaghetti sauce. That all should last us like, a week. Ok, maybe 5. Dang, this family can eat. And after cooking through 6 pounds of onions and 12 heads of garlic in less than 3 days I can officially say that my house, and my hair, reek.
Now I'm on to making and freezing a bunch of muffins, waffles and pie crust and pureeing and freezing my own pumpkin because we all know how much I love the pumpkin... I plan on going through at LEAST a pound a week of that stuff this fall. Speaking of which, I actually got to taste my first Pumpkin Spice Latte last week. I know, right?? My first?! Yes, my first. I can't believe it has taken me this long. But in my defense, the first year they had them I was on the elimination diet for CB, the second year they had them I was in Germany and last year I was on the elimination diet for the twins so I've never had the chance to try it. But oh my, was that thing delicious. If I wasn't on a mission to not eat out AT ALL for at least a month, I'd probably be partaking of one right now.
Even though we are (mostly) settled, there still isn't much time for rest. I have 9 voice mails to listen to, over 1300 messages in my inbox to go through, a billion facebook messages to respond to and a ton of phone calls to make, and no, I am not exaggerating, at all. Plus, I need to get my butt to the gym to work off my 10 pound love handles so I can fit into my winter clothes once it finally cools down-- I am WAY too cheap to buy new clothes this year. But first I am going to finish my coffee and sit here and savor the silence in the house as W is at school and M has taken all of the girls for a run. This is the first time I have been completely alone in like a decade and I'm going to try to savor it because Lord only knows when that will happen again...
Thursday, August 5, 2010
angry birds
Have you guys played this game? If you haven't, you need to get yourself to the app store and download the free version and once you beat that you need to suck it up and pay the 99 cents for the paid version because, it will CHANGE YOUR LIFE. If you are behind the times and don't have an iPhone then you need to get your butt down to AT&T and get a phone and data plan and before you so much as make a call on that phone, you need to download this game. Or at least get yourself an iTouch.
Good Lord this game is awesome. And addicting. I have lost all of the men in my life to this game. My father, husband, son... all victims of the angry bird. And I may or may not have stayed up until 1:13 am playing it last night, but I really only did it for the sake of my son. I NEEDED to beat the harder levels so he wouldn't get frustrated when he tried. I'm just taking one for the team and doing my part to keep the peace.
Angry Birds is kind of like the most awesome game you've ever played (like Snood or Dr. Mario), but with birds, that you sling shot across the screen and smash into things in hopes of knocking over rocks and blocks and killing pigs. On a scale of 1 to Awesome, Angry Birds is somewhere around The Most Awesomerestness of Awesome. But child please, don't tell me you don't remember what Snood is because that was the single greatest game in the history of games of the early 2000's. That game got me through college. And if they ever make it into an iPhone app, I'm screwed.
You know though, I have to say I'm thankful that there weren't any iPhones or smartphones invented when I was in college because I would have NEVER gotten anything done or paid any attention in class. I hardly paid attention without smart phones, it would have been so UGLY if I had Angry Birds or Face Book or my email right at my finger tips. I don't think I would have graduated. I don't know how kids these days are getting through college with all of the distractions of laptops and phones... kind of makes me nervous for the quality of doctors and lawyers and teachers we are going to have in the next 20 years.
Good Lord this game is awesome. And addicting. I have lost all of the men in my life to this game. My father, husband, son... all victims of the angry bird. And I may or may not have stayed up until 1:13 am playing it last night, but I really only did it for the sake of my son. I NEEDED to beat the harder levels so he wouldn't get frustrated when he tried. I'm just taking one for the team and doing my part to keep the peace.
Angry Birds is kind of like the most awesome game you've ever played (like Snood or Dr. Mario), but with birds, that you sling shot across the screen and smash into things in hopes of knocking over rocks and blocks and killing pigs. On a scale of 1 to Awesome, Angry Birds is somewhere around The Most Awesomerestness of Awesome. But child please, don't tell me you don't remember what Snood is because that was the single greatest game in the history of games of the early 2000's. That game got me through college. And if they ever make it into an iPhone app, I'm screwed.
You know though, I have to say I'm thankful that there weren't any iPhones or smartphones invented when I was in college because I would have NEVER gotten anything done or paid any attention in class. I hardly paid attention without smart phones, it would have been so UGLY if I had Angry Birds or Face Book or my email right at my finger tips. I don't think I would have graduated. I don't know how kids these days are getting through college with all of the distractions of laptops and phones... kind of makes me nervous for the quality of doctors and lawyers and teachers we are going to have in the next 20 years.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
trippin numero dos
Well, we made it. As semi promised, my car was ready by 3pm and we had it repacked and on the road by 3:18 on Thursday afternoon. And then we drove... and drove... and drove. We drove from the Arkansas/ Oklahoma boarder, through Oklahoma, North Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and half of California, only stopping for food, gas, and diaper changes. And for a small nap at a well lit and very busy rest stop somewhere in New Mexico.
We drove for 35 hours. 35 non stop hours with 4 kids ages 4 and under. It was... interesting. Someone asked my friend J if it took us so long because we drove 50 MPH the entire time, and no, we didn't. But we did drive about 60 because it was so darn windy through New Mexico, Arizona and So Cal that we couldn't go much faster in a fully loaded van with a stroller strapped to the roof. It was so windy that I got only 13.4 miles per gallon through most of AZ and So Cal. And there was the stopping 30 minutes out of every 3 hours to take care of everyone. 35 hours. THIRTY. FIVE. HOURS.
But we all survived, relatively sane and mentally intact, even with all of the car drama. The kids were amazing and put up with it very well and NO, there was no use of benedryl or other sleep inducing medicine. I don't roll that way, ever. People have asked me how we did it, how we kept them entertained and from throwing things at our heads and the truth is, we didn't have to do much (but I'll save that post for a later date). They are just awesome kids.
Three days after we got "home", the twins and I hopped a plane to Alaska. I'll save the "how the heck do you fly with twins" post for a later date also, but let's sum it up, again, as I have awesome kids. I am so glad I am here, I have missed my friend T like crazy and this is exactly what she needs... what I need too... because it is all about me, after all. I have to say though, it is a little weird to have my family spread out just about as far as you can be within the USA. M is on the East Coast, W and CB are on the West and I'm all the way in Alaska with the twins. I think we should all meet in Hawaii later in the Summer and call it good. Then we will have literally trekked from end to end of the country.
There are so many questions, I know: "Why are you up there?" "What is going on?" "How on earth could you leave your kids for so long?" "Why would you leave your kids for so long?" "How could you take them away from their father for so long?" "Why would you leave your husband for so long, or at all?" "Are you guys separating?" That one is always my favorite. Blah.
I'll answer the first two questions when I can but I will say now that, no, M and I aren't separating and yes, I love W and CB very, very much. I'm ok with being away from them for so long as they are ok with being away from us for so long. I trust them, I trust my parents (who they are staying with), I know they are fine and will survive without me and will be ok without M too. M can't take time off right now and while he misses us tremendously, he knows this is exactly where we all need to be right now and is fine with it.
Dudes, we live a crazy life. It wouldn't be us if it wasn't ridiculous. We'd be all bored and stuff. We'd be... "normal"... and that would be weird. Not that normal is bad, it just isn't what we do. This is what we do. It doesn't make sense to many, or any, and there are very few people who understand this kind of life but it works for us. I'm not going to justify it, or try to explain it because 1) I don't need to and 2) it would probably be a waste of time and 3) did I mention I don't need to? Ok, thanks. Ooooooh, look at me getting all defensive. I just don't want to hear the judgments anymore. So if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all, por favor. Gracias.
We drove for 35 hours. 35 non stop hours with 4 kids ages 4 and under. It was... interesting. Someone asked my friend J if it took us so long because we drove 50 MPH the entire time, and no, we didn't. But we did drive about 60 because it was so darn windy through New Mexico, Arizona and So Cal that we couldn't go much faster in a fully loaded van with a stroller strapped to the roof. It was so windy that I got only 13.4 miles per gallon through most of AZ and So Cal. And there was the stopping 30 minutes out of every 3 hours to take care of everyone. 35 hours. THIRTY. FIVE. HOURS.
But we all survived, relatively sane and mentally intact, even with all of the car drama. The kids were amazing and put up with it very well and NO, there was no use of benedryl or other sleep inducing medicine. I don't roll that way, ever. People have asked me how we did it, how we kept them entertained and from throwing things at our heads and the truth is, we didn't have to do much (but I'll save that post for a later date). They are just awesome kids.
Three days after we got "home", the twins and I hopped a plane to Alaska. I'll save the "how the heck do you fly with twins" post for a later date also, but let's sum it up, again, as I have awesome kids. I am so glad I am here, I have missed my friend T like crazy and this is exactly what she needs... what I need too... because it is all about me, after all. I have to say though, it is a little weird to have my family spread out just about as far as you can be within the USA. M is on the East Coast, W and CB are on the West and I'm all the way in Alaska with the twins. I think we should all meet in Hawaii later in the Summer and call it good. Then we will have literally trekked from end to end of the country.
There are so many questions, I know: "Why are you up there?" "What is going on?" "How on earth could you leave your kids for so long?" "Why would you leave your kids for so long?" "How could you take them away from their father for so long?" "Why would you leave your husband for so long, or at all?" "Are you guys separating?" That one is always my favorite. Blah.
I'll answer the first two questions when I can but I will say now that, no, M and I aren't separating and yes, I love W and CB very, very much. I'm ok with being away from them for so long as they are ok with being away from us for so long. I trust them, I trust my parents (who they are staying with), I know they are fine and will survive without me and will be ok without M too. M can't take time off right now and while he misses us tremendously, he knows this is exactly where we all need to be right now and is fine with it.
Dudes, we live a crazy life. It wouldn't be us if it wasn't ridiculous. We'd be all bored and stuff. We'd be... "normal"... and that would be weird. Not that normal is bad, it just isn't what we do. This is what we do. It doesn't make sense to many, or any, and there are very few people who understand this kind of life but it works for us. I'm not going to justify it, or try to explain it because 1) I don't need to and 2) it would probably be a waste of time and 3) did I mention I don't need to? Ok, thanks. Ooooooh, look at me getting all defensive. I just don't want to hear the judgments anymore. So if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all, por favor. Gracias.
Monday, May 17, 2010
i fell into a burning ring of fire
This weekend was one I've been looking forward to for awhile. M wanted to do a triathlon so we chose one in a perfect location: the beach. And because he was doing a triathlon, I was like, heck, I'll just do a 5k, why not? Um, because I have 4 kids and no babysitter, that's why not. Thankfully my good friend K was up for doing a 5k too, and decided to do it with me. But, between the 2 of us we have 5 kids, and that didn't really work either. So the plan was to put one of my babies and her baby in one of our joggers* and then to put W and CB in the other**, and then for me to wear the other baby on my back***. It was a flawless plan, except, M and I forgot to put the handlebar to one of the joggers in the car before we left, and didn't realize it until we were 2 hours into the 4 hour drive. Awesome.
I didn't want K to have to push the weight of W and CB in a busted up stroller, so I pushed them, or rather yanked them, with MJ on my back. Pushing a jogger w/ 70 pounds without a handle bar is rough, let me tell you. I was fully expecting to get last place but to our surprise, we finished in 47 minutes and ended up pacing a firefighter doing the 5k in full gear. He was the only person out there who was just as crazy as we were and I have nothing but respect for him because at 7:30 am, it was already 83 degrees out. In all, it was so fun but next time we are going to remember that darn handle bar. I'm pretty sure I could have cut at least 5 minutes off our time if it wasn't so hard to push that thing. K was such a trooper and put up with me slowing down and speeding up every 20 seconds and fielding all of the "OH MY GOD! Are they TWINS?!?" questions while she was pushing her baby and A. It was, selfishly, really nice having someone else deal with that for a day. We drew so much attention it was almost comical, but I guess that is what is to be expected when you are walking around at a 5k looking like this:
(thanks, K, for this picture! It makes me laugh!)
After the we finished the 5k and M finished the triathlon we hit the beach. It was the first time A and MJ had been and A took to it like the beach baby I knew she was. MJ wasn't impressed. She did the same thing CB did as a baby and curled her toes when they hit the sand and refused to touch the stuff, although she did crawl for the first time while in her little shade dome. It was so nice to be on the beach again. M and I both crave the beach so to feel the air and hear the waves, feel the sun and the sand was just what we needed.
The next morning we decided to go back to the beach and started getting the kids ready. Everyone got lathered up with sunscreen and I put it on my face and arms, my back, and got the back of my legs... and then someone started crying and I got distracted and then got distracted doing something else... and then we went to the beach. We spent a couple of hours there until the epic meltdowns began and then decided to leave. Got in the car to make the 4 hour drive home... and my legs started itching, which I thought was from the sandflies biting me... and then they started burning... and 2 hours into the drive I looked like this:
Sun poisioning. We literally watched it spread as we were driving. Chills, fever, nausea, sensitivity to temperature changes, small blister like bumps... it was horrible. And there was nothing I could do about it because we were driving through the middle of freaking nowhere, on a Sunday, in a state where pretty much everything is closed on Sundays in a small town. My only option was to hit up the Dollar General in one town we passed and pray they had some kind of burn relief. Oh, and did they have some. Knock off "aloe". I would have been better off without it, as the 2nd ingredient was alcohol and it was green from Blue #something and Yellow #whatever. Funny enough, I missed rubbing it into a spot on my foot and when I found that spot 30 minutes later, my food was dyed green. Fantastic. My favorite part of that picture is the hilarious white line that goes across the top of my belly-- clearly need to do some more situps and cardio to get rid of that lovely little space where the skin meets when I sit... yo.
Now, the above picture doesn't really show my true pastiness as the color is quite off, but it is bad. Really bad. Just 2 hours earlier on the beach I had looked like this:
Holy Mother. This. Hurts. I always thought people in the movies were being dramatic when they got a bad sunburn and laid on the couch all day with tea bags over their eyes. Puh Lease. It can't hurt that bad! Oh, but it does, folks, it does. And the best part about it is when people stop you in the store or parking lot to tell you just how sunburned you are. REALLY?! So that's why I feel like the fire of a thousand suns is raging through my veins?? THIS IS BRAND NEW INFORMATION!! Thank you SO much for telling me that is why I feel like a billion needles are poking into my legs and belly at once. Helpful!! Seriously, you want to be helpful? Go get me a cold compress and an iced tea. Why do you think I'm here in Target at 8:52 at night, 8 minutes before they close, sprinting through the store like I'm on Supermarket Sweep, desperately trying to find any kind of remedy to get me through the night??
I'm all about the natural remedy and having never had a sunburn this bad since I was, I don't know, 12? I called my friend J, who is the queen of unintentional sunburns, and begged for advice. I had already googled "natural sunburn relief" and came across a site that claimed you already had the ingredients as close as in your fridge and kitchen cabinets. SWEET! That's what I needed... but after they listed the typical aloe, they went into how you can put mustard or white vinegar on your skin and that would help (um, no.) and then they said that Emu oil is great(!) for sunburns. Yes, because I have Emu oil hanging out in my kitchen cabinet. Really, I do. Thankfully J called me back and walked me through the steps of nursing your skin damage back to a somewhat repaired state: lots of water, gatorade, lotion and aloe, ibprofen and for the love of God, don't let anyone touch you. I also picked up some Vit E oil and have been slathering that crap on in ridiculous amounts.
After a very long night I'm getting better-- now it only hurts when I walk or stand and the blood rushes to the skin but I'm still walking like a zombie and leather couches are NOT my friend. As I'm writing this I can hear my Aunt K in my head. She has always warned us about being smart in the sun and I'm hesitant to even post this blog because I know it is going to freak her out something fierce. I am making an appointment w/ a dermatologist to get my skin checked for any sings of abnormality as skin cancer is on both sides of my family. This is not something to mess with. Lord knows I don't want to end up looking like Donatella Versace and I really don't want skin cancer. So mothers, heed my advice. 1) Don't get distracted while putting on sunblock and 2) if you are using birth control pills, read that little insert with all of the side effects. Apparently one of them is increased sensitivity to sun. Things that would have been nice to know YESTERDAY!
*Chariot CX2
**Chariot Cougar2 (full reviews and comparison for both strollers coming soon!)
***Macpac Child Carrier
I didn't want K to have to push the weight of W and CB in a busted up stroller, so I pushed them, or rather yanked them, with MJ on my back. Pushing a jogger w/ 70 pounds without a handle bar is rough, let me tell you. I was fully expecting to get last place but to our surprise, we finished in 47 minutes and ended up pacing a firefighter doing the 5k in full gear. He was the only person out there who was just as crazy as we were and I have nothing but respect for him because at 7:30 am, it was already 83 degrees out. In all, it was so fun but next time we are going to remember that darn handle bar. I'm pretty sure I could have cut at least 5 minutes off our time if it wasn't so hard to push that thing. K was such a trooper and put up with me slowing down and speeding up every 20 seconds and fielding all of the "OH MY GOD! Are they TWINS?!?" questions while she was pushing her baby and A. It was, selfishly, really nice having someone else deal with that for a day. We drew so much attention it was almost comical, but I guess that is what is to be expected when you are walking around at a 5k looking like this:
After the we finished the 5k and M finished the triathlon we hit the beach. It was the first time A and MJ had been and A took to it like the beach baby I knew she was. MJ wasn't impressed. She did the same thing CB did as a baby and curled her toes when they hit the sand and refused to touch the stuff, although she did crawl for the first time while in her little shade dome. It was so nice to be on the beach again. M and I both crave the beach so to feel the air and hear the waves, feel the sun and the sand was just what we needed.
The next morning we decided to go back to the beach and started getting the kids ready. Everyone got lathered up with sunscreen and I put it on my face and arms, my back, and got the back of my legs... and then someone started crying and I got distracted and then got distracted doing something else... and then we went to the beach. We spent a couple of hours there until the epic meltdowns began and then decided to leave. Got in the car to make the 4 hour drive home... and my legs started itching, which I thought was from the sandflies biting me... and then they started burning... and 2 hours into the drive I looked like this:
Now, the above picture doesn't really show my true pastiness as the color is quite off, but it is bad. Really bad. Just 2 hours earlier on the beach I had looked like this:
I'm all about the natural remedy and having never had a sunburn this bad since I was, I don't know, 12? I called my friend J, who is the queen of unintentional sunburns, and begged for advice. I had already googled "natural sunburn relief" and came across a site that claimed you already had the ingredients as close as in your fridge and kitchen cabinets. SWEET! That's what I needed... but after they listed the typical aloe, they went into how you can put mustard or white vinegar on your skin and that would help (um, no.) and then they said that Emu oil is great(!) for sunburns. Yes, because I have Emu oil hanging out in my kitchen cabinet. Really, I do. Thankfully J called me back and walked me through the steps of nursing your skin damage back to a somewhat repaired state: lots of water, gatorade, lotion and aloe, ibprofen and for the love of God, don't let anyone touch you. I also picked up some Vit E oil and have been slathering that crap on in ridiculous amounts.
After a very long night I'm getting better-- now it only hurts when I walk or stand and the blood rushes to the skin but I'm still walking like a zombie and leather couches are NOT my friend. As I'm writing this I can hear my Aunt K in my head. She has always warned us about being smart in the sun and I'm hesitant to even post this blog because I know it is going to freak her out something fierce. I am making an appointment w/ a dermatologist to get my skin checked for any sings of abnormality as skin cancer is on both sides of my family. This is not something to mess with. Lord knows I don't want to end up looking like Donatella Versace and I really don't want skin cancer. So mothers, heed my advice. 1) Don't get distracted while putting on sunblock and 2) if you are using birth control pills, read that little insert with all of the side effects. Apparently one of them is increased sensitivity to sun. Things that would have been nice to know YESTERDAY!
*Chariot CX2
**Chariot Cougar2 (full reviews and comparison for both strollers coming soon!)
***Macpac Child Carrier
Sunday, April 11, 2010
reacquainted
Since it has been, um, forever, since I have shown my face here, I figured it would be a good idea to get reacquainted with my readers, if there are any left. So here's a brief rundown of who we are, and what makes us tick.
Me: I'm just me. I'm a mom of 4, a woman who happens to be married to someone in the Army, who is just trying to find a balance between what I want to do and what I should be doing. I know a little about a lot and am a jack of all trades but a master at nothing. I love my babies more than anyone should and I love this ridiculous life we live through all of the good and bad.
M: My husband. He's an amazing father and an awesome soldier. He's a tiny bit crazy, but we don't tell him that because he takes it as a compliment and it encourages him to be even more crazy. He works really hard at everything he does and it shows. When he isn't working or playing with the kids, he's in the gym or training for whatever his next big "event" is. He has done a few half marathons and a marathon and currently getting ready for a triathlon. And, he drives a minivan. And makes it look cool.
W: Our 4 year old son. W is a funny kid. He's a nerd. Yes, I said it. The kid is a total nerd and I love him for it. He's already reading kindergarten books and writing and spelling, loves math and science and would be perfectly content if you locked him in a room for hours with an activity book. He is such a wonderful brother to his little sisters and takes really good care of them, when he wants to, which is most of the time. He already carries more responsibility than I would like him to, but he doesn't complain about it. His sisters love him so much and I can always count on him to make them laugh when they are crying. He has a tough side too. He doesn't cry when he falls down or when he gets a shot and is totally intrigued by splinters, yet at the end of the day he will always say, "come cuddle with me in bed, mommy".
CB: Our 3 year old daughter. This girl is my challenge. She is the sweetest little thing you could ever imagine, except for when she's not. She can throw a fit like a 13 year old, but then love on you like none other in the next second. She can make you laugh like crazy and then make you want to pull your hair out. I have a feeling she is going to be some kind of entertainer when she grows up-- she was singing before she could talk and is constantly making up songs and dances for us. Her creativity blows me away as she's always coming up with a story to tell or coloring a beautiful picture. She has Sensory Processing Disorder, SPD, and is Sensory Defensive, which makes life very complicated. The littlest things can throw her off: socks, sleeves, something on her hands, noise or light, textures and temperatures, people touching her and/ or talking to her. She is the only child I know who will ask to go to bed and if we can't find her, the first place we look is in her room because she will most likely have put herself in bed-- it's her coping mechanism. She also has a wide range of food intolerances which have made us all very conscious of what we put in our bodies and taught me how to cook in an entirely different way.
A: One of the twins. A is a momma's girl, no one else will do, except for her brother because he is also W's baby. A and W have some kind of special bond. They have always gravitated towards each other which is funny because they look alike. She isn't very active but loves to observe. And she's a tiny bit of a bully. If she sees something she wants, she's going to get it. She wants what she wants when she wants it and she's not going to stop until she gets it. When you get her going, wow, she really gets going. But she has a sweet side too. She loves to cuddle and be held and has the tiniest little laugh.
MJ: One of the twins. MJ is a daddy's girl and the most laid back baby I've ever seen, which is funny because when they were newborns, she was always the first to cry and much more difficult than A. Now she is completely content and quick to smile and boy does she love to talk. She talks all day and even in her sleep. She makes the most adorable sounds and is extremely expressive. If she doesn't like how something feels or tastes she will wrinkle up her little face. She does the same when she's really happy too. MJ is a go getter and even though she's always been a little smaller than A, she's been the first to roll and sit and the first to cut teeth.
Both babies have the same food intolerances that CB has so food is a big issue in our house. They have spent the better part of their past 9 months spitting up like crazy and being uncomfortable. Any kind of dairy, even a super small amount, will give them bloody diapers so we have to be very careful to keep it completely out of their diet. Because of all their food issues, they are very small. At 9 months, both of them are about 13 pounds. Thankfully, people don't really comment on their weight like they did with W and CB. I think everyone is so fixated on the "twins thing" they don't think to comment on how small they really are.
So much really has happened in the past 5 months, including a cross country move, 7 weeks of me being quite sick and all of the other boring mundane day to day stuff. I'm going to do my best to catch up on the important stuff later. I also plan on boring you with lots and lots of information about cloth diapering, cloth diapering twins, car seats, baby gear, pumping for twins and one of my most favoritest topics: STROLLERS!!
Me: I'm just me. I'm a mom of 4, a woman who happens to be married to someone in the Army, who is just trying to find a balance between what I want to do and what I should be doing. I know a little about a lot and am a jack of all trades but a master at nothing. I love my babies more than anyone should and I love this ridiculous life we live through all of the good and bad.
M: My husband. He's an amazing father and an awesome soldier. He's a tiny bit crazy, but we don't tell him that because he takes it as a compliment and it encourages him to be even more crazy. He works really hard at everything he does and it shows. When he isn't working or playing with the kids, he's in the gym or training for whatever his next big "event" is. He has done a few half marathons and a marathon and currently getting ready for a triathlon. And, he drives a minivan. And makes it look cool.
W: Our 4 year old son. W is a funny kid. He's a nerd. Yes, I said it. The kid is a total nerd and I love him for it. He's already reading kindergarten books and writing and spelling, loves math and science and would be perfectly content if you locked him in a room for hours with an activity book. He is such a wonderful brother to his little sisters and takes really good care of them, when he wants to, which is most of the time. He already carries more responsibility than I would like him to, but he doesn't complain about it. His sisters love him so much and I can always count on him to make them laugh when they are crying. He has a tough side too. He doesn't cry when he falls down or when he gets a shot and is totally intrigued by splinters, yet at the end of the day he will always say, "come cuddle with me in bed, mommy".
CB: Our 3 year old daughter. This girl is my challenge. She is the sweetest little thing you could ever imagine, except for when she's not. She can throw a fit like a 13 year old, but then love on you like none other in the next second. She can make you laugh like crazy and then make you want to pull your hair out. I have a feeling she is going to be some kind of entertainer when she grows up-- she was singing before she could talk and is constantly making up songs and dances for us. Her creativity blows me away as she's always coming up with a story to tell or coloring a beautiful picture. She has Sensory Processing Disorder, SPD, and is Sensory Defensive, which makes life very complicated. The littlest things can throw her off: socks, sleeves, something on her hands, noise or light, textures and temperatures, people touching her and/ or talking to her. She is the only child I know who will ask to go to bed and if we can't find her, the first place we look is in her room because she will most likely have put herself in bed-- it's her coping mechanism. She also has a wide range of food intolerances which have made us all very conscious of what we put in our bodies and taught me how to cook in an entirely different way.
A: One of the twins. A is a momma's girl, no one else will do, except for her brother because he is also W's baby. A and W have some kind of special bond. They have always gravitated towards each other which is funny because they look alike. She isn't very active but loves to observe. And she's a tiny bit of a bully. If she sees something she wants, she's going to get it. She wants what she wants when she wants it and she's not going to stop until she gets it. When you get her going, wow, she really gets going. But she has a sweet side too. She loves to cuddle and be held and has the tiniest little laugh.
MJ: One of the twins. MJ is a daddy's girl and the most laid back baby I've ever seen, which is funny because when they were newborns, she was always the first to cry and much more difficult than A. Now she is completely content and quick to smile and boy does she love to talk. She talks all day and even in her sleep. She makes the most adorable sounds and is extremely expressive. If she doesn't like how something feels or tastes she will wrinkle up her little face. She does the same when she's really happy too. MJ is a go getter and even though she's always been a little smaller than A, she's been the first to roll and sit and the first to cut teeth.
Both babies have the same food intolerances that CB has so food is a big issue in our house. They have spent the better part of their past 9 months spitting up like crazy and being uncomfortable. Any kind of dairy, even a super small amount, will give them bloody diapers so we have to be very careful to keep it completely out of their diet. Because of all their food issues, they are very small. At 9 months, both of them are about 13 pounds. Thankfully, people don't really comment on their weight like they did with W and CB. I think everyone is so fixated on the "twins thing" they don't think to comment on how small they really are.
So much really has happened in the past 5 months, including a cross country move, 7 weeks of me being quite sick and all of the other boring mundane day to day stuff. I'm going to do my best to catch up on the important stuff later. I also plan on boring you with lots and lots of information about cloth diapering, cloth diapering twins, car seats, baby gear, pumping for twins and one of my most favoritest topics: STROLLERS!!
Saturday, September 26, 2009
long story, the anti climactic finale
After MJ's volcanic spit up episode, we left for the ER. We got there at 10:06, why I remember that, I don't know. The waiting room was packed-- standing room only. It was like walking into a cesspool of mucus and blood. Thankfully they were great about getting us into triage quickly, but then the waiting game began. They were nice enough to let us wait in an unused triage room until we went to the actual ER area so the babies weren't too exposed to all of the TB and swine flu floating around but it was still very scary to have such small babies being in such close proximity to so much nastiness. We finally got to a "room" about an hour and a half after we got there. I took up residence in the only chair in our little room and proceeded to feed a baby, and then the other, and then the first one again, and then the other... and time kept passing and my butt kept getting more and more numb.
There we were, 2 completely sleep deprived parents, trying desperately to keep the babies happy while staying awake and trying not to be totally pissed off that we had been waiting for what seemed like forever and had yet to even have a doctor poke their head through the curtain. Finally, after 5 hours I got angry and went to see what the heck was going on. Apparently someone decided it would be a great idea to drive their car in front of a train so most of the doctors were called to that trauma and the other doctors were seeing the other patients. 4 day old preemie throwing up blood? Not a priority. As we hit hour 6 of waiting, we decided to we had enough and were going to leave. I didn't want to wait any longer only to have an ER doctor to tell us MJ was fine and to follow up with our pediatrician in the morning. We already had a scheduled appointment with our doc at 10 that morning, so it wasn't even worth waiting anymore.
After getting about an hour of sleep, we took the girls to their appointment. The doctor wasn't really concerned about the blood in MJ's spit up (he figured it was probably blood she had swallowed during the delivery) but she had lost almost a pound from her birth weight and the doctor decided she needed to be admitted to the hospital to get her fluids and put her under the lights for her jaundice. Because our doctors don't have privileges at our hometown hospital, we had to decide if we wanted to go be admitted to a hospital where our doctors had privileges and could do a direct admit, which meant being at a hospital over an hour away from our house, or going back to the hospital where they were born, and where we had just left 6 hours earlier. That meant we would have to go BACK to the ER to be admitted. Not wanting to spend anymore time in the ER, we chose to go to the hospital over an hour away, figuring we'd only be there a couple of days, at the most.
Well, those couple of days ended up being 2 full weeks. The first few days we were there, MJ was put under the lights and was given IV nutrients. On the third day we were there, A was weighed and found that she, too, had dropped a pound from her birth weight, so she was also admitted. Both babies were given feeding tubes through their nose and we proceeded to embark on a strict feeding schedule for them. Every 3 hours they were to be fed, every other time through the feeding tube. They were "allowed" to eat from the bottle for 20 minutes for the feeds that weren't given through the tube. After those 20 minutes, whatever was left would be given through the tube. The idea was to make it so they didn't expend more calories than they were taking in, which was the problem with them actually breastfeeding.
So this meant I got to become best friends with the breast pump. There were 7 pumps on the floor, all named after the Seven Dwarfs. I got Doc, although there were many days that I should have had Grumpy or Sleepy. Every 2 hours I was to pump, and pump and pump. Most days I ended up pumping 1 out of every 2 hours. Lather, rinse, repeat. And with all the pumping came all of the pain. Within 2 days I had a raging case of mastitis that were caused by plugged ducts. And then came the milk blisters that were so bad even the Lactation Consultant cringed when she saw them. I ended up having to drive all the way back to see one of my doctors (not the one who delivered the babies) only to have him tell me that it didn’t look “that bad” and that I should just put Desitin on my breasts and they would heal right up. WHAT?! Worst. Advice. Ever.
I seriously started to feel like I was a vending machine and all I was good for was dispensing milk for the babies. Everyone else seemed to be making all of the decisions for M and me about our kids. It was so frustrating being told what I could and couldn't do with my babies and being told what we were going to do for them and when. We didn't get much input or say in anything, and when we did, and didn't do what they wanted us to do, they would stage an intervention to try to change our minds.
It was a really frustrating feeling. I felt almost detached from my babies, even though they never really left my side, except for the few times I had run to the store. The nurses, God bless them, meant well but there were times I just wanted to scream because I felt they had over stepped their boundaries. Like the time one nurse insisted on taking MJ out of the room without my knowledge while I was sleeping and proceeded to feed her 75mL for 2 feeds, when she had barely taken 55mL per feed on a regular basis. So when the nurse's shift ended, I ended up with an extremely over fed and fussy baby who screamed in pain the entire day.
We did have some amazing nurses though. They quickly became our outlet whether they liked it or not. Since all the babies did all day was literally eat and sleep, M and I didn't really have anything to do. And a bored M and a bored Joanna combined is not a pretty thing. Keep in mind that in the 5 years M and I have been married, we have only lived in the same house for 24 non-consecutive months, the most being 8. And in that time, we rarely, if ever, were in the same room for more than a couple of hours. So to be cooped up in a 12x16 foot room for days on end was not really a good thing for us. Or maybe it was. It was like marriage boot camp because we got to figure out how to live with each other again and when we weren’t driving each other crazy, remember that we really do enjoy each other’s company.
To pass the time, M would do his cross word puzzles (big nerd) and I would eat. And eat, and eat and eat and eat. I swear the second the babies were born I started eating and didn’t stop. I guess I was making up for the previous 9 months where I could hardly eat and when I did, hardly keep anything down. I ate so much in the 2 weeks the babies were in the hospital, it was ridiculous. I ate things I didn’t even like, like chocolate cake (3 times a day), cookies (at least a package a day), muffins and pastries… oh the pastries. They became an obsessive addiction. I HAD to have at least one in the morning, and then one in the afternoon. There was hell to pay if M didn’t make it down to the coffee cart in the lobby to get me a pastry before it closed at 2. Apple, berry, cheese, whatever. I had to have that preservative and saturated fat filled goodness or I was really going to die. And that was on top of the 4 solid meals and umpteen snacks I ate during the day too. The nurses got to the point where they would just go and get me a tray with a sandwich, cake, veggies fruit and soup for my midnight snack before I even asked because they knew I was going to be crying for it in the middle of the night. Let me tell you that I never knew hospital food could taste so good.
Our lives really seemed to revolve around food for those 2 weeks. While I was eating my way to a pastry induced stupor and packing on the pounds, so were the babies. Eventually, both girls got to the point where they were able to take most of their feeds through their bottles. Once they were able to take all of their feeds through their bottles and maintain and gain weight, we were able to take them home. A was discharged first, 10 days after she was admitted. MJ was discharged 2 days later, exactly 14 days after being admitted. They had come such a long way from when we had first got there. They didn’t look skeletal or as fragile. They were still tiny, but not as scary as they were before. It was such a great feeling being able to get out of there and take them home, but I’ll fully admit I was scared too.
M left to go back “home” 2 days after the girls came home from the hospital. W and CB had gotten so used to my parents taking care of them and their dad being around and they had a bit of a hard time transitioning back to life with just mommy, and then adjusting to having 2 little babies who took up everyone’s time and attention. They certainly have had their moments but I can honestly say they are such great kids and have handled this transition time a billion times better than I thought they would. I was seriously prepared to get Super Nanny all up in our business and come regulate but save for a few days, there hasn't really been a need.
The past 7 weeks have essentially been out of control but we have been managing. We are finally getting into a routine and I am getting brave enough to take the babies out by myself, and once I even took all 4 kids out without any help. MJ is suffering from some pretty wicked reflux, which makes getting anything done nearly impossible and is part of the reason it has taken me 3 weeks to get this post done. If she’s awake, chances are good she is screaming and wants to be held. If she’s asleep, chances are good she’ll be up within 20 minutes because she’s choked on stomach acid and needs to be soothed back to sleep. A is typically laid back but has her reflux issues too. Their little personalities are starting to emerge now and it is really interesting to see how much the temperaments they had in the womb are like the temperaments they have now.
Life with twins is interesting, to say the least. These two little babies have brought me to my knees in more ways than one and have taught me more about life and love than I ever imagined they could in these short 10 weeks. I am so incredibly grateful to be blessed with such amazing children and I can’t wait to see where this road leads.
There we were, 2 completely sleep deprived parents, trying desperately to keep the babies happy while staying awake and trying not to be totally pissed off that we had been waiting for what seemed like forever and had yet to even have a doctor poke their head through the curtain. Finally, after 5 hours I got angry and went to see what the heck was going on. Apparently someone decided it would be a great idea to drive their car in front of a train so most of the doctors were called to that trauma and the other doctors were seeing the other patients. 4 day old preemie throwing up blood? Not a priority. As we hit hour 6 of waiting, we decided to we had enough and were going to leave. I didn't want to wait any longer only to have an ER doctor to tell us MJ was fine and to follow up with our pediatrician in the morning. We already had a scheduled appointment with our doc at 10 that morning, so it wasn't even worth waiting anymore.
After getting about an hour of sleep, we took the girls to their appointment. The doctor wasn't really concerned about the blood in MJ's spit up (he figured it was probably blood she had swallowed during the delivery) but she had lost almost a pound from her birth weight and the doctor decided she needed to be admitted to the hospital to get her fluids and put her under the lights for her jaundice. Because our doctors don't have privileges at our hometown hospital, we had to decide if we wanted to go be admitted to a hospital where our doctors had privileges and could do a direct admit, which meant being at a hospital over an hour away from our house, or going back to the hospital where they were born, and where we had just left 6 hours earlier. That meant we would have to go BACK to the ER to be admitted. Not wanting to spend anymore time in the ER, we chose to go to the hospital over an hour away, figuring we'd only be there a couple of days, at the most.
Well, those couple of days ended up being 2 full weeks. The first few days we were there, MJ was put under the lights and was given IV nutrients. On the third day we were there, A was weighed and found that she, too, had dropped a pound from her birth weight, so she was also admitted. Both babies were given feeding tubes through their nose and we proceeded to embark on a strict feeding schedule for them. Every 3 hours they were to be fed, every other time through the feeding tube. They were "allowed" to eat from the bottle for 20 minutes for the feeds that weren't given through the tube. After those 20 minutes, whatever was left would be given through the tube. The idea was to make it so they didn't expend more calories than they were taking in, which was the problem with them actually breastfeeding.
So this meant I got to become best friends with the breast pump. There were 7 pumps on the floor, all named after the Seven Dwarfs. I got Doc, although there were many days that I should have had Grumpy or Sleepy. Every 2 hours I was to pump, and pump and pump. Most days I ended up pumping 1 out of every 2 hours. Lather, rinse, repeat. And with all the pumping came all of the pain. Within 2 days I had a raging case of mastitis that were caused by plugged ducts. And then came the milk blisters that were so bad even the Lactation Consultant cringed when she saw them. I ended up having to drive all the way back to see one of my doctors (not the one who delivered the babies) only to have him tell me that it didn’t look “that bad” and that I should just put Desitin on my breasts and they would heal right up. WHAT?! Worst. Advice. Ever.
I seriously started to feel like I was a vending machine and all I was good for was dispensing milk for the babies. Everyone else seemed to be making all of the decisions for M and me about our kids. It was so frustrating being told what I could and couldn't do with my babies and being told what we were going to do for them and when. We didn't get much input or say in anything, and when we did, and didn't do what they wanted us to do, they would stage an intervention to try to change our minds.
It was a really frustrating feeling. I felt almost detached from my babies, even though they never really left my side, except for the few times I had run to the store. The nurses, God bless them, meant well but there were times I just wanted to scream because I felt they had over stepped their boundaries. Like the time one nurse insisted on taking MJ out of the room without my knowledge while I was sleeping and proceeded to feed her 75mL for 2 feeds, when she had barely taken 55mL per feed on a regular basis. So when the nurse's shift ended, I ended up with an extremely over fed and fussy baby who screamed in pain the entire day.
We did have some amazing nurses though. They quickly became our outlet whether they liked it or not. Since all the babies did all day was literally eat and sleep, M and I didn't really have anything to do. And a bored M and a bored Joanna combined is not a pretty thing. Keep in mind that in the 5 years M and I have been married, we have only lived in the same house for 24 non-consecutive months, the most being 8. And in that time, we rarely, if ever, were in the same room for more than a couple of hours. So to be cooped up in a 12x16 foot room for days on end was not really a good thing for us. Or maybe it was. It was like marriage boot camp because we got to figure out how to live with each other again and when we weren’t driving each other crazy, remember that we really do enjoy each other’s company.
To pass the time, M would do his cross word puzzles (big nerd) and I would eat. And eat, and eat and eat and eat. I swear the second the babies were born I started eating and didn’t stop. I guess I was making up for the previous 9 months where I could hardly eat and when I did, hardly keep anything down. I ate so much in the 2 weeks the babies were in the hospital, it was ridiculous. I ate things I didn’t even like, like chocolate cake (3 times a day), cookies (at least a package a day), muffins and pastries… oh the pastries. They became an obsessive addiction. I HAD to have at least one in the morning, and then one in the afternoon. There was hell to pay if M didn’t make it down to the coffee cart in the lobby to get me a pastry before it closed at 2. Apple, berry, cheese, whatever. I had to have that preservative and saturated fat filled goodness or I was really going to die. And that was on top of the 4 solid meals and umpteen snacks I ate during the day too. The nurses got to the point where they would just go and get me a tray with a sandwich, cake, veggies fruit and soup for my midnight snack before I even asked because they knew I was going to be crying for it in the middle of the night. Let me tell you that I never knew hospital food could taste so good.
Our lives really seemed to revolve around food for those 2 weeks. While I was eating my way to a pastry induced stupor and packing on the pounds, so were the babies. Eventually, both girls got to the point where they were able to take most of their feeds through their bottles. Once they were able to take all of their feeds through their bottles and maintain and gain weight, we were able to take them home. A was discharged first, 10 days after she was admitted. MJ was discharged 2 days later, exactly 14 days after being admitted. They had come such a long way from when we had first got there. They didn’t look skeletal or as fragile. They were still tiny, but not as scary as they were before. It was such a great feeling being able to get out of there and take them home, but I’ll fully admit I was scared too.
M left to go back “home” 2 days after the girls came home from the hospital. W and CB had gotten so used to my parents taking care of them and their dad being around and they had a bit of a hard time transitioning back to life with just mommy, and then adjusting to having 2 little babies who took up everyone’s time and attention. They certainly have had their moments but I can honestly say they are such great kids and have handled this transition time a billion times better than I thought they would. I was seriously prepared to get Super Nanny all up in our business and come regulate but save for a few days, there hasn't really been a need.
The past 7 weeks have essentially been out of control but we have been managing. We are finally getting into a routine and I am getting brave enough to take the babies out by myself, and once I even took all 4 kids out without any help. MJ is suffering from some pretty wicked reflux, which makes getting anything done nearly impossible and is part of the reason it has taken me 3 weeks to get this post done. If she’s awake, chances are good she is screaming and wants to be held. If she’s asleep, chances are good she’ll be up within 20 minutes because she’s choked on stomach acid and needs to be soothed back to sleep. A is typically laid back but has her reflux issues too. Their little personalities are starting to emerge now and it is really interesting to see how much the temperaments they had in the womb are like the temperaments they have now.
Life with twins is interesting, to say the least. These two little babies have brought me to my knees in more ways than one and have taught me more about life and love than I ever imagined they could in these short 10 weeks. I am so incredibly grateful to be blessed with such amazing children and I can’t wait to see where this road leads.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
long story, the birth (unmedicated vaginal birth of twins)
**Disclaimer-- this is long, and contains some stuff that could be considered to be gross by some. So if you get queasy when hearing about birth or internal body parts, or you could never look me in the eye again after hearing about the workings of my internal body parts, you might not want to read this.**
After we left my appointment we went straight to the hospital. It took a bazillion years to find a parking space and of course and when we finally did it was like 17 miles away from the entrance. We off loaded all of the hospital bags and made the hike in, all the while dodging the stares of strangers and trying to ignore their comments. I went to check in at the security desk and the guard kept asking me why I was there. I’m in labor, duh! Since we had left the office the adrenaline had kicked in and I wasn’t feeling any discomfort, or contractions for that matter so I guess I had lost “the look”. We waited about 20 minutes in the waiting room and then were finally sent back to the L&D rooms.
The nurse lead me to my room and I changed into that dumb hospital gown and did the requisite peeing in the cup. Now, asking a woman who is nearly 36 weeks pregnant with twins to pee in a cup is like asking her to do a gold medal worthy gymnastics routine. It is practically impossible to pee in a cup when you are that huge. Pretty much all you can do is put that cup where you think it should go and pray for the best. It is all in God’s hands at that point. The only good thing about the process is that if you do miss, you are going to have to pee again in about 8 seconds so you can try again.
Once that was done I went to the bed and got hooked up to the monitors. There was only one monitor to track a heartbeat, so I asked the nurse to get another one and she was like, Why, are you having twins??? Um, yes. Oh! Well that changes things. Um, yes. We found the babies heartbeats and they looked perfect and then the nurse asked me how far I was progressed at the doctor’s office. When I told her she said he must have been wrong because there was no way I was that far along and looking that good/ happy so she was going to double check. Knock yourself out. When she checked me her eyebrows got really high and she said I was about 6 cms and 100% effaced. Even I was surprised by that because I really wasn’t feeling any pain and my contractions were minor, at best.
It was decided that we would hold off on my IV as long as possible because, well, ew! I didn’t want it but knew it was pretty much non negotiable because I needed IV antibiotics. I knew I could refuse them, but I chose not to. I also knew I could refuse general fluids but chose not to because 1, it was 106 degrees outside and I felt a little dehydrated and 2, should something go wrong and I need an epidural, I wanted the fluids in place so I didn’t have to wait. The nurse was so awesome about everything and truthfully was one of my angels that day. Never once did she ask if I wanted pain meds, she didn’t try to push anything on me, she just trusted me to know what I needed, when I needed it and followed my lead.
The doc on call ended up being my favorite doctor, thankfully. He is the most laid back, chill guy I have ever met. Something about him is creepily calming and comforting. He finally came in about an hour after we got there and the nurse kept trying to convince him that I really was 6 cms. He didn’t believe her so he checked me and found that I was 7 cms at that point. I certainly didn’t feel like I was 7cms. The entire time I was talking and laughing and cracking jokes bad jokes... it was awesome.
The IV antibiotics were started and we all decided to sit back and let my body do what it needed to do. Typically when I’m in labor I want to be up and moving around, changing positions at least every 20 minutes to move things along. This time I didn’t feel any desire to get out of bed. I was perfectly comfortable and content lying in bed. With W’s labor I was forced to be in bed because his heart rate would decelerate so much with every contraction and it was the worst pain I have ever felt. This time I hardly felt any pain. I also had a feeling that if I was up and moving, one or both babies would start having heart decels and I didn’t want to give the doctor any reason to call for a c-section. At one point I did change positions in the bed and baby B’s heart rate dropped dramatically so I immediately moved back and she was fine again.
Close to an hour after the IV was started the doctor came in to check me again. From my looks, no one believed I was in active labor, still. But I was 8 cms so I really was in active labor, well, technically transition. In my previous labors things always got really intense starting at 7 cms. I’d get shaky and start throwing up, hot and cold, cranky and need a lot of support. At that point I would always have to do focused breathing through contractions and it would take a lot of work and concentration to stay one step ahead of the pain. I was anticipating that to happen again so I told M to get the barf bag ready and to put on the iPod so I could get into my labor space. It was almost as if I was disconnected from my labor. I didn’t feel like I was really doing anything. There were about 3 contractions I actually had to close my eyes and deep breathe through, but I honestly wasn’t feeling any pain or much discomfort and that was starting to worry me. Leave it to me to freak out about something so wonderful.
The nurse came in again and asked me how I was feeling, I told her a little bit too good. She told me she wished she had a video camera so she could film me because my labor should be shown to childbirth classes. She had never seen someone that far progressed, being that calm and collected. Even the doctor was a bit confused about if I was actually progressing and I kept hearing the 2 of them talking about what they should do. The doc checked me again and found I was nearly 9cms, less than 30 minutes after he had last checked. All of us were a little concerned that transition was really going to hit out of the blue and we were going to have a “running through the halls to the operating room while I’m pushing “ scenario on our hands. I really didn’t want Baby A to be born in the hallway so we decided to break Baby A’s water and head to the OR. I wanted her bag broken because I really didn’t want to be laboring in the OR for a long time and I knew that once that bag was broken she’d be coming soon.
As we headed to the OR I felt a little bit like a celebrity. All of the nurses were standing around, trying to get a good look. I had apparently been the talk of the nurses station and they wanted to see if it was really true that I was 9 cms and hadn’t made even a groan. It was kind of nice to hear all of their comments at that point because the contractions were getting a lot stronger and I was really starting to feel them. I think most of the discomfort was really from being banged into doors and walls along the way though. Those birthing beds are too darn big to be pushed through the halls. We finally got to the OR and after making sure I didn’t have whiplash I opened my eyes and realized this was actually going to happen. Everything I had stressed over was going to take place in a matter of minutes.
The OR was cold, Lord was it cold. It was scary and sterile and made me want to wear my sunglasses because it was so bright. Up until then everything had been really calm and peaceful, but something about the OR makes everyone stressed out and kind of cranky. Suddenly there were about 4 other people in the room, trying to make sure everything was set up. The nurses were arguing over if they should break down the operating table for the birth now or later, there were other people walking around trying to find things, someone was telling me to move to the operating table while another person was telling me not to. Dudes, just figure it out and let’s get on with the show.
I was finally allowed to move to the operating table (oh joy!) and the contractions immediately started to feel worse but nothing like my typical transition contractions. That table was hard and I had to lay flat on my back, besides a small hard wedge that was placed under my right side. They offered me a pillow but they might as well have put a piece of cardboard under my head because it was so thin. I started to feel pushy so I told the nurse and she told someone else to go get the doctor. The doc was nowhere to be found at that point which really made everyone in the room nervous. They finally found him and he checked me and said I needed another 15 minutes and then it would be go time.
Those next few contractions were definitely the most intense I had all day, but I was still strangely coherent and not really in pain. They were probably the worst because at that point Pitocin had been turned on to keep my uterus contracting after Baby A was born. I never thought I would have agreed to Pitocin but I knew that I would probably not get to put my babies to the breast right after they were born to help keep the uterus contracting and from hemorrhaging so the pit was the right choice. I think I said half a cuss word as I was feeling the baby move all the way down and get in position to be born but that was the most vocal I got. I don’t know if it was actually 15 minutes from when the doc had last checked me or if it was sooner but it wasn’t long before I felt that glorious urge to push, and there was no stopping it.
Baby A was born after a few pushes. No one counted, no one cheered, no one told me how to push, it was perfect. When she was born I remember thinking she was so small and had a great cry, but I didn’t get to actually see her face. She was passed to my nurse who started checking her over, who then had to pass her to the NICU nurses because the doctor needed her help, urgently.
My worst fear had come true. Baby B had flipped breech as soon as her sister was born and she did it fast too. And the kind of breech she was made it impossible for her to be born, even if the doctor was willing to do a breech extraction. He asked for an ultrasound machine, which seemed like it took FOREVER to get there, and then the fun began. Everything I had read about twin births said that the worst pain you would ever feel in your life would take place if you had to have a version to turn the second baby without an epidural. And there I was, facing a version without an epidural. When I made the decision not to have an epidural I was very much aware of the possibility of the pain but I figured I would rather endure 5-10 minutes of intense pain than deal with all of the risks and side effects associated with an epidural through an entire labor.
Somewhere between talking to Baby B and begging her to turn and the doctor beginning the version, I went into some kind of freaky trance. I didn’t feel pain, just a lot of pressure. I spent the next 15 minutes fully aware of everything that was going on, but in a weird way. It was almost like it was happening to someone else and I was just watching.
There were about 5 hands on my belly, some holding the space where baby A had been, others moving the butt and others moving the head. The doctor was holding the ultrasound wand thingamajig with one hand and internally moving the baby while trying to keep her cord from prolapsing with the other. That was quite possibly the weirdest feeling I have ever felt. It was one of those things that made me think, “Is he really doing this? Oh, yeah, his hand really is IN my uterus right now. Ok.” And then he kept asking for longer gloves… Seriously, are you going to reach up there and pull my teeth? If I wanted my teeth pulled I would have gone to my dentist! What do you need longer gloves for?! And then all I could really think about at that point was that he was eventually going to ask for the gloves that dairy farmers use when cows are born. If you grow up where I am from, it is pretty much mandatory that you see a cow being born by the time you are in 5th grade. It's like a right of passage. The picture that always sticks in your head after you see a cow being born is of the farmer with a plastic glove all the way to his shoulder, pulling the baby cow out from inside the mama cow. And that is what I was thinking of the last 5 minutes of the version. What a lovely image to have in my head right before the birth of my daughter, no?
Thankfully, he didn’t need gloves that went up to his shoulder, although the last pair did come up to his elbow. They had moved baby B into position to be born in about 15 minutes. But then, her heart rate dropped. Well, more like plunged and wasn’t showing any signs of recovering. She needed to be born right then, but that wasn’t going to be possible. Little Miss Baby B had moved both hands above her head, and well, babies can’t really come out that way. I will never forget the look in the doctor’s eyes when he looked at me and told me he had to do a c-section. He knew how much I didn’t want one and how freaked out I was about it. I knew that he didn’t want to give me one and had tried everything possible to get Baby B to be born vaginally. There just weren’t any other options.
The anesthesiologist had been waiting outside and practically ran in the room when he heard the words “c-section”. The room erupted into chaos. Monitors were being put all over my chest, people were pulling things from cupboards and drawers and opening the surgical tools, other people were yelling instructions and then having to repeat them because no one was listening. It was nuts. And there I was, laying on that cold cold table with a billion thoughts running through my head. Everything was happening so fast and there was so much to say. I was trying to make sure that Baby A was ok, tell M that he had better not name the babies before I came out of the general anesthesia and that I loved him, tell the doctor to do a double suture when he stitched up my incision just incase we wanted to have another baby in the very distant future so I would have a better chance at having a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), curse at the life insurance company for denying me coverage just 3 weeks earlier for “excessive weight gain over the past year” because I didn’t know if something was going to go wrong or how I was going to react to the anesthesia and there was no way M was going to be able to afford daycare for 4 kids if I suddenly kicked the bucket… and trying not to show that I was completely out of my mind freaked out that this was going to happen. It was a very lonely place to be.
While everyone was prepping for the c-section, the doctor had kept his hand inside my uterus to keep the cord from coming down and the ultrasound wand thing on my belly to continue to monitor the baby. I remember laughing because he thought it was so cool that he could see his fingers on the ultrasound as he was holding Baby B in place. I am so thankful he happened to mention that little discovery because it lightened the mood in the room and took some of the focus off of all of the scary stuff.
The anesthesiologist ordered that the Pitocin be turned off and started mixing his magic potions to put me under. And all of the sudden my doctor told everyone to stop and back off. He saw that Baby B had moved her hands and told me he was going to pull her down and I was going to push her out… quickly. Then chaos erupted again. The doctor ordered for the pit to be turned back on, the anesthesiologist was asking what the heck was going on, I was trying to get my mind out of the fearful state and back into the “let’s get down to business” state, and the nurses were trying to put all of the things they needed for a vaginal birth back in place. No more than 30 seconds and 2 pushes later, Baby B was born, just 17 minutes after her sister. No drugs, no c-section, no noise. It was just as perfect as when Baby A was born.
Now, I’m not one to typically be like, "The doctor saved me” when it comes to birth. I normally can’t stand it when people say that, but this time it was true. He really did save me from something that I did not want and made it so my babies were born safe and healthy and that I was safe and healthy too. I will forever be grateful to him for trying so hard to give me what I needed and respecting me and my knowledge and trusting me and my body to do what it needed to do to birth these babies. Never once did he look down on or question my choices, he never made me feel like an idiot or forced me into anything. He didn't have to do what he did. When she turned breech he could have said game over and not have even tried to flip her, but he didn't. Instead he fought for me and I think he learned a lot along the way, too. As he was leaving the Operating Room he came and shook my hand and told me he didn't think he could do what he just did. I told him I wasn't sure if I should be flattered or frightened, but I knew what he meant. The next morning when he came to check on me and we chatted about the birth. I told him that was the easiest labor I had ever had, or seen, and he said, "Really? Because that was, by far, one of the most harrowing deliveries I have ever done." Oh crap! I didn't think it was that bad. And that right there is the beauty of endorphins.
After Baby B was born and I was cleaned up I finally got to see my precious babies. While the nurses were examining the placentas I had asked them to order a test to see if the babies were identical. Even though they had 2 separate sacs and placentas, there was still a 25% chance they could be identical. But once I saw the babies I told the nurses to scratch that because these babies were in no way identical. I couldn’t believe how different they looked! It was sort of surreal to be holding my babies. I had stressed so much about their pregnancy and delivery and there they were. In the course of 4 hours, the focus of the past 8 months had actually taken place and it was over. When you hold one baby in your arms for the first time it’s a pretty intense feeling but to hold 2? It is indescribable. A combination of wow! and holy crap they are both mine! with a bunch of other ooey gooey mushy stuff thrown in.
During the chaos of the delivery, somehow the bed I had labored in had been lost and my labor room was given away. Apparently while I was in the later stages of labor everyone and their sister decided to go into labor too and all of the rooms filled up. So I got to go recover in the surgical recovery room, on a gurney. At that point I almost asked for an epidural because those gurneys aren’t so comfortable. Thankfully I was on a birth high so I didn't really care. We waited in the recovery room for about an hour while I scarfed down some hospital food and the nurse did her charting. She kept saying over and over that she couldn’t believe I had an unmedicated vaginal birth of twins and that I was a very rare case in that hospital.
The babies were weighed and measured and then we noticed Baby A was turning a not so nice shade of gray so both babies were sent to the nursery to be monitored. Then I was finally moved to my postpartum room. The postpartum floor was completely full so I got to spend the next 2 days on the pediatrics floor. That actually worked to our advantage because we got a private room instead of having to share. The babies were brought back to me after about 3 hours and I finally got to hold them and get a really good look at them. Then the Great Name Debate of 2009 began. It took us almost 36 hours and a few tears to name them, but we finally settled on 2 pretty much perfect names.
W and CB got to meet their sisters the morning after they were born. CB had always been my little tiny baby but when I saw her that morning I couldn’t believe how big she really was. W seemed to have turned from a little kid to a little man over night too. They were both so excited to see their new sisters it was really sweet how they wanted to look at their little toes and hold the babies. Seeing my 4 kids all together for the first time was a little overwhelming, to say the least.
We were discharged almost 48 hours after the girls were born, even though they were born a little early at 35 weeks, 6 days. **NOTE** we now know MJ was actually born late in the 34th week and A was born early in the 35th week-- 2 different conception dates and my original due date was off by over a week** They appeared to be doing fine and they seemed to be breastfeeding well so the on call pediatrician felt ok letting us go, as long as we followed up with our regular pediatrician the next day. The first day and night home were a little overwhelming but we managed, somehow. The next day I noticed MJ was having a little difficulty with some fluid in her stomach and she was spitting up more. Then the second night we were home, while I was feeding her, I heard her stomach rumble and then she had the biggest spit up I had ever seen from a baby that small. M took her to the bathroom to change her and came back out to ask me if she had ever had blood in her spit up before because there was brownish blood all over her little pajamas. And in that moment, my happy little world disappeared and I freaked. Less than an hour later, we were back at the hospital where they were born, heading into the ER.
(more to come…)
After we left my appointment we went straight to the hospital. It took a bazillion years to find a parking space and of course and when we finally did it was like 17 miles away from the entrance. We off loaded all of the hospital bags and made the hike in, all the while dodging the stares of strangers and trying to ignore their comments. I went to check in at the security desk and the guard kept asking me why I was there. I’m in labor, duh! Since we had left the office the adrenaline had kicked in and I wasn’t feeling any discomfort, or contractions for that matter so I guess I had lost “the look”. We waited about 20 minutes in the waiting room and then were finally sent back to the L&D rooms.
The nurse lead me to my room and I changed into that dumb hospital gown and did the requisite peeing in the cup. Now, asking a woman who is nearly 36 weeks pregnant with twins to pee in a cup is like asking her to do a gold medal worthy gymnastics routine. It is practically impossible to pee in a cup when you are that huge. Pretty much all you can do is put that cup where you think it should go and pray for the best. It is all in God’s hands at that point. The only good thing about the process is that if you do miss, you are going to have to pee again in about 8 seconds so you can try again.
Once that was done I went to the bed and got hooked up to the monitors. There was only one monitor to track a heartbeat, so I asked the nurse to get another one and she was like, Why, are you having twins??? Um, yes. Oh! Well that changes things. Um, yes. We found the babies heartbeats and they looked perfect and then the nurse asked me how far I was progressed at the doctor’s office. When I told her she said he must have been wrong because there was no way I was that far along and looking that good/ happy so she was going to double check. Knock yourself out. When she checked me her eyebrows got really high and she said I was about 6 cms and 100% effaced. Even I was surprised by that because I really wasn’t feeling any pain and my contractions were minor, at best.
It was decided that we would hold off on my IV as long as possible because, well, ew! I didn’t want it but knew it was pretty much non negotiable because I needed IV antibiotics. I knew I could refuse them, but I chose not to. I also knew I could refuse general fluids but chose not to because 1, it was 106 degrees outside and I felt a little dehydrated and 2, should something go wrong and I need an epidural, I wanted the fluids in place so I didn’t have to wait. The nurse was so awesome about everything and truthfully was one of my angels that day. Never once did she ask if I wanted pain meds, she didn’t try to push anything on me, she just trusted me to know what I needed, when I needed it and followed my lead.
The doc on call ended up being my favorite doctor, thankfully. He is the most laid back, chill guy I have ever met. Something about him is creepily calming and comforting. He finally came in about an hour after we got there and the nurse kept trying to convince him that I really was 6 cms. He didn’t believe her so he checked me and found that I was 7 cms at that point. I certainly didn’t feel like I was 7cms. The entire time I was talking and laughing and cracking jokes bad jokes... it was awesome.
The IV antibiotics were started and we all decided to sit back and let my body do what it needed to do. Typically when I’m in labor I want to be up and moving around, changing positions at least every 20 minutes to move things along. This time I didn’t feel any desire to get out of bed. I was perfectly comfortable and content lying in bed. With W’s labor I was forced to be in bed because his heart rate would decelerate so much with every contraction and it was the worst pain I have ever felt. This time I hardly felt any pain. I also had a feeling that if I was up and moving, one or both babies would start having heart decels and I didn’t want to give the doctor any reason to call for a c-section. At one point I did change positions in the bed and baby B’s heart rate dropped dramatically so I immediately moved back and she was fine again.
Close to an hour after the IV was started the doctor came in to check me again. From my looks, no one believed I was in active labor, still. But I was 8 cms so I really was in active labor, well, technically transition. In my previous labors things always got really intense starting at 7 cms. I’d get shaky and start throwing up, hot and cold, cranky and need a lot of support. At that point I would always have to do focused breathing through contractions and it would take a lot of work and concentration to stay one step ahead of the pain. I was anticipating that to happen again so I told M to get the barf bag ready and to put on the iPod so I could get into my labor space. It was almost as if I was disconnected from my labor. I didn’t feel like I was really doing anything. There were about 3 contractions I actually had to close my eyes and deep breathe through, but I honestly wasn’t feeling any pain or much discomfort and that was starting to worry me. Leave it to me to freak out about something so wonderful.
The nurse came in again and asked me how I was feeling, I told her a little bit too good. She told me she wished she had a video camera so she could film me because my labor should be shown to childbirth classes. She had never seen someone that far progressed, being that calm and collected. Even the doctor was a bit confused about if I was actually progressing and I kept hearing the 2 of them talking about what they should do. The doc checked me again and found I was nearly 9cms, less than 30 minutes after he had last checked. All of us were a little concerned that transition was really going to hit out of the blue and we were going to have a “running through the halls to the operating room while I’m pushing “ scenario on our hands. I really didn’t want Baby A to be born in the hallway so we decided to break Baby A’s water and head to the OR. I wanted her bag broken because I really didn’t want to be laboring in the OR for a long time and I knew that once that bag was broken she’d be coming soon.
As we headed to the OR I felt a little bit like a celebrity. All of the nurses were standing around, trying to get a good look. I had apparently been the talk of the nurses station and they wanted to see if it was really true that I was 9 cms and hadn’t made even a groan. It was kind of nice to hear all of their comments at that point because the contractions were getting a lot stronger and I was really starting to feel them. I think most of the discomfort was really from being banged into doors and walls along the way though. Those birthing beds are too darn big to be pushed through the halls. We finally got to the OR and after making sure I didn’t have whiplash I opened my eyes and realized this was actually going to happen. Everything I had stressed over was going to take place in a matter of minutes.
The OR was cold, Lord was it cold. It was scary and sterile and made me want to wear my sunglasses because it was so bright. Up until then everything had been really calm and peaceful, but something about the OR makes everyone stressed out and kind of cranky. Suddenly there were about 4 other people in the room, trying to make sure everything was set up. The nurses were arguing over if they should break down the operating table for the birth now or later, there were other people walking around trying to find things, someone was telling me to move to the operating table while another person was telling me not to. Dudes, just figure it out and let’s get on with the show.
I was finally allowed to move to the operating table (oh joy!) and the contractions immediately started to feel worse but nothing like my typical transition contractions. That table was hard and I had to lay flat on my back, besides a small hard wedge that was placed under my right side. They offered me a pillow but they might as well have put a piece of cardboard under my head because it was so thin. I started to feel pushy so I told the nurse and she told someone else to go get the doctor. The doc was nowhere to be found at that point which really made everyone in the room nervous. They finally found him and he checked me and said I needed another 15 minutes and then it would be go time.
Those next few contractions were definitely the most intense I had all day, but I was still strangely coherent and not really in pain. They were probably the worst because at that point Pitocin had been turned on to keep my uterus contracting after Baby A was born. I never thought I would have agreed to Pitocin but I knew that I would probably not get to put my babies to the breast right after they were born to help keep the uterus contracting and from hemorrhaging so the pit was the right choice. I think I said half a cuss word as I was feeling the baby move all the way down and get in position to be born but that was the most vocal I got. I don’t know if it was actually 15 minutes from when the doc had last checked me or if it was sooner but it wasn’t long before I felt that glorious urge to push, and there was no stopping it.
Baby A was born after a few pushes. No one counted, no one cheered, no one told me how to push, it was perfect. When she was born I remember thinking she was so small and had a great cry, but I didn’t get to actually see her face. She was passed to my nurse who started checking her over, who then had to pass her to the NICU nurses because the doctor needed her help, urgently.
My worst fear had come true. Baby B had flipped breech as soon as her sister was born and she did it fast too. And the kind of breech she was made it impossible for her to be born, even if the doctor was willing to do a breech extraction. He asked for an ultrasound machine, which seemed like it took FOREVER to get there, and then the fun began. Everything I had read about twin births said that the worst pain you would ever feel in your life would take place if you had to have a version to turn the second baby without an epidural. And there I was, facing a version without an epidural. When I made the decision not to have an epidural I was very much aware of the possibility of the pain but I figured I would rather endure 5-10 minutes of intense pain than deal with all of the risks and side effects associated with an epidural through an entire labor.
Somewhere between talking to Baby B and begging her to turn and the doctor beginning the version, I went into some kind of freaky trance. I didn’t feel pain, just a lot of pressure. I spent the next 15 minutes fully aware of everything that was going on, but in a weird way. It was almost like it was happening to someone else and I was just watching.
There were about 5 hands on my belly, some holding the space where baby A had been, others moving the butt and others moving the head. The doctor was holding the ultrasound wand thingamajig with one hand and internally moving the baby while trying to keep her cord from prolapsing with the other. That was quite possibly the weirdest feeling I have ever felt. It was one of those things that made me think, “Is he really doing this? Oh, yeah, his hand really is IN my uterus right now. Ok.” And then he kept asking for longer gloves… Seriously, are you going to reach up there and pull my teeth? If I wanted my teeth pulled I would have gone to my dentist! What do you need longer gloves for?! And then all I could really think about at that point was that he was eventually going to ask for the gloves that dairy farmers use when cows are born. If you grow up where I am from, it is pretty much mandatory that you see a cow being born by the time you are in 5th grade. It's like a right of passage. The picture that always sticks in your head after you see a cow being born is of the farmer with a plastic glove all the way to his shoulder, pulling the baby cow out from inside the mama cow. And that is what I was thinking of the last 5 minutes of the version. What a lovely image to have in my head right before the birth of my daughter, no?
Thankfully, he didn’t need gloves that went up to his shoulder, although the last pair did come up to his elbow. They had moved baby B into position to be born in about 15 minutes. But then, her heart rate dropped. Well, more like plunged and wasn’t showing any signs of recovering. She needed to be born right then, but that wasn’t going to be possible. Little Miss Baby B had moved both hands above her head, and well, babies can’t really come out that way. I will never forget the look in the doctor’s eyes when he looked at me and told me he had to do a c-section. He knew how much I didn’t want one and how freaked out I was about it. I knew that he didn’t want to give me one and had tried everything possible to get Baby B to be born vaginally. There just weren’t any other options.
The anesthesiologist had been waiting outside and practically ran in the room when he heard the words “c-section”. The room erupted into chaos. Monitors were being put all over my chest, people were pulling things from cupboards and drawers and opening the surgical tools, other people were yelling instructions and then having to repeat them because no one was listening. It was nuts. And there I was, laying on that cold cold table with a billion thoughts running through my head. Everything was happening so fast and there was so much to say. I was trying to make sure that Baby A was ok, tell M that he had better not name the babies before I came out of the general anesthesia and that I loved him, tell the doctor to do a double suture when he stitched up my incision just incase we wanted to have another baby in the very distant future so I would have a better chance at having a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), curse at the life insurance company for denying me coverage just 3 weeks earlier for “excessive weight gain over the past year” because I didn’t know if something was going to go wrong or how I was going to react to the anesthesia and there was no way M was going to be able to afford daycare for 4 kids if I suddenly kicked the bucket… and trying not to show that I was completely out of my mind freaked out that this was going to happen. It was a very lonely place to be.
While everyone was prepping for the c-section, the doctor had kept his hand inside my uterus to keep the cord from coming down and the ultrasound wand thing on my belly to continue to monitor the baby. I remember laughing because he thought it was so cool that he could see his fingers on the ultrasound as he was holding Baby B in place. I am so thankful he happened to mention that little discovery because it lightened the mood in the room and took some of the focus off of all of the scary stuff.
The anesthesiologist ordered that the Pitocin be turned off and started mixing his magic potions to put me under. And all of the sudden my doctor told everyone to stop and back off. He saw that Baby B had moved her hands and told me he was going to pull her down and I was going to push her out… quickly. Then chaos erupted again. The doctor ordered for the pit to be turned back on, the anesthesiologist was asking what the heck was going on, I was trying to get my mind out of the fearful state and back into the “let’s get down to business” state, and the nurses were trying to put all of the things they needed for a vaginal birth back in place. No more than 30 seconds and 2 pushes later, Baby B was born, just 17 minutes after her sister. No drugs, no c-section, no noise. It was just as perfect as when Baby A was born.
Now, I’m not one to typically be like, "The doctor saved me” when it comes to birth. I normally can’t stand it when people say that, but this time it was true. He really did save me from something that I did not want and made it so my babies were born safe and healthy and that I was safe and healthy too. I will forever be grateful to him for trying so hard to give me what I needed and respecting me and my knowledge and trusting me and my body to do what it needed to do to birth these babies. Never once did he look down on or question my choices, he never made me feel like an idiot or forced me into anything. He didn't have to do what he did. When she turned breech he could have said game over and not have even tried to flip her, but he didn't. Instead he fought for me and I think he learned a lot along the way, too. As he was leaving the Operating Room he came and shook my hand and told me he didn't think he could do what he just did. I told him I wasn't sure if I should be flattered or frightened, but I knew what he meant. The next morning when he came to check on me and we chatted about the birth. I told him that was the easiest labor I had ever had, or seen, and he said, "Really? Because that was, by far, one of the most harrowing deliveries I have ever done." Oh crap! I didn't think it was that bad. And that right there is the beauty of endorphins.
After Baby B was born and I was cleaned up I finally got to see my precious babies. While the nurses were examining the placentas I had asked them to order a test to see if the babies were identical. Even though they had 2 separate sacs and placentas, there was still a 25% chance they could be identical. But once I saw the babies I told the nurses to scratch that because these babies were in no way identical. I couldn’t believe how different they looked! It was sort of surreal to be holding my babies. I had stressed so much about their pregnancy and delivery and there they were. In the course of 4 hours, the focus of the past 8 months had actually taken place and it was over. When you hold one baby in your arms for the first time it’s a pretty intense feeling but to hold 2? It is indescribable. A combination of wow! and holy crap they are both mine! with a bunch of other ooey gooey mushy stuff thrown in.
During the chaos of the delivery, somehow the bed I had labored in had been lost and my labor room was given away. Apparently while I was in the later stages of labor everyone and their sister decided to go into labor too and all of the rooms filled up. So I got to go recover in the surgical recovery room, on a gurney. At that point I almost asked for an epidural because those gurneys aren’t so comfortable. Thankfully I was on a birth high so I didn't really care. We waited in the recovery room for about an hour while I scarfed down some hospital food and the nurse did her charting. She kept saying over and over that she couldn’t believe I had an unmedicated vaginal birth of twins and that I was a very rare case in that hospital.
The babies were weighed and measured and then we noticed Baby A was turning a not so nice shade of gray so both babies were sent to the nursery to be monitored. Then I was finally moved to my postpartum room. The postpartum floor was completely full so I got to spend the next 2 days on the pediatrics floor. That actually worked to our advantage because we got a private room instead of having to share. The babies were brought back to me after about 3 hours and I finally got to hold them and get a really good look at them. Then the Great Name Debate of 2009 began. It took us almost 36 hours and a few tears to name them, but we finally settled on 2 pretty much perfect names.
W and CB got to meet their sisters the morning after they were born. CB had always been my little tiny baby but when I saw her that morning I couldn’t believe how big she really was. W seemed to have turned from a little kid to a little man over night too. They were both so excited to see their new sisters it was really sweet how they wanted to look at their little toes and hold the babies. Seeing my 4 kids all together for the first time was a little overwhelming, to say the least.
We were discharged almost 48 hours after the girls were born, even though they were born a little early at 35 weeks, 6 days. **NOTE** we now know MJ was actually born late in the 34th week and A was born early in the 35th week-- 2 different conception dates and my original due date was off by over a week** They appeared to be doing fine and they seemed to be breastfeeding well so the on call pediatrician felt ok letting us go, as long as we followed up with our regular pediatrician the next day. The first day and night home were a little overwhelming but we managed, somehow. The next day I noticed MJ was having a little difficulty with some fluid in her stomach and she was spitting up more. Then the second night we were home, while I was feeding her, I heard her stomach rumble and then she had the biggest spit up I had ever seen from a baby that small. M took her to the bathroom to change her and came back out to ask me if she had ever had blood in her spit up before because there was brownish blood all over her little pajamas. And in that moment, my happy little world disappeared and I freaked. Less than an hour later, we were back at the hospital where they were born, heading into the ER.
(more to come…)
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