Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Since I am too lazy to actually go to the store to get materials and my daughter has yet to take her permit test, whch the thought of gives me hives, hotflashes, and diarrhea, so I don't have a ride to the ER, I guess I will set up shop somewhere else..
Speaking of hot flashes AND ER visits, Meno Momma has let me come over and visit. She has hot flashes and stitches. Come join the partay and for heavens sake take some damn flowers or a get well card :)
If I actually do build something you probably won't hear about it. I will be too busy hanging my head in shame and trying to cover the hack job with a pillow or a throw, cause I'm clever like that!
Friday, September 20, 2013
Everyday is a party at my house but today Karen organized it and it starts right here...
As a reminder...
Me: They call me the real life Amy Duncan with a whistle...
1: teen girl, no other explanation necessary
2: tween girl, bookworm and practices her damn violin way too much
3: boy of 9 who trashes an expensive pair of shoes in less than 3 months...oh and he plays baseball ALL THE TIME
4: the male mini-me with less of a filter...
5: 4 year old, raspy voiced little man who has a Sean Connery accent and jumps and flips on the couch ALL DAY.
baby: girl named Carter. She is awesome....
If you were a fly on the wall you would have seen:
*Me get all giddy and excited when Carter hit the 10 pound mark, doubling her weight in just 4 months...(she was 10 weeks premature so this is a big deal)
|This is Miss Carter "Cupcake"|
*You would have seen my lose my voice and damn near my mind because of a weekend that had 4 softball games, 5 volleyball games (tournament), three baseball games and two practices....
*5: it feels like there is a booger on my arm.
Me: That's a scab.
The look on his face told me that he believed I was feeding him a line of BS
*You know it's going to be a long day when you start your menu planning and head straight to the alcohol section of circular.... It's going to be a really long day when menu plan at breakfast....
*I made a declaration... You may piss in the yard, but, I charge a dollar for every ammonia based watering... Took them a while to figure out what that meant. At least I got a soda, candy bar and my yard is no longer used as the hillbilly urinal....
*4 was goofing around sagging his pants, one of the kids pulled up his shirt showing poop all over his butt/back. Upon further investigation it was revealed that he had crapped in the yard. I went to find it so I could clean it up. I found the mother-load... There were 6 piles. SIX. I'm pretty sure half of Missouri heard me yell "there are 4 mother effing toilets in this house but you shit in the yard. Six times. Did you even wipe, you have got to me effing kidding me." Something to do with bodily secretions where they don't belong raises my blood pressure and the decibel of my voice...
*The baby blew out her diaper so I had to lay out the newspaper to change her. 5 looked at me like I had lost it... I took her over to the sink to finish the clean up and he asked why. I told him because that crap is spreading faster than germs on the community pencil in a kindergarten classroom. He just hung his head and walked away. Apparently you can even embarrass a 4 year old without an audience... I have reached new heights in motherhood folks!
*Kids were playing on the computer trying to spell out club penguin. They are 4 years old and aren't well versed in correct spelling. They got the club right. The penguin, not so much... I dived onto the desk saving their eyes from a lifetime of scarring, because the google recommendations aren't pretty when you forget the g and the u...
*I was outside w 5. I saw a cardinal bird and asked him if he thought it was. He said " is it red with an orange pecker"... I could breathe well enough to answer.
*I was at the computer, I felt something go down the back of my pants...
I dug in to see what 5 put in there.
That were spit soaked.
Be jealous of my awesome life...
Here's the rest of the party....
Baking in a Tornado Just A Little Nutty Follow Me Home... Stacy Sews and Schools The Sadder but Wiser Girl Menopausal Mother Moore Organized Mayhem The Insomniac's Dream The Momisodes
Spatulas on Parade Searching for Sanity The Rowdy Baker Writer B is me
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Twerk this. Twerk that. Twerk you.
I am sure you have heard of it. Seems like everyone is doing it. Hannah Montana is doing it. Even your college professor can probably manage to make it happen. It needs to stop.
Twerking is stupid.
If everyone realized that a mom of 6, who has been 29 more than once, can pull it off with a bottle-ish glass of wine. In her drinking jammies, to a song entitled "Gas Pedal"...Don't ask.
I am about as lame as they come, and I can see twerking is stupid.
Case in point...
I don't brush my hair.
I use the inside of my shirt collar to brush my teeth more often than I want to admit.
I believe that you can dress up yoga pants with a pair of rhinestone flip flops.
I wear granny panties two sizes too big, because my husband thought I looked *about the same size* as the model on the package.
I got rid of the trampoline because I peed my pants trying to climb on.
I tuck my baby belly leftovers in my pants before I stand up. Sometimes I announce it.
I have anti-cool written ALL OVER me. If I can do it, you shouldn't...
When I see someone twerking to me it looks like..
Someone with postpartum hemorrhoids trying to poop. Again, don't ask.
Like you are on a mission to deactivate the dingle berry.
Possibly trying to air out your raging herpes.
Or your tampon string broke off again and your religious preference doesn't allow you to go dig for it.
Maybe I shouldn't be so judgey.
I mean there is a time and a place for it.
Like after eating that questionable chicken, but BEFORE running like hell pretending that smell didn't come from your nethers.
Stop now. Just say no. Go ice your under-butt because you are going to have one heckofa bruise in the morning.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Thursday, September 5, 2013
This is the hardest thing I have ever had to write because every time I think about it, I still feel it. That sick in the pit of my stomach doesn't leave. I can look over at my sweet little lady and see that she is perfectly fine, but I still feel it...
A girl before her time....
At 28 weeks, they found out I had mild pre-eclampsia and gestational diabetes too. My vision became blurred and I couldn't see well enough to even watch tv. Somehow I still had this dumb faith that everything would be ok.
Two days before I hit the 30 week mark, a picc line was inserted. I didn't have to get a new IV every three days and not a second IV every time I had an abruption. It was a bittersweet time, I was glad that I was making it to the end but every time I saw my kids walk out the door I felt like I was getting kicked in the gut with a concrete boot. I cried everyday. I am the one who holds it together for everyone, and I just couldn't...
At 30 weeks, I woke up excited that I had made it to this big crucial point only to find that my water had broken. My heart sank. I looked at the big wet spot on the bed and felt so disappointed in myself. I had just felt that all that time away from my kids was for nothing. But at the same time, I had this overwhelming feeling like everything was going to be ok. I don't know what it was, but I didn't feel alone. I felt like we could do this...The docs gave me antibiotics to prevent infection and told me we would hold out as long as possible. I lasted 3 days on antibiotics.
3 days after my water broke I got sick. Real sick. I remember feeling hot and then cold. Like I had the flu and then falling asleep while Rachael Ray was on, it comes on at 10am. The next thing I know, I am looking up at a doctor from bed and she is telling me it is time to deliver, that was at 4pm. I remember being kind of confused and in extreme pain. The pain from moving off the hospital bed to the delivery bed was so excruciating that I cried. Full out tears, I remember the look on the nurse's face. It was a half pity half hopeful. I couldn't imagine knowing how bad the outcome of a situation could be and still smile and try to give someone hope that it will be ok. I don't think the gravity of the situation had hit me yet.
They gave me better antibiotics and pitocin, lots of pitocin at 5pm. I finally started to feel better sometime into the night, and then I looked around. I saw all the iv bags hung. The warming table with all the equipment ready, the nurses checking and re-checking that the oxygen was working. Shit had just gotten real. There was absolutely no turning back. This was going to happen. I was terrified and oddly calm. My contractions were 1-2 minutes apart and after 10 hours I was tired, not feeling 100% and the not knowing how things were going to turn out, I just couldn't take it. I opted for an epidural. 14 hours in, I was at 2cm and only my left side was numb. I wanted so badly to push that button for more medicine but I was scared it was bad for the baby.
About 17 hours in, people started coming up to visit. I was only at 3. It was nice to see two of my kiddos, it had been a few days. I loved seeing them. They looked to me to know if everything was going to be alright. I tried my hardest to hide my fear but I couldn't and that killed me. I felt horrible that I couldn't promise them that their sister would be ok, or that she would come home soon, or that she would live. I hated that I couldn't make those promises...
20 hours in I was at 4, everyone was getting hungry so they went to lunch. My mom went down to the bathroom and my friend stayed. Less than 15 minutes after being checked all the doctors ran in and my friend ran out to catch someone to come in with me. Literally 5 obstetricians and 4 or 5 nurses for me. There were several Pediatricians and NICU Nurses that were in the room, all of a sudden and they told me it was time. The baby's heart rate was dropping and it had to happen now. I remember my favorite doc, who came and checked on me first thing every morning before rounds, told me it was time to go. Her attending told me it had to be done in one push. I looked around and saw I had nobody and I looked at him (the attending) and he shook his head no, telling me we didn't have time to wait. By the look on his face I knew.
It was just me and her against the world.
They hooked the oxygen to my face and I took a deep breath, blew out my fears and held back my tears and I pushed with everything I had. It was one and done. I sat and listened.
I looked over to see this.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. People were asking questions and doing all sorts of things and it was a blur. I could see or hear nothing. Tubes were going in and out and monitors were going off.
And then it happened.
The smallest, muffled little cat meow.
I have seen first steps, first words, first days of kindergarten, homeruns, 5th graders graduate, awards and metals but nothing and I mean nothing makes you more proud as a parent as to hear your tiny, precious, too soon miracle cry.I cut the cord and then she was stable enough for this
I looked at her, she looked so tired and small and weak but she was alive and breathing and she looked right back. I told her
"You are no princess. You are fierce and I am going to hold your hand while you take over the world one breath at a time."
We had been through so much together as it was I gave her my name..
The first time the kids got to meet their sister.