Sunday night, Jimmy and I got into an argument. He is still out of town, so I went to bed mad and woke up mad.
He tried calling me several times the next morning to sort things out, but I ignored his calls because I just did not want to talk. And I am stubborn and will do things at my own pace.
For some reason, when he called me at 8:25ish, I answered. I don't know what made me do it because I had not yet decided to deal with our argument.
After saying a grumpy hello, I heard, "I'm getting worried. The nurse from my sister's school called and left me a voicemail, and I cannot get in touch with her."
So, I pushed thoughts of our argument to the back of my mind - although I had every intention of getting that resolved in due time - and was in the middle of advising him to call the front office when he said he had to go because her husband was calling him.
It's amazing how quickly a family emergency can bring a squabble into perspective. The argument no longer mattered. All that mattered was that something was wrong with a member of my family.
And that is when I began to pray.
When the phone rang again, Jimmy's voice came over the line in sobs. It took me a minute to get him calmed down to find out what was going on.
"She has had a seizure and is unconscious."
"Do you want me to come get you?"
"Let me get more information about what is going on."
"I'm going to go to work to find someone to cover for me."
When I got to work, Jimmy kept me updated on the information being funneled to him through his dad and his sister's husband.
His sister had had an aneurysm, but everyone told him that things seemed okay and to stay put (he was two hours away). They were transferring her to a different hospital that was better equipped to deal with this sort of thing.
My gut kept telling me, GO GET HIM! But he kept telling me to just wait and asked if I could just go up to the hospital and check on her.
So, I wrapped up work and was heading to my car to drive to the hospital when I got yet another phone call.
"They can't stop the bleeding. She is going in for brain surgery. They don't think she is going to make it. They told me to come home." He was sobbing once more.
Now, I do not know whether you have ever been tasked with a four hour round trip drive to get someone you love to the only close family member he has because there is a distinct possibility she may not survive brain surgery. I do not wish it on anyone. Ever.
Panic set in, and I kept thinking, what if she dies before I can get him to her?! What if he doesn't get to see her again or say goodbye?!
It was in this panic-fueled state that I decided that I had to do something. I called upon everyone I could think of to pray. And then I prayed aloud while sobbing and driving. Begging as if I were beseeching God for the life of one of my own children. "Please, do not take her from him. Please." The praying was constant. The fear was paralyzing. And the hurt did not ebb.
To be completely truthful, I was not just hurting for Jimmy. I was hurting because the thought of losing this woman was incredibly painful to me as well. She is the kind of person you just feel privileged to know. I kept thinking, she was just sitting on my couch yesterday. She was down in the floor playing with Vivian. I just saw her, and she was fine.
But from all accounts, things were not hopeful.
All I could do was drive and pray. It was during all this driving and praying and beginning to feel hopeless that I heard something very familiar.
"Be still and know that I am God."
It was somehow comforting. It was a helpless feeling to know I couldn't fix any of this for anyone. I couldn't fix the bleeding in her brain. I couldn't fix my fiance's broken heart. I couldn't fix the terror of her entire family and all of her friends. So, to be reminded that God was in control was comforting. I still did not know what His will would be, but I knew that He had an eye on things.
When I finally arrived at the hotel, Jimmy and I collapsed into each other and cried some more.
And then we received a glimmer of hope.
"Your dad just text me. She made it through surgery." Relief flooded me. In my head, Thank you, God. Thank you, God. Thank you. Please continue to keep her safe.
We got in the car and headed back to Dallas. My eyes flickered over to my phone screen every few minutes. Praying that it would not go off again. No news was good news.
The drive was long and quiet. We never travel in silence, but turning on the radio just did not feel right. So, neither of us did. We both stayed lost in our own thoughts.
When we arrived at the ICU, I peaked in through a crack in the door, and she was lying there looking quite peaceful.
Her daughter came out and told us that she would respond to us if we talked to her. After the rest of her family left, we went and stood next to her. Jimmy told her we were there. She turned her head toward us, opened her eyes, and then closed them again. That was enough for the moment. She was responsive, and that was all we needed for now.
We went home and marveled at the day, and I knew to my core that God had had His hand guiding the surgeons. I knew to my core that God had played a very large role in her surviving surgery.
I wondered quietly to myself how this would affect her. For the moment, it didn't matter because we still had her. She was still with us.
Jimmy and I decided that we would go up to the hospital together on my lunch break the following day.
I think we were both expecting her to still be pretty much the same as the day before.
Imagine my shock when we rounded the corner and she was sitting in a chair smiling, talking, and laughing. It was as if she had not just survived an aneurysm and brain surgery. It was the closest thing I have ever seen to a miracle. It felt like I had personally won the lottery, and I have only known her a year and a half. I can't imagine the emotions coursing through everyone else.
I text her husband this morning and learned that she has been up walking. She is making continual progress. Things are looking very good. It is incredible to me.
I wrote this as a reminder that there is a God up there, and He is listening, and He does care. My heart is filled with gratitude all over again just typing this.
I talk to God regularly about my random, trivial nonsense. I pray all the time. Sometimes literally just chit-chatting. But the praying I did on Monday was a whole different kind of praying entirely. It was a broken, desperate pleading. It was an "I really need You to hear me here" kind of prayer. I'm incredibly grateful that He loves me and that He listened when I called out to Him and then reminded me that He is still in control. I had no idea how it would all play out, but He at least gave me the comfort of knowing He was there. He was in the midst of it all. He had not forgotten any of us.
He never does.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
momFAIL stuff - what else?
I know I have been terribly quiet lately. It's not because I don't have things to blog about. I have tons, really.
What I don't have is time.
I'm stealing this ten minutes while I have literally three other projects going in the background that I have to wait on to move forward.
Anyway, I came by to 1. spill more of my momFAIL crap and 2. to share a link with you.
Mostly, I have been doing really well with managing everything since I went back to work - especially considering I am doing so with my fiance working out of town (lest you are a crazy person and get any ideas, I have an alarm system, a gun, a dog that will chew your face off, and a pretty scary step dad 3 blocks away).
So, right. It's been me and the kiddos, but sometimes it's more like the kiddos vs. mom with the score always 3-0 their favor.
Last night I had to go to the grocery store, and I (obviously) had to take all three of them. And Silas (obviously) asked for every single thing that caught his eye despite me repeatedly saying, "we are only getting the things on our list. Please stop asking for other things." (There were things he had specifically requested on the list, so I wasn't just being mean). We did that about 30 times, and I was a little irritated, but still okay.
Upon turning into our neighborhood, Vivian woke up and started crying. When we got home, I had two choices: let her cry and get the boys a quick dinner OR feed her and listen to them wailing about being hungry while trying to destroy everything in sight in protest. Either way, someone was going to be mad.
When Gavin was an infant, someone told me, "if someone has to wait, let it be the baby. He won't remember that he had to wait, but Silas will remember if you always prioritize the baby over him." That makes sense to me. Also, it is better for the boys to be occupied when I'm feeding Vivian as that is a very vulnerable time for me/our house/the dogs as I am limited in my ability to grab up small children who are getting into things they should not. So, I chose to put together something quick for the boys, make us all something to drink, and then go feed Vivian.
As my super amazing luck (this is sarcasm as will soon be obvious) would have it, the boys finished dinner before I finished feeding Vivian. They mosied into the living room where I was sitting on the couch feeding Vivian. We don't have a coffee table or end tables, so I had my glass of water in the floor. I told Silas repeatedly to pay attention and not knock it over. Things got increasingly chaotic while I sat there trying to feed Vivian and the boys vied for my attention. I could feel my blood pressure rising. I could feel myself getting overwhelmed.
Finally, it was close enough to bed time for me to declare that little boys needed to head upstairs to get ready for bed. "Silas, watch that cup" I said as I got up to put Viv in her swing. I turned around and the cup was on it's side. Carpet soaked and littered with ice.
Now, this is the kind of stuff I HATE to admit to anyone because it is so shameful. But the whole point of this is that I'm trying to change, and in order to change I need to be accountable.
I saw the cup on it's side merely 2 seconds after telling the boy to pay attention, and this:
Me, red faced, steam coming from ears: "Seriously?! I told you to pay attention and not knock that cup over."
Silas: "Sorry, mom."
Me, irrationally angry: "that is one more mess I have to clean up now, Silas. You have GOT to start paying attention!"
(I hate myself just typing this).
And then I picked up the cup stomping toward the stairs yelling over my shoulder, "let's go, upstairs, now!" and then I threw the cup at the sink so hard, it broke. (Sigh. I suck.)
Once I had the kids in bed, Vivian fed, the downstairs cleaned, and had had sufficient time to calm down and feel like a complete asshole, I decided to google, "why do I yell when I get angry" in hopes of finding a way to control my temper better.
What I got was this article. There is some back and forth in the comments about the advice in it. Some people think it's bad advice, some think it's good. Personally, I like some of it and could do without some of it. But the point was not to get a step-by-step plan to blindly follow. The point was to get suggestions from other parents who have been where I am and have found ways to do better and be better for their kids.
I text Jimmy last night and said, "if someone offered me the choice between a free tummy tuck and the ability to have complete control over my temper and my emotions, I'd choose the latter every time." That's saying a lot because I loathe my stomach and wish all the time that I could get it fixed. But treating people (especially my little people) with kindness and respect in all situations is infinitely more important to me.
So, the article. It offered some helpful tips, and this morning when I overslept, I kept those tips in mind every time I could feel myself getting frustrated. I just made myself calm down and remember that they are kids and running behind is not the end of the world.
I was 15 minutes late to work, but I didn't start my kids' day in a way that hurt them or made them afraid or sad. I didn't push them away and give them a reason to tune me out. This morning, I was able to focus on rolling with it and being the kind of mom I want to be all the time.
The article warned that even when you start making an effort to be more in control of your reactions, you are going to slip up but to just keep trying. And I think that is good. No one needs the pressure to never make a mistake and to always be perfect. What we need is the fortitude to get up and keep trying even when we do make those mistakes.
For now, my kids have one less memory of mom losing her shit because I actually made a real effort to not unleash my grown up temper and grown up frustrations on them. I made an effort to be a good example and show them how I pray they conduct themselves in the face of frustration.
That is at least a step in the right direction. And I'm going to keep trying and keep praying that God helps me take the steps to become a better mom and a kinder, gentler person.
I shared this thing about me of which I am terribly ashamed because I want to be helpful to other parents who are maybe struggling with the same issue, and I found the article helpful.
So, maybe you are judging me. I don't really know, and I can't waste the energy to care. I spent too much of my childhood feeling unimportant and unloved and unwanted. If I can help in any small way to end that for another child, it's worth all the judgment in the world.
Have a nice Tuesday.
What I don't have is time.
I'm stealing this ten minutes while I have literally three other projects going in the background that I have to wait on to move forward.
Anyway, I came by to 1. spill more of my momFAIL crap and 2. to share a link with you.
Mostly, I have been doing really well with managing everything since I went back to work - especially considering I am doing so with my fiance working out of town (lest you are a crazy person and get any ideas, I have an alarm system, a gun, a dog that will chew your face off, and a pretty scary step dad 3 blocks away).
So, right. It's been me and the kiddos, but sometimes it's more like the kiddos vs. mom with the score always 3-0 their favor.
Last night I had to go to the grocery store, and I (obviously) had to take all three of them. And Silas (obviously) asked for every single thing that caught his eye despite me repeatedly saying, "we are only getting the things on our list. Please stop asking for other things." (There were things he had specifically requested on the list, so I wasn't just being mean). We did that about 30 times, and I was a little irritated, but still okay.
Upon turning into our neighborhood, Vivian woke up and started crying. When we got home, I had two choices: let her cry and get the boys a quick dinner OR feed her and listen to them wailing about being hungry while trying to destroy everything in sight in protest. Either way, someone was going to be mad.
When Gavin was an infant, someone told me, "if someone has to wait, let it be the baby. He won't remember that he had to wait, but Silas will remember if you always prioritize the baby over him." That makes sense to me. Also, it is better for the boys to be occupied when I'm feeding Vivian as that is a very vulnerable time for me/our house/the dogs as I am limited in my ability to grab up small children who are getting into things they should not. So, I chose to put together something quick for the boys, make us all something to drink, and then go feed Vivian.
As my super amazing luck (this is sarcasm as will soon be obvious) would have it, the boys finished dinner before I finished feeding Vivian. They mosied into the living room where I was sitting on the couch feeding Vivian. We don't have a coffee table or end tables, so I had my glass of water in the floor. I told Silas repeatedly to pay attention and not knock it over. Things got increasingly chaotic while I sat there trying to feed Vivian and the boys vied for my attention. I could feel my blood pressure rising. I could feel myself getting overwhelmed.
Finally, it was close enough to bed time for me to declare that little boys needed to head upstairs to get ready for bed. "Silas, watch that cup" I said as I got up to put Viv in her swing. I turned around and the cup was on it's side. Carpet soaked and littered with ice.
Now, this is the kind of stuff I HATE to admit to anyone because it is so shameful. But the whole point of this is that I'm trying to change, and in order to change I need to be accountable.
I saw the cup on it's side merely 2 seconds after telling the boy to pay attention, and this:
Me, red faced, steam coming from ears: "Seriously?! I told you to pay attention and not knock that cup over."
Silas: "Sorry, mom."
Me, irrationally angry: "that is one more mess I have to clean up now, Silas. You have GOT to start paying attention!"
(I hate myself just typing this).
And then I picked up the cup stomping toward the stairs yelling over my shoulder, "let's go, upstairs, now!" and then I threw the cup at the sink so hard, it broke. (Sigh. I suck.)
Once I had the kids in bed, Vivian fed, the downstairs cleaned, and had had sufficient time to calm down and feel like a complete asshole, I decided to google, "why do I yell when I get angry" in hopes of finding a way to control my temper better.
What I got was this article. There is some back and forth in the comments about the advice in it. Some people think it's bad advice, some think it's good. Personally, I like some of it and could do without some of it. But the point was not to get a step-by-step plan to blindly follow. The point was to get suggestions from other parents who have been where I am and have found ways to do better and be better for their kids.
I text Jimmy last night and said, "if someone offered me the choice between a free tummy tuck and the ability to have complete control over my temper and my emotions, I'd choose the latter every time." That's saying a lot because I loathe my stomach and wish all the time that I could get it fixed. But treating people (especially my little people) with kindness and respect in all situations is infinitely more important to me.
So, the article. It offered some helpful tips, and this morning when I overslept, I kept those tips in mind every time I could feel myself getting frustrated. I just made myself calm down and remember that they are kids and running behind is not the end of the world.
I was 15 minutes late to work, but I didn't start my kids' day in a way that hurt them or made them afraid or sad. I didn't push them away and give them a reason to tune me out. This morning, I was able to focus on rolling with it and being the kind of mom I want to be all the time.
The article warned that even when you start making an effort to be more in control of your reactions, you are going to slip up but to just keep trying. And I think that is good. No one needs the pressure to never make a mistake and to always be perfect. What we need is the fortitude to get up and keep trying even when we do make those mistakes.
For now, my kids have one less memory of mom losing her shit because I actually made a real effort to not unleash my grown up temper and grown up frustrations on them. I made an effort to be a good example and show them how I pray they conduct themselves in the face of frustration.
That is at least a step in the right direction. And I'm going to keep trying and keep praying that God helps me take the steps to become a better mom and a kinder, gentler person.
I shared this thing about me of which I am terribly ashamed because I want to be helpful to other parents who are maybe struggling with the same issue, and I found the article helpful.
So, maybe you are judging me. I don't really know, and I can't waste the energy to care. I spent too much of my childhood feeling unimportant and unloved and unwanted. If I can help in any small way to end that for another child, it's worth all the judgment in the world.
Have a nice Tuesday.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Missing stories about me failing at life?
Well, let me remedy that.
So, I kept telling myself while I was pregnant with Vivian that I was probably worried about juggling 3 kids far more than I needed to be. After all, two wasn't nearly as bad as I thought.
I could not have been more wrong.
Three is far worse than I thought. And I think mostly it is to do with the timing. At least that is what I'm telling myself to make myself feel better about how poorly I am managing all of this.
Timing as in: kids born 15 months apart...just don't. Ever. Just. Don't.
And: Fiance now has a job that leaves him less than available for helping out very much.
And: I'm getting old and tired and my energy is rapidly dwindling.
People keep asking me how it is to be back at work.
Um, it's amazing. All those times I was banging on about not being cut out to be a stay at home mom? OMG, so. so. right. But just for funsies, I make myself feel guilty about it - about not being desperate to stay home with my children every day and about being relieved to be back at work and about not shedding a single tear when I dropped any of them off on Monday and raced like mad to Dallas and an office building with my quiet, quiet office to do my job which I actually feel like I'm pretty good at.
That is the thing though about me staying at home with them. I felt like an unaccomplished failure every, single day. Every day. Over and over again, things would just fall apart and I'd sit on the couch and cry and be mad at my baby daddies for giving me my perfect, healthy, amazing children who I love with all of my heart and mad at my children for just, you know, being kids and doing kid things. I even had a melt down at my OB's office right as she walked into the room (obviously catching me in the melt down) and made her question whether or not I had post partum and needed medication. My response: "Honestly, I think I just need to go back to work."
Mostly, that is true. Jimmy has been floored by the change in me. I feel like a normal person again...most of the time.
This morning is an exception to that. This morning, I compromised my sanity for 20 minutes of extra sleep. (So not worth it!) So, there was rushing and yelling and crying and being mad at the whole world and forgetting: my anxiety medication, my allergy medication, and (and this is the best one) diapers for Vivian.
Big, fat, fabulous FAIL on my part.
But it's okay because it isn't a 24 hour, 7 day a week fail over and over and over again like my own personal Groundhog Day hell.
That is kind of the messed up beautiful part about it. After spending two solid months feeling like a 24/7 screw up, having one of those really, really bad momfail mornings didn't bog me down like it would have pre-Vivian.
Growth, y'all. Growth.
Tonight is operation: get my shit together so that we have fewer momfail mornings. Wish me luck.
So, I kept telling myself while I was pregnant with Vivian that I was probably worried about juggling 3 kids far more than I needed to be. After all, two wasn't nearly as bad as I thought.
I could not have been more wrong.
Three is far worse than I thought. And I think mostly it is to do with the timing. At least that is what I'm telling myself to make myself feel better about how poorly I am managing all of this.
Timing as in: kids born 15 months apart...just don't. Ever. Just. Don't.
And: Fiance now has a job that leaves him less than available for helping out very much.
And: I'm getting old and tired and my energy is rapidly dwindling.
People keep asking me how it is to be back at work.
Um, it's amazing. All those times I was banging on about not being cut out to be a stay at home mom? OMG, so. so. right. But just for funsies, I make myself feel guilty about it - about not being desperate to stay home with my children every day and about being relieved to be back at work and about not shedding a single tear when I dropped any of them off on Monday and raced like mad to Dallas and an office building with my quiet, quiet office to do my job which I actually feel like I'm pretty good at.
That is the thing though about me staying at home with them. I felt like an unaccomplished failure every, single day. Every day. Over and over again, things would just fall apart and I'd sit on the couch and cry and be mad at my baby daddies for giving me my perfect, healthy, amazing children who I love with all of my heart and mad at my children for just, you know, being kids and doing kid things. I even had a melt down at my OB's office right as she walked into the room (obviously catching me in the melt down) and made her question whether or not I had post partum and needed medication. My response: "Honestly, I think I just need to go back to work."
Mostly, that is true. Jimmy has been floored by the change in me. I feel like a normal person again...most of the time.
This morning is an exception to that. This morning, I compromised my sanity for 20 minutes of extra sleep. (So not worth it!) So, there was rushing and yelling and crying and being mad at the whole world and forgetting: my anxiety medication, my allergy medication, and (and this is the best one) diapers for Vivian.
Big, fat, fabulous FAIL on my part.
But it's okay because it isn't a 24 hour, 7 day a week fail over and over and over again like my own personal Groundhog Day hell.
That is kind of the messed up beautiful part about it. After spending two solid months feeling like a 24/7 screw up, having one of those really, really bad momfail mornings didn't bog me down like it would have pre-Vivian.
Growth, y'all. Growth.
Tonight is operation: get my shit together so that we have fewer momfail mornings. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Hi friends. I have my back to my kitchen because I haven't cleaned (no, like, at all) since Friday, and I have company coming tomorrow and have to make the place presentable.
So, I'm eating a lunchable and ignoring it.
Now, in my defense, I sprained my ankle Saturday. (Oh, you poor thing! how'd you do that?) (Well, I'll tell you. Thanks for your concern.)
I work in a yuppie part of Dallas with a bunch of yuppie people (I love you all so much, but I speak the truth). Anyway, I have been trying to fit in with them since I started there, but the truth is I just don't. I mean, they are all good to me, but I'm different. I'm not going to shop at Nordstrom or be good at accessorizing or wear skinny jeans. And frankly I feel overwhelmed and like a full on failure every time I try.
Anyway, since joining forces with my redneck fiancé, I have slowly given up even trying to be yuppified and gotten back in touch with the Arkansas girl in me. I have gotten very comfortable with boots and jeans and sweatshirts and cheap beer in cans and mud and just being a tomboy who likes to wear make up and get dressed up from time to time.
So, when all his redneck friends invited us to go muddin' on Saturday, I readily agreed. And, as I do, I joined in all the good natured smack talking and wound up getting, ahem, tackled. And when one gets tackled in a muddy field full of deep tire tracks, one is likely to stumble backward into a tire track and sprain one's ankle....which is exactly what happened to me.
I have been trying to stay off of it as much as I can and still tend to the small village who live in my house (so, basically, I am on it constantly). And now I am backed into a corner and have taken copious amounts of ibuprofen and kept Silas home from school to entertain Gavin (for shame on me! I know. Don't care.)
Now, along the lines of me being lazy and bone weary exhausted and incessantly chasing, feeding, or cleaning a child, I'd like to give a shout out to Pinterest (and my "food" board) and my crock pot. Saving my life, y'all. I see that crock pot and get the warm fuzzies. It also has gotten us out of the food rut we were in - rotating the same 7 meals every week.
On the weekends (when my fiancé isn't at work for 15-17 literal hours a day), I make non crock pot recipes, and I have discovered some really good meals. During the week, the crock pot keeps me from ripping my hair out. I wish I had jumped on this bandwagon years ago.
And on a completely unrelated (but incredibly exciting) note, the Jeep is gone!!!
Michael and I visited a very good mutual friend at the Kia dealership yesterday, and I bought a new Optima (in my very own name!) I imagine you are thinking "Er, why did you buy a sedan? Hadn't we sentenced you to a minivan?"
The thing about being prone to procrastination is that I learned 3 car seats fit in the backseat of my Jeep. That gave me the tiniest bit of hope. And when discussing the kind of vehicle I wanted with my friend, I mentioned that a sedan was totally fine if the kids would all fit...
He pulled around the Optima, and I test drove it and wanted it as badly as Silas wants everything he sees at Target.
Now, seeing as I am entirely too transparent on this blog, you already know that I have been struggling with my credit for some time. And I had no one to cosign for me if that was necessary. I have been working very hard to improve my credit score, but I didn't really know where I stood. Honestly, I had driven to the dealership in a state of severe anxiety because I didn't think I was going to be able to get out of the Jeep, and I knew Michael was going to be less than thrilled, and we were probably going to have many ugly words, and every time I fight with him, I end up getting so worked up that I vomit, and, hello, that sounded awful.
Imagine my complete joy when the manager came over 15 minutes after I gave them my terms and told me he had gotten me exactly what I wanted. There was no nonsense where they came back to me with completely ridiculous terms or told me they couldn't do it without a cosigner. Just a handshake and some paperwork. I have never had such a painless experience at a car dealership.
And now I have a vehicle I love, love, love that gets 36 mpg (as opposed to 18) and no one is on the loan but me. No one can bother me about it. I'm not building someone else's credit. It is mine...or will be once I make 40 million car payments.
So, to wrap this up and go deal with my kitchen, stuff is going well 'round here. Hope things are good in your neck of the woods as well!
So, I'm eating a lunchable and ignoring it.
Now, in my defense, I sprained my ankle Saturday. (Oh, you poor thing! how'd you do that?) (Well, I'll tell you. Thanks for your concern.)
I work in a yuppie part of Dallas with a bunch of yuppie people (I love you all so much, but I speak the truth). Anyway, I have been trying to fit in with them since I started there, but the truth is I just don't. I mean, they are all good to me, but I'm different. I'm not going to shop at Nordstrom or be good at accessorizing or wear skinny jeans. And frankly I feel overwhelmed and like a full on failure every time I try.
Anyway, since joining forces with my redneck fiancé, I have slowly given up even trying to be yuppified and gotten back in touch with the Arkansas girl in me. I have gotten very comfortable with boots and jeans and sweatshirts and cheap beer in cans and mud and just being a tomboy who likes to wear make up and get dressed up from time to time.
So, when all his redneck friends invited us to go muddin' on Saturday, I readily agreed. And, as I do, I joined in all the good natured smack talking and wound up getting, ahem, tackled. And when one gets tackled in a muddy field full of deep tire tracks, one is likely to stumble backward into a tire track and sprain one's ankle....which is exactly what happened to me.
I have been trying to stay off of it as much as I can and still tend to the small village who live in my house (so, basically, I am on it constantly). And now I am backed into a corner and have taken copious amounts of ibuprofen and kept Silas home from school to entertain Gavin (for shame on me! I know. Don't care.)
Now, along the lines of me being lazy and bone weary exhausted and incessantly chasing, feeding, or cleaning a child, I'd like to give a shout out to Pinterest (and my "food" board) and my crock pot. Saving my life, y'all. I see that crock pot and get the warm fuzzies. It also has gotten us out of the food rut we were in - rotating the same 7 meals every week.
On the weekends (when my fiancé isn't at work for 15-17 literal hours a day), I make non crock pot recipes, and I have discovered some really good meals. During the week, the crock pot keeps me from ripping my hair out. I wish I had jumped on this bandwagon years ago.
And on a completely unrelated (but incredibly exciting) note, the Jeep is gone!!!
Michael and I visited a very good mutual friend at the Kia dealership yesterday, and I bought a new Optima (in my very own name!) I imagine you are thinking "Er, why did you buy a sedan? Hadn't we sentenced you to a minivan?"
The thing about being prone to procrastination is that I learned 3 car seats fit in the backseat of my Jeep. That gave me the tiniest bit of hope. And when discussing the kind of vehicle I wanted with my friend, I mentioned that a sedan was totally fine if the kids would all fit...
He pulled around the Optima, and I test drove it and wanted it as badly as Silas wants everything he sees at Target.
Now, seeing as I am entirely too transparent on this blog, you already know that I have been struggling with my credit for some time. And I had no one to cosign for me if that was necessary. I have been working very hard to improve my credit score, but I didn't really know where I stood. Honestly, I had driven to the dealership in a state of severe anxiety because I didn't think I was going to be able to get out of the Jeep, and I knew Michael was going to be less than thrilled, and we were probably going to have many ugly words, and every time I fight with him, I end up getting so worked up that I vomit, and, hello, that sounded awful.
Imagine my complete joy when the manager came over 15 minutes after I gave them my terms and told me he had gotten me exactly what I wanted. There was no nonsense where they came back to me with completely ridiculous terms or told me they couldn't do it without a cosigner. Just a handshake and some paperwork. I have never had such a painless experience at a car dealership.
And now I have a vehicle I love, love, love that gets 36 mpg (as opposed to 18) and no one is on the loan but me. No one can bother me about it. I'm not building someone else's credit. It is mine...or will be once I make 40 million car payments.
So, to wrap this up and go deal with my kitchen, stuff is going well 'round here. Hope things are good in your neck of the woods as well!
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Oh, hi colic. No one missed you.
What's worse than having a baby with colic?
Having a baby with colic in addition to having a spunky 16 month old and a rambunctious 4 year old.
Silas' colic was probably more traumatic because I think being a first time mom is generally just traumatic. But, you know, when Silas was sleeping all day, I could pass out on the couch and catch some zzz's too.
Um, this is not the case with Viv. We were up until 3 am, and then the boys were up demanding breakfast at 7:30. Right now the boys are down for a nap, and Vivian is wide awake hiccuping away and staring at the ceiling fan.
And despite my best efforts to keep Vivian calm and quiet when she's pissed in the middle of the night and to weep silently myself once I hit my breaking point, my fiancé is not sleeping much more than I am. "We love you honey. Enjoy your bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived 14 hour work day." :(
Now, this is where I have to tell you that my mom is taking full advantage of my desperate exhaustion to spend time with one or more of her grandchildren every week.
Last Friday, she kept the two littles so I could take Silas to a birthday party. When I text to let her know I was headed to pick them up, she offered to keep them over night. Sold! I went home and played Mario Kart with Silas, Jimmy, and Jimmy's friend and then went to bed and slept all night. It was lovely.
This part of having a baby is rough - especially if you make the mistake of losing perspective and not allowing people to help you (because you're stubborn and bull-headed). So, I try very hard to remind myself that it isn't going to be like this for long, and then I never get to have this again. This time next year, she'll be running around being all independent and only needing me when she is sick or exhausted.
So, I have to remember to find joy in the newborness and accept help when it is offered. I know I will soon look back on this time and miss it desperately.
I have to leave you now...someone needs my attention!
Having a baby with colic in addition to having a spunky 16 month old and a rambunctious 4 year old.
Silas' colic was probably more traumatic because I think being a first time mom is generally just traumatic. But, you know, when Silas was sleeping all day, I could pass out on the couch and catch some zzz's too.
Um, this is not the case with Viv. We were up until 3 am, and then the boys were up demanding breakfast at 7:30. Right now the boys are down for a nap, and Vivian is wide awake hiccuping away and staring at the ceiling fan.
And despite my best efforts to keep Vivian calm and quiet when she's pissed in the middle of the night and to weep silently myself once I hit my breaking point, my fiancé is not sleeping much more than I am. "We love you honey. Enjoy your bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived 14 hour work day." :(
Now, this is where I have to tell you that my mom is taking full advantage of my desperate exhaustion to spend time with one or more of her grandchildren every week.
Last Friday, she kept the two littles so I could take Silas to a birthday party. When I text to let her know I was headed to pick them up, she offered to keep them over night. Sold! I went home and played Mario Kart with Silas, Jimmy, and Jimmy's friend and then went to bed and slept all night. It was lovely.
This part of having a baby is rough - especially if you make the mistake of losing perspective and not allowing people to help you (because you're stubborn and bull-headed). So, I try very hard to remind myself that it isn't going to be like this for long, and then I never get to have this again. This time next year, she'll be running around being all independent and only needing me when she is sick or exhausted.
So, I have to remember to find joy in the newborness and accept help when it is offered. I know I will soon look back on this time and miss it desperately.
I have to leave you now...someone needs my attention!
Thursday, February 20, 2014
How's it going be a mom of three?
I'm exhausted, so I'm sorry if this winds up making no sense.
So, it turns out that both of my boys are smitten with Vivian. It's as if their big brother and protector role was instinctively activated when she was born.
Gavin spends every moment he can find giving her kisses and speaking to her animatedly in gibberish. Silas does everything he can to help with both of his siblings.
This morning was my first time driving since her birth. It was my first preschool drop off with all three of them. Silas was very impressed when I "put him in charge" of holding Gavin's hand as we walked through the building to Silas' classroom.
Viv is somewhere between Silas and Gavin as newborns in the sleep department. Some nights we are up for 2-3 hours in the middle of the night. Other nights she wakes up only long enough to eat, burp, and have her diaper changed.
Even on the nights when she won't sleep, she is sweet about it. It isn't 2-3 hours of blood-curdling screaming like with Silas. Just some whimpering over the gas in her belly that we are trying to work out. Just wanting to be snuggled up against mom or dad's chest.
Her demeanor remains calm, sweet, and patient. She is easy to adore.
The stairs are magically not as horrendous a feat as they were while I was 6-9 months pregnant. So, making 50 trips a day up and down them is not as bad as I thought it would be.
I still haven't tackled target by myself with all three of them, but I have successfully tackled it with just the two little ones, so I think I can handle throwing in Silas walking next to the cart asking me to buy him all of the things. I think.
So far I don't feel like I'm screwing it up with the boys. Neither of them is acting out in a way that makes me believe they feel left out. Hopefully that remains true as time progresses.
Basically, what I'm saying is that right now, we seem to be a stronger little family than ever.
I'm off to debate on a nap or cleaning house now while the little ones are sleeping.
So, it turns out that both of my boys are smitten with Vivian. It's as if their big brother and protector role was instinctively activated when she was born.
Gavin spends every moment he can find giving her kisses and speaking to her animatedly in gibberish. Silas does everything he can to help with both of his siblings.
This morning was my first time driving since her birth. It was my first preschool drop off with all three of them. Silas was very impressed when I "put him in charge" of holding Gavin's hand as we walked through the building to Silas' classroom.
Viv is somewhere between Silas and Gavin as newborns in the sleep department. Some nights we are up for 2-3 hours in the middle of the night. Other nights she wakes up only long enough to eat, burp, and have her diaper changed.
Even on the nights when she won't sleep, she is sweet about it. It isn't 2-3 hours of blood-curdling screaming like with Silas. Just some whimpering over the gas in her belly that we are trying to work out. Just wanting to be snuggled up against mom or dad's chest.
Her demeanor remains calm, sweet, and patient. She is easy to adore.
The stairs are magically not as horrendous a feat as they were while I was 6-9 months pregnant. So, making 50 trips a day up and down them is not as bad as I thought it would be.
I still haven't tackled target by myself with all three of them, but I have successfully tackled it with just the two little ones, so I think I can handle throwing in Silas walking next to the cart asking me to buy him all of the things. I think.
So far I don't feel like I'm screwing it up with the boys. Neither of them is acting out in a way that makes me believe they feel left out. Hopefully that remains true as time progresses.
Basically, what I'm saying is that right now, we seem to be a stronger little family than ever.
I'm off to debate on a nap or cleaning house now while the little ones are sleeping.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Welcome Vivian
Thursday morning I lay in bed waiting for noise to come from the boys' bedroom. I had decided to let them sleep in and start the day when they felt like it.
Once they got up, I got them dressed and we headed out to the car. My plan was to drop Silas off at school and go do last minute pre-baby errands.
It was snowing but the news the day before had assured viewers that the snow should not cause any trouble on the roads. It took me about half a mile to determine that the news had lied.
I settled for a quick trip to Target and hanging out with the boys in our loft until Michael's mom came to pick them up for the weekend.
After that I began to clean and wander into Vivian's room to look at her tiny pink things and cry and have anxiety.
The snow prompted the decision to rent a room in Dallas in order to avoid treacherous roads at 4 am. A sleepover with Jimmy, me, my mom and my aunt.
But first, Jimmy and I decided to have a pre-baby celebration meal. We went on a little dinner date. It is one of the happiest meals I have ever had. The food was good, and I sincerely enjoyed having a celebratory meal with my favorite person.
I didn't sleep well that night. I was nervous, and someone in that room was snoring loudly...
I woke up anxious and emotional. I cried a lot, and Jimmy constantly hugged me and kissed the top of my head and reassured me.
My mom had come to the hospital early to hold my hand during my epidural because Jimmy wanted no part of it. And then we found out they were inserting the epidural in the OR. My mom was not allowed to go with me. So, it was Jimmy or no one.
He reluctantly agreed and sat on a stool in front of me. We put our foreheads together and held hands.
I didn't jump, and it was over. I looked at Jimmy and smiled and noticed he was white as a sheet. "You ok?" He nodded in a way that made me know he was lying. "Are you sure?" He looked like he was about to faint, and looked at the nurse and said, "I need water."
He was led from the room, and they went about prepping me for surgery. All too soon, I got the same
weird feeling I had gotten with Gavin. "Seriously?!" I piped up, and the anesthesiologist asked me a
couple of questions. I was waiting to hear "we hit an artery. We're going to have to do the epidural again." I wanted to scream. Instead, I heard, "ok, I can give you something for that." And he did, and I felt normal again shortly. All that was left to worry about was whether or not Jimmy would be back for the birth.
After not much longer, in walked my handsome fiancé in his scrubs looking much better than the last time I had seen him. He sat down next to my head, and grabbed my hands and kissed my forehead with tears in his eyes, "we're about to have our little girl!"
My doctor began surgery, and Jimmy and I grinned at each other and sang the songs that came on in the background and chatted nervously and said "I love you" 900 times. Suddenly, in the middle of us chattering, we both stopped short and cried simultaneously when we heard "waaaaaah!
Vivian was born! Jimmy went over to take pictures and came back to show them to me.
When they announced that Viv was 8lbs, 1 oz, I was really surprised.
After a bit, Jimmy brought her over, and I got to see her beautiful, chubby little face and kiss on her loooooong fingers. "She's perfect, see?!" Jimmy unwrapped her to show me her ten toes, and we spent the next hour staring at her and kissing her while they finished up tying my tubes. When it was over, my doctor told me that my decision not to have more kids was a good one. My body couldn't handle carrying another one.
After a couple hours in recovery, we were taken to our room, and Candice brought up the boys. Silas was very concerned about me being in the hospital and he was smitten with Vivian. Gavin didn't care much about Vivian until Candice picked her up, then he tried to pull her blanket out of Candice's hands. Uh oh....
I spent the rest of the weekend adjusting to being back on a newborn's schedule and having a girl.
Can I just say (and I hope I'm not jinxing myself) that she is so sweet and so easy going. The only thing that I have seen make her angry is being cold (she is her father's daughter). Even when she's hungry, she announces it quietly. She is so much different than my boys who roared into the world at full force and never slowed down.
Now Jimmy, Vivian and I are at home. She loves her swing (Gavin taught me that a good swing is worth the investment). The boys come home this evening, and we'll see how it goes.
I know we'll all get adjusted.
I have to say that it is a very neat feeling to know that my family is complete. This is it, and it so perfect.
Once they got up, I got them dressed and we headed out to the car. My plan was to drop Silas off at school and go do last minute pre-baby errands.
It was snowing but the news the day before had assured viewers that the snow should not cause any trouble on the roads. It took me about half a mile to determine that the news had lied.
I settled for a quick trip to Target and hanging out with the boys in our loft until Michael's mom came to pick them up for the weekend.
After that I began to clean and wander into Vivian's room to look at her tiny pink things and cry and have anxiety.
The snow prompted the decision to rent a room in Dallas in order to avoid treacherous roads at 4 am. A sleepover with Jimmy, me, my mom and my aunt.
But first, Jimmy and I decided to have a pre-baby celebration meal. We went on a little dinner date. It is one of the happiest meals I have ever had. The food was good, and I sincerely enjoyed having a celebratory meal with my favorite person.
I didn't sleep well that night. I was nervous, and someone in that room was snoring loudly...
I woke up anxious and emotional. I cried a lot, and Jimmy constantly hugged me and kissed the top of my head and reassured me.
My mom had come to the hospital early to hold my hand during my epidural because Jimmy wanted no part of it. And then we found out they were inserting the epidural in the OR. My mom was not allowed to go with me. So, it was Jimmy or no one.
He reluctantly agreed and sat on a stool in front of me. We put our foreheads together and held hands.
I didn't jump, and it was over. I looked at Jimmy and smiled and noticed he was white as a sheet. "You ok?" He nodded in a way that made me know he was lying. "Are you sure?" He looked like he was about to faint, and looked at the nurse and said, "I need water."
He was led from the room, and they went about prepping me for surgery. All too soon, I got the same
weird feeling I had gotten with Gavin. "Seriously?!" I piped up, and the anesthesiologist asked me a
couple of questions. I was waiting to hear "we hit an artery. We're going to have to do the epidural again." I wanted to scream. Instead, I heard, "ok, I can give you something for that." And he did, and I felt normal again shortly. All that was left to worry about was whether or not Jimmy would be back for the birth.
After not much longer, in walked my handsome fiancé in his scrubs looking much better than the last time I had seen him. He sat down next to my head, and grabbed my hands and kissed my forehead with tears in his eyes, "we're about to have our little girl!"
My doctor began surgery, and Jimmy and I grinned at each other and sang the songs that came on in the background and chatted nervously and said "I love you" 900 times. Suddenly, in the middle of us chattering, we both stopped short and cried simultaneously when we heard "waaaaaah!
Vivian was born! Jimmy went over to take pictures and came back to show them to me.
When they announced that Viv was 8lbs, 1 oz, I was really surprised.
After a bit, Jimmy brought her over, and I got to see her beautiful, chubby little face and kiss on her loooooong fingers. "She's perfect, see?!" Jimmy unwrapped her to show me her ten toes, and we spent the next hour staring at her and kissing her while they finished up tying my tubes. When it was over, my doctor told me that my decision not to have more kids was a good one. My body couldn't handle carrying another one.
After a couple hours in recovery, we were taken to our room, and Candice brought up the boys. Silas was very concerned about me being in the hospital and he was smitten with Vivian. Gavin didn't care much about Vivian until Candice picked her up, then he tried to pull her blanket out of Candice's hands. Uh oh....
I spent the rest of the weekend adjusting to being back on a newborn's schedule and having a girl.
Can I just say (and I hope I'm not jinxing myself) that she is so sweet and so easy going. The only thing that I have seen make her angry is being cold (she is her father's daughter). Even when she's hungry, she announces it quietly. She is so much different than my boys who roared into the world at full force and never slowed down.
Now Jimmy, Vivian and I are at home. She loves her swing (Gavin taught me that a good swing is worth the investment). The boys come home this evening, and we'll see how it goes.
I know we'll all get adjusted.
I have to say that it is a very neat feeling to know that my family is complete. This is it, and it so perfect.
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