Oh man. How do I start this?

I wrote a post on the eve of Rt’s first birthday almost 6 years ago and can tell you I am in a completely different place than I was then. It still makes me sad that I had such a hard time on the inside with getting through those first 365 days. I didn’t know myself yet, so how was I supposed to be his everything? The “stuff” you get to work out that very first year with that first bambino. If I only knew then what I…..

Fortunately, times have changed and I’ve gotten to know the real me throughout this parenting process. I can honestly say that I don’t regret anything about Sam and his first year. Such a pleasing thing to be able to say. It was a whirlwind, of course. I would have loved to have slowed down a bit and watched him grow more closely, but I believe I did a fine job tackling this three kid thing which included raising said infant. Plus, there were a lot of days it was just me. That says a lot about me and my abilities and I will take FULL credit for it. ha.

That doesn’t mean all the days were rosy. And I’ll take full credit for those too. I’ve said it before, but if my neighbors take my parenting skills based off of what I say in the garage to and from school, they might need to pick up the phone… It’s not pretty. And yes, I wish on a daily basis I could take back a few reactions on my part, but I know when to say sorry and teach my kids I could have chosen another path. Such a humbling experience, this gig.

Maybe that is why Sam seemed so easy. And when I say easy, I mean he was a baby, who couldn’t talk, who needed mostly his primal needs met and not much else. He seems easier compared to these other people I live with. He’s still a baby. And that is clearly hard work. He’s just more of a guarantee, I’d say. Predictable when the rest of life isn’t.

This is about Sam, isn’t it? Gah.

******

He’s a lover. He loves to snuggle just enough before wanting to get down. He wants to get up on the couch when the rest of us are up there hanging out. He likes being apart of the group. He’s been saying “Hi” in the best Southern drawl I’ve ever heard for a month or so. That’s about all that has come out of his mouth so far. No mama. Just DA now. Dada hasn’t returned since sometime last year. I swear he says “here” when he brings me something, but I might be hearing things.

He took his first steps right before he turned 11 months and now he’s walking almost everywhere plus he can stand up from a seated position. He eats anything and everything off the floor. Whether it be actual food, a lego head or a piece of his own dried poop pellet (I KNOW) it’s made it’s way to his mouth. He has a love affair with the trash can. He is a dumpster diver and has no desire to stop anytime soon. (Our can is currently up on our kitchen table. Classy, huh?)

He loves his paci and will turn it upright anytime it’s put in upside down. He wears his sleep sack to bed and sleeps with his butt in the air. LOVE. He goes right to sleep these days with not much protest. WOO HOO. He took his last scoop of formula in his milk yesterday and is on full milk bottles as we speak. I tried a sippy cup yesterday for kicks, but he just casually sipped from it over and over again at a snail’s pace. I wasn’t in the mood, so I gave him the bottle instead. When I’m fed up with washing bottles (WHICH IS PRETTY MUCH NOW) I will put it in a sippy and never look back. Maybe on a weekend when it’s not just me.

He can make the “S” sound and likes to receive butterfly kisses. He doesn’t mind being tackled, which is quite handy since it happens more than not. He will bring you anything, most likely give it to you, then go get something else and do the same. Or, he will offer it to you, but take it away and tease you all over again.

He’s a happy baby. He has been from the start. He likes to eat. He hasn’t turned away much I’ve offered to him yet. He didn’t like the consistency of the banana and sweet potato as finger foods, but he’s come around as of late. His hair, or what fuzz he has looks brown, but there are tons of blonde hairs coming in underneath. I’m not holding my breath on a matching baby because the same thing happened to Hola and he now has the darkest of the older two.

He’s got blue eyes like his daddy’s. The shape of his eyes look like my mother’s, I’m told. The shape of his head is just like his brothers, BIG. They all get that from J. Not me, I repeat, NOT ME. I think he’ll be my biggest baby at his 1 year checkup. He’s not large and in charge, just long and solid. He still fits perfectly on my hip. I hope that remains the same for many days to come.

*****

It’s all happening so fast. I’m still going to call him my baby, but he’ll be a full-on toddler before summer ends, no doubt.

This birthday of his makes me thrilled yet terribly sad at the same time. He’s it. Our last hurrah. It’s the end of an era for us. Yes, I am glad we are sleeping, and, no, I cannot handle more kids since I think it’s not easy to give everyone I already have the attention they need and deserve. It’s bittersweet.

I do know that every night before I put this adoring baby to bed, I hold him over my shoulder and he nuzzles his darling head into my chest, I smell his sweet scent and rub my chin over his peachfuzzed hair and wish upon the stars to never forget such a moment. It’s everything I have ever wished for and more.

I am so grateful. (and now I am crying. DAMMIT.)

e

So, I thought I’d get all crafty before the birthday extravaganzas begin and make an Initial for our wall made out of cork. Yes, it’s nothing new, but I was dying to do one and I’ve been holding on to too many corks for too long so here we are.

If you are so interested in the “how”, I’ll tell you what I did.

I first went to Michaels and bought a black flat initial and some Original Tacky Glue. (all purpose craft glue) I thought the flat initial was going to be too small, look too plain for what I was doing, but it was a perfect size and weight.

The initial already had a clear plastic tab stapled to the top of my L, so I didn’t have to worry about how to hang my letter after I was finished. Due to the height of the corks, you can’t really see it once it’s hung.

I used every saturated side of the cork for the glue and started at one end. I would only do a few at a time, due to time constraints, but that allowed me to place something flat and a bit heavy on every group of corks to get a strong flat hold.

And voila!

while the baby is supposedly napping, but I am sitting here staring at my sweet said baby who’s standing next to me gnawing on another item he found on the floor. It’s editable, I’m sure, so I am not too worried. It’s not like it’s a poop pellet or anything. That was last week.

The rain is falling. It has been for two days now. It’s not supposed to stop till next Wednesday. That’s a long time from now. I’m flying solo too, so that’s fun.

I was supposed to get a full-night’s sleep last night considering the baby slept from 7-6 dosed up on Benedryl and Motrin. He’s got the runny nose and the issue of not napping long enough, so that warrants medicine in our neck of the woods. And as a pediatrician I saw not long ago said, “oh, honey. Give yourself a break and give that baby benedryl.” I agreed on this occasion and off he went to slumberland.

Hola did not get that memo. I give him Singular in the Winter, especially when a cold is coming on. It keeps the junk out of the lungs and the onset of inhalers and steroids and such. I didn’t give him his last night, since I forget “all things important” till after-the-fact and I went to bed, like normal, at a decent hour.

12:30am came around. There was whining, crying coming from his room. I went in there with a blaze of glory not to wake the other children, THE BABY. He said he couldn’t stop coughing. A dose of Delsym and a singular pill later, (And no, I do NOT medicate my kids often, just when truly necessary.) we were off to the races.

Until 3:15am.

I think this time it was the coughing thing again?

Or was it that he couldn’t SMELL and he was beside himself for that fact.

20 solid minutes after I went back to bed, the excuse and the cries were about his cheek hurting. And the kiss I had given him 20 minutes before even hurt.

20 minutes later it was the cheek again.

There was yelling through my teeth, there were threats of not going to school or getting to be there for picture day if he didn’t go to sleep right then. There were Fbombs used. YES, I swore at my kid. It felt good. Then, it didn’t. Then I was the worst person that ever lived on the face of this earth.

Then, I gave him some Motrin and he didn’t wake again till 8am, which NEVER happens.

I get anxious sometimes. I carry it with me. It’s like a trip wire that comes close enough to make me fall here and there. It happens when I am alone. It happens when I have too much on my mind and nowhere to put it.

These kids, man. They aren’t easy.

I do know a good portion of my time, of our time together, I hit this gig spot on. Even this morning, Rt told me I was the best mommy in the world. Little did he know, I felt like the worst of the worst. It’s a day to day thing and I’m holding on with two hands, but boy can I make it worse in a split second.

Please tell me you have times like these? Not necessarily the fbombs, of course, but the rest of it.

I am supposed to shape these boys into someone worth knowing by the age of 18, but I can’t get out of the “Get through the day” stuff to actively parent these kids.

The rain is not helping and the aroma coming from that diaper isn’t either.

e

I wrote this original post 5 years ago, (and have now altered it accordingly) but every year on the anniversary, I still sit in awe of how it all came to be. (And yes, this was supposed to be posted 2 days ago, but whatever.)

******

13 years ago today, I made the biggest move of my life.

13 years ago today, I moved from Oklahoma to California.

13 years ago today, hubby and I got caught in a snow blizzard outside Vega, Texas. (pop 880)

We spent our only $50 in cash we had on a tow truck to pull us out of a snowbank.
Every church was full when our U-Haul was rescued, so they opened up the Methodist church just for us.
We watched the R-rated feature “The Postman” alongside the mayor of the town.
The bank sign down the street read -2 degrees. That’s without wind chill.
We spent the night on the floor of the church until the Interstate reopened the next day.

We sent the church a $50 check thanking them for their help along with a picture of us in front of Alcatraz. We never heard from the church again, but our check was cashed.

Hubs and I had only spent 12 days together before I moved to CA to be with him.

13 years ago today.

e

This is Rt playing in his first piano recital last weekend. There were 12 children playing and he was by far the youngest and smallest one up on stage. Enjoy!

Can’t seem to embed the video here yet, so here’s the link: Rt’s Recital

The moment he began to play, I became overwhelmed with tears in my eyes. Watching my sweet, little boy perform for the first time was a moment I’ll never forget. To say we are proud, is an understatement.

e

There has been links going around the Internet of blogs who have just let it all hang out, so to speak. Being real, being authentic and being human. I adore their courage. There is really nothing more difficult than sharing your true self and thoughts, opening yourself up to your peers, strangers and maybe even no one. No one may identify with you, others will judge, some will challenge you just because. Being that vulnerable is just, A LOT on many levels. It seems so much safer to keep it to yourself, myself, but I don’t think that’s doing any good for anyone, mostly me.

Haven’t you heard from mothers before you that having babies can really do a number on you? Your vajajay? Ya, we’ll I’ve heard it. Yada yada, your business might not be as tight, you may need to do kegels the rest of your life, but, hey, that seemed to be the extend of the chatter I’ve ever heard or even chosen to. It’s kinda like listening about having a baby before you have one. Ya, ya, it’s going to be different, hard, but not until you walk in those newborn shoes do you ever realize what they truly meant by it.

Well, that’s me.

I’ve had three babies. All have made their entrance into this world through my hoo haw. (You like my names for it, yes?) I recently went to see another pediatrician and as she walked into the door and saw Peppa, she said, “There is no way that head is yours.” Then, she looked over at my other two kids and said, “And those aren’t either.”

Yes, I married a melon head.

7 3/4 hat size to be exact.

Giving birth to Rt, my first, was a trying experience. His head got stuck in little ‘ol me. He had to have a heart monitor inserted in his head, his heart rate dipped down into the 90′s for a good while and it was scary especially being my first time. I was prepped for a c-section just in case I couldn’t get him out. Fortunately, with the help of a suction, and sure determination, Rt was born “naturally.”

He must have started it all. Made way for his brothers to enter the world a tad bit easier. After having Hola, who came out in half the time, I really had no issues in recovery just like 3 years earlier with Rt. Besides a couple of stitches, all went back to normal, or what I knew was normal. (Who really knows what is normal? I’ve never spent too much time prior to kids viewing said woo haw, so I really can’t tell you if it still was in its original shape after babe #1 and #2.) I do know nobody told me things looked awry at my 6-week appointments.

Enter baby #3. My Peppa.

It seems when you ask your doctor to strip your membranes on a Friday because it’s the weekend he is on- call and you’d rather have your third kid as far apart from his oldest brother’s birthday 4 days later, things can bite you in the ass. First off, when my water broke at 11p.m. that night, (3rd membrane strip, 3rd onset of labor the same day) there was meconium in the water. It was scary and awful and it wasn’t something I was expecting, it being my third rodeo. I, for sure, thought we’d have to have an emergency c-section since Peppa could aspirate on the poop, but my doctor, who I called on the way in, said to just check-in at the hospital and no one from there on out seemed that concerned. (In the end, Peppa had no respiratory issues, thankfully.)

So, once we were in our room and such, my doctor, over the phone, gave the ok to the epidural even though I was only measuring 2cm. What a guy! (or so I thought…) I got the epidural, I was checked again at 2am and was at a 3. 20 minutes later I was checked again after complaining of pressure and was told I was a 10. In twenty minutes. For the next 20-25 minutes, we all waited for the doctor to arrive while Peppa was literally at my doorstep waiting to be born. (If I had not had the epidural at 2cm and waited till I was a 3, there would not have been time to give me one, and the nurse would have delivered me without the doctor there. We would not have waited.)

But, since I had the epidural, it wasn’t hurting anyone to wait and wait and wait and not cough, laugh or sneeze or the baby would come right out. So, we waited and Peppa was born at 2:45am.

****

-Cut to one week later, while changing out all of my recovery dressings in the bathroom, I noticed something up in there that looked like a balloon, or a small part of one. I called the doctor, since it was over a weekend (OF COURSE) and the rudest doctor in the practice told me it was normal. And that was it. Uh, okkkkk. So, I left it at that. It was 1 week post. I have no idea what WAS supposed to be down there at that time. So, I moved on.

-6 week check up. My doctor told me something about my bladder after I brought up seeing the same issue after some typical heavy lifting and a full bladder. Yada, yada yada, but nothing formal was said at that time and that was that. So, I moved on.

-9 month check-up this past Monday. We discussed what I found out myself as a prolapsed bladder. Basically, if your hoo haw is a tube and you tilt one end higher than the other, the top wall muscle can separate during delivery, like a hernia. If a head is hanging out in your tube for, oh, let’s say 20 minutes, the head can push the muscle to its extreme and it can give.

Mine gave.

(And this probably happened to me since this was my THIRD delivery and each of their heads were the size of an asteroid.)

It didn’t give as much as it could have, I believe, but enough to have the bladder, that sits nicely on top of this muscle under normal circumstances, to slip into the crack that has been left behind.

This I already knew. I found all this out by doing my own research.

What I didn’t know was the damage that was done did not stop there. (HOW SPECIAL. The gift that keeps on giving.)

There is also a bottom muscle wall as well. That is compromised as well. PLUS, after being checked out, while bearing down, my cervix/uterus also moves down a little. Now, of course I don’t walk around bearing down every minute of the day and honestly, I don’t notice any of this in my daily life. It’s not keeping me from anything, well, besides becoming an Olympic weightlifter. (The DEVASTATION.)

But, after just one examination from just my OBGYN, his suggestions are as follows, (if I even want to correct any of this.) Keep in mind, I don’t have to do anything, but I am not guaranteed that someday I might have to do something. He suggests fixing the bladder above, the lower wall too, plus the uterus. And by fixing the uterus, in his mind, would be to remove it. A HYSTERECTOMY, you guys.

I’m 38. No thank you.

I’ve done more research since Monday. I know there are ways to keep the uterus by using the muscles around to keep it in place. It all depends on the damage. I don’t know the extent of mine compared to those that received this laparoscopic surgery.

So, my plans are to digest this initial diagnosis, get a second opinion from the specialists in the urology department and wait it out until I can get a surgery that will keep my lady parts IN. I refuse to have mine removed unless it will be a detriment to my bladder or my pooper down the road.

Until then, my life remains as it is. It’s normal. It’s fine. I’m not sick. I’m healthy. I’m happy. I’m just trying to stay above it all because all I feel right now is broken.

But, I can say I have the best husband in the world. He said, and I quote, ” I love your vagina, honey, no matter what it looks like.” HA.

Ah, men.

e

Come hell or high water, I am going to write and finish this post today or I am going to go crazy. (I am finishing this 3 days later.)

I’ve been meaning to get on here, time and time again, but something/someone always comes first. (And yes, that might be a tv show during the one hour a day I get to myself.)

This three kid gig thing is rather time consuming. I was just thinking the other day how wound up I used to get when Rt would wake early, or need extra help in getting back to sleep during nap time. I would yell under my breath down the hall, “You have GOT to be fucking kidding me” or “what the fuck do you WANT?” Now, J did begin traveling for two days every week and I did spend a lot of time by myself, so I do believe there was probably some resentment going on there. I quit my job, I decided to stay home AND we moved to another city when Rt was 5 months old. Lots of change for this ‘ol brod.

Man, did that girl need a shot, a break, or a different mindset. And that is just what I have now. No, not a hot toddie, but my mind is on another level. A calmer one. I don’t always show it. Hell, I am SURE I yell more now than I did 6 years ago, but who in their right mind is going to yell at a 9 month old? (in their presence, I mean.) What’s there really to yell about? GET IN THE CAR? Nope. STOP TEASING YOUR BROTHER! No. It’s funny to look back and realize how nice and calm everything was, yet I was spinning inside over the littlest things.

Hey, I was a new kid. A new mom. I didn’t know. Now that I do, I feel like the baby things that might have dragged me down in the past, the sleep training, the food feeding, it doesn’t really phase me.

I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR IT TO. Thank God. Seriously. I am SO thrilled and so content to be as busy as I am. It makes me better. I feel better. I am more efficient. I use my down time with the kids better since I know it only comes in small increments. (most of the time. I can be an ass too.)

This is how I thrive. Even though I may complain, I thank my lucky stars on a daily basis and feel grateful I’ve got this pack to care for. (All four of them.)

Speaking of, let’s talk about Peppa.

Man, has this boy made the moves in the past month or so. We still only have 7 teeth. The same 7 we had since 7 months. Where is that 8th tooth? I have no idea. I keep looking for it, but putting my finger in there is SEVERELY DANGEROUS.

He began crawling a tad about a week before we left for the holidays to Oklahoma. So, at 8ish months, he started to crawl. And now, at 9-plus months, he’s at a decent speed. He follows his brothers everywhere. They are pure entertainment for him. What fun to watch all of them together.

He began to wave a couple of weeks ago while we were at the police station recovering my stolen wallet. He had said Da Da Da for a couple of months now and has now added Va Va Va to the mix. It sounds like MA MA, but I know it’s not.

Since deswaddling him back in his 7th month, we hit some rocky roads regarding sleep. I have never had this kid before, but once he wakes in the night, which was usually once, he was wide awake. What the hell do you do with a wide-awake baby, a husband who is out of town all of the time, then have to care for all three kids day in and day out. Well, you go back to feeding him anytime after 3am in hopes to help get the baby to pass out again. Then, we traveled, blah, blah, blah.

I won’t go into detail, but after some persistent assistance in the sleep department a couple of nights, like we did with the other two, I am getting some solid sleep. It feels great. It’s so much easier to go into the night with a plan. Ahhhh.

So, as of the other day, Peppa has pulled to stand. I knew putting legs back under his activity table would help progress this, and yes I feel that if I never give him the opportunity, he will never do so. I CAN CONTROL THIS. You see, he is my last baby. And he needs to stay this way as long as possible.

Also, his older brother took his first steps at 9 1/2 months and that would be next week for Peppa. So, anything after that means I will not get another “BUSY” kid. Hey, busy kids are truly the best, but I believe each family should only get one. That way, everyone doesn’t lose their minds in the process.

Peppa is a happy, smiley baby. He likes to make himself know with the highest pitched squeal known to man. I think he just wants to be heard among the chaos, but MY GOD. Woah. He has finally mastered his pincer grasp and has gone to town on every variety of Puff I’ve put on his tray. He stares at his hands all the time. He watches his thumbs move back and forth and  can’t get over the fact they are connected to his body.

He’s a keeper. Can’t imagine this life without him.

These are the pics I’ll have to use for Peppa’s wall photos. Otherwise, he’ll be 3 before he gets any representation on the brother wall!

2 months

3 1/2 months

6 months

(What a difference the first few months makes!)

(I think I’ll be swapping out maybe the first photo, but I don’t know what others I have from that time, so it will have to do!)

Here’s the brother wall:

Rt

Hola

Can’t wait to see them all together.

e

(Written on the flight home. You know, the only time I’ve had a moment to myself since taking off from the Austin airport.)

******

Headed home and wondering where I’ve been the past 72 hours? That was a whirlwind hell of a good time filled with seeing old friends, meeting new ones and trying to cram in a years worth of friendship, suck the nectar out of a new town, and nurse a slight hangover all at the same time. There were tacos everywhere I turned, hookers who tried to make our hotel their home, and too many talks of vibrators and wishes of all of us living closer together. (Not in the same breath, mind you.)

I might have been tagged as the gal who got a nipple ring for a short 3 months when she was 21 for the discounted price of $20. (Hell, who could pass up a bargain like that? Clearly, I couldn’t) That and the gal who’s got a lot of penis to care for back home. Hell, someone’s got to whip the male race into shape, right?

I spent a good chunk of time having hilarious moments with quite a few of you.

Miss Narmalie is an awesome chica who was lovely enough to let me stay in her tree house the first night I was there. It was truly an oasis. One that I will think of fondly when I am drowning in a pool full of little people. I am saddened I did not get to meet HER little people. They are such dolls from what I hear!!

Regan was also a hero of mine as well. Besides being a cool chic, she buys bottles of champagne and even comes and picks you up and takes you places! Her daughter, sweet Pippa can go unnoticed in a car for about 15 minutes. A doll and laid back as all get out.

Jonniker and I had a doozy of a time trying to get her car out of the back parking lot at brunch on Friday. Let’s just say she “nuzzled” the restaurant a smudge with her bumper. I think the next time we both find each other in that situation, we’ll back that car out BUTT first. What a hoot.

(Every time I try to link Regan and Jonna’s names, it makes them  bigger. I have no idea why this happens or how to fix it?!? Don’t even get me started on the link color. YOU CAN’T READ IT. I’ll have to fix later…This will teach me to not write out of wordpress editor EVER AGAIN.)

Once Friday night came about, I was able to meet and hang with almost the entire 49 people who attended, including my roommate Andyouknow! (What a doll. Thanks for being such a great roomy!! Also, if you are ever fortunate enough to get to hang with her while she’s pumping, please tell me if you also hear it say “loophole, loophole, loophole.”)

Of course there was no way to get to spend time with everyone I wanted to, (BOO)  but I felt I at least met almost everyone?! And for all the gals I did meet, what fun it was spending some time getting to know you better, and if vibrators did come up in conversation, I am truly sorry! (Ericahuff)

From there, I spent a good chunk of time hanging with the other Style Lush writers, JustExpressive, ChristinaRTS and my other roomie HomeSweetSarah. We made our way to and from the main house, Gypsy Picnic, Congress street, the Saturday night dinner and back to the main house. I can honestly say it was a riot tooling around with these fine women. Keeping it real was pretty much all we did and it was thoroughly enjoyable. Thank you sweet girls!!

It was also great getting to finally meet my Oklahoma sisters, Kate_Welsh and MrsDAngelo! Thank the heavens above we were not sitting around watching that HORRID game Saturday night. BOOMER SOONER!!

Want to make a shout out to all the lovely gals at the main house. You are FANTABULOUS hosts and truly did such a great job making everyone feel warm and fuzzy. THANK YOU.

I took all of 5 pictures from my Iphone. If you want to see them, along with tons of others from the rest of the gals, head on over to our flickr pool!

All in all, it was a weekend to remember. I came away exhausted, awfully content, inspired to continue these relationships and looking forward to making new ones next year!