sleep

I was just updating (yes, I do that every six months or so) the boys' blogs, each with a little story about sleep that I didn't want to forget.

Ah, sleep. I've never been good at it. As a mom I just accept it's part of my job to go without it. Even when the kids aren't actually waking me up, I spend those nights staying up thinking about them.

Lately, between a million bathroom breaks a night, checking on the kids, and having absolute freak out style anxiety about sleeping through a real contraction and not making it to the hospital in time,  I sleep mostly between four and seven. This means Jason is on his own for breakfast and leaves for work while I'm finally resting. This also means there are a lot of mornings when the kids sleep late that I do too. I am aware I should be up and could be getting a lot done in those precious minutes, but nothing seems more important than sleep. I also love the mornings because after laying down for that length of time I have very little pain anywhere and it's a nice break.

Here's the great parts of not sleeping (here's me trying to put a positive spin on something I desperately wish I didn't go without):
I get to enjoy being close to my husband for hours more than most wives.
I get to enjoy seeing my kids sleeping, which is one of the most beautiful things to witness.
I get to spend cute and somewhat strange time with the kids when they wake up in the night.
I get to enjoy peace and quiet in my house. Those things are absent during the day.
I get to read. I get to ponder.
I get crazy. Okay, not a positive but entertaining. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and have no idea what reality is because my groggy brain invented some really bizarre stuff during the night. 

I'm not really going anywhere with this post, so I think I will go to sleep (this means turn off all devices, cuddle up to J, and feel Tango squirm around for a while until he too falls asleep, then I just think for a while). I don't have many nights like this left and soon I'll be lamenting the fact that I ever stayed up on purpose.

parenting means you do stuff

Like my very intelligent title? Sorry, it's the best I can do on the amount of sleep I'm getting.

I just wanted to record a few little thoughts this morning on parenting.

I'm not talking about the big hard decisions we make. I'm not talking about the truly heartbreaking ordeals that many parents go through. I'm talking about being a parent every day.

Like getting up. I'm not a morning person. I'd love to get up super early and have everything done before the family arises. But instead I sleep every extra minute I can. Jason is long gone for work by the time the kids stir. When the first one starts making noise, and this is usually Eli, I drag myself out of my insanely comfortable bed and we begin.

Sometimes I feel that the days are a blur; each one starting the same way: "morning sunshine" to a toddler who is so pleased to see me that he's giggling and flopping all over his crib. And my days end the same way: "night night little Starr" as I put him in his crib and he sighs in satisfaction and smiles. It feels like I'm always doing those two things, as if each bedtime just happened 30 minutes ago and the rest of the day was on fast forward.

Sometimes I feel that the days last forever. I love the saying, "parenting is composed of long days and short years". When the kids are in bed at night I find myself sitting, on the couch/bed/floor, just sitting trying to find enough energy to go to bed. It seems like those days are about 80 hours long.

As a parent, you do stuff. Like get up when you'd rather not and keep doing the same things over and over. Maybe some people easily do this on their own once they've 'grown up' but I know that for me, the kids push me a little more than I would otherwise push myself. And it's a hard and wonderful thing.

***

(long whiny story goes here)

Last night I went to work and then the grocery store. After talking to Amy for a while I came home and put away the food. Within five minutes the house was in an uproar. Eli was crying hard and I couldn't figure out know why. He woke up Jason, who is sick and was sent back to bed. Then Eli woke up Mason who started crying really really hard. I tried holding and comforting each son, but even with my ever expanding stomach separating them, they were not pleased to be sharing mommy with the other. I finally got hysterical Mason calm enough I could leave him long enough to get Eli a drink. After he drank about a gallon of milk he started up again. The familiar question "How am I ever going to do three?" ran through my head. Finally Eli begged for bed and I was able to focus on Mason. He said his eyes hurt, his throat hurt, his toes hurt. Mason, when feeling poorly, is a hard case. You'd think he was dying before your eyes. It's safe to say he is a wee bit dramatic. I finally calmed him down with a throat lozenge and a glow stick. When we went to put him in bed Eli woke up again. I'm pretty sure there are a half dozen really good reasons not to let your tiny children sleep with glow sticks but I couldn't think of one as they contentedly went back to sleep in their own radioactive glow. I got ready for bed and Jase woke up enough to see if everything was okay. I could tell he was really not feeling good, which is always concerning with him because he rarely gets sick. When he does it's something major. I rudely opted out of his embrace and spent the next 10 minutes rearranging pillows trying to find a position that didn't hurt my back, hips, or babe. Not easy to do. Finally found a comfortable arrangement when Mason started crying. Up again, helped him open his water bottle, and back to bed. When I stretched out this time, Little Mister Fetus decided it was time to Zumba. He's got some amazing moves. Even after he calmed down, I just couldn't sleep. I thought about all I need to do to go to the ranch this weekend, all I need to do for my calling in primary, all I need to do to organize our summer schedule, all I need to do to prepare for a new kid, all I need to do to end world hunger. Then I do what I often do and "run through the list". I start with my oldest sibling, consider how he is doing, how our relationship is doing, what I can do to help. Then I go on to the next one and the next one. Perhaps I should blame my insomnia on my parents for having so many kids.And now I have Jason's family to "run through" and my own kids as well.

This morning I don't remember much about Jason leaving, just that he was still feeling rough and telling him to take leftover chicken for lunch. Before I knew it I looked at the clock. Hours had sped by and Mason's school bus was minutes from arrival. THIS moment inspired this post. I thought, forget it. It's the second to last day of school. He's probably getting sick too. I am so darn tired. Let's just forget it. Then the parent in me thinks, do it. Get up and do it. He can do it if you help him. He loves school and it's where you've committed to send him.

Though it's sad dressing a four year old while he's still fast asleep and demonstrating the coordination of a rag doll, it's what I do most mornings anyway. This morning he was dressed and eating in two minutes. I slid on his shoes while his sleep heavy eyes examined his breakfast. He actually got ready so fast we had a few minutes to talk and cuddle. I was afraid he'd fall back asleep. Mason was abnormally sweet and it was nice to do this part of the day without screaming or fits. The bus' arrival ended our morning prayers and he went to the door saying "I love you mom". From the porch I always wave and then sign I LOVE YOU as the bus leaves. He did the same back and then let his little hand linger on the window. THIS little act made every struggle of the past 12 hours worth it.

Whoever says parenting is a thankless job is not paying attention.

Eli has slept in over an hour but now I can hear him talking and playing. I will go get him now, he'll act like it's Christmas to see me, and my heart will burst all over again.

My summary: Parenting means you do stuff. Especially when you don't want to. And the same stuff repeated a thousand times. And it's worth it. And I'm so grateful for every part of it.

Green toes, ways to die, and I'm really tired

I mowed the lawn yesterday. Front and back. With Jason protesting the whole time. With each row I alternated between love for spring and the outdoors and hate for who ever thought it was such a good idea to lay so much sod (it was me).

Favorite things about mowing the lawn: Being outside. Moving. Completing a task where you can clearly see what needs to be done, how to do it, witness your progress, and have such rewarding and immediate results. It's not laundry. The lovely smell. And that it makes my feet green.

I know you shouldn't mow bare footed or in flips but it completes the experience. So if you ever hear that all my toes were severed you can say "hm, musta been mowing the lawn silly girl". And if you ever hear I've been in a bizarre car wreck, just know it's because I sneezed. Sneezing while driving is so dangerous! I'm certain this will be the cause of my demise. This is something I think about almost daily. 

I want to be more active and enjoying this wonderful weather. But a little bit more than that, I'm really tired. Really really exhausted. And my back hurts. So do my hips. My abs are pretty much absent for the duration. I'll confess that I wake up every morning conspiring how I can sneak in a little more rest that day.

So why aren't you in bed, one might ask? Because sleeping at night is apparently not what this baby wants me to do. Ever. From the beginning I haven't been able to sleep at night. Then there was the bladder stage. Then the morning night sickness stage. Then the crazy hip pain stage which has lessened considerably. Now we have the "getting kinda big" stage mixed with the "why do I work such stupid hours" stage.

Somebody call the Waaaaambulance, right?

Actually I wanted to write this because I'm really excited for the 3am feeding stage. And then the learning to walk stage. And the copy everything big brothers do stage. And the wrestling and the teaching and the cuddling. And then, with all the kids we'll hit the "I don't need you Mom" stage and I will smile bravely and privately cry a little and still sneak in to peak at them at night. And then someday we'll hit the "Mom, I really need you"stage and I will smile lovingly and privately think "I know" and keep trying to be the best mom I know how to be.

On my mind

Mason (the son) hid the jelly beans from Jason (the father) so he wouldn't eat them all. I know Jase will read this so I shouldn't say it, but it's been so entertaining watching him search for the candy. I honestly don't know where they are and Jason really REALLY wants some jelly beans.

 

Today at the grocery store a woman told me that Eli was so darling he belonged on a cereal box. I guess that is how you know if you are cute, if you make an appearance on a cardboard container for processed/fortified breakfast food. It struck me as funny and I smirked for a good hour. Also, it's hard not to think you have the most gorgeous children when strangers are constantly gushing over them and commenting on their features. All. The. Time. 

 

I talked on the phone with my Uncle Larry for a very long time today. I know, without a doubt, I have the best family on earth. I need to make more of an effort to stay close and connected, but there are a lot of us and it's hard. I'm not joking when I say I have 4 reunions a summer plus two work weekends which are just like reunions but without a talent show. Actually, seeing the skills my Uncles have is pretty much like a talent show. (My dad has a talent for getting tractors stuck. I love that about him. Optimism proven.)

 

I love PB and J sandwiches, but lately just like them with one piece of bread. I went to type "open faced" but I wasn't sure that was a common term. In my family we have some strange terms. Don't worry, I Googled it and it's really something other people say too. So I love open faced PB & J sandwiches.

On another food topic, I heard it takes something like 50 gallons of sap to make one gallon of maple syrup. I don't know where I heard this but I have been feeling astonished ever since. 

Did you hear the one about the pilot that woke up from a nap and saw Venus and thought it was a plane coming towards him so he dramatically saved everyone on board by dive bombing the plane towards the ocean? (Ironically there was a plane below them and he could have caused a real collision).  This story has fascinated me and I keep looking into it. I now know a lot more about pilot rest regulations and star orbit patterns. Did you know if you are going to nap it's best to sleep less than 45 minutes or more than an hour and a half if you want to avoid a case of the groggies? And every night that I work I look at Venus and smile. Good one, Venus. 

 

I still love Bountiful Baskets. We eat a much greater variety of healthy foods than we would otherwise. This week will be a challenge to use everything we got. Usually there is one or maybe two unusual items. This week we have jicima and beets. Eli and I ate one of the mangoes today. He just kept chomping and smiling. I will eat the three artichokes alone. Poor me. I am SO very sad that no one else likes them. NOT. The pineapple and bananas still need a day or two. 

I need to post this story on Mason's blog but I'll put it here too. The other day we were reheating some stir fry for dinner. Mason started specifying what he wanted in his bowl. "Oh carrots, I love those kind. And lots of broccoli Mom. Broccoli is my favorite. And some protein!" he said, pointing to the chicken. 

 

I finished reading Esther's Children. I am struck by two things. One, I am so grateful to live in a time when we don't have to have the trial of disease with us as prominently as just a few decades ago. There were so many stories filled with typhoid, whopping cough, polio, and many unknowns. As a parent I always have a deep fear that it's something worse when a child gets sick. I can't imagine living with those kind of threats to life and health. I feel like my testimony of immunizations was strengthened! The other thing that I learned was the simple yet divine pattern of faith. Trial, prayer, answer. Tribulation, fasting, resolution. Illness, blessing, miracle. Story after story followed the pattern. 

This is the last night Mason will be three. At bedtime I told him stories about him when he was born and what I remembered about each birthday. He is so excited for tomorrow. He fell asleep smiling. (Then I fell asleep too. I am very grateful for a husband who will find me where ever I've passed out to wake me up so I can get to work on time. ) I could say how unbelievable it is that I have a child this old or how fast time has gone by. Really I just want to say how much I love him. I love getting to know him more each day. I am so excited to get to witness his development and life. I love the gradual growth and the sudden revelations.

And now that all of that is out of my head I think I will sleep a little better.

 

the need to read

(enjoy some images from pinterest)

 

This pin came with the caption "kindles don't have this kind of magic". While I agree, Lindsey lent me her's and it was pretty rockin'.

My midwife and I have a funny relationship. Most of the time we talk about alternative cooking methods, emergency preparedness, food storage calculators, cannery night, and our families. Sometimes we talk about babies. When I was expecting Eli we were talking about books along those same themes. I recommended Alas Babylon and The Patriots. She said if I wanted a really good read to check out the Great and Terrible Series. I told her I don't have time to read anymore, especially a whole series, so unless she put me on bed rest I'd just be putting that recommendation on my reading list.

About six months later we were at the ranch and Mariah had left her copy of the first book there. I stole it, devoured it, and was hooked. These books are great. It's hard to pull off "end of the world" meets "testimony builder" but Chris Stewart did a great job. As I starting passing around my copies I realized I needed to keep reading. Bring on Hunger Games series and One Second After to finish up the year.

As a mom I found that reading was something I felt I had to sacrifice. I felt I didn't have the time. I love to read and fondly think of the days when I was a newlywed in California and read a book a day. It may have been excessive but at least it wasn't, ahem, addictive shopping like some other wives were doing.

*want*

Even looking back I can't actually say I haven't read since having kids. It just feels that way. Most of my reading is scriptures or parenting books. You should see the collection of dang parenting books I have. You'd think I would have the best behaved children ever. Soooo not true.

Back to the point of this post. I've decided to keep reading in 2012. To make it a priority. It makes me happy and that's not selfish.  When I'm happy I'm a better mom. The house is cleaner (I play the "you can't read until the dishes are done" game).

I need correct perspective though. I think "I never read anymore" when actually do. I've decided to keep a list. My initial goal is just one book a month. It's not "one a day" but life has changed. And I probably shouldn't be reading instead of parenting, exercising, showering, writing, etc.

The best part of this has been that I haven't wasted time on reading anything not worth while. All came highly recommended by friends and family. I don't think I'd feel as good about reading if I was giving my time and attention to books that aren't uplifting or thought provoking (and I'll just go ahead and declare that's why I'm not interesting in Twilight. There, I said it.)

So without further ado: Here's what I've read so far.

(I wish)

I found The Survivors Club to be captivating. I trudged through In Arabian Nights but the journey was worth it. Enjoyed The Help. Was uplifted by Mama's Bank Account. Matched was, well, a match made in heaven. Crossed was good too and gave me a hankering to go hiking.


I'm currently finding truth in Simplicity Parenting and getting way too many ideas (including getting rid of toys and BOOKS of all things). I'm also reading from Esther's Children which is a family history book about my third great grandparents and their descendants. They crossed the plains pulling handcarts, were part of the muddy mission, and the United Order. Story after story is full of faith and miracles. Certain stories have really affected me. I can't stop thinking about the relative who had a boy, then two girls, then two twin girls. After feeling so blessed and full, all of her daughters were lost to whopping cough. Years later a new baby girl also contracted the illness and was brought back from the edge of death after a priesthood blessing. How much can one woman endure? Her story has brought perspective to my trivial parental complaints.

And that's the point. I don't want to read to escape, but to enhance the life I'm in. I still don't have the time I wish I had but I'll just take it out of my nonexistent blogging time :)

this week's excuse

I keep declaring "this is the week I'm going to get caught up on writing".
Let's see.
One week I got sick.
Last week Lindsey lent me a book I wanted to read.
This week Janett's house flooded- from the ceiling on down! Though they are the easiest house guests I have spent my spare time with baby Brylie and trying to imagine how in the world I'll ever handle three kids full time.

So I'm going to write a few quick things so that I have less catching up to do later.

I'm happy because I made a divine roast in my sun oven yesterday. House stayed cool. Energy was free. Food was delicious.
 
I'm tired because Mason woke up in the middle of the night (okay it was actually 11:30 so I was delighted to go back to sleep with hours of rest awaiting) acting like a total demon. As in growling and hissing his demands at me furiously. He was thirsty, but come on man, your approach is a little intense.

I'm sad because the garden isn't in. And with Jason working so much I think it's up to me. I will be very very sad if that means it's not going to happen.


I'm excited for our airport to get jets. Honestly I don't want to change aircraft and I'm very fond of the prop planes we have now. However this means my shift will change to where I'm not working at 4:30 am or getting off at midnight. I really look forward to getting more sleep.

I wish Jason was home more often. He's working overtime this week at first job and then going in to second job for three or so more hours. That's 6am to 8pm. And then sometimes I work evenings at either 8 or 10pm. This crazy schedule is temporary and I remind myself of that fact several times a day. I get especially sad when I put the kids to bed because some times that means Eli has only seen Jase when he comes home to change for about 15 minutes. It's only temporary. But I miss my husband.

I'll blog if you blog

Lindsey says we need to write more. I'll admit I am still catching up from last year and post dating like crazy. I have a lot of work to do. But I also pointed out that she hasn't really posted since returning to the states. Exactly, she says. So we blog.

For the record I hate the word blog. It sounds like a yucky cold symptom. As in "he sounded so blogged up when I talked to him on the phone." Or it could be a description for when you are feeling scrubby. As in "I ran to the store after working out. I looked like a total blog when I ran into an old boyfriend."

As usual though, I am having a hard time feeling inspired with this forced writing feeling. I have some good topics I want to write about, but I'm just not feeling it right now. So what else?

Well, for starters I am writing in the bathroom. (ew, that's so bloggy). Jason and Mason are out exploring in the rhino with the Johnson boys. Later they are all going to a basketball game at the University. I started trimming Eli's hair until I felt regretful and stopped. Now he's in the bath and I'm typing and supervising. Most people would see Eli and be of the opinion that his shaggy hair is still in need of a trim. At least now it's out of his eyes and not past his neck anymore. Eli started hating the bath a few days ago. Today I put him in first and then turned on the water. It seems to have done the trick and he's contentedly playing.

I can always write about food. I made Hawaiian haystacks last night for the first time. I've been craving leftovers all day. Actually all night as well. I worked until midnight and when I got home I had a serious debate with myself about eating again at that late hour. I guess I lost since I went to bed without. Janett and Brady came over for dinner and brought delicious homemade strawberry lemonade. It was amazing. I wonder if it is normal to love food so much.

A while back we had a Chinese dinner complete with chop sticks and fortune cookies. It is fun to have Mason grown up enough to be interested when I show him where China is on the map and to talk about different cultural things. Eli devoured each egg rolls in two bites. He is an eating machine.  Mason earnestly tried to use the chop sticks. He is so determined. They make dinner time entertaining, that is when I'm not pulling out my hair in frustration as Eli stuffs his face and makes a huge mess and Mason eats like a bird and just wants to be done.

*Eli is putting his face under the running water and then looking at me and acting shocked until I laugh. Then he smiles and laughs and does it again.*

Mason's favorite food is Otter Pops. He asks to have two, which I don't let him because one always melts and makes a mess. So now he asks for "two but one at a time". I can be okay with that. He will bring me an Otter Pop, scissors, and a wash cloth. My job is to cut it open and then wrap it up so his hands don't freeze.

Here's a food picture for you. We had extra cottage cheese left over from making stuffed shells. Eli had eaten everything else in the house so I dished some up for him. Cottage cheese is not a food I can eat plain and feeding him was making me gag. Mason offered to help out and cheerfully fed his little brother.

In unrelated news, I decided to give up being a slacker mom for Lent. It's a bit harder to track than other years when I've given up meat or chocolate but it needs to be done. The other day Mason came in while I was reading my scriptures and asked what I was reading about. "Robbers". What are they stealing, he asked. It suddenly occurred to me that he is old enough to read what I read, not just the basic scripture stories that we stick to. So he sat with me while I paraphrased each verse into understandable words. I decided we need to do it together every day. The next day we got to the part where the bad guy is hung in a tree. I hesitated there since that's pretty violent for a 3 year old. Mason didn't seem bothered by it, asked a couple questions, and then asked "then what?"

Mason likes the story of Samuel the Lamanite and will flip to that picture in his scriptures. He will show me the bad guys that are shooting arrows, laugh, and say "but they missed" like it's the biggest joke.

We went out to Three Peaks yesterday. Despite the rough offroading in the rhino, Mason quickly fell asleep in the back. Even Eli dozed off and on. After a couple hours we got out to play on the rocks. I love the cool rock formations we have in this area.

During one of my early psychology classes at college I learned about how Australian aborigines would just take off into the bush. Walkabouts, as they are called, involved few supplies, solitude, and introspection. They were both spiritual journeys and tests of survival. The goal was enlightenment and self actualization. Okay, I don't know how much of this is the white man's opinion on what was happening, but I fell in love with this idea and started planning my adventure. I picked an area out west of town in the desert and planned to be gone 3-4 days. I figured I'd take a knife and some kind of empty water container and that's it. I learned about edible plants, shelters, and how to create a green house effect on desert plants to create enough condensation to get drinking water. I added a plastic bag to my supply list. I spent time thinking about the dangers of rattlesnakes, big cats, and dehydration. I couldn't wait. And then- I didn't do it. I never actually decided against it. I simply didn't do it. I didn't make time for it or schedule it in. (side note: scheduling a walkabout is probably not how it's supposed to happen, but I didn't want to freak out my family, co workers, and roommates by just wandering off). Life went on. I got engaged, married, and then we started moving all over the nation. Had a baby. Then another.

Yesterday I sat on the knobby rock watching hawks float above me while the spring sun unsuccessfully tried to warm me up. I eyed a little indent in one of the rock formations and started planning on how I could turn it into a shelter if I had picked this spot as my temporary desert home. I considered a small muddy section of ground that was moistened by water seeping from the rock and wondered how late into the season it would stay wet. Suddenly I realized that I will never have my walkabout. I will never live alone in the desolation, even for a few days. I will not have hours of silence to think about my life and my purpose. This new life is the adventure I have chosen. And you don't wander away from your family in hopes of achieving some greater understanding of life. You stay in the trenches and grow in ways you never dreamed possible. I have discovered so much about myself by how I handle the 100th time a kid throws food across the room. I see the world so differently just by looking through a child's eyes. I hope someday my family will be interested in doing survival trips together. Until that day, just getting to church on time feels pretty extreme. 

I thought I was done on this topic but there is a little voice in my head that keeps whispering "But you did leave them. You do value your own adventures more than anything, even being together."

I don't know how to explain this, but it's partly true. I do leave sometimes. I didn't intentionally plan it this way, but when each of my babies was around 10 months old, I left. As in, out of the country left. When Mason was a baby we went to Ireland. And a few months back I left baby Eli and when to The Netherlands. Is it any different? I wouldn't say they were abandoned in any way. Both times my mom took the baby and this latest time Jason took Mason to a family reunion at the lake. I wouldn't even say that I "needed to get away". It was more like there was an opportunity that I didn't think would present itself again. Is it any different? Is traveling to the other side of the world any better than walking out into the wilderness? All things considered it might be safer to stay local and camp out compared to so much travel, transportation, strange cities, language barriers,  and sleeping in airports as I tried to get back. Is it any different? I like to think it is. Even though I do leave, I cannot wait to get back. I value adventure and travel, but not more than being together. When my family is not together it physically hurts. I suppose the question is will I do it again?

So there we go. Haircuts and boys. Food and robbers. Rocks and airplanes. That is a pretty good snapshot of my life. 

I'm over it

Well, it's January 2nd. I got online and after about 3 minutes decided I am SO over New Years. Actually, I guess I never really got into it to begin with.

CELEBRATION: We didn't do anything. Of all the options nothing sounded as good as staying home, being together, and getting some sleep. Though I usually really get into holidays, I didn't even mention anything to Mason other than to let him know the next day was a new year so he would be going to his new class at church. Oh, and I gave him two packs of POPS which he delightfully threw on the porch in complete satisfaction. Some of the Starr fam: Jeff, Necia, Joss, and Joe came over. We visited. Ate. The kiddos played. Then they went home and we went to bed. It was just what I needed after such a crazy December. It was peaceful and effortless. I definitely mark it as the best New Years yet.

RESOLUTIONS: I see several blogs boasting this as the year for "Organization", "Simplicity", "Taking over the world one craft at a time", or "Continuing to be the best at everything". I know I may sound lame but I am just not that interested in conquering the world this year. I don't have some big defining goal summed up in one all inclusive word pasted in a cute font. I always have things I want to improve on but resolutions, in January, seem so cliche. That's why I started working out in December (snort. True,  but that sure sounds superior.) If you weren't doing something yesterday, why would you start today just because of the date on the calendar? If your motivation is the date, no wonder most resolutions FAIL.

Perhaps it's that I'm not looking for Big Change. I really like life as it is. It's not perfect but just a little more of some things and a little less of others and we're about there.

Must I list something? Fine. Then I resolve not to bite off more than I can chew... for at least two months. No big projects, overhauls, or special causes. December flat out down right wore me out. So I resolve to take it easy for a bit. Take THAT, ambition.

The End...of 2011

Christmas is over and the New Year is just around the corner. It's time to look back at 2011. It seemed to go by very fast. I remember Mason's first year going by so slow. That was probably due to severe lack of sleep so in actuality this year went by so fast because I slept through so much more of it!

This year we had our 5th wedding anniversary. Jason turned 29, Mason turned 3, I turned 27, and Eli turned one. It was a year of starts. Mason started ICSD pre-school and started riding the bus. I started working for SkyWest again, but this time at the Cedar City station. Jason started working for Timberline Cabinets. Eli started slobbering and still hasn't stopped. He also started crawling, walking, climbing, and causing general destruction.

It was a year of changes. For the first summer EVER we didn't move to some random state for a 4 month adventure. Instead we grew a garden, went to parades, and spent a lot of time at the ranch. We sold our Chevy. Jason traded his Vulcan for a Rhino (talk about a bargain). I had my appendix out. Eli got stitches. Mason went from a toddler bed, to a new toddler bed, to a twin bed, to a new twin bed. Sometimes he even sleeps there.

We continue to be in charge of the 11 year old scouts for our tri-ward area. We have a really great group of boys right now. Mostly because they show up and think we're cool. Maybe it's the fire building they think is cool. Jason is also the ward mission leader.  It still blows his mind that the full time missionaries can text. This is Mason's last month in nursery. In January he'll go to Primary. Eli...sort of hates church and we spend most of the time out in the hall.

Life is good. We're happy and healthy. 2011 was pretty darn good. Here's to 2012!

Holding on and letting go

Another one of Mason's awesome self portraits.

What a week. Sometimes it's just hard to be a parent. In so many situations lately I've been struggling with the fine line between taking care of Mason and letting Mason take care of himself. Helping him or holding him back. Letting him learn or shielding him from hurt. I have had an increased awareness of his independence. It didn't help to get a call from Mason's preschool teacher. We're worried, she said. Not happy with his progress. Still not where he should be with his speech. Let's try four days a week.

I don't think she expected anything other than pleasant compliance. She didn't realize how my mom-brain works. Increasing his attendance to four days a week now and then probably when he's four years old too and then he'll be in Kindergarten and then he's pretty much off to college and his childhood is gone in the blink of an eye. Call me crazy but I'm not feeling ready to jump on that train so quickly. It's strange, I know, but I really enjoy being with my kids. When people offer to watch the kids to give me a break I think, how about I keep the kids and you do my dishes?

The whole week was spent asking questions, getting opinions, praying, talking to Mason, to Jason, to anyone that would lend an ear or advice. Am I making a big deal out of this? Absolutely.

Mason loves school. I love the teachers and speech therapists. But I don't like being apart. I don't like worrying about him while he's gone. I don't like his behavior later on school days. But I also don't like how frustrated he gets when someone doesn't understand him. Lately he'll say "I did say that" or "you aren't listening to me" or he'll just give up and cry.

Mason's speech is getting better. Remember when he used to sing "see naz baz" for Jingle Bells? Now it sounds like "See No Bears" which I think is pretty dang good. I can understand him 90% of the time, first try. But few others speak Masoneese. This week he fell and hurt his face. Everyone has been asking him what happened. Either he won't even respond, because what's the point? or he tells them and I then get that blank "what did he say" expression sent my way. No one's fault, just evidence there is a need for help.

I had almost made up my mind to do 4days a week. Then on Wednesday Mason stopped me at the door on the way to the school bus. He told me he wanted to do it by himself and I needed to wait at the front door. WHAT??? I wanted to say "You are three. I'm supposed to walk you to the bus/brush your teeth/tuck you in/never let you out of my sight." Instead I coolly shrugged and pretended that was fine with me. Mason has to crawl up the first step on the bus because he's so little for Pete's sake. He puts his underwear on backwards half the time. What does that have anything to do with it? Everything, obviously.

I read an article about how parents are doing too much for their children and basically destroying society by doing so. Do I do too much for Mason? Absolutely. Am I going to change that? Maybe. I want him to be strong. Independent. Happy. I want him to make his own choices. I hope he really screws up big time while I am still around to give him a hug. I want him to understand work. I want him have pride in his accomplishments, but not because anyone told him "well done".

I remember when he was a newborn and life was really hard. We were living in Minneapolis, my body hurt, nursing was a disaster, and I didn't have my huge family to rescue me. Oh how Mason cried and cried. I remember talking to Amy and telling her "I thought love would be enough". I really thought that because I love him more than my own life that everything else would work out. I thought I would be an excellent mother and that our days would be spent with him sleeping on my chest while I read. Or that he would love to see the wonderful world I was introducing him to. Instead he just cried. And cried.

I guess I still think that love should be enough. I love you (to the moon and back as he says) so you shouldn't ever get hurt, be sad, have struggles, or misbehave.

Once again I have a lot to write about but hardly anything by way of a conclusion. After contemplating pulling him out of school all together I've decided to go ahead and try the double school time. I've made it clear to everyone this is just a 30 day trial and I keep whispering to myself "you're the mom, you're the mom". My neighbor, his speech therapist, pulled me aside at church today and assured me that his progress would skyrocket. Well it better or I want his childhood back.

Today Mason made me smile a hundred times. No matter what heartache we have over our children, it is always always still worth it. He held the door open for me at church. He did his funny little sneaky dance that he knows makes me laugh. He surprised me by reciting my cell number, which I didn't know he knew. And he fell asleep in my arms tonight as I read from the "A Story to Tell" book.

I'm going to go play my favorite game now. It's called "sneak into their room and be filled with awe as I gaze at my sleeping kids". Best game ever.

snapshot

A post titled "snapshot" with no pictures. Yup. I miss writing. I will eventually find a way to keep all the balls in the air. Until then, blogging has taken a back seat. However, I need to write. For my sake, for recording, for whatever. So I'm introducing "snapshots". They'll be quick, dirty, and grammatically incorrect. Just enough to record what life is like. Just enough to let a little steam out of the kettle so I don't explode.

Today. Mason slept in for the first time in ages. Mason slept in his own bed, all night for the first time in AGES people! Eli coughed a bit during the night but also slept really well. Jason, wounded from another grueling game of church basketball, didn't sleep so well. Yet he was off to work so early it still felt like night. He's always so good at saying goodbye. It scares the heck out of me every time (quick joke my mom told me tonight: a boy asks his father "What is heck?" the wise father responds "it's a place where there is no Gosh").

I actually had to wake Mace up to get ready for school. On Monday the bus driver said they'd be coming later since the route was pretty short. By later she must have meant even earlier. We ran out to the bus, which was blocking the way of the garbage truck, which was blocking the way of another bus. Our street has never been so busy. As the bus pulled away I realized Mason hadn't brushed his teeth. It bugged me so much I was tempted to show up at his classroom with a toothbrush. I'm not even going to admit that for the first/last/only time ever he also had a pop tart for breakfast. I didn't go grocery shopping as planned since Jason was out late (waaaaay late) getting beat up playing ball. We were out of milk. What a way to start the day.

Visiting teaching, grocery shopping, phone calls, errand running, and then home to meet Mason getting off the bus. He said "My teacher said: Mason you don't talk very much". Oh Mace. I also spent about 20 minutes at the gas station discussing the best way to get to the Grand Canyon and rating the "curviness" of hwy 14. Spent part of the middle of the day falling dozing on the floor while the boys threw blocks at my head. I love having two. I'll say it a million times. I love how they make each other laugh. I love how Mason will run into their room squealing "Good Morning Eli!". I love how Eli brightens at the sight of his brother.

More time spent washing bottles full of peaches and jam, cleaning out a few dresser drawers, resubscribing to the newspaper, and playing tag. 

Jason came home, still limping. We talked about our plans for the long weekend, the end of the summer, the rest of the year, the rest of our lives. Yep, have it all planned out. Don't be jealous.

I ran to work. It was so hot. I try not to complain. I hate wearing shoes though. I'd never complain if I could just wear flip flops. Ditching the hideous uniform all together would be nice. Mom's flying standby to Reno tomorrow. Checked the flights. Listed her. Checked her in.

Ran home. Made dinner. Bathed the boys. Ran back to work. Talked with Kacy. He's a very calming influence. And we work well together. Drove to mom's to drop off her tickets. Sat around telling jokes with mom and dad and pretended we weren't tired. Came home. Everyone is asleep but my head is racing so I type.

The end.

I never want to forget mom retelling a spectacular scene she saw flying back from Oregon. So amazing she wanted to stand and proclaim "Behold!" to all the passengers too busy on their iPhones to notice the miracle outside the window.

I always want to remember dad's pleased expression when I retold one of his classic jokes and made mom burst out laughing. You know the one. The man goes into his therapist and says "What is wrong with me? I'm a wigwam I'm a teepee I'm a wigwam I'm a teepee". The Therapist says "Well it is clear that you are two tense!"

I love the way the kids look when they are sleeping. Curled up or splayed out. Pouty lips and stillness.

I love the catharsis of purging words out of my head. Fingers move without thought. Too fast at first. Slowing down and I think I can rest now. Perhaps unedited thought dumping is the answer to my insomnia.

the down side

It's just after two and Mason and I have already tried sleeping in his room, his tent, the couch, and my bed. My bed is officially off limits to sneaky rugrats so that location was very very temporary. Mason has decided he's thirsty and for orange juice. I don't have any orange juice. Water, milk, apple juice will not do. I'm considering busting out the food coloring just so I can go back to bed. Finally the boss decides apple juice is an acceptable substitute. He wants to pour it himself. It's spilling, he's screaming, I'm groaning. I've tried patience, I've tried reasoning, I've tried ignoring, I've tried cuddling, I've tried helping, I've tried walking away. He's still screaming. Juice is everywhere. He's running down the hall he's so mad he can't stand to be near me. He's running back because he still wants his juice. Since I'm up I'm doing dishes and preparing Eli's bottle that he will inevitably need with all this racket. I finally reach my no nonsense stage. The juice is in the fridge where he can't reach it. There is a cup, poured by me, if he chooses he wants it. More screaming. I'm pretty sure he's more asleep than awake. Mason runs again, this time screaming for his dad. Even though Jason has an early morning, this is a little bit good. Mason and Jason clash a lot and he doesn't usually go to him for comfort. After things quiet down I manage to drag myself off the couch and go check on the situation. Mason is whimpering. Jason...Jason wants a drink. He doesn't know what's been going on so the request isn't as conniving as it sounds. I get both boys juice. Mason still won't drink his and starts screaming again and it almost spills all over our bed. My bed. Off limits? I'm so tired.

When I wake this morning I don't remember how the drama was resolved. The cups are both empty, but Mason is in our bed. Jason sneaks out to work. He must have calmed us all down. My head hurts. Eli is stirring. If we're quiet he'll go back to sleep for another hour or so. Mason is sniffling in his sleep. Sniff. Again. Sniff. He's waking up. "My nose is runny!" he bellows. "My nose is runny!" Louder and more frantic. I know where this is going. I try my tricks to calm him down. They don't work. Nothing bothers Mason more than a stuffy nose. Eli is crying out. My body is begging to remain resting.

Sometimes it's just hard.
I'm not writing to complain. Just writing to remember.

#11: Fish at Wood's Ranch/Kid's Pond

Let's get real here. This is just another #22 but at least it has it's own number so I can feel like I'm actually making progress on the summer list.

We had plans to meet up with an old roommate of mine but they weren't able to make it last minute. We were literally headed up the mountain (can you be figuratively headed up the mountain???) when Jason got a text from our friends, the Johnsons, inviting us up to Kid's Pond. Crazy coincidence. So we said beat you there and kept driving. Dustin and Jason go back the college days where they played some manner of sports together or something. His wife Heather was one of the first people I met when me moved into our new ward and she ended up being my visiting teacher. She's the type of calm composed mom that makes me want to be nicer. The Johnsons are edifying to be around. They brought some relatives and friends, including Ryan and Lindy who just moved out of our ward. We went to Oak Grove with them a while ago and after this night I'm further convinced that they are my kind of people. They love the outdoors and find ways to keep having adventures while having kids. I'm seriously in love with their van/mobile campout set up. Also, I don't think I've ever heard Heather or Lindy complain about anything, ever.

Okay, I'll stop crushing and get on with the narration.

I lost my beloved sling and so we're using this monstrous contraption.
Oh well, Eli's still happy.
Random fact, Jason and I took some of our engagement pictures in almost this exact spot.
So... inexactly right there!

I think we're getting quite the collection of this pose.
Place: Kids Pond.
Subjects: Jason and Junior.
Action: Catching a fish.
Father beams with pride. Son wants to throw rocks in the water.
Frequency: Every 4-6 months.
At least this time Mason stayed clothed.

It's always great to meet new people, especially because I tend to be more reserved. But you can't help but make friends when you are sitting together enjoying the mountain together. Poor suckers... once I open my mouth. I can't shut up.

Aaaaaand, I had another chance to use my campfire cooker contraption. It's a hinged box with a handle that goes in the fire. I made cinnamon rolls this time and they were a smashing hit.

On a more personal note, I had a really beautiful moment that night. I had a passel of kids sitting with me and Mason at the water's edge away from the fire and adults. I was making up stories about dragons and had a contest going to see who could spot the first star reflecting in the water. As it got darker the day quickly slipped into night. My favorite time of day is twilight (curse you vampire crap literature for ruining that word for all of humanity). I love that small window of time where everything turns a shade of blue before all color smears into black. I was listening intently to the woes of an eight year old when I realized with an ache that I had missed that moment. The night was upon us and I missed the transition. I was truly sorrowful for a breath or two. Then I realized with great force that I hadn't missed anything. There was no better moment in all the world than to be right there, right then, with those people. I often fear as a parent that I'm missing the real parts of my children because I'm too consumed with the every day tasks and motions. I am often searching for the perfect moment, the perfect words, the perfect picture, not realizing the perfection is there if I could just embrace it. So I did. I held my boy tighter and relished in joy of childhood of the little ones around me. Life can be perfect, and delightful, and magical if we decide to believe in it.

As I type this I'm remembering a similar post of "the perfect moment". Was it a year or so ago? Once again at Woods Ranch. The Johnson's were there. Lindsey was there. Perfection was there. Or I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's always there. And sometimes I'm able to be aware of it.

Life at a glance

I feel like life is really busy. At first I thought it was adding work to the schedule, but that hardly counts. There just seems to be a lot going on. Here's our week calendar. I use these to keep track of everything yet I still manage to forget some pretty important things. I constantly feel like I'm falling behind. One step forward, two steps back. The To-Do list gets longer, the laundry pile gets higher, all while I spend the extra little minutes blissfully enjoying my boys. There's a gazillion warm-fuzzy quotes about how life is supposed to be like that yet I still wish I could accomplish more. My mom managed to raise 9 happy kids, keep a tidy house, cook like a gourmet, and work. So...

Recently I read a line from a friend's blog that really struck me. Do something each day that cannot be undone. I love it. It can be so frustrating to finish mopping the floor only to have Mr. Right come in with muddy boots. It drives me nuts to go downstairs and find the toy box has exploded my absence. Housework is like shoveling in a blizzard. No matter how hard or fast you work the progress is rapidly covered up with fresh snow. THAT is why I love this saying. I'll forever have dishes to do, but if I can do something permanent today, and each day, then I can still go to bed feeling accomplished even if the condition of my house proves otherwise. So I can play with my kids and hold them close. Nothing can take that away. I can work on creating something, despite my crafty ineptitude, it will still mark the day as existing. I can snap pictures. And I can write.

I keep thinking that soon things will slow down. Maybe they will... like when I'm 80. 

Marching on

It's mid March already! I keep thinking that I'll catch up with writing and the other bazillion projects when life slows down. It's faulty thinking. Life just keeps picking up speed. Now that I have 2 minutes to sit and type my mind has gone blank. So much for meaningful essays. Here's a few random blurbs instead:

I have two incredible boys. One is almost three, one is three months. Guess which one sleeps through the night and which one wakes up frequently? It's not the obvious answer.

I get to talk to Lindsey weekly now. We found a time that we're both available and can chat for a bit while she drives home and my kids are asleep. It's wonderful to be current with your bestie. We'll always be close even if we live on opposite sides of the world and never talk, but it's really great to be in regular communication. Also, she brought me chocolate covered pretzels and a greeting card as big as place mat. That's why she's the best. 

We bought a huge 60lbs bucket of sprouts. Have I written about my sprouting obsession yet? Ooooh. I don't think I have. I will soon.

I FINALLY made cake balls after hearing everyone rave about them forever. They weren't perfect, but it was fun. Yes, cake balls are indeed noteworthy.

I asked Mason where he wanted to go for his birthday in a couple months. I suggested the beach or the zoo. He said he'd wanted to go to Kristi's house. 

Also noteworthy that Jason and I fixed our garbage disposal. It made me feel very handy. We are like real homeowners now! Really though, doing stuff like that together is better than any date out on the town. We're getting ready to plant our garden. We'll probably fall deeply in love with each other all over again :) Cooperation and hard work were the things that started our relationship and also the things that seem to draw us closer together still.

I was very recently telling my mom how overwhelmingly happy I was staying at home with my kids. I didn't want to go anywhere, not even the library. Not because I was too tired or scared to go out, I just didn't want to. I gloried in our simple life and quiet days. We were so content. And then a random job opportunity came up. And for some reason I went for it. And for some reason I got it. And for some reason I'm loving it. It's been a whirlwind of changes but I think it's going to work out. Craziness.

Amy took Eli for a whole night. Even though he's a great sleeper I slept so well knowing she was "on duty" and didn't even get sick to my stomach being separated from him. Ironically he woke up several times during the night which is very unlike him. Poor Ames. Oops, I just gave away the answer to the first question. 

Eli's baby blessing was a few weeks ago. Both sides of the family came for the occasion. We were only missing four brothers out of the 18 combined siblings. Mason loved being entertained by all his cousins. When he woke up the next day he wandered around the quiet empty house asking where his friends were.

And because no entry is complete without a picture, here's the fam. I just realized I look absolutely nothing like my mother.

Eli's birth story

Enough already, right? I've handwritten a bit of this story, wrote a series of stories from different perspectives, and told the tale to those that ask. For a while I thought that I was done, but it turns out I do need to write about it. I've tried a couple times, spent a lot of energy editing the first paragraph, and experienced writer's block. You'd think I could just write down what happened but this experience was indescribably intense. It's hard to know how much to share, but I really want a record, in my own words. That night, or morning I suppose, was one of the most emotional times of my life. I experienced everything from fear to peace, unpreparedness to confidence, pain to euphoria, and all the emotions in between.

On Wednesday, the 15th, I took a nap, went out to lunch with Jason, and hung out with my mom and sister. It was a normal day. That night Mason woke up around 1am asking for milk. We usually only give him water at night but it didn't seem like a big deal so we headed to the kitchen. I felt a strange little sensation when I walked so I called out for Jason to take over with Mason and get him back into bed. I felt sort of sick, like I was going to throw up. I went back to bed, this time putting down an extra towel, just in case. I must have complained about feeling sick a couple of times because Jason brought me a piece of bread at 3am. I remember getting up and going to the bathroom several times. I just didn't feel good. I started having Braxton Hicks contractions, but I'd experienced them so much during the last few weeks that I still really didn't think "this is it". I figured I'd simply wait and see what happened and if my water broke or something then we'd head in to be checked.

I found out that soaking in a warm bath helps ease the tension and discomfort of false contractions so around 3:30 I abandoned hopes of sleep and filled the tub. I got in and it seemed like as soon as I leaned back I was hit with a really hard contraction. Really really hard. I called out for Jason. He came in and I asked him to write down the time. He did and waited for me to decide how to proceed. I couldn't believe how much it hurt. The next contraction came just three minutes later and it was bad. I realized I was in labor and we needed to get going quickly! I told him to start loading up and call my mom to have her take over Mason duty. I was in the tub for three more contractions. While I was in there I was really scared. I had big plans for this birth. I was set on having him naturally and wanted to be really involved as well. The pain of these contractions was insane. I began to have real doubts about being able to continue on for hours with this level of pain. I did not remember the early stages of labor being so intense with Mason. I remembered reading that you can't walk or talk during real labor so I quietly sang "I am a child of God" during each of those contractions. I was pleased that the pain only lasted as long as each of the quickly whispered verses.

Jason had woken up my mom and they decided that the fastest way to get to the hospital would be to drop Mason off at her house on the way. As I could manage I called out additional items I knew we needed and other little directions. To Jason's credit he was moving fast. He took a trip out to warm up the car. I moved into the bedroom to try to get dressed so we could go. I knelt at the foot of the bed, leaning against it for support, and prayed. At this point time slowed wayyyy down. When the contractions came I used counter -pressure on my lower back and had a lot of relief. Jason took our bags out to the car and while he was gone the pain really changed. As I knelt there I had a hyper-awareness of my body. The contractions changed and I felt a need to push. I did not want to push. I pushed for two hours with Mason and it was pretty horrible. I remembered a couple lines from a book my midwife gave me. "There is a difference between pain and suffering". I was obviously in pain, but in that moment I calmed down. I told myself to take control, that my body knew what to do, and I knew how to experience this without suffering. I started swaying back and forth on my knees and alternating between counter-pressure and grasping my own hands to avoid pushing. A heavy calm filled the room. I no longer felt the need to cry out with pain, just to breathe and be quiet. Another tip from the book popped into mind: to focus in on the pain. So I did. At one moment I distinctly felt the bones of my body move in preparation of the baby's descent. I don't remember pain after this point. The pushing feeling was overwhelming but I wouldn't describe it as pain. Jason took Mason out to the car and I was struck by the realization that I wasn't going to be able to walk from the emergency room entrance to the OB ward. Shortly, I would discover that I couldn't walk at all.

When Jason came in to get me I was still on my knees, deeply focused on breathing. He said "It's time to go". He reached out and helped me to my feet. As I stood I was aware of a great change in my body. It was an alignment of sorts. I knew without a doubt that as I rose, everything was moving into place. I felt like I should keep going and as Jason supported me I went up onto my toes. At that moment I realized the baby was coming. As I came down from the demi pointe releve I felt the baby crowning. I looked Jason in the face and told him to bring Mason back in from the car, to get me some towels, and call and ambulance. From the bath to this point was about 25 minutes.

He threw some towels in the room and went out to get Mason. When I was all alone I tried to get back down on the ground and felt the baby's head coming out and then suddenly his head was out! I tried to support his head but I couldn't tell where his face was. Time froze and I didn't know what to do. I felt so unprepared. I should have done more reading and research about home births, just in case. We have several friends and family members that choose to do this. But they are prepared. I wasn't. And I didn't know what to do to get his shoulders out. I started feeling so scared. I prayed and prayed and prayed. And then his shoulders were just out. And then he was here! I called out to Jason "he's here" and laid him on the floor. At this point the calm kicked back in. I noticed the cord was wrapped around his neck and across his face. I unwrapped it and covered him in a towel and checked his breathing. Jason, in the meantime had called 911 and was on the phone, holding Mason, when he came back in and saw his new baby had arrived. Eli wasn't making much noise and oh, how I wanted him to cry out. I asked Jason for the bulb syringe and he handed it to me right away. (Later I asked him where he had found it since I didn't even know where it was. He doesn't remember even giving it to me.) While I suctioned out Eli's nose and mouth, Jason was on the phone with dispatch. They told him to tie a cord off with a shoelace. I heard him ask if it needed to be clean. Turns out he was trying to hold it together and stay calm and was staring at his brand new pair of basketball shoes debating if he should use those laces or not. He ended up grabbing a old shoelace off his classic white Adidas shoes. About that time some police officers arrived. They saw the baby was already delivered and from the doorway blurted words of encouragement and assured us help was on the way. The paramedics arrived. They clamped off the cord better and went to cut it. I asked if I could and she let me. One lady took Eli up on the bed and checked him out and finally got a good cry out of him. The other kept trying to give me an IV, take my blood pressure, and told me to lay down. I did not want anything to do with any of those things. I opted to stay on my knees as the contractions started up again. With Mason this part went by unnoticed. This time around I had strong, painful contractions. I sent Jason for a bowl and when he brought it in I had delivered the afterbirth. "Here it is" I said. "What?" was the paramedic's response. "The placenta" I said while thinking: pay attention people, and I put it in the bowl. They gave Eli back to me so I could hold him and warm him up and nurse. Mason had been crying because he felt all alone outside the room so we brought him in and he was content. The policemen gave him a stuffed bear and a toy car and he was happy as could be. My parents arrived before the lost ambulance found it's way to our house. As we were getting everything taken care of I started to shake. Thinking back on what had just happened I said "I think I skipped a couple steps". I had been waiting for that distinct water-breaking sensation. I didn't ever push either.

They wanted to get us to the hospital right away. They tried bringing the stretcher into the master bedroom but it couldn't make the last turn. I got some clothes on and  just walked down the hall. and got on it., feeling kind of silly. Although I felt really good, I couldn't stop shaking, and I was so hungry. When I was getting all situated on the stretcher I handed my mom my ice pack and said "trade you for a banana". She went and got me one from the kitchen because moms are understanding like that. They suggested I refrain from eating but it seemed like a darn good idea to me. They strapped me down in several places and I'll admit I started panicking. I don't like being restrained, even IVs make me anxious. Then they started pushing me out the door. It was raining out and we have three steps. I was sure we were going to tip over and I couldn't even get my arms loose to break the fall. We made it to the ambulance just fine but as soon as they shut the door I yelled "where's my husband?". They said he was up front where the seat belts are. I spent the rest of the ride trying to go back to the calm place in my mind from earlier, but I was going into shock and was not feeling calm at all. I didn't recognize the view out the window and for a while thought that we had gone to a different city. I tried not to cry but the events of the past hour hit me hard. I remember thinking, "Whoa, that was really scary."

When we got to the hospital the EMT ran Eli in to get him under the lights since he was so cold. We got situated quickly but our unusual arrival with the baby already delivered added some confusion to their normal routine. By the time my midwife was notified and arrived I was exhausted starving, and shaking like crazy. She tried massaging my stomach but when she even touched me I started freaking out. Poor lady has a broken shoulder but luckily her hurt side was the furthest from me. I knew I was acting crazy but I couldn't help it. Every time she touched me I pushed her away. I simultaneously grabbed at her arm and apologized over and over. Finally we all decided I needed some drugs to take the edge off. When that didn't work we doubled the dose. She assured me it was going to knock me out but it didn't do much more than calm me a bit. Finally Eli was warm enough that Jason could hold him. We couldn't rest; we were too wired from the whole ordeal. We ended up spending the next night at the hospital and by the following day we were begging to get discharged we were so bored. Jason went home to shower earlier and was so thoughtful and cleaned up  everything in our room and cleaned the carpets. I know that was really hard for him to do, but  it made such a difference. Coming home to the place of so much stress and emotion was hard enough with everything perfectly clean.

Going through such a quick labor was such a different experience from the baby before. With Mason I was sore, head to toe, and especially my arms from pushing. This time I felt great and was back to normal quickly other than stitches. We couldn't believe it had happened like that. Neither could anyone else. I sent a text to all my siblings saying "Whoops. Baby is here. Had him at home. Now we are at the hospital and everyone is fine". Most thought it was a joke.

Eli is really special baby. I am so glad he's here and that everything turned out okay. We've called him "Lucky" from the beginning and he's rightfully earned the nickname over and over. I feel so fortunate that we weren't in the car when he was born. Although I didn't really know what to do, my body did, and thankfully we could call for help. Although the experience was so intense, Jason kept remarking on how calm I was. I really think there were angels there helping us out.

I don't know how something can be so frightening, overwhelming, awesome, exhilarating, and spiritual all at the same time. But no matter the story, childbirth is all of those things. It changed me forever.

it sucks

When I get very sick and have a high temperature, I get delirious. I have a reoccurring 'vision' where I am in large warehouse type room with a very very large object. The object itself has no characteristics other than it's size. It is enormous. The size of it make me sick and full of dread. As time goes on the object divides in size. Almost with every fever laden beat of my heart it divides again. The sickening feeling diminishes with the objects' size but is replaced with anxiety. I have an intense feeling that I have to find a way to contain the object. As it gets smaller and smaller the pressure to get a hold of the object increases. Finally it has shrunk into the size of a sliver and I have it in my hand. At this point I usually wake up, soaked in sweat and trembling. And my hand is firmly pinching my fingers together until they are cramping, so that I don't let go of that sliver.

I share this for two reasons. The first is that my experience with nursing is very similar to this "object dream". Breastfeeding is a huge challenge for me. When my baby was two days old I was already almost unable to continue because of the pain. I asked for help from everyone I could think of. They all assured me his latch was correct. Things just got worse. When he cried his "hungry" cry, it would make me physically ill in anticipation of the pain. The only way I could manage at all was with a shield. I promised myself I would nurse for at least a week. Then my goal was three weeks. Slowly I started to heal but I didn't dare even try to nurse without the shield protecting me. I read a million articles and books about how shield are evil and can cause early weaning, but the only thing I cared about is that it got us through another day. I was doing the best I could. Three weeks passed, and then we hit the month mark. It felt like a miracle. Nursing became like my dream. When I thought about it long term, it seemed too big, too hard, and too dreadfully impossible. But nursing is just one meal at a time, one day at a time.

Unfortunately it still hurts almost every time, but it's not as bad. I wish I loved it, but I don't hate it anymore. This week was the 2 month mark. Best case scenario, a mother really should nurse for a year. That's twelve whole months. For me, even making it this far made me feel like a champion. If I wasn't so prudish about it all, I probably would have put a sign in my yard announcing my good news. Anyway, I couldn't wait for the baby's 2 month appointment to proudly tell the doctor I was still nursing. The day before his appointment I started feeling extra tender. I started to suspect I had a breast infection. Within hours of noticing that, I was very very sick. My fever spiked, my body felt like each bone was crumbing, and I was too weak to hold the baby and stand at the same time. Jason had the baby all night and would bring him to me to nurse. Breastfeeding was absolutely torturous but eventually brought a brief moment of relief from the chest pain. I thought that night would never end, or that I'd surely die in the midst of it. It was like having the flu with three times the intensity of symptoms. Reason number two that I shared my "object dream": I was so out of my mind that I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. At one point I knew I needed to hide my baby from the Nazi's so I dreamed I put him in our gun safe. Later, when he was crying and Jason got up to get him, I told him not to because "he is safe, he is safe".

I feel so lucky that we had that appointment the next day. I was put to the test again when we had to wait for over an hour. By the time the nurse came in to measure the baby I was in tears. She took my temp and it was 103. Our doctor checked me out and then gave me an antibiotic shot in the hip to jump start my recovery. It may or may not have been administered by shot gun.

We finally got home and called in the cavalry. My mom, who also goes by Florence Nightingale, came to take care of the baby while Jason ran errands and I passed out. When I woke up next, the house was clean,, Jason had the prescription filled, and everyone was taken care of. My friend Heather even brought us dinner. I nursed Eli and went back to sleep. Sleep and nurse is all I did for the next 12 hours. Even when going to bed that night I still had a temp of 102. Then by midnight things started to get better. I could actually go the baby instead of having him brought to me. I stopped shaking. I stopped feeling "freezing hot". Today has been even better. I feel a little bit stronger.

I really love this day

I love Valentine's day. I always have. Even back in High School when I think I hated everything. I love this day. I think it's great that we have a day to observe loving each other. I'm not so much into the commercial side of things, but making Valentine's cards with my two year old was really gratifying. I love that my husband knows how to show love without getting corny. He knows I'm not really into jewelry, can't eat much chocolate, and would puke if he presented me with a red teddy bear holding a heart that said "I love you beary much". Now, cleaning and vacuuming the car, be still my heart. Seriously.

That reminds me. I went to WalMart in the morning to pick up a bag of clementines for Mason's preschool teachers. I was laughing out loud (yes, by myself) by the time I checked out. There were men everywhere. They were stumbling through the aisles, flowers in one hand and some red/pink/sparkly waste of money in the other. You could tell from their expressions that they had procrastinated, they knew they were doomed, and they would rather be getting a root canal than dealing with Valentine's day again. I almost told one guy that it was going to be okay and to just write her a note. But he looked like he was about to bawl so I minded my own business.

I texted friends and family and used the "L" word. My brother Nate texted back "Ew". I took Mason around delivering Valentines. He sort of freaked out when he realized we were giving away his candy.

My holiday loving mother gave us the tradition of Cupid visiting the night of Valentine's Day. No, not the same neighbor that dresses up like Santa in a naked angel get-up, just treats left on the porch from the winged babe. I tried telling Mason about Cupid but he got it confused with Santa and so I just figured he'd understand when it happened. Well, my parents came over with the traditional plate of homemade sugar cookies, Hershey Kisses, and other treats on a paper doily and plate. When Mason heard the doorbell ring he thought it was Cupid and burst into tears when he saw his grandparents. "Not Tupid!" he screamed. My dad thought he was calling them stupid when he was hollering for Cupid.

Ah, Valentine's Day. High expectations, broken hearts, and little reminders of the abundant love in life.

say Ahhhh!

I went to the dentist yesterday. It's been an embarrassingly long time since I've been. I'm not a dentist hater, I just never think about going. So I went. I left the little boys home with Jason and somehow managed to be a few minutes early. Lately, I'm not early for anything. Ever. After I checked in I decided to clean out my bag. I heard about that tip in an article in Reader's Digest several years ago. Another Use-Your-Time-Wisely tip was to wipe down the inside of your car while stuck in traffic or in the car wash. We don't really have much traffic where I live. That's why I live here. And every time I am in the car wash I am furious at myself for those four minutes for forgetting to toss some auto wipes in the car. What a waste of time:) Reader's Digest reminds me of my parents. They always have an issue of it kicking around their house. My little brother and I had grand plans to make big bucks by submitting humorous anecdotes.We never did...make big bucks... or submit a single story. I can tell this dentist has a younger generation of clients because there isn't a Reader's Digest in site. They are more of the Sports Illustrated/Redbook variety. So I think I'm officially in the mom club due to the contents of my bag. As I sorted out the jumble I found 2 diapers, the spare binky I've been searching the house for, antibac gel, an envelope covered in scribbles, a matchbox car, and half of a banana. Not a new banana either.

Eventually I got called back and settled into a chair. Immediately I stopped listening to whatever the dental assistant was saying and focused my limited attention on the wall across from that chair. It's my favorite color of blue. I've been debating painting on of my bedroom walls that color. My husband thinks painting one wall is dumb. That, combined with the fact that every spare moment is given to showering or sleep made me realize I probably won't paint anytime in the foreseeable future. But if I did it would be that exact color. Then I realized the girl was awkwardly waiting for a response from me. Pardon? No, I don't want the TV on. I just want to sleep. It was very nice lying down and relaxing, even if it was while getting my teeth cleaned. It's the closest thing I've gotten to a nap in weeks.

there's one born every minute

I have a weakness. I know, it's crazy to hear it, but it's true. Luckily, there's only one. This weakness has been especially prevalent in my life lately because of the hours I keep. My name is Ashley and I'm a sucker for infomercials.

I get up a few times every night and if I'm having a really hard time staying awake enough to hold my baby then I turn on the TV. The top viewing options at these crazy hours include The Weather Channel, one of those overly dramatic cooking competitions on The Food Network, or re runs of Dr. Phil. OR...I can pick from one of dozens of channels with happy people, upbeat music, and unbelievable products and yes they just happen to be having "the best price ever" "for a limited time". At first glance I think "who in the world would ever want to pay money for that?". Then I find myself still watching testimonials ten minutes later. Then I think, "well I would never pay that price" right about the time they say "call now and we'll slash that price in half". I don't really need it, I tell myself. BUT THEN, they offer TWO for the price of ONE. By the time I hear the words "But WAIT, call in the next five minutes and we'll throw in these perfectly useless pieces of junk ABSOLUTELY FREE!" I am scrambling for my cell phone and credit card.

Truthfully I've only ever bought one thing off of a TV add and that was a BumpIt. Just kidding, but I ordered a Pilates DVD once.

The commercial that really draws me in is the presentation for the Magic Bullet. It really is magic. I've been so tempted to buy one...I want to make all those awesome smoothies/sauces/chicken salads/salsas/omelets in just "one...two...three pulses and it's done!". The kicker? I already own one! But I don't think mine is magic because mine only makes smoothies :) You know a company is good if they can sell you on something you already have.

BUT WAIT! They've come up with a new product that I.JUST.HAVE.TO.HAVE! Presenting the Baby Bullet (yes, I'm pro-gun, but no, this has nothing to do with my toddler's right to bear arms). With a Baby Bullet you can make and store organic baby food in under five minutes. I'm pretty sure I will fail as a mother if I don't obtain this product. It doesn't matter that my current Magic Bullet, or the blender in the cupboard, or even my hands and a fork for that matter, can do the same thing. This comes with cute little cups with cute little smiley faces on them. The freezer container thing is pretty cool too.

I'm not really going to buy the Baby Bullet. Or Hip Hop Abs. Or Wen. Or make up made from dirt. Or the vacuum that can suck up small pets. Or 1,000 secrets doctors won't tell you (but I will for $50). But I am SO going to keep watching. And in the morning I'll be glad I was too bleary eyed to make out that 1-800 number.