I promise she does NOT see me do this. Especially the duck face!
6.26.2014
6.11.2014
the thoughts
All the thoughts, you guys. All the thoughts and feelings that have been going through my head with YesAllWomen and the WarOnFreeRangeParenting, the Shootings and OtherHardThings in the news these past days. Shock/horror/disgust from all the stories. More faith lost in the goodness of humanity. More news that makes me wonder how to protect my precious, precious children from the growing evil out there, and how to raise them to be kind, respectful, strong, responsible people who are aware but not afraid of life. Who can tell me anything and have my unwavering love, but never a blind "not my child!" eye.
I've been thinking about how blessedly naive I was in my Vienna-wandering days, walking home alone at 2:00 a.m. after a night out in the city. 2:00 a.m.! Alone! A 19-year-old girl! And in Venice I left the hotel early enough to watch the sun rise and the city come to life, alone. In Italy. You guys.
I've been blessedly naive and free from abuse, assault, and the accompanying shame; blessed to be surrounded by kind and good men who have helped to keep me safe throughout my life. Until recently, I was largely unaware of how rare that is. How unfortunately rare.
And all I can do, I guess, is to teach my kids about boundaries. Set them, respect others', expect (and demand, if necessary) that others respect yours. Keep an open dialogue - and a weather eye out for anything amiss. For my part, as Mad-Eye Moody says, CONSTANT VIGILANCE!
Most importantly, I want them to know how loved they are, always and forever. Not just by me but by a much greater, more powerful, perfect and infinite Being.
It's just not practical to stick them in a tower deep in the woods with no way up or down. Tempting, but not practical.
I've been thinking about how blessedly naive I was in my Vienna-wandering days, walking home alone at 2:00 a.m. after a night out in the city. 2:00 a.m.! Alone! A 19-year-old girl! And in Venice I left the hotel early enough to watch the sun rise and the city come to life, alone. In Italy. You guys.
I've been blessedly naive and free from abuse, assault, and the accompanying shame; blessed to be surrounded by kind and good men who have helped to keep me safe throughout my life. Until recently, I was largely unaware of how rare that is. How unfortunately rare.
And all I can do, I guess, is to teach my kids about boundaries. Set them, respect others', expect (and demand, if necessary) that others respect yours. Keep an open dialogue - and a weather eye out for anything amiss. For my part, as Mad-Eye Moody says, CONSTANT VIGILANCE!
Most importantly, I want them to know how loved they are, always and forever. Not just by me but by a much greater, more powerful, perfect and infinite Being.
It's just not practical to stick them in a tower deep in the woods with no way up or down. Tempting, but not practical.
6.01.2014
May the fourth be with you
Dear William,
It's your fourth birthday! Your fourth and last birthday in this cute little house. We're moving soon, and you know it, but I still wonder how you'll do when it actually happens. I'm excited to have more space for you to play - inside AND out - and I'm even more excited to not have people knocking on my door at any given time asking, "Did you know your kid was outside??"
(Thank you, well-meaning people. Yes I know he's outside. Yes I know we live on a busy street corner. No I'm not worried about him.)
You've learned lots of new things in the last year. You can write your name and "mom" and "dad"; recently you even started sounding out words to write on your own. You loved your year of preschool with Miss Lana and Miss Diana (AKA Grandma), and it didn't take you long to figure out when to use the right names for them. They taught you so many new songs that I didn't know all of them. That was frustrating for us - when you were asking how the song went and I couldn't tell you!
In the last year you got potty trained, took a week-long vacation to Aunt Heather's in Idaho, got bunkbeds, started tumbling, went camping for the first time, started going to Sunbeams instead of nursery, and you got another baby sister. You love little Lex, and she loves you more than anything. Anytime she hears your voice she starts looking for you. You're always asking to hold her and feed her bottles. It's nice to have some helping hands around.
Your favorite things right now are superheroes. Anything with a cape or a weapon! You and Emma are pretty much fighting constantly but you still won't play without each other. You've both become masters of "excuses to get out of bed." You're becoming an annoyingly picky eater. You used to eat anything I put in front of you but now we remind you EVERY DAY that you DON'T KNOW IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T TRIED IT YET. This clearly hasn't sunk in. You just don't believe us.
Not a week goes by without me thinking that you are a genius of some sort. Your memory is a fearful thing to behold. Your dad and I are always asking each other how we can keep you intellectually stimulated; luckily, we have another year before we have to think about public school. Whatever is in store for you, it's gonna be big.
It's a little strange for me to think that you're now my boy and not my baby. You are such a joy to be around, and our conversations are never ever dull. I'm so excited to see what this next year brings!
Love you,
Mom
It's your fourth birthday! Your fourth and last birthday in this cute little house. We're moving soon, and you know it, but I still wonder how you'll do when it actually happens. I'm excited to have more space for you to play - inside AND out - and I'm even more excited to not have people knocking on my door at any given time asking, "Did you know your kid was outside??"
(Thank you, well-meaning people. Yes I know he's outside. Yes I know we live on a busy street corner. No I'm not worried about him.)
You've learned lots of new things in the last year. You can write your name and "mom" and "dad"; recently you even started sounding out words to write on your own. You loved your year of preschool with Miss Lana and Miss Diana (AKA Grandma), and it didn't take you long to figure out when to use the right names for them. They taught you so many new songs that I didn't know all of them. That was frustrating for us - when you were asking how the song went and I couldn't tell you!
In the last year you got potty trained, took a week-long vacation to Aunt Heather's in Idaho, got bunkbeds, started tumbling, went camping for the first time, started going to Sunbeams instead of nursery, and you got another baby sister. You love little Lex, and she loves you more than anything. Anytime she hears your voice she starts looking for you. You're always asking to hold her and feed her bottles. It's nice to have some helping hands around.
Your favorite things right now are superheroes. Anything with a cape or a weapon! You and Emma are pretty much fighting constantly but you still won't play without each other. You've both become masters of "excuses to get out of bed." You're becoming an annoyingly picky eater. You used to eat anything I put in front of you but now we remind you EVERY DAY that you DON'T KNOW IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T TRIED IT YET. This clearly hasn't sunk in. You just don't believe us.
Not a week goes by without me thinking that you are a genius of some sort. Your memory is a fearful thing to behold. Your dad and I are always asking each other how we can keep you intellectually stimulated; luckily, we have another year before we have to think about public school. Whatever is in store for you, it's gonna be big.
It's a little strange for me to think that you're now my boy and not my baby. You are such a joy to be around, and our conversations are never ever dull. I'm so excited to see what this next year brings!
Love you,
Mom
4.16.2014
Insanity
I have approximately 30 seconds to update the ol' blog here, so this is going to be a stream of consciousness. Sorrynotsorry.
I now know why three kids is the most stressful. I'm living it! Let's see:
I think that sums it up.
I now know why three kids is the most stressful. I'm living it! Let's see:
One newborn who is nursing a good portion of the day, but not napping
+ two toddlers making messes and fighting with each other
+ two toddlers making messes and fighting with each other
+ Dorian home maybe 10 hours a week
+ trying to get this house ready to sell (we bought a sign the other day but haven't put it up yet...such a commitment!)
+ selling/buying a car
+ taking Prom pictures, editing and uploading and ordering them
+ other photo shoots
+ family gatherings, wedding planning, etc.
+ sleepless nights (like last night, when MG threw up all night, all over)
+ other commitments like Housing Authority Board and my English class
___________________________________________________________________
Insanity
I think that sums it up.
3.02.2014
Birthing 3.0
One week ago, at this minute, I was lying in bed with a Hypnobabies track on, trying to decide if it was time to go to the hospital.
I couldn't sleep, so like last time I labored in the living room, relaxing as well as I could, for almost two hours. We called my mom just before midnight. By the time she got to our house, my contractions were right around five minutes apart. Again, on the seven-block drive to the hospital, I wondered if we had waited long enough. I was also slightly worried about a posterior baby because of the intense pain in my back. (I should know by now that MY LABOR IS IN MY BACK.)
We checked in, walked back to Labor & Delivery, and the nurse at the desk asked what I was there for. (Kind of a dumb question?) I said "to have a baby," and she looked at me like, "you don't know what you're talking about." Maybe she had a bad night. I dunno.
I got in the room, undressed and hooked up to the monitors, and when the nurse (different one) checked me she said, "You're at a seven!"
Moment of truth!
They called the doctor, he came and broke my water, and I labored some more. Back labor is excruciating I tell you. Slice was digging the heels of his hands into my lower back with each contraction and it was never hard enough. I did some standing, some lying down, some on the medicine ball. I was practically whimpering in between because I was JUST SO TIRED and I wanted to be done already. With Emma I got a little sleep before the worst part, this time I was exhausted before it even started. Oy! Why do I even do this "natural labor" thing?! (I said that out loud, to Slice, and I meant it.)
After a while I thought I would need to push soon. Slice called the nurse and doc in, she checked me and said I wasn't ready. A few contractions later it happened again. (I'm starting to feel like the boy who cried wolf...) She left, I had another long hard horrible contraction standing, and it was time to push, no question. I started hollering at Slice and he kept telling me to get back on the bed. It went something like this:
"I'm pushing! Get the doctor!"
"Get back on the bed!"
"I can't! I'm pushing, I don't care what they say! Go get someone!"
"I will! Get back on the bed!"
"You really WILL be catching this baby if you don't get the doctor!!"
"Get. On. The. Bed!!!"
You can imagine.
Anyway, I did get back on the bed, and the nurse came rushing in while I was gripping the bedrail and hollering some more. Sure enough, she caught the baby before the doctor even got back in the room. It was 1:52 in the morning on February 24th. My half-birthday! And I had another baby girl!
 |
| before church - glad I got this picture! |
Last Sunday I went to church - four days past baby's ETA - with nothing more than sporadic uncomfortable contractions. By 6:00 in the evening they were coming faster, stronger and finally! more painful. Slice and I took our little family up to my parents' for a couple hours, then came back and went to bed. I put my headphones on, timing and trying to get a little sleep.
I couldn't sleep, so like last time I labored in the living room, relaxing as well as I could, for almost two hours. We called my mom just before midnight. By the time she got to our house, my contractions were right around five minutes apart. Again, on the seven-block drive to the hospital, I wondered if we had waited long enough. I was also slightly worried about a posterior baby because of the intense pain in my back. (I should know by now that MY LABOR IS IN MY BACK.)
We checked in, walked back to Labor & Delivery, and the nurse at the desk asked what I was there for. (Kind of a dumb question?) I said "to have a baby," and she looked at me like, "you don't know what you're talking about." Maybe she had a bad night. I dunno.
I got in the room, undressed and hooked up to the monitors, and when the nurse (different one) checked me she said, "You're at a seven!"
Moment of truth!
They called the doctor, he came and broke my water, and I labored some more. Back labor is excruciating I tell you. Slice was digging the heels of his hands into my lower back with each contraction and it was never hard enough. I did some standing, some lying down, some on the medicine ball. I was practically whimpering in between because I was JUST SO TIRED and I wanted to be done already. With Emma I got a little sleep before the worst part, this time I was exhausted before it even started. Oy! Why do I even do this "natural labor" thing?! (I said that out loud, to Slice, and I meant it.)
After a while I thought I would need to push soon. Slice called the nurse and doc in, she checked me and said I wasn't ready. A few contractions later it happened again. (I'm starting to feel like the boy who cried wolf...) She left, I had another long hard horrible contraction standing, and it was time to push, no question. I started hollering at Slice and he kept telling me to get back on the bed. It went something like this:
"I'm pushing! Get the doctor!"
"Get back on the bed!"
"I can't! I'm pushing, I don't care what they say! Go get someone!"
"I will! Get back on the bed!"
"You really WILL be catching this baby if you don't get the doctor!!"
"Get. On. The. Bed!!!"
You can imagine.
Anyway, I did get back on the bed, and the nurse came rushing in while I was gripping the bedrail and hollering some more. Sure enough, she caught the baby before the doctor even got back in the room. It was 1:52 in the morning on February 24th. My half-birthday! And I had another baby girl!
2.22.2014
Welp.
This is the longest I've been pregnant.
Still no sign of baby and although I know gestation dates are (very!) approximate, it still feels a little surreal actually waiting for and anticipating the birthing process. My first two both came before I expected, so this is a new feeling.
Let's talk about something else......
Wanna hear a debt-free scream? If you've ever listened to Dave Ramsey's radio show you know what I'm talking about. 1...2...3.... WE'RE DEBT FREE!!!!
(Aside from the mortgage, which doesn't count, I guess.)
We didn't have that much debt to begin with, but Slice built up a nice little retirement account at his last job and we decided to cash it out and start clean. Now the hardest part of all: deciding how long to stay in this house. The market in the Basin is good right now, meaning we could make a chunk of money on our house, but we would also pay more to move into something bigger/newer.
Or, do we stay a while and do a few major projects in the meantime? My list - which is different from Slice's - goes something like this:
Still no sign of baby and although I know gestation dates are (very!) approximate, it still feels a little surreal actually waiting for and anticipating the birthing process. My first two both came before I expected, so this is a new feeling.
 |
| Baby's turned sideways so my belly is lopsided. Also, Crocs. Can't fit into anything else. |
Wanna hear a debt-free scream? If you've ever listened to Dave Ramsey's radio show you know what I'm talking about. 1...2...3.... WE'RE DEBT FREE!!!!
(Aside from the mortgage, which doesn't count, I guess.)
We didn't have that much debt to begin with, but Slice built up a nice little retirement account at his last job and we decided to cash it out and start clean. Now the hardest part of all: deciding how long to stay in this house. The market in the Basin is good right now, meaning we could make a chunk of money on our house, but we would also pay more to move into something bigger/newer.
Or, do we stay a while and do a few major projects in the meantime? My list - which is different from Slice's - goes something like this:
- carpet
- fix and paint downstairs walls
- paint the exterior
- get new windows (SO EXPENSIVE)
- redo upstairs bathroom
- fix garage roof
- fix the driveway somehow
- do something with the mostly-abandoned back lot
and we'll stop there. I think every homeowner knows that The List only grows, never shrinks.
So what's up with you?
2.11.2014
adjusting
It's been two months since Slice switched from an 8/6 schedule to a normal 5-day workweek, which means we see him one less day every week. At the same time, he started official firefighter training, consisting of two evening meetings a week plus several Saturdays over the next couple months. Not to mention the regular fire calls and the week-long trip to Houston coming up ....
I, on the other hand, have absolved myself of all self-imposed weekly responsibilities (piano lessons, English class, etc.) and hunkered down for the duration. Everyone knows that three kids is the most stressful. I've braced myself for and embraced the coming craziness. Just trying to keep my head above water here - any words of wisdom or treats are appreciated.
In other news, we sent my little sister off to South America a few weeks after welcoming Kiana home early for medical attention...
They got to spend a little more time together before Em left!
I, on the other hand, have absolved myself of all self-imposed weekly responsibilities (piano lessons, English class, etc.) and hunkered down for the duration. Everyone knows that three kids is the most stressful. I've braced myself for and embraced the coming craziness. Just trying to keep my head above water here - any words of wisdom or treats are appreciated.
In other news, we sent my little sister off to South America a few weeks after welcoming Kiana home early for medical attention...
They got to spend a little more time together before Em left!
In the meantime, Matt and Kim had a baby girl and I went to Utah Valley for a night to visit and take photos of her. BY MYSELF. Consequently I stayed up way too late partying with Lu.
(And by "partying" I mean "sitting on the couch talking about our pregnancies and looking at houses for sale." Motherhood is exciting.)
We're still taking dance pics, gearing up for Prom and planning to buy a new camera!! Check us out:
 |
| Student Council decorates for all the dance photos. So cute. |
As you can see I'm getting large. The swelling has come to stay, the sleepless nights are getting reallllly old, and I am heavier than I've ever been in my life. This is the first time I've thought, "I wouldn't mind if this baby came early." In fact, it would be nice.
Finally, Liam and MG have discovered the joy of cell phone photography. After Liam snapped hundreds of pics the other day, I told him he could take ONE MORE before giving me back the phone. He walked around for a minute before settling on this. A mirror selfie. HAHA!
It must be 2014.
2.03.2014
Nesting 3.0
Shoot, it's been another three weeks? This pregnancy is going fast. I'm down to two and a half weeks y'all. Fingers crossed.
Then I made a rag rug with the scraps of fabric from the t-shirt quilt. It took forever but I actually love it.
Once again my nesting has manifested itself in bursts of mild insanity. I spent over three hours online looking for a valance for my kitchen window, only to decide that I could make one myself (with fabric that I already had!) in less than three hours. Then I made it the next morning. Just saved $50.
It was the opposite story for new bedding for my kids. IKEA's darling duvet covers are cheaper than I could even find fabric, after several hours of searching online. Aw shucks.
I finished a T-shirt quilt that I've been planning since high school (aka 2005) (aka BEFORE ANYONE HAD HEARD OF A T-SHIRT QUILT, I SWEAR. I came up with the idea all on my own, it just took me 8 years to do it! Those were pre-Pinterest days!). It is the worst sewing job you've ever seen, I guarantee. I don't care either. This is why I shouldn't sew while I'm pregnant - my patience is nonexistent. I just want the job done... I don't necessarily want to do it.
 |
| Terrible, terrible terrible sewing job. But pretty good memories. |
 |
| Don't you love how I take only poor-quality cell phone photos for this blog? I don't even have a good excuse. |
Slice and I also re-carpeted the guest room downstairs, which makes it now the biggest AND nicest room in the house.
Other nesting things I've done this pregnancy: moved furniture and artwork around every few days, re-organized EVERY drawer and closet in the house, purged extra furniture and clothes and toys and junk, scrubbed my kitchen from top to bottom, contemplated buying myself a new dresser.....
Sadly, I live with three Type 1s and my efforts are constantly undone.
One reason I haven't been blogging!
1.13.2014
War on Guilt
It's been a while since I wrote a blog post about anything of substance, and I'll just warn you now: I'm running on fatigued, emotionally unbalanced pregnant brain. (Case in point: I bought tickets to Wicked at 3:00 a.m. a couple weeks ago when I couldn't sleep. Thought I was putting them on a credit card. Found out later that I made the purchase with a debit card without enough money in the account........three more purchases, a few phone calls and hefty fees later, I fixed it. ARGHHH.)
Actually, I've been more emotionally unstable the last couple months than ever before. I'm thinking it's a combination of hormones and the weather that forces me to stay cooped up inside with two little ones for days on end. We see less of Slice now, although his workweek is now five days long instead of eight, and I haven't left the Basin in two months. Thanks for asking.
Anyway, the topic of discourse this evening is something I've mulled over for at least a year now: Mom Guilt. The all-pervasive, inevitable plague that falls upon a woman the instant she conceives, supposedly determining every choice she makes from then on.
Keyword "supposedly."
Here's the thing - I don't suffer from it. And I don't understand why so many women do.
I read posts about women choosing to stay home with children despite pressure to work; women working despite pressure to stay home; women "being brave enough" to say that they have a hard time staying home; moms exercising/not exercising to keep their figures/sanity; parents saying they don't love parenting all the time; people saying "you don't have to be perfect!" and I think ..... well, duh. You didn't need to tell me that.
I know I'm a good mom; I don't feel pressure to be perfect. I know what I am doing is worthwhile. Hard and exhausting, brain-sucking, menial, occasionally infuriating, yes. But still worthwhile.
I let my babies cry it out. I feed them cow's milk before a year old. I don't keep their carseats rear-facing for two years. Sometimes I yell at them. Sometimes I let them have too much screen time. Sometimes I let them drink pop. Sometimes I say "no" just to say it. I don't feel guilty about any of these things, and I don't need anyone to tell me not to feel guilty about them. Also, go ahead and try the opposite approach!
Have you noticed that the people feeling judged most are usually the ones doing the most judging? Women can be so dramatic. Not me, though. You actually have to try to offend me. Just like Eleanor Roosevelt said "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent," I submit that no one can make you feel guilty without your consent.
So, mothers (and everyone else), STOP giving your consent! If you feel guilty about what you're doing, stop doing it! But if the worst thing you're doing is feeding your kids boxed mac & cheese for dinner, then you're doing fine so stop feeling guilty about it. Your guilty feelings are contributing to their future unhappiness because they've grown up in a perfect world with impossible expectations. And because, as we all know, parents are to blame for all their kids' failures.
All of this is to say Stop the Guilt. Stop taking offense when no offense was intended. The so-called Mommy Wars would be over if we all stopped adding fuel to the fire. Let's love each other and love our decisions, and sing Kumbaya in a big circle while holding hands. Seriously.
Actually, I've been more emotionally unstable the last couple months than ever before. I'm thinking it's a combination of hormones and the weather that forces me to stay cooped up inside with two little ones for days on end. We see less of Slice now, although his workweek is now five days long instead of eight, and I haven't left the Basin in two months. Thanks for asking.
Anyway, the topic of discourse this evening is something I've mulled over for at least a year now: Mom Guilt. The all-pervasive, inevitable plague that falls upon a woman the instant she conceives, supposedly determining every choice she makes from then on.
Keyword "supposedly."
Here's the thing - I don't suffer from it. And I don't understand why so many women do.
I read posts about women choosing to stay home with children despite pressure to work; women working despite pressure to stay home; women "being brave enough" to say that they have a hard time staying home; moms exercising/not exercising to keep their figures/sanity; parents saying they don't love parenting all the time; people saying "you don't have to be perfect!" and I think ..... well, duh. You didn't need to tell me that.
I know I'm a good mom; I don't feel pressure to be perfect. I know what I am doing is worthwhile. Hard and exhausting, brain-sucking, menial, occasionally infuriating, yes. But still worthwhile.
I let my babies cry it out. I feed them cow's milk before a year old. I don't keep their carseats rear-facing for two years. Sometimes I yell at them. Sometimes I let them have too much screen time. Sometimes I let them drink pop. Sometimes I say "no" just to say it. I don't feel guilty about any of these things, and I don't need anyone to tell me not to feel guilty about them. Also, go ahead and try the opposite approach!
Have you noticed that the people feeling judged most are usually the ones doing the most judging? Women can be so dramatic. Not me, though. You actually have to try to offend me. Just like Eleanor Roosevelt said "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent," I submit that no one can make you feel guilty without your consent.
So, mothers (and everyone else), STOP giving your consent! If you feel guilty about what you're doing, stop doing it! But if the worst thing you're doing is feeding your kids boxed mac & cheese for dinner, then you're doing fine so stop feeling guilty about it. Your guilty feelings are contributing to their future unhappiness because they've grown up in a perfect world with impossible expectations. And because, as we all know, parents are to blame for all their kids' failures.
All of this is to say Stop the Guilt. Stop taking offense when no offense was intended. The so-called Mommy Wars would be over if we all stopped adding fuel to the fire. Let's love each other and love our decisions, and sing Kumbaya in a big circle while holding hands. Seriously.
1.07.2014
Christmas on my phone
Christmas was especially fun this time around because the kids are starting to understand it. We had elves and Santa visits and decorating and programs and lots of discussing the nativity, what Christmas is really about. Despite my careful teaching, MG has her own ideas of who the nativity characters are, and she will correct you if you try to tell her otherwise. That's my feisty girl.
Christmas Eve, on the other hand, was a real doosy. We had a drain/flooding problem in our basement that Slice had to sort out earlier in the day. Then our progressive dinner started at Angie's house, where Liam had an accident but demanded that we put his dirty underwear back on him. Uh, no. He screamed about his other choices - girly pullup or Thomas the Train underwear! - for long enough that we missed most of the program we were supposed to participate in at the neighborhood care center.
Dessert was at my mom's, where MG soaked through her diaper and clothes. She danced around mostly naked during the nativity while Liam threw punches around the manger, saying "I'm Joseph HERO! I have a HEADBAND!" which I certainly did NOT teach him. Good grief.
Christmas PJs were Batman and Batgirl. I just couldn't resist. It's probably the last time I can do coordinating pajamas, you know? Liam's never even seen Batman but he wouldn't take these off for two days. The capes are a huge hit.
We got home Christmas Eve night and I got sick almost immediately. I went to bed and let Slice play Santa, but didn't throw up until 6:00 Christmas morning. Oh joy! Then we stayed home all day (missed talking to Ki over Skype) just in case I was contagious. I think it was something in the dessert.
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