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.

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!

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.

Baby's turned sideways so my belly is lopsided.  Also, Crocs.  Can't fit into anything else.

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:

• 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?

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!

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.

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.

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.

 Then I made a rag rug with the scraps of fabric from the t-shirt quilt.  It took forever but I actually love it.

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!

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.

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.

the Field

Today is Slice's last day pumping at Newfield.  He's trunky like you wouldn't believe.  It's been almost 2.5 years since he ventured into the oil & gas industry, and we (I) have learned a few things along the way.

First, you should know that I was prejudiced against the oilfield since my family moved to Roosevelt twelve years ago.  (Twelve years?!)  Throughout high school I heard all about the "oilfield trash" who dropped out of school to make money and never looked back.  Like the mines in October Sky - once you go in, you'll never get out.  It's a career in quicksand.
As the daughter of two college graduates surely bound for greatness, I couldn't imagine anything worse.

So when things changed for us at the Roos golf course, oilfield was a last resort.  We held out for EIGHT MONTHS hoping for something else to turn up.  It never did.  We had a new mortgage, a 9-month-old, and a baby on the way.  Many applications and interviews and phone calls later, we were fortunate to get a work opportunity.

Here's what I've learned since then.

1. It's who you know.  This industry, this community and especially our experiences have shown us this.  I'll be forever grateful for the good relationships Slice formed with people from all walks of life while he was working at the golf course.  He's a people person, and I love that about him.  Never underestimate what people might do for you if you treat them well.  (Relatedly .... don't burn your bridges. Ha!)

2. "Oilfield trash" are people too. With wives, children, church callings - and often brilliant minds.  Many of them haven't completed a college education, but that doesn't mean they aren't creating and contributing to society in their own ways. They might be the ones to roll up their sleeves and get things done while the "educated" ones are still deciding how to do it best.  Just an observation. (And a really fascinating article which I welcome any thoughts/discussion on.)

3. Money is nice to have. I just said that out loud! Contrary to the fluff I picked up over the years about self-actualization and personal fulfillment through career choice, a good-paying job that involves some physical labor isn't the worst thing in the world.  Easy for me to say, because Slice is the one out doing it..... but seriously, ask him.

4. College isn't for everyone. I truly believe this. Education is still supremely important to me BUT with the realities of living and paying for things in today's world, we know that a college degree is far from a guarantee for a good sustainable career.  Further: our economic system pays its workers according to their supposed contribution to society.  Who are you to judge someone for making good money, if he/she is producing something you use vast amounts of on a daily basis?  Oilfield workers are out in the field come rain, shine, or negative temps and blizzard conditions on Christmas Day.  The oilfield never sleeps.  That's why they make the big bucks.

5. Don't be afraid of work.  I've yet to come across someone who snubbed their nose at the oilfield in the last few years, but I'll preach it to anyone who is unemployed and unwilling to look "below" their level.  Take it from Ashton Kutcher, man, no job is beneath you.  You're never above work.  Do whatever it takes. And then see where you end up.

FL

I suppose now is as good a time as any to dump my recent pics in here and blabber on about a vacation. Eh?

Since we had no idea what our anniversary trip would look like last time I mentioned it, I'll just start at the beginning: Orlando.  We got a big condo in a posh resort in a great location for $200 FOR THE WEEK (thank you Mom & Dad, and Ultimate Vacations) so the planning went from there.  Kids to Idaho, Thor 2 in IMAX, red-eye flight from Salt Lake, rental car at the airport.

Then we got to the resort and they offered us discounted tickets to venues if we sat through timeshare/travel club presentations.  So, we spent an afternoon at Kennedy Space Center:

they call this the "rocket garden," which does not cease to amuse me

space shuttle Atlantis: coolest exhibit on the island

blurry Slice pretending that he's weightless.....?

 and two days at Universal Studios, mostly in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter OF COURSE:

Early admission tickets!  Score.

I totally went on the ride that is built into the castle.  Twice. Pregnancy what?

Two of the three butterbeers we consumed in two days after dining at the Three Broomsticks.
Magical, I tell you.

AND, lastly, a day at SeaWorld which cost us $20 total.  This is the only photo I took there.  It was actually cold.

Other highlights of the trip included a surprise!! visit to my missionary sister Kiana's ward on Sunday (a two-hour drive from Orlando):

She looks amazing and I look like a chubby 12-year-old

a temple visit that, naturally, came only after much difficulty:

On the only hill in the entire state of Florida

and lots of reallllly good eating.  We frequented The Melting Pot three times (that's where all the money went ...), Hard Rock Cafe, Joe's Crab Shack, and an Italian place with Chicago-style pizza and the best balloon master I have ever seen.  Totally took me back to my college balloon-animal-making days.  Guys, he was UNBELIEVABLE.

Just thought I'd throw that one out there.

FINALLY after 24 hours of traveling we made it back to our frigid home with our little ones who hardly even missed us, and my swelling eventually went down.  Florida was hard on my body.  Maybe it was because we walked for several hours a day and ate for the rest?  Hmmmm?

I have decided the best cure for wanderlust is to take a long trip during pregnancy.  Middle to late pregnancy is best, but first trimester can be effective if the trip is long/strange enough.  By the time we got home I wanted to stay inside these four walls for the next six months.  Not even joking.  Remind me next time to take a relaxing vacay, please?

Also, in case you're wondering, the contractions are coming regularly now and I'm just not listening to them.  Here's a smudgy mirror picture from a few Sundays ago, when I wore my freshwater pearls from SeaWorld and my kids called them "eggs" all day.  Yes, I like to wear eggs to church.

Welcome back to real life.

MG turns 2

My dear Emma Girl,

Today you turned two.  Whenever someone said "Happy Birthday!" you threw your hands up in the air and said "I be twoooo!" like it is the greatest thing ever.  And maybe it will be.  You'll be a big sister while you're two, and you are pretty darn excited for it.  You keep asking to see the baby that's hiding in my tummy, showing me your own, putting your hand on my belly and trying to figure out just what is going on.  I think you're going to be a great big sister.

You are becoming a real girly-girl.  You tote purses around and ask to have your fingernails painted and express very strong opinions about what clothes you'll wear. You've grown to love that doll we gave you a year ago - it's the first thing you want in the morning and the last thing you ask for at night.  I'm also pleased to see your deep and abiding love of books.  We can get you distracted from anything at the mere mention of a book! The silly little Princess book you got for your birthday is probably your favorite present. I plan to nurture your love of reading as long and as well as I can.  Reading will change your life, little one, if you let it.

You've got such a happy and fun-loving personality; you love to make us (and other people!) laugh.  You and Will are playing together now, although the "playing" usually turns into "yelling at each other" in a short amount of time (rinse and repeat).  This sibling contention has really baffled your dad, who didn't grow up with siblings anywhere close to his age.  I have to constantly remind him that yes, it is normal, even though it's not pleasant.  Despite the bickering, you and Will really love each other and miss each other when you're apart.

We've had so much fun watching your language and little personality grow. You tell me I'm wrong all the time ("No, that's not a lion. Only a tiger.") and will tell anyone off if they are bothering you ("Stop buggin' me!").  You love brushing your teeth, coloring, putting away the clean silverware in the dishwasher, having your feet rubbed, and playing with my phone. You also ask to go "with me!" if I ever look like I'm leaving the house without you.  We love your silly shifty eyes and your hard-won kisses, your singing and dancing.  You are such a light in our lives.  Keep shining!

Love,
Mom

SOS

I've lost the will to blog.

Please send help.