Let's go for a walk..

Getting fresh air is ALWAYS a positive thing. Feels good to get out, see things, feel the sunshine, teach your children about the world. You know... "stay on the sidewalk, watch for cars, wait for the little green man before we cross the street, this is a stop sign.." yaddy yaddy yaaa. All fun and enjoyable, right?
Well, sometimes. For the most part. I mean, it is definitely an experience.

So, today, I decide that I'm going to take my two rug rats on a nice, long, relaxing walk. Wear 'em out, get them ready for nap time. Before we leave the house I have to change the baby's diaper, make sure the older one uses the toilet, get us something to drink, and a snack. Make sure I have an extra diaper or two, a burp rag, my keys, money (just in case), and my cell phone. Of course then I have to pee. Baby starts crying so I figure I better feed her before we leave. Oh then she pukes all over me, so I have to change my shirt. Of course during all of that my son decides to take his shoes off, but then can't remember where he put them. Okay, it's fine, I've got this. Find the shoes, put them on, pop out the stroller, load it up and head out the door. Oh, wait.. Yes, son, you can bring two toys. No, not that huge dump truck, it is too big. No, you don't need five stuffed animals. Two small toys, hurry up, let's go!
Finally, we are out of the door.

Strolling down our street at the same time the garbage man just happens to be rolling down. My ever so observant preschooler says, "Oh Mommy, it stinks. It really stinks. and it is hot. I just want to go home."
Me - "Jman, honey, you're fine. The stink will be gone in a second. We haven't even left our street yet."
So we keep walking, finally drifting away from the hot, disgusting sewer type stench. -ahhh, fresh air!! We're walking and I'm just soaking it in. I mean, really, truly, for one whole minute, soaking it in.
Then I hear,  "Mommy, I'm hot".
Well son, we live in south Florida, I'm hot too. Man up.

We walk some more. I'm really trying to get in a good pace. You know, that muffin top is just creeping up on me. I get going and I'm actually having a great little conversation with my little man. Then of course I get reminded AGAIN that he's hot (seriously it isn't even that bad!) and he's thirsty. Okay, okay... So we stop in the shade for a drink. I squirt him with a bit of water thinking that'll keep him cool for a while. No, really it just pisses him off because I then hear, "MOMMY! You got me wet! That's not nice, you should say sorry!!". Okay, okay.. I'm sorry. Can we please keep moving?

Here we go again. Setting a nice pace. I"m actually very impressed with my son at this point. He reminds ME that we have to stay on the sidewalk and watch out for cars. He's telling me all about being safe and how you always have to be careful. Good job little dude, good job.

Then he wants to stop and pick me a flower. How sweet. The boy loves giving me flowers, and even if they are dried up, long been dead dandelions, I always accept them enthusiastically. Oh, he's just the sweetest thing, but I don't think the elderly lady who lives for her garden would appreciate a little kid picking her flowers. So I try to explain to him about being considerate of other people's property, and all that jazz. So, again..we keep going.

But now, he's starting to get slow. Telling me that I'm moving too fast. Oh, and he's hot. I manage to distract him from all his whining long enough to make it another three blocks or so. Man, this is way more work than I'm up for right now. He's whining some more so I stop. We have another drink. Thankfully the baby has stayed asleep through all of this!! My little squishy just loves taking long walks.

I look at my distance calculator and realize we've made it nearly a whole mile. So, I grant my little dude his wish. We turn around and start heading home. Now, for the millionth time he complains about being hot. So, I stop in this little Mexican food mart to relish in the amazingness that is central air conditioning. So, we cool off, get a snack and a drink (ps- 2.59 for a loaf of bread, really?!), and head out once again.

My son has no sense of urgency. I think I could walk faster with two broken legs. So, what do I do?
I bribe him. That's right, I said it. I snuck in a lollipop when I got all of our other goodies, and I showed it to him. "Want this?" - yes - "Okay, well walk faster!".
Worked like a charm.

We make our way home. Of course we took two more breaks, stopped in an empty field to pick some dead flowers, stopped to admire sidewalk construction, I answered questions about why there are cracks in the sidewalk, detoured around some broken glass and of course answered the dozen of questions he had about why glass breaks. Practiced some more safety rules, and make it home just in time for it to start pouring.

How relaxing.....

My Rock

Every morning after I've fed my little monsters, I get online. Check Facebook, instagram, email, sometimes gawker, jezebel, or some other sleazy girlie gossip website, blogs I follow, and sales of the day through numerous websites. (this is all depending on the day of course) Today, I read a discussion between women talking about having their husband in the delivery room with them during labor. Good read. Some women went way overboard praising their husbands, some bashed them for not being there, and some went completely off topic talking. Of course as I read some of these stories, I couldn't help but to get teary eyed, (I'm such a sap) and have flash backs of my own labor and delivery.

Oh what a sweet and scary time. With Jackson, he was premature. I remember I actually drove myself to the doctor because Nick's boss wouldn't let him leave. He said, and I quote, "It's probably nothing. Women like to exaggerate". Well, considering they spent the next twelve hours trying to stop my labor to no success, I'd say I wasn't stretching any sort of truth.  Unfortunately, that part of the story is one I don't like being permanently stuck in my memory. Driving and contracting is NOT fun!

Nick was great, and so concerned during it all. Asking the nurses questions, holding me while I cried about how scared I was. I had heard just awful things about having a premature baby, I was terrified. Not to mention I had absolutely NOTHING prepared. No clothes had been washed, the crib wasn't put up, I still had books to read on what to expect from a newborn. We stayed over night in hopes to be able to go home the next morning. (Note, sleeping in the labor ward is torture. Hearing a woman scream wildly for half the night really scares the poopie out of you when you're still nice, big and pregnant) Once the sun rose, the staff came in to check on me. Afterwards the nurse says, "Well honey, you're at a 5, so looks like you'll be having a baby today". WHAT?!! I wasn't due for another 5 weeks! I couldn't do that!! No way, not ready, please can we wait?! Nope. He's ready, your body is kicking him out.
...damn it.

Before I know it, I'm in the worst pain imaginable, crying my eyes out..absolutely petrified. Was able to get the epidural. Oh what a miracle drug. The doctor who invented that was an absolute genius. I actually took a nap and had to be woken up to start pushing!! Pushing (for this labor) was a breeze! The nurses, the doctor, and my husband all had a bet on when the baby would come. Popular vote was before 3pm. They're laughing, I'm laughing, pushing, laughing. Oh it was crazy. I've never heard of anything so absurd. Nick was there. The whole time. Following doctor's orders, encouraging me, making me feel more than loved. One more push, a huge gush of disgusting bodily fluid all over the doctor, and some more laughter and our first born arrived. Ohhhh he was beautiful. Nick and I cried and laughed, and laughed and cried, we were so happy.

Then, the scariest thing happened. Just as they laid him on my chest, they snatched up and hurried him out of the room. I didn't see him again for nine hours, and didn't hold him for three days. Because he was premature, his lungs weren't fully developed. I think he actually stopped breathing and that's why everyone freaked. The nine days we spent in the NICU seemed like an eternity. I was an emotional mess, (actually kinda crying just typing this..) I was engorged, antsy to get home, and tired. So tired. I couldn't have asked for anyone better than Nick. He waited on me hand and foot. Went to see the baby as much as he was allowed. Went and got me fresh clothes, good food, and he just let me be. Let me cry and told me that everything was going to be just fine.
...and it was.

With Kinsley....

Boy were things different with that little girl!! I was convinced that she was going to be early as well. Every day after I hit 35 weeks I would say, "I could have a baby any day now!"
Nope, I was pregnant for another whole month. We actually had to kick HER out (will never happen again, pitocin is the devil). They started the drip at 6am. I honestly mentally prepared myself for a whole day's worth of laboring. Before you know it, I'm in serious pain. He was right there. I never had to ask for his support. Most times he knew what I needed before I could think it. Spoke for me to the nurses when I couldn't. Funny how just a look can tell your spouse of many years exactly what you're thinking.

 Through my screaming, he did his best to take care of me. Again, following doctor and nurses orders to hold my foot back. I heard the nurse tell him I was pretty strong, I think she even compared me to a WWE wrestler. At one point, I even bit his finger. I feel bad for that, but I really didn't know what I was doing. That is, until I heard the nurse pleading with him to make me stop. Apparently laboring woman with no pain medication doesn't know her own strength!!

I wouldn't have been able to do survive without him there. Well, I wouldn't have been in that situation to begin with if it weren't for him. He coached me, helped me remember to breathe, got me a cool rag repeatedly for my head. Just made me really feel loved and cared for. Not that he doesn't always do that, but anytime I truly NEED him, he goes above and beyond. When our little girl finally came rushing out, his face was remarkable. Such a proud Daddy. I remember panting, and smiling, and waiting to hear her precious cry. We didn't have to wait long. She was prefect through and through. I think Nick took about 300 pictures within the first three hours of her life. It was the sweetest thing ever.

He balances his roll of Daddy and husband perfectly.

Oh we have the most outrageous fights. We're awful sometimes, but most times...we are great. He is a brilliant care taker and I don't think anyone has ever or will ever love me more than him.

They're only little for so long..

So, I'm thinking I should spend more time on my blog. Definitely need to add some pictures!! I take at least a million a day. Seriously, I'm a picture taking FREAK. I'm sure my (nonexistent) followers  would love a peak inside of all this madness. 


I'm also thinking it might be a good idea to start another one. This one is for me to just ramble on about whatever is going on in my head. Randomness... sometimes structured, mostly not. Is all this junk really what I want to look back and remember 5, 10, 15 years from now? Some of it, sure.. other things are just useless. I follow one of my Sibs, and let me tell you...each and every time I read her blog I secretly wish I could be adopted in to her family. The smallest details of a day are captured and put on to paper. The captions leave you laughing or saying "awww, how cute". Not to mention she has an impeccable way with words. Clever, that girl...

 It's starting to make me think that all parents really should do something similar.

Day to day you don't really notice the changes in your children, but when you look back you really see how much they've grown. You aren't going to remember how every time your three year old scrapes his self, he not only has to have a bandaid for his self, but for his stuffed animal too. Or how even though he drives you absolutely BONKERS sometimes, he really is just the sweetest thing you ever want to meet.

By doing a better job documenting our children's youth, we will forever have a place to keep these sweet (sometimes sour) memories fresh. Twenty years from now I want to be able to remember all these little details that probably don't mean much now.

My kids are a gift, and I love them. I need to document their little lives. For all of us. The time is flying by way too fast...

Shhhh

Silence is golden.
Or so they say.

I suppose it can be good at times. You know, those times where you really shouldn't say what you're thinking. Orrrrrr, when your kids have been whiney/clingy/crying/bratty ALL day long. Yeah, I'd say silence is definitely GOLDEN then! A precious, and rare luxury.

There are also times where silence can be down right painful. For instance, when you aren't exactly getting along with your spouse. Now, sometimes you just want the other person to STOP talking, so yeah, there's a point where silence is golden. But when there is a problem, or tension that one of you would like to speak about, yet the other person really has no interest...it is painful. Obviously I'm not saying it is physically painful. Being quiet never gave anyone an aneurism. Wait...I'm not actually sure about that. (note - further research should be done on aneurism. - also, thank you spellcheck!)

That awkward time where you want to speak, but you aren't sure what to say. You wish that all the correct words could just come pouring out of you at once. Sans all the crazy emotions that tend to come with that sort of buildup. Y'know, you just get to talking about something and next thing ya know the water works are flowing, your voice is raising, probably a few four letter words here and there. Yeah, that's what silence can help avoid. But you feel deeply that things need to be spoken about. You want to touch and be touched. Kissed and cuddled, get things hot and heavy, move past it all and just be one. As husband and wife are meant to be. You can't just go for it, for fear of rejection. That's one of the worst things a person can really feel. Rejection from a loved one. (note- rejection comes in many forms, this should be discussed on another day.)

So, what are you suppose to really do? Just sit and wait? Do you know how hard it is to walk past someone a million times with a thousand and seven things running through your head?!! Especially for someone who is a natural "chatty cathy". It is hard to just sit and wait. But to poke around, refusing to give in to the mutely requested silence will cause bigger problems. If someone doesn't wish to speak to you, you kinda have to just let it be. After all, if the tables were reversed, you would appreciate the same. You have to give what you want to receive.

That seems to be a task I'm struggling with also. Through the past few weeks, I've realized a lot about myself. There is definitely work that needs to be done. I have to realize that people are going to do what they want regardless. Don't take everything so personal, learn to let go, speak with grace and meaning, develop a filter, say what you mean and only what you mean - nothing else. The list is a mile long, really.  What I can say is that as long as I do not give up, and I just continue checking things off my self to-do list; I will continue to grow as a person. Not only as a person but as a mother, wife, friend, sister...nothing bad will come from it.

So for now, my first challenge is to just embrace the silence. No matter how awkward it may feel. Maybe there is a reason for it, hopefully it brings some positivity in this rocky situation. Thoughts should not be wasted. I'd say silence isn't golden. Maybe bronze or silver because at times it is more than uncomfortable (unless we are speaking about children. In that case 9 times out of 10, it is GOLDEN!)

Yeah - Silence... It is silver, sometimes bronze...

Desperate times.

A glass of red on one side of me, a baby on the other, and an empty screen right in front. Considering I'm not exactly in the best of moods, this could turn out to be dangerous. Maybe not, who knows. Let's just see....


Being married is HARD! Thinking of couples who have made it 30,40,50+ years makes me wonder HOW? Well, first of all, the times are a-changin' and it ain't always for the best. I wonder how many relationships would be better, and would be so much stronger if it weren't for today's technology. Granted, it is amazing, convenient, and what we have all grown accustomed to. But, think about it. Not texting, emailing, face booking anyone. EVER. -gasp-

That's the way the world was "way back when". A husband had his wife's undivided attention at the end of the night when the kids were in bed. A wife never felt inferior to some image on a screen. If you had a fight, and one of you left to "cool down", you couldn't continue the argument via words on a screen. You had to actually take the time to think about what happened, and how you were going to make it better. Now, I'm not blaming technology all together. I guess what I'm saying is that it makes it easier to have no self control.

But, ah-ha!! Can all of today's technology help you gain what you may have lost? If you are going through a particular situation, what do you do? In my case, I either google, or ask all my SIBS. (Sisters in Birth, it is a long story but they're amazing). One of two, most likely both scenarios can give you a different perspective, advice, or sometimes, support when you feel like you don't have it anywhere else.

Also, maybe today's high tech world can help more when it comes to a marriage having problems. You can type out all your feelings, things that are bothering you, and any other issues that you may be having with your spouse. The opposite half does the same. You exchange emails/blogs/IMs/texts and then get back to each other with a straight up, 100% honest answer to everything. Sounds doable, right? Probably not. Why's that?

Becauuuusssssseeee, things often get either taken out of context through a text message, or you aren't careful with your proofreading and next thing you know, you're sending that message you only meant to type out to actually see it in writing! It has the potential to hurt a lot more than help. Not to mention, some issues need to be discussed face to face. For sincerity, and some other hard-core mushy feelings.

Over all, we are stuck in today's world. I'll admit, I'm a sucker for my iPhone. This is what has become of this century. I'd like to attempt a pledge. To be more personal. Have face to face contact, send more packages and hand written letters... All of that great stuff that would have made someone like my Mimi proud.

So, goodbye 2013, and helllooooo 1964!!

Writer's block

I recently had to write an affidavit for a close friend of mine. She's going through a nasty custody battle. Something I hope and pray never happens to me. After I volunteered to do it, I started looking up examples, trying to get ideas on what to write. Each time I sat down to start it, I found myself deleting and rewriting paragraphs. Over, and over again. What the hell??

I've known this woman for 18 years. We use to make play-do hamburgers, and attempted our own salt and vinegar chip with her easy bake oven. We've always been a part of each other's lives, so I know her character. She is a good, patient, loving mother. But yet, I couldn't find the right words. Want to know how long it took me to write? (Y'know, cuz this is such an exciting blog post)

THREE DAYS! Three whole days for a measly four (small) paragraph letter. I did my best to  keep it formal, truthful, believable, and above all else, in her favor for custody. Writing it actually made me nervous. Like, heart palpitations, sweaty palms, short of breath - the whole works. I don't get it. I love writing!! I LOVE HER! She's my oldest, and one of my dearest friends. You'd think my ol' noggin would have typed that out in lightening speed! Nope. Three mother effing days!!

Hanging out with my kids inspires me, stupid cupcakes, my husband doing the dishes - blah, blah, blah. That shit? I can ramble on for forever. Not this. It bothers me at how much energy it took.
Ehh, it is done, and that is all that matters.

So now, I can get back to writing about the REAL important stuff.

For instance, I got to take a trip to the library all by myself today. WAAA-HOOOO!!! (I've never sounded MORE like a Mom!)
Best 45 minutes ever. Pure silence, getting lost in the isles of books and bookish smells. Oh, it was bliss.

More important posts to come : )

Mommy Maid

Since having my daughter, I've been toying with an idea. I'd like to become a personal assistant to new Mothers. They need that time to heal, and to bond with the new baby. To rest, and not worry about household chores, or the other child. If they are breastfeeding, it is nice to be able to just hang out in bed, and get use to being a human pacifier.

I had little to no help with either of my children. With baby K, I was in desperate need. I had her on Thursday, April 4th. My Mom came down that day to be with our older child so that my husband could be with me. I was released from the hospital on Saturday evening. Mom left Sunday morning, and my husband returned to work on Monday! Granted, Nick did come home and do his best to help. He cooked dinner and did the dishes, took care of Jman, and brought me anything I needed. For that, I will forever be grateful. 

During the day, I struggled. Big time. So much so, that it sent me in to a depression. I just felt like I couldn't get ANYTHING together. For those first few weeks, our son was acting out. Completely forgetting that he was potty trained, screaming mad, misbehaving, and generally just had a really bad attitude. That made it harder for me. I felt like I was constantly punishing him. No matter if we had a great coloring session that morning, or if I read him books for hours, at the end of the day, I felt like a terrible Mother. To both of them! I felt like I wasn't giving either of them the attention that they needed. Adding another child in the mix is an extreme balancing act. One that would be much easier for mothers, if they could get some help those first few weeks. Or at least...that is what I keep telling myself.

Before being discharged, our hospital requires you to take a "class". Basically you get brought into a room with your new baby, and a woman talks to you about the baby basics. She also gives tips on breastfeeding and helps you with any sort of problem you may be having. During this class (I swear I'll never forget this woman) she said that in some cultures, the women have 40 days and 40 nights. LMAO, right?!! Those days, she is to be pampered, and her one and only responsibility is to bond with her new baby. She said that people in America just don't value what women go through during pregnancy and child birth. We all think that women should just bounce back. I'm guilty of it myself. I tried to do too much too soon. 

I'd like to start some sort of program. I'm not sure what to call it, or how to execute it. My plan is to somehow network with some hospitals, and get signed up to help women who don't have any family around. I'll bring them food, clean their houses, let them take naps, take care of the other kids. Basically make it to where all the new mommy has to worry about is what hour to nap. PLUS- I'd get to snuggle a newborn!! How amazing would that be?? I would have gladly paid someone to come in and help me for a few weeks.

I'm going to stick with this plan, and hopefully, I will find the right resources to get there. I've said it here before, and I thoroughly, 110% agree... It takes a village to raise a child!