May 31, 2011

The sun! It... it... it works! *gasp*

You know, the next time someone asks me why I want to have "so many kids", *yawn, oh please* I'm simply going to look at them with a straight face and tell them...

child labor.

Yup, that's the only reason why, child labor.

Just to see how they react. I think it would be a fun experiment.


But seriously, my children love "special work".

Cause throwing the word "special" in front of anything for the kids suddenly makes it more appealing for them. Well, unless its food they don't like. I have yet to get them to eat "special asparagus".

But anyway, you know what I mean, right? Not the "clean your room and pick up your toys" kind of work. But the jobs that are unique, the jobs that as parents, it's often easier just to do ourselves than have our children help.

All the kids got in a fight over who got to clean the sliding glass door the other day. They like to spray stuff. Still, half a bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels later, I had a nice, sparkly clean door.

We're trying to train them well.

They love to help wash the dishes.  *gasp*

The love to help me do laundry. *the horror*

And they love to help outside. *fainting dead away... now*

Yup, I'm all about child labor, it's good for the soul.



A couple weeks ago we actually had a day or two of sunshine.

*shocking* I know! I had my doubts too.

And yet somehow, the sun managed to remember those of us living in the frozen tundra of Freeze-your-royal-rastifarian-ne-ne-off-ville.

So we put the basement on hold and decided it was time to do something with our poor, neglected garden space.

Especially our strawberries. Dang crab grass.



Hubby managed to get these blocks, (they might not be pretty, but they were free) and we decided to make some "boxes" for the strawberries away from the fence.

We couldn't have kept the kids from helping even if we wanted to. 

Especially this little one.


We tried and tried to get her to stop, we were worried about her toes, but she just wouldn't listen.

Stubborn, that's what she is.

Not that I have ANY idea where she gets THAT trait from... really!

*clearing throat* Totally clueless.


But she obviously gets her muscles from me.

I speak only truth my friends.

It's amazing what a little hard work and a little sunshine to can for a person. Everyone was in such a good mood after we were done.



Well, we finally got our strawberries moved this weekend! YEA!



And now the kids are totally excited to plant the garden!


No really, I promise they are.

I think she was just upset cause she had to use a little spoon instead of the big shovel. She has an identity crisis. She thinks she's She-Ra.

And like I said before, she can be pretty stubborn.

May 26, 2011

Putting on my big girl panties.

Thanks everyone for your awesome and supportive comments! You're the best bloggy buddies ever!


I knew this time around with a new baby would be interesting and perhaps a bit more difficult than usual. (plus, rumor has it number five is hard, so I was scared chocolate-less, but so far so good)

No one was coming to help out, Hubby is swamped at work and hasn't really been able to take any time off, though he's tried to help as much as he can, and I knew not to expect much in way of meals, although a couple of my friends have come through for me.

But really, no need mail me military MRE's just yet. But I'll let you know.

And I was okay with all that. I like to pretend that I'm tough and buff and can handle anything. I'm not above pretending the ridiculous.

But staying up all night with a new baby and being awake all day with a bunch of toddlers can wear a girl down, even one with an effective chocolate stash.

So I must partake of humble pie once in a while. And it can be nasty stuff.

The other day was cold and dreary and wouldn't stop raining! Claira had quite literally kept me up the whole night.

Hubby left for work at quarter to six, and at 7:30am I forced myself out of bed, slogging my way through the foggy slush of my semi-conscious state to get Savannah up and ready for school.

With the other three kids up and about, I could only hope they'd entertain themselves since all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed. But toddlers left alone too long get bored, and that can be dangerous and very, very messy.

By 10:30am, I knew I was in big trouble. I called up Hubby at work hoping, but not really expecting, to see if he'd be able to come home for a while.

Nope.

He could tell I was frazzled and suggested I call someone to come take the kids for a while.

Now, I'm not above asking for help, nor will I turn it away if genuinely offered. Still, the whole, "Now, call me if you need anything!" thing doesn't work for me. I probably won't call. I'm one of those people who need you to say, "Okay, I'm coming to get your kids! Does Thursday work for you?"

I feel like I'm bothering and imposing on them, you know? Not that I mind in the least when someone calls me, I just struggle to be the one doing the calling.

Still, I decided it was time to take a nice, big, heaping bite of humble pie. Yuck.

I called a girl in my ward who had offered help several times. Up to this point I was simply feeling tired and frustrated, but the second she picked up the phone, I literally started sobbing.

Ugh! How embarrassing! There's nothing worse than crying in front of someone!

Well, okay... yes, there are plenty of things far more embarrassing, but you get the point.

After she said she'd be over in a few minutes to get my kids, I regained my composer and again felt okay. Cause I'm tough and buff, remember?

But the second I opened the door for her, I started sobbing again! Gah! Where the heck was my self-control! I didn't have any at that moment I guess.

She was totally gracious about it, and left with the kids.

Poor girl will never be able to look at me the same again. I wonder if she'll hide from me at church?

I sat there for a while, contemplating on the whole of my situation and decided I needed to change a few things, mainly my attitude. I chose to have this baby, I want this baby, so it was time to suck in my gut, cinch my belt a little tighter (metaphorically speaking of course, even if it did give me a wicked muffin top) and get over myself.

Yesterday I said a prayer or two...... or sixty-four, begging for help, patience, energy, kindness, my skinny jeans back, and just about every other motherly virtue I could think of.

I got all spruced up and ready for the day, did some dishes and laundry, and instead of hiding in the bedroom, I lounged on the couch. It's amazing how much of a difference that makes for the kids!

When Hubby came home for lunch he asked how I was holding up and commented that I seemed to be doing a little better.

And then I said the first thing that came to my mind.

"Well, I figured it was time to put on my big girl panties and get over myself."

Clearly my response shocked him cause he burst into laughter.

But it's true. I can't allow myself to mentally go to the "woe is me" place. So yesterday was actually pretty good!

Although admittedly, I think pulling weeds was a bit much.

So, here goes another day. So far so good!

Of course, this doesn't mean that I don't plan on eating cookies and sleeping all weekend.

Nor does it mean that I won't call you up tomorrow sobbing, begging you to take my kids for a while.



Oh, wipe that horrified look off your face, I was only kidding.....

A little.

May 24, 2011

Birth, never a dull moment.

Wow, this post is really long. Sorry. You get extra bloggy brownie points if you actually read the whole thing.


Thursday morning about drove me crazy. I was having contractions alright, some really hard, painful ones even. The problem? They wouldn't stay consistent! Gah! They would come and go, come and go, much like my sanity.

And seriously, that's just cruel.

Still, even if they didn't remain consistent, the longer I was having them, the more uncomfortable they became. Hubby and I were calling each other back and forth with updates but it wasn't until my super awesome labor and delivery nurse neighbor, who'd been helping me through the contractions, took me on a walk around the block that they were coming about every two minutes and getting mighty uncomfortable.

So, when hubby came home for lunch, I refused to let him leave again.

See, he wasn't fully convinced that I was in labor since I wasn't balling or threatening his life... yet.

But I decided it was time to go, and since I was the one in pain, I didn't allow hubby any choice in the matter. So we headed out for the hospital and arrived roughly at 3:30pm.

By the time we were in the room and I was dressed in one of those super fancy and totally flattering for your figure hospital gowns, my contractions were painful enough to make me teary-eyed.

At that point hubby was starting to believe that maybe I was in labor.

When they asked if I wanted an epidural, I hesitated only a moment before saying YES!

I was having a ton of back labor. Everyone has their limits when it comes to pain, and mine ends with back labor. I was worried she was going to be posterior like the boys, and I wasn't going to get caught in that world of torture, pain and agony without some help.

So they called the anesthesiologist, and soon he arrived with all his happy meds.

Little did I know what I would have to endure first.

Now, you have to remember, I've had three epidurals and one all-natural birth before. My previous epidural experiences have been cake, cheesecake really. A slight pinch here, some pressure there, then.... happy land!

Well... *cracking my knuckles* he got me all prepped and ready, then he said, and I quote, "Okay, I'm going to insert the numbing medication so a slight prick..."

A slight prick? A SLIGHT PRICK!! That was not a slight prick! Holy stab my back Batman, that hurt! I was so surprised by how much it hurt I couldn't stop myself from jerking away. It actually hurt enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Then I had the gall to apologize for jerking. Pish, what was I thinking? I was the one with tears of pain running down my face!

But oh, it gets worse.

Much worse.

After he "supposedly" numbed my back he said, and I quote, "K, here comes the epidural needle so lots of pressure but no pain, okay?"

In that moment, when he inserted that gigantic torture device into my young, tender flesh, I tried not to hate him. Really, I did. But oh, did I ever feel that needle go in. And let me tell you, it made the other needle poke feel like a soft breeze brushing across my back.

By this point I was sobbing. Big, black tears fell from my face and I briefly wondered why I had bothered to put mascara on that morning. I was only mildly embarrassed when I noticed all the snot pouring out as well.

I was too busy entertaining thoughts of revenge and torture.

So, after I apparently surprised everyone with my obvious ability to feel said epidural needle, I was pricked yet again while he tried to numb me, yet again.

And I tried not to hate him, yet again.

But finally, blessedly, he had everything in and all the pain started to subside.

And I briefly considered forgiving him.

Anyway, skim over the part where I was super nauseous so they gave me anti-nausea meds so I didn't puke during labor, which knocked my lights out for the next two hours, over which my contractions frizzled out, even though the doctor had already broken my water. (Broke my water? That just sounds weird. How does one break water?)

Well, Claira's head was down, everything was ready, except that there were no more contractions. So, they gave me just a couple doses of pitocin to get things rollin'. And boy did they start rollin'!

The contractions came fast and I started feeling a lot of pressure. Up to this point I had kept my epidural on the lowest dosage. But soon I was seriously contemplating pushing the magic button that gives you another dose.

I was checked and sitting at six centimeters. Less than five minutes later, I gasped and a bit frantically told Hubby to call the nurse! I was pretty sure that baby was coming out! 

My gracious Hubby turned off the TV, called and nurse and pushed my happy meds button for me all in a matter of seconds. But seriously, I thought it was too late. The pressure was so intense that it was painful and I was suddenly very happy for my epidural. The nurse came in, called the doctor, got everything set up and within a matter of minutes, I was up and ready to push.

In that moment I really, really wished I hadn't waited so long to push the epidural button as it takes a while to kick in. Because I seriously went from six centimeters to fully dilated in a matter of minutes. It all happened so fast!

She was practically crowning when the doctor showed up and three pushes later...

happiness.




I can't help but think Hubby looks all smug in this picture, like he was the one who had just delivered a baby.

Okay, in truth he really is great and super supportive. Can't help but love him, even if he did eat cookies in front of me while I was in labor.


Even though it's the fifth time I've done this, it still feels pretty amazing.


Okay can anyone tell me what's wrong with this picture? Anyone?


I'm sure you ladies have it figured out but in case the men don't, let me spell it out for ya.

He's sleeping, I'm not. *sigh*

After little Claira was washed and returned to me, I really was quite surprised.


Is it just me, or have the bows they put on the baby's head changed a little bit?

*sigh* My cute little baldy. She didn't like getting her picture taken, too bright.


 Friday evening the kids stopped in for a brief visit.

Seriously, this is what happened.

"Mommy! Baby Claira.... COOKIES!!! Mommy can we have the cookies? And the drink? I'm thirsty! I'm hungry!"

Ah, I feel the love.


Poor Alayna was out cold. She didn't wake up for anything and slept the whole time they were there. Which is probably a good thing, she has a cold.


Oh my heck... did I do all THAT? Five little monkeys.

Heaven help me.



You think I was joking about the food? Here they are, eating my cheesecake,


And if you look at each one of the kids hands, they are all making off with something.



Going home Saturday afternoon.



And now that I haven't slept in four days, or nights, Luke is back at work and the kids are bored stiff since it's rainy and cold outside. I'm pretty sure my head is going to explode and my eyes are permanently bloodshot. I might just break down and call for help here soon.

Good thing they are so worth it.




P.S. Thanks again Becka for coming up to help me!

May 23, 2011

Announcing


Claira Faith

Born: May 19 at 9:23pm
7lbs 14oz   21in
Perfect in every way

All the gory details coming tomorrow! Which means all you men might want to stay away. Unless you're curious to know why I wanted to strangle the anesthesiologist...

Is it bad to entertain thoughts of torture while delivering a baby?

May 19, 2011

Hospital, here we come!

AAAAAHHHOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!! *&$%$@#(*&^#!!!  *breathe breathe*
Con *breathe* trac *breathe* tion......................  Okay, okay, I'm good. Whew!

I just thought I'd leave a quick note to let you all know that I'll be gone for a couple days. You know, now that the baby is coming and all that.

I'll let you know how it all went when we get back!

Uh oh....

Oh no........ *breathe breathe* AAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! !%$#&#(*&@)*&#@^  OOOOOWWWWWW.....

I hereby propose that we should change the word "labor" to "torture".
.
All in favor, say, "Aye!"

AYE!
 

May 17, 2011

The "s" and the "p" word just don't belong in the same sentence

The first time I ever heard them used in the same breath, was from the mouth of my very own sister.

My sister!!

How are we even related? Perhaps we should do a blood test, compare toe nails and nose hairs, there's something fishy about all this. And I don't like seafood.

Sorry, I know some of you just took me off your blog list because of that. At least I love to swim, which by all accounts makes me part fish. So don't hate me for not being a cannibal.

I mean, my own sister!? I remember when she first let those two words slip from her mouth at the same time. I was stunned into silence! Which believe me, is quite a feat. It takes a lot to ruffle my feathers... err, rather, my scales.

I just listened to her, stared even, gaped, caught a fly while my mouth drooped to the floor, totally dumbfounded. Did I just hear her right? Anyone got a Q-tip? I need to pull a Shrek and clean out my ears.

How could this be? How could you possibly use those two words in the same sentence? The horror I tell you!!

And to my total and complete astonishment, I have recently discovered there are two people on this planet who use the "s" and the "p" word in the same sentence.

I was chatting with my neighbor, who reads this from time to time by the way, (just know I *double heart pound, peace sign* you girl!) and as we were talking, she too confessed.

I just... I mean... how is such a thing possible?

How can someone possibly say that they feel "sexy" when they're "pregnant"?

Cute, I can handle. Beautiful is pushing it. But... but, sexy?

Did you REALLY just use those two words in the same sentence... positively??

*sigh* Some people have all the luck. I want to be just like them when I grow up.

In the meantime, I'll continue to keep all the mirrors in my house covered for nine months.

May 16, 2011

Fairy Dust

The upside to Hubby working on the basement, is that... well, he's working on the basement! This, of course is the process needed for completion. 

I know, my intellect is astounding. You may call me 'Captain Obvious' and offer me gifts of intrinsic and cocoa value.

We're just working on the family room for now, which is almost done, *yippeeee* but I think it will offer up a whole new world for us.  The space to play inside will be SO nice, especially for the kids! Pictures will be coming soon!

The downside?

It has already opened up a whole new world of play space for the kids.

La de da de da....


Just sprinkle a little fairy dust here... and throw a dab there...


Huh? What mom? Mess? What mess? This is fairy dust! I just need to think happy thoughts! 


I firmly believe she did it because I had just mopped the floor in the kitchen and vacuumed the living room. And when I told her she needed to get in the bathtub, she just marched her little self right into the kitchen and headed to the bathroom, through the living room of course.

See? Cleaning is like an open invitation to your kids to do something really messy.

They have a sixth sense about these things.

That, and they always seem to know when you're hiding candy from them.

How do they do that?

May 12, 2011

Does this make me frugal? Ghetto? Or just plain weird?

In preparation for the baby's "any day now" arrival, (and no mocking me for wishful thinking, only I'm allowed to do that) I have been trying to figure out how and where to put all the baby's things. Seeing as the other two bedrooms are already pretty full, especially the closets, I had to get creative.

If you've been reading my blog for a while, you'll probably recognize this dandy little piece of furniture.

BEFORE

Okay, so it's something Hubby made during his High School years back in the Ice Age. But we have used it over the years for many, many different things. And now, it comes in handy once again.

I almost think we should name it, after all, it's practically family. What do you think about... Henry?

Anyhow, with all the other expenses that come with a baby, our budget was already hurting, so I wanted to try and use things we already had on hand.

Since diaper boxes still float around our house like Cheerios do on my floor, they weren't too hard to find. So I wiped them down and covered them up!

AFTER

Isn't the fancy word for such things these days, "repurposing"?

Even my poor, beat-up ole' toy basket is still capable of holding blankets.

So, what do you think?



Does this make me fugal, ghetto, or just plain weird?

Be honest. I can take it!

On second thought... if it's ghetto or just plain weird, lie to me, and tell me it's awesome instead.

May 10, 2011

Holy gray hairs Batman, Jacob turned four!

I know I posted Jacob's birth story last year, but I decided it was worth re-posting again this year.

Simply because I like the part where I threaten my husband with death by scorpion. It brings back such, fond, memories.

Because I'm a good woman like that.

~~~

Jacob came into the world just like any other baby.

I called up hubby who was working an hour away, to announce my contractions were coming about every five to six minutes.

And like any good man, when I told him to get his bum home ASAP, his reply was heart-felt. "Good timing! I just finished what I really needed to get done!"

And after about 25 minutes I called him back sobbing through intense back labor, again, expecting him to tell me he was almost home (because an hour drive could EASILY be made in 25 minutes, right?), he again responded like any good man would. "Oh I'm just heading down now. I had to stop off at the other job site and talk to my boss."

And like any good woman in labor, I threatened all kinds of horrible deeds, from divorce to death by scorpion if he wasn't at the door in five minutes.

My poor brother Caleb sat five feet away from me, helplessly watching me endure contractions with all the grace that anyone being tortured beyond all reason would have, thanking his lucky stars he was male.

When Luke finally made his grand appearance, we raced to the hospital. And since I could barely walk to the doors without doubling over in extreme pain, nurses and bystanders came flooding over, offering wheelchairs and all manner of help.

And when someone foolishly asked if I wanted an epidural, I looked at them with a face of Medusa wondering why they would even ask such a ridiculous question. Of course I wanted one! Did they think I enjoyed being in this kind of pain?

Then, while the anesthesiologist was inserting it into my back, Luke passed out cold, whacking his head on the hard floor.

My first thought was my husband just died and I'm about to give birth. Well isn't that just... perfect.

Turns out he was just very dehydrated, so he lounged in a chair next to me while the nurses waited on him hand and foot with all sorts of delectable goodies, as I munched on ice chips glaring him down for eating the cookies in front of me.

But Jacob was worth the trouble. He was a delicious baby and a beyond cute little boy.


And now he's your typical little toddler. You want to kiss him one moment, and strangle him the next.

Oh my, such a cheeseball. However do they manage to grow up so fast?


Jacob has been asking for weeks now,  "Is it my birfday yet?" 

"How 'bout now?" ......... "Now?"    

"Mom, is tomorrow my birfday?

"Now is it my birfday?"

Well, you get the picture. 

When I asked him what he wanted for his birthday, he replied, "Cupcakes!"

"Well, okay, but present wise, is there anything in particular you would like?"

Scrunching up his face in thoughtful concentration, he finally said, "Ummm... cupcakes?"

Being the ever so smart and perceptive mother that I am, I was able to figure out that Jacob really wanted cupcakes for his birthday.

I know, I'm impressive.


I decided to spice it up a bit and make those fun ice cream cone cakes you see around.

After the first batch was done, I scoffed at the instructions which read, "cones MAY tilt on batter"

They may tip? May? Who is writing this recipe?


Still, they turned out grand enough. And boy oh boy, was Jacob ever excited about it.



Just... ignore the overflowing sink there in the background. Eh hem... awkward. 


In case you can't tell in the video for whatever reason, "Happy Birthday" is Alayna's favorite song.

She sings it All. Day. Long. Every. Single. Day.

And I'm not exaggerating, not even a little. 'Cause I never exaggerate. Ever. Never ever.

video


Success!!


Then out came the presents.

Now, I know what you're going to say. But for the life of me, I just never, ever, ever think to buy wrapping paper except at Christmas time!

I just... I can't... *sigh* I have issues.

Though the kids hardly care what their presents are wrapped in, Savannah did scrunch up her face in total puzzlement and ask, "Mom, is it Christmas time?"


Apparently, I didn't do a very good job at picking out his gifts this year. I found this little Transformer truck on sale, that actually does, well, transform! I thought he would love it, even if the box said "for ages 5+"

But what it SHOULD have said was "for ages 30+" since it took Hubby about an hour or so to get it to "transform".

I was rather upset that it was so complicated! I thought it would be pretty straightforward. Arching his eyebrow at me, Hubby stated, "You've clearly never played with Transformers before."

Well of course not! I was a He-Man girl thank-you-very-much!

Still, at least one present was a huge hit.


Oh dear, no pun intended! It was the least I could do since I didn't sign the boys up for T-ball this year. You know, new baby coming and all that. Jacob was pretty bummed about it.


Now I'm questioning the wisdom of my gift.

Boys will be boys after all. If you uh... catch my meaning.
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