Defying Reality

Social networks, specifically one I won't name (rhymes with shmaceshmook) are sucking my soul out. But, as Husband says, it's an addiction, one I have good reason not to shake off yet. Still, breaks from it are healthy, so today I'm on break. And I'm happy to report, I have not been on Shmaceshmook since I said I was taking a couple-day break. I've been tempted, but I have resisted. HOORAH FOR AMY! In its lieu, I have cleaned up, cared for E (of course) and raided both Sims and Pinterest (I'm not socializing on Pinterest, chill!).

Sims is a longtime interest for me. When I was in high school, I believe, I found Sims 2 and became interested in it, and so bought expansion packs and engaged in living lives I'll never actually get to live. When Sims 3 with its infinitely improved graphics arrived on the scene, I immediately switched, and stocked up on expansion packs again. To this day, that's my game of choice, and I have most of the expansion packs, along with several stuff packs. It's a struggle to resist buying Sims 4, but I've invested a lot of money in Sims 3. I've tried explaining my love of this game to people who love me and don't understand why I love it, so I'll explain it here too.

Sims 3 allows for you to choose your looks. You get to choose if you're going to be skinny or fat, or a witch or fairy or werewolf. You get to choose your hair color and change your style on a whim, no waiting for money or hair to grow. You can travel. You can CHEAT your way to a lot of money. You can stay up all night and work on increasing your skills. You are guaranteed success most of the time. So, suffice it to say: Sims allows me to escape reality for awhile. Reality blows, admit it. And so I sit and drown myself in the world of Sims that speak Simlish and spend Simoleans, etc. Sounds enjoyable, huh?

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaaack

So, I'm really bad at this, but I'm trying to rearrange a few things in my life to allow for more structure, and blogging is hopefully going to be part of that.

E is now about 6 weeks old, and while I don't get her weighed for a couple more weeks, she was 9lbs 8 oz 2 weeks ago. She's a fussy little princess (we call her Princess Prissy Pants) but we love her. Her sleeping schedule is evening out, although Mommy is still only getting about 4 hours of sleep a night, and depending on coffee to survive the day, because most days I still don't get a nap. Grammy got her a swing a couple days ago and she loves it; if all her needs are met, she'll sit in it for hours, sometimes, which allows me to get things done. No, not nap. E sitting peacefully in a swing does not resolve J running around making messes and needing supervision.

Her first smile on camera. And no, I wasn't the camerawoman. My grama had this honor.

This wide-eyed ghost spotter look is pretty much her norm.

Husband is back in school for a whopping 18 credit hours, so he's gone M-Thurs, from about 7 am until a bit after 5, and then on Friday for a half day, which means the kids and I are on our own all week. You better believe that Friday afternoon is a relief, and a joy. He's doing well in his classes though. Harvest is in another month or so; I expect we won't see much of him then, but it's the family's livelihood, so it is what it is.

 

J is normal. Chaotic, bouncy, intelligent. His cognitive skills are improving; you can almost have a conversation with him now. He's not jealous of E, so I don't worry that he's going to hurt her, although his exuberance to love her can be problematic at times. Shortly after she was born, he got it in his head that he wanted to hold her, so while she was sitting in her bouncer, and Husband and I were in the kitchen doing dishes, J sat next to her and slowly pulled her off the bouncer and onto his lap. He had her halfway off before I saw what he was doing and gasped so loudly, he thought he was going to be in trouble, poor boy. So I had him sit on the couch and put her in his lap, which is where you get pictures like these...

He loves his sister; he's good to her. Let's just hope it continues, yes?

G is back in school as well. She tested into advanced math because she's smart as a whip, and she seems to not only enjoy her new school and teacher, but also her new friends. She's about to grow her bangs out. She's back in the Girl Scouts, making a difference in the world, and she's a big sister at her dad's house too because her stepmom had her baby 2 weeks after E was born! Congrats, M2! But as her baby is not mine, I'll show you a picture of G holding E just an hour or two after E was born. G left 4 days after E was born, so I don't have many recent pictures of G with E.

A very satisfied big sister.

 

And then there's me. What's new with me? Hmm. Well, I bounced back to pre-pregnancy weight immediately after E came out, thank the Lord. Husband fixed my hip problem, so I walk normal again. I'm back to working out, and I have a Fitbit now so I'm tracking all this fun stuff. It's enlightening to see how much sleep I get. (Or sad, possibly.) I'm also changing how I function on Facebook; trying to simplify my life. We'll see how that goes too.

She's Here!

Yeah, so maybe I'm a bit late in posting this: little girl is here! We'll call her E. She arrived on 7/14 at 11:40am in a rush of activity. I'll tell you her birth story and show you just what a gorgeous little girl she is.

On 7/13 in the morning, I'd given up. I wasn't wanting to have an induction, but G was leaving on the 18th and I was running out of time, and frankly, I was in a lot of hip and back pain. I posted on FB that I gave up, she was never coming out and I'd be pregnant forever. That night, I went to the bathroom and discovered bloody show, which is usually a pretty good sign that labor and delivery is right around the corner, so I was excited. I had 2 contractions in the night that woke me up, but once I realized what was going on, I just went back to sleep. At about 4 am, I couldn't just go back to sleep anymore, so I went to the living room to ride out the contractions until a more decent hour. I had an appointment that morning, on the 14th, for thyroid testing, and it was pretty early so I didn't anticipate problems with that. I figured afterwards I'd come home and wait for when my body told me it was time to go to the hospital. At 7 am no one in my house had woken up yet, which is unusual because J is an early riser and usually wakes Husband and I up. I couldn't wait anymore; I could tell things were progressing, so my plan was to get dressed, pack everyone up and gauge the situation to see if grandmas needed to be called to watch G and J. Every movement sped up AND intensified my contractions. I woke Husband by saying, "Good morning, love! It's baby day!" He was ready to hop out of bed and drive me to the hospital, but when I realized I didn't have any clean shorts for J, I did a load of laundry and finished packing G. We were splitting the kids up, so that no one grandma would have to deal with the chaos of having both G and J together, and we called Husband's mom to come watch them for my appointment so that Husband could drive me.

I progressed VERY quickly and told my doctor and the nurse that I was in labor, and when they heard how many contractions I'd had in the 14 minutes I'd been there, advised me to get to the hospital ASAP. My mom picked up G and took her, and Husband's mom stayed with J. Husband drove us home to grab the diaper bag and then drove about 30 mph over the speed limit to get me to the hospital; the contractions were about every 2 minutes by then and I couldn't talk through them. We arrived at the hospital at about 10 am, after being told by my OB's nurse to go to the office to be checked. Doc checked me and said, "You didn't want an epidural, right? Because you don't have time for one anyways." I was 7cm dilated by that point. They wheeled me to L&D and got me checked into bed, started asking questions, and helped me ride out my contractions. I've always considered myself sorta weak in the hands, but Husband tells me I squeezed his hand pretty hard. I did well breathing through, and was fine and dandy until I felt the urge to push. The nurses couldn't agree about how dilated I was, and decided I was 8 and told me it wasn't time yet, but the more I fought pushing, the more painful it was. Eventually I couldn't fight it anymore. The nurse called on her shoulder walkie talkie that I wasn't able to quit pushing, while both she and Husband told me to breathe through it. My body didn't listen, and in a warm rush of fluids, out came E. No one noticed at first; they were still telling me to breathe and not push. Husband says he doesn't know what made him look down, but when he did, there lay E, purple and crying. And so he vocally reacted like he did when J was born: "Uhh, uhh....she's out." Nurse looked down and lo and behold I'd gotten her all the way out; my water broke as she came out. Nurses flooded in the room to deal with her, getting her suctioned out, tying off and cutting her cord, and getting her to the infant table. My doc came in and was MAD; he slammed a cabinet door. Then he put on his mask and helped me deliver the placenta before giving me a single stitch because I'd torn a tiny bit.

E was beautiful, and of course she still is. She was born at 8 lbs 1 oz, 20.5" long. I was basically pain free as soon as she came out and still am. My nurses were shocked that I never needed pain meds, but hey, if you're not in pain, why take meds? G and J both came to see us, although it took a full 30 minutes before J even realized there was a baby in the duck blanket he'd been looking at. G was smitten and brought me pretty flowers. We went home on Saturday the 16th.

 

 

Various details: While in the waiting room at the office, right after my pee test, I had a contraction before I could sit down. I leaned against the wall to brace myself, and Husband stood right there, ready to meet any need I asked of him. A woman in the room noticed me, and offered me a chair so I could sit down. Later, after I was checked and put in a wheelchair to go to L&D, she happened to be waiting for the elevator when they wheeled me to it, and I thanked her for the chair, because I was raised to be thankful for any effort of help someone gave me, even if I didn't actually need it. She said, "No problem. I was wondering why this tall guy was just standing there." Gratitude over. Husband and I are in tune; he knew to be there, ready to help me if I needed it, but as I'd said nothing and only needed a brace to stand firm for me, he just stood there waiting. As he needed to.

At one point I had to use the restroom, so Husband and the nurse stood waiting to help me. I had a contraction while sitting, and muttered out, "I wish she'd just get out already." The nurse, bless her heart, thought I was talking about her, so she said, "Oh, ok," and turned around to leave. Enter extreme guilt. I told her I was talking about the baby, not her, and that I was so sorry, that it was rude. Husband laughed; he thought it was hilarious, but I was so embarrassed that she thought I'd say such a thing to her. Poor girl.

The Countdown Passed Me

Today is 7/11/2016. My due date was 7/9/2016. In the scheme of things, that's really not that late, but it feels late because I'm in THAT much pain.

Pregnancy is hard on the body. It drains you of your nutrients, vitamins, mobility, dignity, and a whole bunch of other stuff, I'm sure.

With G and J, my teeth died. I had such pretty, resilient teeth in my first 20 years, but with G, my wisdom teeth decided to make an appearance and immediately cause problems, so those were removed when she was still tiny. I'm sure there were other problems but those were not discovered or addressed. It only got worse with J, and the dental work needed to recover from what he drained from my mouth has yet to be fully addressed. I was remiss, I should have scheduled all the dental work while Husband was still in the Army, but I didn't, and now, while Baby (to be retitled after birth) is not actually having much effect on my teeth, she is a bit of an obstacle to me getting them fixed.

Additionally, with each subsequent pregnancy the battery of physical woes has worsened. G wasn't so agonizing; I maintained a retail job very far into the pregnancy, but with J I had crippling sciatica and awful late-pregnancy Charlie horse cramps in my legs that once actually had Husband jumping up in the middle of the night, ready to assist me to the car for labor. And now, with Baby, I've had sciatica (resolved early and quickly thanks to chiropractic care), round ligament pain (resolved the same way), and most recently, and severely, massive hip pain. It's so bad I walk around like a zombie. I skipped church yesterday because I couldn't walk, and that is something I HATE doing. I got a chiropractic adjustment on 7/8, but on 7/9 we went to Denny's for breakfast because I can't stand to cook lately, (and we like Denny's) and while there, I needed to use the restroom. J came with me because he's almost completely potty-trained and needed to go too. We went, washed hands, and just as I was side-stepping to grab the door handle, my flip flop (when will I learn to quit wearing them?) caught a seam in the floor. I started to fall (for a 3rd time; I have a habit of falling this time around), so I caught myself...at the expense of all the work the chiropractor had done the day before. It was so discouraging, my hormones jumped up and made me choke up. I don't like crying in public, so when Husband asked what was wrong, why I looked like someone hit my puppy, I couldn't answer. Enter in Papa Bear, who immediately wondered if someone in the bathroom had violated me, verbally or otherwise, and he was ready to go to war. He and J went to the car, and I stayed to pay (compared to wrestling J into the van, standing in line to pay the bill is a snap, so don't judge him for lack of chivalry), and got distracted. The minute I finished and returned to my place, Husband said, "What happened?" I told him about almost falling and he was immediately relieved he didn't have to march back inside to lay a crackdown on someone.

So, today, and yesterday, we are stuck. I can barely get up to go to the bathroom, yet we have occasionally left the house. And so I lean all over the shopping cart to get anywhere. But for now, until I have to scoot to the hospital, my green recliner is my go-to spot for resting...until J acts up in the bathroom, or his room, or the kitchen, or inevitably any room that is NOT the living room. It's time for this baby to come out, so my hip can return to normal and the only thing that keeps me in my chair is a tiny person, not physical, personal pain. LET'S GO, GIRL CHILD.

Long-Awaited Update

Here we are, the days before week 28 of this third, and possibly last, pregnancy. A LOT has changed since the last time I blogged, and a lot more changes are coming.

Husband is still in the midst of his first semester of college, first out of 4 years of them. He only has about 3.5 weeks to go yet for this semester, though, and he's doing REALLY well (he generally gets close to 100, if not over, for every single test and assignment). He has a high standard of perfection for himself. These are just the pre-reqs though, so we shall see how it goes in the future. The best part of his attending school is that he is getting paid to go, so he's not having to work another job around farming and school to support us. Add that to IL's support of school-going veterans, and we're doing well.

G has hopped on her bike WITHOUT training wheels, so hopefully that will continue to develop. For the most part she's doing well in school, but she does have a few struggle issues that she'll be working through with a tutor this summer.

J is almost potty trained! We've been hoping we would make this breakthrough before the baby comes, so we wouldn't have two in diapers, and while he's not COMPLETELY there, he's close. Pants and outings seem to be our stumbling blocks, but yesterday he hustled me out of over 10 Oreos just for pooping on the potty. And I'm happy to give them if it shows him that the potty, and not his underwear, is where poop belongs.

Tiny is a girl! We found out around 22 weeks, but then it was verified further about 10 days ago in another ultrasound they wanted to do to make sure that a fibroid in my uterus wasn't going to hinder her growth. She's growing big and strong, kicking like crazy. Meanwhile, while she grows, I'm actually LOSING weight. Go figure. I'll take it though, since I'm far more prepared and determined to nurse this baby, I'll likely lose a lot more with a quickness when she's out!

And finally, one of our newest developments: we bought a house. I know, I know, we were gonna build and turn it into an off-the-grid wonder that would make normal people today wonder what was wrong with us...but due to some timing issues, between family and a new baby, we found a well-priced house that just needs a little love, and then we will have a lovely home that we OWN, that we can move into before Tiny gets here, and even before G comes for her summer visit. We're very excited; this month before closing has been the longest month in the history of forever. My parents, ever the blessing, are gifting us with paint, and hard labor, so that we can get it looking more like ours before any of our stuff gets in there. I'll try to post progress pictures once some of the work is done. :D

I think that's all for now. Farming season is about to kick in gear, and we FINALLY have a decent week of weather, so hopefully we'll be shrooming soon too, along with moving and having some outside time for poor, cooped up J!

Yet Another Hilarious Pinterest Fail

It's time, folks! Time for another adventure with Camper Boy! In today's episode, we will explore why living in a camper is not the opportune time to take it upon oneself to be crafty and creative.

Some months ago, I got the idea that a lot of Camper Boy's aggravation was the lack of ability to work on calming himself down, and, ever the DIYer, I decided Pinterest must, in all its infinite wisdom, have the answer. Lo and behold, I was not disappointed, and soon came upon the concept of Calm Down Jars. If you are a Pinterest fiend with children, you may have seen these clever devices. They are sparkly and colorful and sometimes filled with small floaty items. The idea is that when a child is upset due to overstimulation or what have you, you shake the jar, sit them down in a quiet space and let them watch the glitter and swirls settle, and by that time they're redirected and calm enough to continue on with their day without hassle. Or at least for the next 30 seconds. I thought, really, what could it hurt? And so I acquired a mason jar, some glitter, and light colored spikey balls to put in it, thinking I wanted a few more items in Camper Boy's jar, and then when he goes bonkers from boredom, we'll dig it out and let him watch and all will be well. But the project sat. And sat. I was missing ingredients and didn't want to start until I had everything I felt I needed.

This morning, Husband went to school, as is customary for Tuesdays and Thursdays, and so as is normal for us EVERY morning, I started Camper Boy's movie, got him some juice and cereal, and made sure he was comfortable and happy. And then I slipped down the hall for another few minutes of peace before forcing myself to get dressed, break down his bed and make the camper normal for the day. The next time I peeked to check on Camper Boy, the bottle of glitter that I had stashed in the catch-all shelf above the kitchen sink was no longer in said shelf. It was open, and its contents were ALL OVER THE BED/COUCH.

As you might expect, my gut reaction was NOT, "Aww, how cute, he wanted to play with glitter!" No. No, my initial reaction was more akin to a dropped jaw, and "Are you freaking serious?" Things of this nature have happened enough times now that I have a routine, and as long as I manage to keep my mouth shut, it's not scary. Camper Boy's sparkly little heiny was plopped in time out and my wheels of methodology in figuring out the least painful way to clean it up started turning. The blankets and sheets were all shaken onto the floor, and then when I was satisfied that they were generally free of craft herpes, I tossed them down the hall and onto my bed. The vacuum is stored in the bench right under that back window there, with the yellow, so I had to shake, fold and strip EVERYTHING down before I could suck any of that shiny awfulness up. Camper Boy remained in time out. Finally, with a camper covered in silver glitter, the bed was stripped, and I was free to get out the vacuum. And so began 30 solid minutes of sucking it up.....and it's still not all gone, because after all, this is glitter we're talking about. I took a picture of it, as you can see above, and sent it to my mother, and when she heard what it had been destined for, she asked if I was calm. I found it hilarious and began laughing, and that moment of levity is, folks, why Camper Boy will live to see another day, and in all likelhood, will live to give you all another chapter in the the Adventures of Camper Boy. For now, though, this one is over, because it's lunch time and I need to replenish the energy I purged cleaning up the unicorn after party.

A Temporary Chapter

If you've been following any of my updates, you know that we moved home in October and are currently living in a camper until our house is built and livable, hopefully by July. Our camper is an adorable little place, but it is small, which means less storage for the mama that loves storage and crap all over the place, less play space for a toddler...and less child-proofing, simply because there are only so many places to stash tempting things from the curious toddler. J's most troublesome time is in the morning, when I'm still dragging myself from the depths of sleep and he's bored silly. For the past I-don't-know-how-long, I've awoken every morning to some new lovely mess. It's gotten to the point of being hilarious now, in a very sad way, and I think I'm going to make a thing out of it. So, ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you: The Amazing, Messy Adventures of Camper Boy.

Every week I will post pictures of J's new messes that I come out to, and explain how these things get there. I will take pictures of Camper Boy in all his wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights glory of pseudo-innocence. And maybe, throughout the day, other pictures will be taken of a standard day for Camper Boy. Oh fun. For now, here's an intro to Camper Boy's days.

After the inevitable disaster clean up, we fold up all his blankets, put them in a specific spot under the bench by the door, pull a few toys out, and make up the benches for my somewhat-sectional. I put a movie on for him, get him some breakfast and juice, and let him watch. The movie varies but usually it's either Cars, Toy Story or one of his Preschool Prep videos. Frozen has scratches from being watched so often so I tend to avoid that one. If it's an at home day, that's basically it. Climbing about, playing with cars, movies. It's too cold to play outdoors yet, and if it warms up it's crazy muddy, so I'm impatiently waiting for a warmer, dryer time to convince Husband to buy a playground thing so J can play outside. He does so much better if he can get energy out. About noon or later he has lunch, and then it's naptime. Hallelujah, Mommy gets a break. After nap is likely another movie, followed by dinner and horseplay with Daddy, and then bed. Errands are our salvation because they get us out of the house, doing something. Naturally, such boring days lead to...antics. Which is where his messy adventures come in. And most of the time, while they stress me out, they are picture worthy, and should be saved for future date blackmail....I mean, for memories.

Cars. Always. Or Toy Story. I hear the word "Woody" waaaaaaaaaaay too often.

When he knows you're taking a picture, he walks really close and says, "CHEEEEEESE."

So there you have it, a preview of the joys and delights known as J, who will be Camper Boy when he's up to something. Tomorrow morning, I'll take a pic of whatever mess he comes up with.