Memories I Will Laugh About Later (#1)

Things are a bit difficult lately.  You know that adage, you'll laugh about it later?  Well, I'm placing all my faith into that statement.  To help things, I've decided to write about the tough stuff to remind my future self of how funny things were at this time.

Enjoy.

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Remember going to your 6-week check-up with all three kids? BY YOURSELF? In that office, Andrew climbed up on the sink, multiple times, and emptied the glove box, the tissue box, and the paper towels all over the floor while you attempted to keep a very fussy Amelia calm through breast-feeding.   The nurse remarked, "You brave woman, three kids and so calm." You laughed because your blood pressure showed otherwise with its high - for you - numbers.

I think your brain has suppressed the rest of the visit, so I'll spare you the details.

That was funny.

And the rest of the day, you remember that?  Ben was working a long day (from 9 am until 10 pm) and you were optimistic that things would be okay.  I mean, what could happen right?

You soon ate those words.

While you were in the kitchen making dinner, Andrew found and spilled almost all the salt out of the big container, dumped water all over the floor, and woke up Amelia.  Amelia proceeded to scream as you tried to finish dinner with tears streaming down your face.  It's no wonder that you burned the dinner, twice, and somehow spilled paint (which fell from the top of the fridge, don't ask) all over yourself and Amelia.

Yeah, that was funny.

To top it all off, while putting them in the bath (and hoping for some sanity), Andrew pooped in the bathtub.  Emily woke up Amelia, again. You cleaned up Andrew's poop with Amelia in your arms and dishearteningly listened as Andrew and Emily took out every toy in their room.

Hilarious.

When you finally put the kids in bed, you realized why your left boob was hurting so bad, and why you were starting to feel sick: a clogged milk duct.

Meh.

You continued cleaning the kitchen while trying to ignore the kids that were coming in and out of their rooms.  You seriously considered installing bars on their doors until you realized how complicated that would get.  So you sat down with a box of ice cream instead.

Oh, what a funny day.

Three

I am accustomed to change.  From handling 0 to 1 kid and 1 to 2 kids; transitioning from high school to college and college to graduate school; and moving from apartment to apartment (to town home and back to apartment) and from city to city and across state lines.

Yes, change.

One change that scares me beyond the rest will happen between July and August - the baby's arrival.  While I was excited for a third baby's arrival with pregnancies 3, 4, 5, and 6, it didn't happen.  Instead, I lost baby after baby before the second trimester.   And, with that, all those feelings of excitement and anticipation that often comes with pregnancy were replaced by fear and anxiety.

In less than 4 months (FOUR MONTHS), the long hoped for yet seemingly hopeless event will happen.  A baby that is healthy (and active), a surprise (gender unknown), and our last (natural) addition will arrive.

Change.  The third child.  What many have warned will be the hardest transition our family will make.

I think we're ready.

Five for Five starts today. Join. Seriously.

Oh the Irony

Last week I felt devoid of interaction.  It had been two weeks since I had complete access to the internet and my brain was degenerating from lack of use.

This week, my computer arrived.  Joy of joys!

Except, the endless time I had before--due to Ben's studying schedule and the kid's early bedtime--has dissipated quickly.  Poor baby Andrew has not stopped crying since 6 am Monday morning.  I thought it was his teeth, but upon further inspection it turned out to be something more sinister : hand, foot, and mouth disease.  Since there is nothing a doctor can do, Andy just has to wait it out.  Gah!

{On an unrelated note, how does he get these things?  I keep our place pretty spotless AND wash his hands, face, and anything he eats off of frequently!  I feel like the worst mom.}

I think this kid has had more strange viruses than anyone I know.  Like the rectal strep he concocted alongside RSV a year ago, and then, a few months later, the weird sores that appeared in the back of his mouth from another rare virus.  What makes things more difficult is he doesn't develop normal symptoms, like a fever or fatigue.  As Ben says, he's inherited my broken prosteoglandin pathway (I don't know what that is either) as well as my sh***y immune system.

Anyway, I have my computer but no time to write so my brain is still going haywire from all the ideas sprouting.  If only it would veg like the rest of my body feels like doing all the time.

At least I've had one positive from this experience: a painful reminder of those newborn days.  I think I might be done with having babies.

{Please note the sarcastic and/or sardonic undertones.}

How To Burn Toast

My first experience with fire while cooking, happened when I was 14.  My sister and I were making stir-fry for the family while my parents were gone.  The pan we were using suddenly lit up on fire.  Because my sister and I took the lessons on fire safety seriously, we she remembered to put a lid on the pan to suffocate the fire.  It worked!

From then on, my cooking experiences weren't full of fires (well, okay, maybe that one time while I was cooking (toasting?) garlic toast...).  They were more of the charcoal variety.

For about 6 months, I was really into cooking.  I tried recipes galore and felt pretty Rachel Ray-ish.  Sure I *might* have burned garlic (while sautéing) and other vegetables here and there but you could hardly taste it!

So I thought.

Once Ben quit one of his jobs, I told him I could not cook anymore.  He took over without complaint.

One evening, I asked that he make the kids' favorite dish: hot dog spaghetti (much tastier than it sounds).  Part of the process is sautéing hot dogs with celery and onions.  After stirring the ingredients around, he asked if he needed to burn the hot dogs.

"Burn the hot dogs?" I asked, quizzically.

"Yeah, you know the way you usually do it?"  he innocently responded.

"Um, babe, that's on accident.  They aren't supposed to be burnt," I laughingly said.

"Oh.  I thought that's how the recipe went,"  he responded, sheepishly.

And now you know why Ben gladly took over the kitchen responsibilities.

On a side note, the spaghetti is usually accompanied by salad and garlic toast.  To keep with tradition, I burn one batch of garlic toast before getting it right remembering to watch the toast.   Thankfully the kids are used to the smoke detector going off.

P.S. We will be bidding Provo farewell tomorrow.  We are thrilled to see our kids again!  That is, if we finish packing and cleaning on time.  Ha.

7 Quick Takes: Moving Edition

1. With my kids gone, I've been amazingly inefficient.  Although I've washed the dishes, kept up with laundry, and blogged, I have yet to conquer the most significant task: packing.

2. Perhaps this has something to do with exhaustion.  My body is still needing quite a bit of rest.  And, to be honest, depression--from grieving--is making it really hard to get out of bed.  I do! But with a lot of effort.

3. The kids are missing us.  You can tell by the photos my sister and mother have sent me.

Is it wrong to want some type of validation that they need me?

4. To invigorate my body and my mind, I've started exercising again.  In case I forget the next day, the aches and pains from doing Pilates reminds me.

5. While sorting through one of our many junk piles, I came across the card Ben, Emily, and Andrew gave me for Mother's day.  I *might* have cried upon seeing the little scribbles.

6. Anyone need baby boy and girl clothes?  I have about 10 (huge) bags full.

7. I will admit to finding pleasure in sleeping in.  And taking unplanned naps.  And having time to blog, read, and eat without interruptions.

A Very Bleak Future Indeed

I think I have ostracized each of you.  I deeply apologize.  My emotions are much more stable when thinking about the miscarriage.  I also don't feel so fragile.  (That doesn't mean I'm willing to talk about it, yet, just that I'm not as easily wounded.)  I feel more comfortable talking about certain aspects of what happened, just not confronting what it might mean for the future.  So, for now, I will skirt the issue.  Please don't feel uncomfortable e-mailing me.  I value my friendship with each of you.

WARNING: Graphic and extremely sarcastic post ahead.  Proceed with caution and don't eat while reading.  Thank you.

When walking into the store to buy pads or diapers, we inevitably pass through the incontinence section.  Since Ben and I are so mature, we always crack some lame joke about one of us needing it and giggling like high school boys.

Little did I know, Ben would soon have a legitimate reason to mock me.

Wednesday found me taking care of the kids without any help.  As usual, since Saturday (when the whole m business went down), I was having my bleed fest and making regular trips to the bathroom.  I noticed I only had 6 pads.  I didn't think anything of it.

But when I went through 4 in 2 hours, I started feeling a little concerned.  I mean, I couldn't very well go to the store while pints of blood poured from my vagina--you know?  So I thought about plan B.

Unfortunately, before a plan actually formulated, I was on the last one.

"Um, how long can I stretch this pad out," I thought.  My answer came quickly enough.  "Mommy!  Blood!" Emily cried while pointing to my pants.

"Sh**," I thought (and maybe said but I seemed to have blanked that moment out).

I looked across the room and saw the diaper box.

I did the only reasonable thing I could think of.

"Emily! Can you give me a diaper?!" I said while running to the bathroom.  Soon I heard the pattering of her feet across the carpet and into the bathroom.

"Here Mommy! Oh no! Blood!"  Emily said, with a very devastated voice.

"Dear God, please do not allow Emily to remember this when she gets older," I thought, calculating the expense for the years of counseling she would need.

"Thanks!" I said as I took the diaper from her and attached it to my underwear.

Now I can say I have something in common with babies and the elderly population.

I remember

Christine and several other wonderful ladies encouraged their readers to try this prompt.  Since I am in a reflective mood lately, I thought I'd give it a try. Check out Christine's post for further directions and other wonderful memories.

I remember holding my dad's hand as we skipped around the zoo.  I remember feeling like the coolest 1st grader alive because my father came on the field trip with me.

I remember weeding my grandmother's garden.  I hated the feeling of the dirt and all the bugs, but I loved spending time with her and staying at her house.

I remember moving to Alaska my sophomore year.  I was thrilled to start a new adventure.

I remember our first kiss.  I remember thinking, "This [our relationship] will never last; I am much too young and immature for a wonderful guy like him."

I remember when he first proposed: kneeling in the freezing snow, looking up at me with the most tender, beautiful eyes and asking if I would be his forever.  The butterflies in my stomach almost suffocated me.

I remember saying good-bye to him for two years.  I spent the whole night crying.

I remember seeing him come down the escalator; thin, tan, and extremely sexy.  I knew I couldn't survive another painful good-bye.

I remember our wedding day.  I wanted the festivities to pass quickly so we could begin our new life together.  (And, let's be honest, the wedding night was also on my mind.)

I remember Ben holding my hair as I puked into the toilet time and time again when pregnant with Emily.

I remember feeling so exhausted after having Emily.  Ben offered to stay up with her; I would wake up and lovingly watched as he cared for his beautiful baby girl.  He was, and is, the perfect father for our kids.

I remember throwing everything up for several days and not wanting to eat anything.  When Ben asked what he could make, I sobbed "onion rings and french fries." To this day, that was my favorite meal he ever made me.

I remember sobbing in his chest when I realized I was miscarrying.  I remember his strong arms around me and how his tears mixed in with mine.  I remember growing closer to him then than ever before.

I remember dancing to our wedding song.  I knew our love would never end.

A New Year and Nothing's Changed

[caption id="attachment_1254" align="alignnone" width="640" caption="Andrew and Me right at the beginning of 2010"][/caption]

I have no idea what happened to my New Year's resolutions of last year. I'm uncertain as to whether I continued with my goals or managed to fail the first day. This is slightly relieving as it keeps me free of guilt from an unexpectedly difficult year.

With this year, though, my goals are written down in a journal I will not lose. These goals are important as they deal with self-improvement: Specifically, a new mind set.

For the majority of 2010, I lived in survival mode. Given everything that came my way--colicky baby, busy husband (first with school then with two jobs), two miscarriages, yada yada yada, it makes sense. I don't look down on myself because of how I parented or how I lived each day. However, now that I've met the worst head on and survived, I feel much better equipped to start 2011 on the right path.

Goals can either be tools of self-reprimand--if you fail--or vehicles of positive self-change. Despite my tendency toward the former, I intend for my goals to be used as the latter. I believe that the past few months have granted me power to achieve this. I survived losses. I became aware of my anxiety and depression. I have struggled from and come to terms with chronic pain. Each of these events have made me stronger. It's not easy, and never will be, but the process has refined me in a manner yet unmatched. In the future, I would like to look back at 2010 as my defining year.

To begin this year, I do have certain goals for this space.

Consistency. I will improve on quickly responding to comments and answering e-mails. This is my weakest point when it comes to blogging; thankfully, there is always a way to change.

Better writing. I know my perfectionist attitude often prevents me from change, but in this area I will allow it to help me. I know how to write; unfortunately I often don't allow myself enough time to edit. I don't want to read old posts and gag anymore because my writing was so poor.

Give myself a break. Blogging, for me, is about fun. I won't have unrealistic expectations for what I should do; instead, I will allot myself a specific time to read and relax. Getting to know all of you has been invigorating and refreshing and I refuse to let that go.

I used to wish and wait for things to be easier. Now I realize that life will only get more complicated and difficult so I am learning new methods to handle unknown stressors and to improve through the challenges. As hard as trials can be, and though I would never willingly repeat certain events, I am grateful for what I have learned.

As for 2011? Bring it on.

You Know It's Good...

When it gets all over your face.

What Makes Me Happy

*Waking up to a clean house.

*Drinking a cup of hot chocolate on a chilly morning.

*Snuggling with my love in bed until the kids' screams force us to get up.

*Listening to Emily's chatter.  "Andy sleeping."  "Circle! Pink circle!" "Thanks, mommy!"  "Do you hear a fire truck?" "Baby cry?" "1, 2, 3, 8, 9, 10!"

*Preparing a delicious crock pot meal in the morning and enjoying it for dinner.

*Receiving hugs and kisses from my man.

*Reading blog posts during nap times.

*Eating a bowl of warm soup on cold night.

*Snuggling up to a good book in my favorite chair.  (Just finished The Bridge of San Luis Rey and am currently reading The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.  Wow.  What I have missed all these years!)

*Laughing/crying/discussing the day's adventures with my wonderful husband.

*Spending time with my favorite people.



What makes you happy?

Happy (Blog) Birthday!

According to my archives, I started this blog in December 2008.  I don't know if that is true, because of changes made while moving from Blogger to Wordpress, but I do know that I started when the days were long and cold.  When I was University student and new Mom.  Wow.  It certainly has been a long time.

Since I am unsure, I decided to declare today as my blog's birthday.

Happy Birthday, Blog!

To celebrate,  I bought my own domain and moved to my new home.  It feels so nice to be here.  I am hoping to keep this place warm and cozy, especially as we near the long winter months, and that all of you, my friends, will continue to visit and chat with me.

P.S. Don't forget to update your feed!

Sleep and Laughter CAN Go Hand in Hand

This morning,  Andrew woke up screaming.  Given that he refused to go to bed the previous evening because of sickness,  this event did not surprise me.   It did, however, rattle my husband.

As he climbed out of bed, he yelled, "SSSHHHH!!!"

To which I responded, "Um, that won't help."

After looking at me sheepishly he said, "Sorry, I was dreaming that one of the boys I work with was screaming at me." (Not too far from the truth.)

This dream state of my husband often results in hilarious nighttime outings and ramblings.

Like when I wake up to find cheese in the cupboard.  Or a half eaten peanut butter sandwich in the fridge.  And wrappers of my coveted chocolate scattered on the floor.

But nothing beats waking up to him whistling our alma mater's fight song; alternating between humming a tune and laughing hysterically; and jumping out of bed, grabbing a folded towel from the dresser, and brandishing it like a sword.  All while innocently dreaming.

It isn't unusual for me to wake up and find him in the living room with the TV on and the internet up.

I've mentioned the need for me to sleep train my husband before,  but I think I need to get more serious.  After I stop chuckling.

In Other News...

Good News

I'm pregnant.



Bad News

I have to tell my husband.

Since we have no idea what causes this, I can only imagine how the conversation will go.

Fake Conversation but Accurate Representation of Us Communicating

Scene: Ben is sitting at the computer when I walk into the room.

Me:  Babe, I'm pregnant.

Ben:  What?  How did this happen?

Me:  I don't know!  You tell me, you're supposed to be the doctor!

Ben:  .....

Me:  (Raises eyebrows.)


Ben: (Turns back to the computer.)


Me:  Anyway.  I think I remember my parents talking about birds befriending bees...

Ben:  Wait, you bought a bird!

Me:  Um, what? Are you even listening to me?

Ben:  Yeah, you said you're pregnant and...

Me:  Obviously this conversation is going nowhere if you don't get off of the computer and pay attention to me.

Ben:   I'm sorry.  (Shuts laptop.) What were you saying?

Me:  Right.  My parents said something about birds befriending bees and that leading to...

Ben:  I don't think birds can befriend bees.  That's scientifically inaccurate.

Me:  Well, how do you think this happened?

Ben:  (Sighs.)  I don't know but we'd better figure it out real quick.

Me:  You're telling me.

I guess the truth will come out eventually,  like when I start puking.  Maybe I'll just wait until he figures it out himself.  That always works.

Now how will I tell the extended family?

A Rather Provocative Response

A few days ago, I went to my good friend's house.  She looked tired and explained that she had helped her husband with his homework late into the previous night.   I gave her a knowing nod.  Her husband asked me if I help Ben as well.  I replied, "Yeah. Ben and I study Anatomy until 1 or 2 AM.  It's rather exhausting."

He responded, "People might take that the wrong way you know."

It might have taken me a few minutes to figure out what he meant.

Friday Night Awesomeness

On Friday, Ben and I decided to visit the great city north of us so we could dine at our favorite restaurant, Pei Wei, and walk around Temple Square.  Realizing that we were heading to the city, I called a blog friend and asked if she would like to meet, in real life, that night.  She agreed (because I wouldn't take no for an answer) and oh-my-goodness, it was fun.

Firstly, not only are her kids adorable, but she is extra gorgeous!





Secondly, our kids played very well.



Thirdly, our husbands got along.  Big bonus.

Fourthly, we chatted about everything.   I think I've found a lifelong friend, if she'll accept. (Pretty please!?)



I will certainly be seeing her again.

Thanks, Kristen, for letting us crash your Friday night party!

Go visit Kristen at Enjoying Every Moment.  You will not be disappointed.