Two Under Two

Sometimes the Internets is Like Middle School.

2009-11-11T08:09:00.003-05:00

I am a decent human being, but more importantly, I am a grown up human being, so I'm not going to name names or do anything to call anyone out here.

What I am going to do is bitch and whine like a sniveling little baby, so if you don't feel like reading that sort of thing (and I can't blame you if you don't) just stop right here.

I'm a member of several online communities. There is a well-known and well-liked member of one of these communities who did something shady to me. (Again, no details. Not important.) It hurt my feelings. Actually, it hurt me more than I like to admit and I cried. A lot. But then I saw the other thing she did, and it made me cry even more, and then it just pissed.me.off.

In private, she was not kind about what she did, and just kind of shrugged it off. But on the public part of this online community, she tried to make herself look like a hero. She wrote things in such a way to make me look like a fool and make her look like the friggen messiah. And everyone bought it and thinks I'm an idiot.

But I won't call her out. I can't. I won't make myself look even more stupid in front of zillions of people. I don't want all these strangers to know my feelings are hurt (but since you all live in my computer, you're not strangers, so I'll tell you) and I don't want them to think I'm a whiny brat. The person who did this to me has been a member there for years, and I have only been involved for six weeks or so. I am in no position to say anything, and even if I was, I wouldn't.

Because I am a grown-ass woman, and grown-ass women don't do that kind of thing to each other.

Everything is illusory. It is not real; it is impermanent. We are impermanent. Suffering is impermanent. I will not feel this way forever. I will probably not even feel this way tomorrow. So I won't dwell on it. I'll write it down and purge it and be done. It won't matter after this.

Sausage Hands (I had to write this down.)

2009-11-10T06:05:00.001-05:00

This is another Beastie story. I know, you're probably sick of hearing about my hilarious little Beastie but I had to write this one down.

A few weeks ago - before Monkey was born - I was lying in bed, reading, when Beastie came wandering into the room with a bunch of bowls and cups and things. Her favorite game is "food," where she makes me all kinds of delicious food and I eat it. Usually we eat ice cream and cereal and fries. Her favorite part is pretending to hand me a fork and a spoon. That's my favorite part too, because she mispronounces them into naughty words - fuck and poon. (I guess that's my inner 14 year old boy speaking.)

So we played this food game for a little while, and then I asked her to go play food with her sisters because I was feeling a little tired. She didn't, but she also didn't seem to mind that I picked up my book and started reading again.

That's when I noticed her singing.

She was putting her hands in an empty bowl and wringing them around, like she was kneading bread, and singing in a little sing-song voice: "I got my hands in you sausage. I got my hands in you saaaaauuuusage. I got my haaaaands. In yooooouuuu. Saaaaaauuuuusage."

"What did you say?" I asked.

She looked at me sideways and said "I got my hands in you sausage. See?" She held her hands up, but I could barely see because I was laughing so hard I was crying.

Why I am the Greatest Mom Ever.

2009-11-09T20:43:00.002-05:00

I will admit it - the last week has been a nightmare. I've spent most days bawling my eyes out (hormones, anyone?) and wondering what the hell I've gotten myself into. Two under two was hard - three two and under is really hard. Especially when the middle one is The Babe.

This kid is all arms and he grabs everything he can, destroying it with glee. Toilet paper? Check. Bookshelves? Check. Pet food? Check. He just goes around the house like a little tornado, ruining everything. And all I can really do is sigh and follow him around, cleaning up the dangerous stuff, giving a feeble "no" when he tries to smear peanut butter on the dog, and pray he outgrows this stage as quickly as possible.

And yet, today, I am the Greatest. Mom. Ever.

Today, I managed to take the kids outside to play. I brought them in after an hour or so, washed their hands, and got them a nutritious (!) snack. Then, I changed diapers and laid down on the bed with Monkey for a little bit while the other kids watched Spongebob, before heading to the kitchen to make dinner.

I actually made dinner.

And then, I ate dinner. With my kids. And then, I cleaned up from dinner. No yelling, no crying.

After dinner we went into the living room and watched America's Funniest Home Videos. Monkey fell asleep and I was able to put him down (up until this point he had been in the baby carrier I made and finally learned how to use.)

The Babe fell asleep on the pull-out bed with me. Then EJ fell asleep. And then Five. And finally, Beastie. They all fell asleep, and no one screamed or cried or made a nuisance of themselves.

I can't believe I did it, but I did.

I hope I can do it tomorrow.

Things to Remember.

2009-11-06T13:39:00.002-05:00

His beautiful, beautiful feet. They're long and skinny, and the bottoms are ridiculously soft.

Sometimes, when he's sleeping, his breathing will suddenly get fast and jittery for a moment or two, and then back to normal.

His fingers are so long. Maybe he'll be a jazz pianist when he grows up.

His cord fell off when he was one week old.

He has soft, nearly invisible fuzz on his ears and cheeks and shoulders.

At ten days old, he still has some bruising from birth, mostly under his eyes.

You can feel the sutures in his skull when you rub his head.

He doesn't like to be put down. He wants to be held and cuddled every moment of the day.

He smiles in his sleep.

He looks exactly like The Babe did at this age. I mean, exactly. I can tell their pictures apart, but The Hub can't. They look that similar.

He has been wearing size 3-6 months since birth.

He is the most magnificent thing I have ever seen.

Chips.

2009-11-05T16:13:00.003-05:00

I left the house.

Actually, I've left the house a couple times since the baby was born. Monday, I went to the courthouse to get his birth certificate, and Tuesday I got some groceries.

But today, The Hub took me and the kids (sans EJ, since she was at school) to a little restaurant up the road from us. It's really small and looks kind of crummy so we've never eaten there before, but it was actually really clean and nice on the inside.

Beastie got a mini cheeseburger with chips. She ate the chips. Then she crushed some chips and put them on the cheeseburger, and dug at the bun a couple times, but that's it.

The chips though. That's what made me want to write this post.

"Look at this chip, Momma," she said. "It's a twacta."

"Oh," I said. "It does look like a tractor."

"No it's not, it's a boat!" she said.

"It's a boat?" Five asked.

Beastie gave her the dirtiest look.

"It's not a boat, " she answered. "It's a chip."

One Week

2009-11-03T15:33:00.003-05:00

A week ago, right this very minute, I was walking through WalMart, picking up some fabric to make a hat for my new baby. I was ridiculously large, and had a distinct waddle because, that morning, my baby decided to drop low into my pelvis.

It was so bright and sunny out, and I rubbed my belly on the way home, telling the baby to come out and see the pretty leaves.

I knew he'd be coming that day. I knew it. I knew it even as I talked to my grandma on the phone, three hours before his birth, telling her that I wasn't having contractions. We talked about how, when she was pregnant for my mom, she went to the doctor in the morning and he said he could feel the baby's head, and a few hours later my mom was born. I told her what the midwife had said the day before, that she could feel the baby's head, but I told her I didn't feel any contractions so maybe it wouldn't be today. But I knew it would. I just knew.

A week ago, in the morning, my midwife had called me. I was sleeping. I got the best night's sleep and was just enjoying a leisurely rest. She wanted to know if I was having contractions. I wasn't.

The Hub made lasagna for dinner a week ago today. I could hardly eat it, but I forced it down. At 8 pm, I got in bed. I wanted to rest, because I knew. I just knew.

And then around 8:45, the contractions started. And at 10:28, I had a baby boy.

It seems like he's been here forever. I can't really remember sleeping alone, uncomfortable with my huge belly. It's hard to imagine I ever got up three or four times a night to pee. I can't believe it's only been a week.

I keep thinking about the birth, and how it never really hurt. On a scale of one to ten, my pain level never got above a five, and that was just during crowning. I am infinitely glad that I planned a homebirth because I never would have made it to a hospital. I didn't really feel labor-y until about fifteen minutes before he came out. I am eternally grateful for a deep mother's instinct that told me to call the midwife when I did. I would have been terrified to birth without her calm, gentle assistance.

I am a changed woman. I have arrived. I feel like I need to create, to commemorate my son's beautiful, peaceful birth and my arrival as a complete woman.

I am going to decorate my house with things I create. I am going to fill this house up with beautiful things, because it is no longer just a house. It is the place where I became.

A name and a face.

2009-10-29T15:39:00.004-04:00

You know I'm a little funny about sharing pictures of my kids online. I don't even share their names online (but it's cool, because I really do call them by the nicknames I use. Beastie really is Beastie in real life.)

However.

Baby boy has chosen his name, and to celebrate, I thought I'd share a picture of his face.

Allow me to introduce...

Ean Matthew!

Sorry the picture is blurry. He really despises the camera flash, so I have to take pictures on "night" setting. Even the tiniest movement blurs the picture.

I feel okay, considering. I found a tear that I didn't know about. I couldn't see or feel it due to the swelling. It's not worthy of a stitch and even if it was, its not in a stitchable place. It hurts. My pelvic bones hurt, and so does my back. I had this back pain with all my other babies too, and I always associated it with the epidural. Obviously I was wrong about that because there wasn't an epidural this time. Heck, there wasn't time for a back rub, let alone an epidural.

It's so funny because when I was planning the birth, I had all these ideas of the way things would go. I bought special scented candles, and had a special "birthing nightie" picked out. I had a playlist of music I wanted to labor to, and The Hub and I had practiced relaxation and massage techniques.

I didn't use any of those things. I birthed in a stained, hole-y t-shirt on the friggen toilet of all places. There were no candles, no music. I spilled blood and amniotic fluid all over my beautiful new bath mat. I roared as the head was born and I laughed as his body slipped out.

And it was just totally perfect. I can't really imagine it going any other way. I think I would have been too inhibited by fear of mess to have him in my bedroom, and I didn't have time to even think about filling up the bathtub. The breezeway was full of children's books that night, since there was no time to clean up.

I am really, really glad I decided to clean the toilet on Monday though...

An Ordinary Miracle...

2009-10-28T08:44:00.003-04:00

October 27, 2009
I woke up feeling like it was a special day. The baby had moved so low in my pelvis I could barely walk, but I didn't feel much in the way of contractions. We went to Ionia to get the deed to our house, and then we went to Arby's. I had a hard time eating lunch; it just wasn't very appetizing to me.

The baby was very quiet all day, not moving much except for small little twitches here and there. These movements reassured me, because up until that point, it was a very active baby. If it had stopped moving altogether I would have panicked.

I went in my room about 8pm and watched Family Feud while The Hub called his daughter from his first marriage (age 10.) After he talked to M for awhile, he talked to his ex-wife, all the while sitting next to my bed. I started having small frequent contractions, and had to leave the room to vocalize. The contractions were happening every 2 or 3 minutes but only lasting 25 or 30 seconds, so I thought it was prelabor.

I took a bath and something changed. I don't know what it was. Something told me to call the midwife right NOW! So The Hub called her around 9pm and I was moaning in the background. She hears laboring women all the time and later told me she knew I was close to delivery just by those sounds. She took off and made it here around 9:40.

She helped me through some contractions, which were now every minute or so but still only lasting 30 or 45 seconds at their peak. She asked if she could check me and I said yes. I was dilated to 5 centimeters, which was quite discouraging, but as she was checking me my water broke. This was around 10:10pm.

Suddenly everything changed. I had to go potty. I literally ran to the bathroom, all hunched over, and sat on the toilet. The midwife chased after me. She sat on the floor in front of me. With each of these little contractions my belly would push. It was like throwing up - I couldn't control it at all. It wasn't me pushing, it was my body. I tried to go potty in between the contractions but I couldn't. It hurt when I did that. The pain during a contraction was scary but completely manageable. I started to cry and shake and sent The Hub to get the space heater since I thought I was cold. Then all of a sudden I felt the baby do something, shift downward, and then my belly did that funny involuntary push and there was a head!! I quick stood up so the baby wouldn't fall in the toilet.

It burned so bad, especially up front. It felt like my pelvis was being ripped apart. The cord was wrapped tightly around the baby's neck but the midwife was able to get it off without having to cut it. Then the baby kind of slithered out and I sat back down. The time was 10:28pm.

The midwife put the baby in my arms and I just sat there on the toilet. We didn't have any of the birth supplies so we wrapped the baby in regular towels. Luckily it didn't need suctioning or anything. The Hub managed to peek his head in just as the baby came out, and then after the cord stopped pulsing, he cut it. The girls came in and had to stand in the bathtub because we were all crammed in the tiny bathroom. They peeked between the baby's legs and both screamed at the same time...

It's a BOY!!

After that everything's a blur. I went back to my bedroom and nursed him, and then we did the exams. I had no tears or anything, just some swelling, which is kind of to be expected, I think. The baby is totally perfect and almost completely bald. He has some bruising on his head and face from coming so quickly. The midwife measured him and he is 21 inches long, and then she weighed him. I was shocked to see that he weighs 10 pounds, 6 ounces!

I hurt now - like my pelvic bones are seriously pissed at me - but I feel great. I don't understand why I got pain medication at the hospital with my other babies because this was truly a BREEZE. It was intense and it hurt but I remembered what some beautiful strong women told me, and kept everything as loose as I could, and he just slid right out! It was really one of the easier things I've ever done. I mean, I've had craps that hurt more than this.

The baby does not have a name yet, but here he is....

Holy COW!

2009-10-26T17:13:00.002-04:00

Maybe "cow" isn't the appropriate word, considering how extremely pregnant I am...

Anyway. I went to the midwife this afternoon. First of all, my blood pressure is not elevated and I am not spilling any proteins or anything in my urine, so there isn't any preeclampsia. I was a little worried because I had this awful headache for two days (still have it, actually) and that can be an indication of preeclampsia.

The baby's heartbeat was perfect, and baby has plenty of fluid, which means the placenta is still functioning just fine. The baby is still head down and is definitely anterior. The baby has moved much lower in my pelvis but is not engaged, which is normal since this isn't my first baby. She estimated it's weight at right around 9 pounds, normal if not small for me. I tend to have gigantic babies.

And now the graphic stuff. Feel free to stop reading, I don't blame you.

The internal os is 4 centimeters dilated and easily stretches to 5. The external os is 5-6 centimeters dilated. I am about 95% effaced. The most exciting part, though, is the baby's bag of water is bulging, and when I laugh or cough or do anything that exerts pressure, it bulges more and the baby's head comes down really low, onto the cervix. The midwife could feel the baby's sutures in it's head (the place where the bones come together, for those who might not know) and get this, she could even feel the baby's face! I asked if it felt cute and she said yes. Of course. I've yet to have an ugly one. Maybe this one will come out with Groucho Marx eyebrows and just freak the shit out of everyone. That would actually kind of make my day, to have a baby with Groucho Marx eyebrows.

The midwife gave me a recipe for how to take castor oil. She wants me to do it tonight after dinner, but I'm a little scared to. Just the thought of it makes me literally gag. I'll give it a shot though. She also gave me a higher potency of caulophyllum, a homeopathic remedy, and said to take it every hour.

The baby being low really explains a lot. For instance, every time I have a contraction, no matter how small, I feel like I need to go potty. It's that big old head pressing down on everything.

The midwife said it would not surprise her at all if I go into labor tonight. I think that would be great, and here's why - the baby would be born on the 27th, which seems to be a good day for us. The Hub's birthday is September 27, and Beastie's birthday is July 27. I like October 27th; it just sounds like a good day. 10-27-09. Yeah, I like that. I also like that fact that I will be 41 weeks 1 day tomorrow. I like the double ones in there. Of course, this is probably the OCD talking. But you know.

Managerial Personality

2009-10-26T12:32:00.004-04:00

Pregnancy Update:

There is no update. Everything's the same, except I have to go see the midwife today to check my blood pressure etc. If I thought I could get away with it, without hurting the baby, I'd order me up some Xanax in a heartbeat because I am just an unbelievable ball of anxiety. You know I tend to be pretty high strung anyway, and ~~a ridiculous control freak~~ I have a managerial personality, so just imagine how I am right now. I would drink some wine or something but I don't like it enough to spend fifteen bucks on a bottle, and I have a feeling the little dollar bottles at the grocery store aren't worth the drive.

So instead I'm using my hypergraphic tendencies to write pages of random thoughts. Here are a few.

If I got a tattoo, it would be tiny little baby footprints walking up the tops of my feet.

When I get some money, I am going to buy a new mattress, get a land survey, and find some crap to build a hen house with.

If soda were that bad for you, it wouldn't flow freely from fountains.

I'm thinking that what we really need to fix our health care system is a bunch of monkeys pounding on pianos. Well, actually, it wouldn't fix the problem at all, but it would take our minds off it for a little while.

What if I feel like I'm going to have a crap, but instead, out pops the baby?

Dammit, Sun, will you just go away? People are trying to be depressed around here.

Sorry...

2009-10-25T15:58:00.003-04:00

.... no baby yet.

I've been having contractions since Thursday but none of them are productive. I'm officially 6 days overdue today, going by the latest due date. (Going by the first one, I'm 18 days overdue.)

I have a persistent headache that I'll have to talk to the midwife about. I get cramps and contractions and have lost scary amounts of mucus plug... but no baby. I am starting to feel like there is something wrong with my body, that maybe I'm not capable of giving birth. I couldn't do it four times before - the hospital had to do it.

Last night I dreamed I wasn't even pregnant. I dreamed it was all a misunderstanding, and there wasn't a baby in there after all. I woke up to furious kicking and hiccuping and even what felt like a backflip. Apparently the dream wasn't prophetic.

Everyday I wake up thinking "Maybe this will be the day." And then in the afternoon, when it becomes apparent that this isn't the day, I think "Maybe tomorrow will be the day." But it's never the day. The day doesn't seem to want to come.

I know I won't be pregnant forever. But I worry that maybe I sort of will. Maybe my body is so defective that it can't give birth, and the baby will end up dying in utero because it can't get out.

On top of all this, I feel like if I don't have the baby soon, people are going to find out that there is this serious defect with me. I've made The Hub stay home for two days because I think it's the day and then nothing happens. I don't want him to go back to work and have all the people there think his wife is a hypochondriac or an idiot.

I don't know what to do. None of the self induction techniques work. Not a single one! I even tried the mega-dose of castor oil, but as soon as I swallowed it, I barfed it all back up again. I don't think I can look at orange juice the same way again.

I'm depressed.

Discouraged.

2009-10-21T09:03:00.002-04:00

I am not holding a baby in my arms.

Yesterday I had a "rough" exam, per my request, to hopefully get things going. I was already dilated to 4cm and 80% effaced so I figured a cervical sweep would help things along.

It did, for awhile. I spent all afternoon with cramps that turned into painful, regular contractions. I called The Hub home from work. I called the doula to come over. I called the midwife, who said to labor until the contractions were closer and then call her back.

We walked and relaxed and labored easily, until around 8pm, when everything came to a screeching halt. The doula went home, and I called the midwife to tell her everything had stopped.

I went to bed, certain that when I woke up in the morning it would be not by screaming kids or an alarm clock, but by painful, real contractions.

I was wrong. I woke up to screaming kids, as usual, and nothing about my body feels different. I feel like I've felt for the last month.

The problem is, though, that now I have completely lost confidence in my body. I have a feeling that when labor starts for real, I will ignore it until it's too late to call anyone. I don't want to give birth alone, or worse, surrounded only by my very young children. But I'm afraid that will happen, because I don't trust the signs. Yesterday, everything in me said "This is it." But I was wrong. If I can't tell the difference, how I am going to know when it's the real thing?

I am afraid to give birth without any support, but I'm so embarrassed about calling everyone and it not being real, that I know it won't happen again. I won't let it happen again.

titles are for sissies, sissy.

2009-10-19T14:54:00.003-04:00

I know. You noticed I hadn't posted in a couple days and are just certain that I've given birth.

You are wrong with a capital R.

Oh sure, I have contractions here and there, but they never amount to anything. And then I thought my water had broken but really I had just wee'd myself. I am so pregnant that I'm not afraid to admit wee'ing myself. That is just sad.

Yesterday I decided I had to make the baby a quilt. My mom is all excited because she says that means I'm nesting, but she shouldn't have her hopes up. I'm making the quilt because if I don't, I'll sit here doing nothing, dwelling on every twinge and bawling my eyes out because I'm still pregnant.

So I spent all day yesterday and the better part of today measuring and cutting and doing really boring math. I'm at the part where I sew all my squares together, but I needed a break. I spent so much time measuring and adding and dividing, that all night long I dreamed I was working on it. I'm doing strip quilting, which is not as interesting as it sounds. All it means is cutting out strips and sewing them together and cutting them apart and sewing them together. Full clothed.

Maybe the baby will come tomorrow. I've said all along that I think the baby will be born on October 20th. I wish I knew for sure so I could plan....

Cry.

2009-10-16T13:04:00.003-04:00

I just want to cry.

I'm not sure why. It totally feels like that thing you get a couple days after you have a baby, where you just cry for no reason. I don't feel sad. I just feel like I could bawl my eyes out at any moment.

I'm trying to fill our days with fun things to do, to make the baby-waiting go faster. But with very young children like mine, there's only just so much you can do. I end up spending every day hanging out with the babies, cautiously counting every twinge and running to the bathroom every couple of minutes to check for... something. I don't know.

I feel like I need to stimulate my brain, but I can't. I can't find an activity that's compatible with toddlers. We play blocks and sing that damn "Love grows, round like a circle" song over and over, and I swear to God my brain is turning into oatmeal. I think I can hear it trickling out my ears.

Today we're going to take a walk. We're going to collect autumn leaves, and arrange them on wax paper with glitter and other messy crap, and then iron the whole thing and make bookmarks and sun catchers and what have you. At least, that's the plan for now. We can't do it until after EJ gets home from school, which is such a bummer because by that time everyone is grouchy and tired.

I thought we might get pizza after we go for our walk, because there's just something celebratory about pizza night. Maybe I'll stop at the dollar store and get some plastic champagne glasses, and we can drink Sprite from them like fancy people.

See... I told you my brain was turning to mush. Fancy people don't drink sprite from plastic champange glasses.

They drink ginger ale.

Conversations with Beastie, age 26 months

2009-10-15T16:22:00.002-04:00

Beastie applied "lipstick" with a crayon and put on her purple sunglasses that Grandma gave her.

"How do my wook?" she asked me.

"You look very nice," I answered.

She put her hand on her hip and cocked her head at me.

"I no wook nice," she said, indignantly. "I wook GREAT!"

*************************

The kids and I were talking about the things moms do in labor, such as swaying their hips, moaning, even crying and yelling. At that moment, I got a very appropriately timed, and very strong, Braxton Hicks contraction, so I leaned on the table and rocked from side to side, to show the kids what to expect. As I did this, Beastie looked at me in utter disgust and said "Mom! Stop shakin' you booty!"

It's funny because I have never in my life referred to any part of anyone's body as a "booty." I have no idea where she heard that.

**************************

The dog has had some potty issues since we've moved (although it's getting a lot better.) Beastie happened to be present as I gave the dog a thorough tongue-lashing - the kind that ends with "I am so sick of this shit!"
She knelt down to comfort the dog (who needed no comforting whatsoever, since he doesn't understand English) and looked up at me. "You no say shit!" she said, pointing her finger at me. "Dat's BERY naughny!"

*************************

Beastie doesn't miss a thing that happens in our house. Case in point:

Me: What does a dog say?

Her: Woof woof.

Me: And what does kitty say?

Her: Meow.

Me: How about a baby?

Her: Waaah!

Me: What does Mommy say?

Her: Wuv you!

Me: And what does Daddy say?

Her (in a gruff voice): Clean your room!

Self-Inducing Labor

2009-10-14T14:32:00.002-04:00

Here's what I've tried:

Spicy foods - didn't work. Probably because I love spicy foods and eat everything the hotter the better. I'm kind of known for carrying around a bottle of habanero sauce to add to everything. I like it in sweet stuff even. I think the theory is that spicy foods will trigger intestinal discomfort, which may bring on contractions, but if your tummy is accustomed to super-hot foods anyway, it won't do the trick.

Castor Oil - gave me a wicked stomach ache. It felt like I had drank a glassful of lava. It didn't give me the runs and it didn't start labor. However, I think it's important to note that I took only half of a child size dose because frankly, the thought of shitting all day does nothing for me, and the trade-off (shit all day, go into labor) just isn't worth it.

Sex - terribly awkward, made The Hub happy, no baby. But at least I don't have to deal with a cranky husband in addition to being forty seven months pregnant.

Pulsatilla (homeopathic remedy) - this was prescribed by my midwife to help turn the baby from posterior to anterior. It also helps sluggish contractions, unless you're me. The baby turned night before last, but this morning was very clearly posterior again. Also, no labor contractions, just uncomfortable prodromal labor. Pulsatilla - psh.

Nipple stimulation - I've been allowing The Babe to nurse on demand, which I hadn't been up until now because it's so uncomfortable. He's loving it and nursed literally non-stop yesterday, but - you guessed it - no baby.

Fresh Pineapple - This is the most delicious self-induction trick I've heard of. I ate the pineapple - well, not the whole thing - and it was juicy and sweet and tasty, but so far, it hasn't done anything to induce labor.

Walking - we've walked up and down our road more than I care to think about. It makes my back hurt and tires me out, but so far, has done nothing to get things moving labor-wise. I tried the mall and the grocery store too but all that resulted in was me buying a bunch of doughnuts and a pizza.

Crying - I hear that having a good cry will make the baby come out. Luckily, it's easy to cry when your baby is being stubborn. I bawled my eyes out this morning, and I swear I heard the baby laughing at me in there.

Evening Primrose Oil - It comes in little capsules. You poke the capsule with a pin and stick it up your hooha, as far as you can. Supposedly it ripens the cervix. I have also heard that you can take it orally, and that it might actually work better that way. I tried the first method... I haven't had a cervical check so I don't know if it worked, but it sure didn't bring on labor.

Acupressure - Dr. Google says there are pressure points all over the body, and when you stimulate certain ones, labor will start. This appears to be complete baloney... but I'm still spending an inordinate amount of time pressing between my thumb and forefinger.

All of this, and the baby still won't budge. I read that anxiety produces hormones that might have the opposite effect - delaying labor - so I guess it's on to the relaxation techniques.

How to Gaurantee You're NOT in Labor

2009-10-13T16:40:00.002-04:00

Tell everyone you think you might be in labor.

Works every time.

Barf and Bees.

2009-10-12T18:24:00.004-04:00

I'm really glad to report that I have not yet given birth. I'm glad, because everyone here, except me, has been really sick. Some random stomach bug set up house during the night on Friday, so all day Saturday, all night, and then all day Sunday was spent cleaning up various disgusting bodily fluids.

This is the part where I totally fail as a mom.

I absolutely, positively cannot clean up vomit. I just can't. It's too disgusting.

I mean, if one of my kids throws up in their bed, I dunk them in the tub and set them up with a sleeping bag on my bedroom floor. If someone pukes on the floor, I cover it with towels until I can ~~bribe~~ convince someone else to clean it up. I just can't clean up vomit, not even my own, which is a problem when you've got inner ear issues.

Thankfully, The Hub was off this weekend. What a wonderful wife I am, allowing him to clean up barf on his days off. Hey, at least I kind of offered to do it myself, except it went like this: "Oh my GAWD, there's puke on the floor! [retching] I guess I don't mind cleaning it up, considering I spend every moment of every day taking care of these children. What's a little puke, when you spent probably a combined total of three hours a day changing diapers and wiping snotty noses?"

It worked.

And then there were bees.

I had to get a few groceries Saturday, and the kids, sick as they were, wanted to come with. So I outfitted everyone with a barf bag, and we all headed off to the grocery store.

When we got there, no one felt like going in. So The Hub ran in with my list while I stayed out in the car with everyone, and then we came home. The whole trip took a total of maybe forty five minutes.

We came home to the most horrifying thing I can think of.

When I walked in the door, I noticed three or four yellow jackets in the kitchen window. This is not unusual for this time of year, so The Hub killed them as I brought in the groceries. I had a bag in one hand and The Babe in the other when I looked up at the bay window in the dining room. There were at least thirty yellow jackets in the window, all furiously buzzing and trying to get out.

The Hub got the fly swatter and started killing them while I kept the kids away.

Then I went into the breezeway. The entry door in the breezeway is the kind of little diamonds of glass, and it was completely black. You couldn't see out it because of all the yellow jackets. They were swarming, and they were all inside my house.

I screamed and grabbed the kids and ran back out the kitchen door. We all got in the car and finally The Hub came out, looking slightly frazzled. He got in and we went to the hardware store and bought some wasp spray.

Since then, I am still dealing with the yellow jackets. Their nest is up in the sofit just outside the breezeway door, and it must be huge because they keep finding their way in through cracks in the wall. We've put tape up over every crack we could find and I think we've finally got a handle on them.

The worst part, though, is that I heard they hate mint oil, so I have it all over that breezeway, and the little bastards keep getting in. Seems like they actually kind of like mint oil. If anyone has a sinus infection, come over to my house because the mint is so strong you can hardly breathe. Clears you right up.

Anyway, my brother came today and patched up more holes, since I kept losing my balance on the chair, and so far no more bees. I keep having nightmares about bees. I'm scared to go in the bathroom at night because I fear I'll step on a bee. (A few have found their way in there.) And don't get me started on the breezeway - I won't set foot in there if I don't have to.

When we get a really hard killing frost, The Hub is going to take down that piece of sofit and remove the nest. Until then, I just have to hope for the best.

I'm so glad the baby didn't come this weekend, with the sick kids and wasps and all. What a wretched weekend.

Quit Pissing Off the Moon, Fools.

2009-10-09T12:47:00.003-04:00

Seriously. This is probably one of the silliest things I have ever heard - and I'm a bit of an expert on silly, being a mom of a passel of kids.

Here's what happened.

Some people at NASA were sitting around a big fancy conference table - you know, the super shiny kind - trying to figure out what they could do to the moon that the Russians haven't already done, and that the Chinese haven't thought of yet.

"We could send astronauts up there to look at it," one scientist said.

"We already did that," another responded.

"Yeah, but no one believes it, so we could do it again."

There were quiet murmurings as they mulled it over, but the idea was vetoed. Too unoriginal, they decided. They needed something better.

"I know! I know!" A little man in a black suit said. "We could send up a spaceship and have it bring back samples, but instead of checking out the samples in the traditional scientific way, we can give them to school children, and have them taste the rocks to see if the moon is really made out of green cheese!"

More murmurings. This was kind of a good idea, because you know how school children are. They'll eat anything if you tell them it's cheese.

But again, this idea was shot down.

Suddenly, they all got the same idea at once.

"We'll shoot rockets at the moon!" they cried excitedly. "We'll blast that sucker right out of the sky!!"

"But we can't do that," a scientist interrupted. "At least, we can't do it without a reason."

"Tell them we're looking for ice!" another scientist chortled. "Tell them we'll hit it with a rocket, and then we'll take pictures of whatever it is we see."

And so it was decided.*

And if you think I'm kidding, I'm not.

They even televised this shit, except it didn't work out like they thought it would. You couldn't see anything but a big plume of dust. (Really? You were expecting fireworks or something?)

One scientist actually said - and I freakin quote here, people - "This is so cool... we're thrilled."

Well, I'll tell you what. I'm not thrilled. I'm pissed. The moon seems innocuous, shining away up there in the sky, orbiting our planet, harmlessly smiling down at us in children's picture books. But the moon is crazy. The moon controls the oceans for God's sake. The moon makes people get all froggy - ask anyone who works in an emergency room. The moon might be a factor in some women going into labor. The moon is like that "harmless" pitbull sleeping on the neighbor's porch - cute enough from afar, but mess with it, and the sucker's gonna knock you out. (Or eat your throat. Whichever.)

Mark my words. We are in serious trouble. The moon is pissed off. First we go up there and mess around on it, and bring some Tang and freeze-dried ice cream up there, which is just weird, and then we send up cameras and stuff, and now we shoot it with freakin rockets? Really?

Yes. Really.

*It might not have happened exactly this way. But probably.

Remember to Breathe.

2009-10-08T13:47:00.002-04:00

"Is it serious, Doctor?" I asked, half closing my eyes. "Will I die?"

She studied me solemnly. "I don't know," she said. "Let me check your heart."

She listened to my heart with her stethoscope. "Now your lungs," she said. "Breathe in, as deep as you can."

I'm a good patient. I breathed in. "Now breathe out," she instructed me. I dutifully exhaled.

"So what's the prognosis?" I asked.

She looked at me with those serious eyes.

"You won't die," she said, "so long as you drink water when you're thirsty and go pee when you have to. And breathe."

She patted my forehead. "Now just lay here and rest, and remember to breathe."

"Thanks, Doc," I replied.

She giggled. "You're welcome, Mom."

See, who needs a doctor when you have a five year old with a toy medical kit?

no baby yet.

2009-10-04T19:16:00.000-04:00

I bet you thought that since you hadn't heard from me, I've given birth.

ha!

nope. Just have a serious case of the late-pregnancy blahs. I am exhausted and even though I've started writing plenty of posts, I just can't seem to finish them. I'm too easily distracted these days, and just so tired. We're all in good health, though, and maybe soon I can finish the post I started on breast feeding versus bottle feeding (it might surprise you), or the one I nearly finished about teh fat! and how it doesn't scare me, or the very important one about Five and her suspected learning disabilities (and trying to homeschool her, which is turning out to be a joke.)

Instead, here are some quick blurbs, because I just can't seem to muster a full post about anything.

* Beastie has decided she wants to join a music show, because, in her words "I wike to whyme."

* A boy at EJ's school has a crush on her and writes her notes all the time, distracting her in school, and she won't tell him to stop because she doesn't want to hurt his feelings. This terrifies me, because at eight years old, it's no big deal, but as a teenager, she'll need the skills to be able to say no. I don't want her to become a statistic simply because she's too nice to tell a guy to back off.

* Five's kidney infection is all cleared up, but she's still peeing her pants, and the regression has me seriously concerned. She goes in for a complete evaluation this week, including speech, emotional development, physical development, and more.

* The Babe's new trick is wrapping his little arms around my neck, making kissing noises, and then biting me on the chin.

* I have contractions all day long but they never turn into real labor, and that's fine with me. I'm not really ready, emotionally, to deal with the baby just yet. Give me another week or two.

This is a NO BOWLING zone.

2009-09-29T13:45:00.002-04:00

Five came home from the first day of school, exhausted and overwhelmed*, but eager to tell me about her day. The main thing she wanted to talk about was bowling.

"The teacher told us, NO BOWLING ALLOWED!" she told me excitedly.

"Why?" I asked. I mean, I guess it's kind of obvious that you wouldn't want a bunch of kids bowling in an elementary school, but why make a rule about it?

"Because," she told me. "Bowling hurts people. Bowling hurts people's feelings."

"Really," I said.

"Yeah, because if someone wasn't very good at bowling they might feel bad."

Uh, okay.

"And," she continued, "my teacher said anyone who gets caught bowling will have to go to the principal's office. And if you see anyone bowling, you have to tell the teacher right away, even if someone wasn't bowling with you. Even if they were bowling with someone else, you still have to tell the teacher."

Now I was thoroughly confused. I didn't know if there really had been a "no bowling" conversation, or if Five was just making it up. And if there had been a conversation about this, why? Had there really been an issue in the past? Were kids bringing bowling balls in their backpacks?

I was completely stymied until I read the newsletter the school had sent home, detailing their "No Bullying" policy.

*Five won't be attending school any more this year. It's too overwhelming, so we'll be homeschooling her and putting her into Kindergarten next year, when she's six.

Call it pregnancy hormones - I'm bumming out.

2009-09-27T15:51:00.003-04:00

I am feeling a little bummed because I was promised a baby shower for the new baby, and I'm not getting one.

I didn't really need a baby shower. I have pretty much everything I'll need for the new baby. There are a few things I would like, but they're all frivolous things that I can just get some other time (or live without.) I guess I was just excited because I haven't had a baby shower since EJ was born, and it felt good to be thought about. I've thrown many baby showers for friends and family, regardless of what number baby they were expecting, because it feels good to be remembered, especially in the last months of pregnancy.

Well, I wasn't remembered. I mean, I was, but then the person who was going to host it forgot. I mentioned it a couple times, that we were getting kind of close, and she kept blowing me off, saying "I don't know when to have it" or "I don't know who to invite." (Despite me telling her.) Finally last week I said "So no baby shower then, huh?" and she said "Why not?"

I told her I was due in less than a month and that there wouldn't be time. You can't send out invites a week before and expect anyone to make it. And I don't have time to wait three or four weeks. The baby could come any time - probably not for a few more weeks, but we have to be realistic here.

So my grandma said we should have a baby shower after the baby is born. She's all gung-ho about it. But you know what? I think that's about one of the tackiest things I can think of. I mean I can just see me sitting there looking all awkward (because I always look awkward) holding the new baby and everyone talking around me because everyone always talks around me, not to me. I've never been to a party where anyone talked to me. Shit, I had a couple friends over to my own house and they acted like I didn't exist. They talked over me and didn't seem to hear me when I said anything. It sucked, and I haven't invited anyone over since then.

But anyway. I don't think I will feel up to having a baby shower after the baby's born. I will have five kids, people. I will have five little beings to dress and get cleaned up, and a whole house to clean (since I now have the biggest house of anyone in our family, I have been unofficially chosen to do parties and holidays.) I will be exhausted. I will look like shit. I will be sweating like a pig (because I always sweat profusely for like a month after I give birth) and my hair will be falling out in clumps and I'll be leaking milk and other bodily fluids all over the place and none of my clothes will fit properly...

I feel like shit just thinking about it. And how freaking tacky is it to have a shower after the baby is born. I might as well just write everyone a note saying "Send money."

I guess I'm just bummed about the whole situation. I'll never have another opportunity for a baby shower. It would have been fine if no one had offered to have one. But now I feel like an idiot for spending all that time preparing my baby registry and looking at shower themes and everything. I should have known I wouldn't be important enough.

Abandoned.

2009-09-27T06:28:00.000-04:00

Today is The Hub's birthday. He's 33. To celebrate his birthday, I thought I would commemorate with a story.

The Hub has a picture of himself sitting cross-legged on the beach as a very young child - maybe 18 months or so. He's wearing, in typical late 70's fashion, a little navy sailor suit, and the sun is shining on his blonde hair, and he's squinting at the water.

It's a beautiful picture, but The Hub hates it.

He insists that he was left alone at the beach that day. He says he remembers it. In fact, he and his mom had a conversation about this not so long ago. It went sort of like this:

Him: I remember when you left me alone at the beach.

MIL: What?

Him: You know, when I was a baby, and you and Dad left me alone at the beach.

MIL: We never left you alone at the beach.

Him: Yes you did! I remember being all alone and scared because you guys left me!

MIL: No, I'm fairly certain we never left you at the beach.

Him: Yes. You did. I have a picture of it.

MIL: Well then, if we left you alone, who do you think took the picture?

Him: Oh.

But you know what? He still insists he was abandoned on the shores of Lake Michigan. Maybe he was, except it wasn't his parents that abandoned him - it was his parents that found him. Maybe some freighter out on the lake was carrying a load of babies and a big wave came and swept him overboard and he washed up on Michigan's pinky in his little sailor suit, and that's where he came from.

Works for me.

Blogger hates me.

2009-09-25T15:51:00.002-04:00

I know, because it won't let me comment on blogs. Not even my own. So I am going to comment here, because, guess what, it's my blog and I can do what I want, even eat a whole cake all by myself if I want to. I love being a grown up.

Okay the two things I kept trying to say in my comment -

First, I tried the vicks on the feet thing and it works great. I seem to remember reading about that for babies but had completely forgotten about it.

Second, I don't think the old gent was wearing compression hose. He was sashaying all over the place, and he kept stopping to talk to his wife (or maybe she was his sister) and he'd put his hand on his hip backward-like, and use his other hand to draw big illustrations in the air. No, they definitely weren't compression hose - but I bet that's what he tells everyone....