Crazy cat lady

I would apologize for not blogging in several months, but...its life.  Ya know?

What brought me back was actually a google search.  I typed in "turning down doula clients", sort of looking for professional wording to do that exact thing.  My OWN blog popped up.  In it, I mention having around 1 client a month.  Wow.  That was a LONG time ago.  Or, it feels like it was.

In October, I have 4 clients.  Thankfully, one of them already gave birth (in one of my favorite births so far.  If every birth could be that perfect...) but I have 3 more left.  2 of them are due in the next few days.  Of course, if I let it, I start getting anxiety with the timing of those births.  What if they go at the same time?  What if I'm at a birth during Eliza's birthday party? (total rabbit train, but, guys, she's going to be TWO next week!!)  What if I have a birth every weekend and I can't get in my long runs.

Long runs you say?  Oh, yeah.  I've been training for a half marathon.  For several months now.  Which, who knows if I'll even be able to run said race.  I hurt my knee Saturday running 12 miles (another aside- did you know I WALKED the mile in high school.  yeah.  I did.  And that same lady/girl ran 12 miles Saturday.)  somewhere around mile 10.  But, I was two miles from my car.  I had to get there some way or another.  You probably know all of this if you're my face book friend.  Since, I basically had a breakdown there about my knee.

I had another break down last night.  I was at the counter, making dinner.  E tried to hug me, but when I'm stressed (which I was) I don't like to be touched.  He asked why I was stressed and asked what he could do.  My answer went like this:

"well, I am overwhelmed.  I'm trying to make dinner and Isaac and Eliza are fighting for a turn to watch and help me.  I have to make something separate for Eliza and I tonight, so have to make two different dinners.  I'm sick of making two different dinners.  The kids never eat theirs anyway.  The kids never listen.  They left their stuff all over when they got home.  This house is a mess.  There are things everywhere.  We're having small group here tonight and there's crumbs all over the rug.  2 of my clients are due this weekend, and I need them to go at different times, but not on top of each other.  Then again, I don't even know if I can DO my job with the way my knee hurts.  My knee hurts so bad.  I'm scared I'm not going to be able to run my half.  What if I have to stop running for a long time?!?  I'm going to gain weight."

E's response:  "well, I can vacuum the rug."

Which, really, is about the only thing in that long list of things that any of us can control, right?

right now

I'm in my pajamas.
Its 9:16.  Its a little late for jammies, but I'm calling it a "jammy day", at least for now.
Making small piles for our trip to Michigan.
I'm writing a to-do list on a piece of paper that has a rhino on it holding a balloon.  It adds character.
I'm freaking a little anxious about the timing of my next client's birth. E is going to be going out of town a lot the next few weeks.  You know, during her 38-40 weeks, of course.
Adding "find back up child care" to my rhino list.
Scouring pinterest for ideas for road trips.
Drinking coffee that's a touch too cold.
Wondering if its too late for breakfast.
Maybe I'll just have a brunch.
Listening to Eliza play in her room and talk to her babies via the monitor.
Almost dying from the cute.
Have a heating pad wrapped around my middle.
Certain that sometimes I hate being a woman.
Contemplating an ablation or hysterectomy when we're *sure we're finished having babies (*which is how, by the way?!?)

my hotdog got run over by a reindeer grocery cart

Yesterday went like this:

Take Isaac to gymnastics.  While at gymnastics, he has a coughing fit.  I, then, realize that  I forgot to give him his nebulizer.  (crap!)  Every one is giving us the stink eye.  You know, because he's gagging from heavy coughing and sounds like he may vomit.

While we are at gymnastics, Eliza seems to be walking funny.  Like crooked.  She seems to be a tad congested, so I'm starting to wonder if she has fluid in her ears and is just thrown off.

I gather the children up and head to Costco.  I love, love, and adore Costco.  Love it.  However, the major downside is that its on the other side of town.  There's no "good" way to get there.  Oh, there's a straight shot road from my house to Costco, but there's about 11 hundred stop lights between here and there.  (They're almost always red.  Especially when you're in a hurry!)

Eventually, I get to Costco.  I have intentions of getting hot dogs for lunch (mine with out a bun to be dairy free!) and then cruise around for a few grocery items, a gift for a friend, and Isaac's cool chair for his birthday. 

When I pull into the parking lot, I realized I forgot to pack Isaac's drink.  It wasn't a huge deal, since they sell drinks with the hot dog meals.  But, I usually bring him a sippy cup and forgo the pop/lemon aid and get him water.  I check my email and find that I got another doula job! (woot!!)

I grab the kids, throw them into a cart, and head in to return something.  We make our way to the food, buy our goodies, and move onward towards the awesomeness that is Costco at Christmas.  I find Isaac's chair (I was so worried it would be sold out!) and am confounded as to how to get it into my cart with the kids.  I move Isaac into the front seat, which he says he DOES NOT LIKE!  While he's shouting, I'm finagling the very large box into our cart, and my phone starts ringing.  I glance at the number and realize it is the big-kids' school.  I set the box down, ever so gently (bawaawa!) and talk to the school nurse.  O is crying/screaming/freaking out because her ear hurts. 

While I'm on the phone, Isaac tries to "help" and put his drink next to mine, in the back of the cart.  Except, he only has the arms of a 3 year old, and not Stretch Armstrong arms.  The drink falls 2 feet short of the actual cart, busts open, and spills its, very full, contents all over the floor. I hang up the phone, after telling the nurse I'll be there in.... um.... its lunch time and I'm at Costco, so... 45 minutes to an hour?  I have to find some one to come clean this mess up because my measly 10 paper napkins just isn't cutting it.  I'm searching around, and even find a friendly lady who is willing to help me find a worker.  I finally find a guy with a name tag, ask him if he works here, and tell him of my shame.  Thankfully, he takes care of it.

Shortly after, I make O a dr. appointment for 45 minutes from now.  That's all they have left.  I'll never make it in time to pick her up AND head to the doctor.  I enlist E's help.  (which sucks since he had to be out all day on Monday for O's growth hormone testing.)  He plans to pick her up and agrees to meet me at the doctor. 

Meanwhile, Eliza takes my bun less hot dog that's wrapped like a burrito in a piece of foil and tugs on it.  It rolls out of its packaging, and right onto the floor.  As I'm moving forward to get it, another person's cart runs right over it.  Cutting my hot dog in half. 

I rush through the line, pay for my things (which, after upon returning home, realize I forgot over half of my things.)  I have no lunch, and no time to buy a new hot dog.  So, I eat dried fruit and nuts for lunch.  Along with my diet coke.  Lunch of champions mommies.

Eliza screams almost the entire time in the car.  I make decent time, and get to the doctor on time.  While in the waiting room, Eliza seems to be getting sicker.  O's pediatric endocrinologist calls.   I take the call outside, but I can hear Eliza screaming for me as I walk out the door.  The doctor is calling to tell us that O's tests confirm a growth hormone deficiency.  He wants to schedule a MRI as soon as possible and get moving on growth hormone injections. 

I walk back into the waiting room, sort of in a daze.  Our favorite nurse calls us back.  She takes a few notes about O, glances at Eliza and says "oh no!  she looks sick!"  She is looking pretty sick.  Running a fever, too.

Our pediatrician comes in, looks in O's ear, declares an infection.  she also glances Eliza's way and says "she looks rather puney."  I asked her if she could just glance in her ears because she was walking funny earlier.  There's nothing in her ears, except Eliza's pure hatred of being messed with.  at all.  Especially when she's sick.  the dr. listens to her chest and it sounds yucky. Eliza gets her finger pricked (which she also hates, in case you were wondering!) and we are left with a diagnosis of it being viral, but to call if her fever spikes or her walking deal doesn't resolve in the next day or two.

On the way home, I'm starting to reflect on the Endocrinologist's call. 

I feel....relieved. 

 

But, also nervous. 

 

Relieved that all of the things we knew in our hearts were right.  Like how my breast milk WAS fatty enough when she was a baby and didn't grow.  How we DO feed her enough calories and fat.  How she isn't just tiny. 

 

But, nervous for what lies ahead. 

 

 Possibly daily injections.  Until puberty. 

 

Rapid growth. 

 

Big changes for her.  How will this affect her self image?  She's always been the smallest.  Always.  I would think, after almost 8 years, it'd start to be part of your identity.  How will that change when she starts growing 5 inches?  How will she see herself?  How will others see her?  (obviously, we want her to be the height she should be.  I'm not saying these things will change our course of action.  It just has me thinking.)  I imagine it would be similar to some one losing a lot of weight, or even gaining a lot of weight, in a short period. 

 

But, again, relieved.  Relieved to not have to do any more testing (other than the MRI.)

We arrive home and lay the littles down for naps.  When Eliza wakes up, her fever is up to 104.  I call the doctor's office.  Unfortunately, they left for the day ten minutes prior. 


We medicate both girls, and bathe and nurse and cuddle.  Praying prayers of thanksgiving for a treatable diagnosis.Praying tomorrow is filled with a peace that passes all understanding.  Praying the best for my baby girl O, and all of my kids.

It ended like that.

A list to check off, yet here I blog

~Eliza's first birthday party is tomorrow.  I have a mile long list of things to do.  A long list of things to while Eliza's napping.  She's napping now, in fact.  Yet, here I sit. 

~I'm tired.  I love getting creative, decorating for parties.  However, I'm lacking serious motivation that was likely stolen from me at 5 am.

~At 5am we all heard a very loud bump in the night.  Followed by an equally loud scream from babykins.  E whispered to me "Did Eliza just fall out of the crib?"  To which I replied "how could she?!?"

~She, in fact, DID fall out of the crib.  She seems fine.  With all of the adrenaline surging through her little 16 lb body, she did not go back to sleep, as usual, after her morning milk.  Which means *I* did not go back to bed, nor did any of the older 3 children.

~Eliza's crib has only one more notch to move down.  Is this sleeping arrangement REALLY supposed to last her until she's 3?  After last night, I have high doubts that it will.

~When E left for work today, I ran after his van screaming "please don't leave me!!!"  Zeke was screaming "I didn't say goodbye" even whilst waving at his daddy.  Eliza was death gripping my leg, and the older two kids were fighting over who was getting the napkins. 

~I made homemade butterfingers last night.  It probably wasn't the smartest thing to combine 3 of my favorite things, (chocolate, candy corn, and peanut butter) and expect some kind of miraculous self control on my part.

~I'm in a funk with running.  My last few runs have been blah.  I threw up in our yard after my last run, thus motivating me even less than normal.

~Eliza went down for a nap at 7:30.

~I wanted to go down for a nap at 7:30.  Or now.  I'd take a nap now, too.

slight birthday depression

I'm normally nostalgic around birthdays.  Especially first birthdays.  But, y'all, Eliza's birthday is coming up in 2 days and I'm almost bordering on depressed.  I mean, I am glad she's alive, thriving, and turning one (obviously) but I've just been so sad.

I'm sure its a mixture of lots of things.

Isaac stopped sucking his fingers after his accident.  It seems so grown up.  Its sad.  He's growing up.  Which means Eliza WILL grow up.  She's likely our last baby.  When I think on that, I think about all of our babies that we'll never get to celebrate birthdays with. 

Its a downward spiral into an emotional pit.

So, for once in several months, I'd like for my baby's birthday just to hurry up and get here already.  So I can get over this funk.

See you Thursday.

Tracy

"un"

me:

unhealthy (cold, then tummy bug)
unproductive (see above)
unmotivated (ditto)
unathletic (again, with the above. but, possibly not a word. lol)
uninspired
unclean (mainly because of all of vomit in our house right now)
under weight (okay, maybe not under weight.  but, being sick does have SOME advantages.)
unorganized
undereducated
unprepared


but also:

happy
content
blessed

Its amazing how 3 things can outweigh the lengthy "un" list.

I hate co-sleeping

There.  I said it.  Go ahead and get your stones ready.  I know they'll be zooming my way after that title.

Here's the thing, though.  I've always been one that says "whatever works" when it comes to babies and sleep.  I'm not passionate about co-sleeping.  I'm not gung-ho about crib sleeping.  I'm just pretty in love with sleep itself.  Where ever and however that takes place.

When my babies were all itty bitty, they all slept with me (or on me, actually).  All four of them wanted to be in very close contact those first few weeks.  It was fine, and it worked for us because we GOT SLEEP!

Then we moved them to the bassinets/cradle/rock and play right next to our bed, where they stayed for various amounts of time (6 mths, 6 mths, 4 mths, and 8 mths).  I slept better with them near me, but not in our bed (I'd have nightmares about the baby being under the covers, or smothered by E.  I never slept peacefully.) We slept well that way.

We moved them into their cribs when they were too big for their bedside sleeper (or in Isaac's case, when I had to give it back to the person I was borrowing it from).  This is where my kids' sleeping split in half.  O and Isaac handled the transition well.  They were both pretty good sleepers on their own, (Isaac had his fingers to suck for self soothing) and continued to do fairly well in the crib.  A and Eliza were/are different.  We desperately searched for ways to get them to sleep longer/more, with no avail.  Co-sleeping was one of the first things we tried, since it made the most sense. 

Guess what.  I hate it.  Its our only option at this point (long story.  Plus, I don't want to have more rocks thrown at me than I have to.)  I hate that its our only option.  Because its not really "working" either.  Sure, she's getting a little more sleep.  But, not me.

Co-sleeping at 9 months is NOT like co-sleeping those first early weeks and months.  Then- all snuggles, nursings, and sleeping.  Now- hair pulling, face grabbing, standing, crawling, and NOT sleeping.  Its one of THE most aggravating things- to lay down with your baby, craving sleep, only to be baby finger-nailed in the eye.

 3am party time for babykins and mommy?  oh, sure.  If you were MY FIRST CHILD!  What?  I can't move an inch, because if I do, it'll wake the beast baby?  Fine.  I'll lay perfectly still.  All.night.long.  King sized bed?  no problem.  Baby will fill that bad boy up so that I have to hug the side, teetering perilously on the edge.  Also, how about a nice, urine filled diaper in your face at 2am?

So, tell me this- how is it that my co-sleeping mommas seem so rested?  Because, I'm getting very little rest.

short catch up

Eliza = no sleep training baby

Isaac = no potty training toddler

A = possibly sleeping with a CPAP

O = still 36 lbs

Me = dairy and soy free and cranky

E = more excited about A's lego party than A

Because she's cute

I haven't had time to blog lately, as I'm sure you can tell.  Between O's FTT repeat diagnosis, following blood tests, dietitian appointments, and anxiety therapy (which, as a total aside, can I send a bill to the parents of a child in my daughter's class for more therapy?  because we were about to get released, then she started picking on O during recess, which caused her anxiety to kick up into high gear again.  Y'all, I know the mom.  I'm this [ ] close to sending her the bill with an attached note to ask her daughter to please be kind, or at least not overly hurtful.) plus Eliza's doctor appointments, and now GI appointments, and probably allergist appointments, my dentist appointments, the kids dentist appointments.

Plus school.  Plus dance.  Plus swim.  Plus groceries and homework and housework and running and weight watchers and getting ready for my brother's wedding and and and and LIFE.

Surely this will slow down this summer.  Right?

Well, I have blog posts in mind.  That will likely never actually make it to my blog.  Because of life.  But, pictures.  Well, I'll keep posting those.  Because, let's face it, I'd be doing a disservice to the world by not posting this cuteness.

I feel like this has happened before

Deja Vu. 

That's what I feel like is going on at our house right now.  O had her 7 year check up on Wednesday.  I was assuming it would go wonderfully.  She hasn't been sick much, her asthma is generally under control, she's thriving at school. 

The first thing O had done was measurements of height and weight.  Her height seemed a bit low to me, but I couldn't really remember what she was at her 6 year check up.  Her weight is always low, so that really wasn't a surprise. 

Still under my assumption of having a perfect appointment, the pediatrician walks in and says "well, we have a problem."  Really?  Already?  Because we haven't done much, yet.  Only taken measurements.  Oh.  I see.  "O has only grown .25" and gained 1.5lbs the last year."

Cue flash back...Now! We're back in the years 2005 and 2006.  Getting O weighed creates so much anxiety.  Has she gained enough?  Are we going to have to have more testing done?  Am I going to have to meet with the dietitian again who treats me like I'm abusing my child by not feeding her? The dietitian who says my breast milk isn't fatty enough.  Is my breast milk not fatty enough?  Is she allergic to dairy?  Please, please, please have a gain on that scale!

I thought we were passed this stuff.  After 1.5 years of trying to figure out why O is little, we (the pediatrician, O's GI, and E and I) came to the conclusion that she's just tiny.  Its just her.  She was hanging out on her little growth curve, albeit below the charts, but, she had a purty little curve going.  Unfortunately, this latest ordeal has her dropping off in her own curve in height and weight. 

So, we're back to more testing.  Some of the testing of the blood work O had done when she was 1.5 really wasn't super reliable. Things like Celiac may not show trustworthy results with just blood work until after the age of 5.  (They gave us the option to have a small portion of her small intestine biopsied, but we declined.)    She'll likely have a repeat of those kinds of tests. 

As for right now, we're keeping a food log.  Monitoring everything that goes into her tummy.  (Which is sort of funny, in a weird way, since I'm doing the same for myself for WW.  Although the intent with mine is to LOSE weight.)  She's bringing home apple cores and corners of sandwiches from school.  (Its kind of gross since its been hot.  It gets all smelly in her lunch box.)  We should hear from a dietitian in the next few days.  They'll come out and take a peak at O's food log and determine if she's eating enough calories (which, I think she probably is.)  Then, we'll go from there. 

This is real life deja vu.  I have done this before.  At least this time the dietitian can't blame me for breastfeeding O. 

Parenting FAIL

I had a parenting fail today.  F.A.I.L 

My morning was a little crazy today. 

It didn't start off that way.

No.  In fact, it was pretty calm and relaxed. 

I got the big kids off to school.  Isaac was watching cartoons, while I was enjoying a cup of coffee.

The phone rings.

It's the school nurse (again.  3rd time this week.)

A's had an accident.  He needs to come home and take a shower.

It's 8:20.  I have to leave at 9:00 to take Isaac to school.

Crap, I say to myself..  I haven't gotten Eliza dressed. 

Isaac's lunch isn't packed. 

Can I wear my slippers to pick him up?

Then comes the anger. 

This is his 4th accident in two weeks.  (The first 3 were #1.  This was #2.)

We've been to the dr. and nothing is wrong.  He's either 1. Lazy or 2. Scared to ask his teacher

He won't tell me what happened.  Or when it happened. 

He's laughing, thinking it's fun to go home and take a shower in the middle of the day.

I lose my patience.  I ask him again what happened and when.

He suddenly "can't talk" because his "throat is scratchy."

Lies.  All lies. *sigh*

Patience lost again.

Urge him to take a shower quickly.  Fast!  We've GOT TO GO!

Take him back to school, where I realize he's embarrassed.

It's at this point that I am, too.  My behavior until now was atrocious. 

I was thinking about how he inconvenienced ME.

Not at all about how embarrassing it would be for HIM.

I feel like crying.  I totally failed.

F.A.I.L.E.D.



Sorry buddy

a little sleep deprived

Its been a while since I blogged.  We've been a busy bunch here lately.  E was out of town from Sunday to Thursday night.  We had two children in swim lessons this week, at different times.  Of course, there was school mixed in there, too.  My parents came on Thursday.  We've been busy, busy,busy.

I'm starting to think that "busy" may be a relative term.  I realize that our busy schedule doesn't sound nearly as busy as others.  But, if there's anything I realized this week its that I don't want our schedule to look as busy as others.  I'm tired.  I'm worn out.  I'm sick of driving kids, rushing about, waking up the baby to take him along. 

 Unfortunately (or fortunately.  whatever your view is on this subject) I don't see a slew of after school activities in our future.  Picking up O at the bus, then running in and getting bathing suits on, jumping in the car, rushing to swim lessons, then coming home and starting dinner.  Not only was O exhausted, I felt stressed.  I don't really handle stress super well.

So soccer, girl scouts, ballet? nope. Gymnastics, tap, swimming? Nada.  Cheerleading, Jazz, basketball?  no thanks.

I think Mommy needs an adjustment period to school, just like O.  Maybe after a while I'll get the hang of it and start to feel okay with afternoon activities.  Maybe something non-threatening with little time commitment, like choir.  At least its church, right? 

throwing babies, stress, and the death of creativity

When O was about 6 months old, E threw her across the room. (He claims he tossed her gently, but my version makes for better story telling.) She was screaming crying loudly and I needed a break from the noise. I sent E in to rock her. As E was headed to the rocking chair, he tripped. As he was falling, O sailed out of his arms, blissfully unaware of her misfortune, and landed with a thud.

E, of course, felt horrible. I came running into the room, not knowing what on earth had happened (all I heard was "thud" and then a "waaaaaaaaaaah!!!!!!!!!!!"). Turns out, she had actually landed onto a large pillow and E was the one who had made the thud, and O's crying was only from the shock of it all.

I had a similar incident today. Except for one little difference. I didn't throw toss accidentally drop the baby. He was unable to be dropped/thrown/projectiled into the air because he was in the sling, snug against my body. (I actually fell into the road, crossing the street to get from one of our church buildings to another.) Zeke didn't even hit the pavement. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the funny ride, and had a big grin on his face after I stood up. (I'll pretend he enjoyed the ride, versus laughing at his mommy's klutzy-ness.)

I, however, didn't walk away unscathed. A few scrapes, and some bruises. Definitely a bruised ego for sure, and probably some physical ones as well. Thank God that Zeke was in the sling and I couldn't drop him. It would've really hurt him if I had...


Which is kind of stressful to think about. Stress, stress, stress. To say that I've been overwhelmed lately is, well, an understatement. I feel like nothing is getting done right/well enough/fast enough and that there is always a to-do list a mile long. A friend wanted me to sew some stuff for her, I's baby food issues (we've now decided to skip purees all together) the kids have taken turns getting sick, thrush, antibiotics, etc, etc, etc.

In efforts to try to lose more weight, I've started running the past two weeks. However, I feel like instead of relieving stress, like everyone claims, its actually causing more. Stress over when to fit it in, where to do it, how long, how far, how to keep the kids entertained, etc. Not to mention it cuts into my kid-free time in the evenings, and my hubby time. I feel like E and I haven't' seen each other much this week. He and I were alternating what evenings to go run/workout. When we get back, its shower then sleep.

I could go on and on and on. But, I won't. I've decided to cut back on some expectations as well as some things. For instance, part of my stress is coming from my creativity. I get excited about ideas of things to make. Particularly, things I can make by sewing. But, I get stressed when it doesn't work the way I want, or it takes longer than expected, or I don't have time/energy/hands to do it. So, the sewing machine is getting put away this afternoon. Back into the master bedroom closet. Away where ideas can't stare me in the face every day while I sit nursing the baby, wishing I had free hands.

I'm not sure what else I am going to cut out right now. I might try to combine my devotions with running and see how that goes. Maybe some sermons on my mp3 player, or some worship music perhaps (but, I need fast music, so I'm not sure what to shoot for there...) Whatever the changes are, it has to change for my peace of mind. It needed to change yesterday.

A smashed loaf of bread is the least of my concerns

We've been having a hard time with our middle child lately. (If you're a real life friend of mine, this is probably no secret to you. In fact, if you're just a facebook friend, its probably not a secret to you.) He's been extremely defiant, and just generally naughty.

We, at first, thought it was an attention thing. So, I started carving out more time for him, just the two of us. We cook together almost every day, leaving baby Zeke and O with daddy. E started working outside with him more, leaving the other two with me. Grandma and Grandpa have taken him over there house, just him, a few times, too.

While somethings have gotten better, (i.e. pooping in the pants or on the floor. thank GOODNESS that is over!) the defiance has gotten so much worse.

Take today for an example.

O's at preschool, so I just have A and I. We head to Target to get groceries.

I tell A the "rules" of Target before we get in. He's a peach (well, mostly. as much of a peach as a 3.5 yr old boy can be.)

We get to Costco.

He's pretty good for the first 10 minutes or so. It starts to go south fast when I don't let him have his own sample of "cup of noodles" because its burning hot. I ask him to share with me. He does his little fit business, but, eventually gets over it.

We go to the fudge sample area to buy some for E for our anniversary on Sunday (shhhh. don't tell!) I ask to try some. A wants some, too. I tell him that we will have to share since we already had a sample of fudge earlier and I just wanted to taste the kind that I was buying. He doesn't want to share with me. He wants his own. I ask him if he wants a bite of mine, he says no. I eat said sample. A starts the hysterics, saying he wanted a bite, etc.

I realize we need to leave, and quickly. I calm him down and we head to the check out. Its our turn now, but he wants to get out. He says he's scared of the man who is unloading our groceries. (it is kind of scary when you're 3 and they take you away from your mom.) I take him out of the cart.

I now realize that taking him out was a bad idea as he's trying to squirt a bottle of vinegar and water that they have hanging on side of the conveyor belt. I tell him to stop. He does, but then proceeds to put his fingers up near the belt. We talk about why that isn't good, etc.

I'm paying now. A is crawling underneath the cart, on the bottom area. I ask him at least 3 times not to do this because the worker is trying to load our groceries.

I still have my contacts to pick up at the vision center, BUT...

Get me out of here, now!!!

Run by the trash can to throw our trash away. I ask A if he wants his water. He says "no". I say, "are you sure?" He says "yes." I throw water into trash. Guess who starts crying about me throwing his water away? he's so upset that he tries to get it out of the trash can (ew!) I drag him away and tell him he can show the worker at the door our receipts.

He takes the receipts, but is clearly still mad about the water. I'm thinking, at this point, that he'll get over it when the lady at the door draws a smiley face on the receipts. He normally loves that.

He walks all the way up to the worker, and as she extends her hands to take the receipts, he throws them on the ground! I make him pick up the receipts.

Let me add here, just in case you forgot, baby I is NOT a car seat baby. So, through out this whole ordeal, I have a baby in a wrap on my hip. Making a 3.5 year old pick up something off the floor when he doesn't want to is hard enough. Not to mention with a 4mth old attached to you.

So, back to A. I make him pick up the receipts, then I hand them to the worker. A then throws himself on the ground, screaming and crying. I have to pick him up and put him in the cart. He pretty much lands on my bread. The worker says "ma'am, he's smashing your bread".

I'm so embarrassed/frustrated/angry/mortified that I say, "thanks. I know." She then says "well, you might want to get him off of it."

Honestly, I think at this point in our fiasco, we have more to worry about than smashed bread. Like how to tame your 3.5 year old. Is there a movie out like that, yet?

As I drive home, I become more and more embarrassed and angry. Now, though, I'm just at a complete loss. I did everything "right". Everything that I feel I should have done was done. So, what's his deal? When is he going to learn that his decisions have consequences?

Please don't tell me its not until he's 21.

Crazy weekend!

To say we have a busy weekend is an understatement. Its crazy, hectic, chaotic. Things are going on every day of the remainder of this week (and last night as well!) We have the kids school program tonight, O's dress rehersal for ballet tomorrow, recital on saturday, church and a training and a birthday party and an open house on sunday.

When we get to busy, I get stressed. When I get stressed, I get crabby. Add morning sickness (or all freaking day sickness!) to the mix and momma hasn't been the most fun to be around. I'm just so glad that our lives are not always like this. I am pleased with the fact that this craziness is just temporary. Just for a few more days.

E and I like to have a more calm and relaxed life-style. No more than 1 activity at a time for the kids. Only a few commitments in the evenings for us here and there. We have lots of family time in the evenings. Its nice. I like it.


So, I power through our business. Trying to make it to the other side. It'll be a fun weekend, don't get me wrong. The kids will enjoy it! I just may need a weekend to recover from my weekend.

Fabulous Friday

Here's a breakdown of my day today:

5:15 am- A wakes up, screaming as usual, and doesn't go back to sleep
5:45 am- A starts banging the door with his feet
6:00 am- I bring A into our bedroom, but not before he wakes up Olivia
6:15 am- A's into the dishwasher
6:30 am- A's into my computer stuff
7:00 am- A dumped oatmeal onto the table and is attempting to clean it up
7:15 am- A poops in diaper
7:30 am- A gets into my sewing stuff
7:45 am- A throws a fit because the baby Einstein movie won't work
8:00 am- Finish O's valentine's day dress
8:15 am- O throws a fit trying on said dress
8:30 am- O's finally dressed
9:00 am- Super Why is over, and A's back at it
9:15 am- A dumps E's cologne on the floor and all over himself- effectively making him smell like a magazine insert.
9:30 am- get kids shoes on and gets into the car
9:45 am- spill precious coffee in my car
10:00 am- arrive at mall to return electric blanket
10:15 am- find right place to return said blanket
10:17 am- blankets are sold out. back ordered until SPRING!
10:30 am- kids go bonkers in Children's Place
10:45 am- O goes with g-ma, A stays with me. We go to the "tv store" to look for a birthday dress for O (since she doesn't like the tutu dress I made her because "its black, and black is for boys")
10:46 am- A's whining...non-freaking-stop.
11:00 am- purchase dress for O (for $4.75!) and head toward play center
11:30 am- leave play center, head for car
11:31 am-deterred by $5 candles at Bath and Body works
11:40 am- purchase said candle for my own valentine's day gift from E (who told me to, then followed that up by saying "maybe you should see about finding your own card, too....)
11:45 am- freaking out because we're running late
11:50 am- get into car, head towards preschool
12:05 pm- notice A has fallen asleep in car. not good.
12:10 pm- late to kids' valentine's day party, O misses out on a goodie bag, but both kids get their fair share of treats.
12:35 pm- drop g-ma off at car, head home. hungry and tired.
12:45 pm- start naps
1:00 pm- still trying naps
1:30 pm- still trying naps
1:45 pm- O falls asleep
2:00 pm- give up on A, bring him to hang out with me
2:00 pm- A starts getting into my stuff...again.
2:30 pm- O has awaken and has been sneaking valentine's day candy
2:45 pm- A gets into my laundry basket, emptying my folded clothes onto the floor
3:00 pm- A gets into the gum in the junk drawer in the kitchen
3:15 pm- A gets into the valentine's day candy
3:30 pm- A eats chap stick
3:45 pm- A gets into dish soap
4:15 pm- A writes with red marker on couch
4:30 pm- E's officially late
4:31 pm- E finds red marker, and is pissed.