What Humble Did~ Episode 1

Summer is happening, yep indeed.
 I have been doing this crazy thing called "sleeping in till 8" and it feels so awesome yet gives me energy that I don't even know what the hell to do with.

Which is great (not really) because yesterday was the longest day ever and we are only 2 days in to Summer, which means, I will probably be checking the time 568 more times in the next 3 days until the kids go to their dads for the weekend and I have 48 hours to feel rushed. Why are weekends faster than Tuesday and Wednesday? Or Monday and Tuesday? Who the fuck knows, but it happens.


Anywaaaaays, yesterday was my cousins birthday, which inevitably meant BBQ in the afternoon which was preceded by swimming all day long.


I arrived on the scene at about 1, and by 2:30 I was bored to death and grabbed a beer.
I mean there's only so much of "lets pretend we are drowning and you be the person that saves me and my name is Maria" that I can take without yelling "knock that shit off, I can't tell if you are really drowning if you play that stupid game" which I still said at least 3 times with my beer in hand.

After the beer was over I decided it was not a good call to be supervising children playing the Drowning Game while drinking a second beer. Instead I perused Cosmo and decided officially, that it is for girls who don't know how to give a hand job, and/or care far too much about their looks and what guys think of their outfits.
"Hey bro, check out that boho chick...those pants are so 2012 and she is a loser" said NO GUY EVAR.

But I digress. The most interesting part of the first slowest day of 48 more to come, was that Sprite had to go to the hospital because we thought she broke her butt. Despite her unhuman like athletic ability she fell whoopsy daisy style straight on her tail bone while riding a scooter.

Thankfully, no butts were actually broken and I got to watch a whole episode of Master Chef while we waited. Who the fuck puts cranberries in their risotto? The person who got kicked off, that's who. Good grief.

The moral of this story is that it is 10:30 a.m. I have accomplished another 8 hours of sleep and I have already cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen.

Is it beer time yet?


Part 4 of the Jedi Series~ Breath

Continued from Part 3
When I was in labor with my third baby, I remember being in denial. I had a c section scheduled on a Friday (he was in a stubborn transverse position a.k.a sideways) and since I it was Sunday night I just thought I could use my mind powers to stop it.
I knew with him that labor meant c section and I wasn't ready for all that. I had a list of to do's to complete during the week, and I hadn't even washed his clothes or made his bed or even packed a hospital bag. I spent most of the night pacing the house and telling my then husband that I was not in labor but to also leave me alone. I needed to concentrate.
Early labor for me, is not really painful as it is annoying.
I remember going out to the drive way at 5 in the morning and walking in a circle. Willing the labor away with my mind powers didn't work. I arrived at the hospital 3 hours later at a 6cm, and had him by c section within the hour of arrival.

When I realized I was in labor at 25 weeks, memories of trying to will the labor away before having my first son came back to me. "This time I am going to think of a shut door that is sealed with bolts that has one thousand locks on it" I closed my eyes shut and imagined the door, and soon began huffing and puffing my way through a vision of cement being poured into a well. Stitches being sewn. A face being punched.
It wasn't working.

My mom, who came to stay with me since I was having a sob fit over being told that I was staying in the hospital until October, rang for my nurse.

The nurse checked the monitor and said she didn't see any contractions and asked if I would like her to call my doctor. After they conversed he prescribed a low measure of precaution, pills every 2 hours, to see if that would halt whatever it was that I was feeling. Since there were no contractions to be seen on the monitor, it could just be a fluke.

I continued to labor, and also tried to convince the nurse that with or without the monitor things were definitely happening. I could feel it, that growing anxiety that labor can bring, the surge in adrenaline that makes me want to squirm, walk around, sway, and eventually want to run a 10K race stabbing anyone who stands in my way of the finish line which would be pushing. It was slowly happening. And it was starting to become painful.
The doctor ordered a round of magnesium sulfate, and the nurse administered it into my 5 day old iv hep lock. Soon, my arm felt as if it were on fire. I have had previous expierience with mag sulfate, and I had dubbed it "Satan Serum" because of the inevitable burning feeling that takes over your whole arm, and then subsides but never completely, after 30 minutes.
My arm was still on fire 2 hours later. I screamed when my boyfriend grazed my finger with his hand. It wasn't until then that the nurse saw my arm was swollen. An infiltrated vein. The Satan Serum had been leaking into the surrounding tissue, and not going where it should. Which meant I was still laboring, nothing had been stopped, and my arm was throbbing with pain.

After they had a shift change, my new nurse got to work trying to find a vein for a new IV. She noticed immediately that I was indeed, in labor. She felt my belly grow hard, and watched the monitor as it barely picked up the contraction. She told me that the monitor is meant for someone who is much farther along. But that she didn't give a shit because I was definitely in labor. She brought in another nurse to find a vein to work with and panic started to set in, when no suitable vein could be found. Finally, after an hour or so of getting an IV in, the nurse explained that she had called my doctor and she wanted to prep me for a c section just in case. I refused. I didn't want to go through all of that prep, just to have it all stop once the meds kicked in.
I will never forget the stern look on her face.
But also the worry in her voice, when she told me that my baby was so small, that I didn't need to be at 10cm to have him.
5 or 6 cm would do it.
I knew and she knew without even checking me...I was about 5 or 6 cm.
She began prepping me.

I was at a loss for words. My mind raced. But I couldn't think straight. My son continued to kick me. I fought back tears when I realized very soon, he wouldn't be.
I signed paper work.
I hugged my mom as she fought back tears. I told her I never wanted this for my baby. She said she never wanted this for me either.
They told me my c section would be in an hour.
My boyfriend, the sweet but strong, father of my child, had a face of stone. He stared at me blankly, as my mom flatly told him, that if he went with me to the O.R. that he had to be prepared for what the possibilities were. And if he couldn't handle that, then she would go with me, and it would not make him any less of a man.

I will never forget how dark and cold the room seemed to turn as she spoke these words.


He stared at the floor, and said yes, he would go with me. They ushered him out of the room to be prepped. And my mother held my hand as they wheeled me on my bed, down the hallway.

The nurses, who we had grown familiar with during all of my stays at the hospital were at their station, watching me, holding their charts to their chests. One reached out to my mom and gave her a hug.

We continued down the hall and I was led to the O.R.
I was absolutely exhausted. In fact, I had never been so exhausted in my life. I could barely keep my eyes open. My weakness was apparent, when I needed help just to sit up.
Another nurse stood in front of me holding me up by my shoulders as the anesthesiologist searched for the spot in my back  to administer a numbing shot, followed by the spinal. I leaned into her, as we waited for the doctor, who was about 20 minutes away.
The nurse holding me up had to get the surgical tools ready, she left me there and I could do nothing more than observe my surroundings.
I couldn't even fathom what devastation, if any, lied ahead.
There was no rush, obviously, because the anesthesiologist was farming her crops on her Facebook and 2 other nurses behind me chatted away about daycare.
Another person was switching the radio station to Lionel Ritchie.

I wasn't really feeling any more contractions, so I thought maybe, just maybe, my will power had kicked in.
I lifted up my gown and saw I was sitting in a pool of blood.
My son continued to kick inside of me and I hugged my belly.

The minute the phone rang, and word was given that my doctor was in the hospital. They turned on the spinal.
I had ask the anesthesiologist previously if she could just knock me out. I felt guilty, but what did I need to be awake for? I don't have any wish to hear or know what is about to happen. They can just update me later and if its a morbid outcome, I will scream until they knocked me the fuck out, again. Sounded like a super plan to me.
She instead promised that as soon as the baby came out, she would give me something.

My legs quickly grew numb and someone guided me onto my back.
A huge sheet was being unfolded and they placed a doppler on my belly and searched for his heart. It sounded like a race horse. I heard a kick.

He doesn't even know, I thought.
I turned my head to my left and saw my boyfriend walking in.
I reached my hand out, and he held it. I squeezed hard as I began to feel pressure.
They are cutting me.
Please be alive.
I can't tell your sisters and brother that you aren't coming home.
I can't deal with phantom pains in my arms, longing to hold you for months, maybe years to come.
I just want to see you. But please, don't die. If you die, I die. And they need me.
I pleaded, and I begged, I prayed to the universe and asked God to please make whatever He had foreseen to please happen, but if it is my son dying right now, then to please change his fucking mind.

And then I felt a warm light.
Everything seemed clearer. Less foggy.
A surge of adrenaline.
I knew he was born.

I released my death grip on my boyfriends hand when I heard something.
Very small. I thought I was hallucinating a kitten meowing. But why the hell would I hallucinate that?
My boyfriend turned his head towards the sound. And that's when I realized what it was.
It was our baby. He was crying.

Ezra James was born July 2nd 2011
He weighed 2 lbs 3 oz

When I was in recovery, my doctor met with me. He told me Ezra was breathing on his own, but needed some extra assistance. He was a lot bigger than they expected, and was doing well considering how early he was.
He also told me, the placenta was bleeding so bad, that they had to cartarize as they worked on getting him out. I would have died within an hour, since there was so much more blood on the inside of me, then there ever was coming out.

24 hours later I met Ezra James.

In late September, we brought home our new baby.
To many waiting arms.

Our Jedi,
Ezra James





Live long and prosper
xoxox

Part 3 of The Jedi Series~Not Ready

This is a story of a journey, it is not intended to scare or shock. The language used is carefully selected and may be offensive, I make no apologies for it.
I welcome you to share it.This is dedicated to the one I love.


When I had last been hospitalized at 22-23 weeks I had been told that if I could just make it to 24 weeks, that then they would concentrate some effort in saving the baby should he decide to come out then. And even then, I could decide if an effort to save him, should be made at all. I was also told that babies born at 27 weeks could have very few problems, if any at all. There was really no way to tell since every baby is so different.

Shortly after I took the belly picture marking my 6 month mile stone, I was in the hospital. I had been bleeding off and on which I had grown accustomed to (but never used to, mark my words, every single drop of blood, terrified me) but then things started looking well, a little watery.

I had called my mom and tried laying down and then getting back up to see if there was more. I joked with the triage nurses that I even smelled it, but I wasn't sure what I was smelling for. I imagined an earthy hippie odor. They non chalantly checked my chart and asked me questions, which still to this day, I will never understand. All my info is on my charts and I had just been there not even 2 weeks ago.

Finally when it got down to actually checking the situation out, the nurse was shocked there was so much blood. Maybe I had been a little under exaggerating when I had said "you know...like a heavy period, but watery." She immediately covered my legs and put my knees together and said she would get my doctor, she just saw him around the corner before she came in my room.

I had switched doctor's fairly recently, and had only seen this one, maybe two times.
Such kindness was in his eyes as he walked into my room with the frazzled nurse behind him. He spoke so calmly, asking her what the situation was and asking for more info from her that was on my charts. While he asked her, and she sputtered her answers frantically, he placed his hand on my belly, listening to her answers, and nodding his head.

After he checked the situation out, he continued to talk to her, but all the while, kept his focus on me. He sat on the end of my bed and all the while with his hand on my belly, told me that I needed to be admitted again, and what he was going to do to make sure the baby stays inside.He said that there was no way to tell if my water had broken, because there was so much blood. But he ordered an ultrasound to determine if it had. He then told me, that after I was admitted, a doctor whom he knows, would come and speak with me.

"What doctor?" I asked sitting up.
"Someone from the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit"

He patted my legs and said he would come see me in the morning.
Inside I started to shake.
My son, continued to swim inside of me. I knew he was small. Small enough that he could kick flip off my ribs, and boomerang himself back by using his head to propel himself off my groin.

I remember when I was hugely pregnant with my other children. I knew they were "ready" when I had hardly any room to breathe. And then shortly after I would have them.
Big fat round cheeks. Every single one of them.
My first daughter had solid thighs.
My second daughter, weighing nearly 10 pounds, had rolls on her knees.
My first son's newborn shirt wouldn't fit across his chest.
My third daughter had a roll under her neck and frankly looked a little strange. And she had been my smallest at 8 pounds. I remember her dad saying she was dainty, and the nurses laughing because to them, she was pretty big.

When the ultrasound tech came in, she could clearly measure the babies length and size.
About 1 pound 6 oz.

That is the size of a kitten.
A really big hamburger.
Some oranges.
A small melon.
And the baby inside of me.
Fuck.

Well he is definitely not allowed to come out now, I thought, because this whole NICU shit is more than my mind can handle and 1 pound? No. NOT. Going to happen.

The doctor from the NICU came as scheduled, after I had settled in my room. The Biff stood near the pull out chair that I ordered him to sleep on. His arms crossed defiantly, as if crossing his arms could protect him from whatever shit this doctor was going to say.
I joined him and crossed my arms too.

The doctor explained everything very quickly, but clearly.
If our baby comes out now, he would not breathe. His lungs are not mature enough. Most babies come out crying, ours wouldn't.
He would need to be resuscitated. In fact a whole team would be there, just for him, basically saving him. He would then be transferred upstairs, to the NICU.
If he survives that, it would just be the beginning. Words were thrown around, like brain bleeds, heart surgery, ventilator, deafness, blindness, cerebral palsy, learning disabilities, chronic lung disease, etc.

By the time she turned and left, we both had our arms at our sides and were staring at the ground.

"Well this sucks" I said.
"Fuck yea it does" was his response.

They soon started pumping me with magnesium sulfate (helps babies brains mature faster...or something) and steroid shots to to help his lungs. When I was finally allowed to eat, I ate everything. I no longer cared if I got enormously fat. My baby was only a pound and who knows how long I had to change that? Over the course of the next few days I concentrated on eating and sleeping. The bleeding continued to lessen and they allowed me to walk the halls to see if it was safe for me to go home.

There had been disagreements between the Dr's as to where my bleeding was coming from. It all seemed inconclusive. The baby seemed fine, but they didn't know when the placenta was going to (if at all) detach more, start to not provide the baby with what he needed, or even the exact location of the bleed. What no one could see was that my placenta was slowly detaching from behind. No ultrasound would ever show that.

As I walked the halls on a Friday, I was winded. It had been so long since I had ever walked more than a few steps. My mind focused on the pictures on the walls, and imagining that I would have my baby in one of the rooms I passed. It made me happy. We would make it. And I would see him, and hold him, just as I had with my other children. And it would be a god damn glorious day. This walk through the halls would soon just be a memory, and I would be back home with my kids, awaiting our baby's arrival in October.

I was irritated but compliant that after the walk through the halls, I was made to stay one more night.
I woke up on Saturday, July the 2nd, ready to come home. I had eaten breakfast, was ready to get my IV out, and be on my merry way.
When I got out of bed to use the bathroom, I felt a cracking in my groin. Immediately placing my hand there I muttered "fuck fuck fuck" the nurse asked "what is it honey?" while she was in the bathroom getting my towels ready for my shower.
And then for millionth time it seemed, my panties filled with blood.

My doctor happened to be in the hospital and came in to examine me.
"You aren't leaving this hospital until the baby comes out. How far along are you?"
He grabbed and prodded my belly.
With worry in his eyes, he gave my head a pat and said he would be right back with another person to do an ultrasound.
Thankfully, the baby was fine.

I was depressed. I missed my kids. I was sick of being worried. I wanted to sleep next to my boyfriend. I wanted to be able to see my mom without her having to get checked with security. A million and one complaints and pity parties I had for myself.

Sobbing I rolled over and tried to go to sleep.
No matter how much I tried, I couldn't. I was uncomfortable, I felt a small tightness in my belly. A growing ache in my back. And it seemed that every minute or so I couldn't breathe.
Having 4 babies, I knew all too well what was happening.

I was in labor. 

A Very Humble Summer a.k.a. I am seriously writing a "how to" post. Let's all laugh about that.

My apologies for what you are about to read. A helpful blog post. A "how to" of sorts. Humor me.



Let us start by addressing my kids ages and grade levels so you can have a general idea of what I am up to my knees in.

Eldest is 11, she just finished 6th grade and is in the gifted and talented program. I only say this not to boast but so you know what kind of smart ass kid I have. Snarky is how someone I hardly knew described her. We will be working on that in the summer.

Sprite is 9 and finished 3rd grade. She is an over achiever and she can flip a switch (any switch....she has like several dashboards of switches and once you think she has switched every switch, there is a crazy underground space ship full of bunnies and cats. And more switches.)

Han is 6 and finished 1st grade. He is really into not doing school, and looking in mirrors and making faces. He is really funny, somewhat shy. He is a teeny bit behind in reading skills, but is a math whiz. Thanks Modern Warfare.

Moo is 4 and needs to prepare for preschool. I won't even say more about her, because I could write a novel.

Jedi will be 1 soon, but he is more like an 8 month old. He just learned to crawl. He might have a hard adjustment to kids being at home all the time now, but mostly because they are his favorite toys and he hates missing the action.

Is that everyone? Yep I checked, it is. First thing I do in the summer time is find out when the heck all the library story times are, and also anything free or low cost that my city is having or doing. Farmers market times, craft days at the library (I have several in my area so we usually go to 2 libraries a week free loading off the activities and magic shows), also my city does free lunches at certain parks. Check and see if your city offers this, because FREE is totally worth looking into.

Then after I write that all in my planner (don't have a planner? GET ONE), I put it onto my big white board monthly calendar that is attached to my fridge. (I highly recommend a white board calendar instead of the paper variety fyi)

ON TO THE NITTY GRITTY

It can change from week to week, but every day has a theme or certain activity.
In example,
Monday is stay home day (playing outside, watching movies whateva)
Tuesday is park day/friends house day
Wednsday is sprinkler or pool day
Thursday is super special day (this is the day we actually do something, like the zoo, the beach, etc. Or it can be something smaller, like a kids museum, a city water park, the library)
Friday is craft/science day

Obviously, this is just a guide. Like I said it can change week to week and you can add other kinds of days or activities. The point is, to have a plan to share with the children so they aren't constantly asking "when are we swimming?" " can we go to the park on tuesday?" Because you will then be able to say, "we will try to go swimming today, but we were going to do xyz, and if we can't we are for sure swimming on wednsday" and "yes we are going to the park tuesday, its on the planner and the calender" See how that works?

      HELPFUL TIP WITH PLANNERS: You have one (you sure do, because I told you to get one), and it is fucking useless to children if they themselves can't use it or it's not theirs. That's why it is important you put this shit up in several places for them to see. I have the white board calender that is on the fridge, and I also have this:
                                    

Sprite is modeling it

This mini white board was about 6.00 at Target. I will use it to write our daily schedule. There will be no questions of "what are we doing today?" because I will have this bad boy filled out the night before.

WAIT YOU SAID DAILY WHAT?

Yes, I said Daily Schedule.
Early morning is my time. I drink coffee and review the plan for the day while I troll facebook and bother all of you people. I also tell little children to lay back down if its before 8 a.m.

Breakfast time soon follows, and they are in charge of making sure everyone else eats and picks up their dishes. I only monitor (a.k.a. remind so and so to tell so and so to pick up their bowl)  They can pour cereal, make waffles, etc. themselves. I make sure food and clean dishes are there. That's my job.
Yes I am a little bit of a Duggar when it comes to kids working towards the greater good of the family, but the Duggars didn't invent this shit, it is just how it goes in every family with more than 2 kids. My other focus is the baby, who needs to be changed, fed and happy. I certainly cannot do that, if everyone doesn't pull their weight.
Anywaaaaaaaaaays.

After breakfast clean up, they can get dressed if they like, if they don't, they can do it later. It is summer ya'll.

Next thing is morning chores. These are jobs (small jobs) that need to be done regularly. I say small you might say its a lot. Doesn't matter. It needs to be done, if we are going to continue living here without maid service.
Jobs include:
Making sure the floor is cleared of anything small and also vacuumed. Jedi can crawl remember?
Trash in kitchen and bathroom is emptied if it is full
Dishwasher emptied
Clean toilet
Start a new load of laundry/separate laundry/put clothes away etc.
These are just examples, but keep in mind that this clean up will last 30 minutes. Any longer and we stop where we are and finish it later.

Next to do is work in their activity books. I bought one for both Sprite and Han and they both happened to choose the same "Kumon" brand. Basically its a refresher in math and reading skills, but I especially like this "Kumon" kind because the layout is simple and colorful. They are to do 2 pages a day.


Eldest has an Algebra book from school that she will be working on, and Moo has a few generic preK books that she can work on with me.
This should only take maybe 20 minutes at the longest.

Next up is writing journals!!! The kids are excited! (No seriously, they are)

Oh, look a baby.
Anywho, kids each have a writing journal (even Moo) to write in every day, or several times a day if they so choose. Moo will mostly be copying words and letters for practice, and Han's is with a much wider school style ruling, so that he can see what he is writing, since he is a new writer and all.  I will either be giving them prompts or if they just want to write their own story, or whatever they like, that's fine too.

Writing Journal Prompt ideas (the crazier the better, this isn't meant to be torture)
Tell me everything you know about dogs
Tell me a story about a clown named Scabby and his dog named Goulash
How do trees grow?
What is the best job in the world and why?
If you were a cloud today, what would you do? Where would you go?
What is the best book you ever read? Why?
If you were a super spy, who would you spy on?
Write a letter to your sister
Write a letter to your brother
What is the coolest thing about being a kid?
Write a letter to a magician. What would you want to ask?

Another good idea, is if the kids are having an argument or are feeling emotional about something, they can write it down and share it with me, or the person they are pissed at. Nothing mean though.

You get the idea.

Another fun thing to do if they want to take a break from journal writing or add to it is a drawing pad. Everyone got one (super cheap, less than 2 dollars at Target) and I also bought the biggest box of crayons and the biggest box of colored pencils I could find.
The drawing journals are for them to fill up however they please but like with the writing journals, if they need new ideas, I can give them prompts.Also, the drawing journals would be a good way to end the day or to use during rest time.


The main goal with this, was to show them that all that stuff they learned in school could be fun with the right mind set. So often, these kids are tested tested and tested, that its hard for them to see the point in daily journals that are given at school. I wanted to show them that writing is fun. And they won't be graded on it, so they can leave their perfectionism at the door. No one is going to hover over it with a red pen, this is truly for them. And what a wonderful keepsake, amirite?

After that's all done with, we can do whatever it is that we had planned for the day. Obviously, some activities will take place in the morning and then we will do this in the afternoon or skip it completely for the day. Its summer ya'll.

Lunch will be served at a regular time every day, followed by a resting time.
The baby will need to nap. They can watch a movie, read a book, play quietly, color. WHATEVER. As long as the baby is napping. This is also the time, that I can exercise and troll facebook bothering you people.


As for the afternoon/evening after dinnerish, that will be devoted mostly, to baths and chores. But we will again be instituting our summer read aloud. I will be taking turns with both older girls to read a book out loud, every night, until we finish it. We try to pick something I have read in school (because I love sharing books I have read with the kids) and easy enough for a 9 year old to read, interesting enough for a 6 year old boy and a sleepy 4 year old girl. This year we picked this.
100 Cupboards

I also recommend these:
Jeremy Thatcher Dragon Hatcher

The Phantom Tollbooth

Because they are really fun to read and listen to. For Moo, since she will be starting preK soon, and since Han needs a little more reading practice, he will be reading to her during rest time. Sprite reads to Jedi every night after dinner from his baby books and whatever book it is that she is reading. Reading is the single most important thing we do in this family, yet during the school year, the kids really dislike it. They are tested on everything for comprehension and it sickens me that they set a timer for 20 minutes because they are so tired and just need to level up in class so they can get an ice cream party or whatever.

Summer is the one time we ENJOY reading, because there are no timers and no tests. Fuck you, public school.
Anywaaaaaaaaaaaaays.

That's about it. Here are some links to activities and summer ideas that we will also be doing:

Summer Bucket List This is a great way to prioritize your absolute "we gotta do that!" ideas and it doesn't need to be all fancy. Just write it down on a note pad and stick it up on the fridge.

75 Kids Activities A lot of these are very easy and cheap. YAY!

8 Recipes for disaster these are fun science tricks that can be messy, so we will be taking it outside. They are easy and cheap as well.

GLOW JAR!! Enough said.

Baby Discovery Bottles A neat thing for us all to make for the baby. Because we like him.

A "little things" jar- Got a pickle jar? I have several. This summer we will be labeling an empty clean (you knew that right?) pickle jar and calling it our "little things" jar. The concept is to notice all the nice things someone does for us, or the things we are happy about, write them down on a strip of paper and put them in the jar. I will read one aloud at dinner time and if its a personal one, the person its written for, gets to keep it.
In example: "xyz helped me make my bed. thank you"
"today I ate ice cream. yay!"



And there you have it. Our Humble Summer. And my first and last attempt at writing a "how to" post.

Have fun you bozos.

Survey says....

Wowy Zowy, someone gave me an award.

Thank you to Adventures of a Corn Fed Farm Princess for passing the torch to me.
Please go check her out if you haven't, she is a riot and a total sweetheart.

As with all Blogging peer awards, there are rules attached. I actually like this part because it gives us all a chance to get to know each other just a little better. So here goes, the rules and regulations:

1. Thank and link back to the awarding blog. (done ^ up there)

2. Answer seven questions. (Ohhhhkay...)

3. Provide 10 random factoids about yourself. (Random! I've got that covered.)

4. Hand the award on to 7 deserving others. (Can do!)

SEVEN QUESTIONS

1. What is your favorite song?
Who even has 1 favorite song and who in their right mind would want to hear my answer?
Right now my favorite song is this one:

And this one:

Now that you have educated yourself.
Next question.

2. What is your favorite dessert?
Sour Patch Kids
Nutella
Key Lime Pie
Kit Kat Bars
Sno Balls

3. What do you do when you're upset?
Cry
Cry some more
Make a list
Listen to something sad
Cry some more
Get the fuck over it.

4. What is your favorite pet?

CATS YO!

I am a little misty eyed over that last pair of cats. You have no idea.

5. White or whole wheat?
I like whole wheat. The more crunchy seeds and texture the better. I am a bozo motherfucker.

6. Biggest fear?
Outside of the usual "my kids drowning in a well"
or
"natural disaster in which I am unprepared for and I have to strap kids on my back and hang off the car roof with one leg tied to the car with a seat belt like how Oprah showed me"?

I would say one of my biggest fears is that paper, handwriting (the cursive kind), and books are a thing of the past and everything goes digital.
I am going to be the grandmother that dutifully teaches her grandchildren cursive, and hand written thank you cards.
Then and only then, will my life be complete.

7. What is your attitude, mostly?
Optimistic.
One day I will have a cat.
I shall name it Waffles.

Ten Random Facts:
I have a phobia of praying mantis.
Don't fuck with me about this (SADIE)
Its a fucking FOR REALS real phobia. If I even *think* I see one, I get whoozy and I feel like pissing my pants. Which I have actually done when one landed on me. And I proceeded to get half naked in front of everyone while screaming like jack the ripper was stabbing me.

I have been eating whole tomatoes like apples since I was 1.

The first time I read a "big book" was when I was 9. The book was Jurassic Park.

I have actually seen Indiana Jones more times than I have Star Wars.

I don't have cable. I don't watch much of regular t.v. but when I do, its usually Star Trek, The History Channel or WEN infomercials.

I am overly emotional when it comes to my kids. I cry during the singing of Happy Birthday. I cry when they get hurt, etc.
Recently I went to pick up Eldest early from school and they said she wasn't at school, I was silently freaking out while they considered if she was ditching class or if something happened to her as they were paging for her on the intercom. When she walked in the office I was so relieved that she hadn't been kidnapped or a sudden rebelious crazy child I yelled "OMAGOD MY BABY!" And hugged her. She begged me not to cry. I did anyways.

I really like school. I wish I could go every day for the rest of my life.

I sit on my boyfriends lap every day and tell him about my day. I stroke his beard and he rubs behind my ears like a cat and I meow.
I am not even joking.
The things he deals with.

I am not the jealous type. In fact when I see a pretty or a hot girl I say "Did you see that girl? She was so hot!" Or I tell the girl, "your boobs look great in that dress...seriously" Believe it or not they are never creeped out. Its about  time girls told other girls they are hot shit, instead of plotting to destroy them.

I can't climb anything more than a counter if my life depended on it. No fences, no walls, no rocks, NOTHING. This is a proven science people.


Now to pass this on to 7 other bloggers (it was hard to decide just 7 because I wanna know everyone better!)

The Incompetent Hausfrau

PaRANThood

The Mother Freakin' Princess

The Misanthropic Father

Organized People are Just Too Lazy to Look for Stuff

The Parsley Seed

Pinwheels and Poppies


xoxox

Part 2 of the Jedi Series~The Time of Resolve

This is a story of a journey, it is not intend to scare or shock. The language used is carefully selected and may be offensive, I make no apologies for it.
I welcome you to share it.
This is dedicated to the one I love.Continued from Part 1

When I was pregnant with my 4 babies, something that I would always do was hold my belly, every chance I got. I imagined them swimming below my fingers, and wondered if they could feel the pressure, and were reacting to it. In ultrasounds and later when I could feel them moving, they would always move towards my hand, and I would wonder if it was their head, their back, or maybe it was their hand too, reaching out for me.
I reveled in the fact that I had my babies so close to me, and that I could pause and feel them, letting them know I was thinking of them, even when I was very early pregnant.
Before the scare, I would fall asleep with my hand on my belly, and wake up in the same position.
When I came home, I didn't. Its not that I didn't want to. I did. I just felt so fucking vulnerable, you know?
I wasn't ready to connect again with this little person, so soon, after being told that it could just be a matter of time. That the pregnancy could indeed, be on its way out.



13 weeks
After we were out of the danger zone, I began to relax. I decided that even though this pregnancy was not a promise that we would get a baby, I reveled in the fact that at the moment, I was indeed with child.
Many an ultrasound showed that although the baby was okay, that there was a separation and blood, lots of blood, pooling between the placenta and the baby.
Modified bed rest was ordered and I was told that there was no way to know if it would make a difference at all. And it was truth. Some nights I bled so much just laying down, I was scared to go to the bathroom and evaluate the situation. Other days I would go out to dinner or a movie and absolutely nothing would happen for another few days.  

In between my incessant ultra sounds my belly continued to grow, the baby inside, seemed a little rambunctious, okay a LOT of rambunctious, I swear the kid was moving boxes in there. Which made sense when we found out it was a boy.
A boy but not a promise, is what I told myself, as we walked to the car from our 4D ultrasound..
In order to cope with the uncertain future, I decided not to buy anything for the baby just yet. Not even step foot in the baby section at stores.
Okay, okay, I definitely glanced.
But I continued to celebrate the moments as they came. Each kick. Every time my boyfriend placed his hands on my belly.
I savored it. Taking a mental snapshot and praying that I would never forget it.

 

16 weeks

At around 20 weeks, I began bleeding a lot and it wasn't stopping, again. This time I was met with the most horrifying news, I was dilating.
I spoke to my best friend before they admitted me and a part of me indeed, wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. The other part of me, wanted facts.
If I had the baby now, would they let me see him? Hold him? Can I take pictures?
These are not things I ever imagined texting my best friend so calmly.
She replied that she didn't know. Some hospitals say the baby would just be medical waste.
"I will cut a bitch" is what I texted back.
They debated whether to admit me at all, but since there was a few beds open they decided it was better for my own health if I were here, in case I needed a blood transfusion.
They told me if I were 24 weeks, they would then try to stop labor.
The night was horrendous. I had never been away from my boyfriend for the night and demanded that he sleep in the room with me.
Thankfully my dialating went back down to zero, and I was released.
After all, there was really nothing that could be done.

The following week I was hospitalized again. The Dr I had wanted me to go to a bigger hospital, one that had neonatologists. I was nearly 22 weeks, and I will never forget the nurse reading back the orders from the Dr on call and telling me she was surprised they were giving me meds to stop my contractions.
Another nurse told me my baby was probably just going to die. And that I could try again in a few months.
She said this as the baby kicked LOUDLY on the monitor, and I replied to her with "Get the fuck away from me, my son is FINE."

And THAT is where my mindset changed.
Maybe I didn't have a whole lot of faith in the pregnancy, and I didn't know what the outcome would be. But, I DID have faith in my son's HERCULEAN attempt to grow every single day, despite bleeding straight from the placenta that he needed to survive off of, and he demonstrated his determination by kicking my insides so hard that I jumped or shouted.
He was there. All along he was there. When I was lying still at 11 weeks crying and dry heaving, he was there, he was there even when I couldn't bring myself to touch my belly to feel him, he was there in my heart before he even took up space in my baby hotel, that's how fucking THERE he was.
And I believed in him.

I had faith that if he made it this far, he would not be stopping any time soon.
Not if I was his mother.
I was released from the hospital with a new found mission. My sons mission. He could do this. I just knew he could. And I was going to use every last drop of will power and positivity I had ever gained in my whole life, to make it happen.

And it was a good thing my mindset shifted. Because soon, everything would change.

the last picture @25 weeks
"Live long and prosper"