oh boy and egads

the oh boy? I was given a TENS unit...ohhhhh the joy and near squeeee I had when the gift bearer said it was mine. Devildog just doesn't get it. His inability to walk properly 11 years ago was a joint injury. Mine was a huge misalignment of the hips added together with pregnancy and a physical job. He is no stranger to pain, having been severely injured as a child and enduring multiple surgeries from it. The person who gave it to me has endured their own share of pain and injuries. They understand my joy as recipient of this gift.

I love my chiropractor. I got him from my sister. I can walk more like a normal human now. My chiropractor has given me TENS therapy several times and I looooove it. Apparently I mentioned it in conversation to the gift bearer and they decided I needed one. So wooot! I got a portable, battery operated TENS unit and have already put it to use. I kinda think this is cooler than my sister's breathalyzer thing.

the egads? Shopping takes energy when you're difficult to fit in the first place plus 3 months postpartum and still shrinking. I did score a pair of khakis and grey pants to expand my wardrobe beyond the jeans and the one pair of black pants. I have a sneaking suspicion that I will be in this size longer than I want to admit and my prepregnancy pants will be out of style by the time I fit back into them. Four babies does things like that to a mother's body.

the other egads? I-and everyone else- forgot the diaper bag when we went shopping. Thankfully I had a contingency plan for that and put a diaper in the van. That got full and had to be changed while shopping. Then between stops the baby filled the diaper with vileness. Poor thing, Mommy's antibiotics get shared and as a result her diapers are big messes. The one diaper in the van was all I had in there too. Devildog ran home to get the diaper bag and a change of clothes because she oozed. I had to wash the carseat cover when we got home. Yuk.

I'm still hacking and coughing because my lungs are still compromised. But that fever that slowed me down broke last night. What a Christmas gift! I awakened at 5 am fully drenched and smelling so abhorrent that it rivaled Beast's football funk. That aspect wasn't such a pleasant one. I do feel a bit better, but certainly won't complain about a return of my pulmonary function.

"Oh wow she really must be sick"

This is what my MIL said to Beast on the phone Christmas morning. I was not well enough to go to church Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. She called and the phone got passed around and when Beast had the phone, MIL asked to talk to me, and he told her I couldn't talk and had no voice. I heard her ask if I went to Midnight Mass (always went when we visited her for Christmas, but my parish has 10:30 Mass the latest), and he told her no, nor did we go this morning. I woke up when we should have been at the church already. She then said "Oh wow! She really must be sick then if she didn't go to church"

Yes I am. Augmentin = horse pills. Constant coughing due to lung spasms for lack of sufficient oxygen = raw throat. Devildog hates the "psst" I have to use to get someone's attention, despite the fact that's how I call my kids when we're in public. The number of "psst" is the number child I'm calling, and it's more fun to see what kind of looks I get from people than a game of Marco Polo. Everyone's becoming more proficient at figuring out the mix of charades and handful of sign language signs that I remember. And when all else fails I get pen and paper or use my cellphone text screen to get the message across.

Merry Christmas family, you got a wife & mother that can't nag you because she can't talk. Now I just have to figure out which one of these yayhoos put in that request to Santa. Next year they're getting a huge pile of coal.

Too busy for sick, too sick for busy.

I have bronchitis. For asthmatics it's one of the biggies we try to avoid because of the compromised lungs. I worked 4 service calls each on Monday and Tuesday so I could get last minute things finished Wednesday and Thursday. Well last week's menopausal weather stirred my allergies and having 4 kids who create mommy-brain, and the increased workload draining my cranial function further, I forgot that we even had allergy meds in the hall closet. I could've avoided the copays for this bronchitis if I'd taken a few allergy meds a week ago. I'm thankful that I had enough in the bank to cover those copays. The Augmentin wasn't too expensive, but the inhaler was not exactly cheap. Thankfully I told them I'd come back for it. In the 20 minutes between doc and pharmacy, I totally forgot the doc gave me a coupon for the inhaler. DUH. So I went back later to get it, and between 2 doses of the antibiotic and a shot of the inhaler, I'm feeling a bit better. And I heart my chiropractor. He helped release the tension in my chest and upper back from all the coughing. A few naps and a few rounds of crisis cleaning per FLYLady's instructions, with help of course, and the hovel should be decent enough. I'm verrrrrry thankful for Beast though. He's been primary babysitter though my extended work hours, and today's adventures. It's a good thing the baby likes him.
I may have to rethink my primary care provider though. Mine is a walk in clinic, but it is NOT a doc-in-a-box. So the caveat to that is waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Thankfully I brought my knitting with me and got a good bit done. Thanks to Devildog's aunt for teaching me to knit Continental. It goes SO much faster. I might actually finish this project in time for next Christmas. In the meantime, I am just too busy to be sick, but alas, my body said "HAH!" and now I'm too sick for busy. When you don't get enough oxygen, it makes things just a weeee challenging.
I really am trying to keep my focus on gratitude in all my challenges. No point in making things worse by whining like I so often do right? I'm too busy to whine about being sick or busy anyway.

oooops...

Pardon the pregnancy ticker...I need to take that off here with a quickness. But it's way past bedtime and I need to pry myself from the desk and go to bed. In the slight offhand chance you missed me...lemme 'splain. I got sidetracked by crackbook, a baby, 2 teenagers, a clone and a husband. My poor father has started resorting to that age old custom typically reserved for Irish mothers. He lays on a slathering of guilt when I finally get around to calling him. Between a teenager that heists the phone (which is why I refuse to buy new batteries for any of them or replace them as they die - we're down to one and a half cordless phones out of four), another teenager working his way into phone hog status, a baby that for all intents and purposes is exclusively a nursling, and the increased workload, plus Devildog's funky shift, and you've got one Wench who is not well balanced with time expenditure these days. I also have been coughing up weekly copays to my chiropractor because I am still not back in alignment enough nor regained strength after having a very cute, funny and smart little piglet nursling.

To quote my crackbook status update for Sunday
Feisty went to Mass, fed baby, took a nap, fed baby, made dinner, fed baby, and now needs to clean and declutter SOMETHING in the den. Meanwhile everyone asks "which Christmas Mass are you attending?" ::shrug:: late vigil maybe? Depends on dh's work schedule & what happens at Dad's. Oldest sis has called a gathering at his house Christmas Eve.

I didn't clean anything because Devildog dragged out the Christmas tree and I gave him authority over the lights this year. I didn't have the energy, plus my lower back was screaming at me again by that point. We gave Clone full reign over where the ornaments went. Yet, all of that and I'm still awake, forgetting to order my FLYlady calendar so I can get it by the end of the current year. THAT and scheduling my work for the week were the whole reason I got online so late.
Meanwhile an old friend from a message board has been keeping things current on her blog. She's one of those overachieving, busy, suzy-homemaker types that works Catholic homeschooling waaaaaay better than I work my slacker mode. Feel free to peruse her blog, and perhaps send me some of the rum balls she's got posted somewhere in one of her recipes.
http://saintsfaithhopechairty.blogspot.com/

kids are tasty

I was playing tic-tac-toe with Clone today. We always seem to end up in a draw, except the very rare occasion one of us misses something and gets taken by surprise. Between games I said "I'm hungry, how 'bout you?"
Without missing a single beat, breath, or blink the child said "No, you can not eat me"

I promise nothing exciting

Yea, don't mind the pregnancy ticker at the top of the page either. I still lack sufficient mental energy to tweak layouts, even if that includes a simple deletion of something like a ticker. I'm sure you'll forgive me, and if not I am already over it.
I'm still busy tending the mini-human and her 3 older siblings, plus working (yes already) and going to the chiropractor twice a week for adjustments. I missed Friday's appointment because I was running behind the 8-ball and then there was an accident RIGHT in front of me. Then the mini-human screamed for my help with a yucky diaper, but I couldn't get out of the mom-bus to tend her because the rubberneckers are morons and would have clobbered me as they gawked at the vehicular carnage. I really needed an adjustment Friday, so I was upset with myself for being late, and really frustrated that I missed my appointment. That in conjunction with the postpartum hormones, I wanted to cry actually. Love the hormones. Really.

Today's adjustment consisted of a few additional manipulations than previous visits involved. I was really trying NOT to undo the chiropractor's handiwork. So I honestly did very little today in hopes of achieving that particular goal. Two of the kids were home from school today for planning day, and it was fairly quiet for the most part. Except, the Clone and her hormones were out of whack and PMSing today. I offered her chocolate and she said she didn't like it. ::quizzical look::

I'd be rambling with a bunch more of the mommy-blather at this point but I will spare you the boredom-induced drooling. I'm sure you would much rather use that salivary function for baked goods or that hidden Halloween candy you've been trying not to eat - but just can't seem to ignore its call.

TOTAL mommy-brain

I have so many stinking passwords to remember. I haven't been able to access my blog to post because I haven't been able to remember my password. It's bad enough to be short on sleep because of your own doing. However when another miniature human is dependent on you, and wakes you at screwy times and then proceeds to STAY awake for hours....mommy-brain inevitably amounts to:
Thinking = epic FAIL

New baby means no time for anything

And I don't miss that aspect of it. I love her immensely, she's a sweet baby and very alert when she's awake. Well she does have two speeds - hungry and asleep. That will change eventually but I'm struggling to adjust. And she's a gassy lil bugger. She is definitely her father's child in that regard. She's still a NASCAR baby in that she goes from zero to sixty in no time flat.
She was born a week and a half before big brother's birthday. A board buddy on another site was due the first week of October, and because of some health related issues, she was induced the same day I was. So Thumper has a birthday buddy born a short time after she arrived.

Because I'm rather tied up with tending a baby, the other kids are a mixed bag of helpfulness and annoyance. The teenagers are taking advantage of things and I won't go into detail but I am hopping mad about one particular instance involving someone snooping in my drawers. I should hide other things in there that would shock that person, or require brain bleach. Later, karma will come back and say hi, they can rest assured about that. Then there are times when my time doesn't equal a child's timeframe...and THAT is enough to make lumps on heads a reality. Meanwhile Clone is having a hard time with my time and attention being directed at the baby. She's only getting slightly less attention than when she was the only girl and the baby of the household, but now my attention is directed at someone very loud and demanding and isn't easily quieted...well except via constant attachment to my person. We're getting more attitude and defiance from Clone and it's not typical for her unless she's overly tired. She's not overly tired so much as mad that someone has invaded her territory as the baby, and let's just add insult to injury and include that this someone has moved into her bedroom to boot.

I'm thankful Thumper has developed some semblance of a routine. It's not a concrete routine but more what you could call "guidelines". Eventually that pregnancy ticker at the top of the blog will get removed or changed to something else.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On a funny note: Last week, as I was driving Beast home from his football game, Thumper was squawking full force the entire drive home. Thankfully it was all of 5 minutes away but she still vehemently protested the delay of a meal. We got into the driveway and as we were getting out of the mom-bus, Beast said "ohh stick a boob in it!"
He's weirded out by my nursing Thumper, but he still maintains his sense of humor about it.

Now, if I could get him to maintain a sense of time.....

And the adventure begins....

After my last post, I went to bed, woke up a few hours later and called the hospital to make sure they were available for the induction and some freak force hadn't sent 30 other women to the hospital in the throes of labor. All systems were go, and I was on my way to evict a baby. I am just going to post a "reader's digest" version for now, other details may appear later as time permits.
I got to the hospital, was put into a room, with one of those *lovely* gowns that are too big for me, even that pregnant. Can we raid pediatrics for a gown more my size?
The doctor broke my water at 8, pitocin was started at 9 after several attempts to get the darn IV to not pinch me. I finally asked that it be redone because there was no "unpinching" of the first.
By 11 I was not having a party by any means.
By 12 I was a sniveling baby.
By 12:30 I was fighting the contractions and whining about an epidural.
At 12:50 I asked for the epidural.
The nurse called the anesthesiologist, stepped into the hallway for the epidural cart and brought it in, turned around to do something w/ the monitor and
At 12:51 I had to push - no time for epidural now because the baby exit was completely ready for the baby to leave the nest.
At 12:56 the baby was out - yelling that she was cold and did not appreciate having landed on the end of the bed. She only landed there because things moved so fast the bed didn't get broken down, and the doctor had to pause to unwrap the cord from the baby's neck.
The doctor almost didn't get to the room in time, barely got her hands into gloves and had to change clothes when she was done. It was a war zone for a few minutes. We were the talk of the maternity unit, and the OB's office.

My hips are still bothering me, and I think I broke my tailbone again. I need to go see a chiropractor for a realignment. It's been a busy week, and looking busier as time goes forward.

Her name means "peace-maker", she has a lot of hair, very functional lungs and a huge appetite.
For the sake of the blog...I might keep her name as Thumper, or change it to something like Torpedo. Heck, I might even go with Nascar for her - she goes from zero to sixty in no time flat.

And in other news....

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAST! Sorry, I didn't get you much for your birthday but I did get you a little sister ;) Yea, I know...I suck at this mom thing apparently.

moving right along

At this point, I was due according to the ultrasound 9/21. The charts and calculators said 9/23. The little wheelie thing said 9/25. It's officially 9/28. Either my due date was a miscalculated one because biology doesn't always have a calendar, or I'm just that overdue. I've never been overdue. My other kids were on time. The boys came 2 days before their due date, and Clone was making her way to the exit on her due date, but technically came 5+ hours late.

I went for step 1 of the induction process Sunday. Step 2 is Monday. I'm too tired and uncomfortable right now to go into details, and I still have a bunch of crap to finish before heading to bed. So, just keeping it short and simple this go round. Prayers for us would be lovely.

Anyone smell smoke?

Dad scared us with some elderly electrolyte losses that were looking like a stroke...Older sis called me saying she was worried about dad...nevermind our youngest sister LIVES THERE with him. SO I had to dispatch 2 youngest kids to check on dad and get him back in shape. Lord knows I'm in no condition to go running across town to rescue him. Meanwhile I called the Oldest Sis who's having some minor surgery in the morning, and left a message for her...gah, I hope she doesn't stress out about him when she really needs to be taking care of herself. It turns out Dad was volunteering, as his usual Thursday fun, at the bread mission today in the heat. Then his cheapskate self refuses to turn on any ceiling fans or the window AC units so he can save electricity, so his house was NINTEY freaking degrees INSIDE when it was 83 degrees on the OUTSIDE. He claims it's comfortable. Stubborn ass mule. I call BS! He's had "three gallons" of water, and enough food, but he's old and his potassium, sodium etc were out of whack and Aunt R the nurse helped us get him squared away. She was fairly spot on that his electrolyte balance was anything but balanced. She said that too much water actually flushes out the electrolytes, and dad is just too much a cheapskate to buy gatorade. And he's drinking too much coffee.
I swear if it's not my 16 year old son stressing me out, it's my 82 year old father. Attention whores. Can't let me be the focus just a few months? Geeez.

The oven is still baking a baby, but it's baking past the due date. Shouldn't there be some kind of alarm that sounds when something overbakes? I mean when I use the oven and something's been in there too long, there is a smell of smoke, and then a noisy alarm sounds to tell me I got stupid and distracted, and I need to go take the stuff out of the oven. Baby-bakers don't come with such equipment in the womb.

Well if she's not done baking by the weekend, she's getting evicted from the oven Monday. The heat source is needed for other things too and she just can't be hogging it for herself. I finished my last round of service calls for the time being, and walked all week (yay for hips popping back into place last month!) in hopes of helping Thumper find the exit. We'll see if it helps.

God's just teaching me patience. It doesn't take rocket surgery to know that.

Shopping and Still Baking

Thumper has made herself very cozy in there, and has shown no interest in leaving.
Went to my 40 week appointment and no change, still baking a baby, nothing exciting. She does have an eviction notice for the 28th if she's not out by then. She's apparently got a self imposed lockdown for herself but there's an end date in sight. Plus I have 6 service calls and a reset, and Devildog has inventory at work this week. Noooo, there's nothing going on that makes us too busy to be worrying about having a baby or anything. None. What. So. Ever.

My camera has impeccable timing and it crapped out on me a few weeks ago. I borrowed my sister's for the time being but it's 3 megapixels, my old one was 6. It's better than nothing so I accepted her generosity. I have my eye slated on a Nikon model that is in budget and has the SD memory card and AA battery requirements I need. Don't roll your eyes about the battery thing...I have a bunch of AA rechargables, and if I absolutely have to, I can get AA batteries at the dollar store in a pinch as needed. I'm not tied to a certain charger cord or a computer to charge the thing. When you have 4 kids, and at least one who inevitably move your belongings, a charger cord is one less thing for them to move on you. AA batteries ... common stuff and kids can't get all evil genius on you and hide EVERY last AA battery on earth from your reach or sight.

The end is near, yet out of reach

I am now at that 39 week point. If you've had children, you may relate or even remember...the waiting game. I feel like I did 4 years ago when Mom was on her deathbed and it was a matter of time. Except instead of running to say goodbye to someone, I'll be running to beat an unknown time on the clock to get to a baby-catcher before the baby makes her escape. I'm really really uncomfortable almost 24 hours a day. The physics seem to defy logic and explanation, but I will simply leave it at "stick a fork in me, I'm so done".
I've been an unwilling participant losing the game of Fetal Tetris.
My bladder crapped out on me back in May and has continuously been saying "piss on ya" since then.
This baby has successfully made me stupider than I was before. I'm just thankful I had a larger than average number of active and functioning brain cells when I started my family 16 years ago-well 17 years when you count the conception and gestation. I just hope that as dumb as I've become, this baby girl is an absolute genius stemming from her unadulterated theft of my cognition.
I'm moody, whiny, sullen, mean, evol, cranky, and otherwise like any other teenager in the world - especially when things don't go the way I expect or want. I've actually taken to hiding in my room to avoid spilling my vile mood on others. It doesn't work, because others seek me out and dare enter my room where the vile drips from the bed and stains the carpet. Watch your step in there, I can't get you up off the floor if you slip. I need a forklift myself as it is.

Last week at my doctor's appointment, she asked my sentiments about induction. I told her that I wasn't opposed to it, but felt it was unnecessary in my case and I'd like to wait. She said they don't like to do it till 39 weeks and prefer to see some kind of sign that mom's body is amenable to getting a baby out of her person.
I wagered a guess bout my progress of the baby-exit region, and the doctor confirmed my guess. She then said "we'd like to see more progress than that if we decide to induce you anyway."
At my next appointment the conversation will be revisited and I'm inclined to asking in return "Is NOW a good time for you?"

I did a LOT of walking at work, and shopping this past week. I hope that provided some gains in getting Thumper to exit. I scored some good deals and those are some of the highlights for me. At church Sunday, someone anonymously left me a BIG stack of diapers. It wasn't so much the tangible gift that made my weekend, as the fact that there are people who just love me and want to share with me. It's rather humbling.

I whine and moan way too much. I know that, and make no excuses for it. I try to find humor in things because otherwise I'd whine and moan just that much more anyway. I may as well entertain people out of my unpleasant happenings and experiences. So I guess my entertainment endears me to others or something and as a result, we've been blessed to not have to buy much of anything for Thumper. It was like that for Clone's arrival too. Most of the money out of pocket I've spent during this pregnancy has been for me on maternity and nursing stuff. With both girls, I've not had to buy much of anything. Friends and relatives have blessed me with what was needed, and my girl clothing purchases have been minimal. I'm sure we'll make up for this in their teen years, but by then their big brothers will be adults. And as I keep trying to look forward and count my blessings while painting silver on my thorns, I can't help but keep thinking and saying...

Just stick a fork in me, I'm done. Done waddling, sharing my person, making pit stops every 4 minutes, sleeping in a nest of pillows, being on a first name basis with Tums, and wondering just what exactly is leaking from where.

Anniversary during Open Season

I'm still here. I'm still pregnant. I'm sadly absolutely useless to my friend Persnickety when she really needs help, and I forever feel guilty about that because I owe her some favors like big time.
And from what I can tell, being pregnant makes it open season to lots of people.
Apparently some people were COMPLETELY unaware that I was growing a human. Those that know me, know my kids have all been hiders and sit on my back till they run out of room and have no choice but to make their presence known to the rest of the viewing public. I bet you're asking how that is even possible considering the expanding form (my facebook friends can see the progression since January). Well the thing is, at work, if I can use the fart cart I do. If any store has it, I use it. So me sitting on a cart kind of hides the already hide-y baby belly that is there.
What? You mean just growing a human can't possibly be that arduous? I even got asked by an old man at the grocery store "what's your disability that you have to use the cart?" I told him that I was growing a human and she was doing things to my body he couldn't imagine and walking was damn near impossible for me right now. He then moved on to questioning why I was buying whole milk instead of just a box of powdered and putting water in it because it was just the same. He's lucky my dad is his age and I understand the history of these Depression Era thinkers, and I didn't snap his hairy ears off his head. Thanks Dad for teaching me to respect my elders, too bad the lesson wasn't reciprocative for the elders to respect the youngers.
For the past month and a half or so, walking has been not only difficult or at times impossible, but just moving was painful. After talking to a couple other preggos on my online board for other September due dates, I diagnosed myself with this thing called SPD or symphasis pubis dysfunction. Short story of it all, given my history of pelvic girdle injuries and the associated misalignment, plus the weight of a parasitic human and her warm, watery habitat, plus preggo hormone relaxin, equals one really over-stretched ligament/tendon between my pubic bones.
So that pretty much explains the horrid sciatic pain that prevented me from moving. I had some days better than others, but there were plenty of days I just wanted to cry from it - the pain and the frustration. One of my OBs suggested compression on my hips and I consider her a total God-send for suggesting it. While it didn't make the pain go away, it helped tremendously. It helped push the bones closer so the overstretched ligament wasn't getting away with shearing off the bone. The general recommendation that came from the other OB (who I prefer not to see but that's another rant elsewhere) was for physical therapy. I can only guess this guy thinks chiropractors are quacks or something. Not even going there, just praying that if I don't change providers this far into the human growth process, that this particular scientifically degreed individual does not do the baby catching. However, I disagree with him and started calling chiros on my insurance. The ones I called and that came recommended by others were hesitant to take me on as a patient this far into the game without my having prior chiro care. Understandable and I'm not going to fault them. I get it. I knew the problem I was having was due to misalignment, and I could FEEL as much when I moved certain ways in my attempts to alleviate things myself. I will just go to a chiro postpartum and get myself realigned as the case merits. I must have moved in a good way a couple weeks ago because after stretching a direction I hadn't tried before, something in the pelvic region moved and popped a bit. The next morning I was rolling over to get out of bed and somehow managed to get my hips to pop (and it was not painful- it was actually relieving!) and I have been able to walk again relatively pain free since. I do have to mind how I move, and how long I'm on my feet etc. However it's been a much welcomed break from the literal pain in my butt I had for many weeks. I prayed daily to St Gianna for help getting through that agony.

My nesting energy has been spent working, so I have been completely useless at home. The house has puked on itself as we try to get ready for Thumper's arrival. Devildog is the one that got the Clone's bedroom ready to accommodate another human of sisterly kind. Persnickety and another friend gave me enough clothing and linens that this baby is dressed till Kindergarten and I am NOT exaggerating. At that point we still have Clone's stuff, and I'm sure others will pass on the wealth later as needed. Here I was giving stuff to Clone's old daycare, the women's shelter thrift shop, and others I knew personally that could make use of things as Clone no longer needed or used them. Silly me, should've known another human would appear huh?

"When are you due?"
-September.

"WHAT? No way! You don't look that far along/that pregnant/pregnant at all"
-um, thanks? I sure as hell FEEL every bit as pregnant as I really am. Waddling since May, Devildog called me ducky. It's now my answer when someone asks "how are you?" They're not paying attention and think I say "yucky". Here's a q-tip, clear the wax.

"Don't you know what causes that?"
- YES! We're good at it, and we've had 17 years of practice! (Happy Anniversary of our First Date, my baby daddy!)

"How many is this?"
-This is baby #4, girl #2. Teams are tied.

"How old are your other kids?"
-RW is 16, Beast will be 15 two weeks after I'm due, and Clone is 7.

"Oh WOW, you spaced them apart didn't you?"
-Well they were all surprises and we didn't expect the timing or spacing, but the bonus is built in babysitters and helpers, and the older ones are self-sufficient enough that if I am unable to do something, any of them can do it.
(and yes, even the Clone can do her own laundry, take a shower, dress herself, get her own PB&J sandwich, salad, yogurt, drink or almost any number of things. I am big on kids learning basic life skills so I can go back to being a slacker mom. I robbed myself of my adolescent years having RW in high school and Beast right after I graduated.)

"Well are you or your husband going to get fixed?"
-I didn't realize anything was broken, nor did I realize Devildog and I were of canine variety. Can someone hand me a towel, my tongue is bleeding from biting it so I don't ask people if they're going to get the rectal craniotomy reversed.

Prayers for the Bonny Blue House

Mary Ellen's son went missing from a father/son camping trip. As it turned out, he apparently had a seizure and fell into the creek where he was standing near, and was later found downstream. Please keep the family in your prayers.
http://maryellenb.typepad.com/tales_from_the_bonny_blue/2009/08/urgent-prayers.html

All hoped up and nothing accomplished

I swear I had blog fodder. It's written in my datebook, on the pages of the calendar from about 2 weeks ago. I'd hoped to have it regurgitated to you by now. I may have lost the mo required to post it, but we'll see soon enough.
It's at that point I'm going to lose my ever loving mind. Near-end of this pregnancy. End of summer. School isn't in session yet. Resets are about to start at work. I don't know if my boss has someone to cover the stores I've asked to be taken out of as I reduce my workload before Thumper arrives. Devildog works this crazy stupidity-inducing shift. Kids are stir crazy. Devildog finds something to do away from home on every one of his days off because quite honestly even I don't want to be here. The house has vomited all over itself. Between a friend BL and Persnickety, Thumper will need for nothing, and be well dressed to boot. I mean I even have a big bag of shoes for Pete's sake.
I hoped to make progress with this mess of a shoebox before mid-August, so I could just focus on the next few weeks at work, and getting the kids ready for school. So like a full on ADD brain, I start hopping around from project to project and never finishing any of them. Start working in Clone's room, fizzle out because I want the crib assembled so I can put baby stuff in it to get it out of the way for now. Well...do we use Clone's Crib4Life, or do we take someone up on their offer to give us their crib they no longer need? Since I have this butt load of baby stuff, I need to sort it by size, wash it, and wait...
Where are we going to put the baby's clothes, because cardboard boxes just are not going to work even though I have TONS of them. I have this dresser I scored from the curb, and Clone staked her claim on it, down to the wood stain color she wanted, so Thumper can use the shorter longer dresser (which comes in very handy as a changing station with one of those contoured pad things on it. This was all her idea, so I'm just going to let her think that she came up with it first. I'd already been thinking about it but was trying to tread carefully for fear of catching Clone on a "Thumper-can-just-sleep-in-the-living-room-on-the-futon" kind of days. Anyway, Devildog tossed out the last spitfull of paint remover some time ago (against my better judgement) and I lack the proper scraping or sanding tools to get through 8 layers of paint still in the nooks and crannies of this dresser. I'm mangling woodwork at this point with a razor blade, but I also don't care anymore. I just need this crap done. I can't do this work in the house, it's too cramped and makes a huge mess with the Ryobi rotary tool (think "dremel"), and sandpaper, and scraping of paint. I have almost all of it done but this project was easier when it was still cold outside versus the "hades on your doorstep" temperatures we get in August. As soon as I can stain that dresser, it's getting done, come hell or high water (please Lord, not BROKEN water-yet at least..or contractions either).
I've pulled out more work for myself than I can manage in a short time, and at this point, I just don't care anymore. Except, I still need a place to put this human who likes to party under my ribcage at varying hours of the day and night - most notably 1 and 2 in the morning. Oh yes, and she has a penchant for giving me heartburn at the most *opportune* times too. She's gotta stay put a little longer though, and hopefully in the time I have left before she exits the oven, I can make a sizable dent in the mess. I can deal with laundry later. However, right now, I need to get the stuff my house puked on itself cleaned up without losing my mind. My August calendar is chock full of other things that are going to physically wear me out as it is.
I'm not even going to start on the eminent danger the computer is in of dying for lack of sufficient RAM (working on that), the annoyance of the children and Devildog's schedule, and the other family drama of sheer stupidity that is swirling around me. Nor will I whack my head on the brick wall that is Devildog refusing to even look at baby clothes because he just isn't ready. Can you see my eyeroll? It's so far back that I really can see what the kids are doing behind me. God love my husband, he's apparently STILL shocked some near 30 weeks later, despite the visible evidence of another human's presence inside my own.
So, all I've accomplished is a bigger mess, a lot of grand plans of marvelous theory, and annoying my ENTIRE household with my insane ADD nesting. This is nothing like I'd hoped it would be at this point in time. nothing.

Now...if you'll excuse me, I *KNOW* I saw a waiter somewhere around here with a tray of cheese. I saw some that would go wonderfully with my whine....

Mouth of babe moment

The other day there was some foolishness between the teenagers or something. I honestly do not know or remember what prompted things to get to this point, but it happened. It will always happen.

Clone to Thumper-in-belleh: "Thumper, do not EVER learn anything from our brothers. They're just no good!"

This from the same child who declared more than once that Thumper can sleep in the living room, even suggesting one time she could sleep on the futon.

For Christmas, can you just give me shares of stock in Garnier? I'm REALLY going to need it.

I have blog posts - I promise

I have been jotting things down to put in the blog. Here's the thing, I don't get to use MY computer like I want to because someone had to be homeschooled and hogs the machine all day acting like he owns it or something. I can not wait till August 24th, because the kids return to school. I'd do cartwheels that morning, except I have a speedbump and I'd bust my chops. RW WILL return to a brick and mortar building charged with imparting knowledge. I can't handle him being home all the time and it's been old since February.
I will however, finish compiling these blog posts of kid funnies and household "oh-gawd-what-now" moments and get them to you. I'm just busy trying to avoid going over the edge, and probably failing miserably with that task. My sleep pattern is absolutely screwed up too...and the growing a human part of things is not helping me sleep. Having to get up in the middle of the night to waddle to the bathroom, developing a nifty unofficially diagnosed thing with a medical abbreviation of SPD (some sort of pelvic displasia that makes it excruciatingly painful to walk, stand or even move), having to sleep in some strange way propped up by all the bed pillows to alleviate the heartburn while not causing more circulation or hip problems...ugh, I'll just spare you the rest. I'm just very grateful Moose told me about this pressure point for sciatic pain. I've used it extensively since the advice was dispensed.

the lesson? A person just does not realize how important hips are till they go awry and pregnant over 30 is absolutely FOR.THE.BIRDS.

Parental torture

We're different parents from most people. We derive mirth from torturing our teenagers. I knew someone was using my razor because I was getting razor burn more frequently and having to change the blades sooner. I just couldn't PROVE it, nor could I prove who was doing it, without expensive DNA testing. Last week I bought Devildog a new razor, because it was cheaper to get the "gift" kit on the clearance endcap at Target than refill razors. A $4 coupon helped convince me. Prior to my shopping endeavor I asked the boys about their razor preferences, throwing in a comment that I was tired of someone using my razor. RW slung back that he had been using Dad's razor, not mine. I advised Devildog of this, and he said he'd suspected as much, but chuckled, adding "I bet he doesn't realize what else I shave with my razor." Regardless of WHAT parts are shaved, it's just a total biohazard to use someone else's blade. I swear, I thought I covered that detail with them, but apparently it didn't register or they just don't care.

Devildog later told the boys about this aspect of using Dad's razor. Beast laughed and said to RW "Maybe that's why your face has been breaking out so much."

Happy Birthing Day to me

Nope, the Stowaway/Thumper hasn't escaped the oven yet. However the oldest brother has survived to mark 16 years of adventure. He was born at a ridiculously early hour, weighing 7 pounds, 6.4 ounces. The nurse weighed him and turned to ask me where I was hiding him.
I can't wait till he's an adult. I am going to set my alarm for that time in the morning and call him and yell into the phone "it's a boy!" and hang up cackling. Bwahahahaha!!! I'm such an evol mother!

Happy Birthday RW.

Something or someone is on strike

It's been a week since my last post and it was intentional. I have been fighting back a "preggo-meltdown" as I call it. No sense in boring my readers with the details and the one woman pity party I was making of it. Short story, my sciatic nerve is compressed and pinched even more and it has limited my movement even further than the whole "baby #4, mom over 30" issue was already. There are things going on with the physical house that are frustrating me. The other members of my household are prompting further frustration. The frustration is prompting me to be rather angry and cranky and really not pleasant or funny. It's hard for me to blog cranky. It's akin to grocery shopping before you eat breakfast. You come here to get a slight chuckle at the very least, not this whining BS that has been wanting to escape my brain via keyboard.
If you see me on the news, just know it was not unprovoked.

How's the weather for Dad?

I gave Devildog his Father's Day gift - a certificate for a 30 minute massage. If I could have gotten him an hour massage I would have, but it wasn't available. He looked at me and said "you need this more than I do". No, I need an hour and a half or two hour massage, mostly because my sciatic nerve is in varying states of compression.
I was in the room when Devildog was flipping channels between the NASCAR race out in the California desert and the Atlanta/Boston game in Boston. I almost envy Bostonians and other New Englanders with temperatures below 80 degrees. Here in Florida, it's been around 100 degrees. At 2:30 PM when I was eating my post-church lunch, Devildog flipped over to the Weather Channel to get the current conditions. It said real temperature was 97, but the heat index (you know what your physical person says the weather feels like?) was...are you sitting down in a safe chair? I'll wait, I really don't want to knock you over because the heat here does enough of that without my helping. Ok, as I was saying, the heat index - yea, 109 degrees. As in- Hell came out of its depths and decided to play in my neighborhood. It can return to rightful place anytime now, like yesterday would be nice. I am fine with 92 degrees, because that is a cakewalk by comparison.

This heat is enough to make any crazy person reconsider leaving the house. I know plenty of SANE ones that are hiding indoors too. And there's no leaving the house after dark either. At midnight it was still 91 degrees even. Hell hath no fury like its own presence outside your door.

Bravo Bug

I took Persnickety to the Pulmonologist yesterday, because she is on this narcotic cough syrup that causes things much like the effects of tripping on some acid or other illicit substance. I was allowed to sleep too late so my work plans got all mangled anyway. Why not just totally throw them out the window right? I finished working at one store and volunteered to schlep her to the shiny new doctor's office. Apparently in the 5 years since I moved from the large moldy apartment into this cinderblock crackerbox the powers that be made a certain roadway longer, and it now meets with another road that has been extended to meet the other one. Whodathunk it?
So I get in my mom-bus and there's a mosquito. I can't accurately take aim, so of course I keep missing the bug. I gave up for the sake of getting to Persnickety's house on time. In that 20 minute drive, my ankles became a smorgasbord of sorts. I carted Snick to the doc, and then since I was in the neighborhood of one of my service calls for the week, I dragged her with me for the sake of fuel efficiency. On the way, the pesky mosquito reappeared, after having its fill of my ankles. I tried smacking at it several times, and of course, with no success. Persnickety took one whack and caught the bugger.
She then turned to me and said "you can't kill it if you're giving it a round of applause"
Thanks Persnickety, for pointing out yet another inadequacy in my life: my ability to miss the target. Bravo.

Considerate Beast

I asked Beast to pass me my prenatal vitamins this morning since he was between me and the vitamins. He grabbed them from off the fridge, and as he opened the bottle for me he said "Here, let me open it for you. It's childproof and I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

I'm still kind of smirking about it 10 minutes later. My luck, he's going to be the one taking care of me when I'm old, volunteering to do so solely for the sake of making me need the Depends that much more from his entertainment. He'd be just weird enough to do that.

How to use an alarm clock

Clone was up early Wednesday, even after going to bed late on Tuesday evening. Later in the evening, we were driving to the yarn shop and she said getting up early was nice. I asked if Beast woke her and she said no, nor did his bumbling around the house wake her either.
"Well how did you get up so early?"
"um, well, I went to itch my head and I ended up pulling the lamp and that made my Dora alarm clock come crashing down on my head"

I laughed at this, immediately apologizing because she hates when someone laughs at her. At least she didn't shriek at me this time.

And here I've been all along, spending extra time setting my alarm clock so that it makes this obnoxious noise at me.

Babies, Turkey Timers, and Beverages

It's a fairly random post today. There were several chuckle worthy things that came across my path the past couple days. I apologize if I bore you with this but sometimes things in my head simply must escape.
In the cute category we have a friend's Baby R, who is about 6 months old. Sunday was a lovely brunch after church in the hall, and Beast nabbed Baby R. From Mama D., much to the relief of Mama D's arms. Baby R is a peanut but when it's your own peanut, your peanut weighs a lot. Beast had Baby R pretty much the entire hour or so we were there, playing with her, holding her, entertaining her. He's had previous experience with his own baby sister, who has become this 7 year old Clone of mine and isn't so easily entertained anymore. Mama D took the baby away from Beast, so she could make her goodbye rounds. I got a brief visit, and snagged Baby R from mom for a minute while mom said bye to someone else at the table. Beast walked up behind me and Baby R crawled up my shoulder to get to him. Mom nabbed R back and got stopped by someone else, and once again Baby R was reaching for Beast instead. Mama D wanted to kidnap Beast and take him home with her so he could help. I offered RW in his place because RW won't give her the same attitude he gives me. She declined the offer. I was so hoping...

In the not all that entertaining, but noteworthy category, we have the turkey timer:
It's starting to pop out, while I am losing sight of my feet. I'm small by comparison to lots of other people carting another human within. I now weigh the same as I did when I birthed the Beast almost 15 years ago. I'm not yet the same size and weight that I was with Clone. There's still hope for me to not get any bigger than that.
I do feel really badly for one of the teachers at Clone's school. She's due in a couple weeks and the poor woman is just huge. She needs to hire someone to walk around in front of her to hold up her belly. This is also her 4th baby, and 3rd girl. I'm telling you, pregnant over 30 is for the birds, girls are notoriously UNKIND to their mother's body, and the more babies that are baked the earlier things pop and become a pesky challenge.

In the Beverages category - a couple things. First of all, I had the WEIRDEST dream the other day. I only remember that I was sitting in a bar or some sort of gathering, holding a pint-glass full of lager (probably Yuengling) and enjoying the consumption of said beverage. However, I was house-sized pregnant in this dream. I have no clue why this baby has me actually wanting beer on a regular enough basis to call it frequent.
Also RW has been taking weekly (or as close to weekly) profile pictures of me, to chronicle the expansion of my girth. After dinner I asked him to do the belly shot, as we've come to call it. RW said we should just take the picture with me sitting in the chair because "You can't even stand up today." Devildog piped up from the other room to say "You're pregnant, you really shouldn't be drinking."
Has he been in my head while I'm dreaming or something?

Overacheiving child

My blog is suffering for lack of humor or exciting news in my own life. I blog about what I know. Somehow you find that entertaining enough to read my drivel. Thank you much for keeping me employed here.
The excitement of my weekend is that it's my birthing day. Go back and read that before you post comments or I'll publicly lambaste you for not paying attention. Yes, I said "birthING", as in - one of my spawn was born a certain number of years ago. This occasion celebrates the Clone exiting the womb, and fairly effeciently I will add. Persnickety calls me a machine. 'Snick, Thanks for jinxing me. I feel loved. Really.
The timing of these things also coincides with the annual school district's "Reading Celebration" event. A previous superintendent implemented a standard that students should read 25 age appropriate (or tougher) books per year. Adjustments and allowances were made for novels that had so many pages, it would kill a cat if dropped on the unsuspecting feline. The subsequent Sups never changed that standard, and I actually don't disagree with it. So the kids that read at least 25 books got invited to this big vendor-fest downtown. My Clone qualified, something like 5 times over.
She is one of those girls I disliked in school. SHE went on record as having read 147 books. Yes, that was correct: one hundred forty seven. I had to staple an extra sheet of paper in her agenda book to extend her reading log. She likes to read, and I'm not going to prevent that. So I took her to the event, she earned it. Free lunch was involved for the kids, and who am I to argue that? I kidnapped the landlord's spawn since he took Beast for servitude elsewhere.
The girls and I suffered the beating sun and 90 plus degrees (no arguing the temps either, preggo thermometer rules are in place here). Clone loved that when she was asked how many books she read, her answer was met with astonishment and excitement.
Did I mention that when I was in school, I didn't like those over-achieving girls who read more books in a school year than I had interest in reading in my entire life?
I'm too much a slacker-mom to be one of those over-achieving people. I'll just have to live vicariously through my over-achieving clone.
Happy Birthday Clone.

Lakanuki and Cankonkinaminit

I have a chat buddy that I've known for a couple years that like a few of my in-person friends, just gets me. I haven't had a chance to talk to Insanelybusymomma in a while because her real life has been... well, insanely busy. She's a police dispatcher, so she is unabashed in her commentary about things, and stuff that makes some women blush do not faze her one bit. Sex is one thing that has come up in conversation between us, like it does with several of my equally off-color humored friends. I commented on how my preggo hormones are utterly raging and Devildog is not complaining. I personally feel like I have the Hawaiian Curse (as in lakanuki). She commented on her recent personal experiences being brief. I'm being kind because it's not my detail to share. So later as I was about to say goodnight, at this ungodly late hour, I said something about being willing to take a loss of sleep (as in Cankonkinaminit) to rectify the hormonal imbalance I currently possess.
I was told not to hurt my husband - which I won't do because that would be an additional problem for me, and I try to make as few problems for myself as possible.

here, let me make it much simpler:

"I.B.M" (3:10:32 AM): Oh geesh, don't hurt the guy Feisty LOL

Feisty (3:10:34 AM): nope, not quite the kiddie carnival ride

Feisty (3:10:57 AM): two ups, two downs and a couple lefts

"I.B.M." (3:11:06 AM): BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Feisty (3:11:10 AM): omg i just cracked myself up even

"I.B.M." (3:11:15 AM): ROFLMAO

"I.B.M." (3:11:36 AM): I'd be lucky if it got to a couple of lefts

So, as you try to digest that...I'm going to my bed. And if you didn't see the humor we saw in it, meh, better luck next time for both of us. I'll just blame the sleep deprivation and the hawaiian curse. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Cabin Fever

It has literally been raining since Sunday afternoon, virtually nonstop. There have been periods of spit-on-you drizzling, and actual spots of NO rain falling, but it has been raining since Sunday. Can some of these businesses shut off their sprinklers for a few days? It's overkill to be running the sprinkler system when it's raining EACH DAY for free. It's looked like this all week. As I finish this post, another deluge is plummeting from the clouds that I snapped a picture right as I started this blog post. I stole the other picture from Persnickety's blog because nothing I found accurately portrayed the week's weather in my opinion.

Because it's been raining so much, the kids haven't been outside to do anything this entire week. All the kids are going bonkers, including the Stowaway, who is probably going to get nicknamed Thumper. I took Clone to Chick-Fil-A the other day so she could run around and play for an hour or so to get some of the energy out of the way. Last night friends C&S begged me to let Clone come to their house to play because their own child was firmly wedged in their unsunny places and they needed to sit down without an extra pair of little legs in the way. It was nice to not have Disney channel on the tv for a while. Except, the teenagers went no where and there was no quiet in my house anyway.

This morning, I was lazing in my bed because it's comfy and cozy in there. The kids keep trying to lay in my bed and hang out when I'm in there escaping or resting. GO AWAY! It's MY bed and yes, it's cozy because I made it that way! *ahem* sorry. Anyway, I was lazing in my bed and avoiding my parental duties to the two teens and a Clone because I am also a slacker mom who raised her spawn to be independent beings that can get their own sustenance in the mornings, including brewing a pot of coffee for the household. There arose with such a clatter - 0r more like a bunch of screeching, and yowling - the sounds of feathers and fur flying. The teenagers were pushing each others' buttons and the Clone was shrieking for them to stop. They went to blows a couple weeks ago in front of her, poor girl.
After I got out of bed and did my own shrieking, things settled down a bit, but I was still ticked. I refused to let them explain what was going on, why, how etc. I just didn't want to get in the middle of it. I need to set up a box office in the front yard, so I can make some extra money selling tickets to their fights. It might compensate for some of the stress they cause at least.

A little while later, Beast was in the kitchen and I forget what he did or said that made me look at him like I did, but I broke out the "mom stare". He stared back. After a few seconds of that he said "I guess what we have here is a good old-fashioned Mexican standoff." I continued to stare at him. Beast looked around and said "Wait, there are no Mexicans here. Let's go to Home Depot!" I continued to stare, attempting to retain the poker face, but it was failing. Comedians.

A mother's gotta do what a mother's gotta do

We've been steaming the past couple weeks, then WHAM a cold front hits us. We need the rain, and I certainly don't object to giving the air conditioner a break. However, this is the South, and I know that the temperatures will surely rise again.
So, in preparation for that, and the fact that it's been 7 months since my last visit to LaNae's chair, I was overdue for a haircut. My hair was getting tied into a ponytail, or clipped somehow back off my face or up off my neck every day. That's a sure sign of my hair screaming for attention. I tried to go a couple weeks ago, but that whole bladder debacle topped off a day of screwy happenings, including missing my appointment with LaNae.
So here's the before picture.
Apparently RW likes to take pictures in a way that annoys the crap out of me, resulting in a surly expression on my face. There was also the fact that I was once again running late for my appointment with LaNae, after having spent the morning thinking way more than my pregnant brain should have been attempting. I don't do logistics in the morning, coffee or not.

I got there, and she asked how much was getting cut off today and pointed to the usual spot I have her cut my hair. I told her to go shorter in anticipation of the heat and general UGH that comes with the combination of a Florida summer and pregnancy. As usual, I never fail to look better after leaving LaNae's chair.
It also serves as my weekly belly picture that I've been doing during this pregnancy. I didn't get to do that with the other 3 kids - or at least I didn't think to do it, plus I would still have 20 rolls of undeveloped film sitting in a basket with those belly pictures on them anyway.

Devildog saw it, didn't like it and said it was too short. Clone saw it and got ticked because I didn't take her to get her hair cut too. RW saw it and said "ACK! It's short!" Beast hasn't seen it yet. I was crashed in my bed when he got home, and he himself has been asleep since he got in the door. I guess he's in the middle of a growth spurt or something.

In any case, I love it so far. I have actually contemplated getting my hair this short for a LONG time, but always chickened out for some reason. I don't know why, it's just hair and it grows back. I DO know that between heat, pregnancy and the work involved in getting a baby to exit my body, I needed it short.

A few smirk-worthy things

First of all, my pal Sunny sent something for the Crazy Lady to taunt so go check that out. Then come back here...or just click on that link in a minute when you're done reading this one.

At church today my dear friend E. sat next to us. It was nice to see her, she's been having some health issues, and teenage-son-becoming-adult-age issues and since I have your attention, keep this family in your prayers. Beast has been helping the ushers for quite some time now, and has pretty much been assimilated into their fold. It's prompted a lot of changes in him and his appearance at Mass. There were times he'd go play by the retention pond while I was at Mass, or he'd pitch a fit and sit in the bushes like a garden gnome (kid you not). He's gone from wearing wrinkled t-shirts and khakis to wearing less wrinkled collared shirts and khakis. Then he moved to dark pants and collared shirts. Then Clone's Godmother gave him a dress shirt and he snagged one of Devildog's ties. He outgrew that shirt fast enough and I had to buy him a bigger one. Then this week was the 8th grade semi-formal and he had to have a jacket to go. A sweet Salvation Army find, and on a day the blue and white tags were half off...$5 later, he has a jacket. So he was wearing that today as well, and lots of comments were shared on his new appearance. At one point, E. saw Beast and leaned over to Clone and asked "Is that your brother?"
Clone was busy filling out and doodling on her offering envelope, but looked up at E. and with a straight face, said "nope, I've never seen him before in my life."

When I asked what she said, and got the answer, I had a hard time containing my mirth. Do you know how difficult it is to not cackle during Mass?

Spelling sentences

Clone gets a weekly packet of homework that consists of the same general scheme of assignments. My MIL has been here a couple days, and Clone wanted MIL's help with homework. Because anything MeMa helps with is way better than anything mom helps get done, right?
One of Clone's weekly assignments is to take her choice of 10 spelling words and create sentences with them. One of this week's words is "afford". The sentence she wrote using that word?

"I can't afford you a Gameboy."

I don't own an iron skillet

And it's probably a good thing. My MIL and her boyfriend are coming to visit with what I call short notice considering our work schedules and the energy levels of a certain gestating female head of household. My house is a total closetless, stuff-filled disaster, with empty boxes in a holding pattern for moving to a new house. My husband has been busy with work, and on his one day off prior to his mother's arrival, I don't see any results of his personal efforts to improve the appearance of the house. And to boot, he's gone to bed while I culled items in the den and he left RW to clean the living room strewn with Clone's droppings. An argument ensued between me and RW. Cranky preggo, cranky teenager. Really not a good mix, but we didn't throw daggers at least. I'll save that for the husband.
What?? I told you I don't have a skillet.

The verdict is in now

My 20 week ultrasound was scheduled for Friday the 8th. It was not the least interrupted day either. Clone's ears are still bothering her from spending too much time in the water last weekend, and she was apparently nauseated from it affecting her equilibrium. So, the school called for me to come get her. I allowed myself to get sidetracked and was then running late for my appointment. Add to it a Clone feeling green and ready to hurl yet I had nothing handy. I keep a 2 liter bottle of water in case the mom-bus needs a drink or someone on the side of the road has a car needing a drink. I've been stranded with an overheated car and empty radiator myself so I can relate to those unprepared individuals. With my merchandising job I keep a box cutter in the glove box for those times I forget to put my knife back in my workbag. I had to pull over and cut the top off the 2 liter bottle so she could have a container to collect her gack. Call me a girl scout like that I guess.
So I call the OB's office to let them know I'm going to be late. My Daddy taught me to do that because it's the courteous thing to do, and you wouldn't believe how surprised people are when you actually call and say "I'm running late". Thankfully they had a cancellation at 10:30 and I could still get my ultrasound, and be done in time to wait forever for my OB visit to follow up from the lovely adventure to the ER. So with Devildog and Clone in tow, we got to see the wiggly worm baby, and baby gave up the money shot - 3 lines, no bulging parts. So it's another girl - in case you didn't notice the change in the ticker color from a rainbow to pink.
Then I stopped back at that secondhand store to buy some snap-front onesies. I had a ton of them with Clone and they were an utter godsend if she had a blowout. If you've never changed a baby wearing a regular over-the-head onesie after a blowout diaper...ooh you're in for a treat. Blowouts+regular onesie = You're done for. Then I found a onesie with this design on it and immediately thought of Devildog's buddies. So I got it for the first time the guys get to meet the Stowaway. We'll see how many of them are paying attention.

Buddah Belleh & Drunken Debauchery

OK, let me preface this by saying I was told I'm overdue for a blog post, and I got the hint that I was about to be fired. Point taken, I'm posting.
Now, where I left off was what has prompted Kristin to call me Betsy-Wetsy - and Persnickety to promise never to let me live down such events.
The next day we went to Clearwater to play for the weekend. On the way down there though, we stopped in Bushnell to visit my mom's gravesite. I haven't ever been and I wanted to go at least once before Dad moves her up to the new VA cemetery being built in North Florida, that is so much closer. I would have liked some alone time for just 2 minutes, but by that point in the day, the kids were cabin-crazy and any unsupervised time was at risk for antics. We took some pictures and got back on the road. It's very quiet there, even when the landscapers were at work. We all know my penchant for quiet and how I crave it. On to our destination. As we got to the bay, all I could think was "wow the water is a beautiful turquoise", unlike the Atlantic Coast.
Someone rented sleeping quarters at a ... "quaint" condo on the inlet side of the beach where it was much quieter and actually really nice. They're an older set of buildings with a nice spankin new and sparkly high rise complex next to it. Red was giving directions to someone and said "you see the nice condos right there? Yea we're in the cheap seats next door." We were at the flamingo pink place. Absolutely respectable with full kitchens, a pool, and the on site managers always asked how we were doing when we passed them. I guess since I have nice things to say, I can tell you it was Coral Resort Condo in Clearwater Beach. It's a couple blocks from the ocean and there are lots of restaurants nearby. The beach has a covered playground and Clone said "I could play here ALL DAY!" She was not happy when we left but the pool made up for it.
I called Kristin and let her know I landed and we made arrangements for her to drive out to see me. I drove 4 hours to her neck of the woods and her aunt bagged on their weekend plans a few days before, so I was all too happy to force her to leave the house and socialize. Plus, she needed to rub my belly because I'm also all too happy to share my "fertility vibes" with anyone who desires to have it. I just look sideways at Devildog and get pregnant. Devildog joked about how he could help her achieve such goals, but it might require some hefty explanations since her husband is not geographically present at the moment.
Now, granted the company I was with wasn't exactly classy either. We have Devildog - self admitted redneck from the hood. Then there's Red, who is from New Hampshire, but apparently has been outside of the northeast enough that a gaggle of rednecks don't mind hanging with him. We've got a Michigan Redneck, plus a single guy who reeks of solo bachelorhood, our two resident lushes. We can trust these two guys to drink more than they should at any given gathering. There's J & K who got married last weekend. There's P. who just needs to know there's a plan of some kind, regardless of its ability to meet success or not. She, Devildog and I get along mostly because we just need to know what is going on and what the plan is. The other yayhoos are just fine flying by the seat of their pants 24/7.
So you get the bunch of us, and Clone, Beast and RW together...and it proves interesting. Having teenagers along was nice for trips to CVS to get things like film and supervising their little sister in the pool so I could rest in the AC. The kids absconded with the cameras (mine and Kristin's) and they got some good pictures. Granted the ones taken with her camera were way better because my camera is pretty low tech, is very much NOT user friendly, and I have been wanting a new one for months now. In the meantime, Red decided to up the ante on things and offered my boys cash money to cut their hair. So we have pictures of that stuff. I'm so glad Kristin was there to keep me company while I avoided the guys and their shenanigans. My boys do look so much better with haircuts, and I think they look a couple years older. Sad that a bunch of drunk guys were able to con my sons out of their hair.
But Kristin came with a mission in mind and that was accomplished. The drunken debauchery was a side perk, full of veritable entertainment that wasn't at my expense for a change.

I'd fire my bladder but I can't transplant it

And I had to go to the ER for such antics, but only because the Dr's office was closed on a Friday afternoon! I was getting an oil change on the mom-bus and just sitting in the waiting area. I kept feeling like something was leaking randomly. It was a bit unnerving. I called my friend and she said I needed to call the doctor to be doubly sure that it wasn't an amniotic leak. The office was closed and the answering service had the nurse call me back. She told me that I should go to the ER to get checked. So I made a round of calls to make sure Clone got picked up from school, let Devildog know where I was heading, a friend to ride with me in case they kept me so she could drive my van home, and then a slew of friends to ask them to pray for us. Off I went, and was pretty much whisked in there and taken care of fairly quickly. Apparently ER's don't really like delivering babies - term or otherwise. Go figure. They did the pH swab test - negative. They did a urinalysis - clear. They did an ultrasound - and because of liability can't tell me ANY thing. She wasn't even allowed to show me the screen. I still have to wait till NEXT Friday the 8th to have the official scan. She did say that the baby has a strong heartbeat and the discharge report says that its around 150 beats per minute. She technically wasn't even allowed to say that but because I was feeling movement she felt safe to say that much. The official diagnosis is "stress incontinence". So basically the magic numbers of Baby #4, and 30-something Mom equals a bladder that said "screw you, and while we're at it, pee on ya too". Basically my bladder has decided it's no longer willing to hold its liquids and seal the exit till otherwise instructed. I get to keep my drawers lined and up the ante on the Kegels.

My poor husband was completely unnerved while he was at work and my friend Persnickety went with me while I went to get checked. I feel foolish for the ordeal, but it's far better to be safe than sorry. Persnickety delivered her 5 year old at 23 weeks and had been leaking fluid for a week prior and didn't realize it. I didn't want to do the same thing, especially since I'm 19 weeks. She also has a heart condition, and teased me saying she wasn't going to let me live down this adventure. Her commentary was "I go to the ER because my heart decides to stop functioning like it's supposed to, and YOU go to the ER because you wet your pants." We've known each other since 9th grade and teasing is nothing new to our friendship. Once again, I live up to the subtitle of my blog - Entertainment at my expense. At least I was able to entertain the ER staff. Nothing like yet another cranky patient to add to their day. I prefer to leave them smirking at the antics and commentary. Besides Persnickety and I hadn't seen each other in a while, so you know me, the drama queen, had to get her "Snick fix" and we needed to feed each other's snark. ANY excuse for a party right? Or in Persnickety's case, a colorful and descriptive blog post.
We're very relieved that it's this *lovely* stuff and not anything worse.

Woeful Wednesday

Wednesday's child is full of woe. Well yesterday was Wednesday and for me, it was a day full of various woe. I woke up with my blood sugar tanked completely and that took me a while to get through it. I have such a high metabolism that I would diagnose myself as being hypoglycemic, which in general is the opposite end of the spectrum from diabetes. I literally have to eat every couple hours, or it's just NOT pretty. It's a bigger challenge to overcome now that I'm growing a human. The parasite just sucks more out of me, making me have to eat that much more often. Ah the things a mother will do. It was early release day and Clone got picked up 15 minutes late from school because I was just moving slow at work. I decided to scope out a nearby second hand store, because I've been looking for a bathing suit cover-up to alleviate the unsightlyness of my ham hocks. In the middle of shopping, I thought of one of the ladies from my CRHP team who has been fighting cancer for a long time. She's come to mind several times over the past couple months. I left the store shortly after that and came home to lay down. My belly was feeling heavy, and I needed to rest before trekking the kids to church for class. Plus Clone needed to work on her homework. I laid in my bed for a couple hours, talked on the phone to Persnickety - who commented that my blog has become constant commentary about my pregnancy and its varying issues and aspects. Sorry...I've long blogged about what I know and deal with on a daily basis. So, welcome to my world, thanks for not falling off my readership list of followers. I'd apologize to those that stopped reading it, but they're not here anymore to read it.
Well I looked at the clock and WOOPS, it was nearly time to go and I hadn't defunked from work yet. So off to the shower for scrubbing and relaxing. I was about 5 minutes from reaching relaxed, when there was a lot of punching and slamming of a door. I knew it was the boys. They got into a fisticuff on Saturday when I was up at the church serving lunch to the ladies at the retreat. I came home to a broken colander, trash can, and I'm afriad to even LOOK for anything else. I was essentially yanked out of the shower between rinsing conditioner and soaping my pits. I was at least able to shave my legs, while I can still reach them. They were fighting over TV programming. I told them if they got into another fight I was going to call the cops, because I'm just not going to deal with that crap. Plus it's the 2nd fight in just a few days (Saturday, then Wednesday), both times in front of their little sister. Plus if they are going to throw punches, do it in the yard. At least nothing in the house will get broken. I'd sell tickets for the neighbors to watch. Most of the time I spent sitting in the church parking lot was uncomfortable because the stress sent my belly into a tizzy. It took a while for things to settle down finally.
I came home and rested some more, made some chicken noodle soup from the stash of stock I had in the freezer, and RW carted Clone off to bed for me. I was Wanda Whiner at that point. My aunt R told me she was changing my name. She did say that admittedly it was a difficult day for me, and I had permission to whine for a while, but I couldn't let it go on forever. Then I made the error of checking my email and boards while on the phone with her.
The worst email of the day came saying my friend from my CRHP team that I thought about earlier in the day died right around the time I was thinking of her. Please keep the Ashmore family in your thoughts and prayers. Aimee had such incredible faith and she inspired me with her joy and smile, even in the face of challenge. It certainly put a lot of my day into perspective.
Then-I checked my boards on iVillage. One of the girls on my expecting club board was in danger of losing her little boy at 22 weeks because the placenta wasn't doing it's job properly. The blood flow to the baby was not good enough to keep him going till at least 24 weeks. We were holding out hope she could hang onto him till then. Vincent Patrick couldn't keep fighting any longer. It makes my heart break for her and her family. Here I am, I just look sideways at my husband and BOOM I get pregnant. Yet there are others that just struggle to GET pregnant and have to fight to STAY pregnant. It doesn't seem fair.
By the time Devildog got home from work, I was a mess of snot and tears. He listened to me whine a few minutes actually said something that wasn't caveman commentary, and was nice to me. I listened to him download his day, which wasn't a cakewalk for him to deal with the nonsense and BS a retail job hands a person.
In a word, my day was just woeful yesterday and it sucked. So today I haven't done much so far except sleep late. Thankfully Clone was helped to get ready this morning by the big brother and Devildog took her to school. I got up from the bed sometime closer to lunch than breakfast. I accompanied Devildog to the barber and we had lunch together. It was just nice to spend some time with him that didn't include kids, friends, or stress. Although, there was a guy at the counter sniping about the price of his milkshake and being a general bag of butt about it. It bemused me to hear Peggy, the lady at the counter, turn to her manager as the manager came to smooth feathers, and say "It's fine hon, he's been drinking. I can smell it on him." And Peggy, God love her, was not quiet about it, because practically every head in the place turned to see what Peggy was talking about when she said it. Yesterday was one of those days that if I wasn't pregnant, I would've been drinking. Nothing like a Whalers Vanille Rum and Dr Pepper to take the edge off a non-pregnant woeful Wednesday. But for now? It would be a Water Wednesday. No rum for me-woeful or otherwise.

vocabulary of a child

The tv was on, and a commercial for Children's Claritin aired. I wasn't really paying attention to it, but RW (the oldest) heard it. He was standing at the fridge getting his lunch, and looked at me and said "I love that. Because 6 year olds would say 'drowsy'. " and he made a face of incredulity. He went on to say that every other 6 year old he's ever known says "sleepy", ending with a huffy "duuuh"

I can SEEE!!!

So I have this penchant for losing and misplacing things. While I have gotten better about it, consider it a microscopic improvement over my childhood ok? Apparently when I lose things, It means I have to clean the mom-bus. Today, I went to work, and I turned around in my seat, while I still can do that, to stack the stuff I needed for work on the back floorboard so I can grab it, my workbag and go. Apparently my glasses fell out of my purse the other day and slid under a seat. So here I sit, eyeball-pain free. I so need to just go get a 2nd pair of glasses for the house and keep these scratched up buggers in the van. My luck, I'll misplace those too - in a pile of laundry in my room or papers next to the desk. Apparently I also have issues with putting away things where they belong. It's genetic, I assure you.

It's a redneck wedding

My husband has a couple friends from work that have been together for a long time and are finally getting married this weekend. I was told there was going to be a party for them, and because Devildog never gives me the full story, I have to follow up with his buddies to get that information. I've actually told the guys to just forward the info to me because Devildog will neglect to let me know till last minute, or like now, neglect key points. I was under the impression it was an engagement party. No, it's a wedding reception.
So, I'm out at the OB's office for my monthly checkup and while I'm driving, I see dh's friend who is hosting the party. I called to harass Red about the contents of his truck bed, but he didn't answer. I was trolling a second hand shop (that is now on my monthly 'must stop' list of places) to scope out baby and mommy stuff when Red called me back. He clarified the story for me, saying J & K were "pulling the trigger" because there's a group trip to the beach next weekend, so they're using that as their honeymoon. Red went on to say that J & K were going to originally have pizza at the party and he put a stop to that, because every redneck has to have a certain standard, and pizza was below his standard. So it was being catered by a BBQ place instead of a pizza joint. As I re-read that I suddenly started hearing Gretchen Wilson's "Redneck Woman" in my head....specifically that part about "high class broad". I know J & K enough to know that her father won't have to announce the nuptuals like this guy did.

I hate losing stuff

Last week I misplaced my sunglasses again. Come to find out my Clone took them to use outside and left them on the side shelf of the grill for several days while I was tortured by used the old metal rimmed ones again. I can't find my eyeglasses now. I had them last night. I took them off my face, put them in the case where they belong, and now....I have no clue. Unless they're hiding under something I've already searched, like in my workbag (that thing's a vortex like my purse), I may have lost the buggers. I was needing them earlier in the day but didn't want to spend the time to go outside and get them out of the van (logic at work today). They're reading glasses, but sometimes they help the fine tuning for my eyeballs and I don't feel like I have to work so hard to see. It's bad enough I'm over 30. It's bad enough my eyeballs are aging. It's challenging enough being pregnant. It's annoying enough to be hungry all the time, more so than I normally am, and right now I'm really wanting food, but want nothing we have in the house. It's bad enough that I already have a penchant for misplacing things. If it weren't for babies making noise, I might have misplaced them a time or two as well. But good grief, all these things combined are just really enough to push me towards cranky. And we all know a cranky pregnant woman is not what anyone wants. A cranky pregnant woman whose eyeballs are straining just to see her world, much less her computer screen...well it's enough to drive me over the edge. But that side of the edge probably doesn't have food - OR my glasses.

I have decided to rename the Oldest

He's needed a new name, something other than 'Oldest', but nothing came to mind. Well tonight he got his name. Ron. As in Ron White of Blue Collar Comedy fame. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7WLfY2455o The boy has the right to remain silent. He lacks the ability. He talks more than I do. He talks more than my husband's Aunt J. does (IF that's even humanly possible-she seriously outtalks me to where I can't get a word in edgewise). And I was really irritated with him. Now that I've listened to this clip, I am in better humor and can go to bed finally. Except I had to post my new nickname for my son so that I could just vent a bit about what was bugging the crap out of me. I thought about knitting the towel I started last June, but it's in the van. I'm not going outside this late at night. So there you have it. Oldest, is now Ron. I might call him RW so that it has multiple acronyms associated with his new blog name. We'll see how it goes. Now I am going to bed....

Feeling like an ostrich and an incubator

Yes, it's a strange post title, but the past week I indeed have felt like playing ostrich and avoiding anything outside my immediate world. Things are a just plain out of whack these days and it's making me bonkers. I do have some ample blog fodder to share, but lack the energy to share such things. I know, it's just strange that I don't even have the energy to share blog-worthy happenings with my readers. I haven't been cranky, but back in February I was. Feeling green all the time, and constantly tired made me cranky. My oh so lovely 15 year old can be quoted as saying in a half-joking manner "I don't think you're really pregnant. I just think you're fat with an attitude problem." They've figured out quickly to just leave me alone.
Meanwhile, I have the stowaway being all parasitic and stuff. Lil bugger's bones are ossifying around this time according to the developmental ticker thing that isn't humorous like the one I posted at the top of the page. So that means I'm craving a lot of cheese, and SLEEP. I keep telling my people that growing a human takes a lot of energy. I am guessing that ossifying bones is super energy zapping because it seems like this whole past week, ALL I want to do is sleep. OK, so I do want to get up and clean and do things, but seriously, I lack the extra oomph. I need that extra oomph to get past my small speedbump when I sit on the floor or a low chair. So my nesting urge is screaming, but my body yawns. I was in the bed asleep when Devildog came home from work today. He asked if I was ok - I guess the way I was laying in the bed wasn't usual for me. I told him that I was fine, just super tired, that baby's bones are forming and it's zapping me. He grunted. You know, that code for "yea right"? I said "Hey, growing a human takes lots of energy out of me."

"I think you just tell me that because I can't prove it." See? Oldest isn't 100% exactly like me, he's got his father's snark too.

Awesome Friends

A month ago or so, I was talking to my oldest sister. Our calls are usually brief, since she's not anything like me on the phone. Birthdays were mentioned, and she sighed "yeah, I'll be 50 this year". We grew up with pretty much no celebration of a birthday. It was generally just another day. That is why my kids get some sort of recognition for birthdays - because I always wanted just a little something, even if it was my choice of dinner and a box mix cake. So, I set out on a mission to make my sister's 50th birthday anything but 'just another day', or just any other birthday. I called Sis's friend to conspire with her about things. I originally wanted to reserve a room at a buffet place and just tell everyone to pay their own way in, meet us in the back room and don't worry about bringing any gifts. Sis has no room in her small house anyway for a lot of stuff. Well I got nowhere with the buffet places because we wanted the back room on a weekend (their busy days) plus since her birthday is the day after Easter this year, it was EASTER weekend to boot. They don't like to reserve those rooms till it's bedtime for the kids on a school night. Old people, preggos, and skinny folks can't wait till 8 PM to eat dinner without repercussions. Back to square one. Someone's house. Sis's husband wasn't exactly prime host material, but he would prove to be a good co-conspirator. My house - we have boxes piled up everywhere in expectation of moving in a few months when a better fitting house finds us. Sis's friend is my hero. She went to bat and opened her house. I was put in charge of gathering family members, she gathered some friends. Then to boot, she slaved over the stove making lasagna. Now most people would just open the freezer case at the store and get the big pan of frozen stuff. For the love of Sis, her friend made this lasagna from SCRATCH. Foodgasmic, gooey, sloppy, falling apart on the plate, honestly home made lasagna. I'm drooling just typing it. Sis was told it was Easter dinner with her friend's home made lasagna. Sis was late getting there, because she thought they were just going to put the lasagna in the oven at 2 and go to Walmart. Every time they get together, they go to Walmart, even if they don't buy anything. Well when sis FINALLY got there, almost an hour late she was completely shocked to see everyone there. We parked at the neighbor's house and Sis was oblivious to driving right past our cars. So, I had the camera and Devildog was poised at the door to yank it open so the rest of us could yell "SURPRISE!" It was so worth every bit of work. Sis deserves a kick butt birthday, even if it's just once in her life. She's a kick butt sister. She has some seriously KICK BUTT friends. And I can't say enough about how her friends just utterly and completely ROCK! The R's are both heroes because their teamwork amazes me. I can only hope that one day I can repay them for letting me con them into doing this. I didn't do nearly as much as I wanted to share the workload. Friend took on much more than she should have - all for the love of Sis.
So, for all that, she's my hero, and an awesome friend.

Crazy Weekend

I am in the middle of a crazy weekend. Devildog worked a funky shift again and I'd like to thank the scheduler for such idiotic hours by dropping my children off on his doorstep for a few days. It's Easter, so we had the egg coloring fun that started and ended way too late in the day. My kitchen was taken over by the kids and I got to play with about 4 eggs whereas the kids argued over who got to color more eggs than the other one. Meanwhile I have the ingredients to California Caviar calling my name to be concocted into something needing a good overnight meld. I was not about to have fuschia and teal egg dye colors getting into the bowl with my contribution to my sister's surprise 50th birthday party. The kids had their work spread out all over my kitchen. Of course if I had REAL counters that actually were counters and not MacGuyvered ones, I would have been able to work over by the sink. Oh wait, nevermind, the Beast was reluctant to do his job and actually WASH the dishes till I fussed at him. So I would have needed to wait longer anyway. Now I'm just at the end of my energy for the day and even though the Beast begged to help me, I told him I just didn't want to direct traffic and share this task. I got edged out of the egg dye fun so I wanted something for myself. This is the child that wants to do culinary stuff too. So now this maternal guilt is bugging me for not letting him help me. I may let him make another batch of it when we get home after the party or something, or maybe in a few days when it isn't QUITE as crazy.
This past week has been uber busy with 4 resets and 4 service calls. However, I've done enough of them, that I have been doing them faster and faster. It sucks for my paycheck but since I just want to get them done and get out of there, it's good for my mental health. I may have broken a company record Thursday by getting the most recent reset done in 2 hours 35 minutes. If nothing else, I broke a personal record and probably a district record. The resets were slated to take six hours, and thankfully my district coordinator came up with a placement chart for the plastic shelf tags that speeds the process up by at least an hour or two. But in all of this, I was really tired and worn out this week. I took lots of breaks so I wouldn't overdo things. I drank plenty of water. And when I went shopping Friday for the groceries I'd need for the weekend, I used the fart cart in all three stores I visited. And I got the "lazy skinny broad" stares from people. I'll also be glad when people stop telling me that I don't LOOK pregnant. Surely I FEEL every bit of it, including what seems to be some pointy feet in some tender internal parts this morning. Oh gee, won't *I* be the life of the party instead of my 50 year old sister.