Originality and Humor

When questioning the fertility and family size of folks who have more than 2.8 children, you are encouraged to avoid the same. trite. comments. every. single. body. else. has. used. before. you.

Seriously. It's lame. We live in a circus of our own, with our own brands of chaos. If you're going to waste our time with the same junk as everyone else, save your breath. It takes a lot to entertain us, given our own spawned clowns and elephants. It's the one common vent amongst parents of larger sized families.

The family of four kids I have doesn't really feel that large to me. But, I got lots of crap when I was pregnant with Blur. So you can imagine why I felt a need to just keep this fifth one off the radar completely. I was mentally and emotionally starting to come around to the idea of surprise #5, and then my husband outed me on Facebook with a post of an ultrasound picture. He missed the memo on my non-online-disclosure decision. I'd intentionally kept it off my primary page, and only shared in closed groups and private messages where I knew I'd have supportive, or at least funny, commentary.

And in that 21 week scan, we learned this baby had bilateral cysts on the choroid plexus. It's a normal variant, provided there are no other variants like the long bones being short. Thankfully the long bones were measuring normally, if not a week ahead of dates. (It explains the incessant craving for dairy, there was some bone growth & ossification happening.) So we had to do a follow up today. The cysts remedied themselves. The fluid was apparently just extra buildup in some hormonal surge and extra time was needed to reabsorb it. I don't have to go back to get that monitored. Then there's the issue of my "advanced maternal age" prompting things like needing a fetal echo done. Yep, heart is fine too. Everything is where it should be and functioning properly and well.

Since my husband outed me, I figured I'd post my own picture from today's scan. Apparently, I'm not stalker-worthy material and some folks were unaware of the story, and that surprised a few more folks. And then visibly, the belly is winning the race now, and it's darn near impossible to hide the belly, unless I don one of Omar-the-tentmaker's frocks. So, I'm getting comments in person too.

Here, let me just answer all the questions and save folks the trouble of asking. I want to spare you the trouble, and also spare you the dirty looks you'll get, plus the tone of voice, and sharp responses of which I'm capable of providing. Because like I said: It's lame, and it does nothing to entertain me. And it's just not funny. I'm easily amused, but the same questions just don't do it for me. Step up your game already. Be original and humorous. Give me something I haven't already heard.

Are you ready for it? Here goes:

1. Yes, we know what causes it. We've had 21 years of practice. We're damn good at it. We like it. We're married to each other, so we're SUPPOSED to be doing it with each other, not someone else. It's not wrong to actually LIKE your spouse. We've worked a lot of years to get where we are, and we like where we are. Don't be jealous that you can't get in on our party, ok? Just go get your own.

2. Yes, we have tv, cable, dvd's, etc and we utilize them. We actually have multiples of each. Oh, ANNNND we have computers with internet access, plus smartphones. We have friends. We have access to entertainment. And we have access to each other - you know like I said up  there^ in that spousal thing.

3. Yes, *I* am Catholic, but my husband is not. Our inter-faith marriage is always a work in progress, and we don't follow any one strict tenet versus another. Ours is an interesting dance of sorts, melded together the last 21 years with a lot of compromise after a lot of trial and error. Apparently, I'm a better Catholic than I thought I was, though. And apparently, I'm the kind of Catholic girl the Southern Baptist boys like. Take that as you will.

4. Yes, we've heard of birth control, and condoms, and at some points, we HAVE utilized a variety of all of them. I don't have to share this topic with anyone outside of my husband, I am not going to share the details of why, how, etc of what we do in that regard. I don't say a word about your decision to do permanent sterilization, hormonal birth control, barrier methods, etc. Be respectful of what we do, just like I'm respectful of what you do. In short, I stay out of your uterus, you stay out of mine.

5. Yes, everything OBVIOUSLY functions just normally, nothing is broken, so please tell me what is there to fix?

6. Yes, I have my hands full. I have a head and heart full too. The van is full. The house is full. The garage is full too. Our lives are full. How is yours? Is it full of good stuff or just junk and drama and crap?
There are people who completely ache and pay lots of money to ATTEMPT to even get a tenth of what we have. I'm truly and completely blessed, while my heart breaks for those who long for the simplest part of my life, and some may never have it. Don't tell me the obvious, because somewhere in earshot of your comment is someone else who you're insulting in the opposite manner, by reminding them of their empty hearts and arms. And there are those who have suffered the losses of 4, 5, even 8, or 12, or more babies and pregnancies. They are so grateful to have a baby make it into this world, while forever mourning the loss of those who grew wings before seeing light of day. They happily bring as many into this world as they humanly can. It hurts and it stings and it drives the knives deeper, while you twist them. Do you still feel brilliant saying that one?

7.  No, I don't know how YOU do it with just one, or two. Seriously, I need balance in my life, and I need my own interests and hobbies. I don't know how you can helicopter- and lawnmower-parent a completely normal child who has zero no neuro-challenges and come out the other side with your dignity and sanity intact, or theirs for that matter. I delegate stuff to the kids to do, as they become independent and capable enough to handle things. I've blogged about that before. Simply put, it's my job to create independent people who can function outside of me, and handle the hiccups of life. I have my own interests because one day those buggers will fly the nest and I don't want to be that mother-in-law that gets ranted about on the internet. I want my children and their families to feel like I respect their adulthood, and parenthood, and I will do my best to allow that by knowing my place in their world and not encroaching where I do not belong. I blessedly have a fair selection of wise in-laws who may not agree with how we do things, but they know it's not their family or household.

8.  No, I didn't realize that we didn't need to have any more kids. Thank you for telling me that. I didn't realize I was still 6, and asking for a second dessert an hour before bedtime. Last I checked, we are well beyond age 18, and still married to the same person after all these years. If I have my wits about me, we have kids who are 20 and almost 19. So unless there's some strange science or miracle, I think we are qualified to decide what my husband and I need, or don't need. I think your words simply speak of your own insecurities, and lack of time spent with us and getting to know us sufficiently. We are raising our kids in a manner that rivals most any other way modern parents do nowadays, and we've got one who was trained for management at his job as soon as he graduated high school, and another about to head off to MCRD Parris Island for boot camp. The Marines don't take *just* anybody. Our oldest daughter has life skills her peers can't fathom, and a perspective they won't achieve till they're much older. Our preschooler is articulate, funny, well-adjusted and capable of handling things kids her age still have a tantrum over happening, and she's fiercely independent. But they're still capable of being kids. We haven't robbed them of anything. We've sacrificed our own self-serving desires to give them what they need. We have indulged in some things, because we need balance and they need to see us doing our own thing, chasing our own goals and dreams, and they need to see us sacrifice for the greater good or to achieve those goals. Despite the fact that I'm running headlong toward 40, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, either.

9. Yes, they were all surprises. No, we didn't plan or try for any of them. They were all not in our radar at the times they appeared on it, and now we can't imagine that radar without them there. Then they brought friends to the party, who we mistreat just the same as we do our own. I have birthed and borrowed children, and never imagined this many people would call me Mom. I'm just glad I didn't have to change all of THEIR diapers, or potty train them.

10.  No, we don't know if we're done yet. We thought we were done with the last 5. No, we don't know if we'll have any more. Every time we have thought "done" and laid plans of our own, another mini human comes along and mucks up the plans. But it's cool. We make pretty babies with brains and a sense of humor. And they think it's pretty neat that mom & dad ride motorcycles. Well, dad does, mom's just good at dropping them and then getting pregnant again.
One other side note about the variations of these questions: Again, when you're asking a parent of one, or ten, about the number of kids, you're insulting them. And the ones who only have one or two who like previously mentioned, utterly ACHE for more kids and can't attain that are once again stabbed by your words. Why must you be so intrusive? Don't be offended if one of us snaps back with "Why? were you looking to hire me as your surrogate, because I don't know if I'm the one you want doing that. I might not want to give up a child to be raised by twits like you."

11.  No, I'm not easily offended. I married a Marine and had a bunch of children with him. When you have that combination, you recognize when God laughs at you (in my case, it's almost daily since the early 1990s), and you learn to live by that other Marine motto: Semper Gumby. If you think you can offend me, you can, but it requires extreme stupidity, lack of consideration and forethought, no sense of humor, and downright intrusive and demeaning foolishness. I am not sure you want to test the mettle of this Feisty Irish Wench. Some of the things slung at me verbally by strangers, meant to offend, really didn't do that. I've survived a number of things, including two teens at once - and one was a daily test of my faith and ovarian fortitude. I have reasonably thick skin, and some of you will be lucky I don't have him with me when you open your mouth.

So, please, I absolutely encourage you to get creative when you see me or my larger-family cohorts. Ask us something we have NOT already been asked. Or for poops n giggles, maybe say something encouraging to the mom whose day is shot because of that series of wackadoodle events instead of "well you chose to have that many". Yep, we ultimately did. Someone has to combat the stupidity of the world, and it may as well be us, because YOU are sucking at it.

Intention

As per my usual, I have neglected my blog in favor of the instant gratification of crackbook. But I've been insanely busy the last couple months, and trying to shift gears on a few things. I added more to my plate in November when I decided to become a Thirty-One independent consultant. I had an incredibly phenomenal January and I'm just utterly blown away by that. I'm grateful to those who have done what they have done to help me achieve the goals I set out to accomplish. There's a chance I may fall short of one goal this month, and as much as that disappoints me, I am still thrilled with what I did. Devildog was impressed too. Anyone who knows him, knows that is not an easy feat. I am certainly interested in seeing where this journey takes me.

But I started this blog with one word in mind: intentional.

As I've said before, I have been listening to Dave Ramsey podcasts for several months now. One of the things I keep hearing every day is the word intentional. "You have to be intentional about it" is one of the phrases mentioned several times a show.  I am just wired for A.D.D. and that whole "ooh squirrel!" thing nails me every time. As I progressed through the end of 2012, and into 2013, I realized that if I was going to get anywhere better than I am right now, I better be attentive, and be intentional.

Intention means you plan. Doing something intentionally means you lay out the framework, and you DO it. I'm not all the way in place to launch, but I make progress daily. I am constantly restructuring my thoughts, so that ultimately it will lead to restructuring of my actions. Being a work-in-progress is uncomfortable at times. I'm forcing myself to look at what I'm doing, and assign a value to it in my life. And I don't always like what I am evaluating. And then I have to add more to my developmental to-do list so that I don't make the same kinds of errors.

Inadvertently, my personal theme this year has so far become being intentional. And when I am intentional, I generally see decent results. I'm constantly trying to balance the various plates in my life, and trying to return favors that are long-overdue for repayment.
And in the middle of typing this blog, my brain kept poking me off the chair to go load the dishwasher and run it. So I had to, before I decided I didn't feel like it enough to skip that task. This goes hand-in-hand with the stuff I have learned from FLYLady over the last 11 years. It goes hand-in-hand with the stuff I'm learning from Dave Ramsey. It goes hand-in-hand with the ability to accomplish the goals I set for myself. It goes with the idea that I have to pay back into the circle of giving, because I drew from that circle so many times in the past, and I'm finally in a position to help others in a way that I know is directly benefiting them. I'm doing my part to preach the Gospel, and occasionally putting words to it. (See St Augustine for that reference). I've been drawing from that well for about 20 some-odd years. I think I'll be busy for a good long while.

Unspeakable Acts

Yesterday, 2 people in 2 different countries killed large groups of children.

Of course, amid speculation about the perpetrators of these evil acts, there's a bunch of screaming for gun control, better access to mental health care, you name it. People are yelling for it.

Here's a nugget for you folks out there who think there should be more or less of anything.

JUST FREAKING BE POLITE TO PEOPLE!! Stop being jerks. You being an asswipe to someone that afternoon could potentially be the last straw in their crappy day and you send them over the edge. Remember me talking about my husband's friend that killed himself? THAT is an example. If one person had chosen their words more cautiously, that sailor might not be dead, and friends mourning that horrific loss.

Let me demonstrate the opposite. I half-jokingly say all the time that I mistreat all the kids that come to my house just the same. If you're here when we're cleaning, working, doing yardwork, whatever - we are going to put you to work with us. I treat the kids' friends like I treat my own kids. Borrowed Billy practically lives here more time than at his own house. He loves being here, because he learns something new every day in our house. I never thought twice about sharing knowledge with my kids because that's what my dad always did with his 6 kids. It never occurred to me to not do that. How are they supposed to learn how to function in the world if we don't do that? Not sharing your knowledge with your kids leads to them being financially taken advantage of because they don't know something like how to tell if you need new tires, or your oil is too low, or your water heater only needs a new heating element or sacrificial annode rod versus full replacement. It leads to kids getting credit cards as soon as they turn 18 and student loans when they head off to college, then suffering the burden of being saddled with debt for the entirety of their adult lives. They get to retire into poverty because they couldn't save any cash for their old age. Borrowed Billy is an example of what happens when you're not an asswipe to someone. He's going to head into adulthood with knowledge he wouldn't have gotten at home, and be able to live his life differently than he would have if he hadn't taken up residence on my futon.

A few years ago a friend asked if his girlfriend could stay with us. She lived in what he described as a total trash-life situation. I told him I had to meet her first. If I'd had any hinky feelings, she wouldn't have lived with us. I saw a girl who felt lost and like she was always doomed to living like her family did. I didn't even know she was still 17, and legally her mother could have caused us all kinds of trouble. Thankfully she did not. Like with Borrowed Billy, I treated her pretty much the same way I treated my own. We held her to a standard appropriate for her age, and she did fabulously living with us. It was my husband's friend that mucked up things, but that's water under the bridge. Ours was the first example of a normal relationship she'd ever seen. She had always seen various abuses around her, and that's all she knew. She had new hope that she didn't have to be destined to live like the others in her family tree. We eventually parted ways, but a few years later she popped up in an IM to say hi. She thanked me for letting her live with us, and showing her that she could have a better life. She said that we gave her love and care and that nobody ever did that before. She made me cry. All I did was just help her meet her basic needs, and give her a hand when she was stuck. It as all I knew how to do, because that's how I was taught to treat people.

Common sense and human decency are two lost arts, to the point that they are now superpowers because so few people have and use those tools in their interactions. So when people are acting out evil atrocities such as happened in 2 places yesterday, everyone gets mad and starts muppet-flailing about how things need to change and rules need to be more stringent. How about holding your kids accountable for their actions from a young age instead of telling the teacher "not my child", or "My baby wouldn't do that!" or "why didn't you give my child a passing grade?". What you should have said was "I'm sorry my child did that, and I will discipline him/her at home" (and then DO IT, holding yourself to the discipline too), or asking "what was my child doing, who else was my child with, what else were the other kids doing, and who was supervising them?" and sort out the facts of the situation before calling "not it". It just might have been your kid doing the misdeeds after all. And your child didn't get a passing grade because your child didn't study for that test or do that project themselves. Teachers are NOT stupid. They know when you do the project for your child. If I were a teacher and got the idea a parent did the work, I'd be inclined to giving a failing grade, just because it's not the STUDENT'S OWN WORK. Aren't you lucky I'm not your child's teacher. Only once in Evil Genius' entire school career, did I side with him. ONCE. He knew I was going to side with the teacher because I was always teaching him that the teacher gets my vote initially. I met with her and gave her the benefit of the doubt, till I learned that she ascribes to the teaching method of "no straggler left behind", disallowing the accelerated students in aiding the stragglers to catch up with the other end of the spectrum. She did the entire class a major disservice. It was in the middle of that conference my vote moved and I sided with my son, because that teacher really didn't deserve my support after that.

And then I'm seeing in my crackbook feed the things like "why would someone have three guns in their house if they knew their adult son was mentally ill?"

To that, I say this:
The second amendment does not, and should not, specify that you have to be deemed mentally fit to safely own and operate a weapon. Nor should it stipulate restrictions if you have any form of disability or mental health challenges in anyone in your household. Just because you have a family member that has any of that, it does not mean that they are unable to grasp the gravity of handling a weapon, or the consequences of its use. Mentally and emotionally handicapped people CAN LEARN. When people stop making asinine generalizations and having overreaching kneejerk reactions, and wait a minute till we get all the facts in situations like this, then and only then can appropriate steps be taken to mitigate the atrocities.
I suppose if we use all that same line of logic, then knives sharper than a rounded butter knife should be made illegal too since the loon in another country stabbed a bunch of kids too.

Stop being a ninny and hold yourself, your friends, your children, your coworkers and your leaders accountable for their poor choices. The government can't babysit everybody, nor have they demonstrated that they can successfully handle what they already have. Why the hell would we want them nosing into how many boogers are in your collective noses?

Just be civil to each other, help without expecting anything in return, hold yourself and your kids accountable for actions and choices, and share your knowledge without fear of other people knowing what's in your head. You can't change the collective world till you change your own self, and inspire others to change their own selves. When you have enough people that do things differently on their own, you will start seeing a shift in how society behaves in general.

Blogdeath

Yea, I've long suffered this whole blogdeath thing. In my ADD-laden brain, it's just easier to keep up with stuff on crackbook. I get instant grantification because of that feed on my page. Oh, and the stalker-feed too. I often miss blogging. My status updates get to a certain level of verbosity and my son comes to me and tells me I type too much on crackbook.

In the last few months, my workload has increased. Retail is busy this time of year, and retail merchandising is as well. I haven't seen much of my husband and kids because I've been busy, and then subsequently tired. I haven't even done my Christmas baking because the one weekend it was low profile, it was 80 degrees outside, and I was NOT about to crank up the oven in THAT weather. So, my supplies sit in the bin where I placed them so that my family would avoid eating my ingredients. Maybe I can bake for my birthday.

Right before Thanksgiving, my husband's grandfather finally gave out on us. He'd been sent home from the hospital to hospice care at the end of July because his remaining kidney was failing, and then it rebounded. He'd been waning steadily, and he finally ended the fight the Saturday before Thanksgiving. We went to Charleston for Thanksgiving with Devildog's sister.

Then work got real crazy.

But in all this, I was able to spend time with my family at Christmas. My Father-in-law came down to visit for a couple days with his dog. She's an awesome dog too, and if we had her as a pet, we would be spoiled at how well behaved she is. My dad preferred to eat at my house for dinner because my older sibling annoys him. The oldest sister had enough of her own going on, she didn't even have stuff at her house. More on that later. My youngest sister lives with dad, and had to drive him to my house because he can't find it on his own. He's 84 and relatively independent, but even 9 years ago when my youngest sister lived in this exact same neighborhood, he couldn't find his way over here. My youngest brother brought his daughter, his girlfriend and her son. They got called at 9am to cook her grandmother's dinner because they'd caught a cold and were too unwell to cook. Brother & company hadn't even gotten out of bed, nor opened gifts yet. They were all too happy to come here to eat food that had flavor. Everyone loved it. Good, because I busted chops for several hours to make it. And on about 4 hours of sleep (don't ask, I won't even go there).

My oldest sister has been dealing her own health issues, compounded with the year-plus long cancer struggles of her husband of 25+ years. They've been together since she was 15 or 16, and they got married when I was 8 years old. We celebrated her 50th birthday a couple years ago. I could go search the clerk of court website and pinpoint that detail but honestly, it doesn't matter. When the man you've spent your entire life with is wasting away, you basically just circle the wagons and go into survival mode. I can relate, except my stuff was work-related, not majorly-change-your-entire-f'ing-life stuff. Johnny had been in hospice care a few weeks and was sent home because he'd improved. I found out he was on his deathbed with a matter of time before the inevitable happens via my dad arriving for dinner and telling me.

So, really, in the grand scheme of things, my life is busy, but my sister's world is crashing down around her, and I was clueless. It really puts things into perspective.

Just nod and smile

You probably already know this. My husband and I have 4 kids. They range in age from 2 to 18. The first two are 15 months apart, and having had them at such a young age, I was fine with being the only girl in the house, and not having any more children. God laughed at my Grand Plan of Marvelous Theory. So, 7 years later my Clone arrived, and 7 years after that, the Blur landed on scene - quite literally. Blur exited so fast the doctor almost didn't get gloves on, and she certainly did no catching of the human torpedo.
I can't tell you how many times someone has been amazed that I have four, or that I look old enough to have an EIGHTEEN year old. I'm quick to tell them about the various friends who have more kids than we have. Seriously people, four kids isn't all that large a family, but it's not without advantages. Long term, I have a larger pool of elderly tush wipers, or people willing to share the cost of nursing home care for me if none of them kill me before then. I unintentionally spaced them apart and ended up with built-in babysitters. There's the side benefit of those babysitters realizing how much work kids are, and do everything possible to avoid making any of their own. I am soooo not ready to be a grandma before I'm fifty 65.

And your comments? UNoriginal. How about saying "LOVE IT!" or "awesome!" instead of the trite junk? If you have more than 1.5 kids, I'm sure you've heard it all too.

Don't you know what causes that? why yes, Devildog & I have had a good 20 years practice. Or my favorite response that makes the guys blush? ::serious face:: "no. did you want to show me?"

Getting fixed? well it's very CLEARLY OBVIOUS that nothing is broken and all systems work as intended. Why does no one ask if stupid people are going to get fixed? Oh wait, they're the ones asking us if we're getting fixed.

Done? yes, I was done with the last 3. (Instead of saying "crap happens", I should probably start saying "sex happens when you're married")

Hands full: yes, so is my brain, and right now it's about to explode for being overworked. I've lost 28% of my cognitive function just growing these humans. I don't know if it will ever return, and I hope coffee hasn't killed the remaining brain cells.

Busy: duh. Can you imagine if I was one of those moms that scheduled my kids for activities? oy!

Catholic? Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. But my husband is not. So really, that doesn't have as much to do with it as you might assume.

"I don't know how you do it" - I don't. I try, but a lot gets past me, and I pray it's not a big mess. I attempt to delegate. It has mixed results.

"I barely handle one, I don't know how you handle four"
I don't handle it, I just live it. And if you're constantly entertaining your only child, YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG! Stop living FOR your kids and live WITH them. And by that, I mean "in conjunction with" your kids. I can't tell you how many times I've said that every mother must establish an identity outside of being someone's spouse or mom. Give those kids the tools to function independently of you so you can have a life of your own. Don't coddle them, constantly entertain them, or do everything for them. It's your job as a mother to put yourself out of work. Don't freak out when it happens, just get your own life and enjoy it.

Now, pardon me, but Blur has gained possession of the remote and that is NOT a good thing. And my coffee got cold while I typed this.

Since I can't do much

I may as well blog.

Miss Mini-Human, Clone2, Piglet, Must-Be-Upright-and-Moving, MUST-yell-for-food, or perhaps also known simply as "the baby", is out of sorts. She's got gum pain from those phantom teeth that aren't making an appearance yet, but we all know they're hiding in the wings, waiting for the most ~opportune~ time to erupt. She's got gas because I can't seem to figure out what I'm eating that disagrees with her gastric functions. I try to knit even a row on this wrap I've been working on since June 2008, and she wakes up screaming. If I try to pump, she'll get mad and accuse the machine of stealing her food. I feed her and she still yells even more at me and at the food sources. I got a Bumbo seat for her because she insists on sitting up, and I can't always hold her, and her siblings have other things to do sometimes. She hates it. She turns in it with one leg sticking out further than the other, leans over the side bites the side and yells. She stiffens her legs and back and tries to pop out of it. She loves the Maya wrap most of the time, but my back injuries don't like that too much.

I'm trying to clean stuff. My house is a disaster. It looks like it puked all over itself, and it kind of actually did that. I won't list the messes, but it's like ADD gone awry to say the least. Between the actual ADD in my brain and the baby, it's a bumpy ride on a personal watercraft in pre-hurricane conditions. I managed to get one big box of clothes sorted. Somehow while still baking the mini-human, a bunch of different sized clothes got lumped together in one box. I found 3s, 4s, 5s, a couple 2s and even a 12-18 months item in there. I re-sorted the box and started to put them away when the cute bundle of screaming tantrum sounded the alarm - again.

So, I sat down to feed her and she refused to be put down, acted sleepy but fought it...and here I am. I grabbed the My Brest Friend cushion and hooked her up so I could type with 2 hands, because I'd be here 5 hours trying to type this post one handed. She yelled at me some more. I gave her teething tablets, Tylenol and snuggles. I looked at her a few minutes ago and said "You're not going to let me do anything are you?" and I was met with a playful-eyed grin from behind a pacifier. That means no. She's cute. She's funny. She's sweet. And my 16 year old said she's evil. Pot meet kettle? Now that she's asleep again, I'm going to try to lay her down and finish these tasks I started several hours ago around my house. At least I was able to make dinner.
(And don't mind the timestamp on the picture. That's entirely incorrect and I am not sure how that happened.)

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.

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.

My family needs prayers

The devil is throwing sand again. One sister is back in the hospital after a mini-stroke. That whole situation is a long term Series of Unfortunate Events, going way back.
My favorite Aunt R is hitting another financial roadbump, and has to turn in her van. At least she was able to hold out till her daughter had the baby. My Grandmere is 2 weeks older than my Dad and she's frail and hanging on to what she has left.
My father is approaching a year since his gall bladder gangrened and he nearly died, and he's kind of an emotional mess. Honestly he has been a mess since Mom died 3 years ago. But he'll tell you that no matter how many times he walks up and down the aisle at church doing usher duty, he has no pain what so ever. If that wouldn't mess with your head a little, I can't say what would.
My brother filed for divorce. My biggest concern is my niece. I won't go into detail but I have true concerns for her and if I could bring her to live with me during all of this so she doesn't have to be exposed to the chaos, I would. I just know it would be met with resistance and heaven only knows what else. It truly breaks my heart to know a child that has to live through this, and knowing other children live this hell daily.
All this makes me incredibly appreciative to have what I have, surly teenagers and whiny first graders, and unexpected, unplanned, un-everything pregnancy of a fourth child at my current age. I have a husband that respects me and would do anything for me. I have incredible friends in many places that I don't deserve, but they stick around for some reason. I guess I'm entertainment value or something. Meanwhile my Aquarian nature keeps kicking in high gear when it comes to my niece and I have to be careful not to let it get crazy on me.

Oh the things we do as parents!

We made headway with the oldest child and his school issue. It involved a meeting with a principal who seemed a tad too smug for my liking, and could have just talked to me YESTERDAY for 5 minutes to clarify his position on the decision instead of having me come back this morning. Then five million phone calls were made to the neighborhood school, school choice office, old school in SC, and back around again and again. Then a trip to the neighborhood school, followed by a trip downtown to the district headquarters, and we're now about half a step closer to being somewhere resembling where we are supposed to be. We ended up having to enroll him in the state's virtual school because of the difference in block scheduling between his old school and any of the schools here. In the meantime, I can't seem to get an answer from someone at the old school. Do they not have long distance calls permitted or something? For the love of pete answer the stinkin phone! We're exploring the option of getting his final exams etc, administered at the neighborhood high school so he can get credit from the old for the first semester's stuff.
Are you confused yet? Because it took a couple rounds of explanation for it to wrap around my last remaining synapse. The other one was a bit busy misfiring out of frustration. But we're somewhere forward of where we were before now. Then when the boy and I got home this afternoon, I refused to do, say, think, or talk about the remaining steps in this home/virtual school process. It only took a month for it to get resolved. I guess I need to get better at poking the bee's nest, and with enough skill to avoid getting stung.

Anyone got a spare computer of any kind that I can have, borrow, use, buy? In a dream world, Mom would get a zippy laptop with a wireless connection and she can plunk her happy hiney in the quiet of her room and be online while the boy is doing school work. But of course, I'm fully awake, so we know what that means.
All I know is he better make really good money so he can pay for my luxury retirement villa.
That, and it's a REALLY good thing I don't have one of those full time job things, because with all the legwork, phone calls, and other crap I'm doing for the overall good of the members of my household. I'd likely be very unemployed right now. I told Devildog this when he got home, as I finished making dinner. Poor man has almost forgotten what a meal is like because things have just been crazy here. He was sweet to me, which makes Persnickety gag and barf every time, so I'll spare her the details. I think he was just delirious because I was actually going to put FOOD in his belly. His excitement caused him to leak some sugar. It's a good thing he was sitting down when I told him we were the proud parents of a virtual school student in case other stuff leaked. I was just in mission-mode today, determined to get SOMEWHERE with this, that I didn't even get around to calling him even once. Surprise! You're a homeschool parent!

It's a new year. Now what?

We went to a friend's house for New Year's Eve. Actually we went to two friends' houses. On the way out of the neighborhood we stopped at C & S's house, because Devildog didn't want to drive by there and not stop to see his friend who's been having difficulty. His friend's parents were there and we visited a little while. I tinkered with their laptop a bit because C clicked on something one day and changed the course of history for their computer. Then C's parents left and suddenly I felt pangs of guilt for wanting to leave to go to my friend's Open House party. We considered staying so that we weren't abandoning friends, then I invited them to come along to the other party. We went and had a good time, and C & S were very glad we took them with us. C asked to come back next year.

The hosts are crazy individuals who absolutely love to have fun. They have a gorgeous and huge house, that I only dream of owning, and only after winning a huge pot in the lottery. They work hard for what they have, so I am not jealous by any means. However, I spied this lamp on the table in front of their living room window. Not everyone can tastefully pull off displaying a leg lamp, especially if they have no sense of humor. Our hosts have absolutely no problem with a lack of humor.
While there I asked the host what that "Posts" note on the kitchen cabinet meant. She asked if I'd seen Mary Poppins, and how the various members of the house ran to guard the breakables at certain times, screaming "POSTS!" because the neighboring retired Naval Admiral fired a cannon to signal the time. She said that when they get into the driveway in the late afternoon, Mom yells "POSTS!" from the car and everyone runs to their designated post to turn on the Christmas lights. I thought it was SO hilariously clever, I told her I was taking a picture of it and posting it in my blog. She granted permission, adding "just don't display my children's names". Done.

We stayed late, and so I didn't get up till lunchtime. As I type this, I sit here at the tail end of lunchtime, with a cup of coffee that didn't get brewed till noon when I got up, wearing my pink flannel pajamas that my MIL gave me last Christmas, hair askew because I showered right before getting into the bed, and my New Year's ham is still in the freezer. We're likely to have a "Non-Traditional" meal today. But that's alright with me. I'm not a slave to tradition really. I don't do resolutions either. It just leads to trouble. For now though, I will at least take down the old calendars, turn the page on my FLYLady calendar and figure out something we can eat for dinner. I would really prefer to avoid leaving my house today.

Edit: When I went to look in the main freezer for something to make for dinner, I discovered that my fridge is not cooling. So, we're swapping fridges with the one from the friend's vacant rental a few blocks over from us. In the meantime till that can happen, we're stashing stuff in coolers and either tossing or eating the rest of it. Thankfully I have another small freezer that is still working.

Feliz Navidad

The song was rolling around in my head after the choir sang it at the end of Mass tonight. So there ya go. We trolled a neighborhood that was all lit up, except a few houses. Strangely enough, everyone climbed a ladder and fastened the lights to a limb and dropped it to the ground where it was plugged into an extension cord connected to other strands dropped from trees. Then we went to church, and *gasp* Devildog accompanied us. He pretty much never goes to Mass with us. He's not Catholic, so it assaults his sensibilities. He got irritated with me for saying hi to as many people as I did. He should thank me, because I saved him the need to contend with traffic exiting the parking lot. So I went around to my friends to wish them a Merry Christmas while the choir sang that song..."Feliz Navidad, feliz navidad, feliz navidad, prospero ano nuevo felicidad" It's roughly translated to Merry Christmas, prosperity and a Peaceful New Year. There's a mumbled version of Merry Christmas that is a standing family joke that stems from my sister's work history. She worked in a dry cleaners and one guy NEVER enunciated anything, and mumbled EVERY thing. Which I will be mumbling in the morning because the spawn will be up before the sun, and I'm going to bed just before said bright orb in the sky arrives to announce the day. I'm yawning more than breathing, and I have general symptoms of over-exhaustion. I can't find where I hid a present I bought for myself...and was going to have the Clone wrap it as her contribution. Maybe I'll find it in time for my birthday next month. I'll surely unearth it in an unceremonious fashion. It's too late to keep looking and I can't think lopsided, because straight was gone hours ago. At least the coffee pot is set up, the cinnamon buns are rising and some cookies have been baked. And I won't have to cook after all. We're going to someone else's house and one person there just loves to cook too much food. So we're going to help consume it. Wanna join the redneck fest Persnickety? I promise it will be NOTHING like going to your usual holiday haunts.

Can I borrow your fork?

Because really, somebody stick a fork in me. I'm done. I did not wake up this morning with the goal of being a stark raving lunatic yitch. By 6 PM, I'd worked a few hours of the phone job, been tortured by the 15 year old asking to use the computer (nevermind that he went well over his allotted time last night), annoyed by the 14 year old talking in such a way that was only grating my nerves because his brother strummed the last patient chord I had, and heard "Mommy" from my 6 year old so many times I asked if she realized Daddy was even home, awake and could be found to lend assistance too. While there are glaring exceptions to my next statement.... a penis does not always mean total incompetence. Really, he helped spawn the spawn, and he's capable of being a parent-type, even if he's grumpy. Poor man, he stayed out of my way, but failed to inform the kids. He said it took him 16 years to learn this, and the kids would have to learn the hard way like he did. I had my fill of annoyances by 5:30 when I went outside to seek quiet and discovered half my trash was still sitting BESIDE my trash can, yet the collection trucks had come and gone already. Oh and lovely holiday week that it is, the city one-call line is closed. I just want Waste Management (with their green trucks and 'nifty' WM logo to come back and pick up the trash they seemingly left on purpose. They're not city employees, they're contracted company employees. And one more whiny request begging to use the computer and a "mommy" from the clone for good measure, I grabbed my keys and left with the clone to get away from the chaos. Except, I was JUST as annoyed by the crazy people on the road with their freaking out "omigod-it's-almost-Christmas-Eve-and-I-HAVE-to-go-shopping-NOW-on-my-way-home-from-work" mentality. Road rage plus teen torment equals really mean me.
I forgot to mention Devildog is coming down with the same stuff again that he had at Thanksgiving and didn't want to do anything at all today on his day off, which is part of why he's grouchy. He said we could decorate the tree when he's at work tomorrow. The boys brought the tree out of the attic, so at least it's available now. But seriously, the man fails to realize that if he'd given the kids permission to set up the tree (Charlie Brown model that it is), that they would have been entertained for a while and wouldn't have been strumming those chords with me. I MAY have been less irritated in general and wouldn't feel like a Christmas grinch right now. I still have a tension headache, and the oldest tension-causer is STILL awake and occasionally trying to join the cranky adults to seek entertainment.
Of course, some of the headache is from my eyeglasses breaking last month and the optical place giving me a run-around. So, me being me, I emailed the vendor for clarification because I absolutely KNOW that in March when I ordered them, the guy at the optical place told me they had a one year warranty. When I remove the glasses from my face and the nosepad stays on my nose...seems a little warranty related to me. So I've been a month without full use of my glasses and I miss them terribly. I haven't had time coincide with location so I can go seek a replacement frame for my glasses. We get new insurance at the first of the year. I may be able to get a new pair then, and if so, I'll make sure I find a frame that has a different style nose pad that can be replaced with replacement parts.
I'm just a barrel of monkeys when I'm this kind of compounded cranky huh?

When opposites attract it becomes entertaining

My husband and I have lots of oppositions in our life. And that's just between the two of us. He was talking to an older customer and his wife (for 45 minutes, which is nothing by comparison to 2 or 3 hours with a customer the day before) about the recessed lighting they were buying when they asked about the different types of compact fluorescent bulbs available and compatible with the fixtures they selected. My husband was telling about the bright daylight type which he prefers, the blue-ish one, and the yellower light that I prefer (because they don't hurt my eyeballs like the other two-but rest assured he did not explain that). The couple sort of smirked. He went on to say that we fight over the kind of lightbulbs we use, but that's really nothing. We're full of differences and we fight all the time, and after 16 years of being with someone, it's definitely interesting. They chuckled. He felt a need to expound on his comments, and went with it. He followed with what would be "my lines" about the differences in workplace (competing locations, although technically I'm a VENDOR, and not an employee of that location), differences in religion (he's Baptist, I'm Catholic), and sports teams (He's a Gator Fan, I'm a Seminole Fan). By this point the couple was well entertained by our story.

Now, we did fight a whole hell of a lot when we were younger. In his mind he was always right and that was all that mattered. In my mind he was seldom, if EVER right, and that was all that mattered. I think, and this is merely a supposition drawn from a really un-sunny place, that we have managed to wise up and see a reasonable (purely subjective form of this word's use by the way) median in which to meet. Either that or we realized not one other single soul on this earth would put up with our crap like we put up with each other's crap and we figured we can live with that.
I realized that he's an utter OX and OAF like his father, and once I figured out a few things that made his dad tick, I used it to my advantage. Call it feminine wiles or guile. I don't care. I think he may have realized what he was up against and thought better of the act he'd been giving. Or maybe someone sat him down and had a come-to-Jesus with him. I don't know, and some things a girl goes to her grave not knowing. I just know that the only thing that has prevented the utter demise of our relationship is the Divine Intervention that brought us together, friends and family, and this really strong will we both have. We are both of Irish descent (me 50%, him probably less), and he's got some Native American tribal ties. He's an Aries, and I'm an Aquarius. So it's a passionate combination. Passionate doesn't always mean in the hormonal sense either. We both have a temper that is a force to be reckoned with when it flares. We're both stubborn and I think that has been the one key ingredient that has kept us together. Because I'm sure as heck not going to let his butt off the hook THAT easily.

When stuff happens it gets settled

And it all settles in ONE week of my calendar. I will survive. I just do not know if I can bank on surviving my daughter's PMS. Rather, I should say, that I hope and pray the males can survive her PMS. She was hellified EEEEVOLLLLL today, and I STILL have a headache from it. Tomorrow, I might have to throw chocolate in her direction from around the corner and wait for it to kick in to get near her. I chuckle to think that my husband WANTED a girl, and he got one. She is every bit my clone. Except a few years experience taught me how to deal with my own PMS. I just hide in my corner and let him tend to the PMS laden little girl - that he wanted all while forgetting that girls get PMS and make his life hell. In a few years he's going to think boys were a good idea like I did 7 years ago. Him: old man. Her: Teen with hormones gone terribly awry. Me: Menopausal mother of teen with hormones gone terribly awry. Yeah, things eventually settle.