If you aren't invited, go home.

We had an unwanted visitor at our house last week. And some of the week before.

And it was not wanted. And it would NOT leave.

Out of no where last Saturday, the kiddo spiked a fever, fell asleep in my lap, and then stopped eating. Occasionally, when the drugs kicked in, she was her normal self, pleading for Legos and M&Ms and her pea-win jom joms (translation: penguin pajamas).

Then, the liquid hit the diaper. And it didn't stop. For a week.

Ansley kept complaining that her stomach hurt, but in the world of a 2 year old, I couldn't tell if it hurt because she was sick or hurt because she hadn't eaten. Either way, she wasn't very pleasant to be around. Both because she was grumpy, and, well, she smelled pretty bad.

Wednesday I woke up feeling... weird. As I ate my Frosted Mini Wheats, my mouth became void of any moisture. And it was weird. And then I understood what Ansley meant when she was telling me her stomach hurt. It felt like someone was digging in my abdomen with a rusty knife. A rusty dull knife.

Luckily, the inside kid decided to chill out and not batter me from the inside at the same time.

Oh, and then, the, um, poospolsions hit. While I was teaching. And was the only girl that had access to a bathroom in a coach's office. And I'm pretty sure the coach was embarrassed for me. And maybe a little impressed.

So I left work and went home. To bed. I left my kid at the sitters and went home.

And I stayed there Thursday. In bed. And couldn't really eat, which worked in my favor by halting the trips to the bathroom.

And they stayed halted. Until today. I finally felt normal today. Ate every meal. Wanted every meal.

The hubs still seems in the clear. No pain. No unusual, um, movements. Hopefully he has escaped the wrath of the 2012 Stomach Bug.

I wouldn't wish is on anyone. Well, maybe a few people.

But no one I really like.

Extended Stay

I just enjoyed a vacation. At the beach. With my whole family.

I love all three of those things. But vacation always seems to fly by so quickly. It seems like it takes MONTHS to get here, then is over before you know it.  This year, however, I managed to find some things that seemed to extend our time there.


Top 10 Ways to Make Your Beach Vacation Seem Longer:

10. Make your pregnant sister sleep on the sofa bed.

9. Stay in a house that sleeps 8, but have 10 people.

8. Rent the quaint little house next door to the three story house with a beautiful, crystal-clear swimming pool.

7. While at stoplights, look around to find yourself surrounded by cars not only from your home state, but FROM YOUR COUNTY. (We were 9 hours from home)

6. Dream about work. Every. Flippin. Night.

5. Go to Walmart. Every day.

4. Make sure your dogs know that a recent high school grad is house sitting, and they need to do everything in their power to be the topic of several facebook conversations, including having puppies!

3. Pack almost 20 different shirts, but some how manage to forget to pack enough undies.

2. Get a major sinus infection the first day.

And, the number one way to make a beach vacation seem that much longer....

Plan it for the same time as Shark Week.

Oh, and, make sure your kiddo decides to cry the last hour of your trip home.

But that's 11 ways. Just leave one out.

Dirty Laundry

This week, I've been attending a conference for work. I've really enjoyed it, and it is always fun to get together with several people who have similar careers, passions, and goals.

We've spent a lot of time addressing the issue of poverty, and how a community should respond. It has really opened my eyes to why so many of my students make the decisions they do.

I've always wondered why a child may go without several meals throughout the week because of lack of money, yet have a super nice cell phone or iPod, nice clothes and cable television.

Growing up, I always knew we were "poor," but it never really felt like it. We may not have had the nicest clothes, but we never went without a meal, and my parents did an excellent job of making the annual carnival seem really dangerous and sleezy (making me not want to go), rather than worrying us because the bills weren't getting paid.

But, that's not what this is about.

I know there are people that are seriously struggling under our current economic situation. And I know there are people that are living paycheck to paycheck.  But until recently, we weren't those people. And then, it all kinda seemed to hit the fan.

The Hubs lost all opportunities for overtime, because the department got their leash shortened.

Our AC went out, in July, and we HAD decided to splurge and get it fixed.

And we became regular tithers at church.  We used to tithe when we remembered the checkbook (about once every 6 weeks). Then we just started keeping a checkbook in the car.

I'm not putting all this out there to air our dirty laundry or anything, but just to share my recent revelation.  No one is immune.

The best laid plan can still crumble.  Savings accounts can hold only $.04.  And, hopefully, a family of 3 can make it 4 more days on, um, $141.

The great news is that this is really teaching me the difference between necessity and oh-my-goodness-this shirt-is-to-die-for-and-it's-on-sale-and-these-shoes-would-look-so-awesome-with-it-and-let's-celebrate-the-awesome-find-with-a-chicken-salad-sammy-from-Arby's!

Also, I'm learning that even though my checking account is dangerously low, all our bills have been paid for this month. The mortgage is up to date. I know that I've got enough food in the kitchen to last weeks. Well, except for milk. But that's primarily because I drink it like it's going out of style. We have soaps, shampoos, plenty of clothes, cars, insurance. Jobs.  Even when we struggle, we still have it so much better than so many.

There are about 12,000 homeless people in my state.  Whether it's because they have chosen the lifestyle or have fallen on hard times, the point is that each night, it's a guess as to where they will lay their heads.

And even though I'm stressing about making the nearly empty gallon of milk and half a loaf of bread last until Tuesday, Ansley had a warm bath, a nice snack, is sleeping in a comfy bed, and my tummy is full.

And the AC is cooling nicely.

Whirlwind

That's a pretty good description of our lives right now. Between the hubs being back in school, and attending numerous trainings- several hours away, Ansley cutting multiple molars at once, and, well, me just trying to keep my head above water, life has been a little crazy.

But, regardless of how fast life is going, I've realized that there's always time to slow down. Even if just for a few minutes.

And just... be thankful.

I was hit hard with this yesterday as I drove to a neighboring county for school.  It is a drive I have made a ridiculous number of times. But this time was particularly different.

Just a few weeks ago, the Southeast was devastated by hundreds of tornadoes. I hate storms. But I've learned that Ansley looks to me for comfort. When the sky lights up and the thunder rumbles, as long as Mommy is calm, then Ansley follows suit.

Despite a day of storms, several hours without power and record amounts of rainfall, we were fine. Actually, I was fine. I was surprised at how calm I remained, even when the school I was teaching at was evacuated into the halls for nearly an hour while the skies grew black.

Except for one small branch that fell in front of the house, we remained damage free.  I joked. Almost all day. Because the weathermen were giving strict warnings. Get inside. In the basement. Away from windows. And then, it turned into nothing.  At least, for us.

Then, I watched the news, and heard about all the destruction in surrounding areas. And even heard of destruction that happened here. Locally. I looked at pictures. But it was still so foreign.

Until today. When I saw some of that damage myself.

I was breathless. And not in a good way. A forest leveled. Trees snapped in half. A front porch, on front of nothing.

And I realized just how fortunate we were. And it wasn't because I was "lucky" enough to see all of American Idol before we lost power that night. But it is because we still have a roof. And it is still over our heads. And, right now, Ansley is snoozing soundly in her bed, the pups are snuggled on the couch, and I'm sitting here at the computer, while so many lost so much. More than just stuff.  But people.

And despite all that whirls around me, I've got to stop. And take some time. And realize just how fortunate I am. To have a family that loves me more than words can express. To have... so much.

I'm regularly emotional. But every once and a while, "emotional" doesn't come close to describing all that is running through my head.

So tonight, though weeks after such brutal storms slammed practically the entire nation, I pray that you and yours are all safe and sound. And despite whatever whirlwind hits your life-literal or metaphoric- you will be able to reach out and grab that which is really important to you.

It's time

I've made a little bit of a mention of some of our recent events.

From my upswing from my last anxiety attack, to a seizure Ansley had just a few weeks ago. Things are starting to fall back into place. I think.

I can't fully explain what I experienced with that text message from Paul. Before you get all "He told you over a text message that your daughter was in the ER" hate on, that's not what happened.

I was teaching. About 45 minutes from home. Paul had a meeting for work, and was unable to find a baby sitter, so he took Ansley in for the meeting with him.

While teaching, I got a message from Paul. It said "Call me when you can." Doesn't seem like much of a big deal. But, in fact, it was. Because that is unlike any message he has ever sent. Normally, the messages say "Call when you get a chance." Seems like the same thing, but I knew there was something different about this message.

When we decided  Paul got rid of his blackberry, he went back to a super old phone. I'm talking, the first one he got after we got married- 5 years ago. No camera, no color screen, and really, REALLY bad reception. So bad that when we are talking, I kinda just make up his end of the conversation because I have no idea what he is saying.

So, picture me as I walk down the hall of the middle school with kids saying "Bye sex lady!" (my students love me, what can I say) It is probably important to note here to the new readers that I'm actually a risk avoidance educator, and we do talk about avoiding risks- alcohol, drugs, and sex before marriage. My students lovingly refer to me as "sex lady."

Tangent.

Anywho, I'm walking down the hall trying to get all the information together that Paul is giving me. I manage to  understand that he is telling me that he is at the ER with Ansley because she had a seizure during his meeting. And, I freeze. I literally felt like my brain stopped communicating with my body. My legs wouldn't move even though I knew that's what had to happen if I was going to even get more information.

I stood there, at the middle school bathroom, while the world continued to blaze around me. Stoic. Unmoving. And I didn't know what to do.

A parent never feels as worthless as when their child needs them, and there isn't a thing they can do to get there in time.  My parents have never let me down. When I nearly lost a finger, they drove over an hour to get to the hospital, just to arrive as I was being discharged. When I was in labor, and they were half a country away, they skipped had someone pick them up at another airport 2 hours outside of where they were to fly in because their flight was canceled. And they came straight to the hospital. Even though they couldn't get in to see Ansley.

And several times, just in Ansley's short life, I haven't been there with her when I felt like she needed me the most.

Even if I had left straight away from where I was and headed to the hospital, they would have already been on their way home.

I got home to a confused little girl, in socked feet, a ponytail, and just about the cutest hospital gown I have ever seen. But, it was obvious that something was off.

She stumbled. Words that she used on a regular basis she couldn't come up with. When Nana and Poppa came over, that usual toothy grin didn't spread across her face. My little piggy didn't want to eat.

As happy as I was to see her and have her home, the mommy cat kicked in, and I was sure that the doctors had not checked her well enough. In my mind, all those scans should have been in order. Check her brain, her blood, her heart, anything. Just make sure she's ok.

The hubs informed me that the docs were not concerned about the event. They figured she just spiked a fever quickly and it caused the seizure.  But that wasn't good enough for me. Before I even saw her, I had made an appointment with her doctor for the next day. I wanted answers.

Turns out, those were the answers. Her lungs sounded good. Her heart sounded fine. Her ears looked good. Her temperature was normal. And she was back to herself. And I still don't know why.

Apparently, this happens more commonly than people think. But I can assure you, it didn't say that in any of the books I read. It said what to do in the event that a child have a seizure, but it didn't say anything about them being "common." Ultimately, it was determined that she had a cold that turned into an upper respiratory infection that cause the fever to spike quickly.

And, that's that. But, here we are, several weeks out, and I'm still checking her temperature. Regularly. Not with the thermometer. At least, not every time.

The hubs has admitted that he debated not telling me at all, because he knew how I would respond. I tell him that it is much better for him to have told me than for me to have found the bill from the ER in the mailbox.

Every day is a new day. One thing about being the first of your friends to have kids means that you get to experience everything first. The first NICU stay. The first bloody nose. The first serious boo-boo. The first ER trip. Maybe one day, I'll be able to comfort one of my friends if they experience this. But I just hate that I had to be the first to feel like a total failure as a parent.

It finally happened.

Today, I was one of those moms.

You know what I'm talking about. The one with the screaming toddler in Walmart that wants to do everything and grab everything and push the cart with the handle and open the bag of mini donuts while yelling "DONUT" at the top of her lungs (the toddler does this stuff. Not the mom.)

That was me. And I tried everything. Put her in the cart basket. Cart seat. Hold her. Let her push. Give her something to carry and tell her to follow. Get down on her level and calmly explain to her that she is not making Mommy proud right now and there were going to be serious consequences to her actions if she did not behave while we were grocery shopping. I think she got a little hung up on the "consequence" word. Or maybe you just can't reason with an 18-month-old. I'm not entirely sure which.

But I was so embarrassed. I didn't want her screaming, but it was physically impossible for me to carry her AND push the cart. At least, push the cart in a controlled manner. And I wanted to give in. I wanted to give her what she wanted rather than discipline her for not obeying. And it suddenly became so easy to understand why some parents needed the help of "Super Nanny."

And Super Nanny would not have approved of my methods today. Because instead of a time out chair, Ansley got a spanking. ::gasp::

And then, that made me feel like even more of one of those moms. Because I heard myself saying "Ansley, do  you want a spanking?"  And people were looking at me. I'm not entirely sure if it was because I was threatening a spanking, or because I had about 5 pounds of cheese in my cart.

Either way, it was an ordeal. But I didn't want to leave her with someone while I went shopping. She is with the sitter for two hours on Monday afternoon, and I felt that it wasn't fair to pick her up and drop her off with someone else while I went out. So, I took her.

I don't regret it. I just wish she understood bribery  positive reinforcement.

Here's Your Sign

I can remember being in high school, and there was this really popular comedy skit that would play on the radio called "Here's Your Sign."

It was typically mocking stupid things people do, or things stupid people do (take your pick).

Not that I pride myself in being a fan of country music now, but I tried desperately to get away from it then. But not only could I not escape that skit, I couldn't escape the fact that people do in fact do stupid things.

And things have not changed. Except now, churches think it is fun and totally awesome to come up with clever catchphrases for their signs. And several in the past few days have left me wanting to say "Here's your sign."

The first one that I passed every day on the way to a neighboring county last week.

"I'm too blessed to be depressed."
I kid you not. I became furious. Not necessarily for me, though I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was personally offended.

But I thought about all the people that struggle with depression. And it isn't because they don't feel "blessed."

And, I think that is a problem with the church.

I've struggled with anxiety. Though I don't think I've ever seriously struggled with depression, I know some very good friends that have. And we have faced common obstacles.

I remember driving home from the doctor's office after my first appointment regarding the anxiety attacks. I was talking with my mother-in-law on the phone, and I just started crying. Because to me, I felt like I wasn't a "good enough Christian" because I often let anxiety get the best of me. I felt that by taking medicine, I wasn't completely trusting the Lord and His provision.

And then, just a few weeks later, while visiting the in-laws, there was a sermon in church about that very thing. About anxiety being a result of a lack of faith.

And it added to my condition. And it breaks my heart that some people still believe that depression is just an emotional problem.

"Oh, you're depressed? Well, just think about everything you have to be thankful for."

I'm sorry. It isn't that easy. And just when I feel like all the stupid people that think that depression or even PPD is an emotional issue finally learned to keep quiet (ahem. Tom Cruise), someone else comes out of the woodwork, making it be someone's "fault" that they are depressed.

Garbage.

That same day, a little closer to my destination, I saw a church sign that read "When in doubt, let Jesus lead."  And it made me angry. Just about as angry as the "God is my copilot" bumper stickers that were so common in years past.

This church, obviously looking to gain some new attendees, actually had a digital church sign that offered several slogans. "Body piercing saved my life." I'm not even going to touch that one.

The thing that struck me about this is that it seemed to contradict all I had been taught, and recently come to accept. Isn't God always supposed to lead? And, if we are in doubt, isn't it because we're the ones that were trying to lead in the first place?

I know the sentiment they were aiming for. But they were way off.

Finally, that same day, while headed to my sister's house for our weekly American Idol date, I passed a church sign that came as a warm sense of relief in comparison to the signs of before.

"Forgive your enemies. It messes with their head."

And I laughed. Out loud. For a few minutes. Because that's it. That's what being human is. Sure, it means a lot to love and forgive as Jesus also forgave us. But there is something about needing to feel justified. And, maybe I'm wrong in this, but if by forgiving someone you make them say "huh?" and spend a few minutes trying to figure out what just happened, that's justification. By turning the other cheek.

I'm not normally a sign reader. I don't typically drive slow enough to read an entire sign. But after a recent trip to the eye doctor revealed that I should probably wear glasses while driving, I've been able to read more signs. Turns out it wasn't that I drove too fast. I just couldn't see.

Misspelling

I love my mom dearly. However, her fingers seem to have a mind of their own. Especially on Facebook.

So today, I'm checking status updates, and I notice one from my mom. And I seriously almost peed my pants from laughing.

"not sure how much i will be able to do here today Ansley is in my lap and she had 4 boob shots today so bear with us..."


Ansley went to the doctor today and had 4 shots. 4 BOO BOOS.


But, no. To my mother? Boob shots.


Could you ask for anything else?

Leave.

I just saw a mouse. In.my.kitchen.

::shutter::

I want it gone, but I'm a little sad at the methods of removal.

Think happy thoughts.

Stepping out, pouring out, and throwing in

I am so bad, ya'll.

But, honestly, I feel like I'm a zombie walking through my days. Ansley has pretty much given up on sleeping through the night. And, truthfully, I'm too tired to care, which is visibly obvious.

1. I have circles under my eyes. The kind that can't be covered with make-up

2. My house is a wreck. Because when I finally do get the kiddo to bed, I put myself there to try and score a few minutes before she decides two hours is enough sleep for the night.

3. I have PILES of laundry, not only to wash, but to fold.

4. I'm battling a nasty headache, which happens to be the result of the kiddo sleeping in my bed last night since the hubs had to work 3rd shift as well.

5. We haven't been to church in 3 or 4 Sundays.

6. I have on black with brown today.  Unreal.

See! I'm to tired to care about fashion rules.  This is just unacceptable.

Sometime between 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. Sunday morning, while rocking Ansley, and bawling my eyes out, I must add, I said something that scared me.  I thought to myself You know what?  Maybe we should be done with this whole kid thing. I mean, we've tried it, we've had some good times, and some bad times.  We should probably just stop here for our own wellbeing.


It's that bad.  And it's making me and the hubs argue more, because we are both just so tired. Not that it justifies our sarcastic and snarky comments, but I just don't have the sense to keep things like that inside when I'm so dog tired.

But, we did step out this weekend.  Saturday we went out for some pre-Christmas browsing.  I decided I was going to try my hand at making some hairbows, and was pleasantly pleased with the outcome.
And, I bought Ansley this:



It is so much cuter on than it is in the picture. Actually, I really want one for myself.  And, the best part? $4, at Target.

So, that's it. That's my weekend. Minus the part where Ansley and Bunker played a little rough and I freaked out and thought she needed stitches and really all she needed was cleaned up and a bandaid.  But, hey, after suffering a serious dog bite myself, I'm a little sensitive to those type of injuries.

I'm not made of money (though I wouldn't mind it)

Dear Ansley,

I know these past few days, you've been feeling terribly sick. It's been coming out both ends, and I feel so very bad for you.  You are welcome to snuggle in my lap as long as you want.  I just have one suggestion.

When we switched you to Huggies diapers, it was because they fit you so much better as a walker. It wasn't because they were cuter, and it certainly wasn't because they are cheaper. Because they aren't. At.All.

Here's the thing kiddo.  I know your tummy hurts. And I also know that you don't need to sit in a diaper that smells like a skunk sprayed something that is beyond dead. However, would you be kind enough to finish it all up at once, instead of waiting until momma has the clean diaper almost on?  We're regularly doing 2 diapers during every 1.5 minute diaper change. That just isn't cool, kid.

And we can't go for the cheaper ones. Because your little bum is so very sensitive, and you get diaper rash. Bad. So, please, feel better soon little one. And poop all at once.  Your parents will greatly appreciate it.

Hugsies and kisses!
Mommy

Heartbreaking

This post started out as something completely different. It was lighthearted and about how Ansley has started walking and how she is an absolute joy.

But, instead, I have been watching Teen Mom. Everybody has their guilty pleasures, right? Bon Bons, expensive shampoos, driving fast.  Well, mine is Teen Mom (ok, at least one of them. I do enjoy me some expensive shampoo, and, on occasion, driving fast).

My heart is seriously breaking right now. I don't understand how parents can act the way they do, not only toward each other, but toward their children. How can you justify using such foul language around a child that mimics everything you say? And saying "You make me do it" doesn't count. Own up to your actions. 

How can you justify treating someone like even less than dirt? And how, in return, does that person manage to hang around, being verbally and at times physically abused?  And how, with their lives plastered all over MTV, can these two allow this to go on? Why haven't people stepped in to assist?  This family is broken, possibly beyond repair, and we watch.  And I cry.

I cry because I know this isn't the only family out there like this. I cry because the child has no say in the matter, and is often times shoved to the back screaming while her mother sleeps in or cusses her fiance. It is completely unacceptable.

I know that I'm not the best parent. I know I get frustrated with Ansley, and with Paul. But I also know that we're the adults, and Ansley depends on us. Completely.

And I know that.  I guess that what make me the adult.

That change

So, I mentioned that youth group I started attending in high school, and that it changed my life.  That's for real.

I learned so much during that time, even if it took me to this point to realize it.  I made some great friends, but, more importantly, I learned that my faith wasn't just something I believed, but it was something I needed to live out, and share with others.

It became a relationship.

Which is what it should have been all along. But, I missed that.

I wasn't spoon fed.  I figured some things out on my own.  And, I even strayed. Not from the truth, but from some of the more legalistic things I was taught. Like using the KJV because that's what Jesus used.  Ok, so I was never taught that Jesus used the KJV, but I was taught that it was THE WORD OF GOD. And is was the only version that should be used.

I made some great friends. I depended some friendships that I already had. I learned to be a leader. I became passionate about my faith. And about truth.  It was real.

I didn't really see the struggles of the church.  All I knew was that our youth group was awesome, and at times we managed to bring 100 youth through the doors.  Looking back, maybe I can see some issues, and why some people may have struggled. 

We were clique-y. I was clique-y.  And, unfortunately, I feel that may have come at the exclusion of others. We got too big, too fast.  I didn't know everyone (not that knowing everyone is important, but at least introducing yourself is). The youth director never went below the service with other relationships.

The first time I think I started to realize that "church" had its issues was when that youth director left. He didn't leave under bad terms. He left to go back to school. The search committee listed their number one requirement as having a bachelor's degree.

And then, they hired someone who didn't. And, he had grown up in the church, and his family still attended.

And I was frustrated. So I withdrew to my community of believers at the Christian college I attended. And learned even more.

Off the Face of the Earth

Ok, so I know I dropped off the face of the earth for just a little bit.

But, ya'll, I've been busy!

We celebrated Ansley's first birthday. We welcomed a house full of family for a weekend. We visited a very special little man that made his way into the world.

And, we've had some frustrations. Ok, so maybe a lot of them.

I love my daughter. With every ounce of my being, I love her from head to toe. But, sometimes she gets the best of me and I want to crawl in bed and just cry. Because I can't take it.

Overall, Ansley is a very good baby, er, toddler. With the exception of a bout with reflux which we were able to make some lifestyle adjustments for, she has been easy. She never fussed between breastfeeding and bottle feeding, took a variety of bottles and pacifiers, preferred to be put to bed awake, and didn't freak out when we stopped the bottle a couple months ago. She's never fussed about eating different foods, and actually prefers peas, and as I discovered last night, broccoli.

The only difficulty: the routine and schedule. Not setting it, but functioning without it.

I've heard that babies really enjoy having a routine. This I discovered early on with Ansley. Dinner, bath, playtime/snuggle, bottle, bed. She turned into a pumpkin at 8:30. And if we didn't follow this, she was a terror. As we discovered this weekend.

We took a trip to visit that new little man. Two hours away (though, really, it turned into about a 4 hour trip after dinner, ice cream, gas, tire pressure, yada yada yada). She slept in the car, which was fine, because we hit the road close to pumpkin time. What happened next, I can't really explain.

She was happy. She visited with Gramma and Pap-Pap. She played. She laughed. She was so.stinkin'.cute. But the time came when Mommy and Daddy were ready to hit the hay. So after another short car ride, it was bed time.

She went down easily, and I went to shower and get myself ready for bed. The mistake came when I reached in the crib and covered her with a blanket. She hadn't been asleep, but was just chillin'.

The sirens went off. Normally, I would let her cry. But, as guests in the house, I didn't want to wake those just down the hall. So, I put her in bed with us. Disclaimer: I know this is frowned upon in most circles, but I loved having Ansley sleep in our bed with she was younger. I liked cuddling, since she is opposed to that regularly.

Anywho, she couldn't get comfortable. Toss, turn, flip, turn, roll, toss, turn, jump, flop, climb, turn, toss, climb, roll, b-i-n-g-o. Ok, well, she wasn't crying, so how bout a few toys until she fades? Bang, laugh, howl, hoot, laugh, yell, bang, Bang, BANG, laugh, flop, flip, turn, use mommy and daddy as jungle gyms.

Next step: rocking in the recliner. Nope. Ain't.Gonna.Do.It. Ok, back to the bed. She slept for about 2 hours, and the process started over. Seriously, I finally took a blanket and tried to sleep on the floor hoping she would settle down if she had more room. Yep. I caught about an hour cat nap while she played with the car keys and the headboard.

It's so easy to have a kind heart for your child when they are upset, or ultra tired, or hungry. I found it very difficult to be patient when she was in a good mood and playing.

But it was 4 in the morning!!!!

And I haven't made up for it. When you have an infant that wakes in the middle of the night to eat, your body has learned to function with minimal sleep. But when your child has been sleeping through the night since 4 months, you get very angry. Especially when coffee isn't part of your vocab and you are a very grumpy person without sleep.

So, the point of this post? Don't feel like a bad parent for finding, and sticking with, a schedule or a routine. Obviously, you don't want to starve your child because it isn't dinner, but, speaking from experience, they really like that routine.

And, you know what? I do too.

Don't Forget your Manners!

Dear Volunteer Co-irker,
I mean, Cowoker,

I am so blessed that you have decided to spend your afternoon here at my place of work to help sort donated baby clothes. This ministry would not exist if not for kind-hearted people willing to give of their time.

However, though you are working in what seems like a big, multipurpose room, I must remind you that my office is is the corner. I just don't have walls, or even a cubicle. But, it's still my office, and it's where I spend the majority of my time.

Because of the openness of the area, I can hear all that is going on, and, unfortunately, some of it is very distracting. So, I ask you, please say "excuse me" or "pardon me" if you feel the need to burp. OUT LOUD.

I know it seems I am working really hard and I'm focused on my project, which is true most of the time. But burping is one of those things that simply seems to stand out. Loudly.
,
I don't know all of your circumstances, and the burping may be due to some digestive issues you can't help. But you can say "excuse me." I know you can. I've heard you.

So, please, pretty, pretty PLEASE with a cherry on top of real whipped cream, use your manners, m'kay? How am I supposed to teach my kiddo manners and expect her to use them if older adults around her don't do the same?

Huggsies,
Ansley's Momma

My child hates me.

Of this, I am almost completely certain.

Exhibit A: If Paul is holding her, she rarely comes to me. If I'm holding her, she always goes to him.

Exhibit B: If she playing on the floor and I walk out of the room, nothin'. Paul walks out of the room, squalls, and a fast little tubby tub crawling along after him.

Exhibit C: She looks exactly like him. Ok, so I know she really doesn't have control of this, but it just adds fuel to the fire.

Exhibit 4: This morning, she woke me up at 7 a.m. After feeding and playing for a little while, I had to start getting ready for work. I showered while she happily played in the floor. I went and put her in the bed with Paul while I got dressed, thinking she would be all cute and crawl all over him, waking him up to enjoy the morning. But instead, that little booger cuddled up beside him, grabbed her bear and went to sleep. At 8:30 a.m. I left for work at 9, both still snoozing. Paul called at 11, because THEY HAD JUST WOKEN UP!!!

Friday night, Ansley didn't go down until midnight, then woke up at 2 and I couldn't get her to sleep until 3:3o. We napped on the couch until 5, struggled to take a bottle, played for a bit, had some fruit at 7, FINALLY went back to sleep at 8, and woke up at 9:30, all while Daddy was able to sleep soundly in the comfy bed. Where is the fairness in that?

Ansley,
I carried you in my belly for 35 weeks. I let you kick and squirm and make me throw up and get stretch marks. I labored to get you out for 21 hours. Despite being a preemie, you weren't small, and mommy had to get stitches where no one should ever have to get them. I fed you my own specially made milk, which Daddy didn't have, and I've taken your temperature rectally, which Daddy has never done. And this is what I get?

I'll get you back, don't worry. I haven't been taking embarrassing pictures for nothing. Just wait till you bring friends over, or that first boy home. Then you'll wish you had let me sleep just a little longer.

Love,
Mommy

Rockstars

World, meet your two worst nightmares.





It's Punky Baby and the Rockin' Rad Aunt.

Check your local autoriums for available tour dates.

Some rocks should be left unturned.

One great aspect about my job is that there are certain things I can do at work and totally say it's "job related."

Like, watching 16 and Pregnant. Or Teen Mom. Awesome.

So, last week, I was looking for some pictures of womb babies. One thing led to another, and to another, and before I knew it, I was watching birth videos. Yes, that's right. I watched videos of other women's nether regions doing what seems physically impossible.

First, I opted for the water birth video. It was actually pretty tame, and awesome, so I continued on to my next feat: a natural birth.

Now, don't get me wrong. Labor hurts. Sure, maybe I wimped out by getting the epi, but that was after 18 hours without one. But this woman was screaming. And Wailing. And Crying. And Cursing. Out.Loud. There was no attempt at going to a calming place. No rythmic breathing. Just camera shots of things I didn't want to see, followed by shots of her 4 year old son asking his dad why mommy's privates looked like that.

No kidding. Now, I love Ansley. And, she'll be with us at the hospital with the next one. But I'm not planning on giving her and anatomy lesson using Mommy as a life size model. Ain't gonna do it.

Eventually, that baby made it's way out, but, golly, it wasn't easy.

Then, as though I had not had enough, I watched a video of a c-section. I honestly thought that after the natural birth, watching the c-section wouldn't be a big deal. Fail.

After meeting the couple, I learned about the different incisions that can be made for a c-section. Then, Freddy Crugar made his appearance, in OBGYN form.

They sliced her. Not a big deal. I can handle that. The thing that got me was seeing them pull the abs apart. Barf. I think I actually gagged. Then, they sliced the uterus, and pulled this fat little baby head out. and let it sit there for a little bit. So, here's this mom with a head coming out of her abdomen. Aliens, anyone?

A coworker heard my gags, and asked what I was watching. I told him, and he responded "Cool! Let me see!" So I watched it. AGAIN!

It made me very happy that I turned down the doc's offer to position a mirror so I could watch Ansley being born. Yeah. I didn't watch my own kid come out, but I watched three other women as they birthed their babes, crowning and all.

So, I thought I would share a birth video with my readers! This isn't one of the previously mentioned videos. This will not scar you, but you may pee your pants from laughing. Enjoy!

p.s.- This is a scene from Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls. Don't judge me, but I think it's freakin' hilarious.