we do that here

26 Feb

Sleeping, desperately sleeping, until the noise emitting from the baby monitor reaches “this might be an emergency” levels?

We do that here.

Deciding not to shower ’til nap time due to the above mentioned choice to “sleep in”, and its only after you’ve approved yesterday’s slightly wrinkly/smelly clothes as wearable that you realize you planned a morning of activities where you might actually come into contact with real people?

We do that here.

We do “lets just skip baths” tonight, and we do it three days in a row.

We do french fries and grapes and call it dinner.

We do “I wonder if she is colorblind/does he have a speech impediment/are they clinically insane?” I’m not kidding. They are beyond crazy.

We do dirty dishes in the sink pretty much continually.

We do wishing bedtime could be 4:00 pm. And a glass of wine could start at 4:15 pm.

We do “lets just get a pizza” and hope that we’re not too far over our food budget for the month.

We do regret. For yelling. For looking at our phone instead of our kids. For feeding them something from a box.

We do laundry piled on the couch. And on the beds. And we re-dry the load in the dryer because there is no place to put it. Again.

We also do Whatever Works for Us, and we do Too Tired To Care. We do Lets Google It and we do I’m Going To Call My Mom. We do Asking For Grace, and Can I Have Another Chance. We do Remember, God Is In Control and we often do NO SERIOUSLY, TELL ME IT WILL BE OK, OK!?

We do stuff here all the time. And when it gets overwhelming I want you to know (and to remind myself) that we also do Good Enough, and we do Nobody Is Judging You. We do Today Is Another Day and we Do Hey, Hopefully They’ll Be Able To Pay For Their Own Therapy One Day.

We do a lot here.

And if your kid points a booger adorned finger at you and says “Dis came out my nose!” as you pick up prescriptions at the pharmacy counter in your pajama pants . . .

Don’t worry. We do that, too.

Recently

12 Feb

Life generally flies past me these days, leaving little time for much of anything. Sleep, showers, lunch . . . they are all collateral damage in this new life that includes three kids. Weekends come and go, and another Monday is already over. Wait, Tuesday came and went too? Regular blogging is a distant memory, much to my disappointment. But last night I spent time scrolling through the memories contained in past posts and resolved to try harder to preserve this crazy, beautiful, exhausting life we live. Because if baby #3 has taught me anything, its that oft repeated mantra of parents everywhere “Cherish this; they grow up so fast”.

Yes, yes they do.

So without further ado, here are some of the conversations, statements and questions overheard in the Thompson house over the last few days that MUST be recorded. Because, seriously? Dinosaurs, high jumps and poop? This is the good life, y’all!

Lucy: (Standing on her pillow and pointing under her blanket) “I tan’t doe to sleep, dere is a dinosaur in my bed”

(No amount of trying to convince her that there wasn’t a dinosaur would get her to go back to sleep, so I eventually told the dinosaur that his Mom called and he needed to go home. We waved goodbye to him and she was able to get back under the covers. Parenting at its finest or most desperate? You tell me…)

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Jack: (The first thing he says when he busts into our room at 7am) “Mom! Look how high I tan jump! Do you tink its higher dan lastday (yesterday)!?”

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Jack: (After a particularly impressive #2) “Wow. Dats a lot of poop. Do you think it tan reach to the moon?”

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Jack: “I dess (guess) Dod will have to take your tummy back since you already had de baby”

Wow. Just, wow.

 

Happy Birthday, Della Marie!

27 Dec

And so, 12 days after the birth of my sweet Della Marie, I decide I’d better write her birth story lest I forget the details in days and weeks ahead. I haven’t blogged in awhile and may or may not be hopped up on painkillers but here goes :)

Sweet Della Marie,

You, dear child, were a week over due. I’d been to my 39, 40 and 41 week appointments with no sign of impending labor and plenty reminders from my doctor that at 41 weeks and 1 day they would be strongly advising an induction (which was scheduled for Monday, December 16th). On Saturday December 14th, I woke up and waited to feel you wiggle before I got out of bed – something I’d come to enjoy doing every morning. You usually rewarded me with a kick or roll within a few minutes. Perhaps it was your way of saying “Lady, go pee, there is no room in here!”. Who knows.

This morning, though, I didn’t feel you move. In fact, it took a whole hour and a glass of ice cold juice to get you wiggling even a little. All day I was nervous, and didn’t feel you move much at all. With you being 6 days overdue, and feeling like you were NOT being your normal self, I called the doctor for advice. She suggested I come in for a NST to check on you.

That evening, after being settled into a triage room and hooked to the fetal monitors, you made a liar out of me by performing flips and kicks like an acrobat for the doctors and nurses. I was so relieved to know you were OK that I forgave you for making me worry all day :) It was also discovered that I was 3cm and 50% effaced! The phenomenal nurses assigned to us suggested that I go home and rest – as a VBA2C Mama, I would have a better chance of avoiding a c-section if I was able to wait until Monday with my regular doctor. The doctor on call that evening and Sunday was apparently very conservative and not likely to let a VBA2C Mama labor long, if at all. So home we went, planning to attend Mass the next day and rest – praying that the induction would go well on Monday.

Except.

In the wee hours of Sunday morning, I awoke to what I instantly knew was labor pains. Mild, slightly crampy and inconsistent. But by 6am they were more regular, and I knew I’d be having a baby that day. On Sunday. The only day of the week my doctor was NOT on call. The day that the nurses said would mean being under the care of a very conservative, non-VBA2C friendly doctor.

We called my sister to come get your brother and sister. We called your grandparents to let them know. We texted our doulas to give them a heads up. And then I labored. From 8am -11am it was pretty much the same. I alternated between the shower, laying in the bed on my side, and sitting on the birth ball with my arms and head resting on the bed. Your Dad stopped in occasionally to see if I was drinking enough. Around 11:30am, I could tell that things were changing – 10 minutes before I was thinking about grilled cheese for lunch, and then suddenly I was NOT hungry. And your Dad needed to get the rice sock heated up RIGHT NOW and help with the pain, and “couldn’t he call the doula to get here soon”?

By noon, the contractions were coming pretty frequently and pretty powerfully, although I was just the tiniest bit afraid – “What if I was still just in early labor?”. It was tough, and I couldn’t imagine in getting tougher. Suddenly there were two really intense contractions back to back, and my water broke!

I looked at your Dad and said “We need to go NOW”. He patiently suggested that we wait 5 minutes for our doula to arrive; and five minutes after her arrival, we were off to the hospital – speeding down I-264 towards Norfolk while the contractions got worse. I may or may not have yelled “THERE ARE PEOPLE PASSING US AND THEY ARE NOT HAVING A BABY” at your Dad, to which he calmly replied “I am just trying to keep you safe” and I saw that we were already going alarmingly fast…

We chose the emergency room entrance to the hospital, knowing that there would be a wheel chair available. I barely remember the few minutes we spent at the front desk of the ER, but I am sure the dozens of people in the waiting area have a hilarious story of a woman in labor interrupting the entire ER. A nurse quickly wheeled me up to the fourth floor, and I was SO happy to see many of the faces we’d met yesterday for the NST in the delivery room. A doctor rushed in and checked me to find that I was at 9.5cm, almost complete! I’d rocked an entire labor at home, by myself. An accomplishment I did NOT think was possible.

However, my joy was short lived after being told that you were still high (-2) and OP (sunny side up) I felt no pelvic pressure and I had no desire to push (which is why I had assumed I was still in early labor). An ultrasound quickly confirmed that you were 9+lbs, too. And Mr. Conservative Doctor was already talking c-section. And the contractions were incessant, never giving me a minute to breath before the next one hit.

I knew I needed to make a decision, and I wouldn’t do it out of a desperation just to get labor over with. It took two tries to get the epidural to work, but when it did I knew it was the best decision I could have made for this labor. I was able to talk to your Dad, my Mom, our doula, and the doctor about options. I decided to wait, against his advice, to see if you’d move down or flip over. For three or four hours we waited and prayed. The doctor, who ended up being incredibly nice, still lived up to his ultra-serious reputation and came in every hour to check for progress. Unfortunately, there was none. You were still high and malpositioned.

At some point, I just knew. I knew it was time to meet you, and that I wasn’t going to regret a third c-section.

You were born at 5:40pm on December 15th, 2013, and I couldn’t have been more surprised that you were a girl! After 9 months of believing you were a boy (we were waiting to find out, but my “maternal instinct” said ‘boy’ – HA). I was also surprised to find out you weighed a whopping 9lbs, 3oz, despite my insistence that this pregnancy felt “smaller” than the last two.

The best part was that I got to hold (and nurse!) you in the recovery room – something I missed out on for your brother and sister. I didn’t care when you pooped all over me, and you didn’t seem to mind when I rested a bucket on your head as I threw up from all the anesthesia. We made quite the pair, you and I. The next three days in the hospital weren’t fun (I’d lost alot of blood and you were being checked for jaundice), but we managed to establish breastfeeding, spending pretty much all our time together snuggled up in bed together despite the nurses tsk-tsking.

You arrived home and got to meet your doting sister and excited brother. You’ve spent the last week and a half being loved and snuggled, gaining weight like a champ and being a pretty good newborn overall.

Sweet Della, I couldn’t imagine life with you before you were born, and now I cannont imagine life without you. I love you baby girl and thank Jesus for giving me the chance to be your Mama.

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Happy Birth Day, baby!

 

I love this 3 1/2 year old kid

10 Oct

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Jack: Its not raining, Mama. Its just drips flyin’ ’round in de air”

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Jack: Mama! I dot Deesus in my hawt!
Me: Wow! That is pretty special. Why is Jesus in your heart?
Jack: So he tan help me tackle de football mans”

Oh. Right.

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The other night Jack was devastated when I cleaned out his little stash of treasures that he keeps crammed between his mattress and the bed rail. His plastic screw was the most heartbreaking loss, and tons of tears let me know how upset he was about the situation. I finally asked why he needed it so badly during the night.

His response?

Mama, dat screw is my termometer for my baby. I have to take her tempertur at night and see if she need to doe in my firetruck to de hospital

He’ll make a great Dad one day!

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Just today we had a conversation that included the fact that he got a text message last night from the soldiers that come to get Jesus in the garden who were playing a football game that had to end at 6:30 so he could go play baseball,

Uuuuh?

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Then there is always this gem that I shared of Facebook the other day:

“Potty training just got real when my son suddenly announced “Mama! I dotta to peepee wight NOW” and we were in a parking garage, in the middle of a downpour and he had insisted on wearing underwear this morning. The nearest potty was a mad dash across a puddle filled parking lot and up three flights of stairs. Yall, he did his little three year old business in a plastic bag filled with tissues in the back of the CRV while waving at unsuspecting EVMS patrons. I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty proud of him. And next time, I’ll remember to ask if he’s gotta go BEFORE we leave the doctor’s office”

And when we told Daddy about it at dinner time he proudly announced:

I dot peepee all over my boomba!

♥♥♥

I am thankful everyday for my funny, sensitive, sweet and slightly gross oldest child.

a post about pee

16 Sep

Yall.

I just got done with my very first attempt at potty training. Like, the real kind of potty training that includes naked kids, bribery and lots and lots of juice. And yes, I figured that I’d try to get them both done at once – 3 1/2 years and 22 months is the perfect age, no? Actually, who knows. I just want to start stocking up on diapers for the new baby, so SOMEBODY better start wearing underwear to help the budget out.

The entire session lasted about 3 hours, and my sister was awesome enough to help with the first few hours. We sat on the back porch with their sippy cups filled with juice and a little potty chair. They took turns, each trying to convince the other that it was “Mine turn, Dak, mine turn“.

I bet each kid peed at least seven times, and attempted too another seven times. They were working hard for those M&Ms. Each went through three pairs of underwear.

No one really got the hang of it in my opinion. They just drank a lot of juice, ate a bunch of candy and made a bunch of our neighbors smile as they drove past.

I am exhausted. Exhausted. 

I finally told them it was naptime (even though it wasn’t) just so I could take a break. Lazy Mom? Why yes, thank you.

I guess we’ll give it another shot this afternoon, and again for the next few days to see how it goes. Since I haven’t read a single book or blog post about the subject at hand, what are your tips and tricks for successful potty training?

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