Sometimes we play with science

Once upon a time we were all really, really tired of being cooped up inside. But, go figure, it was March in Utah and it was raining. Again. And you can only splash in so many puddles before you need a new activity. Anyway, T-Bone is BUSY. Like, only stops moving for Daniel Tiger busy. "Hm," thought Mommy, "does this kid ever sit still? Probably not, but CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!" So, Mommy got busy thinking of ways to keep T-Bone busy, and then she remembered that science is really cool and really fun. Plus, it's messy, and what little boy doesn't love making messes? Seriously, though, we had so much fun with this activity and it's super easy. Also, you probably already have everything you need on hand. 

First, put a hefty layer of baking soda in a baking sheet. I'm kind of a baking soda junkie, so we had plenty of this.

Next, fill some bowls with plain old white vinegar. I put food coloring in ours, just to add a little spice to life.

Next, use a medicine dropper to make mini-volcanoes all over the baking sheet. 

Sometimes, you need to get your hands all up in it, too. 

Not only does it teach about acid/base reactions, you can practice mixing colors and see what happens.

And then, if you really want to get crazy, put the bowls of vinegar right on top of the baking soda and go to town.

T-Bone loved dropping the "powder" in the "water" and making them bubble over. 

And you know what happened? He was quiet, and happy, and entertained... for a whole hour!  I even heard giggling and squeals of glee instead of "No!" and whining. Amazing!

3

My sweetest Squishy,
Oh my goodness, you are growing so fast!  I can't believe you're 3 months old already.
You are such a sweet and easygoing baby. You pretty much just go with the flow of whatever is going on around you. You like to be where you can see and hear people, though.
You love to sit in your bouncy seat and make the lights and music go. You think it's hilarious when we change your clothes or your diaper. Getting dressed or undressed makes you smile like crazy.
You discovered your voice this month and love to talk and coo. You especially love it when we sing. You'll sing right along with me. You also discovered your hands this month. You spend hours on end playing with your fingers, sucking on your hands, and figuring out what they do.
You're not a fan of being strapped into the car seat, and if you're awake you tend to make a fuss about it. You also don't like to be left alone. You want to be around other people. I went back to work this week, so you've been going to the sitter and to Nanny's house. I don't worry about it, though, because I know you'll be a good boy no matter where you are.
You are a boy that likes to eat, and heaven help us if we're late on a feeding. You are growing so big so fast! I had to start putting you in size 6 month clothes.
You love your brother and like to smile at him and watch what he is doing around you. He's finally gotten used to having you around and doesn't beat up on you quite as much anymore.
We are so happy to have you as a part of your family and to watch you learn and grow everyday!
Love,
Mommy

Giving thanks, but not Thanksgiving

As this is the month of Thanksgiving, I've been pondering the giving of thanks (deep, right?). I'm terrible about sending thank you notes. I always have been, and I probably always will be. In fact, I think I've got some still laying around from when I got married 5 years ago.

Anyway, the point:
I've decided to blog a giant thank you note to everyone that has helped me out in the past little while. So, here goes.

Thank you for listening.
Thank you for being a friend.
Thank you for the meals.
Thank you for not judging me.
Thank you for making me smile.
Thank you for watching my boys so I could have some time away.
Thank you for the words of encouragement.
Thank you for crying with me.
Thank you for the hugs.
Thank you for the advice.
Thank you for the naps.
Thank you for smiling at me.
Thank you for telling me it'll get better.
Thank you for reminding me to enjoy today.
Thank you for your patience.
Thank you for enduring my never-ending stream of pictures and stories.
Thank you for letting me talk about nothing but my children.
Thank you for not staring when we're all collectively losing it in the grocery store.
Thank you for holding my hand on hard days.
Thank you for telling me how beautiful my kids are.
Thank you for telling me how beautiful I am.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, and thank you again. Words cannot express my gratitude at being blessed by the wonderful people in my life.

How's it Going?

"So, how's it going?"

I have heard this question more often than any other in the last few weeks. Everyone seems to ask how it's going. I wonder how many of them want an honest answer.

I know what people want to hear from a new mom (whether for the first time or somewhere further down the line). They want to hear about how fabulous it is. How your baby is an angel baby that sleeps through the night, eats like a champ, and has a sweet disposition. They want to hear that you've never felt better. That you're so star-struck with your new little one that you just want to look into his or her eyes all day.  They want to hear about how much your older child loves the baby. That he's a good helper who is always gentle and kind to the baby. People want sunshine and roses and sappy-happiness.

But here's the truth:

It kind of sucks. In fact, some days it sucks a lot.

I really do have an angel baby. He is mellow, happy, and content to just hang out. He loves to snuggle. He is a great sleeper... during the day. He eats like a champ, but he also spits up a lot.

The truth is that most of the time, I don't remember the last time I showered. I've worn nothing but yoga pants and old race t-shirts for almost a month now. And sleep? Forget about it. Between middle of the night feedings, a 2-year-old that only naps sometimes, and a newborn that is possibly the noisiest sleeper EVER, I'm awake a lot. There are days that I wake up with a nervous pit in my stomach wondering how I'm going to survive the day until Greasemonkey gets home from work. And some days I'm hanging onto the sanity cliff by one little finger by the time he does get home.  The truth is that I cry. A lot. Some days we go run fake errands, just so the boys will both be strapped into their car seats and I don't have to entertain for a little while.

The truth is that T-Bone is angry. He hasn't asked me to send the baby back, but there have definitely been some hard feelings surface since we brought Little O home. He's been aggressive, defiant, and argumentative. The truth is that we spend a lot of time talking about good choices and bad choices, about how it's not ok to hit/kick/bite/slap/lay on/ or abuse people. We spend a lot of time talking about how it's ok to be angry and sad sometimes.

I don't want to give the wrong impression. I love my boys. I love them more than anything else in the whole world. But being a mom is hard. It will test every limit you can think of. It is tiring emotionally, physically, and mentally. And sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it sucks a lot.

So, if you ask me how it's going I'll probably paste on a smile, lie, and tell you how I've never been happier. Just know that sometimes what I'm really saying with my eyes is, "This sucks, and I could really use a chocolate donut."

To Sleep, or Not to Sleep? Definitely been not to sleep.

Oh the joys of being a parent. I love my crazy little family, probably more than words can express. We have our battles (any parent of a 2-year-old does), but for the most part life is good. We giggle, we love Mickey Mouse, we play the tickle-bug game, we hold hands, we read stories, and we generally get along.

Make no mistake, however, life in the Gorgeous Borges house isn't all sunshine and roses. Let me tell you a little story about how our world has turned into a bit of a nightmare of late. This story is otherwise known as "The Time that Mommy was a Big Chicken and it Ended up Biting her in the Butt. Bigtime." Let me begin:

Once upon a time a young couple decided to have a baby. This baby decided that from the day he was born, he was going to love sucking on a binky. In fact, for much of the first year of his life, it was rare to see him without it. And let's be honest, shall we? Babies with binkies are cute (and quiet). Anyway, this sweet little round-cheeked lad had a mommy and a daddy that thought they knew it all. They just knew that after his first birthday that little binky was going away. And then that sweet little monkey-boy turned 1. There was a little party with much cake-smashing. It was adorable, trust me. But that sweet little monkey-boy's mommy was a big fat pushover, and his daddy was the ultimate softy. On the night of his first birthday, that little boy went to bed contentedly sucking away at his binky. So, the mommy and the daddy decided that for a little while he could keep it for awhile, but only when he was in his bed.
After about six months the mommy and the daddy decided it was time to (finally) grow a pair and take the binky away. So, one night they put the monkey-boy down without it. And he screamed, and he cried, and he wept and wailed and gnashed his teeth. It was not a pretty sight. So the mommy gave in and gave it back. And life was good. Everyone was sleeping, everyone was quiet, everyone was happy.
More time went on and the little boy turned 2. The mommy and the daddy decided it was time, once again, to try and take away the then-dubbed "bee-bee". It was a catastrophe. Mommy was a chicken and gave it back. And then finally, after much debate, it was decided that the bee-bee would go away forever in exchange for a Woody and Buzz doll. Everyone, including the monkey-boy, was agreeable to this plan... Until the dreadful day arrived. The bee-bee went away. The mommy cut it up so she wouldn't be tempted to give it back. She showed the cut-up bee-bee to the child and into the trash it went.

And here we are, kids, nearly a full month later.  T-Bone is STILL crying himself to sleep pretty much every night. He's STILL waking up in the middle of the night and crying for Mommy and Daddy. He hasn't asked for the binky in 3 weeks, but he's still being a damned stubborn little man about the whole thing. So, if I seem a little off, it's from lack of sleep. And if I don't hear something you say it's because my ears are still ringing from all the screams. And if I seem a little reluctant to leave the monkey-boy with someone else while Greasemonkey and I go out of town, it's for the sake of the caregiver's sanity.

So, please, I beg of you... pray for the sleep of my child, because this mommy is slowly turning into a zombie.

Updated to add: After 1 month of this nightmare we finally figured out the trick. He just wanted to be tucked in under his dinosaur blankie. If only he'd shared that info with me a month ago...

20 week progress

 

Tales from the ultrasound

This is all going to be a bit anecdotal from my midwife-visit-slash-ultrasound today, so feel free to quit reading at any point.

One of the things I love most about seeing the midwives is that I'm not tied to one practitioner. I just see whoever happens to be in office that particular day and time. This visit I saw DeeDee, a midwife who I hadn't met yet. We were having a rather frank conversation about my weight, gain to that point etc. Mainly, I hadn't gained any weight (not an ounce) since my last visit 4 weeks ago. In someone who weighs 110 pounds, that would have been a concern, but since I started out overweight it wasn't a huge deal for me (Just fyi, at 20 weeks my weight gain to this point has been just over 10 pounds).  DeeDee started into her spiel about nutrition, proper eating to help Bean grow, etc, then stopped herself. "How much did your last baby weigh?" she asked.
"Nine pounds nine ounces."
"Oh, ok. So pretty much this baby is going to gain enough weight whether you want it to or not, eh? By the way, I see you had your last one vaginally.  Has anyone given you props for that? Seriously, your first baby, he's over 9 pounds, you're pretty awesome."

Anyway, the rest of the appointment was pretty much business as usual. Then it was onto my ultrasound.  They jellied up my belly and got to work. After taking measurements, checking out Beans general well-being,  and making sure my placenta was in a good place, the tech asked if we wanted to know what we were having. I assured her that we definitely did, I don't do surprises. Well, go figure, the baby didn't want to cooperate. After some belly-shaking, and trying to get it to move to a better position she said, "And, there's his penis.  It's a boy!"  She finished up what she needed to do and sent the doctor in. He double-checked to make sure we knew what we were having before he slipped up and told us differently.  I said, "We were told it's a boy."
His response was, "You didn't see it?  I'm pretty sure I was able to see that from the next room!"

So, there you have it: Baby Boy #2 will be joining the Borges family in late August/early September.

Progress

So, my last blog dropped an announcement on y'all.  I guess I should share a little progress.  Also, please ignore my awful, dead-animal hair.  I'm in the process of growing out my pixie to donate my hair and it's in the awkward mullet-y stage right now.  Anyway, a few pics of the progress:

8 Weeks 1/17

12 Weeks 2/14

16 Weeks 3/14

Cravings: Cadbury Mini-eggs, Tater tots, Cafe Rio pork

Milestones: Baby Bean is a mover and a shaker.  I feel her/him rolling around in there all the time, especially if I've just eaten something sweet.

Total weight gain: 6 pounds.  Not too shabby

I'm looking forward to: feeling Bean kick from the outside, scheduling an ultrasound, being done with my early glucose test.

Ahem

I have a few pictures I'd like to share with you all:

                      

And just in case you didn't get it:

2 Years!

My Sweetest T-Bone,
  I can't believe you are 2 already!  It seems like just yesterday I was counting down the days until your arrival. 
  You are such a big boy and I am so proud of all the things you have accomplished in your short life thus far.  You can count to ten, and love to count everything from floor tiles, to food on your plate, to toys. You skip the number 4 most of the time, but if I remind you, you'll go back and stick it in there.  
  You love Mickey Mouse so much.  Not a day goes by that we don't watch a little bit of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on tv.  I don't mind, though, because it's teaching you good things. The other day I was talking to Daddy about one of your birthday presents, and I decided to spell it to him.  I told him, "It's the M-I-C-K-E-Y one." You looked up from whatever had your attention and said to me, "Mickey Mouse!"  
  You are an independent little man and love to do things for yourself.  In fact, the phrase I hear come from you more often than any other is, "Me-me."  You like to help by turning light switches on and off. You also like to do your own zippers and velcro on jackets and shoes. 
  Your favorite food is meatballs with sauce, and you would eat it for every meal if we would let you. You also like hot dogs, chicken nuggets, grapes, apples, chips, cookies, and chocolate milk. You also like to try whatever we are eating, even if you don't always end up liking it. 
  You love to go to church and play with toys and your friends in nursery.  You also like to see your Mema at church on Sundays. You love to play in the snow and build snowmen with your Uncle Mac.
  You are all boy and love to drive trucks, stomp in puddles, and play with your tools.  You are my little piano-man and love to play songs for me while I work in the kitchen. You love to help me when I sweep the floor, dust, or put away laundry.  You sing me the clean-up song while you help. 
  You still love to read stories, and always ask me for one more after we finish for the night. Some of your favorites are: Pete the Cat, anything about trucks, your Sesame Street books, and Edwina the Emu. 
  The other day you came up to me and told me that you wanted to go to Mickey Mouse's house.  You said that Mommy, Daddy, Nanny, Poppy, Maddie, Zach, and Mac would go with you.  Someday we'll go to Mickey Mouse's house, just you wait.
  There are very few things you don't like. One of the things you absolutely hate more than anything is getting your hair cut.  In fact, we haven't cut your hair in several months because it's such a traumatic experience for you. You also don't like to have your hair washed in the bathtub. 
  Keep growing my sweet little man.  I look forward to all of the milestones yet to come. Hugs and kisses.
Love,
Mommy

T-Bone Update

There are a few T-Bone things (stories, etc) that I need to write down before I lose them, so please be patient with me... and feel free to read, if you'd like.

1. He now recognizes, associates, and knows the sounds for A, B, C, D, E, F, J, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, and Z.

2. He can do all of the actions for Itsy Bitsy Spider, Wise Man/Foolish Man, Popcorn Popping, and Book of Mormon Stories.

3. He is proficient at going up AND down the stairs.  He also prefers running to walking, but has a funny Frankenstein run that trips him up.

4. He loves the words pumpkin and Halloween.

5. Speaking of Halloween, my mom, sister, and I took him to a little spook alley this weekend. While there we met a little cat that belonged to the nursery putting on the spook alley.  He LOVED that freakin' cat.  He was more interested in following it around and petting it than in anything else. While there we also encountered a life-size, singing, dancing Elvis skeleton.  It is pretty safe to say that he is obsessed.  It's been almost a week and he still keeps signing to me about the dancing skeleton.  He also keeps signing about the scary witches.

6. On the subject of signs, he now knows at least 35 signs (that I can think of off the top of my head).

7. After attending the spook alley on Saturday we took him out to dinner with us.  While waiting for our table a man walked into the restaurant.  He was probably in his 50's, about 6'2" or 6'3", and solidly built.  He was wearing cowboy boots, wranglers, a HUGE belt buckle, a western-style shirt, and a cowboy hat.  T-Bone took one look at him and immediately started making his horse noises. Luckily for us, the man was as amused as we were.  That could have been embarrassing.

8. I bought him a giraffe costume to wear for Halloween. He hates it.  Every time I get it out he starts to whine and says, "Nananananana, Fffff." (Translation: No, no, no, no, no, no, giraffe)  Needless to say, we've moved to plan B.  He's going to be a pumpkin for Halloween, because he loves them.

9. He LOVES Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Little Einsteins. He calls Mickey Mouse "Mow", but he won't say it out loud, he whispers it.  Little Einsteins is "ship", and he keeps telling me about the "Mmmmmbop" (translation: Robot) that we saw on the show last week.

10. He is in the midst of his first ever ear infection.  Poor little bubby.

And that is enough for now. :)

A bit of a whine

I'm not feeling so hot today. Physically, there isn't anything wrong with me, but in my heart I'm hurting. You see, I was supposed to be having a baby next month. True story.  You can read the background here. I've since come to the realization that it wasn't time for us to have another one yet.  T-bone needs me right now, and he needs me all to himself.  I get that.  Emotionally, I'm not ready for another baby yet (you can read more on the "why" of that here).
Anyway, not the point, let me get back to that... The point is this:
In the past year I have had no fewer than 25 friends announce pregnancies. I wish that were a gross exaggeration, but it's not.  If anything, it's an underestimate. In the past 3 days, I've seen at least 5 new announcements, not to mention a phone call from a friend of Greasemonkey's saying that they'd actually just birthed a 3rd child that we didn't know they were expecting.
And all of it kind of hurts. I know, I don't have anything to complain about.  I have several friends that, for whatever reason, aren't able to have children without medical intervention, or can't have children at all.  I am so blessed to know that my body has the ability to get pregnant and carry a baby to full term. I am so blessed to have my sweet T-bone. And I'm so happy for all of my friends expecting children. This isn't to take away from their joy, not in the least. I know that many of them have waited a long time for the children they are expecting. I know that they will be wonderful parents and that they will love their babies with everything they have.
I know it's not our time yet, but it still hurts.

The Women we Become After Children

"We change shape, we buy low-heeled shoes, we cut off our long hair. We begin to carry in our bags half-eaten [snacks], a small tractor, a shred of beloved fabric, a plastic doll. We lose muscle tone, sleep, reason, perspective. Our hearts begin to live outside our bodies. They breathe, they eat, they crawl and-look!-they walk, they begin to speak to us. We learn that we must sometimes walk an inch at a time, to stop and examine every stick, every stone, every squashed tin along the way. We get used to not getting where we were going. We learn to darn, perhaps to cook, to patch the knees of dungarees. We get used to living wtih a love that suffuses us, suffocates us, blinds us, controls us. We live. We contemplate our bodies, our stretched skin, those threads of silver around our brows, our strangely enlarged feet. We learn to look less in the mirror. We put our dry-clean-only clothes to the back of the wardrobe. Eventually, we throw them away. We school ourselves to stop saying 'shit' and 'damn' and learn to say 'my goodness' and 'heavens above'. We give up [parties], we colour our hair, we search the vistas of parks, swimming pools, libraries, cafes for other of our kind. We know each other by our [strollers], our sleepless gazes, the beakers we carry. We learn how to cool a fever, ease a cough, the four indicators of meningitis, that one must sometimes push a swing for two hours. We buy [cookie] cutters, washable paints, aprons, plastic bowls. We no longer tolerate delayed buses, fighting in the street, smoking in [public], sex after midnight, inconsistency, laziness, being cold. We contemplate younger women as they pass us in the street, with their cigarettes, their makeup, their tight-seamed dressed, their tiny handbags, their smooth, washed hair, and we turn away, we put down our heads, we keep on pushing the pram up the hill."

The Hand that First Held Mine

by Marrie O'Farrell

Ask any mom you know and she will tell you that this is the truth... and that she wouldn't change it for the world. 

I am not an engineer

There is a movement afoot from some students at that unmentionable school to the south.  There is a girl down there who is pushing to get rid of the title "Homemaker."  She finds it to be out-dated, offensive, and something to be ashamed of. I'm going to have to beg to differ.

Now lets talk for a moment about the term "housewife."  That term, I do think is outdated.  It brings to mind an image of a woman whose only job is to be a wife that stays at home.  It has an air of laziness and entitlement about it.

I personally feel that "homemaker" is a very apt description of what a wife and mother does on a daily basis. I may work full time, but I consider myself a homemaker.  Every day that I spend taking care of Greasemonkey and T-Bone, I am making a home.

The following is an excerpt from the Deseret News article that can be found here:
"Bullock said that the word 'homemaking' has a certain connotation that her generation didn’t relate to, so she decided to come up with a new concept of taking care of the home and created the term 'domaign'...
'Domaign' comes from the Czech word 'doma,' which means home, and 'ign' from the last three letters in design."

Essentially what she says is that she feels like a domaign "engineer" works to create the perfect life. That's where I run into issues with her whole campaign. I don't feel that my job as a homemaker is to engineer a perfect life.  I work to make an orderly, love-filled, happy home. 

Honestly, I have enough on my plate without trying to engineer a perfect life.  If I were to strive for perfection at home I would go crazy!  There is no such thing as a perfect life and anyone who thinks they can create it is going to spend their life being disappointed. 

I feel like the best thing I can do as a wife and mother is work at making a happy home. I am happy to call myself a homemaker. 

Greatness

#17- What is the thing you most wish you were great at?

We are sleep training in our house right now.  For awhile T-Bone awesome sleeper that would take 2 naps a day, and still do a straight 12 hour stretch at night.  It was heaven.  And then about a month ago he started waking up at night.  For the life of us we couldn't figure out why. We tried everything we could think of the make it stop.  We rocked, we snuggled, we gave him a snack at bedtime, there were nights I finally just brought him into bed with me so I wouldn't have to get up every 20 minutes.

So, about a week ago I got this hare-brained idea that it was time to take away the binky.  I thought to myself, "If he doesn't use it anymore, he won't freak out at 3 in the morning when he wakes up and can't find it."  We'd done some sleep training with him before, and it had generally gone fairly well.  Usually by night three he was settled into the new routine. Anyway, back to taking away the binks...

After his first birthday we took them away except for when he was going to sleep (naps and bedtime). We originally planned to take the binkies away completely at a year, but I chickened out.  So, we decided that a good time to stop would be when I had several nights in a row off work so I could be the one dealing with it.  Let's just say that it's not going well.

I fully blame myself.  I'm an enormous pushover when it comes to my child, first of all.  When he's laying there screaming I want nothing more than to go and snuggle him and love on him.  It is also quite self-centered. I like my sleep.  As a full time mom working full time (mostly) night shifts, I live in a constant state of sleep deprivation. Any more missed sleep makes for a not-so-happy mama.

Which all brings me to the thing I most wish I was great at.  I wish I was great at patience.  When I decide I want something, I want it right now.  When I think it's time for my baby to be done with the binky, I think it should just go away with no problems. And he should sleep through the night. And I should have endless patience with the messes, the whining, the endless readings of "Edwina the Emu" and "Jamberry".

Most of the time my emotions are treading on the thin ice of my patience. If I could be great at one thing it would be patience with my child, my husband, my family, my friends, my coworkers, my patients, and everyone else around me.

Accomplished

#16- What are your 5 greatest accomplishments?

My definition of accomplishment has changed in the last year or so.  Some days my greatest accomplishment is taking a shower and getting dressed. Some days it goes as far as completing a sewing project.  But as for my top five of all time?  Here we go:

1. This face right here:

That sweet little slice of toddler heaven is my number one accomplishment.  Not only did I grow this child inside me for the better part of a year, I get to spend everyday watching him learn and grow. He may still be a work in progress, but he is still my #1.

2. My marriage.  It took me 4 months to convince Greasemonkey that he even wanted to date me, but once I had him hooked things just fell into place.

Once again, it is still a work in progress... every day of my life it's a work in progress. But finding the perfect man for me, and growing closer together every single day is the second great accomplishment of my life.

3. My career. I worked dang hard to end up where I have in my profession.  It took me 4 years of college to get my associates degree (lame, I know), and then the passing of nursing boards, but all of that just makes me appreciate it more. Because of my chosen line of work I get the opportunity to help people and change lives every. single. day. I am nurse, hear me roar.

4. Life long friendships.

I have known all of the amazing women in this picture for 15 years.  15 years!!! That's longer than we'd been alive when we met. These women are my life long friends.  Together we have seen junior high, high school, college, marriage, and children.  We may not see each other often, but when we do, it's like no time has passed between visits.  

5. Day to day life.  Sometimes, just making it through a day and collapsing into bed in one piece is the greatest accomplishment of all. 'Nough said...

Be Good Until Then

Ok, we all know I'm mildly obsessed with Butch Walker. Seriously, if you haven't checked him out you should.  I promise it'll be worth it. 

Anyway, I've been on sort of Butch kick, lately.  This song is called "Be Good Until Then" and it just kind of spoke to me.  Tommy will grow up knowing this song, because I think it has some important advice in it... 

Always know the road you're riding on
Always know the words to your baby's song

Try to make the most of Friday nights when they come

Maybe turn a stranger to a friend

Never break a heart that's on the mend

Never let the romance ever end like I've done

Never judge a color of a skin

Never judge a person by their kin

Never follow leaders that begin behind some wall

Always help your mom across the street

Always wash your hands when you wanna eat

Always keep em dirty enough to see where you came from

And its OK to cry

If you feel it comin on

It'll let you know you're human in the end

All these things will mean more when I'm gone

Just be good until then

Try to see the best inside the bad

No matter how many drinks you had

Never make a promise you'll regret come sunrise

Try to rarely ever oversleep

Always keep your ego at your feet

Maybe try to practice what you preach once in a while

It's OK to cry

If you feel it comin on

It'll let you know you're human in the end

All these things will mean more when I'm gone

Just be good until then

Everybody loves a hero

Not so much when they fall short so

Try to keep your cape on underneath

You don't have to try so hard

To be the best. Just know you are

And that's all that'll matter to me

And its OK to cry

If you feel it comin on

It'll let you know you're human in the end

All these things will mean more when I'm gone

Just be good until then

And if you'd like to hear it for yourself, go here.

To Hell and Back

The last week or so has been really hard. But let me start at the beginning...

I've spent the last month-ish coming off my anti-depressants. I went on them shortly after T-Bone was born to help with my PPD, and they did.  I felt "normal" again. Then after about 9 months I decided it was probably time to try living life without it. I talked to the midwives and they recommended that I wait until winter was over.

So after I miscarried, I decided that it was finally time to bite the bullet and try to detox myself. I did a lot of research on the best way to wean myself down.  After about 6 weeks, I was finally done.  Because I did a slow wean I didn't experience any of the untoward effects that can come with getting some anti-depressants out of your system. (Apparently it is akin to detoxing off of heroin.  Glad I didn't have to go there).

Anyway, about the time I was down to just 1-2 doses per week, T-Bone decided that he was done sleeping until 8 am. Ugh. I don't do 5:30 in the morning unless I'm at the tail-end of working a night shift, and I especially don't do it with a whiney 1 year old. After much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth (mostly from me, a little bit from him) we got him sleeping until after 6. Praise the Gods of toddler sleep! 

But the plot thickens...

I was already on edge from lack of sleep, as anyone would be, right?  Well, on Tuesday I was having a conversation with T-Bone's wonderful babysitter, Katie.  She has been watching him for a few hours every Tuesday while Greasemonkey and I cross shifts. She has been such a blessing in our lives.  I have never once worried about leaving T-Bone with her because I know she just treats him like one of her own kids. I also love the environment she can expose him to, that I am just not capable of exposing him to. See, Katie is blessed with adopted kids, so every Tuesday they go to adopted kids playgroup.  I LOVE that Tommy gets to be involved in that, because it's not an experience I am able to give him. Anyway, back to our conversation: after some back and forth about my family watching him this summer, she told me that with her daughter starting kindergarten this fall, her schedule is going to be such that she can't commit to taking T-Bone once school starts back up.  I completely understand where she's coming from, and she's got to do what's best for her family. However, that didn't stop my heart from dropping just a little bit. Any of you that are moms will understand. When you find a sitter as good as the one I have, you want to hold on with a death grip and fight for them tooth and nail. So, thank you to Katie for a wonderful 9 months being a second mom to my sweet T-Bone.  (And yes, I had a mini-meltdown at work when I realized all of this)

And then poor Greasemonkey couldn't do anything right.  I yelled at him for putting the baby down for a nap, for crying out loud.  It seemed like every little thing set me off.

And then there was the usual Sunday drama.

And then Monday rolled around.  "Great!" I thought, "We can start fresh with a new week." Well, Greasemonkey got stuck working a long day at work. And T-Bone couldn't seem to find any voice but a whiney one. And so I decided to brave the grocery store by myself. T-Bone did great!  He was happy, smiley, and helpful.  We got to the checkout line, got everything rung up, and sweet mother of all things annoying, I forgot my wallet.  Seriously? I forgot my freaking wallet. So I called up the husband to come rescue me.  He got stuck getting off the freeway (there was an accident blocking the off ramp), but he came and paid for our groceries. We finished out our day, and I collapsed into bed.

Today (Tuesday) started out fairly well.  We started our day at 6:45, which is tolerable, and T-Bone was actually in a good mood. I came into work... and it hit the fan.  Greasemonkey called me in a panic saying he was stuck at work, and wondering if there was any way I could go get T-Bone from Katie's house. He was panicked, which made me panic, which was not a pretty sight. I burst into tears for the 700th time in the last week (seriously, ask my mom... I think I had 5 meltdowns at Sunday dinner, alone) and came to the following conclusion:

It's time to go back on my medication. I tried to live without it, and I failed.  And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.  If the balance that a small dose of antidepressant brings is what I need to be an effective wife, mom, nurse, friend, whatever, then so be it.  I will gladly take that little blue pill every day if it means a better life for my baby, my husband, and myself.

Weak

#13- Describe 5 weaknesses you have.

I don't think anyone really likes to think about their weaknesses. I know it makes me uncomfortable. But, I promised to honestly answer all of these questions, so I'll do it regardless...

1. Food: Yes, food is one of my weaknesses (I am aware that this is not the kind of weakness you all were expecting, but it's my blog...).  There is a reason that I have been overweight my whole life. I love food, and I love to eat. I am a comfort eater. When I am sad, I eat. When I am happy, I eat. When I am at a social gathering, I eat. When I am alone, I eat. Therefore, food equals weakness. 

2. Sarcasm: I use sarcasm as a shield. In all honesty, I am an incredibly awkward person.  I have a difficult time making immediate connections with other human beings. When I am uncomfortable my sarcasm rears it's ugly head, no matter how hard I fight it.

3. Laziness: My husband's standard line for any activity/chore/whatever that he doesn't finish is "I got lazy."  In fact, we often joke that when he dies, I'm going to put "I was going to keep living, but I got lazy" on his tombstone. But the truth is, I'm just as lazy. I'd rather play Words With Friends than vacuum the floor. I'd rather read a book than weed the front yard. I'd rather play on Pinterest while watching reruns of How I Met Your Mother than fold laundry. It's just the way it is.

4. Shopping: I am a compulsive shopper. If I have a spare half hour, I can guarantee you'll find me cruising through Target or Old Navy. I love the thrill of finding a good bargain. I like the little high I get from buying new things. When I'm bored my mind automatically wanders to where I could be shopping, what I could be buying, to new things.

5. Feelings of Inadequacy: I know for a fact that this is a common problem among women.  This is evidenced purely by the fact that I can think of at least 20 people that either repinned or facebooked THIS article. However, it is so difficult to not compare ourselves.  I feel inadequate as a mom when I run out of patience. I feel adequate as a nurse when I lose my compassion for a patient. I feel inadequate as a wife when the house is a mess and dinner isn't on the table. I feel inadequate as a friend when I forget a birthday, choose to text instead of call, or bow out of plans. The problem is, who defined "adequate?"

So, what is one of your weaknesses?

In my shoes

#12- Describe a typical day in your life.

This is a hard one for me, because while my life follows a very distinct pattern, every day is just a little bit different. For example, Monday is my Saturday: I do laundry, clean the house, grocery shop, etc. On Tuesdays, I work most of the day. Thursdays and Saturdays I spend half the day asleep after working all night long. Sundays are choir practice, church, and dinner at my parents house.  So, since they're the only 2 that are anything alike, I'll describe the typical Wednesday/Friday.

I quit using an alarm clock after I had T-Bone. He is fairly predictable in his wake-up time.  I usually drag myself out of bed around 8 am when I hear him talking to himself in his crib.  We make our way into the kitchen for some breakfast, usually oatmeal for T-Bone and yogurt for me.

After breakfast we make our way downstairs to watch some Play With Me Sesame while we get dressed for our walk. We then spend an hour walking at either the mall or the parkway with our friends Amanda, Josh, and Jackson. Mama needs her exercise!  Sometime on Wednesdays we play on the playground for a few minutes.  On Fridays we go to my mom's school to do music time with the first graders.

Once we've had our fresh air, exercise, music, or playtime we'll head home and eat some lunch. T-Bone likes chicken nuggets, hot dogs, fruit, or cheese. I usually eat leftovers or a sandwich. After lunch we'll play with toys in the basement for awhile, or go kick the ball on the front lawn.

By this time, we're both ready for a nap, so I'll lay T-Bone down with his blankie and his Elmo, and turn on his Beatles/Queen lullaby mix.  I give him a kiss, and tell him to have a good nappy. Then I'll go lay down for a nap myself in preparation for working the night shift.

After my nap I get up and get dressed for work. I make sure my bag is packed with my kindle or a book, pack a lunch, and probably brush my hair.

I hang out with my boys for a few minutes, and then it's off to work for the next 12 hours.

Somewhere in the mix I check Facebook, read my email, play on Pinterest for awhile, and occasionally blog. Usually the internet is just sort of on in the background and steal moments while T-Bone is otherwise occupied.

And there you have it, a day in the life...