Good-bye to another year...of school!

As I begin this post, I realize how many others I have started and never finished in the last few months.

This one will be different...

I really can't believe it's already here. Summer Vacation.

School is out, again, for another summer break. Another grade is completed and this time, it was a year full of good things. Both the boys had amazing years, made friends and met goals. I was thoroughly impressed with progress reports and IEP meetings but never found the time to shout from the hilltops, like I would have not-so-long ago.

I'll start with Phoenix.

At the beginning of the year, we were still about a year behind in some areas, with many of our goals from the previous year still "In Progress". When I met with his teacher for his IEP meeting, a wave of change had rolled through.

We had met goals and were making new ones.
Speech had improved, greatly.
Concepts were sinking in and being understood.
He was finding traction and gaining speed.

It felt good to hear that after such a long struggle, we were finally in a good place. We were finally getting him to where he needs to be for his age. Last week when I got his final progress report, I cried.

Goal after goal read "Met Standards" and while we may still be a year behind in a few places, quite a few of the standards met this year were second grade standards. SECOND GRADE STANDARDS.

It blows my mind how unphased he is, how persistent and determined he is. He gets discouraged, yes. His confidence is still less than I would like. He still struggles a lot in everyday life but we are getting somewhere. For that, I am beyond thankful & grateful.

I am in awe of this little being I have helped to create and mold. He has had so many challenges; even though they seem small, they have had a big impact on him and they still would be if nothing had been done to help him find his way. Karate has helped him blossom more and come out of his shell, almost as if he's becoming more comfortable in his own skin; almost as if he's beginning to learn to love himself.

It's incredible and wonderful and awesome.

Paxton, on the other hand, has never stopped blowing my mind.

I was so worried about him, convinced he was going to have the same problems Phoenix did. I got him evaluated and did speech therapy at Sac State for a semester, went to the school district and got him an IEP, got him into preschool with his IEP. He had pull-out speech services on campus twice a week and I thought about another semester at Sac State, then the baby cried and I was thrusted back to reality with the conclusion that maybe I wasn't capable of doing another semester at Sac State.

At this point, he's already doing better than Phoenix was at the same age and is flying through things that tripped Phoenix up like basic concepts, letter recognition and sounds, so I really don't feel all that guilty. Paxton also doesn't have the inner ear problem Phoenix does, so that has to help too (with my Mom-guilt and his progress in speech).

In just this first year of preschool he's made phenomenal progress and when I say my mind is blown, I'm not exaggerating. At the beginning of this year, he knew a few letters; like the letters to his name. When I went to his parent/teacher meeting in May, his teacher confided that he can identify all 26 letters, upper and lower case, and the sounds they make, that he can spell and, this blew her mind too, that he can read.

Oh yes. He can read.

He still has speech issues, to be clear. He jumbles words together when he's trying to speak in sentences (cluster reduction) or leaves the last sound of words off (final consonant deletion) but these are normal, common processing errors for kids learning to speak and he's not that far behind. Most speech processing errors correct themselves by age 4 and Paxton's fifth birthday is just a few months away so I'm fairly confident these processes will resolve themselves if we just keep doing speech therapy at school and working on speech at home.

It gives me hope that Korben might, possibly, not have any speech issues at all but that's a bridge I'll cross when I come to it. For now, I'm going to take the progress that's been made, the goals that have been met, the leaps and bounds that have been taken and enjoy them for what the are: signs that Jay & I are doing what we need to do for our boys, signs that our boys are healthy and happy and learning and growing and thriving. I'm going to sit back and look at my boys and be proud. Of them, for getting to where they are, and of myself, for helping to get them there.

Seeing them succeed is the greatest proof that I am not a complete and utter failure and that's something I'm clinging to desperately right now.

The Return

I might be overdoing it a bit when I say it feels like I've completed some sort of epic, Iliad-like quest but I'm saying it anyways. 

This having a baby thing was IS crazy-hard!

I think we're finding our groove again but it's still a work in progress for sure. Life is always difficult when a new baby comes home, I just managed to forget how difficult it can be those first few weeks. In this case, it wasn't the baby that was challenging; it was everything else. 

Dealing with two older kids, a house & a business on top of a baby was what I hadn't really planned for. I mean, I knew I was going to have to do it; I just didn't think it would be as impossible as it was... Thankfully, I think the hardest part is behind us and OMG, is this baby adorable! 

He's almost three months old now. Phoenix & Paxton are getting used to him, although Phoenix isn't as interested in him as Paxton is. I think it's harder for Phoenix because he is the oldest; he knows now that another baby means less attention for himself and he's determined to make sure he doesn't get left out, even if it means getting into trouble. Negative attention is still attention, right? And if you can get the whole family to stop, you get a lot of attention. We're working on learning to explain how we feel and exploring what makes us feel the way we do. It's a hard concept for anyone to grasp; it's even harder for a seven year old with processing issues to understand. 

Paxton, on the other hand, is doing fabulously. He's adjusted much better than I had expected. No major regressions; no real jealousy over Korben; no behavior problems at school. He's had a few moments of dislike when I need to take Korben with us to lay down for nap (which I totally get: that's our us time) but he's pretty much in love with his little brother. He's doing really well in preschool & his speech is getting better every day. He's farther along at this age than Phoenix was so I'm hopeful he'll be caught up in another year or two; he's even spelling words, including his name!

Jay's been working non-stop; no maternity leave for the self-employed dad. Wah wah wah. We had his Grammy with us for a week or so after Korben came home & there have been a few visits from family but for the most part, we've been on our own. Jay works as much as possible, booking rentals on the weekends and any open weekdays. Which leaves me alone with the three kids a lot. Yes, it's my job as a SAHM but that doesn't mean it's sunshine & roses 24/7. Especially with a newborn, two older-but-still-dependant kids and a house to maintain. Keeping us all fed, clothes & bathed has been a challenge, to put it lightly. Something to do with a baby constantly latched to a boob, I dunno...

I'll admit I've learned to do so many things with one hand or while breastfeeding. In fact, I should probably get a medal or something, for real. Physically, I'm back to the old me. Scratch that. I'm back to a version of old me but one that has BOOBS. Yup, one perk to breastfeeding when you've got smaller-than-average chesticules and I am enjoying them immensely. Getting back to myself, mentally & emotionally, has been harder. That whole perception-meets-reality conundrum. Things just weren't what I thought they would be. They still aren't and they probably will never be. That's the thing with perceptions; even when they are yours, they aren't always right. 

I'm coming to terms with my new reality, getting used to things & finding a balance that works for us, building a new routine. I'll fill you in on all that's happened between this post and my last over a few posts but this will have to satisfy you for now. You can put your mind at ease and finally breathe a sigh of relief:

I am back.

IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

JESUS CHRIST.

It's been way too long since I've posted. You understand, I know, but I still feel a twinge of guilt at leaving you all hanging for MONTHS.

Well, life and this pregnancy have pretty much taken over EVERYTHING. So much drama with this pregnancy, I'm glad we only have 26 days left. TWENTY SIX DAYS. Less than a month and we'll have the newest little Murphy, Korben Michael.

I've done really well through most of this pregnancy; my biggest complaint being my irritability. I am your worst nightmare right now. Vastly pregnant and raging like a bull in the blink of an eye. Then there's the other side to that coin: the tears. I cry over EVERYTHING, including being totally, irrationally emotional. Yeah, it's been awesome.

My emotional state as been hard for everyone to deal with and life hasn't been all rainbows & sunshine. A few storms have broken over us but we've weathered them and come out the other side. Phoenix has been having an especially hard time because he can see I'm not my usual self. We've butted heads HARD and I've felt like an absolute failure more often than I care to admit lately.

I know I'm not in my right mind but that doesn't make it easier to deal with shit; it just leaves me more frustrated because I feel like I should have the patience, knowing it's not really my fault or the kids'. AH, brain. You are so awesome...

Good news is we've had a ton of help in getting ready for Korben's arrival. It's been so humbling. I realize how lucky I am to have so many wonderful people in my life, people I am so proud to call friends. We also have family coming in from out of town to help out; Jay's Grammy Murphy and my mom will both be here to help us celebrate and make sure we survive the first week or two. We're hoping his dad & step-mom can make it out too.

There's no better excuse for a little family reunion than a new baby, right?

Well, that's all I can manage right now; kids are screaming upstairs and Jay should be home soon. I'm not going to say I'll be back soon because chances are pretty good I won't be. I'll try to stay in touch & maybe I'll even get a couple folks to guest post for me so you all aren't left in the lurch for another 3 months.

Until then, be good to yourselves and each other.

Spaced Out

Eight years ago, when Jay & I were pregnant with Phoenix, I don't think we had any idea how our little family would eventually grow and shape itself. We knew we were going to be a family, sure; I just don't think we had a set picture of what that family would look like.

We did know one thing: we weren't in a rush to pop out more right away.

Jay is one of three boys, born in three years. His older brother was born in October 1977; Jay was born in March 1979. September of 1980, his little brother was here. I have no idea how his mom did it, physically or mentally, but I knew I wasn't up for it, however she had managed.

We both started to get the baby itch as Phoenix got older and around his third birthday, we knew it was time to give it some serious thought. Four months later, we found out Paxton would be joining us. A lot has happened since Paxton became a part of the family; the move down south, another move and well, lots of growing up.

He was only four months old when we moved down here.

Four months.

He'll never remember Portland and I don't even think he remembers the first house we had, in Orangevale. Where we live now will be where some of his first memories take place. And some of his first memories could very well be of Mom being 'pregnant' (whatever that means to a three year old), but hopefully, he'll have a few memories of life before he became a big brother.

That's one reason why we waited between kids: we wanted to be able to give them all the attention they deserve. With Phoenix in school during the day, Paxton is pretty much an only child til 4 PM, every day. He gets my undivided attention and it's just the two of us. When Jay is home from work, the three of us go on adventures like Jay & I did with Phoenix, before Paxton came about.

Sure, we feel a tinge of guilt Phoenix is missing out on fun times but isn't it important for Paxton to have one-on-one, just-him-and-Mom-and-Dad time? Yes. It is. And we deserve to be able to spend time with just Paxton. These little moments with just one kid give us the chance to really focus on that child. We get to enjoy them fully and it's in those moments you see how similar and how very different your kids truly are. You get to appreciate them as individuals instead of as a whole.

With Paxton getting ready to start preschool in the fall, I know I will have time to dedicate to the new baby, just the two of us. I will have a least a few hours every day with just one little person to care for, to feed & entertain. Then I'll have a few hours with Baby & Paxton before Phoenix gets home from school.

It's like a gradual progression from calm-craziness to crazy-craziness. I'll still get to Crazy Town on the regular but at least it won't be a constant. Hopefully, there will be an ebb & flow.

Being in the middle of this pregnancy, I can say I think it will be my last. It hasn't been particularly hard but it's seemed to snowball faster. I feel bigger, sooner, and I'm just more uncomfortable in general but I can see us following this 3-4 year pattern if we do decide to try for a fourth. It's really been a help to have those few years of adapting to our new human before throwing another new one into the mix. I am so thankful we waited to have Paxton because that time gave us a leg-up we desperately needed with Phoenix's speech & it gave us Paxton.

I'm not committing to anything right now, though; we still have 17 weeks to get through before we meet the newest member of the family and there is no telling what he'll bring to the table. If he is my last baby, I'm okay with it. I think the way we've spaced them out will help me be the best mom I can be, for each of them. I'm hoping it will give me a chance to learn to adapt to each of them as they grow up and change from boys to men. I'm hopeful it will give me time to devote to each of them, to create memories with them because in the end, I want each of them to know how incredibly special each of them is & that without each of them, our family would be vastly different.

Into the future...

On Monday, we went in for the ultrasound that would hopefully tell us what gender baby is. Well, it did exactly that and we found out we are expecting baby boy #3. While I had been holding out the tiniest shred of hope there would not, in fact, be a penis attached to my fetus, I knew deep-down we'd find one. And you know what? 

I am okay with it. 

Yup. That's a penis.

I posted on my Facebook page awhile back that I was trying to get into the "it's a boy" mindset because I had a feeling that's what we'd find out and I wanted to avoid total & utter disappointment. Yes, I am slightly bummed there won't be a little girl in the house. I won't have hair to braid and when I paint nails now, people will look at me funny but it didn't take long to get used to my new reality. I am quickly becoming excited about what three boys will mean for us as a family and what this little guy is going to bring to the party. 

There is a very special dynamic in every family and I think families that have children of one gender have an especially unique one. I'm not saying it's for the good or bad, just different. Boys with only brothers have a different experience than they would if one of those brothers was a sister. And vice versa. Girls raised with sisters and no brothers have an experience that would be wholly different if one of them was a boy. 

It presents problems and eases some burdens. While I can now be assured I will never own a bathroom that doesn't smell like pee, I also know I will always have help when it comes to moving furniture, taking out the garbage or yard work (when we get one!). I don't think we'll be able to get all three of them in a room together, just because of the age differences but there will always be one room with two of them, at least. 

Our little man had more surprises in store for us too. Like being another week ahead of schedule. Yeah. Not even 20 weeks in & we're getting our due date bumped up a second time, this one by five days instead of two. We're now expecting his arrival around August 15. I'm not really complaining about the new due date; if it's accurate, it means I have one week less in the summer heat, grossly pregnant. I can totally live with that. 

All that change is based on how big he is. At the time of the ultrasound, I was 19 weeks and 6 days along but he measured out to be the size of a 20-21 week old fetus. He "weighed" about 13 ounces, what my pregnancy calendar claims he should be weighing today, days later, on the first day of week 21. 

Honestly, though. I didn't need the ultrasound to tell me, this kid is big. I've been showing for weeks now and I look much farther along than I actually am. I can feel him moving almost constantly & you can see it on the outside now too. I'm getting the boys used to talking to him and trying to let them catch a kick or two but so far, no luck. 

We've thought about names and are saving up to store cord blood. I'm going to set up a gift registry for the cord blood so friends and family can help with the costs if they so desire (hint, hint. wink, wink). My mom found a convertible crib set she wants to buy for us and it's one we actually like so of course we said "Yes, please!" There is still SO MUCH preparing to do but really, we've been through this rodeo before; we're not buying all that crap you're convinced you need as a first-timer. NO WAY. 

I'm sticking to a few key things we'll need in abundance, like Summer Infant's SwaddleMe wraps. I was thinking about going with the new-school cloth diapers they have out there or at least Honest Company's plant-based disposables. All I know for sure is I'm not going out of my mind, buying shit that will never get used. I'll do what I did with Paxton & find a car seat/stroller combo on Craig's List if I can. I might even be able to find a really good one like an Orbit or a Bugaboo. I'd be willing to spend decent money on those since they will be getting used A LOT and I might actually be able to find a used one around town. 

I know the next few months will fly by and baby will be here before we know it but it feels like there is plenty of time. Until I look down or stand up or try to eat. Then I realize how long I still have to go and how much growing we both still have to do. I worry about how big he is, how big he'll get and how my body will handle it. I'm not at risk right now but I'm notorious for developing high blood pressure and pregnancy-induced hypertension around 35 weeks. Both Phoenix & Paxton were induced a few days early and I was on bed rest with both of them; 6 weeks with Phoenix and 1-2 with Paxton. 

For now, I'm taking it easy, pacing myself as I get used to my growing belly and shrinking lung capacity. I'm still eating small meals throughout the day to help with my blood sugar and because the Zofram can only do so much if I'm not eating every few hours. Still craving lots of sweets, fruits and juices. Chocolate milk is on the list now too, along with this trail mix I found and Cuties, those little mandarin oranges they market as 'perfect for kids'. 

I still haven't gained any weight, even with all the snacking and sweets (probably because of the morning sickness and baby's propensity to steal all my calories and whatnot), making this my tiniest pregnancy ever but I'm sure it's not going to last much longer. For now, the only things that seems to be growing besides my belly are my boobs; I've already jumped from a 34A to a 36B and now, that's starting to feel too small. 

IT IS AWESOME. Too bad I can't guarantee they'll stay...

He's already squished & he still has months of baking left!

We're heading into the downhill climb and if I remember correctly, this half will crawl by. Then again, maybe I shouldn't be comparing this pregnancy to the last two; it's already been so different. Maybe I'm completely wrong and this last half will go even faster than the first. 

We'll just have to wait and see. 

Hello, Beautiful

It happened.

It finally happened.

I made it to February 1st. I got up in a good mood, excited to find out what the day held in store for us. A touch of morning sickness was banished by the lovely homeopathic remedy my mom sent down. Phoenix and Paxton were in good spirits and Phoenix got off to school without a single hitch.

Paxton and I saw Jay off to work then we got ready ourselves. Paxton has reached the point in toddler-hood where he dresses himself and let me tell you, it is SO FUN to watch. He tells you what he's got as he puts his clothes on; sert (shirt), pans (pants), sawk (socks), sthues (shoes) and then proceeds to put on just about everything backwards. I help him turn things around before we leave the house but when we're here, I don't bother.

I dropped him with John and Johnny, his BFF, and headed to the doctors'. I got there 15 minutes early and still had a 45 minute wait. Peed in a cup, got weighed and put into an exam room. The nurse left for a second and came back with what I knew was an ultrasound cart.

My heart skipped a beat.

First thought -- I get to see her/him/IT. 

Second thought -- Man. I wish Jay were here to see this. 

She asked some basic questions, told me to strip from the waist down and Doctor would be in to see me in a minute. A few minutes later, I met Laura. She is AWESOME. She informed me though, that she won't be able to actually deliver the baby. I didn't ask why; I figure it has something to do with my insurance or state law or something. It doesn't really matter, anyways; I do a pretty good job popping these kids out and I really don't care who's there to witness it. Doctor or midwife, I will have this baby MY WAY.

Because I just had the colposcopy, Laura did the follow-up PAP instead of making me wait until March. Then it was time for the fun part. The part I'd been hoping for, wishing for. 

The ultrasound.

It wasn't the one where they goop up your belly; it was the other one. The internal ultrasound. I don't think I've had one of those before. Maybe I did with Phoenix & just don't remember but I'm pretty sure I got gooped up for both of his and I know I got gooped up for Paxton's because we got to do a 4D ultrasound too.

As soon as she had it in place, BAM! There was a tiny little human on the screen. My heart soared.

It's there. It's real. I'm growing a baby.

I honestly was amazed at how developed the little bean is already. Everything was there to be seen. Everything except the boy/girl parts, that is.

I saw little feet and toes; tiny hands and fingers; some super-long baby legs and a face. A cute, not-quite-alien face, with eyes and a nose and an itty bitty little smile. I should have been ready with my phone to take video and pictures but I was too excited to think about it until I saw little Baby P on the screen. Once I saw all I could think was, Jay is missing this. He should be here. By then, it was too late to snap pictures or shoot a video but I did get a picture to bring home for him.

Based on baby's measurements, I'm 11 weeks, six days along and my due date changed from August 22 to August 20. I'd like to think that those extra two days increase the odds that Baby P is a girl since we were trying to follow a "schedule" but it's still anyone's guess for another few weeks.

We talked about my history; two pregnancies, two vaginal births. Only minor complications, two early inductions due to high blood pressure and pregnancy-induced hypertension. I told her I'm already having constant headaches; she said it's most likely the raging hormones, since we are still early in the process.

Here's where I feel obligated to throw in a TMI disclaimer: It's about to get a little graphic.

I told her I've noticed a weird, brownish, almost-blood-like discharge out of one boob. Just one. The right one. The one that we thought had cancer in 2008. I got an ultrasound done back then and we found out it wasn't cancer; just fibrocystic breast disease. HALLELUJAH. No breast cancer, which runs in my family, just some especially lumpy boobs. When I first noticed my one leaky nipple, I headed to Google, of course, and read that the discharge could be related to tissue changes in fibrocystic breasts so I figured it was something worth mentioning but not something worthy of a freak-out. Could just be another drawback to my lumpy boobs.

She wasn't too concerned until she looked at it and got more discharge then she'd expected and I think the color worried her too. She took a sample to test and told me I'd have to have another ultrasound because it could be a sign of breast cancer. Great. She sent a referral to my insurance company for authorization on the ultrasound and told me they'd call me when it comes through.

I am not going to worry or freak out. I'm going to assume everything is fine and dandy and this discharge is just part of having a fibrocystic breast. A fibrocystic breast that is experiencing pretty real, significant changes because well, I'm pregnant and these babies are gearing up to become milk factories.

She wrote me a prescription for prenatal vitamins, filled out paperwork for a blood draw and told me to come back in four weeks. I made my appointment for March 1st, got poked and peed in another cup and headed to the car. Paxton fell asleep on the ride home and I had every intention of posting about hitting 10,000 page views but he refused to go back down once we got home. So I threw it in here, instead. You see that? Real smooth, aren't I??

Thank you SO MUCH to each and every one of you. Whether you're a follower or not, if you've read ONE POST, you've helped get me to this crazy milestone. Thank you.

If I'm lucky, I'll get a call back about the ultrasound this week and hopefully, I'll be able to get it done & over with before my appointment in March; February is a busy month for us. Today makes nine years without Dad; Jay & I have our eighth anniversary on the 26th, just two days before my mom's birthday. March promises to be just as busy with birthdays in just about every week and at least one doctors appointment.

One thing I know for sure: this baby is growing and it will be here in no time at all. We're almost out of the first trimester and I feel like the farther along we get, the faster it goes. I'm not really looking forward to being hugely pregnant during a California summer but I'll make the most of it by spending as much time as possible in our pool. I'll be the weird pregnant lady who's at the pool so much, everyone's scared she's going to give birth in it.

It will be awesome.

Yup. This will be me.

A baby no more

Today, my baby turns three. It's not really a milestone birthday. Not like the first or Sweet 16 but for me, this one is still pretty big.

Three is that age when you see the personality come out, the independence. Three is when you really "meet" your child, in a sense that they are now, very definitely, their own people. Some can still be called toddlers.

Paxton cannot. 

He is anything but "toddling" at this point in his very young, play-filled life. He is running, jumping, climbing. He is talking. Not as well as most of his peers but better than his brother was at this age and better than he was a few months ago. He's not even toddler size! Standing up to Phoenix's shoulder and wearing a size 4T, he looks closer to four or five than just-barely-three. 

December 30, 2009 -- From Baby...

It's hard for me to remember him as a baby; he's just grown so fast! He was rolling over before we moved from Oregon and was walking by nine months. He's been babbling and fighting with Phoenix for months now and sometimes, I can't believe he's still only three. 

Having Paxton has changed all of our lives, in so many different ways. He has helped teach me patience and simply won't tolerate being yelled at.

He just shuts down.

Arms crossed, head bowed, he'll glare at me from under his eyelashes.

He is all emotion and reaction. Treat him calmly and with respect and you have the most wonderful kid in the world.Yell at him to do what you want and you will have the world's biggest fight on your hands and YOU WILL LOSE. Trust me on this one.

He's reminded me that part of my job as a parent is to give these boys confidence. Confidence in themselves and confidence that I will always, always, be there for them, no matter what. If I'm yelling about spilled milk or crushed-up cereal on the floor, they probably aren't going to want to see how I react to them breaking a neighbors' window or crashing a car.

I am teaching them by example more than I am with words and what I do is what they will remember. I see a  self-assured, bright, intelligent little boy when I look at Paxton and I have the greatest hopes for him, and Phoenix too. He is always so happy, smiling and playing, laughing at anything and everything Phoenix does or says. He wants nothing more than to be doing whatever Big Brother is doing, much to Phoenix's displeasure.

We left Portland just fifteen weeks after he was born and he will never remember anything about being there. He is essentially a California kid, even if he was born in Oregon.

This is all he's ever really known. It makes me sad because in some ways, it's a lot like what Phoenix experienced in Portland: crazy times with Mom and Dad trying to figure out how to make life happen. There has been an incredible amount of fun though, too. I mean, how many kids can grow up and say they used to wrangle chickens in their Huggies??


Paxton can.

He's explored Old Folsom with us and gone to Sly Park to see snow for the first time. He's learned to crawl, walk and run here in California. We've gone swimming in Folsom Lake and camping God-only-knows-where and again at Mosquito Lake (never camp anywhere named "Mosquito-anything"). His first Christmas was here, at our house in Orangevale.

He's started speech therapy at CSUS and will start school this year too. He's almost got this potty training thing down, announcing 'I pee! I PEE!' when he needs to go or has already gone and I can see how proud of himself he is when he bounces up and throws a fist in the air with an "I DID IT!". In three short years, he's gone from a helpless, totally dependent ball of goo and poop to a smart, independent, strong-willed little boy.

He is no longer a baby. He is on his way to childhood. As hard as it is to watch him grow up, as hard as it is to lose my "baby", I am so proud of the person he is becoming. I can see in him the changes I have made in myself and how I parent. I can almost see the boy he is becoming; almost but not quite.

...to Boy in 36 months flat ♥

He was born during a freak snow storm in Portland and even with a name that means "peaceful village", this kid is a tempest when he wants to be. He is strong; he is smart; he is full of energy and curiosity  He wants to explore the world and conquer it; and today, he turns three.

I love you so much, little man. You have changed me in untold ways and I am forever in your debt. ♥

Finding happiness in the dark

For the most part, I am a positive person. I try to look at the bright side of things and choose not to focus on the bad shit that happens. Bad shit is always happening and it always will happen but those bright and shiny moments of awesome happiness are rare and fleeting and deserve to be celebrated. Those moments are what drive me; they are what get me through the dark spots and the bad shit.

Every now and then, the darkness is too much to hold at bay and I break. My positive attitude crumbles. The bright things dull a bit and the fog of depression rolls in. The last few weeks have been a struggle for me. I've tried to shake this cloud. I've told myself it is there and have been trying extra-hard to burn it away with whatever tiny rays of sunshine I can find, to no avail.

It just keeps growing.

Jay and I have anything but a perfect relationship and a lot of our problems are based on one of two things:

1) Our unplanned pregnancy, a month after our first date.

And

2) Jay's unresolved anger issues.

The first is something we've dealt with, for the most part. We've been together for more than seven years now and we've only had one very short-lived break up, before Phoenix was even a year old. It hasn't been easy, in any sense, and we've struggled to stay together. The second, his anger problems, is part of being raised in a house with a step-dad who was suffering from manic-depression/bi-polar disorder and was undiagnosed & unmedicated for years.

Let me be clear here. Jay is responsible for his own actions; there is no excuse for his outbursts or for the things he says when he is angry. He is in charge of himself and can blame no one for the things he does.

HOWEVER --

The environment you are raised in, be it positive or negative, loving or abusive, is the environment you become used to. It is what becomes "normal". When kids are raised around violence, it is easier for them to identify that behavior as normal, acceptable behavior and much harder to identify said behavior as 'bad'.

Think about it.

The foods we eat as kids comfort us as adults. The songs we listened to, books we read, places we visited or lived. We attempt to replicate the feelings of our youth in adulthood, to find the comfort we had, however fleeting or distorted it was.

I'm not saying it's okay for Jay to mimic the behaviors and outbursts he saw growing up, I'm saying I understand what he's up against.

He has to retrain his brain.

He has to learn new, appropriate ways of dealing with his stress and anger.

It is hard. It is not impossible.

The last few weeks have been really stressful, with Phoenix's birthday and Christmas coming up. He's been working a LOT and as much as he's working we are still behind. Way behind. It's hard on him to go to work, knowing the money he is earning is already gone before he gets it. I do what I can to save money, stretching the food stamps as far as they can go, waiting as long as possible to get things I have to spend cash on like soap & t.p., but it's not a lot. We've been fighting lately and I said something I should NOT have said during a recent spat and he flew off the handle. Wiped the computer clean off the counter, scaring the shit out of me and the kids, ripping cords out of it and busting the moulding on the monitor.

I've never seen him like this. EVER. It's the only time in our entire, fucked up relationship that I have been scared of him. It happened in the morning and we spent the rest of the day apart. I had the kids and tried to explain as best I could when Phoenix said 'Daddy is a bad man' that Daddy's isn't "bad", he's just making bad choices. REALLY bad choices. That night, I told Jay I'd leave if anything like that ever happened again and I will.

I'm not going to let my boys see that. I will not let them grow up thinking that is normal; I will show them how to be strong.

He agreed and he knows he needs help. Things were calm for a few days and I was grateful. So grateful. Then last night happened. Like I said above, I try to use our food stamps wisely and stretch them through the whole month. I thought I had $98 and change walking into the store last night. I DID NOT.

I had about $65. And NO money in the bank. This is not a proud moment for me. I had to leave a cart full of groceries in the store I ALWAYS shop at and go home to get money from Jay. Except, he said no. Great. Right now?? We're gonna do this, right now?? I honestly hadn't looked at the total and thought I had spent all $98 and was still $40 short. He flipped. How can I spend that much money of food? Wasn't I watching shit?? I thought I had been and couldn't explain or understand why I'd gone so far over.

I went back to the store, empty-handed, to try and figure out what to put back. THAT'S when I figured out I'd only had $65 in food stamps, not $98 and the total bill was $102.90. If I'd had that $98, I would have been fine. Totally fine. But I'd forgotten my most recent shopping trip and hadn't bothered to call the hotline before loading up the cart.

It was my fault. I had $103 dollars worth of groceries and only $65 in food stamps.

So I was at the customer service desk, apologetically trying to find food I didn't really need. I was mortified. MORTIFIED. Especially when another customer stepped in line behind me to witness my stupidity and poverty. I now have TWO people helping me and the lady behind me shuffles to the side and beckons to one of the workers helping me. I flushed instantly. "Oh god. I'm so slow. This woman is trying to get her shit and go. Ohgodohgodohgod."

I hear her ask him, 'How much does she owe?' He looks at me and says "$38.71." And I watch her as she hands him $40.

NO. THIS. IS. NOT. HAPPENING. 

Yes. Yes it is. This woman, this total stranger was paying for my groceries. I couldn't stop myself from bawling. I grabbed her and hugged her and thanked her & her husband over and over. She simply said, "Don't cry. Have a Merry Christmas. Go home and take care of your family."

I couldn't stop crying. I cried all the way out of the store. I cried all the way home. I was so pissed off that I had been put in that position, so angry I had been forced to stand there and humiliate myself. And so thankful that a total stranger had been there to help me. I didn't say a word to Jay. I made dinner. I ate. I put the boys to bed. I sat down and knitted until ten and then, I went to bed. I still haven't told him how I got those groceries home and I don't think he cares. I think he feels like he was right and I'm not talking to him out of pride or shame that I was wrong.

He has no idea that we didn't have as much in food stamps as I thought we did; he has no idea that I was "on budget" for what I thought we had. He thinks I spent $98 on food and STILL needed another $40 and I can agree that that would be kind of ridiculous. Nowhere near as ridiculous as refusing to give me money for food but still, slightly ridiculous.

All of this blackness, the dark cloud that placed itself over me, took away the great feelings I had from getting 300+ fans yesterday. It took away the joy I was feeling and the excitement. Big things have been happening here and I've been patiently waiting to spill my beans. It's just been so negative, it hasn't seemed right. I'm not happy and don't want to celebrate when I should be shooting rainbows and sunbeams out of my eyeballs, screaming about how AWESOME life is.

I woke up this morning, feeling pitiful, angry and bitter.

Then I remembered: I HAVE SHIT TO BE HAPPY ABOUT. Yes, Jay was wrong and fucked up. It's over though and I can't do anything differently now.

I'm not going to let it go.

I'm not going to forget about it.

We will talk and things will change. One way or another, things will change.

We have a responsibility to these kids; we are obligated to show them how to love each other in healthy ways.

Relaying all this to you, I feel like I sugar-coat the relationship Jay and I have quite a bit. Maybe I do it because everyone expects us to fail, expects us to be 'the couple with problems'. We're not married. We have two kids out of wedlock. We are not the typical family.

Is it really a sugar-coating though? Or am I simply doing what I do and trying to focus on the good, the positive? There is good happening to us right now too. It's just being over-shadowed by this cloud. I wish the cloud weren't here and I could share the joy we're experiencing instead of this lingering blackness but that's not really how life works.

Sometimes, you get shit on your boots when you're picking flowers. You take the good with the bad and roll with the punches. You pick yourself up when you fall, dust yourself off and get moving again. Find the silver lining in that black cloud and wrap yourself up in it. Remember even the prettiest rose has thorns and you can never plant a garden without getting your hands dirty.

Stay positive.

Focus on the good.

Celebrate those bright and shiny moments of awesome happiness.

Our relationship is not perfect. It is flawed like we are but it is strong like us too. I know we will make it through this and I know we will love each other a little more, we will each be a little stronger and wiser and we will be better people, better parents, better partners for having experienced all our trials and tribulations.

We are happy together. We do love each other.

And we are pregnant. 

Yes, you read that right. In all this nastiness, there is a really bright and shiny, totally awesome happiness. We are expecting our third and final addition to this semi-dysfunctional-but-loving little family. I know this has added to the recent stress and anxiety. I know things will be harder with another mouth to feed, another body to clothe. I know the timing wasn't the greatest, even though we did plan this. I also know we can do this. 

We wanted this. We made this happen. We can do this and we will do it together, with love and hope and lots of hard work.

Paxton makes progress

Sometimes, the baby in the family doesn't get all the attention. Sometimes, he gets almost NO attention at all. At least, on here it seems like that.

The last three posts have pretty much centered around Phoenix and well, that's not fair. Lots of stuff has been happening around here that has nothing to do with that little man and his baby brother has been making  leaps and bounds in many different ways.

It's been two months, almost three, since Paxton started speech therapy at CSUS and he has finished his first semester.

HE DID PHENOMENAL.

In the few short weeks he was in clinic, he has improved so much. He has started imitating new words, more complex words; he's blossoming and losing the "attitude" he seemed to have. We don't have as many tantrums; I can rationalize with him much more effectively and he's more capable of expressing himself.

Instead of throwing things when the Xbox comes off, he says "I WHAN ECKBAAK!! I WHAN PAY GHAMES!!" which is vastly better, if you ask me. This kid can has an arm, and aim, and anything thrown by him is likely to do damage.

I swear, he's even learning to recognize letters and words now. He knows his name from Phoenix's when they are written out and when our Live was down and all our demos lost their thumbnails, he still knew which games he wanted to play and which he didn't. He is much more engaged then Phoenix was at this age and is even more engaged than he was just a few weeks ago.

I can almost imagine a switch was flipped in that little brain of his and now, suddenly, the world is brighter and easier to understand and navigate. He just seems happier. I can understand so much more of what he's saying; I can see the pattern and I'm more capable of helping him than ever before.

I should be getting his full report here pretty soon and recommendations for next semester, which doesn't start until February but what we found out in this clinic was there are a few phonological simplifying processes' behind Paxton's speech delay. What the hell does that mean?? you ask. 

"Children below the age of about 4;06 years may not have sufficient ability to fully co-ordinate the movement of their vocal apparatus. As a consequence, certain sounds, sound combinations or transitions from one sound to another may be currently too difficult. The child may, therefore, simplify the production of complex words. "

 Paxton has two of the three major simplification: deletion and cluster reduction. Deletion is as simple as it sounds; he deletes sounds off the end of his words. CAR become CAH; BALL becomes BAH. Even bigger words like "remote"; he can say 'wee-moe' but the "Tah" sound just falls the fuck off. Knowing this, I just bombard him with overly-enunciated ends sounds; cah-ARE, bah-ALL, duh-OGG, which is what his clinician recommended I do and this is what the clinic she wants him in next semester will do too.

The cluster reduction is a little more complicated but not really. When he tries to put more than a few words together in a sentence, a lot of the sounds go missing or whole words go missing. Phoenix still does this so I'm familiar with it and can usually fill in the gaps on my own. Repeating his words back the right way seems to be helping a bit; this kid just has a LOT he wants to say and he wants to say ALL of it right now.

This isn't just about his improvement in speech, though, oh no. He has been up to a bunch of stuff lately, including a much larger interest in the potty and brace yourselves for this one:

HE GAVE UP HIS SIPPY CUP.

I know. Alert the media.

Let me make it clear that his sippy was strictly at nap and bed time & that he's been using normal, non-sippy cups since he was 18 months old. That doesn't really make it better and I know most of you are also moms and you know as well as I do that we aren't suppose to give them SHIT to drink at night because it's bad for those pearly white baby teeths. That's not a typo, either I meant to to say teeths.

Since he let the sippy go, we've cut down DRAMATICALLY on diapers. I don't think he's peed in his sleep in TWO DAYS. This is awesome because it means I am that much closer to getting rid of diapers for good, which translates into 'money in the bank'. He's finally getting the hang of "feeling the urge" and has started to announce his need to pee for the whole house to hear. He's still struggling with getting his pants off by himself but that can't be too far behind, right?

Now, you put all this together with his THIRD birthday, coming up on the 30th and you'll probably see what I'm seeing, through tear-blurred, swollen eyes: a little boy.

Not a baby.

Not a toddler.

A little fucking boy.

He's done it so fast. He didn't even consider how I would feel about it. He just went ahead and grew up a little and left me without a baby.

Well, almost...

Life Changer

Seven years ago. Today. Man, what a day.

It changed my life in so many ways. So, so many ways.

After weeks of strict bed-rest, high blood pressure and pregnancy-induced hypertension, we were going to have a baby.

I was excited, nervous, overwhelmed, scared and ready. My pregnancy with Phoenix was anything but pleasant, with morning sickness all day throughout most of the pregnancy and two hospitalizations for dehydration from the morning sickness. I wanted my body back but more than anything, I was ready to meet my son.

Besides the PIH, the morning sickness and dehydration, my pregnancy was rough in other ways. Jay and I had our first date about 3 weeks before we got pregnant and I don't think I need to say, it was a surprise when we found out we were expecting. Things were crazy. Lots of fighting. Lots of anger and resentment. I wasn't sure "we" would make it and I'm being totally candid when I say that.

It was rough and I was scared. I didn't know what my future held; I didn't know where my choices would take me or the consequences they would have. I knew I was in love, though, with this tiny little being growing in my body. I knew that before I ever saw him & I knew that he would change my life.

I didn't know then how difficult his labor was, which is probably great. I didn't know to be even more scared than I already was. They had to test the amniotic fluid before letting me go into hard labor because they weren't sure if his lungs were fully developed. They got an oxygen cart ready and called NICU.

I was oblivious. Blissfully oblivious, wrapped in a cocoon of fuzziness brought on by the epidural I had proudly admitted I was considering weeks before in birthing classes. I'd been the only one.

I knew things weren't so great when my monitors started going off, beeping and chiming, bringing nurses running. I knew the fetal heart monitor they told me they were screwing into my baby's head meant that his heart rate was dropping and the doctors were worried about him. I still didn't know to be scared.

I never felt the incision when they sliced me to help get him out but I definitely felt the tearing when he literally busted out of my va-jay-jay, shoulders at an angle.

At 3:51 P.M. on Sunday, December 4th, 2005, I met my son. Phoenix Samuel.

He came out wailing and as soon as they set him on my chest, he shit all over me. They suctioned out his mouth and nose and murmured inquiries about whether or not my fluid had signs of meconium in it. The word tickled my drug-addled brain but I couldn't put the pieces together.

I handed him back to be cleaned up, barely noticing he was more blue than red. I saw all the equipment and the oxygen tanks. It can't be serious or they would tell me, I thought. I hadn't noticed the surgeon come in or the ever-increasing crowd that was growing around my nether regions. I was watching my baby and listening to Jay coo at me, soothing me in a way I had never expected him to be capable of. He'd been there, at my side, through all of it. Holding my hand, wiping my hair out of my face. Every word his said was the right one. Never once did he upset me or make me feel anything but loved, adored and utterly cared for.


That day showed me that we could love each other in spite of the stress we had been through in the nine months we'd been waiting for this little boy. I knew I would never be with another man again in my life. I knew with the clarity that bespeaks of a divine intervention, if you believe in that sort of thing.

My reverie was broken when the collection of medical personnel gathered between my legs called Jay over with the words, "How does this look?". I will never forget those words or the look on his face and the color completely draining away as he looked at what had to be the most disgusting thing he'd every seen: a vagina freshly mangled by child birth, oh-so-carefully stitched back together. Not a pretty sight, I imagine.

We'd done it. He was here. They wheeled him away with a mask over his little baby face.

I didn't get to see him weighed. I didn't get to see him measured or watch them ink his little feet.

He was off to NICU. His lungs weren't as good as they'd thought and his heart rate was erratic. He needed oxygen. I was too exhausted to be scared, now. I'd been in labor for 20 hours, counting the pre-hospital contractions the day I was admitted, spending most of the night on that medicine ball I mentioned early and all I wanted was sleep. I had no idea what had just happened.

We got to see him a few hours later. He had stabilized and was doing good. Jay gave him his first bath and we found out he was born at 7 lbs 14 oz and was a whopping 22 inches long. The first time I got to feed him, we watched The Simpsons and to this day, the kid knows and recognizes anything and everything Simpsons-related.

Two days later, we went home. As he's grown, the problem with his lungs has stayed and will always be there. His distress during labor had been caused by a birth defect, a congenital malformation, called pectus excavatum; an indented sternum. His little chest cavity isn't as big as it should be; his lungs don't have enough room and neither does his little heart. Fortunately, we've managed to avoid any sort of heart trouble, so far.

I didn't know when we took him home what his first year would hold. I was blissfully oblivious. I had this beautiful, marvelous little being to occupy my thoughts and time. I had my baby and I was a mom. Seven years later, I am a much better mom, with vastly greater appreciation for the gift I was given that day. I have learned that to be a mom, you must put the needs of your children far above your own wants. You must love unconditionally, yourself included. You must be patience and kind, firm and strong. You must be willing to change and learn.

Phoenix has taught me all of this and volumes more. He has given me a gift I can never, ever repay; I owe it to him to be the best mom I can be. I am so grateful for him, so thankful to have him as my own. I would go through every challenge, all the years with no talking, all the tantrums and poopy diapers, the fights and stress, I would do it all again in a heartbeat, just to have him as my son.

So, to the little boy who stole my heart;
the little boy who gave me a light to see by;
the little boy who is no longer a little boy;

Happy Birthday. Mama loves you so much.

Saturday Mornings

It's six AM. The sun isn't shining. The birds are not chirping. EVERYONE should be sleeping but I am not.

Someone has other plans.

TWO someones.

Two very awake, very energetic, someones. One of them is already dressed. GREAT. Happy Saturday to me.

I'm not sure when kids go from waking up at pre-dawn, all full of spunk and happiness, to sleeping til noon every chance they get, but I'm really looking forward to it. Don't get me wrong. These guys are fun to be around but they're even more fun to be around when you've had a full nights' sleep. And a pot of coffee. Or two.

I can handle getting up at 7 AM all week (Saturdays and Sundays included), no problem. What bugs me is getting up an HOUR earlier than I would normally, when I don't absolutely have to. There are only two days a week I get the chance to sleep in so I relish every extra minute of sleep I get.

Not today. No chance. None. Nada. No way. NOT GONNA HAPPEN.

Instead, I put the kettle on, ground some beans and cleaned out the press. Phoenix picked out a movie and both of them curled up on the couch with blankies and pillows while I finished making coffee. I sat down with my cup o' joe and try to enjoy being up an hour early on a Saturday because sometimes, you just have to take the little bits of peace that you can get and BE HAPPY WITH THEM.

Hope your Saturday morning was filled with hours of blissful, kid-free sleep.

Behind this door

After being a full-time SAHM for nearly four years (holyfuckingshit. are you serious??), I can assure those of you who aren't "lucky" enough to get to spend your entire day, week after week, covered in food, spit, poop and vomit, cleaning incessantly but never really cleaning anything, weighed down on one side by a toddler that weighs forty pounds (just ten less than his senior-by-four-years brother), that there is a secret world behind this door.

It's not evil. It's not bad at all. It's not about forcing kids to do chores. Or beating them. It's not better or worse than the way the house functions when Dad is home or when you replace me with a mom who goes to work.

It's just different.

I can easily spend what amounts to every single waking hour (and quite a few non-waking hours, as well) with the kids, taking care of housework, homework and busy-work; running errands, grocery shopping, coupon clipping; wiping faces, noses, and hands, kissing boo-boos and fixing broken Legos.  -- They  supposed to come apart, son. Then you put them back together. THEY ARE LEGOS. Yes, they are pretty awesome.-- and I get into this flow.

We have routines that only I know.

I go shopping at this time because Kid 1 is in school & Kid 2 will still be moderately well-behaved for another hour or two. As long as you don't give him sugar. At all. PERIOD. NO SUGAR. Then Kid 2 takes a nap at exactly this time to ensure maximum nap-age while maintaining enough of an energy drain to guarantee a decent bed time. VERY tricking math to pull off when your dealing with a two year old. I start cooking dinner right now because if dinner's not done in x minutes, I'm going to be bombarded with hungry children, crying for yogurt and chips and cereal. I just find ways to make life easier because when life is more pleasant, and less stressful, Mom never even starts to think about all the places she could hides bodies.

I can't speak for all SAHMs but when I find something that works, something that makes my days easier, I use it. So these rituals are born and viola! life is more pleasant and a little less stressful. For a little while.

It's not that Dad is incapable of re-creating these weird little rituals (does that sound too cult-y? I swear, I don't make them chant incantations. That's just how they talk. Ear problems, you know.), it's the simple fact that taking the time to explain the how and why would be just enough time to make me sound bat-shit crazy. And because, well, what works for me isn't guaranteed to work for Dad. Or anyone else.

These are my tricks, the things I've learned through experience, trial and error, and found to be effective. They work for me because the relationship I have with these kids is special. And it's special because I'm here with them every day. I see them at their worst & at their best and they see me in all my raging glory too. They might not understand me the way I'm able to understand them but they see and they help define the rituals we have together. They want to be a part of what is happening. They want to be included in everything.

These boys are becoming themselves more and more, every day, and they now have some responsibility for our relationship. Their actions and emotions impact how we interact and get along and they are now building relationships with everyone they come in contact with.

They are why we have these rituals and they're starting rituals of their own with all the people in their lives.

They are letting me, and everyone else, know what will work for them, what they are willing to accept from us. They are setting boundaries and learning the limitations we're setting for them.

Of course they act differently for Dad and Grandma and every other person. They have different, unique, relationships with each person they meet so it makes sense that they would act differently & enjoy different things with each of us, uniquely, and it makes me aware of the incredible relationship I'm able to build with with them because I can be at home.

Any parent who stays at home gets to have this kind of interaction, this closeness and sense of intimacy with their kids. If you're aware enough to grasp what's happening, right in front of your face. Really good parents can have this and still work.

And it can just as easily be over looked by any parent in times of stress and when life gets busy with the day-to-day stuff. You have to pay attention to appreciate what's really happening as our kids get older.

And you might find yourself feeling like the world you share with your kids is a secret world too. A world just for you & them.

Murphy's Law Strikes Again

Man, oh man. Sometimes, I question whether or not Jay and I really should get married. Not for reasons you might think but because I'm scared if I change my last name, I'll be even more doomed.

When a lazy Sunday goes bad

Even though we completely lack any sort of religious preference, we can agree Sunday should be a day of rest. Mainly because we want at least one day we can laze around and not feel obligated to go out & do something; secondly because Sunday is the day before Monday, which makes it the perfect day for resting before being tackled by another week of work, school & all the other obligations we must suffer through.

This Sunday, things were different. Very different.

It started out great. I got to sleep in. I mean really sleep in. I didn't get out of bed until after 9 (that's like noon for most people). It felt GREAT.

When I got up, I ran to get coffee and Sunday morning breakfast of coffee cake & chocolate chip muffins. I made coffee, read my book outside in the sunshine for a bit. I remembered for the first time in months that we own a Kinect & we all got down on some Kinect Adventures!. I can't believe I forgot how awesome this thing is! This summer won't be nearly as difficult as I thought when I can entertain & exercise the kids from the comfort of an air-conditioned house.

With summer on the way, weather here has been nice. And hot. Really hot for a girl from Oregon. I thought it was hot enough for the A/C since we were bouncing around, leaping over imaginary logs and whatnot. Jay thought differently so he busted out his industrial strength blower. It's a huge fan that he uses to dry the floors after mopping. It's like a box fan on crack and really helps cool the house down, without killing the A/C.

He set it up at the top of the stairs, next to my ever-present laundry pile, and let it stir up all that hot air. This thing is so powerful, you can make your own wacky waving inflatable arm-flailing tube man by simply throwing a shirt over the end of the blower. It's hilarious and incredibly entertaining to the kids.

Don't ask why. I'm not sure I know myself. Kids are entertained by some weird shit sometimes. I don't try to pretend I understand; I just use it to my advantage as much as possible, as often as possible. Eventually, they get bored by whatever it is they found so entertaining and you're back to Square One. After a shirt or two, a sheet and some other random articles of clothing, they were over it & we were back to the Kinect.

Except Phoenix apparently wasn't as "over it" as I thought. His little sense of discovery & curiosity was piqued and even after several warning not to stick his fingers or ANYTHING into the blower, he did just that. Jay & I heard the sound of something hitting the fan blade and leaped up to see why there wasn't a scream to follow. I figured no scream was a good thing.

I was wrong.

We found Phoenix in his room, with a look of utter horror & total pain on his face, his hand shoved under his blanket. I sat down and pulled his hand out to see what happened. 'There's blood.' I announce as he's dancing around, yelping. I flip his hand over to see how bad it is.

And proceed to freak the fuck out. Yes, that's a technical term.

Normally in these situations, I'm the one who maintains a level head, a voice of calming reason & reassurance. Not this time. "We need to go to the hospital.' I tell Jay. He hasn't seen what I've seen yet so he feels comfortable telling me to "calm down". "I AM CALM!" I snap back & show him Phoenix's bloody little fingers. One look and Jay agrees, "Yup. You need to go to the hospital." It's Sunday, our lazy day, so we're all rocking our pajamas, even though it's something like 1 o'clock in the afternoon. I throw a shirt on Phoenix as gently as possible after Jay wraps a clean rag around his still bleeding fingers.

The kid is freaking out. Screaming, crying, scared to death he's going to lose his fingers, his whole hand, that he'll never be able to play video games again (true story). He's putting himself into a panic attack on top of all the physical trauma he's just inflicted. "Deep breaths" I say, "Calm down. Everything's going to be okay. The Doctor's going to look at your fingers and they're going to fix them. Okay? Everything's going to be okay, buddy. Just calm down." So proud of myself cuz seriously, I was right there with him.

OHMYFUCKINGGOD WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO MY BABY!?!?!

We sign in, get through triage and get some x-rays taken. No Tylenol or Motrin. Nothing for the pain & swelling. Just a six hour wait in the E.R. lobby. Jay came down with Paxton right after we signed in, ran to get us some snacks and came back to hang out & wait but after a box of Jolly Rancher chews (so good) and a Slurpee, Paxton was literally bouncing off the walls. Jay took him home to run the sugar out so it's just me & Phoenix. And the other 19 gazillion people in need of emergency medicine.

Around 6 o'clock, we finally get called back to hear the x-ray results, get bandaged up & discharged. We found Nickelodeon and watched an hour of Spongebob before seeing anyone with a badge or chart but I couldn't seem to avoid making eye contact with the weirdo across the hall every single time I looked up. Eventually we found out nothing was broken, just some severe abrasions that couldn't be stitched.

He was bandaged up, all four fingers from tips to wrist, and discharged after another hour or so. We made it home, watched with Simpson's while we wolfed down "dinner" and trundled up to bed. All tucked in, bandaged hand carefully laid on top of his blankets, he assured me & Jay he would never put his hand in the fan again.

Yeah, kid; we know.

Downstairs to relax, recount the insanity that we just survived & get a laugh at the newest example of 'Murphy's Law', in full effect. Anything that can possibly go wrong, does. It seems if you bear the name 'Murphy', this is doubly true. Taking this into account, I shouldn't have been totally shocked when I heard a knock at the door. Our friends next door were home from a day at the river & having a get-together. They'd been drinking at the river & my friend, Carrie, needed a ride to get her little sister in Rancho Cordova.

I couldn't say no. How could anyone? Her little sister is only 16, doesn't have a car & wasn't in the greatest neighborhood to be mobbing around on her Razor after dark. After a day on the river, drinking in the sun, no one next door was in any shape to drive. I frankly hadn't even thought to crack open the one Mike's Hard Lemonade I have in the fridge so we hopped in the Jeep.

We got out to Rancho around a quarter to ten, made a stop to drop Carrie's sister off at home & grabbed some diapers before heading back to my place. Carrie was more than thankful, putting $20 in my tank AND buying the diapers for me, which I wouldn't have been able to get without her. It was really sort of a blessing; I wouldn't have gas or diapers right now if it weren't for her and I did something I can feel good about for a friend, something we should all do more of.

Even after all that, I still stayed up till midnight watching t.v. with Jay. It was just too much. I had to unwind from all the action & 'excitement'.

6:11 came super fast this morning but I'm so glad it did. Today is here & yesterday is over with. I don't know what tomorrow will bring but in this family, any day can turn into an adventure. Real quick.

A Study in Sleep Deprivation

Most parents will tell you -- Once you have kids, you never sleep again. Ever. 


It may seem a little dramatic and it isn't true with every baby but for the parents with a colicy baby or one who just never sleeps more than two or three hours at a time, getting a good nights' sleep is something akin to winning the lottery. Maybe not a big lottery but still improbable. Something you have on a wish list -- #1. Win the lottery #2. Sleep 8-10 hours straight #3. Travel the world. -- you get my point. I've been extremely lucky with the boys and they've both been great sleepers, even when Paxton was breastfeeding.

So why should it change? Well, because babies are human. 


With close observation, you quickly realize how fast babies grow, how fast they morph out of that drooling ball of goo into a walking, talking whirlwind of terror. Different stages offer different challenges and some of those can definitely affect the amount of sleep a growing baby gets. You'll definitely lose sleep when the teeth start to come in and the older they get, the less sleep they need which makes napping when they do harder & harder. 


Then there's every time they get sick; you can rest assured someone won't be sleeping. Generally, it lasts just long enough to have you fantasizing about running away before things cool down and the old routine is back or a new one has been established. It really doesn't last that long; maybe a couple weeks, maybe three or four but usually not long enough to make you really crazy. 


Usually. 


Too bad there's absolutely nothing "usual" about my family. In this family, it pays to live like a Boy Scout -- Be Prepared & ALWAYS Expect the Unexpected -- but if Life has taught me anything, its that Life will always give you something you weren't expecting or prepared for. That's just Life.


I didn't expect to get Strep throat right after Christmas & I definitely wasn't prepared for the week of Hell that followed. I don't have insurance and when I get sick, I DO NOT go to the doctor (which means the Emergency Room) unless I absolutely have to. When Day 3 of a sore throat left me drooling all over myself because I couldn't even swallow my own spit, I went in. That's how I found out I had strep. I only survived long enough for the antibiotics to kick in because I was so pitiful, the doctor gave me Vicodin too. Yay me.


Barely out of my sick bed, Jay's brother, Joel, flies in from New York AND Paxton decides to get the worst diaper rash EVER! I have never in my life seen a baby's butt so raw. Every diaper change was torture, for both of us. Even with a prescription, it took days to clear up. And you can bet every one of those nights was totally sleepless. He woke up every time he peed; every time he rolled over, I'm pretty sure. By this time, I'm going on two or three weeks with maybe four hours of broken sleep a night.


I thought I was going to go crazy!! As soon as I'd start to fall asleep, a blood curdling scream would jar me awake and I'd stumble to the boys' room to do what I could to soothe Pax, which was close to nothing. It got so bad one night, I took a baking soda bath with him at 3 in the morning; a mother's love has no limits.


It doesn't end there, though. Oh, no. 


I'll admit I had about a week-long break between the rash and the next sleep-killer: bronchitis. I'm glad the rest of the family didn't catch my strep but I was not at all glad to hear that barking cough & wheezing. Another visit to the doctor; more prescriptions -- inhalers all around, Prednisolone for Paxton -- and another two weeks of no sleep. At this point, I could fall asleep blinking my eyes. Driving has become hypnotic, which scares the crap out of me, and as soon as it starts to get dark, I'm struggling to keep my eyes open. 


The bronchitis is under control now and we were on the road up when I made the mistake of feeding the boys' enchiladas for dinner on Sunday. They loved them but apparently, enchilada sauce is too much for little tummies when combined with a bedtime sippy of milk. Paxton woke up around ten, crying and fussing but we couldn't figure out 
what was wrong. I sat with him, rubbing his hair to get him back to sleep, when he starting gagging. I scooped him up and ran for the bathroom but didn't make it (does anyone??). Spicy, curdled milk went EVERYWHERE. All down my arm, shoulder, back; it even arced a nice rainbow of puke as I spun into the bathroom. 


With newly-made stomach-cheese covering the entire left side of my body and trailing behind us, I knew we weren't gonna make it to the toilet. I got him as far as the sink for the rest of it and considered myself lucky to make that far. After that, I figured he'd be fine but in the melee, his blanket got doused and was definitely not fit to be slept with. 


He lost it. 


He didn't care it had puke on it and needed to be washed. He didn't care he has two other blankies EXACTLY like the one now soaking in milk curds & enchilada sauce. Every time I'd get him calmed down and on the verge of sleep, he'd remember the blanket he was cuddling was NOT his blanket and the freak-out would begin again. He even trotted himself downstairs to retrieve his blanket from the wash when it became obvious to him I wasn't going to get it.


Sometime around 1:30 or 2 in the morning, he finally went to sleep. For two hours. Yeah, it just keeps going. After settling him back to sleep AGAIN, I got a few hours of sleep before my alarm went off. I didn't bother getting dressed to take Phoenix to school; didn't even consider putting on make-up and couldn't have given two shits what anyone thought about it when they saw me. I can honestly say that's probably the first time I haven't gotten dressed and done my make-up but it was completely beyond me to put in the effort.


I'm hoping this "stage" is over & done with. I need sleep. So, so badly. I love my kids; I really, really do and I've only thought about strangling them a few times, just briefly. I'm sure they can sense when I'm at my breaking point, though, because out comes the cuteness and things quiet down for awhile. The urge to commit murder fades, replaced by a tiredness that seems to seep out of my bones. All I need is two weeks (maybe three or four) of GOOD, sound sleep (or a medically-induced coma) and I'll be fine. Just fine...

The Murphy Effect

All of us have heard of Murphy's Law -- "What can go wrong, WILL go wrong" -- & some of us have even dealt with Murphy's Law firsthand. Then there's Jay, who is a Murphy. I sometimes feel like Murphy's Law was written specifically about him. Only with Jay, it can be a little worse because he has a way of "rubbing" off on you if you hang out with him too long. I call this The Murphy Effect; here's an example, albeit a fairly extreme one...





I updated my Facebook on Friday with a status that included a snippet about going camping. I had no idea when I posted it, what exactly our weekend would be like. If I had, I doubt I would have had any enthusiasm; in fact, if I'd known what was in store for us last weekend, I would have made Jay turn around and go home. I'm not psychic though and I was feeding off the excitement oozing out of Phoenix & Jay, as we drove head-on into near-disaster. Jay found a campground up the "hill", north of Highway 50, with a lake, bathrooms and even more importantly, vacancies. We had two ways we could get there; a long, well-used way and a short, not-so-well-used (if at all) way. When I say "we" right there, I mean Jay; I actually had no say in which way we ended up taking or I would have voted for the first route.

Yes, we actually drove over this, in the dark.

It turns out, Jay chose to take us the not-so-well-used (if at all) way and guess what? After a few wonderfully-paved miles, it turns into a logging road. As navigator it was my job to make sure we stayed on course, not a complicated task if one has a map. Yeah, that's right. No map. So here we are, on a logging road, with no map. We keep going, using the map on Jay's cell, which doesn't have service any more, by the way. Oh and did I mention, we left the house around a quarter to seven? Sunset was 7:13 PM on Friday. Now it's dark, we're on a logging road and we have no map. We just keep going, looking to my Jeep "compass" and checking the map on Jay's phone.

That is, until we come to the proverbial fork in the road, which is actually a fork in the road Looking back, this is where it all went wrong. Instead of sticking to the left and following what was the road we were on, we took a right. It looked like it was a good choice at first. It was paved and we were heading East, towards our intended destination; for a little while anyways Then we hit dirt. Then switchbacks. Then, we started heading South. Did we turn around? No. 'It's the computer." Jay says. Yeah, we can't actually be heading in the wrong direction now, can we? We're still not completely convinced we're lost; we half-joke about seeing Bigfoot or getting lost like people have done on the remote roads of Oregon. After about an hour on this desolate dirt road, the creepy wood noises you hear and what I could swear was a rock being hurled at the truck, it wasn't funny anymore, or even pleasant; it was just plain scary. We realized we had no idea where we were; we knew that right turn had been a bad move but what do we do? We kept going.

We passed a lake at one point; I could see it through the trees, moonlight reflecting back off the dark water. I knew Jay was feeling nervous because he was going as fast as he could safely go, in the hopes of getting us somewhere. Paxton got carsick; Phoenix & I came close but still, no end in sight. Mile after long, twisty mile we drove; over dirt, gravel and back to dirt again. Three hours of driving, at least two of which have been on roads that would make for awesome rally races but make for lousy family traveling. Lights. A fire. People. We drive pass but we feel safer, just knowing we have to be somewhere near civilization. 'We should have stopped' I say. 'We've got to be somewhere.' Jay replies, as we pass another truck heading back towards the camp we just passed. Five, ten minutes later & we get to a clearing. With a sign! And a map!

Instead of camping right then & there, Jay decided to try to follow a road the map says leads to a boat ramp. After another 20 minutes with no end in sight, we turn around and head back to the sign & map. Our brakes are literally smoking hot and by now, it's almost 11. We set up camp, build a fire and put the kids to bed. After our crazy little adventure, we actually had to ask a group of hippies not to camp next to us; they pulled up at midnight & obviously weren't planning on going to sleep until the sun came up. We have kids so we won but neither Jay or I slept well. Everyone was up by seven the next morning; we broke down camp & took another look at the map. We headed back down the "boat ramp" and realized what a crazy road we'd been on the night before.

Stumpy Meadows 

After traversing California's Deadliest Road (a.k.a. Forebay Road), we made it back to Pollock Pines, a whopping ten exits north of where we got off the freeway to start our little adventure the night before. We head south and take the exit that puts us on Highway 193, the route Google recommended. After another round of carsickness, this time from both kids, we finally made it to our intended destination. It was pretty much worth it; we didn't get lost or die. We learned some lessons along the way and ultimately, we did have fun and definitely made some memories. The campsite was pretty empty so we picked a site on the end of the row, with an open site next door and a bathroom across the road. As we're getting ready to head down to the lake, we see a familiar car. Grandma Mindy & Grandpa Ron drove up to see us! We told him about our adventure & dragged them to the lake with us.

It was a horrendous hike. The only reason we went through with it was in the hopes of be able to swim & play. No such luck. Steep drop offs right off the tiny shoreline made swimming and playing this mother's nightmare, even with life jackets. Phoenix got bored fast & prompted us all to made the devastating trek back up to camp. We stuffed ourselves on hot dogs, chili and marshmellows until Grandma & Grandpa left a few hours before dark. I started cleaning up, reorganizing food & packing dirty clothes. Not long after dark, the kids were out cold & we reflected on all the craziness we'd just put ourselves through. I know now why it's been so long since the last time we went camping; it's a lot harder with kids!

Kids never seem to sleep in & we were probably the first ones up the next morning; I'm sure everyone else in the camp loved that. The boys were running between our site and the next, Paxton squealing with all the joy in the world & absolutely no clue he's disturbing every living being within a thousand yards. Until he got stung by a yellowjacket. We decided we'd had enough and started packing up. By 10:03, we were on the road. Dirty, tired and smelly, the aroma of milk-puke permeating the Jeep, we followed Highway 193 back through Georgetown & ran right into the Founder's Day celebration. We almost stopped but we really did look a hot mess. Home sounded so good & we got there before 11:30. I unpacked the car while Jay showered; washed the inch-thick layer of dirt, dust and grime off the boys; separated & started laundry then passed out on the guest bed in the office.

It's Wednesday and I think I can safely say, we survived and have recovered from this weekend. Even with this long post dedicated solely to the events of this weekend, I don't feel like I've fully articulated the wide range of emotions we visited this weekend. I left out some of the less important details, like the joy of seeing a forest ranger (usually something we avoid) that first morning, because I want you to actually read this whole epic thing but I hope you can still see yourself there with us. I wish I could have found the road we took to get so lost but so far, it has eluded me. We should have made a rally tape, then you'd definitely see just how scary this whole adventure was.

I like to think of us as a real-life Simpsons; happily dysfunctional.

So yes, what can go wrong will go wrong but if you hold it together, you'll have some of the best fun ever and you'll quite possibly turn something that could be very bad into something extremely awesome. This is how we make memories. Insane, sometimes nightmare-inducing memories but great, epic, almost magical memories. This is The Murphy Effect.