Time Change

Since as far as I can remember, I've been a night owl. Tried and true night owl. staying up until 1:00 a.m. was my norm and I was quite good with the sleep schedule. Oh, I got up with the kids every day once they came along and it was early. Perhaps not 6:00 in the morning type of early, but 7:30 was still early in my books. Not to mention that my kids are not the best sleepers. On average, there is still a kid up in the middle of the night with bad dreams or something of that sort  at least twice a night. (Controller steroids and night terrors can come hand in hand.) Honestly, I've not slept through the night in six years. But nevertheless, a night owl I was through and through.

Everything was peachy with me for as far as that schedule went. I do my best art and writing after the kids are tucked away in their beds. 1:00 a.m. was my bedtime and it was good for me. Then something happened. Kindergarten. Ugh. I had to start setting an alarm. I know. Insane, right? An alarm! Tragic. Truly tragic. I mean, 6:30 in the morning is currently pre-sunrise. I can actually watch the sun spread it's good morning rays across the sky now. Night owl time, so it seemed, was no longer something I could accept as my routine. And not just kindergarten was the dirty little culprit for coming out of nowhere and destroying my norm. A diabetic cat is there to slap me in the face each morning. Literally. He slaps me with his paw right across the face if I don't wake up at 5:00 on the nose to feed him and give him his shot. Every. Single. Morning. Never fail. Cats. What can you do?

So here I am, sitting at my computer actually capable of writing a morning blog because that, my friends, is what it has come to. A time change. Believe me when I say that I am no early bird. A far cry from it actually. I'd just as soon return to my happy place on the couch and watch movies whilst working merrily on something hobby-like. But alas! Tis not in the cards. I will say that the diabetic cat getting me up so harshly every morning is a bit on the agitating side. But it's all for the cause. The vet said with getting insulin twice a day when he eats will help him live to be well into his late teens. He's six now, so you do the math. That's a whole lotta early wake up calls. (I'm happy to help the big guy out. I really am.) The worst part is that I have to wake up to a cat yelling in my ear. If I don't get up, it's a slap from his paw on the face. Then when that doesn't do the trick it's the dreaded cat butt in the face. *shiver* I try not to let it get that far. Of course, all four other cats are happy to add to the wake up call by scratching at the door and screaming in my ear. How Josh sleeps through this when he is still in bed is beyond my comprehension. Is there a legal way to train a cat to stick it's butt in someone else's face on command? If you find a way, let me know. I'd wake up early just to see Josh's reaction. That would be worth waking up for.

The Shoe Tying Club

With kindergarten comes learning. One of the things that is sent home with Alex from school is a list of goals that should be accomplished by the end of a month. The first month was met with a list of four goals that Alex had mastered well before preschool for the most part. This month, the goals were slightly more complicated in the fact that I hadn't really worked too much with him on most of them in the past.

1. Count from 0-20. Check! (that was checked off a couple of years ago.)
2. Know your birthday. Check!
3. Know your left from your right. Check!
4. Tie your shoes. Check!

Now, keep in mind that numbers 3 and 4 were not checked off for the mid-month report. So after practicing every night for a week after bringing the report home, he mastered all four goals. I was so proud of the kid when after three tries, he successfully tied a shoe. I asked him if he practiced at school much and he said no. Apparently home schooling is still necessary in some way, shape, or form.

Here's the most awesome part. When they learn how to tie their shoes, then they show their teacher. If they can do it, then they join something called the Shoe Tying Club. He came home after the third day and said, "Mom! I joined the Shoe Tying Club today!" Talk about milestones. I remember the exact moment I figured out how to tie mine back in Kindergarten. But the club itself isn't the most awesome part. Since I'm a giant, over-sized beast of unnatural belly proportions, bending over to tie my own shoes has been a bit more difficult than I'd like to admit. I was struggling with it one morning and Alex came over and said, "Hey! I can tie them for you mom!" And voila! Problem solved! Every morning I put my shoes on, he offers to tie them for me. What a great kid! I love, love, love the shoe tying club. Way to go Alex!

32 Weeks

I officially only have two more months to go until D-day (Delivery day). Thus far it's been a different pregnancy in many ways. Right now I'm feeling okay for what it's worth. I have all of the typical issues that most women have with a few added on the side. Last week I got a bit of a scare. I was minding my own business when the phone rang and it was a recorded message from Dillon's grocery store. It was a warning about recalled bagged spinach that I may have purchased. I ran to the fridge and sure enough, that bag of spinach I had sitting idly in my crisper drawer was the same they called about. It had been recalled because of one bag testing positive for Listeria. Now if you don't know, that's precisely one of those thing you do not want to get when you're preggo. It can cause some pretty nasty stuff for the baby including death before or right after birth. I freaked out and did a whole lot of calling to Dillon's and the doc to find out if I should be sitting up worrying about this nonstop for the next two months. Turned out that the batch being recalled was not quite mine. Whew! It was all recalled based on 'sell by' dates and my bag was not in that batch. I did have a bit of scare for a while, but all's well now and I've been cleared. Needless to say, the bag was chucked in the trash regardless and I will not be purchasing spinach until after the baby is born.

Oddly enough, the reason that I've been buying bagged spinach more so than usual is to keep this pregnancy weight thing in check by eating better this third time around. So far, I'm happy to report that my weight gain has been much more in check this time around. If I continue to gain at this good rate then maybe I won't top the scales above 200 pounds. Actually, at this point, it would be pretty hard to get that high. I'm still well below that. I've only gained 20 pounds thus far. Yay for me! Perhaps luck is with me and I won't have a 12 pound baby. Because that would hurt, ya know?

Of course the only other thing to report is that this baby may or may not be the love child of Chuck Norris. I'm fairly certain that it currently has a black belt in karate already due to the bruising I'm experiencing from being kicked in precisely the same spot over and over and over again. I actually had a stretch mark split right where the bruising is taking the place so perhaps this little one's goal is to escape via it's own self-made c-section which is how I hear Chuck Norris came to be in this world when he delivered himself. If the baby slaps the doctor back, I guess we'll know I was right. Until next report...here's my 28 and 32 week pictures. I think I forgot to upload my 28 week picture, but I can't remember.

28 weeks

32 weeks and counting. Ugh.

A Few Pictures for Good Measure

Since school started, me and my camera just don't really get much time together. Not that I was a crazy picture taking lady before hand. I mean, some people like to take a picture of their kid then a picture of their kid holding a rock two seconds later only to take a picture of their kid holding a blade of grass five more seconds later. Sometimes I miss the days when you had a roll of 24 count film, click the pictures sparingly, take it to the store for development and get surprised a week later. Technology has it's ups and downs I suppose. But I grabbed the few pictures I found and figured I'd share if not only to have documentation that I did take pictures once in a blue moon when I or my kids read this blog far into the future.

Alex's school had Family Fun Night. The kids loved it. This is the barrel trail.

Barrel train fun.

At least three times a week, Abby has 'tea parties' with all of her stuffed animals. This girl is a stuffed animal lover to the max!

Alex being 'cool' and far too serious. But he wanted me to take this picture. I found a 99 cents Jets windbreaker for him and he loves it.

One of the "rides" at the Fun Night was to buckle up and then get dropped at 5 MPH to see why we wear seatbelts. Alex was way too excited about this. What I found highly interesting was how so many children that did this had no clue how buckle a seatbelt. Alex buckled himself in like they were supposed to but there were 5th graders on this thing that couldn't figure out how to properly buckle themselves. That doesn't speak highly of their parents. Scary.

In an desperate attempt to calm Abby's nerves at school, we took this picture of us and made a keychain/necklace of it that she can keep with her at school. It seemed to help a small bit...for the time being.

Abby is quite the little artist. This is a picture of me that she drew. Four years old and she's pretty darn good at drawing. She even tries to draw things in 'still life' form by setting up objects and drawing them as she sees them. Fascinating.

And then it all went downhill...

Abby was doing fantastic at school. She was excited to go and barely even gave a second glance when I left each day. I felt great knowing she was taking to school like a fish to water. Almost two weeks of straight happy Abby at pre-school and I was feeling like it was all smooth sailing from here.

Then last Friday happened. Let me start by saying I have zero clue what transpired to cause the shifting of gears in her brain. I'm still trying to work out the puzzle in my mind. I went to open the van door to let her out and I open it to see tears pouring down her face amidst croaky sobs of barely audible words. "Please don't leave me here! I don't want to go to school anymore!" I figured it had just been an off week with all the craziness going around at home and with the nasty cold we all caught. I had to leave her with her teacher during a stream of a gallon of tears and begging to not leave her. I stood up tall and walked out to my van without looking back in hopes of the storm blowing over quickly after I left. Turns out that her teacher had to hold her for 15 minutes before the waterworks stopped. I became a little concerned at this point.

Today was normal. Abby was happy as a lark and didn't say a single word about not going to school today. She grabbed her backpack and put her Hello Kitty shoes on with a smile and we headed off to school for what was looking to be a fresh start to the week. Then I opened the van door to two large brown cow eyes filled with unspilled tears and a quivering bottom lip that had somehow grown to three times it's natural size. "Please mommy. I don't want to go to school with these people." She walked into the class and the floodgates opened yet again. I had to finally leave her after "just one more hug" in the care of her teacher. As I climbed those stairs to leave, I peeked back to see my baby girl, arms stretched desperately to me over her teachers shoulder, screaming, "No! Just one more  hug! Just one more hug!!" I smiled and waved and told her I'd be back soon, but in my head I felt as though it would take all my power not to run back down those stairs and take her home with me. These are the moments when being a mom can be so hard. You want to comfort them when they are afraid or hurt, but you also know what is truly best for them and that sometimes letting them cry is the best thing you can do. I'm going to have a nice talk with her today and try to figure out what happened, but for now I'm just trying not to let it get me down too much. It's hard to see your baby cry and even harder when you just don't know why it's happening. I pray that Wednesday will be a smidgen better...for both of us.

Taking Applications for Hero Position: Apply Within

Well heckfire! I have this grand plan for this third birth. Due to my past birthing experiences, I decided that this time around I would try something completely different. For the first two births I went as far as I could with labor pain and pansied up eventually both times by opting for the epidural. Alex was, by far, my most difficult birth of the two. 30 hours of labor, a fourth degree tear, forcep assisted delivery, and an epidural that never really fully worked. The epidural took the edge off the pain, but by pushing time, I thought I'd die. I even passed out for a brief second. Abby was significantly less time for labor, but the anesthesiologist neglected to prewarn me to the ugly electrical zap you get when they get to your spine with the giant needle and whammo! I had a headache I thought would kill me due to a spinal wet tap. Not. Cool. I couldn't turn my head straight for 12 hours and then couldn't lift anything at all for ten days after that. So this time around, my grand plan involves sucking it up and huffing through the pain like they did back in the old days. Good ol' fashioned, bite on a stick, grin and bear it like your mama did kind of birth! Oh yeah!

The plan seemed fail proof because I had a hero to look up to. I was under the impression my mom went epidural free for three of four births. I've thought this...no wait. She led me to believe this by leaving out one minor detail. She got blasted epidurals on every one of us dang kids!! What the hanky spanky?!? How she never mentioned this to me is beyond my knowledge. Here I was, feeling all pathetic and weak because I was sure that my mom (the woman who I truly believe could have her arm hacked off horror movie style and still manage to kick the bad guys butt and stop for coffee on the way to the hospital afterwards) went and gave birth like a female commando on the battlefield. Yesterday, I was telling my dearest mother how I have zero clue how to breathe properly and do all those birthing techniques but that "Heck! It can't be so bad. I mean, you did it three times so I can do it once, right?" That's when she dropped the bomb on me. At my most fragile moment of preparing myself mentally for a natural birth, she said in a somewhat shyish voice, "I didn't go natural. I got the epidural on all four of you kids."

I peed myself slightly while my mouth was gaping in shock.

So here I sit. Hero-less, 10 weeks from giving birth, and newly terrified for the horrific pain and suffering I am about to impose on myself. 

Crap.

I am still going to plan on the zero epidural technique as my doc says it might be for the best. I've had lots of doctors and dentists tell me that my nerve pattern is not "normal" which is why the epidurals don't work the way they are supposed to and why dentists can't numb my mouth properly. Plus, I'm not sure I can take the fear of what could go wrong with a third one. They say wet taps are very, very rare. So rare, in fact, that they were shocked that it happened to me at all. Go figure. So if you're an awesome hero woman who gave birth with zero pain meds, zero gas, and zero blocks...let me know. I'm looking for someone to fill the position of 'birthing idol'...and time is growing thin.

Tidbits

11:00 A.M.

Since Alex's new found confidence, each day at 11:00 in the morning, I sit around and stare at the clock while keeping my phone in near reach. This is Alex's lunch time. From the time of 11:00 until noon, I sit around and bounce my knee nervously and count down the incredibly slow minutes of that nerve wracking hour. Kids eating lunch isn't a big deal for most parents. They don't even give it a second thought. But I have to and boy howdy! It sure slows time down when you worry for 60 straight minutes. I know I've said it a hundred times, but Alex is a good kid and smart as well. Even his teacher commented about how good he is with his food allergy stuff. But I tell you what. Sitting around for that hour is hard. I'm letting him grow his wings, but this mama bird is having a hard time letting him fly.

Glucose Fail - Fail - PASS!

At 28 weeks preggo, the big glucose screening test takes place at your doc. It's not a horrible test unless you dread getting your blood drawn. But it's a bit annoying as you can't eat a lick (literally) of sugar for at least 14 hours prior to the test and then you have to down some pretty potent sugary liquid, wait an hour, then get your blood taken. They are testing for gestational diabetes and I have zero risk factors and zero history of this problem. With Alex and Abby, I passed with no problems. With this wee one, I had an accident. I drank some of Abby's juice box one hour before the test. Oops! I'm a creature of habit and my test was later in the day. Plus I'm pregnant. Hello? I get hungry and eat what I see fit. So needless to say, I failed my test. When you fail, you have to take a three hour test where they take your blood four times over the course of the three hours. I told them about the juice accident and they had me retake the one hour test. I failed...barely. I was 143 and you have to be 140 to pass. Go figure. So one looooong fasting period later (more than eight hours w/o food while pregnant is horrible), four blood draws from the same tiny vein, and one nicked nerve later (ouch!), I was done with the test. 24 annoying long  hours later I got a notice that I passed! Woo-hoo! I know I'm just selfish here, but giving up my mint chocolate chip ice cream craving was not something I looked forward to. I could do it. I just didn't want to. Our palette of food options are already limited in this house. I didn't feel like altering it more. I'm clear though. No diabetes for me!

Polar Opposite

Here's the deal with Abby being in preschool. It's completely different! Abby being food allergy free is a blessing. But it's a strange and unfamiliar world to walk through for me. Each day I dropped Alex off at preschool, I had to go downstairs, talk to the teacher about snack time and plan ahead nearly every food related situation there was. It wasn't exhausting or anything as it's just part of my normal life. But this time around with miss Abby is completely different. It's so strange dropping off a kid with no medicine bag or no strict food rules. She's still not exposed to tree nuts yet so I've requested that it be avoided, but other than that, she's just a normal kid at school like most others. On her first day, I asked her what she had for snack time and she said, "I had a big, big giant cookie with frosting and sprinkles!" They were Loft House cookies from Wal-Mart. I know these well and they are not milk-free. So it was strange to just smile and say "Yummy! That sounds good Abby!" She also downed some Hershey Kisses from the teacher on the way home. It's strange, but I'm getting used to her food freedom.