I've lost control

My children have decided to prove to me I'm outnumbered.  Of course, I knew that but technically I'm still bigger than them even if I stood them all end to end.  I thought keeping a positive attitude would keep the fact that I am, indeed, outnumbered 3 to 1 from being so daunting.  However, the last day or two, it's not working.

Apparently I dished out a few too many empty threats while I was pregnant.  I won't play stupid and say I don't know what's happened to them.  I am fully aware that being pregnant and tired and not feeling well for over two months took a toll on their disciplining.  However, now I'm back in the game, have been awakened so to speak, and see the error of my ways.  They are little monsters when they want to be and I allowed it.

Well, I'm not pregnant any more.  They're not going to behave this way and it's time for their "fun" to end.  Chicken will no longer tell me "no" by shaking his head when I tell him to do something.  Punky will no longer whine.  Chicken will no longer squeal because he's not getting a toy he wants.  Punky's stalling and overall disobedience every.time.i.tell.her.to.do.something is stopping.  Today.  No, make that yesterday.

It's time for a discipline marathon.  No matter what, I'm getting control back of my kids, my emotions and my life even if it kills me.

And it just might if they gang up on me too much more.

That's it. She's had it.

Punky has had enough with all this baby stuff. Apparently she's leaving.

This is what I found when I told Punky to go back to her room for a little while after her nap so I could catch a few more z's without worrying about her.  

Life at home

First off, thanks to you all for your support about the breast feeding.  I was definitely having a low day and after a little bit of sleep I am feeling much better, although nothing will take away the regret I'll always feel about it.

On a happy note, New Baby is adjusting well to life outside the womb.  She's sleeping 3 to 4 hour stretches at night, which I certainly can't complain.  Punky and Chicken had their days and nights mixed up pretty good for about a week, slept sporadically and in general were just fussy.

It's so sweet to see Hubby so smitten with her.  I have to admit, with Punky and Chicken it wasn't like this.  We were both short tempered and couldn't wait for the day they slept through the night.  I guess knowing this is the last one is really making a difference for us.  Don't get me wrong, I can't wait until she sleeps through the night, but at least this go around I have more patience and enjoy the moments she looks up at me in the semi-darkness with her big round eyes and studies me.  Hubby got up without me asking him last night and got her bottle ready.  He even laid back down and leaned over on my shoulder, watching her.  Granted, it was only for like 10 seconds before he flopped back down and rolled over only to start snoring again, but believe me when I say that NEVER happened with the others, lol.

Hubby even mentioned to me that he had a moment of regret in the hospital about the "v".  For once, I was the sensible one and said, "Let's end this on a good note instead of having a REALLY bad baby and ending up bitter like some other people we know."  Don't get me wrong, I've had MANY moments of regret since bringing her home.  But babies are like puppies, they grow up.  Babies grow up to get sassy like Punky since we've brought New Baby home.

Both Punky and Chicken are adjusting somewhat.  Punky as I mentioned is a little sassier and isn't obeying as well, but Chicken is definitely whinier and clingier.  I feel bad for them both.  This is one of the reasons I know we made the right decision to stop at 3.  I just can't give them enough personal attention if we kept going.  I'm working hard to stop a couple of times a day and give them a hug or sit with them.  It really helps that New Baby is so easy so far.  But of course, I enjoy the time I have with her after the other two are in bed.

So, has anyone had any trouble with circulation after an epidural?  Of course, mine was a dud since it got in my arms and made me sleepy, but I've been having some pretty bad circulation in my hands since delivery.  I'm hoping that crazy anesthesiologist didn't do any permanent damage...

Complete and ahem...UDDER failure

I've talked to some of you about this but I thought I would blog about it, too since it's been on my mind.

As many of you know, I have PCOS (Polycystic ovarian syndrome).  It's a condition that kept me from getting pregnant for three years.  It's a condition that kept me from having a period AT ALL for 6 years without medical intervention.  It's also a condition that keeps me from breast feeding.

When I was pregnant with Punky, I envisioned the sweetness of having a baby at my breast, bonding with her, enjoying the fact that my body was nourishing God's special gift.  From day one Punky wouldn't latch on.  Even the nurses said they had never seen a baby so stubborn.  Still, I was determined.  She would latch on, I would make this work.  By day six my pediatrician advised me that I should supplement with formula after she lost too much weight.  Being the stubborn mule I am agreed reluctantly but rented a pump and went to town.  Regardless of how she got it, she was going to drink my milk and be healthy.  Much to my surprise, there wasn't much that I ever got out when I pumped.  At most an ounce total.  But that's ok, a lot of people say that can't pump.  I took her back to the lactation consultant with me and we fed and weighed her.  Still nothing.  At this point, she told me that it might be possible I have low milk supply.  She gave me the name of some herbs to take, a prescription to ask my doc for, etc.  All of these things were done.  I pumped every hour.  Fed every other hour.  Nursed for HOURS just for stimulation for more milk production.  Nothing.  It never improved.  After a measly 14 weeks, bad reflux, and horrible milk allergies, Hubby and I mutually agreed that Punky was better off without my milk as what little I gave her seemed to irritate her more than anything.  

I blamed myself.  I made excuses.  I cried.  It just wasn't supposed to be this way.

Then Chicken came along.  Every one told me that with your second one you have more milk.  I held out hope that it would be different.  My little boy would get what he needed.  Sure enough, in the delivery room, the little booger latched on like the boy he is and nursed for 45 minutes.  He was the hoover he was supposed to be and left no doubt in my mind that I would have more milk this go around.  My milk even came in while I was in the hospital that time.  I got home and pumped and there was no more than there was with Punky.  But surely there was a mistake.  Nope.  Four days after birth, Chicken had lost almost a whole pound and was jaundiced.  He simply wasn't getting enough.  With him, I lasted 6 weeks before Hubby and I decided we should stop.  It was too much for me to keep up with maintenance (pumping, feeding, etc) to keep up my small supply.  He also had reflux and a sensitive stomach.

Here comes New Baby (nickname still to be determined).  She's another Punky in the latch department.  An instant gratification eater.  Plus we started her on formula in the hospital this time because after two children failing to thrive, I figured it wasn't worth it to make her suffer, too.  In this case, the third time isn't the charm.  sure enough, my milk comes in and it's less than before.  Maybe a tablespoon or two total from both sides.  Thankfully, New Baby isn't jaundiced enough for treatment and she's content with formula.  She doesn't seem to have an overly sensitive stomach yet and isn't spitting up much.  I'm pumping and giving her what I can but I can't help, even after three kids, to not feel like a failure.

I know Chicken being such a good nurser was God's way of helping me see that I shouldn't blame myself.  If that kid didn't help all the milk come in, there isn't one that would.  But to know that my body can't do what it's supposed to do makes me feel...sad.  At first it was because I couldn't get pregnant.  Now it's because I can't feed my babies.  What if I had lived before the time of formula?  Thank God that I don't, but when I think about it, I just don't understand it.  I accept that I can't feed them exclusively.  I accept that my body has been out of whack for some time now.  

I guess I just don't accept the fact that I can't do something about it.  Each time I've stopped breast feeding, I've felt a sense of loss and disappointment.  There was a sense of urgency that it wasn't too late, I could still do more.  Even though I had already tried everything.

And I've discovered that people are less than understanding about it.  Most people can't grasp the fact that I simply don't hold enough milk.  Fully engorged, hard to the touch, leaking like a faucet I hold MAYBE an ounce total.  If I just nursed more or if I just drank more water or ate enough it would all be magically cured.  Like I'm to blame that my children were not having wet diapers.  I'm just making excuses after all, right?  I just don't want to deal with the pain, right?  Well, I did, cracked and bleeding and all.  I don't want to take the time to nurse more?  Check.  Drinking enough water?  Doing that, too.  Eating enough?  Ok, I'll grant them this one simply because there's no time to eat lately, but I don't think that's the sole cause of it THREE kids in a row.

I guess the only people that really understand are the people who've been there.  Hubby has blessed me with patience and understanding and Hubby knows I've done everything I can possibly do.  What no one will ever understand though, is how much it hurts me that I can't give my kids the best.  It hurts me that people say accusing things like it was my CHOICE to put them on formula, cause "after all, kids can be perfectly healthy on formula."

Ugh.  I sound postpartum, don't I?  At least I can safely say, aside from above subject matter, my emotions are remarkably intact!

She's finally here! (long)

After much whining and complaining, along with a lot of praying and a cooperative (wonderful!) doctor, she's finally here! She weighed in at 7 lbs 2 oz (not as big as I first thought, but big enough!), 20 inches long and is beautiful. Hubby and I are totally smitten. For safety reasons, I can't post her name, even though I would love to. We did decide on one after much debating and I was right. We had to see her before we could decide.

As for labor, I can say I've had better even though all the prayers were answered and I only had a 10 hour labor. I went in Wednesday night after church and we started my pitocin around 9 pm. I labored until Midnight when my doctor made a surprise visit (he had just had a delivery and decided to stop by). He asked me, "Want me to break your water?" With my first delivery with Punky, I feared my water breaking after reading contractions were so much more intense. So I got an epidural before then out of fear. i never had an ounce of pain with her. With Chicken, I had a kidney stone so I got my epidural almost immediately going in for an induction and my water didn't break until 15 hours later. So I hesitated to let him. I finally agreed and was surprised that while they were harder, they weren't excruciating like I thought. But he did tell me there was no telling how fast i might go and if i intended on getting one, I might want to go ahead. Sure! If you want me to get an epidural dude, i'm down with that! ;oD

My epidural was shotty at best and that's being nice. The anesthesiologist had the nerve to ask ME, YES ME!, if I thought he was between my vertebrae when he was searching for the place to put the needle. When he poked me, he hit SEVERAL nerves in my left side and it took me jerking, practically crying before he finally got it right. Mind you, my first two epidurals were a breeze, never hurt and worked perfectly. this one, my left side was completely numb and my right side was numb but tingly, just on the verge of feeling coming back.

Also, I had a hot spot in my behind area. All night long i felt the pressure of each contraction. Not just pressure but PAINFUL pressure. As the night wore on, it got much worse. That hot "spot" became a hot area and then a hot vicinity. Finally, I realized even though I was pushing that little button for more meds, it wasn't working. My wonderful nurse checked me and told me i was at 7 cm. That was at 5 am. Hubby had gone home. Hubby was supposed to get in a full day of work before this kid came.

Holy stink, it's time to call the hubby because he had a 35 minute drive!

Not only was it almost time, my epidural was wearing off at a rapid pace and the anesthesiologist was taking his sweet time. Just when i couldn't bear it anymore, he appears with two large vials to bolust the meds. It worked great. Yeah, a little too great. Not only were my legs completely numb, my hands got tingly. Then I realized my skin on my upper back was numb. Then I started feeling REALLY loopy and sleepy. Then I fell asleep thinking something must have gone wrong. Boy, let me tell you isn't THAT a comforting feeling to fall asleep to.

I wake up to the nurse asking me what was wrong, if i was still with her, and the anesthesiologist hovering. i tell them I'm feeling drunk and incredibly sleepy. No telling what else I told them. i could have admitted to being Elvis's secret love child for all I remember. is this normal I asked? The guy that did this to me looked a little spacey for a minute and said, "Yeah, I guess." Who is this dude and why is he out to get me? "Sensation will move back down eventually." Um..are we talking in a few minutes, a few hours or I-don't-really-know-because-I'm-an-idiot-and-cheated-my-way-through-college?

Well, it didn't go away. In fact, the only sensation I had was two hours later when the epidural wore off AGAIN in my crotch. Wait, i'm complete! it's time to push! I had about 60% feeling down there although thankfully i was still somewhat numb. That was better than nothing, although i can certainly guarantee you I was motivated to get the kid out. I pushed for about 10 minutes and the nurse called the doc. When he got there it took 3 pushes to get her head out and two or three to get the rest of her out. I felt a little of the "ring of fire", all of the pressure, but when her little body came out, it was all forgotten. My doctor cradled her, cut her umbilical cord and placed her on my tummy.

This is where my details get fuzzy, thanks to the epidural. I remember watching her on my belly. i couldn't do much because my doggone arms were just numb enough i didn't want to risk doing much. They took her and assessed her and I laid there waiting. The doc stitched me up (thankfully only a first degree tear) and then massaged my uterus to deliver the placenta.

What happened then I certainly remember clearly because I thought I was dying. He pushed near the top and I felt a pop. My placenta came shooting out of my body and literally bounced off his stomach and fell to the floor. He stood there, looking completely grossed out (yes, my doctor) and said, "Whoa." I demanded to know what just happened and he just looked dumbstruck. I wish i could have taken a picture for him. I honestly don't think he KNEW what happened. He looked at the nurse and said, "Did you see that?" She nodded and told him he made a mess. "I've never seen that happen before!" he said and then explained to me that my uterus had literally just shot out of my body. "Is that bad? Am i hemmorraging?"' Had i been in a lucid state, i probably would have suspected that the pop had been my uterus or something. Man! What an insane way to deliver!

Our new little bundle of joy has been just that. Hubby seems to recall our first two being really fussy and crying a lot in the hospital. So far she's only been fussing when she's hungry or gassy. it seems she's a little more even keeled, but I'm already suspecting reflux and a sensitive stomach. We'll see! I'll update more when we go home. It'll be sometime tomorrow but no telling when I'll be able to blog again. Life is about to get really hectic!

Any day now...

Well, I took the plunge and got the mommy do yesterday.  Well, a mommy do for me anyway, someone who almost NEVER even thinks about short hair.  But when I got it cut up to my chin in a bob...well, one thing led to another and now it's stacked in the back, less than half an inch in some places.  I took a picture of Maxie from General Hospital to my stylist, so if you watch the show, you know how it's cut now.  It's an adjustment, but I do think I prefer the bob better, although Hubby even said he could live with it the way it is...which is DEFINITELY saying something!

Went to the doc yesterday, too.  I'm *supposedly* 70% effaced and 2 cm dilated.  Delivery is definitely imminent, sooner than I would like actually.  It's funny how you can spend 9 months unable to wait for the kid to pop out and when you're so close you think, I can handle this for another week or two.  You think of a blue zillion things to do, people you need to have over, places you need to go, things you need to buy, etc.

I guess I just feel bad for Punky and Chicken.  Punky knows we're about to have a baby, but I don't think she comprehends it's STAYING.  She LOVES babies.  Maybe she'll surprise me and not go through a jealous phase, but I figure since she's older than the 13 months she was when Chicken was born, we're going to have a few problems.  Chicken I just have a feeling isn't going to do well at all.  He's an independent kid and doesn't rely on me much.  He's gotten very loving lately, giving kisses and hugs out of the blue, which just melts my heart.  I hope none of this effects him in a negative way, but he has a tendency to be clingy in spite of his independence.  In the beginning, I know it's just a sleeping baby, so I'm hoping I can really give them attention in between feeds and diaper changes in my very tired state of delirium.  So hubby, if you're reading this, the house may have to take a back seat for awhile.  Don't expect it to be like it's been while I've been nesting lately!

So everyone, please say a prayer for me for a short labor, healthy and safe delivery and a baby who sleeps through the night VERY early!  ;oD

Why is it only on Mondays?

Punky and Chicken have screamed their heads off this morning and it's not even 11 am.

Punky went into the bathroom and filled up her sand pail with water from the tub.  Luckily I caught her before my bathroom turned into the ocean.

Meanwhile, Chicken was playing happily in the toilet.

Punky cried some more, then informed me her gum was hurting.  She's got her next to last molar coming in.  Drug her with Motrin.

Chicken cried some more.

Allowed them to watch TV while I'm cleaning for impending birth and notice Punky has no diaper on and Chicken is playing with it.  

There's green stuff on it.  

Punky's bare butt is on my couch and I discipline her and send her to the bathroom, asking her if she poo pooed.

She looks guilty.

Where is it I ask her?

In the living room, she replies.

Turd in floor in front of couch, luckily quite solid.

Just caught Chicken in the toilet again now that he's mastered opening doors.

Although today is Monday, I refuse to let Murphy win.  I have things to accomplish this week before this baby comes and I can't slow down.  Contractions are every 10 minutes for the last 2 days, btw.  I'm hoping this is the start of something.

Doo Doo List

Has anyone wondered why you go through 9 months of a pregnancy all haughty that YOU haven't gotten a single *new* stretch mark?  Has anyone ever realized the last two weeks of pregnancy always bring on new ones?  My lower stomach has exploded with tiny new stretch marks that I'm none too happy about.  The previous ones extended from my laparoscopy scars and made them look like lightening bolts (Yes, I'm giving birth to the next Harry Potter).  Now?  Oh now I have brand new ones that aren't anywhere near the lightening bolts.  I'm disgusted because I KNEW this kid is bigger than the other two and no one is listening.  Measuring behind my hiney!  I'm terrified we might have been off on my due date or this kid is officially a ten pounder.  I guess we'll find out soon enough.

It's amazing how fast antibiotics can work.  After only 2 pills, I'm feeling at least 50% better.  Still have an itchy scratchy throat and a painful left ear, but the aches and chills, along with the general feeling of GROSS is gone.  Punky's eye wasn't matted over this morning she's not complaining about it hurting.  I guess her $50 medicine (even after insurance was straightened out!) is working.  

And Hubby?  Yeah, he's officially on my doo doo list.  He went back to work after the "V" and worked a few hours.  Ran some errands.  Came home walking like he had a corn cob up his butt but otherwise fine.  Sat on the couch for maybe an hour and then got up and did some more stuff.  This morning I was expecting him not to be able to do much after over doing it yesterday.  How ya feeling honey?  Great, he replies.  It's NOTHING like it was yesterday.  WHAAA???  Nothing?  No swelling?  Barely no pain?  You're soooooo on my doo doo list.

All this relief I was feeling because he was about to experience pay back for me bearing his three children and going through 6 weeks of recovery and total body annihilation?  WHERE'S THE JUSTICE I ASK?!?!?!  Ugh.  

He's soooo on my doo doo list, did I mention that already?

The deed is done...

In 6-8 weeks, I will no longer be able to get pregnant.  At least, that's what I'm thinking.  Given how Murphy likes me so much, Hubby's vasectomy will be one of those 1 in 5000 or so that grows back.  Therefore making me pregnant again, Hubby questioning his vasectomy and/or my faithfulness, you know.  Murphy loves that kinda thing.  

Surprisingly I'm not sad about it.  I haven't really thought much about it to tell you the truth.  Hubby drove himself to and from the procedure and went back to work afterward.  The superman tried to work a full day but he's on his way home now.  Sorry, but if I had just gotten sliced into I don't think I would be sitting at work.  I'd be at home with a very large ice pack.  ;oD  Soooo, I'm thankful for the family I have now and I'm ready for us to move forward.  NOW at least.  Give me a few years and I'll probably want another one at some point.

Can you believe I'm sick?  AGAIN?!  I've got a double ear infection, upper respiratory infection and feel like I've slid down a banister of razors straight into a pool of alcohol (Yeah, I'm that achy).  I started feeling pretty rotten yesterday and low and behold around 3 am I wake up with a fever and chills.  Tylenol kicks in two hours later and I'm sweating like a pig.  I slept like a 9 month pregnant woman that had two ear infections.  Peed about 6 times and can't even describe how bad it was.  Got up around 7:30 and Punky comes walking out crying.

"What's wrong Punky?"

"My eye hurts."

I look.  It's pussy, red and matted.  Yup.  Punky has pink eye.  Probably the little girl from church who had a week or so ago that was in her Bible class.  Ugh.  I call the pediatrician and thankfully they just called her in something after I described it.

Then I took Chicken to the Aunt's house to be watched while I go to the doc in the box at the end of our street.  Punky came with me because I didn't want to infect everyone with pink eye.  We sit for well over an hour before getting back to the room.  I pick Chicken up and I make them lunch.  They nap.  They wake up.  Things are going somewhat smoothly and I get a phone call from Hubby.

Punky's eye medicine is $75.  Now surely as common as pink eye is, this isn't the only thing they can give her.  No.  Wait!  She's been cancelled or expired from insurance.  Yup, a huge glitch.  There Hubby is, sliced balls and all standing in Wal-Mart trying to figure out the whole insurance thing.  Poor thing.  He wasn't a happy camper!  Hopefully he can get some rest this evening for sure!

Say a prayer for us.  It's been a REALLY hard, long day.

Where did my baby go?

All of a sudden, Chicken is looking so big to me.  This morning, he woke up asking for Papa.  When I took him to Daddy instead, he grinned, laughed and said, "DaDEEEE!"  Not just dada or some form of his usual gibberish.  DADDY.

He grabbed one of Punky's dolls and I asked him what it was.  "BAYBEE!"  WHAAAA?  When did he learn THAT?  He can suddenly put two different syllables together.  And he says it in a little baby Chicken voice unlike his other "language."  I got a glimpse of how he would be in a year or two.  

Hubby is schedule for the big "V" tomorrow and I guess I'm reminded of how quick time passes.  Don't get me wrong, I'm ready for him to get neutered, but it's bittersweet knowing I'm about to embark on the last infant-hood ever with my own children.  Somedays it can't come soon enough, others I want to hold on just a little tighter to these feelings (not the grouchiness though), savor the smell of their freshly bathed skin, bask in each smile and giggle, and enjoy each precious moment while they're little.  Already Punky is too big and her babyhood is fading from my mind.  I don't remember what Chicken looked like a year ago.  

Hubby and I were just talking about this the other day.  Each stage is special in its own way.  I look forward to each and every one of them.  But having them little is such a THING for most women and it is sad to know they won't be this dependent on me forever or I won't ever experience birth or seeing a child of mine for the first time again.  I'm happy to think about my children growing, becoming independent little adults, becoming who they want and should be.  I'm happy for the time I've been given to have THREE children of my own after I never thought I would EVER experience this, especially in my own body.  God gave me a child for every year I had to wait and it's made it all worth it.  Yes, it's stressful somedays.  But no, it's not horrible like most people assume (or I might have led you to believe in my pregnant, hormonal state) and I don't regret it.

These days will soon be over and I'll be wishing for just a small taste of it all again.  I know that'll happen but I'm happy with our family.  Will always be happy with our three babies and the joy they bring into my life every single day.

But just for the record, stop growing up so fast, will ya?

Some days just make it all worth it.

This morning has been one of those mornings where I thank God for my kids.  Not that I don't already, but lately, I certainly haven't been able to take time and smell the roses with them.  My hormones have been getting the best of me.

I love watching my kids play, another past time I haven't made much time for lately.  In between playing in their playroom this morning and my crazy need for cleaning these days, I stopped for a few moments.  I heard Punky say, "My baby spit up!" And she took off and found a cloth and wiped her mouth.  She sat in her rocker, rocking the baby and Chicken then walks up and bends down.  He grabs the baby's bottle and hands it to Punky.  Punky says quietly, but enough that I could hear her as she took it from him, "Thanks."  Chicken grinned at her and looked so proud of himself.  It was just one of those sweet moments between brother and sister that I was lucky enough to witness.  Maybe it doesn't sound like much or maybe it was one of those you-had-to-be-there things, but I walked around to Punky and Chicken and said, "Punky, do you know how blessed you are to have a brother who loves you so much?"

Punky replied with a sweet giggle, "Yeah, and he's funny, too!"

So for today I won't worry about Chicken only playing with Punky's girl toys.  Today I won't worry about him torturing the girls later on or ripping their doll heads off just to see them cry.  I'm going to be grateful that they have been given a friendship I never had and that everyone will see.  I'm going to continue to nurture their bond and pray that this new baby will be just as close with them.

Today, my world isn't revolving around hormones, pregnancy, or being uncomfortable.  Today is for my kids and I want them to know how much I love them.

A "normal" day for a Monday...so far

We've got a TOOTH!  Er, rather, Chicken finally has a tooth at SIXTEEN MONTHS old!!!  And believe it or not, it's his upper front tooth that came through first.  I thought my mom was nuts when she told me she wrote in my baby book that I was 14 months old and my upper tooth came in first.  I even told her, "Maybe I was FOUR months old mom and you just messed up and wrote upper instead of lower."  Yeah, apparently not!  I recently heard children get their genetic "tooth" gene from their mother so all I can say is:  Poor Kids.  After 8 permanent teeth being removed, braces, retainers, permanent retainers (that wasn't so permanent after one bite of rock candy back in my teen years), 8 cavities (7 of which formed while I was pregnant with Chicken), 8 fillings, and now the possibility of whitening in a few years, they don't have a prayer.  Just get veneers now, kiddos.

Our fourth was a lot of fun.  My in-laws had a big pow wow at their house and a bunch of friends from church.  They bought my kiddos a bouncy blow up thing and they (along with the other two kids there) had a blast.  Punky, being an overly sensitive child usually, held a sparkler and loved it.  Chicken, being the daredevil he tries to be, stuck it on his head and decided it wasn't such a great idea - thankfully he didn't lose any hair or even leave a mark.  But if the volume of his cries are any indication, it hurt pretty bad.  I guess he's living up to his nickname after all.

We shot a few fireworks and by then I looked up and Punky was laying on a wooden board that Papa had put out to shoot fireworks off of (that I don't think ever got used.)  I realized then it was close to an hour after their bedtime - and it wasn't even DARK YET!  So I loaded them up and took them home.  On the way, I've never heard Punky talk so much.  Her little mouth was going nonstop talking about the fireworks and trying to find some while we drove down the road.  It was the sweetest thing ever.  I was, however, a nervous wreck by the time I got home from trying to talk to her, point out fireworks, look out for drunks, and drive at the same time. 

Today, I actually managed to take them grocery shopping and get most of the things on my list.  Poor Punky was buried in the basket and couldn't maneuver very well.  Chicken decided to pull her hair and make her cry.  When I tried to rearrange everything so she could move, Chicken grabbed a storage basket I had bought (made of HARD plastic) and whack me over the head.  Let me tell you it's been a LONG time since I've been hit over the head with something and he got me right in a sensitive spot (almost where the soft spot of a baby is) right with the corner of it.  It hurt so bad I was nauseous.  I honestly thought he had broken skin and kept feeling for blood.  I bet I stood in the aisle trying to gather my patience for at least a full five minutes.  

Still nothing to report for New Baby.  Just achy ribs, lack of sleep and a lot of pressure.  Still no name although we MIGHT be getting closer.  As in, I got an "it's ok" on a suggestion instead of a "no way."  ;oD

Thankfully, I can report that this Monday hasn't been too bad...YET!  ;oD

LIAR!!!!! (Murphy's baaaack)

So you know how I mentioned that I felt like my doc was just telling me I was a cm dilated just to pacify me?  Yeah, he was.

Today?  I'm only a fingertip to one, MAYBE.  He even said, "But nothing significant."  Do you know how homicidal that makes me?  Thank goodness my fat, pregnant self was beached on the table in stirrups or he would have gotten a fist in his mouth for sure.

But that was after I weighed in at 162, SIX pounds more than last week.  I guess that'll teach them to tell me that I'm not eating.  I always love proving people wrong.  It doesn't happen often so I have to enjoy it while I can.

Then the even worse news?  He won't even talk about induction until my next appointment on the 15th, in which I will be two days away from 39 weeks.  All those people who've been having a cow at the mention of a 38 week induction?  Yeah, relaaax.  It ain't happenin'.  This kid is going to break my ribs, make me pee on myself in public, and be a hormonal wreck for at least 2 more weeks.  Such fun.  It was like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel only to realize it was a lightening bug holding up a sign as you pass by that reads: Just kidding!

Then he tells me she's measuring a week behind.  No dice, Doc, sorry, LIAR.  You're little measuring thingy?  Yeah, it's off.  About like your head is going to be VERY soon if you don't tell me some way to get her OUT NOW!

Now I realize two weeks isn't that long in the grand scheme of time.  But with two VERY cranky kids under 2.5, a son who thinks it's a fun past time to be clingy and a crybaby, being fat as a cow, feeling like every body part has been pulled apart, peeing every 10 minutes, having a bowling ball between my legs, and didn't I mention cranky babies?, oh and the Hubby starting 10 hour work days from now until next Saturday, I'm done.  Stick the perpetual fork in me.  I need a vacation.  A long one.  I need to breathe some fresh air.  Go on a quiet walk.  Get away without feeling guilty.  I need less stress.

I need a lot of things right now and I'm feeling pretty alone, too.  It's all the hormones.  All I know is I drove home from my doc's appointment today and couldn't stop crying.  I feel so let down by my body (at this point with BOTH the others I was at least 1 cm dilated and effaced some).  Hubby and I have been at each other's throat for days now.  I simply don't know what to do.  I know I won't be pregnant forever but I guess it's the fact that since I can't enjoy the end of this last pregnancy, I want to start enjoying her on the outside.  I want to get on with our lives, get the sleepless nights over with and get into a rhythm.

I feel so whiny and wimpy even typing that.  Every pregnant woman gets to this point I guess, but it just wasn't this bad with the first two.  I never expected to feel like this.  I feel selfish and mean.  Well, I'm not feeling like that, I am those things these days and I don't like it.  I'm having to rely on too many people to get me through.  I don't mind asking for help SOME, but it's becoming an every day thing and I feel like I'm abusing people's generosity.  I don't want to be the kind of person who dumps my kids on my friend or family just because I need a break or I have "better" things to do and I just don't want to deal with them.  My kids need me and they're not getting ME right now.  I'm suddenly some monster that catches myself raising my voice far too often, disciplining while I'm angry, not giving them any attention and allowing the TV to act as a babysitter.  Not cool.  With one little pregnancy that isn't agreeing with me, it all comes back rearing it's ugly head like I haven't spent seven years overcoming it.

Ugh.  I'm so glad Murphy is back.  (Insert sarcasm) I missed him so much. (end sarcasm)

Send me some voodoo please!

I'm running out of things to talk about these days.  My brain is solely focused on willing my body to go into labor.  When I'm not thinking about it, I'm doing everything possible to make my water break.  Holding the kids on top of my stomach, squatting, bending, cleaning.  I'm not sleeping well at night lately, even further making my brain one tracked.  Two nights ago I got up to pee SEVEN times.  I think I would have felt better if I had not even went to sleep!

I go to the doc today to see if there's been any progression.  I'm not expecting any but then again I like to be surprised.  Hopefully I can talk him into letting me go in for an induction next weekend if he mentions it today.  Hubby is going in for the ole snip snip on Thursday and as long as my labors are, it would be good for us both to lie up in the hospital all day on Friday and rest and watch movies and stuff.  I just hope he doesn't over do it.  As usual he's waited until the last minute to do it (not realizing either of us won't be able to lift our rather "healthy" children for a little while).  I guess he's getting what's coming to him though, right?  ;oD  Ahhhh...paybacks are heck, ain't they sweetie?

Wally World vs. Regular grocery stores

So I go to the Hoggly Woggly (aka the Piggly Wiggly, thanks Mandy) this morning to get a few ingredients for dinner tonight.  I wind up coming out with 4 bags full of things: 3 boxes of bagel-fuls, oatmeal, applesauce and various other things that were on my Wal-Mart list.  I knew they were more expensive than when I go to Wal-Mart, but for some reason, when he rang me up, it was $22.  I'm not kidding when I say I can come out of Wal-Mart with the SAME things and its $80.  Hubby claims it's because I don't get just groceries at Wal-Mart but I'm beginning to think it's a conspiracy.  No, seriously.

So, not only is it an added benefit that it's closer, easier and faster to take the kiddos to the Hoggly Woggly up the road, but it's also apparently cheaper.  I told myself there would be no more trips with both my kids to Wal Mart while I'm this pregnant (by myself).  It's just too much lately.  So, I guess that will be my "quick" stop these next few days as I await unnamed New Baby's arrival.  Which, if my doc doesn't let me down will be around next weekend sometime.