Silly Mom Thoughts

March has not been a very good month for me, and it all came to a head just a few minutes ago when my kids woke up from their naps.

Bug climbed down from his new bunk bed, opened the door, and heard Bean making noises in the room across from him where she had been napping. He opened the door and then came running to find me.

“Mommy, Yee yee stinks,” he informed me.

“She does? Did she poop?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Do you want to change her?”

“No! I not a baby diaper!”

(Which I took to mean, “No! That’s your job, nutso!”)

I walked down the hall and sure enough, the scent of poo came wafting into my nostrils. Not just any poo, either, the really messy kind.

I enter the room and there’s Bean, a serious look on her face, and no diaper on her butt. She is pointing at the diaper on the floor of the playpen.

“Mmboodisp!” she vehemently exclaims.

I interpret this as “You took too long to get here, so I took matters into my own hands, lady!”

Caked all over Bean’s butt, hands, face, clothes, blankets… everything is poop. Nasty, nasty poop.

I wiped her down, plopped her in the tub, and chucked everything she and I were wearing into the wash. Ew. Ew. Ew!

Still, I had to chuckle. March has not been friendly to me. (For instance, my Pregnancy Nightmares, Springing Forward, having to overhaul an entire short story, being sicker than sick for a large chunk of the month, and falling on my ass yesterday)  So, I figure this was the perfect send off to a slightly frustrating month.

On that note… April is going to rock!

You’d think, after all my years of clumsiness, I would remember how much it hurts to fall on concrete. You’d also think, given the fact that I have been walking for at least 25 years now, that I would be able to do so without incident. And yet, I am constantly tripping and occasionally falling on my face.

Today was a particularly frightening fall. I was leaving a friend’s house, after a lovely morning of girl chatting, kids screaming and playing, lots of great fun. My mind was focused on getting the kids home, certain that today both of my kids were going to nap at the same time. (I was incredibly giddy over that thought.) In my hopeful nap time reverie, I missed a concrete step, toppled down into more concrete, and banged up my knee and hand pretty good.

To make matters worse, in my arms was my 23 pounds of beautifulness, Bean. I watched in horrific slow motion while she also fell backward, out of my arms, and smacked her head on the concrete. She took the brunt of the fall, and I feel so awful!

We went back inside, cleaned up, got a gummi bear treat to stop crying (Bean, not me, though I wouldn’t have minded a gummi bear treat), and headed for home. Bean fell asleep on the ride home, since she absolutely refuses to skip a nap time, and I worried a little about her and her recent head injury. At home, I put Bug down for a nap, and thankfully he fell asleep almost immediately. I initially had Bean in the other room, but decided I felt better if I was holding her while she slept.

The left side of my pelvis started aching, and I started getting some cramping along the bottom of my belly. Friends kept asking if I had called the doctor and I thought, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea, just in case.”

I called my OB and they told me to come in ASAP.

I called Bean’s doctor and they asked me a bunch of questions about how she was doing. (Is she eating? Like a pig. Are her eyes dialated to different sizes? Nope. Did she lose consciousness? No. Is she abnormally irritable? Only when I poke at the bump on her head. (I’m kidding, I wouldn’t do that to her!)) In the end, they told me not to worry about bringing her in unless her symptoms changed.

My wonderful neighbor came over with his son and hung out while I went to my OB’s office. That was, by far, the quickest appointment I have ever had! I was in the waiting room all of two minutes and seen by the doctor maybe four minutes after that. I guess when you’re pregnant and take a nasty spill, you get high-class treatment!

The OB hooked up the ultrasound machine, though before he put the wand on my belly, he mentioned if there was something wrong, that there wasn’t anything we could do about it.

Okay, love my OB and the fact that he gives me all the facts, but I was not in a fact receiving mood at the moment. Some things are better left unsaid. But, he’s a good guy, so I forgive him.

He checked out both babies, and they were there in all their wiggling, healthy heartbeating glory. Initially, one of the twins was positioned with his butt to the ultrasound wand. I thought that was pretty hilarious. Who knew I would get mooned by my unborn child today?

The only thing he did say that causes me very slight worry, is that I am not out of the woods for a couple of days. He said if they’re still in there, happy and healthy after a couple of days, everything is fine, but until then, there’s still a chance of something happening. But, he did emphasize that because I didn’t fall directly onto my belly, the chances of anything being wrong after seeing the babies today are quite slim. Phew.

When all was said and done, I begged my doctor for a prescription for a wheelchair for the rest of my pregnancy.

“I am not safe walking when I’m not pregnant,” I explained. “I’m a full-blown disaster when I am.”

Can you believe he wouldn’t give me a wheelchair prescription?! The nerve…

Alright, so I suppose I couldn’t hang out in a wheelchair and take care of my 3-year-old and 1-year-old.  Maybe it’s best that he denied my request.

So, what was initially a pretty frightening afternoon turned out okay. Especially after that whole Natasha Richardson thing, I was pretty worried about my little Bean’s noggin. I’m very thankful that everything turned out okay for all three of my babies.

There are so many random things I wonder about on a day-to-day basis. For instance: Why do so many maternity shirts have that blasted tie in the back? This is one very serious thing I wonder about, especially when I’m forced to wear said shirts. Honestly, do pregnant women not sit down? Do we not drive cars? Why must we wear these shirts that tie in the back, leaving this horribly uncomfortable knot that digs squarely into the spine?

As if we’re not already uncomfortable enough, lugging around water weight, baby weight, and a baby or two…

And along the lines of being pregnant, I have often found myself wondering about male OB doctors. Specifically those that are married.

You know how, when you have a job, you find yourself relieved when you go home and don’t have to think about work anymore?

Does that happen to male OBs? I mean, their job is, essentially, vaginas. Pregnant ones, postpartum ones, ones that are trying to prevent pregnancy, others that are too old to get pregnant… but all day long, he’s looking at cooch. So, what I wonder (though maybe I’m a little off my rocker for even remotely wondering this), is does he feel like it’s work still when he goes home to his wife?

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for you to get home all day,” she says, dressed in sexy lingerie. “I have a little surprise for you in the bedroom.”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” he coldly dismisses her. “I’ve been looking at va-jay-jays all day long, I’m good.”

Seriously, think about it!

Though, the part of me that knows some of the mental workings of the male species, also knows that they would probably not turn down sex with their wife, ever.

Then, there are other, less intense thoughts that go through my mind.

Like, why does the Dollar Store put out ads? I mean, really. Everybody knows where the Dollar Store is in their town and knows exactly what they’ll find there. Better yet, they know exactly how much they’re going to pay for anything they get at the Dollar Store. Uhm, a dollar. So, why do they need to put out ads in the mail? Hm.

There’s also the concept of Disney’s “Fast Play” on their DVDs. According to the DVD announcer, “Fast Play” will play a selection of bonus features (yeah, bonus features my ass, they’re all previews), and then roll right into the movie automatically. I’m sorry, but to me, “Fast Play” means that the movie is going to start now, not after ten minutes of previews. They should change the name to “Eventual Play” or “A freebie ten minutes added to your movie without having to mess with the menu screen where your kid is going to whine that he wants every movie played in the trailers.”

Once upon a time, my mind was consumed with work, finishing college, and taking exams. Now, these are the things that consume my mind. What in the world have I become?

Oh, right. A mom.

I feel awful for neglecting my blog this week, but it is for good reason. First, I am going on day 5, yes, FIVE of no morning sickness, nausea, or any of that crud. (Can I get a woot woot?)

Second, because of my reinstated bodily normalcy (well, except for the fact that I’m still eating for three which is cooler than cool), I have been writing my booty off to submit to the Accentuate Services short story contest. I have one story almost entirely completed, themed around The Present. It’s a love story between two people who are forced to live every day as if it were their last. I have some additional scenes I’m adding, to give it that real “punch you in the gut” effect and then it’s completely done. For this story, I’m really trying to make my readers fall in love with the characters, even though they know what may happen to them.

Then, I’m working on the outline for a second story themed around The Future. Both of these stories are due on Tuesday, March 31st, so it is crunch time right now. Normally, I like spending a lot more time with a story, but unfortunately, this time it’s going to be more last minute than I’d like. I’ll take it, though. I’d rather feel well than still be feeling like death warmed over.

And, along the lines of my stories… I had a friend ask me if I let anyone read them before I submit them. Definitely! I am always looking for people who want to do a read-through of my story and give me any feedback or critiques (constructive, of course). If that sounds like fun to you, let me know and I’ll put you on my list of readers. I also get a lot of great feedback on the forum from my fellow writer friends, but it’s incredibly valuable having input from people who may not write, but enjoy reading!

Alright, I must be off to put kiddos down for naps and keep plugging at my stories! Wish me luck.

Today is day two in a row of not spewing my guts out! Dare I hope that my morning sickness is gone for good?

Why, yes. Yes, I do.

Because my brain hasn’t been focused solely on keeping my lunch down, I began letting it think of other things today. That was a dangerous move because suddenly, reality is sinking in.

We’re having twins. In 24 weeks or less. We will be doubling our kid load with one shot. Holy crap.

Though it may sound silly to not stress about this, I’m honestly not worried about the idea of having four kids. I know how to take care of newborns, infants, toddlers, preschoolers… I know two will be slightly more challenging, but I know I can do it.

I’m more worried about other, more trivial things. Like space. And money.

See, we live in a 1080 sqft house with three bedrooms. No biggie, two kids to a room will work fine, but we need to get seriously creative with closet organization. I have my eye on a sweet closet organizer thingie at Home Depot and it ain’t cheap.

Bug and Bean need a bunk bed. I have been told that a bunch of friends and family are going in on part of a payment for one, and I’m so grateful, but to get the kind we need (with a ladder that doesn’t go straight up, but rather at an incline), we still have to fork out a few hundred of our own dollars.

Cha-ching!

There are some things that we will need, that I hope I can find cheap. Like baby swings, an extra high chair and Boppy pillow, clothes (especially if they’re preemies), and all of the other stuff I need one more of. Baby crap adds up so fast!

Then there are other things that I wouldn’t necessarily think about, except the fact that we’ll soon be a family of six. Like the fact that we have only a three person couch and no love seat. We’re going to have to get at least a love seat soon or no one is going to have a seat (especially if/when we have visitors).

Of course, we still have an incomplete house project from last summer that has left us with no molding on the floors and around the doors, new doors that need to be cut and put in, and paint that needs to be touched up. And, I really want to paint the babies’ room before they come too. And install new carpet. Our carpet is so disgusting, I just want nice, new, durable carpet in our rooms.

Then, there’s a selfish part of me that wants our master bedroom to become our cozy refuge. Our mattress is still on the floor, since I have been waiting patiently for us to be able to afford a nice bed frame. I want to paint our walls a romantic but soothing color. I want bedside tables with reading lamps instead of a broken dresser from IKEA.

Granted, I realize most of these things aren’t necessary for us to bring our babies home. But, my pregnant mind is nesting, and I really want a fresh start when they arrive, and for things to be as organized and comfortable as possible. I want my house to feel more like a home, because I have a feeling that I’m going to be spending a whole lot of time here until the twins get older.

I think maybe I need to start making more money.

Having spent far too much time incapacitated, lying on the couch this week, I have had the opportunity to watch quite a few infomercials. My favorite is the cool one for the Cricut, that super neat paper cutter thingie that cuts out all these awesome shapes and stuff. I have gotten the chance to use one, and it really is as cool as the infomercial says.

But I digress…

Have you seen the infomercials for Your Baby Can Read?!

Rediculous.

Ludicrous.

A big, fat, ugh.

If you haven’t seen the Your Baby Can Read infomercials, here’s the jist:

Buy this pack of resources that includes flash cards, DVDs, and other crap, show it to your kid, and soon your 16 month old will be reading words and associating them correctly. By age three, they’ll be able to read big words (but, in reality, probably not know what they mean).

Gimme a freaking break, people!

Why, on God’s green Earth, does your baby need to read?

They will learn to read. Seriously, they will be taught to read in school. (At least last time I checked. Or, did they take “reading” out of school since I was last there?)

By all means, read with your kids. Interact with them. Pretty soon, you’ll find your three year old “reading” the words on the page of the book you read night after night. (Really, they’re just associating the pictures to the words they have memorized, but that’s a first step to reading!)

But please, don’t make them grow up faster by strapping them into a highchair or carseat and forcing them to look at stupid flash cards all day long. That has to be some kind of abuse.

Another thing I found absolutely absurd about the Your Baby Can Read infomercials are the company’s claims about why you should be teaching your baby to read.

It claims that your child will be more successful later in life.

Mmm kay, yeah. Because I’m pretty sure Bill Gates and Donald Trump learned how to read when they were two years old.

One preschool teacher claims that when she showed it to her “less privilaged” students, they learned more than they could have otherwise. Therefore, they are more likely to stay on this path of success.

I’m not even going to touch that one. I hope, for the children’s sake, that comment is true. But, I will guarantee that their future success and moving beyond being “less privilaged” has less to do with Your Baby Can Read and more to do with how they are nurtured throughout their early years and beyond.

So, my babies can’t read, but you wanna know what they can do?

They can bang the crap out of pots and pans. (Future drummers?)

They can make a super long Play-Doh snake. (Future sculpters?)

They can run really fast, jump really high, and not stop moving until waaay after bedtime. (Future Olympians?)

They can scream crazy super loud. (Future singers?)

And…

They can make me laugh harder than nearly anyone alive. (Future comedians?)

At any rate, I love my “dumb” kids that enjoy running around, giggling, and playing all day long. I love that they enjoy letting me read to them, and don’t hog the book to try and prove how smart they are. But most of all, I love that my kids are still kids. They have plenty of time to grow up and get super crazy smart. I’d like to cherish these sweet, silly times as much as I can right now.

I have had a different OB for each of my pregnancies (and, for Bug’s, two different OBs). Now, in my third and final pregnancy, I have found the most amazing OB ever. Why couldn’t I have found him first?

My first appointment, he explained things to me about my previous pregnancies that no other doctor had cared to tell me about. When I ask questions, he gives me all the information I need, and then some. He never ever makes me feel silly for coming in, and actually has a “better safe than sorry” outlook on it all. I never feel rushed in my appointment, like I have with previous doctors, he makes me feel like I am the only patient he will have all day long. It’s amazing.

Today, I went in to figure out what’s going on with my insane morning sickness. When I asked if it was normal for morning sickness to get more severe over time, he said nothing is necessarily “normal” from one pregnancy to the next. He explained that our bodies can react to external stressors, and asked if I had experienced anything out of the ordinary lately. Oddly enough, things have been a bit emotionally topsy turvy the past few weeks since my parents announced their divorce. He sympathized with me, made me feel like it was perfectly normal to have been upset over that, and said that could have most definitely played a role in my super awesome spewing the past week.

He went on to explain different ways the mind can benefit or impair the body, based on our thoughts and emotions, and the things happening around us. He said that at one time, pregnant women were very much coddled and protected, and that may be why now, when we’re out in the world like everyone else, some people react more to stress though physical reactions. Boy, did that make sense!

In the end, he gave me a higher dosage vitamin and something to help with the awful acid reflux I’ve been experiencing to see if those things are enough to keep the pukeys away. Of course today, because this always happens to me the day I go into the doctor, I am feeling a million times better than I did yesterday and the past week. Not that I’m complaining, I’d much rather feel good, but I kind of lost my gusto for begging for anti-nausea meds when I wasn’t feeling super sick.

So, things are looking up. I have my appetite back slightly, haven’t knelt to the porcelain gods for a day now, and am so glad I went in to the doctor today. Lets just hope this lasts!

(And a big shout out to my friend for watching the kids. I would be so screwed if I didn’t have such wonderful support!)

Oh! And just before I headed out to my appointment, another friend of mine showed up with a little gift for me: Morning Wellness Tea from Earth Mama Angel Baby Organics. It has a whole booty load of ginger, spearmint, chamomile, and other tummy soothing stuff. She owns this super cool company, Once Upon A Bum, you should go check out her site! Seriously, could I get any more love? I said it before, and I’ll say it again: Dang, I’m one lucky girl.

Oh my, things have gotten far worse on the morning sickness end of my twin pregnancy. I had one week completely free of nausea and it was glorious. Then, last week, I started feeling nauseated again. The nausea turned to tossing my cookies once a day, which gradually turned to tossing my cookies after nearly every meal. Essentially, I haven’t eaten much since Saturday at dinner and it has been miserable.

I thought, maybe, it was the flu. But, I haven’t had a fever, it has lasted over a week now, and no one else in my family has gotten sick. I think it’s simply the twins stirring up trouble with Mama’s belly.

Now, I would have hoped that under such circumstances I would have the balls to suck it up, make it work, and deal with it.

Yeeeaah, not so much.

Screw Mrs. Tough Mama. I have been a big, huge, curl up in a ball, whine and cry, baby.

I have been letting my kids eat oatmeal and cereal for nearly every meal, simply because the smell of hot dogs and chicken nuggets quite literally makes me dry heave. I have allowed my kids to watch too many movies and play much longer by themselves than normal, simply so I can lie down and be still for a moment. I have called Turk crying almost every single day this week. And, I have whined- oh boy have I whined- to my friends about how yucky I feel.

And, instead of telling me to suck it up, they have listened to me, prayed for me, taken care of me, and helped me out immensely.

Friday, one of my friends insisted that I stay at her house for the afternoon and then insisted I stay for dinner. She fed me, she chatted with me, and her kids entertained mine for hours. It was an immense relief.

This morning, still sick as a dog, I called the doctor’s office to beg for Zofran or some other type of anti-nausea medicine.

“So, you have some morning sickness?” the nurse asked.

“No, I have had morning sickness for the past two months, now it’s worse and I’m throwing up,” I explained.

“I see,” she said and I prayed the next words out of her mouth were going to be “Let me get that prescription drawn up for you.”

Instead, these awful words came out of her mouth. (And if you have ever suffered from more than just nausea morning sickness, you’ll understand why they’re awful.)

“Why don’t you try sucking on some ginger, drinking ginger ale, pop a few Tums tablets, and take 25mg of Vitamin B6 three times a day,” she said.

My eyes welled with tears and I had to hang up the phone.

My morning sickness isn’t going to get better with Tums and Vitamin B6! And I have had so much ginger this pregnancy, I’m fairly certain at least one of these kids will be named “Ginger.”

Depressed, sad, and still sick, I hauled the kids out of the house to two different stores to try and find more ginger candy and the other stuff. I never found the correct dosage of Vitamin B6.

At home, I decided to scramble some eggs to force it down my throat, thinking some protein would help my nausea subside.

Lets just say I got to see my eggs again shortly afterward.

That sealed it. I couldn’t deal with this anymore. I called the doctor’s office again, explained that I don’t think they understood the fact that I wasn’t just nauseated, but couldn’t keep food down and I needed medicine NOW.

The nurse eventually called back, apologized for not realizing the severity, and offered to give me a medicine that would knock me out or schedule me an appointment with my doctor for tomorrow morning.

Yeah, I can’t do “knocked out” when I have two kids to care for, so I opted for the appointment.

Rest assured, I will be grovelling on the floor of that doctor’s office, begging for some medicinal relief from this hell.

In the midst of all of these calls, I called and vented to my neighbor, who offered to take the kids for a bit. Knowing she had to work tonight, I didn’t want to throw a couple more crazy kids at her, though I was so appreciative for the offer.

Later, another friend called and offered to take the kids. I was feeling okay at that point, so I asked if I could just come over and hang out with the kiddos. By the time I got there, I was sick as a dog again. She shoo’d me off to the couch while she entertained the kids outside for three hours. I sat there, in silence, I slept, I sipped water and nibbled on crackers. I had no responsibilities to speak of.

Then, she fed the kids dinner, she chatted with me, and simply made me feel wonderful.

As if these three friends weren’t support enough, online friends have been showering me with support and encouragement. Turk has been amazing, coming home from work and letting me crash while he gets the kids ready for bed.

I am one lucky girl.

When Bug first started potty training last year, I vowed to never ever offer extrinsic rewards for going on the potty. No sticker charts, no toys, and especially no candy. I wanted him to go on the potty and feel intrinsically rewarded, I wanted him to do it for himself because he felt good about it. That all sounded well and good, and it worked for a little while, but then the poo accidents started. And continued. They were gross.

Since January, Bug hasn’t gone #2 on the potty more than once or twice per week. The rest of the time, often more than once per day, he was droppin’ dukes in his pants like “Woops, did I do that?” It was frustrating, disgusting, and incredibly disheartening. Last week, I reached my breaking point, when Bug caught a… well, bug, and had some really great surprises for me in his pants. I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but lets just say they often involved an impromptu shower to clean him off.

Saturday, Turk and I were talking about this little issue and he suggested we try a different tactic. Obviously, nothing we were doing was working, no matter how patient we were with his accidents. And frankly, I cannot take the mess anymore.

“The YMCA daycare gives the kids a Gummi Bear if they poop on the potty,” Turk said.

“No, I don’t want to reward him with candy,” I replied flatly.

“Well, nothing else is working,” he reasoned.

Good point.

“Alright, we’ll give it a try,” I conceded.

Sunday, I picked up a ginormous pack at Target. I brought it home and Bug’s eyes boggled.

“What’s dat?!” he asked.

“Gummi Bears ,” I replied. “You get one when you poop on the potty.”

Bug ran straight for the bathroom, sat on the toilet and grunted like a caveman.

“I can’t do it, Mama!” he groaned.

“That’s okay, buddy, they’ll still be here when you do have to go.”

He didn’t have to go all night and I thought maybe the novelty of the treat idea had worn off on him. Then, this morning I heard him pad to the bathroom and do his business.

Yessss! Finally!

I patted his back, told him how proud I was, wiped him up and led him back to his room.

Maybe he forgot about the Gummi Bears after all, I thought.

He looked up at me with those huge blue eyes, still droopy from sleep, and said, “Mommy, I get a Gummi Bear now?”

“Yes, buddy, you get a Gummi Bear,” I said, and handed him his potty reward.

Once upon a time, I said never. I should know better by now than to say “never” to anything. Apparently, he is a reward-driven kind of kid, and for right now, I’ll do whatever it takes if it means not having to clean up poo messes all day long.

This is slightly off-topic, but it does have to do with Gummi Bears. Do you remember the Gummi Bear show? “Gummi Bears, bouncing here and there and everywhere…” Turk and I were just talking about that show last night. Too funny.

My fears that I was going to go to the doctor on Friday and find out that one of my little twinkies wasn’t there anymore were, thankfully, blessedly, unfounded. My OB fired up the ultrasound machine and immediately I got to see these sweet little ones. I have never seen my babies at nearly 14 weeks before, so it was so much fun seeing what my little 14 week old twins look like. One of the babies, Righty, as I will call “her” for the time being, was sleeping like… well, a baby. Her crazy little uterus buddy, Mr. Lefty, was dancing a jig as if to make up for the other’s laziness. I kid you not, during the 5 minutes I was hooked up to the ultrasound, Lefty did a complete 360 degree turn, arms in the air, wiggling, squirming, and sucking “his” hand.

Most people, when they are flooded with relief, cry. I have never been known to cry under those types of situations however, so instead, I laughed. A lot. The doctor jokingly said, “How’s a guy supposed to get a good look at these babies if you’re laughing so much!” I apologized and explained that laughter is my defense mechanism. He understood, I calmed down, and we got some great pictures of the babies.

Wanna see?

(As of you have a choice in the matter! *Wink*)

I labeled the pictures because, well, looking at ultrasounds are often like looking at Rorschach Tests. Admittedly, my twins resemble aliens more than my offspring at the moment, but hey, they’re still cute to me.

Allow me to introduce you to Righty, my sleepy child. She moved once during the ultrasound, only to roll over and then fall back asleep.

And, here is our little dancing babe, Lefty. He was hilarious, but honestly, I wouldn’t expect anything less from a child of Turk and I.

To clarify, I am calling the twins “he” and “she,” but those are simply arbitrary labels. We should find out next month if our twins are sporting a cheeseburger or a hot dog. Today, Bug adimantly informed me that there were two girls in my belly, depsite his earlier claim that there is a boy and a girl. Though, I must say, two girls surely would explain my awful nausea that continues to kick my ass about two days a week. (Still, better than seven days. I’ll take whatever relief I can get!)

Our babies are Lefty and Righty for right now because one has not presented yet, since they’re so small. When one travels down south more, that baby will be known as Baby A, and the sibling will be Baby B. Eventually, I will come up with cute little nicknames for them, but for now, while I can’t decifer one from the other, they’ll simply be “the twins.”

Yay for twinkies!