Post-Crosby

I have TWO children.  Isn't that crazy?

It might not be to you, but it is to me.

The thing is, I've been thinking about writing this blog for a bit, but I don't want to jinx it...because things are really good, and the transition has been (ssshhhh!) fairly easy.

Before I had Crosby everyone would tell me all the time how difficult it was to go from one child to two children.  They would also tell me how it gets easier from 2-3 and 3-4.  Now, I don't want to jinx anything, but it totally hasn't been a difficult transition, or at least it hasn't been difficult in the way I thought it was going to be.

For example, right now Finn is watching an episode of Mickey Mouse, after spending the morning playing with his cousin Addy.  Crosby is sleeping in his swing.  I am sitting here working on the first month of Crosby's baby book and writing this blog.

Don't get me wrong...recovering from the c-section has been (really) difficult, the nasty disgusting spinal headaches and the blood patch were (literally) one of the most horrifying things I've ever experienced.  However, once that was over...life has been so much easier than it was when we brought Finn home.  Crosby has been an AMAZING nurser, and a better sleeper than Finn was.  But it's more than that...I am just so much more comfortable being a mother.  I feel like I know something about what I'm doing.  I'm not second guessing each and every decision I make.  I am not crying about nursing, or how much it hurts, or whether or not I am doing it wrong every second of every day.

And, I can't help but wonder if it's because of me, or if Crosby just fits so perfectly into our little family.

It's like he was meant to be here.  I know he was, don't get me wrong, but I just didn't expect him to fit so perfectly.  It's like he was never NOT here, and it makes me so happy to know that that's how Finn will remember it.  Finn will never know a time without Crosby (though I will cherish those two years where he was my one and only baby), and Crosby will never know a time without Finn.  There is something amazing about that.

So, I guess what I am rambling on and on about is that...life is good.  Crosby is such a good little baby, so sweet, quiet and content.  Finn is such a good big brother.  This was another surprise...not that he is a good big brother, but that he is so conscientious of being quiet and gentle around the baby.  He has not once been resentful, or mad at Crosby.  He's been mad at me, but never ever at Crosby.

It just fits.  It feels right.

Crosby Emerson

Everyone and their mother kept telling me he was coming early, but I didn't think so, I thought just on time, or a little late...maybe 1-2 days late. Bernie (our midwife) told me that my cervix was high--not effaced, not dilated...nothing was happening.

So I kept living life. Finn and I went to the zoo on Monday, and to the aquarium with Gma and Addy on Tuesday July 2nd. We came home, Finn took a nap, and I cleaned the entire house. I felt great.  Randy was freaking out that I kept driving to the city, but I just “knew” it would still be a while.  We were supposed to have a few people over for the parade the next day. However, Crosby had a different plan--he's been surprising me from the beginning.

At 11:45 pm on July 2 I woke up, went to the bathroom, and laid back down. Within a few minutes, a giant gush of water happened. Like the one you see in the movies. I was dripping and leaking all over the place. It was weird...and kind of gross. I got up, started hyperventilating because "it's too early" and told randy, and then called Louise and Bernie. They both assured me that since I wasn't having contractions, I could lie back down and try to sleep. I got into the shower, while Randy ran around packing a bag, and calling my parents. I couldn't stop shaking from nervousness and serious adrenaline. Randy called my parents, and we all decided that since we didn't know what time labor would start, we would bring him over there now, I think everyone assumed that labor would begin now, and I’d have this baby the next day. 

It was super emotional for me to watch Finn leave. He was crying, and he screamed "mama" as Randy put him into the car. All I could think was "that's the last time I'll see my baby as an only child." I cried and cried when he left.  And then the house was eerily quiet—Finn was gone, Ella was gone and Randy was gone.  I finished my shower, and tried to calm down. 

When Randy came back, we finished any last minute cleaning, and laid down to try to sleep. We put in Knocked Up, and got a bit of sleep. I had some contractions, but nothing hard, and nothing regular. When we woke up in the morning, we went on a short walk (in which I had to tie a sweatshirt around my waist 1996 style because there was so much fluid coming out of me). Randy and I were scared, but also so excited and so hopeful that because the labor had started differently it would go differently than Finn's birth—we were so hopeful, so positive. 

Finally we decided it was time to go to the hospital. We went in, and stopped at Bernie's office. She checked me and had some bad news. My cervix wasn't ready for labor. It was high and closed. She even said it wasn't soft. I was so sad. Bernie said that she went back and forth about starting pitocin or doing something else. We decided that the best route to go was to insert a drug called cervidil. It's a progesterone and its job is to soften the cervix to get it ready for labor. The trick is that it has to be inserted for 12 hours. And during those 12 hours, you are just supposed to be resting and waiting.

So we walked over to the hospital to be admitted and start the cervidil (I have no idea if I’m spelling that right…btw).  The inserted my IV and I almost passed out.  Yeah, you heard that correctly.  The woman who went through over 72 hours of “labor” with Finn, passed out when they pricked her with a needle.  Then one of the nurses told me I needed to have thicker skin…and I seriously wanted to deck her in the face.  I am NOT a wuss.  I have never passed out from needles, or even had an issue with needles before.  However, when my heart rate dropped, so did the baby’s and it was scary. 

After that nonsense, they took some blood, and then they inserted the cervidil.  And now…we just had to wait for something to happen.  Randy and I talked, and we watched Harry Potter.  Randy’s mom and sisters came for lunch, and we chatted with them.  Nothing was happening. 

Then, close to 3:00, I started to feel contractions…and they sucked.  And I wasn’t allowed to get up.  And it was TERRIBLE.  They were getting stronger and stronger.  My nurse (I think it was still Michele at this point) kept telling me they weren’t contractions, they were “abdominal discomfort” and I was FREAKING OUT to Randy.  I kept saying “this isn’t even labor, this is just discomfort—I can’t do this for 5 more hours and then just start labor.”  Randy felt awful for me.  However, when your water breaks they can only check you 6 times total, so they weren’t able to tell me where I was, or if anything was happening. 

At 9:45 p.m. they finally removed the cervidil.  I was exhausted, still contracting, and feeling terrible.  They had given me a dose of Staydol (sp?) at one point so I could try to rest through the “abdominal discomfort” that wasn’t reading as contractions.  It made things a bit better, for about an hour…and it helped a lot since I wasn’t able to do anything else to cope with labor pains (walking, tub, etc.). 

I was able to start walking and doing different positions at this point.  They wanted me to wait for around an hour to see if my contractions would keep going before they gave me Pitocin.  Well, the contractions definitely kept going…it was at this point where they actually gave in to the fact that they were contractions and not just abdominal pains.  Finally, around 11 pm they checked me.  I was at 6-7 cm, which was great.  However, I was really discouraged… I felt like they had promised me a shorter, easier birth, and I was just not feeling it.  Louise *our doula if you didn’t know that tried to pep me up by telling me that I had been right the entire time—I WAS contracting, the nurses were wrong.  I was mad…mad I had been in bed contracting for several hours and not been able to get up, and I was feeling oh so negative. 

At that point we got up and walked the halls, changed positions several times and tried to get things moving.  I was in terrible pain, and feeling discouraged and guilty the entire time.  I was really mean to Randy at this point, he kept trying to help, but all I wanted was louise to be there for me.  That is it. 

At that point, Bernie came in and checked me again.  She said I was at 8-9 cm, which was great.  However, I had also started bearing down and pushing when I was having contractions.  It was at this point I cried epidural.  I was just so done.  It was probably around 1 am.  I was sad, mad, and just in so much pain.  Randy and Louise talked and everyone could tell I was serious, and they were also concerned that I kept pushing.  Bernie said my cervix was “puffy” from pushing, which is why I think she agreed to do the epidural at that point. 

I was terrified, I was disappointed in myself for asking for the epidural, I was relieved that the pain would stop soon, and I was still just discouraged about the entire situation.  I thought it would be easier, that I would be better prepared, and it just kept getting worse.

The epidural was bad, mostly because I was in the transition stage of labor and someone was telling me to relax and not move.  After the epidural, I calmed down.   I felt so much better, and I felt clear for the first time all day.  With that clarity, the guilt about getting the epidural set in too.  However, I didn’t have a lot of time to feel guilty, because within an hour I was pushing.  I asked them to turn the epidural down, and I was able to change positions several times during pushing.  The nurse (Melissa), Bernie and Louise all assured me that I was pushing correctly.  However, the baby wasn’t moving down…and his heart rate was decelerating. 

Every time I looked at Randy he was pacing and talking under his breath.  I don’t know if he was praying, or just telling himself it would be okay.  Finally, Bernie uttered the phrase “I think it’s going to be a c-section” every time I pushed, the baby’s heart rate would decelerate, and it would take him a little while to recover, it was terrifying. 

After Bernie said c-section, we tried 3-4 more positions to try to get the baby to move down, but nothing worked.  The good news was that the fact that I got the epidural made it easier and calmer to go straight into the c-section, the bad news is that I immediately convinced myself that it was my fault that I was getting a c-section, for not being strong enough to do it without the epidural. 

They wheeled me straight into the surgical room, and at that point things went fast.  Everything from my chest down was numb, and it was weird.  Randy wasn’t with me, but Louise and Bernie were, and that made it better.  I was just sad, and scared and relieved all at the same time. 

The c-section is fuzzy to me.  I’ve remember that I didn’t feel anything.  I remember holding Louise’s hand, then Randy’s.  Then I remember hearing Crosby cry.  We never heard that with Finn.  Finn never cried.  When I heard it, I lost it and started crying.  I asked “Is he okay?”  “how does he look?” and various other questions.  Randy cut the cord—I was so proud of him. 

Then, the moment.  The moment that I have been waiting for…they placed him on me.  They let me hold him, and while it was weird because my hands were kind of numb (ish), but I got to do it.  I got to be skin to skin with that adorable little angel immediately after he was born.  I was so happy.  I was so happy that I finally got that moment.  It was wonderful.  I don’t even remember if Randy got to hold him or not. 

They took him away, and cleaned him up and got his stats.  He entered the world at 5:09 a.m. on July 4^th, 2013.  He was 8 lbs 3 oz and 19.75, and he was perfectly perfect.  He cried when he came out, but was calm during all his tests, and he was fabulous. 

They then finished stitching me up, and wheeled me into recovery, where I got to try to breastfeed (he was AWESOME at this immediately), and hold him, and love him.  I felt weird, and happy, and loopy, and strange all at the same time, but overwhelmingly in love. 

It was a happy day, and it was a sad day too.  However, it was the day that we met our Crosby Emerson Hoyle, so it was wonderful. 

Recovery has been really difficult, but also better than anticipated in other ways.  The worst part of the entire experience was the spinal headaches accompanied by the blood patch that occurred four days after his birth.  But that’s a story for another day.

Welcome to the world Crosby, we love you so much, you are such a wonderful little baby, and you are exactly what this family wanted and needed. 

38 weeks

This Wednesday I will be 38 weeks pregnant. Whoa. That went super fast. 

Well, what I'm being forced to deal with is that I may not fully be over the trauma of Finn's birth. 

Finn's birth was a rough one. In face, when our doula-Louise-came over to meet with us this week, she said in all the births she has done (well over a thousand) Finn's birth was in the top 3 hardest and longest births she had. 

I think she said this to us to make us feel better, and empowered. In a way that meant, "if you could do that, you can do ANYTHING."

But yeah, it didn't make me feel like that. It made me feel scared all over again. In fact, it made me a bit terrified of the process. I strive so hard to have a mentality that "birth is normal" that "my body was made to do this" etc., etc. but sometimes I forget how scary it all can be. To not have control over the situation, to be scared about all the things that could go wrong. 

More than that-I am so scared that it'll be the same as with Finn. I'm so scared that I will have 3 days of prodromal labor, that I will have 19 more hours of active labor, that I will push for 3.5 hours, that he will still have to be vacuum-extracted, and mostly, I am so afraid that after everything we still won't get to hold him, and that we will have to go through 24 hours of terror that he won't be okay, and can't hold him and can't nurse. 

That's scary!  I feel like sometimes it's worse than going in blind because you have all those worries behind it. What if it happens again? What if I can't do all that again? 

Too much to think about! 

A little dignity please?

So, anyone out there who has been pregnant before knows that there is very little that feels "dignified" about the process of pregnancy and labor.  Somehow it gives people liberty to talk about your body, your weight gain, your breasts, and that's with complete strangers.  My friends, oh my friends get to hear the good stuff, the really gritty part of pregnancy and labor.

However, there are times during pregnancy where I want to scream at the top of my lungs "A LITTLE DIGNITY, PLEASE!"

And yesterday was one of those times.  I had an appointment with my midwife at  11:40, and I had a little test called the Group B strep (GBS) test, and also my first vaginal exam in...like 8 months.  At 36 weeks, or 9 months they start checking to see if you've made any progress...dilation-wise, effacement-wise, pelvic station-wise.  For a GBS test they need to swab your vagina to check for infection that might affect the baby.

So, anyways, if you're like me...you need a little preparation time for this particular visit.  I needed some grooming action, and any of you that have seen me lately, might understand how damn difficult that process is.  

So whatever, I get that situation all done with, and Finn and I make our way to the doctor.  We get to the doctor--ipad in hand, cheeze-it's ready to be eaten.  To get into the doctor Finn HAS TO (seriously) press 4 different buttons.  He has to press the two handicapped entryway door buttons, he HAS to press the elevator button, and he absolutely must press the 2 for the second floor.  None of this is optional, this is what he lives for...this is how I get the child out of the house to go to the doctor with me, the promise of these damn buttons.

So we do that, Finn then announces to the entire room that he has to go potty, so my giant ass makes my way into the bathroom with him, crouches down and helps him go potty.  I cannot go yet, because I have to leave a urine sample.  So helping him go is excruciating.  We go back to the waiting room, where Finn refuses to speak to anyone that speaks to him.

Finally, they call us back and I get to "leave my sample" which is code for pee into a tiny cup, with my 2 year old watching me.  So, I've done this before, no big deal.  I go about my business, except this time, Finn knocks into me, which then knocks my hand, which then causes me to pee all over myself, and completely miss the cup.

So, then, Finn and I have to wash up, and I have to go tell the nurses that, in fact, I missed the cup, because why not embarrass myself further and announce to the entire room.  And I cannot say "my child ran into me" because that just sounds mean...like I'm blaming my 2 year old for something I should be able to do relatively easily.  So they say it's fine, they just need a little bit, which I have provided...go me.

I then move into the exam room, which is tinier than usual because of my impending vaginal check.  They take my blood pressure, I try to get Finn situated with the iPad in the chair in the corner of the room (p.s. that chair is directly facing where my exam will take place, so Finn will get a front row seat to the viewing of my junk).  And the nurse tells me to remove everything from the waist down.

Awesome.

I do so, and cover myself with the terribly uncomfortable paper cloth covering.  And from that moment, I am stuck where I am sitting, because if I get up--my entire ass is showing to the outside of the office if the door opens.

So, as soon as I cover myself with that stupid paper, Finn decides that it is time to jump on top of me and proceed to (literally) jump off the part of the table where my feet sit.  In the process of doing this, Finn rips a gigantic hole in my paper-covering exposing one of my legs.  He then, proceeds to (accidentally) rip three more holes in this paper covering in the 10 minutes that we are waiting for Bernie to come in the room.  He also cannot make whatever app he is playing with work, so he is coming over to me with that damn ipad every 10 seconds asking me for help.

Suffice it to say, by the time Bernie enters the room...I am very disheveled and very sweaty...EVERYWHERE.  So we chat for a little while, and then proceed to my exam, which I have to give a very specific apology about my sweatiness before-hand.  


And all I'm asking is why does shit like this have to happen to me all the time?  Why can't Finn just sit there for 10 minutes, why can't I just feel dignified for 10 seconds out of the day.

I suppose that it's all downhill from here anyways.

Geez.

Caution: Overly emotional pregnant lady.

Well hello.

I haven't blogged in a while, though this one has been floating through my head for the last week or so.

First, I have gotten to the crazy-gigantic, uncomfortable stage of pregnancy.  The part that I am fairly certain was invented by those who wanted to scare us females into thinking that SURELY the pain of labor MUST be better than this nonsense.  The nauseous, crampy, heavy, bloated, heart-burn ridden-ness, the labor must be worth it to make this stuff stop.

Well, with this pregnancy, along with all these other symptoms...I have some crazy, out-of-control hormones making me ridiculously emotional.  My emotions are completely all over the place.

At every moment of the day I am feeling some emotion, but it's like I am incapable of feeling that emotional on a normal level.  My emotion has to be felt at like a 434524525234 on a scale of 1-10.  For instance, while I sit here writing this blog, Randy is watching some stupid show, and two fans are going at our house.  And the fucking noise is making me want to kill Randy, or walk over to him and punch him in the face.  (Emotional translation= I want it to be quiet). But instead of feeling mildly irritated by this, I am literally sweating because I am so angry about it.  Is there a logical, rational reason for this...nope.  Do I care?  Nope.

So, within the last few days there have been so many emotional ups and downs that I can barely stand it.   For example, this morning Randy and I were sitting at the park after going to the Farmer's market watching Finn run around the park, and run up and down a little grassy hill.  And here I am, crying...like, literally tears running down my face, because I can't believe that that little boy is so beautiful, and so happy, and so mine, and so vibrant and alive, and 100 more adjectives.  And then I start to talk to Randy about how damn scared I am about how it's even possible to love another human being as much as I love Finn.  How will I love Crosby like I love Finn (the rational side of me knows this is silly, but the emotional side of me is truly frightened about this)?  Will I love him enough?  Will I love Finn enough when Crosby is here?  Will I ignore Finn?  Will he feel uncared about?  How many ways can I be afraid of screwing my children up?  Will the second-guessing EVER end?

The emotions aren't always so nice though, they aren't always happy tears and questions about love for my children.  Sometimes, the emotions are downright mean and angry.  Yesterday morning Randy was pissing me off, because Randy always wants to cook big breakfasts on the weekends.  But Randy NEVER wants to clean up those breakfasts, and he certainly doesn't want to clean them up right away. Normally, I don't mind too much, but at 9 months pregnant, I mind.  I mind a lot.  So I said something mean to Randy, called him a jerk, and a few other choice phrases.  He then took Finn outside to play in the sandbox and t-ball.  I calmed down, and got a bottle of water and some goldfish, and walked outside.  Randy said "why are you outside with a jerk?"  Passive aggressive--yes.  Worth my reaction--no.  Because here's my reaction...I threw my water bottle, which exploded into an impressive fountain, threw my goldfish crackers, ran inside, closed the door, and cried for 25 minutes.

Randy eventually came inside, probably to fight more, but saw how upset I was and apologized and just rubbed my back for a while.

I am just so tired of feeling so manic/depressive.  I'm either way up or way down, and it comes on in moments.

Other examples from the week:

-  Saw a picture of V that her aunt posted, and started immediately crying because I haven't seen them in 2 weeks, and I miss them :(

-  Texted one of my friends, and they didn't text me back immediately, got irately angry, threw my phone against the wall.

-  Countless times have gotten into it with Randy for no reason other than to have someone to fight with.

-  Cried more times than I can even count about beautiful things (mainly Finn)...things Finn does/says/sings, seeing something beautiful, thinking about brothers in our house.

- Cried more times than I can even count about having to do things...things that (in my mind) SHOULD be easy, but are quite difficult for me at 9 months pregnant...like cleaning baseboards, cleaning fans, doing laundry.  Blah blah blah.


I have to be done now, because I'm getting emotional just writing this...for no reason.

Hopefully the crazy ends soon!

My son: the bipolar liar.

Oh my sweet Finn. You are sometimes a bit like Jekyll and Hyde. Thursday, when Daddy got home you said to Gus- "that's my daddy- he's my friend." And sometimes when V cries, he will come up to her and pat s her back and says "it otay Genevive, it otay." And these are the times where I think to myself , what a sweet child I have. The one who doles out hugs and kisses, gives high-fives, and can answer bunches of questions and is just so damn smart. 

But sometimes...sometimes...the child is crazy. Like, how he scrunches up his nose when ANYONE other than me, randy or my parents speak to him; how he repeatedly says "I tan't" to anything/everything you ask him to do. 

And, most recently, how he tries to lie to get out of doing things. If I tell him to go get his shoes, or go to bed. He screams "SOMETHING WRONG?"

When I calmly ask him, "what's wrong?" He responds by screeching "there's a bee on me."

Ummm...what? 

Last night at bedtime he told me that there was a bee up his nose.    

If you do not deal with this atrocity RIGHT AWAY the kid goes insane. Screams and cries "ow ow ouch!"

Then, this morning he woke up sick, and I have to ask myself...is my child a bipolar liar? Or is he simply trying to explain that his head feels fuzzy? Or he hears a ringing/buzzing sound? 

Or is he just trying to confuse the hell out of me, so I give up and let him watch Mickey Mouse for 10 days straight? Because he may be winning, I'm just sayin'. 

Then, he keeps saying, when I go to put him to bed, "I tan't there's a boy in there." 

Ummm...seriously? That is creepy, like really creepy. What am I supposed to do with that? Does my son see a creepy ghost? Does he have an imaginary friend? Or is he just a bipolar liar?  

I don't know, but whatever the answer--I am fairly certain that, whatever battle of wills Finn and I are in, I am losing. 

More sick?

So...Randy either had the stomach flu last night, or some sort of food poisoning.  I have no idea which one, but I heard it...all night long.

And, while I am very sorry that Randy was sick, and I feel terrible that he had to get sick on his one and only day off for the week.

But, more than that, I am terribly frightened...that I am going to get the stomach flu, and that Finn is going to get the stomach flu.  And that maybe it'll happen at the same time, and I will be home all alone, pregnant and sick with a sick child.

I can't stop thinking about it.  It did not sound pleasant, it seems to be a 24 hour thing...but, all I want to know is "AM I GOING TO GET THIS?"  because if I am...let's just get it over with.  Let's just do it and be done with it, so I don't have to cancel on Jorie, so I don't miss Allison's bachelorette party (which is in 2 days), and so it doesn't affect our trip to Florida in 2 weeks.

Why is it that every single second I am sick? I literally used all 15 of my sick days (plus 2 unpaid days) last year at school...every SINGLE one was for Finn.

While, I do think that things have gotten better this year, I still feel like we are sick more than anyone I know.  I just want to be healthy.  I just want everyone to feel good, and be well.

I just want everyone to be NORMAL for 20 seconds...or maybe like 2 weeks.  Is that too much to ask? Am I too dramatic about it?  I just feel like I can't catch up, because every week there is a new illness to deal with.

I'm a baby, I know it.  I just DO NOT WANT TO GET THE STOMACH FLU...AGAIN.

Blech.

Stupid sickness.

And stupid weather for ALWAYS  being cold so that everyone on the planet gets sick every 5 minutes.  I am so ever-loving ready for spring/summer.

Sick...always sick.

So...I'm crabby, like really crabby.

Here are the reasons.

1.  Finn is sick, like really sick.  Like maybe the sickest I've seen him in...a long time.  He has pink eye, and a terrible cold.  Along with this cough, cold, runny (like a faucet) nose, eye funkiness, comes TWO things that are really awful.
-  the child NEVER sleeps, like never.  I haven't had a good nights sleep since before Easter, and I am slowly losing it.
-  the child is the MOST uncooperative child I have ever laid eyes on.  Every single thing you try to do for him when he's sick is the end of the world.  Like...imagine, PUTTING OINTMENT in that crazy child's eyes.  Or trying to get him to take cough medicine.  It is seriously fucking torture.

2.  Now, I am sick.  I have pink eye too, and this cold is coming...quickly and angrily.  I'm sure that this has something to do with the fact that I haven't slept in a week, but whatever.  I feel like shit, and I have to wear my glasses, which give me a terrible headache and I HATE them.  This morning I woke up with a fever, the last time I had a fever is when I had mastitis.  What the heck?

3.  Randy is NEVER home.  Like, I am not exaggerating, he has seen Finn while he has been sick for 10 minutes...total.  When Randy is home, Finn is asleep.  So every battle I have to fight with Finn is 100% alone.  Every decision I make for him while he is the most miserable I've seen him in years, is my decision (right or wrong).  It is terrible.  And I'm resentful about it, (1) because I feel lost and (2) because I am so tired and irrational, I can hardly contain myself.

4.  Our water heater broke this week, so that was annoying, and also cost $400 to fix.

5.  I cannot seem to get off my lazy ass and get my act together this week, which is in LARGE part due to the fact that I feel so terrible.   I had so many plans for this week, things to get done, etc. etc.


Incredibly hopeful that I write with happier news next time.  And I'm sure I will.

I tend to be a giant baby when I am sick, and I have very little perspective.

Sorry.

Finn and life.

So, the last few days have had their ups and downs.  Randy has been working crazy-long hours, and with those hours exhaustion tends to tag along for the ride.  So, when he comes home he is crabby, and he doesn't always remember to say simple things like "how was your day?" or "what did YOU do today?"

That's hard for me, I am used to giving Randy a detailed run-down of the day. But, a lot of days in the last few weeks, Randy gets home and I'm either in bed, or putting Finn to bed, so that makes the talking difficult.

And...ya know, I'm pregnant too.  So I've got all that stuff going on too...tired, listless, headaches, body aches, crappy attitude, backaches, etc.


And, Finn, oh Finn.  I love that kid so, but he is INTENSE from time to time.  He inherited a little OCD from his Mama, so he likes his clothes on just so, and his milk in a specific cup, and a certain color spoon, and things that I almost always find adorable, have been driving me a little bit insane.  And the destruction has reached an all-time high.  I've never met a child who loves to destroy like Finn loves to destroy.  He builds towers to knock them down; he makes things to rip them up.

I try my best, I really do to be patient, and accept who he is, and not dampen his spirit, but sometimes he is just downright naughty, and days are too long, and too lonely.

Yesterday was one of those days.  We were at Jorie's house until 6, and had some cleaning to do at home, and each and every thing I tried to clean up, Finn wanted to take out and destroy some more.  And finally, it was bedtime.  We fought about brushing teeth, we fought about putting jammies on, we fought about going potty.

Eventually we fell into bed (okay, he jumped, I fell).  And all I wanted was to read a book and go to sleep.  And so we read, and Finn nestled into me.  I turned around so I was facing away from him.

And then I heard his little, sweet voice.  He said, "Mama, I want to hold you hand."  And I turned around, and he snuggled into me, just melted into my body, held my hand and then fell asleep.

And I couldn't believe that I had been frustrated and on the verge of tears ten minutes earlier. I couldn't believe that I made it into such a big deal (which I still totally think was justified).  I was just so damn happy to be with that little boy at that moment.

Because it's fleeting.

Tomorrow he may wake up and not want to snuggle me while he sleeps, and while I know a big part of me would celebrate and throw a giant party, there is still another big part of me that would mourn it.  That will miss him wanting me to comfort him, and knowing how safe he is with me.

It was a good moment, and I'm trying hard to hold onto it.

Shit happens

So...yesterday was an interesting day.

Those of you who know ANYTHING about my life, know that Finn is not a great sleeper.  He has never been a great sleeper.  He's probably slept from 9-11 hours in a row...maybe 10-15 times in his entire life.  He came out as a terrible sleeper.

We tried to let him sleep in the bouncer, the swing, finally in bed with us.  It made it better, but never made it go away.

I have read books, I have listened to people (especially older women) wax poetically about sleep training, and what I'm doing wrong.

Finally, somewhere along the road, my friend Jorie told me "listen, it's possible that he's just not a good sleeper, and that nothing you do could change it" (paraphrasing...even though it's in quotes, just go with it).  I accepted that.

Could I have slept trained my child?  Maybe.  Could I have done things along the way that were wrong, or that lead him down this sleep-harried path?  Yeah, probably.  But, whatever, I'm not convinced that it would have made a ton of difference in his sleep patterns.

Well, when Gus and V started coming here, I did my own version of sleep-training Finn. Let's call it nap-training.  I got Finn to lay in bed ALONE and go to sleep ALONE.  It took a few weeks, but seeing Gus and V go to sleep on their own must have clicked some kind of "my mom isn't bat-shit insane" reflex in Finn and he went with it.  For months.

However, over the past 1-2 months Finn has gotten challenging again.  He gets up, runs around, breaks things in my room, screws around and I have to go into the room at least 6-7 times before he will actually CALM HIMSELF down and go the eff to sleep.

It's frustrating, because he's being loud as he is doing this, and he's waking other children up, and keeping me from cleaning up, working out, etc.

So, anyways, yesterday I tried to put Finn to sleep, and I tried and TRIED and TRIED for over an hour to get the kid to fall asleep.  Eventually, after one trip to the potty, one glass of milk, one "lay with me a minute" and two books, I said to Finn "I am leaving this room, and you are going to sleep.  Mommy is not coming back."  This was at 1:15 (yes, I put him to sleep at 12 p.m.).

I went and took a shower, and started watching an episode of The Walking Dead.  I heard him bustling around in there, was annoyed, but decided I wasn't going to go in there again.

Genevive woke up at 2, I went in and gave her her milk, then I went in my room to get Finn.

I was assaulted by the smell of poop, and I thought to myself "oh. shit."

I slowly opened the door.  and there were Finn's pants and underwear on the floor, covered in poop.  I looked at Finn, he was covered in poop, his arms, legs and hands were completely covered in poop.  And he was asleep.  In my bed.  On my comforter, in MY bed.

Are you kidding me?

Then, I turned around.  And I saw the door.  The door was LITERALLY painted with poop.  Like, the child picked up the poop from his pants and tried to paint the door with it.

You think I'm exaggerating?

I'm not. 

Not at all.  

Yep.  That was my bedroom door, please notice the floor as well.  I did not have the time to photograph the bed, or my child.

I ripped him out of bed, and pretty much threw him crying into the bathtub and cleaned him off, just Finn.

Because at this point...we had about 15 minutes to get 3 kids out the door to pick up 3 more.

But...oh.my.gosh.

It was so ridiculous.

It took me two hours to clean up the entire mess, and the carpet is still not completely clean.

I know that I will laugh about this one day.

Not today, but maybe one day.

Baby #2

One of the things that I haven't written about much on this blog is baby #2, and so I thought I'd write something about him today.  It's crazy how different it is when you're pregnant with your second child, even Randy has commented on it.

With Finn, our entire world was consumed with being pregnant.  Everything that we did, every conversation that we had, everything centered around that.

With baby 2, it hasn't been so intense...our focus is, yes, on this sweet baby, but also on Finn, and life and work.  We understand things more, there aren't so many questions, there aren't so many things to research...we feel more at ease with the idea of a baby in general.

One thing that doesn't change is the excitement, and I feel like the excitement even gets a little bit MORE exciting, because I get to share that excitement with Finn, and get to explain how exciting being a big brother is going to be.  Finn got to have his first real "glimpse" of the baby yesterday.  Randy and I have had 2 previous ultrasounds, but we haven't taken Finn to either of them.  The baby didn't look a whole lot like a baby yet, and we didn't want to have to chase after him during these ultrasounds.  However, yesterday, I don't know why, but I thought it was important to take him.  I thought he would understand, and he would like it.  I am still not sure if I was right or wrong?

The day started out wonderfully, we didn't get out of bed until 8:30, which is unheard of, but apparently daylight savings time is still messing with Finn's internal clock, which I am COMPLETELY fine with.  We woke up, got ready, and went to visit the chiropractor (I've been having some pretty bad sciatica pain with this pregnancy, and the chiropractor is REALLY helping), and then made our way to visit Kathy and Alexis.

Finn and Alexis are just about the cutest thing on the planet together.  They play so well, share and just do a great job.  They are just a pleasure to watch play together.  We spent some time playing at Kathy's house, and then made our way to the mall for a while.

These weekly playdates with Kathy and Alexis have become quite a tradition, and something that we both look forward to all week.  I'm so grateful to have someone in my life that truly seems to fully understand me, and lets me be myself.

On the way home, Finn fell asleep and slept until ultrasound time.  I was seriously concerned that Randy wouldn't be able to make the ultrasound, because he's had to work such ridiculous hours lately.

We jumped in the car, and went to the ultrasound (while I downed by 32 ounces of water).  When we got there, Finn colored and played in the waiting room, and I tried not to pee my pants.  We went out into the hallway to check and see if Daddy was there yet, and Finn saw him and RAN to give him a hug...it was seriously adorable.

A few minutes later, they called me back and did all the measurements.  Then Randy and Finn got to come back too.

Finn was...taken aback by the ultrasound.  He just didn't know what to do with it all, he was mostly just really tentative.

Randy asked him "Do you see baby brother?"
Finn: "No."
Randy: "He's right there, do you see him?"
Finn: "It's not baby brother."
Randy: "It doesn't look like your brother to you?"
Finn: "No, it's not."
Randy: "What does it look like to you?"
Finn: "A turtle"


This was both adorable, and slightly alarming.

Finn seemed nervous, so I asked him if he wanted to hold my hand, he answered, very matter-of-factly that "My too big."  It was a strange full-circle type of moment.  One child too big, one too little to even come out of my belly yet.

Weird.

It's also weird to me how this child already seems to fit into our family.  He is a part of life, Finn says goodnight to him each night, and we've already chosen his name.  It just seems so nice, like he has always been meant to be here.  And we can't wait to meet you buddy.

 

Failure.

Today, as a mother, I would grade myself a big, fat F. 

This week has been a challenging week.  It's a Crier week, and it's also Paragon deadline.  That is a LOT of time at school.  I spent 8 hours here on Sunday, and probably 16 hours here so far this week.  The majority of that time has been with Finn as well, which is a special brand of challenging. 

Today, at home started off great.  Finn slept until 7:45, we straightened up, made eggs, and then Gus and V came over to play. 

It went downhill at approximately 11:30.  I put Gus and V down for their naps, they went to sleep, and were great...as usual.  I put Finn down for his nap, and I left the room. 

I came back ten minutes later.  Finn had all the lights on and was jumping on the bed. I put him back to sleep.

I came back five minutes later.  All the lights on, throwing clothes out of a drawer.

I came back ten minutes later.  All the lights on, playing with a tripod.

I came back ten minutes later, still lying in bed.

So, I went downstairs to walk on the treadmill.  I came upstairs FORTY MINUTES LATER.  My son is sitting on the couch, playing with my phone...wide awake.  He also threw all the freshly cleaned laundry on the floor. 

HE ALSO OPENED BOTH DOORS TO THE ROOMS WHERE THE OTHER CHILDREN WERE SLEEPING!  One was awake, one was asleep.  Both eventually went back to sleep. 

I put Finn back in bed.  I came back five minutes later....he is going through my bedside table.  I was so freaking angry, I swatted his behind.  He promptly said "No hit me!"

I felt terrible, I mean really terrible.  I don't hit.  I don't believe in hitting, I've never hit him before.  Now, I know I didn't really hit him, but I got mad at him, so angry.  I also told him he was acting like a "bad boy" which I've never said to him before. I hate that he even knows the word bad. 

I still don't know what I should have done differently.  Does he just not need a nap anymore? I have no idea.  I just sometimes feel so at a loss for what to do, and I feel like I really failed today.  I failed myself, and I failed my child.  Some people might think, "it's no big deal" but it's a big damn deal to me.  I don't hit, I don't say that he is acting like a bad boy.  That's not me. 

What pisses me off the most is that I know if I wasn't doing all the after school work, I wouldn't have been so stressed out about it.  It's not okay that I took out that stress on him.  It's just not okay, and I am feeling like shit about it. 

I know there's going to be moms out there that may read this and say "no big deal" and there are others out there that will say "I would never do that."  I don't really care about either, I care about my own standards...and I failed miserably at standing up to those today.

Also, here's what pisses me off a lot.  Each and every time that one of my friends is upset, I call or text them.  I say "what's up?" or "are you okay?"  I ask about their children, I ask about how they are feeling, I ask about all that shit. 

Wanna know how many people asked me how my day was?   Or why I was upset?  Or what was wrong?

One, two if you include my husband. 

I am so tired of trying to be there for people who aren't there for me.

And yes, this is a tirade.  And a rant.  And I don't give a shit.

This is my blog.  I'll write what I want. 

Ain't nobody got time for that. 

Thirty is the new twenty

This weekend I turned thirty years old.  Years ago, thirty seemed so old to me.  It seemed like an age where you sat at home, didn't do anything, didn't have any social life, and were basically boring.  This was probably during my stay-out-until-4 a.m-every-night phase where I couldn't imagine life without booze or dancing with random boys or my girlfriends.

Things change.  They change so quickly.  They change so wonderfully.

Ashley got me a card for my birthday and sent it to me in the mail.  In it (I'm at school, so I don't have it right next to me), she wrote something to the effect of...

"I would make fun of you for being old, but honestly I've never seen you so content and happy with life before."

And if that's not true, I don't know what is. 

If you asked me at 21 what my life would be like when I turned 30, I would have jumped in with an answer...my answer would have looked like this:

"When I am thirty, I will be living in Chicago. I will be married (depending on the moment I may have even said to Randy).  I will be working at a law firm and possibly thinking about children in the next 2-3 years.  I will be vacationing often, spending time with my friends, and generally having a great time."

Where am I though?  Where did I really end up?  I ended up doing a lot of things that I didn't think I'd do, and I am so glad that I did.  I am not a lawyer, and thank God for that.  I am not living in the city, and thank God for that.  I am not vacationing often, and I am not spending a ton of time with my friends, but I am still have a great time. 

Life is so much better than what I imagined it to be.  If you told me that staying home, playing dinosaurs, being a monster, and playing hide-and-seek with anywhere from 1-6 kids is what I would love when I turned thirty, I would have looked you straight in the face and laughed.  It just shows you, that no matter what you think you know at 21, you are going to change.  It might not be in such an extreme way, but things change, priorities changes, expectations change.   

I'm not saying that everyone will want to stay home with their kids, and I'm not saying that my decisions are right for everyone.  What I'm saying is that my decisions were right for me.  My family, my beautiful little family, is right where I belong right now. 

So, am I sad to turn thirty?  Not at all. Not even one little bit.  Thirty is going to be amazing.  This is the year that I get to meet my second son.  This is the year that Finn turns 2, and he gets even more amazing than last year.  I'm pretty damn excited about it.

To the asshole that stole my wallet....

Dear asshole,

I hope it was worth it to steal my wallet...while I was eating dinner with some of my best friends. 

I don't care that you essentially charged over $5000 to my credit cards.  I don't care that you did that, I honestly don't care.  

I am the dumbass that kept my social security card in my wallet, I am the idiot who had my son's birth certificate in there.  I am the one who left my purse open underneath my seat.  I am not saying that I didn't make mistakes.

However, I am most angry because underneath the rewards cards, the credit cards, the IDs, the Sam's club, the health cards; underneath those things were some things that were more important to me.  They were worth more than some stupid credit cards, or some things that can be replaced.  

I had pictures in my wallet.  Pictures that can't be replaced.  Pictures from when Randy and I were dating...specifically a photo strip of pictures from our first weekend away in Milwaukee.  We took them at a rest stop on the way home; and we were so happy, and so young, and so skinny, and so in love.  Sometimes, when I'm mad at him, I look at that picture and it makes me remember.  It is priceless.

I also had a list.  This list is important to me on so many levels.  My grandfather, who is 96 years old, once gave me a book.  This book listed several pieces of advice, my grandpa underlines one piece of advice.  "Make a list of 25 things that you want to do before you die.  Keep it in your wallet, and refer to it often."  I made this list, I made it probably 15 years ago, I bet my grandpa doesn't remember even giving me the book, or underlining that passage, but I remember and I loved that list.  Some of you may have seen it.  It's been in my wallet for that entire time, except it's frail...it's a paper that has been with me for years.  It has been written on, things have been crossed out, dates that I will never remember were written on there, items that were written on there that I will never remember dates for.  Out of everything that was taken, this is the item that hurts me the most.  The fact that I will never see that list again, the fact that someone probably just threw it out, when I would have paid twice what they stole to get it back, all this makes me so incredibly sad and angry.  That list was priceless to me.

So fuck you dude.  I hope they catch you, but mostly I hope this never happens to anyone else, because aside from the drama, aside from the inconvenience, it's scary to feel vulnerable like that.  

Sincerely,

Becky

Mini Heart Attack

This past week has been a really long week.  It was a Crier week, which means late nights, and just an overall busy week.  I've been bitching about it more than is socially acceptable, so the universe thought that it would throw me a "fuck you" right back to me yesterday.

Jor's kiddos were off of school, so instead of 3 little kids, we were playing with the 3 littles and 3 "bigs" all together.  It was kind of warm, so we went outside for a few hours in the morning before lunch.  We were playing soccer and having fun (Adler and I were winning, just saying).  I went inside to pre-heat the oven to make lunch, and came back outside.  A few minutes later, I started corralling everyone inside to get everyone ready for lunch.

In the mayhem of getting six kids inside, I told the older ones to put away their boots.  Their boots go in the dog's room.  Yes...Jorie has two gigantic dogs, that are generally incredibly easy to deal with.  So, while I had all of them inside, I ran back outside to grab a few toys that we forgot to put away, and get Genevive  and Finn inside (the stragglers).

In the span of about 35 seconds, Gus came outside to ask for a snack, and somehow the two giant dogs got out of the house and sprinted their asses down the block.

I start literally throwing children into the house to chase the dogs down the block.  I then chase the dogs two houses down, screaming their names.  I have no way to grab them, or lure them back.  So, I run back in the house and start yelling "where are the treats? Where are the treats?"  All six children look at me...completely apathetic and slightly confused about my excitement...like "what are you talking about crazy lady?"

I tell Finn to watch the little ones, grab a box of lucky charms and sprint my pregnant; non-running ass down the block crying and praying that the dogs will come to me.

Now, thank God...they came with me, and everything was fine...but seriously HEART ATTACK!

This song is for you...

Okay, so...maybe some of you don't know this about me.  I really love movies, and I really love awards shows.  So does my dad.  When I was younger, we used to have sheets where we used to bet on who would win, and we'd sit and talk about who wore what, and who said what, and what speeches we loved.

With that being said, I love watching the Golden Globes and the Oscars.  Last night, the Golden Globes were on, and I broke my "no television" rule and turned it on while Finn was awake.  I watched part of it, and then fell asleep with Finn.  This morning, I practically ran to the computer to catch the "best dressed" lists, who won, the snubs, the surprised, and the clips.

So far, my favorite thing I've seen is Jodie Foster's acceptance speech for her lifetime achievement award.  Now, I love that she officially "came out" and felt comfortable and that's great.

However, she said something that  resonated even more...she said to her two sons (which becomes more and more real to me every day, that I will (probably) have two sons soon) the following:

"Our amazing sons, Charlie and Kit, who are my reason to breathe and to evolve, my blood and soul. And boys, in case you didn’t know it, this song, all of this, this song is for you.”

I thought it was amazingly poignant.  And I don't know any mothers that don't feel this way about their children, once they are born life completely changes and revolves around them.  It's all for them, every breath, every step...everything.  

Randy and I spent our 4th anniversary at the Field Museum, having the time of our lives watching Finn have so much fun with his cousins, and seeing the "real" dinosaurs.  

In my head, this was much more articulate, and beautiful, and moving.  But, I just wanted to write it down.  Someday, I will write about this quote in an email to Finn's email address, and baby #2's email, and maybe even (down the road) baby #3 or #4's email.  

Because...Finn and no-name baby...you are my reason for living, and "all of this...is for you."

Still around

Hi!  I am still around.  I had a good friend tell me that they missed my blog, and it made me feel really happy.  Like, REALLY happy.

I have been doing so great lately, having fun, being happy.  That sometimes I just feel like I'm boring the world, and I don't "need" this space, like I felt like I "needed" it last year during some dark times.

But, it makes me happy to keep people updated, especially if they care...so here goes.

A few random updates.

1.  I am PREGNANT!  And so excited!  We are 14 weeks along right now, and so far, things are going well.  I have felt a lot more tired, a lot more sick this time around (in fact, I actually lost a pound at my last doctor's appointment, because eating is so annoying right now), but overall doing really well.  We can't wait to officially find out what this little one is in a few weeks, but we are feeling very boy-ish.  Mostly because at our first-trimester screening, the ultrasound tech told us that she thought it was a boy :)

2.  Christmas was amazing.  I can't even explain how much fun it was.

3.  Work and life are...just good.  Seriously, I mean I am tired a lot of the time, but overall, I am exponentially so much happier.  It's truly ridiculous.

4.  Finn is going to be two years old...in like 2 weeks.  Isn't that crazy?  And wonderful?  And scary?  And 50,000 other things?  Yes, yes it is.  I am in the throes of party-planning, and trying not to go WAY too overboard (like I did...maybe just a little bit...last year).  Simple, fun and still classy is what we're going for...."dino-chic" lol.

5.  I just finished our "Hoyle 2012 yearbook" and one of my favorite things that I put in it was a list of the 13 coolest things about Finn this month.  They are technically from December 2012...but they are totally still relevant, I could even add more if I wanted to...like the fact that Finn said "Get it together soup" to his soup while he was eating dinner tonight.  The kid is just awesome.

The top thirteen coolest things about Finn Harper Hoyle this month

1.  Finn is absolutely obsessed with dinosaurs.  He can identify T-rex, stegosaurus, pterodactyl, triceratops and various other dinosaurs.  He also knows that a t-rex has "sharp teeth" and "sharp eyes" and that it eats "meat" and that makes it a "carnivore".  He also thinks that it also eats "milk" which is hilariously awesome.  

2.  When he sees pictures of baby animals he says "so cute" in a high-pitched voice and gets so excited about it.  

3.  When Mommy or Daddy asks for "smoochie-poos" he gives them and says "moochie-poo."

4. When he is upset, or thinks Mommy is upset, he strokes her cheek and says "I know, I know" (pronounced "ee know ee know").  It is the cutest thing in the world.  

5.  He is literally the smartest child we know.  He knows all of his colors, counts to 10, knows various shapes and letters.  He also speaks in complete, articulate sentences.  Everyone thinks he is so smart, but Mommy and Daddy more than anyone else.  

6.  When Finn is excited about something, he clenches his fists and says "I so excited!" in a high-pitched voice.  

7.  Goes potty all by himself all the time, every single time.  

8.  Has perfected "please" and "thank you" and Mommy and Daddy don't usually have to tell him to say it.  

9.  Says "I love you Daddy" and "I love you Mommy" when the mood strikes, and responds when we tell him we love him.  He also says "Oh, good morning Mommy, good morning Daddy"in the sweetest voice you've ever heard. 

10.  His current favorite book is A Fly went by, and he knows a lot of the words, and says them with whoever is reading it to him.  

11.  Loves his family, whenever we ask him where he wants to go he will say "Papa Gma's" or "See Babanoosh & Grandpa" or "See Ava and Grant or Nay-Nay" or see "Baby Clark, Aunt Betty, Uncle Mike" or "See Ashley and Manu" or "Go see Courtney and Eli."  We love that he loves his family so much.  

12.  He can identify all the various types of cars (Big truck, dumper truck, digger, bulldozer, ambulance, fire truck, train, caboose, freight car, and so many more).  

13.  He is so excited to be a big brother!  Right now he thinks he's having a baby brother, but earlier he thought it was a baby sister.