Stockings, Stories, and Spirit.

Christmas.  CHRISTmas.  Christmas. 

I think about the last 27 times I've gotten to celebrate it.  That's a lot to me.  Maybe not to someone who's 75 years old...but really.  As I think about today, I'm reminded of why this day is so special.  It could be the food.  It could be the neat gifts.  It could be the tradition of Santa Claus and how each morning, as a child, I would haul it to the living room to see what toys were under the tree.  It could be the cool air, the music, the smiles on everyone's faces.  But it's not.  Its the fact that no matter what's going on in your life, you stop and make time for those that you love.  Even wal-mart closes.  Come on people. 

My dad was a jeweler when I was growing up.  Christmas time meant he was scarce around our house and we would always wait on Christmas eve (the night that we would celebrate with his side of the family) until my dad would arrive.  Sometimes it was 10 pm before he got there.  But he always did get there.  And he always arrived with something so special.  When I was 10 years old, it was $100.  Now, $100 to a 10 year old is a lot.  I mean, I thought I could buy a house.  When I was 17 years old, it was a cell phone, and that took the cake.  And now that he's no longer here, I am reminded what this day is all about.  Not too long ago I was also reminded.  When I was faced with the reality of not having my mom here too.  It was like a light switch, but for whatever reason after so much trauma to her heart, God felt like she was still meant to stay here.  And I got her back.  And I'm reminded again, of what today is about. 

My grandma Marcia (my mom's mom) made us all Felt Christmas Stockings to hang during Christmas time.  We always had fireworks stuffed in them.  And now that we're older, those stockings hang at my moms.  My grandma Marcia still makes them, they're great as ever.  I thought that this year, I'd make one for BK3, and start the tradition in my home.  I ordered his on December 1st.  Now, how hard could it be?  It's a kit.  I'm sure it's got pieces and such, but surely, can't be too hard. I 'm crafty.  Well, needless to say the ziploc bag arrived with about 8 pages of colored felt, 6 colors of beads and sequins, and a giant wad of thread.  Not to mention the 6 pages of LEGAL size instructions on how to thread a needle, embroider, applique, chord....wait chord?...and make a pom pom.  Yeah, this may not be easy.  and surely it wasn't.  No glue involved.  Just hand sewing, every sequin, every bead, every edge to every felt piece (that needed to be cut out, by the way).  I got to work and every night once I got home from work, I worked on it.  Sometimes until 1 a.m.  Tuesday of last week, I came home from the grocery to see that Roxie had found the stocking project and made it her latest chew toy.  I was mortified, and it took everything I had not to take her out back and get revenge.  I held back tears, beat the dog, and got back to work on piecing it back together.  I didn't finish this stocking until 3:00 a.m. Christmas Morning.  I was determined to finish it because this is my little Boy.  Although he has no clue what this stocking is or means, it's his.  I'm mom.  And this is our first Christmas together.  It's my first chance to be me, his mom, and do everything to make his day special.  That stocking was part of it. 

While I was working on it some nights, it reminded me of how hard my parents must have worked for me and my brother.  We didn't have much to brag about. Roller Skates or a chalk board were my most memorable Santa Gifts.  But we still couldn't wait to see what it was each year.  And I know my parents cared so much.  My dad would walk in just before midnight, on 48 hours of no sleep, with a smile on his face.  One year, he walked in dressed as Santa.  Really...I complain about a 7 hour teaching day.  Here he was, with not much to spend, and not an ounce of rest.  But going that extra mile for me and my brother.  My mom and dad both did.  It makes me want to work my tail off for this li'l pumpkin.  To be the best I can be for him.  These holidays make it tough without my dad, and without Daddy Brannan's Dad.  Because that part I keep being reminded about?  It's the family that you cherish and the God that you serve.  The songs that you sing together and the stories that you tell when you all are at the dinner table....even though it's the SAME EXACT story you guys told the year before.  It's just as funny.  And nobody cares.  Because the moment you all share is what's most important.  The dinner table.  On Christmas.  Where it's hard not to have a smile.  Unless you're remembering someone you miss.  And it's impossible not to miss - because again.  The part we love so much about this time of year is the memories we make.  The love we share.  The stockings we hang.  The traditions we create and remember for forever.  The stories we tell.  The family that we'll never forget.

I guess that's the best thing about having an angel to watch over you.  My dad will never be late to another Christmas Eve.  He's the guest of honor, and always on time.  As sad as it could become, he's the center of each story told and I know that's God's way of showing me that he's still here.  To remind me to work hard.  To never give up.  To love my little boy the most in life.  To appreciate.  And to thank God for every moment I have with His gracious love and the people who make my life complete.

a weekend away.

I took a job in St Louis doing some choreography for a school out there. I've been doing work for them for a few years, and was looking forward to this trip, since I hadn't gone last year due to the pregnancy.  They're great people - always fun to be around.  Flew out Friday.  Set to return Monday.  I was pretty excited.  Gave Daddy B my good luck wishes, since he was in charge of li'l B all weekend, and I was off on a plane.  And BAM.  Not even 2 hours into the flight and I missed my pumpkin.  Brannan and I had been away from the li'l man several times these past few months.  We even went away to Biloxi 2 months after having him.  I've always been fine.  I kept thinking....ok, you just don't like flying, so you're getting emotional.  Thought it would get better but no.  All I wanted was to hold my li'l man.  Thankfully, I got several picture texts...but that barely broke the surface of the sad face.  Saturday morning comes, Alex and I are eating breakfast at our Hotel and in walks a mom (an Auburn fan, but this is ok), with her husband and 2 kids.  Boys.  The oldest is 3, the youngest, only about 1 month old.  The li'l man starts to whimper and mama pulls him out.  My heart sank.  You could tell she was exhausted.  Still in the 'No sleep' phase and just wanted to eat her hot continental breakfast.  I felt my body actually getting up out of my seat to offer to take the kid from her....Get ahold of yourself Carrie...you're a stranger.  She will probably grab her food, kids, husband and RUN if you reach for her child.  Knowing good and well I didn't care about her chance to eat, but wanted my Pumpkin fix, since I was missing mine so much.  Luckily, about that time, Alex finished her breakfast, and we had to go.  I know the lady thinks I was a stalker.  I stared for at LEAST 10 minutes.  My mouth was probably awkwardly hanging open too....

I made it through the next two days, despite one more minor breakdown learning that BK3 had cut a tooth....without me there; I absolutely could not wait to get onto the flights this morning.  I got to Deb's right in time for my li'l man to wake up for his lunchtime bottle.  It took him just about 5 minutes to realize who I was...I was ok though.  I was there.  He was too.  And that's all I needed. I'll have to say though, what made things so much better was my house.  Daddy B, despite being in charge of EVERYTHING this past weekend (I guess you could say we swapped roles), he had the house clean, laundry done, a new piece of furniture in, dishes washed, and Christmas Presents for me, ALL wrapped, stacked up in a straight stack with a piece of paper taped onto them...reading - ALL YOURS with an arrow pointing down the stack.  I laughed.  Especially since all I asked for this year was clothes, so this oughta be a very fun christmas morning, seeing what he picked out. 

I was up at before dawn, exhausted from a super long weekend of work, and home by 12:00.  Taught from 3:30 to 9:00 and came home to Pizza and the two men I love.  I'm pooped, but the best things in life are with me now.  And I'm so thankful God gave me these things.  Also....for Daddy B's plea on the phone Saturday night... "Babe....I'm exhausted....I've been non-stop since you left."  ;)

The Training Phase...

He's training me...not me training him.

BK3 watching Cartoons Pre-Op

Many of you know about BK3's "bump" on his back.  It's a Cavernous Hemangioma.  Basically, it looks like a reddish/blue mass of spongy tissue just under his neck, between his two shoulder blades.  His pediatrician says it's completely harmless, as long as it's not connected to his spine.  It appeared just after 1 month of life.  About the size of a penny, and a tiny bit raised.  Now, it's the size of a plum, and it protrudes about 3/4 inch from his body.  They say it will just grow, and grow, then once it's finished, will begin to slowly shrink until it's not noticeable.  I made the mistake of looking online at pictures, and saw them as big as cantaloupes.  The one thing I continue to tell myself is at least it's on his back...and not so "in the way". Plus, things could always be worse.  His MRI was scheduled for this week to take a look.  1 - to see if it was attached to the spine and 2 - to see if he had anymore in there that we didn't know about.  I wasn't worried, until they told me he had to be put to sleep for the procedure.  OK...so my baby gets anesthesia.  Whoa.  Suit up mama, this one's gonna be a toughy.  So Wednesday morning was the big day.  We arrived at the General at 6:00 a.m. (side note-me and the baby Teen don't wake up til 8 a.m. most days) but it's not like I slept anyways.  I was petrified.  Punkin was a trouper, he sat in pre-op for 2 hours and watched cartoons, despite being just about starved not having a bottle since the night before.  I really thought anesthesia would get things moving sooner, but again - let's not be a pushy mama.  They got to the part where they come in, wheel us all to the floor with the MRI imaging, then they look at me and Daddy B and say "OK this is where we take him, and you sit".  me:  OK Carrie, smile, and walk away.  This is the part where things have to take place as they do.  Life happens.  Don't be one of those basket-case mamas.  ..... and boy did it work!  I was able to sit, for an hour, and I didn't sweat too badly, or bite my nails.  Just prayed.  A LOT.  BK3 was a champ, he woke up before they got him to recovery, as I heard him screaming while I sat outside the MRI room.  He didn't sound happy.  The techs were "nice" enough to wheel him out, screaming, say "Hey mom and dad we're through, follow us" then move so fast we couldn't really get to BK3 to comfort him...and THEN dump us in the waiting area while he went to recovery alone.  still screaming.  Still can't figure that process out.  We sat in the waiting for 5 minutes, until they called us to come back to be with him....he was still screaming.  Pissed.  Hungry.  Confused.  Poor Punkin.  As I got him to gulp down a bottle and calm down with a wubby, I gave in a promised him 3 more christmas presents.  I mean, he had earned it right?

He woke up from Anesthesia a little congested, but the nurse told us it was quite normal.  He'd lose that throughout the day.  Cool.  I was ready to go.  Not long after, we were discharged, went home and that takes us to part 2 of a 3 part "mommy training" session.

Boss & BK3

Jump to Boss.  Our 92 pound hugely scary, yet capable of no harm what-so-ever Doberman Pincher.  A little over 6 months ago, we went through the long discussion of whether or not to get Boss fixed.  I recall the week very vividly.  I was a VERY pregnant on-the-warpath wife who was nervous about Boss's excited behavior around the newborn.  Daddy B was also thinking about it.  And there were a few other reasons we thought we may want to have ole' Boss fixed.  One was the risk of Cancer in the male parts.  Another was the fact that Boss has ONE dominant trait in that sweet body of his:  He tends to find the weakest male dog at the dog park...and own him.  I'll leave it at that.  And no, I don't mean fight him.  Brannan told me it was up to me to take Boss to Dr. Welch and have a lengthy discussion with him about Boss's fate.  Despite having Boss's surgery scheduled that day, my orders as Boss's "Mom" was to insist on speaking with the Vet before sending Boss to his manhood doom.  I did as I was told.  And had a lengthy talk with Dr Welch about everything Boss-related.  At the end of the convo, I was under the impression that Boss was a sweet dog.  His one dominant trait wouldn't be fixed by "Fixing" since it was already in his demeanor.  And the cancer risk...well it's so low that putting him under would be another just-as-scary risk.  SO....mama decided to let Boss keep his boys.  And this very prego lady walked Boss out the office, put him back in my car, which he had already painted the inside with his dog-hair and told him "You're Welcome".  Daddy B was relieved and here we are.  We notice blood is sprinkling in places near the Dog's room.  Can't figure out who's bleeding.  Finally, I'm holding the baby and keeping Roxie by my side and tell Brannan to play with Boss....hoping the blood would show up.  It did, but we still couldn't figure out where from.  Brannan grabbed a paper towel and let's just say we figured it out...it was coming from his man-part.  Whoa.
Wednesday afternoon, following BK3's MRI, Brannan took Boss to the vet.  OK.  Let's just say after $450 and a gazillion amount of tests run, Boss has an enlarged Man-organ and the suggestion from the vet you ask?  "If you get him fixed, this problem will go away".  Hmm.  Gee.  Really?  Let's add that $180.  Merry Christmas Boss.  Hope you like GIVING your boys away for the Holiday. 

I'm tired. He's having fun.

I went to work Wednesday night and came home to a "sore" Boss, still congested BK3 and a Daddy B who was ready to not be Daddy for the night.  I rocked my tiny tot to bed and put him down for around 10:00 p.m.  I was exhausted, but oh was the fun about to begin.  11:45 p.m.  BK3 wakes up with the haunting wheeze that I had heard just a month before.  I thought I was dreaming.  PLEASE no more hospitals.  I tried everything to get him breathing better.  Finally called the nurse, who heard him wheezing from the phone.  She said to bring him in.  Off I go.  This time alone - I told BK2 not to come....I was getting this shit done now.  So I'm driving 80, praying the whole way.  Get BK3 to the General, for the second time that day.  Triage nurse sees he's wheezing.  And quickly assures me that I'm not crazy.  But guess what, by the time the Dr gets into the patient room....BK3 decides, he can breathe now.  No more wheezing.  YOU'RE KIDDING ME.  The nurse vouched for us but the Dr said it could've just been phlegm from anesthesia, and hitting the cold air helped him clear it up.  So 2:00 a.m., and we head home.  Only for him to start wheezing again....and me to sit up the rest of the entire night and just stare, making sure he's alive ya know?  It's at that moment that I go...wow.  I didn't dive into this mommy hood.  I freaking did a cannonball from the top diving board. I have a 92 pound Dobie bleeding out his pee pee, a 6 month old who likes midnight field trips to the ER, and I'm quickly learning that sleep means absolutely nada.  I'm ok though.  Again...God doesn't give you anything you cannot handle, or laugh about.  I'm still banking on the fact that Boss and BK3 instigated this whole deal together...to see how far they could push me.  And I'm sure it won't be the first time.  It's only the beginning, so buckle up tighter mama.  This toughy ain't nothin'.  The fun has only begun!