It's been 3 months since I've been able to sit down and take advantage of this blog, which I call therapy. Let's see, our house on Citadel sold in late September, we moved into my in-laws right away, and on October 5th, Briggs Wylie decided to make his appearance. I'd say perfect timing. We were moved in for about 2 weeks prior, just enough time to realize the craziness that was about to take place, given the fact that our yet-to-be-finished home was far from it.
So our happy home temporarily sits atop the 2nd floor of the Honeycutt house - just when my in-laws entered the empty-nest after the youngest left for college, here come the Webbs! It's actually a great set up: we're able to have all of our beds in one room, a separate bathroom/changing and vanity area, and a second room for lounging/t.v./2 giant dogs...you know how we roll. We're thankful. It's not an apartment, with rent.
Everyone keeps asking when our home will be finished. Well...damnit. I just don't know. With the set-backs and "on holds" we've had so far, I am afraid to even utter the longest of time frames, for fear that I'll jinx myself YET AGAIN on this process. I just pray that we're in soon. Soon can mean whatever you want it to at this point.
Briggs was born 6 weeks ago this Friday. I can't believe it's been so long. It seems like just yesterday I was afraid - yes AFRAID to leave the hospital in fear that I wouldn't be capable of caring for 2 children. I knew that the feisty, loving, spunky 17 month old BK3 was on the other side of that door...and to be honest with you, I was afraid to go in. He's adjusting as well as any other 1 1/2 year old would. He knows that Briggs is "his baby", but that's about it. I now know that when I can't "hear" or "see" where BK3 is, I get nervous...since 9 times out of 10 he's probably turning Briggs' gentle level 1 swing snooze into a roller coaster ride from hell. Can big brothers cause shaken baby syndrome? When it comes to the bouncy seat...I'm just as terrified. The first week, I would've sworn I'd never survive but slowly - and I mean snail speed - I'm getting the hang of this 2 kid thing. I truly understand what people mean by "the transition from 1 to 2 is the hardest."
As painful as it will be to re-visit, this past Friday was the above all - end all to bad days yet. The clock hits 6:05 a.m., and since I've only gotten about 5 hours of broken sleep, I might as well get the party started. Nicole's teaching for me, and she's got the car for the day so it's just me and the boys. In our temporary home. I woke up to Bk3 walking out of the bedroom. How could he do that? Well, he learned how to open doors of course. Great! I chase after him, to see that he's opened all of the upstairs doors. He's let the dogs join him on the 2nd floor staircase area, and he's hitting Roxie, while she pees in every spot which simultaneously takes a hit. Briggs is loudly reminding me it's time to eat...and oh no, I forgot to put breast pads in...TMI, I know. We FINALLY make it downstairs, after cleaning, changing, etc and BK3 lets loose. His favorite time of day is when he plays the harp on the 32 rubberbands which decorate the kitchen cabinets in an attempt to keep the toddler away. Oh, but he does know how to pry open the pantry door just before the rubber band is at it's farthest stretch, to reach in and grab the oreo's, turn around and say "Cookie!?" No son, we haven't had breakfast yet. After a few more fun episodes/temper tantrums, I resort to locking all three of us in the back family room. There is a TV, Couch, and Toys. All we need to survive and I am comforted in the fact that I won't be running around to save his life. BK3, not Briggs.
Fast Forward to me realizing we're not safe in the back room, since BK3 has learned where the toddler-height accessible ice maker is, he's learned where the lamp outlets are, and oh yes, he's turned his bumble bee wooden push toy into a louisville slugger, with Re's brand new glass paned back doors as the baseball. I say, "Now is a good time to find a new safety spot." We move to the kitchen - where Briggs (the angel that he is) goes to sleep in the bouncy, and BK3 can continue his harp skills. I'm long overdue to send ONE email for work and I sit down in Re's office to do so. I need 3 minutes. Seriously. One minute goes by and I don't hear BK3. Not good. I haul ass out of the office, and into the living room where am drawn upward by the sound of my child's playful voice. He's on his belly, upstairs look out, head between two spindles, and hands hanging on each. "Ma Ma MA!" with the biggest smile on his face. I swear I turned white as a ghost and made it up the stairs in about 4 seconds flat...too bad it looks like he had escaped up there faster than that. After a few "ta ta's" and "no no's" I hoped that I could finish my email. Nope. You'd think I would know to barricade the staircase. Well, with what? My child moves Chairs that I struggle with. I figured it out once he made it BACK up there faster than I could press "send". I was stupid not to think ahead in the first place. 3 feedings, 1 messy toddler lunch, 6 tantrums and about 30 some odd spankings later, I managed to get Briggs to sleep in his swing, and BK3 in a better mood. I resorted upstairs to take a long hot bath before Daddy B got home. I didn't need peace, I just needed cooperation. I had my hot steamy bath and I could relax, regardless of the toy cars that were getting tossed into the bubbles by the tot. Then the unthinkable. I close my eyes for two seconds to imagine sunny beaches, when I hear Bk3's footsteps running back into the bathroom. Before I can reach up to dodge the future, BK3 tosses both dog bowls in with me. Dog food pieces floating around me. Saliva infested water remains too. Ok Carrie, now it's time to just get the F out. MM hmm. I'm pretty sure I've blocked out the rest of the happenings of Friday, because I'm sure I'll laugh out of hysterics and turn into a crazy person. Luckily, I'm laughing as I type this.
Like I said, I'm learning. And I'm getting better at the tasks, record times, etc every day! Briggs is an absolute angel. Aside from not sleeping more than 2 or 3 hours a night, he's perfect. My mother in law says "he's a typical 2nd child - they don't fuss or bother cause they know mama can't really tend to 'em." Well, that's him to a T, but I'm tending a lot :) And although BK3 feels like creating an earthquake wherever he goes, he must know deep down that his mama has a lot of will power too. And just when I'm about to pull my hair out, his hair out, and the 4 dogs, 2 cats, and whatever else is running around's hair out, BK3 leans over to baby Briggs and gives a "MmmmmmmmMaaahhh" sweet kiss to let me know it's all good in the temporary hood.
Thanks for the prayers y'all :)
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Upstaged by Daddy
It's been a while. BK3's birthday was in May. It's July now. He's 2 weeks shy of a whopping 15 months, and I feel like now is the time when I wish my life were in freeze mode. At Revolution, we just wrapped up our incredible summer programs and national competitions with Company. Our house construction is in full swing. My baby boy #2 is due in just 10 weeks. The new dance season is approaching within the week, and we have about 3 months to sell this house. It's go time, and I'm just now realizing how physically slow I'm becoming.
We picked out toilets and plumbing fixtures today. Me and BK3. In November, we talked to a relative about contracting our house for us. One night, along with some drinks, he (the relative) and my hubs came to the conclusion that we could do this on our own, just with his guidance, and save a hefty contractor fee. The two of them looked at me that cold night in November and said "Carrie, you can do this. You don't work during the day. You can handle ALL of the phone calls and appointments." I remember almost hitting the floor. Because I knew at that moment, that they were telling me what we were doing, and not asking me. Did you catch that? "Carrie, you don't work during the day" statement... heh. yeah. When I got pregnant in February, I'm pretty sure I re-visited that statement, and almost hit the floor again. We started construction in March and it's been going pretty well since then. I've since learned the following:
Contractors are worth the money you spend, if you know nothing about building a house (Like Me), and don't wish to have to deal with the ins and outs (again. Like Me).
Building permits are expensive for just a tiny sheet of paper.
Homes inside the city limits of Denham Springs have a lot of building rules.
Framers don't speak English. And they don't think you can speak Spanish either.
Nails are expensive.
Rain Sucks.
Men don't tend to work on the same time schedules as us organized women do.
You can buy a toilet that'll suck the skin off your ass, but everything has it's price.
...as you can see, I could be here for days. But I won't.
So yes, BK3 and I picked out plumbing fixtures today. Since I don't work. Ya know, I packed up the baby, along with my belly, and all the other dance clothing/ipad/etc items I needed in order to run all necessary home building errands, change diapers if/when needed, and go to work. WORK. I thought I was smart by having the necessary 12 bags of Teddy Grahams, 2 sippy cups, enough wipes and diapers, giant glass of water for myself, and a stroller. I figured BK3 would stay in his stroller while in the showroom. Nope. He lasted about 10 minutes, and when it was time to go to faucets for the bathrooms, I gave in and let him run free. Thankfully the worker was patient with me and thought B was cute as he explored the tubs/sinks. Or maybe she was just acting. Just as she was trying to explain to me the difference between the brush silver and the bronze, I hear my son banging on the toilet display, while grunting. Yep - he was taking a shit, while standing NEXT TO a toilet. Good Style B. Thanks. I was able to pick out every faucet, shower head, toilet, and bathtub in 45 minutes. I'd say that's record time. Onto Lighting? No thank you. One errand a day please, even if this mama "doesn't work during the day".
Just as we left there I headed to RDC to meet the A/C repair man, because did I forget to mention the AC went out in one of the dance rooms? Cause it did. Yep.
So I come to the subject which this blog is titled. Upstaged by Daddy. It all happened around B's 9 month mark. He had started to crawl. Was pulling up. And bam. Daddy became the King of the household. Daddy hung the moon. Forget Mama's 9 months of fetus building, heartburn, 9 hours of natural labor, 72 hours of absolutely NO sleep those first nights at home, the stomach virus episode (oy vey) and the endless hours of nursing, rocking, ya know ya know. I'm pretty sure I've been downgraded to 3rd behind Boss, yet still leading Roxie, who sits well in 4th. It didn't take me long to figure out that during B's "all day period" with me, I have errands (since I don't work ya know) for both houses, cooking/cleaning, and doing that god-awful thing that I actually DONT DO during the day (run my business). So B and I get some play time, but it's not all day. When Daddy arrives on his horse with shiny armor, they play. All day. He learns to climb stairs. He learns to climb DOWN stairs. He plays ball. They practice boy things. When we got home from a 7 day stay in Vegas, I was the first one to make it to B who was being held in my mom's arms. It took me less than 1 second to realize he was looking (and reaching) far past me at King Daddy who was just now getting out the car. I'm not bitter. It's ok. I keep telling myself it's a phase, and that maybe he senses that I'm well preoccupied with this baby making, etc. Everyone tells me that it might change after Baby 2 arrives...I'm waiting. My baby boy is growing up so fast - and I think I've done a good job by not breaking down with these prego hormones over the fact that he'd probably choose Boss's saliva over mommy's touch.
So 10 more weeks. And we still don't have a name. I'm patient. Something I like will pop up. Until then, I'll go prop my feet up and sip some hot tea...ya know, since "I don't work during the day...."
We picked out toilets and plumbing fixtures today. Me and BK3. In November, we talked to a relative about contracting our house for us. One night, along with some drinks, he (the relative) and my hubs came to the conclusion that we could do this on our own, just with his guidance, and save a hefty contractor fee. The two of them looked at me that cold night in November and said "Carrie, you can do this. You don't work during the day. You can handle ALL of the phone calls and appointments." I remember almost hitting the floor. Because I knew at that moment, that they were telling me what we were doing, and not asking me. Did you catch that? "Carrie, you don't work during the day" statement... heh. yeah. When I got pregnant in February, I'm pretty sure I re-visited that statement, and almost hit the floor again. We started construction in March and it's been going pretty well since then. I've since learned the following:
Contractors are worth the money you spend, if you know nothing about building a house (Like Me), and don't wish to have to deal with the ins and outs (again. Like Me).
Building permits are expensive for just a tiny sheet of paper.
Homes inside the city limits of Denham Springs have a lot of building rules.
Framers don't speak English. And they don't think you can speak Spanish either.
Nails are expensive.
Rain Sucks.
Men don't tend to work on the same time schedules as us organized women do.
You can buy a toilet that'll suck the skin off your ass, but everything has it's price.
...as you can see, I could be here for days. But I won't.
So yes, BK3 and I picked out plumbing fixtures today. Since I don't work. Ya know, I packed up the baby, along with my belly, and all the other dance clothing/ipad/etc items I needed in order to run all necessary home building errands, change diapers if/when needed, and go to work. WORK. I thought I was smart by having the necessary 12 bags of Teddy Grahams, 2 sippy cups, enough wipes and diapers, giant glass of water for myself, and a stroller. I figured BK3 would stay in his stroller while in the showroom. Nope. He lasted about 10 minutes, and when it was time to go to faucets for the bathrooms, I gave in and let him run free. Thankfully the worker was patient with me and thought B was cute as he explored the tubs/sinks. Or maybe she was just acting. Just as she was trying to explain to me the difference between the brush silver and the bronze, I hear my son banging on the toilet display, while grunting. Yep - he was taking a shit, while standing NEXT TO a toilet. Good Style B. Thanks. I was able to pick out every faucet, shower head, toilet, and bathtub in 45 minutes. I'd say that's record time. Onto Lighting? No thank you. One errand a day please, even if this mama "doesn't work during the day".
Just as we left there I headed to RDC to meet the A/C repair man, because did I forget to mention the AC went out in one of the dance rooms? Cause it did. Yep.
So I come to the subject which this blog is titled. Upstaged by Daddy. It all happened around B's 9 month mark. He had started to crawl. Was pulling up. And bam. Daddy became the King of the household. Daddy hung the moon. Forget Mama's 9 months of fetus building, heartburn, 9 hours of natural labor, 72 hours of absolutely NO sleep those first nights at home, the stomach virus episode (oy vey) and the endless hours of nursing, rocking, ya know ya know. I'm pretty sure I've been downgraded to 3rd behind Boss, yet still leading Roxie, who sits well in 4th. It didn't take me long to figure out that during B's "all day period" with me, I have errands (since I don't work ya know) for both houses, cooking/cleaning, and doing that god-awful thing that I actually DONT DO during the day (run my business). So B and I get some play time, but it's not all day. When Daddy arrives on his horse with shiny armor, they play. All day. He learns to climb stairs. He learns to climb DOWN stairs. He plays ball. They practice boy things. When we got home from a 7 day stay in Vegas, I was the first one to make it to B who was being held in my mom's arms. It took me less than 1 second to realize he was looking (and reaching) far past me at King Daddy who was just now getting out the car. I'm not bitter. It's ok. I keep telling myself it's a phase, and that maybe he senses that I'm well preoccupied with this baby making, etc. Everyone tells me that it might change after Baby 2 arrives...I'm waiting. My baby boy is growing up so fast - and I think I've done a good job by not breaking down with these prego hormones over the fact that he'd probably choose Boss's saliva over mommy's touch.
So 10 more weeks. And we still don't have a name. I'm patient. Something I like will pop up. Until then, I'll go prop my feet up and sip some hot tea...ya know, since "I don't work during the day...."
Thursday, June 7, 2012
The first time ever...
I ran from my baby.
If there is one thing I've learned from mommyhood in these short 12 1/2 months, it's that we as women, can endure anything. I laugh now at what I used to say about "I'm never having kids...." blah blah blah. How selfish of me? But it's ok. I was young. We learn. I can't see my life any other way. Being a mother is amazing.
Except on nights like this.
Brannan and BK3 met me at the studio after my last class, to go to California Pizza Kitchen for a dinner out. Have you been lately? They are doing a promotion where you receive a few scratch off coupons at the conclusion of your meal. You're supposed to use them at your "next" visit. Not to mention you cannot open them or scratch them off prior to. Obviously it's a deal to get you into the restaurant just one more time. And since my husband is convinced that we have the $100,000 grand prize sitting on our kitchen table, we've been frequent customers. Hey, 20% off isn't so bad either. We got a few more tonight....I'm sure we'll be back. The avocado egg rolls haven't bored me yet.
We got home around 9:00 p.m. and I got BK3's bath ready right away. I love bath time, as all mom's do I'm sure. I'm exhausted. AND VERY FULL from dinner, not to mention the fact that Baby Boy 2 has hit some sort of growth spurt inside my uterus and I'm feeling a little large lately. I'm sure the 90 degree weather doesn't help. But bath time it is for the little guy. Daddy B was getting changed out of his clothes and walks in just as BK3's face starts to tell us something. I'm not sure about anyone else's kids, but since BK3 was about 2 months old, I can tell when it's time. For a #2. He focuses. Makes a half smile with the left side of his mouth, and then JUST as his face starts to turn like a tomato, he lets out a grunt. That's my son. Or more-so, that's DADDY's son. And I'm going "no.....it's all good. He's done the deed twice already today. He's just grunting....no #2 for him. I quickly start to wash him up, when I get to his backside with the wash cloth. I felt it. The sure sign that a treat has arrived. As I rip my hand and the wash cloth away, the treat flies into the water....which then becomes joined by yet another....AND YET ANOTHER. All within a few seconds.
I caved. I RAN.
I looked at Brannan and said THAT'S IT! I CAN'T. I JUST CAN'T. PLEASE. YOU DO IT!
My son was giggling at his latest accomplishment, and I had run. Fast.
And not one bit of me felt bad for "abandoning" my son to his Daddy who witnessed the whole thing. Daddy B took care of it. Like I know he can. I've made it through nursing a newborn...as Daddy snored next to me. I made it through the 3 midnight runs to the ER with the croup. I made it through the stomach virus without asking for help. And here is a turd in the tub. And I run like a python is chasing me.
Shame on me. But then I realized. Wait...Daddy handled it. Maybe I should run more often?
nah.
If there is one thing I've learned from mommyhood in these short 12 1/2 months, it's that we as women, can endure anything. I laugh now at what I used to say about "I'm never having kids...." blah blah blah. How selfish of me? But it's ok. I was young. We learn. I can't see my life any other way. Being a mother is amazing.
Except on nights like this.
Brannan and BK3 met me at the studio after my last class, to go to California Pizza Kitchen for a dinner out. Have you been lately? They are doing a promotion where you receive a few scratch off coupons at the conclusion of your meal. You're supposed to use them at your "next" visit. Not to mention you cannot open them or scratch them off prior to. Obviously it's a deal to get you into the restaurant just one more time. And since my husband is convinced that we have the $100,000 grand prize sitting on our kitchen table, we've been frequent customers. Hey, 20% off isn't so bad either. We got a few more tonight....I'm sure we'll be back. The avocado egg rolls haven't bored me yet.
We got home around 9:00 p.m. and I got BK3's bath ready right away. I love bath time, as all mom's do I'm sure. I'm exhausted. AND VERY FULL from dinner, not to mention the fact that Baby Boy 2 has hit some sort of growth spurt inside my uterus and I'm feeling a little large lately. I'm sure the 90 degree weather doesn't help. But bath time it is for the little guy. Daddy B was getting changed out of his clothes and walks in just as BK3's face starts to tell us something. I'm not sure about anyone else's kids, but since BK3 was about 2 months old, I can tell when it's time. For a #2. He focuses. Makes a half smile with the left side of his mouth, and then JUST as his face starts to turn like a tomato, he lets out a grunt. That's my son. Or more-so, that's DADDY's son. And I'm going "no.....it's all good. He's done the deed twice already today. He's just grunting....no #2 for him. I quickly start to wash him up, when I get to his backside with the wash cloth. I felt it. The sure sign that a treat has arrived. As I rip my hand and the wash cloth away, the treat flies into the water....which then becomes joined by yet another....AND YET ANOTHER. All within a few seconds.
I caved. I RAN.
I looked at Brannan and said THAT'S IT! I CAN'T. I JUST CAN'T. PLEASE. YOU DO IT!
My son was giggling at his latest accomplishment, and I had run. Fast.
And not one bit of me felt bad for "abandoning" my son to his Daddy who witnessed the whole thing. Daddy B took care of it. Like I know he can. I've made it through nursing a newborn...as Daddy snored next to me. I made it through the 3 midnight runs to the ER with the croup. I made it through the stomach virus without asking for help. And here is a turd in the tub. And I run like a python is chasing me.
Shame on me. But then I realized. Wait...Daddy handled it. Maybe I should run more often?
nah.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
the stomach bug.
BK3's birthday party was this past Saturday. As it felt much more like a wedding, and not a simple birthday party, I was left puzzled as to why we put so much emphasis into this one event...when he truly remembered none of it. Thank goodness I remembered the camera. Oh well, at least the pictures came out cute, and we all sure had a great time. My mother's day was great, at first. My husband woke me up and cooked breakfast for us. We met my family for church downtown, and then shared a lunch with them. Here is where it began to go downhill... BK3 had none of the lunch. He was fussy, didn't want to sit still, didn't want to eat, nothing. Only wanted to be outside looking at the dog that was visiting the area. Brannan and I took turns taking him outside, as something just wasn't right. He never cries. He never fusses for no reason. There's nothing food can't fix when it comes to this baby. I knew something was up. I enjoyed my salad, and then a few hours later, BAM. Doubled over with stomach pain. Nausea. Not ok. I finished out the day in his mom's spare bedroom lying down, as he and baby B visited with the Honeycutts. I felt terrible. And even more so because I couldn't visit with important people on Mother's day. I got home luckily without tossing my cookies, and less than an hour later - there it was. Full on vomiting every 20 to 30 minutes. I had no clue what was going on. Thankfully, Brannan finished up the baby duties, got the toys in the house from the party, fed BK3, bathed him, and even called my OB on call just to see if I could take anything for the vomiting. I was really afraid of harming our new little one that I'm carrying! I told Brannan he better sleep on the couch, made sure his baby monitor was on, and then I tried to sleep. Wasn't working because of course, the trips to the bathroom kind of interrupted that. Then 2 a.m., I hear BK3 heaving in his baby bed. Nightmare. I wake Brannan up and we see that BK3 is covered. His bed, his bumper pads, sheets soaked, clothes soaked. Vomit everywhere. Just about that time I started with the "other end" of the virus. Yeah....it gets better. We get the baby cleaned up, calmed down, not back to sleep just yet, and there it is again. Every 20 minutes. Just puke. Awful. Me praying I don't mess my pants, and Daddy Brannan yelling "HELP" from the living room every time BK3 starts gagging. Seriously. I didn't know what could be worse? About the 3rd time BK3 blew chunks, Daddy B decides it's a good time to tell me "I'm not feeling so good either". Great. Awesome. Let's all just jump on this bandwagon together. No sleep. For any of us. BK3 didn't stop vomiting til 9 a.m. I had finished the vomiting, but kept the other end going for another 12 hours. Daddy B just felt nauseous, but none of us slept. I had a pile of towels in the back room - towels, sheets, bumper pads, clothes, just soaked in vomit. Nasty. And I knew I had to clean that.
Once the smoke cleared and Daddy B got his 6 hours of sleep that he needed, he looks at me and says "man, that was rough". It quickly reminded me of the my laboring process. 9 hours of 29 mL Pitocin, no epidural, lamaze breathing, contractions that were peaking OFF the charts with only 30 second breaks (they lasted for 90 seconds). After that 9 hours, I gave in and said "OK. Bring out the needle...this is going nowhere", but not in a calm voice. Once I got that needle.....and calmed down. And smiled. Daddy B looks at me and says "Man...glad you got that epidural. That was stressful." Gee babe was it? Yep, I agree. I do. It must have been so stressful :) With a smile.
I was so thankful though. Despite the 48 hours of no sleep Sunday and Monday, I was SO thankful that Daddy B sat there on the couch with a sick BK3 and only yelled "HELP". I wasn't sleeping anyways.....duh. I could've been the one on that couch. Pretty sure I'd have been crying at that point.
Needless to say, I hated throwing up when I was a kid. I used to tell everyone around me "I love you", because I thought I would die. I hated it that much. It scared the living daylights out of me. I still hate it. But what I hate even more is to see my little munchkin have it too. I said it today "I'll birth 5 more children before I have to go through all three of us and the stomach virus within 24 hours ever again." It was THAT bad, and I'm trying not to be dramatic. I kept reminding myself that "It's just a stomach virus", people are really sick out there, and here I am complaining about a stomach virus. It was more the process, and my test as a mama. Not the actual feelings of the sickness.
No. I'm not "Mom" enough to breastfeed my babies til they're standing up to my breast at 4 years of age for a photo-op with TIME magazine. But I am "Mom" enough to survive the stomach bug. With the whole family. In 24 hours. Can I get a hell yeah?
Once the smoke cleared and Daddy B got his 6 hours of sleep that he needed, he looks at me and says "man, that was rough". It quickly reminded me of the my laboring process. 9 hours of 29 mL Pitocin, no epidural, lamaze breathing, contractions that were peaking OFF the charts with only 30 second breaks (they lasted for 90 seconds). After that 9 hours, I gave in and said "OK. Bring out the needle...this is going nowhere", but not in a calm voice. Once I got that needle.....and calmed down. And smiled. Daddy B looks at me and says "Man...glad you got that epidural. That was stressful." Gee babe was it? Yep, I agree. I do. It must have been so stressful :) With a smile.
I was so thankful though. Despite the 48 hours of no sleep Sunday and Monday, I was SO thankful that Daddy B sat there on the couch with a sick BK3 and only yelled "HELP". I wasn't sleeping anyways.....duh. I could've been the one on that couch. Pretty sure I'd have been crying at that point.
Needless to say, I hated throwing up when I was a kid. I used to tell everyone around me "I love you", because I thought I would die. I hated it that much. It scared the living daylights out of me. I still hate it. But what I hate even more is to see my little munchkin have it too. I said it today "I'll birth 5 more children before I have to go through all three of us and the stomach virus within 24 hours ever again." It was THAT bad, and I'm trying not to be dramatic. I kept reminding myself that "It's just a stomach virus", people are really sick out there, and here I am complaining about a stomach virus. It was more the process, and my test as a mama. Not the actual feelings of the sickness.
No. I'm not "Mom" enough to breastfeed my babies til they're standing up to my breast at 4 years of age for a photo-op with TIME magazine. But I am "Mom" enough to survive the stomach bug. With the whole family. In 24 hours. Can I get a hell yeah?
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Everyday Hope.
A friend gave me the link to an iphone app called "Jesus Calling". It's a daily devotional, worth reading I think.
Here was today's:
Do not long for the absence of problems in your life. That is an unrealistic goal, since in this world you will have trouble. You have an eternity of problem-free living reserved for you in heaven. Rejoice in that inheritance, which no one can take away from you, but do not seek your heaven on earth. Begin each day anticipating problems, asking Me to equip you for whatever difficulties you will encounter. The best equipping is My Living Presence, My hand that never lets go of yours. Discuss everything with Me. Take a lighthearted view of trouble, seeing it as a challenge that you and I together can handle. Remember that I am on your side, and I have overcome the world.
And a verse that accompanied it:
I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
-Philippians 4:13 (My favorite scripture)
I read that a woman jumped today from the I-10 Mississippi River bridge. Of course, stings my heart, since I'm all too familiar with the feelings associated with someone taking their own life. This devotional today hits it so close. I will find myself negotiating through a situation in my head....should I do this? oh what about that?....should I pray about it? WHY AM I EVEN ASKING MYSELF THIS?????? OF COURSE PRAY DAMNIT!
We live in such a fast paced world. One that demands us to be on top of our game at every second, once we open our eyes. I'm reminded today that our first and only option every morning should be to pray. Give me strength - for I'm not able, without You. I'm as stubborn as they come, but the moment I release the greats, the not-so-greats, and the bads to Him, my day is full of sunshine.
I'm thankful for my friendly reminder, from my fast-paced iPhone app. And thankful for the friend who sent me towards it. Reminded today to cherish those I love. And to never hesitate to share the amazing power of His love to everyone I know.
Loved.
Here was today's:
Do not long for the absence of problems in your life. That is an unrealistic goal, since in this world you will have trouble. You have an eternity of problem-free living reserved for you in heaven. Rejoice in that inheritance, which no one can take away from you, but do not seek your heaven on earth. Begin each day anticipating problems, asking Me to equip you for whatever difficulties you will encounter. The best equipping is My Living Presence, My hand that never lets go of yours. Discuss everything with Me. Take a lighthearted view of trouble, seeing it as a challenge that you and I together can handle. Remember that I am on your side, and I have overcome the world.
And a verse that accompanied it:
I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
-Philippians 4:13 (My favorite scripture)
I read that a woman jumped today from the I-10 Mississippi River bridge. Of course, stings my heart, since I'm all too familiar with the feelings associated with someone taking their own life. This devotional today hits it so close. I will find myself negotiating through a situation in my head....should I do this? oh what about that?....should I pray about it? WHY AM I EVEN ASKING MYSELF THIS?????? OF COURSE PRAY DAMNIT!
We live in such a fast paced world. One that demands us to be on top of our game at every second, once we open our eyes. I'm reminded today that our first and only option every morning should be to pray. Give me strength - for I'm not able, without You. I'm as stubborn as they come, but the moment I release the greats, the not-so-greats, and the bads to Him, my day is full of sunshine.
I'm thankful for my friendly reminder, from my fast-paced iPhone app. And thankful for the friend who sent me towards it. Reminded today to cherish those I love. And to never hesitate to share the amazing power of His love to everyone I know.
Loved.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
The chore chart.
When I found out I was having a boy (December 2010), I bought the book "Wild Things; the art of nurturing boys". I figured I had a lot to learn about the male species. And low and behold, after the first chapter, the book had already described my husband to a T. From start to finish the book was pretty informative. The whole time reading, I kept telling myself to Buckle Up. I'm very to the point, concentrated, focused, take the steps necessary to accomplish goals, type person. I don't see the point in adventure, except if it's to some deserted romantic island with no kids. Each chapter of this book was teaching me to sit back, relax, and enjoy the adventurous spirit that my son (and my husband now) will hold. I had finished reading the book a few weeks after BK3 was born, and now, at 11 1/2 months, li'l B is completely taking on the profile that the book has prepared me for. He explores. He gazes. He is determined to grab, feel, examine, and attempt to destroy just about everything he touches. I have entered a whole new realm of mommy-hood, which includes chasing after this 22 pound munchkin, and he's starting to get much faster than I am. My 95-year old cuban grandfather calls BK3 the "Hurricane". Fitting. Every time I bring the baby over there, Brannan turns their small very neat house into a demolition derby. He even tried to climb up the inside of the fireplace. YEP. He can't even walk yet. My papi just watches....and then when it's just about to get dangerous, he'll yell Kelrie! (His slang for Carrie).
And now to my loving husband. He cares for me. He provides. He is probably the nicest person I know. He loves me. And he is good to me. But if there's one thing he has no capability of understanding, it's my need/request to stay on top of housework. Since we're both working parents, we both have to tackle this tough job. One problem: I need a neat house to survive. He does not. And since I now take on various hats: business owner, mom, fetus-maker, house contractor, homemaker, etc, I am having a VERY tough time sweeping/vacuuming the house daily, making sure the Doberman smell is gone, wiping countertops, finishing laundry, cooking for dinner (even though I work from 3 to 9:30 every night, and teach Zumba 3 mornings of the week), etc etc ETC! Brannan's always saying "Babe, I'll do whatever housework you need, just ask". Well, I thought that was Nagging? Right guys? Babe do this, babe do that....babe, laundry. Babe trash. Ya know. I was trying to be nice...by just expecting it to get done right ladies? hell yeah. Not. So - instead of using the tad bit of my brainpower that was left to tell Daddy B what housework needed to get done, I just went to wal mart, bought a dry erase magnet board for the fridge, and created a chore chart. Ok. Go ahead now. Laugh. I know...I KNOW.
I figured, he can just look at the chore chart, and SEE what needs to get done. I'll put a check mark or my initials by whatever the chore is for that day. He'll know he doesn't have to do it.... Well lemme tell ya how this went down. We have a few chores: Vacuum/Sweep, Dishwasher Unload (not load, because that's just expected when you use a dish), Trash (all of it), Countertops/tables, Mop, and Laundry. Ya know - the usual. Except we have 145 pounds of dog living in our house, that's a rough 1100 sq ft. They live inside. And you could stuff a small teddy bear with the dog hair, should you not get rid of it daily - either by vacuuming or sweeping. Everything started off great. I explained it to him (while he smiled that smile that said "this is gonna be fun"), and I figured hey! Let's do this. A few days went by great....and then I wake up one morning to get the day going....I look at the fridge. He's put his initials BKW on the chart for Dishwasher, Trash and Laundry. I notice....there's no dishes that have been cleaned. Just a few in their dirty. The kitchen trash was out, but not the rest of the house. And there was a load of his car washing towels onto wash, with full hampers of dirty clothes elsewhere. I ask him about it. To which I learn that he put his initials down because he loaded a dish or two in the dishwasher. He also put a load of clothes onto wash. And he took one trash can out. Well....then we had to make the chore chart more specific. Ya know - THE WHOLE JOB HAD TO GET DONE. That was just a teaser for me, on his part I guess.
A few days later, I wake up to see more initials on stuff....BK on a trash. BK on Dishwasher. maybe another BK somewhere else but at this point I was just getting ticked off. I'm pregnant people. I'm tired. No time for this. So I start to be understanding and think "Ya know, he took one trash out. Thanks". But the dishwasher? Come on. He put 3 dishes in the dishwasher. No unloading job here. So when I talked to him later, I'm like DUDE we need to get this straight. You can't just put your initials on something because you INTENDED to do it. Or you put 2 DISHES in the dishwasher. We went over this....
His response:
Well babe. That's why I only put 1/2 my initials....because I only did 1/2 the job. ya know BK? Not BKW.
I laughed. I remembered the book. Relax Carrie. This is a sign telling you to LET IT GO. It's housework. I thank God every day for giving me a match that 100% completes the the qualities which I lack. He keeps me laughing with moments like this. When I try so hard to be ON TOP OF THINGS. And he reminds me to slow it on down and enjoy life. It's laundry. No matter how many times you take care of it, it'll pile back up. Sit back every now and then, and let it be.
The chore chart is blank. Still on the fridge, but it catches things like "what to buy from the grocery" and "BK3's party planning list". I learned that when I want something done, just ask damnit.
Now all of you mamas reading this, shaking your head with a smile, or wiping the tears away from laughing so hard at me. Thanks. I know. I'm learning. Remember that last blog? Positive thoughts and prayers accepted :)
I'll get to the next-door-neighbor's chicken and BK3 takes a tumble in his walker subjects next blog. I'm pretty sure my toddler is missing inside of one of my cabinets right now...
And now to my loving husband. He cares for me. He provides. He is probably the nicest person I know. He loves me. And he is good to me. But if there's one thing he has no capability of understanding, it's my need/request to stay on top of housework. Since we're both working parents, we both have to tackle this tough job. One problem: I need a neat house to survive. He does not. And since I now take on various hats: business owner, mom, fetus-maker, house contractor, homemaker, etc, I am having a VERY tough time sweeping/vacuuming the house daily, making sure the Doberman smell is gone, wiping countertops, finishing laundry, cooking for dinner (even though I work from 3 to 9:30 every night, and teach Zumba 3 mornings of the week), etc etc ETC! Brannan's always saying "Babe, I'll do whatever housework you need, just ask". Well, I thought that was Nagging? Right guys? Babe do this, babe do that....babe, laundry. Babe trash. Ya know. I was trying to be nice...by just expecting it to get done right ladies? hell yeah. Not. So - instead of using the tad bit of my brainpower that was left to tell Daddy B what housework needed to get done, I just went to wal mart, bought a dry erase magnet board for the fridge, and created a chore chart. Ok. Go ahead now. Laugh. I know...I KNOW.
I figured, he can just look at the chore chart, and SEE what needs to get done. I'll put a check mark or my initials by whatever the chore is for that day. He'll know he doesn't have to do it.... Well lemme tell ya how this went down. We have a few chores: Vacuum/Sweep, Dishwasher Unload (not load, because that's just expected when you use a dish), Trash (all of it), Countertops/tables, Mop, and Laundry. Ya know - the usual. Except we have 145 pounds of dog living in our house, that's a rough 1100 sq ft. They live inside. And you could stuff a small teddy bear with the dog hair, should you not get rid of it daily - either by vacuuming or sweeping. Everything started off great. I explained it to him (while he smiled that smile that said "this is gonna be fun"), and I figured hey! Let's do this. A few days went by great....and then I wake up one morning to get the day going....I look at the fridge. He's put his initials BKW on the chart for Dishwasher, Trash and Laundry. I notice....there's no dishes that have been cleaned. Just a few in their dirty. The kitchen trash was out, but not the rest of the house. And there was a load of his car washing towels onto wash, with full hampers of dirty clothes elsewhere. I ask him about it. To which I learn that he put his initials down because he loaded a dish or two in the dishwasher. He also put a load of clothes onto wash. And he took one trash can out. Well....then we had to make the chore chart more specific. Ya know - THE WHOLE JOB HAD TO GET DONE. That was just a teaser for me, on his part I guess.
A few days later, I wake up to see more initials on stuff....BK on a trash. BK on Dishwasher. maybe another BK somewhere else but at this point I was just getting ticked off. I'm pregnant people. I'm tired. No time for this. So I start to be understanding and think "Ya know, he took one trash out. Thanks". But the dishwasher? Come on. He put 3 dishes in the dishwasher. No unloading job here. So when I talked to him later, I'm like DUDE we need to get this straight. You can't just put your initials on something because you INTENDED to do it. Or you put 2 DISHES in the dishwasher. We went over this....
His response:
Well babe. That's why I only put 1/2 my initials....because I only did 1/2 the job. ya know BK? Not BKW.
I laughed. I remembered the book. Relax Carrie. This is a sign telling you to LET IT GO. It's housework. I thank God every day for giving me a match that 100% completes the the qualities which I lack. He keeps me laughing with moments like this. When I try so hard to be ON TOP OF THINGS. And he reminds me to slow it on down and enjoy life. It's laundry. No matter how many times you take care of it, it'll pile back up. Sit back every now and then, and let it be.
The chore chart is blank. Still on the fridge, but it catches things like "what to buy from the grocery" and "BK3's party planning list". I learned that when I want something done, just ask damnit.
Now all of you mamas reading this, shaking your head with a smile, or wiping the tears away from laughing so hard at me. Thanks. I know. I'm learning. Remember that last blog? Positive thoughts and prayers accepted :)
I'll get to the next-door-neighbor's chicken and BK3 takes a tumble in his walker subjects next blog. I'm pretty sure my toddler is missing inside of one of my cabinets right now...
Sunday, April 8, 2012
...and baby makes 4.
Today is the day many of us are thankful for the one who died for us. The reason we are here, and the reason we are forgiven. The day that we all say positive things. The day that we promise ourselves to try harder when the waves in our lives crash against one another - when we normally frown and say why me? Today we promise to do better.
Welp. It's been a fun 40 days of no social networking. On Ash Wednesday, I did the "unthinkable" and deleted the Facebook & Twitter apps from my cell phone. It took about 2 days of withdrawals to break the habit. I realized JUST how bad the addiction was when I found myself scrolling one app page to the right, and hitting the bottom right square with my index finger...without thinking. Now, the Parenting app would continually pop up, until I realized, STOP FINGER....THAT'S NOT FACEBOOK. After a few days, I felt cleansed. Hilarious. Cleansed is the word I used. I found myself paying MUCH more attention on the road. I would fall asleep more quickly at night. I watched my son play with his toys more. And by day 4, realized it was nice. I had made a good choice. The one thing I grew to miss was looking at the pictures people would post, and keeping in touch with the cool events in people's lives. The many things I didn't miss were the "pity me's", the "oh no she didn't's", the nonchalant status's that were supposed to be vague, yet was obvious to all of us who they were about, the drama, and everyone's favorite, the "my child is better than yours". Yep I said it. Maybe I can just block all of those pages....
So today, I can fill you in on a few awesome things that are happening. I got my first dosage of "mommy, let me do it" from BK3, who's pushing the 11 month mark. I thought I would break down and cry when I held out the piece of yummy juicy chicken for him to eat off of my finger. Instead of opening super wide like he used to, he pushed my hand back, then grabbed it with his own hand. And ate it. Such a small moment, that I'll probably remember for a while. I mean damn, it happened over 2 weeks ago. We signed the construction loan on the new house, which we've been patiently waiting for. The dirt work is complete, and we're hoping a slab will be poured in the next week or two! Mother nature, prayers, and patience are key in this process, so I've learned. Everyone tells me it takes about 6 to 8 months to build....I'm hoping more on the 6. Because on October 16th, we'll be welcoming another exciting member to our family of 3. The Webb's will now be 4. Surprise! I'm 13 weeks and still wondering if this is true. But oh the bulging belly, hormones, headaches, and midnight ice cream runs surely remind me. Brannan and I were hoping to start trying in April / May. God just decided to give us a little jumpstart. That's all. The babies will be 17 months apart. Everyone tells me I'll lose my mind, but I figure, Hey---I'm sure it's just another feat that millions of other mama's handled - while designing their dream homes, running a business, knitting a sweater, and writing a cookbook too ya know? Needless to say, I welcome your positive advice and prayers.
Which brings me to the realization that with each kid, your endurance as a mama increases, however your sharpness in other areas definitely goes downhill. I'm beginning to think most of your mind actually travels south, but that's ok. Brannan and I were heading to our dear friends' wedding rehearsal and dinner one Thursday night a few weeks ago. Brannan and I swapped car positions in order to take his new truck (he got one, by the way) so mine was getting parked closest to the house. As I'm getting out of my car, I remember "lock the door, RIGHT NOW, because you know your husband is going to ask you as SOON as you get in that truck". So I did. The next morning, I was running around 80953 mph, ya know the usual, and almost walking out of the door for Zumba. Looking for the keys - again, the usual. But can't find em. OH SHIT, did I lock them in my car? No, couldn't have. I remember specifically locking it. The keys would've been IN my hand. I text Brannan "Did I leave my keys in your car last night?". "No", his reply. I walk outside.....even though I KNOW the keys aren't in the car, because I remember specifically locking it. Pull the handle, the car door opens. With my keys sitting in my drivers seat. Well I'll be damned, how the hell did that happen? I go to Zumba, work out, groceries, and come back home. A knock at the door. It's my neighbor (they just moved in 2 weeks prior, and they have a CHICKEN in the back yard - we'll get to that in another blog). He begins to tell me that "Last night me and my wife were outside, and noticed your car was running. After several hours (SEVERAL HOURS!!!), I walked over and realized you had left your car running...and unlocked. So I wondered if someone had hit ya over the head? Or what? I just left the keys on the seat, hoping you'd figure it all out ma'am." About then my ears were blurring everything he said, I mustered a "Thanks sir, I REALLY appreciate it" and ran back inside....Probably to throw up from embarrassment OR morning sickness. And I realized. I am now that mom. I just left my keys in my car, running, and went to St. Francisville for 5 hours. I live in the ghetto. I'm shocked that the car wasn't stolen. God is on my side. Again - I welcome your positive thoughts and PRAYERS.
Happy Easter everyone! I know I have so much to be thankful for :)
Welp. It's been a fun 40 days of no social networking. On Ash Wednesday, I did the "unthinkable" and deleted the Facebook & Twitter apps from my cell phone. It took about 2 days of withdrawals to break the habit. I realized JUST how bad the addiction was when I found myself scrolling one app page to the right, and hitting the bottom right square with my index finger...without thinking. Now, the Parenting app would continually pop up, until I realized, STOP FINGER....THAT'S NOT FACEBOOK. After a few days, I felt cleansed. Hilarious. Cleansed is the word I used. I found myself paying MUCH more attention on the road. I would fall asleep more quickly at night. I watched my son play with his toys more. And by day 4, realized it was nice. I had made a good choice. The one thing I grew to miss was looking at the pictures people would post, and keeping in touch with the cool events in people's lives. The many things I didn't miss were the "pity me's", the "oh no she didn't's", the nonchalant status's that were supposed to be vague, yet was obvious to all of us who they were about, the drama, and everyone's favorite, the "my child is better than yours". Yep I said it. Maybe I can just block all of those pages....
So today, I can fill you in on a few awesome things that are happening. I got my first dosage of "mommy, let me do it" from BK3, who's pushing the 11 month mark. I thought I would break down and cry when I held out the piece of yummy juicy chicken for him to eat off of my finger. Instead of opening super wide like he used to, he pushed my hand back, then grabbed it with his own hand. And ate it. Such a small moment, that I'll probably remember for a while. I mean damn, it happened over 2 weeks ago. We signed the construction loan on the new house, which we've been patiently waiting for. The dirt work is complete, and we're hoping a slab will be poured in the next week or two! Mother nature, prayers, and patience are key in this process, so I've learned. Everyone tells me it takes about 6 to 8 months to build....I'm hoping more on the 6. Because on October 16th, we'll be welcoming another exciting member to our family of 3. The Webb's will now be 4. Surprise! I'm 13 weeks and still wondering if this is true. But oh the bulging belly, hormones, headaches, and midnight ice cream runs surely remind me. Brannan and I were hoping to start trying in April / May. God just decided to give us a little jumpstart. That's all. The babies will be 17 months apart. Everyone tells me I'll lose my mind, but I figure, Hey---I'm sure it's just another feat that millions of other mama's handled - while designing their dream homes, running a business, knitting a sweater, and writing a cookbook too ya know? Needless to say, I welcome your positive advice and prayers.
Which brings me to the realization that with each kid, your endurance as a mama increases, however your sharpness in other areas definitely goes downhill. I'm beginning to think most of your mind actually travels south, but that's ok. Brannan and I were heading to our dear friends' wedding rehearsal and dinner one Thursday night a few weeks ago. Brannan and I swapped car positions in order to take his new truck (he got one, by the way) so mine was getting parked closest to the house. As I'm getting out of my car, I remember "lock the door, RIGHT NOW, because you know your husband is going to ask you as SOON as you get in that truck". So I did. The next morning, I was running around 80953 mph, ya know the usual, and almost walking out of the door for Zumba. Looking for the keys - again, the usual. But can't find em. OH SHIT, did I lock them in my car? No, couldn't have. I remember specifically locking it. The keys would've been IN my hand. I text Brannan "Did I leave my keys in your car last night?". "No", his reply. I walk outside.....even though I KNOW the keys aren't in the car, because I remember specifically locking it. Pull the handle, the car door opens. With my keys sitting in my drivers seat. Well I'll be damned, how the hell did that happen? I go to Zumba, work out, groceries, and come back home. A knock at the door. It's my neighbor (they just moved in 2 weeks prior, and they have a CHICKEN in the back yard - we'll get to that in another blog). He begins to tell me that "Last night me and my wife were outside, and noticed your car was running. After several hours (SEVERAL HOURS!!!), I walked over and realized you had left your car running...and unlocked. So I wondered if someone had hit ya over the head? Or what? I just left the keys on the seat, hoping you'd figure it all out ma'am." About then my ears were blurring everything he said, I mustered a "Thanks sir, I REALLY appreciate it" and ran back inside....Probably to throw up from embarrassment OR morning sickness. And I realized. I am now that mom. I just left my keys in my car, running, and went to St. Francisville for 5 hours. I live in the ghetto. I'm shocked that the car wasn't stolen. God is on my side. Again - I welcome your positive thoughts and PRAYERS.
Happy Easter everyone! I know I have so much to be thankful for :)
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Hell on Wheels
It has begun. At the ripe ol' age of 8 1/2 months, my son has taken on the name of Hell on Wheels and he's 15 years shy of a driver's permit. BK3 is just like his daddy. Calm, content, and caring. Nothing really bothers him, except the few times I'll wave a bottle in front of his little hungry face in hopes that he'll say "mama". But that's about it. At almost 9 months, he still barely crawls. I started to think that he would go straight to walking, when just this week, he started to take a few on all fours. He'll crawl about 2 strides, then sit back and rest. If his toy gets tossed across the room, he'll look at it, sigh, and go on to another toy that's close. Lazy? Maybe, but definitely content. Not bothered. It's great for now, since I don't have to gate him in, leash him up, or whatever people do these days to make sure their kids don't get into things. He sits on his carpet and plays...when I walk by, he'll look up at me, throw his hands in the air and kindly ask with his big brown eyes "Pick me up mama?"
Well all of this took a good healthy turn today. As I usually let him spend a little while in his walker each day, today was no different. Normally he won't go too far, mostly backwards. But today, something clicked. Light switch. My son figured out how to lean into that walker the direction he wanted to go, then BAM those li'l legs start a going, and before you know it, he's in a full sprint across the tile. STILL. No big deal. YET.
I'm going about 90 mph to keep up with the housework, cooking (if I even cook that day), office work, preparing for class, you name it, and BK3...not sure what i was doing at this particular moment but I head into the kitchen where B3 is, and notice a puddle of what looks like dog piss on the floor. Um...Roxie? I look up to see Roxie huddled up in the "dog chair" tail tucked under. Wondering why she relieved herself on the kitchen floor, I let her out, cleaned it up, made sure it wasn't on B's feet, and we're moving on. Fast forward to about 30 minutes later...B's still in his walker and I am folding clothes in the living room. I hear B go fast and Bam...runs into something. Giggles. Repeat. I paused before finally going into the kitchen...JUST as I turn the corner, he clips Roxie's heels with the walker...she scurries off, tail tucked....B giggles....wait is that PISS!? I take one look around the room at the 4 piles of piss to realize the culprit. My son. In our tiny 13 by 12 kitchen, 4 puddles of dog pee and a VERY scared Golden-Doodle with sore heels. BK3 was having the time of his life. So now I'm cleaning up more piss, making sure my son's feet aren't caked in it, and taking him out of the walker to give Roxie a little time to relax.
Episode #2. Today, I had about 30 minutes to give B his lunch bottle, feed him his lunch then head out of the house before teaching for 7 hours. I put him in his high chair with his bottle, while I packed him up, loaded the car, put on real shoes (I was afraid I'd leave in my slippers if I didn't change now), and mascara, eat lunch, then feed B his lunch...and head out. B was done with his bottle my tasks were almost complete, so I put him in his favorite place (the walker) for a few minutes while I finish up. The dog room is off set from our kitchen, and since it's an add-on room, it has a little wood strip that divides on the floor. B's walker hasn't been able to get over this hump, to this day. I was taking an important phone call, and a few minutes later I look over to see B IN the dog room (way to get over that hump), holding the dog bowl. Holy shit. I had just filled the dog bowl with about a gallon of water. It was now about an inch deep at Brannan's feet...which he was gladly stomping in. Dog room, flooded. I've got 3 minutes to shove sweet potatoes down his throat, and now I've got to perform some sort of flood clean up. Meanwhile, Boss is just sitting in the dog chair (same one Roxie resorted to) looking at me like "I didn't do it."
Episode 3. I take Brannan to his room to change him. Realizing at this point YEP....just another day I'll be late. I'm pretty good at it now. The being late thing. And I have him on his changing pad, which lies atop his dresser, tucked below the shelves of the hutch. We've been talking about raising the bottom shelf soon, since when B rolls over on his changing pad, his head hits the shelf....Brannan, in rare and hilarious form today, decided it would be fun to take his feet (once I had his shoes put on) and kick the shelf above him. Mind you, the shelf, that is somehow only manufactured to be held to the hutch with two stud things on each side....not 4. So one good swift kick and this shelf was at a diagonal. With a heavy piggy bank, books, a heavy glass frame....wow. Not to mention how heavy the shelf itself was. My son's leg just may be as golden as I hope it is once he starts Soccer! Instead of letting his leg go, so that I can re adjust the shelf, he decided to keep it there, like a kick stand. While I have a mini-panic and finally secure everything, I gave a loud firm "NO" and held him still. I could tell by my own face that I had a scary look offered.....he laughed at me. Louder than any tickle session. Laughed. In my face. Oh boy. Here we go.
So aside from the wine bottle he managed to pull out of the fridge door (I thought I had closed that?). The mini shelf episode. The great dog-room flood. Or maybe the 5 puddles of dog piss I managed to clean up today....It was a good day. And that was just the adventures of Mommy and BK3. I love it. I laughed all day long. This little boy has my heart, and I cannot wait for all of the many adventures we'll go through. Now...just need to work on that "mean face".
Well all of this took a good healthy turn today. As I usually let him spend a little while in his walker each day, today was no different. Normally he won't go too far, mostly backwards. But today, something clicked. Light switch. My son figured out how to lean into that walker the direction he wanted to go, then BAM those li'l legs start a going, and before you know it, he's in a full sprint across the tile. STILL. No big deal. YET.
I'm going about 90 mph to keep up with the housework, cooking (if I even cook that day), office work, preparing for class, you name it, and BK3...not sure what i was doing at this particular moment but I head into the kitchen where B3 is, and notice a puddle of what looks like dog piss on the floor. Um...Roxie? I look up to see Roxie huddled up in the "dog chair" tail tucked under. Wondering why she relieved herself on the kitchen floor, I let her out, cleaned it up, made sure it wasn't on B's feet, and we're moving on. Fast forward to about 30 minutes later...B's still in his walker and I am folding clothes in the living room. I hear B go fast and Bam...runs into something. Giggles. Repeat. I paused before finally going into the kitchen...JUST as I turn the corner, he clips Roxie's heels with the walker...she scurries off, tail tucked....B giggles....wait is that PISS!? I take one look around the room at the 4 piles of piss to realize the culprit. My son. In our tiny 13 by 12 kitchen, 4 puddles of dog pee and a VERY scared Golden-Doodle with sore heels. BK3 was having the time of his life. So now I'm cleaning up more piss, making sure my son's feet aren't caked in it, and taking him out of the walker to give Roxie a little time to relax.
Episode #2. Today, I had about 30 minutes to give B his lunch bottle, feed him his lunch then head out of the house before teaching for 7 hours. I put him in his high chair with his bottle, while I packed him up, loaded the car, put on real shoes (I was afraid I'd leave in my slippers if I didn't change now), and mascara, eat lunch, then feed B his lunch...and head out. B was done with his bottle my tasks were almost complete, so I put him in his favorite place (the walker) for a few minutes while I finish up. The dog room is off set from our kitchen, and since it's an add-on room, it has a little wood strip that divides on the floor. B's walker hasn't been able to get over this hump, to this day. I was taking an important phone call, and a few minutes later I look over to see B IN the dog room (way to get over that hump), holding the dog bowl. Holy shit. I had just filled the dog bowl with about a gallon of water. It was now about an inch deep at Brannan's feet...which he was gladly stomping in. Dog room, flooded. I've got 3 minutes to shove sweet potatoes down his throat, and now I've got to perform some sort of flood clean up. Meanwhile, Boss is just sitting in the dog chair (same one Roxie resorted to) looking at me like "I didn't do it."
Episode 3. I take Brannan to his room to change him. Realizing at this point YEP....just another day I'll be late. I'm pretty good at it now. The being late thing. And I have him on his changing pad, which lies atop his dresser, tucked below the shelves of the hutch. We've been talking about raising the bottom shelf soon, since when B rolls over on his changing pad, his head hits the shelf....Brannan, in rare and hilarious form today, decided it would be fun to take his feet (once I had his shoes put on) and kick the shelf above him. Mind you, the shelf, that is somehow only manufactured to be held to the hutch with two stud things on each side....not 4. So one good swift kick and this shelf was at a diagonal. With a heavy piggy bank, books, a heavy glass frame....wow. Not to mention how heavy the shelf itself was. My son's leg just may be as golden as I hope it is once he starts Soccer! Instead of letting his leg go, so that I can re adjust the shelf, he decided to keep it there, like a kick stand. While I have a mini-panic and finally secure everything, I gave a loud firm "NO" and held him still. I could tell by my own face that I had a scary look offered.....he laughed at me. Louder than any tickle session. Laughed. In my face. Oh boy. Here we go.
So aside from the wine bottle he managed to pull out of the fridge door (I thought I had closed that?). The mini shelf episode. The great dog-room flood. Or maybe the 5 puddles of dog piss I managed to clean up today....It was a good day. And that was just the adventures of Mommy and BK3. I love it. I laughed all day long. This little boy has my heart, and I cannot wait for all of the many adventures we'll go through. Now...just need to work on that "mean face".
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
First for everything...
Yesterday & today, I could do nothing right. It has begun. If my son could talk, he'd probably call me an idiot and say that I'm a mean mom. It has been "one of those weeks" and it's only Tuesday. Buckle UP Carrie!
Yesterday was Monday. A TRUE Monday. Zumba starts my week, and on Zumba days, we must wake up for 7 a.m. We have a pretty set schedule until we get to Zumba, then the rest of the day is open for upside down turns, crazy happenings, and oopsies. But before? We must stay on task. I woke at 7:00 a.m., couldn't wait to get to the coffee pot, made B's bottle, then my coffee, and trekked down the hall to get my li'l handsome man up. He HATES being woken up. Which I guess is good now that he's still only 8 months old, but I do fear for the teenage years. Cold buckets of ice in our future for sure. It took about 10 minutes to actually get him to wake up...changed his diaper, and brought him in the kitchen to take his bottle. While he's drinking, I'm unloading the dishwasher, taking the bottles out of the microwave sterilizer, trying to scarf down some toast / coffee, and let the dogs out. B is going pretty slow, and starts to grunt. Oh no....that means #2. Usually once he finishes his duty, he'll concentrate more on the bottle then finish, and we go change. Done deal. But he wouldn't finish the bottle. I thought "Let me go change your diaper, then maybe you'll be happier and you can finish without the crap stuck to your booty?" yep...good idea mom. Except when I got him to his changing pad, I saw MY shirt first, which was covered with crap. YEP. It was everywhere. I'm not quite sure WHERE all of this shit came from. He surely offered his diaper to the 90 Ib dog or something first. I've never seen so much crap in my life. Got him cleaned up, got myself cleaned up, and let him finish his bottle in the living room, while I 409'd the high chair. Let the chair air out while BK3 played with his toys, and I got dressed. Figured I could feed him his applesauce/oatmeal while his chair aired out and we could do this in the living room right? Bad idea. It was all going good until BK3 decided to flail his arms (it's his new trick) and sent the bowl of oatmeal RIGHT out of my hand and through the air. Applesauce and oatmeal scattered. On the floor. On me. On Him. Roxie was right next to me to witness it all. As if she and Brannan had ESP. She knew that he was bout to do that. She knew I'd let her clean it up. As I did. Roxie got to work....cleaned the floor, the walls, and BK3. I look at my watch and guess what, it's time to GO. BK3 has no clothes on. I'm dirty AGAIN. And I look at Roxie, who's left side of her face is caked with applesauce....I had 2 options, clean the dog up TOO and be even more late? Or come home in a few hours to a crusty goldendoodle and give her a bath....nope, option 1. I 'm already late.
Got her cleaned up, got myself cleaned up for the 2nd time, got B with clothes on. Grabbed everything I needed in one hand, while he was in the other, set the alarm, got in the car. buckled up. Gas light...reminder Carrie, you were supposed to leave early today to get Gas. Remember? Of course not conscience. I don't remember.
Got to Zumba, where 1 person showed up. I mean it's Martin Luther King day, Carrie, everyone's gonna take the holiday to be with their kids. We opted for a short abdominal workout and left early. Rode on fumes down to the Shell station, as BK3 conveniently napped in the back seat. Perfect time for the Automated credit card machine at the pump to not work right? Right. Please See Cashier. I'll please see that cashier....and bring a knife with me....just kidding. Hey, at least I made it to the gas station right? Went to ambrosia to order the cake I need for Sunday, and guess what, Ambrosia is closed on Mondays. Stupid Carrie. Get with the program. Can you see a trend to how the day's going?
Needless to say, I made it through the Monday. Of course. Nothing a glass of Pinot can't fix once the night's over with...which got me to Today. Tuesday. No Zumba, so we get to sleep in. GREAT! I love life! Until the li'l man decides that today he doesn't want to eat anything I'll give him. No choices made him happy. So after trying to feed him 3 different things for lunch, I said HEY YOU MUST NOT BE HUNGRY...and let him play in his toy corner in the living room. After all, he had reached into his mouth, pulled the Turkey with Veggie puree out and rubbed it all over his face, hair, and high chair. OH 409! Need you again! He played, in a diaper, happy as can be, while I got back to work cleaning the hell out of the chair, and his clothes, and myself. I hear a big bang, sounding like plastic getting thrown, then him crying. He had scooted himself over to his toy that you learn to walk with....tried pulling himself up, and instead pulled it over on top of him, which made him in turn fall over onto his plastic toys...sure that didn't feel good now did it B? As I'm punching myself for not moving that pull up toy, I'm consoling him which only took about 3 minutes. We then played together, on the pull up toy, which he loves and I apologized. Welcome to the world of "your baby is very mobile even though he's too lazy to crawl just yet". Pay attention Mom. Ok, I get it.
Looked at my clock and it was time to be OUT the door. Who cares if he hadn't had lunch? He obviously wasn't hungry. Threw clothes on him, and in the car we were. At least the house was clean. Got to dance, and for once, I was happy to be able to breathe...I guess we all need that escape! Even if it is to work...what was that thought of being a stay at home mom? Snap out of it Carrie. 3 hours was just enough to be excited to be back at home. Where I am now...with my 2 favorite boys. And even though I got super frustrated these past two days, I still laugh when I read all of this. It's common. Everyone goes through it. It's the right of passage for all first time mommies. We need breaking in, and those 8 month olds do such a good job of it. Hell, the 2 dogs do a good job of it...@ the Webb house, you got 2 adults, 2 dogs which are the size of adults, and an 8 month old. What do you get when you put that all together? ME. With a bottle of 409 and a dyson Animal Vacuum. My 2 best friends..for sure. Not to mention my husband JUST walks in and says "Hey babe....you almost done?" Me: Yep. Husband: "OK. Did you cook?" Me: (silent, but shooting eyes that say, DID YOU JUST ASK THAT?) Husband: (silent....with a smile).
I'm thankful. Every day I wake up and say "God, I pray that I can do this day as great as you need me to". Because I used to sit and think how I can simplify my daily work/life. But now I know, it's just all about how you master it. Get better at it. And be great. I know that I'm blessed, because even though I want that brand new house that will hopefully be built before the end of 2012, I know it's all about the great memories we're making in this little 1000 sq foot house. So many people are without. I've got an awesome husband and baby boy that is my life. And I cannot complain. I'll just stock up on 409.....
Yesterday was Monday. A TRUE Monday. Zumba starts my week, and on Zumba days, we must wake up for 7 a.m. We have a pretty set schedule until we get to Zumba, then the rest of the day is open for upside down turns, crazy happenings, and oopsies. But before? We must stay on task. I woke at 7:00 a.m., couldn't wait to get to the coffee pot, made B's bottle, then my coffee, and trekked down the hall to get my li'l handsome man up. He HATES being woken up. Which I guess is good now that he's still only 8 months old, but I do fear for the teenage years. Cold buckets of ice in our future for sure. It took about 10 minutes to actually get him to wake up...changed his diaper, and brought him in the kitchen to take his bottle. While he's drinking, I'm unloading the dishwasher, taking the bottles out of the microwave sterilizer, trying to scarf down some toast / coffee, and let the dogs out. B is going pretty slow, and starts to grunt. Oh no....that means #2. Usually once he finishes his duty, he'll concentrate more on the bottle then finish, and we go change. Done deal. But he wouldn't finish the bottle. I thought "Let me go change your diaper, then maybe you'll be happier and you can finish without the crap stuck to your booty?" yep...good idea mom. Except when I got him to his changing pad, I saw MY shirt first, which was covered with crap. YEP. It was everywhere. I'm not quite sure WHERE all of this shit came from. He surely offered his diaper to the 90 Ib dog or something first. I've never seen so much crap in my life. Got him cleaned up, got myself cleaned up, and let him finish his bottle in the living room, while I 409'd the high chair. Let the chair air out while BK3 played with his toys, and I got dressed. Figured I could feed him his applesauce/oatmeal while his chair aired out and we could do this in the living room right? Bad idea. It was all going good until BK3 decided to flail his arms (it's his new trick) and sent the bowl of oatmeal RIGHT out of my hand and through the air. Applesauce and oatmeal scattered. On the floor. On me. On Him. Roxie was right next to me to witness it all. As if she and Brannan had ESP. She knew that he was bout to do that. She knew I'd let her clean it up. As I did. Roxie got to work....cleaned the floor, the walls, and BK3. I look at my watch and guess what, it's time to GO. BK3 has no clothes on. I'm dirty AGAIN. And I look at Roxie, who's left side of her face is caked with applesauce....I had 2 options, clean the dog up TOO and be even more late? Or come home in a few hours to a crusty goldendoodle and give her a bath....nope, option 1. I 'm already late.
Got her cleaned up, got myself cleaned up for the 2nd time, got B with clothes on. Grabbed everything I needed in one hand, while he was in the other, set the alarm, got in the car. buckled up. Gas light...reminder Carrie, you were supposed to leave early today to get Gas. Remember? Of course not conscience. I don't remember.
Got to Zumba, where 1 person showed up. I mean it's Martin Luther King day, Carrie, everyone's gonna take the holiday to be with their kids. We opted for a short abdominal workout and left early. Rode on fumes down to the Shell station, as BK3 conveniently napped in the back seat. Perfect time for the Automated credit card machine at the pump to not work right? Right. Please See Cashier. I'll please see that cashier....and bring a knife with me....just kidding. Hey, at least I made it to the gas station right? Went to ambrosia to order the cake I need for Sunday, and guess what, Ambrosia is closed on Mondays. Stupid Carrie. Get with the program. Can you see a trend to how the day's going?
Needless to say, I made it through the Monday. Of course. Nothing a glass of Pinot can't fix once the night's over with...which got me to Today. Tuesday. No Zumba, so we get to sleep in. GREAT! I love life! Until the li'l man decides that today he doesn't want to eat anything I'll give him. No choices made him happy. So after trying to feed him 3 different things for lunch, I said HEY YOU MUST NOT BE HUNGRY...and let him play in his toy corner in the living room. After all, he had reached into his mouth, pulled the Turkey with Veggie puree out and rubbed it all over his face, hair, and high chair. OH 409! Need you again! He played, in a diaper, happy as can be, while I got back to work cleaning the hell out of the chair, and his clothes, and myself. I hear a big bang, sounding like plastic getting thrown, then him crying. He had scooted himself over to his toy that you learn to walk with....tried pulling himself up, and instead pulled it over on top of him, which made him in turn fall over onto his plastic toys...sure that didn't feel good now did it B? As I'm punching myself for not moving that pull up toy, I'm consoling him which only took about 3 minutes. We then played together, on the pull up toy, which he loves and I apologized. Welcome to the world of "your baby is very mobile even though he's too lazy to crawl just yet". Pay attention Mom. Ok, I get it.
Looked at my clock and it was time to be OUT the door. Who cares if he hadn't had lunch? He obviously wasn't hungry. Threw clothes on him, and in the car we were. At least the house was clean. Got to dance, and for once, I was happy to be able to breathe...I guess we all need that escape! Even if it is to work...what was that thought of being a stay at home mom? Snap out of it Carrie. 3 hours was just enough to be excited to be back at home. Where I am now...with my 2 favorite boys. And even though I got super frustrated these past two days, I still laugh when I read all of this. It's common. Everyone goes through it. It's the right of passage for all first time mommies. We need breaking in, and those 8 month olds do such a good job of it. Hell, the 2 dogs do a good job of it...@ the Webb house, you got 2 adults, 2 dogs which are the size of adults, and an 8 month old. What do you get when you put that all together? ME. With a bottle of 409 and a dyson Animal Vacuum. My 2 best friends..for sure. Not to mention my husband JUST walks in and says "Hey babe....you almost done?" Me: Yep. Husband: "OK. Did you cook?" Me: (silent, but shooting eyes that say, DID YOU JUST ASK THAT?) Husband: (silent....with a smile).
I'm thankful. Every day I wake up and say "God, I pray that I can do this day as great as you need me to". Because I used to sit and think how I can simplify my daily work/life. But now I know, it's just all about how you master it. Get better at it. And be great. I know that I'm blessed, because even though I want that brand new house that will hopefully be built before the end of 2012, I know it's all about the great memories we're making in this little 1000 sq foot house. So many people are without. I've got an awesome husband and baby boy that is my life. And I cannot complain. I'll just stock up on 409.....
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