Just recently, I promised myself I'd start blogging again. 1. I really need to document the impeccable things that take place each day. To look back on and either laugh or cry. 2. Because it helps me to wind down - it's therapy in the best form - writing (or typing) out the excitement.
So I sat down tonight and opened up the link to get started. I came upon the last blog post I had made. Briggs was 6 weeks old.
Briggs turned 3 years old today.
I mostly laughed at the post, and honestly I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember being so overwhelmed at the idea of coming home to a house unfinished, a toddler and with a newborn in tow. I kept telling myself that "the hardest transition is from 1 to 2 children. If you can do this, you can do anything."
Well. Didn't I have a lot to learn?
3 years later. My still sweet Briggsy is 3 years old. The kindest, most gentle young man. We are 2 1/2 years into our beautiful home, and have welcomed yet another Webb boy, who just had his first birthday last month. I buy wine by the 6-pack (bottles), and milk 5 gallons at a time. That's a weekly purchase - the milk, not the wine. And I cling to God like no other.
When preparing for the big #3 for my Briggsy, I had many talks with Daddy about the perfect gift for the birthday boy. While, many times he insisted I go purchase a Trampoline for him, I refused. That's a little big for a birthday present, if you ask me. But no, not Daddy's perspective. After all, BK3 got a Jump House for his 4th birthday in May. A real jump house. The kind you rent. It's 14 feet tall, and we own it. We are from Livingston Parish, folks (no offense). I argued for a bike of his own, since hand me downs come real good and often in the Webb house. And while many times, this conversation ended with us in disagreement, I knew that it would work out in the end. I also knew that my husband had his own purchases already made, soon to arrive. Which brings me to exhibit 1:
The Bopper. It's an inflatable ring with handles, much like a donut or a pool ring, except 10 times larger. You grab a friend, you both put one around your waist, and run at high speeds toward one another. Much like sumo wrestling I'd guess. That's gift #1 from Daddy...except only one came in the box, which I found out today as I was wrapping, so the video of them sumo fighting will take the backseat until the second "Bopper" comes in the mail. Personally, I'm afraid one will get whiplash.
Exhibit 2: The giant hamster ball
Exactly as you'd guess. A giant inflatable ball, with outside access to jump in. It's made up of about 145 pockets that blow up, to create what looks to me like a giant uterus. And would you know that Daddy blew up all 145 pockets himself? That's determination. I asked him if he were just reliving his childhood through his boys - his answer - "It took you this long to figure that out?"....I'm in for it. Again, pictures to come. But just so you know? The giant uterus sits in my living room - and it's bigger than our couch.
Luckily, Daddy let me have my way and Briggsy got his very own bike. He had no idea what to do with it, but he surely thinks it's "cool". And believe me when I say, EVERY BOY in the Webb house thinks the sumo rings and the giant uterus are the BEST thing that could ever accompany a birthday. Daddy scored big - as always. Like I said, it always works out in the end.
Reading the last few blog posts prior to quitting the blog (for whatever reason, I can't remember), truly reminded me of something that has become so apparent to me lately:
Our time here on earth is limited. And what we do with it is so special. Our lives will not be filled with ease by "doing it right" or "crossing our T's and dotting I's". We will have struggles, frustrations, hardships, loss, and heartache. Who we turn to is the mold by which we will survive. It's incredible how my husband also became my partner in crime, confidante, faith friend, as well continuing to be the love of my life. These things happen because life happens. And it is important how we travel through. Learning to love above all circumstances, and remembering that our God is a loving God. He gives us strength - which I seemed to have needed a whole lot 3 years ago. Still do, now.
But just for the record, the transition to THREE children is the toughest.
And despite the new birthday toy, I'm thankful to report that MY uterus won't be inflating any time soon!
Monday, October 5, 2015
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
...it's just Temporary
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 :)
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 :)
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...
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