Friday.

GOOD GRIEF. 

I made it through this ridiculous week. The hazing is now complete.

I will be treating myself to a pedicure tomorrow while Husband watches ONE and TWO (read: watches the LSU game while ONE runs wild, and TWO sits in a boppy pillow staring blankly). 

I haven't looked at my feet in a long time ... but a toenail caught on my bedsheet last night as I was tossing and turning, and it reminded me I really need to pay attention to myself before I turn into "that" mom who "used to be cute."

Also, it's high time I got out of the house.

Important Question.

It's 1:57 pm and I just brewed a pot of coffee. I already hit up the Starbucks drive-thru once today for a triple latte.

So, on a scale of one to ten ... how harmful is my raging caffeine habit?

Open Letter.

To The Makers of Play-Doh,

You make my son very happy. However, I find your product stressful. 

It's sticky and messy and impossible to clean out from underneath little fingernails. Also, children think it's edible. Why? Because it's salty. Like potato chips. 

You do not mesh well with my obsessive need for cleanliness. Actually, children don't either.

That is all,
Harmony

The House of Screechers.

My children are taking turns screaming at the top of their lungs.

ONE has been very unlikable. That is putting it mildly. He is three and adjusting to his new life. I keep having to say that out loud, lest I completely LOSE it and lock him in the backyard until his daddy comes home.

Things seem to be very slightly improving each day ... or maybe I am just getting used to the cacophony of screeching that takes place from 7 a.m. - 7 p.m. or later. I hope it really is getting better, because no one likes to visit The Family Of Screechers.

But then, moments like this happen, and I have a glimmer of hope that I will have a normal life again one day, we will all like each other most of the time, and the screeching will cease.

Wow.

This stay-at-home mother-of-two gig is harder than I imagined it would be. 

After two days of child-rearing without anyone else helping me, I am exhausted. Also, I haven't looked in a mirror since early this morning. So I took a self-portrait, just for fun.

As you can see, I am getting my ASS handed to me.

Small Victories.

Please ignore the horrendous wallpaper. It's on my list of things to re-do.

After many failed attempts ...

We did it. 

Moby Wrap: conquered.

Why I Quit Breastfeeding.

I am probably going to catch a lot of crap for this one.

Read it here!

High Alert.

I have a confession to make.

I smugly thought I could handle two children without any problems. That's called Mom Amnesia. I had forgotten how rough it can be at the beginning. The lack of sleep, the nonstop crying, the tired arms from carrying an infant all over the house. I forgot how much Husband and I fought after we had ONE. I forgot all of it, because I only remembered the good stuff. 

Now we have TWO and it's all coming back to me. I am no longer smug. I am overwhelmed. But I am also stubbornly willing to do whatever I need to do to make it all work, so ... IT WILL BE OKAY. There simply is no other option.

The main thing we have going for us is that Husband and I love and like each other. We are a team. The other thing is that ONE and TWO seem to love each other as well. If we can all make it through the days without someone getting seriously hurt, then I will be happy.

I have been on "high alert" ever since TWO arrived. It's pretty tiring. But don't worry, I am taking a high-quality B vitamin every day. I will not be mentioning my anxiety to my doctor, because I think it's normal. We are equipped to sense danger when we bring a child into the world. It just so happens that the "danger" is my oldest child.

I am constantly worried that a toy is going to smack my newborn in the face, or ONE is going to accidentally step on him. I have worked out a whole bunch of scenarios in my head and all of them are equally awful. My aunt pointed out that this is what makes mothers gray and wrinkled. I believe she is correct. 

I accept that.

Here you can see my arm extended out. Just making sure TWO didn't end up with a broken neck.

Here you can see that I am sitting pretty much on top of them. ONE wanted to rub noses with TWO. I immediately envisioned a broken nose. But like I said earlier, it's all going to be okay. I hope.

Ergonomically Correct.

I have entered the world of infant carriers. I'm finding it to be overwhelming.

When I had ONE, I was basically clueless about what items would help me salvage the remainder of my sanity. I used a hand-me-down infant carrier to walk for hours with him every week. After he finally outgrew it (and the colic that prompted me to carry him everywhere), I threw it away. I was so sick of wearing it. And it wasn't really comfortable anyway.

This time, I know better. TWO is shaping up to be a different breed -- his colic seems to be corrected, but he fusses a lot unless someone is holding him. I think he's a very social baby. He likes to be upright, so he can look around, and he gets upset if you stick him off in a corner somewhere by himself. I truly don't mind holding him, unless I am busy with ONE. Which is often. And as I mentioned in an earlier post, a friend is letting me borrow her Moby Wrap, but I simply cannot deal with that thing when a child is screaming. Which is often.

Apparently, when under motherhood-type stress, I go into a weird mental space that causes me to lose ALL my motor skills. It's like when ONE locks himself in his bedroom. We have a key above his door, and I can totally open it, unless I'm mad, in which case ... forget it. 

So armed with all of this knowledge, I just spent way too much money on something called an Ergo. Behold. Here it is in all of it's bright green glory. Yes, I picked the loudest color option available. If I am going to tote my baby around in something that was overpriced, I at least want it to be fun to look at.

 
Let's go ahead and file this under "things my husband will never understand."

Silence = Agreement.

My mother-in-law is here, and she has had the pleasure of witnessing my postpartum quirks in all their glory. The anxiety, the obsessive cleaning, the short temper, the yelling at ONE ... it's been something. At least she hasn't seen me flip out on her son, my husband. We've got that going for us.

This morning, TWO had his two-week checkup so I went ahead and scheduled ONE for his three-year checkup as well. There was a torrential downpour, and I got soaking wet, ONE was being difficult, I had been up since 4 a.m. and somehow I was still running late, and I was basically a total stress case. 

On the drive back home, I officially ran out of patience and had a "lunatic moment" that involved yelling and swerving the car while trying to swat at ONE's legs. It was not my finest hour. In retrospect, I should have just pulled the car over. Next time I will.

Here is the text conversation I had with Husband afterward:

Me: Your mom witnessed me act like a lunatic today. ONE is pushing my buttons. I should have pulled the car over and beat his ass. Instead I put us all in danger by trying to spank his leg while driving. I hate being like this.

Husband: (silence)

Me: I feel like a terrible mother.

Husband: You're a good mother.

Me: Okay then, I feel like a lunatic. 

Husband: (silence) 

I take his silence to mean, yes, I am exhibiting lunatic-like behavior. But at least I'm not a terrible mother.

ONE getting his eyes checked.

Suri's Burn Book.

Oh man.

A friend recently texted me to check out this website immediately (www.surisburnbook.tumblr.com), and so I did. For anyone who has odd blocks of time on their hands and needs a distraction from real life, I strongly suggest you take a gander.

It also helps if you are one of those people who enjoy pop culture, and like to laugh at the expense of others.

Wrong Equipment.

Today I taught my son how to pee in the yard. 

I felt really ... ill-equipped ... for that task. However, in the words of Tim Gunn from Project Runway, we made it work. He stripped naked, I screeched at him DON'T GET IT ON YOUR FEET!!!, so he spread his feet apart and assumed a sumo wrestler-like position.

Then I had to show him how to point and shoot. This is when I really started to wish that his daddy was home.

Sweetness.

He stopped crying.

My life can resume.

The Great Escape.

We are on Day 13 and it's been rough going over here. TWO has horrible colic, and I am hanging by a thread. We are working to find a solution, but until we find the right formula ... 

I am hanging by a thread. 

Did I already say that?

I have been sleeping in 3-hour stretches. The rest of my time seems to be spent holding TWO and trying to soothe his inconsolable crying, or telling ONE to stop doing such-and-such. Today I didn't brush my teeth or eat anything until well after noon. During one of TWO's crazy crying spells, I tried to put on the Moby Wrap and failed miserably. Harmony + Moby Wrap + Screaming Infant = EPIC FAIL. 

When my mother-in-law returned from taking ONE on an outing, I had to get out of the house. It's amazing what a shower, some makeup, and a trip to Starbucks can do for a girl. I went to the baby store, bought an infant carrier that you slip on and snap, listened to Maroon Five and FELT LIKE A NORMAL PERSON.

Thank goodness for mother-in-laws and mothers. I would have definitely lost my mind by now without their help. I know it will get better. Until then, I am clinging to the little things that remind me that while I am now a mother of two, I am also a real person. Neglecting that fact would spell disaster for us all.

Colic, My Old Friend.

TWO is colicky.

Is this my penance for giving up on breastfeeding at day 5?

Pass the wine, please.

Moms Who Rock!

Tonight is the Birmingham Mommy Moms Who Rock! event, and I am going to miss it. Free stuff, food, drinks, and music ... it's really hard to say no. But I must, because I am 11 days postpartum and depressing as it might be, I am not nearly back to my old self.

Also, I have nothing cute to wear. Clearly, that's a problem.

Things That Make Me Happy.

This morning, I brewed myself a pot of strong coffee and decided that, despite the fact that TWO woke up the whole house at 5 a.m. and ONE refused to go back to sleep, therefore foiling my plan to crash on the couch for just a little while ... I am going to make the best of it. I will most likely get a really long nap out of ONE over this ordeal. Or, he will scream for two hours in his room. It's hard to say.

These are some good things that are happening. I am choosing to focus on them:

1. I can drink coffee without regret because I quit breastfeeding.

2. My friend Kellie is sending me to Massage Envy for a little pampering! THANK YOU Kellie, that is something I would probably never have done for myself.

3. My mother is leaving Thursday, and will be immediately replaced by my sweet mother-in-law, who hasn't seen the baby yet! We are so excited for her to visit (and I welcome an extra set of eyes and arms). 

4. And finally, my friend Lesley came over yesterday bringing with her a Moby Wrap. She is letting me borrow it. I was so intimidated by this contraption -- it's 20 feet of fabric and I'm not so great with following instructions -- but she patiently demonstrated how to use it and then she put TWO in it to show me how it works.

ONE was wearing it like a superman cape, but then got an attitude and refused to pose for me.

I'm pretty sure this item is going to save my sanity. Here is what it looks like when worn correctly.

(source)

By the time my mother-in-law goes home, I think I'll be ready to take on the task of mothering these two children by myself. I may even venture out in public with them. 

Or I might become a hermit.

Wow.

This two kid thing is exhausting.

They sure are cute, but OMG. Surely it will get easier. Like once I recover from childbirth, and ONE stops acting like a complete lunatic.

My mother is on her way. Thank you Jesus.

OCD.

I live in a townhouse. I don't have a picture of the row of houses, but they all look the same. Here is our door.

You get the idea.

 We live next door to a family of totally nice, normal people. The man of the house is a cop and I like that. It makes me feel safe. Their two boys are polite and friendly, and the mom is someone I would feel comfortable leaving my kids with if there was an emergency. 

You know how you get a vibe from some people, that they are just nice people? I get that from them.

On the OTHER side of us, lives a weirdo. One day, she might come across this blog and get offended, but to that I'd like to say, THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU RUN INTO SOMEONE'S MAILBOX AND NEVER APOLOGIZE OR OFFER TO REPAIR IT. They will tell people you're weird and/or trashy, that's what.

I have always gotten a "weirdo -- keep away" vibe from this chick and Husband said I was just being snobby. Um, no. My vibes are dead on, thank you. She has all these strange people staying with her and we are constantly having issues with them. Not to mention they all look like they are on parole.

Yesterday, my normal neighbor came over to see the baby. When she walked in she complimented my home, and this is what happened:

Normal Neighbor: Your house always looks so nice and clean, I don't see how you do it.

Me: I might have just a touch of OCD.

Normal Neighbor: (looks alarmed)

Me: I mean, it's nothing serious. Just a little touch.

It was then that I realized, I probably shouldn't joke about that.

From The Trenches.

Hello. I feel like I am in boot camp.

It's funny how you forget certain things about having an infant, until you have another one, and then you're like ohhhhhh ... yeah. THIS. I forgot about THIS.

Husband and I have been on our own with ONE and TWO since approximately one hour after we came home from the hospital. He will go back to work on Monday, but don't worry -- my mom is coming to help, and then hopefully my mother-in-law. I have an immense fear of being outnumbered and I am taking strides to avoid it until I have at least physically somewhat recovered from birthing a baby. That takes a lot out of you.

I would like to state here that while Husband has gotten on my nerves APLENTY since we have been home, and there has been some yelling (me), and tears (me again), I do appreciate him and everything he has done. I understand that most straight men are somewhat uncomfortable in a domestic type role and taking care of the caretaker in the family probably seems ... odd.

Every day things have gotten a tiny bit better and although I still have a valid fear that ONE is going to haul off and do something absolutely crazy like pick the baby up and carry him up the stairs ... and hide him in a closet ... I do feel confident that one day soon we will be an adjusted family of four.  

Also, I no longer look pregnant. I just look fat.

Unmedicated Childbirth.

Asher, just moments after his arrival.

On September 4, 2011 at 8:24 p.m. I gave birth to our second child.

Asher Rhys Hobbs (otherwise known as TWO) weighed 8 pounds, 1 ounce and was 19 1/4 inches long when he entered the world. Through the grace of God and an awesome support system, I completed this process without medication or interventions of any kind. And yeah ... I'm really, ridiculously proud of myself.

I had been in prodromal labor, or false labor, or "pre-labor," or whatever you want to call it (hell) for weeks. I kept reading about my latest symptoms in my pregnancy and childbirth books and according to the "signs of labor," I should have had TWO several times over before I actually went into labor for real.

I quit working at 37 weeks because I was sure that I would go into labor early -- because of the amount of contractions, etc. -- but the joke was clearly on me. TWO was born a week late. BUT. When it happened, it happened fast. Apparently, that is what takes place when you wait for a baby to come when he's ready. He just pops out. It was very hard on me to be patient and wait on him, but there was no medical reason to induce and I just wanted to do what was best for him. So I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

On Tuesday night, I called my parents because I was sure I was in labor. I had contractions all day and they were increasing in intensity, although they weren't getting closer together. They immediately drove 6 hours from Baton Rouge and of course by the time they arrived my contractions had vanished and we were back to waiting. 

I might have cried a little bit. I felt pathetic.

Luckily they were planning to come for the long Labor Day weekend anyway, but I still felt horrible about them rushing up only to find that there was STILL no baby. Looking back on it, I am so thankful that they were here for those few days before real labor actually began. Husband was working and it was really nice to have someone with me at all times. I needed moral support. I needed to be fed. I needed to be distracted. I needed help with ONE, and I needed to be told over and over and over again that everything was going to work out fine.

Being 41 weeks pregnant is, in my opinion, harder on the mind than it is on the body. I started to truly believe the baby was never going to come, or if he did, that something would be wrong with him. It was emotionally draining to tell people every day that yes -- I was still pregnant. I didn't like feeling like I had to explain why I was still pregnant (the baby wasn't ready yet) because a lot of people seemed confused as to why I would allow myself to go even one day over my due date. I started to question my decisions and my plan to have a natural, unmedicated delivery.

Husband was equally as worn out but in a different way. He was anxious to meet TWO and worried about me, and he was trying to be supportive -- although I know he was sick of being bitched at by a very pregnant lady. At this point I'd been pregnant for almost a year which is a freaking long time to be hormonal. We were both just ready for the baby to get here so we could move forward. He kept assuring me I was doing great, that TWO would be here soon and he was 100% supportive of my plan to go without medication. There were several points where, had he suggested that we just go ahead and schedule an induction, I definitely would have caved. But he never did. He always made me feel like he believed in what I was doing, and even if he didn't understand it, he knew I could DO it.

This is why I love my husband.

I tried to distract myself with ONE's birthday, which was Saturday, September 3. He turned three and it was so much fun. Who wouldn't be distracted by this cuteness?! This is probably the end of the high chair era for him -- it's getting hard to squeeze him in there -- and that kind of makes me sad.

ONE turns three!!

 I felt happy that his special day wasn't disrupted by anything crazy. We celebrated all day and went to bed late. On Sunday, my entire family except for my mother went to a reunion in Gadsden, AL which is about an hour and a half away. My mother didn't go because she wanted to be here if I went into labor. Husband was off work so he was home with me as well.

I woke up in a terrible mood. It was rainy and gross outside, which matched my mood exactly. My mom kept telling me that she felt certain that the baby would arrive before they had to leave the next day, and suggested that we go for a long walk to see if that would get anything started.

Around noon, we went to the mall (again) to walk (again) and by the time we were on our third lap around I knew something was UP. I started having contractions that took my breath away and I said we needed to go home right then. From that point on, things started happening. Time seemed to stop, or maybe it's just that it didn't matter. I was sort of in denial that this could be the real thing, so I pretended nothing was going on. I basically ignored my contractions and puttered around the house for a little while, getting last minute things together while Husband took ONE over to my aunt's house. He said it was just in case this was for real ... my guess is, he could probably tell this was finally it.

When my contractions were 7 minutes apart, I decided to call my doctor. I could still walk and talk through them, they were just like bad menstrual cramps. I wasn't in what I would consider any real pain, so I wasn't planning to rush off to the hospital just yet. But when I spoke with the doctor on call and she learned that this was my second baby and I was already super dilated, she "strongly recommended" that I come in as soon as possible. 

Actually, she asked me if my support people were comfortable delivering babies. And when I laughed, she said "I'm going to need you to come in as soon as you can." So we did.

As soon as Husband came home we got ready to leave. My mom said a prayer with us and then we headed to the hospital. I felt relaxed and oddly comfortable on the way over. Everything looked super clear and crisp, I could hear everything and see everything. I'm sure it was probably from adrenaline, but I remember the hyper-awareness felt strange, like I was on drugs, but I wasn't.

When we arrived at the hospital it was very quiet. It seemed like I might have been the only person in labor that day. The nurses were all so nice and they immediately led us to a large birthing suite which was in a wing off to the side. The "Crazy Lady Wing," as Husband called it. For people who didn't want to be medicated. The room was dimly lit and had the cozy feeling of a bedroom, and it was strange that I still felt relaxed even though we were in a hospital. My nurse was very NORMAL, which is all I wanted ... I had hoped I would get one who was just plain normal, and I did. She checked and found I was at 6 centimeters with a "bulging bag of water" and when I found that out, I was glad we were there and not at my house or in the car.

The doctor on call came in to check me out as well and I instantly took a liking to her. Her name was Dr. Duke and she was youngish; my mom pointed out to me that she reminded her of my friend Kate who is now a doctor. That might have been why I liked her from the beginning. She was very warm and personable and seemed to appreciate what I was doing. She took the time to read over my birth plan. They told me I was free to do whatever I wanted to do, but I couldn't leave the room because they needed to keep a close eye on me. I had no idea that it was possible for things to progress so quickly, but in a really short amount of time I went from feeling okay and walking around the room, to feeling like I HAD TO GET INTO WATER, like right this minute.

Brookwood Medical Center does not allow water births, but they do provide a massive inflatable tub that you can labor in until it's time to push. This apparatus was ... SOMETHING. Had I not been in active labor, I would have thought it was funny. It looked like a gigantic life raft with various handles all over it and a bench built in, if you want to sit on a bench. I did not. I wanted to sit in the middle of it so as much of me as possible could be submerged. They frantically blew it up and filled it with water and it was ready at the exact time that I really needed to get in. 

The warm water was instant pain relief. Honestly, I coped very well with the pain when I was in the tub. When I got out, which I think was only two different times because they needed to monitor me, I was astonished at how much it hurt. It felt like I was being crushed. But as soon as I got back in the water, I could handle it. I started out chatting with Husband between contractions, and he offered to rub my back if I needed him to, but very quickly I got to the point where I didn't want to be touched or talked to at ALL. I went deep into myself and I concentrated on what I was trying to think of as a task.

I expected to start throwing up but I never did. I have vague memories of my mother coming in and out to check on me and I heard her say that we needed to manage my breathing so I didn't hyperventilate. Husband got at eye level with me and made me look at him and breathe with him through each contraction. I wanted to tell him thank you, but I couldn't formulate coherent thoughts. It was such an intense experience. It's like I was unaware of anything except for dealing with what my body was doing. I think Husband put some spa music on at one point, but shortly after that I needed him to hold my hands during the contractions because I just felt like I needed to hang on to someone. I felt like if I didn't, the intensity was going to sweep me away.

Suddenly, I felt like it was time to push. This shocked me because I felt like it was really soon for that. I figured I had just entered transition because I knew that was when it was supposed to get really, really bad. Husband ran into the hallway and yelled for a nurse. They helped me out of the tub and checked me -- and this part is a blur -- but they said it was time to push and I did. Almost involuntarily. It was also around this time that I started coping with the blinding pain by screaming at the top of my lungs. The doctor didn't have all of her gear on in time ... and in 2.5 pushes, he was OUT.

And it was over. As soon as he was out, I felt no pain. I felt exhausted, but I felt exhilarated, like I could have stood up and walked out of the room holding him right then and there. My poor dad was waiting down the hall and he had to listen to me screaming. I didn't expect to be a "screamer," but until you are in that kind of pain there is no way to predict how you will react. I joked with the nurses that I probably scared all of their other patients and they assured me that this happens all the time.

I bet it does, at least in the Crazy Lady Wing.

TWO is perfect and although it was intense, I couldn't have asked for a better delivery. It was over in 3 hours and 2.5 pushes and my recovery has been almost ridiculously easy. Actually, everything has been easy since he was handed to me. Some people thought it was insane that I would want an unmedicated delivery, but it was the best decision I could have made for myself and for TWO. We just got in there and knocked it out.

Recovering

ONE has some adjusting to do, but so far he is being a very sweet big brother. He saves his angst for us, which is fine. We can't believe we are now the parents of two children. It's scary, but I am trying to take it one feeding, one battle, one day, at a time.

  

Three Years.

Three years ago I gave birth to ONE and our lives changed forever.

On his 3rd birthday, tired of posing for pictures.

I thought I wanted a girl. 

The thought of having a boy totally freaked me out, until he was handed to me and everything clicked into place. Suddenly I couldn't imagine him being any different than he was.

He was perfect.

He looks like me. A boy version. Sometimes he also looks like his daddy, like when he is deep in thought, or when he's sleeping.

ONE is lively and loud and so much fun. I never realized that little kids were fun, really. Goes to show how much I knew about children before I had one of my own.

He loves people and music and is curious about everything. I am honored to be his mother, and have the privilege of teaching him about the world.

Happy birthday, ONE. Thank you for making me a better human being every day.

Distraction Time!

No baby yet. In the name of distraction, I thought I would share some things I've purchased recently that make me happy.

I bought this canvas at HomeGoods for $70. I know ... that's kind of a lot of money. At least compared to what I normally spend for house stuff. It wasn't on sale, and that bothered me.

Anyway, I planned to put it in TWO's room, but it was a little much. Once I put it at the top of our stairs, I knew I had to keep it. 

This mirror came from Hobby Lobby, and it WAS on sale. I got it for $50, which was half off. I just love it. It makes me happy. 

What else would make me happy:

1. For this baby to come OUT.
2.  World peace.
3.