A 3's War Story

Soon after delivering her first child a mom realizes that all women who have given birth enjoy sharing their birth story.  Our bodies spend time in battle mode. We are instinctively fighting for our own life and the life of our soon to be child. By the end we have been to war.  It is our war stories that bond us.  We share them every time we see a new baby.  We share them as soon as we hear someone is pregnant.  We share them around bonfires when curious newly weds inquire.  We share them anytime. 

A3's first birthday seems like a perfect time for me to share my war story, and let's be honest when isn't it a perfect time to share your war story...

March 6, 2012
After a stressful day of of giving the ISAT's, I started making dinner for A1 and A2.  Mac was in tech week for a show he was directing, so it was going to be a quiet girl night.  I had to rest a little bit while I made dinner because I would occasionally have contractions, which is to be expected when you are 4 days away from your due date with your 3rd baby.  But I just wasn't ready yet, my goal was to make it until the end of the week.  I still had 4 day until my due date and I had a lot of things to do before I was ready to be a mom of 3.

No matter how long I sat in the recliner the contractions weren't going away and A1 and A2 were starting to get wild.  They decided it would be a perfect time to perform a concert and dance show.  They were wrong.  I called for back up.  I called Caley first.  I didn't want to call my mom because she would tell me I needed to go to the hospital and I didn't want to do that.  I still had 4 days until my due date. 

Caley showed up and so did my mom.  Caley called her on the way to my house, apparently she didn't that I was being reasonable and thought she might need our mom for additional assistance.  They came in the living room, nervous.  They sat on the floor beside the recliner unsure of how to approach the crazy women in denial.  We sat in silence, well as much silence as you can have with a concert and slam dancing going on in the background.  After several contractions my mom convinced me to go to the hospital.  Caley and Crystal agreed to take me.  On the way I decided I would call Mac and let him know where I was going.  I told him not to worry about coming right away and that I would call him when I knew if they were going to keep me.  I knew they wouldn't because I still had 4 days until my due date. 

Mac got to the hospital shortly after we got there.

I sat in triage for and hour. I walked laps for 30 minutes.  The contractions didn't increase.  I was told I was dehydrated and released.  They laughed and said I still had a few days until the baby would be here.  Duh! I still had 4 days until my due date.  On the way home we stopped at the Golden Arches. I felt defeated.  I needed to eat my feelings.

We sent my mom home.  We ate.  We went to bed.  I had to go to work in the morning.  I had ISATs.

All night long I tossed and turned.  My contractions increased in frequency and ferocity.  Mac was timing them. Kind of.  The jury is still out on this discussion.  I know he was sleeping and he swears he was awake the entire time. The snoring was my big clue.

March 7, 2012
I was NOT going back to the hospital.  I wasn't going to go in there and be sent back home again.  At 5:00 I started timing my own contractions.  I was at 3 minutes.  I called my mom.  She and my dad were over in about 7 minutes.  She sat and tried to reason with me.  She timed my contractions.  1 minute apart. She played the mom card and told me I had to go to the hospital.  But I still had 3 days until my due date.

We gave my parents instructions on when and where the girls needed to be and we said our goodbyes.  I was still insisting I would be sent home in an hour. 

We got to the hospital.  I was wheeled passed triage. They took one look at my face and said, "Get her a room." A flood of emotions hit me all at once.  I wasn't going to be going back home that day.  I was about to meet our baby for the first time.  Find out if we were having a boy or a girl.  Figure out how to share our love and time with 3 instead of just 2.  We were about to be out numbered. 

I was examined and told I was only half way there so I would have a lot of time before the baby would be here.  I requested an epidural. After an hour the nurse came in an told me it would be a little bit before I could get my epidural so she offered me something they called the "beer shot." I was told it would make me feel drunk and a little loopy but I would still be aware of what was going on.  My mom taught me manners and it would have been rude to turn them down on that shot. 

I was really glad I took it!  I could still feel every contraction but I didn't care.  I was able to relax for a few minutes.  At 7:45 they came in to break my water.  Nothing had changed since I first got there, except I got my epidural, and I was told it would be a little while longer.  I called my mom and gave her the the update.  No need to hurry it would still be awhile. 

At 8:40 I called the nurse and told her I was feeling a little nauseous.  She came in and handed me something to throw up in if I needed to and left because she has another patient down the hall ready to deliver.  I waited another 15 minutes and called back.  I just wasn't feeling good, at all.  It was probably that McDonald's I ate the night before.  Two nurses came in. Mac left the room. One nurse peaked under the blanket, her suddenly widened eyes met the other nurses.  The 2nd nurse said, "Is that the..." The other nurse bluntly said, "Yes, get the dr here." She then noticed Mac was gone.  She panicked.  She found my cell phone and told me to call him.  I tried to sit up and she yelled, "No! Don't move!" I tried to call him but he didn't answer.  She kept asking, "Where is your husband? When will he be here?"

Mac walked in.  The Dr walked in.  She greeted me. Examined me and said, "Ok here we go.  On the next contraction you are going to push." I braced myself preparing for the pushing. The push was the equivalent of a sneeze and she yelled. "Stop!" The cord was around the baby's neck.

Within seconds the cord was removed. Then I was told to do a small push.

"IT's A GIRL!"

After all the celebrating I overheard my normally calm doctor lecture the nurses for not checking me more and waiting as long as they did to call her.  She reminded them that when a woman is feeling nauseous it is a sign she is ready to deliver.

A few hours had passed when everything finally sunk in... I almost delivered without Mac or the doctor there.  I could have had a major tragedy to deal with but I didn't God had it all under control.  Everything I came in worrying about didn't really matter at all.  I instantly knew it would be possible to love 3.  I knew we would find time to take care of 3. I knew I had a new and wonderful war story to share.

100% Proud

Normally I am embarrassed by A1's bold attempts to correct the wrongs of the world, her fearless need to stand up for what she thinks is right, but last night I was so proud of her!
 
I took her on our one-on-one shopping trip just to run a few errands.  While we waited in line at Michael's a little red headed girl loudly demanded that her mom buy her some candy, as is common with most 7 year olds. The three adults in line behind us also noticed this child.  One of the women in the group said to her friends, "What else would you expect from a Ginger?" Then the rest of the group laughed.
 
I glanced down at A1 hoping she didn't hear these cruel remarks while I bit my tongue trying not to tell these women they were rude and should be ashamed of themselves.  I saw the fury of injustice streak across A1's face.  I had a small twinge in my stomach knowing A1 was not going to bite her tongue...

She turned to the ladies, "My mom says it isn't nice to call someone a Ginger.  You shouldn't make fun of someone for the way they look.  And I think she is pretty." A1 turned around.  The ladies looked a little embarrassed.  The cashier chuckled. 

My face was bright red but I was only 5% embarrassed, mostly because my 6 year old did the right thing while I stood and did nothing.  I was 100% proud of my little human right's activist!

A Trip Down Mammary Lane

As I am counting down the days until I can put the pump away (9!) I realize I have probably spent about 4 and 1/2 years breast feeding.  That is a lot of time spent with the mammaries! A1 lasted 23 months, A2 18 months, A3 is losing interest and patience at 12 months.  I am comfortable about this meal plan choice for my family and I am willing to talk about it with almost anyone who feels so inclined.  I know that the duration of feeding for each child has been a source of uneasiness for many of my friends.  They think I am crazy for lasting longer than 6 months.  I am ok with their uneasiness because they are not me and they really don't have to be comfortable with my choice because it really has no impact on their lives. 

I could go on and on preaching about all the positives; like my kids collectively have only had 2 ear infections or I burn a whole lot of calories sitting, but I won't because that isn't my style.  Besides that, this year hasn't been one for our family to brag about staying healthy. (although, while we were struck with the plague of 2013, A3 only had a minor run in with the illness) Also the fact that I have gained back most of the weight I lost after having A3 won't cause me to brag about burning calories, however my love for the golden arches may have something to do with that little problem...

Instead, I prefer to explain to my naysayers I breast feed for completely selfish reasons.  While nursing a baby I am assured at least 20 minutes of time off my feet.  I never was one to master feeding on the go in one of those wraps, it would be like walking and chewing gum... kind of. In the first month, after having a baby, I permitted myself time to sit and read while I was feeding one of the girls.  It was a great way to take a break every 2 hours or more often on cluster feeding days or when I was reading a really good book. :) As an introvert, I also used nursing as a way to regroup.  I require quiet time, time to myself and let's face it a new baby brings a lot of visitors.  I was able to use my baby (yes, I said it!) as a way to escape.  I could sneak off to my room and feed my baby in peace. 
Even with those self serving reasons I still have another, even greater reason for breast feeding; pure entertainment.  If I hadn't breast fed A2 and A3 I would have missed out on some bits of comedy gold from A1 and A2.  

Of course we have had the typical experiences of the girls "nursing" their dolls or them explaining to anyone who would listen that their sister doesn't drink from a bottle but from a "boobie" instead but we have others that made my face turn red for several minutes.  We have also had some that were simply innocently funny.  My favorite innocent story involved A1. It was really late and A1 was successfully doing her best to stall bedtime.  She curled up next to me, laid her head on my shoulder and asked, "How did the cows get in there?" Totally baffled I asked her what she was talking about.  She looked at me like I was from another planet and with the slightest hint of teenage attitude she said, "In your boobies.  How did a cow get in your boobies to make milk?" As hard as I tried not to laugh in order to protect her feelings, I couldn't stop the snorts, the tears, or the violent shoulder shakes.
   
A2's approach on the subject is a little bit more bold.  Last week when she went with me to musical rehearsal she was sitting with a group of high school boys and a male teacher and she yelled across the gym, "Mom can I use your boobie thing, you know that boobie cream?" The boys scattered, especially when I answered her like it was a completely normal question.  Which it was, because I use lanolin on the girls when their lips are chapped. I did talk to her on the way home about appropriate things to say but I am not sure that I was able to drive the point home since I snorted from laughter a few times. 

In the collective four and a half years that I have spent nursing the girls, I know that I have felt tied down and stuck at home at times. I have missed out on weekends away with friends.  I have stayed home instead of going out with friends.  I have opted for birthdays, NYE's, and St. Patrick's days to be at home.  I have eliminated certain foods from my diet.  Even with all the things I have had to sacrifice, I wouldn't want to give up any of the funny moments, the learning experiences, or the memories.

On to the next chapter...

Worry

For as long as I can remember I have been a worrier.  I have this unique talent to be able to worry about things that a normal person hasn't even heard of.  I can remember laying in bed at night in forth grade sobbing because I was convinced we were going to blow up in a nuclear bomb attack after reading a book I took home from the school library.  I am not one to support banning books but why in the world was this book in an elementary library and why on Earth was I allowed to read it?  I had to go back to sleeping with my closet light on because, as we all know, a closet light will save you from a nuclear bomb. 
This extreme worry was followed by me being convinced that I was going to die from AIDS.  As luck would have it I hadn't had any blood transfusions; nor was I a ten year old sexually active intravenous drug user.  I can still remember my mom sitting at the end of my bed, the room lit up with the soft glow of my closet light reflecting off the innocent pepto-pink walls talking to me about the ways people got AIDS and that I was not at risk. She even brought in a pamphlet. 
This worrying still haunts me today.  I am just able to control it. Kind of. 
I shouldn't be surprised that A1 is a worrier, should I? I should be more understanding.  I should be able to worry with her.  BUT I CAN'T!  Her constant worrying drives me insane!  She worries about whether or not the plastic toys in our house are poisonous (they probably are).  She worries that the toys made in China have lead paint (thanks, Mom). She worries that her ceiling fan will fall on her at night (my guess is that it would miss her and hit A2).  She worries that one day a bad guy will break in a steal stuff (could, but this would be the wrong house to hit).  She worries that we will be late everywhere we go (we are).  She worries that she will get sick after touching buttons in an elevator (but that doesn't stop her or her sister from fighting over who gets to push the elevator buttons).  And the list goes on and on and on and on!
Now that I think about these are all things I have at one time or another worried about.  Actually these are all things MY MOM has worried about... Now I am worried that I am turning into my mom and A1 is turning into me. 

Good luck A1!

And I will always let you sleep with the closet light on without questioning it! 

 

 

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding Proverbs 3:5 NIV

 

History Does Repeat Itself

Today A2 had an intense phone conversation with her imaginary BFF Corliuos (I am not really sure how to spell it but this is how it sounds...).  I overheard A2 saying:

"Hey... Why would you say my mom is ugly? No. No she isn't THAT ugly. You really aren't very nice. Why do you think my mom is selfish? She isn't THAT selfish. No you are a jerk. My mom isn't. You really aren't very nice."

 

She hung up her phone, noticing I was watching and said "Some people are just rude." 

 

I wasn't sure if I should be offended that she created this story or proud that she defended me to the evil little Corliuos, whom A2 is not allowed to play with for at least one week. This short conversation reminded me of another phone call I overheard a few years ago.  Rewind to November 28, 2010 to my facebook status:

I just finished loudly reminding A1 for the 3rd time to put her toys away. I heard her say into her plastic cell phone, "Sorry about all that yelling Ali, my mom is all over me to put my stuff away. (pause) "yeah I know." Then she laughed. I really want to know what Ali said about me.

 

It seems that both girls use their phones and their imaginary friends to passive aggressively attack me.  This teen-age preview is a glimpse into my future helping to prepare me for my future of having 3 teenage girls whose names all happen to start with A.

 

 

 

The A team November 2010 

Car Smells

After taking in a loud and dramatic sniff of the air A2 said, "Mommy your car smells guilty."

Hmmm... I'm not really sure how to take that.  Spoiled milk, sure I would understand that one.  Sweaty feet of a talkative 3 year old, yep I can smell that.  Perhaps she equated that the strange aroma from the old, yet edible in-case-of-an-emergency, French fries from my not-so-secret favorite restaurant with the guilt I SHOULD be feeling for allowing her to eat there. 

A2 just might be on to something. I decided to question her about the oders in other peoples' cars.

Daddy's car: "Angry, or maybe it is coffee, yes I think it is coffee"
Nana's car: "Happy and clean"
Aunt Caley's car: "Silly cupcakes"
Connor's car: "Peter Pan and love"
Julie's car: "Kids"

After hearing her analysis of the other cars I have decided that she is most likely right, my car probably does smell guilty.  Her new personality test based on the smell of your car is almost 100% accurate...
 

How do I do it?

We are getting ready to start another crazy week here for the A team.  At least once a week I have someone say, "How do you do it?" or "How in the world can you work a full time job and raise 3 girls?" or some other similar comment.  I figured I should share my secrets...

1. Stay organized.
2. Let things go.
3. It is a team effort.

I spend most of the weekend prepping for the next week.  We have a schedule board that we write on so we can keep track of who is going where and when.  I found the idea on Pinterest.  I figured if it was pretty I would use it.

 

I also plan all our meals for the week.  I get as much done as I can on Sunday so all I have to do is pop it in the oven after work.  This week we will be having chili, pot roast, meatloaf, crock pot chicken, and PIZZA.  I also have food precooked for breakfast.  Once a month I cook and freeze enough breakfast burritos to last for four weeks.  Since A1 and I take a lunch I have started premaking PB&Js on Sunday night.  We make enough for the entire week and freeze them.  It is nice in the morning to just have to grab a sandwich and throw it in a lunch bag!

 

The biggest help has been planning the girls' outfits for the week.  I pick out five outfits and lay them out the girls tell me which day of the week they want to wear each outfit.  After the decisions have been made the clothes go in to the hanging organizer and we stick with it, no changing our minds. :)

Since we have started doing this we have fewer fights in the morning.  A2 still complains that things don't "feel" right but we are able to work through it without temper tantrums. 

 

 This is what they are wearing this week.

 

 



  We also have a schedule we stick to every night.  From the time we all get home we work from our schedule.  Snack, homework, play, dinner, dance (2 days) play, bath, read, brush teeth, bed. This schedule is something our girls need. They really seem to function better with a routine. Sometimes during the summer I get lazy and we get off our schedule and then life really takes a turn for the crazy!

Now even with all this organization things will happen and I have to let things go.  I have to be ready to alter my plans and to be ok with it.  Last week I planned on making hot ham and cheese sandwiches only to find mold on the Hawaiian rolls.  BOO! I ended up subbing in the next nights dinner and later when Mac had to leave for a meeting he stopped by the grocery store and got new rolls for the following night.  Also I wasn't smart enough to check the weather forecast when I planned outfits.  I figured it was safe to say it would be cold in January in central Illinois.  Wrong.  By the end of the week it was 60*s. I had to do some minor subbing in clothing; a long sleeved t-shirt instead of a heavier thermal shirt.  As luck would have it we are back in the 30's this week so I just threw that shirt back in the rotation. Can't sweat the changes, just adapt and go with it.


I absolutely don't do all of this by myself! Mac has been known to jump in and make all the PB&J sandwiches or brown the hamburger meat when I need extra hands in the kitchen.  I also have a great team that works together to help out with the girls.  We have the best babysitter, J!  She has been a major part of our lives since A1 was 5 months old.  She is an amazing lady that would do anything to help us.  And I do mean ANYTHING! When A1 was about 18 months old we were all plagued with a horrible stomach virus.  As if that wasn't enough our basement als flooded and we couldn't do any laundry.  Without asking her, our J came over bagged some of A1's sheets, blankets, and sleepers and took them to her house to wash them.  She returned them a few hours later with some food.  She really is an amazing person and I am happy she has the chance to influence my girls!

Not only do we have J in our lives but we also have tons of friends and family who jump in and help any way they can.  When I was 8 months pregnant with A3 Mac was working on a show and I had a group of friends who took turns coming over to my house at night to help with the other 2 girls. This was an amazing gift!

How do I do it? With a lot of planning, praying, and friends.  Oh and laughing, laughing helps too!