The moment you know you're a veteran mom...

Wow. Long time. I'm just not good at this blogging thing, I have to admit. It's not for me. So, I post VERY infrequently. I could never make this my "job." I'd fail miserably. I'd fire me.

Anyway, I was reading another blog today where a mother (just had her first about 4 months ago) was talking about how she has yet to have her first horrifying moment with her son. I thought, "hmmm...nothing really horrifies me anymore."

Then I thought about the moment when I knew I was an "old hat" in many ways.

With my first, anytime he pooped in public, I felt like it was an emergent situation. I had to fix it IMMEDIATELY.

With my second, just a few weeks ago, I knew he was dirty, but we were buying a new car, his diaper bag was in my husband's care parked about a quarter mile away, and I thought "we can wait a minute." Well, it was more than a minute. And it got BAD. So I finally had to excuse myself to go change him. I left Ben to deal with the salesman (this may or may not have been a self preservation move. I hate car salesmen). And off we went.

We were not 20 steps out the door when I felt it. Warm, gooshy, and STINKY. All over my left arm. An explosion had officially happened. I looked at my arm and, sure enough, there was a PILE about an inch and a half deep and 4 inches long on my forearm. And it was not solid.

What does a veteran mom do? Hold the baby with the other hand and flick the offending pile off the arm, then move on. I didn't even miss a step. That was when I knew. I was that mom in the commercial, comfortable enough in my abilities to handle even the grossest situation in public without batting an eye.

Go me.

Stupid Dogs

Monkey, our big boy, is accident prone. He just is. He's 2, he's energetic, he's not *completely* in control of his body 100% of the time. So he gets bumps and bruises, as most 2 year olds do. My answer to this is the Boo Boo Birdie. I found the pattern at Just Another Hang Up, and make them for Monkey. He loves them. They look like this:

Unfortunately so do the dogs. They smell the rice and then go all tazmanian devil and destroy them. I have made no fewer than 6 of these, and all of them have been destroyed (Granted, one was because Finn threw one in a toilet full of ick, and you know I wasn't about to clean it, but still).

*Sigh* Looks like I'll be at the sewing machine again tonight, making another one (or three). Maybe one will survive.

On a positive note, I successfully made swim trunks for the baby. And I have enough fabric left over for trunks for Finn, and matching hats for both. Is that too much? :)

Laundry Room Redo.

I hate my laundry room in this house. While it has enough space for everything, there are a few problems.

1-I house my crafting stuff in there. And it's a LOT of stuff. It takes up 3/4 of my above-machine shelf space and not in an attractive way. I'm thinking that most of that (with the exception of my sewing machine and sewing bag) are about to be relocated.

2-The above-mentioned shelf is way too high, but since we're in on-post housing that's just something I have to deal with. I would love it to be about a foot lower, but that's life.

3-The laundry room is also home to a pantry and multi-tasks as a mudroom and dog kennel. I have to find a way to make this work better (aka function as all 3 without driving me insane).

So I have some ideas for the space. And I'm going to make it happen, with or without help. Because I can't do it anymore. Hopefully I find a way to make the space function better, look good, and not DRIVE ME CRAZY!!!

My Eldest is a Rock Star

I was so worried bringing Ian home that Finn would react poorly. Either he would want nothing to do with his new baby brother or he would act out in anger...worst of all against the precious new baby that I was bringing into our home.

I also felt guilty. Guilty that I was not going to be able to spend as much time with my first born, that he would feel "replaced," and that I was upsetting his little life in a major way, and one he did not ask for or even think about.

Boy did he prove me wrong. He is a ROCK STAR.

Not only is he a wonderful big brother, constantly trying to "fix it" when Ian cries (paci, blanket, etc), but he has grown up a lot. He has always been a great independent player (something I feel I take advantage of way too much), but since Ian needs my attention a lot more than Finn does, at least at the moment, I notice it a lot more. As I type this, I'm lying on the couch with Ian asleep on my chest, and Finn is coloring quite contently at the coffee table next to me.

I am constantly talking to him about what he is doing...what color he is using, reminding him to put the cap back on the *washable* marker, etc. And he is still not talking as much as I would like. BUT...my sister was right. he is talking more now that the baby is here.

And he has adjusted SO well that I'm not feeling nearly as stressed as a new mom of 2 as I thought I would.

I am thankful for my smart, funny, handsome, helpful first born. Because right now, he is my hero. Thank you, son, for being so perfect.

Ian Patrick (Peanut) Is Here!

It's been a busy few weeks here. I had my last week of work, welcomed my mother in law here to help with Monkey, and, well...

WE HAD A BABY!!!

I was due February 12. On Feb 11 I went in to see my Dr. because I had a headache that I couldn't shake. It had been 24 hours and nothing was working...not good. Sign of pre-eclampsia not good. So he checked me and I was at a 5...which is where I had been for about a week. No progress. We set an induction date of  February 13, purely because between my moderately high blood pressure, headache, and  swelling in my ankles I WAS DONE. Plus my Dr was leaving on February 14 for a week-long cruise, and he wanted to deliver the new baby.

So, at 6am on February 13, 2013, in we went. By the time I was admitted, checked out, and hooked up to everything, it was 8am. And we started pitocin. With Finn, pitocin did nothing. We're talking I slept all day without feeling a thing. Not so much this time. Since I was already at a 5, we decided to place my epidural and put it at a very low level, just so that should things progress quickly we could turn it up and have it be effective and offer relief. Since I delivered at a different hospital this time, it was a different experience. Instead of hunching over a pillow and hoping that I remained still, the nurses brought in what looked like a massage chair, complete with face hole. It was awesome and made things so much easier.

Then, we waited. And waited. I was feeling the pressure of contractions, but no real pain. By 2:30 pm I asked for the epi to be turned up...I was uncomfortable. Not really in severe severe pain, since I already had some pain meds coursing through me, but I wanted a bit more. Then the Dr came in to check me...a 6. And as he was checking me...my water broke. From there, things moved quickly. Within an hour I was fully dilated and "ready," but the nurse had me sit up in the bed (the foot of the bed moved down, so it was like sitting in a chair). That lasted for about 30 minutes or so. Then in came Dr again and away we went!

In looking at my discharge papers, the breakdown was: 8 hours of stage 1 labor (aka waiting for me to dilate and for my body to do it's job). 1 hour of stage 2 labor (aka active contractions that I felt) and 6 MINUTES of stage 3 labor...aka pushing. That's right. I got this kid out in 6 minutes. I remember at one point the Dr saying "OK, stop pushing for a second." All I said was "I'm not pushing."  Ian was coming whether we helped him or not!

And he bit the Dr. We're talking, Dr is trying to get all the gunk out of his mouth and my son clamped down and wouldn't let go. Great. I have a biter on my hands.

We are so happy that it was an easy, uneventful pregnancy, labor, and delivery. After everything I went through with Finn, I was so nervous about this one, thinking that I would have do do all of the high risk appointments, multiple daily medications, etc. again. Not so. This pregnancy and delivery made me think "I could do this again." I'm the first to admit that I DO NOT LIKE being pregnant. I'm pretty close to hating being pregnant. But that special little baby in your arms at the end of it...that makes it more worth it that I can even describe.

We're all doing well. Big Brother LOVES his new baby. Finn is constantly looking at him, kissing him, and trying to feed him or warm him up with a blanket. We're going to have to curb his need to try and hold the baby though. Whenever Ian cries, Finn's first instinct is to pick him up and make him feel better. While I love that...the 2 year old picking up the newborn is not the best course of action. Our family is complete...we think. Of course, give us a couple of years. We could change our minds.

Why I Have a Love/Hate Relationship With Organizing Blogs.

I love organizing blogs. I love the theory behind organizing as well as the great feeling I get when something has been successfully organized and LOOKS good.

I hate that no matter how hard I try, my drawers/closets NEVER look like this:

This is from the blog iHeartOrganizing. I'm addicted

Rather, I attempt that lovely organization and ten real life hits. It really ends up looking like a classic Pinterest fail. The cords won't stay wrapped, and I have WAY more small odds and ends than any of the organizing pros seem to have. Plus...well, a husband and a 2-year-old. They tend to quickly undo any organizing I try to do. 

My biggest organizing enemy? The sheer amount of crap we have. It's ridiculous. Both Ben and I have trouble getting rid of things "just in case" we need them later. We are I am constantly trying to get rid of things or find homes for things, and it's an epic fail.

Maybe when baby #2 gets a bit older and I can sell all of the baby crap we have, I'll have a fighting chance. Until then, it's an uphill battle that I am DEFINITELY losing.

Stick a Fork in Me, I'm DONE!

OK baby boy #2, you are welcome to make your entrance any day. Although I'm not willing to try anything to make him come early, I would not be disappointed if he decided to come now. Or yesterday.

It's no secret to those who know me that I don't enjoy pregnancy. I don't feel like I'm glowing, and I'm not one of those women who would be pregnant ALL THE TIME if I could. I'll just take the baby, thank you. I love the baby part. The pregnancy part...while it's fascinating and all, it's just not my cup of tea.

Don't get me wrong, I'm very thankful to be able to have a successful pregnancy. After being told that I may never be able to have biological children, being at the tail end of my second pregnancy is truly amazing to me.  I love that the Dr was wrong, and soon I will have not one but TWO healthy baby boys to call my own. If you have been reading for a while, you know that we were in the process of filling out adoption paperwork when we found out that Finn was on his way.

But this second time around has been harder on me than the first time was. I'm more tired, I'm swollen, I'm achy...and I'm chasing an almost-2-year old around. Throw in that I've finally started working full time, and I just don't have anything left. Thankfully Finn is a GREAT independent player, and lets me rest with my feet up a lot to reduce this AWFUL, PAINFUL swelling that I've encountered in the third trimester. Seriously, my feet look like the Elephant Man. It's gross.

So, #2...we're waiting. Ready, willing, and waiting to get this show on the road and welcome you home. Even if big brother still has no idea that you're on your way. We're ready.