Crafts and Fun

Ornaments:
Today we woke up and decided to spend the day celebrating the Advent season by making some Christmas-y things. At 6:15 am we prepared some salt dough (3 cups flour, 1cup salt, 1 cup water, 2 tbsp oil). I had intentions of doing it last night so the boring part would be done with before the kids woke up, but I somehow was distracted by the TV and before I knew it, it was past my bedtime. We started and while I kneaded the dough, I sent the boys on a search through the play dough supplies to find Christmas cookie cutters. We rolled out our dough and cut out about a dozen and a half trees, candy canes, stars, stockings, gingerbread men, and bells. Then we stuck them in the oven at 7 am for 2 1/2 hours at 150 degrees. All the moisture has to be out or else they will break and make people cry...yes, I know this from previous experience.

Florida kids' "Snow":
While we waited for the ornaments to dry/cook/harden we decided to try out some "fluffy stuff" I saw on Pinterest. It's 1 can of shaving cream (I used the 99 cent foam stuff) and 2 boxes of cornstarch. The result is a soft, moldable substance. Judging from the delighted squeals coming from the children it was a (messy) success. I couldn't get photos of the whole ordeal because I was too busy having fun and covered in white powdery mess. This turned out well; I intend to do it again for a rainy day. Did I mention it was a bit messy..?

Craft:
Finally the ornaments were satisfactorily dried out and we brought all of our supplies out to the driveway. Paints, glitter, brushes, water, and many paper towels. I did not help them decorate their ornaments so that they are genuinely the kids' own; they have finished painting their ornaments, sprinkling them with glitter, and mod podging them, and are waiting for them to dry. Now we are hopefully going to bake some giant chocolate chip cookies to bag up in cute reindeer and Santa gift bags. I printed a template last year from the FamilyFun website. They will be our gifts to our sweet neighbors whom care for our kitties when we are gone throughout the year, and a few other friends.
I will post pics later with the finished product. :)

Today may also be a day we are trying to see how many baths kids can take in one day. Oh, it's not even noon yet! ;)

Stroll Around the Block

The weather has been nothing short of beautiful; the two glorious weeks of nice weather in between Summer and Winter (known as "Fall" to most people) is my favorite time of year.  Something happens to me-energy reserves are tapped into, I discover renewed motivation and things seem...better.

We walk a lot during the nice weather.  We live in a subdivision; if we walk aaalllll the way around the "block" it equals one mile.  We look at bugs, cracks in the road, and the houses.  The kids pick up sticks that are in the shape of guns.  We talk about things going on in our lives.  I usually think we are having a deep, meaningful conversation, one which they will look back on in adulthood with gratitude and appreciation.  Then somebody farts and the conversation breaks down into shrieks of delight and a 10 minute digression about all things fart-related.  

The other day I decided the kids and I could really use one of our walks to escape the grouchies.  So we stuck the baby into the stroller and set out.  Due to an unfortunate combination of being Floridians and genetics, the older children opted against wearing shoes.  A decision that would cost us two minutes of plucking stickers from their feet shortly after leaving the house.  We were admiring the neighbors' Halloween decorations and discussing our upcoming trip to Orlando when we came up to a squashed snake.  We had to examine it's disgusting remains for what seemed like an eternity before moving along.  I can only stare at fly-infested snake guts for so long so it seemed like an ideal time to sneak a peek at my phone.  

The snake's novelty eventually faded, and I tucked my phone away.  We made our way down the third street of our walk.  Just as we approached the point to turn onto our street I realized my phone was gone.  No!  Nooooooo.

Sigh.  I debated how badly I wanted an upgrade anyway with how many un-backed up photos and ultimately chose to turn around to find it.  Right as we turned around the baby decided that precise moment was as good as any to relieve himself of the poop he'd been saving up for two days.  He is not fond of hanging around in dirty diapers so he immediately started fussing.  I picked him up.  Let's just say: blowout.  All you moms know what that means without me giving lovely details.  This was bad.

I had to push the stroller while holding a crying, fat, poop-covered baby.  The school buses were apparently making their stops too because we were literally run off the road by a lunatic driver.  We made it all the way back 3/4 of a mile to the snake carcass, and no phone.  At that point, we had back-tracked so far that it made more sense to keep going in that direction to make it home.

Finally, I could see our house.  Home, sweet relief, HOME!  I made it into the house, slumped on the floor, and pried my wet-from-sweating pants off.  I cleaned the baby and fixed him up.  Our air-conditioner is broken so I stood in front of the fan in my bedroom and waited until I regained some feeling other than burning muscles in my left arm.  Yes, where I live a "cool Fall day" is still 87 degrees plus 90% humidity.  Still drenched in sweat, hair frizzed out in every direction, and poop on me,  I went out to the living room where the kitchen door is in full, plain view.  The kids were so thoughtful and opened the door for the yard man.  That's right-rewind a bit to the part where I had to peel my clothes off because I was so stinking hot.  That's right-there is no part about me putting new bottoms on.  Other than not being able to ever look the yard guy in the eyes again, I'm fine.

I am trying to make a habit of asking the kids questions just to hear their answers; the hard part is remembering to write it down!

The other day I asked Patrick and Luke (daughter was away at a sleepover): "If you could fly, where would you go?"  After a moment of consideration my answer was, "I'd fly around everywhere so I could see what stuff looks like from up high".  I thought it was a pretty good answer.

Luke decided he would go to "outer space" so he could "touch stars and see the moon up close".
Patrick answered right away, without appearing to even give any thought, "NEVERLAND."

Baby #4: Birth Story (Finally!)

Wow, I have neglected my poor blog...
I have grandiose plans of staying up after the kids go to sleep and getting massive amounts of stuff done.  Reality is that the new kiddo stays up till about 10 and by that time all I want to do is crawl into my bed and sleep for a few measly hours before I am up and at 'em, back to work.

I have to admit: number 4 has by far been the easiest adjustment.  He is a mellow little guy, goes with the flow.  I want to get my birth story out before I forget it completely, so here it is.
A word of caution-If you cannot handle birth stories and the details that go along with them this blog entry is not for you and you should go ahead and move on NOW.   :)

My official "due date"-I hate that word-was March 19th.  I knew the entire time I would go passed that as all of my babies were quite comfy and waited.  I really, really wanted March 27th as the birthdate (basically, because all of my boys would have a "7" in their birthdays, and also I like odd numbers, and that day was a Tuesday, and the other kids were all born on Tuesdays...yeah, I know...).  So I decided to have the baby that day.  Much like my third pregnancy, I spent the latter months in a bit of pain, discomfort, but overall good spirits and complication-free.  I opted to be "surprised" and not find out if we were adding a boy or girl, but deep down I felt he was a "he".  (Psst! I was right!)

On Sunday, March 26, I somehow willed my mammoth proportions out of bed after a horrible night of "sleep".  I got maybe 4-5 (non-consecutive) hours, but I figured I'd just go to bed early that night and go into labor the next day.  That did not happen.  I was starting to get the kids ready for bed that evening, and noticed I was having my usual Braxton Hicks contractions.  By the time the kids were in bed it was around 7 pm and I decided to sit down and see if the contractions were going to turn into the real deal.  They did, and I let my friend (we'll call her Sussie, heh) know that things were happening so she could be prepared to come over when it was time.  I called her around 10 pm and told her I didn't think the baby was coming yet, but maybe she could come just to make sure she and the kids (her 3 kids) settled in for the night, and also for the labor support.

I also called the midwife to give her a heads-up; she ridiculously told me to "get some rest".  Oh, sure, lady I'll just go fall into a deep sleep and ignore the raging adrenaline and more-than-mild contractions...no prob!  Needless to say, there was no way to rest.  I called her back at my hubby's insistence because the contractions were picking up.  Not being my first rodeo I knew it was too early to call, but he is a typical man and was panicking at the possibility-no matter how remote-of having to deliver a baby alone.  So I made the call (I felt silly) and she began the hour process of gathering the other midwives and driving to our home.

Sussie beat the midwives here of course, and I think I remember sparing a wave to her sweet children before retreating to my happy place in my mind where no one was around but myself.  I'm not sure what happened to the kids, but apparently they made themselves scarce/went to sleep, because the next thing I knew Sussie was rubbing my back and we were chatting a little between pains.  When the entourage (two calm midwives and a sweet barely-English-speaking student) arrived, they set up their tray of supplies, dumped pillows and blankets on the couch, checked me out, and generally made themselves at home while I labored in various places on my living room floor.  (If you haven't gathered by now, I had a planned homebirth).

At some point in the middle of the night all of my support fell asleep (thanks, y'all! haha), and I roamed around the house I suppose, searching for some magical location to make my pain disappear.  Once, I noticed I had somehow wound up in my bedroom, with the footrest from my rocking chair as a support.    Sussie was asleep in a heap next to me; she must have looked for me and once I was found my breathing put her to sleep again..?  Sometime after that I realized the contractions were painful enough to warrant waking someone up, and I crawled-literally-back to the living room.  It looked like a weird sleep-over; grown women scattered on the floor and couch snuggled in blankies.

I opted to wake the student and right as I was about to cling to her for dear life she opened her eyes and realized I needed support.  Over the course of the next 5-10 minutes everyone woke up and checked on me; I think it was around 5:30 am.  I have no idea when the six children woke up, but I do remember seeing some of them running around and peering in on me occasionally throughout the morning.  I wound up on the back patio in and out of the hot tub.  I knew it was early morning because of the sunlight.  I also know that is the point when the labor was intensifying (those familiar with birth would call it "transition" ;) ), and all modesty flew out the window.  I could not care less what I looked like, how naked I was, or who saw what.  It was completely up to the helpers to get me from place to place. The pain was very bad and I felt that I was ready to deliver.  From my past experiences I realized that delivery was imminent, so despite the overwhelming pain I told myself it would be over shortly.  The baby felt otherwise apparently...little did I know that I would stay like this for hours.

I had no idea where I would wind up for the big moment.  I had visualized every place from outside (hot tub area) to the living room floor.  I did not think I wanted to have him in my bed.  I know...sounds weird.  It honestly never showed up in my forethoughts.  I did wind up in my bedroom, however-on the floor, in the bathroom, and lastly, on the bed.  I kept shooing everyone away, trying to get myself together-yes, even during childbirth I need to be in control of myself, haha.  I spent so much time in the bathroom, moving between the shower and the toilet.  The women tried to help-they must have switched my position 539 times and someone started praying, as if that would force me to come to my senses and get the baby out.  Eventually, they gave up.  I felt the change in the atmosphere.

I knew my time to get this baby out was limited at this point, and began to panic that I would be transferred to the hospital.  The midwives left me alone in my bed around lunchtime while they ate lunch in the kitchen.  I was exhausted.  No sleep combined with a second sleepless night due to hard labor left little energy to help the baby down.  He was ready, my body was ready.  I was too tired.  Instinctively I knew that they were debating transfer during my "alone time" so I mentally prepared myself for delivery, and when they returned to the room I told the lead midwife I did not want to go to the hospital, and I COULD do this.  I tried.  I failed.  Baby was not coming.  I remember telling someone I thought I'd do better on the bed so they hoisted my huge, exhausted body onto the bed and I made a mental note how ironic it was that I had wanted a homebirth in part for the freedom and there I was making a last-ditch effort by assuming a traditional hospital birth position.

Immediately I knew this would work.  Sussie got behind me and held under my arms while I leaned back onto her, and the midwives stayed down at the important end.  After a few minutes I asked for a pillow under my lower back/bottom and I felt my baby FINALLY come down. YAY!  I stopped fretting about not being able to move him and focused on the miracle of childbirth.  After a while of pushing and many cheers and encouragement from all of the ladies, we called for my husband and the children.  My small bedroom was packed with kids-they were on the bed with me, on top of dressers vying for a good viewing spot, and at the foot and sides of the bed.  It was awesome; the baby was out, on my chest...he didn't cry as he took his first breath in front of his family.  He was actually really cute (no, really!), and he did eventually let out some cries.  After a while the midwives cleaned him up and left us alone while they did their midwifey thing (cleaning, load of laundry, inspecting and wrapping the placenta for us to freeze, etc).

We all took turns holding him and then we got his stats:
9 pounds, 8 oz and 22 1/2 inches.  Born at 1:17 pm on Tuesday...just like I'd planned.  ;)
He remained nameless for about three or four days, and then I decided that Joseph was perfect.  After three boys it was about time to honor Saint Joseph.

On Joseph's 2-week birthday we planted a satsuma (really yummy tangerine tree in our yard with the placenta.

-"Every precious gift comes from above" - James 1:17
Thank you, Lord, for Joseph. :)
  

If You're Not a Gator...Your Gator Bait!

Yesterday since the hubs was off work we decided to bring some lunch to the playground we frequent and spend some time together.  After we enjoyed lunch and played for a bit we headed over to the edge of the playground and walked around while the kids inspected sticks, rocks, and bugs.  They destroyed a couple of ant hills and watched the chaos ensue.  Eventually we made our way to the other side of the parking lot (which is not far from where we started by any means).

Hubby and I were chatting and watching the kids as they ran around the water.  Luke spotted a bird in the grass, wings spread open and sun-bathing.  He ran to try to capture it (yes, he honestly believes he will catch the things he goes after).  Sarah was climbing on a fence, and Patrick started running laps around the water, which is exactly what he always does.  In fact, the three usually have races around the water.

This time, as Patrick was running I saw him looking rather happy...then confused as he slowed to a jog...then wide-eyed as he came to a stop...then he turned around and ran back towards me.  Then in an alarmingly non-chalant way, my son shouts to me as he is running at full-speed, "Alligator."  My husband-at the EXACT same moment- said in an equally blase tone, "Oh, that's an alligator."

HELLO!?  Yes, we are desensitized to alligators because we are from Florida, but Come. On.  Patrick was literally within farting distance of that gator.  If not urgency, then at least a little pep in your voices, please.

Naturally I had to see for myself, and sure enough-alligator.  I really wish I had a way of conducting an informal poll...I'm curious to see how many others this has happened to.  You know, playing at the local playground and-whoops-stumble across an alligator.

Why I Do Not Bank at Bank of America

I am not a Bank of America customer.  Earlier this year we cashed some old savings bonds at one of their banks and I don't recall receiving a 1099 for our taxes so I had to call the branch to ask for guidance.  They gave me the 800 number to call.  My phone now says "29:13"...and counting.

So to benefit anyone else whom may find themselves on the crooked-neck side of the "hold" button, I decided to do a public service and compile a list.

Things to do While on Hold With Bank of America (...or Anyone Else)

• File your nails.  Actually-go ahead and give yourself a full-blown manicure...you'll have time.
• Sort through your junk mail.  Stand back.  Admire your work.
• Pay bills
• Write thank you notes that you've been meaning to get to, but never seem to find the time
• Clean the bathroom.  This is especially nice if you have boys...or just one very shy, extremely modest boy whom freaks out if his sister opens the door on him while he's peeing.  Cause then he will panic, causing the stream of urine to shoot all over the wall, into the garbage can, and flood the floor surrounding the toilet.   
• Write a blog post

If you feel you have been productive enough and your house has been straightened up, or if you simply have a life outside of waiting for Bank of America to answer your damn call, then I have the secret to getting a REAL, LIVE person to answer!  Just send $10 to the address below and I will share this secret with you!

Just kidding-I will divulge for free.  The only way to ever speak to a person and be taken off hold is to yell loudly at your children.  Don't fret-if it doesn't work immediately, just get more loud and sprinkle a profanity in there somewhere.  A service representative really WILL be with you if you follow my directions.  And then when they finally pick up you will not only look like a maniac, but also like a dementia patient because you've been on hold so freakin long you forgot what you were calling about in the first place.

Good luck and happy holding!   

(...43:17...)

Say "Cheese"!

Why does my friend text me asking for a photo of my kids at the exact moment they are literally covered in peanut butter and marker?  God is mocking me for not caring enough to ensure my children do not draw on themselves or eat peanut butter out of the jar with their bare hands.  Yes, it is one of those days.  And then people want me to send pictures.  So I'm scrounging through my old photos trying to come up with a decent group shot to send and...nothing.  Not ONE single picture of all of the kids looking clean, put together, happy. Either someone is about to fight, is dirty, or eyes are shut.

I glanced at the walls trying to find a family portrait.  None.  None since our third was born. I am currently looking up the portrait studios' phone number to book an appointment.

One picture of dirty, colorful kids coming right up...

Oh, Baby!

Since I have pretty much neglected my newest belly buddy I have decided to dedicate a few posts to baby...

Here I am, in the third trimester.  The holiday season is such a busy time that I told myself I would get my affairs in order "after Christmas".  Unfortunately it is now "after Christmas" and I am running low on time.  As in I have two months...60 days...8 weeks...YIKES.

I have yet to order my birth supplies (a homebirth requires ordering things such as lancets, umbilical ties, gloves, etc), nor have I dusted off the tiny baby clothes.  Also on my to-do list: organize photos, transfer videos from the handicam to DVDs, some MAJOR nesting cleaning, and plan a birthday party for my (current) youngest.

Yes, I have done this before.  I know the sentiments of mothers everywhere that the cleaning can wait.  Blah, blah, blah.  I need this stuff done.  I don't want to wait another two years to have time to do it because meanwhile there will be more and more piling up.  I'd really love to have a fresh start, and then in two years have just a fraction of the to-do list.  See?

Yep, these posts are mostly for me.  Getting my thoughts out and "on paper" so to speak will help me get crap done.  One of my biggest obstacles is that even though my kiddos hit the hay by 7:30 every night, I am too tired to be productive.  I literally just want to sit around, eat some bad food, watch some equally bad TV, and go to sleep myself.  If I could just muster up the energy after they go to bed to accomplish something on my list I'd be okay...but NOOOO.  So starting tonight I think I will dedicate an hour to baby preparations each night.  No, really...I will!

Back to the original statement: I have not properly blogged about this baby!  Partly because I am too busy with the rest of my life, and partly because time just ticks by unrelentingly.  But I am finally ready to let new baby take over my life.  First of all I am thrilled to finally get my homebirth I've always wanted.  With my first two I loved my midwives (CNMs) so much that I was willing to birth at the hospital in order to have them with me.  Then with my third I decided even though I thoroughly loved the midwives, it was time to have a homebirth.  It didn't work out due to insurance issues-ridiculous they can FORCE you to have a birth THEY decide on-and my son was born at the hospital.  I was bound and determined, even if it meant selling one of the other kids (just kidding), to have  it MY way this time.  No hassle of packing a bag (I always had trouble with that part somehow), no worries about childcare, no loud nurses hootin and hollering all night long. Just the peace of being in my own home with my family, being able to cuddle in my own bed, and shower without begging permission.  Ahh, bliss.

I'm currently at that stage where nature tries to prepare you for the sleep deprivation that comes after the baby is born.  Stupid nature must have not gotten the memo that I have been sleep-deprived for 6 years I don't need her interference.  First comes the moment of pure happiness when the children go to sleep and I get to raid the kitchen for all my hidden goodies.  The desire to do this is so strong there is no way I could fight it.  None.  After my treats and couch-potato combo the heartburn creeps up.  I know it's coming before I even start snacking, but it doesn't stop me.  No worries, however, because I have Tums stashed all over the house (and in the car).  The real show is while I'm warming the couch watching true crime shows...which is really an unhealthy habit considering the raging hormones.  I learned long ago, with my second pregnancy, that putting bowls of cereal, ice cream, or plates of cake on my belly as if it were a tray is a BAD idea.  How did I learn?  I was innocently eating a bowl of Lucky Charms and my daughter suddenly pushed the bowl off of my tummy and onto the floor.  And me.  And the couch.  So I don't sit food on my bump anymore, but I do put the remote or my phone there, and every night the show in my belly is better than whatever show on TV I'm watching.  It starts with the baby kicking the items off.  I poke him (or her!), he pokes back.  I "pet" my belly, he gets excited and squirms around.  You'd think after an hour or more the wee one would be tuckered out.  Nope, not MY kids.



Another one of my favorite things is letting the other kids "play" with their sibling-it really creates a bond before baby arrives.  The boys will lay their heads on my belly and when they get kicked they throw themselves to the floor and say, "Whoa!" like they have actually been karate kicked to the ground. Makes me laugh every time.  And my only girl, my eldest, insists that we call the baby "Baby Sarah".  It doesn't matter that there is a good chance we're going to have a boy-it's Baby Sarah or nothing!  On the other end of the spectrum I literally had a 20 minute discussion with my middle son about why Jack Sparrow is not a practical name for a baby.  It ended with him pretty angry and shooting my ugly looks.  This is new territory for me since when I had my last the other two were only 4 and 2.  They didn't have opinions about names, gender, or anything else.  They just knew another baby was coming, but in an abstract kind of way.

There.  Now I feel much less guilty about not showering attention on the bump.  Prepare to be bombarded with baby blog posts!  ;)

See, Kids? The "baby" Doesn't Get EVERYTHING!

I was really busy putting away Christmas decorations and cleaning so I asked the kids to find something to do.  The two older kids went and got their baby albums...and Luke asked, "Where's mine?"  Oops.

Should I tell him that my firstborn has a scrapbook from 0-6 months, another from 6-12 months, one from 1-2 years, and then albums on top of those?  Should I point out that my second child does not have any scrapbook at all, yet has photos from his first two years neatly organized into albums?  And then explain that I was shorthanded (literally...I needed an extra hand!), and too tired to process photos of him, my third?  I did TAKE the photos...I have a dozen memory cards somewhere in this house. I also had a million from his first few months on my phone, which was stolen (I blogged about it) before I transferred them.  I have not printed a single picture of this child.  Ever.  He will be three in April and he doesn't have a picture of himself...unless you count the Christmas card photos...

Nah, I didn't tell him all those thoughts that flashed through my mind in less than 3 seconds.  Instead I handed him an album of Patrick's and passed it off as his.  He believed me and said, "Aww, that's me", and I have to admit I felt really bad.  I'll get to his pictures soon...REALLY, I will!