Pray for Stellan! Monday

It's just not fair. I can't help but be angry, frustrated, and even sick over this. Every time I share a moment with my own baby, (which is often, because let's face it he's clingy) I feel guilty (and then I pull him closer and thank God, and then grumble to Him a little.) I can't help but think MckMama should be able to do this too. I have been begging, pleading, and then asking God nicely to calm Stellan's heart, to heal him, to make him strong and resilient. Then I tried to rationalize with him. You see it was because of Stellan that I "came back home" so to speak, at least he was the final step that brought the idea from theological philosophy to practice, He got me praying... and not just for silly little things for my self, but fervently and for him. I have been speaking with God on a daily basis... "now why God, would you take that away," I reasoned. So, by the end of my long night my prayer became for God to please give Stellan, the opportunity to be as great a Man as he was an infant. The chance to bring so many others to God, and do amazing things. That's all I've got. So please pray for sweet Stellan, things have really taken the turn for the worse - but I'm not buying it. Like I said I'm angry, new, and raw... so I can't just find some eloquent way to say God will take care of it and mean it. I'm kind of screaming at him to, and I have a problem accepting the answer "No."

Simply for the sake of posting

What? Haven't you heard? Baby toes = YUM!


circa 5/11/2009

Lifes a beach...

Once upon a time when our little family still lived at my mothers (after a series of unfortunate events) we would set aside one day each weekend to ride our bikes 15 miles to the beach with our (or rather my) still low in number children in tow.
*ahem* I feel that I should point out that I don't think the addition of one more really puts me in the ranks John & Kate (Though My Love is getting close, his tally is currently at 5) or Michelle Duggar but for some reason (ironically) in our go bigger or go home society people (a LOT of people.. seriously, EVERY time I go out with all of them) start asking "Are they all yours?" once you get to #3. Sometimes I think maybe they are just trying to be nice, you know, because I definitely look like I had three kids. Moving on...
So every Sunday the four of us set off with minimal beach equipment and ample water, the children happily loaded into their cart, My Love and I on our rusty but reliable (and very heavy) bicycles, me in my huge grandma shorts *lol*. It was always awesome, lots of good exercise, Teijah loved the water and eating the sand, Rowan E. freaked out and was scared of the water, and we all were looking tan shiny and healthy. Then we had a fortunate turn of events and were able to get our own house, but it was much to far from the beach and our little family was unfortunately out of our short lived tradition.
And then Mark came to visit....

Sorry I have no idea who's butt that is, I didn't even notice she was there when I was taking the picture *giggles* and now her brightly flowered bum is part of our family memories forever... let this be a lesson to anyone bending over at the beach. It is always better to sit when collecting shells...
*sighs* Of course I'm going to have to name her... or at least her fanny.
Of course Mark, who hasn't lived in Florida most of his life and does not have ocean beaches at his disposal was very adamant about going to the beach. The first day I sent them (Mark, My Love, and My Love's 3rd baby's(our sometimes Y number 1A lol) mama Sara), off with my car. The next day when the boy's wanted to go again I decided to go as well despite my lack of bathing suit. It of course was fantabulous.
The six of us packed into my 5 seat Kia Sephia, and with Mark driving headed towards Sanibel Island. On the way there we paid $7 in tolls made a quick stop to pick up an awesome guitar that Mark found for us on Craiglist for $20 *thanks Mark, and is still totally doing the happy dance* and at a little mom and pop shop to pick up more water and some yummy fried chicken that Mark got a great deal on.
Rory had to go potty of course so the boys went ahead of us.
Walking down the walk to the beach I saw this:


...and a warm happiness filled my heart. I could hear a child crying in the distance, so I looked around and thought "well that's certainly not Teijah! He must be so happy to be in the water again."
as I walked closer I still couldn't figure out where the crying was coming from and then I saw my son's twisted grimace. He was not happy. He was freaked out and most certainly did not want to be in the water. So I did what anyone would do, I picked him up and walking further out into the water laughing and jumping as the waves crashed against it. He bought it too and way belly laughing right along with my, that is until the wave that was taller than his 5'1 mommy and he got water in his face... his current phobia/annoyance. And so that was it, then Teijah spent the rest of his time at the beach like this:


Except for when he "borrowed" someone's beach toys


Oh and yes, all my very musical children can keep a beat/rhythm... Just in case you were wondering.

With in seconds of hitting the sand Rory looked around quickly, like she had a radar device in her head, and found the first kid she could see. Once her target was sighted she ran over and made friends. And her time at the beach was spent as such:


I'm going to have to watch out for that girl...


Little Ori loved the water and My Love even boasted that he laid flat in the water (Which is a big deal to him, Teijah never did he always was trying to keep his head out of the water, you know; because he has survival skills and this would never happen to him.)


When he grew over stimulated and was done with the sun he hung out like this in the stroller:

And because I always think of little Stellan every time Ori does something for the first time (they are close in age) before we left I couldn't help but to write his name in the sand:


And on the way home we stopped at a Chick-fil-A drive thru so we could finally see what the big deal was. After we got home Mark and My Love got dolled up to go have a boys night out with My Loves poppy and the kids and I settled around our coffee table to munch on our yummy Chick-fil-A feast (which came complete with shakes which were so worth the suffering) and watch Princess Protection Program.

We have totally decided to readopt our family tradition, but if we're planning on adding Chick-fil-A to our beach fun we'll have to switch to Saturdays since they are a Christian run corporation and are closed on Sunday's... which is as neat as it is inconvenient. *grins*

Now I seriously need to find a job to support my newly found Chick-fil-A habit... and you know, so I can buy car seats.

So maybe he just wanted to relive his birth...

...or, you know, just scare the crap out of me.
I was just giving the boys their bath, and Ori was just crawling around chasing his boat - the one toy out of all the bath toys that he plays with. He was doing a good job as he usually does I stood over the boys, warned Teijah a few times (as usual) to "watch out for baby, because he doesn't know how to take himself out of the water."
Which really is just baffling because he knows how to sit up and he knows how to crawl, he can stand and is on the verge of walking... but baby boy seriously has no survival skills. I suppose I also have never given him the chance to show me differently. So anyway, it's the boys evening bath as usual, they were doing so well that I even contemplated slipping into the toilet room to pee... I really had to pee but then Teijah and Ori started moving around again. So I took that as a sign and stayed. Business went on as usual boys playing, baby chasing stupid yellow boat, then Teijah tried to grab something, I put down my lemon aid, babies arm slipped, Teijah scooted back, baby fell face first in water, DID NOT flip over in the same instant that his older brother would have, mommy quickly - and I mean very quickly pulls colour changing baby out of water, blows in babies face, smacks, babies back, chants "breathe baby breathe" and "come on baby." a very familiar scene only last time we were both still in the bath, there were way more grown ups, and he wasn't the only one with everything hanging out... and I wasn't scared he was going to actually die. I blew in his face, nothing. I slapped him on his back, nothing. I put him on all four on the floor and slapped his back, again nothing. I swore at myself for never really remembering CPR and especially not infant CPR. I chanted some more. blew in his face. Slapped his back then finally some faint noises emerged from my youngest son.. not enough to ease my nerves but enough to let me know I didn't need to call 911. Then Teijah started crying to me to get him out. I yelled at him. Patting babies back, told him baby was not ok and he needed to suck it up. I took him out with one hand and handed him a towel... which of course he wanted help with. I yelled at him again and walked around patting baby. Finally baby gagged and puked up nothing and started making happy noises. I put him down and helped Teijah with his stupid towel and apologized for yelling and explained myself. *sheesh* Stupid baby with no survival skills trying to drown himself and holding his breath for way too long. ugh.

Oh no he di'nt!

So I'm wondering if i should just give up and give the baby a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Apparently Teijah feels he has waited long enough and likes to leave parts of his PB&J's tucked into places secret places for Ori to finds as he ventures through out the house. In case you have not put 2 and 2 together, Ori has yet again found Teijah's PB&J and was in fact munching on it... only he definitely had the peanut butter side this time and did not growl like a puppy losing his bone when I took it away this time but rather smiled as though he was satisfied with the peanut buttery goodness. I did however stop to a take picture this time, after I took away the sandwich of course, and since it's Not Me! Monday I know you'll forgive me for the pile of laundry that is NOT next to him, and the quality of the picture... it is after all monsoon season here in Florida.


He certainly looks pleased with himself. :)

Not Me! Monday

Welcome to this installment of NOT ME! Monday the spectacular Blog carnival set forth by the endearing MckMama to help us (her loyal followers) vent, rant, rage, and deny all life most interesting moment. Want to join in on all this bloggy fun? Well head on over to her site to get the complete rules and to see what she and everyone else is not doing. Having our friend Mark visit for a few days did not make me miss the communal home we had when My Love and I first got together. I am not terribly lonely and do not feel lost all. the. time.
I did not tell Left Brained, Genius, My Love that he sucks, and does not challenge me creatively and that he has made me boring.
I have not thought about blogging about how terrible "adaptable" is as a personality trait and how parents should discourage adaptive behavior by mimicking their child's behavior to keep their "adapts easily" child unique.
I was not completely psyched when Mark searched and found an awesome deal ($20) on a guitar on Craigslist, and then decided to buy it for me and the children. I was not even more psyched when the $20 guitar was of the acoustic classical variety. I have not been contemplating dropping my 4 credit Creative Experience for the Young Child class so I can swap it for the 1 credit guitar class that is offered at the same time.
I am also not going to keep my fall ceramics class, which is not cohesive with My Love's schedule. My younger children will not be going to daycare from 10 to 2 on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the Fall just so I can feel full filled, because I of course feel that it is important for the children to be only socialized selectively and by their parent for at least the first few years of their lives.
My wanderlust has not yet loomed to the extreme where taking my city dwelling children into the woods with the hippies no longer screams CAUTION, and THEY AREN'T READY YET! in my head, and I am not totally jealous of anyone going to the National Rainbow Gathering or you know, anywhere.
I do not feel like a mossy tumbleweed must feel.
In case you didn't know, I have not switched my major from Nursing/Pre-med to Education just so my career would warrant summers off and I will be free to travel.
I did not suddenly for the first time in my life notice I was compulsively eating out of sadness, and if I did, I would not have shrugged my shoulders and went on munching on Teijah's "Hurray you went poo poo on the potty!" mini Kit-Kats.
My love did not clog the toilet when we were on our way out the door to take Mark to catch his ride out of town and not mention anything about it. Later that day Teijah did not go in the bathroom to go potty on the potty like a big boy. I did not hear him flush the toilet twice and then hear a large splash noise. And I certainly did not hear him scream "I DID IT!" as he was running out of the bathroom. When handing My Love our baby who is not way too clingy again now that he's over the fact he can get around he did not say "Oh yeah the toilet was clogged but I didn't know where the plunger was and we were in a hurry." I did not have to clean up 1 inch of water and tiny pieces of grown up poo off the bathroom floor... because you know grown ups use the grown up bathroom and fix plumbing problems right away. I did not tell My Love that he sucked and next time it was his turn, and that when he's old and pooing himself we were going to have to hire a nurse because there was no way in hell I was ever cleaning up his poo again, no matter how much I love him.
And, I was not absolutely pleased with my self for switching my major when I realized that if I was a nurse/doctor I could have to clean up grown up poo every day... because I of course would never change my major... I'm going to be Doctor Dani M.D. and would never settle for Doctor Dani Ph.D.

His brother's keeper

I was busying away in the kitchen making some nutty banapple pancakes and Ori had and his crankiness had found their way to the kitchen, sat up, and did that thing where he refuses to move but will sit there and make strange animal noises until someone picks him up. Since it was way too early in the morning and I knew I had no time to deal with him and his plump grumpiness I pick him up and plopped his chunkiness on the counter next to me so I could continue on with my pancake process.
Then I hear a beautifully round toddler voice ask:"Mom? Baby?"
So I answer: "The baby is in the kitchen with me Teijah."
To that he responded: "No. mom, PLAY!"
Giggling I asked: "You want the baby to play with you, Teijah"
He answered with a very serious: "yeah, mom. baby PLAY!"
Still giggling: "Alright Teijah,you can play with baby."
With that Teijah ran off to get his bucket of cars and I picked up "little" Ori and brought him into the living to play with his very eager big brother.
*smiles* Awesome.
Teijah really is an amazing big brother... and it's a good thing too,
especially since (and it's no secret but it certainly will be later) we had him for Teijah. That's right my only "planned" baby was for the benefit of my other baby *lol*. The five (4 at the time) year old's kept excluding him, he even got pushed off the top bunk once... ridiculous. It makes me so happy to see how well it is working out, and he appears to be very happy and willing to share his toys be his brother's keeper.

Coming to terms with my ginormocity.

That's right I said it. I am indeed ginormous, which is a big deal when you're five foot one (and three quarters). Now I feel that perhaps getting over being ginormous is similar to kicking an alcohol addiction: The first step is admitting you have a problem. So here goes:
Stands up, waves.
"Hi, my name is Dani, and I am ginormous."
Now that I've got that out of the way I suppose the "healing" can begin, or rather the shrinking.
So there you have it, I'm on a mission to loose a substantial amount of weight and make some substantial life changes along the way.
What's that?
How substantial?
Well I want to be ready to at least start training to run marathons by my next birthday.
What?
Oh you meant how substantial of a weight loss?
Ah...
Ummm...
Alright...
Let's just say I'm 50 pounds round and like to remedy that by *crosses fingers* Ori's 1st birthday on December 13th (which is also my & H's anniversary).
I &hearts challenging myself.
It is so on.
50 pounds, 6 months
GO!

Misadventures in Cloth Diapering part 2

Reasons to cloth diaper:
1. There are way less smelly diapers in your house. We're down to two at a time at most, and that only last a few minutes... Repeat after me: rinse and soak, baby. rinse and soak.
2. Way less garbage to take out, which translates to taking up less landfill space.
3. It is technically cheaper.
*You know, if you don't have to dry them three times on high to get them dry because you bought more than a days worth and you let them hang out to dry the rest of the way after 1 dryer cycle... I didn't. *grumbles*
4. Because sometimes they look like they dressed them selves up like mismatchy super heroes....

ATTN: People that wake up at 6 a.m....

There is something very wrong with you...
I mean seriously do you do this for fun?

Because she tagged everyone...

1st picture folder 10th picture:


Baby Teijah @ around 5 months 3 weeks taken 6/25/2007

To dani on her 27th birthday...

Which was yesterday, but I had to drive all the way across the state and back again yesterday and after 7 hours of driving, lugging 3 children and all there belongings, getting shooed out of the courthouse, and sunburned on one side of my body... well I just wasn't up for making a real post... (and the whole baby eating the fairy thing was hilarious to me and i couldn't believe I had forgotten to post it)
We did manage to get through the day with very little crying,

and the only whining we experienced was big kid "Are we there, yet", "I'm sweaty/thirsty/hungry/have to go to the bathroom" that was only spoken and never uttered at the "whine" decibel and tone.
After daddy was all done with court we all hung out under the huge shade trees.

I took lots of crooked pictures.

I decided to just "go with" Rory's inability to let me get a "natural" picture of her and just tried telling her how to pose...

and despite 3 of her parents (no not a typeo) hippie-like nature, she is not a natural tree hugger.
Teijah found a cool stick and proclaimed "Saber" and proceeded to attack daddy...


and then daddy got him.

Then daddy got baby, minus the "lightsaber".

A good time was had by all, after all it's not often anyone gets daddy time, minus his school books.

I eat fairies

"They" say that the first time a baby laughs a fairy is born. Well "They" also say that in the wild when a baby has or acquires some sort of defect it is common for the mother to eat the child. Apparently Ori sticks to the brutal guidelines of woodland creatures. Sorry Tink, we couldn't find your leg.

This was so unexpected,

I didn't even have a speech prepared! *pulls stack of index cards out of amazing push up bra* Just kidding, I can't wear amazing push up bras until I'm done breast feeding. It really is unexpected. I'm sure that at this point you're wondering what the "h" I'm talking about so I'll get to it;
I have recieved my first blog award!
Woohoo!


I want to thank all the little people, because well this would be a much different kind of blog with out them... it would be 50 pounds lighter with much, much more swearing. *lol*
And to you anonymous reader who was directed here by google when you were searching for 1 oven, fudgesicles, or fudgesicle coupons (my number one searches, in case you were wondering) thank you for being brave enough to click. I would also like to thank the fabulous Mama4Real who has bestowed this fantablous award upon me, and who is my only most devoted reader. ; I demand suggest you go to her blog now, you won't be disappointed. In fact, you may want to stay a while and catch up.
:)
Now I believe the way this works is now that I have received the award I'm supposed to pass it on to other lovely ladies in the blogaverse;
So, here goes:
To Yix, because you've known me since I was 15 and annoying *lol* seriously. And because when I had a silly little website on geocites when I was 16 (and older) - you know before blogging was cool you would go there and comment on the regular. And because i &heart you in a very hetero way. You pretty much rock.
To Sitala, because you are my sister... and you've put up with me (also when I was annoying) my craziness and my mess, because you bought me cigarettes when I was underage, and because maybe getting you're first bloggy award will inspire you to blog more often *I'm dying to see the doggy panties!* Love you sister, my sister.
To Bean, because you rock and yours was the first blog I "followed" (and the means by which my blogger account came to existence) after finding it while searching for bread recipes (which also rocked btw).
To Jonah Lisa, because I'm pretty sure if I knew you IRL we would be best friends *lol* or at least we would like each other and stumbling upon your blog was what helped me stubble back into this blogging thing.
and,
To Brittney, who I have just "met" or found rather in this ginormous blogiverse and I have to say I'm smitten (in a not creepy way of course) but I'm not giving my soy milk up for anybody Seriously who else do you know (besides me) that would get pooped on, take pictures, and blog about it?
Then again so would Darcie, you my dear are amazing, you have made me "Lmao" and "Rofl* until my sides hurt. So I also gives this award to you. May blogHer accept you with open arms!
*bows*
Thank you!
Good Night Seattle!

And this is why crib bumpers are important...

... And also why they should be bigger.

Because we shouldn't have been eating lunch at 4:30 anyway...

After a much too long nap with little Ori A. we emerged from my bedroom bright eyed and bushy-tailed. I unsnapped his diaper and plopped his chunkiness down on the floor to play bare-butted with his siblings. I tossed his diaper in the laundry room sink, washed my hands and went into the kitchen to make a slew of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (a.k.a manna from the gods) for our belated lunch. After completing my "mommy duties" and serving everyone else I sat down to eat my own PB&J, banana, & soy milk combo from the "Queen Dani Drive-Thru".
Since I moved the dining room table on to the porch (or lanai if you want to be fancy) we've been enjoying lunches at the coffee table in our living room; we do after all live in South Florida and lets be serious afternoons in the summer are excruciating. So there I sat munching on my PB&J, chatting with my kiddies, and watching the Disney Channel when Rowan E. exclaims: (since she is often the one exclaiming a.k.a screaming) "The baby pooped!". Me shocked(suddenly remembering about his bare-butted chunkiness): "No, he didn't!?"
Sure enough.
I got out of my seat to find sweet little Ori A. happily free form finger painting in his own slimy olive green poo. Apparently blueberries really do it for him. I grabbed my little man under the arms holding him at arms length as I ran into my bathroom. I plopped him into my bathtub and turned the water on, he started swishing the water and all the little particles so I picked him up and held him directly under the faucet while the water drained and rinsed out the tub. Then I quickly lathered his chunkiness up with his yummy goats milk soap (thanks for the head up Mckmama! I &hearts soap), and got him out of the tub as promptly as I had plopped him in (after i rinsed him off, of course). I diapered the boy, cleaned the floor, started some laundry, washed my hands *duh*, and got back to my PB&J.
Lesson learned: If one expects to enjoy a PB&J combo, be sure to diaper any bare-butted babies... Or, I could always just hand My Love the baby and run.

Blueberries!

Woohoo! Blueberries were on sale at Target for $1 so, thinking of My Love who refuses to feed himself unless it's convenient, I bought a few. With a blueberry stash on hand it was inevitable that when Teijah requested pancakes this morning so well that it could have been his sister asking I of course obliged and made blueberry pancakes.
For those of you that don't know me personally, Teijah (pronounced Tay-ah in case you were wondering)just started talking so sometimes it's hard to tell him no, or be very frustrated with him for asking me for things when I'm busy (which happens with his sister all the time). This morning he told me "hungry, mom." which is awesome because it was the first time he said hungry. So, instead of pumping like I normally do when I first get up, I went straight to the kitchen. Of course I was followed by my extra tiny 2 1/2 year old who then requested "pancakes, please? pancakes, mom?" Who could say no to that? He even helped put the blueberries on the counter. children are so helpful and polite at this age! Hopefully I find a way to keep him that way. I think having a small child in the house all the time helps, Rowan E. seems to be remember her manners more often now that she sees how much attention her brother gets for it. how effective it is. Now if I could just get her to stop whining and freaking out for no reason so he stops learning that from her. When I figure out how to make a little girl stop whining - you better believe there is going to be a blog post about it! For now she has been informed that any time he acts in said whiny manner she will also be punished - I will not have a house full of whiny children... "whining goes to the bedroom" as we say here and I do not want to have to say it 20 times a day... whoa... so yeah have you noticed the about me at the upper right hand corner?... I warned you I was highly distractable...
So anyway, as I was making a few dozen mini blueberry pancakes (because mini pancakes means no silverware... and I hate silverware, mainly the washing of it) I realized that yesterday was the day that little Ori was supposed to try a new food but he had not. Then it hit me - what better time then now to let him try some blueberries? And what a blueberry mess he was afterward! I refrained the urge to roast the blueberries to make them more blueberry-y because: a.) I already had roasted bananas in the fridge (and it seemed silly to just roast blueberries), and b.) though I know that cooking the berries down make them far more tasty I wasn't sure the nutritional value of the delicate berries would hold up during cooking.

Roasted Bananas w/ Blueberries

2 tbs roasted bananas w/o booby milk (so basically banana concentrate *lol* not banana pudding)
1 or 2 big handfuls of fresh blueberries
optional water, booby milk, whatever for mixing.

Dump bananas & blueberries in food processor or blender, *attempt to blend.
put into storage containers. Feed to happy, unsuspecting baby. Wash blueberry covered baby while imagining he's that girl from Charlie & The Chocolate Factory.

* I say attempt because I attempted to use my 1 cup blender and it was just too thick w/ to small an amount to blend so I added a little water (like I said I did not pump this morning so I didn't have fresh booby milk on hand) so it would blend. Roasted bananas do this cool/weird thickening thing but still be sure not to add too much liquid so you don't end up with a smoothie. :) I ended up with about 4 tablespoons.

And a very merry half birth day to you..

See that? yep that's me with my preggo clone army when I was about 8 months pregnant with "little" Ori. I was also still riding a bike 8 miles a day to work... anywho...
Six months ago today my not so little third child made his exit from me and entered this world. When I think about it now I envision a caricature of myself bent over with legs spread in my bathtub. My face is twisted into some exhausted grimace as I grasp the tub’s edge, white knuckled and holding on for dear life as my companion and my midwife stand on each side of me – with one hand on my son’s cartoon-ishly large head, and a foot on their (my) respective butt cheek for leverage as they try to pull him out. The baby, of course, has a huge grin on his face - (because as everyone knows children plot against us… and he finds the whole thing hilarious.) and my mother is standing by with the oxygen tank. The whole ordeal seems rather humorous now.
Though I suppose it wasn’t so dramatic…
no one planted their feet on anyone’s butt cheeks.
Sometime close to noon the day previous to Ori A.'s arrival I suddenly felt the need to move all the furniture in my house around. I deny that this urge was nesting. Characteristically, I am a messy person and I knew that this baby was going to be here (hopefully soon) and I was going to have a lot more to deal with and I wanted to start off ahead, and I also kind of hoped that all the activity would start labor. So I spent the whole day in a (seriously until 2 in the morning) furniture moving, grout scrubbing, organizing, laundry doing/folding, bathroom bleaching frenzy. Then with some cramping (that I probably had all day but Braxton Hicks contractions were c.ra.zy through the whole pregnancy so I did not pay much attention to it) I decided it was time to try and get some sleep. I took a shower and decided I should try to spend some time with My Love because I had a feeling baby would be there (here) soon. I spent the rest of the night trying to sleep, and getting up, walking around because whatever pains I was having were too much to sleep through, then the nausea hit. It was awful and with it came diarrhea. The nausea and a fever lasted into the afternoon when I finally vomited and felt a little better. *lol* The My Love came to tell me goodbye since he was about to ride his bike far far away to tutor his middle school children. I told him he could not leave me, after a discussion of whether it was time, whether he would be able to get back in time, and how I did not feel capable of taking care of the children he called and rescheduled. After awhile it became apparent that I was actually in labor - terrible labor where all the contractions felt like end stage contractions. I spent my time walking around, and alternating between the bath, the shower, the rocking chair, and oh yeah screaming there was lots of screaming. Worst labor. EVER. Seriously the contractions never intensified right from the beginning it felt like those right before you can push contractions, that is until those contractions when, you know, I was pretty sure I was going to die, and/or something was terribly wrong... but I didn't want to look like a sissy so when the urge came (and it came often) to scream out what the f*** is wrong with you people take me to the hospital and cut this thing out of me I told myself to suck it up or at least keep quiet, you know, besides all the screaming. I told My Love that I wanted my mommy so he called her and let her know it was time to come (she took an eternity BTW, love you mom). Then eventually he called the idiot midwife who shall remain nameless. Active labor was filled with lots of screaming, crying, and giving up... I would even try to stop breathing and just float in the bath. Anything I tried to do to cope with the pain only worked for a moment. It. sucked. At last I could feel the baby's head crowning. I Thanked God! quite loudly and announced the accomplishment. I thought I had finally come to my sweet relief, that wonderful pushing stage where all the pain seems to subside in natural childbirth... but not this time. Crap, it was strait crap. I pushed and pushed, Idiot Midwife was no help. After what seemed like an eternity my sons huge head was finally birthed, in the process My love had hoisted me out of the water so I was now standing up bent over the bath. I pushed and pushed but our sweet baby was very much stuck. I pushed they pulled, but it felt as though they were trying to push him back in, so I asked why the hell possibly f*** they were pushing on me - like I wasn't having a hard enough time holding my exhausted shaking body up. Eventually (and I mean a really long eventually) or baby was out (I scream OH Thank GOD!) and not screaming or breathing just making some very low rattling noise. I was dying to turn around and sit as opposed to being in that damned 'on all fours position' but Idiot Midwife felt the need to put baby on my back (like I'm a table or something). She sent my mom to get the oxygen tank and asked if it had a name, we asked what it was, A boy she exclaimed. We told her Ori and then for what (again) seemed like an eternity we all talked to the baby and slapped his back. "Come on baby" over and over again. Then he cried his loud foghorn cry that lasted for the first few months, pushing me past my sanity threshold... I think he misunderstood what we were going for. And we had our second son. Our 10 lb 23-24in (the Idiot Midwife didn't stretch out his leg when she measured)son Ori Azariah who's name in Hebrew means "My Light" "Is helped by god". He was a black and blue mess after all that being stuck and not breathing, I do have one terrible picture that was taken on the wrong settling just as my battery died:
I know terrible, right?
Eventually the bruising went down and he got a nice red colour to him, *lol* then he turned orange - but what can you do?
Here he is looking less like a boxer that lost the fight and died (thanks to the camera setting) and more like Mr. Magoo the next day.

And here he is looking less puffy (and rocking his baby legs) on day 4.

Now just for fun here are pictures of Rowan Elíse (sorry this picture was taken when 3 megapixel was alot and i had a 1.5 megapixel camera*lol*):

And Teijah Matthias

When they were around six months.



and if I find my camera I may add one of the little half birthday boy here. stupid missing camera.
These were his first socks (and Babylegs):

and this was supposed to be his first hat:

but it kept falling off so he wore the bigger pink version that I made, you know, just in case he was a girl.
and here's his bed that is about to get lowered, and switched to the hungry caterpillar sheets in preparation to move him into his brothers room.

Ah they grow up so fast and this little man is certainly no exception to the rule! He is my go, go, GO! baby and is in such a hurry that he is far ahead of where his brother and sister where at this point. *sighs* Now I'll spend the rest of the day reminding myself that I want to wait for the next one, and that I do NOT actually want to be the next Michelle Duggar. :)

Tag! You're It!

So it seems that I have been tagged. Luckily (to avoid being crowned blog dork for not knowing what being tagged meant. ahem.) my "tagger" The Lovely Mama4Real has explained it all for me (and you) on her blog (here). If you haven't clicked there yet do. it. NOW!, (or you know after you read my blog) she is fabulous. Go show her some bloggy love.
Here's how it works:
* List Six Unimportant Things That Make You Happy
* Mention and link to the person who tagged you
* Tag six of your favorite bloggers to play along
{and comment on their blog to let them know they’ve been tagged}
Got it? Good.

OMGosh! this is actually incredibly hard, and doesn't making me happy make them important things?

My 6 unImportant Things:

1. baby laughs Babylegs, because baby laughs are definitely important - and so are baby legs I want to buy stock in the company and keep all my kids covered in Babylegs for.ev.er.
2. Chickens, though lately I've been branching my poultry love out to owls as well... Why do I like chickens? You know I don't honestly remember *lol* but it may have started due to a dear friends not so wholesome but certainly delightful imagination... and they are so darn cute. I probably have some small poultry inspired memento in every room of my house.
3. Definitely going to have to second Mama4Real on the chips and salsa. I am in fact a salsa connoisseur l.o.v.e the stuff probably as much as she loves gauc. There is certainly a salsa for everything. Yummy. yum. yum.
4. Cooking/Feeding people Um. Mopping because, you know food is a necessity. Why mopping? Right, I know - (especially since I suck at cleaning) it doesn't make since. There is just something very zen that happens for me when I mop... So we'll just say I'm a mopping tai chi guru, and a grout scrubbing yogi - but for everything else - Someone should seriously get me a maid.
5. Ummmm... Attempting to craft, I say attempting because I lack the attention span to complete most tasks... but one day I will learn to focus and I will so be such the crafty mama *lol*
6. Ah, and the Internet because it seems important but really it is not and that's really good to remember... sometimes. I use it for everything (well almost) that makes me happy: cooking, blogging/reading blogs, window shopping Etsy, looking for sales, finding projects... ev.ry.thing, even school - which is important. Internet how I love thee! Hopefully soon my laptop will be fixed and our love affair can continue.
And now it's your turn so:
Sitala
YixBean
Jonah Lisa
Cecily
&
Michelle

Tag, You're It!

Most likely to be the next Michelle Duggar.

A few weeks ago I got an email from a friend; my best friend actually from 12 to sometime in high school when we stopped talking. Now there was a time when I was in desperate search for this friend who was the only one who really knew me in my "formatory" years (yes I am allowed to make up words, especially when they are clever.). Namely when I was forming into a mother and I felt the need to connect with someone that knew the less complicated pre-teen me - and what ever. Well I found her when I was pregnant with #2 and we've kept very loose communication since. Okay enough back story I'll get to my point. :)
In the email she asked if i thought she'd changed much since highschool. I wasn't quite sure how to answer the question at first; because I know that I have changed exponentially since highschool. I also know that there are those people that never really change much staying on a pretty even path their whole lives sticking to whatever goals and motivations they have, and there are also those people that never change, move out of their moms house, or get jobs. In hind sight, she probably is more like one of those even path people, even though she got thrown off of hers by unforeseen circumstances, her constant motivation would lead her to another one and she would stay constant in her - well "her-ness". That concept, is alien to me. I tend to change constantly, lack sticktoitedness, and move with the eb and flow of what is thrown at me - as a result I have being thrown all over everyone's track so to speak and now I've just kind of ended up on my own pre-made for me (and not by me) track.
For instance in high school (or when I was 19 and moved into my van for that matter) I would have never been voted: "Most likely to bee the next Michelle Duggar", and now - well who knows, I like babies, I like having a tiny person to cart around that actually wants to hang out with me, they are cool to hang out and it's even cooler to watch them grow and become people, and when all those little concepts you've been teaching them finally come together - well that's just awesome. (I feel the need to also mention that though I do plan on having more babies I do plan on waiting a few more years before I have more... you know just in case my dad is reading this, I don't want to get a phone call about how nuts I am. *lol* I feel the need to be in shape, have a degree in my hand, and no children that have to have assistance to wipe their tushes before I take on the blessing of another little one - god willing.) I answered her (moreorless) by saying that I would have to hang out with her - based on my own ever constant, changing nature - to really know. *sighs* But I don't think she liked my responce because I haven't heard back from her. Then again that seems to be just the we "we roll".