Motherhood

SweetPea (age 3) [yelling]: “Mama, where are you?!”
Me: “I’m in the bathroom”
[door knob wiggles]
SweetPea: “Why da door don’t open?”
Me: “Because I locked it.”
SweetPea: “WHAT DA HECK?!”

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My Baby is 4 years old today.

I have officially left the toddler stage of life.  Our AngelBaby is 4 years old today.  Granted, she will always be MY baby, but this birthday marks the end of the baby-toddler era in our lives.  It’s so exciting to anticipate the days ahead, yet I want to cradle her in my arms and rock her to sleep, while humming “Baby Mine“.  

AngelBaby was exactly that – an Angel of a Baby.  She was perfect.  Heavenly Father knew I would struggle so terribly with PPD, so he sent me my AngelBaby.  She must have had angels singing to her constantly, because she *never* cried.  I know that most will not believe me, but she was the quietest newborn and baby – she loved her swing, and would lay there, content for hours, until I’d pick her up and realize she had been sitting in a soaked diaper for a while, smiling all through it all..  
My biggest regret is that I don’t remember much of her first year.  She was so calm and peaceful, but my mind is so clouded by the depression that consumed me.  I simply remember how easy she was to please, and how she was always content.
AngelBaby was due in January of 2005.  The pregnancy was a shock, Princess had been a difficult pregnancy and a sick newborn, and we had thought our family was complete.  Thank Goodness we were so wrong!  My pregnancy was difficult, and much too eventful for my liking.  I ended up in the doctor’s office often, with migranes and the beginnings of Pre-eclampsia.  Just before 37 weeks, my headache worsened, and I was told again to come on in to the Doctor.  The midwife took my BP, and it was at 180/130.  It continued up, the headache worsened, and I had sudden pitted edema.  The doctor came in and told me “You are having a baby today.  Go straight to the hospital.  Do not disobey – this is serious.”
AngelBaby arrived at 12:00 midnight … and 2 seconds.  She took one hour to arrive, from the moment I received my IV of pitocin.  Right after her birth, she was taken to the NICU for respiratory distress syndrome – just like Princess, and my heart hurt to have the NICU experience again.  She was intubated, and the NICU was a horrible experience, except for ONE nurse named Mike.  Mike was the only reason I could stop sobbing – He loved caring for our baby girl.  He would dress her with hats, and matching blankets.  He talked to her in a cooing soft voice.  He was so excited when she was finally off the ventilator, it touched our hearts to see how much he cared.  He was a ray of sunlight in our very horrible NICU experience.  
AngelBaby was adored by her siblings the moment they met.  Princess was in love, and SuperBoy thought she was cool.  As she grew, so did her sense of humor.  She was just a couple months old when DH would tell a joke, and she would break out in a huge gummy grin.  She could tell when he was trying to be funny, and reward him with grins, and later big baby giggles.  The kid has ALWAYS had a huge sense of humor – seriously, she was born with it!   AngelBaby has also always loved animals – been drawn to them, and adores them.  She learned to crawl by trying to get over to our Maggie-Dog.  She learned to stand by pulling up on Maggie-Dog’s fur.  She gave so much love to the cat, that Lilly-Cat avoided her for a couple years.  She is always wanting to hold the bunnies, and loves to play with them and snuggle them.  And she loves our Lucy-Dog.  Lucy thinks of AngelBaby as her litter-mate puppy, and AngelBaby considers Lucy a friend that gives great kisses (eww, lol!)  If we had to guess her profession right now, she would be a veterinarian when she grows up.
Today AngelBaby is 4.  She can say her ABCs, count to 38 (then skips to 100, lol), do simple math, and entertain herself for hours.  Her best friend is her sister.  Her favorite movie is still Curious George, and she loves to play “Curious George” on the gamecube.  She tells jokes all the time – her current favorite is “Why did the chicken cross the road?  I’ll give you a hint – it says quack!”  Then she laughs for a couple minutes, thinking she’s SO funny!   She can be feisty, but she’s quick to snuggle, and give hugs and kisses, and say “I love you”.  Her most favorite thing in the world is when someone will snuggle with her … even if it’s her brother 😉  
AngelBaby, we love and adore you.  The world would be a much duller place without you!  Your precious smile lights up a room, and your giggle is so contagious, that even strangers can’t help but smile!  Baby Mine, I love you.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

Ever read the shampoo bottle directions? I think most everyone has … or at least has heard “Lather, Rinse, Repeat”. So, you follow the directions … Lather, Rinse, Repeat … well, you repeat by doing it all over again. By the time you’ve rinsed the second time, the directions still tell you to repeat. It’s an endless cycle!

There are many things in my life that have the same pattern as a shampoo bottle:

~ Wash Laundry, Fold, Repeat.

~ Make Bed, kids mess it up, Repeat.

~ Load Dishwasher, unload, repeat.

~Make a meal, watch it be eaten, repeat

Why oh Why do the directions never say: okay, you’ve “repeated” enough, now stop and move on – check it off already! The repeat is on constant replay … I feel like as soon as I finish a household task, I turn around and it’s yelling “Repeat, repeat!”

Yes, I’m a list person. I make lists for everything, and have to be able to check it off as I complete things. That little checkmark is my reward … the hand patting me on the back saying “You did it, you’re DONE! You don’t have to think about this anymore!”

Ever notice that mom’s have a lot of items on their lists that will never be “Done”?

My favorites include:

~Dishes
~LAUNDRY
~Vacuuming
~Weeding

No matter how hard I try, these 4 tasks are never finished … anyone else have this problem?

I think my new directions are going to be:

“Do some of it, eat some chocolate, repeat.”

Sounds fair to me.

Compliments, Forgiveness, and Perfection

Anyone else struggle with accepting compliments given to you? I do … someone will compliment me, and I will tell them “oh, thank you!”, but inside I’m saying “you have no idea how very wrong you are”. It’s not that I’m a negative person. I can recognise good in myself, but why can I so easily dismiss compliments? It’s as if I allowed myself to truly accept the compliment, I would be a fraud.
I hang onto my faults, and bring them to the surface whenever I am complimented. I have a tendancy to hold a grudge – not against any one else, just against myself. I am forgiving, compassionate, and understanding – to everyone but myself.


Why is it that I can not forgive myself of my short comings, when I know that we will never be perfect in this life? Perfection is NOT an earthly trait – but why do we still hold ourself to “perfect” expectations?! I love the Dr Seuss type spoof on the “Girl In The Whirl“. (poem is at the bottom left of the page – pictures correspond with poem). It seems to be that I hold myself to expectations of perfection — and all that does is set
us up for certain failure. We compare ourselves to others, and see their stregnths, then look inward and see only our weeknessed. I will never be “that one perfect woman in the ward” … and I don’t need to be her. I just need to be me! I need to give myself a break, recognise that I’m not striving to be perfect – I’m just striving to be the best ME – because that is all that actually matters!

To know yourself, you must love yourself. For it is only when YOU are filled with love that you can share this gift with the world


Five years and a day ago ….

My first child was born. My Son. A gorgeous, healthy 8lb 11 oz baby boy. He was perfect, started sleeping through the night after the first month, or occassionally waking just once or twice when he’d hit a growth spurt, and was so very content all the time, and smiled and cooed at everyone and anyone. He was a doll, and I doted on him like any adoring first-time mother. He was my little-man, and I fell happily in love with motherhood.

By six months old, he weighed a whopping 25lbs, but was solid as could be, with just the right amount of squeezable baby chub. At just 6 months old, he was already a total flirt … paying special attention to older girls he thought were cute, like the girl at kiddiekandids, or the checkout girl at albertsons … and the girls flirted right back with him, making him giggle with delight.

He’s was quite the mama’s boy, which I must admit, I highly encouraged. He’d bring me dandilions, shower me with hugs and kisses, and would curl up with me for naptime, falling asleep contently nestled next to me. It was aroung two years old that he fell in love with the SuperBowl, and watching football when it was on, lol.


By 3 years old, he had a baby sister, and a mommy that was 6 months pregnant with another sister. He was happy-go-lucky, and adoring towards his little sister, sharing with her, gently steering her away from “danger”, and holding her hand constantly. I think by the time his youngest sister came, he was no longer “mama’s boy.” He had become “sisters’ boy”. He still adored me of course, and always tried to please me, and take care of me. If I was having a rough day, SuperBoy would bring me a castle he built for me out of duplo legos, or snuggle up next to me, and say “I wuv ya mommy”. His tender little heart has always touched me so deeply.


His fourth year was a little rocky for him, but he still stayed sweet as could be. He was very diligent in taking care of his sisters, playing with Princess, and rocking AngelBaby in her swing. He would run and get me the second he thought he heard the baby fuss. When you asked who his best friend was, he’d say “my best fwend is Pwincess”. When they’d fight, he’d tell her sorry, then turn to me, and say “sometimes fighting is what best fwends do”.


Now my little man is 5 years old. He starts Kindergarten in two weeks. He knows his letters, their sounds, and is working on counting to 100. He loves his new bike, and is very safety-concience, and always talks about staying on the safe side. He’s bubbly, loves to play, but always wants to help too. He’s just found the wonderful world of normal Legos and transformers … and while he’s not above playing “dora” with his sisters, he is 100% B.O.Y.

I love you little SuperBoy. You’re turning into a little “SuperMan”, and I already tear up when I think of you leaving on a mission in … 14 years, lol. Your eyes are so wise, and your tenderheart keeps you so perceptive to others needs and feelings. You have an incredable spirit, and a difinitive need to do what’s right. Last night, we took you to dinner, and the server teased you “you’re halfway to ten!” Daddy and I looked at you and instantaniously got tears in our eyes. Don’t grow up too fast little SuperMan … like I told you right then: “How about you stay 5, and stop growing up so fast!” You thought that was funny, and turned back to your french fries.
Little SuperMan, I love you. You are my little sweetheart, and love seeing who you are turning into … and I love it! You are one amazing lil’ man.

Bringing Toys Back to Life

You know how your child is amazed by a certain toy at a playdate or at the store … and they get filled with excitement? As a mother, this excitement prompts a gleam in my eye – and the excitement is passed on to me. Perhaps *this* could be the toy that will entertain them for 20 minutes straight, and still be just as exciting the next day. What would I do with 20 quiet minutes in a day? That’s 7,300 minutes in a year! It’s enough to make a mother-of-three-age-4-and-under giddy!

Now, new moms, before you sit on the edge of your seat, I am sorry to announce that this magical toy does not exist. If someone with more experience disagrees with me – PLEASE, I beg of you, share your secret!

What tends to happen in my case is that I eagerly buy my children the new toy, almost as excited as they. We bring it home, and all are entertained, including DH. It continues to be exciting for about 2 weeks. After that two weeks, it is tossed into the heap of toys that is thrown out of the toys box twice a day. Oh, sure – they still play with it … though sporadically at best.

WELL my friends, and fellow mothers. Look no further, I have the answer to the dying toy. Simply move houses! Box the toys up, leave your children toy-less for 2 weeks, then slowly begin to unpack the boxes. Suddenly toys will come back to life! It’s miraculous!

Of course, the fact that they are slightly feeling better from all the medicines the Dr has them on after 2 weeks of laying around the house miserable … nah, that has nothing to do with it. I guess this new-toy-excitement that is filling our house as I unpack toy boxes may fade in a couple weeks (shh! Don’t ruin my bliss!)

I still think it’s miraculous! 😉

"bronchiolitis" non-RSV-version.

So apparently, our lab ran the wrong tests on our girls yesterday. They were supposed to be checking for pertussis, but accidentally ran the test for RSV. It came back negative, and now we have to go back into the lab for the tests to be run again. Now, my question is, why weren’t my girls offered the test for RSV instead of being incorrectly diagnosed by our doctor who was “99.9% sure”. I mean, sure I suppose the treatment is the same, but the test is there for correct diagnosis!

So, the non-RSV diagnosis we have (for now anyways) doesn’t make it any easier, and there still is a chance it’s asthma, but still – I am quite particular about having my facts right … I feel a little misled right now. Not that it matters to anyone but me.

UGH.