Cinco de Mommy

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I don’t know how she does it

Poorly, quickly, messily, and with a lot of drama, usually!

I’m not doing much these days. I’m homeschooling, I’m occasionally getting a glimpse at Oprah, I’m seeing My Chemical Romance once in a while. Animal is sick, Mineral is his usual crazy self. The Informant is very helpful around the house, My Masterpiece is one stubborn kid. And, REPEAT. It’s not very exciting, and then it’s 10pm, and then it’s nursing 24352352x/night and then it’s 7am and it all starts again.

I cook, I send My Chemical Romance + a kid or four, to Target for groceries, I wear TD in a sling/carrier/wrap, I eat.  I put away laundry. The kids do their laundry, put it away, pour milk on cereal, make peanut butter and jelly, ride their bikes, color, fill out workbook pages, and vacuum.

I’m working on life with Mineral. He is a challenging child. I’m reading “The Explosive Child,” for some suggestions on making life with him easier. He is very easily irritated by his siblings; being the oldest of five doesn’t help. Food is another difficulty. He is very rigid about what he wants and doesn’t want — and often what he wants/doesn’t want conflicts with what the family needs/doesn’t need. He is inflexible and anxious — and I empathize greatly — and parenting him is hard.

I’m also reading “Punished By Rewards,” by Alfie Kohn (I just almost wrote Kofie Annan, LMFAO! I’m tired!) While I find the subject fascinating, I find the actual writing itself very very dry. And for someone who is sleep-deprived, dry writing doesn’t help.

Bedtime. Nursing time.

Larger than my baby’s head

With all the weight I’ve gained over the years, then lost after my weight loss surgery, and then gained 40lbs during pregnancy — throughout all of that, my breasts have stayed constant. One of my friends referred to them as my “giant nursing appendages.” In a nod to politics, I freely post breastfeeding pictures on Face*book, and yes they are obscene by Face*book standards because I’m using my breasts to feed my child and I’m not in a bikini making duck face.

Anyway, here I am, alive, with a family that now includes My Chemical Romance, Animal, Mineral, The Informant, My Masterpiece, The Dog Without a Downside, and Tax Deduction. Who might get a new name. One friend suggested Magnum Opus, because I just love my little TD so much, and I have so many hormones coursing through my body, I think TD is the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen, and I am preternaturally cheerful.  I don’t mind nursing 23/7. I rarely put TD down, making use of my 252352353 slings and carriers and pouches and wraps. (My favorites are Two Mommas Design half-buckle tai; Sleeping Baby Productions ring sling that my mom made; New Native pouch.)

Keeping up with so many children is a little rough. Some days are easier than others. I learned the first week alone that I can only do errands on certain days (T/Th) and that giving my kids outside chores (like walking the dog) is helpful. Animal and Mineral have a lot of energy. Mineral and The Informant are very impulsive. And My Masterpiece is a genuine three-year-old.

Moo!

 

Quick Christmas homebirth story

My Absolutely Amazing Homebirth of the Christmas Baby

The short version: I started having contractions around midnight on Cmas morning. I stayed in bed til I couldn’t rest anymore, then I got up and walked around.  Whenever I’d feel a contraction, I’d sway my hips like I was dancing.  I didn’t feel like I needed anyone so I didn’t wake up my husband or my mom (who was visiting) or call my midwife. I just walked around the house and swayed.

I was tired, but every time I tried to lie down the contractions would get really intense until I got back up and moved. Around 5am things got even more intense and I decided that at 6am I’d start making calls/waking people up.  I woke up my husband for a few last-minute housekeeping errands; by then the kids were up and eager to open presents.  My kids, my husband, and my mom opened Christmas presents – while I called my midwife and asked her to come over. After we hung up, things got extremely intense (I know I keep using that word, but I don’t have any other word to describe it!) and I called her back and asked her to talk me on her cell phone til she arrived at my house.

When she got here she examined me and said I was complete except for a small lip, and the baby was at +3. My bag of waters was still intact and I begged her to break them – which is ironic because I’m fairly anti-ROM! She suggested I get on hands-knees to make the lip go away. While on hands-knees, the contractions were really powerful and I could feel them all throughout my pelvis. It was the first time I’ve had pain in my back during a labor.

My water broke during a contraction – at which point the contractions actually got less intense! I sat on the toilet until I felt the urge to push. I found pushing to be very painful and at that point I didn’t think I could do it. I just didn’t think I could get the baby out. However, after what felt like forever on the toilet to me (my midwife said it was only a few minutes; in reality she was only at my house for an hour before the baby was born) my Christmas baby girl was born at 8AM. The placenta came out a few minutes later, and I hardly had any bleeding. She is 7lbs 11oz. She’s perfect and loves to nurse. After the birth I got into bed with her and we cuddled and nursed. It was a beautiful perfect birth – exactly what I wanted. I could not have imagined a better birth.

At 10PM on Christmas Eve…

…My Chemical Romance and I had a discussion about the differences in our cultural backgrounds and how I’m the Grinch. You see, I was raised Jewish. And I’m an only child. Ergo, I didn’t give a shit from whom the presents came (or where), I just wanted presents.

My Chemical Romance was raised… vaguely Christian-esque, with a large dose of Santa and two sisters.

I assumed my offspring felt the way I do about presents. I live with these kids every day, I know how they are about stuff.

I also wrongly assumed that I’d spent this holiday season nursing a newborn so I wouldn’t make it out to buy gifts. Joke’s on me! Thank you, ama*zon.com for having everything I needed (except for a whole-house humidifier). You came through, except when I get static shocks from opening the fridge.

Meanwhile, My Chemical Romance has this complicated scientific Christmas formula in his head that I only learned of tonight, but he wants to adapt it for our family — starting next year, since this Christmas is almost upon us and now it’s nearly 11pm and we have boycotted Wal*Mart for over three years now and Tar*get is closed, so hopefully this year the kids will simply enjoy their gifts and next year we’ll start the REAL tradition.

It took me a while to catch on, but now I totally get the plan and I think it’s great, and here’s how it works:

1. A certain amount of money is set aside for each kid, for gifts from Santa, and from mom and dad. Say $50/kid. So they will get at least one gift from Santa (which will not get wrapped) and one gift from us (wrapped). Or they might get a few small gifts from Santa (unwrapped) and a few small gifts from us (wrapped). Or some combination thereof, as long as the monetary value is equal to $50 (or whatever we decide).

2. We give each kid $5 for each sibling, to buy each other gifts. I’m sincerely hoping we can encourage them to pool their money for each other, or I’m going to end up with a bunch of tiny plastic dollar-store toys that will be broken by (next) New Year’s Eve.

3. My Chemical Romance and I have a set amount of money to buy each other one gift, one gift from Santa, and one gift from the kids, divided however we want.

Apparently this will add up to approximately three gifts per person, and $23525252352 spent on next year’s Christmas. Happy Holidays!

And I thought I was crazy before

As much as I have always preached that a due date is NOT like an expiration date on a carton of milk, omgiamsodonebeingpregnantwtfbabywillyougetthefuckoutalready!!!!!!!!!!!! As of now, I’m 10 days past my EDD given to me by an OB; 6 days past the EDD given to me by a local crisis pregnancy center when I first found out I was pregnant and had no idea when I was due.

Either way, I’m a few days past sanity.

For a pregnancy that has been so physically easy, this wayyyyyyy past my due date thing is psychologically very taxing.

I really hate to think about my birth experience as anything other than flowers and rainbows and puppies, but at this point it seems like a means to an end. That will take place at home. While I’m surrounded by friends and My Chemical Romance — and even my mom! But still: means to an end, BABY!

Here’s my day:

1:00AM: Wake up to use bathroom. Note that the nightsweats are not, in fact, my water breaking. Check toilet for bloody show. None. Sigh. Go back to bed — if possible. If not, read some gossip online and eventually fall asleep.

4:00AM: Repeat.

4:30AM: My Chemical Romance’s alarm clock goes off (every 9 minutes until about 7am). Wake up and announce to him that I’m still pregnant. Cry. Ask for reassurance that I’m not going to be pregnant forever — and that if I am, he’ll still have time off work after the alleged baby is allegedly born.

8:00AM: Wake up to screaming from kids. My mom is here to wrangle them — arriving 5 days AFTER my due date, she was supposed to help me with the baby — and the luster has worn off for all of them. At least I don’t have to feed them breakfast. Thanks mom! Get out of bed. Note I’m still pregnant. Cry. Try to reassure myself that I won’t be pregnant forever. Shower. Moisture heavily — my house is DRY. Put on maternity clothes that I thought I’d be finished with weeks ago — or at least, if I was still wearing them, they would be postpartum clothes.

10:00AM: Drag kids somewhere. Discovery Place, the movies, library, errands. Pray that we’ll have to turn around and leave because I start feeling contractions… to no avail. Lunch.

1:00PM: Nap for The Informant, My Masterpiece (who naps in my bed with me), and me. Quiet time for Animal, Mineral, and Mom.

4:00PM: Make dinner/start thinking about where to go for dinner. Note that most of the day is over and apparently today isn’t the day I’m having the baby. Cry. Ignore phone calls, and don’t call anyone unless absolutely necessary, lest I have to start the conversation with, “I’m not in labor but…”

5:00PM: My Chemical Romance arrives home. Dinner. Post-dinner weepiness that I’m still pregnant. Negotiations with My Chemical Romance over who gets to put kids to bed. Check Facebook — although I’m not posting, because I have nothing to say except that I’m still pregnant and I’m tired of the comments about it.

7:00PM – 9:00PM: Eat. Watch TV. Knit scarf for Wii that should be done in a few years.

9:00PM: Get into bed with book. Note that I’m still pregnant. Cry.

Repeat.

On the first day past my EDD, My Chemical Romance gave to me…

Dinner out with The Informant and My Masterpiece (while Animal and Mineral are at their very first sleepover!)

Also, a 12-hour night sleep, and banana pancakes that did NOT have the consistency of a rubber tire. I don’t know why, but My Chemical Romance’s pancakes are always really rubbery. Perhaps it’s the pregnancy hormones or some weird pancake craving that led me to announce to him, while still half-asleep, that I wanted pancakes from scratch but that his always taste like rubber tire. Luckily he was not offended. He’s seen me pregnant before, and that was probably the least-offensive thing I’ve ever said while past my due date. He asked, like the good scientist he is, was it the taste or was it the texture? I said texture. He said maybe he’s overmixing the batter. Perhaps pancakes are like brownies, which should always be hand-mixed, and never over stirred.

And, he took all four kids to the mall (!!!) where they waited an hour in line to see Santa. My Masterpiece was scared to death of Santa, so she didn’t get in the family picture. While at the mall, they purchased Christmas gifts for me. And they were gone long enough for me to watch 16 and Pregnant, Glee, and Oprah.

Also #2: he told me I’m not very complain-y, especially compared to the last two pregnancies. I said being down 100lbs probably helps; I’m not having any physical issues. Yes, I feel kind of like a whale, but so do most 40w1d pregnant women. My whale-ism isn’t anything new.

The Rockstar

My dog was in heat again a few weeks ago, and I’m probably going to get her spayed relatively soon. She is a “show” dog, but neither My Chemical Romance nor I want to show her. Other than not having time, energy, or money for showing her, I’m not so sure how she’d do in a ring. She’s incredibly social with other dogs, and I think she would distract everyone — including herself. She would roll on her back and try to get the judge to rub her belly. Plus she has this weird untamed hair — she has like 12 cowlicks that would take me forever to get straight. I’ve tried, when I groom her, to get her fur to lay flat. It likes to be springy and curl up. I’m not going to fight dog hair — I already fight with my own hair and The Informant’s hair. My Masterpiece seems to have gotten better hair genes, along with Animal and Mineral, who don’t count because they get shaved every month or two.

Another reason I would spay her is her Optic Neuritis. If you look it up, you’ll get a vague explanation that it’s an eye condition that leads to temporary blindness which will someday be permanent blindness. Maybe. There’s really no way to tell. She hasn’t had an episode of blindness in nearly a year — but the ophthalmologist vet said it would probably be a year between episodes, so I’m not sure yet. It’s not genetic, but I don’t want to breed her when she’s not 100% perfect, she’s not a champion… there’s just no reason to breed her.

I love her. She loves My Chemical Romance. She loves me, but when My Chemical Romance is around, she’s on him like wild on rice. She loves curling up in corners. Her favorite spot in the kitchen is in the corner, under a row of shelves. Her favorite place in the bathroom is the cubby under the counter where I put my chair. Her favorite place in the office is under the desk. Her favorite place in our bedroom is on our bed, preferably on a pillow. She sleeps on her back with her paws in the air. It cracks me up. Usually sometime in the night she gets off our bed and sleeps in a corner of the room, near the door. She follows me in and out of the bathroom when I pee all night long. She goes in the bathroom with My Chemical Romance when he wakes up in the morning and showers.

She loves a half-deflated soccer ball. She loves stuffed animals. She takes them outside and “kills” them, shaking them back and forth and running around. When I was talking with her breeder about which dog would be appropriate for our family, the breeder mentioned that in her personality test she didn’t show the instinct to kill stuffed animals or balls — so she seemed more easy going. HA. Almost two years later, and the kill instinct has been activated.

She LOVES other dogs. Her main goal in life seems to be to get other dogs to play with her. Too bad most other dogs find her pesky. We dog-sat for my friend Renaissance Woman (still need a better nickname?) and her big brown lab wouldn’t give her the time of day. Same with my parents’ two dogs. Luckily she has a BFF, Wii’s dog.

She’s a good dog. She used to be kind of small for her breed, but now she’s normal sized. We feed her raw, and My Chemical Romance is always amazed at the huge portions she eats.

Transitioning…

For the last few days I’ve noticed some hormonal changes, and I’m hoping wondering if this is my body getting close to labor and birth. I’m starting to have night sweats again, I’m breaking out on my face, and I’m getting more crazy with each passing day. I kind of feel like I’m back in my first tri, except with 40 extra lbs. I originally went to the doctor because of the night sweats, thinking I was having some kind of endocrine issue. Nope! Just pregnancy!

I’m so excited to find out if Tax Deduction is a girl or a boy. I’ve gone back and forth so many times in this pregnancy, first thinking it was a boy, then girl for a looooooooooong time, now boy again. I just don’t know. This pregnancy has been a weird mixture of more and less intense than my others. It’s more intense because of my weight loss; I can feel a lot more than I could with all the others, and I’m more knowledgeable about the process. It’s less intense because — duh! — I’m a lot more busy with the older kids. A clerk at Tar*get will say something to me about how it’s getting close and I’m thinking, “Close to what, exactly? Oh, yeah. I’m having a baby.” I feel like not knowing the sex inhibits the bonding I’ve felt with the other kids. With the others, I would think, “Hey, The Informant, how did you like this Thanksgiving meal? Pretty good huh?” but now I think, “Hey baby who might be XX or XY and we’re still not 100% certain on a name, what do you think of…” and by the time the sentence is out I’m totally distracted by something else anyway.

Last night I was having some intense back pain, thinking, “This is it… maybe…?” but nope. I took a bath and went to bed. It was probably from doing “too much” on Thanksgiving. All that cooking, plus I moved a Graco Nautilus car seat from my garage into the house, so that The Happy Mathlete could borrow it.

Next Friday is My Chemical Romance’s birthday and it might be sort of cool if the baby shared his birthday.