time to expand the family....again

i know what you are thinking...i mean fussy is only almost 3 months old. but we were so lopsided with three boys, we decided to try again. only this time, it was easy to pick out girls.

cute huh? and the boys are so excited because they each picked one out. and all three are different breeds, so it should make for some interesting eggs.

boring

I have nothing to post about. It seems the blogger block has taken a few of our numbers recently. It is not because I don't want to blog, because I do, I just don't think anyone wants to hear me complain about mysterious fevers, family members, my dirty house, and life with a newborn.

Although the spring weather has buoyed us up a bit and I can already see my peas poking through the dirt. My treadmill hasn't seen this much action since probably October. My sister in law that shares my back yard fence, birthed forth her twin baby boys. I've seen them once and they were pretty cute. Tiny and cute. Oh and Harry goes off track for 3 weeks on Thursday.

So that is it for me. Life in a nutshell right now. We will just keep on truckin. Eventually something blog worthy is going to happen, and hopefully it will be something interesting and funny, instead of something interesting and sad.

on second thought

I'm pretty granola. I like natural birth and breastfeeding. I try to give my kids natural foods, good for you kind of things. So it was only natural that I would want to try, not only to save the environment, but to be that extra bit of hippy, by using cloth diapers.

I mean, it is inevitable. I was curious from my la leche league days. I saw all these cute baby bums covered in the most adorable diapers. Mom's who seemed to have the whole thing together, and had a natural solution to overcrowding at the local landfills.

When I was pregnant with Chilly, I almost considered it. Cloth diapering that is. I watched other moms do it, and I was almost sold. Until I figured out how much they cost, and even though I knew it would be cheaper than doing disposables, I couldn't justify the large cost to start.

So with Fussy, I decided I was going to do it. I bought several different kinds of diapers. I was excited. I knew exactly how I was going to do it. I bought my first sets from ebay! when I was done, and he had outgrown them, I would just sell them! so I stocked up. Cute little prints, adorable covers. Cloth wipes. I did my research on what all I needed.

And then fussy was born. We were told the meconium days were best done with 'posies, so we got a package. And we didn't want to waste, so we used them all. And then people brought by more packages of diapers for gifts. I didn't want them to feel bad, so we used them. By the time I had run out, the small cloth diapers didn't fit him anymore. And the mediums didn't fit him yet.

But I wasn't going to be undone! Even though his chubby legs didn't fit in them, I still put the different diapers on fussy. He would pee once and I had to change him. Clothes too. Then he'd poop, every time he ate, so I'd have to change him. 10-15 diapers a day. And wipes. That was a lot of laundry. Not from all the diapers, but from all the clothes.

So I would go and buy more disposables. I'd tell myself "when he quits pooping so much, then I'll do cloth" . Ashamed of my non-granolaness, I hung my head every time I opened a package of diapers. All the people I had excitedly told about cloth diapers..well, I avoided the conversation when it turned to how i was doing with diapers. How could it be so hard?

So here I am to say, to all my friends and family who told me not to cloth diaper my baby. "you were right" "who on earth would want to do it" "does anybody want to buy some barely used small diapers?"

Someday I will do it, just to prove you all wrong, but for right now, I've got enough on my plate, or in my laundry.

oh dear!

This morning, while planning my busy day, I figured I needed to find a time to take Fussy to the doctor. Not that I didn't have enough to do today, but that, it seemed, Fussy was having a hard time breathing.

Since it is April, and I am thinking the rsv season is considered november-march, I figured I was off the hook. And maybe I am. I didn't stick around for the rsv test the doctor wanted to do. Instead, we filled up on a breathing treatment and headed out of the office to meet the home care people who were delivering our very own, brand new nebulizer.

So it is breathing treatments ever 4-6 hours for my smalled kid. I'm glad that is it. I'm glad the doctor didn't freak out and send us to the hospital. Of course, he would have, if Fussy hadn't had such a good o2 score.

I am really glad that I have a healthy baby, one that didn't come early and have compromised lungs. Of course he probably inherited this lung problem from me, and only time will tell if he will have asthma for life. I hope not. It is no fun.

This is on top of the news that Chilly gets to have his tonsills and adenoids taken out in May, and Harry needs to see a councellor for anger management. This is what raising kids is all about right? It's a good thing I've got a good support system, otherwise I'd be going crazy right now.

So there ya go.

trying to catch a smile

superman

" ... you must live as one of them but always hold in your heart the pride of your special heritage. They can be a great people Kal-El, they wish to be, they only lack the light to show the way. For this reason above all, there capacity for good, I have sent them you, my only son."

My boys love him. For the past couple of weeks, I've been picking up clothes like crazy. Clothes that go over the costume. Thrown aside when the superhero makes his entrance and saves the day. Harry even has an old dress suit of big d's (when he was a kid) that he puts over his superman outfit.

The other day I was watching harry play outside. He was unbuttoning his blue dress shirt to reveal his superman s underneath. It was like I was watching a very young Christopher reeve running around in my back yard. Harry even had his harry potter glasses and was using them in his Clark Kent ensemble.

I've watched, or listened to, superman 2, everyday since it was found. Chilly gets a little board, so we fast forward over the lovie scenes. And when Chilly isn't watching the movie, he is humming the theme song.

It is getting a little annoying to be honest with you, especially the laundry problem created by discarded cothing strewn around the house, but I also love the fact that my boys are so creative and have such an imagination. What a good superhero to be though. Well, except for the whole fornicating thing with Lois Lane. But it was the 70's right?

Superman is the guy when it comes to saving people and doing lots of good in the world. He cares about the people of earth, and uses his powers for good. Who would have thought boys get just as much out of playing dress up his the girly cousins they have? spiderman, batman, superman, harry potter, all occasionally live at my house.

what's with being thin?

Like any normal woman who just gave birth, and gained a slight 50 pounds while being pregnant, I'm on a quest to loose a bit round my middle (or thighs). I have to loose one more pound before I stop being "slightly overweight" and can announce to the world that I am a healthy weight. I've been working on it ever since fussy made his exit (or entrance, depending on what side of my body you are on)

When I was pregnant though, I wanted to be healthy. I ate food, lots of good food, and some not so good food. I exercised. I still gained enough weight to technically carry twins. but I wasn't worried, at least not too much, because I knew that I could eventually loose the weight if I worked hard. To me the most important part was carrying a healthy baby.

Which I did. we got Fussy measured yesterday, and not only is doing just fine, he has gained a whopping 3.5 pounds. since birth. He's 2 months! Amazing! He is healthy and growing and I never needed to worry about him being born too early.

one of my fears in life was having a preterm baby. Or a baby stuck in the NICU for weeks on end. I have seen it with my family and a lot of my friends, and it isn't an easy road to be down. Just because you got pregnant, carried past week 30 is no guarantee you are going to bring a healthy baby home from the hospital. Add in anything different, like say multiples, and you can end up with a heartbreak or two.

A lot of this stems from the fact that women are so obsessed about what they look like, that they don't take care of their bodies. I don't really think we can trace it back to the men. I think they like us as women. It is us women that is the problem. Comparing ourselves to everyone, constantly being told that we need to watch what we eat. Skipping a meal or two so the jeans that we got will fit. It isn't healthy to us, and what are we teaching our kids.

If you are like me, you have heard what I'm ranting about a million times over. And maybe once or twice you've nodded your head in agreement. Maybe for a couple of weeks you told yourself you are not going to cut calories, just be healthy. We've heard it all from well meaning people who are sick of looking at stick and bone women and being told that is what we need to look like. But it is just so ingrained in us that we need to be thin to be pretty.

I get that, I can't change it.

But I am not okay with it when it involves more lives than yours. You can hurt your own body, but don't hurt the baby that you might be carrying, just because you buy into the fact that you have to be a size 2 to be beautiful.

Before you get your dander up about "weight isn't everything for being pregnant" know this, it does have a big impact. I know that there are women who have been healthy the entire pregnancy, but then something happens and they don't go home with the baby they carried. Weight had nothing to do about it. My point is this, if you know, if you know that something could help, why not do it?

Fussy's blessing

So I'm just going to assume my readers are lds, and know what I'm talking about here. Just because I've got like two minutes to blog, and I hate trying to explain it all.

So last Sunday was fussy's blessing. It was good, and bad.

the good
We got to church before it started which was a real record for us. Dumb 9:00 church with three boys kind of thing. But we made it. Nobody got lost on the way to my house. During the actual blessing, Fussy wasn't! And the big boys were really good, even with the excitement of having cousins in church with them. After sacrament meeting, nobody got lost on the way to my house. We had lots of food. My sister even showed up with her little newborn!

The bad
I firmly believe that satan controls all clocks. Before my eyes we ran out of time getting ready. I know I got up early, and with plenty of time to spare, but after getting myself and fussy bathed, kids out of bed, hair combed, fussy nursed, we were seriously pushing the limit. I was so grateful for the extra hands that showed up a bit later than I thought,to hold the baby, so I could at least put on some makeup. We got to the church before it started, but not before the "saving of seats" time. So all of the benches were taken, and we were relegated to the back with the hard chairs. Nothing hurts your bum more than an hour and 10 on cold metal chairs. Back at the house my sister showed up with her newborn and totally stole Fussy's thunder. What is cuter than a baby on his blessing day? A younger newborn. After working all Saturday to have the house looking tip top, within minutes of breaking the bread, it was a disaster. I also forgot, ran out of time, for pictures. So you will just have to imagine a beautiful baby boy looking his best in a sweet white outfit grandma gave him. Because by the time he was home, he had really pooped and it had gotten all over his white little sweater thing.

But here I go complaining again. Even after I told myself I wouldn't. Shame on me, because the most important thing about the blessing is the blessing. It was beautiful! I was so in awe at some of things that were talked about with my little baby. I think it gave me a glimpse into the rest of his life. It is a little scary too, because I really don't want to mess it up. I really felt the Spirit as Big D blessed him. I could almost see those fussy was named after, up in the circle with them. It was an amazing experience for me. I think Big D felt it too.

So after all that, even the bad, isn't bad, you know? I am so thankful for a husband who can bless his kids, for family who isn't too busy to support me, and for these wonderful kids, including Fussy.

to milk or not to milk?

Breastfeeding. Is there anything more lovely with a newborn. Not only do you get to "show off your goods" multiple times a day, you get the pleasure of knowing that you are feeding your infant the very best food there is for him.

It aint easy, is it? Ask any mom 2 or 3 weeks post partum, and they will almost always have the same answer, it sure isn't natural. There is nothing natural about the latch on of a newborn baby. It doesn't curl your toes, it freaking breaks them off. sore nipples, engorged boobies. Waking up in a puddle every morning. Moist bras. It sure isn't natural to enjoy those things.

Feeding fussy is going really well, now at least. It wasn't a few weeks ago. Not that he had troubles nursing per say, he just didn't like something in my milk. So I stopped eating. well I still ate, just nothing that had milk, eggs, wheat, soy, corn, milk, chocolate, and milk. Okay, so it was mostly just milk, and chocolate.

Now I'm not a big milk drinking by any means. I hate milk. I used it cereal, and in baking, but other than that, I pass on the big white jug. But I was floored by the amount of things that have milk in them. I mean, you can kind of figure that pudding has milk in it, and say, cheese. But chicken nuggets? Chili? Yup. All sorts of foods. Most anything that I liked, or I had in my freezer has milk in it. That takes into account the meals that I made before I had the baby to help out in times of needing a quick dinner. Lasagna, enchiladas, turkey casserole. All untouchable by me.

The sad thing(or happy thing) is that Fussy is really not so fussy anymore. I mean he is fussy RIGHT NOW, but that is because I am on the computer and he wants...you guessed it...dairy free mommy milk.


At least I could name him something different. Not such a fussy anymore. Maybe soggy???

bums of the family

that is what we are right now. apparently. I guess because big d has to work for a living, and I have a newborn. I'm sorrry that is such a lame excuse! if you want more information, check out big d's blog.

my inlaws are moving

you'd think a daughter in law, who married the oldest son, would be happy, right?

Big d and I have lived close to his parents almost our entire married life. We did spend some time in NYC, but you can't really tell. Anyway, we've pretty much lived within 20 minutes of them for 10 years. we were told countless times how grateful they were for us, because we "stayed close".

We have known it was coming for some time now. Father in law has spent the better part of the year in far away places working. Mother in law retired from her school teaching job, and is now ready for the adventure of living wherever they next decide. Actually they have decided, and are packing up the house as I type.

They were a rock of solidarity to me. They had lived in this house for well over 30 years. I expected to bury them in the back yard with the cats! They accepted me as a daughter. They have been there for us during really tough times. I know in my heart that what they are doing is a good thing for them. They feel they need a fresh start at life, and are prepared to move across country to do it. I know they are doing what they think is right for them. I just feel a little betrayed, a little upset that my kids won't grow up with them anymore right there. As grandparents, they will miss out on so much of my kids lives.

I know the siblings have these same issues, as most of them have lived, or are living further away now. But they don't understand, that was their own choice to live away from them. This isn't our choice to have them move. We don't want them to. I also feel betrayed and hurt by a comment father in law said when they were telling us about them moving so many months ago. "The only thing keeping us here is you". It hurt on so many levels. And it still hurts today.

There will be good points to having them live 16 hours away! I won't have to constantly remind them that I have a family too. We won't have the trouble of splitting time at families for different holidays. There won't be uncomfortable moments at birthday parties when one grandparent gives more than the other. When they do come to visit, hopefully we will get all of them, and not just them on a Sunday afternoon.

But there are defiantly more disadvantages for us. We won't see them often. we can't afford to visit them. when they do come our way, we will still have to split them with 2 other families. They are also our hub of the family. When they move away, we won't see big d's sisters very often because they aren't going to come and visit just us. They are going to want to use their time to see mom and dad. cousins are going to get the short end by not having fun seeing each other. Well at least my part of the cousin game.

It has been hard for me. I've been grumpy. I feel betrayed. I don't want to see the house packed up. I don't want to see the moving truck pull away. I can't face the fact that it is the end. Things will never be the same. Not between us, and it will never be the same way for my kids. Ever. There are just some things that change permanently. They won't be here to go to t-ball games, or school programs. They won't be here to see birthday parties or loose teeth. They won't be here for Fussy's blessing, or to see how he will change. They will miss out on being "the favorite grandparents" for him. And because of that, we will loose something we have been working on for 10 years. A relationship shared by loving my kids. We will never have that same relationship again.

Instead, they will see pictures, and maybe read our blogs. And a couple of times a year, maybe, they will spend a day or two with the boys.

I could just be a softy, it's not like they are dead! I cried the day big d's sister moved. I just can't imagine how I'm going to feel when they are gone. I know I'm going to drive by the house and feel an emptiness. I hope my kids don't feel it, and I hope they do feel it too.

I truly hope they have the best years ahead for them. I wish them well in their new adventure. I hope they have all the success and fresh start they need to get them back on top in this crazy life game. And I do hope they know how much we will miss them, and how much their grandson's will miss them. I know this decision wasn't lightly made, but that is of little comfort right now.


so, good luck, farewell, and don't let the door hit you on your way out.

I'm having a hard time blogging one handed! My other hand seems to be constantly holding Fussy. I've got a couple of posts fizzing around in my head, I'm just waiting for a naptime that isn't 10 minutes long, or isn't filled with things like going to the bathroom. But I am pretty sure I've got the cutest baby.

it is all about that momma love, right. amazing how you fall in love with your newborn, even though he doesn't sleep, or he's incredibly fussy all the time.

I've some cute pictures of my kids. I wish I could post them here.

Of course Chilly is not being a good kid today. Finally after almost 6 weeks of not being the baby anymore, he is starting to really misbehave. Raising kids without beating them is tough.

My sister's new kid!

Back a long time ago, about 7 months, I found out that my older sister was expecting. What a huge surprise. This was cool for me, because, well, I had never been pregnant with one of my sisters before. Being the youngest does that to you.

So now my little fussy has a cousin on this side of the family that is close to his age. Pretty much is his age. Fussy turned 5 weeks old today, and his little girly cousin was born yesterday morning at 12am.

I am really excited for my sister. Her youngest before the baby is 11. And she, like me, has two older boys. So she got her girl, and the coveted granddaughter. And she is cute, my neice, not my sister, although she does look just fine. My mom came down and watched fussy so I could go to the hospital ( shudder) and see my new little neice.

I do think it is weird when the youngest (me) has advice for my older sister. My oldest sister even commented that she wished I had been having babies when she was having babies. Her youngest by the way is a year older than my Harry. It feels strange to be looking my older siste in the eye and give her advice about breastfeeding. Or when I called her on Saturday night (because my mom insisted) to talk to her about labor, and if she should go in to the hospital or not. But it is cool too. Almost like they have quit looking at me as the baby sister, spoiled rotten, and are now looking at me as an equal. I like it.

So congrats to my big sister on her new baby girl. And congrats to my mom for her new baby granddaughter.


At least fussy had almost 5 weeks of being the newbie!.

My timeline was off. Chilly did get the dreaded fever, only it was today. So more like a week in between fevers and general illness.

But aside from that we still had to take the boys to get their hair cut. except fussy didn't need one. Nope, he's lost pretty much all the hair on the top of his head already. So now he looks like an old man for sure. Toothless and bald. And he has baby acne too.

But the other two boys look so cute with the new do. And we actually paid someone to do it, so it looks much better than when I weed whack it for them. I love it!

it really is amazing how a haircut can change you. When Harry was done getting his, he looked, or reminded me, of my big brother. Same dark eyes, same eyebrows. It was eerie. Someday I'll have to post a picture of me in first grade, and Harry's first grade picture. Chilly looks older too, like someone hit the fast forward button and he turned 4 already, maybe 5. of course ever since we had fussy, Chilly looks really big to me.

the best part of getting their haircuts was showing off my baby to the old lady there. She was getting her doo, and watching my sweet boys intently. She pulled me aside and told me how cute my boys were, how sweet my baby was, and what a good daddy they seemed to have. I had to agree with her on all parts. I mean, even though Chilly was startign to get fevered up, he still sat still and was so good to get his hair done. And even though Harry was "scared" he still managed to get the courage to sit and chop off his lovely locks. But my heart belongs to big D! The way he encourages the boys to be good, and really, REALLY cares about them. The way he holds them, and loves them, especially fussy.

the magic of the first smile

we saw it today, and were too slow with the camera to get a picture. But it happened. Fussy smiled.

the joys of technology, and assorted other vents

our isp is freaking out. I haven't been able to get online consistently for a week now. Sure, occasionally it fixes itself and I can pop on for a minute or two. That is when you realize that you are addicted to the Internet. The really craptastic part is that we have our phone through our Internet, so pretty much the world thinks I'm mad at them because I haven't been answering the phone. Only because I have no phone service. Really.

Harry is sick. Today was the day he was supposed to go back on track for school. Three weeks off and he is perfectly healthy. He is uber healthy and driving me crazy. "When will school be in??" I think to myself. Then early Sunday morning, while I was up feeding Fussy, I hear a weak "mom" coming from Harry. He is fevered hot and tells me that he feels weird. And he has been that way for 2 days now. Missing school. He hasn't puked yet, or gunked up anything. He just feels weird and is about 103 degrees of burning hot mop head.

So now I get to plan out my week like this.... Harry in bed on Monday, Tuesday he goes back to school ( I HOPE!) Chilly fevered on Wednesday, Thursday. And Mom gets the sick bug on Friday. I am really praying that whatever illness this is, that my little Fussy doesn't get it this time, seeing that I can't give him med's to take down the fever.

and don't let me forget Fussy. 4 weeks old today! And my back is killing me. At two weeks old, he had already put on a pound. I imagine he's got another pound on again. All that dancing is straining out my back. He doesn't like to sleep. He grunts and wiggles like his belly hurts. I've cut out dairy, but it is looking more likely I need to cut out wheat. I don't know what I'll eat. If I do cut it out, I hope to stop smelling like sour milk. It's true what they say about babies, everything is a lot more moist now.

you've got to bloody your knee before you can learn to ride your bike

We've been suffering from unusually warm weather the last couple of days, so big d got the bikes out. Well he got Harry's bike out, and Chilly's tricycle, since his bike broke. Harry did it today. He learned to ride his bike without the training wheels. He did it all by himself. I think his success is partly because I wasn't there beside him holding him up. We just told him he could do it. He fell a couple of times, and he did scrape his knee up, bloody-ing the pants he was wearing. I told him from the sidelines that now he was bleading, you can officially ride your bike. And he did. I'm pretty proud of my future Lance Armstrong.

Chilly on the other hand learned to pedal! We've been working with him on it for ages, and it seems the same thing applied...get mom on the sidelines and let him do his thing.

And it is so true in every aspect of your life! You can't succeed at anything until you know you can do it! I keep telling myself this as I bounce baby #3 during the evening hours of endless fussiness. "I can do this!".

(this post is all about me being able to show off my kids!)

what do you do between 4-6

am that is? I am up. Out of bed, feeding an infant, rocking, dancing, pacing the floor. That is when my baby decides he is up for the day and insists on looking innocently up at me. And at that ungrateful hour of the morning, I just stare back at him.

I'm not complaining, mostly. I am grateful for the opportunity for quiet thought. I can't turn on the radio, or the tv. I just sit in my rocking chair thinking. I should put a notepad next to the chair because I swear I come up with great things to blog about. At least I think I do. When rational thought comes back to me, they might be pretty silly.

HOnestly though, I realized that it is a good time for me to reflect on the day I want to have. What things I need to get done. I try not to think about the sleep I am missing. But I usually feel outnumbered by the snores from the sleeping 3. And boy do they snore.

But at the early morning hour, the thought that usually comes up the most, and the one I can remember the most, it how amazing it is to be a mom. And how much I love my family.

sappy huh?

I know that this too shall pass, and eventually my early morning wonderings will be gone and replaced by REM sleep. But you know, when that happens, I will be a little bit sad. It will mean that my newborn isn't a newborn any more.

perfect

It is what every expectant mother prays for. She holds her breath during the ultrasound until all is declared good. The moment of birth, she counts toes and fingers and looks her baby over for anything odd. Most times, nothing is found, and the baby is thus presented...Perfect! Until she gets him home, late night screaming change her mind and she wonders what is wrong. Is there something wrong with me, is there something wrong with him, the house, his room, his blanket??? What is it?

We had a moment like this during the weekend, where the babe was crying and awake for several hours. Both Big D and I were exhausted. Our poor little newborn had caught his very first cold. Not something momentous as a first tooth, but still. There was nothing we could do, he's only 12 days old. But still, he pulls those smiley faces while he sleeps, and again, he is perfect.

When I was in labor, we still hadn't decided on a name. I was laboring in the pool, and there was a clear thought about what his name should be. We had just barely thought of this name, we both liked it fine, it just wasn't on the top of the list. And I also got a clear view of what his middle name should be. My grandpa's name. Of course to be fair for family names, Harry was named after my side, Chilly named after Big-D's side. We were going to do a mix of both sides and use one from each, but it didn't work that way, and the babe named himself after my mom's side of the family. Big D obliged, how many husbands argue with a laboring woman?

When he popped out and was handed to me, I realized why my perfect little baby had this name. My grandfather was physically handicapped. His arm and leg on one side were smaller and didn't work. He was this way all his life, and yet he lived a very full life, he was a judge, had four kids, etc. A pretty normal guy. He used a cane when I knew him, and toward the end of his life, he had a hard time getting around. But most elderly people do.

Anyway, when my perfect baby was on my chest, I noticed his hand. It was much smaller than than the left hand, and it looked like he had arthritis of the fingers. That or he was doing "live long and prosper" from star trek. His little fingers are a little webbed. But the really noticeable part was how much smaller the right hand is. His arm is really skinny and a bit shorter too.

What does this mean? I have no idea. Of course you think about your baby and how perfect they will be, and when they come out, not quite perfect, at least to other's standards, you wonder. At least I did. I wondered how his life was going to be different. Is it going to be harder for him? Will he need more help? Will the Dr.'s want to do surgery? Are there other things that could be different with him?

He is still my perfect little baby, but now I wondered how other's would see him. Would they see him as perfect? Will they treat him differently?

Everybody has their thing. Harry has a dipped in chest. Chilly has a weird rib (and he did have webbing on another part of his body too). Just because you don't see it everyday, doesn't mean everybody doesn't have something different about them. That is what makes us unique. My babe will probably just have to deal with his for the rest of his life.

My baby has a small hand. And he has his grandfathers name. He has the name to remind him that he can have a normal life, that he is still perfect no matter what anyone else sees or thinks.