Stunning

Ahh, I am sure that any readers believe me to be a lazy blogger.  Well, ok, I have gotten a little lazy but that does not explain my absence over the last two months.  Sometime in mid September I got myself knocked-up.  Pregnant.  With child.  In the family way. 

Are you screeching with excitement yet?  Well, don't start celebrating the opportunity to follow along live as I go through another nine months of hormones, attitude and sweet stories.  At least not yet.  So far this pregnancy has been a bit tough.  A lot tough. 

Around the time this bun was put in the oven, I started to have anxiety attacks....soon to morph into full on panic attacks which brought the EMT's to my house many times, not to mention prompting me to visit many moronic doctors who deserve to have their stethascopes shoved where the sun doesn't shine.  My family spent the majority of October in a state of chaos and frustration.  I honestly thought I was going to die.  Regardless if the "pains" or "concerns" were in my head or true in feeling...not one of those so-called educated bags of self-rightous gas ever thought to perform a full blood test or even a simple urine test to check out every possiblity even after I asked, begged and insisted. 

It was my sister who told me to take a pregnancy test just as a precaution to rule it out before my next appointment which was sure to result in yet another medication.  I did.  That damn stick turned colors before all the urine was soaked in!  Does that mean I am SERIOUSLY pregnant?  I took two more tests.  Yep.  Pregnant.  Knocked-up.  With child.

Needless to say, the next doctor's appointment was a bit different than I had originally planned.  I wanted to walk in and strip down and scream, "Fix this Crap!"  I am not a "panicker" nor am I a victim.  I felt like the biggest freak on the planet.  How can I not have control over this stuff?  Why was I freaking at every little twitch as if it was a stroke or heart attack? Is "pregnant" the real cause? .  So, I walk into the doctor and told him I was pregnant.  He had me pee in the cup and confirmed it.  Medication was changed....the doc, the nurse and my husband were all quite excited.  As for me, I was still scared and worried that I was losing my mind.

Of course I am happy to have another sweet little angel to raise.  Of course I love to nibble baby-feet and listen to that saintly heart thump along. There is nothing more beautiful and humbling than to be honored as the one to bring that spirit and soul into the world. But, I am scared. 

Scared-I don't have what it takes to be a good mom to THREE!  Scared-that my body isn't good enough to do this again.  Scared-that the anxiety I experienced before I knew about the life I was growing was a precursor or warning of horrible things....and those things would be my fault. 

I am pregnant.  Questions answered, anxiety should stop, right?  No, it didn't stop because (I think) these episodes have a lot to do with hormones and my emotions.  Oh, must not forget the fact that they GOT WORSE after Doctor "Hole-in-the-head" told me to take Benadryl to calm my anxiety!!!   DUMB ASS ME tried it and it seems that the mix of new medications, hormones, and my bad reaction to Benadryl not only pushed my panic attacks up a level....I developed a full body rash that is still killing me. 

Off I go, back to my regular doctor.  Screw these idiots who treat me like some "poor emotional pregnant girlie girl."  I am not some fainting flower.  I am not imagining this rash, nor am I trying to goad attention.  My regular doctor took one look at me and said, " Let's find an answer."  He ordered blood tests and gave me steroids.  STEROIDS!!  The baby!!  It took a week of talking to his nurse, among others, but I am now relieved to find that there is minimal threat of the steroids hurting the baby....my stress and high blood pressure from the stress would do more damage.  Ok, I get it.  Choose the lessor of two evils.  I am doing better. 

Tomorrow I will be off to a new OBGYN.  She will get my "new doctor" lecture....and I hope beyond hope that we will get to the bottom of this and baby and mommy will spend the next 7 months chasing rainbows and butterflies.  By the way, I am 10 weeks along today and I really really do want everyone to CELEBRATE!

Conversations with Kenny

Over the last week or two, I have noticed that my sweet little son has been more and more creative in answering questions or during general conversations. I started to keep track.  Here is a sampling:


CONVERSATION 1
ME:  Kenny, want to sing me one of your songs?
KENNY:  I can't
ME:  Why not?
KENNY: It is compli-crated
ME: Try to explain it to me.
KENNY:  You are not enough people, mama.
ME:  How am I not enough people.
KENNY: I can't sing unless I have a audio-ence.
ME:  But you can sing to both Sissy and I, that is two people.
KENNY:  That still isn't good, Mama. 

Then my adorable son shrugged his shoulders in sadness (as if his horribly stupid mother will never get it), sighed and walked away.

CONVERSATION 2
I had just returned to the living room after my shower. Felicia was still napping.
ME:  Kenny, did you throw these blankets on the floor?
KENNY:  No. Sissy did it.
ME:  How did Felicia do it? She has been taking a nap all afternoon..
KENNY:  Well she did it when you were in the shower.
ME: Are you lying to me?
KENNY: No. I am a big boy.

Believing I would stump him, I confidently asked,

ME:  How could Sissy come in here and throw the blankets on the floor when she is sleeping?
KENNY:  This is how it happened, Mama

Can you see the shock in my face at that line!

KENNY:  You got in the shower and made a lot of noise and it woke up Sissy.  She crawled through her stripes (I am assuming he means the bars) on her bed and came in here, she pushed me down cause I told her 'no no' and she got on the couch and pushed the blankets on the floor.  She went back to sleep.

I honestly stood there shocked.  My God this kid just told me the most detailed lie I have ever heard come from the mouth of a 4 year old.  Before I started to laugh, I sent him to his room for a time out...then I laughed my ass off!

CONVERSATION 3
ME:  Kenny, please stop putting your hand on my boob when you come over to give me a hug!
KENNY:  I have to, Mama.
ME: No.  Put your hand on my shoulder or arm.  Don't just grab my boob when you come to give me a hug or to get my attention.
KENNY: Mama, I have to touch your boob.
ME:  Why?
KENNY:  Cause boobs stick out farther than your shoulder!
ME:  (trying not to laugh) I know baby, but please try!
KENNY: ok.

I remember.....

September 11.  I remember too vividly.
Please read my other blog.
VentRantBreathe
Please Remember with me

Crash Cart

Please tell me I am not alone.  Tell me that my children are not unique in their attempts to kill themselves several times a day just to give me a coronary...Tell ME that I am not losing my damn mind!

Huh hmm.  Sorry. 

So, I decide this morning that it would be fun to take the kids to the local diner for breakfast and then on to the store to pick up a few items.  A little routine break.  A little socializing.  A little fun.  I shower, I dress.  I attack Felicia's hair and Kenny's shoes and we are ready to go. 

Things start out wonderfully.  Kenny is learning to buckle his own seat belt, saving my back.  Felicia still hasn't pulled out the clip holding her hair from her eyes, she is adorable.  Small miracles are always the best.  The diner is fairly empty and we chat with Jen, the waitress and friend who dotes on us as if we are royalty.  Everyone cleans their plates and the sticky fingers brigade heads to the bathroom to wash up.  A smooth, sweet and relaxing break in the routine of life.  A treat.  (ha ha, the diner's name is Treats Cafe)  I am so funny.

Heading back to the truck, we sing "Hup 2, 3, 4," marching along with giggles in our hearts and smiles on our faces.  On to the store.  We hold hands across the parking lot and enter the store.  Greetings come from all sides since we are regulars, and this is a small town drug store.  Most comments center around the kids.  They must...they are so damn cute and just love being the center of attention. 

Felicia gets deposited in the cart, buckled and kissed.  Kenny, the big boy, stands at my hip just like he is supposed to.  What a great kid.  We chat as we pick up lightbulbs.  We debate the best looking paper towels and argue about needing a new broom.  How do you explain to a child that a fancy, flashy display of new items doesn't mean we need that item?  Anyway, we are having a good time.  We stop in the toy section and Kenny chooses a few new HotWheel cars to add to his collection using the money he makes doing his chores.  I grabbed a little dolly for Felicia.  La Dee Da.  What a wonderful day.

We make one last stop in the office supply section so I can pick out a new whiteboard.  As I am weighing my choices between price and size, I see my son jump on the side of the shopping cart out of the corner of my eye. Before I could even yell at him to get down, the cart tips sideways, landing on Kenny and pushing him into the hard, sharp metal display shelf.  Felicia, buckled in, gets slammed into the upper part of the shelf as the cart comes to rest on it's side, pinning her arm and her brother.  In a flash I drop everything and scream their names as they just begin to cry from the shock.  With super-mommy strength I grab the cart, full of stuff and pick the whole thing off the ground and right it on it's wheels.  I squat down, gathering Kenny up in a baby hold while I rub Felicia's leg with my other hand to calm her down a little as I assess the damage. 

A very nice gentleman, ran up to us and asked if the kids were ok.  I barked and hissed at him as I ran my fingers over Kenny's back and the scratches and bruises I found.  The poor guy walked away silent.  It didn't even register in my head that he was there until he was gone.  He most likely thinks I was an evil bitch.  Hum.  "Sorry Mr Guy-in-Yellow-Shirt"  but the world honestly disappeared the moment my kids were in trouble. Gee, now that I am writing this I feel even guiltier.  ick.

A full scale body check found:  Kenny, large bruise and small scratches on his lower back, knot on his head and a little scratch on his cheek.  Felicia, little bruise on her arm and one on her knee (although that could have been from yesterday's picnic).  They crying was short lived, we all calmed down and went about our way.  During checkout, both kids were a little fussy, but a stop at the Coffee Shop for a mocha (for me) a chocolate milk for Kenny and a Strawberry milk for my little Felicia, stopped that and spirits returned to normal. 

My spirit did not go back to normal so easily.  I spent the next two hours trying to figure out why my children are bent on killing me by attempting to kill themselves!  This last hour I spent thanking my stars that there was no blood, punctures or ambulance rides. 

Tongue in Nose

I can officially announce that I am no longer feeling Crappier than Crappy.  Instead I simply feel like crap.  Woo Hoo, that means I am improving!  Today is my third day taking my oral steroid...just 13 days left.  Good news is that the dose decreases from here.  The bad news is that I stay up very late into the night (the time of this post, 3 am).  When Jason needs to come in to nudge me awake before he leaves for work he uses a few little "mommy threats" to get my butt out of bed.  His favorite is, "Kenny is up and is sitting all by himself in the living room."  What he fails to mention....(as I  get out of bed with only the energy behind my guilt to power me)....is that Kenny is content in watching cartoons and he is most likely hoping that I don't get up since I usually limit the cartoon viewing time. This is what has transpired for the last three days.

This morning the routine was just a little different.  Jason could not motivate me by guilt, threat, anger or fear. He exclaimed he was going to be late for work.  My groggy thought, " So!"  With no options left, he recruited Kenny to help.  As I lay comfy, cozy and warm I hear the sweet voice of my son. "Mommy, it is time to get up. You have to come and take care of me."  You can't tell me this child was not prompted by his father. So,  I pray quietly for strength as I extend my leg to roll my big butt out of bed.  My big toe comes into contact with Kenny's adorable nose.  Kenny says, "Owe mama, you kicked me in my nose!"  I sat all the way up and told him I was sorry.  He looked at me like I was a malicious feign.  I say, " You want me to kiss your nose to make it better?"  He looks at me sadly and says, "Ok but I don't want your tongue to stick in the holes like when Paris kisses me.  It is gross."  I kissed his nose (kept my tongue in my mouth) and ran for the bathroom because laughing that hard with a morning bladder is dangerous.

Paris: we adopted a 2yr old puppy a few weeks ago.  She is very affectionate and sweet. Loves to kiss...just ask Kenny's nose.

I put the duck tape away.

I feel crappier than the crappiest crap you can imagine.  What ever the hell is wrong with me needs to stop.  I have no time to be sick.  My kids and large child-like husband count on me.  Ugh.  I feel like crap!

So, since I am feeling rather crappy, my mood has not been as even as I would like.  In other words...I have been a stark raving lunatic bitch.  As a mother, I feel guilty for my lack of patience.  The kids have been a little "loose" mostly because they know that Mommy can't catch them, let alone get up fast enough to remember what  she was chasing them for in the first place.  They say when you lose one of your five senses...the others tone up to compensate.  To compensate for my physical inabilities, my mouth takes over and I holler and yell, but I am really really good at it.  The children don't seem phased at all.  In fact, they giggle at me.  What a sight I must be laying on the couch dying slowly as my daughter runs up and jumps on my chest.  It must be fun to be a fly on the wall when my four yr old son (60 lbs of football-player-to-be) comes at me at a dead run to slam into me hugging me...then covering his tracks by saying, "you are the bester mommy on da panet, mama!"

The moral of my little rant.  A few hours ago I changed a diaper, swept up the raisins from the floor and wiped the peanut butter laden half of samich off the wall before pronouncing, "Nap Time."  The kids squealed and giggled and ran around the kitchen bar at a NASCAR pace.  All I wanted was for my little sweet angels to go to bed so that I could die alone.  I couldn't get them to stop running.  They just giggled when I grabbed em and told them to go to bed.  Then my patience officially ran out.  I opened the junk drawer and grabbed the small roll of duck tape screaming, "If you two don't stop I am going to tape you to your beds!  Get in your rooms for Nap Time."  It was a slow giggle-ridden walk down the hall after that. 

I tucked in Felicia.  She cooed and giggled and threw her doll at me.  Lovely.  I went to Kenny, tucked him in, kissed his head and told him to stay in bed because, "Mommy doesn't feel good today.  Be a big boy and get a little rest." He smiled at me and lay his head on the pillow.  I blew a kiss to him and started leaving.  He hollered at me and when I turned around he was holding his little throw pillow out to me.  Then he said, "Mommy when you get sick you havta lay down and rest.  YOu wanna rest with me in my big race car bed, I have a little extra pillow?"  My heart melted.  I told him I would be back in a minute to rest with him.  I ran to the potty and then to the kitchen....I put the duck tape back in the drawer.

An Angel in Sleep

You can't tell me that I am the only mother who frequently sneaks into the room of a sleeping child several times during the evening to smile at, cover or coo at her children.  I don't overly dote on my kids, but God knows (and you should too if you read this blog) that these two little angels of mine are my world.  AND, yes I do check to make sure they are breathing.  I will do this until college, I suppose.

I have been sick.  Icky, crappy, tired, hit-me-with-a-frying-pan-to-put-me-out-of-my-misery kind of sick!  Doc is concerned I have a touch of pnemonia. Yeah.  Feel the excitement?  Onward.  Today the doctor decided to prescribe me a heavy round of antibiotics and oral steroids to help get me back on board with the living.  The pharmacist told me to take all of the first days dose at once...I did that at 7 pm.  Now, it is 3 am.  I am so wired and "Green-Hulked" up I swear it is taking every ounce of energy I have to stay still!  I think I can see Antartica with my x-ray vision!!  :)

A few minutes ago, on the way to the potty (yep she's a mom that says potty) I stopped in the kids' rooms for a peek.  My son was curled up around his little teddy bear without his blankets.  I pulled up the blanket, kissed his sweet head and made a stop in my daughter's room.  She too had kicked away her blankets, however she was curled up even tighter.  Poor little chlly thing.  I quietly leaned over and tucked the blanket back around her...she wiggled her little butt, eyes stilled closed and whispered, "Dank Ooh Mama." 

My heart lept!  Instantly tears rolled from my eyes as a warm feeling slowly spread throughout. I was just honored with the sweet whisper of an Angel. 

Simple Reminders

This spring, after being prodded and nagged by my cousin, I joined Facebook. Since then, I have become rather addicted to the connections! Finding so many old school friends (ok, we aren't old just older than we were, right?) and connection with family has become a sort of strange addiction. I have limited myself to only going online when the kids are asleep or when they are out with daddy and Mommy gets a minute or two to herself. Still, Facebook has made me neglect my blog.

What a horrible thing. Writing this blog, even if no one ever read it, had become such a therapeutic remedy to the everyday crap that life throws at me. No, I don't have it worse or better than any...at least I don't see it that way. I just need to ground myself and this little blog thing was giving me what I needed. How dare I neglect it.

Over the last few weeks there have been little things hinting at me to get my shit back together. "Write in your blog, stupid!" I snapped at Kenny for doing nothing more than any other 4 year old would do...snapped hard. Bad Mom. Calm down lady! That was the kicker...the straw and the camel, the intervention...call it what you will. I have to get back to therapy. So here I am. If anyone cares to read it...great. If not.....at least I am helping my children by helping myself.

I sat down and copied/pasted all the past entries...printed them all out (my printer is pissed off at me) and left copies in each of the kids' keepsake boxes. Cuss words, smart ass remarks and all. They need to read this. They need to know mommy, even during her therapy sessions. To tell you the truth, five years ago I wanted to die. I was done with the crappy hand life had dealt me. Now, I am so afraid to die it makes my stomach turn. These are my angels. I was meant to nurture and love them. I was somehow chosen, I need to be the one to raise them. I have to be the one to teach them how to honestly love themselves...to know they are worthy of every dream and desire they have. So, I will keep writing....well, I will get back to writing. I may not be as fun as when I was recounting the "pregnancies" but I doubt this will become the "blog to read" for many people anyway. I am not looking for popularity...nor am I looking for some After School Movie buyout (hey, that would be cool.. LOL) I am just using the Internet....the little snippets of feedback as therapy.

Happy Mommy Day

Nope. I didn't write this, but it is beautiful. I am not sure who wrote it still, you will smile...

Before I was a Mom,
I never tripped over toys
or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not
my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.


Before I was a Mom,
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind
and my thoughts.
I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom,
I never held down a screaming child
so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night
watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom,
I never held a sleeping baby just because
I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces
when I couldn't stop the hurt.!
I never knew that something so small
could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom,
I didn't know the feeling of
having my heart outside my body..
I didn't know how special it could feel
to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond
between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small
could make me feel so important and happy.

Before I was a Mom,
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night
every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth,
the joy,
the love,
the heartache,
the wonderment
or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much,
before I was a Mom

Hollywood Dreams

My daughter, Felicia really enjoys wearing her sunglasses. I buy her a pair about every two weeks for she somehow finds a way to take them apart over time. I make sure that Felicia has a pair at her disposal knowing that the more she wears them in the bright sunshine, the more likely it to be for her eyesight to be protected.

She wears her sunglasses during the most interesting activities. You can often see Felicia wearing her sunglasses at the dinner table, while riding in the car (just like mommy), in the grocery store, in the rain, coloring, reading a book and last night she decided to wear them in the bath. At least I know they are now clean.

Around town Felicia is know as "Hollywood" when she is seen sporting her trendy sun deflecting specs. She always smiles although I don't think she knows we are giving her a "handle" but I believe she really likes the sound of the word "Hollywood." Maybe it is just the way we say it.

I check on the kids and give them a quick kiss just before I head to bed. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at what I found in Felicia's room:


Lucky for me the sunglasses dimmed the flash from the camera and my little angel didn't wake.

Bob, Boats and Deer

It must be told that my son, who is 3 yrs and 10 months old, will no longer accept being called 3, 3 1/2 nor 3 3/4. When I pushed the math I was told this, " I was 3 one years ago, Mama. Now I am just almost 4." Nothing else is acceptable in his world. So, until July, I have a 2 yr old daughter and an almost 4 yr old son. I told my algebra teacher in high school that math was not fact, it was relative (I hated math) and now this is simple proof that I was right. Everything is relative.

A few days ago I was reading the paper and found that our legislatures here in Oregon were on their way to making a bad decision. Well, as we all know, a lot of our officials everywhere are making bad decisions but I digress....

Anyway, I felt obligated to write a rather long and nasty letter to my friends in Salem. To allow me the time and freedom to accomplish this my helpful husband took the kids out to the back yard to play.

I was just finishing up with my letter when my sweet Kenny ran (physically) through the screen door (if you have kids you know screens are just no match for the determination of a child's desire to enter or exit quickly). He was speaking about 700 words a minute and I, being focused on other things only caught a few words. They were, "Mama"..."Bob the builder"..."Boat"... "Deer"..."Ok?"... "Bye Mama." Like a flash, Kenny flew right back out the hole in the screen and was gone from sight. I looked up at my husband, who was cursing under his breath about the screen door. He shrugged.

I did a quick "mom evaluation." I peeked into the backyard. No one was bleeding, crying or dying so things must be alright. I went back to my letter. Not three minutes (almost four?) went by when the scene replayed itself. This time I caught even fewer words than before!

Instead of running back out Kenny finished his speech and stood waiting for a reply. My husband slowly walked in and told me he could now clarify what the excitement was all about.

Apparently, Kenny's boat is broken. It has a square bottom and boats have round bottoms. I, Mama, must call Bob the Builder to repair his boat so he can sail over the green "ocean" to get to the deer by the trees so he can catch one. Bob will not be allowed to sail the boat but he can mop the slide because only Kenny can be the captain. I am then supposed to make skettie for everyone because Bob is going to be hungry after all that work. I have to make a bigger salad because deer only eat green stuff and the deer he catches will be hungry.

Here is a little further explanation. This photo is of the "boat"(now residing in the backyard) that Santa Claus brought for the children almost two years ago for Christmas. It is a "boat" because it has a wheel and a "poothole" (porthole). We live on about three acres of land below a mountain of BLM forest. We see deer and wild turkeys daily who come down to the prairie grass for meals. The tree line has been of extreme interest to Kenny since the first winter we lived here partly because he never saw so many trees in Nv and partly because these trees "talk" when it gets windy. The green "ocean" is the expanse of prairie grass between the house and the tree line.

On with our dramatic story.

I told Kenny that I didn't know Bob personally. He thought about this for a bit and told me to call Papa. "Papa is friends with Bob because Papa has a boat and lots of tools to build 8 houses." Hmm. Can't ignore the logic! My dad restores old boats and is a contractor. There is no getting out of this one.

So we call Papa. I quickly let my dad know about the story so that he will have an easier time understanding the "almost 4 year old" vocabulary. Kenny and Papa have a 20 minute conversation over the phone about Bob, boats, deer and the like. I do not know all of what my dad said, but my son seemed more excited than ever. He said, "Ok Papa, Bye!" and flew back out the door. I picked the phone from the floor and asked if dad was ok. He giggled and told me that I must be a great mom to raise such and imaginative, smart little guy. I thanked him. We chatted a few minutes about his latest restoration project and said our "goodbyes."

For the next hour or two Kenny could be heard singing the "Bob the Builder" theme song over and over again. While I was making dinner he came in to tell me that Papa couldn't bring Bob over for a few weeks so I have to "hold off to the skettie" until then. I agreed since I was making chicken. I must say Thank God I wasn't making skettie for I believe it would have caused a social disaster in the eyes of my son. He gave me a hug and started singing as he headed back outside.

We haven't cut the prairie grass down yet this year. When the wind breezes through, the green waves it creates are beautiful. I can actually sit here and see exactly how that "boat" would look sailing across the green "ocean" in search of unsuspecting deer, captained by a strong, blond, blue-eyed and determined young boy who is so full of spirit and life. I hope that I am sailing with him when he shoves off in his dreams. I have no problem "mopping the slide" or doing any other deck hand job. I would simply be awestruck to be blessed at the chance of being in such company.

From Here

My favorite authors would publish a book and after reading it, I would salivate with desire to devour their next tale. The wait always seemed too long. Years for a few. It drove me crazy!

I have a new respect for those writers. It has taken me about 6 months to weed out and then write up these memories. They are just that...memories. I didn't have to dream up plots or characters (well, the kids are characters but that is pure personality.) Nor did I have to wait for an editor to make sure that I was accurate and proper in my depiction. It has been fun.

Now, do not think that I am done. I think from here I need to keep going. From here it will be a bit more "up to date" but the heart of this blog will still be how my children renew my hope, foster my passion and continue to inspire me on a daily (ok, maybe weekly) basis.

Kenny is almost four years old and the things that pop from his sweet brain just amaze me. He inspires me with a smile. He teaches me a lot about who I am, where I am, where I want to be and what the world around me truly means in my life. Felicia reminds me that I am a woman with concerns and ideas. She makes me feel pretty just by grabbing my cheeks and turning my head (forcibly sometimes) to plant a sloppy wet kiss on my nose. She is only 2! Crazy huh? Yep, just nutso Paula feeling philosophical and goofy.

I hope that maybe my nutso insight will help others appreciate some of those little things about their own children they may miss out on...or even remind you all of how your little ones made you smile last week, last month....5 years ago.

This all started out as a way for me to remember and never forget how blessed I am. It will continue in the same spirit. Yep, I am getting mushy. So...I hope you all keep reading. It is going to be fun. I love your comments. Keep em coming.

We're Here!

Here we are!! In Oregon!

We moved my sweet little family of four into the small spare room at my parent's house. Jason had to drive almost an hour to work but it was a beautiful drive.

If you ever moved back in with your parents after living on your own you can relate to the difficulty this presents. It wasn't bad, just crowded. My kids were not used to being in a house full of people. In fact, we rarely got visitors in Nv. Kenny seemed to believe that we were going to go home after a week. It was fun, busy and honestly it made my heart swell to see my kids actually get some "interaction" time with my family as well as their cousins.

Three weeks later we received the reimbursement for the move and I started making the drive into Roseburg to find a rental. My sister, all the kids and I made the trek several times. I had gotten used to living a more rural life. Our house in NV was in a neighborhood, but stood on over half an acre. I couldn't live in an apartment. Not that I am against all that but I tried that for six months years before and all I can say is "Hell NO, Never again!"

We checked out houses and explored the little towns surrounding Roseburg. I didn't ever see that place that just jumped out and said "live here." A few days later I was poking around online and found an ad for a house. It sounded good. My sister called and got directions. We headed down hwy 42 the next day.

We got lost. We called again and finally found our way to the house. It is nestled on a three acre plot of prairie grass, set back from the road. The two homes on either side of the property are mobile homes and they are right on the road so we didn't see it on our first pass. Pulling into the driveway my sister and I argued. "There is no way this is it!" I said. "The address matches and the directions are right, I am not an idiot," she said. The house looked brand new! How the hell can this house on this lot be only 900/mo in rent??!!?? She told me, "It is meant to be!! You moved back to Oregon and found this great rental house, just let it be!"

I figured it must be trashed inside. I was wrong. We met with the tenant who was moving out and learned that the house was built only four years ago!! It has a "tract" home layout, not really a dream house, but it has three bedrooms, TWO bathrooms (omg TWO bathrooms!!!!!!!!!) a large living room and tons and tons and tons and tons of land to do with what we want!! My brain kicked in gear. I called Jason and gave him the address. I started to make a mental list, need to put up a little fenced area for the kids to play, but other than that the kids can PLAY OUTSIDE!! Inside, I would need some curtains, may have trouble getting the old couch through the door....crap, there is a perfect place for a Christmas tree!! I honestly couldn't find a darn thing wrong with the house.

Jason called me back a few minutes later. My sister, the kids and I were walking around checking things out. He told me that according to the mapqwest thingie online it would only take him about 12 minutes to get to work!! HOLY COW! He would just have to get on the little country hwy, make two turns and he was at work!! I looked at my sister. "This has to be mine." She giggled and handed me the paper with the contact number. I called the lady and found she is the niece of the owner, who lives in Utah. I told her I want it. I told her I could hand her the money today. She said it would be at least another week or two before it was ready. Fine with me! We set a date to meet when Jason could be there.

We met, filled out paperwork and I handed her a check for the deposits and such. It was ours.

We moved in a week later and set up our family. It took a while for the kids to get used to the idea. They had been moved around a lot over the last two months.

45 minutes to my parent's house. Less than 15 minutes to Jason's work. A forest behind the house and a farm across the street. This is perfect.

Now, unpack.

Meant to be...or Coincidence?

We are on our way home.

We headed out hwy 42 and through Winston/Roseburg to get to I-5. I loved this part of Oregon. Small, mountainous cities woven around a beautiful river. No huge metro areas. No confusing "downtown" districts. Just ranchers on one side and business on the other. Slow paced. Clean. Nice. The drive down I-5 was fine. Our conversations during our travels ebbed in and out of moving discussions to what we need to do for the house this summer. Nothing serious. Nothing concrete. I had pretty much made up my mind still, I was nervous about making it known. I was concerned that Jason may really have his heart secretly set on moving back to Alaska. I wanted our plans to stem from debate from the heart, not what we hoped would make the other happiest.

As we drove down the mountain into Susanville, heading for 395, the last little hwy on our journey home, we slammed into a wall of smoke from the wildfires. We stopped in town for an ice cream and a walk but a quiet place was hard to find since most of the town was taken over by emergency vehicles and personnel prepping to go back to the fires. 2007 was a bad year for fires. Ca, Nv and OR were hit with one lightning storm after another. It was scary and I am saddened that so many people and animals were affected, but I do believe it is nature's way of doing what needs to be done. After our short stop we crammed back into the truck and I kicked the a/c into high and recycled the air in the cab to keep our lungs as safe as possible.

A couple hours down the road we pulled into Reno. It too was covered in haze. I felt cheated. During the very cold winters we are forced inside and now during the hot summers (fire or no fire) we are forced inside. My little family doesn't do well in the heat. I longed for the humid and green Sacramento Valley where I grew up. I longed even more for the clean, fresh, salty breeze on the Oregon coast. Yes, I was torturing myself. Even if we were to move it was at least a couple years out. Find a job, sell the house....blah blah blah. I needed to get my head back in the game. Get home, prep the swamp cooler, re-establish the kids' routines, laundry etc.

We drove past Jason's office in Carson City about 30 minutes from our house. Jason got this grimaced look on his face. I asked him what his problem was. He recanted what was going on at work and how frustrated he was being so limited. He had skills they didn't want to use and he was concerned that his supervisor was holding him down on purpose. I asked him why he thought this. He told me that his supervisor got chewed out because they audited the system and found that a lot of the original programs written by the supervisor had to be fixed, Jason was the one who did the fixing and being a mild guy he never made a stink about it. So, the "upper ups" figured that the supervisor was using his "team" to cover his ass. Since then Jason's supervisor was making things hard. Keeping track of personal conversation times ( no longer than 10 minutes a day allowed to talk to family or co-workers about non-work things), keeping a timer on breaks and lunch hours. I guess he even went so far as to write Jason up because I called him when I was worried that Felicia was really sick. The write up was thrown out when Jason protested, but it seemed things were getting really stressful for him.

This was odd to me. He loves being a nerd. I mean really LOVES it!! There are few of us who get the chance to be employed/paid for doing what we would do as a hobby. I have always been awed by the fact Jason was that lucky. Lately he was coming home grumpy and rarely talked about work. Now I knew why.

We were home for a few days, getting back to our routine when Jason found a few minutes to himself to go online. He searched newspapers in the coastal area of Oregon and then searched the papers for the smaller towns inland. He didn't find much of a market for nerds of his "caliber" so he asked me if I would live in the Eugene/Springfield area. I sighed. "Sure, it is two hours from my parents and from the nearest beach, the people seem to follow a "hippie" like politic but we could live on the edge of town if it doesn't make a huge commute for you." He giggled. It isn't that I am against "hugging" trees or recycling my trash, but my experience with the population of that area is that their politics take over their common sense and they get to be a bit wacky. There is (in my opinion) people out there that are "too green" and they seem to do more harm than good, not to mention they contradict themselves over and over again. Off the soap box, Paula.

So Jason did a search of the newspapers in Eugene and Springfield. Hit! The job looked good. Jason not only qualified, but it required stuff he really enjoyed and was held from at his current job. Great!! Jason read down the ad......Problem. It was a job through one of those "head hunter" typed places. He started to whine, "They make you jump through stupid hoops before you even find out where the job is or who it is with. Then you have to..." I stopped listening. My blood heated up and (I am sorry to say) the "feisty"side of me took over. I ranted something close to this, "It is like the 10th of July and my kids can't go outside because it is too hot and too smokey. We live like prisoners under the air conditioner in the summer and the heater in the winter...How the hell can you WHINE about jumping through a few stupid hoops to get a job that just a half second ago you were drooling over? What kind of wimpy moron are you? Did you not see how BEAUTIFULLY HAPPY WE ALL WERE on the beach? Get your damn priorities straight!!" I am sure there was more vulgarity and I am positive that my rant lasted at least five minutes. Needless to say, when I stopped to breathe and compose myself, my husband looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Can I blame PMS?

That night he started the application process. He had me check his cover letter and other things and we emailed it off the next morning. The next day the "head hunter" chick called. She talked to Jason for about an hour! After the call I asked him how it went. He grinned. "The job sounds great. She is forwarding my application and resume to the personnel dept. She suspects they will call me within a week. She said that it is a large company with offices all over, but the main office is in a smaller town and they have a hard time finding qualified professionals who want to work in a small town. She spent a lot of time asking me questions about our family. What environment we liked to live in and so on. Most of those who have left said they prefer the faster pace of Portland or Seattle because there is nothing to do in a small town." He looked smug. I warily asked him where it was. "The job is programming for Roseburg Forest Products in Winston/Dillard, Oregon." He grinned triumphantly. I screamed, "HOLY COW ON A STICK!! SHIT! NO WAY! You better NOT BE LYING!!" He assured me that he was being honest. ( Yes I remember the "cow stick" thing because he still teases me about it two years later.) This is too good to be true. We just drove through there like three or four days ago!! This is crazy. Insane!! I told him how much I have always loved that area. How I used to wonder how nice it would be to live there whenever I drove from Portland to my parents house. He simply grinned.

It wasn't long before Jason got called for an all day interview. He drove to Oregon. I stayed home. I was jealous but I knew if I went with him I would never leave. Two weeks or so after he got home we received a letter of intent to hire. They offered him a little more than what he was making in Nv. (With OR income taxes so high it worked out to be just about even). They offered a moving expense of $5,000. They wanted him to start work on Aug 27th. It was already Aug 2nd.

I called my mom and sister. I found boxes. I started packing! My mom and sister drove down to help us out. Mom is a school bus driver so I figured I would leave her with the task of driving that stupid unwieldy U-Haul. We found a renter for our Nv house. We crammed our lives into a box truck, my truck, Jason's truck and my houseplants into mom's car. The caravan headed out. We were on our way to Oregon!!!!

The rest of the Week

My beautiful kids enjoyed their time with my parents. Kenny especially liked my mom since she made him food and gave him such wonderful treats. Felicia enjoyed the fact that her Nana wasn't as "anal" as mommy when it came to tasting new foods.

My parents enjoyed the time as well. Let's face it. My kids have spirit and spunk. It is impossible not to love them! During our little visit there were several times when we found the newspaper opened to the "help wanted" section and conveniently left on the table. There were discussions too. How would we all make the transition if we did move closer? What type of job would Jason want? Where would we want to live? It had been 10 years since I lived less than 5 hours from my parents, if we did move closer there would definitely be a change in everyone's lives.

As I mentioned earlier, we did go to Bandon to watch the fireworks show that the local fire dept launches over the mouth of the river. We found a spot near the lighthouse and set up our little "day camp" spot around 2 p.m. Felicia had a ball!! So much action, so much outside time. She loved it. She was passed around from one relative to another and gleefully accepted any attention she could get. Kenny spent the day running around with his cousins. I chased him around with the camera and never got a good clear shot!! He is a fast little bugger.
We BBQ'd up some food and had a wonderful afternoon. As the sun began to set, we explained to Kenny what was coming. He didn't understand what fireworks were, but we did our best and persuaded him to sit in his new camp chair and watch the sky. As the show began Felicia fell asleep in my arms. Of course. That is what babies do. Kenny, well he was a little scared at first but that only lasted about 20 seconds. He heard us "oohing" and "aahing" and he quickly joined in. After a rather large rocket hit the sky painting everything in blue light, Kenny started kicking and clapping so hard he fell out of his chair! The whole time he was giggling and screaming with delight. It was wonderful. I told myself at that moment that my kids will never miss a 4th of July celebration ever again.
Two days later we celebrated Kenny turning 2! My mom made him a cake and we BBQ'd again. Just to let ya know, BBQ and my family are in the same category as grass and green. Anyway, Kenny relished in the attention of his "day." He ran around hugging everyone! We opened presents out on the grass (in Nev it would be too hot right now to be outside) and my good little boy said "thank you" after every gift!! We sang "Happy Birthday to You" and watched as he spit all over the cake trying to blow out the candles. All the kids loved the cake and ice cream. Felicia got a
little dollop of frosting (aah! sugar!) and "mmm'd" her way through licking it from her fingers. Auntie Coco became really popular after that!

Only one day more and we were to pack up and head home. NO NO NO. I don't wanna!! Half of Nevada was on fire that summer and I knew that going home would suck. Let's not mention that here in Oregon it was a comfortable 80 degrees with a light sea breeze, while in Nevada it was hanging around 98 degrees with no air moving anywhere. I was not looking forward to the long, hot drive home. Weird huh? I love having my own house...my own bed....my own kitchen etc. Still, I simply didn't find it an appealing thought to sit in a closed up house all summer. None of us do well in the heat. My psoriasis screams and my kids are just too fair skinned. Jason, being from Alaska starts to get really pissy when the thermometer hits 75 degrees let alone 90!

Looking back over the week and the joy it was obvious where my little family belonged. We had to be happy. My kids have to be happy. They deserve to play outside!

Three Years Too Long!!

We headed to the beach almost everyday during our visit to Oregon. During the first visit I started to tear up as soon as I could smell that ocean breeze. Call me crazy. Actually, if you have been reading along so far, you know I am crazy. The kids didn't understand mommy's emotions. They were confused and Kenny kept running to me and giving me hugs.

We hit the beach with force! Well, ok...we parked the truck and started to hike through heavy sand to the beach and actually had to force ourselves not to fall over in our tracks. The only one that wasn't huffing and puffing was Kenny. Jason carried Felicia in the babypack, I carried the blankets and snacks, my sister carried her stuff and we finally made it with red faces and tired legs. We chose a spot to lay our blankets down. We were about 50 ft from the water. Kenny sat in the sand and started to giggle as he buried his legs. I didn't notice when he had got up. I was trying to position Felicia's sunhat on her head.

I thought that Kenny would be afraid of the water. The sound of those waves crashing to shore should be scary to a little critter like Kenny. He wouldn't go near it unless mommy or daddy was there to show him it wasn't scary. Right? Wrong! He saw that beautiful blue water foaming as it hit the sand and he took off like a rocket! My sister and I both said "Shit, get Kenny" at the same time. We both dropped what we were holding and dashed after him. I caught his arm just as a wave knocked him on his butt, pulling him out of my hand. His whole little body was underwater!! I grabbed his arm and pulled him up. He was LAUGHING! Yep, my husband had the mind to take a picture!! MEN!

I couldn't believe it.

That just goes to show you what "mommy adrenaline" can do! Here I was, wiped out from
walking down the path from the truck. Overweight. A smoker. Psoratic arthritis in just about every joint. Still, I dashed down that beach like I was in an Iron Man competition. Insane!

We spent the rest of the day trying to teach Kenny respect for the water and trying to keep Felicia safe from the sun. She thought it funny to have the wind in her face, but she freaked if the sun got anywhere near her.

I was so happy to be back at the beach. Three years is a long time for someone who seems so connected with the peace and beauty of land at the edge of the water. Yup, I am nuts. I guess it stems from all the camping trips we went on when I was a kid. We would go crabbing, clamming and every Thanksgiving the whole family would meet at Dillons Beach in California to celebrate with lots of food and fun. It was nice. No, it was wonderful.


I knew after today that I couldn't give up the coast. I couldn't give it up at all. Alaska is beautiful. Jason's parents are wonderful and generous, but this is where I belonged. If I couldn't live on the beach I had to at least be close enough for a day trip. I didn't know how to explain this to Jason, but I think he knew already what was in my heart. I didn't even want to go back to the truck. Honestly, if it wasn't for my little angels needing food and sleep, I would have built a little lean-to and lived right there forever.

After a few hours we headed back to mom's house. It is about a 40 minute drive. Yes, I teared up again when I turned the corner and lost sight of the water. I rolled down my window and sniffed until my nose hurt! Jason looked at me like I was crazy, but he smiled. He asked me if there was any chance we would still choose to move to Alaska. I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Hell No." He mentioned, "You know it will be difficult for me to get a nerd job on the coast. We would have to live inland." I replied, "As long as I am close enough to take a day trip to the beach I don't care where we live." Jason said, "We still need to weigh all the options. Think about what a move would mean. A new job, etc." I agreed to think about it, but I guess it was a lie. From that point on I wanted nothing more than to feel that sand between my toes again. I left the thinking to Jason. I was just going to let myself feel.

Getting to Oregon

When you pack for a road trip you try to figure in all possible situations that could arise during the journey. Having to pack for a road trip with a 6 month old and an almost 2 year old, not to mention for yourself and your husband can prove a daunting task. To pack for a loooonnnnggg road trip there are some feelings of stress and fear...for me I felt hope. I love to drive. I love to explore and since I had been pregnant for two years I haven't left the house for much of anything in a long while.

In my truck we stuff suitcases, bathroom cases, toys, the high chair, the co-sleeper, the playpen, the walker, pillows, an ice chest, baby monitor, diapers to last a month, wipes to last a month, a bag of bottles and sippy cups, baby bath tub, extra blankets and a large box of foods. The box contained 2 large cans of formula, baby food, crackers, Rice Krispies, Cheerios, fruity cereal bars, graham crackers, cookies, bananas, dish soap and a bottle brush, chips, baby spoons and plates, a Ziploc bag half filled with soapy water and a wash cloth, another bag half filled with plain water and a wash cloth, three hand towels, napkins and a bunch of chocolate for my husband's seriously scary sweet tooth.

Am I prepared or what? Honestly, I grew up taking lots of road trips to camping, fishing or just for the hell of it with my parents so I pretty much always go with being a good scout. It must have worked because the 9 hour drive to Oregon was nice, relaxed and pretty much ahead of schedule. I had drawn up a "stop every two hour" plan so that the walkers among us could stretch and sweet Felicia could get a little rolling around time. All in all it was great. The weather was wonderful, the traffic wasn't bad (it would be another three days for the 4th of July traffic to hit the road) and we made it all in one piece.

When we drove up to my mom and dad's house we were excited and tired. Kenny had only seen them a few times before and Felicia had never met them. There were hugs, kisses and awes. My sister and brother were both there with their broods and both my kids got overwhelmed quite quickly. So much was going on! My poor little angels rarely see such excitement.

My sis and bro headed out and things got to be a little more peaceful. Felicia flirted with my dad and Kenny followed my mom around the kitchen begging for any food she could muster up. With the kids relaxed Jason and I unloaded the truck and set up the spare room for our family. The co-sleeper was made up and set by the bed, the playpen was set up for Kenny and we commandeered the upstairs bathroom for our use.

The first night was fun, a little hectic with all the visitors and such, but nice. We got the kids to bath and bed and then we went downstairs with the monitor and chatted with my mom until late into the night.

I couldn't wait for the next day. I had told my sister that I wanted to go to the beach and asked if her crew wanted to join us. So it was set. To the beach.....

Happy St Patrick's Day

I want to take a break from our story to wish everyone a
Wonderful and Happy St Patty's Day.

Kisses, hugs and good cheer!!

Love,
The McMillen Family

Now What?

Here are few pictures of Felicia's first 5 months. Sorry, I didn't get a chance to catch on film the "mom moment" but I am sure that you can simply imagine for yourself how that went.

My angels bonded early. Sure there was a bit of concern on Kenny's part having to share Mommy, but it wasn't too bad. He took pride in his little sister, besides when we left for errands, "Sissy" was a great "babe magnet" and Kenny loves the babes!

We had a wonderful Spring. Kenny went Easter Egg hunting at the local park with Daddy, while Felicia and I visited the Easter Bunny and chatted with other new moms who were enjoying the beautiful day. It was a short and sweet since I wanted to keep the kids on schedule, but it was fun. That night we went out to dinner and the kids, well rested were perfect little Spring Lambs and just about all the attention at the restaurant was focused at one point or another on them.

Felicia is a quick little learner. She knows exactly how to put her "cuteness" to good use and for her advantage.

She loves the camera.

Around the end of May, after getting the critters to bed, Jason and I flop simultaneously on the couch and start to chat. We needed to make a decision.


First, we attempted to sort out our reasons to move. It wasn't easy even thinking about it. This little house is the home where my kids were conceived and so far raised. It is our home. It is small, and there isn't enough space for two kids and two adults, not to mention two cats and a dog, but it is still our home.

We want to live close to at least one set of grandparents. It really wasn't that important which side we chose, what was important was where we lived. The environment, the schools, the opportunities, etc.

I asked Jason about work. He groaned as usual and informed me that working for the state seemed futile. His good ideas were either ignored or stolen and he didn't see how he could move up in his field if he stayed. I knew he wasn't happy. He loves being a nerd and lately he didn't seem to love it so much.

Jason asked about me. I told him I love Nevada, but the weather being either extreme hot or extreme cold not to mention all the time extreme dry was havoc on my skin. The dermatologist I had been seeing told me that I may find life in a more humid environment more comfortable.

We continued talking about this and that for an hour or so. I think that both of us were tottering on the fence not knowing what to do. Now what? What is best for our kids? We have pros and cons. We have belief and hope. Now What?

Jason brought up a trip to Oregon. I grabbed the calendar to see what would be the best way to utilize his time off in accordance to any upcoming holidays. The Fourth of July looked the best.

The next morning I called my mom. She was excited. Mom and Dad had yet to meet Felicia. I explained to her that we wanted to come up for the Fourth of July but that would also mean we celebrate Kenny's birthday while visiting too. I only had one condition. I have not had a chance to see fireworks for Independance Day since we left Oregon. Three years!! Nevada is too dry and fireworks are illegal. Kenny has never ever seen them. I wanted Mom's gauruntee that we would be able to go to the beach and watch the fireworks show at the lighthouse that is put on by the sweet little coastal town of Bandon. She agreed. It was a date.

That night Jason and I made a plan. He put in for the time off at work and we wrote up a little itenerary for the trip, not to mention a budget. Now we just have to wait a month. Truthfully, I was beside myself with excitement. I missed the ocean so much. I am a beach bum at heart!! I had not seen that beauty for three years!!

The Mom Moment

I could spend a lifetime being pregnant. Another lifetime soaking up all that sweet love of the first three months. Another just watching my angels try to roll over for the first time. No amount of drool, spit up, fussing, burping, raw nipples, dirty diapers, late nights, back aches, runny noses or any other "unpleasant" motherhood thing would ever taint that beauty which is only found in the pure eyes of an innocent child.

Felicia grew quickly. She was eating that lovely runny rice cereal at about 3 1/2 months. At about 4 months old I started feeding her more solid cereal and introduced vegetables. This kicked her palate into overdrive. She wanted to eat all the time. I guess flavor does that to you. I stopped breast feeding her just shy of her 5 month mark. I had to. She was eating me alive! She went to formula and was now munching down every new vegetable I introduced with joy and passion.

The mothers among us know that every little change in a baby's life will be evident in the diaper. There is no better gauge of health or illness on this planet. While eating nothing but "boob" Felicia's diaper contained that cute seedy-mustard-y poo. When she started the rice cereal we found the occasional chunky-mustard-y poo. As the vegetables were introduced the poo took on the consistency of paste. Add the formula and you find, Toxic Paste. These diapers scared me. I took her to the doctor. I explained how her food has changed over the last few months. I explained that these toxic diapers had a "fouler" smell than I remember Kenny having.

Doc Hall said that it was normal. Some children digest things differently. She was healthy and happy and according to his experience she will just be one of those who digests vegetables with a more "gassy" result than others. He asked me, "do you get gassy when you eat green veggies?" I do. Ok. I get it. She will digest her veggies like me. I took a deep breath and told myself all will be well. When her diet includes fruits and meats, it will get better.

Now for the Mom Moment.

One wonderful Spring day, I made lunch. Kenny got a ham and cheese quesadilla, banana and some left over steamed carrots. Felicia was devouring a jar of yams and a half jar of spinach left over from the day before. It was a great time. We sat at the table, Felicia in her high chair, Kenny in his booster seat.

Kenny finished his food, drank his juice and started to wiggle. I wiped his hands, face and shirt and let him down. I wiped down Felicia, took off her bib and as I picked her up I noticed that tell-tale smell of a diaper change. We headed for the changing spot in the living room. I had a basket of diapers and wipes that I kept under the side table on the floor. It was a great system. Simply sit on the floor, spread the blanket, lay the baby, pull out the basket and everything was at your fingertips, organized and ready to go. I pulled off her diaper, wiped up the dark green, peanut butter textured, "call haz-mat" kind of toxic poo from her little rear end.

I heard a whine, looked up and saw Kenny coming from the dining room with a panic look on his face. As he got closer I noticed a strange drool coming from the corner of his mouth. As I reached for him he threw up all over me, Felicia and himself. I went into auto pilot. I grabbed a burp cloth (also in my organized-mommy basket) quickly wiped the bulk of half digested lunch from Felicia's legs and tummy, jumped off the floor, grabbed Kenny and ran to the kitchen. In front of the sink I stripped the clothes from his body, stripped myself down to just my underwear and tossed all into the corner of the kitchen. I picked Kenny up and sat him at the edge of the sink. I talked to him gently as he bent over vomiting again and crying in pain. I couldn't understand what was wrong! Did I give him bad food? His puke was horrible. Banana, cheese, tortilla shell, carrots and a small amount of some strange black-looking goo mixed in. I wiped him down. What the hell!!??!!

I finished cleaning him up, gave him a sip of water and he was back to normal. After putting a new diaper on him, I sat him on the couch with a book and focused on cleaning up Felicia. I took her to the sink, gave her a little impromptu bath (luckily there was only puke from her belly down), and put a fresh diaper and shirt on her. I dropped her into her bouncy seat and buckled her in. I threw myself into cleaning up the mess. I wanted my tranquil morning back.

I started from the changing area and worked my way back cleaning up puke as I went. I picked up the clothes, rinsed them out and set them in the laundry room. I cleaned the floor. I started to worry that Kenny had gotten hold of something really bad. Panic was setting in. I needed to find the source.

With the sink and kitchen floor clean, the changing area cleaned, I started working on cleaning up lunch. I wiped the table down. This whole time worry and panic setting in deeper and deeper. What caused this!? So bad was my stress, I didn't realize that I was going through all these motions naked except for my underwear. I checked on Kenny frequently. He seemed fine. The last thing to do was clean Felicia's high chair. When I pulled off the tray, I found the evil cause. A toxic poo smeared Kenny-sized hand print was on the seat.

Kenny ate Felicia's POOP!! Oh My GOD!! I didn't even notice that some had escaped the diaper. Usually when there is an overflow you will find poo running down the baby's leg. This was not the case. In fact while changing her diaper I remember thinking how lucky I was to catch it now because it looked like the diaper was at capacity. I was in fact proud of my nose in alerting me as to avoid the dreaded overflow. That black drool and the dark goo mixed in his puke was POOP!!! Toxic yucky Felicia Poop!!!

I wiped the mess and grabbed the phone. I called poison control. I explained to the lady that Felicia had very smelly "veggie poop" and that my 23 month old son ate some. She asked me if he vomited. "Yes."
"Did he empty his stomach?"
"I think so."
"Ok, give him some water. He should be fine. It doesn't sound like he digested any of it. Since it was baby feces and the baby is only eating vegetables, there is little risk of bacteria. If he vomits again then take him to the doctor."
I thanked her and hung up the phone.

I felt the panic start to ease. Kenny walked into the dining room and headed for the high chair. He saw that I had cleaned up the contents left in the chair by his sister. I asked him if he was ok. He pointed to the high chair seat and said, "Eat More!"
I had no choice. I sat splat on the kitchen floor in nothing but my underwear and laughed my ass off. I didn't realize that I was still undressed until Kenny walked up to me, sat in my lap, poked my chest and said, "boob."

All that I could do was laugh some more. The kids joined me. At least I know I can handle a crisis. Ha Ha ...

Going Home

Early morning on the 3rd of January, Jason, Felicia and I were walking the halls trying to get my strength up, not to mention trying to curb some of the cabin fever-like feelings I was starting to get being stuck in that room. While walking by the nurses station I overheard someone talking about how small the preemie baby girl was that was delivered late the night before. Apparently the mom went into labor and delivered just fine, but the baby was about 3 weeks early. I started to cry. How frightening it must be for her. I didn't even want to imagine how horribly afraid that poor mother must be...how she must think she did something wrong. I asked the nurse if the mother and baby were still at this hospital or if they were to be transferred to Reno. She said that they were staying here, so far, unless complications present themselves.

When we got back to our room, I called Carol. I told her that in Felicia's dresser there is a little preemie outfit that someone sent for Christmas. I asked her to bring it in when she brings Kenny by. She told me she would.

I remember opening that gift Christmas morning. I was actually hurt by the notion of receiving a "preemie" sized outfit for the baby. Was it to be expected that this overweight, unhealthy, horrible person couldn't possibly carry this baby full term? What kind of person thought of me like that!!!?? Now I wonder if maybe it was meant to be.

Carol and Kenny arrived. Kenny was super excited to see us again. He was more interested in his sister because she was a little more aware. She was laying on the bed in front of me looking around. When she and Kenny made eye contact, they stared at each other for a long time. Kenny giggled! Felicia made weird noises and farted a lot. I just grinned and grinned with tears rolling off my face while I watched. I want these two to love and know and rely on each other forever. This is the first sign that my dream may be realized.

Around two, Carol headed home. She had to go back to taking care of her family. After a few quick "coos" at Felicia and a big sloppy kiss and hug from Kenny she told me she would call me tomorrow and headed out the door. Our little family was all in one room. I gave Felicia to Jason and held Kenny for a while. We talked about his new sister and all the fun we were going to have when Mommy got better. Soon it was time for Jason to take Kenny to my cousin's house for the night. They left.

I wiggled out of bed, grabbed Felicia and the preemie outfit and went for a little walk. I made it to the nurses station a little faster than earlier in the day. I was getting better. Feeling stronger. I asked the nurse if she would please give the little outfit to the mom with the early baby. The nurse teared up. I explained my reasoning. No one plans on a preemie. All the baby shower gifts are geared for 0-3 months old. I know all mine were. This little baby deserves to have something more than the tacky hospital t-shirt to wear. Every girl needs to feel pretty. I told her it was washed about two days ago in Baby Dreft and to please tell the mom that I am thinking about her. The nurse was crying and I was crying and Felicia was looking at me like I was a basket case. I headed back to my room.

Jason got back just as Doc Hall was giving Felicia her last check up. He said that she was ready to go home when I was. She looks great, healthy, happy and he wants to see her about four days after we get home. The nurse handed him a clipboard, he signed the release papers and they both left. I looked at Jason. "I want to go home." Jason rolled his eyes. "Just one more night. We can go home in the morning." I reached over and hit the nurse call button. When supernurse came in I brightened up. She told me she had just come on shift and was happy to see that we were doing well. I told her I wanted to go home. "I will have to get the doctor to sign you out, but I doubt he will." I grinned," Oh, he will let me go. He knows how much I hate hospitals."

Doc Chacon came into the room about 6 that evening. He poked and prodded, checked and rechecked then asked, "Did Hall come to check on Felicia yet?" I nodded. "Ok, then you can go, but take it easy. You are still very weak. I want to see you in three days and I better not see any infection or I won't release you early next time." I smiled at him. "Ok." He signed the paperwork and we packed. We headed home about 7:30pm.

I admit (you better not tell anyone), I was too weak to drive. I actually let Jason drive us all the way home. It took about 40 minutes since it had started to snow. We got home and Felicia and I settled in while Jason went to get Kenny. I think we offended my cousin by picking him up early, but I was never concerned about her taking care of him. I was concerned about missing him so horribly my heart literally ached. I just wanted everyone home, with me.

Breastfeeding, Puking, Newspapers

We settled comfortably into our room with our new baby. Felicia, even today, is a scrappy young lady. By scrappy, I mean a little evil, a little angelic, a little pushy and over all a full, on GIRL! She is one of those souls that is born knowing what she wants and nothing will stop her from getting her way. This was evident in the womb, and even more so in the first few hours of her "outside" life! Right away she wanted what I not-so-delicately call "boob." Like a puppy or kitten nuzzling in and kneading out the milk, Felicia seemed to not only want to breasfeed, she somehow knew where the food came from, who had it, and the best way to extract it.

This amazed me! Kenny had so much trouble latching on. He seemed lazy and sloppy about it. Felicia awoke from our little nap and wiggled her way around until she was nuzzled up to my breast, face first. I opened the gown and let her in, and I swear to you I thought this child was going for blood!! She gnawed and suckled right off with such vigor I could actually imagine claws suddenly popping from her sweet little fingers and threatening me harm if I didn't give up the gold! Yes, I read too much Stephen King. In my defense, even the nurses were surprised. A woman's milk usually doesn't fully come in until about two or three days after giving birth. Thanks to Felicia's persistence, my milk started to come in that evening! I was so worried about the breastfeeding. Those horrible feelings flooded into my head replaying the events I went through trying to get Kenny on the boob. Felicia's instant "gimme" attitude settled those fears right away.

With the worry of feeding Felicia out of the way, I was able to focus a little on myself. I have been insisting for weeks that I would not allow the nurses to keep food from me. I know you aren't supposed to eat after such surgery, but I couldn't help but wonder if the lack of food hurt Kenny's ability to breastfeed. When I asked for something to eat the nurses were cautious, but never told me no. Relief! I started out with crunched ice, jello and a little broth with some crackers. I scarfed this down like crazy then I went through four cups of crushed ice. My tummy was full and Felicia was sleeping in her little cradle thingie. I settled back on the bed and relaxed. Jason and I talked about how soon it would be before I could take a shower. My psoriasis was starting to stiffen up and crack in places. I didn't need a skin infection on top of a surgery so we called the nurse in so that we could ask about a shower. As the nurse entered the room I projectile vomited all over the bed and myself! It came out of nowhere! One second I was relaxed and comfortable, glowing in post-eating bliss, the next second every bit of fluid in my body was escaping as if shot out of a pressure washer!! I didn't even feel nauseous!!!! What the HELL!

The nurse went into action. She handed my stunned husband a stack of towels from the cupboard, pulled me out of bed into a chair, wrapped up the bedding tossing it into a big hamper near the door, washed my face, pulled back my hair, cleaned my hands, checked my vitals, iv's and breathing, and calmed the panic look off my face all in less than 30 seconds!!! She was like a derranged octopus! My GOD! I just sat there like a lump!! I was shocked, amazed and totally impressed with this nurse!

After getting me into the bathroom and setting me on the potty, the nurse called out to the desk to have my bed remade. Jason kept watch over Felicia (who slept through it all) while my supernurse got me into the shower. I was weaker than I wanted to be. Weaker than I ever wanted to admit to being, weaker than I was after Kenny, but this nurse not only helped to clean me up, she allieviated my panic, stress and embarrasment. She spoke softly to me and even joked about how this wasn't so bad. She helped to dry me off then proceded to help me get my psoriasis medication gooped all over my body. I honestly just kind of went into a daze. When she opened the bathroom door back into the room, the bed was done, Jason was holding Felicia, another tray was waiting holding a cup of ice water and everything looked so perfect that you would never know that an adult woman just lost her cookies and her pride. Jason still looked like a deer caught in the headlights and Felicia was waking up fussing and squirming, asking for more boob. I couldn't believe it.

Supernurse helped me back into bed, took Felicia from Jason and positioned her for feeding, actually APOLOGIZED for my debacle and left saying she would check on us soon. Felicia gnawed at my breast. Jason and I just looked at eachother for a while trying to let it all sink in. After a few minutes the fog was lifted when the phone rang. Carol and Kenny were at the desk and they needed Jason to go out and sign them in to visit.

Kenny and Carol walked in the room, Jason behind them. My world instantly lit up. I was concerned that I wouldn't think about Kenny OR all I would do was think about Kenny. It was awesome to have this wonderful little family all together! I introduced Kenny to his sister and Carol gushed over how beautiful she was. The visit was short, ending with Jason walking Carol and Kenny out to the car. I missed him so much! I cuddled with Felicia and fell asleep.

I awoke to a nurse checking my vitals. Jason was napping on the little couch and Felicia was staring up at my face. Not long after the nurse left, Supernurse arrived to give me an extra-check. She asked me if I was up to an interview. "For what?" I asked. "The newspaper sent over a reporter to interview you about having the New Year Baby." Wow. I agreed and the nurse told me that she would tell the reporter to come up around 3pm.

3 O'clock rolls around and in walks this little reporter chick and her male PHOTOGRAPHER!!! No one mentioned pictures!! Holy COW!! I look like shit. This guy asked permission to take pictures and Jason popped up, "Sure." Oh, proud daddy doesn't care if a picture of his horrid looking wife is circulated all over town. I CARE!! I told the guy to be nice about any pictures of me. He smiled, agreed and said he understood. He took some photos of Felicia in her cradle, with her daddy and then with me. He then sat in the background while the reporter asked me some questions. I answered the questions as best I could. I was on pain medication, but I think I came off as semi-intelligent. I told her about my grandmother and how wonderful she was. I told her about losing my grandmother and how significant it was to me to give Felicia part of her name. I told her about Kenny. About how hard it was for us to get pregnant in the first place. All in all it was ok. I was actually proud and honored.

We were on the front page the next day!!

Later that evening, one of the volunteer's at the hospital brought us a little basket of lovely gifts. A hand knitted sweater and hat, books, gift certificates, cards and flowers. We finally let it sink in that not only was Felicia special because she is our daughter, she is special to everyone else too. It is good to know that others look on your child as something worth celebrating. Every child is worth celebrating.