Thursday, May 23, 2013
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
the science of picking a name...
"Oh Angie... there are more important things in life."
Those were her exact words when I shared the science behind selecting the perfect baby name with my grandma . There rules, regulations, and requirements one must follow...
After announcing in my last post the selected name for our baby girl, I decided it was important to share the all-boy-house-science of selecting that perfect name with help from Conner.
Rule #1: The name must contain two syllables. No more and no less.
Rule #2: The name must begin with the letter C. Rule #1 was mandatory from the beginning while the importance of rule #2 has evolved over time.
Rule #3: Follow the pattern. COnner, CAleb, COlton, CA_____. The pattern demands a name beginning with a CA.
Rule #4: There must be no reference to Star Wars. The boys were very excited at the prospect of naming their baby sister Chewie, short for Chewbacca, but mama bear put her foot down. No Star Wars names allowed!
Rule #5: Family Constellation Theory. Once upon a time when living in Dallas, my friend Suzan introduced me to an interesting theory about birth order. Simply said, the first and middle name have to support the role and responsibility of the birth order theory.
There you have it.
The all-boy-house-science behind selecting that perfect baby name.
And if that don't keep ya up at night, we can discuss that perfect number of deodorant swipes and other obsessive compulsive tendencies I may or may not possess.
Those were her exact words when I shared the science behind selecting the perfect baby name with my grandma . There rules, regulations, and requirements one must follow...
After announcing in my last post the selected name for our baby girl, I decided it was important to share the all-boy-house-science of selecting that perfect name with help from Conner.
Rule #1: The name must contain two syllables. No more and no less.
Rule #2: The name must begin with the letter C. Rule #1 was mandatory from the beginning while the importance of rule #2 has evolved over time.
Rule #3: Follow the pattern. COnner, CAleb, COlton, CA_____. The pattern demands a name beginning with a CA.
Rule #4: There must be no reference to Star Wars. The boys were very excited at the prospect of naming their baby sister Chewie, short for Chewbacca, but mama bear put her foot down. No Star Wars names allowed!
Rule #5: Family Constellation Theory. Once upon a time when living in Dallas, my friend Suzan introduced me to an interesting theory about birth order. Simply said, the first and middle name have to support the role and responsibility of the birth order theory.
There you have it.
The all-boy-house-science behind selecting that perfect baby name.
And if that don't keep ya up at night, we can discuss that perfect number of deodorant swipes and other obsessive compulsive tendencies I may or may not possess.
preparing for baby carlee
I am super excited about the artwork-in-progress hanging on the walls in her room. Wanting to create a collage of quotes from various literary classics, the words of Jane Austen lace together the complete joy our family feels at the prospect of welcoming Carlee into our home.
"You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." and "You have bewitched me body and soul and I love, I love, I love you."
Pink tissue flowers were hung from the ceiling. Note that there is pink. In MY house.
The crib is ready with pink and green bedding.
Hair bows and bracelets are ready and organized.
Blankets made from fabric selected by big brothers.
(Conner= zebra, Caleb= butterfly, and Colton=flowers)
A growth chart stitched by my Great-Grandma.
Dresses are hung, outfits organized, and nightgowns sorted into drawers - washed and ready.
And finally, the blessing dress. Swoon.
The summer vacation fun starts next week. Swimming pools, various hiking trails, and adventures galore are demanding our attention. And we are excited to play. Baby Carlee - we are ready.
Season Three of Soccer
Just like The NBC hit The Office and BBC's epic Downton Abbey, soccer is a multi-seasoned sport. 55+ water bottles, fruit snacks for after game treats, and two pairs of soccer cleats later - the love of the game is there.
We (as in Conner) might not understand all of the rules yet. And while it is true that many games were spent crawling around on the field like a dog and performing cart wheels across the grass - season three was fun. We (as in the entire family) made a lot of friends on the field and off, Nate enjoyed being involved as the soccer coach, and Conner made a couple of goals. Go Blue Lightning!
Season four... here we come!
We (as in Conner) might not understand all of the rules yet. And while it is true that many games were spent crawling around on the field like a dog and performing cart wheels across the grass - season three was fun. We (as in the entire family) made a lot of friends on the field and off, Nate enjoyed being involved as the soccer coach, and Conner made a couple of goals. Go Blue Lightning!
Season four... here we come!
when a pinterest project turns bad...
The glory days of the crib are long and gone. Caleb took his teeth to it, Conner liked to climb, and Colton killed the poor thing. The drawers collapsed, the flexible bar is stuck, and the changing table shelves refuse to support the weight of a paperclip.
Lazy me wanted to buy a new crib while the pinterest me wanted to save the crib. A little wood glue, hardware repair, and a whole lot of spray paint would solve the problem. How hard could it be??
The grand day of the crib paint came. The weather was nice, the boys were excited, and the spray paint was ready. Securing the paint paper to the side of the fence, we lined up the crib and began painting away.
Canyon breezes started tip toeing down the road, around our house, and into the back yard. The baby bear breeze transformed into a papa bear breeze catapulting our recently painted crib pieces across the yard with paint paper violently crashing against the bars of the crib.
Thrashed from the boys and now the wind... the crib... oh dear... the crib. I borrowed an electric sander and began sanding away the horrid layers of paint. Hour upon hour. Sand paper after sand paper. The crib became a very sad, sad story.
I told myself I could fix it.
I could.
Really, I could.
With swollen ankles and tears streaming down my face, I called my mom. No little girl deserves to spend her nights in such an ugly crib. What had I started? What should I do??
"Ditch the sander and meet me at Ikea." My mom's voice sailed through the invisible telephone lines and dried the tears from my eyes. Thirty-five minutes later in the middle of the children's section stood a masterpiece. A beautiful crib free from paint scratches, bite marks, and dried grass chunks. Yes, everything was going to be okay.
I vowed to put the beaten up crib on craigslist. Free for the DIY-er while promising myself to never ever attempt a DIY project again. This time, I had learned my lesson. Searching the internet for a picture of the crib in it's glory days, I came across a product recall.
Further investigation taught me that the crib had been recalled and that various stores were still offering a full refund. Seriously? The stores wanted to give me a full refund for something my children had pooped on, attempted to eat, and jumped on like a jungle gym? Sometimes life is good.
We shoved the billion pieces of the crib into the minivan. Twenty minutes later, a full refund was issued for the sad crib and happiness sprinkled down like a spring shower. The pinterest paint-your-crib-inspired misery had a very happy ending. Maybe... just maybe... DIY projects aren't so bad after all.
Speaking of Pinterest, there are three posts you really ought to read:
Lazy me wanted to buy a new crib while the pinterest me wanted to save the crib. A little wood glue, hardware repair, and a whole lot of spray paint would solve the problem. How hard could it be??
The grand day of the crib paint came. The weather was nice, the boys were excited, and the spray paint was ready. Securing the paint paper to the side of the fence, we lined up the crib and began painting away.
Canyon breezes started tip toeing down the road, around our house, and into the back yard. The baby bear breeze transformed into a papa bear breeze catapulting our recently painted crib pieces across the yard with paint paper violently crashing against the bars of the crib.
Thrashed from the boys and now the wind... the crib... oh dear... the crib. I borrowed an electric sander and began sanding away the horrid layers of paint. Hour upon hour. Sand paper after sand paper. The crib became a very sad, sad story.
I told myself I could fix it.
I could.
Really, I could.
With swollen ankles and tears streaming down my face, I called my mom. No little girl deserves to spend her nights in such an ugly crib. What had I started? What should I do??
"Ditch the sander and meet me at Ikea." My mom's voice sailed through the invisible telephone lines and dried the tears from my eyes. Thirty-five minutes later in the middle of the children's section stood a masterpiece. A beautiful crib free from paint scratches, bite marks, and dried grass chunks. Yes, everything was going to be okay.
I vowed to put the beaten up crib on craigslist. Free for the DIY-er while promising myself to never ever attempt a DIY project again. This time, I had learned my lesson. Searching the internet for a picture of the crib in it's glory days, I came across a product recall.
Further investigation taught me that the crib had been recalled and that various stores were still offering a full refund. Seriously? The stores wanted to give me a full refund for something my children had pooped on, attempted to eat, and jumped on like a jungle gym? Sometimes life is good.
We shoved the billion pieces of the crib into the minivan. Twenty minutes later, a full refund was issued for the sad crib and happiness sprinkled down like a spring shower. The pinterest paint-your-crib-inspired misery had a very happy ending. Maybe... just maybe... DIY projects aren't so bad after all.
Speaking of Pinterest, there are three posts you really ought to read:
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
urine and boogie facts
1. Standing tall on the top bunk, Caleb dropped his drawers and let it fly last night. Urine dripped from the bunk bed, picture frames, and sheets while little Colton received an unpleasant shower.
2. Caleb's midnight pee escapades have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Colton pooped on the potty last night. Pooped! After a week of potty training, there is a bright light in sight. Hallelujah!
3. Pull-ups should not be exciting to the six-year old that still wets the bed.
4. Walls are not the new Kleenex. Why-oh-why do I find dried boogies adhered to my walls??
5. After an eventful week of potty training and urine cleaning and boogie scrapping, I am attending my first writing conference tomorrow. (Yeah!) Reading my work-in-progress with published authors? There is a high probability that my pants won't stay dry. Despite the nerves, I am 100% positive that my boogies will not be wiped against any walls during the event.
2. Caleb's midnight pee escapades have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Colton pooped on the potty last night. Pooped! After a week of potty training, there is a bright light in sight. Hallelujah!
3. Pull-ups should not be exciting to the six-year old that still wets the bed.
4. Walls are not the new Kleenex. Why-oh-why do I find dried boogies adhered to my walls??
5. After an eventful week of potty training and urine cleaning and boogie scrapping, I am attending my first writing conference tomorrow. (Yeah!) Reading my work-in-progress with published authors? There is a high probability that my pants won't stay dry. Despite the nerves, I am 100% positive that my boogies will not be wiped against any walls during the event.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Grape Flavored Epidurals
Burning pain encircled my abdomen and fingers gripped tightly to Nate's right hand - hard. Delivering a baby is like a one shot dose of kryptonite to the muscles in my hand.
"Hi, my name is Steve. I am here to help you with your epidural." The cleaned-up-blue-scrubbed man says. My eyes looked up from the corner in the ceiling to smile at my new friend.
Nate's arm is dislodged from it's socket as my body pulls against it. Getting out of a bed had never been so challenging.
"Hey Steve," my voice comes out hoarse despite the attempt to be polite, "I have been waiting for you. Before you stab that %#@! needle in my back, I have some questions for you." The cuss word slipped out without notice. Let it be known that Angie has a potty mouth during labor and delivery.
"Okay,"
"I went natural with my last baby. It hurt like &*#!. I am scared to death to go through that again. But... during my previous deliveries with my first two kids, the epidural did nothing to numb the pain of that stupid catheter... and I felt that horrid blade cut through my skin during the episiotomy. I really do not want to be held down to the bed while I am stitched up again today...Can you promise me that your epidural will numb the pain of the catheter?"
"Well, I am here with a new kind of epidural.... It will completely numb any kind of cutting and catheter pain."
"Really? Stab that needle in me. Like right now." My body moved to expose my back with no thought of modesty what so ever.
"Alright. Grape or bubble gum?"
"Excuse me?" My face turned to look at his. This man is not joking.
"Would you like grape or bubble gum flavor today?"
"Seriously? Grape all the way." I had no idea epidurals were flavored. Maybe... just maybe that is why the epidurals in the past failed.
"Okay," he said, arms reached into the depths of his bag, "Would you like pink or blue?"
"You have got to be joking me."
"Pink or blue?" He said, eyes serious.
"Well, do they have artificial colors? High fructose corn syrup?" The burning pain failed to dissolve my resolve to avoid placing artificially colored substances into my body.
"Nope. These bad boys are colored with beets and blueberries."
"Awesome." And it is.
The needle jabbed into my back during an intense contraction with little to no discomfort. Phew. Pink colored, grape flavored goodness rushed through my body.
She appeared into the world with no teeth marks or broken hand bones for Dad. And I actually laughed instead of screamed during the pushing. Best. Delivery. Ever. Flowers fell from the sky and my lips pressed against Nate's... and then against the anesthesiologist's. Any man capable of erasing such pain deserves kisses and flowers and complete remote control domination.
The alarm clock buzzed.
Reaching to silence the annoying sound, Nate's arm bumped against my head.
My eyes opened.
I am still pregnant.
27 weeks along.
Despite the fact that I have three kids, I am terrified to deliver this baby girl. The stack of natural childbirth books lined up against the side of my bed have done nothing to calm my fears. Birthing a baby hurts. Period.
In a world of finger touch tablets and raspberry juice, where are the grape flavored epidurals?
And where is that miraculous anesthesiologist with the naturally-colored-high-fructose-corn-syrup-free-pain-relief?
"Hi, my name is Steve. I am here to help you with your epidural." The cleaned-up-blue-scrubbed man says. My eyes looked up from the corner in the ceiling to smile at my new friend.
Nate's arm is dislodged from it's socket as my body pulls against it. Getting out of a bed had never been so challenging.
"Hey Steve," my voice comes out hoarse despite the attempt to be polite, "I have been waiting for you. Before you stab that %#@! needle in my back, I have some questions for you." The cuss word slipped out without notice. Let it be known that Angie has a potty mouth during labor and delivery.
"Okay,"
"I went natural with my last baby. It hurt like &*#!. I am scared to death to go through that again. But... during my previous deliveries with my first two kids, the epidural did nothing to numb the pain of that stupid catheter... and I felt that horrid blade cut through my skin during the episiotomy. I really do not want to be held down to the bed while I am stitched up again today...Can you promise me that your epidural will numb the pain of the catheter?"
"Well, I am here with a new kind of epidural.... It will completely numb any kind of cutting and catheter pain."
"Really? Stab that needle in me. Like right now." My body moved to expose my back with no thought of modesty what so ever.
"Alright. Grape or bubble gum?"
"Excuse me?" My face turned to look at his. This man is not joking.
"Would you like grape or bubble gum flavor today?"
"Seriously? Grape all the way." I had no idea epidurals were flavored. Maybe... just maybe that is why the epidurals in the past failed.
"Okay," he said, arms reached into the depths of his bag, "Would you like pink or blue?"
"You have got to be joking me."
"Pink or blue?" He said, eyes serious.
"Well, do they have artificial colors? High fructose corn syrup?" The burning pain failed to dissolve my resolve to avoid placing artificially colored substances into my body.
"Nope. These bad boys are colored with beets and blueberries."
"Awesome." And it is.
The needle jabbed into my back during an intense contraction with little to no discomfort. Phew. Pink colored, grape flavored goodness rushed through my body.
She appeared into the world with no teeth marks or broken hand bones for Dad. And I actually laughed instead of screamed during the pushing. Best. Delivery. Ever. Flowers fell from the sky and my lips pressed against Nate's... and then against the anesthesiologist's. Any man capable of erasing such pain deserves kisses and flowers and complete remote control domination.
The alarm clock buzzed.
Reaching to silence the annoying sound, Nate's arm bumped against my head.
My eyes opened.
I am still pregnant.
27 weeks along.
Despite the fact that I have three kids, I am terrified to deliver this baby girl. The stack of natural childbirth books lined up against the side of my bed have done nothing to calm my fears. Birthing a baby hurts. Period.
In a world of finger touch tablets and raspberry juice, where are the grape flavored epidurals?
And where is that miraculous anesthesiologist with the naturally-colored-high-fructose-corn-syrup-free-pain-relief?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)