Bad mama!


Today has been the first real “bad mommy day” since the colossal mind melt earlier this month. Okay, so it is 12:30 am, and technically now May, so all that was last month, but we will go with my husband’s rule…. “time does not change until after I go to sleep”. So in my mind, it is still the last day of April.

So earlier today (or call it yesterday if you want to keep it real) my little three decided that if they all behaved equally naughty, mom would allow it with retribution, because of safety in numbers, right? *insert melting brain here*

It felt like a country western song. Mom wanted to sleep, the phone was ringing, the baby was whining for breast milk, the 6 year old was wanting to tattle, and the 2 year old wanted a “poopy prize”. I thought everything was settled back into place, and I was going to try to get a few more minutes of sleep, when the baby boy decided he was fat, full, and flippin’ jubilant! There goes my lazy Saturday.

I should have known it was going to be one of those days, everyone was crying and fighting. It took me a full hour to get a sip of my then cold coffee. By lunchtime I was DONE. I put the sleeping baby, and the 2 year old down for naps. The 6 year old was soon sent to nap too after he demonstrated his own fatigue. However, no one napped! All three were exhausted, but no one napped. By around 3pm, I was in tears.


Of course, as soon as I had sufficiently filled my bladder with iced coffee, and was about ready to start dinner, not only did the baby, but also the 2 year old fell asleep. Thankfully the 14 year old walked in from playing to get a drink, and I asked him to hold the (now crying) baby so I could make Fra Diavolo Sauce With Farfalle Pasta, and broccoli. I changed it up a bit, I used fresh tomatoes and added some white wine. I also used only shrimp (doubled), cooked it longer, and served over farfalle (bow tie pasta) instead of linguini. I thought it might be too spicy, so I made some Cabernet Marinara with Herbs for the little ones, but offered them both. I think they favored the spicy shrimp sauce. I had to giggle a bit because they started fighting over who could have the last of the broccoli, they all decided they had not had enough, and Austin rushed in to make sure everyone got two more pieces.

We made a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies, and at them hot, with cold glasses of milk. We were all sleepy, and I decided after everyone was in bed, that I would slip into a hot bath and then go to bed early myself….. but first let me just fix this spam problem real quick. Real quick. Famous last words.

At 10:19 PM, my darling husband gets on Skype. I tell him “Don’t laugh, but I have such a headache. And it is all from reading confusing stuff.” He reassures me he is not laughing. “Owie, hurty head. .htaccess is so confusing.” He tells me he doesn’t know what .htaccess is (I didn’t either until today. I explain what it is, what it does, and what I am using it for. I will not quote what I said because it consists of several F bombs, and other colorful expletives… and I would like to remain classy.

I tell him “Half my face is limp. I must have stroked out somewhere between .htaccess ssh and ftp”. My darling husband says “I want to see”, and starts a video conference. *sigh* At 10:44, about the time I told him my brain was made of pudding, and drool was dripping out of my half-limp stroked out face, the butt tells me “I have worse problems btw. I can not find my hair brush.”

While his hair WAS quite poofy, by this time I was ready to hang myself by my shoe laces. I had no less than 15 tutorials open, terminal, my ftp, a glass of wine and my sanity was long gone. Four minutes later, he proclaims all is right in the world, he has found his hair brush. Well lah dee freakin’ dah! He then asked me if that was my soul he saw leaking out of my eyes. Well yes it is.

At 11:36, he tells me he has to go to work. And I tell him I have to bash my skull in with a baseball bat. A little after 12:10am, I figure out the problem. The file I was looking for could EASILY be created by opening a simple word processor, uploading it to my ftp (server), renaming it, and then editing it with the script I wanted, and voila, spammer would be 404ed. I have no idea if my 2-3 hours worked, but I guess I will find out soon enough when my spam folders keep filling up. AHHHH, what a nightmare!

So now that it is 2am, I can finally climb into bed, and in 4 hours I can start this all over again. Sleep deprived and crabby. As soon as I finish knitting this last row real quick.



Lazy meat, quit yer loafin’


Nothing says “I have too many leftovers, no imagination, and a chunk of ground beef” like meatloaf. What other meal allows you to simultaneously clean out your fridge, hide produce, and feel good about giving your kids a hot meal with just some easy prep and patience. I found that after just a few times, I no longer needed a cook book, or as just meat. I do have a couple shortcuts to share though:

  1. Use a good food processor. I like the Euro-Pro Ninja Master Prep Blender and Food Processor, it makes me feel like a real ninja with all the rogue veggies I can puree and hide into what the kids think is a pure hunk of meat.
      The problem with the Ninja though, is it attracts my 6 year old like a moth to a flame, or as I say a cat to an electric can opener. With an audience, you have to be even more of a ninja to toss in the green beans from last night, a couple raw carrots, an onion, a tomato, or whatever you have on hand that is raw or requires a good blending. You may have to threaten your kids with certain death, amputation of fingers, or starvation if they are picky and you don’t want them to see how you make your ‘secret sauce’.
  2. Once you have your paste resembling a bowl of baby crap, scrape it into the Kitchenaid mixing bowl. You can also toss in more leftovers, some examples include: rice from when you had Chinese takeout, whatever that was in the Tupperware container that vaguely smells like potatoes, actual mashed potatoes, etc. Get creative here, this is where your leftovers get eaten up and not composted.
  3. Toss in a couple eggs, and now raid your condiments. You can add ketchup, or BBQ sauce, mustard if you like, worshesher-whatever sauce, etc. Throw in some random spices that smell good, some milk, and a dry ingredient like crackers, bread crumbs, or oatmeal. Mix all these in your stand mixer, and let it sit for a couple minutes to turn into a gross looking, gelatinous mess.
      I read somewhere that the key factors to the perfect fluffy meatloaf are to let the dry ingredients sit and get soggy. Also, to not molest the meat… err, in other words, you don’t over-mix the ground beef, so pre-mixing the other ingredients well is really important.
  4. This is where my love affair with my Kitchenaid mixer was born. Use the dough hook that comes with it, add your meat and then mix. No longer do I have to relish in the joy of cold, raw, ground meat between my fingers, the booger-eating cousin to the much cooler sand between my toes, illegitimate son of the promiscuous between my legs and the ever brilliant between my ears.
      But I digress. Once your meat and mush have gently been mixed together, plop the whole thing into a baking dish on 350 and cook for an hour. You now have time to watch a show on the DVR, play a Facebook game, or kick the kids outside and hide in the bathroom with a book.
  5. When you hour of bliss is over, slather more condiments over the top, bake another 5 minutes, then serve. You can serve with a vegetable, or a starch or both. If I include enough veggies, I will let my kids believe they are getting off veggie-free and just serve with potato wedges or something. My boys are pretty good about eating their meatloaf, but my daughter isn’t as wonderful. Then again, for the child who hates vegetables, she would pick a salad and plain white rice for dinner over meatloaf any day of the week.

Tonight the princess thought she would be slick. After all the kids had eaten, including the baby who happily nursed while I dislocated my shoulder to eat cold meatloaf, the ones who ate got fresh chocolate chip cookies. The princess decided she could skip her meal and go right to the cookie. When that didn’t work, and screaming didn’t make me give in, she resorted to climbing onto the counter, grabbing the Tupperware and running as fast as her stubby little legs would take her. She ended up going to bed without finishing her meatloaf, or a cookie, but she did end up going to bed with tons of tears. I think tonight mommy is going to drink a nice glass of wine for dessert, because mommy drinks when you cry.

*This is not a sponsored post, but Kitchenaid or Euro-Pro is welcome to send me a free gift for this post if they would like. I really want the mixing blade with the rubber spatula built in for my mixer or extra bowls for my ninja. *wink wink*



Reflection


Tonight I broke down on the telephone with my husband. Liam squeaked though the baby monitor and I placed him on hold so I could put the monitor up to my ear and listen. I teased him for calling me a paranoid mom when he was driving us home from the hospital and at a red light I unbuckled and climbed over the seat to make sure my tiny little boy was not swallowed up by his giant car seat and that he was doing okay since he suddenly stopped crying. I remember him jokingly telling me I was acting like he was my first and not my fifth, and I remember explaining that I knew it wasn’t rational, but this perfect little soul *scared* me.

I think as parents we all have irrational fears about our children. With my first baby I remember him sleeping past his normal 3am feeding time and waking up at 4am with engorged breasts and sobbing that my baby must have passed in his sleep. Rationally I knew he would eventually sleep through the night, irrationally I just knew SIDS must have claimed him. My husband was in boot camp and when he called the Sunday after that instant I burst into tears when I told him our boy was sleeping through the night. He also probably got an emotional letter in the mail as well.

Then my oldest son came into our life and I was always scared his birth mom was going to come steal him away. I knew her better than that, and I trusted her, but I was always so scared that I would pick him up from school and they would explain to me that he had already been picked up by the non-custodial parent.

Then my third baby came along, and I found something else to be irrational about. I wish I could remember, but he made it out of infancy unscathed. Our fourth baby, our first and only girl was born, and she scared me so bad that I would not allow my husband to get a vasectomy until she made it safely to her second birthday, ergo the reason we got our fifth and final child.

Today I was researching pediatric pulmonologists, allergists, and pediatric neurologists. EEGs, seizures, and breath holding spells (BHS). Logically, I know this was likely an isolated incident. Irrationally I have myself convinced I need to have him looked over by a room full od specialists. I think of unnecessary poking and prodding, tests, and procedures and I just cannot make myself put my little boy through this for something that happened one time.

When I heard my husband’s voice tonight, I realized I was still wearing my brave mask. I was falling apart and not allowing anyone to see it. I have not taken time to allow myself to process the fear; to deal with the feelings, and to let myself admit how scared I was. I can still close my eyes and see the events of Friday night so clearly in my mind. The moment where I realized something was wrong. I wonder if I was as calm when I called the emergency dispatcher as I remember myself sounding. When I remember back to that night, I am on the outside, looking in. I cannot remember a single moment where I was ever that scared before.

I remember moments when my husband was in Iraq, and I heard about a casualty from his unit on the news. The fear I felt when he explained to me a building he was next to exploded and shrapnel was hitting his vehicle and it sounded like hail. I remember when helicopters I thought he was on went down, and then I did not hear from him for 20 days. I still cry at movies where they talk about the war, military casualties, or when bagpipes play “Taps”. But if I have to put this in perspective, the fear I felt that night is 100x worse. I didn’t let myself feel it though. Now that he is over the hurdle, and all he has is a lingering cough as he continues to work the crud out of my lungs, I find myself going back to that moment, and I find myself wanting to fall apart.

So tonight when Bobby called and asked how the kids were and then asked how I was, I started crying. I am a mess. And I feel SO guilty for feeling this way while so many people have dealt with so much worse. My heart goes out to all the parents who have had to face the loss of a child, or a spouse. For those who have children with chronic illnesses or disabilities. For anyone who has had to hear that they, or a loved one has a terminal illness. So tonight, when I allow myself to cry, and to allow myself to process the events of this last week, I will be thinking of everyone else who has also had to put on a brave face while they were falling apart inside.



Ultimate Blog Party 2011


Ultimate Blog Party 2011

I wasn’t planning on joining the UBP 11, but it is 2:45am and I am up with a sick 2 year old, so I figured this sure beats watching Sesame Street on Sprout with her, but still allows me to cuddle with her.

So if you found me on UBP11, let me introduce myself.

I am a Heather, a 32 year old full time Domestic Engineer. Obviously my shift does not end at 5pm, sometimes I get lucky and I get to go on break from 9pm-7am. If I am even luckier, it is uninterrupted and insomnia stays away.

    Ten Facts about me/us

  • I have five kids, 4 boys, 1 girl.
  • The boys are 14, 13, 6, and 3 months; the little girl is 2 1/2.
  • I have been married to my husband for almost 14 years.
  • We married when we were just teenagers.
  • I was an Army wife for 8 years and lived at two different installations.
  • My hubby is now a PMC (Private Military Contractor) working in Afghanistan.
  • I have spent 3 years of my life being a geographically-separated parent, and I just started on the 4th year. Not single or solo parent, as hubby is very involved, but you can only do so much when you are 6,000 miles apart.
  • Despite having 5 kids, I am an infertility survivor. I adopted my oldest son through a stepparent adoption almost five years ago. My 2nd oldest was conceived easily. My 3rd child took 6 years to conceive after many failed months with a specialist and infertility drugs. My 4th child took 2 years to conceive and I needed fertility medications combined with an IUI. My 5th child was quite the surprise!
  • I try to be as natural of a parent as I can be. I believe in extended breastfeeding, cloth diapering, baby wearing, and natural childbirth.
  • Despite believing in Natural Childbirth, I have only achieved it once, and that is when I had my 4th child at home, in the water.

My blog title, Mistakes in Motherhood, stems from my belief that we are all flawed, and parents are not immune. As a mom I know I have made many mistakes, said things I regret, done things that make me cringe, but in the end they are all learning experiences. I look forward to meeting new moms (and dads) so we can share and learn from each other.

I just started a Facebook page, so be sure to follow me, but be patient as I learn what the heck I am doing! :)



Tackle it Tuesday, April 5


Tackle It Tuesday Meme

Wow, it has been FOREVER since I tackled, but I did it, I feel wonderful, and I am so proud of the work I did. So join me for a well deserved cup of coffee, and enjoy my mayhem & foolishness.

Today I tackled my master bedroom suite. I have not cleaned my bedroom since Bobby left for Afghanistan, at the end of February! GROSS!! I have however cleaned my bathroom weekly. So yeah, it was horrible. I am sharing a room with my sweet 3 month old, so the room is pretty cramped. I took the before pictures at 2am this morning, because I knew I would not be motivated to tackle the room today if I waited until after I went to bed (I wasn’t) so that is why I have day & night shots. It took me about 3 hours to tackle these rooms.

CTB
CTA

Here is the changing table before & after. I designed this using a chrome shelving unit, baskets, and a changing table pad. I love it, and it all can be re-purposed later when he grows up.

HSB
HSB2
HSA
HSA2

His side of the bed before, and after.

MSB
LCB2
MSA
MSA2

My side of the bed (with a sleeping Liam), before, and after. Somehow I guess I either didn’t photograph, or upload the box of cords & miscellaneous crap piled between the shelf and night stand. Now that the co-sleeper is gone, I probably should switch the bookshelf and night stand back. I didn’t think of that until just now. I had switched them out before Liam was born so I could have him in the co-sleeper next to my bed, which he hated.

MDB
MDA

My dresser, before and after.

LCB
LCA

Liam’s crib.

FRB
FRA

Ah, bliss, here is a full room shot. It feels like a sanctuary once again.

And finally:
BRB
BRB2
LCA3
BRA

The sink portion of my master bedroom. I just recently cleaned the shower and toilet side of the bathroom, so I didn’t take before/after pictures of it.

So there you have it. Probably the thing I am most proud of are things you can’t see. I dusted the tops of everything, the ceiling fan, the blinds, the back of the TV. I cleaned under every dresser, nightstand, shelf, and under the beds. I vacuumed the top of my bed rails, the mattresses, Liam’s sheep skin, in the closet.

I hope you enjoyed this post. I am going to drink a million more cups of coffee, fold diapers, and wait for the chinese I ordered to be delivered while watching a movie with the kids. I earned this. Oh, and no post is complete without a sleeping baby picture. Enjoy!

Sweet baby Liam



Today we said “See you soon”.


At 5 am this morning, Bobby and I said our goodbyes, but instead of goodbye, I told him “see you soon”. It didn’t hit me until I was 20 miles away, and I started thinking about how much it hurt to be away from 1/6th of my heart…. and if I am missing him this much, he must really be hurting, because he’s away from all of us. He called from Dulles twice today before his Dubai flight to see how I was coping with 5 kids and 4 hours of sleep. He was making sure I wasn’t burning out already, but I am more worried about him, than me, I have distractions. I have a baby to care for around the clock. I have doctors appointments, teacher conferences, homework to help with, meals to cook, a house to take care of. I don’t have time to burn out.

Quickies:

Liam is 2 months old today, he had a well baby exam and was 13 lbs. 3 oz shy of a 6 pound weight gain. Over 6 pounds if you count his lowest weight, he’s also gained 3 inches. Pretty awesome if you figure he’s gained 3 inches in 2 months and the average is 2 inches. The average weight gain is 5-7oz a week and he averages 11.6 a week.

Dude– I’m never getting another Dell. Christopher’s charger for his Alienware broke. 4 months of light use, we are talking probably 20 times of unplugging/plugging. It is a BAD design, think of a thin copper wire, like maybe the size of a .7mm pencil lead, housed inside a plug as big around as a pencil with the eraser pulled out. I was told that they would not honor my warranty because if it broke, it was “abuse”. BS! Got an aftermarket charger on eBay, no way is Dell getting $80 from me for a new cord.

Dyson, ROCKS. I love them! Their customer service is top notch. I called to order a new cover for brush, a thin piece melted or broke off. They are sending an entire brush mount, a $110 retail part, for free, on a 1 1/2 yr old vacuum. No questions asked. So now my raves for customer service are Apple, Comcast, Dyson, Verizon, Automated Petcare Products (Litter Robot), and of course USAA.

Austin was holding Liam last week and said “I LOVE it when his face turns colors, it is so red”. I said “yes honey, that is because he’s pooping”. His eyes got big, his face got red and he said “oh god no!!” and passes him back to me. Funny boy!


Sophia is totally potty trained, and we ventured out into public today without any accidents. Still no poop success, and we have not braved overnight yet.

Matthew got this ‘stache from a birthday party yesterday, I had to tell him to take it off to go to bed, he wanted to keep it on. I told him he looks like a young Burt Reynolds, but he didn’t get the reference, so I called him Baby Earl from the TV showMy Name is Earl. All day I was saying “my name is Matt”.

Christopher has been an absolute joy this week. He’s finally been allowed to get a Facebook page and has been absolutely superb at getting his chores done without being told.

I started writing this post 7 hours ago. I kept getting interrupted.



Scrubs


A long, long, time ago, I was a CNA, or certified nursing assistant, but my license has since lapsed. I miss working from time to time, I loved getting my medical scrubs on each morning and heading to work each morning at 7. I loved being busy and feeling like I was making a difference. My own children were in school full time and I was feeling restless at home. I worked with special needs adults in a recreational day facility, and it was my job to record blood pressure, weights, administer medications, along with non-medical tasks like taking my clients into the community on day trips, or also dealing with basic needs such as feeding and toileting.

One of the downfalls of my job though, was the cost of scrubs. I got some of my uniforms at the big box chain stores, but they were itchy and very plain. I also used dedicated scrub stores, but the cost of uniforms was ridiculous. I was lucky enough that I was not limited to a specific color, and could wear any pattern I wanted, so it was possible for me to buy scrubs online at a great discount, and get soft, comfortable uniforms for a very reasonable cost. Last year when we made our cross country move, I ended up giving away a huge box (21 sets?) to a friend’s sister, and it was really sad. I mean on one hand, I love being a mom, but I cannot pretend that I don’t miss bringing in an income, and getting all dressed up in my nursing uniforms scrubs each and every day.



Fashionista


Sophia and I have a lot in common when it comes to fashion. We both LOVE clothes. I love shoes, purses, dresses, jeans. LOVE. Unfortunately, being a stay at home mom, I don’t have the excuse to tickle my inner runway model. I am more of a jeans and tshirt kind of gal most of the time. In an alternate universe, I imagine myself in shape (round is a shape, but not the one I prefer) and in a gorgeous pair of Stuart Weitzman thigh high boots, a pencil skirt, a silk blouse, a short jacket and a small leather clutch. No spit-up on my shoulder. Not a single hair out of place.

My husband, or dare I say boyfriend, would look equally stunning in a dark gray suit, and a long wool Michael Kors dress coat. He would have come straight from work and we would meet for cocktails and talk about our day before our 8pm dinner reservation.

It would be cold by the time we leave the restaurant, but I would stay warm in my Cole Haan wool-cashmere swing coat. We would take a cab home, not a minivan, and we would live in a stylish apartment in a high rise, without furniture marred by bored preschooler with a fork. My cupboard doors would never know the joy of being broken by a preschooler swinging on them. TV could be enjoyed in peace, without interruption, and free of tiny fingerprints. I would no know that milk turns into a substance stronger than glue when spilled without being seen, and orajel will strip the stain right off of a nightstand, almost instantly. Vacations can be taken without reserving two hotel rooms. Income would be disposable. Sleep would not be interrupted by a hungry baby or a puking child.

The more I think about it, the more I realize how lucky I am to spend all day in sweatpants, baby in arms, heart full of love. I will drive my minivan with pride, every seat filled by a butt. I will drink my coffee out of necessity, not pleasure. I will trade in my free time of reading books and hot baths for changing diapers and helping with homework. I will trade in my leather pumps for bare feet, or big name brands like Skechers and Converse. I will shop at the Goodwill, Target, and Costco. But I will never give up my day dreams of my alternate universe self, skinny, enjoying a latte while walking to her job in some fancy high rise in New York City. Dressed to kill.



Adventures in solo parenting


Life has been hectic lately, to say the least. A couple weeks ago, my hardworking husband, Bobby, accepted a new assignment. Once again, he will be spending time in the middle east, this time in Afghanistan. Since the end of December, he’s either been home on holiday time, paid time off, or paternity leave, save for a two week time where he was working 12 hour shifts without a day off. We don’t know yet how soon he is leaving for sure, or if it will be 6 or 12 months, but we do know it is going to be a large adjustment for the both of us. Last time he went overseas we had 2 kids in school full time, one in pre-school 3 days a week, and a 6 month old. This time I will have 2 in school full time, one in school part time, and two home, a 2 1/2 year old and a 2 month old. I am confident we will be fine, but I am thinking of starting the youngest in preschool in the fall when she’s 3. At that point I will have three in school full time, and one part time.

Honestly, I am most worried about the first 4 months, once the kids are out of school for the summer and we are on a more relaxed schedule I think time will start moving faster.



“A”


Hand me my scarlet letter now, I am cheating on my beloved. I would like to be polyamorous, I love them both, but since my first love found about my new love, she’s been pushing me away. I think we have changed, and grown apart a bit…. but what I hate to admit, is that my first love actually pushed me into the arms of my new love. I don’t think I could give either up, but I would gladly cut back on my new love if my first love would take me back.

Oh sleep, why do you reject me so? I miss you. I want to fly back into your arms and feel your warm embrace. Coffee is just a fling, a mistress, she doesn’t make me feel as good as you do. She’s only meeting a need you have been denying me lately. Please take me back. I will try to be faithful. You are my one true love.