I hate that my husband deals with chronic pain. I would take that burden from him in a heartbeat if I could, and it would STILL be worth every single struggle. I once saw an interview with a young Native American teenager who said he would chose the muddy road over easy street, because only the man who struggled and built his muscles on the muddy road emerges a warrior.

For the last three days, I have been haunted by a dream. Not the events in the dream, but the house in the dream. It is not a house I recognize, it is not even a house I can picture myself in (it appears older, and run down). But for the last several years, I see this same house. Only the back yard, and very specific details. A converted unattached garage at the back left corner of the property, the garage has been converted to a mother in law apartment with access to an alley in the back, and into the yard on the side. It is a small studio with a bathroom, and kitchenette. On the very back of the property is a chain link fence, and a garden that spans the entire back of the property, but is only about 8 feet wide with a small rock path from the garage to the back yard. In front of the garden is another fenced in area, this one not as long, just as wide with a worn out wire fence. Half the yard is flat, then it inclines leading into a walk-out basement. On the main floor of the house there is a large deck, and one more floor above that. The house is blue, or green, and barren of any sort of foliage. I cannot tell what area this house is in, although it has green grass, so we can rule out Texas or Colorado. LOL

The dreams itself vary, and usually don’t stick with me, as much as this house. I have very briefly seen the inside, but it seems that the back yard is the most significant element. The last dream I had involved finding out the mother in law apartment had been broken into, and a mother, father, and toddler were living in there unbeknownst to us. We ended up finding out they were legal immigrants who could not make ends meet and had recently lost their home. We agreed to let them stay and furnished the home with stuff we had in the house, allowing them to stay rent free and feeding them meals, in exchange for help around the house in the evenings. I babysat the little boy for a few hours while they worked to get some money saved to get a place of their own. This part of the dream seemed sort of injected into a dream that focused mainly on the back yard. I just wish I knew what it meant.

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.

Oh wait, I need to back this up…. WAY up.

Back in February I learned my grandma was ill, in and out of the hospital. I won’t go into details, but I will say we all had faith she would pull through this. When I say my grandma was someone we expected to live forever, I mean it. She was still driving a motor home at age 79. She had no limitations. She took amazing care of my grandpa who has had a lot of health issues since he broke his back 20 years ago, to include rods slipping from his back surgery, major heart attacks, and Parkinson’s. My grandma cooked him 3 hot meals a day, kept the house spotless, the laundry immaculate, gave him all his medications, and still found time to do the daily crossword. Her mother lived to be 88 and died peacefully at home, in her sleep. I expected another 10 years out of my grandma, at least. Unfortunately, the treatment that was supposed to make her better, made her worse before it could make her better, and she just was too sick to handle the backslide. She passed away Monday. She was a little over 6 weeks away from her 80th birthday.

With Bobby in Afghanistan, and the funeral on the other side of the country, there was just no way I could make it. So I have been in a pretty bad mood. I am mourning the loss of my grandma, missing my husband, not getting much sleep at night, and my patience is completely shot. Just normal kid behavior is driving me up the walls. Now, add to that errands at Lowes, Costco, and K-Mart. Now sprinkle in 2 hours, two trips back into the store with a fussy baby, a major headache, and a Facebook friend invite from my dead grandma. Wait, what? Yes. I got a friend request from the afterlife.

My grandmother was a pretty hip woman, and had been on Facebook for over a year in order to keep updated on pictures and goings on with her friends and family. My mom isn’t even on Facebook (but my dad is), so I thought it was maybe a memorial page added by one of her two daughters because they didn’t know her password or something. So I added it, and sent a little note asking who was managing the page, and I get this back “it is me lois how r u”. So now I am pissed, what kind of sick joke is this? I don’t recognize the email, the birthday is wrong (’56, by 1956 my gma had already had my dad and his sister, and they were in school), but the name is right, and the profile picture is directly stolen from her profile.

About this time I get an IM from my cousin, who also could not get to the funeral. She says the person added her, and like me she assumed it was a memorial page. But then gets an IM from the person claiming they have “exciting news”. K wishes she had played along with it, but obviously was so shocked by it all she told the person off and they unfriended her. She tried to report the page to Facebook, but the request has to come from my grandma’s profile. My aunt reactivated the profile just to report it, but as of 19 hours after creation, the profile is still there. I have contacted all the people that received a friend invite, but cannot find any other way to get this profile removed. I am going to give this person the benefit of the doubt and say they didn’t know that the profile belonged to someone who had passed away 48 hours earlier, and they did not set out to freak out the only two granddaughters who could not attend her services, but still, what kind of jerk makes a fake email (the email was created using the name of my gm’s niece, also a FB friend), then a fake profile, and then tries to pass themselves off as someone else? Whoever you are FB-impersonator, I hope you are ready for a big old heaping spoonful of some negative karma.

I song I have googled numerous times to find the name of played, Regina Spektor – Fidelity, but when the only lyrics you know is “and it breaks my heart” and “break my fall”, you don’t get very far. Same with Citizen Cope – Let The Drummer Kick, a song I thought was called “The Drama Kid” and could not understand why I could never find it via Google. Another song that I loved, and had to lyric search for a while back was Modest Mouse – Float On. Mad World – Gary Jules came on, a song that Bobby and I both love, but got a kick out of when they used it in a commercial for Gears of War 2, a game Bobby plays.

While I was ironing Bobby’s shirts, and a funny thing happens to clean shirts when you apply hot steam. The scent of the person who wears them comes out and I found myself not just missing my husband today, but really missing him. I miss him every hour of every day, but thankfully I only get that hole in my heart deep loneliness every once in a while. The song that came on just then was Geto Boys – Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta, a song I have not heard since middle school, and there I was, ironing, missing my husband, kicking it Gangsta style. I got a good chuckle and it lifted my spirits. Another throw back from a little further back in ’88 was Pixies – Where Is My Mind.

The Postal Service – Such Great Heights played, which I love, and put on my Facebook about 6 months back, along with the Iron & Wine- Such Great Heights version because I had never realized that The Postal Service song was the same as the Iron & Wine version.

The kids and I had a great sweaty dance to Michael Franti & Spearhead – Say Hey (I Love You) and OutKast – Hey Ya!, two songs the kids have always loved. And several songs that Bobby used to sing by The White Stripes, OK Go, The Killers, and Cage The Elephant – Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked, a song he was singing along with on the radio that I had never heard, which is unusual for us, usually I am the one to discover new artists. Of course there were a lot of other songs mixed in, these were just the main ones that really spoke to me, were songs I had been searching for in the past, or played when I needed them the most. However the Over the Rainbow song, by Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwoʻole came on twice; this is a song I can no longer listen to because it reminds me of a schoolmate’s tragic loss.

So I am not sure what all these songs and artists have in common, Pandora claims that it because I like “repetitive melodic phrasing” and “mild rhythmic syncopation”, so I guess we will go with that. Whatever the reason, they complimented each other nicely, and made for a very happy day.

Through his tears he created fantastic stories of what could have happened. “Maybe she forgot her cat away, and the cat scared her?” “Maybe she is sick?” I offered. That was rejected. Then as if he was not sufficiently traumatized, wailing part two ensues. I guess he was playing with the tooth on the floor and it fell down the vent. Now he was facing another possibility.. not only did the tooth fairy forget him, but now she was never going to come! He decided that maybe if he wrote a not and put it under his pillow, he could get back into her good graces. The note read “I m srrye, I lost my tooth”. Thankfully his brother helped him dig it out. However I still had to figure out what to do. To buy some time to think up a convincing lie decent plan, I sent him off to the shower. Since he has a bunk bed, I put a dollar under a pillow in his top bunk. Silly mama, how dare I assume he didn’t overturn every pillow. He saw through my deception immediately.

We settled on a story that maybe the tooth fairy was just running late, his brother convinced him that maybe a lot of children in china has lost their teeth. After all that, the little turkey wanted me to put his crisp new dollar I picked out just for him, into his checking account. Love that boy!

Next time he loses a tooth, I am insisting he hangs his sister’s “Welcome Tooth Fairy” pillow on his door knob, as a reminder for her not to fly on by.

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.

Even though he won’t be four weeks old until tomorrow, I wanted to go ahead and update while I had a moment… easier said than done when you have five kids (only the little three are home right now, and the littlest one is napping).

He’s a pretty mellow little guy, but he is also pretty needy, especially at night. He will sleep a couple hours at a time as long as he is in my arms. I am getting more accustom to sleeping with him in my arms, which is something I just do not enjoy.

[Interruption #1, Sophia climbed up on her dresser and dumped all the water from her wipe warmer all over her dresser and floor trying to plug it in. It was unplugged because it is broken.]

His brothers and sister adore him, but his sister is not too sure she likes sharing her spotlight. I know she loves him, but I also think she’s a little resentful that he’s always in arms. I am trying my hardest to make sure she gets extra attention and I am including her in his care by asking her to be my helper.

[Interruption #2, 3 & 4. Sophie is trying to dress herself and is bringing me clothes, shoes, and a diaper. Then she broke the latch off her dress-up chest and wanted me to come fix it.]

Matthew is constantly asking to hold Liam, and usually his timing is bad. I will have just latched him onto the breast and Matt appears out of nowhere and says “Can I hold Liam?”

[Interruption #5, 6, 7, Sophia found a shirt she liked and asked me to button it up, asked me to put a diaper on her that was wet from the wipe warmer water, and when I sent her away for a dry one she brought a pocket that didn't have an insert]

Christopher really does not ask or attempt to hold him anymore.

[Interruption #8, had to empty the potty chair]

Austin loves holding him though and is always asking to hold him, or stealing him out of his swing. I am so impressed with him, he is going to make such a good husband and daddy someday. He does his own laundry, loves to cook, adores babies and is very thoughtful. I figure when he’s 30 I am going to auction him off to the highest bidder.

[Interruption #9, 10 & 11, emptied the potty seat again, broke up a fight between Sophie & Matt over a balloon, and got a hug from Matthew for finding a lost villain for his superhero toys.]

Sophie has to be reminded not to put her feet on Liam’s head, I am not sure WHY she insists on doing this, but it is annoying.

[Interruption #12, drama over panties. Sophie claims she has some, Matthew tells her she doesn't, shouting match ensues.]

[Interruption #13-16, Liam wakes up, on the way to get him I have to rescue Sophie from herself, she has somehow climbed in the back of her diaper storage tower and is stuck. Get the baby up, change his diaper and his clothes. Sophie throws a fit because she insists she needs a wipe. Then throws another fit because I closed my door, not her.]

Liam is a pretty content little guy, he loves to cuddle and watch your face. He’s starting to smile a bit and engage a bit more.

[Interruption #17, baby needs to nurse.]

[Interruption #18 through ??.... had to make lunch one handed for Sophie & Matt, pick up my kitchen, all while holding a fussy boy who wants to nurse again.]

#!&% it, I give up. Yup, I see exactly why the last 4 weeks have flown by.

FYI: this took me 90 minutes to write.

I was due with baby #5 on 12/27/10, but given my history of 40+5 – 41 week births, I truly expected to meet my son or daughter in January. Around 33 weeks I was risked out of home birth for blood pressure readings over the 140/90 mark and encouraged to see my homebirth midwife’s favorite OB. At first, I was so angry and hurt I was feeling like I was not important in this busy practice. I would drive 45 minutes, wait 45 minutes, see the nurse for 5 minutes and the OB or CNM for 5 minutes then drive 45 minutes back. My kids were frustrated, I was frustrated and I was just so sad every time my blood pressure was taken and they would tell me how good it was. However I kept reminding myself “it is what it is” and each visit got better and I slowly changed my outlook and my attitude. I told myself that everything has its purpose, and there had to be purpose for this. Maybe this would be my healing hospital birth after my first and second left me feeling like a spectator at a sport where I had lost control and dignity? Maybe I could prove to myself I could have a natural hospital birth?

I diligently wrote up my birth plan. I stated I wanted my baby’s cord to be cut only after it stopped pulsating. I wanted to labor and deliver in the water, after all, this hospital *IS* the only one in my state that allows planned waterbirths. I did not want medication offered to me. I wanted to push in any position I wanted to be in and I didn’t want someone telling me when to push. And most of all I didn’t want pitocin or anything else to augment my labor.

So Christmas came and went without even a braxton hick. I just had to make it through my husband’s birthday the next day so I didn’t “ruin Christmas or my Birthday” as he kept teasing me. My little boy had plans of his own. Around 3pm on December 26th my contractions started coming 5 minutes apart, lasting a little over a minute. They were still pretty mild, so I just went about my routine. After dinner, I needed Bobby to blow up my birth ball so I could rock through them. By the time my kids went to bed, they started picking up and I would have to pause and breathe through them. By 1am on my due date, I decided I needed my doula here to help me through them. They started getting closer together and lasting longer, so around 3am we decided to head up to the hospital since it was an hour away.

I arrived at the hospital and they hooked me up to the monitors. My contractions had slowed down a bit so we decided to walk the halls until they picked up a little more. Around 6am they checked me, and I was only 2cm dilated with a baby who was not engaged. We decided I would go home, take a bath and a nap, and come back when labor picked back up. They did think it would be today though. A due Date baby! I was excited because only about 5% of all babies are born on their due dates, and it was my earliest baby yet!

Instead of driving all the way home, we decided to stay in a hotel down the street where I would take my bath, crawl into bed, and sleep. While in the bath I noticed I was losing fluid of some sort, but it appeared to have color in it, so I assumed it was my mucous plug. When I felt more fluid coming out I stood up and called my husband and noticed green water running down my legs in large gushes. Not only had my water broken, but the baby had passed meconium, which could suggest the baby was in distress. 45 minutes after we arrived at our hotel, we were leaving. Talk about a very expensive hour! Bobby and I joked that it looked like I was just a booty call, and he had some sicko pregnancy fetish.

This time when I arrived at the hospital, it was for keeps; they put me into the water birthing suite and hooked me up to monitors for intermittent monitoring. I called my doula back, and when she arrived we started walking the halls. Around noon, they checked me again and I was still unchanged, so I ask her to stretch me if at all possible.

She was able to stretch me to a 4-5cm, but my baby was still really high and not moving down. My contractions were mostly in my back, so my doulas did hip squeezes and we do squats with each contraction to move my baby down. While we were walking the halls, I saw my old midwife, who is there with other clients who had to transfer during labor, and she gave me a big hug and words of encouragement from her mentor; “remember, each centimeter is not created equally”. Around 6pm my contractions were starting to space out, and my baby was still not dropping, so it was suggested that while our doulas were taking a break for dinner, maybe Bobby and I should try nipple stimulation to pick up labor, because the OB wanted to start pitocin. When the doulas returned a half hour later, we asked for a little more time and tried lunges and rebozo.

[My doulas, Diksha & Sarah, using the Rebozo on me to get baby to move into a more favorable position]

We decided the baby was in a funky position and that is why s/he was not moving down and engaging, and without strong contractions to push the baby onto my cervix, l just would not dilate. At 7pm I was checked again and I still had not changed at all since noon, when I was stretched from a 2 to a 4-5.

[Me with my nurse, also named Heather]

My nurse gently suggested that I change rooms, since I could no longer labor or deliver in the birthing tub, because I was getting pitocin, and they were expecting a couple who desired a water birth. I was not about to let someone else lose their chance at a water birth, so we moved. But it was sad to cross another thing off my birth plan. The pitocin drip was placed, and it was a gentle slow process that was monitored closely.

The pit was only turned up every 45-60 minutes by 1ml (out of 30) and only if my contractions were not picking up. I tried to rest between contractions and I was able to nap through some of the early ones, but by the time I reached 6ml, I was done. I was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. I don’t remember what time it was, but I think by that time I had been in labor 36+/- hours, and I was beat. I asked for an epidural and anesthesia was called while they pushed IV fluids. The contractions were in my hips, chest, back, and lower abdomen, and just felt unnatural. My doulas made sure I really wanted this, and let me know it was possible I was closer than I thought, but respected my wishes when I said I was done. They told me how proud they were of me for sticking it out so long. I had some “rock your world” contractions while waiting for my IV bag to empty, they called them double peak I think? I would have one long strong contraction, with a second, shorter one right immediately afterward. My nurse said it suggested a posterior baby, so while waiting on the anesthesiologist we did some exercises to try to rotate the baby. We had to pause the epidural process three times for contractions, but finally it went in and halfway into my 4th contraction, my feet went dead.

The pitocin was turned up while I rested, but the monitor kept losing the baby’s heart beat, and my contractions were not being picked up at all. When we got to 8ml, the OB and nurse noticed the baby’s heart was decelerating with each contraction. They placed an internal contraction monitor in to see if they were happening at the beginning or end of each contraction because I guess one was better than the other. The OB mentioned that I may need a cesarean because my placenta may be showing signs of stress at this point, but they were willing to watch and wait. The pitocin was turned off and my contractions stopped and so did the decels. They turned it back on to about 6ml and watched to see what part of my contractions caused the decels. About 3 contractions later it was determined that they were caused by cord compression and that I could continue to labor. Some of the decels scared Bobby though as they dropped down to about 45bpm for a few seconds. I was put on oxygen and they moved me from one side to another. From time to time my legs were moved to open up my hips to encourage baby to drop. Around 7am I was checked and only at about 7cm and a -2 station, but with each contraction I would open to about 9.5 with a thick lip, so she let me try some test pushes to see if I could move through the lip, but baby just would not move down enough and when I stopped pushing, baby would pop right back up. My OB then went off duty and her midwife took over. Finally, shortly before 9am on December 28th, 43 hours into labor and 26 hours after my water broke, the midwife decided we could try pushing again. By this time I could feel my legs and my contractions and I was ready to get my baby out.

NICU was on hand because of the meconium, and my doula and Bobby held my legs since I still didn’t have complete strength back. It took 1 or 2 contractions, with about 4-6 good pushes to get baby’s head out, it was cocked to one side, asynclitic they call it, and baby had a hand up next to its face. With the second contraction I got out baby’s shoulders and then I was told not to push while she cut the cord (it was wrapped around the neck and the abdomen) and she suctioned baby’s mouth and nose. Finally with one last push my baby was born at 9:07am. Before passing baby off to the respiratory therapist, she asked my husband “tell them what you see daddy” and Bobby announced we had a baby boy! This was part of my birth plan. Oh, and I was told when I could push, but no one counted or instructed me how to push, so my birth plan was somewhat followed in that aspect too.

Baby was suctioned and given to Daddy to hold and then handed to me.

I held him and said his name over and over again, “Jackson”, and I nursed him, but then I started shaking so bad that I handed him back to daddy and they did the newborn exam. He was 7lbs 3oz, the same that I was at birth, and 19″ long.

I called my mom to announce his birth and tell her we named him “Jackson Liam”, but got off the phone when my shaking got to be too much. It was around this time I noticed Bobby looking at the baby funny. I thought maybe he was disappointed we had a 4th boy, instead of a 2nd girl, but finally he said “he just does not look like a Jackson to me, he looks like a Liam”, and I had to agree, he DID look like a Liam.

[Liam with my amazing doula Sarah]

[Liam with my incredible doula Diksha]

Liam and I both had fevers, so it was decided that they would take blood samples and allow them to grow for 48 hours to make sure he didn’t have an infection. My water was broken for 26 hours and I declined antibiotics, so I decided not to fight the doctor’s orders. I got my first shower and Bobby brushed my hair for me and we discussed middle names while we were waiting on the Dr. to get back from lunch. We decided on Liam Michael, we liked how it sounded and I have an uncle and cousin and we have a good friend named Michael, and it just fit. After the blood draws, Bobby headed back home to relieve the babysitter and get some rest. Our fevers went down, and Liam got his first bath.

The next afternoon, Bobby brought the kids up to meet their brother, and it was love at first sight. Sophie was a bit standoffish with me, like she had been when dad first came home, but warmed up quick when she saw the baby. They each got to hold him, and then it was time for us to rest. I was released on the 30th, once his 48 hour culture came back negative.

Liam is 12 days old now. He’s doing well. He sleeps great during the day in his swing, our arms, or on our bed. Night is a different story, seems he only wants to sleep in my arms, while nursing, which is counterproductive to me sleeping. I love the age old question “Is he a good baby??” Sometimes I can resist the urge to say “well, he’s not paying for hookers or betting on the ponies, so he can’t be that bad”, usually though something smart slips out. We do seem to have some gas issues, which may be related to tongue-tie that I intend to talk to his pediatrician about this week when I see her. Other than that, he is gorgeous, and we adore him.

Sometimes birth is about letting go, and making compromises. As much as I didn’t want pitocin, or an epidural, even more so I didn’t want a cesarean. I wanted another home water birth, but I can only speculate that I would have been too tired and ended up transferring to the hospital and getting an OB I never met, who didn’t know my history and possibly was not as open minded about about my choices, or desires for a vaginal birth. As difficult as his birth was, it was also a healing birth. I learned that not all OBs are surgery happy, and some are very trusting of the birth process. I learned that having a good nurse and being in a good hospital can make all the difference in the world on what kind of outcome you can expect. And of course, your baby’s birth plan ALWAYS trumps your own birth plan, so expect the unexpected, and learn to roll with the punches and let go of expectations.

I want to mention how much I appreciated the support I received from my amazing husband, my wonderful doulas, my incredible RNs, my awesome OB & midwives, and everyone else who offered support, advice and encouragement. I love you all so much.

Today, the contractor that came by was giving me tips on maximizing my value and he said “your biggest downfall is going to be the tricked-out-hoopty next door. People are not going to want to live next to people who look like they live in the hood”… wow, he can peg them just by their cars… niiiice.

Monday, our realtor is stopping by and I am so excited to finally get some answers to the big questions… like how much can we get out of this house for, what do I need to do to make it marketable, and should we turn the nursery/office into a nursery, or an office? LOTS of work until Monday, there will be no rest this weekend!

I have needs I have not been able to meet lately. Tonight I was just so frustrated I took a long how shower and just let my mind wander. When I was a kid, I was so carefree and no burdened by these reckless desires and longing for time in the bedroom….

…you see, I am tired. I feel like every morning I cannot start the day without a cup of coffee or two. When did I grow up? When did I start craving such adult desires. Yet I am teased by exhaustion, and itch I cannot scratch… because I am one of those who cannot nap! I know, crazy huh? I can have all my kids at school, the baby can be taking a three hour nap and I just lay there, unsatisfied. And right now, it is 12:45am, I know I have to be up in a few hours, but I just cannot settle my mind and instead I am having a quickie in bed, with my MacBook and my blog. I know if I do not get this off my chest I will lay in bed all night and not be able to drift off to dreamland.

I was looking at some pictures today of many years back… the innocent years, when I could get up easily in the morning and spend all day running around outside. Coming home only when the street lights came on. If I was thirsty, I drank from the hose. If I was hungry, I went inside my house, or that of a friend’s and got a snack. Now, I can barely drag my 4 year old upstairs without feeling my muscles tighten in my back. I looked in the mirror today and realized it is time to dye my hair… not red, blue or pink like when I was a teen, but the same color it is now.. just to hide the gray hairs that keep appearing no matter how fast I pluck them out.

I watch my children growing up so fast and I want to yell “slow down, enjoy this, stop being in such a hurry to grow up”, but they don’t get it. I sure didn’t. I never understood the adage “Youth is wasted on the young” until I was no longer young and longed for those times back.

Maybe some day soon I will be able to lay down in bed at 9pm and close my eyes and drift right off to sleep. I will sleep soundly, for 9 or 10 hours. I won’t lay wide awake in bed thinking about everything I need to do in the morning. About an appointment next week that makes me anxious, or a promise that was broken and how much it hurt our feelings, or inconvenienced an already busy week. I will wake up easily, naturally. No need for coffee, no need to feel like I need to shake off the sleep from sleeping too long. Bright eyed and bushy tailed. No kids to carry upstairs at midnight. No babies crying at 1am. No need to wake up and investigate every little creek and groan. And if it is noon, and I have eaten my lunch and I feel sleepy, I want to be able to lay down on my mat with my favorite toy and a blankie and be able to sleep for an hour or two without disturbance.

So yes, I have adult needs. I need to get a good nights sleep. I need a great hairdresser who can do magic with grays. I need a chiropractor and a massage for my aching back. And I need a babysitter, so *I* can be the one playing outside all day long, with no cares in the world… until the street lights come on.

Ok, Wednesday at 10pm I am in bed trying to sleep and the music next door is pounding so loud I am getting a major headache. I call the non-emergent police number and report it. The music stops so I call back and cancel my report. I guess they were changing a CD because 2 minutes later it is back on and I give up and stick a pillow over my head. At midnight I guess the CD was skipping or something because I wake up to BOOM-BOOM-BOOOM-BOOM-BOOM. It sounds like rockets going off next door. They finally turn it down and I get what little sleep I have left until kids are needing to go to school in the morning.

Thursday I pull up into my driveway with my kids to unload them out of the car to be greeted by a cloud of cigar smoke. Austin is gagging and hacking while at least 7 or 8 guys stand about 10 feet away all puffing on cigars. I get the kids in the house as quick as I can. I forgot to mention I had to pull in at an angle to make sure I did not hit either of the cars that are literally right at the edge of my driveway.

Last night the music starts up again. It is SO freaking loud I literally CANNOT hear my TV or a word my children were saying in the same room. I have two glass cups on a shelf on the wall that I had to pull down because they were vibrating so loud I was afraid they were going to break. I could see the pictures on my wall moving and I was just waiting for them to fall down. Two hours into it I call the non-emergent number. They tell me someone else has already called and that they will be there as soon as they can. It takes me forever to get the two little ones to sleep. My four year old tells me “Mommy, my room is so loud I cannot even hear my dreams!” I had to shut off Sophie’s jumparoo because it kept going off on its own thinking there was a baby jumping in it.

At 11:30 I decide I will just put a pillow over my head, I am so exhausted I feel like I am going to pass out. I hear a ton of commotion even louder than the music outside. There are two people revving their cars up outside and a group of about 11 children and adults talking super loud at each other. Someone else in a car is honking their horn. I call back and update that they have now become even MORE obnoxious.

At 11:57 the music finally stops and I take the pillow off my head. Ten minutes later my room fills with light as the police pull up in response to my complains and the other neighbor’s call.

So today at noon my doorbell rings and someone I don’t know is outside. I step out and she explains to me that she is either a friend or a relative of the woman next door. She explained that her 18 yr old son died of a heart attack and that is why there were so many cars. She stated the police had told her that “the lady next door called to complain of the noise and traffic”. I told her to let the neighbor know I am sorry for her loss and that I have kids that cannot afford to lose a night’s sleep because the bass is louder than their own thoughts. She tells me she cannot attest to the noise because she was not even THERE!!! I explain again that this is an ongoing thing and most of the neighbors either have small babies or are retired and we are all tired of 2-3 parties a week since OCTOBER.

Here is where I am pissed. When I called I stated I would like to remain anonymous. *IF* the officers really did say “the lady next door” that is hardly anonymous. It is quite possible that the person at my door this morning made up that the police identified who I was. I was not going to lie and say it was me, but I was not the only call last night either.

This is getting so old. I HATE living next door to party central.

Sophie is sick with a fever and a cold. It started with a low grade fever on Tuesday and by Wednesday morning it was up to 103.5 and she had me up all night long. She is still a little warm today, but she does not seem so dependent on Motrin or Tylenol. I keep expecting to see teeth or chicken pox appearing, but so far neither one seems to be coming.

Matthew started preschool on Wednesday, so Sophie and I were able to rest while he was away. He goes 3 days a week for 6 hours a day and he LOVES it. I really struggled with the decision between a home daycare where they center around play-learning or an actual academic preschool. Both have up sides and down sides, but in the end I really liked the teacher, philosophy, price and convenience of the home based daycare near my home. He is only around two other kids who are 2 and 3 years younger than he is, but he does not seem to mind. I also like that he is exposed to less germs. I was hoping she would have another four-year-old or two, but he does not seem to mind at all.

Having only one child here for 18 hours a week clears up my schedule when Sophie naps to get much needed projects done. Part of my frustration was the clothing situation we are having. Matthew was pulling all his clothes out of his dressers to find one shirt, and when he and his brothers cleaned his room, those clean clothes ended up in the hampers and I had Mount Washmore climbing to scary heights. I felt overrun by laundry and was ready just to institute a burlap sack uniform policy. I decided the only reasonable thing to do was to move all his clothes into my room into Bobby’s dresser. However then I had to decide what to do with Bobby’s clothes. I ended up hanging up all his clothing, to include his jeans. It was actually sadder than I thought. I felt like I was “moving on”, when in reality he is just overseas, not gone.

With Matthew’s dresser now empty, I decided to use if for Sophia’s clothing and then I moved all her diapers off the top of his dresser and into her old dresser. The room looks a lot more orderly now. We will see in time how this arrangement works.

The older two kids have been busy this week with state standardized testing. Austin is done and Christopher has another week left, but I think they are both feeling pretty sick of those stupid tests.

I braved the post office this week when I mailed off a 17 lb box to Bobby, it took me 45 minutes of standing in line to get it mailed out, but I needed to take a helper and I knew that would mean going at a busy time of the day.

Today I am feeling like a drill sergeant, the kids have overrun the house with their toys and messes and enough was enough. It was time to take control of the situation and put them to work cleaning up toys, their bedrooms, and all their other little messes. I still have to go through the house and clean up all the little hot spots that they have gathered on tables and the kitchen could use a good scrub down. All the floors need attention from a vacuum or mop too.

Last night I had my first bad night since Bobby left. It was the first time I REALLY started missing him. I mean I miss him every day, but we also talk, email, and chat daily. It has been almost four days since we have talked, which is the longest we have gone without talking since he left in January for training or February to Iraq.

Matthew is also having a hard time, he went from only 2 or 3 accidents at night a month, or 4 or 5 or more accidents a night a week since he left. I forgot to bring it up with the doctor on Wednesday at his physical to rule out anything medical. I am also having other issues with Matthew and Christopher both that I won’t be bringing up on here to protect their privacy and keep from embarrassing them later in life.

I guess we all deal with changes differently, and we all have our good days and our bad days, all our trials and triumphs and in the end we will find our own ways to work through it all and be stronger for it.

It was 7:30 PM, we were starting the bedtime routine. Sophie had just porked down about 5 slices of mangoes, a few hash browns, and nursed. She was over tired and probably over-stuffed. I lay her down for the night and she is just not. happy. at. all.

Austin and Christopher were picking up their belongings before bed and I about lost it when I saw Christopher’s library book on the ground. We currently owe our library $25 for a book Isis mauled and I was NOT about to owe the school library also. So I tell him for the 238,028,102th time to “put your book away NOW!!” and turn my back to deal with Sophie, who now sounds like she is slowly being murdered in her crib.

Matthew was being a pill and decided he wanted to get out of bed and trash his room instead of going to bed. I punish him with certain death if he leaves the bed one more time, and turn my attention back to Austin and Christopher who appear to be doing their chores in either slow motion, or even in reverse motion. I am loading the dishwasher when I hear Christopher yelling at Matthew. Of course this reignites Sophie’s ticking time bomb and she starts wailing and I go up to see what the issue is.

Matthew has decided his toys are dirty, and along with Christopher’s library book, he has decided to give them all a shower. I think I either blacked out at this moment, or just could not see through all the red I was seeing, but somehow I managed to calmly instruct Matthew to get in bed and STAY there, get Christopher to put his book in my bathroom so I could dry it, tell Sophie to shut her pie hole and go to bed, and scare all the animals at least 50 FT from me at all times. I don’t know how I did it, but I did not see any bruises, broken glass (or bones) duct tape, rope, or a blow horn anywhere, but somehow all of the kids realized that mom could snap at any moment.

Christopher and Austin decide they can finish their chores in 2 minutes flat and I take the book into my bathroom and attack it with a blow dryer, while keeping an eye on Matthew’s room to make sure he does not sneak out and get into any more trouble.

Just when I got the book where I wanted it to where I could shut the door and let the dryer run on low heat for a few minutes, Austin decided to inform me that “Oh, by the way a pen exploded in my pocket at school, can I just put it in the wash with spray and wash??” “No dude, here is some hair spray, go use it and soap and wash and rinse it out.” “What about my cell phone, do I just spray it and rinse it off too?” “No dear, use a rag.”

It’s now 8:30 and my mind is GONE. My house smells like hair spray, the hum of the blow dryer in the back ground is about to drive me insane, and I need either a hot bath or a pint of Jack Daniels to put the day behind me. I wish I could say this was the only difficult part of the day, but Matthew has been very trying since Bobby left, and I find myself wanting to pull my hair out about 55 minutes of every hour that he is awake because of his shenanigans.

I quickly finish up my chores and fall into a hot bath and just when I can feel my muscles relax… the phone rings. Only Bobby calls me that late, so I fly out of bed and get to the phone right when he hangs up. I get online and shoot him off an email to tell him to call me in the next 20 minutes so I can say goodnight. Just then he logs on and tells me he is heading to work and to wait for him to get across the street so he can call me again. About 20 minutes later he calls and decides he cannot hear me well enough and tells me to get on Yahoo and we will chat. I tell him about my day and just get a series of one word replies about 5 minutes after I write up a long sentence.

It is now midnight and I am dead tired, and getting mad at his lack of replies. I tell him I will talk to him later and I am going to bed and he replies “Sorry, am working”. Ugh, you could not just say goodnight an hour earlier????

So this morning at around 6:15 am the phone rings… it is Bobby. I am exhausted and not feeling good at all. I tell him goodnight (it is night for him) and I will talk to him when he wakes up and that I am going to get another 30 minutes of sleep before I have to take Austin to school, then I am going to take it busy because I think I have an ear infection and I feel like I am on death’s doorstep. I get Austin off to school and crawl back into bed and just start to drift off to sleep (the two little ones are still sleeping), he calls again. I think I was polite when I told him to go to sleep already and leave me alone to suffer in peace. Of course now the babies are up and wanting attention.

I pull them both into my bed and nurse Sophie while Matthew nibbles on a snack and we all cuddle together and watch Go Diego Go. I fell back to sleep sometime during his cartoons and find him downstairs sitting on the counter finishing off a half a box of thin mints girl scout cookies. I can already tell that today is not going to be any better at all.

Last night, after only about 3 hours of sleep, Bobby wakes up feeling puny. Matthew has since joined us in our bed, and Sophie seems to think the offer of nursing on demand means she should demand it at 4:05, 4:15, 4:30 and again at 4:45… you get my drift. Matthew also seems to think that he is the cover king… he rules the heat level in the bed… first he wanted all the covers, and I got none… then he decided he was hot, laid on the covers and again, I got none. So now 4 of us are in the bed, Matthew is the only one actually sleeping. Sophie finally drifts back off, and Bobby gives up trying to sleep and gets up to shower… he has an interview today for a local job, more pay, ok benefits, but there is not a lot of room to move up in the company. The job he interviews for next week in D.C. is within his same company, awesome benefits, awesome pay, tons of opportunity, and did I mention is in our nations capitol??

So Bobby is now up, and dressed, he’s looking spiffy in his new sport coat, & wearing a tie, he comes in to hug me goodbye, even though he has no plans on leaving for another 30 minutes, because he is hoping I can go back to sleep with the kids. Well, right before he has to leave, he comes back in and goes to the bathroom to throw up. He later told me he had to hold his tie to keep it clean. Poor Bobby, we have been married for 11 years, together for 12 and in that time he has only thrown up three times, once after bad pizza, once after another stomach bug we all shared as a family, and today. Thankfully he is the type to get the 24 hour flu for 4 hours, and he said once he threw up, he felt so much better. I just hope he continues to feel fine and has a good interview. I also hope Austin and Christopher are spared, as they were not exposed to me as much as Matthew & Bobby, and I REALLY hope Sophie does not get it, but my experience, my nurslings tend to not catch whatever I get.