Climbing

The baby can climb.
The baby can reach, grab, and pull.
The baby can tantrum like non other.
The baby can drive me absolutely out of my mind till I want to run away and never look back.
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But...
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The baby can giggle and laugh.
The baby can wrap his arms around my neck and pat my back.
The baby can run to me with arms outstretched, smiling, and singing, "La la la la."
The baby can drive me absolutely out of my mind with love for his small little body and his amazingly bright mind.

I Love My Fat

First, I want to thank you all for the sweet birthday wishes. I had a great birthday, and much cheesecake was eaten, and I did make it till after the candles were blown out. I think that shows that I'm finally maturing a little bit in my old age. =)


Today I want to talk to you about something I hold very near and dear to my heart: fat. No, not the fat on my chin or hips (though I'm sure it has helped all areas of my body grow in bad ways). I'm talking about the kind of fat you ask Santa to give you for Christmas. The kind of fat you'd be just as happy to get as a new diamond ring, maybe. The kind of fat that just makes EVERYthing better. I'm talking BACON fat people. I'm talking smokey, rich, buttery bacon fat.




Do you cook with bacon fat? You should, you really should. Just don't do it everyday, or even every week for that matter. It could kill you if you did that. But every now and then you really ought to try using bacon fat in your homemade bread, put it in your garlic black beans, use it to fry up an egg or two, or to grease the pan for your french toast, and if you want to make a man smile just try cooking his next steak in it. Ho-boy!





Now, you can get bacon grease anytime you cook up some bacon, but I've found that baking your bacon provides the cleanest and most stable bacon grease, not to mention the fact that baking your bacon is fast, less messy, and frees your stove top up for pots and pans of pancakes, eggs, and syrup.



To bake bacon lay bacon out flat (you can overlap the slices a little) on a rimmed baking sheet. Make sure it is rimmed so you can capture all that lovely fat (and so you don't start an oven fire with dripping grease) and bake on the middle shelf in a 400 degree oven for 10-15 minutes. Be very careful taking pan out of oven, remove bacon to a paper towel lined plate, then pour the fat through a fine mesh strainer into a clean, sterile canning jar. Voila! Store this in your refrigerator or freezer and use it anytime you need that "essence of bacon."

Isn't that a pretty sight? I love it!

The only thing better than bacon fat is BABY FAT!!! Good golly, is there anything cuter than a naked fat baby?

(That mirror that he has his pudgy little hand on is a mirror that has never gone a whole day without smears, fingerprints, and lick marks. So gross.)

Your Genes, Your Fault

Mom, I know I'm an awful daughter when it comes to your birthday, Mother's day, your anniversaries, or when you are sick in bed. Luckily you live close to the better children who honor you the way you deserve. I used to feel such shame every year as I missed each card-worthy event, but this year I've decided that it isn't my fault. I'm convinced my inabilities are genetic and therefore your (or dad's) fault. Yup! So, shaaaaame on you for making me forget to put your card in the mail again this year! Shame, shame, shame. Next time try to get the genetic code right so you don't create another forgetful me, ok?

Happy late Birthday, Mamasita!

Here is a well rehearsed, well coreographed, and definitely well dressed birthday message from your babies. The best part of this clip is that you have to watch it 4 times to see every child's personal rendition of this timeless classic.

And here is a little present from Cheeks. See, you can bottle up baby laughter and listen whenever you want.

Cheeks For Grandma

Mom, I'm sorry I haven't been posting about your precious angel grandbabies. But, you have to remember that it is your precious angel grandbabies that keep me too busy to blog. It is your precious angel grandbabies that make me use blogging as an escape. It is your precious angel grandbabies that still haven't picked up their legos, drew on the wall in their bedroom, dumped glue on the carpet, peed all over my bed last night, and told me my food was "diguhting" at dinner. Yes, I know, some day I will miss it all. I'm really excited for that day. ;)

Cheeks at a few weeks

Cheeks just last month.

Cheeks just yesterday.

Getting so big.

Who eez dees "Cheeks"?

Crafty SILS

It is always a little scary when a family member gets married. What if you don't like the person, or what if they aren't good to your mom/dad/brother/sister/the person they married? What if they don't like you? You will be stuck with them at every Christmas/Thanksgiving/reunion/birthday and you will be forced to be nice to them because they are "family." I come from a family of 8 children, who've all been married at least once. This means I've had my fair share of new in-laws to learn to love. I'd mention the in-laws I've been given on Mr. Hotness's side but then I'm on the other side of this issue. Then I'm the interloper, the new girl, the brother/son stealer (and yet, they've all been so kind to me despite this). But lets get back to me and the in-laws that are marrying into my family, namely my sister in-laws.

I am the only one in my family that lives more than 90 miles from my mom's house. I live 800 miles away. This means that I would occasionally get a call from one of my brothers with "the news." I always new why they were calling because they never called unless they were getting married (and now they only call when anouncing a pregnancy). It bothered them that my reaction was always less than enthusiastic. What they didn't understand was that, unlike the rest of the family, I didn't get a chance to meet these girls, to interrogate them, to test them, to look them in the eye before allowing them to enter my family.

Luckily my brothers have been really good at picking new family members for me. These girls (I can call them girls because I'm older and have more stretch marks) are awesome. So awesome in fact that I'm often envious of my brothers. Every time I go home to visit one of my sister in-laws has made me some new baby item that I can't live without. I posted before about my cute, skinny, peppy, funny, crafty sister in-law #2, Michelle, who sews and sells nursing covers, right? Well, now my cute, skinny, athletic, smart, crafty sister in-law #1, Jenilyn, is selling my all time favorite baby wrap carriers.

Jenilyn, a stay at home mother of 2 who loves to go rock climbing and hiking any chance she gets, has set up a blog called Sweet Baby Somethings where she sells Carry Me Wraps and nursing covers. The price for the carry wrap ($15-$16.50) is ubber cheap compared to anything else you will find online. She only has two styles currently available , but I'm sure if you were looking for a solid colored fabric, or something slightly different, Jenilyn would be willing to keep her eyes open for other fabrics (though it may affect the price).

If anything, just check out these sites to see what cute sister in-laws I have. Aren't you jealous? And trust me, I really don't mind having to go camping, swimming, and sharing early morning Christmas with these beauties, really I don't.

Post Partum Pity Party

Welcome to Lizzy's Post Partum Pity Party!!!

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Grab yourself a bowl of cheetos, a pint of ice cream, and have a seat. If your not in the mood to sit and listen to me moan about my silly little troubles then feel free to watch a movie. Here at the PPP Party we watch mid-twentieth century dramas such as Gentleman's Agreement, Come Back, Little Sheba, or Imitation of Life. No happy endings here, just good ol', rip your heart out drama. And, trust me, the movies are much better than my silly sob story. But, if you are a glutton for punishment then just keep on reading.

I've been so good this time around. I've done my best to avoid the post partum blues and I've made it this far unscathed, but today I give up. Today I'm letting the self pity overcome me. Today I'm throwing myself a regular pity party, complete with the works. I even let my kids eat cheetos for breakfast because I believe it's the little details that make the party.

Why am I so blue? Has there been a death in the family, illness, scandal? Has my husband been fired, cheating, or just plain mean? Have my children been misbehaving, making messes, or run away from home? Na. Nothing quite so validating is going on here. Nope, I'm just feeling sorry for myself because I want to. Because I have nothing to wear that isn't too small for me, maternity, or covered in puke/poop. Because I got my house cleaned spick and span last weekend (and I mean SPICK and span) and today it looks like a fuddy-duddy-mother-of-too-many-who-watches-soaps-all-day-long-in-her-mumu kind of house. Because today I almost cried over the spilt milk. Because it was half a gallon of spilt milk and I couldn't find any rags to mop it up because I'm behind in the laundry that was all caught up last weekend. Because Ben & Jerry's is so much easier to eat while holding a baby than chopping veggies for a fresh green salad. Because I want to wake up at 5am to go running before the kids wake up but the thought of loosing just one more hour of sleep makes me want to cry. Because by the time I get Cheeks asleep Mr. Hotness is asleep so I'm left drooling over a car of all things. And because... well... BECAUSE I WANT TO!!!

So, while you are all posting something witty on your amazing blogs, I'm going to go gnaw the cheeto scrudge off my fingers. Enjoy the party. =)

MUST. HAVE. IT.

My blogging has been pretty pell mell as of late. Cheeks has been pretty cheeky and keeps me from doing much of anything these days (though he actually slept in this morning and allowed to me to talk to my kids this morning over a lovely meal of pancakes, eggs, and strawberries. Usually my kids are left eating last night's remnants off the floor for breakfast... Uh, you know I'm kidding right? Because, really, they only did that once. I swear!!!!).

Lucky for... well, pretty much everyone including me, there are a gazillion other blogs out there to read. I've been reading all your blogs while rocking, nursing, and cleaning up puke, I just don't usually get a chance to leave comments.

Here is something I read this morning (I type this one handed as I balance a bottle under my chin into Cheeks' face), and now I must have it. Must!

CHOREGANIZER

I've seen/made/bought so many chore charts that I was absolutely convinced that there was an anti chore chart genome in my family's DNA. But this looks as if someone has studied my family and custom made a chore system just for me. MUST HAVE IT!!!

I prepared myself for the sticker shock. Anytime I find something that is perfect for me it is always too expensive for my penny pinching brain to accept. But at the Book Peddler I can get it for just $16.95. And it comes with everything, EVERYTHING, premade and ready to use. Man, that costs less than those pretty (pretty useless in my family) little wooden chore charts with a cute beehive that has little bees with your family's names on them rotating around the chores.

Maybe if I buy this my kitchen will finally be too clean to eat off the floor any more. Or do you use that phrase to mean your floor is clean? Because when I say you can eat off my floor it's because there is a three course meal, on my floor.

Ice Cream Winners

The names are in and the free ice cream winners are (I had my kids yell out random numbers that I assigned to each name):

Richelle
Cellista

Caffienated Cowgirl

Sarah

Leslie (sounds like you could use this)

Ordinary Mom

Lisa

Erin

Cynthia

Lucy Van Pelt

Thanks for playing, and don't forget to send me your mailing address! (lizzyvance at gmail dot com) And, not to pressure you or anything, may I highly suggest you find and try some of these fun flavors of Klondike bars with your coupon. When you click on the individual flavors there is a window where you can type in your zip code and it will tell you the nearest store that carries that flavor. I've actually never had a Klondike Bar before. I'm not sure why... Well I just tried the Heath and Reese's flavors last night and I gotta say, "I think I'm hooked!" But I will post more about this new experience later... I still need to try and find Caramel Pretzel. Heck, I just might try them all... After all, good experimentation require complete thoroughness. =)

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I need your opinion now. I'm new to this whole giveaway business and I need to know, should I have had a longer cut off time for this? I know I sometimes don't get around to blogs as often as I would like and maybe some of you are sad that you didn't get here in time for this? Or do you prefer to know the end result quickly? I've entered several giveaways and then forget which ones I've entered and where because I had to wait weeks to find out who won. Let me know what you think.

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In other news: Sheesh, it is amazing to me how difficult blogging (and everything else) has become now that I have Cheeks. His Parent-Pleasure-Sensor is always set to high and he sounds the alarm anytime I start doing anything that feels even remotely good. I eat, he cries. I read, he cries. I pee, he cries. I sit, he cries. And when he cries I have four little messengers that feel the need to tap me incessantly in order to make sure I know that the baby, laying right next to me, is crying. It makes me want to cry.

Greatest Baby Invention EVER!!!

Ok, the votes are in and apparently more people want to hear about The Ultimate, Greatest Baby Invention Ever That Makes Me Smile Every Day and Why Americans Are the Last to Use It. I do think it funny that right behind baby gear you are all so interested in my new drug dealer (and you should be, because he is going to let me share).

So, what is this phenomenal baby invention? Aren't you just dying to know? It has been proven (in studies that I'm too lazy to find) that the use of this item will reduce your baby's crying, increase their peaceful sleep, enhance brain function, give them more security which supposedly will equate to a better self esteem when they are older, will give you more freedom, and will make you look cute too. And if you don't agree with me... well, I just don't care because it's working for me. Oh, and did I forget to mention one of my favorite reasons to love it? IT'S SUPER CHEAP! So cheap you should own at least two, or maybe ten.

Ready? Drum roll please.

Dum dum dum dum dddddddum...

da da da da da DUM...

Dum dum dum da da da da dummmmmmm...

Aren't they beautiful? What, you don't get it? These are baby wrap carriers, popularly (though expensively) known as Moby Wraps. My amazingly skillful SIL, Michelle, presented me with the cream one while I was in Idaho. She was awesome enough to hem the edge all the way around and sew a cute little drawstring bag to store it in. Let's just say that it was rarely in the storage case. It was love at first use and I rarely took it off.

See, I am one of those moms who can't stand listening to her baby cry. I've been known to make (not bake) cookies one handed while holding a baby to keep it from crying. This lasts until the baby is around 9 months and I can feel confident that the baby will live. I know, I'm a loony. But now I'm a happy loony because I can "hold" my baby all the time in total comfort and still bend over and use both hands. In fact, Cheeks is snuggled against me right now, peacefully sleeping as I type this. Well, I used the wrap so much I knew I needed another one for back up (in other words, it started to stink). But my SIL was gone and I'm much too lazy to sew anything these days. What to do?

NO WORRIES. This requires absolutely no sewing skills what-so-ever. All I did to make my brown one was go to Wal-Mart and buy 5 yards of $1/yard cotton knit fabric (the kind of fabric a T-shirt would be made of), cut it lengthwise in thirds (5 yards by 20 inches- you want it 20-30 inches wide), and you are good to go. The fabric doesn't fray and curls up to look like it is hemmed anyway. I gave the extra two brown strips to a good friend to try and convert her. I hope they are making her happy. =)

Click here for some great videos that show how to wear/use the baby wrap carrier.

I love this thing so much that I even made a video of myself using it. And that is true love.

The funny thing is that wraps like these have been used in 3rd world countries for eons now. Why is it such a new thing here in America? Because we are all about our gadgets. If it doesn't have buckles, clasps, grips, a gazillion warning labels on it, and cost too much it just can't be American, right? Forget it!

So, go get yourself 5 yards of some super cheap cotton knit (look in the Wal-Mart clearance fabric bin), cut it, put it on, wear your baby everywhere, and let me know what you think.

What You'd Never Expect When Expecting

A whole week with no new blog post. I can't remember ever going that long without posting. I've been writing blog posts in my head, I just can't seem to find the time to write them without giving up something more necessary (like bathing, eating, or talking to my kids). Back in May I was interviewed by Michelle from Scribbit and I answered several questions on blogging (HA! As if I'm some high-falooten blogger. I'm still such a greenie). In the interview I said that one of the most common mistakes made by new bloggers is infrequent posting. I forgot to leave out the other mistake that new bloggers sometimes make: having babies. Seriously, while Cheeks is giving me plenty of blogging material he is also sucking up any free blogging time I once had. Lucky for him he is totally worth it ("Yes you are, Mr. Cutie Face. Aren't you the cutest little Mr. Man ever? Yes, yes you are! Goochy gooooo,"). Someone needs to invent a machine that lets us mentally write blog posts, because the ones I mentally write at 3am while dancing with a fussy baby are surely some of my best works ever (or at least my most entertaining).

Here is an example of what a 3am mentally written blog post would look like:

"What to Expect When You're Expecting... HA! I should write a book called, What to Expect When You're Going Crazy. I mean, people really need to be warned about these things. You know, things like:

1. Low blood sugar causes insanity. When you are yelling at your children over a small salad spill in the car and you start bawling because the mere thought of giving your McDonald's cheeseburger to your daughter, to replace her spilled salad, throws you into a massive mental pit of despair... Yeah, just forget what you were going to do, turn the car around, go home, put whatever food you can find into your mouth, and just breath. In about 20 minutes everything will be just fine. Just remember, never leave the house unless you are sure you've actually eaten something in the last 5 hours and always bring a snack with you.

2. Pantyliners make great nursing pads. Sometimes mothers of multiple children get lured into a false sense of security when it comes to leaking. For instance, I leaked all the time with my first baby, but not so much with my second and not at all with my third and fourth. I wrongly assumed that breast leakage was something that only happened to newbies, and not all-knowing veterans like myself. When you find yourself in a leaky situation without any pads to be had, never fear. Just cut some circles out of a pantyliner and, voila! The sticky back of the pantyliner is also great for holding the make-shift nursing pad in place.

3. You may hate your husband simply because he is a man. If you are driving with your husband and you point laughingly at a Urology Clinic's sign that reads, "Laugh, cough, sneeze... leak? Call 1-800-" and your husband says, "I don't get it," you may feel an intense hatred for him and his manhood (men have it waaaaaay too easy). Don't hit him. Just point laughingly at the Urology clinic's other sign, "Vasectomy!"

4. Your other children WILL live. They will live through a few months, or even a year, of too much TV. They will survive even without any sense of a routine or quality interaction with their mother. They will still love you even after witnessing your moments of sheer insanity. They will even be able to go to college despite the absolute lack of any educational experiences during the first year of the new baby. So, don't stress out about it.

Can't you see this being a New York Times bestseller? Huh, huh? Can't ya? Yeah, maybe I better just stick to nursing and diapers. =)

Despair In the Delivery Room

My first mistake was drinking old caster oil. I drank it on a Tuesday and was sure I would have a baby in my arms by Wednesday; but when Thursday came without a baby I was miserable. The bottle was almost 3 1/2 years old (last used to bring Sweet Terror into the world) but the expiration date said good 'till April of 2009. My first clue should have been the taste. Caster oil is supposed to be tasteless as well as odorless. This had a taste. It tasted like liquid Barbie Doll plastic. Luckily Cookie pointed out the tasteless part of the label so I sent Mr. Hot to get me a fresh bottle. This time it was tasteless. I drank it Friday morning and had Cheeks Friday night. ALWAYS use fresh oil!

My second mistake was over confidence. It is a mistake I make all too often in life. Like when playing Rummikub. If I brag about how I win EVERY time (and really, I do) before a game I inevitably loose and am forced to eat crow. But, if I quietly sit and play I beat the ever lovin' pants off everybody who dares challenge me and I laugh in my glory. Well I've been bragging for the past month about how I was going to drink some caster oil and slip this baby right out in a matter of minutes. Oh yeah, 'cause I'm a total baby making machine (as one woman so sweetly called me. Take note people, pregnant women do NOT like being called baby making machines!). I should know by now not to brag.

Third mistake was having high expectations. Sweet Terror slid out just 1 1/2 hours after arriving at the hospital (that was after caster oil and my water broke) and Pablo came rushing out with just one push a couple hours after they broke my water for me. So there I was, belly full of caster oil, after a day full of walking (yard saling and then a picnic at the beach), and then the doctor broke my water... I figured at that point the baby should just be wrapped and hand delivered to me upon request. Well, he wasn't.

I'll get to my fourth mistake in a minute. Really the only thing I did right was to ask my mom to take the kids to the neighbor's house so she could be in the delivery room with me. I shudder to think what would have happened if she hadn't been there to shut me up. It went like this (if you want to just skip to the part where I go crazy start at 7-8 pm):

10am: I'm feeling contractions quite regularly, but they aren't too painful. I don't say anything to mom because I don't want to jinx anything. By noon I let her in on it and tell her that these feel like downward pushing contractions, and that is good. We carry on with our day, and the contractions keep coming.

3pm: I call Mr. Hotness and tell him to be on standby because I may need him to come home early. I take a shower as the contractions increase in intensity. Realizing that traffic is unpredictable I call Mr. Hot again to tell him he better just come now, but I needn't have bothered because he was already half way home. The plan was for mom to stay with the kids while I delivered but I suddenly felt a deep need to have her there, so we called my neighbor and she was sweet enough to watch my zoo for the rest of the day. THANK YOU DeDe!

4:50pm: Enter hospital and fill out paper work while contracting. I was really wishing my water would break right there at the front desk as payback for such a ridiculous procedure. I would have loved to say, "Would you catch my baby for me while I sign this last one? Thanks ever so much." But no dice. Then we get in the elevator where a nice doctor tries to make small talk with me while I contract. Sorry, doctor, but NOT. RIGHT. NOW!!!!

5pm: The usual pain of having blood drawn, getting hooked to an I.V., filling out more paper work, having them take all sorts of vitals, wishing I was just giving birth in a rice patty so I could forgo all this stuff and have my baby in peace. At this point I am still being "such a trooper." I am breathing right, I am focused, I am mentally and physically welcoming the surges of pain, accepting them and allowing them to course through my body, knowing they are going to help me bring this child into the world. My mom keeps telling me I'm doing such a good job, and I agree. I am so amazing.

6-8pm: Mistake #4. I start pushing. I should know better than to push, pushing only gets me into trouble. I know there is literature out there somewhere about not pushing in labor, that the body will push by itself when it is ready, but I can't seem to find it online (and I am desperate to get this posted). And I'm not preaching this to anyone, I just know it as a fact with my body. Pushing just makes things worse. But I was busy thinking about Cookie's delivery and how I had started pushing without knowing it and how fast she came after that, so I decided to start pushing. After a long time pushing and still no baby I figured it was the water sack holding me back so I had them break it for me. Ok, I drank the oil, I started pushing, my water was broken, HERE COMES BABY... right? Where is the baby? WHERE IS THE BABY?!?!?!? I've never been a patient person, ever. Suddenly I start to feel despair. This isn't new, I've felt this before in the delivery room, that feeling of "I can't do this anymore." But I've never felt it quite like this. I lost it people. I royally lost it. I was possessed and started demanding, pleading, begging, and threatening. I wanted an epidural, but was told that they take 40 minutes from start to finish to take effect, that I would have to be sitting up while contracting during the installation, that I would probably have the baby by the time it took effect anyway, and then my mom reminded me about my intense fear of needles (thanks a lot mom). But I just knew this baby was never ever ever going to come out. It was taking forever. THEN GET ME A C-SECTION. STOP LAUGHING, I'M SERIOUS!!! CUT ME OPEN AND TAKE THIS BABY OUT OF ME. My mom tried to tell me that you couldn't just choose to have a c-section, but I could see in the nurses eyes that that wasn't true and I had read news articles about c-sections now being optional. GIVE ME A C-SECTION, STOP THIS PAIN, I'VE BEEN THROUGH THIS TOO MANY TIMES. I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE. IT ISN'T FAIR. I grab Mr. Hotness by the collar of his shirt and beg. I beg without any pride. I tell him that there is no way I will be able to love the baby if I have to endure anymore pain. I was seriously worried that the memory of the pain would make me hate the baby. Mr. Hotness started to cry, it hurt him to see me in so much pain. WHERE IS MY C-SECTION???? Many awful things came pouring out of my mouth at this time (though I'm proud to say I didn't swear). Then my mom tells me that to do a c-section they still have to do a spinal block which still involves time and needles. What??? I thought there were emergency c-sections and they were done in a matter of minutes. I am enraged. It is disgusting to me that in this day and age there isn't a quicker, easier way to bring children into the world. Who does God think he is? My eyes shoot out anger at my so-called mother and so-called husband. How dare they fail me in my time of need. Then my wonderful mother did what she was there to do. She bent close to my head and kindly told me, "Now, Liz, there is no other way to do this, so I want you to just shut up now. Don't talk anymore."

(Oh yeah, and somewhere in all of this the nurse tells me I have to stop pushing because my cervix is still shut and the pushing is making it swell, making it get in the way, making things take longer. But pushing was the only way I was surviving those contractions.)

A little after 8pm: I was raised to always obey mother no matter what. So, I shut up. And I did so in absolute anger. Fine, I thought, you won't help me, you won't let me push, there is obviously no easier way out of this, and you want me to shut up. Then I won't talk to you two people ever again! And I completely shut up. And I stopped pushing. It was so hard but I did it. I wasn't going to talk, I wasn't going to push, I wasn't going to do anything but ignore everyone and everything. So, I found my happy meditation spot. When a contraction would come, instead of pushing, I would push against my mom's and Mr's Hot's hands (no pushing below my waist) and I moved my bent knees back and forth like the wings of a butterfly. And that is what they were, the newly expanding wings of a just-hatched butterfly, and the pain was the liquid coursing through the wings to help them expand. It was a beautiful, though painful, place to be. I also changed my thoughts. Instead of thinking about the time, the clock, the pain and such, I started praying and talking to the baby (in my mind) in between each contraction.

9pm: My body pushed. I didn't push, my body did. I didn't say anything though, I was in a different place now. Another push, and this time I can feel it. I feel hope. Do you know what hope feels like in delivery? It feels like ripping. The baby was ripping through the veil of life and that veil is my body. I could feel my body ripping in half, but I knew this intense pain and knew how fantastic it was. I smile as I feel my body take over the process for me. I can hear the nurse telling me to stop and yelling for the doctor. I just lay back while my body screamed for me, pushed for me, acknowledged the pain for me, and I just smiled knowing it was finally over. The head burst forth on that second push. The body came on the forth, and like light pouring out of my body he came all the way through. The intense pleasure of that moment is one that can not be described, only experienced. I can only imagine death itself as being its equal. And there he is, my little guy, bloody, purple, with eyes swollen shut. He made it, and so did I. And, no, I can't remember the pain. I can only remember the things I said and the things I thought, but I can't actually recall the feeling of that pain. But I do remember the feeling of that final moment of beauty. This is why I am crazy enough (and thankfully I'm lucky enough) to choose natural childbirth.

How To:

How to potty train your child in 2 weeks: Get pregnant, get lazy, have an awesome mom come to help you and let her potty train the kid.

How to never let your laundry pile up: Get pregnant, get lazy, let your mom do it for you.

How to stick to a diet: Get pregnant, start nursing, quickly learn that half of your favorite foods make baby WAY TOO FUSSY. (I can still have ice cream but it can't have even a smidgen of chocolate in it. *sniff, sniff*)

How to get your husband to worship your mother: Have baby, enjoy mother's slave labor, tell hubby that as soon as mom leaves he is going to have to help out a LOT more, watch husband beg his mother-in-law to move in.

How to survive mom leaving us: Cry... a lot. Stop at the dollar store, buy water toys that will break, throw kids out in the kiddie pool and cry some more while eating last bit of non chocolate ice cream straight from the carton.

Cheeks and I are doing fantastic. We are both really healthy and slowly starting to adapt to this new life. The other kids are being very understanding and patient, and going a little stir crazy. Tomorrow I'm hoping I can post the whole delivery story. I'm slowly working my way up to being able to sit in my computer chair for more than 10 minutes at a time. Oh, and the kids (and I) are all thoroughly impressed that Cheeks' birth announcement is the most famous post to date with a WHOPPING 54 comments. I didn't know that many people even knew about my blog. Thank you for all the well wishes and for making me feel important. =)

Here is some gratuitous cuteness:

Guest Posting by Cookie

I don't know why I accepted to write in my mom's blog today. Normally I would beg my grandma to do it for me, but she's making pumpkin bread, a process which I shall never interrupt. I'll probably mess everything up, but I'm going to try. Sincerely, Cookie.

Aaron's doing fine. Aaron's wonderful. Aaron's GETTING ALL THE ATTENTION AROUND HERE! Sorry.I just had to let that out. Sweet Terror is feeling it the strongest I think. When asked about the baby, she just smiles and says goo goo ga ga . Monster Man loves him even more than his stuffed chihuahua (see bottom of page).Pablo doesn't give a care. He's plugged into the computer half the time and drawing the other half. Aaron, will you PLEASE be quiet! Oh well.I guess its not your fault. Mommy ate some chocolate and Aaron HATES it.

This is Tiny. Actually it's a picture of a new one, Monster Man's is much older.

Sammy

Rocket

Hissy

Introducing....

Aaron Isaac
Weight: 9lbs. 12oz.
Length: 21"
Head: 15" diameter
Cheeks: HUGE!

Labor began around 10am Friday morning, went to the hospital around 4:30 pm, Baby was born at 9:02pm. Baby and mommy came home Thursday at 6pm. Both are doing very well. Blog name will be "Cheeks" for the time being. =)

Videos and Forced Nesting

My computer and my digital camera are one of those toxic couples that are always fighting and occasionally making up for a day or two. This means that every now and then I can actually get things to transfer from my camera to my computer, like these long overdue videos. So, Mom, Bugga, and the rest of the family, here are some videos that I've FINALLY been able to upload for you to see. Enjoy!

(ARE THESE VIDEOS WORKING FOR ANYONE? THEY DON'T SEEM TO BE WORKING FOR ME.)

Here is Cookie practicing the dance she learned at Activity Days Camp. They only had 3 hours to learn and perform it.

Pablo and Monster Man performing their amazing tricks in the hotel hot tub.

Sweet Terror and her bestest buddy showing off their bean shakers.

Now I am off to finally start preparing for this baby boy to come. For some reason I completely skipped over the usual "nesting" phase of pregnancy so nothing is ready. Last week I had a bad scare with contractions and I was terrified because I was so unprepared. So, now I must make room in the office for the crib, sort and wash baby clothes, pack a hospital bag, check out the hospital where I will be delivering, clean my bedroom (I still have a huge pile of non-maternity clothes sitting on the floor in a corner), buy a new hat (I always don a baseball cap right after delivering and my current favorite is in absolute shreds), and clean the rest of this place so that I won't freak out of I have to call a friend to come over in the middle of the night. Maybe all this work will put me into labor. I'm going to pack my hospital bag first, just in case. =)

What are you doing to start your week today?

I'm Not Ready

I'm not ready! I'm just not. One should never get a taste of something good until they can have it all the time. Like parmesan cheese. Once you taste the good stuff you can never go back to the powdered Kraft stuff, ever. Well, I have been getting a taste of life with older kids and I gotta say, "It's niiiiiiice."

I've never gone this long without having a new baby in the house. Usually by the time the youngest turns two I am bringing home a new one. Now that Sweet Terror is almost 4 I'm experiencing things I never thought I would again.

Like a movie in the theater. On Monday Mr. Hotness took us all to see Prince Caspian at the theater. And we all got to see it, the whole way through. No one had to leave with a screaming baby, or to catch a runaway toddler.

Like playing at the beach. I'm usually stuck on a towel nursing a baby or not trusting anyone else to care for it long enough for me to have fun too. And if I do get near the water I am usually too paranoid about drowning children to have any fun at all. We just got back from visiting 2 different beaches and we all had a blast. Everyone is now old enough to play and to not go too deep. LOVED IT!

Like going to church and actually hearing the speakers. For so many years I've only gone to church because I knew it was the right thing to do. Now I go and everyone sits still and I actually get spiritually fed. It is amazing. And I no longer feel the evil glares of the old people as they try to kill me and my screaming children with their laser eyes.

Like talking to my husband. There is no one that is too young and needy to be ignored while we actually finish our sentences. It is amazing.

I only have 4 more weeks to enjoy this new found freedom and then, once again, my body will exist for the sole purpose of keeping a human being fed, clean, and alive. I'm so excited to meet this new little guy, I'm so excited to not be pregnant anymore, I'm so grateful for this amazing blessing in my life... but...

BUT... I'M NOT READY!!!

The Sweetness Of Sweet Terror

I am always telling people that my face gets very puffy when I am pregnant. Case in point are my before and after pics of Sweet Terror's birth. The first is taken the day that I went into labor. The second photo is only a month later and already my face was returning to normal.
PUFFY FACE:

LESS PUFFY FACE: I mentioned earlier that Sweet Terror's birth really deserves its own post and, for lack of anything else to blog about, I think it is time to post it. Really I need to post about each of my children's births just so I know it is written somewhere. This is very long so don't feel like you have to read it. =)

WARNING: The beginning of this is really rather graphic and disturbing and I don't mean that in a comical way. So, don't let your kids read over your shoulder, and please don't eat while reading.

It was 7am, the usual time for waking up, and I stretched as I woke up. The stretch ended in a yell of pain as I curled up on the bed in physical pain. It felt like someone had just sucker punched me in the gut. The pain lasted only a minute and then I was fine. Thinking it was just a wired woman thing I continued to get up and almost fainted. I stabilized myself, figured I had got up too fast, and kissed my husband goodbye, assuring him that I was fine and it was just a bad cramp. Later, around 3pm, I started my period. I hadn't had my period for a couple months but that was normal for me and I figured it explained the earlier pain, just a bad menstrual cramp, right? I don't think I have ever bled so badly in my life. I was changing my Extra Absorbent tampon and Extra Long Overnight pad every two hours and still staining my pants. Then, about 10pm, while changing another round of cotton protection, I felt a mass of something pass through me and fall in the toilet. It was such a shocking feeling I actually scooped through the stuff in the toilet to find what it was. It appeared to me to be a small wad of fleshy something or other, and I also found what seemed like a small piece of liver or an extremely thick and complex blood clot. I have had really freaky periods before and I've seen some monster blood clots in my time but this was something new. I cleaned up, flushed the toilet, silently crawled into bed, snuggled close to my husband and whispered in his ear,

"DSSH, I think I just had a miscarriage." He asked me how I knew, I explained what I had seen, he didn't know what to do or what to say, and neither did I. The bleeding stopped only 10minutes later. Completely stopped. What was I supposed to think? I was on birth control. I had been taking my birth control faithfully every morning between 8:00 and 8:30 every morning for the last year and a half. I did not want to be pregnant, I was actually really hoping that in a year we could make the decision to permanently prevent ourselves from conceiving again. Maybe I should have been relieved? But it was a life, or a possible life, that had tried to grow in my body and now it was gone.

The next morning my husband offered to stay home but I knew he couldn't miss his classes that day. I kissed him goodbye, then I called my mom and I cried, a lot. I was so confused. We were a poor student family and we did not have medical insurance. I had to make an appointment with medicaid to see an approved nurse to see if it was really a miscarriage and to see what I needed to do next. The waiting was the worst part. I wanted to grieve but wasn't even sure if I had something to grieve about. I had such mixed emotions and my heart just couldn't be logical about any of it. The next day I met with the nurse and took a pregnancy test. It was positive. I had been pregnant. I started crying like a baby. She tried to tell me that it was a good thing, I had been on birth control, I didn't want a baby, I should be happy that I didn't have to have an abortion, etc... I know she was trying to make me feel better, but she wasn't. She scheduled me for an ultrasound to make sure that it had all passed.

DSSH came home that night and I fell into his arms crying. I cried for a baby that wasn't wanted and that never had a chance to be wanted. I cried because I didn't know what else to do. I cried because I had let that little body down. My husband held me. I'm still not sure what was going through my husband's mind that day (I should ask him), if he felt any loss or if he was just as confused as I was. He held me close and whispered that if I wanted to try and have another baby after this he would fully support me in it. It was an exhausting night.

The next day I was in the ultrasound office (alone again as my husband is in class) waiting for the technician. Looking around I notice a board full of ultrasound pictures from the various stages of pregnancy, 1 week, 2 weeks, 9weeks, 38 weeks,etc. In comes the technician and I tell my story for the 4th time that day and how I am there to make sure everything has passed from the pregnancy. I lay down and she inserts the wand. Instantly I recognize an image similar to the one labeled "9 weeks" on the wall. "Oh, there is a heart beat, and a good strong one too." she says. I cry harder than I have cried the last 2 days. How? How could this be? How could there still be a baby? How could I be pregnant? Oh my gosh, I don't want to be pregnant! Yay, the baby is alive. Why don't I want it to be alive? Why is this happening? That poor technician, I don't think she was prepared for my reaction. I was sobbing and rambling on and on about my situation and my confusion. I left with a picture of a faint white blur with a bright light in the middle for a heart, and a pile of Kleenex pressed to my face. My husband comes home to an even soggier wife than the night before. He holds me and calmly tells me that this is wonderful, that I can do this, that it will all be ok, and that he is happy.

I spent several months in a blur of pregnant confusion. Often my prayers would include me telling Heavenly Father that I was ok if this baby had to miscarry too because I really was scared of having another baby. I was scared of bonding or getting attached because I was told there was a risk of miscarriage due to the previous bleeding/miscarriage. It was a tear filled, sleepless, guilt ridden time for me.

Later, after a very trying ultrasound experience (I had to go by myself with my three children and the two boys happened to be very mischievous and active at that time. Picture me on the table, holding Monster Man's hand as he crawls under my table and tries to unplug any wire he can find, and Pablo crawling up over my head to push buttons on the wall, and Cookie obediently sitting in her chair reading a book. When the doctor asked if I wanted to know what I was having I was almost too scared to answer. I finally asked for the sex and she said it was a girl. Just to make sure she wasn't trying to pull a dirty trick on me I asked her to show me several times that it was a girl. I said, "Now, are you just saying that you don't see a penis, or are there actual girl organs that you are sure won't change into boy parts?" She was certain and was very patient as she highlighted the special little white blurs that meant it was a girl. As Monster Man was making the bed tip, and Pablo had just made something beep, I started to cry in relief.) anyway, after the ultrasound, and after the baby started to kick I finally allowed myself to accept this coming baby and to feel joy. It was exciting to think of having a girl, to use that blessing dress that I had bought when I thought Pablo would be a girl, to use that lovely name I had picked out for Pablo when I thought he would be a girl, to fulfill that dream that my husband I both had, when we were newly married, of having two girls. Yes, I was excited to be having a girl and I'm sure that makes me sexist but I don't care. Bring on the pink! I was ready for it.

But, isn't this supposed to be about the birth? Oh yeah, but now that seems to pale in comparison to all the other birthing stories you've all shared, so I will just make it short and sweet.

I was 8 days overdue and scheduled for inducement (as I am with all my babies, my body does not like going into labor and my water has never broken by itself) and my mom was visiting. Figuring that I had nothing to loose I decided to finally give in and try that old caster oil idea. I drank 3 tablespoons (I just pretended I was eating EXTREMELY greasy onion rings and it really wasn't so bad) and then packed the kids up to go to the aquarium with my mom. We walked all over the place. On the way home I felt contractions but they didn't hurt, they just caused me to stop talking for a few minutes here and there. The contractions kept coming but I was sure they were just Braxton Hicks and nothing to worry about. My husband came home and kept asking if I was in labor. "I really don't think so. Labor hurts WAY worse than this. I think I was just over active today so my body is a bit wound up." We all went to bed and at about midnight my water broke. MY WATER BROKE. It was amazing. My husband rushed me to the hospital, I was put in the smallest birthing room I've ever been in (apparently you only get the good room when you have a reservation), I was given the worst iv I've ever been given (nurses, when an experienced mother shows you which vein to poke, please listen, no matter what you were told in medical school yesterday, because she knows what she is talking about. After 7 tries, and my screaming and crying in serious pain, an older nurse finally came in and used the vein I had been pointing to and it slid in without a problem), and the baby started coming.

That little room was so hot that they had to put ice packs on my head, I started to loose consciousness so then they had to put an oxygen mask on me, so my face was covered in all this stuff and it was hard to scream and push while feeling like I was wearing Darth Vader's mask. Luckily she just slid right out. It was is if the birth canal was greased and ready with all the oil I had drunk. She came so fast that they weren't able to get a needed antibiotic into my system before delivery and so they whisked her away to do some testing. This was the first time that the baby wasn't put instantly on my chest and I freaked out. I was yelling, "Where's my baby, WHERE'S MY BABY?!?!?!" as I rip all the stuff off my face and head. Everyone, including my husband, was so intent on the new baby that it took them awhile to realize that the lady on the bed was going to start killing people if they didn't show her her baby or at least explain what was going on. They gave me my new little girl and I quickly calmed down.

She was born on Thanksgiving Day. Sweet Terror was a chubby, red, healthy baby. She was such a good baby, too. She ate well, she slept well, she was easy to please. She was a breath of fresh air after the Monster Man and Pablo babies. She may be a terror now but she is also very sweet and I am so glad that she managed to make her way here despite my efforts not to conceive again. It was because of her calming influence on me that I felt it possible for me to have another. Thank you, Sweet Terror, for coming into my life. I love you!

Tattoos and Giving Birth

4 years ago, while I was still pregnant with Sweet Terror, I was sitting on a park bench, watching my kids frolic, when another mom came and sat next to me. I noticed that she had 3 kids of her own and, also like me, she had tattoos. Ok, so I only have one small one, a lizard on my foot, and she had both her arms covered from shoulder to wrist. Feeling a sudden kinship through our similarities I couldn't help but say, "I hope you don't mind me being nosy, but, seeing your tattoos, I just have to ask, did you have all your babies naturally?" (Naturally meaning no drugs). She got a big ol' smile and proudly said, "I sure did!" And from there we had a long and wonderful conversation about tattoos and natural childbirth.

I love telling people that I have had all four of my children naturally. Yup, I am one tough mammasita! Ok, so I'm not being a hundred percent honest here. I do get a shot of Stadol in my i.v. but I'm not sure how much pain it kills because it still hurts like nothing else can. And I actually asked for an epidural with Sweet Terror but couldn't because she came too fast (that includes caster oil and deserves it's own post).

Why go natural? For lots of reasons. One: I am a sniveling, yellow tailed, chicken. I can't stand the thought of needles in my back, someone messing with my spine, or having it go wrong (as it did for my sister, and that was awful). Two: I like to think I'm tough. And three: I read way too many stories about Native Americans when I was little and if they could do it, so could I.

After giving birth to my second I started reading in magazines about using hypnosis or focus therapy in childbirth instead of drugs. Everyone was talking about it as if it were some great new invention. I felt even cooler as people would bring up these articles and I could say, in a snobby superior voice, "Oh yes, I used focus therapy and self hypnosis for my first two children." To which most would ask if I had taken a class or where I had learned to do it. There was no class for me, I just did it.

The first time I ever used "Focus Therapy" or self hypnosis for pain was when I was about 8. I was driving home with my dad after a fun daddy-daughter date at the shooting range when I was suddenly in physical agony due to some intestinal something-or-other. All I knew was that I had had it before and it usually entails me writhing on the floor in agony. I felt I couldn't turn into a whiny baby after having just made my dad proud by actually hitting my target several times and almost getting a bulls eye. Plus it was going to be a good 30 minutes till we got home and had a bathroom handy. I panicked. Then I told myself, "Be an indian warrior." I remembered reading about Native American boys going through certain trials before becoming a man. I recalled several stories about how they had to learn to ignore pain. So, what I did was I pretended there was a ball of white light inside me. I focused on that white light and pretended to be in that light where I couldn't feel my body. I stared at the road with a glazed look, not really seeing anything but not wanting to give my dad reason to ask questions. I was able to carry on a conversation with him, only coming out of my light long enough to give a small answer or to say, "Yeah." or "Uh huh". And I made it all the way home without so much as a groan. I don't think he ever knew how much pain I was in that night.

When it came time to have my first baby everyone was asking if I would go natural or get an epidural. My answer was that I was going to try going natural but was open to anything. I don't think I even made a sound until it came time to push (Again, I had read many times that Native American women wouldn't make a sound when delivering a child). I pretended that my head was dislocated from my body and that I was watching the pain instead of feeling it. Part of my focus included a rhythm I was keeping by swinging my knee from side to side. The only time I lost it was when people would touch my knee or try to hold it still (my poor mother in-law, I about bit her head off for touching it). DSSH finally realized what was going on and was very good about protecting that knee. It was still painful beyond belief. I felt it all, but with the focus technique I was able to free my body from reacting to the pain (does that make sense?). Total time 4 hours and only 10 pushes.

With my second baby I used the same technique and also used it to keep my body calm enough that I was able to keep from pushing until the doctor could make it. As soon as she came in I asked, "Can I push now?" She said yes and he came out in one push. Total time 4 hours and one push.

Now my third baby (Monster Man) was a lot harder, but most of that was due to a doctor who would not listen to me no matter how many times I told her how my body worked. I was in so much pain for so long that I had to sing in order to stay focused. This was very entertaining to my husband because I was singing songs from primary when I was a little girl in church. Try singing this when in full labor. He came after 9 hours and about 20 pushes. Stupid doctor!

Baby 4, like I mentioned above is another story for another post.

And as for this baby? I had asked for an epidural with Sweet Terror because I thought she was going to be my last and figured I should just try it. But now I'm thinking I don't want to ruin the awesome record I have going here. So, I'm going to do this one natural too. I can promise you this, though, if I have to do this one more time I am going to ask for the epidural as soon as I'm 3 months along. Can one be kept numb for 6 months?

As a funny side note, the mom with the tattoos shared this little tid bit with me: "Yeah, I thought I would be the coolest mom in the world because I'm so laid back and I've got all these cool tattoos, but whenever I go to my 9 year old son's school he asks me to wear long sleeves so I don't embarrass him. I guess there is some cosmic rule that mom's just can't be cool." I consider that a piece of great wisdom from an experienced mother.

What was your most memorable birthing experience?

Modest Nursing

As newly weds, we were driving along the freeway, heading home from visiting family. I am driving as my husband and I chat. Suddenly my husband sits up very straight, with big eyes, and starts rambling about, he wasn't really looking, he didn't mean to, it was just THERE, and he is sorry, please don't be mad at him... and it finally comes out that he was leisurely looking at other drivers as they passed us and suddenly he got an eyefull of frontal nudity as the woman in the car next to us bared herself to nurse her baby. Ha ha ha. Poor guy. That Lady could have used one of these.

Ah, nursing, that sweet magical bond between a mother and her child. Isn't it wonderful? And isn't it great that we live in a modern age where women can feed their children in public, doing what comes naturally without shame? Unless of course your children are like mine:

Cookie: Nursed so loud it was like listening to someone trying to slurp up the last remnants of their milk shake through a straw. "Shhhhllllluurrrpp". And then she would pant and gulp after every slurp as if drowning and gasping for air (which really she was with all the milk that I was producing).

Pablo: Loved to pull the nursing blanket down to smile at me. So sweet, but not when you are in the middle of church or talking with your father in law!

Monster Man: Loved nursing but he would constantly pull away and sing to my breast. It was so adorable, but didn't make for very covert nursing.

Sweet Terror. She was a pincher, twister, puller. She loved to reach up and pull my hair or pinch my neck while nursing. Yeah, she was mean.

And then of course there is the lovely retuck that has to happen after nursing. I got very good at the replace-nursing-pad-rehook-bra-button-up-blouse-and-adjust-waistline-of-skirt-all-with-one-hand while holding on to my nursing blanket with my teeth and holding baby with the other hand while simultaneously wiping milk drool off his cheeks.

Can you imagine my joy, then, in getting a call from my newest sister-in-law telling me that my mom is hiring her to make me a nursing hideaway blanket? They are basically big bibs that go around your neck and keep the baby from uncovering you while nursing. I started seeing these all over the place while I was nursing Sweet Terror but I was too cheap to buy one and too lazy to make one. I am so excited! This will make nursing around others so much easier.

And, as a plug for my sis-in-law, she has just started making these for sale. She is open to doing custom jobs (depending on what you want) and she sews very well. These make great baby shower gifts and they even come in their own matching bag. A must have diaper accessory in my opinion. Now, I just need to convince her to put a pic of my darling new nephew on her site. He is a hunkalicious baby!!!

She Had So Many Kids She Didn't Know What To Do

"Oh, how cute!"- One baby

"Aren't you lucky to be a big sister?"- Two babies

"My, you have your hands full!"- Three babies

"Are they all yours?"- Four babies

"Congratulations... I hope." (With a concerned look that says the only reason I would have #5 is if it were a big mistake that I'm now regretting)- Pregnant with fifth baby.

I have often laughed at the way things change in my life with each and every baby.

With #1 I was confident and all knowing. Giving advice to any that would listen, I tried to share my wisdom with everyone.

With #2 I was so confused when suddenly none of my great wisdom was working. I had a mini nervous breakdown and learned that I had been much too judgemental about a lot of things. But still, I tried to do everything right.

#3 came along and suddenly it was all about survival. I couldn't care less if he knew his alphabet, and I didn't try to teach him every song a preschooler should know. Everyday was devoted to keeping him alive and trying to prevent him from becoming a serial killer when he was older (if he lived long enough to be older).

#4 was an unexpected surprise. I figured that since I didn't ask for her I didn't need to be so uptight with her (I'm not saying I was in anyway reasonable at this point). She was a breath of sweet, fresh air after #3 and I have just been enjoying the ride. Forget about potty training, who cares about learning to use a pencil. I am just enjoying as much of her cuteness as I can. Call it therapy if you will.

Now, my thoughts have turned to #5. What kind of mother will I be this time? Will I find myself so worn out that I barely function as a mother and instead leave my children to raise this child? Can I muster up enough evergy, by reminding myself that this is the last one, to do the best job ever? Will I finally know everything about parenting that I don't make any mistakes, or have the last 4 kids confused me enough that I will make nothing but mistakes? Will I spoil this child because I'm scared of not having anymore "babies" in the house or will I barely even know he is there because I'm too busy with his older siblings? I don't know. I hope that I will finally be able to be the consistent, happy, fun, educational, inspirational mommy that I want to be without having to turn into psycho-tired pregnant mom every couple of years. I look forward to the day when I can play hard with my kids and take them to places that I love because I'm no longer pregnant or holding a baby. I am excited to focus solely on the raising instead of on the producing =).

*NOTE: Don't worry, I'm fine. I had one of those days yesterday where I wondered why I ever thought I could handle being a mother of so many. Luckily those days are few and far between, but they always leave me rather introspective, and hopeful. Everytime I ask myself if I'm doing the right thing I feel peaceful and know that I am. I just pray everyday that I won't damage these wonderful kids too much with my craziness =p

P.S. One of these days I am finally going to make my dream Halloween costume and go out as the old woman who lived in a shoe. I already have the kids, just gotta come up with the shoe =)