Monday, June 29, 2009

VBS 2009!

Wow last week was just so busy! I worked VBS (Vacation Bible School) and had a blast. I was in charge of one of the kindergarten groups. Its kind of silly they divided it into three groups (K-A, K-B, and K-C) since it was impossible to keep them from mixing up since we all went to everything as one large group. Zach was in K-B but spent most of his time with me (I was in charge of K-C). He had a ton of fun and his and Ryan's friend Zada came as his guest. She was in his group even though she's just now going into pre-K, but we figured we would spare Ryan's teacher and let her handle just him instead of him and Zada. We didn't have any in K pray to accept Jesus, but then most of them don't really grasp that concept well so we didn't push the info on them too much. However, the church gave away two bikes (one boy and one girl) to visitors, and one of the boys in my group got it! It was so big next to him, but he was so excited that he stood next to it during the whole parents' presentation Friday night with a huge smile on his face. I had my younger brother and one of my younger sisters working in K with me, plus one of my mom's neighbor's kids. I must have taken about 200 pictures during VBS but here are a few of my favorites:
My sister Hannah and I
Zach and Zada
Zach and my sister Hannah
The whole kindergarten class.
My Pastor dressed in his hilly billy finest on crazy hair day.
Arts and Crafts
A blurry pic of Zach and I courtesy of him.
Being Israelites with "blood" around their doors.
Ryan and his teacher
Zada, Hannah, and Zach

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Of course it had to happen eventually.

Consider this post a departure from the normal flow of my life. I'll get to telling you about VBS in the next one, I just want to share this now. So as I said excuse the randomness of it.
No movie in my 22 year existence has ever made me cry or choke up. Its not that I'm not moved by sad or touching movies, its just not the kind of person I am. And, before you ask, no, books don't make me cry either. I never understood people who cry during a movie, matter of fact, I always found them kind of funny in an embarrassing sort of way. I mean if you're enjoying it, why cry? Yeah, its sad, but its not actually affecting your life in any way shape or form really, its just a 1 1/2 - 2 hour diversion from the reality that is your life. Enjoy it, hate it, or just be amused, but please please don't cry. Not only is it an embarrassing situation to you the crier, but if I'm there with you I'll be mortally embarrassed too not to mention uncomfortable since I don't do tears well from anyone other than my children.
I went to the movie store tonight to to drop off some movies and rent some (bought three too but that's beside the point...). Apparently I did poorly since I didn't get a single one John likes or wants to see. Since none of them were ones he wanted to see I went ahead and watched one of them tonight after he went to bed. It was a movie I wanted to see when it came out, but I didn't want to go see it alone. Marley and Me. It didn't seem like the kind of movie John wanted to see, and my mom and my movie buddy are both big animal people (especially dogs) and its no secret the dog dies at the end so they didn't want to see it either.
Let's just say I'm glad I watched it by myself. By the point when they get ready to take Marley to the vet the last time and everyone's telling him bye and they load him in the car I'm choking up. When the vet gives the owner alone time with Marley before he gets put to sleep, tears are flowing. And then when they bury him and the kids are reading the letters to him and the lady says her piece, I'm bawling like a baby. I had to go get our dog and break John's #1 rule and put her on the couch with me and love on her.
I loved this movie, if you're a dog person you so need to see it.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Letting you know

Not sure if there will be many if any new posts this week. I'm doing VBS in the mornings and trying to go to bed early at nights, which both those times are my usual blogging time.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Picture of the Day: "Awesome-freaking-ly Amazing!"

Since Bella was born people have been comparing her looks to the boys trying to figure which one she looks more like, Zach or Ryan. And honestly half the time people say Zach, and the other half people say Ryan. Then I was stressing a couple of posts ago over if her eyes would be blue or not.
Well, I've decided something...
I don't care which of my boys she looks like.
I don't care what color her eyes turn out to be.
Because Bella looks more like me than either of the boys! My mom and aunts and dad all kept telling me Bella looked just like me as a baby, well, we don't have any little baby picture of good enough quality to tell, so I just dismissed them. I got this picture of Bella and I today and I'll be darned if she doesn't look a whole heck of a lot like me! She's got my nose, my mouth, my eyes, and my face shape! So I don't care if her eyes turn as brown as chocolate or as green as grass, my little girl looks like me and I couldn't be happier if I tried!

Friday, June 19, 2009

Here's the thing...

I am not paid to watch the kids my mom is paid to watch. Not only am I not paid to do it, when I have to do it all day for several days in a row when she goes out of town the only reason I do get paid is because my step-dad tells her to pay me. I love her, and I know she loves me, but she makes me so mad with the babysitting. If I tell her no, I can't watch them she generally ends up guilting me into doing it anyway. She uses keeping the boys as her reasoning why I should help her, but you know what, I paid her for when she watched the boys while I was in school. I even paid her when she wasn't watching them! Yet she throws that in my face constantly.
Today she calls and asks if I'll come over and watch the kids she babysits during naptime so she can go to the store and get groceries before my step-dad and siblings get back from their youth trip. I told her I would but John is getting off work early today and him and I have a lot of running around to do. I don't know what time he'll be getting home and neither does he so I can't give her a timeframe or anything. She acts all angry and like I should cancel all of my plans because she comitted herself to babysitting today but has decided she'd rather do something else. If she knew she would want to get things ready and done before they get home tonight (which knowing my mom she planned this all along) she should have told them she just couldn't babysit today. But she called me a few hours ago and told me well fine she's bringing Zach home and maybe she'll get him in a few hours, she's not sure, but obviously she'll be too busy for him to be with her. WTH?! Okay since I won't do her job she's going to punish him? Yeah, real freaking mature.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Setting a goal.

I'm setting myself a goal for this summer. (Well, I plan to start another one too, but lets see how the first goes before I over commit myself.) My goal is to clean. That might not seem like much to you, but to me it is a lot. I've never been one who needs a clean clean house. I mean my house isn't nasty, but its never really clean unless John does it or if I know we are having a lot of people over. I'm fine with clutter, dust, and a nice lived in feel to my house. John and my mom say this is just laziness on my part, and yeah, they are mostly right. I just really hate cleaning, and when you have three little kids, two of which are super active and awesome mess makers, I don't see much point in doing a lot of cleaning. The boys mess up an area as soon as I clean it, so why should I bother?
But, at the root of almost all of mine and John's fights is the house. John, for some reason that baffles me, likes a clean house. He enjoys coming home to a clean and organized house, which has only happened like once. I've been using the excuse of Bella for not cleaning lately, but I can always find an excuse to not clean. I've had seventeen years of practicing excuses to not clean. However, Bella is no longer an excuse since she's pretty set into a schedule now, something that John is unfortunately well aware of. Also, it bugs me that John doesn't help much in the day-to-day cleaning. He likes to do all-out-super cleaning during the weekend, which can take a whole day or two to accomplish, and is extremely stressful on all of us.
So, my goal is to clean, and clean daily. I'm not setting out with this unrealistic idea that I'll have supermom level clean in my house by the first day or two, or even week. I'm using the Home Organization Plan from Justmommies. It has easily completed tasks for each day, even if you have kids. There are nifty little calendars and chore charts you can print out, plus a cool monthly goal, this month's, Kid's Bedrooms, seems tailor made for me since the boys keep their rooms a wreck.
So today is day one. Its time for me to get my butt of the computer and do a little cleaning.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

All Hail the Birthday Boy!

Late at night June 14, 2004 I was restless. I was also 39 weeks and 6 days pregnant with my oldest child, Zach. It was so so so hot and humid, and even though I hate baths I would have given anything to have one. Instead I settled for a shower, staying in until the hot water turned ice cold. I got out put on my favorite, old, ratty, baggy, comfy shirt and a pair of super stretchy shorts. I was a bundle of nervous energy due to the fact that I was terrified of the idea of going in for my 40 week checkup the next day. I knew the doctor would check dilation again, and that always hurt bad enough to bring me to tears. It was too hot upstairs so I laid down on the couch downstairs to read a book.
Unlike most moms who hit the 40 week point I wasn't obsessing over when my baby would come, matter of fact, I was trying very hard not to think about the fact that soon the baby would be coming out of a very tiny opening. Even though I'd had roughly 40 weeks to prepare I was in no way ready for this baby to come out. The idea of being a mom, and being responsible for another human being scared the crap out of me. I mean what did I know about being a mom? I was seventeen years old and had just finished my junior year of high school. I didn't have a job, I didn't know how to drive, I didn't even know where I wanted to go to college, if I would, or what I'd study. I was in no shape way or form ready to be a mom.
So, I'm laying on my mom's couch reading a book when all of the sudden I feel this horrible pain. It literally leaves me gasping when its over. I look at the clock and it is 12:32 am, officially June 15th, my due date. Ten minutes later the pain comes back again, then again ten minutes after. Logic would say to go wake up my mom and let her know I think I'm in labor. Instead I go upstairs wake up my nineteen year old brother and ask him if he thinks I am in labor. After him doing much cussing, mumbling, and throwing stuff I conclude he doesn't know and finally go ask my mom. I make it back downstairs just in time for another contraction, 8 minutes apart now. It takes me 40 more minutes (and 5 contractions) of banging on my mom's door (which was locked) before she wakes so I can tell her. I call John and tell him, then sit around and wait for an hour for him to get to my mom's.
I get to the hospital at 3:45, they check me and admit me, then give me an epidural at 4:30 am. Once it kicked in I slept until 9, at which point my dad, step-dad, step-mom, and maternal grandmother had all come to join my mom, John, and I. Between the contractions that I am starting to feel again, we take pictures and joke around about how my mom is going to be a grandmother at 37. At 10:30 the doctor comes in checks my dilation and decides to break my water. As he does it I am screaming and crying because it hurts so badly, and the doctor has the nerve to tell me that it didn't hurt and I didn't feel a thing. My mom and John come back in the room to see what's going on, to which my doctor and I both answer. My mom says if I say it hurts it must and the doctor told her no, my epidural should still be effective. They argue for a while until the doctor says he'll prove it. He tells me to close my eyes, then he pokes me in the pelvic bone with a needle, as soon as he does it (with my eyes still closed) I kick him in the shoulder and say he would feel it too if someone poked him with a darn needle. The doctor tells my mom he'll go get the anesthesiologist to get me taken care of. At noon I get more medicine. I am in tons and tons of constantly overlapping pain and now I feel this new sensation. The nurse checks and I am fully dilated and effaced, she tells me not to push, that she's going to get the doctor. The other nurse stays down there saying "Don't push, don't push, just breathe." I'm calling her (and the doctor) all sorts of nasty names and telling them "I am breathing you idiot!" Zach was out by 12:30 and the pain medicine had still not kicked in. (It kicked in about 10 minutes later when I didn't need it.)
My beautiful boy came out red, screaming, and with a full head of red hair. He was six pounds twelve ounces and nineteen and a half inches. I loved him the instant I saw him. I no longer wondered how I was going to be a mom, I was a mom and it changed my life in the way that no other even has. I was no longer me, I was his mom, his world, his everything, and I needed to live up to that.
Now its five years later and my boy is turning five. It seems time has just blurred by. There is so much I can't specifically remember about him growing up in the past five years, but I still remember with perfect clarity the day I had him, and my first time seeing and holding him. I remember the look on John's face when he cut the cord, and when my mom said "Congratulations Daddy." I don't remember the first time he said "I love you" or "Mommy" but I remember the first time he nursed. My boy is so big now, and has a year of school under his belt, and start kindergarten in the fall. He's so handsome, and though he can make me so angry and upset he's still my first baby, and he'll always be my baby no matter how old he is.

Now I'm going to go finish crying.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Do my eyes decieve me?

I can't freaking wait!!!!

What to write about?

Its the end of the week and I haven't blogged in three days. Why? I have nothing to write about and not really the time to write about nothing.
I've been busy getting the house ready for Zach's birthday party, which only 2 of his friends' parents bothered to even call about. (Oh yeah and to all who didn't even bother to call and say your kids weren't coming, real nice you inconsiderate asses.) But I figured what the hell, it doesn't matter if its just two of his friends, him, and Ryan, he's having a party. I've been cleaning all week, yet, remarkably its not noticeable. That brings me to the next part...
I've been in too foul a mood the past couple of nights to blog when I usually do. Since I'm cleaning non-stop all day without seeming to make a difference John comes home and complains about how this, this, and this isn't done and we have a party to be ready for in x-days. But does he bother to help with any of the cleaning once the kids lay down and it would actually stay clean for a while? No. He sits watches tv and plays his damn cello. Plus, I've been stressing about the asses who haven't bothered to call about the party, and the fact that we're 2 months behind on our house note. On top of all of that I'm feeling rather PMS-y.
I spent the past month getting everything ready to re-open my store with the site I work with, and figuring out how to go about advertising for myself with a newsletter since the site wasn't going to do our ads anymore. And what do I find out, its more than likely closing, so I get to go through the joy of trying to sale myself and products to another store, a process I HATE. I mean I can only take so many "Sorry, but no" emails from the stores I like and acceptance from the ones I don't like. But hey, I got to set my products up somewhere so I'll probably end up at a store that drags in absolutely no customers and be a giant waste of my time and effort. And since I'll be going to a new store (if anyone bothers to accept me) I'll get to re-do all my freaking previews again. Joy.
So yeah, that's why there's been no new blog post in the past three days.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Picture of the Day: "Okay... He's a Momma's Boy!"

Yes, yes, my youngest son is one great big momma's boy. And do I care? No! I love it. He's a giant boob, but he is my boob. (lol) He's whiny and only mommy can fix the problems in his world. He does not like to be away from me. When he does sleep overs we have to make him go, and he won't stay away from me for more than two nights in a row. Who does he come to at 5:30 am when he wakes up? Me. Who has to say his prayers, read his bedtime story, and tuck him in? Me. When we're at home he stays in the room I'm in. He checks to see if something is my favorite before he proclaim it as also his favorite. I try to make him more independent, but he wants nothing to do with independence. So I figure what the heck? He won't want to be around me all the time forever, I'm going to enjoy it while I can.

I'm such a freaking pushover.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Never wash your floors.

Here's what I want you to do: Take whatever you wash your non-carpeted floors with (in my case mop and bucket) outside, put them on the ground behind your vehicle, get in and start said vehicle, now run over you floor cleaning stuff 10 times (20 if your as frustrated as me). But you're not done yet! Gather the broken pieces, pour gas on them, set that mess ablaze, get some sticks and marshmallows, kick back and relax.
Why these extremely violent feelings to my poor mop and bucket? Because they are pointless. They place a curse upon me each time I use them, because it never fails, if I mop the floor someone will spill something on it shortly thereafter. Not only did I sweep and mop my kitchen floor today, I got down and scrubbed it. My floor has never looked that good. An hour later Ryan spilled an entire thing of red koolaid on it because he felt he could refill his cup on his own.
Its at times like these I sit down and ask "Why me God? Why am I your little joke?"

Sunday, June 7, 2009

NO! No more boob for you!

Bella has this new thing which I am sure is at least 90% my fault. Before we discovered that Bella just does not like sleeping on her back I just held her while she slept during the day. It was just too much of a hassle and too stressful playing the up and down game with her. Well most of the time I held her while she slept she would be sleeping on the naked boob she just nursed from. Now she sleeps fine in her bed during the day, but its too late... my baby is a...
She nurses then expects me to just leave my boob hanging out for her. She likes to lay on it, pretend like she's nursing, and her new favorite pinching and digging her fingers into the sides of my boob. And if I try to move her and put the boob away, she screams at me and latches back on. But does she eat? Noooo. She fills her mouth with milk then lets it dribble out the sides.
So what do I do? Being the pushover that I am when it comes to my youngest, I leave my boob hanging out for her to lay on until she falls asleep then after I lie her down I then get to put it away. But in my mind I'm yelling "No! No more boob for you!"

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Picture of the Day: "You're My Best Friend..."

I can say something not many people can say. I have had the same best friend for seventeen years.
On my first day of kindergarten, 1992, this tall blond girl in big glasses walked up to me and said "Hi, my name is Emily, and if you're not my friend I'll beat you up." (How do I know this? Its not something I've let her live down once in the past 17 years.) Me, being a small child my whole life readily agreed to be her friend, and we have been best friends ever since. We went to school together through the 7th grade and then I moved about an hour away, but we still talked all the time and got together whenever we could. We've always been complete opposites in many ways except a few. She was the tall, athletic, never in trouble, goal driven girl. I was the short, sports hating, always in trouble, no goals at all girl. We dressed in completely different styles, hung out with completely different groups of people, we even went to different colleges in different states. But nothing has ever broken or gotten in the way of our friendship. I've always figured we've stayed so close through the years because we balance each other out so well. She's my best friend in the whole wide world, and I'm closer to her and love her more than my sisters.
I watched her get married today to a man she loves and whom I like. I stood up beside her as her matron of honor and watched the happiness and love on her face as they said their vows and were pronounced husband and wife. I was so completely and utterly grateful to be a part of her special day. She leaves to go on her week long honeymoon tonight, and then, the part that makes me cry, she is going straight to Texas where she will now live with her husband. I'm going to miss her so much and it makes me so sad, but I didn't let her see it. Today was her day, she was beautiful and so in love. I hope that it all works out for her and her husband, but I'm going to miss her so much.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Not nearly enough hours in the day.

If I could just sleep even in a wee bit less I might have enough hours in my day. I mean I sleep very little as is because I have huge issues with sleep and always have. From a health standpoint I could actually use more sleep not less, but that's way beside the point.
I need more time each day to accomplish stuff! I spend most of my morning alternating between cleaning the kitchen, feeding Bella, feeding Ryan, checking my emails, updating and checking the posts of Justmommies boards I host. This keeps me busy until lunch time. Its about this time each day that my mom calls me wanting to know if I'll do something or another for her, and Lord help me if I say no, that means, in her mind, something is wrong. Lately her favorite things to be convinced are wrong with me are that either I'm depressed or John and I are having serious marriage problems. And for the record I am NOT depressed nor have I ever really been, nor are John and I have maritial problems. These calls and text go on for about two hours while I am cleaning the living room. About this time Bella is ready to eat and this is our longest feeding session of the day, plus she likes to be awake, looking, and held after this feeding. At about 3-3:30 she falls asleep and I lay her down, Ryan is also waking up from nap about this time. Ryan wakes up at 5:30 in the morning every day energetic and ready to go, Ryan wakes up from nap in a foul mood. So, he wakes and I have to comfort and soothe him, generally by laying with him on the couch and rubbing his back while he watches his shows.
Now after this point used to be my do stuff for fun time. I'd either play with the boys, read, fool around online, take a shower, you know, do things I didn't have to do. But I decided to end my break I took from designing right before I had Bella. I'm just so backed up with work now. The store I work with changed a lot of their requirements and responsibilites. I'm all for most of these changes, but one is promoting your work and work by others in the store, they now do almost none. On top of all the work I was doing to catch my store back up now I'm also having to design something to give away for free to get people to sign up for my newsletter. Speaking of newsletter, I still have to figure out how to go about getting that set up!
I only have 2 and a 1/2 hours a day to accomplish all of that because I've spent the past 2 months not doing any real designing so its no longer in my schedule. During that 2 and 1/2 hours I also have to keep an eye on the boys playing, and feed Bella when she wakes. You don't get much designing accomplished in two and 1/2 hours of designing when you spend half that time with only one available hand because you're nursing. Then its back to straightening the living room, starting dinner, cleaning the kitchen again as I cook. John comes home. Feed the boys dinner and eat dinner and spend time with John. Next comes feeding Bella, changing her into jammies, and getting boys ready for bed. Then I spend more time with John. If there are shows on we watch I sit with him and watch them, if not then he plays Wii and I go ahead and get back on the computer. John goes to bed at about 10 and I stay up until midnight or 1 checking my Justmommies boards again, but mainly working on my designs more. At 1 I have to get off the computer because John gets up at that time to check and make sure I am off. If I'm not he says he's not paying the internet anymore, because he knows all about my sleep issues.
Once I have this free kit done and my newsletter set up and figured out things'll calm down some. If I had known to expect this when I returned back to working I would have started on it sooner instead of trying to take care of it while setting my store back up.
So I don't permanently need more hours in the day, just for say the next week or so. I didn't understand how unrealistic going back to designing would be with a little baby, but I love doing it too much not to.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Hi from Ryan and Me!

Picture of the Day: "A Young Family"

I could see, from an outsider's perspective, how someone could see the boys, Bella, and I as siblings instead of as a parent and her three children. And yeah, I guess I can understand how it might upset someone when they first hear that yes, I am the mother of all of them, including Zach. I know I look younger than I am, this is a fact I've been made very aware of over the years. I also know that even if I am twenty-two, that's still kind of young to be the mom of a five year old. But that doesn't give people the right to be rude. Being (or looking) young does not make someone a bad parent, nor does it mean that the young mom was loose or that her parents were failures as parents. From a first glance you know nothing about this person other than that she appears young and has a child or is pregnant. What basis is that to judge someone on? Better yet, what about you makes you so special that you can even judge that person to begin with?
Yes, I am a young parent, and yes I started at a young age. Does that make me a bad parent by default? No. Does that mean my parents didn't instill in me a proper set of values and sense of right and wrong? No. Does that make my children mistakes? Never. My children never have been, nor will they ever be, mistakes in my eyes. Unplanned, yes, but a mistake, no. They are the most precious gifts I've ever been given. No, I wouldn't do it over, or waited until I was older. If I did my children would not be the children I have today.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Angry Baby

So some of you know who Angry Baby is, however probably 90% of you don't. Let's take a post to explain this phenomenon known as Angry Baby.
Angry Baby is Miss Bella-poo. No, I don't always call my daughter Angry Baby, as a matter of fact, I try to not her call her Angry Baby - unless she's being Angry Baby. To break it down, Angry Baby is the name for my daughter when she's just flat out angry for no reason that I can comprehend. She'll cry and yell (not scream, but these loud baby noises with a red face in a very very loud tone - kinda exactly like when someone is yelling at you) and keep it up from anywhere between 5 minutes to 2 hours. Not too big a deal, people have babies who are like that all the time, but I swear to God up above, the boys as babies spoiled me. Unless there was something wrong they didn't do this, they were Happy Babies. Bella -not so much. About 1/4 the time Bella is Happy Baby, another 1/4 she's Angry Baby, but here's where I can't complain, the other 1/2 the time Bella is Sleeping Baby.
So yeah, my baby fusses, but she gets so angry when she does. Calling her Angry Baby isn't so much of a complaint or insult, just a way to separate my daughter's different personalities.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Sorry you don't think I'm worthy.

I'm in my friend's wedding this Saturday and have been bemoaning the wearing of the bridesmaid's dress. Its not ugly or anything, its just one boob (not both mind you) won't fit in the bodice. So we went looking for a different dress yesterday. The dresses aren't all the same just the same color so getting a different one isn't too big of a deal. Well we could find none the specific color red she wanted. So she starts freaking and going "wait no its okay, lets just find similar, the maid of honor can be dressed a little different from the others."
I had no idea I was maid of honor, and apparently the other bridesmaid who was with us didn't know either. I have only met the other bridesmaid a handful of times, but I know she's really close to my friend. This lady and I have been getting along fine, but all the sudden she's giving me ugly looks and the cold shoulder, I can only guess because Emily said I was the maid of honor. I thought she just wasn't having one, but it turns out she just wasn't going to tell anyone until rehearsal Friday night so that people wouldn't be pressuring her into picking who they thought it should be. And I'll admit when she called and asked me to be a bridesmaid I was a little hurt at the idea that she picked someone else to be maid of honor. I mean I've been her best friend for 17 years. But I figured if she was picking someone else she had a good reason.
Now I'm ridiculously happy, but also at the same time I'm really worried. All the other bridesmaids are a really close group of friends that I never really got to know and like, and I know most of them don't really like me. They always thought I was a bad influence, and some other nasty things I won't repeat. I'm worried they might say something to Emily to make her feel bad, or act spiteful at the wedding and upset her day. When I casually mentioned to her that maybe someone else would be a more appropriate choice she looked at me and said "Trisha, you've been my best friend since we were in kindergarten, I never even consider anyone else and I don't want it to be anyone else." Which made the other lady with us even angrier. Now, other than just not wanting to wear the bridesmaid dress (we're back to the original, we're just going to get the bodice let out some), I don't want to go to the wedding. I don't want them trying to make me feel bad, or for them to make Emily feel bad. And Emily knowing me so well knew I would be thinking along these lines and called me this morning to say I'm not allowed to back out.