Myles has mastered the army crawl.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Good Morning!
This morning Kellan woke me up holding one of those bubble bottles--you know, the kind they hand out at weddings--right next to my face. He was yelling something like, "Mom! Now I have something to give to strangers! Urine!" And sure enough, the bottle was full of pee. Or urine, if you will.
Good rule of thumb: If he's smiling, make him wash his hands.
Good rule of thumb: If he's smiling, make him wash his hands.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
So, We Had A Baby
Back in April, that is. My due date was April 22, and my OB scheduled an induction for the 29th since I am a VBAC-er. There must be something psychological about being induced, because the last two times I have gone into labor on my induction days.
This time I woke up around 1:30 with contractions, and as soon as I woke up I knew I was in labor. But I was all set on getting induced and having an epidural and NOT being in pain (with Noelle I was crying at 4 cm), so I kept trying to sleep through the contractions. It doesn't make sense, I know, but I thought it did and I was determined. Finally around 5 a.m. the contractions were about 5 minutes apart so we headed in to the hospital.
We got there an hour before shift change, so I guess there was a lot of feet dragging and stuff. The nurse coming on was all worried about getting the baby warmer set up and organized and wasn't taking care of things that needed to happen before I got an epidural, but it wasn't that big of a deal yet. I wasn't in any pain.
My doctor checked me at 8:15 and I was almost at 6 cm. He told the nurse to order the epidural and that he would see me at noon. I wish I had said something like, "Um...it takes me less than 45 minutes to get from a 6 to a 10", but I didn't want to look dumb when I was in labor for another 5 hours. So they ordered the epidural. The anesthesiologist came pretty fast, but couldn't get started until they had two IV lines in and they knew my blood type. So we waited for the lab to come and take a blood sample, and we waited for the nurse to try to get a second IV line in. For some reason they were having a hard time getting my lines in, so this took a while. At this point, I had whimpered through 6 or 7 contractions and was sitting up on the edge of the bed.
Right when the second line was in place, I had to push. I have never felt that urge (I guess because I have always had an epidural?). It was like when you have to throw up--you know, all your muscles are going crazy, and you can't stop it if you wanted to. So I was sort of yelling my head off about having to push, and Jesse is trying hard not to laugh, because he thinks I'm insane, and NOBODY is ready for anything yet. All of a sudden our room is swarming with people, and it was all I could do just to lie back down on the bed. Those contractions were pretty intense, but it was good because only a small corner of my mind noticed the uncomfortable things happening. The other 99% of my brain was concentrating on the crazy contractions and wondering why I didn't get more than a second between each one. And concentrating on getting a good breath in that second. I guess the contractions were pretty distracting, though, because I didn't know I wasn't pushing until my doctor leaned forward and said that I had to push so we could get the shoulders un-stuck. I'm glad the anesthesiologist was there though, even if she didn't give me the epidural because she was telling people what to do. This sort of thing must happen a lot to her.
After the baby was born I had pretty bad shock. I didn't even wonder about the gender for about 5 minutes. They asked me if I wanted to hold the baby and I was just like, "Um...no."
But after about 10 minutes I thought I could hold him without dropping him. We named him Myles Bern Horrocks. He was 9 pounds 5 ounces and supposedly 19 inches long. I don't think that was right, though, because he doesn't look as fat as he should for being short and that heavy.
He looks just like Jesse. He has red hair...unfortunately...but maybe he'll like it. Or grow out of it.
Here he is:
At three months he is 16 pounds 8 ounces. He's smiley and patient and fat. Pretty much perfect.
This time I woke up around 1:30 with contractions, and as soon as I woke up I knew I was in labor. But I was all set on getting induced and having an epidural and NOT being in pain (with Noelle I was crying at 4 cm), so I kept trying to sleep through the contractions. It doesn't make sense, I know, but I thought it did and I was determined. Finally around 5 a.m. the contractions were about 5 minutes apart so we headed in to the hospital.
We got there an hour before shift change, so I guess there was a lot of feet dragging and stuff. The nurse coming on was all worried about getting the baby warmer set up and organized and wasn't taking care of things that needed to happen before I got an epidural, but it wasn't that big of a deal yet. I wasn't in any pain.
My doctor checked me at 8:15 and I was almost at 6 cm. He told the nurse to order the epidural and that he would see me at noon. I wish I had said something like, "Um...it takes me less than 45 minutes to get from a 6 to a 10", but I didn't want to look dumb when I was in labor for another 5 hours. So they ordered the epidural. The anesthesiologist came pretty fast, but couldn't get started until they had two IV lines in and they knew my blood type. So we waited for the lab to come and take a blood sample, and we waited for the nurse to try to get a second IV line in. For some reason they were having a hard time getting my lines in, so this took a while. At this point, I had whimpered through 6 or 7 contractions and was sitting up on the edge of the bed.
Right when the second line was in place, I had to push. I have never felt that urge (I guess because I have always had an epidural?). It was like when you have to throw up--you know, all your muscles are going crazy, and you can't stop it if you wanted to. So I was sort of yelling my head off about having to push, and Jesse is trying hard not to laugh, because he thinks I'm insane, and NOBODY is ready for anything yet. All of a sudden our room is swarming with people, and it was all I could do just to lie back down on the bed. Those contractions were pretty intense, but it was good because only a small corner of my mind noticed the uncomfortable things happening. The other 99% of my brain was concentrating on the crazy contractions and wondering why I didn't get more than a second between each one. And concentrating on getting a good breath in that second. I guess the contractions were pretty distracting, though, because I didn't know I wasn't pushing until my doctor leaned forward and said that I had to push so we could get the shoulders un-stuck. I'm glad the anesthesiologist was there though, even if she didn't give me the epidural because she was telling people what to do. This sort of thing must happen a lot to her.
After the baby was born I had pretty bad shock. I didn't even wonder about the gender for about 5 minutes. They asked me if I wanted to hold the baby and I was just like, "Um...no."
But after about 10 minutes I thought I could hold him without dropping him. We named him Myles Bern Horrocks. He was 9 pounds 5 ounces and supposedly 19 inches long. I don't think that was right, though, because he doesn't look as fat as he should for being short and that heavy.
He looks just like Jesse. He has red hair...unfortunately...but maybe he'll like it. Or grow out of it.
Here he is:
At three months he is 16 pounds 8 ounces. He's smiley and patient and fat. Pretty much perfect.
Monday, August 5, 2013
We're In!
I don't know how to tell this story in a cool way, so instead of trying to make it a story and spending a lot of time and not getting this posted, I will just post the bare facts and get it done.
Jesse applied to physical therapy school last fall. He got into Franklin Pierce in New Hampshire and was put on the alternates list for Eastern Washington University. We really wanted to go to Eastern; the tuition was cheaper by $50,000, it was a higher ranked school, we wouldn't have to take Ian away from the great schools here, and when we toured their facilities we just really liked them. I felt like Jesse belonged there.
Since he turned in his applications, we have literally prayed every night that he would get into Eastern, and all along I just felt like he would. I don't know...it's like, I felt like I should worry about what we were going to do if he didn't get in, and I needed to do things if we were moving to New Hampshire (like buy a plane ticket back for my sister's wedding in September and packing), but I didn't feel like I needed to worry about those things.
Anyways, a week ago Sunday we fasted and prayed that Jesse would get into Eastern, and I gave a talk in church and mentioned that we might be moving and we would appreciate prayers on our behalf. Bright and early on Monday, Eastern called and asked Jesse if he would be interested in a spot in their class!
This whole experience has taught me a few things. First, if you really feel like you should worry about something, but just can't, then maybe it's the Holy Ghost telling you that you don't need to. Which I knew already, and I really was hoping that it was the Spirit directing me and not just my own laziness. Second, sometimes Heavenly Father is planning on blessing you, and even if you feel like you are going to receive that blessing, you should still fast. Matthew 17:14-21 makes it clear that some miracles require fasting.
We are humbled by the love the Lord has shown us through this experience, and we're grateful for the prayers that have been offered up on our behalf.
I had a dream last week that we moved to New Hampshire and Eastern called and told Jesse that they had a spot, and we were like, "Oh, if only they had called a week earlier, we wouldn't have spent thousands of dollars to move, only just to move back!" I'm really glad that didn't happen in real life.
Jesse applied to physical therapy school last fall. He got into Franklin Pierce in New Hampshire and was put on the alternates list for Eastern Washington University. We really wanted to go to Eastern; the tuition was cheaper by $50,000, it was a higher ranked school, we wouldn't have to take Ian away from the great schools here, and when we toured their facilities we just really liked them. I felt like Jesse belonged there.
Since he turned in his applications, we have literally prayed every night that he would get into Eastern, and all along I just felt like he would. I don't know...it's like, I felt like I should worry about what we were going to do if he didn't get in, and I needed to do things if we were moving to New Hampshire (like buy a plane ticket back for my sister's wedding in September and packing), but I didn't feel like I needed to worry about those things.
Anyways, a week ago Sunday we fasted and prayed that Jesse would get into Eastern, and I gave a talk in church and mentioned that we might be moving and we would appreciate prayers on our behalf. Bright and early on Monday, Eastern called and asked Jesse if he would be interested in a spot in their class!
This whole experience has taught me a few things. First, if you really feel like you should worry about something, but just can't, then maybe it's the Holy Ghost telling you that you don't need to. Which I knew already, and I really was hoping that it was the Spirit directing me and not just my own laziness. Second, sometimes Heavenly Father is planning on blessing you, and even if you feel like you are going to receive that blessing, you should still fast. Matthew 17:14-21 makes it clear that some miracles require fasting.
We are humbled by the love the Lord has shown us through this experience, and we're grateful for the prayers that have been offered up on our behalf.
I had a dream last week that we moved to New Hampshire and Eastern called and told Jesse that they had a spot, and we were like, "Oh, if only they had called a week earlier, we wouldn't have spent thousands of dollars to move, only just to move back!" I'm really glad that didn't happen in real life.
Monday, April 15, 2013
I Don't Even Know What To Title This
My brain is so tired. I've never been this tired during the 3rd trimester before. Thank goodness I only have a week left!
Ian and Kellan still infrequently (and sometimes frequently) pee the bed at night. They wear diapers every night (many thanks to cloth diapers so I can do that without being frustrated about the cost!), and at least one of them gets up during the night to go to the bathroom. Sometimes they're insanely cranky and we have a middle of the night fight, and sometimes they're really happy and say funny things. Here are some funny things that Ian has said lately:
"Hey, mom, I peed the bed. But it's your fault for letting me drink so much milk at dinner!"
(terrified) "Mom, I was putting on underwear after I went to the bathroom and I heard a SQUID in our bedroom!"
And there was one more funny thing I wanted to remember, but I'm so tired...I'll add it if I can think of it later.
Ian loves kindergarten. He is excited about learning unless I'm the one behind it, is has an exceptional memory, tries to get Kellan to do things that will get him in trouble, is an excellent bike rider, has great penmanship but gets discouraged with reading if he can't get all the words right at first, is super helpful around the house, is obsessed with money and will steal it if it's left around, doesn't like eating too much sweet food, only likes getting his hands dirty if it's from mud or something equally fun, is an insanely sloppy eater, and is turning out to be allergic to a lot of things. Unfortunately.
Noelle has been very naughty lately. In one day she dumped milk in my mom's huge food storage salt bin and then threw the salt all over the kitchen floor, climbed up on the table and threw popcorn all over the tablecloth, and then threw it on the floor, and went pee in her potty chair and dumped it all over the floor. Not to mention the small naughty things she did all day. It makes me afraid to have another baby.
She is also exploring tantrums, teases Ian and Kellan all day, is very particular about what she wears (which causes problems on Sundays. I don't care what she wears during the week, but she's going to look cute at church!), wants to brush her teeth 20 times a day, refuses to let me help her brush her teeth, bosses Ian and Kellan around, is starting to fight me when I try to comb her hair, and is starting to say a lot of words. I guess if I could sum it up, she has a very strong personality and can kick my butt in a fight. For now. She has redeeming qualities, though, which are that she is super cuddly and freely gives hugs and kisses, loves cooking with me in the kitchen, and is a good eater. That last one is very important. Kellan started calling her Noelly Belly, and now everyone does.
Kellan loves coloring, reading with himself, and playing the piano. He gets himself dressed first thing in the morning (usually), is an early riser, has started having "nightmares" (although I suspect he says that so I'll let him sleep on our bedroom floor, which is fine because then he sleeps in), does NOT take any garbage from Ian, loves camping, is usually the one to get in trouble, say a "potty word", or do something daring, and wants to grow his hair long so he can "look creepy". He loves learning numbers, letters, and other things and quickly remembers them. He also has an insatiable appetite for sweets. He gets dessert on Sundays, and eats his in about 3 seconds. He also licks the plate.
That's us.
Ian and Kellan still infrequently (and sometimes frequently) pee the bed at night. They wear diapers every night (many thanks to cloth diapers so I can do that without being frustrated about the cost!), and at least one of them gets up during the night to go to the bathroom. Sometimes they're insanely cranky and we have a middle of the night fight, and sometimes they're really happy and say funny things. Here are some funny things that Ian has said lately:
"Hey, mom, I peed the bed. But it's your fault for letting me drink so much milk at dinner!"
(terrified) "Mom, I was putting on underwear after I went to the bathroom and I heard a SQUID in our bedroom!"
And there was one more funny thing I wanted to remember, but I'm so tired...I'll add it if I can think of it later.
Ian loves kindergarten. He is excited about learning unless I'm the one behind it, is has an exceptional memory, tries to get Kellan to do things that will get him in trouble, is an excellent bike rider, has great penmanship but gets discouraged with reading if he can't get all the words right at first, is super helpful around the house, is obsessed with money and will steal it if it's left around, doesn't like eating too much sweet food, only likes getting his hands dirty if it's from mud or something equally fun, is an insanely sloppy eater, and is turning out to be allergic to a lot of things. Unfortunately.
Noelle has been very naughty lately. In one day she dumped milk in my mom's huge food storage salt bin and then threw the salt all over the kitchen floor, climbed up on the table and threw popcorn all over the tablecloth, and then threw it on the floor, and went pee in her potty chair and dumped it all over the floor. Not to mention the small naughty things she did all day. It makes me afraid to have another baby.
She is also exploring tantrums, teases Ian and Kellan all day, is very particular about what she wears (which causes problems on Sundays. I don't care what she wears during the week, but she's going to look cute at church!), wants to brush her teeth 20 times a day, refuses to let me help her brush her teeth, bosses Ian and Kellan around, is starting to fight me when I try to comb her hair, and is starting to say a lot of words. I guess if I could sum it up, she has a very strong personality and can kick my butt in a fight. For now. She has redeeming qualities, though, which are that she is super cuddly and freely gives hugs and kisses, loves cooking with me in the kitchen, and is a good eater. That last one is very important. Kellan started calling her Noelly Belly, and now everyone does.
Kellan loves coloring, reading with himself, and playing the piano. He gets himself dressed first thing in the morning (usually), is an early riser, has started having "nightmares" (although I suspect he says that so I'll let him sleep on our bedroom floor, which is fine because then he sleeps in), does NOT take any garbage from Ian, loves camping, is usually the one to get in trouble, say a "potty word", or do something daring, and wants to grow his hair long so he can "look creepy". He loves learning numbers, letters, and other things and quickly remembers them. He also has an insatiable appetite for sweets. He gets dessert on Sundays, and eats his in about 3 seconds. He also licks the plate.
That's us.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Sometimes....
Sometimes both of your kids are in the bedroom and they're really quiet. And you know you should care about what's going on or getting ruined, but instead all you care about is that they keep it out of the living room. And stay quiet. That's today for me.
I often catch myself thinking that in seven weeks life will get easier. Then I have to stop myself and change my thinking to, "In seven weeks it will be easier to move, and the trade-off will be that life will be a LOT harder."
I remember when I thought I wasn't going to be able to go grocery shopping with two kids. I was such an amateur.
I often catch myself thinking that in seven weeks life will get easier. Then I have to stop myself and change my thinking to, "In seven weeks it will be easier to move, and the trade-off will be that life will be a LOT harder."
I remember when I thought I wasn't going to be able to go grocery shopping with two kids. I was such an amateur.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Kellan Embarasses Me...Again
As we were leaving my doctor's office today, we saw an older man in a wheel chair with his head leaning back and his jaw slack. Kellan shouted, "Mom, that man's dead!"
Let me just say, for having just seen a supposed dead man, he was pretty calm about it. You'd think he saw dead people every day. Or maybe he is just used to having to try to wake me up so I can help him go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
Also, the other day I gave the boys gum after we took the sacrament. I caught Kellan just as he was cocking his arm back to throw his wadded-up gum wrapper at the bishopric. We were in the second row, so he probably would've at least made it up in the pulpit. I hope he was aiming for Jesse, but deep inside, I know he has no compunction against throwing trash at anyone.
P.S.: Every time we walk into the chapel at church, regardless of if we're sitting down before the meeting or re-entering after a trip to the bathroom, Kellan gallops up the aisle. He manages to evade me grasp every single time.
Let me just say, for having just seen a supposed dead man, he was pretty calm about it. You'd think he saw dead people every day. Or maybe he is just used to having to try to wake me up so I can help him go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
Also, the other day I gave the boys gum after we took the sacrament. I caught Kellan just as he was cocking his arm back to throw his wadded-up gum wrapper at the bishopric. We were in the second row, so he probably would've at least made it up in the pulpit. I hope he was aiming for Jesse, but deep inside, I know he has no compunction against throwing trash at anyone.
P.S.: Every time we walk into the chapel at church, regardless of if we're sitting down before the meeting or re-entering after a trip to the bathroom, Kellan gallops up the aisle. He manages to evade me grasp every single time.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Today I Got Stuck In The Couch
At first I panicked. Then I had Kellan bring me the phone, I called Jesse, and I couldn't stop laughing. Here's what happened:
Kellan and I were doing fun educational things. Noelle came to join us and she pushed one of the magnetic letters we were using through the cushions of the couch. This couch is going to start sounding really weird, so I should explain it's a reclining couch, so it has parts that move and gaps and stuff.
Anyways, it ended up falling on the floor underneath the couch and was sitting on top of the frame. Moving the couch wasn't going to do any good to get it out, and if I tried, the cartilage in my hips would probably tear. My solution was to recline the footrest, recline the seat back, lay on my side, scoot under the footrest, and jam my arm over a bar and through a triangle of metal. Since I still couldn't reach the letter I scooted closer. Still couldn't reach the letter. I decided it was a bad job and tried to pull my hand out, but it was firmly stuck. Like, I knew that even if I could reach my hand with my other hand, which I couldn't, lotion would in no way help. The only thing that would help would be to chop off my hand. No doubt I would've tried it during my panic stage, but I couldn't reach it. I tried to recline the seat back more, but it wouldn't budge.
I couldn't figure out why it was so stuck when it seemed to go in fine, but then I started to freak out and try to use a lot of force and sheer panic to get it out. No luck. I called Jesse and asked him to come home and help me. (Kellan brought me a phone. He was so helpful. No doubt he'll talk about it in Primary on Sunday and make me look crazy.) After I hung up and calmed down, I realized that I had scooted forward and possibly changed the angle of my hand, so I scooted back and tried yanking it out again. Didn't work. Then I tried reclining the seat back from that angle. Yeah. Wish I had tried that before I called Jesse and scraped up my hand.
The moral of the story? Grease up your hands before jamming them into small triangles of metal.
Kellan and I were doing fun educational things. Noelle came to join us and she pushed one of the magnetic letters we were using through the cushions of the couch. This couch is going to start sounding really weird, so I should explain it's a reclining couch, so it has parts that move and gaps and stuff.
Anyways, it ended up falling on the floor underneath the couch and was sitting on top of the frame. Moving the couch wasn't going to do any good to get it out, and if I tried, the cartilage in my hips would probably tear. My solution was to recline the footrest, recline the seat back, lay on my side, scoot under the footrest, and jam my arm over a bar and through a triangle of metal. Since I still couldn't reach the letter I scooted closer. Still couldn't reach the letter. I decided it was a bad job and tried to pull my hand out, but it was firmly stuck. Like, I knew that even if I could reach my hand with my other hand, which I couldn't, lotion would in no way help. The only thing that would help would be to chop off my hand. No doubt I would've tried it during my panic stage, but I couldn't reach it. I tried to recline the seat back more, but it wouldn't budge.
I couldn't figure out why it was so stuck when it seemed to go in fine, but then I started to freak out and try to use a lot of force and sheer panic to get it out. No luck. I called Jesse and asked him to come home and help me. (Kellan brought me a phone. He was so helpful. No doubt he'll talk about it in Primary on Sunday and make me look crazy.) After I hung up and calmed down, I realized that I had scooted forward and possibly changed the angle of my hand, so I scooted back and tried yanking it out again. Didn't work. Then I tried reclining the seat back from that angle. Yeah. Wish I had tried that before I called Jesse and scraped up my hand.
The moral of the story? Grease up your hands before jamming them into small triangles of metal.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
A Connoisseur, of Sorts
Jesse and I are going to have a baby. In 12 weeks. We don't know the gender. It's a surprise. I haven't really posted about it because I'm exhausted from some deficiency of something or other. Hopefully I'll get my energy back just in time to get exhausted from newborn care.
This pregnancy I have had a lot of reservations about going places. I never thought about why that was until Jesse and I went somewhere and I was getting really crabby about something. After some quick but deep introspection I realized I was cranky because there were no comfortable chairs anywhere. The seats were too deep, the chairs too high off the floor, the seats not padded....For whatever reason, no chair even approached comfortable. I realized that this had been a problem for not only this whole pregnancy, but for every single pregnancy I have had.
The frozen yogurt place we went to this last weekend had horrible chairs: the choices were wood, or a wall bench that had a seat that wasn't deep enough to even reach my mid-thigh. That made me really angry. I can see all the chairs being too big, because I'm short. But if a chair is too small for my 5'3" frame, SOMETHING is wrong.
Honestly, I wouldn't be able to make myself to go church if I didn't, you know, have a testimony. Chairs at church are horrible. You either sit in the really deep couches in the foyer (and have your legs stick straight out in front of you because you want your back to touch the back of the couch, or you have your feet on the floor, but have to slouch and subsequently squish your belly.), or you sit in a folding chair of the hard variety, (in which case your butt slowly slides out from under you until you're folding into your belly), or you sit on the padded ones (and have to arch your lumbar area which feels like DEATH, again, to keep from folding into your belly). Why doesn't anyone respect lumbar support?
I realize not everyone has this problem. Probably if I were taller and fit more chairs it wouldn't be such an issue for me. But, because nearly every single chair I sit in feels horrible, I feel like this is some kind of conspiracy or experiment to see if anyone actually goes insane from feeling beyond miserable.
Now that I've realized why I never want to leave the house (in part--the other reason being that I never want to put on real pants), it just makes me even more unmotivated to leave. Honestly, why would I choose misery?
This pregnancy I have had a lot of reservations about going places. I never thought about why that was until Jesse and I went somewhere and I was getting really crabby about something. After some quick but deep introspection I realized I was cranky because there were no comfortable chairs anywhere. The seats were too deep, the chairs too high off the floor, the seats not padded....For whatever reason, no chair even approached comfortable. I realized that this had been a problem for not only this whole pregnancy, but for every single pregnancy I have had.
The frozen yogurt place we went to this last weekend had horrible chairs: the choices were wood, or a wall bench that had a seat that wasn't deep enough to even reach my mid-thigh. That made me really angry. I can see all the chairs being too big, because I'm short. But if a chair is too small for my 5'3" frame, SOMETHING is wrong.
Honestly, I wouldn't be able to make myself to go church if I didn't, you know, have a testimony. Chairs at church are horrible. You either sit in the really deep couches in the foyer (and have your legs stick straight out in front of you because you want your back to touch the back of the couch, or you have your feet on the floor, but have to slouch and subsequently squish your belly.), or you sit in a folding chair of the hard variety, (in which case your butt slowly slides out from under you until you're folding into your belly), or you sit on the padded ones (and have to arch your lumbar area which feels like DEATH, again, to keep from folding into your belly). Why doesn't anyone respect lumbar support?
I realize not everyone has this problem. Probably if I were taller and fit more chairs it wouldn't be such an issue for me. But, because nearly every single chair I sit in feels horrible, I feel like this is some kind of conspiracy or experiment to see if anyone actually goes insane from feeling beyond miserable.
Now that I've realized why I never want to leave the house (in part--the other reason being that I never want to put on real pants), it just makes me even more unmotivated to leave. Honestly, why would I choose misery?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)