When Kids Know Too Much

We recently welcomed our 4th child, a daughter . After all the "agony " of being in the hospital for 10 weeks ...everything worked out fine. We are so blessed and she is beautiful. Last night I saw an interesting site that showed me just how much this baby adventure affected my other kids. I walked in on my oldest son and oldest daughter playing. It's a sight that warms my heart whenever I see it. I usually casually smile and walk on by. But something about this play was different. My daughter was laying on the floor with a blanket propped over her chest on some chairs. It looked exactly like when I had my C section. I stopped to listen. I heard that my girl was going to have a baby and my boy was going to do surgery! He had his Lego knife, needle ( to sew her up) and a tool to " cut the womb" and one to hold her skin open! The baby was delivered successfully and then I saw my sweet princess laying down with her new baby saying " I can't move my legs , but I have a baby!" She even had a Lego bed controller for her makeshift hospital bed! Wow, I thought that this new addition would enlighten our world, but I didn't know just how much!

Now Showing: Christine ...Unplugged

For 3 months I have been tethered like an untrainable dog to a medicine pump. It catches on everything, I have had to take extra precaution in the shower, and it has woken me up at night begging to be "fed" with yet another vial of medicine. It has been a very inconvenient lifestyle. Well, as of tomorrow morning I will be going unplugged! I am excited and regretful at the same time. I am excited to be free of the burdens that accompany this medical intervention. I can move around with out wearing a fashionable blue pouch attached to every outfit I wear. I won't have to stick myself in the belly with a new needle every 5 days. I won't have to get up in the middle of the night to change the meds or figure out why in the world the thing is beeping at me. It's freedom, something I haven't had completely since I got pregnant. But, on the other hand I'm really not looking forward to this change. ( I know...very Sybil of me~!) I know that I will have a baby soon. I'm glad and I really can't wait to meet this little one but I'm not ready. It's not because the nursery isn't complete...I haven't even started . It's not because I don't think I can handle 4 kids...piece of cake. I'm not ready for several reasons. First, I have finally gotten back to my kids and have assumed some of the mommy duties. It feels great to be giving my kids the attention that I haven't been able to give for the many weeks of my hospitalization. Also, the contractions are under control with the medicine even when I do activities. I have so , so , so much to get done before the holidays that it would be nice to "postpone" the birth as long as possible. Simple things like trying to unpack my hospital bags and clean up from under the destruction of my house, donate toys, etc. I get so winded now that each task either gets half done, not done, or takes twice as long. And finally I don't want to let go of this pregnancy because it is probably my laast time " growing " a person. I want to feel the baby's movements and kicks for as long as possible. I want to memorize everything about that feeling. It's bitter sweet. The detaching of my pregnancy life line ( my medicine) means new life and the end of a chapter. But this is what I have been working for and praying for. God has gotten my baby to full term. I look forward to being a mommy again, and if that maternal instinct hits me in the future ...I'll just get a dog.

Heck No I Won't Go!

Okay, this is the first time I have blogged without a plan. This could go anywhere. Be prepared to change topics in the blink of an eye...just thought I would warn you. I seriously think I have a problem.I feel that I am addicted to the hospital. I'm serious! I had an ultrasound yesterday and that pesky cervix that landed me here in the first place has finally decided to "straighten up and fly right" . It has grown! I am very pleased. I have prayed for this for two months now. Praise the Lord, prayers CAN be answered. Either that or those"vitamins" that the friendly nurses give me every morning really contain a secret "miracle grow " compound that they are trying out experimentally and secretively on poor unsuspecting patients! (I warned you that this post could go anywhere.) I however , choose to believe in divine intervention. One would expect me to be dancing, packing my bags, and saying " so long room 424!", but I'm not. I even had a doctor come in and ask " So, you want to go home?". I quickly told him in a high pitched , squeaky stressed out voice not to pressure me ! I think he got a little scared.He told me the look on my face was one filled with anxiety. I think saying I showed a little "anxiety" was putting it mildly. I am almost certain it was the look of a woman holding on by her teeth , ready to snap and lose it at any moment. I wasn't at all surprised when he made a quick exit! I probably looked like the girl form the Exorcist! Don't get me wrong, I want to go home. I miss my family. But....to tell you the truth, I'm scared.It seems like every 30 minutes I am changing my mind about what I should do. I don't make decisions well. Never have, never will.It is amazing that I am such a high functioning adult. I would never be able to play "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" because having to say that something is definitely my "final answer" is just to much of a commitment. I'm pathetic. My nurses, my husband, and various friends tell me that a couple more weeks here won't hurt. Obviously what I am doing is working and who knows what would happen if I went home and got thrown back into the crazy environment that I live in. At home I would still be on bed rest, but it would be noisy, someone would constantly want my attention, and I would be expected to have at least SOME responsibilities. All of that is enough to make a woman contract! I'm not really a bad mother, honestly. In fact, I would say I'm pretty good. It's not that I don't want to do all those things at home its just that ...being in the hospital is ...well...kind of nice. In the hospital I see adults EVERY day. They are nice people too who genuinely seem to enjoy my company as well. ( Of course maybe when they leave my room and go back to the nurses station they have a different story to tell, who knows) . I get my food brought to me. Granted I don't really like the food, but it is food and I don't have to feel like I am putting anyone out to get it. My bed gets changed constantly thanks to the nighttime "bed police", I have a constant supply of water and ice, and my room gets cleaned.... everyday! ( My room at home almost never gets cleaned because it is the last on my list!) I kind of feel like a princess. The only difference is that I rarely get to feel the wind on my face and my room feels smaller everyday. I guess that would make me lean a little more toward the Rapunzel instead of Cinderella on the princess scale. Another thing that I'm sure a princess doesn't encounter is the fact that there are people who walk through my door early in the morning and late at night. I can definitely say that when I was living on my own I never had a strange man stand over my bed first thing in the morning to ask me if I was "leaking, bleeding, or cramping". If there had been I would have probably gotten all crazy and pulled a kickboxing move on the guy. ( I took kick boxing for a short time in college...I also took Irish dancing, so maybe I would do a little Riverdance on the strangers face. Either way, it wouldn't be pretty). I feel like a fraud staying here. I feel like everyone is talking about me and how I should just go home. At any minute I am sure that someone will come in screaming about how I am just an attention grabber and that I should go home so that someone who REALLY needs the bed can have it! I know, I know...I'm sorry. I promise to go to confession about this...its very stressful. I feel like I'm living a lie. But, on the other hand, should I really care? I'm paying for the privilege to be here and if I need a little , tiny bit more time to grow my baby in the quiet environment of the hospital so be it! My goal has always been to take this baby home with me when it is born. I would hate to leave too early where my baby would have to spend even a day in the hospital without me! And, if on the day I am discharged, I walk to my open door with the whole free world before me and I just stand there with a blank look on my face, its okay. If someone needs to get behind me and push a little that's okay too. As a busy mom I get so little time to myself, and while this was not exactly how I would have liked to spend my free time at least I can say it was definitely all to myself.

Don't Sweat the Sweet Stuff...

Gluclose Tolerance Day! Oh joy of joys! Gluclose Testing is the one thing every pregnant woman must endure and no one looks forward to . It's right up there with stretch marks, extra unwanted hair, and swollen ankles. It's a right of passage if you will. I don't want to over glamorize it, because it was definately not a day I was looking forward to . I was hoping since I was in the hospital they would overlook the fact that I needed to get the testing done. Curses on them for doing their job! My testing day started first thing in the morning. A lab technician came in , took my blood and handed me the nice 10 oz. bottle of flavored sugar water. They flavored it orange to make those of us who don't know any better ( first time moms) think that it would be a nice fruity drink.It's much like the trick that nurses do when they give you a shot. They say they are going to count to three, but lucky you gets the big old needle on two! That kind of deception will only work once! Since I am an old hat at this pregnancy thing I knew exactly what my little "morning beverage" would taste like. I immediately tried to do some damage control. I asked for a cup of ice. For some reason this repulsive concoction tastes better cold. I have no idea why, but I knew that if ice would help me keep this junk down, then ice I would get! The pleasant technician gladly supplied me with my ice cup. Just then, the technician leaned against the wall, crossed her arms and said " I need to watch you drink that." She went from friendly to intimidateing. I immediately felt like a prisoner doing a random drug test with someone making sure I wasn't smuggling in "clean pee"! A rational mind would say that there is no way someone was worried that I would tamper with the results( how could I?) , but my pregnat mind started to sweat! Was she staring me down? Will she watch my every move? Suddenly the simple little act of drinking a super sugary drink became very stressful. I reluctantly began to drink , partially because I wanted it over with, and partially because I was scared of the guard...uh...technician. The stuff tasted like snow cone syrup without the snowcone. It has more sugar than anyone should put in their body at one time. Since I was guzzling my drink painfully slow it gave me time to think of all the ways someone could create the same effect as the gluclose testing, but by more pleasurable means. I came up with three great ideas! You could eat two Krispy Kreme donuts, a double scoop waffle cone from Bruster's icecream, or one big glass of Sweet Tea from Mc Allister's Deli. I would have the testing every week if they needed me to just to have those treats! I vowed right then and there that if I made it through this test in one piece I would write a letter to someone telling them of my idea so that other innocent mothers wouldn't have to suffer. Who knows, I could radically change the way prenatal care is given from this day forward. I would be a hero to all the pregnant women of the world! Maybe I was procrastinating enough with the daydreams so I pulled my head out of the clouds and came back to reality and the task at hand. Getting the drink down and keeping it down. When I was finished, I looked at the tech and said " All done". I paused after saying that because I was unsure if this situation warrented me opening my mouth and sticking my tounge out at the tech so that she could verify that I did indeed swallow the mixure and wasn't just holding it in my cheeks. But, I made a quick judgement call and decided to keep my mouth shut. I did , however, look down at my "empty " cup only to find that the ice cubes that I had demanded were tinged orange signifying that there were a few drops remaining. I am sure my eyes immediately got shifty. I was afraid that I would get caught, so I did what anyone would do in that situation. I changed the subject, hid the evidence , and takled a little louder than normal to hide my guilt! She never even questioned me, can you believe it? I must be a pretty good actress. She said she would come back in exactly an hour to take my blood again. If she passed the hour mark the test would be considered null and void and I would have to do it again!There was NO way I was going to let that to happen! If I had to pull my poor atrophied body out of my bed, hunt her down,and drag her back by her hair she would be on time. I know it sounds harse, but I'm just passionate. Passionate about how much I hate gluclose testing and do not want to repeat it! One hour to the minute that I had finished my "drink" the tech showed up . Boy was she lucky, because if I had gotten out of the bed, I would have....I would have...I would have ...(sigh) done nothing. Frankly I'm scared that the nurses would yell at me if they saw me open my door. But, if she had been late she surely would've gotten a displeased look from me and that would have said it all! Having survived the testing I decided to reward myself with some breakfast. I picked up a piece of cinnamon bread that my mother in law had made me and took a bite. Even though it was delicious, I stopped in mid chew. I suddenly realized what a horrible mistake I was makiing. I was putting more sugar into an already saturated body! I had visions of my innards crystalizing into rock candy! I carefully put down the bread and called my nurse for a much safer alternative....saltines and peanut butter. Not the breakfast of champions, but at least it wouldn't put me into a sugar coma! When my nurse came in to deliver my provisions she asked if I wanted to do my contraction monitoring while I ate.Uh...let me think about that....NO! The last thing I wanted to do was feed my baby a zillion times its body weight in sugar, strap it down to a machine and see if it irritates my uterus enough to contract.I'm not traditionally a betting woman, but I'd say it probably would. I know that when my kids are all loopy from sugar they tend to irritate me,I can't imagine my uterus being much different! So, I passed on the monitoring knowing I had all morning to accomplish that task and decided that I was going to stay far, far away from sugar for as long as I could. I would be strong. I needed to cut out excess sugar anyway, it wasn't healthy. I was excited to be turning over a new leaf! I lasted until lunch!

73

That's the number of ceiling tiles in my hospital room. It only took me three weeks to get bored enough to count. I'm keeping so busy here, I don't have time to get bored often. Each day starts at exactly 7:30 am with doctors coming to make rounds. Since I don't like the idea of people creeping up on me while I'm sleeping ( I've seen too many horror flicks) I set an alarm and get up and dressed before they come. This usually works, except for that day when a doctor had come to the hospital to perform a c-section and decided to make rounds a little early. I understood, why go home just to come back a few hours later.But, did she HAVE to do it at 4:30 a.m.? While I found this surprise visit a little disturbing and annoying it did shake up my day. See what I mean about never a dull moment? After the doctors do their rounds the morning festivities begin. I get my morning treats...a vitamin and a ...uh..."poo"pill. I am so favored by the nursing staff that they slip me a second "poo" pill at night. Now, if you asked them I'm sure they would say it was doctor's orders, but I can't verify that information. I think they are trying to cover with that story. I'm sure they would get in trouble if they showed too much favoritism to one patient. After my lovely "treats" I get my blood pressure and temperature taken . This happens 4 times a day. I have been observing my various nurses to see if anyone has unique method to this procedure, but have yet to find one. Then the nurses listen to the baby's heartbeat and strap me down to monitor for contractions. Hearing the heartbeat is awesome, but sometimes the unexpected can happen. One night, while listening to little baby Frank my nurse, my husband, and I'm sure the lady next door were treated to something unexpected, intestinal noises! Now, we've all been there before...your stomach growls or your intestines "creak" utterly embarrassing you because you are sure that everyone around you can hear. Imagine , if you will those sounds being broadcast over a speaker! I'd be lying if I said it wasn't embarrassing, beccause it was...very. One thing for sure it definately was NOT boring! Another fun thing that I get to do each day is order my meals. I order three meals a day from a very impressive looking black menu , which I've memorized. It's all very upscale, please.control your jealousy. Ordering meals is always an adventure.Even though I'm careful to order things that I know have a high probability of tasting okay, sometimes I'm wrong. Twenty-five percent of the time I don't even get what I've ordered. They often leave things off or substitute items. I think the cafeteria staff does that for our best interest. They want to shake things up and break up the monotony of the day. I appreciate the thought, I do , but the last thing you want to mess up is a pregnant lady's food order! One day I ordered green beans. I was trying to be mindful of my nutritional needs. When I opened up the container holding my vitamin rich green beans I was livid to find that it was filled instead with ...apple cobbler! I wanted to call someone and explain to them that my baby needed its green vegetables not this sugary concoction that was in my bowl. But, since I do have quite a bit more time here I didn't' want to rock the boat so I ate the cobbler. But I didn't like it! Okay...I did. How could someone possibly get bored when all this excitement is happening around them day after day? Wednesdays are extra special for me here in the hospital and I can tell the nursing staff thinks they are special too. Wednesdays are shot days. The shot is intended to keep me from going into preterm labor, but I think they have healing properties for everyone. My usual Wednesday nurse can come in looking tired and worn out, but put that shot in her hand and she comes alive! On more than one occasion she has come into my room smiling and dancing! It gets me excited for the shot too. I tell you it is such an uplifting experience that I think we should let all the tired or depressed people in the world to walk around with a syringe full of progesterone. It would do wonders and possibly bring about world peace. Of course, one could say that the more obvious reason for her mood change has nothing to do with the shot itself, but the joy of inflicting pain on another human being. I am not so sure that stabbing people in the bum is the best outlet, but if it can make her happy I'm glad I can be there to help. Nothing is predictable in this crazy rabbit hole. I swear even the clocks are in on the fun. I swear that sometimes the clocks are not just slow ...the go backwards. I will look at the clock and see 3:30, an hour later I'll check again and it's still 3:30! Now I've come up with a few theories for this . 1.I desperately need more practice with analog clocks. 2. My eyes are just terribly weak from the pregnancy. or 3.) Somehow this hospital is stuck in some kind of time warp. I haven't decided which one is more plausible. I'm saving that to do tomorrow. So, as you can see, life in the hospital is exciting and unpredictable and I only have about 1 1/2 months left to enjoy it. For now I will soak up every crazy moment. Here is my plan for the next few weeks...Eat , Pray, Love. I will EAT any chocolate that comes my way. I will PRAY that I stay pregnant and that my family stays safe, and I will LOVE the fact that I ( at least for a little while ) don't have to empty the dishwasher!

The Origin of Human Stress

( This post was written about 7 or 8 months ago...) It's 7am , my room is dark and cozy. I'm wrapped up in my nest of pillows I create each night to support my ever growing belly when "WHAM! " the door flies open, a doctor appears and she turns on the fluorescent lights directly over my head! I immediately went from warmth and happiness to bright lights, noise, and annoyance! It definitely got my blood going and gave me something to grumble about the rest of the morning. This "rude awakening" gave me great empathy for the poor baby growing in my belly. It's happy and content. It's got prime reality. It's warm, dark, quiet...perfect. But in three months my little peanut will be evicted without warning and forced to face the cold, bright, noisy world! No wonder babies cry when they are born...its not just about taking their first breath, they are ticked off! What a way to enter the world, mad and stressed. This,I'm afraid, is only the beginning. Being a human is stressful. From the moment of birth you are trying to live up to others expectations . We all know that the first thing the doctors give a newborn baby is a score. It's not in the world but one tiny minute and it is already being judged! You see there just isn't any way we can escape the pressure to be great, its forced upon us. I wonder if over achievers and underachievers are formed right there, in that moment, depending on their APGAR score.Hmmm...something to think about. If being born is difficult just wait, it just gets progressively harder. Now the newborn is expected to learn ...everything! They have to learn to hold their heads up, recognize people, smile, eat, control their body spasms, and figure out what day and night are all about. It's no wonder babies cry so much , its an overwhelming amount of responsibility for such a tiny person. It's not fair if you ask me. Human beings are at the top of the food chain, a superior species. You would think that we could get a break and be born knowing how to do something right off the bat. Giraffes fall from their mother and can walk almost immediately. I don't think we look too superior! Why does it take us SO long to learn things? I think secretly all the other animals God has created are probably laughing at us for being such slow learners! Of course we can laugh right back, because , although it may feel like it at times, we don't live in zoos, we don't have to kill our dinner every night, and we have those cool opposable thumbs! So there wild kingdom! I think I know the reason why we don't remember too much until after we are 2 years old. The reminder of how hard it was in the beginning would throw us into a tailspin and make us completely incapacitated.No one would want to go on! God knew what he was doing-he gave us natural anesthesia. Sometimes I wish it didn't wear off when I was a toddler. I could use it now and then. But I do have a substitute and its name is chocolate! Okay, so the baby survived tummy time with its face pressed into the Boppy . Now its on to bigger things. Sitting , grabbing, rolling over, pulling up ( are we raising people or circus animals with all of these tricks?),feeding its self ,walking, falling, walking again, talking, learning to not pee on themselves, the list goes on and on and on. It is such a good thing that children are mental sponges and relatively good multitaskers. They have to keep all that new info they learn filed away in their little mental file cabinets. Granted,the cabinets are pretty empty so its easy to recall the info. (My "file cabinet", on the other hand, is a mess. I'm a clutter bug and have so much in there that I can't find what I'm looking for half the time! Things are never "stored" where they should be ...much like my house.Sometimes it amazes me that I walk and chew gum at the same time!) If you made a list of all the things that you are expected to know or do in your life it would be quite long, I'm sure. It's enough to make you shudder. Do you think I could have my baby born in the dark, immediately wrapped in a Snuggi, with teeny tiny earphones placed on its head? I just want the first minutes of life to be comfortable before it gets thrown to the lions. Humans have so much stress that we don't realize. ( Can you imagine? I have so much stress that I DO realize!) But, we have to remember that God won't give us more than we can handle, we are strong. And when it feels like we are about to crumble we can remember one very important thing God has done for us....He gave us chocolate.

My U. I. ( Unfortunate Incarceration)

" Nobody knows the trouble I've seen..." It was bound to happen, my incarceration that is. My body had not been behaving and had put me on bed rest( aka minimum security) for a week. I thought that as long as we were good prisoners and "Ms. Cerv." stayed out of trouble we would be just fine. Bed rest at home wasn't so bad. I could still micromanage my family from across the house. No problem! I'd hear a loud crash and I'd yell "What was that ? Are you okay?" Knowing full well I couldn't help. The toilet in the hall outside my bedroom would flush, but the faucet wouldn't go on so I'd yell " Wash your hands! Wash your hands!" like a maniac until SOMEONE complied. But, even being a model " inmate" I knew my dream of minimum security was going down the drain. Every time I was granted "leave" for a doctor's appointment I would pack my bag and kiss my babies...just in case. This last week , while sitting with the warden ...uh...doctor I was told the bad news. "Ms. Cerv." was up to her old tricks and it was going to land me in the hospital...the big house...maximum security! I cried and cried at the warden hoping for some leniency . He said I may be granted parole in a few days. I reluctantly went. I got my prison bracelet, prison uniform, and the all comfy prison bed. The Four Seasons this was not! Of course never having been the Four Seasons I can't really compare. A few days went by, my contractions stopped and the doctor was ready to sign my release. I said " Not yet!". The hospital is no fun, but at least it is safe. I wanted another ultrasound before I was ready to face society again as a free citizen.The news was a little better after the last ultrasound, but still not out of the scary zone. Here it is quiet. I can get in and out of bed with out the help of a step stool. I don't stress( too much) about what is going on in my house..besides we'll just have a boot camp when I get home to undo any damage. I don't have to sit in the doctor's office 3-6 hours for an appointment and best of all I'm giving my baby ...God's gift...a chance at survival. So for now, I will bang my plastic cup against my bed rails, sing my sad songs , and keep a tally of my days served. For my baby's sake I hope it is a long sentence. As for me, some may worry that I will lose my mind, but those who know me well know that it was lost years ago!

A Mother's Day Away....

Today I decided to get away from my family for an entire seven hours!!! Isn't that wonderful? Of course it would be, if I were shopping or catching a movie, but I was at the doctor. I was lucky enough to be able to get an appointment with my perinatologist on a day where they were overbooked and short staffed! Just what a pregnant woman needs...sit in a chair for hours, deprive themselves of food and water, and read outdated magazines with goodness knows what kind of germs crawling all over them! Once the nurse finally called my name I was thrilled!Could this really be it? Will my appointment finally begin? I have to admit I was a little giddy. I even planned what I would go get for lunch on the way home.She weighed me, took my blood pressure and then led me to another room. I was a little disoriented when I walked through the door and saw everyone who had walked through the door before me! I screamed in my head "NOOOOOO!" ( or maybe that was just my stomach growling) Anyway, we were in waiting room number two.I was starting to wonder how many waiting rooms I would have to endure . Different magazines , same bordeom. After about another 45 minutes I was ready for my ultrasound. That's when the party really got started! I was there to have them look at my cervix, but I forgot how much fun my uterine abnormalities are for ultrasound techs. It's kind of like a side show! The tech called in a resident doctor. Then she said " I'm sure other people will want to see this , I'll be right back." She went out the door and was gone for a good while . I couldn't see much through the crack of the door, but I think I saw her giving out tickets. A few minutes later I swear I heard "Ultrasound , party of 4"...of course this could have been my ears playing tricks on me. At this point I had missed lunch and you know how that can mess up a pregnant woman. So...4 people came in to check out today's Feture Presentation "Christine's womb: a reproductive story". I understand that this office is a teaching clinic and since I am so unique they wanted to use me as a teachable moment. Being an educator, I'm all for teachable moments, but when you are in various stages of undress with a ton of ultrasound goo smeared on your belly ,its just a little hard to get on the education bandwagon. After the party was over and all of the little uterus gawkers had cleared the room I was in for more waiting! I waited to get into the room to see the doctor and then I waited to actually see the doctor. Luckily I had some Tic Tacs in my purse for lunch . After all this time the doctor told me that although my cervix was short, it was not short enough! What?!! I can't win..not long enough, not short enough. I feel like such a failure. I hate hearing I'm not "good" enough. He said that it neeed to get shorter before he could sew it shut. But, here's the catch...I only had 2 weeks for it to shrink.After that they couldn't do the procedure. I am even more confused than ever! Do I pray that it doesn't shrink ? If it doesn't and I miss the window it could be problematic. I would still have 12 weeks for the silly thing to disappear which would definately land me in the hospital. Or...do I pray that it shrinks small enough, but not too small , so that the doc can sew me up and hope that it doesn't cause me to go into labor , cause infections..etc...etc. Wow! Talk about a rock and a hard place. Very confused. Not that I have much control over it anyway! At least after this marathon doctors appointment I was able to get him to take pity on me and give me a piece of pizza which he had just ordered for his staff. ( I'm pretty good at puppy dog eyes.) And the best part is that next week I get to go to not one...but two doctor's appointments! Woo hooo! I better bring a big book to read, do you think War and Peace will be long enough?

Oh cervix...why have you forsaken me?

As many of you know, I am 5 1/2 months pregnant with baby number four. I have had three preterm labors, two preterm babies( one born 16 weeks early), and one very long hospital stay for bed rest. And, it is starting all over again with this baby. I just don't do things simply. What fun would that be? I like to shake things up every few years, cause great anxiety to myself,throw my household into a tizzy, inconvenience my extended family who has to come and take over with the other children, and drug myself with medicine while I cross my toes, fingers,and eyelashes that the baby doesn't come early. I know strange way to break up the hum drum of normal life. I agree...its getting old. Maybe next time I want a thrill I'll just go to Disney World. My doctor told me yesterday that I should be in the hospital. My cervix is just basically trying to disappear. My dear doctor said that I don't have a traditional "incompetent cervix". He says mine is just "uncooperative". What? Is saying "uncooperative" just more P.C.? I know it is harse to call something "incompetent" , but come on I don't think it will hurt the poor cervix's feelings or cause its self esteem to go down. Let's just call it what it is. What do you do for an uncooperative cervix anyway? When I have a child who is uncooperative there is usually a punishment or time out involved. I don't just sit back and let it continue! Although I have tried, I don't think lecturing the thing will help a bit, but it does make me feel a tiny bit better to yell at it.(It's just hard to explain when I get caught.) I'm going to talk to my doctor about a possible cerclage. A cerclage is when they surgically put a stitch in the cervix to keep it closed. Heck, I'm willing to have anything installed. Bring on the zipper,button, super glue, staples, whatever it takes to keep the silly thing shut. Wouldn't it be cool if Mc Gyver was an OB/GYN? Right there in the office he would have whipped out his duct tape, a shoelace, paperclip, and a gum wrapper and I'd be all set! Everything would be locked up tighter than Fort Knox. That would be great, but it would be pretty hard to explain when it came time for delivery. All kidding aside...if this is one of the crosses I need to bear in life , I will. I have inconvenient pregnancies for sure, but I also have three beautiful children. I thank God for that blessing many times a day. I know many women are not as fortunate. I will continue to pray. I'll pray that my baby makes it to full term, that I don't have to go to the hospital, that I can get the cerclage, and that my incompetent ( yep, I said it ) cervix will get a clue !

Warning...dirty talk ahead!

Poop. That's my topic today. You might think you want to stop reading now, but you won't, because everyone...at least mothers have a sick hidden interest with poop. Don't try to deny it, we all know its true. We can't help it. It comes with the title of "Mommy". Remember way back in the good old days, when you and your spouse were dating? So many laughs were shared and in depth conversations were had about topics ranging from politics to religion to literature? Okay, maybe not ALL your conversations were that cerebral, but I'm sure a few were. Probably only 1% of your conversations contained any poo content at all. And those that did you probably were too intoxicated to remember so they don't count! You were a normal adult. But then the beautiful day comes when your first child is born. It is an incredibly moving experience which changes your life for the better in so many ways. But what you never expected are the other changes that happen to you when you give birth. Being a mom comes with a unusually large amount of poo curiosity. Maybe the elevated hormone levels bring it on, but nevertheless ...its there. When you have a newborn, you ask questions about it. " It was WHAT color?" "How much ?" " He did WHAT with it?" You show concern at the doctors when there is too little or too much. You even talk to friends and family about it as if it was a totally exceptable thing to do. Your "ick" filter is gone! Then-the glorious day comes when your child begins to potty train. Now, instead of asking questions about it you cheer everytime some of it lands in the potty. I mean REALLY cheer. My Pup is potty trained...practically. And while this gives me great joy I find that we talk about poo in a totally new and frankly...disturbing way. When my little one deposits in the potty , he looks at it and compares the shape to ...food. I know gross, right? He's had pickle poo, grape poo and carrot poo. Of course he will be the first to wisely tell you NOT to eat it or it will "make you throw up" . True true my friend. True, true. At night, when my husband comes home I find myself eagerly saying " Tell Daddy what you did today." Of course I'm not talking about a picture he drew or a story he told but rather of what he did in the potty. It's a sickness I tell you . One that has to stop, however I see no end in sight. Most mothers are cured of this curiosity when the potty training stage is over . If not cured, at least the curiosity goes dormant. That is unless you are like me, caught in vicious cycle of dirty diapers. As soon as I get one child trained I go and birth another one! So, in a few months I will start all over. Same questions , different child. I just hope that if one day my children come to me and tell me that they have won a Nobel Prize, or found a cure for cancer that I will react with the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. Wouldn't it be horrible to think that your mother was more excited about you doing #2 in the toilet then the fact that you stopped global warming?

Noise , noise , noise

Isn't it wonderful that the world if full of so many noises? We have birds and waterfalls to calm us. Laughter to make us smile . Honking horns and shouts from unhappy drivers to boil our blood. The noise of hundreds and hundreds of people looking for a bargain in Walmart on a Saturday to make us wonder why in the world did we venture out. Did we really need to save a few pennies THAT badly? And, in my world it is the noise of three beautiful children named" Bear (6)"," Bunny"(4), and "Pup"(2 1/2). Our house isn't quiet. Even when we try to be quiet there still seems to be a small hum ( like a floresent light) in our home. Children make noise and the more children you add the more noise. It's basic math. Every morning my children wake up WAY too early and come downstairs. While I am thankful for their independence I wish they could come down a little differently . Bunny is often called "our little elephant" . For such a small girl she does everything hard. Closes door with a bang, walks like she is trying to kill a thousand ants, and sings like she is performing a concert for a million people without a working microphone! For some reason she doesn't always do this, only when her dear mother is still trying to sleep. How thoughtful. A typical day in my house will have me staring , glassy eyed while I have three children trying to tell me three different stories at the exact same time. And while I pride myself on being a very multitasking mother I have yet to figure out how to make my ears and brain figure out that much information at one time! I do enjoy my children's creativity and the fact that they still want to tell me things. ( I'm sure when the teenage years come I will be begging them to talk to me) But, trying to keep every story straight and making sure each child feels important can tire me out it and make my head swim! While the constant noise can put me in a mild over stimulated coma like trance at times I am eternally grateful for the opportunity to hear every last sound. When I hear my children's laughter and the stories that they make up together I am encouraged that they will not only be siblings, but friends. When they tell me what they have done I know they are proud of their acomplishments. When I hear them sing or play instruments I know that they are gaining an appreciation for music. And when I hear " I love you mommy" a million times a day it makes me feel good that we are creating a home where these children feel loved , safe, and are happy. Isn't that worth a little extra noise? Besides, if the extra decibles in our house have harmed me in any way I will just get them to pitch in and buy me a hearing aid when I'm old and gray. That's the least they can do , right?