Spilt Milk

 There's no use crying over spilt milk.

I get that.  I really do.

Unless it's breast milk.  In that case, you cry big tears of despair.  Cry and cry some more.

At least I do.  And I have no shame in that.

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I'm nursing Ezra.  I have oodles of friends and family who did not nurse because they tried and it didn't work out, or they decided nursing was not for them, or whatever they made their decision based on that is entirely not my business.  I adore those woman, and love their children and have no problem with anyone who formula fed.  Kingston and Kyrie were formula fed and they are perfect in every way.  So please don't take offense while I sing the praises of nursing for a moment....

I LOVE nursing.  Truly.  I love it.  I never thought I could love something so foreign to me, but I do.  Its the most amazing bonding time that only I get with my son.  It's selfish, I know.  But its so incredible.   I've been so lucky in that nursing has come easily to me.  I haven't experienced any pain really or trouble with latching or supply.

And now that I'm back at work, I'm pumping and Ezra is getting bottles of my breast milk.  He struggled to take the bottle for a long time, but now he's doing great.  At least with Papa.  He still won't really take a bottle from anyone else.  Even Dave.  But that's okay, because Papa is the one who watches and feeds him while Dave and I are at work.

So I'm pumping at work like 100 hundred times a day. Basically every time I have a break I pump so that I have enough milk to feed Ezra the following day.  And again, I've been SO LUCKY because I have enough to feed him with a little extra left over in case he needs more that day, or a bottle spills, or he doesn't take a whole bottle right away and we have to throw that away and start fresh.

But I hate pumping.  Hate it.  As much as I love nursing, I hate pumping.

It's really hard at work because I have to put signs up on the doors (all four that lead to my classroom) so that nobody walks in on me.  My only alternative to pumping in my classroom is pumping in the bathroom and that is not appealing to me.  It's not sanitary, and people knocking on the door every 2 minutes does not make for the best pumping conditions.

Also there are windows in my classroom.  In the doors.  More than I am able to easily cover.  So I have to find a strategic place to pump in the room where nobody will see me if they try to peak in because they don't understand the privacy note on the door.  And surprisingly, people don't understand that privacy note on the door sometimes.

It takes up a lot of my extra time at school.  That time is usually spent planning, grading, and preparing for the following days.  So I have to be an excellent time manager to make sure I get everything done for my job that I need to get done, all while taking care of my family - which is my first priority.

So the other day David and I were preparing dinner together.  Reaching over each other and weaving in and out of each other's way while putting food on plates and prepping food and so on.

I reached up through him into the fridge - while holding Ezra - to grab something.  I don't even know what.  I just know that it probably could've waited until David was done with the fridge or until I didn't have a baby in my arms.

And I knocked the bottle of breast milk I had pumped from that day.

It crashed to the floor and spilled milk everywhere.

And I cried.  Over spilt milk.  Just stared and cried.

Because that is what you do when you work hard for something for your baby and then it's ruined on the floor.

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David handled it much better.  Shocker, since he wasn't the one pumping all day long.

But he was right.  I have plenty of milk in the freezer stored up for these occasions.  And not all the milk was lost.

And at the end of the day, it's still just spilled milk.

Pumping at work for my baby is so worth it to me.  It allows me to continue nursing when I am home, which I adore.  It allows me to provide for my family in a super rewarding way.  It saves us money.  And it's the healthiest thing for my little man.

So if a drop or 7 are lost in process, I'm okay with that.

Still worth it :)

Lullaby and Goodnight

This is a post on sleep.

Infant sleep… or lack thereof.

But although I thought I would be writing a complaining mother of an infant and I never get any sleep post, I'm not.  And there is a lot that is not perfect about Ezra's sleep, but it's actually going quite well.

My perspective is COMPLETELY different after having my sweet Kingston and Kyrie.  Compared to twins who were struggling with parasites, and attachment issues that come out in sleep, Ezra is a sleep professional.  He gets up MULTIPLE times a night.  His first stretch is 3 hours or so.  Then mostly every two and occasionally every hour.  I think he likes to check up on me and keep me on my toes.

But here's the best part.  He wakes up, eats, I change him, he eats for a second more, and he's right back asleep.  There is almost never any crying after I pick him up.  He smiles at me.  Snuggles in, and falls asleep while eating.  It's not bad getting up with a baby who is happy and easy to please!

The boys were a much bigger challenge and I felt like a zombie much more often.  Right now Ezra will sleep in until 7:00 or 8:00, depending on when I need to get up with his brothers.  So I actually feel really good during the day despite getting up so often.  We'll see how I adjust after I start work and have to get up MUCH earlier than Easy E.

But I have no complaints :)  He's a great baby and I feel like a much better mother this time around, now that I have a little bit more of a clue what I'm doing.  Poor Kingston and Kyrie!!  I had to learn through my mistakes with those honeys.  But so far they've turned out pretty amazing so I couldn't have done too bad!

RSV

Three little letters that no mother of an infant wants to experience.

But that is what I found myself smack dab in the middle of last week Friday.  Ezra had been coughing and had a runny nose for a couple days, but the doctor said as long as he didn't have a fever of 100.5 or higher they did not need to see him.  So I didn't worry too much when Kingston and Kyrie were also coughing and had runny noses.  I did too, so I figured it was just working its way through our family.

Then we all sat down for dinner on Friday night and Kyrie was coughing his lungs out and he did this terrifying gasping for breath sound.

It was awful.  Especially because it wasn't the first time he did it that day and I just didn't realize how serious it was until I saw the look on Dave's face.

Mom fail.

So being the good dad he is, David called the after hours doctor and he said to bring Kyrie right in to the Med Center.

So Dave did while I stayed home with the other two less sick boys and Kyrie came home testing positive for RSV.  He had a prescription for steroids.

Then the next day Kingston started the gasping for air cough.

Repeat of Friday night - off to the Med Center and another positive test for RSV.

At this point I was positive Ezra had RSV as well, but I had been in constant contact with the on call doctor and he assured me there was nothing they would be able to do for my little peanut and as long as he wasn't gasping too, and didn't have a fever, the best place for him was at home.

Luckily David's parents came up to help us with the boys so we could try to keep the boys separate from Ezra as much as possible.

My boys were SO MISERABLE!  It was awful as a mom to have these boys with the HORRENDOUS coughs and noses like faucets and there was nothing I could do but rub vicks on their little feet and humidify the pants off their bedrooms at night.

Ezra actually handled it best, and he had the least serious symptoms.  Kingston and Kyrie were whiny and crying and so unhappy and I can't blame them.  They just LOOKED so sick.

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Thankfully with a lot of rest and snuggles my boys are back to good health.  I did end up taking Ezra to the doctor on Monday to make sure his lungs were clear because I was terrified and paranoid about him getting pnuemonia - which is one of the reasons RSV is so scary for infants.

Luckily his lungs were clear and my doctor didn't make me feel silly for taking him in.  He's always so good about easing my fears and making me feel like a good mom.

So now we're back to our crazy selves with just a little bit of runny noses, but the doctor assures me we're no longer contagious.

WHEW!!  Made it through my first bought of all three sick babies.  Not looking forward to the next time that happens.  I'm so thankful my loves are feeling so much better!

Ezra's Birth Story

My last pregnancy post was about Sciatica and how uncomfortable it made me.  Shortly after that post, I felt baby boy shift.  I honestly felt him make a big move, and somehow released the pressure off my sciatic nerve.  Overnight, I was feeling no pain.

Hip.  Hip.  Hooray!  I was so stinking happy.  I could walk with ease, I slept better, and I was generally less cranky :)

I went to the doctor on Thursday, November 7th for my regular weekly check up.  It was just days before my due date (the 11th) so I was hoping the doctor would say, "Oh!  You're in labor and didn't know it!  Lets go have this baby!"

Not so much.

Instead he said that although my cervix was "ripening" (awesome... I know), there was little progress being made by my body to have this baby.  I was not dilated at all and barely effaced.  I still don't really know what the "effaced" part means.  I think thinning of something or other?  But regardless, nothing was happening.  I went home a little disappointed.  But again, I was really quite comfortable for being 10 months pregnant.  I wasn't overly tired or uncomfortable, and since my sciatic nerve wasn't bothering me anymore, I wasn't in any pain.

But I just wanted to meet my little man.

I left school on Friday with everything set for my long term sub.  But I was planning on being at school Monday and she was coming one last time to observe me.  I had been leaving pretty much every night with things ready to go because I knew if I was ready, I wouldn't go into labor, but if I was not ready, I most certainly would go into labor early.  Report cards and conferences were done the previous week, so I was good to go.

I had experienced some Braxton Hicks contractions, but nothing that was painful, and nothing I could time.

Then Saturday night happened.

At about 9:30 I had a couple contractions.  I remember thinking, hmmm... I bet these are contractions.  And then I fell asleep.

I woke up again at 11:00 with more contractions.  So naturally I started timing them on an app I had downloaded for just this occasion.  My contractions were 6 minutes, then 4, then 5, then 3 minutes apart.  Nothing longer than the initial 6 minutes apart.  My doctor told me to call when my contractions were anything less than 10 minutes apart for an hour straight.  So after a half hour of these contractions I decided to take a shower.  I wasn't sure when I'd get another chance for a shower, so I wanted to be fresh and clean and having my expectant mother glow.  I continued to time my contractions - which were getting more and more uncomfortable - and they were consistently 3 minutes apart.  Like clockwork.

Oh - and also I felt like I was dying a slow and painful death.  Contractions are a "swear word".

I woke up Dave and said those infamous words....  "It's time."

No, I didn't actually say that, though in hindsight, I wish it was what I said.  That is so much cooler than shaking him awake with a pained look on my face saying, "I'm having contractions.  I'm calling the doctor."

So then I called my doctor.  He said it was time to come in.  So I called my brother to come to our house and hang out while Kingston and Kyrie slept.  David called his parents to come up.  They live about an hour away, but would stay with our boys while David and I were in the hospital.

We left our house at around 12:30.  My contractions were every three minutes and hurt more with each one.  Our hospital was about 35-45 minutes away, but there were two closer options.  David asked me time and time again if he should just go to one of those hospitals.  He was afraid I wouldn't make it.  He kept saying, "DON'T PUSH!"  I had no urge to push, just a lot of pain.  But he did NOT want me delivering in the car.

Imagine that.

I of course wanted my "own doctor" to deliver this baby, so we were going to make it to Grand Rapids.

If only we knew then that we wouldn't deliver our sweet boy for another 34 plus hours.

I thought I knew where to park, but I didn't.  Dave was thrilled with my guessing.  We went in the ER entrance because we couldn't find the maternity entrance.  I was sure I knew where it was, also.  David was equally thrilled with my preparedness.

Did I mention we didn't do any prenatal classes or even a tour of the hospital/maternity ward?  Oops.

The ER worked wonders - though I didn't feel like the people behind the desk understood the urgency of my being IN LABOR.  They were very laid back about it and I could have used a little more dramatic attention.

When we got to maternity triage (that is what I will call it since I don't know what it was) they hooked me up to the monitor and checked me out.  Steady contractions, still 3 minutes apart.  Dilated to 2 cm.

That's not much.

The nurse threw me in the whirlpool tub (didn't know they did that...) and said I should stay there for an hour and she'd check me again.  I thought I would love that because I love baths and hot tubs alike.  But it was miserable.  The water did nothing for my pain, and it was awkward being in the tub while Dave just hung out with me.  I couldn't really talk because I was crying every three minutes and I know Dave was bored out of his mind because he couldn't really do anything to ease my pain, especially while I sat in a tub.  When I got out, the nurse checked me again and I was only dilated to 3 cm.

She said she would call the doctor, and that she thought he would "probably" want me admitted.  At this point I began to freak out because if he didn't admit me, it meant I would go home, and there was no way I could survive this pain at home.  Which I know is melodramatic, but honestly, I think they would have had to DRAG me to the car to go home.  Luckily, my doctor said "admit her".

At this point, time and the Earth stood still.  Everything sort of blurs into everything else.  From the time I was in maternity triage until the time Ezra was born was 34 hours.  It took me FOREVER to dilate, even though my contractions were steadily strong and 3 minutes apart.  I got an epidural, which I thought was a VERY uncomfortable process that lead to quite a bit of pain relief.  My nurses shifted my position a lot to try to get things moving.

I was at 7 cm for 1 million hours.  I don't even know how long.  And the nurse could see little man when she checked me.  Told me he had lots of hair!  He was head down, but he was facing the wrong direction (and diagonal).  So he was sort of stuck behind my pelvic bone somehow.  I was given pitocen at one point to help me dilate.  Didn't really seem to help.  The doctor broke my water.  Also did very little to move things along.  Then at one point my nurse said she was going to call my doctor and she wouldn't be surprised if at this point he wanted to do a C section.  It had been about 24 hours and I still wasn't dilated to 10 cm.  She said it would not be unreasonable for him to suggest that.

Me.  After hour 100 of labor.  

I was really disappointed because I didn't want a C section, or the recovery from a C section.  But my doctor said lets keep waiting!  (LOVE my doctor, by the way). My heart rate and baby's heart rate were both safe, so he said let's give him more time.

My Labor Coach taking a snooze. 

EVENTUALLY.... it was time to push.  I made it to 10 centimeters.  And boy did I ever push.  For a good three hours I tried to bring this boy into the world, and again, (BIG SHOCKER HERE....)  nothing was really happening.

My doctor came in and said he would give me 30 more minutes of pushing.  Then, if we wanted, he would try the vacuum to get little man out.  We had a discussion about the risks and he mentioned that he would give it a solid effort, but not force it.  A C-section might just be the route at that point.  So I pushed my heart out for 30 minutes with no progress and so my doctor came in and said let's do this thang!

No, he didn't say that, but again, I wish he did.  We did the vacuum - in which 100 bazillion people entered the room.  Apparently when you use the vacuum the need to have the neonatal nurses prepared.  They were in there, the doctor, my nurse, and some other guy that was "learning to be a doctor".  I know what these are called, but at this moment in time I can't think of what he's called.  So it was a full house ready to welcome little Ezra.  I pushed and pushed and felt like nobody was telling me what has happening.  I didn't know if he was coming or if we were headed for a C-section.  The doctor just kept asking for another big push, and it seemed like things were moving along...

After what felt like another eternity, between my pushing and the good doctor's help, my sweet Ezra boy came into the world.  He was placed on my chest and my heart exploded with love.

Heart Exploding. 

It was the most incredible high I've ever experienced.  The nurses cleaned him up and snuggled him onto my chest and we fell in love.  He looked just like a mini Dave to me.  He was so handsome and perfect and his little cry sounded so familiar even though it was the first time I heard it.

Look at his little face!!  Ah!  So precious. 

Mommy and Ezra 

Brand New Baby Perfection.

Becoming a mother all over again has once again been one of the hardest and most rewarding and amazing experiences of my life.  Every day things happen that I want to write about, but I'm sure I'll never get half of them documented on this blog.  Look how long it took me to blog about Ezra's birth?! Being a mom to three under three presents itself with a whole new set of challenges and ridiculousness. I'm learning more about myself as a mom every day and falling in love with my children in new ways.  I hope to be able to share as much of it with the world as I can, and to document it here for myself and my littles as well!

Sleep is crazy.  I'm surrounded in diapers.  Kingston and Kyrie adore their brother.  And I rarely make it in the shower before Dave gets home from work.  And by rarely, I mean once.  I successfully showered one time when I was home alone with the three boys.  Kingston and Kyrie were napping and Ezra cried for the last 5 minutes of it, but it was a win!  But I guess it was also a fail because I hated those five minutes of hair rinsing during crying.  So I've resigned to showering in the evenings.  Which is fine and dandy.  Just leaves for super awesome bed head.








So far the mailman, UPS guy and a girl scout have enjoyed my pjs and I'm okay with it.  My kids are clean (ish), fed, and happy.  And so am I.  Life is amazing.  Hard, messy, a little loud.  But amazing.

2 Years Later

Okay, so almost one month from my last post on pregnancy I had our sweet baby boy!!

Meet Ezra K.

He's amazing, and perfect, and, beautiful.  We are head over heals in love and enjoying being parents to three boys.  I'm working on blogging about his birth story, but it's a lot to condense into a readable blog post.  It was a 34 hour ordeal, so it's going to take a hot second...

But today is about something else.  Today is Kingston and Kyrie's Gotcha Day!!  (Okay- today is NOT their gotcha day.  But the day I wrote this, it was.  And then I forgot to post it.  But give me a break :)  I have three under three now!  So... for those of you marking your calendars.. Gotcha Day was on Thursday the 5th.  A week ago....  now continuing on with the post...)

Two years ago, I walked through the gates of Hannah's Hope and took my baby boys home.  David and I had our boys in our arms finally, and fell head first into parenthood.  It was insane and wild and awesome.  The crazy thing is that now that Ezra is home and we're up all night feeding and changing a newborn, we're quickly thrown back into our first memories of Kingston and Kyrie.  Although they came home at 7 months, they acted very much like newborns.  They were up every 2 hours to eat and because there were 2 of them we got very little sleep.

It was such a big adjustment for us because we had been living the easy breezy life where we only had to take care of ourselves.  We grew up.

Fast.

And we learned about a love that we never knew existed.

Now Kingston and Kyrie are two and a half, and they are big brothers.  They talk SO much and they are the funniest kids I know.  I'm confident they got that from me.  They take such good care of their little brother and they are literary geniuses.  They know all their letters and sounds and talk about letters all the live long day.  When Kyrie wakes up, I hear him on the monitor saying, "T goes tuh, tuh, tuh.  B goes buh, buh, buh, M goes Mmmmmmmmmm".  Its adorable.  They sing their ABCs together and fight over the letters in their ABC puzzle, their ABC duplos, and their ABC animal game.  And although David and I are both educators, we didn't teach them.  They just love letters and learned themselves with their Leapfrog computer I think.  Kyrie probably started the trend because he has self proclaimed the leapfrog "his" computer.  And once one sweet boy is into something, they both pretty much are.

This morning we went to the store and got donuts to celebrate Gotcha day.  Kingston and Kyrie still don't really understand the day, but they sure do love donuts.  Ezra stayed home with his grandpa while I had some quality time with my big boys.

This evening we will continue the celebration when Daddy gets home from work.

Here are some recent photos of my amazing boys, 2 years home.  2 years a blessing to me and Dave.  2 years sillier, taller, faster, naughtier, and 2 years more amazing than ever.

Sciatica

Last week Sunday I entered the wonderful world of sciatica.

The sciatic nerve.  If you never know what it is, you are very, very lucky.  Its a lovely little sucker that runs from somewhere in your back-ish area down each of your bum cheeks and legs.  That's the medical description anyway.

For me, it is a source of pure discomfort.  On Sunday my left leg/butt cheek started hurting and it hasn't stopped since.  Whatever little man is doing - somersaults, double axels, back kicks, karate chops.... its constricting that nerve somehow.  Every step I take is uncomfortable.  Some days are better than others.  So far work has been alright.  I just limp a little bit - which causes people to tell me I have my pregnancy swagger on.

OR - they tell me I have my pregnancy waddle going.  But I hear them say swagger anyway.

My darling husband found me some good stretches on youtube, so I've been rocking those.  They're a little tricky with the big ball of baby I'm carrying in my front, but they definitely help.  It's making sleep less awesome because it pretty much hurts every time I move or roll over.  But I think that's just preparing me for when baby comes anyway.

And who cares about any of that, when I get to come home from work and have a little boy lift up my shirt and kiss my belly.  Out of the blue.  And then he says, "Doctor get baby brother out."

Um.  Sweetest genius boy ever!

This sciatic nerve thing is annoying.  And I'm super eager to meet my youngest little man.  But I also love being pregnant and getting to take him everywhere I go.  I love feeling his every move.  And I love my baby bump.  Pregnancy is awesome.  And this may be my only chance to experience it, so I want to enjoy every minute!

Time Outs

(Here is another little gem I found gathering dust in my drafts.  Posting because I want to remember these great moments!!)

We have entered the wild world of time outs.

It's something we've been putting off for ever and ever, but now we're at a point where we have naughty little boys and we don't know what to do with them!

Honestly, they are really good boys.  But there are a couple things that require consequences.  One is jumping on the couch.  In general, the idea of jumping on the couch is just good fun.  But when you have twin two year old boys, it gets wild and dangerous and they just don't quit.  No matter how mean my mommy voice is, or how I redirect, there is jumping and injuring inducing wildness.  And then there is the hitting.  Which is mostly just ONE of the boys, whose name may or may not be associate with royalty.  He tends to hit over and over and over and over again.  Not hard, but he knows how to make his point with the repetition when he is not happy.

We have a handy little spot we picked out in the living room on the floor.  Little man has to sit there (right now for only about 30 seconds).  Its been a chore to get the boys to realize time out means they have to sit there until I come over and get them.  But we're getting there.

One of the biggest challenges is the other brother.  For instance, Kyrie likes to bring Kingston his toys when he's in time out.  Um.  Not helping the situation Ky.  Kingston likes to taunt his brother by climbing and snuggling with mommy when Kyrie is in time out, which only escalates Kyrie's unhappiness.  Another challenge is getting them to stay there.  Kyrie will say, "aw done, aw done" over and over.  Kingston will do the stretch out thing where he tries to slowly and discretely sneak away.  Except that he's crying and yelling at me while he does it so its less than discrete.

And one of the funniest things is if they are being silly and wild and jumping on the couch, I'll ask them to stop.  When they don't, I'll ask if they need a time out, and they'll say yes with a smile.  Needless to say, the smile is gone in 2 seconds when they are planted in time out.

And the best is sometimes they will just go sit in that spot and say, "Tah Ow."  They definitely know what a time out is.  Hopefully soon they'll realize they don't ever have to go there if they just listen to every single thing mommy ever says :)

The Things We Say

(Sometimes I write things and don't post them.  I think because I want to reread them and make sure they're not dumb. But then sometimes I forget about them.  I found this post sitting quietly in my drafts and I want to post it because these are things I want to remember my boys saying.  They're blowing my mind with how their language has taken off lately, and I need to keep sharing this stuff!!  I have the WORST memory of anyone I know, so if I don't blog it, it may be lost forever.  So here is this....)

We talk a lot these days.  Some of us more than others.  And some of us say the most ridiculous things.

I'd like to share them with you.

Here are just a few things I hear on the regular.

"Kingston be nauny (naughty)"  Because my Kyrie is a tattletale.

"No No Brother!" Kingston says with a finger pointed.  Any time he comes near his toys.

"No Thank You."  When I ask either child to take a nap, give a toy back, give me a hug, anything.  Always the polite, "no thank you."  Dave goes to pick someone up when they are playing.  "No thank you daddy."  And if he picks them up anyway, they keep saying it, but LOUD.  "NO THANK YOU DADDY!"


And every time we're in the car... and I mean EVERY TIME, like one million times over, my children say, "Car get owie!"  and then "Hold Mama hand.  Hold Daddy hand." Because every time I stop the car, before I get out I say, "You have to hold mama's hand.  Cars are dangerous. They can give you owies.  Are you going to hold mama's hand?"  And so, like the good little passengers they are, they like to remind me of this fact the entire car ride to wherever we might be going.  Which is endearing on the 2 minute drives to the gas station, but not so much on the 30 minute drives.  Less endearing the 167th time.

And one of my personal favorites:

"Carmen tooted."

Carmen is the dog next door.  Who they occasionally see outside and have never touched.  But they are obsessed with her.  When there is a bike in the yard next door?  "Carmen bike."  She's not outside?  "Carmen sleepin"  Never mind the entire family that lives there and talks to them.  And somehow they (Kyrie) knows at the ripe age of 2 that toots are funny.  And even funnier when you blame them on the neighbor dog, apparently.

Ahhh... pregnancy.

I'm so disappointed with myself and my terrible blogging during this pregnancy.  I want to remember everything about it, and I keep forgetting to write about it!!  Yikes!!

I think I've had a really easy pregnancy so far.  I really haven't had any terrible side effects yet.  Just minor little normal pregnancy things.  My back is killing me, but that's normal as your center of balance and posture changes.  I ice it at night, and that seems to help.  Also, my legs are super duper sore at the end of the work day, and I have some really awesome veins happening.  But I also have some totally sexy compression stockings that help with that.  And somehow my ankles are still normal sized.  Pretty sure that will change soon.

Many people have commented that I am small for a pregnant lady of 8 months.  But they've said that all along, and my doctor has said I've measured right on at each visit.  He says my baby boy is just sitting low.  Which I can feel.  I pretty much ALWAYS feel like I have to go to the bathroom.  Like hour 6 of a road trip after 3 big gulps.  So I race to the bathroom one hundred times a day and I tinkle out the amount of pee a bumble bee can store.

So that's cool, right?

And maybe I look small, but wowzers.  My stomach feels huge to me.  It actually hurts.  Its like its stretching.  Well, not like its stretching.  It actually IS stretching.  Imagine that.   The top part of my tummy is super sensitive.  It gets numb all day long.  Its because as my skin is stretching, so are my nerve endings which is causing me discomfort.  I learned it on the online internets.  So it's science.

These things are little nuisances.  I feel very, very lucky.  I've never been sick really.  No swelling yet (though I'm prepared for it to happen any day...), no belly button popping out (just flattened), my feet don't hurt, and I'm generally pleasant.

Well, that last one depends on who you ask.  Maybe I'm not :)

I love being preggers though.  This baby boy moves like a ninja.  He does not mess around.  And that is amazing.  Its so cool to experience.  I love being able to take my boy with me everywhere I go.  And I've been sleeping pretty good too.  When I wake up to bumble bee pee I feel little man moving as I drift back to sleep.  It reminds me to pray for him and I'm right back to sleep.

The Hard Parts

Being a mom is awesome.  There are snuggles, and "I wuv oohs" and kisses and all things that will melt your heart and turn you into a puddle in an instant.  And these two little boys have that power over me like nobody ever has.

I hope he'll always snuggle me like this. 

Driving his truck on mommy's baby bump. 

A normal funny face. 

Wild hair.  Sweet boy.  

More faces. 

Kisses for Daddy.  Over my lap.  Swoon.  

Fun at the Park

But sometimes there are some really hard parts.

Yesterday was a day where I just wanted to grab my boys and climb in their crib with them and hold them forever and ever.

Because I was making them both cry and I couldn't do anything about it and it was
The. Worst. Feeling. Ever.

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Kingston has molluscum.  Its a nasty little skin virus that we are battling on his precious little tummy. It's not a huge deal, and it honestly doesn't seem to bother him at all, which is great.  But it has to go. And right now its kind of gross.  I'll spare you the details, but he needs to keep a bandaid on it right now because it bleeds a bit, and it's ruining some clothes if he doesn't wear a bandaid.  And we can't go shirtless because molluscum is contagious so it needs to be covered so it doesn't spread to other parts of his body or to his brother.

But....  the child HATES bandaids.

I put one on my tummy.  "See how fun?!"

I let him go without a bandaid.  That t-shirt ended up in the trash.

So I had to physically pin him down with my legs over his legs and David holding his hands and stick a bandaid on him.  He screamed and cried through it, though I know it didn't hurt him at all.  "NO MAMA! NO BANDAID! NO MAMA!!"  And I felt like I was torturing him.  He cried and cried and I just felt like a meanie.

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Kyrie has a diaper rash from you know where.  My poor little Kyrie struggles with his adorable little booty in so many ways.  For so long he would struggle to poop and once every three days or so he'd cry through it and it was AWFUL.  So now we've switched him to Almond milk since the 5 gallons of dairy he was consuming daily was most likely the culprit of his pain.  But now he sort of has to re-learn how to poop.  He is still trying to work out his bowels over three days which means he has mini poops throughout each and every day.  Which means he gets diaper changes a billion times a day and gets his bottom wiped a billion times a day.

Enter horrendous diaper rash.

So now, not only do I have to change him a million times a day, but he screams and cries through it every time.  This also included pinning down of limbs and choice words from my child.  I basically feel like he's swearing at me in his own two year old way.   "NO MOMMY!  MAMA NAUGHTY! MAMA BE BAD!  STOP IT MAMA!  QUIT IT!!!  ALL DONE!  DIAPER ON!!  STOP IT!! And today he cried and cried for his daddy (who was at work) while I changed him.  Which of course broke my heart.  I wanted to tell him Daddy would be doing this too if he was home!  He can't save you!!

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So back to back I upset my children and made them cry and I had no choice but to do so.

And afterwards I held them and apologized  and kissed their faces and tried to explain why I had to do it.  But they're 2.  So really, how much can you explain?  I just felt so mean.  So, so mean.  And it hurt my heart.

I know this is just one small example of the ways I will break my children's hearts and break my own in the process.  And for something that I felt was in their best interest.

The redeeming part is how forgiving my babies are.  They still snuggled me goodnight and called for me when they woke up.  And today when I changed Kyrie 14 thousand more times, he still pulled my hand and said, "pay me mama" ("Play with me, mama").

Parenting has some really hard parts.  And I know its only the tip of the iceberg.  But still so worth it, friends.  So, so worth it.

Dear Dad,

Dear Dad,

It's been eight years.  Eight years since I've heard your laugh.  Seen your strut down the dock.  Listened to your crazy stories.  Or felt your hugs.

So much has changed since then.  You've gained a son in law you've never met,  and daughter in law you already knew and loved.  And you're a grandpa now.  You're the Grandpa Sluiter.  The Papa Steve.  It's a coveted title.    Makes me hurt just thinking about how you never got to meet and hold your grand-babies.  You have five of them.  And an amazing two more miracles on the way.  It's incredible how our family has changed in so many fantastic ways.  And incredible how hard it is to not have you share it with all of us.

My Kyrie has many of your characteristics.  He loves to be silly and make people laugh.  He is such a sweet, goofy little guy.  He pulls the funniest faces like you did.  He jokes all the time.  And he has tight curls just like you did.  And my Kingston is like you too, but in different ways.  He is a teaser.  He lives to tease his brother.  Drives him crazy all the time. Just for fun.  You did that too.  Loved to tease.  And he tinkers like you.  He can sit and just play by himself and try to figure out how things work.  He takes things apart and puts them back together.  You would love them so much, dad.  You would just love every inch of who they are, like I do.  You would love to chase them and tickle them. You would love to hear their belly laughs.  I can picture it.

I just wish so much that I had the memories to go along with those mental pictures.  I wish so much that they knew you.  And knew what it was like to be loved by you.

And I'm having another boy.  He is due in November.  Another Sluiter boy is just what this world needs, right?  If you could put your hand on my stomach, you could feel him kick.  He's such a mover. It's amazing.  I talked to Gram about the day you were born.  She said it was wonderful because you were her first baby that she got to leave the hospital with on time.  Your siblings were all premies and had to stay.  If you were here I'd ask you to give Dave a pep talk about delivery.  I tease him all the time that he might pass out.  Mostly because deep down inside I think he might.  And I'm pretty sure you would tease him about that during your pep talk.  But he could take it.

I still have the urge to call you and tell you things.  Like when we got our referral for the boys.  Or when we found out I was pregnant.  Or that we were having another boy.  I always feel like there is somebody I am forgetting to tell.  I miss you all the time.  I hurt knowing that my stories and memories are all my boys will have of you.  But I promise to keep telling them.

I love you dad.  I miss you as much today as the day I had to say goodbye to you eight years ago.  I still catch glimpses of you here and there.  I get a feeling or a memory.  Or sometimes a dream where we are together.  And it fills me up.  It gives me a peace in knowing how lucky I was to have you as my dad.  And how lucky my boys are to have you as their grandpa.  Even if it's just in pictures, and stories, and memories.

I love you more,

Pregnancy

Pregnancy is something else.  It really is.  I'm 6 months preggers right now and I feel like I've experienced so much already.

I've had a very easy pregnancy so far.  Aside from the usual first trimester exhaustion and mild nausea, it's been smooth sailing.  This second trimester has me feeling fabulous.  My biggest complaint is that I can't hang in the sun like I used to be able to.  I get hot much faster.  Which is difficult with two little sun boys to chase, but its not a major hinderance.  Mainly because they love to swim.

And I'm feeling little man move around every single day.  It's the most incredible feeling and I cannot possibly explain it.  It never gets old to me.  I could just sit and enjoy it every time I feel him.  And David even got to feel it for the first time the other day.  When I went to my doctor the other day he commented that the baby was probably driving me crazy and causing me discomfort with all his moving.  But I haven't had any discomfort and his comment only made me excited to be able to feel even more movement.  I love every second of it!

But experiencing this makes me often think of Kingston and Kyrie's birth mom.  I wonder so many things about her pregnancy.  Did she know she was having twins?  I wonder when she realized it.  Did she have an inkling?  Is that something you know?  Can you tell two little buddies are moving around instead of one?  Did she find out during delivery?  I just wonder so many things and wish I could sit down with her and talk about it.  And tell her what wonderful little men they are growing into.

And so much more.

David and I recently hired a searcher for our boys' birth family.  He is known through many families in our agency and came highly recommended.  Our boys are from an area in Ethiopia that is relatively difficult to get to.  We hired the searcher with three other families who have children born in the same region so we could split the flight cost for the searcher.  He had to travel outside of the city of Gambella to find our boys' birth family, but he did find them!  We were able to see pictures to verify it was truly them, and we even saw pictures of their birth family viewing the pictures that we sent of the boys now. Our searcher also had some discussions with the birth family and I was able to get some questions answered that I was wondering about their birth and what they were like as newborns.  I now have pictures of their birth village and where their birth family lives and farms.

Incredible.  I can't wait to share these with the boys when they are older.  I wish there was some way to stay in contact with the birth family on a regular basis, but for now, knowing their birth story is enough.  Now when they experience their baby brother's birth (No, they will not actually be there to experience it) they will also be able to hear the story of their own birth in Ethiopia.

Three boys with beautiful stories.  And I'm the lucky lady who gets to be their mommy and tell them all about it.

 

Poop Train

Kyrie repeats everything he hears.  Sometimes is just part of the sentence and sometimes its the whole phrase.

Well this weekend we were camping and I was talking about potty training in a way that only a lady can do.  Kingston had just come up to me and said, "diaper change" and laid down on his back.  He has NEVER done that before, so it was a big deal.  He had pooped and wanted a clean diaper.

So after that I was talking to my mom about how I think Kingston will "poop train" before Kyrie because he is aware of when he has to poop and will sometimes tell me when he did.

And of couse I used the phrase "poop train" because how else would you say it?

The next thing I know, Kyrie says, "Poop Train" because honestly, why not?  He loves trains and a poop train sounds pretty cool, right?  And then of COURSE everyone laughs because a poop train is funny.

So he keeps saying it.  And when he forgets about it, Grandpa Ray reminds him to say it again.  Thanks Grandpa Ray.

Now we are home sweet home, and what does Kyrie say when he wakes up this morning?

"Poop Train."

Oh Boy!!

WE'RE HAVING ANOTHER BOY!!!!

We found out at our 20 week appointment and it was so exciting!  Our doctor got called to deliver a baby, so our ultrasound tech had to "stall" a little bit with us.  Which was good luck for us because we got some extra screen time with our little man.  I happen to think he looks like David already.  One of my friends said she can see me in his face.  So hopefully he's a good mix of both of our qualities :)  But only our good ones, of course.

Kingston and Kyrie are going to be the most amazing big brothers.  They'll show their little brother all the ways to be naughty and awesome.

I hope that he has his daddy's work ethic.  His drive and his achievement.  I hope that he has his money sense, as well as his fashion sense. And his smile.  I hope he has his daddy's smile.

I hope he has Kingston's beautiful eyes.  His flirty ways.  His love for figuring out the ways things work.  His inquisitive nature.  His stubbornness.  And his smile.  I hope he has Kingston's smile.

I hope he has Kyrie's sense of humor.  His silly nature and his ability to make anyone laugh.  The way he teases and jokes and knows he is funny.  His love of snuggles and the fact that he is a mama's boy.  I hope baby brother has that too.  And of course I hope he has Kyrie's smile.

And me?  What do I hope he gets from me?

Anything but the red hair :)

Mini Fits

My little man knows what he wants.  And he's been experimenting with how to get it.  From my mommy perspective, it's been hilarious.  He throws these mini fits, and then gets over it.  But first, he has to throw the fit, just to see if he gets what he wants.

Do you mind?  Me and my friends are chillin'

The other day I took the boys to the beach.  We have a mini beach by our house, and the boys love to play in the sand.  It was too cold to go in the water though.  So while playing, Kingston pointed to the water and asked to go in.



Actually, he grunted and went, 'Mmm', 'Mmm'!  Which, as his mother, I know means, "Mother dear, can we go for a swim?"

I said, "No, we're not going swimming today."  So he threw his bucket down and stomped his foot.

And then he stared me down.

So obviously I held his gaze.  I had to be strong here, and not giggle. And proudly, this is what I did.  And two seconds later he started playing again like the good little man he is.

This little face.  Melts me. 

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And then another day we went to a store.  It's a little boutique that has a cute little basket of toys for children and one of these toys is a bus.

A bus my child ADORES.  So he played with it for awhile and then it was time to go.

(And yes, I realize I have two children, so just for those of you worried about Kyrie, he was at the front of the store with Dave saying over and over, "buh bye store.  All Done.  Buh Bye."  He loves shopping.)

So I tell Kingston to say bye bye to the bus and its time to go.  He says, "NO!" and walks away from me.  But only like 4 big steps.  He says, "Bus."  I say, "No, its time to go." So he walks away again and then looks back at me.

Then my silly little man stomped his foot and laid on the floor of the store.  Just laid on his back.  And stared at me. And I waited and waited for some tantrum or screams, but they didn't come.  He just laid there. And stared.

Then about 30 seconds later (as I stood and just watched him) he stood up, took my hand, and walked out the door with me.

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Is there honestly a better job than raising toddlers?  I just love watching them grow and learn and figure out how to get what they want.  And I love watching my boys' personalities develop.

He was so proud of this accomplishment!
He did not love when I made him get down.

I see my own stubbornness in my little Kingston.  And I hope he doesn't lose that strong heart.  He brings me so much joy, even in his defiance.  Stay strong my sweet little man.  Push the boundaries, but respect them.  Learn and grow, and love life my darling.

EPIC Summer

Summer time.

It's such a huge blessing when you are a teacher.  I get to do the job that I love, and I get the summer months off to spend with my family.  And this summer is going to be EPIC.

This summer is a big girl summer.  The only thing I want to do in the world is play with my kids.  And that is probably sort of lame to the high school and college summer girl of my past.  But it's really all I want.

Last summer was a big girl summer too, but it was not at all relaxing.  The boys were one, and walking all over.  Oh, and they didn't listen to me EVER.  Which was so awesome I can't even describe it.

Or maybe I can.

I spent my summers chasing them around the yard, trying to keep them in my sight.  Spotting them as they acted like daredevils and climbed up the slide and caught them as they tumbled off.  Put a baby gate up on the deck so they wouldn't climb up and tumble down the steps.  I never stopped moving last summer.  And don't get me wrong, it was fun.  Just a ton of work.  Those two gang up on a mama :)

This summer is only 2 weeks deep and it's so awesome.  I've done things I've never been able to do alone with my boys.

This time last year I would never NEVER go to a store with both boys on my own.  But I did this year, and it was huge.  Kyrie wanted to be held the whole time and would not sit in a cart, but this is a huge improvement from the screaming and running away he used to do.  Kingston walked through the store at turtle speed, but he held my hand the whole time and even held the marshmallow fluff for me.

And we went to the beach.  Yes, that's right.  With JUST ME.  The boys played in the sand for over an hour.  They pointed to the water, and when I said, "no, we're not swimming today" they stayed away!  No fits!  Then we had to leave to eat lunch and there was only a minor amount of grumbling and no crying.  And a very mature "bye bye beach" from Kyrie.

When we play in the backyard I can actually sit and read a magazine!  They still struggle with going down stairs, but if I tell them no, they stay away.

This is how we do. 

Hey baby.  You like my wheels?

They are SUCH GOOD BOYS!!

This summer is going to be AWESOME!