My confessions



I'm a terrible "blogger." I admit it. I accept it.



I have gotten sucked into the world of Facebook.



I blame Turk.



When I was home on maternity leave after having him, it was this facinating place where I could go and find all these old "friends." I accepted every request sent to me, and sent numerous ones myself.



I'm nosy by nature. And this was the perfect place for me to go and find out what all these old "friends" had been up to.



Have you noticed my sarcasim yet?



"friends"



These people aren't my real "friends". My real friends aren't in quotes, and I don't have to "request" to know what they've been up to since college or high school, or junior high, or that trip to europe.



Those people already know what I've been up to the last few years. Of the 300 "friends" I'd say about 275 are just acquaintances. People who have passed through my life... and either not valued me enough to still be in it....or the other way around.



It's not to say it's all been bad. I lost touch with many of those people just because our lives took us in different directions. It's been fun to catch up. But usually after that initial... OMG! I've missed you SO much! How have you been?..... it fades off.



Because I'm passive aggressive.... I just hide most of them, instead of deleting. I wonder how many of them have deleted me.



But of course I am pretty awesome...so why would they do that?



But obviously they don't think so... or would we have needed Facebook to reconnect?

My Baby....

My baby is having a "procedure" tomorrow.

It's nothing really,

and yet it feels like the "only thing"

May 31, 2009


My Dear Little Murph~

I can’t believe you are already 2 years old! I know you’ll probably get tired of hearing it, but I remember the day you were born like it was just yesterday. We were so excited to get to finally meet you and hold you after waiting for you for some long! It seems like my whole life I was just preparing to be your mom!

You are an amazing little boy! Everyday you make us laugh! You have such a great sense of humor and you can be so silly! There are times that your strong will drives us crazy, but we know that one day that will be one of your very best assets! (But I promise it really wouldn’t kill you to eat something other than corn dogs and beans once in awhile!)

We were so worried that when we had Turk that you might not adjust well, but we underestimated how big your heart is and how loving you can be! You have been just the best big brother anyone could ask for, and Turk is lucky to have you! You do your very best to take care of “Be Be Doe.” He giggles whenever you are around. I smile every time I see you grab his little hand and kiss it, or when you pat him on the head and tell him not to cry.

You are SO smart! You love learning new words and love when you are able to communicate with us! Tree, bike, birds, drink, snack, “Brodies” and or course Dad, G (Eldest) and E (Deuce) are some of your favorites! You took long enough to say “Mom”, but it’s still one of my favorite words to hear!

You are fearless. You race down the stairs at our new house at Warp Speed. You can be out the door and to your bike before we know what hit us! You jump into the air with your eyes shut and a huge grin pasted on your face because you trust we will be there to catch you. (We always will be there to catch you by the way!)

I love you so much. Everyday when I wake up and you are in bed with us (something we really need to work on by the way) I am amazed that God thought I was worthy to be your mom!

You challenge me. At every step, you challenge me. You challenge me not to grin when you are being rotten, or when it’s really time for bed, or to come inside. You challenge me. You challenge me to be a better person, to be a better example for you. You challenge me! But I hope you never stop flinging yourself into my arms, eyes shut, and grinning, knowing that I’ll be there to catch you.

I adore you!

Love Mom

Everyone loves this picture of the 6 of us. Mostly because they laugh at the fact that my hair is almost completely covering my face. I laugh too. But as a mom who is usually behind a camera....it's nice to be able to prove for once that I really do exist!

Too much to say...

It's been awhile. I know that, and yet so much has happened in that time, that to try to sit down and acknowledge it all now would be impossible.

Turk is a Boy. That should be said at least. And the itchy bitchies that I last wrote about were real. It caused us to up Turks arrival by a few weeks to try to limit any complications. It worked. He was fine and cried and is amazing.

Murph adores him. I mean ADORES him. Murph calls him Doe, which is no where near his real name, but to Murph it means something. Turk is equally impressed with his big brother. As soon as he sees Murph his face just lights up. I was so worried about how they would get along. I shouldn't have given it a thought. For now at least they are best friends.

I am SO blessed. I have these amazing boys in my life, who to be honest I probably don't deserve, but I'm keeping them.

I'm a home owner now. At least I will be in 29 years, 11 months, give or take. I love the idea of us being "settled" for now and having a place to call our own!

Life is good

NOT Nesting

We should be clear. I am NOT nesting. Yes, I am suddenly a bit consumed with getting things done around the house in preparation for the new baby, but that is NOT nesting.

I'm more like one of those birds who instead of building thier own nest, would happily just use some other birds nest for my little one. I'm very ANTI-nesting. Mostly because people seem to think you nest and then give birth shortly after. I repeat, I am NOT nesting

It's all about timing you see.

This baby has a VERY good chance of being born before the Thanksgiving Holiday. That means that there is a good chance that we might have a housefull of family for the holiday. Family that will look at my house and see the cobweb farm we've cultivated, and notice the stack of junk on the counter.

In other words, my mom and dad. My mom was a life saver when Murph was born. Chiefy had a major inspection at work and couldn't be home with us much more than to sleep and shower. But I once caught her on all fours scrubbing my kitchen floor.

I can't relax when she's scrubbing the floor.

And my dad? Well "Big Murph" is a man who notices all, and waits until you least expect it to let you know just what all he saw.

I don't need that kind of pressure.

I'm NOT nesting. I'm just afraid of still getting grounded for a messy room!

The Itchy Bitchies

A few years ago my young neighbor girl (she might have been about 4 at the time) made a slip and instead of saying "creepy crawlies" said she had the "Itchy Bitchies"

I know what she means. I've got a screamin case of the "Itchy Bitchies" myself.

I should explain.

I am now 36 weeks pregnant. With Murph, at the end of my pregnancy I started getting itchy skin. It was mostly on my hands and feet, which I've read is a common pregnancy "symptom". I was able to treat it with a little Benedryl cream and was good to go. At the very end, actually in the hospital while delivering him, the itching got REALLY bad. It was so bad that I ruptured blood vessels in my legs while scratching. So bad that I begged for the Benedryl with almost the same fervor that I begged for the good drugs!

Almost

This time around, the itching has crept up much earlier, and with much more intensity.

I'm miserable. My hands and feet are nearly tolerable, but everything else is itching like CRAZY! I have sensitive skin to start, so I haven't changed anything. No new soaps, or creams, or detergents. This is ALL baby!

I'm Itchy. And it makes me, well, I'll admit. It makes me BITCHY!

Fine. It makes me Bitchy-ER!

My arms, legs, stomach, hell my EARS itch. Gold Bond is now my constant companion. I wake up to "dose up" I've even contemplated putting Gold Bond on a Q-Tip just to get inside my ears to stop the itching there. The Chief has quickly learned that he can win any argument with a simple back scratch.

If I didn't feel so repulsive these days I would probably count that as foreplay.

4 more weeks. Sure I'm most excited to meet little Turk, but I'm definitely excited to meet little Turk and go into Itchy Bitchy remission!

Overheard in passing....

"I think when your nose hairs turn white, that's a sure sign you are getting old."

Coincidence? Me thinks not!

There are a few things that you need to know going into this post.

1. My husband (the Chief) is a life long Notre Dame fan.
2. Southern California is home to a University and football program of which we are not allowed to speak.
3. One of my very best friends lives in Southern California.
4. She is one of the most generous people I know.
5. She sent the following outfit to Murph a few months ago.

Ok. So the other day I was going to let Murph wear the adorable outfit above SO-CAL friend sent to him. Daddy reluctantly dressed him for me and I didn't play that close of atttention to the conversation they were having.

That is until I picked Murph up from the sitter's house and found him wearing a Batman shirt. Murph doesn't OWN a Batman shirt.

Murph had discovered how to put his hand in his diaper. I am still hoping that he was just trying to scratch an itch.... but I can't be sure. Unfortunately this diaper discovery just happened to be a diaper that was "loaded."

So what did he do?

He decided to wipe his hand on his shirt.

That's right. He wiped poo on his shirt.

His father has never been so proud.

I should tell you that I have been blocked from blogger during the day, so unless I find time at night to blog, well it just doesn't happen.

No time for number one.

Murph is impatient by nature.

I knew this when he arrived 3 days ahead of schedule, even though I had been warned that first babies often come late.

From the time he was little we would count to three to do things. Tickle, jump, slide, whatever was called for at the time.

Murph doesn't have time for that. This summer he would try to jump in the water to swim with each number. He would stick out his foot to convince me to let him go.

Now, he has decided to work around this insane counting thing.

He starts at two.

If I sit him at the top of the slide he will immediately call out DOO! Which in Murphish is two. No time for the number one. And by the number three he expects to be halfway down the slide.

Leave it to my child to figure out a way around such trivial things to get his way.

Time sure flies.....

When your 15 month old figures out how to reset the time on your alarm clock. Somehow Murph has decided that he should be on the same time as the land of his ancestors. I'm feeling a bit jet lagged.

I was at the doctor's office today. When you are 28 weeks pregnant, the bathroom and the doctor's office are where you spend most of your time. While I waited at the window for the receptionist to help me I couldn't help but over hear the conversation between two of the nurses there.

"I think it's just awesome when a dad brings in their little one for an appointment."

"Me too. I know my husband would have never done that!"

I had to smile. When the receptionist asked if she could help me, I proudly said "Yes. I'm here to meet my husband. He brought in our little boy for his appointment."

The appointment today wasn't for me. It was for Murph. That was MY hubby that they were praising. I couldn't get out of work in time to get him there, so Chiefy came and got him and took him. I was glad he was there with us. So was Murph. We got the last of his shots before Kindergarten today. And Daddy is the BEST at making him feel better after Mommy holds him down and those mean nurses get him.

All hail the Chief!

Tell me what you want..... what you really, really, want.

I'm not a political person. And I am not one to voice my opinions one way or the other. But if you didn't catch her speech I recommend giving it a good once over.

http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0908/13144.html

As a former (ok current as well) fan of the Spice Girls, and all that girl power jazz, I have to say WOW.

You GO girl!

There I go stereotyping again....

Yesterday I passed a man on a bike. I did not immediately think he was in training for a Tour de Anywhere. That was wrong of me. I should apologize.

So here it goes.

Dear Middle Age Bearded Man with your Camo Hat and Confederate Flag shirt on your 10-Speed holding a Brown Paper Bag roughly the size of a six pack of some beverage.

I judged you and I am sorry for that.

I'm sure you are riding that bike for the health factor, and not because your license has been revoked due to too many DUIs.

Regards,

My Father's Daughter

Looking for the Silver Lining

So I've decided to stop pouting over the departure of the boys and look at the bright side of having them gone. I know it sounds a bit harsh, but you deal how you deal, and I'll deal how I deal. So this is a list so far of how it's not so bad.

1. The amount of laundry I have to do has dramatically decreased. Deuce will put on a fresh pair of socks about 3 times a day. It was worse in the beginning since their lovely, thoughtful mother never packs enough clothes. Unless we are talking about clothes taht don't fit them.
2. I no longer have to pick up socks that have been left throughout the house when Deuce decides to put on a fresh pair.
3. The number of dirty dishes has dramatically decreased. Eldest and Deuce both opperate under the impression that the dish fairy will take care of those glasses for them. That's why they feel free to get a new one out each time they are thirsty.
4. Not one single person in the house uttered the phrase "I'm so thirsty" yesterday. Deuce isn't able to come right out and ask for a drink. No he's more into hinting around.
5. This goes the same for the phrase "I'm so hungry" and Eldest's favorite "What can I have to eat?"
6. Murph didn't argue one bit when I said it was bath time, or tell me that he had had a bath only the day before. I didn't have to make him use the age old disagreement settler of "Rock. Paper, Scissors" to figure out who would be showering. I just started the water and he ran to the bathroom.
7. The house smells better. 9 and 11 year old boys just have an odor about them. Withing ten minutes of them arriving, their room will take on a definite funkiness. I'm not sure how it happens, and can only hope it won't happen with Murph.
8. No one talked about poop, farts, burps, or any other body function. Now I will say that Chief was a bit under the weather, so he wasn't quite up on his game yesterday.
9. No one asked to play the computer or the Wii. No one sighed and muttered how much they wanted to "rock out".
10. I was not "shinged" with a sword, or shot with a nerf bullet once yesterday. Though I did get poked with a stick by Murph as he said Doe! Hmmm.

See. It's not so bad having the little bleeders gone. I'm sure I could think of dozens of good reasons!

Of course I don't think Murph is quite as convinced. He tried to go into their room several times, called them on the phone, and laid down on the piece of cardboard they had turned into his magic carpet waiting for someone to pull him down the hallway.

Searching for Normal

I took the boys to the airport yesterday. We actually drove to the city the night before and stayed in a hotel because of the early departure of their flight. The Chief had to work this weekend, yes poor planning, so he wasn't able to make the trip with us. That of course made it even harder on him, and harder on me for having to watch it.

We had one last dinner as a family, then all three boys and I loaded into the car for the 3 hour drive. Murph did pretty well. Even sleeping for part of the trip. Once at the hotel, it took awhile to get everyone calmed down and asleep. Murph would sit up and jabber at his brothers whenever they made a sound. "Snort like a pig!" they begged. Murph would oblige and even that made me tear up.

We were up by 5 to get ready, eat a little, and get to the airport. All three played on the bed for awhile, smiling and laughing. Again, the tears.

I was extremely nervous about how Murph would do at the airport, but he was perfect. Me on the other hand, well I was a sobby mess. I hate departure day more than any other day.

They talked about when they would be here next (4 months from today). Four months isn't so long they decided. And the baby will be here by then. Duece asked, "How old will Turk be when we get here? One or Two months?" "Two or three weeks," I replied. "That's little!" They didn't meet Murph until he was a month old.

It was finally time for them to board, and time for hugs and goodbyes. Murph was sleepy enough that he wouldn't hug them or give them smoochies. I was struggling not to cry, but that made is so that I could barely tell them goodbye.

Driving home, friends and family would call to check to see how it went, but even talking about it hurts. Our boys are gone, Murph's brothers are gone, and there is nothing that we can do to change that. Nothing legal that is, and I'm too pretty for jail.

So now we wait. We count down the 4 months until they are home again. We try to get our lives back to whatever normal is without them.

Who says normal is so great?

And then there were six...

We are expanding the family. I think most of the people who happen to read this have known that for awhile. But I haven't even made the official announcement. So there it is.

We are calling the baby Turk. Which is short for Turkey since this is a Thanksgiving baby. Thought since Murph was originally Bear that the animal name would fit right in. We aren't finding out the gender of this one either, so don't ask.

Anyway.... I had one of those silly hormonal pregnant moments yesterday, that I think that some of you might get a chuckle out of.

The boys and I were enjoying our Sonic lunch watching the movie The Incredibles. Have you seen the movie? Well in it there is a scene when the mom is flying a jet and it is being attacked by missles. Her oldest children are on the plane with her, so she calls out over the radio "Abort, abort, there are children on board!"

And of course it caused me to get all teary eyed. (Even now typing the words, my eyes are filling up again.) It is well documented that I am NOT a pretty crier. I firmly believe that that (and a lack of all talent) are the only thing that have gotten in the way of my Broadway career. My eyes and nose get all red and splotchy instantly.

It's hard not to notice.

Even if you are a 9 year old boy. Deuce looked at me and said, "Why are your eyes all red?". Did I tell the truth? Heck no. I instead said, "Oh, I chocked on a bite of my sandwich". To which he innocently replied, "Oh I HATE that. It gets stuck right HERE and hurts." "Yes. It does", I said.

Yes. I lied to him about it.

And I'm ok with that. Why? Cause I'm pregnant. Which makes it ok for me to be just a little bit insane.

Going Home

It's always nice to go "home" for a bit. The Chief, Eldest, Deuce, Murph and I all went to visit family and friends for a couple of weeks. With the cost of gas, it's about all the vacation we might get, but we enjoy it none the less. The boys would live there I think if we would let them. Lots and lots to do at G-Ma's and G-Pa's house. Not to mention the fact that they can do no wrong there.

I happened to run into an old friend while we were there at the gas station (where my left kidney was removed to pay for the trip). Someone that I used to teach with in my home town. My last year there he moved up to an administrator's role, and is now the admin guy at the school.

He basically told me that when we are ready to move back home just to give him a call a little in advance and there will be a job waiting for me. "You can do a lot with adding sections when you want to". Which is teacher talk for I can make the classes smaller to have more of them so that you can get a job here. How awesome was that? It's nice to know that I have friend's and co-workers who think that much of me. Makes is sound like when the time is right, we really will be able to go home.

Poop

As the mother of an infant, it's amazing that I haven't had to discuss this topic before now.

It's only in the last few days with a couple of events happening in the house that I've been thinking about it way more than one would want.

I remember being about 7 or 8 and my parents calling my sisters and I into the bathroom for a family meeting. What happened next was a lesson on toilet paper usage. We were shown how to wipe, fold then wipe again. Aparently we had been using WAY too much. I remember thinking that my parents were insane. But then again this wasn't the first time I had thought that. But we were never called back for another TP conference, so I guess my sisters and I got the idea.

I need to have my parents offer the course again.

Our oldest boys arrived for the summer this weekend.

Since that time we've had two "incidents". The lesser is the fact that while doing laundry I've had to fold skid marked skivies. "I only use a piece this big to wipe my butt," was the response we got from Eldest. The bigger incident is that poor Chief had to unclog the toilet that had been filled to the brim with toilet paper. Well it had been clogged once, and then "used" the second time. "I had a whole lot of poop on my butt" was the response that time mubbled from Deuce. Even the steel stomached Chief about lost it on that household task. "Next time just get your @ss in the shower!" cried the Chief!

And here I thought that having Murph try to grab the poopy diaper would be the most disgusting thing I would have to deal with this week!