I'm not sure what's happening in our house.
Sophie is 3 and a half. She has started to give up napping. I'm cool with this decision or "down wit it" as the younglings say. The only problem with her wanting to give up her afternoon nap is that by 5:00, demons start pouring out of her mouth and ears. Big purple demons with pitchforks, torches, butcher knives and clipboards asking if you have a minute for a small survey. They make her rampage through the house knocking down her brother and looking for small animals to stomp.
So I've started doing the Mom Thing of "You don't have to sleep. Just lay down and rest for a while." This isn't going over well, either. She takes this time to pin Pink Baby and Ernie to the wall by the crib rail and then strip her fitted sheet off the bed and wear it like a cape.
Next is my two year old, Gideon. The Boy still needs a nap and he will still take a nap.
Eventually.
First he has to do the I'm-Not-Tired dance for about 4 hours. Then he has to stare into space like a zombie for another 30 minutes. He has to refuse all food you give him and then try to eat the dried up macaroni that the vacuum missed on the floor under the ottoman. He has to stop playing with all 10 gazillion of his toys and only want your skillets and something from the recycling bin. Then he has to crawl all over you like you are Kilimanjaro. (YOU ARE THERE.) Once you get him into the bed, he has to take off the fitted sheet (what is with this?!) and try to crawl under his mattress.
Then he will finally pass out cold 20 minutes before you need to leave to go somewhere.
Milly takes about 3 naps a day. Well, according to the schedule, she takes 3 naps a day. In truth, she screams like she's being skinned alive until I feed her a bottle and then will army crawl over the entire living room looking for razor blades to swallow. She will slither up behind her brother and grab his ankle causing him to leap 40 feet into the air and clutch the ceiling fan. Then, when she is yawning, she gently lays down and everything is wonderful.
For about 40 minutes.
My mother has asked me before why I put my kids to bed at 7:00. ("It's so early!)
Mama's tired, yo.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The Pros and Cons of a 6 Month Old
Pro: She only drinks formula. I never have to fret and decide about what she's going to eat or not eat.
Con: She spits up 19 gazillion times after each bottle. Almost always all over me. ON PURPOSE. (Seriously, she turns away from the burp cloth or rips off the bib and aims for my pants.)
Pro: She nurses to sleep delicately against me. There is nothing like a contented, sleeping baby cuddled on my chest.
Con: She only naps in 20 minute stretches and then acts like a cranky tiger after playing for another 20 minutes. Ferber himself would walk out saying "Dude, I have no idea."
Pro: She is my first child with hair! Beautiful, wonderful hair since birth!
Con: Cradle cap. Ew.
Pro: She makes funny faces.
Con: She's probably about to yack on the carpet. Seriously, this kid has no constitution.
Pro: She's my most contented and easy going baby. So far her sister has peed on her face and her brother has stepped on her face in shoes and she was fine minutes after each incident. Nothing really makes her mad.
Con: Except teeth. (Which you can barely see in the picture.) They are coming in one at a time and slower than molasses.
I think I'll keep her. And possibly buy stock in Resolve and Shout.
Con: She spits up 19 gazillion times after each bottle. Almost always all over me. ON PURPOSE. (Seriously, she turns away from the burp cloth or rips off the bib and aims for my pants.)
Pro: She nurses to sleep delicately against me. There is nothing like a contented, sleeping baby cuddled on my chest.
Con: She only naps in 20 minute stretches and then acts like a cranky tiger after playing for another 20 minutes. Ferber himself would walk out saying "Dude, I have no idea."
Pro: She is my first child with hair! Beautiful, wonderful hair since birth!
Con: Cradle cap. Ew.
Pro: She makes funny faces.
Con: She's probably about to yack on the carpet. Seriously, this kid has no constitution.
Pro: She's my most contented and easy going baby. So far her sister has peed on her face and her brother has stepped on her face in shoes and she was fine minutes after each incident. Nothing really makes her mad.
Con: Except teeth. (Which you can barely see in the picture.) They are coming in one at a time and slower than molasses.
I think I'll keep her. And possibly buy stock in Resolve and Shout.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Glamour
This morning I cheered on a three year old as she removed her gown and put on pants. I also explained how cream would make her red butt feel better so that she would allow me to put it on her because everything must be explained now.
Then I wrestled my very angry, very poopy 2 year old little boy until he was clean. He wanted to grab handfuls of poo to fling at me because I was stifling his creativity or something.
Lastly, after feeding my 6 month old daughter, she leaned back and sighed. Then she gave a tiny cough and explosively spit up all over me. And then leaned back and sighed again.
My life is magical.
Then I wrestled my very angry, very poopy 2 year old little boy until he was clean. He wanted to grab handfuls of poo to fling at me because I was stifling his creativity or something.
Lastly, after feeding my 6 month old daughter, she leaned back and sighed. Then she gave a tiny cough and explosively spit up all over me. And then leaned back and sighed again.
My life is magical.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
A Quick Note
Darling Children,
Mommy has not had her anti-anxiety medication for a whole week now. Mommy is getting dangerously close to insanity.
EAT YOUR SUPPER SO I CAN CHANGE YOUR DIAPERS AND PUT YOU TO BED OR MOMMY IS GOING TO STAPLE YOU TO THE CEILING.
Mommy loves you.
Mommy has not had her anti-anxiety medication for a whole week now. Mommy is getting dangerously close to insanity.
EAT YOUR SUPPER SO I CAN CHANGE YOUR DIAPERS AND PUT YOU TO BED OR MOMMY IS GOING TO STAPLE YOU TO THE CEILING.
Mommy loves you.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Drinks All Around
Me: Ooh! I thought of a new kahlua drink!
Ben: Oh?
Me: Don't call me a lush.
Ben: I didn't...out loud.
Me: It's from being raised so strictly southern baptist.
Ben: Well, I'm glad you're making up for it now.
Me: I barely have time to make up for it now. You keep getting me pregnant.
Ben: Do you hear how awful that sounds?
Me: Ugh.
Ben: Fine. I'm sorry I keep knocking you up and getting in the way of your make-up drinking.
Ben: Oh?
Me: Don't call me a lush.
Ben: I didn't...out loud.
Me: It's from being raised so strictly southern baptist.
Ben: Well, I'm glad you're making up for it now.
Me: I barely have time to make up for it now. You keep getting me pregnant.
Ben: Do you hear how awful that sounds?
Me: Ugh.
Ben: Fine. I'm sorry I keep knocking you up and getting in the way of your make-up drinking.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Coming Out
For some time now, something has been weighing on my heart. I have alluded to mental problems here on my blog. I've told some people a little bit of my history. I don't hide the fact that I'm on medication for depression and anxiety.
However, God is bringing different stories to my attention. He's showing me what happens when people don't speak up when something is wrong. He's showing me that there is still a stigma and a shame attached to depression, anxiety, OCD, agoraphobia and other mental illnesses. I feel like He's asking me to stand up and tell my story a little more clearly.
I became a Christian when I was 10. Like most first-born children, I am a people pleaser and that translated over to my relationship with God. I tried to be perfect for Him. I tried my hardest not to sin, to do my best at school and to always make life easy for my parents. I failed miserably but I kept trying. When I was 20, I married my first husband. Now that I was out of the house and only responsible to my husband and myself, I began to get lax. I started gaining weight and started smoking off and on. I stopped going to church. I quit reading the Bible and eventually stopped talking to God unless it was an emergency.
2 years after getting married, I got pregnant and then lost the baby after 4 days. I spiraled down into a deep, dark pit of depression. I became obsessed with making my body work. I couldn't get pregnant again so we stopped trying. In a haze, I just went back and forth to work. I ate dinner and watched TV. I tried to sleep but almost always had to take pills to get myself to sleep. Once I was asleep, I could sleep for days. I never wanted to shower. I never wanted to go out. I never wanted to interact with anyone. I just stopped. My world became as large as my bedroom. My husband just left me alone so that I could deal with it. He didn't want to bother me.
1 year to the day after the miscarriage, I found out that my husband was in love with another woman. I never heard my husband say that he loved me again. He became secretive. He never mentioned wanting a divorce but he refused to tell me what was really going on with this woman. To this day, I have no idea if it was an emotional affair or if he was sleeping with her. We both went to counseling, individual and marriage. He didn't like our marriage counselor because the doctor was making it out to be all his fault.
In March 2005, I snapped. I drove to my mother's house and began ranting and raving. She recognized that I was gone and took me to the ER. I was admitted into an outpatient program the next day. I've read the journal posts from those first days in the institution and I'm amazed at how...sick I sound. The second journal post is all about my husband who was in a bad mood when I came home from my therapy. It turns out that he was hurt that no one had been paying attention to him during this "hard time".
After 3 days of outpatient therapy, I knew that if I went home then I would be dead the next day. I gave a note to one of the doctors and they would not let me leave. I stayed inpatient for a week until my medicine leveled out and I felt safe going home. The first thing my husband asked when I called him to tell him about staying was whether or not I was going to lose my job and had I called the insurance company. Again, I look at those journal posts and I'm flabbergasted that I lived like this for so long.
While in therapy, I hit rock bottom. I had a husband who was in love with another woman but wasn't willing to let me know what he thought of me. He would rather keep me dangling as some bizarre roommate. I was unable to get pregnant. I had no friends. I hated my job. I was terrified to step outside most days. I was lying on the floor of a co-ed mental institution on a mattress next to a nurse because I was on "Suicide Watch". I wasn't allowed to have shoelaces or caffeine. I wanted my dogs and my Mama.
God found me. I remembered one verse. "Be still and know that I am God."
I began to pray. Actually, I didn't even pray, I just talked to God like an old friend. Slowly, life flooded back into my heart and I realized how cold it had been for years. Every day I talked to God. Every day I felt myself thaw a little more. Every day I cried and those tears cleared my eyes. I needed God more than anything else.
I still took my medicine and I still take it now. I thank God for my medicine and no matter how good I feel I will not stop taking it. That medicine is a gift from Him to allow me to function in this world. I am grateful to have it.
I still think about my first husband. I hope that he has turned to God, too. I hope that he has joy in his life. I pray for him daily. He was more than a good friend. We spent 10 years together, dating and married. I truly hope he has peace and love in his life.
I know I do.
However, God is bringing different stories to my attention. He's showing me what happens when people don't speak up when something is wrong. He's showing me that there is still a stigma and a shame attached to depression, anxiety, OCD, agoraphobia and other mental illnesses. I feel like He's asking me to stand up and tell my story a little more clearly.
I became a Christian when I was 10. Like most first-born children, I am a people pleaser and that translated over to my relationship with God. I tried to be perfect for Him. I tried my hardest not to sin, to do my best at school and to always make life easy for my parents. I failed miserably but I kept trying. When I was 20, I married my first husband. Now that I was out of the house and only responsible to my husband and myself, I began to get lax. I started gaining weight and started smoking off and on. I stopped going to church. I quit reading the Bible and eventually stopped talking to God unless it was an emergency.
2 years after getting married, I got pregnant and then lost the baby after 4 days. I spiraled down into a deep, dark pit of depression. I became obsessed with making my body work. I couldn't get pregnant again so we stopped trying. In a haze, I just went back and forth to work. I ate dinner and watched TV. I tried to sleep but almost always had to take pills to get myself to sleep. Once I was asleep, I could sleep for days. I never wanted to shower. I never wanted to go out. I never wanted to interact with anyone. I just stopped. My world became as large as my bedroom. My husband just left me alone so that I could deal with it. He didn't want to bother me.
1 year to the day after the miscarriage, I found out that my husband was in love with another woman. I never heard my husband say that he loved me again. He became secretive. He never mentioned wanting a divorce but he refused to tell me what was really going on with this woman. To this day, I have no idea if it was an emotional affair or if he was sleeping with her. We both went to counseling, individual and marriage. He didn't like our marriage counselor because the doctor was making it out to be all his fault.
In March 2005, I snapped. I drove to my mother's house and began ranting and raving. She recognized that I was gone and took me to the ER. I was admitted into an outpatient program the next day. I've read the journal posts from those first days in the institution and I'm amazed at how...sick I sound. The second journal post is all about my husband who was in a bad mood when I came home from my therapy. It turns out that he was hurt that no one had been paying attention to him during this "hard time".
After 3 days of outpatient therapy, I knew that if I went home then I would be dead the next day. I gave a note to one of the doctors and they would not let me leave. I stayed inpatient for a week until my medicine leveled out and I felt safe going home. The first thing my husband asked when I called him to tell him about staying was whether or not I was going to lose my job and had I called the insurance company. Again, I look at those journal posts and I'm flabbergasted that I lived like this for so long.
While in therapy, I hit rock bottom. I had a husband who was in love with another woman but wasn't willing to let me know what he thought of me. He would rather keep me dangling as some bizarre roommate. I was unable to get pregnant. I had no friends. I hated my job. I was terrified to step outside most days. I was lying on the floor of a co-ed mental institution on a mattress next to a nurse because I was on "Suicide Watch". I wasn't allowed to have shoelaces or caffeine. I wanted my dogs and my Mama.
God found me. I remembered one verse. "Be still and know that I am God."
I began to pray. Actually, I didn't even pray, I just talked to God like an old friend. Slowly, life flooded back into my heart and I realized how cold it had been for years. Every day I talked to God. Every day I felt myself thaw a little more. Every day I cried and those tears cleared my eyes. I needed God more than anything else.
I still took my medicine and I still take it now. I thank God for my medicine and no matter how good I feel I will not stop taking it. That medicine is a gift from Him to allow me to function in this world. I am grateful to have it.
I still think about my first husband. I hope that he has turned to God, too. I hope that he has joy in his life. I pray for him daily. He was more than a good friend. We spent 10 years together, dating and married. I truly hope he has peace and love in his life.
I know I do.
Monday, June 27, 2011
5 Silly Reasons Why I Love My Husband
We got silly one day and I suggested this challenge. It was fun to do and now I want to share it with others. These are five "silly" reasons why I love Ben Dyer. Silly does not mean stupid. It just means not totally lovey-dovey-serious-wedding-vow type of reason.
1. I love seeing Ben the day he trims his beard. He looks so much like the boy I knew in middle school. It makes me want to run and grab that San Antonio Spurs cap and put it backwards on his head. Then we can go make out behind an elementary school.
2. I love watching Ben with the kids. He has this dance that he does called the Daddy Dance that the kids love and beg for every day when he comes home. He sits and plays cars with Gideon. He doesn't just give cars to Gideon, he actually PLAYS CARS like another kid. He knows the right way to ease a baby into being tossed into the air and taught me the Daddy Tricks of the Trade. I still can't do it right and he's the only one who can make Milly grin like a maniac.
3. He is BRILLIANT. We can spend a wonderful afternoon with an Atlas open between us and him explaining how the world has changed over the years. (Yes, we're dorks.) It's started the most amazing conversations where I no longer feel like just a cook/maid/wiper of butts. We are just two adults talking about the ramifications of the War of the Roses.
4. One day we will settle once and for all just who knows more about the Simpsons. For now, he is teaching me more about Futurama and enjoying every minute of it. I love that we don't even have to quote Simpsons or Futurama anymore. We just give each other That Look and giggle because we know what the other one is thinking.
5. He is the funniest person on the planet. From witty remarks to stupid muffin jokes, the man just makes me laugh every single day. Seriously, make him tell you the muffin joke.
I love you, Ben.
1. I love seeing Ben the day he trims his beard. He looks so much like the boy I knew in middle school. It makes me want to run and grab that San Antonio Spurs cap and put it backwards on his head. Then we can go make out behind an elementary school.
2. I love watching Ben with the kids. He has this dance that he does called the Daddy Dance that the kids love and beg for every day when he comes home. He sits and plays cars with Gideon. He doesn't just give cars to Gideon, he actually PLAYS CARS like another kid. He knows the right way to ease a baby into being tossed into the air and taught me the Daddy Tricks of the Trade. I still can't do it right and he's the only one who can make Milly grin like a maniac.
3. He is BRILLIANT. We can spend a wonderful afternoon with an Atlas open between us and him explaining how the world has changed over the years. (Yes, we're dorks.) It's started the most amazing conversations where I no longer feel like just a cook/maid/wiper of butts. We are just two adults talking about the ramifications of the War of the Roses.
4. One day we will settle once and for all just who knows more about the Simpsons. For now, he is teaching me more about Futurama and enjoying every minute of it. I love that we don't even have to quote Simpsons or Futurama anymore. We just give each other That Look and giggle because we know what the other one is thinking.
5. He is the funniest person on the planet. From witty remarks to stupid muffin jokes, the man just makes me laugh every single day. Seriously, make him tell you the muffin joke.
I love you, Ben.
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