Salsarita's part 3

Yes, I said part three.


My mom is in town. She arrived on Wednesday. Jeff started his vacation on Thursday. I am a stay at home mom and therefore am always on vacation. HA! Just making sure that you are paying attention. I am a stay at home mom and therefore never get a vacation, except during those glorious times when I get an hour to myself to either shower without my son in the room, or when I get to take a bath in complete silence. Ahhh.


Anyways. Saturday I was having a hankering for some tacos. I convinced mom and Jeff to go to Salsarita's with me.


Now, let's take a minute to talk about the last incident. It occurred over 2 weeks ago. Let's let it go, shall we?


Yeah not going to happen. Because apparently I am the laughing stock of the East Side Salsarita's.


We walked in and one employee (I prefer to call him Dumpy- because he is short, chubby and, well, if you make fun of me you get a mean nickname, okay?) started making gestures with his hands of a tray hitting him in the face.


Dude, keep it up and I will make it a reality. Don't test me, I got very little sleep last night and I am hungry.


While Dumpy was mocking me, the rest of the employees were trying not to laugh. Let's get one thing straight. If you are going to attempt not to laugh, try harder. Because snickering behind your spatula is not cutting it. And I am pretty sure that having it that close to your face is some kind of health violation.


After I got my tray of food and my glorious Diet Coke, I sat down to eat. This is where the mocking would end.


Boy was I wrong.


Dumpy came over to our table. He used the clever ruse that he needed to clean off the tables, but not once did I see him wipe one off. He came over and asked me how everything was tasting and then smiled that evil, I am imagining you with salsa all over your hair, smile. He asked if I managed to keep it all on the tray this time.


Ha.
Ha.
Ha.


Dumpy, you are not funny. You are not clever. You are annoying. Stop trying to make jokes and flirt with me (I totally looked good and Jeff was not at the table at the time). Leave me alone.


By the way, someone should inform you that you shouldn't outwardly mock someone right in front of their mother.


It's poor form.


He finally left the table and from where I was sitting I could see all the employees glancing in my direction. 


Yes, I am the one who catapulted a tray of tacos and chips into my face. I am the one who had to get salsa out of my hair for 45 minutes and the one whose hair smelled like salsa for a week afterward.


Look all you want. But I guarantee that even with salsa, chips and cheese in my bra, I am way cuter than you. I also have a lot more guts that you. I showed up at the scene of the crime and looked the criminal (the salsa) right in the face and, without incident, drippage, or stain, managed to show said criminal who was boss.


And Dumpy, if you ever want to get a girl, my advice is this:


#1) Get her some napkins when she throws 6 pounds of salsa in her hair,  don't stand and laugh at her from behind the counter.


#2) Don't mock a girl in front of her mother. Because even if you win over the girl, to the mom, you will always be the guy who mocked her daughter. Besides, wouldn't it just be easier to chase her around the playground and pull her pigtails?


#3) Don't hit on a girl with a ring on her finger (a huge ring I might add- what? he doesn't know that it is fake because my fingers are fat from being pregnant for 2 years), who is with her 3 month old son and her mom. Pick one that is at least not married. And who doesn't have stretch marks for days.....nay....years.


#4) And lastly, comb your hair. Seriously. A little comb goes a long way. A very long way. And not combing your hair makes you look like a bum. And makes people give you nick names....like Dumpy.

Everything I need to know, I learned from my mom

In honor of my mom's birthday (which was yesterday) here is a list of the things she has taught me:


1. It's okay to eat ice cream for dinner. Just don't eat an entire bag of cookies as well.


2. Thanksgiving Dinner doesn't have to be fancy. Sometimes Del Taco and a trip to Disneyland will suffice.


3. Don't lock your daughter's wedding dress in your car the morning of her wedding. But if you do, make sure the AAA guy knows the situation and gets there in 10 minutes flat.


4. It is not possible for an entire loaf of bread to fall between the little crack between the stove and the counter. But, if you make that mistake, it will make for a good story and your kids will laugh at you for years to come.


5. Being a stay at home mom can be fun. Especially if you can watch re runs of Charlie's Angels while you fold laundry with your daughter.


6. Just because you were born to a couple from Whittier, CA with no royalty in their blood, doesn't mean you aren't a princess. All you need is a tiara and a wand.


7. Determination is everything. If you put your mind to it, you can do anything. Including getting your doctorate in Psychology after 20 years. 


8. Earplugs are important. Especially when your mother is writing her dissertation in the middle of the night and her acrylic nails are clicking incessantly on the key board.


9. No matter what is going on in your life, Thursday nights at 10 o'clock is ER time.


10. There is nothing wrong with doing a Del run at 2 am. As long as there is someone to go with you.


11. If your mom doesn't like your boyfriend, there's a reason. Hold out for someone she approves of. You will thank her later.


12. And finally, no matter what happens in life, no matter how crappy and hard it is, mom will always be there. 


Thanks for everything that you taught me mommy! I love you! Happy Birthday!

The joys of motherhood

1. Getting thrown up on. Even though you know it is breast milk, your breast milk, it still isn't fun. And it doesn't smell that great coming back up.

2. Not showering until noon. Most days I don't leave the house until 1. It's not because I am sleeping in, or being lazy. It is because whenever I have a moment to myself, this little micro chip in Dylan's brain alerts him and makes him cry, poop, or scream. Seriously. I am a woman (in case you weren't aware) and have long thick hair. I live in Tennessee where currently the weather is 20 degrees. I enjoy a long, hot (I turn the water to scalding, and then complain to Jeff that it is too cold) relaxing shower. It used to take me about 15 minutes in the shower, sometimes longer. Now, I am in and out in less than 5. Why? Because even when Dills (his nickname, trying it out, what do you think?) is in his bouncer 4 feet from me while I am in the shower, he senses that I am enjoying myself, and therefore must get my attention.

3. Not sleeping...ever. I know that some of you think that new moms get sleep. It's a lie. We close our eyes, and attempt to sleep, but we end up thinking about what needs to be done around the house, what we forgot to do that our husband asked us to do 4 weeks ago, how we are going to get it done without him realizing that we are 4 weeks late, what our child is doing in the other room while he is supposed to be sleeping. Then there is the dreaded "If I go to bed now, I will get 2 hours of sleep before Dills wakes up." "If I go to bed right now, I will get 45 minutes of sleep before Dills wakes up." It is an endless, sleepless cycle. In addition to knowing when I need to shower (perhaps it's not a micro chip at all but just an incredible sense of smell) Dills also knows when I need to sleep. And he will fart, fuss, cry, talk, scream, pretty much do anything but let me sleep. The best part? He sleeps while we are out running errands. Oh how I wish I could fall asleep on the bench outside Target. They would probably think that I was a hobo, and arrest me. If only they knew that I am single handedly responsible for the new pool that the manager had put in last summer, they would change their tune. Seriously? What was I talking about? Oh, sleep. We don't sleep. The end.

4. Breast feeding... in public. Seriously people. I have on a hooter hider. I am discreet. My boobs are not showing, I am not trying to make a spectacle of myself. I am feeding my son. GET OVER IT! If one more gross old man tries to get a peek (let's segue for a minute and discuss postpartum breasts...not cute. Not perky. More than likely victim to the pregnancy stretch marks. So why are you trying to peek...oh and one more thing. There's nothing to see, my son's head is blocking it. If you want to see the cutest little boy in the world, then go ahead and take a peek, but otherwise, leave me alone.) I am going to punch him. Which would be a feat on my part because I am holding a child in one hand, and with the other hand punching you in the face, all while never missing a beat. Never underestimate the power of a hormonal, sleep deprived mom.

5. The endless advice. If one more person tells me that their child ate solid foods at 3 months, I am going to scream. I don't care what your child accomplished and at what age. You are old. Your child is old. Are you naive enough to believe that medicine, and child rearing hasn't made any advancements over the past 60 years? It has. Believe it or not, there is a person in my life that has studied, and knows modern medicine, and understands what is best for me and my child. He is called a doctor. He actually has a medical degree. You? You just have an annoying streak that makes me want to scream.... LOUD. So please, no advice. I know what is best for my child. And right now what is best for my child is for me to lie and say that I have somewhere to be. Anywhere that is far from you and your advice. Because you know what? You bug.

6. The laundry. Moms all around the world know what I am talking about. How can one little 10 pound person produce SO MUCH LAUNDRY? I used to do 3 loads a week before Dills came around. Darks, lights, towels and sheets. 3 loads. That's it. Now I have about 47 loads. Lights, darks, towels, sheets, burp cloths, blankets.... the list goes on. And no matter how hard I try to keep up with it. It grows on a hourly basis. The best part? We are going to order cloth diapers next week. You know, the kind you wash, at home. So then we will have lights, darks, towels, sheets, burp cloths, blankets, diapers..... I hate laundry. Laundry hates me. The only thing I hate more than laundry is the fact that everything associated with a child is expensive. See the next point....

7. Everything associated with a child is expensive. I am cheap. Jeff is cheap. It is a marriage made in heaven. Dills is expensive. We love him dearly. But he is expensive. Did you know that it gets cold in Tennessee? You see, I forgot that. So all the clothes that we have for Dills are short pants, and short sleeved shirts. Even though we had our boys almost exactly one year apart, all the clothes that we have are Southern California appropriate, where currently it is 80 degrees. Seriously. 80 degrees in December. So if I were in California right now, my son would be dressed perfectly. But I am not in 80 degree weather. I am in 20 degree weather. It is currently snowing. The schools are closed and most of my friends didn't have to go to work today because if it snows even a little bit, the city freaks out. But hey, no one complains because a snow day is a snow day. So I have to buy clothes for little man. Warm clothes. Apparently because there is twice as much fabric as the summer clothes, it means that they are 4 times as expensive. Go figure. So instead of buying a ton of clothes, I do a ton of laundry. Because little man has about 5 warm outfits. Did I mention that I hate laundry? If you forgot, see number 6 above.

8. The endless advice #2. Don't judge me when I tell you that my child doesn't sleep through the night. You asked me. You obviously wanted to know the answer. The answer is that sometimes he sleeps well, and sometimes he wakes up every 2 hours. This doesn't make me a bad mother. I am not comfortable letting a 2 month old scream his head off. If he cries, I hold him, feed him and do anything I can to make him stop crying. My child is happy. He knows that when he cries because he is hungry, wet, cold, hot, cranky, gassy, fussy, or just plain lonely, Mom will be there. He is secure. I know that moms that let their child cry it out are not bad mothers. Just like moms that pick up their child when they cry are not bad. Don't judge me. There are a million ways to raise a child. And the best way to raise a child is without your advice. The best way to raise a child is with mother's intuition. And you know what my intuition is telling me? That your advice is lame. Go away.

9. Oh how cute, a baby! Yep, a baby. You know, because we never see any of those around. Please don't touch my child. I don't know you. For all I know, you could have scratched your butt, and then touched my child's hands. I don't want to be rude, but when you look like you haven't showered in 3 months and then reach those nasty hands, with those dirty fingernails that a) haven't been cleaned in a year and b) haven't been cut in a year, you leave me no choice. I am going to be rude. I may even smack your hand away. Please know that I will smack hard. And then I will use my industrial strength hand sanitizer to clean my hands from your butt scratching germs. Don't touch my child. Feel free to tell me how cute he is (because, duh, he totally is) but please do this within a safe distance. Then go home and clean your fingernails. The end.

Facing the fear

I did it.


I faced my fear.


It was scary, I am not going to lie to you.


People were starring at me.


People laughed under their breaths.


My palms were sweaty (which was a problem because I was carrying little man in his car seat).


My stomach was growling (which I think everyone in a 10 mile radius heard). 


Did I mention that it was 3:30 and I still hadn't had lunch?


Anyways......


I showed my face at Salsarita's. This is the first time since the catapulting salsa incident.


I ordered the same thing a always do, two tacos and chips and salsa. There were 2 employees that recognized me. I smiled and told them that I decided to show my face again. The tacos were calling my name.


Carrie....CARRIE....


The salsa was calling my name, too. But it was in more of a taunting manner. Hahaha CARRIE!!!


One of the guys took the tray for me to my table. He said that he didn't want me to spill it again. Hahaha dude, you are so funny.


And for the record, I didn't drop it, I catapulted it into my face. So having you carry it to the table isn't really helping things. If you really want to help, get me a bib.


I put too much ice in my diet coke and finished it too quickly, but I was afraid to go get more, because this is how the last tray ended up in my bra, upon my return to the table.


I waited a few minutes, gathered up the nerve, and went to get more Diet Coke. I then came back to the table and pushed the tray as far away from the edge as possible. Then I sat down like a ballerina. I tried hard to look graceful (not that I was successful, but at least I made an effort).


As I sat down, the booth made a squeaky fart like noise and the table next to me glanced in my direction. I gave them a look that said "Mexican food. It'll get you every time." They didn't seem amused.


As I sat there eating my tacos without incident, there was one thing that kept plaguing me: The salsa.


I have never eaten chips and salsa so slowly. I was determined not to get a drop on me. I am pretty sure that the smell is still lingering from last week.


I finished the chips and salsa. They were delicious. Hahaha, who's laughing now salsa?

Grace, poise, elegance

Three words that have never been used to describe me.


On my wedding day I wore tennis shoes. I told everyone that it was because I am tall and I didn't want to be as tall as my soon to be husband while wearing heels. The truth? I was afraid of falling on my butt in front of 150 of my closest friends and family.


Remember in the late nineties when those hideous platform flip flops were popular? Yeah, I had a pair. I almost broke my ankle while walking up the stairs. I sprained it and had to wear flats for 2 weeks. I told people that the platforms just didn't match any of my outfits. Yeah, I lied.


I also dislocated my shoulder while running across the street. Alone. Seriously. The closest person to me was my then boyfriend, and he was at least 30 feet away. This is how talented I am. Who else can boast the ability to completely dislocate limbs all by them self? That would be me.


I am not, nor have I even been called graceful, full of poise, or elegant.


That's why this story will not come as a huge surprise to those of you that know me.


Jeff had a business dinner last night. So I was on my own for dinner.


Dylan and I went to his 2 month appointment during the day. He's totally healthy by the way, but that's another blog.


The appointment went long, which I was not expecting, and I didn't have lunch. So when I was sitting in the office for two hours and counting, I was getting a little delirious.


I decided to go to Salsarita's for dinner. (for those of you that don't know what this is, it is like my favorite place to eat. It is a Mexican restaurant where you design your own burrito or tacos- sort of like Subway- but way better).  I had a book. Dylan was fed. I was starving. What more could a girl want?


I ordered the tacos and chips and salsa and of course a diet coke. Because I got about 2 hours of sleep the night before. But that's another blog...


Anyways, I ordered my food, sat down at a table, and then little man started to get fussy. I thought that he might be hungry, so I moved to a booth near the wall where I could have some privacy. In the process of moving to the booth, I almost knocked over the entire table with Dylan's car seat.


A nice man tried to help me, but I of course told him I was okay. I tried to regain my composure. I managed to get Dylan to the booth without dropping him.


The best part is that by the time I got situated, Dylan was no longer hungry. *Sigh* Well at least I got time to read my book and enjoy my awesome tacos.


So, after a few pages, my diet coke was empty, which is unacceptable. I went to go get a refill.


Then I sat back down. Or at least I tried to.


This is what I think happened, because I am pretty sure that it happened in slow motion. But of course I cannot be sure, as I was utterly too terrified to remember anything.


I attempted to sit down, but the tray with my half eaten tacos and chips and salsa was hanging over the edge of the table. I was exhausted, so I sat down with a little too much umph, and catapulted the tray directly into my face. But that's not all. It also flung into my hair, into my bra, on my jeans, on my shoes, and on the wall behind me.


The man that tried to help me while I was knocking the table over earlier, just sat and looked at me. Gee, thanks for staring at me. Because, you know, staring at me is going to help me get the salsa off of my neck. God forbid you grab me some napkins. 


So, because no one would help me, I made the walk of shame - the messy, dripping walk of shame - to the other side of the restaurant with everyone's eyes on me to grab napkins.


I tried to wipe as much sour cream, cheese, salsa, lettuce and steak off of myself.  Thankfully, the man sitting in the table next to me helped me wipe it out of my hair (still with everyone watching me). 

He wiped it off my shirt (the back) and off my shoulders as well. Keep in mind that this is the only nice person in the entire place. Everyone else was staring. A little kid was even laughing at me. But, the nice man's wife, who I didn't notice at first, started giving me the evil eye, because her husband was wiping salsa outta my hair and I am pretty sure that we had a moment. Okay this is a lie. There is no reason why this woman should be mad at me. I didn't ask her husband to come over and wipe salsa out of my hair. The only moment we had was when I asked him if there was any salsa that I missed, to which he replied "Umm, yeah, on your, umm, shirt". What he meant to say was, "Dude, you totally have salsa on your boob, like a lot of salsa. You'd better wipe that off before you leave the restaurant."


So in the midst of getting help from the only nice person in the restaurant, and getting stared down by his wife (let's take a moment to dissect this shall we? What man is going to find an overweight, new mom covered in salsa attractive? I am pretty sure this woman had nothing to worry about) my stomach started to growl. Because, you know, half my dinner was on the floor.


I went to the counter and told one of the employees what happened and that I needed a broom to clean up the floor. He told me that he would clean it up for me. Thanks man, where were you with the napkins 10 minutes ago, huh?


Anyways, I sat down (very carefully, might I add) and read more of my book, and drank my diet coke. I wanted to avoid all eye contact until I was sure that every person that witnessed my lovely display was gone.


I then got up and ordered one more taco and more chips and salsa. The manager asked me if that was what spilled on the floor, and then told me that it was on the house. Thanks man, but where were you 20 minutes ago when I needed napkins, huh?


So I very carefully walked back to the table and ate my taco and chips. Thankfully with no more spillage.


That night when I got home, I took off each item of clothing carefully to avoid getting tomatoes and cilantro all over. I looked on the bathroom floor when I was done and saw an entire taco worth of cheese. This was all in my bra. Every bit. Because I shook out my shirt and pants. I remember getting everything off of the outside clothing items. The cheese must have been hiding out. In my bra.


I had to wash my hair, because the smell of salsa and the extreme crunchiness was overwhelming and I could no longer take it.


Had you been in the shower with me you would have laughed. I washed my hair, and I swear, the tomatoes and cilatro just kept falling out. Just when I thought I was done, more would fall onto the shower floor. It was laughable. Well unless you were me, because I was starting to run out of shampoo. And because the smell of salsa was still not gone.


I then got out of the shower and brushed my clean hair... and one more tomato fell out. It was like the salsa just had to have the last word. Stupid salsa.

Thankful

Things I am thankful for:

1. I am thankful for my amazing family. I have great in laws. I am blessed to have not only a dad, a dad in law, but I also have a step-dad in law, too. My mother in law is amazing as well. She loves her family, loves to cook, and is a wonderful servant. She is a wonderful grandmother, and Dylan loves being with her.

2. I am thankful that I have 2 sons. I gave birth to 2 wonderful boys in less than 2 years, and most importantly, I survived to tell about it.

3. I am thankful for Jeff. This past year has been the hardest year of my life. I know that God put Jeff in my life because He knew that we would be a great team to go through the death of our son. Without Jeff, I would be a mess. Jeff, brings the best out in me.

4. I am thankful that Brendan is in heaven. I know it sounds crazy, but I think that he is much happier in heaven. He is no longer in pain. He can breathe. His heart is perfect. He is perfect. And I know that he is in good hands.

5. I am thankful for Dylan's health. There was a time that I didn't think we could have a baby. Then I thought that we were incapable of having a healthy child. Today I am the mother of a healthy, happy little man. And he's freakin adorable. Seriously. he is.

6. I am thankful that Dylan was born healthy despite being a month early. Seriously, the fact that he didn't have to go to the NICU was amazing.

I am blessed. I know that God gave me the people in my life to help me get through this year. It was the hardest year of my life, but it ended better than I could have ever imagined.

M.I.A

Well, I haven't been near a computer in a couple days. Jeff and I are in Chattanooga and there are so many people to see and so many things to do. I will post on Thanksgiving, though.

Before I leave I just have to tell you something cute. Jeff's grandmother, Dylan's great grandmother, visited with Dylan today. We went to Cracker Barrel and then to her retirement home.

We got there during lunch and she showed Dylan off to every table, and there were about 25 tables.

She is one proud great grandmother. She held him for a long time this afternoon and you could tell that both she and Dylan enjoyed every minute of it.

I took about 100 pictures and a video, I will post them soon.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

working from home

Jeff has been working from home the past month. It's been pretty awesome. And here's why:


Every night I get up at least 4 times to feed, cuddle, burp, change and love on my little man. And every morning I am exhausted. I feel like I have been hit by a truck on a daily basis.


Around 6 or 7 in the morning Jeff will get up, brush his teeth, and take my little man downstairs to hang out with him while I get at least on hour of sleep.


An hour of quiet, uninterrupted, baby free sleep.


Sometimes I get 2 hours.


Sometimes I will get 3 hours.


And sometimes I get 20 minutes.


They are the best 20 minutes of my day.


Well, other than snuggling with my little man in the middle of the night.


Or snuggling with my little man in the middle of the day.


Or hanging out with Jeff and my little man in the evening.


Or watching Dylan smile when I tickle him.


Or hanging out with Dylan watching Friends in the afternoon.


Wait, what was I talking about?

Things I have learned since becoming a mom

1. Sleep is an impossibility.


I seriously haven't slept in 56 days. I love to sleep. Just ask my husband. The phrases my husband has heard the most in our 6 years of marriage are as follows: "Where is the chocolate?" and " I am going to go take a nap".


2. Stretch marks are sexy.


That's right. You girls with your cute, flat tummies, you don't know what you are missing. Flab is in. One piece bathing suits are sexy and you know it.


3. Spit up is the newest accessory.


I totally expect to see shirts and scarfs with spit up stains in the Spring collections of all the famous designers. Wait for it. It is coming.


4. Makeup?


Seriously, what is this thing you speak of? I wear foundation (thank you adult acne brought on by 2 straight years of pregnancy), mascara, and chapstick (because it's not manly to have your mom's lipstick smeared all over your face from all the kisses she gives you.)


5. Dinner is a necessary evil.


Stouffers is my friend. Frozen lasagna is wonderful. Left overs are amazing. I have made a few fancy dinners over the past 56 days, but I have learned to cook for a small army and freeze the leftovers. God Bless you Mr. Microwave.


6. Laundry is never ending.


How is it that adding one little person to your family can produce an exponential amount of laundry? It defies the laws of science, umm, gravity, umm, nature? Whatever. It is incredible the amount of laundry I have to do on a daily basis.


7. Time


I used to think that when I become a stay at home mom, I would have all the time in the world to get things done. I even told Jeff that I was nervous to get rid of cable tv because I would have so much time on my hands and nothing to do. HA! I think that I watch 1 hour of tv a week. Getting rid of cable was a good idea. I have no time to watch it. I have no time for anything. I even forget to go to the bathroom.


8. Bladder infections are an inevitability.


Seriously. I will come home from running errands with one thing on my mind.....Must pee. Then I realize that if I don't put the groceries away they will spoil, then my child starts screaming because he is wet, or hungry, or just plain mad and I take care of him and hold him and get lost in how cute he is, and then before I know it, I have been home for 6 hours and haven't gone to the bathroom. 


9. If you thought your husband was sexy, just wait until after you have kids.


There is nothing more attractive than seeing your manly husband hold your son and comfort him and give him little kisses. There is nothing more attractive than when your husband says, "go take a nap, I will take care of Dylan for a while." See #1 above.


10. Breastfed babies don't have smelly diapers.


This is not true. I was always told this, but I can in fact tell you that my child is 100% breastfed, and has the smelliest diapers ever. I suppose that mommy's diet of diet coke, chocolate, pizza and Salsarita's makes for a smelly diaper. I apologize in advance to anyone who changes his diapers.


11. I never thought that I could love someone this much.


I thought that my love would have to be split between my husband, Brendan and Dylan. But there is no limit to the amount of love that my heart can hold. My heart keeps getting bigger with every child I have. Jeff wants three kids. That's one big heart.....

Halloween

Halloween was a fun day in the Plemons household.

First off, we decorated the house.

Then we dressed up our little man and prepared for all the cute little kids (and some not so cute older kids- seriously, at what age do you stop going trick or treating?)

Well, this is our little Tigger. You can tell that he was really enjoying his day.

Well, after running out of candy at 7:30. Most of the neighborhoods we have lived in got like 5 trick or treaters. So, Jeff started passing out a ton to each kid so we didn't have a lot left over.

This was a mistake. By 7:30 we were rummaging through the cupboard looking for anything to pass out to the kids. I think at one point I yelled to Jeff that we could pass out chocolate chips. It was either that or canned goods.

Needless to say, we turned off the lights and turned away the trick or treaters early.

The good news is that we didn't get egged. I honestly thought that the older kids were going to revolt.

Well, after a fun day and evening, Daddy and Dylan feel asleep on the couch.

Here is one more photo of my little man. Seriously, isn't he the cutest little Tigger you have ever seen?

Looking up to heaven

We had a photo shoot last weekend with a good friend. He is a great photographer and took some really awesome shots. My favorite is worth sharing on here. It is a family shot.

It looks like Dylan is looking up to heaven and saying "Hi" to his brother.

This picture makes me smile. It really is a family shot.

Why I am sad that I am no longer pregnant

1. I miss not seeing my feet. You see, when I couldn't see my feet, I didn't know that I desperately needed a pedicure and therefore went about my day in a sort of blissful ignorance. Now that I can see my feet, I am painfully aware that not only do I need a pedicure, but I no longer have the time to get one. Win- Win


2. I miss eating whatever I want. Don't misunderstand. I still eat what I want, but I miss people starring at me and then smiling and giving me the "Oh how cute she is eating for 2. Isn't pregnancy beautiful?" look. Now they just stare and give me the "What a cow!" look.


3. I miss sleep. Not that I could get much with a baby squishing every organ in my body. But at least I could be lazy and take a nap whenever I wanted.


4. I miss maternity clothes. Whoever invented the elastic waistband is a genius. Right now I do not fit in my maternity clothes, and my regular clothes are too small. So I either walk around with jeans that sag down to my crotch, or I walk around with a muffin top. Neither is very attractive.


However, not being pregnant has it's benefits as well....

He may look like Jeff.....

I know that everyone says that Dylan looks like Jeff. And I think that he does. But there are a couple things that remind me of myself when I look at Dylan:

He loves to sleep.

He has big eyes.

He likes to eat...

Let me explain:

I am all about demand feeding, because I think that my child knows best when he is hungry.

Today Dylan has been really fussy and has wanted to eat every hour. Sometimes he eats a full meal, and sometimes he will nurse just to be comforted.

I never worry that he is getting too much food, because when he is full, he won't eat. Or so I thought....

Two minutes ago, I was sitting on the couch, feeding my sweet baby, and when he was done, I lifted him upright and rubbed his back..... what came next  makes me think that he is more like his mother than previously thought.

Projectile vomit.


All over me, the couch, the boppy and himself.


Homeboy likes to eat. Like I said, he may look like his dad, but he has an appetite like his mom.

Brendan's Birthday

Yesterday was Brendan's first birthday.

Jeff and I celebrated by going out to dinner. Dylan got all dressed up, and we went to O'Charleys.

 We set a place for Brendan, and we even gave him his own roll. (Mommy ate it)

 The hat and button are the decor that we used for Brendan's 3 month birthday. I figured it was fitting to have them for his year birthday as well. :)

The three of us at the restaurant. Sorry Brendan, Dylan slept the whole time, but please know that he loves his big brother! 

He loves being a little brother! Dylan wore this shirt for this occasion. I think we even have a little smile there.

Yesterday was tough, but Jeff and I have some great memories with Brendan. I remember his birthday very well. It was the hardest day of my life. 

It started out as the best day, and ended up being the beginning of the hardest trial that God has ever given me.

I still can't believe that I had a son a year ago, that he passed away, and that he has a little brother.

It is amazing what has happened in this year. God has taught me so much.

And the fact that Jeff hasn't left me is amazing as well. Seriously the man needs a medal.

Happy Birthday Brendan! Daddy and I will never forget you. I can't wait to tell Dylan all about you.

I love you. Make sure that you share your leftover cake. A little frosting goes a long way.

My three favorite boys

Jeff's mom pointed out that I have the same photo of Jeff with Brendan and Dylan. Jeff is even wearing the same color in both.

The first one was taken the day that Brendan came home from the hospital. Jeff and I were so tired, and so stressed out. We had no idea what to do with a new baby, let alone a new baby that came with attachments (g-tube, oxygen, suction). We got home and I remember that Brendan was a little fussy and Jeff just laid next to him on the floor and calmed him down, in about 15 seconds flat.

The second one was taken a couple days after we brought Dylan home. Dylan was fussy, and I was tired, so Jeff took over. Amazingly, Jeff had Dylan quiet in about 15 seconds. I think that he is a natural at the daddy thing. 

These photos make me smile.

My husband is an amazing father.

He showed it when we had to make decisions about Brendan and his care.

He showed it when we learned that Brendan's life was going to be cut short.

He showed it when Brendan died.

He showed it when we learned that we were pregnant, again....(did you know that we found out that we were expecting the day that we picked up Brendan's ashes?)

He showed it during the whole pregnancy, taking care of me and providing for me and my growing belly.

He showed it when I freaked out about every little thing when I had Dylan in my tummy.

He showed it the day that Dylan was born.

He showed it when I freaked out that Dylan was going to be born early, and when we learned that Dylan might have to go to the NICU.

He showed it when we got home with our healthy little man.

He showed it by letting Dylan sleep in the room with us.

He showed it by not getting sleep every night, just so we can sleep in the same bed, and so I can be near Dylan.

He shows it every day by being the best dad he can be.

He shows it in these pictures.

And that is why I love these pictures.

That is why I love my husband.

Playing in the mud

So, it's been almost 3 weeks. I love being a mom.


But there are things that happen on a daily basis that make me miss Brendan.


Just the other night I was feeding Dylan in the middle of the night, rocking on the rocking chair in our bedroom and started to cry. I never got a chance to feed Brendan. When Brendan was 2 weeks old, he was lying in a hospital bed recovering from heart surgery. I wasn't even able to hold him.


I stared at Dylan and just thought about how lucky I was that I get to hold him whenever I want, but it also made me sad that I didn't get that chance with Brendan.


Dylan cries. Brendan had the most pathetic little cry. He wasn't even able to cry a majority of the time because he was intubated.


Dylan is home. Brendan was stuck in the hospital. I wasn't able to do all the things with him that I am with Dylan, like to go the store, go out to a restaurant, go to a friends house.


Dylan is awake for a couple hours during the day. Brendan was on some strong pain medicine and one side effect was drowsiness. He slept most of the day.


Dylan gets to breastfeed. Brendan had a tube that gave him all of his food.


Dylan can lie on his back without losing oxygen. It's kind of remarkable. I sometimes freak out just looking at him thinking that he is going to stop breathing, then I remember that healthy babies are supposed to be on their backs.


I talk to Dylan at night while Jeff is sleeping and Dylan is having his midnight snack. I tell him about his brother. I tell him that he was a strong little man who fought and fought to be on this earth. I tell Dylan that Brendan gave his dad and I the most joy that we have ever experienced. I tell him that Brendan was a sweet little boy and that I think that he is Dylan's guardian angel. 


I think that Brendan and Dylan were hanging out in heaven before Dylan arrived. I think that they were playing in the mud and giving God a hard time, as boys tend to do.

Brendan - 3 months old

Dylan - 3 days old

You know, Dylan has a couple little freckles on his neck and head. I think that he and Brendan forgot to wash all the mud off and those freckles are just mud spots. Well, I am sure that they are just freckles. But it's fun to pretend. It makes me feel like Brendan is close by.

Dylan's birthday! Part 2

OH MY GOSH I HAVE TO PUSH!

I yelled at Jeff to get the doctor, a nurse, the janitor, anyone. This baby was coming. Quick. ....


The nurse walked in and nonchalantly got things ready. She told me to hold on. Seriously? You want me to wait? This is no joke lady. I am about to have a baby, with or without you. Someone better be on the receiving end to catch it!

And by the way, trying to hold in a baby is like trying to catch a water balloon covered in vaseline. It wasn't going to happen. So I turned on my side, bent my legs, and got into the fetal position and grabbed onto the bedrails with all my might. I had to wait to push and this was the only thing that worked.

I kept looking at Jeff and crying and asking him why the epidural didn't work. I kept thinking about the last time I was in the hospital. I was so stressed and so worked up. This was not the experience that I wanted. I was supposed to be relaxed. Jeff was trying with everything he had to calm me down, but it wasn't happening.

Poor thing. He really was trying. I can honestly tell you that I heard nothing he said to me. I was channeling my strength. I was trying to not go to pieces at the thought that another one of my babies may not be okay.

Then I looked up, and noticed the doctor gowned up and ready to go. She told me to push at the next contraction. Thankfully we didn't have to wait long because they were 30 seconds apart.


At this point, I remember getting dizzy, pushing, and then feeling excruciating pain. I think that I pushed about 5 times, through about 3 or 4 contractions, before the doctor told me that the baby was coming with the next contraction.


I started to panic. The pain was unbearable, but the thought of meeting my little man was greater than any pain I was experiencing. I wanted him out and I wanted to make sure that he was okay.


I pushed one last time, and his head was out, then I sighed a sigh of relief...until I realized that his shoulders were wider than his head. Crap, that was going to hurt. The doctor could sense my nerves and was being encouraging and told me that it was almost over and I was about to meet my son. Then, before I knew it, his shoulders and the rest of his body were out.


Let me interrupt this part of the story and tell you something. I asked the doctor how we would know if his lungs were good and how I could tell if he was healthy. She told me that a good strong cry is a surefire way to tell if their lungs are developed and that if he was just making little weak noises, then that meant there was a problem.


So back to the delivery room.


The baby came out, and it felt amazing. For several reasons.


First, the burning, excruciating pain was gone, and it was replaced by an ear-splitting sound. No, not by me.


By my beautiful baby boy. This child came into the world screaming so loud, that I think a few nurses came into the room just to check and make sure that we weren't shoving wooden shims underneath his finger nails.


I have to interrupt again. Each nurse, doctor, lab tech, basically any person that came into the room to talk to me while I was in the labor room asked me about my history. I had to explain about 12 times that I have had 2 miscarriages, once full term pregnancy, and that I had a son that died at three months old. I had to rehash this tale so many times that I seriously think that the entire labor and delivery team was aware of my story.


Therefore, when baby popped out and appeared healthy (despite the preeclampsia, HELLP syndrome, high blood pressure, and my history) every person in the room seemed to take a deep breath and look up to the sky and thank God. There was a very noticeable sense of calm that fell over the room.


Dylan Scott had arrived safe and sound!


Then we all switched gears and were wondering who was torturing the poor newborn on his mother's chest. As soon as they covered me and him, he calmed down. It's like he knew how is momma was and new exactly what to do. He rested his little head on my chest and closed his little eyes. I held him for what seemed like only a few minutes, and then the nurses took him to the other side of the room to give him his shot (again with the ear splitting screaming) and dry him off. Then they returned him to my chest. It was like he was born to be there.


Another thing they were concerned about was Dylan's blood sugar. Because I had gestational diabetes (dude, add it to the list of problems) the main concern was that Dylan's blood sugar would be too low after birth. They needed to check it right after he was born and every few hours to make sure that it stayed within normal range.


The first test was normal.


Dylan was healthy.


Breathing: check


Heart Rate: good


Blood sugar: normal


Ten fingers and ten toes: check


Cute as a button: heck yeah!


Seriously. There were so many things stacked against us going into delivery, that I couldn't stop starring at my healthy baby boy. It was unbelievable. 


He was born at 9:34 pm on Thursday evening. I didn't sleep that first night. Not one wink. I held him in my arms and stared at him. I snuggled, kissed and talked to him all night. It was the best night ever.


One other thing. Shortly after he was born, the nurse came in and said that because I was on the magnesium, they were going to take Dylan to the nursery (the well baby nursery) and make sure that I got rest and I recovered well. She said that they don't like me being around the baby because the mag makes me dizzy and uneasy on my feet.


I freaked out. Again. I said no. I told her that there was no way that they were going to take him away from me. He was going to stay with us. She looked a little shocked, and said that she was going to have to check with the doctor and she would let me know. She never brought it up again.


Dylan stayed with me in the room for almost the whole time. He left for 20 minutes to get a newborn screening test done.


The delivery may not have gone exactly like I planned, but in the end I got a healthy baby boy. 


I got to keep him in the room the entire time with me.


I got to have skin to skin time with him for like 5 hours.


Daddy got to cut the cord.


Dylan was able to breastfeed. That's another thing. He was totally a champ at it. Brendan was never able to breastfeed (although he ate my milk through a G-tube) and I was terrified that Dylan would have issues. Nope, not one.


We were able to take him home after 3 days and 2 nights in the hospital.


We were a family and we were going home! All three of us healthy and happy! Albeit tired. And scared. And nervous. 


Oh dear what did I get myself into?


Sleep deprivation and crankiness here I come!