A Letter

Dear Lucy-

Hi, baby. Remember me? The lady that is always eating your face who happens to smell like BBQ flavored potato chips? I’m your mommy. You’ve now been with us a little over 2 weeks and what a 2 weeks it’s been. You didn’t cry one peep when you came into the world. In fact, we didn’t hear a cry from you for 2 days but believe me, you have made up for it since then. My favorite it when you go full throttle at 3AM. I’m not sure how you hold those cheeks up all day long. Maybe that’s why you sleep 23 hours a day.

I just wanted to give you a heads up on a few things. You are the fourth child and I think there is good reason for that-you’re tough enough to handle it. That being said, there are a few things you need to just get used to.

See that little thing in mommy’s hands? Not you, the smaller thing…yeah, that’s called a cellphone. Yes, that is just moments you were born and they had handed you off to me. (BTW- doesn’t mom’s hair look great?? And after labor and delivery and everything!) Mommy thinks she’s 13 and must tell everyone she knows any news the very moment it happens. I did take a break from it while I was pushing you out, what more could you ask?? There is also another, slightly bigger box you’ll see often. It’s called a laptop.

Remember that one night in the hospital when chocolate somehow ended up on your blanket? I told you it just mysteriously appeared there but I gotta fess up. It was mine. Truth is, nothing gets in my way when food is involved. It used to all just end up in my cleavage but now that you’re there..well, you just may feel like a cute little bib.

See these girls?

Oh, I know they look all cute and harmless but they are your sisters who think they are each your mother. That means a high amount of eye poking, a binky being shoved down your throat and being carried like a dilapidated Raggedy Ann doll when mommy isn’t looking. You may also feel like an attraction at a nearby carnival like this:

Or like this:

One thing’s for sure, we get a little crazy…

But there’s a lot of love and you are a part of it!

We love you and we are so glad you belong to us…..We just hope you survive all this love..

Love, Mommy

Day The Has Come

Lucy Jane finally came to us on May 11, 2011 at 11AM.

She’s a whopping 9.78 lbs., 20 1/2 inches long, 9 days early (thank goodness!!)

Mom and baby are doing great!

As soon as I can carry on a conversation without using phrases like “crowning”, “epidural”, “vaginal warfare” and “cracked nipples” I’ll be back. For now you are lucky enough to get a guest post from one of my favorite people I have never met (or know his actual name). DId I mention he was recently featured in our local paper? How cool is that?! Not only was he kind enough to write a post for me, but it had me laughing so hard(it could’ve been the Loratab) AND it was all about me. Oh, and my husband, The Saint. (For the record, I am incredibly delightful to live with despite what Middle-Aged Mormon Man may imply. Ask anyone. Except maybe ElRey.)

So without further ado, here is Middle-Aged Mormon Man:

Mindi is one of my best blogging friends, and has been supportive and helpful to me these past few months.  Because of that, I am writing a guest post for her blog while she is "indisposed".  No, she didn't ask me to, but I can't help myself - this charity thing is overpowering sometimes. Besides, I have participated in baby aftermath 5 times, and know how messy it is.

Since I have only known Mindi for a few months, I have never known her when she is NOT pregnant. I'm not so sure what she will be like when she is not kvetching* about her discomfort, her fetus, her size, her drooling problem, or her pelvis. I went back through her Facebook status updates to verify this. It wasn't pretty. However, she has many, many loyal friends who somehow adore her, so I'm gonna blame it on the fetus.

(*Kvetching is Yiddish for complaining. I try to keep up on my Yiddish because when the 10 tribes return, it might come in handy)

I'm sure that the frantic pace of Mindi's blog posts has contributed to her exhausting pregnancy. She has been posting at the phenomenal rate of 2-3 posts PER MONTH!  Prolific!  I know all of us hope she can maintain that pace now that the baby is here.

Anyway, I have learned that Mindi is an amazing and hysterical woman. But I must admit, I have a terrific admiration for ElRey - whom I have never met. (Did you notice? I used "whom" correctly). When reading Mindi's posts and status updates, all I can think is that ElRey is the actual embodiment of D&C 121. I'm thinking of creating a line of bumper stickers that read "WWED?" (What would ElRey do?)

All of us here in cyberland wish Mindi and baby a quick recovery and much health and happiness. I am also asking for donations to buy ElRey a case of earplugs. And Ambien.

Finally, I am doing everything in my power to have a camera crew from TLC (The Learning Channel) waiting outside Mindi's house when she gets home from the hospital to begin work on a new reality-based series featuring Mindi and Family. I figure an email campaign might be the way to go.

Here is the link to TLC to help encourage them to quickly get started. https://producers.discovery.com/producersPortal/login.jsf

We probably need to come up with a name for the new series. Please contribute.

Here are a few thoughts:

Mindi Cranks Out Another One!

ElRey Knows Best

You Buried What? Where?

Burp Time: Starring Mindi & Diet Coke (with guest appearances by the baby)

Congratulations,

-MMM-

Get Your Head in the Game

I’m pretty sure I do not have a competitive bone in my body. Maybe against myself, trying to run faster, be better, but when it comes to playing games or sports, I just wanna have fun.

I enjoy a good board game (except Monopoly-I hate that game more than Satan…well pretty close..) and I will try to win but once anyone starts getting aggressive or violent (I’ve seen it happen) I immediately shut down and pay more attention to the snacks laying about. My sister-in-law thinks I hate playing games but that’s not true. I just hate playing games with her family. She’s super competitive and to get an idea about her dad, times her by about 25.

Like I said. I’ve seen it get violent.

**Long, pointless side note: One of our favorite stories of my SIL was the time she was playing TABOO with her family. You know, you get a word and you try to get your team to guess it but you can’t use the words listed on the card. Well she got “Easy-Off”, the oven cleaner. She decided to go the route of using opposite words and hand actions mimicking cleaning the oven. So as she pretending to rub the inside of an oven she started saying, “Hard on. Hard on. Hard on.” Over and over. All the while everyone is looking at her in shock and a little shame, wondering what on earth they could possibly say. She just starts doing it faster and louder and can’t figure out why no one is getting such an easy answer.

When she realized her mistake she was mortified. The players were just very grateful it was a mistake.

Her dad hasn’t been able to look her in the eye ever since.

That has gone down in the Hall of Fame of Jeanette-isms and will live on for generations.

**End of long, pointless side note**

Anyway..I am the same way with sports. I just wanna play to play. I really don’t care to win. Just have fun. I keep trying to get involved in church sports and I am thoroughly humiliated by the fact I have upset my fellow Sisters in the Gospel so much by my bad shot or not setting the ball correctly and knowing they wish they didn’t have to put me in the game. These ladies take it all pretty seriously. So I just don’t bother anymore.

I am beginning to realize that my 7 year old may have my noncompetitive gene. We have her in soccer this year and I love watching this age play! It’s still young enough it doesn’t get too crazy with aggression but they are old enough they mostly know how to play and enjoy it. I’ll be watching her out there on the field and she’ll be holding hands with her little friend as they run after the ball. Every time anyone scores, she cheers. The most classic moment was last week. It was our first experience with ‘one of those coaches’ who was yelling at the kids and very serious. He wasn’t mean but he wasn’t pleasant about it either. Our team kept telling our coach that the other team was hitting and pushing them. So not a real fun team to play against. When our coach went to talk to the other coach about it, the other coach got right in his face and started yelling at him that ‘he didn’t tell the kids to push and hit! They’re in first grade ! It’s what they do!!’

Defensive much?

Let’s up our dose of happy pills, dude.

So I asked my daughter about it later and she said there was this one really mean girl that said, “Do you want some candy?” and, of course my daughter said yes and that’s when the girl took the ball from her and took off. My daughter’s response? “And she didn’t even give me any candy!!”

The last few minutes of the game she was put on defense right in front of their goalie with her friend, who also doesn’t exactly focus on the game at hand. They were over there spinning, picking dandelions, chatting etc. The coach went over to call them to the sideline and this is how they came to him:

Just skipping right along, enjoying the spring day!

But as long as they come away enjoying the experience, who cares about the end score, right?!

Friday Confessions

I have heartburn radiating in my toenails and I thought the perfect cure would be to confess with Glamazon and Mamarazzi.

You should link up and play, it’s always a delight

I confess:

• At the moment I am hiding in my room because I cannot take one more minute with my hyper kids.
• Sure,  I should just be grateful they are getting along and giggling together.
• But with how I’ve been feeling lately, and the fact it’s 10 minutes till bedtime, it makes me want to put a hole in the hall with my fist.
• Cuz I’m calm as a cucumber like that.
• I had a couple people ask me if my last story was true.
• 100 percent.
• Down to the placenta buried in the backyard.
• My mom is the epitome of amazon woman.
• She probably made us dinner that night, too.
• I can’t remember..I may have blacked out at some point.
• With our phone and cable connection we have a feature that shows who is calling if you are watching TV.
• So when my phone is ringing, if the TV is on, I wait till it reports who is calling and then decide if I’m going to go to the effort to find the phone and answer it.
• The only problem is I now think it should show up everywhere.
• I expect it to flash across my computer screen.
• My microwave.
• The bathroom mirror.
• The wall.
• My husband’s/children’s faces.
• It’s up there with expecting to have the ability to rewind/pause the radio.
• I figure it’s either because I am so ahead of the times or I am super duper lazy.
• I’m gonna go with option A.
• Speaking of lazy, I find it very rude that the 4 times in my life that I really really want my house immaculately clean are the times when It is physically impossible for me to get it to where I want it and keep it there.
• I’m not a highly motivated person so I find it ironic that I finally get a fire under my butt for a perfectly put together house when I am feeling the worst.
• I keep begging God and my fetus to please let this come to an end sooner rather than later now that we are in the safe zone.
• Weeks before this I was researching (by ‘researching’ I do mean Googling) all the things they claim can induce labor and planned on doing every single on of them.
• But I’m just too damn tired to do any of them.
• I stop myself as I am begging for her to come out of my body and remember HOW she comes out and I think, you are really begging for THAT??
• You sure about that?
• At this point she could come out my nostril and I wouldn’t care, as long as she was out.
• Now I gotta go clean something if I can convince myself to get off the couch.
• But probably not.

Enjoy The Show

The other day I asked my 9 year old if she wanted to be in the room when I had the baby.

She gave me a “DUH!” look and said, “NOO!”

I don’t know what I would have done if she said yes.

If we’re gonna get real honest, I don’t want to be there either.

I’m still scarred from the time I was invited into my mother’s room to witness my younger brother come into the world.

By the time she was ready to give birth with him she figured she was better off having him at home. I was born in the hallway of the hospital on the way to the delivery room, my next brother was born in an ambulance, brought into the world by a fireman. So why not just stay at home and invite a midwife and a sikh (turban and all. I thought the turban was there in case they needed an extra towel.) into your bedroom to have the last one, right?

Totally makes sense.

Anyway, I was 5 or so years old and apparently it was the midwife that suggested it was a great idea to have us older kids come in to witness this miracle of life aka “watch your mother scream and cry to the point you think she’s dying”.  Now, we didn’t have front row seats or anything, we were just at the side of the bed. I have no memory of my brother coming out, his first cry or anything. All I remember is my mom doing her own version of that chick from The Exorcist.

And the fact my dad buried the placenta in the backyard. Man, that plum tree was fruitful after that!

I still call my brother “The One That Almost Killed My Mom”.

So yeah, I think my daughter will have to just stick to watching “The Baby Story” on TLC.

A Jolly Good List

Things that must be buried in the backyard with the placenta come May:

An overwhelming desire to weep at any given moment.

Whimpering every time I try to change position while sleeping.

The constant feeling of suffocating.

A rage that burns so bright that not even unicorns are safe.

Heartburn that radiates in my kneecaps.

Sausage fingers.

The desire to eat an entire cow but becoming physically ill after just a few bites.

A constant brain fart.

This denim, snappy shirt.

Wearing underwear that is large enough to provide shelter for a family (extended family included) of wood elves.

The stares of strangers.

Bending causing pain.

The fear of accidently farting in public.

The desperate desire to stay in bed all day.

The question, “Are you sure there’s only one in there?”

Dreams of running like a gazelle only to wake up feeling like a sickly hippo.

The need to tell everyone how horrible I feel.

Doing dishes. Crap. That one’s mine forever.

Ahh the joys of being a sacred life giving vessel.

Happy Tuesday.