It Really Worked

Thursday I woke up with a long list of things to do- vacuuming, bathroom, deep clean my car and the car seats and make room for baby, along with a long walk with both boys in the double stroller. That's a lot for a pregnant woman whose feet have started to swell and whose attitude is really sour, but this list cannot be blamed on nesting... Because clearly I will still be pregnant in 2014... This list is merely called life.

Anyway, to start out the morning, me and Jack joined Chad and Max in the kitchen who had gotten a head start on breakfast. Recently, due to a sale at Publix, I have purchase Pop Tarts- the big box- twice. And needless to say it has been a hit. A big ole pile of sugar toasted up to perfection to start the day-- who wouldn't want it? So I threw several in the toaster and then kept my eye on them because Max likes his just barely warm, while Gabe likes his toasted through but no browning, and me and Jack, well we'll just eat them any ole way. I pulled Max's out and put them in front of him, then Gabe's, and went back for the one me and Jack would split... But to my surprise the inner brown sugar cinnamon gel had oozed out and it burned me BAD. It blistered the whole tip of my finger immediately and sent me rushing to the cold water tap. My eyes watered, I'm telling you, I haven't had this kind of pain in a while! And there went my day.

I spent the next hour and a half going through ice packs like it was my job. I always thought I didn't buy Poptarts because they're made of junk and bad stuff, but it turns out, they're a safety hazard. If I let my finger off the ice for 2 seconds, it burned and stung and burned some more until I re-touched the ice. It wasn't good.

All of a sudden I realized it was quiet and no one was climbing on me. I immediately sent Max on a Jack hunt and headed the opposite direction. In 2 seconds Max was back saying something about my bathroom, lotion, and a mess.

This is how I found Jack. It only takes a minute folks. And the picture doesn't do the situation justice.

So I tried to wipe him and started whimpering due to my serious injury. And I realized he needed a change of clothes and a diaper change and I just had no idea how that was going to happen. I was having a hard enough time figuring out how to take myself potty every 20 minutes, thank you pregnancy that will never end, that the last thing I could even think about doing was undressing and redressing the J... He's not know for his ability to hold still and I didn't think a conversation about my boo boo would help.

So I decided I was going to have to call Chad home. Seriously. It was that bad. My eyes had tears at this point and I was nauseous just from Jack bumping it as I tried to de-slime him. But then I remembered that at some point in the uncertain future, I will be having a new baby and did I really want to use my get out of jail free card for the ouchie on my pointer finger? So I did the next best thing- google. And there was a whole long list of terrible ideas- mixes of greek yogurt and eggs and butter and paste this and hold that, yadda yadda... Ummmm I'm burned people- I can't make a gourmet paste.

And then some person said something about clay. And the Lord spoke to me. Back in December, my mom and I had gone to the Bread Beckers Christmas cooking class and they gave us all sorts of samples, one of them being from Redmond. Chad tried the toothpaste and he couldn't get over the sediments scrubbing his teeth for weeks. But there was also the pamphlet and a little package to make a mason jar of their clay for bites and cuts and rashes and burns. I made it when I got it, because I didn't want to waste it and I put it in our medicine cabinet. And never thought about it again. Until this morning.

I ran and scooped out a glob and smothered my finger. I held it up and waited. For a couple minutes it still burned and I longed for my ice pack. I decided to give it 3 more minutes when all of a sudden the burn started to weaken... And then it weakened more. Before I knew it, I was up and vacuuming and cleaning my car and Jack even got changed and taken care of... I obviously kept it covered in the clay for about 90 minutes doing everything by holding my finger straight out, you know, like at a tea party, but totally not.

And by lunch time, I was a new woman. FROM CLAY?!?! Who even knew this was possible??? And now, this is all that's left of my life-threatening injury-- can you believe it?

So Redmond Clay- google it and get you some, I'm so serious!!

Funny Boys

Today, Jack was stepping on Pot Docks (polka dots) while singing his favorite song... PINGO was his name-o... I have to agree that PINGO is a much better name for the farmer's dog... Much better than BINGO :)

Overhead yesterday while I was cooking dinner...
(Max and Jack are in living room)

Max in his super sweet voice that he uses to talk to Jack (most of the time...)
Max: Jack, are you sad the Braves lost  yesterday?
Jack: No
Max: You're not sad they lost? (completely shocked but still in nice voice)
Jack: No
Max: You're not a fan (no more nice voice, just completely disgusted!)

Max has also picked up on some new baseball moves since the season started...
He now knows how to "punt" quite well... some of us might call it bunting...

He loved going to the opening game with Annie and Pop when the Braves beat the "Dillies"

And he has to wear his new baseball jersey 2-3 times a week... that may or may not reach down to his knees. The kicker is the Pop has a "jersey" just like it so he wants me to text Pop EVERY time he wears it... sometimes I just pretend that I send Pop that message, mainly because Max always makes faces like this and Pop has a job and spends his days as a mature part of society... getting Max's selfless daily might stifle that a bit!

Gabe: "For kids Kimbrel's age, I've finally figured out that to make them laugh, you have to really embarrass yourself." (Kimbrel is his sister who just turned 1)


Gabe is on a soccer team right now and Chad is his coach. Twice week they have practice and then games on Saturday. Well at the beginning of the season, Gabe needed all new gear because the child is turning into man-size right before our eyes. So then he handed down his old shin guards to Max as well as some old soccer shorts. They might fit Max in about 2 years... maybe... but don't tell Max. Because with those gifts from Gabe, his imagination went wild... all of a sudden he's on a team, he has practices all the time, his teammates call him, and he needs a water bottle regularly for half time. Naturally, we all go along with this. But today, Jack started walking away and I asked where he was going and he said "To my soccer practice." :) Love these boys and how they all like doing and being together!

Today, we were in the school room playing- I was folding laundry, my favorite pastime, and Jack and Grant (who plays with us on Tuesdays and Wednesdays) were playing with play-doh. I hear Jack saying "Yucky Grant Grant, no-no." And I expect to look over and see Grant doing something he shouldn't... but no, Jack was showing Grant how to put play-doh in his mouth and while simultaneously explaining that it was a bad idea and that he shouldn't be doing it. This child totally gets the rules, but he thinks his ideas are way better and totally worth the consequences. 

Case in point: We say oh my goodness, we do NOT say oh my gosh. Like we don't even ever say the word so it's not discussed that we don't say it. (I don't need my head checked- I totally get that "gosh" isn't a bad word, but the farther I can keep them from the line of "Oh my God", the better!) Yet somehow, Jack knows about it and just when it comes to mind, he'll come near me and say "Oh my gosh!" I'll look at him and say "We don't say that." And he looks at me and smiles the sweetest smile and say "Oh my goodness." and turns and walks off... as if to say, my work here is complete. THIS child is so much like his Uncle Sam... way to ornery and cute for his own good!

Eject!

This past Saturday morning, I woke up to wonderful contractions... the kind that hurt and are spaced exactly the same minutes apart. I laid there in the quiet stillness of our house, so excited! I just kept thinking through what the rest of the day would look like and that on the other end of it all, we would get to meet our sweet baby. I thought through what each boy would need and what to pack and when to wake them and when to start making calls and who should know... and then they slammed to a halt. Before anything even happened. Just bam, stopped, like we had hit a brick wall or something. I was so disappointed, but decided to find the silver lining... we'd still get to take to the boys to a party they'd been looking forward to for a long time, and certainly, baby would be here soon. That was obviously a trial run and the real deal would happen Saturday night or Sunday for sure...

WRONG! I'm still pregnant and having so many Braxton Hicks contractions that I forget what it's like for my stomach not to be squeezing so tight I can't breathe. But the bottom line is that it's time for this baby to disembark! I had my sights set on just making it past Jack's 35 week birth, because we didn't want to do the premie thing again--  and now that I'm 37 weeks, I totally feel PAST DUE even though I technically still have 3 weeks before that! Ahhhh!! I'm even getting the "you're still pregnant??" comments already!

There is an upside to always feeling like "it could be anytime"-- you live in the done. You don't leave dishes or piles, the laundry is completed as soon as there is a full load, all beds get fluffed and made each day, the floors are constantly vacuumed, the bathrooms are wiped down almost daily, and you're ready for whatever happens... even keeping a beach towel in your car in case your water breaks. Because you know that when/ if you have the baby, that a load of laundry left in the washer will be so sour before you remember it exists and there's a chance you won't vacuum again til the baby is 3 months old because you'll be so bleary eyed that you won't even notice the chunks on the floor!

And honestly, the only downside to having this baby is that my Jack won't be my baby anymore. I seem to grieve that hard each time-- it killed me to think that Max wouldn't be my baby, but he took to big brotherhood and mommy's little buddy so well that it ended up being a moot point. Jack has seemed to morph into a big boy over the past couple days anyway, and both Max and Jack seem to be making there way into my lap a little extra, and even Gabe seems a little more tender these days... everyone seems to know it's right around the corner and everyone seems so ready... well except for Chad :)

So little baby... this is your eviction notice.. you've been served... my skin is stretched to the max, I'm achy and anxious, you're about to fall out the front anyway, time to remove yourself from the premises and come on into our family!

ER visits... plural, unfortunately!

Lately, we've been making it our goal to give all our money to the surrounding hospitals. It's really fun to get those co-pay/ deductible bills in the mail. So fun.

But of course, the experiences are broadening my horizons as a mom, for sure. You live, you freak, you learn, and then you relax (a little). At least that's my motto. On Christmas Eve, we were all getting ready for the church service at our church and I was cleaning the bathroom because my parents and grandparents were headed our way after church for dinner and we have a toddler who potties by himself. Enough said about that. Well as I was wiping, my shadow (Jack) was right beside playing with his airplane. Something happened that tripped him up a bit and he literally just bent at the waist to catch himself but managed to catch his forehead with the airplane. Now Jack is Jack- he falls ALL the time, leaps off things for fun, climbs furniture, among other dare devil things that Max would never think to try. I thought NOTHING of this little "fall" and was quite surprised that he was actually crying. I scooped him up onto my hip, and kept wiping the counter top until I felt something and looked at him-- he was dripping blood all the way down his face and onto my shoulder.

Chad was showering in the other bathroom at the time of the incident so I screamed at him that Jack was gushing blood and rushed downstairs for paper towels. I blotted just so I could see what exactly was going on-- the cut itself was TINY side to side, but so deep and wide that there could be a song about. Of course I texted our favorite Mom's on Call nurse and she said if it's gaping (aka not touching) then it needs stitches. Well that was just exactly what I wanted to do on Christmas Eve! So we met Angela and transfer Gabe to her, met my parents and gave them Max, and then headed to Children's Healthcare of Atlanta- fully expecting it to be packed and a horrid experience overall.

Well, I never cease to be amazed but our little J-man. Although he had a gaping whole in the center of his forehead and doctors and nurses poked and prodded him, he smiled and wrapped them all around his finger and got stitches without being restrained at all. Not even kidding. The doctor was blown away and said that something like that happens like once a year, and apparently this was it for the year. As they sewed his head, with just a local numbing gel on the owie, he held my fingers and told us about the light over head. Not one single tear or moan or fuss from the child. We were in and out of there, lickety split and no one was scarred too deeply by the experience, least of all Jack :)

Well that excursion to the ER didn't deplete our bank accounts or rattle my nerves quite enough, so we decided to have another go at it this weekend. On Thursday, Max got the stomach bug. It really wasn't even that bad of a stomach bug- he said for the majority of the day that he was hungry and didn't eat much, and by dinner, he complained of a stomach ache, but I thought he just needed something in his stomach so I made him eat a few bites of protein before he began to protest greatly and then we proceeded to baths and bed like normal. After I tucked him in and did his bedtime routine, I got in a hot shower- one of my favorite evening activities a big ole pregnant whale-- it's perfect for the end of the day aches. So I was in there for a long time when all of a sudden Chad deposits a crying Max right outside the curtain... I peek around and he's covered in throw up. Max got in the shower with me and it took work to get it all off of him. Gross, I know. And Chad had to wash his covers in the other shower before they could even go in the wash- double gross, believe me, we know! So once he was washed and had fresh sheets in his bed, we tucked him back in. It was up and down all night, but never more than just an upset stomach and some gagging- he was already empty after the first round. He spent Friday strictly on the BRAT diet, and we headed out for one quick errand mid-morning. Just as I pulled in the parking lot, he covered my car in throw up. I almost died and wasn't sure how I could be expected to be the adult in this situation. I texted Chad and told him I needed a new car. And to think he had only had small amounts of water and a couple bites of toast made it impossible to understand where it all came from.

He spent the rest of the day on a pallet on the living room floor with movies and he didn't move or communicate. Seemed exactly how I responded to the stomach bug so I thought nothing of it. We was whining through the night on Friday, but not throwing up, so again, I assumed we were on the mend. On Saturday morning, he woke up thirsty and famished. But I still wasn't sure what his stomach was ready for, so I gave him small amounts of water and it came back up within 4 minutes. And then I began to access the situation... he hadn't thrown up very much but that was because there wasn't much to throw up... strike 1. He wasn't moving or smiling or talking at all and that's exactly the opposite of Max... strike 2. And the worst realization yet: He hadn't gone potty for 12+ hours... strike 3 (and 4,5,6,7!) So after a quick phone conference with my mom, I called his doc and was patched through to a nurse on call who after her series of questions said we needed to take him to an ER right away. Great.

So I packed up some essentials (Chad was working) and met my parents to give them Jack, and took Max to CHOA ER. I kept pondering things in my head-- it was amazing to me how quick he got super listless and lethargic-- there was never a fever, there wasn't many rounds of an upset stomach, and yet, he was a little limp noodle in my arms. As an adult, I just kept thinking he was responding to a virus like I would- don't look at me or talk to me until I feel better- but then again, he isn't an adult- that I learned the hard way. So he got there and they ran several tests and determined that he was very dehydrated, his sugar was really low, as was his co2. I poked and prodded and gave him 2 different bags of different stuff through an IV and a couple popsicles and basically said that they needed this to work or else we'd be worried about electrolytes which is more serious. Honestly, they didn't communicate with me much at first- but after they treated him they explained more- I think they were running several tests and didn't want to give me anything to google until they knew. He was so sick and tiny in the bed, and wanted to be on my lap, so I spent the majority of our 4 hr stint there in the bed with him. Picture big pregnant mom and tiny sick Max. We were a sight. And the male nurse taking care of Max was seriously freaked that I was about to go into labor. He brought me just as many popsicles and gatorade as he brought Max.

Before we checked out, the doctor came back in to tell me that if I hadn't brought him in today, we would be admitting him tomorrow. I also learned that children under 1 need to urinate every 4 hours and children older than 1 need to urinate every 8 hours or they need to be seen. And children need to have a period of smiling and/ or play every 4 hours or they need to be seen. Even if they're sick, they're still children, so they'll still act like it! I'm really grateful for such a great Children's hospital so close to our house and also for how resilient children are and I'm also thankful that God just lets you know on your insides when something isn't right. What a blessing.

But we do intend to stay away from that place for the next decade or twenty. Thankyouverymuch.

Easter 2013

I've known about Easter and celebrated Easter and it's true meaning since I was born.  Literally. It's my mom's favorite holiday and it's always been a big to-do. I've known of Jesus' love- His sacrifice- and most importantly, that fact that He was victorious over the grave and I get to reap the benefits of that eternally. Really- I've known- I've believed it- I've gotten it, for YEARS. But that didn't stop this year from being different. And I don't think there is really any reason for the extra softness in my heart- God just had something extra for me this year.

It started on Tuesday while I was driving to my BSF bible study. I was thinking about Easter, singing a song about Jesus because Jack screams "JESSSUUUSSSS" as soon as we get in the car until I turn on a song, preferably sung by kids, with the word Jesus in it. And all of a sudden I was crying, like hard. I felt brokeness and I felt joy and boy did I feel peace. Wow- Easter was coming, Sunday was coming! It really didn't get better for the remainder of the week- every song or reminder of this Easter celebration worked on my heart- my eyes would fill with happy joyful hot stinging tears immediately. I couldn't wait for Sunday.

We got to do lots of fun things with our little boys- they are at such a fun age to enjoy it all-- they loved decorating eggs and there were no horror stories or permenant stains on anything to mare the experience. We were invited to a big Easter Egg Hunt with lots of prizes and goodies and they just loved it. And we even decorated a cute bunny cake for our family Easter celebration meal.

And then Sunday came.

Our pastor has been in the midst of a 3 week series as we walked through the Friday, Saturday, and Sunday of Easter and what it looks like in our present day stories. It's been amazing. And don't you worry, I stuffed my purse full of tissues and I didn't embarrass Chad that much :) It was a wonderful celebration of Easter and communion to remember His body that was broken and His blood that was shed. And when we got to the car, Chad asked a question that seemed to sum it all up-- "That makes  me think of what heaven will be like. Don't you wish we could live in that all week?" YES! I just hope that in all the hype, our boys never forget the Jesus' sacrifice on the cross is the greatest gift, ever, and that resurrection is what we base our lives on!

We enjoyed the day with good temperatures, some rain but some sun also, and a great meal fixed by my mom at my house where my husband did the dishes. Pop and Uncle Eli entertained the boys and hid Easter eggs and we all laid around for some catnaps too. Hoping for another similar Sunday next week...

Chris Tomlin - Crown Him (Majesty) [with Kari Jobe] [Official Lyric Video] from chris-tomlin on GodTube.

The Ugly Cry

Oh my did I ever just cry the ugly cry! The little boys are in bed napping, Gabe is working on some school stuff and I'm sitting on my bed with my feet up for a few minutes as my midwife, among other people, have ordered. I usually read my bible study notes or blogs or Facebook until my eyes get really heavy and then I take a deep snooze. It only lasts about 20 minutes before some thought in my brains springs my whole body back to life, but it's the kind of snooze that is so deep and so needed, as a big ole pregnant lady, that I drool and often wake with heart burn, even though I'm not even in a real napping position.

But today is different. Mainly because I stumbled upon this blog post- http://www.stevewiens.com/2013/03/06/these-are-the-lines-of-a-story/
Read it. Cry with me. Because we all know it's true and we all want to feel that truth, if even only for a second.

In my current state- 35+ weeks pregnant with my 3rd baby in as many years, I can assure you I'm at one of the lowest points when it comes to my body-- I hate this part of pregnancy where everything seems to swell over night-- like all of a sudden my face is more round this morning and the extra pounds around my middle are starting to cause my legs to squish like elephant legs... it's not pretty. And I know there are some people that think the pregnant body is absolutely beautiful- I'm just not one of them... mainly since I became the pregnant one.

I used to dream about being pregnant and seriously stare and study pregnant women... this was a good 10 years ago when everything on my body was where it was supposed to be, and probably really tanned as well. You know, important stuff. Not. But at that age, when I saw pregnant women, fully clothes obviously, a quiet peace came over me- for they were charged with growing a human- inside of them. I couldn't think of anything better. Their round belly made me crave it for myself- and I never once saw a chubby face, swollen feet, or stretch marks. I just saw the beautiful woman with child. But now that it's me and it's been me, I see it all much differently. Growing children- beautiful, wonderful children I might add- is really hard on the self-esteem.

I wish I could just see them as my prize- my boys and my bun in the oven- and sometimes I do- but sometimes a backwards glance in the mirror as I climb into the shower or some extra time spent gazing at Easter pictures of myself from yesterday, and I just crumble. Oh the bumps and lumps and bigness. Please tell me the mirror and the camera is lying. But I know it's not.

But reading that article, all I could think about, in light of my own boys, is what good it would do for my heart and for them and their future to give them the power to see it as a good thing. Isn't that when your heart usually follows? What if Max knew from his toddler years that growing a baby was very hard for the mommy and really changed her body BUT that he had to power with his words to encourage and love her. Wouldn't his future wife just love that? What if Jack thought all the changes brought about by pregnancy was beautiful- like so much more beautiful than a taunt body, because it's the aftermath of growing people-- God's people! Don't you think he'd look at women differently if he got this and believed it? Gabe is older, but I think that means I can be more blunt in my teaching with him-- and his heart is so soft, I think he won't forget it this side of heaven. And then, how might it change me if I start speaking this truth to them? Will I be more likely to appreciate this gift of child bearing? Will I see my marks as trophies? I hope so. For I know this gift of motherhood is by far one of the greatest gifts on this earth. I wouldn't change it for anything.