Kick-start

Earlier this evening, I was reminded why I should blog.  I hate the term "blog," but it is a medium in this day and age where moments can be captured, and I can write about one of the most important pieces of my life - my kids.

After my helicopter days with CR, I have taken what seems to be a large step back with "baby" C (let's just call her CA) and the Moo.  It's scary how in the blink of an eye laid-back parenting can seem like being negligent. 

Tonight we went to CR's "baseball" game.  I use that term loosely, as it's really T-Ball with no outs...and they only play five innings.  In my opinion, they DO learn the rules of the game, and how the flow should go, but come on now...they should learn what we teach them in our back yard.  That a caught ball, and on top of that, one that is thrown to a base, is an out...and that a ball is thrown at you to hit - it does not sit on a vertical tube in front of your face...but this is not the reason for my post.

While I was trying to watch my oldest son bat, and my other son play with a friend's little sister, I missed CA's action on the swings.  Apparently, after my sweet niece AR told me "CA fell off the swing," (thank you AR!!!) and another mother yelled about a little girl who was hurt, I grabbed Moo, and sprinted to the swings.  CA stared at me...lying on the ground, seemingly unresponsive.  B ran from across the field to make sure she was okay.  At the moment my eyes locked with CA's flat expression, I felt like everything in life needed to be monitored.  I felt myself starting to rev up my helicopter blades and wanted to hover...a feeling I haven't truly felt since CR was a wee-one.  CA took a few more moments to come around...my breath was lost and I felt like I wanted to vomit...but as soon as she "came to," she was her own stubborn self, times ten.

She swung from the swings on her belly, head first, and hung upside down from the parallel bars without any previous experience.

I was at my wit's end, and basically grabbed her and Moo and threw them in the stroller to head home.  CA ended up riding her scooter home alongside me...hanging on me...I was again her support system, a support she needed.

I want our kids to thrive and figure life out on their own, but dear lord...please give them a little common sense to guide them along to keep me from turning forty shades of gray before the age of 40.

Much appreciated....

Time to dust things off...

Since I've taken such a long hiatus, you would think my keyboard looks like this...there are no words for all that has happened since my last real timely post.  We had yet another baby, stuck it out through an addition on our house, and CR started Kindergarten while Baby C is in her own morning group once a week.  How I avoided documenting every minute of it all?  Easy.  I lived through it by the skin of my teeth.  Every extra minute in my days has been spent eating an additional 1,000 calories at night to make up for the breastfeeding and lack of time to eat a proper meal during the day, and abusing our Amazon Prime membership to order items ranging from drawer pulls to diapers to TP - nothing is too small to be added to the shopping cart which will, in turn, allow me to avoid one more trip to the store.  Oh, and I also started coaching again, so I need to factor in drop off and pick up as well as rush hour traffic and screwed-up nap schedules.  All in all, it's been a miracle that we have crapped our way through the poop-shoot of hell, and we all still love each other and look forward to actually starting things again.

Jess and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week...but we did get a baby out of it

Let's recap my last hours of pregnancy, and my first days as a mother of three, shall we?

Saturday morning, May 12th, 2012, I take the early shift with Baby C and get up with her at 5am.  Her sleeping has been horrible, as I think she is better preparing us for what's to come with our new addition...

B suggests we go for a long walk that evening to try and get things going in the labor department.  We head out on a long 2 mi stroll to try to induce labor...in hindsight, kinda wish I had waited until the next morning to take the stroll, after a good nights' sleep, because the long walk worked...

I went into labor at 9pm that night, followed by my water breaking pretty much as soon as I lay down to rest...so much for a few winks before the next phase of my night begins...

Uncle D comes over to watch the other two munchkins, as we call Mimi and Pop-pops to come up from CT.

We drive to B&W, get admitted - we knew that after my water breaking that we would need to deliver within 24 hours = petosin (ouch...not looking forward to that bitch...)

My doctor came in to examine me and looked at me funny.  She was young, and had a somewhat odd bedside manner.  In between contractions, she informs me that I look familiar, and that she knows me from somewhere...wtf is this, Facebook?  I am in horrible pain, and this doctor wants to play the name game with me.  As she goes through her checks and balances (meaning checks my nether regions a number of times with gloved hands, oh so pleasant), she puts it together that she and her husband sat behind us last year on the plane on our way to St. John.  Oddly enough, B was wearing his La Tapa shirt that night, our favorite restaurant on the island.  I wish I could have been more excited to hear her epiphany, but in all honesty, I could have cared less if she told me we were somehow distant cousins...would have been the same lack of shock value...

Hellish progressively strong labor over the next seemingly thousands of hours...and I stall around 7 cm.  I withstand it until 8cm w/out an epidural, when I called in the troops.  Anesthesiology arrives, and since B&W is a teaching hospital, Doogie Howser shows up with the real doctor, and they seem to think that now is a good day for intern Betty to try to get the job done.  Clearly she failed, as I was writhing in pain so much that I could not sit still long enough for her to properly insert the needle.  She kept hitting nerves that sent electrical shock waves down my legs...B was yelling to call the epi off, but I was yelling louder to keep trying.  There was no way I could have lasted an hour or more longer in that sort of pain.

Finally after half an hour, I am relieved of pain (after almost seeing B lose his dinner after hyperventilating into a mask)
I finally dilate enough to push, when we find out that Moo Man has his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.  I have to stop pushing, while the doctor makes a hand puppet out of me and vacuums him out.  At this point St. John doc has stepped out, and Dr. O stepped in.  Moo is perfect and pink and screaming after a few scary blue-colored moments when he first came out.

Later that week, I continued recovering from stitches (lovely - delivery does some damage)...my milk came in (engorged breasts, but not sexy engorged, more like rock-hard and painful engorged), and I haven't slept all week...

Once home, I have to adjust to having three...on my first maiden voyage with all the little people, it takes me two hours to get out of the house.  Once home from the park, I try to get every last thing done (put away laundry, bathe the Moo, shower myself, take out trash and recycling, ready dinner, etc...) - life does not stop when you add another mouth to the mix.  Last on my list is to change fish tank water as I do every two weeks...this time I decided to give the rocks a little wash, as they were nasty.  Apparently, when you do this, you remove "good" bacteria from the tank, and instead of making the fish happy, you turn the water into ammonia and, well, I killed both fish.  I needed to tell CR, who was obviously upset, and B is pissed at me because I killed our pets...

So there you have it - Moo's birth story, and my initial experience with all these creatures B and I managed to make.  I am constantly amazed when at the end of the day, all three are fed, bathed, and happily snug in their beds.  The whole thing is a blur, so I'd better get back to blogging to keep track of all the little things...

Soft air, blue waters, and belly bugs

St. John. It holds so many happy memories and experiences for B and me - our engagement, a trip back last year with the kids, my parents, and brother, and this year, we managed to stash away a whole other set of things to look back on - both the good and the not-so-savory. As I said to my amazing father-in-law on a crazy excursion in Sonoma back in the day - if everything went smoothly, you might forget the true nature of the experience - this trip was no exception to that rule.

We arrived on the island on Saturday 2/25 after a reasonably seamless trip from Boston to St. John. The kids were excited (well, CR was ecstatic, and Baby C went along with everything we asked her to do, so we can pass that off as excitement shown through good behavior). Leading up to our trip, we tried to sequester the kids from contact with other germ mongers - basically from Wednesday of the week prior to departing, we quarantined our children to avoid any current virus that was invading little bodies in the area. After working so hard at quarantining, and getting them to the island without any sign of fever or a sniffle, Baby C (we refer to her affectionately as 'Ground Zero") came down with a dastardly stomach bug late Sunday night. From there, family members began to fall like dominoes - Pop-pops, Mimi, CR, and then B, all coming down with different variations of the island plague between Tuesday and Thursday of our first week. Somehow I was spared (I felt run down and nauseous the second Sunday we were there, but I can't seem to differentiate between feeling crappy overall from the pregnancy and actual virus-induced illness).

The only night that none of us were sick was the first Monday evening. Baby C was recovering from her battle from the night before, and Mimi and Pop-pops unknowingly had one more day of gastrointestinal freedom before they were struck. Aunt J and Uncle D generously gave us a unique, thoughtful, and amazing Christmas gift to enjoy while on our tropical get-away. They arranged for a personal chef (Ted Robinson of Ted's Supper Club) to come to our villa and prepare a 5-course meal for us, consisting of local seafood, organic greens and veggies, and herbs from his personal garden.

We enjoyed:

Tuna dumplings to start

Rock lobster dusted with pollen and seared sea scallops

Warm bacon and spinach salad with a mustard herb vinaigrette

Beef tenderloin and potato wrapped Mahi Mahi

Molten chocolate cake with vanalla and rum infused berries

The meal was fantastic, and the experience was so personal and detail oriented. B and I were actually lucky enough to enjoy the work of Ted's Supper Club one of our last nights on the island with some of his Midd friends who were also escaping reality for a bit. Oddly enough we had the exact same menu, but alas, one cannot complain when the food was to die for.

Ga, Gee, and Uncle J arrived the Tuesday after Baby C started the germy ball rolling, so sadly they had to keep their distance from the kids for most of their visit - thankfully none of them suffered what we were all lined up to inevitably get.

So the first week was great, but peppered with a level of anxiety over who would come down with the plague next, as well as trying to get in a number of activities with those who were still standing. With two cars, seven adults, and two kids, we often broke off into groups in order to maximize everyone's time spent in paradise.

There is a great playground at the Westin that we used on a daily basis with the kids - Baby C loved to slide down the "sides" and CR was all over everything.

Sadly Mimi, Pop-pops, Ga, Gee, and Uncle J departed on Saturday, and then there were four (and three-quarters). We moved out of the three-bedroom villa that we shared with Mimi and Pop-pops, and occupied a two-bedroom suite on the Westin compound closer to the water for two nights. A side note, these nights were free, as a result of setting a few fires the previous year when we visited the Villas.  We had a few issues with our condo, so B managed to get a few points toward a future stay, and now was the time to cash it in.

The new accommodations were great, other than the fact that the first floor was lacking any sort of sink or bathroom/running water. If we needed to wash out a bottle, we had to go upstairs to one of the bathrooms to do so...dump out a cup of stale coffee? Up the stairs we went. It gave us a taste of what it is like to stay in a hotel with kids without the luxury of a kitchen...something I do not recommend doing, nor is it something we will purposely arrange for future travels.

Monday marked the day where we suddenly changed our tune about the Westin when compared to our new digs for the next three nights. Don't get me wrong - the Westin is great for what it presents itself as - a family-friendly retreat where people, mostly from the east coast, can escape their chilly winter climate. It has caged birds to gawk at, and large floating trampolines for kids to jump on. Then along came Caneel...

Caneel Bay is sick. And when I say sick, I don't mean sick in the way we lived our life our first week on the island full of vomit and such...sick like it was so outrageously luxurious and enjoyable that we now saw our original accommodations as more of a cookie cutter Disneyland theme than the luxury resort we were about to experience.

This is B, looking out at the sunset from our own private beach

CR gazing out at the view, much like his father

We spent the next three days walking the grounds, relaxing on the beach (thank you, Tasha, for being such an amazing babysitter for the entire trip - and thank you Ivy, for recommending your fantastic service!), and dining at the exquisite Turtle Bay restaurant - one of our best meals on the island.

Happiness is a Father with his daughter...oh, and add in Caneel, and it makes things really happy

Even brothers and sisters experience a feeling of happiness at Caneel

After three days, we found ourselves reluctantly leaving our living-beyond-our-means accommodations.  We were not ready to leave our island...heck, we managed to lug our two children all the way down there, and the first week, though enjoyable to be with family and such, overall we felt as though we were cheated out of at least three days of our planned vacation.  So enter justification for spending another lump sum of money to extend our stay in paradise...three more days at the Weston carnival.

Back we went - B managed to get three more nights booked in two different three-bedroom villas, at a discounted rate.  We were able to mingle with the parrots, and relax in the sand, for three more glorious days.

I have to say, for the first time that I can remember in my life, I could have stayed there for a month.  Maybe it was because I knew once we returned, the baby in my belly would be that much closer to arriving, or that we were heading back to reality in general.  Whatever the case, thank you, B, for an amazing fifteen days on our favorite island.

Phew! For a moment there I forgot who we were...

Fun and games for little people...

How Baby C came to be...well, her birth story...finally

It's only taken me 17-months to pull this one up and post it for documentation reasons...

I prefer my meals all prepared au naturale - no sauces, no real added oils or flavors...just straight-up proteins and veggies in their natural state...I did not know that this philosophy also carried over to my preference for child birth - no medical sauces, just straight-up pain.

I woke up the morning of the 17th, and thought that it was going to be the day. Throughout the night, I had extreme feelings of pressure, and felt like the pangs were more than typical Braxton-Hicks contractions. B had a PT appointment for his knee that morning in Foxboro that he abruptly canceled, so as the day progressed nothing was really happening, I felt like he postponed his therapy for not.

Fast forward to the 18th - all day I was experiencing intermittent labor pains - went to Whole Foods, stopped in my tracks by the baby food while the pain subsided...went to Trader Joe's, paused by the fruit display to see the aches through. The labor started the night before at around 2:30am - strong pressure with tinges of pain - our neighbor EL came by around 3pm to hang out while the cleaners finished up at their place, and as we chatted, I found myself bending over with each contraction. At this point, the pains were about 12 minutes apart - pulling back to when I went into labor with CR, I would have been out the door hours before, not knowing what to do with myself. With her, I felt like 12 minutes was an eternity between contractions...like I had time between each clinch to nearly forget what the former twinge felt like until another one came.

Around 6pm, B walked through the door, and I was feeling pretty bad. The contractions were getting closer together, and their duration was increasing - they got to be about 5 minutes apart lasting thirty seconds each time. I called the hospital, and they advised that I wait until they lasted for at least a minute for each onslaught. I was a bit wary of this advice, as I have had many a friend tell me that your second child shoots out of you a heck of a lot quicker than the first, but nonetheless we held tight at home for another hour or so.

Once my contractions reached the "we need to go to the hospital" threshold, we called in the first tier of troops for CR-care.

EB came to take care of CR - she was a saint to be there while SM finished up work - such a relief to know he was in good hands, with people who he was comfortable with - not to get all religious, but it was truly a blessing to know that our first offspring was fine while we welcomed the second.

We arrived at the Brigham, and walked through the doors, thinking that we knew where we were going - apparently the hospital likes to toy with ladies in labor and they decided to move the check-in to a new location. After staring at the wall where the home of the original office was, we finally located the registration desk. Luckily I actually remembered to send in my pink pre-reg sheet a few weeks back, so they already had all the details on my baby-making history, so I was quickly guided upstairs to triage.

We sat [paced around] the waiting room for about 10 minutes before they called me in. There was a woman who had apparently come in with a friend or her sister who recently welcomed their bundle of joy. We overheard her reporting the news to an anxious listener on the other end of the phone..."yeah, she is out cold now...I would be too if I had a 10+ pound baby..." Daaaamn. This was not something I wanted to hear while my baby was still inside of me...B and I know we breed small, but who knows who our little lady would take after - who knows if there is some gargantuan ancestor on one side of the family who decided to toss their genes in Baby C's direction....

A nurse called me in first, leaving B to himself in the waiting room. The clinician asked me a series of medical questions between contractions, and hooked me up to the baby monitor. The wee-one's heart rate looked great, and my vitals were on point.

After I was cleared as in good shape, B rejoined me, and the doctor came in to check how dilated I was. The labor pains were pretty intense, so I figured I must be at least 2-3 cm...remembering back to the last time I was in this situation, I was crossing my fingers that they wouldn't knock my pain threshold ego by letting me know that I was not yet in "true" labor at 1/2 cm. Much to my surprise (and the doctor's, based on how my demeanor was pretty relaxed at this point), I was 7cm. Wow. This was going to go fast from here on out.

I was immediately brought up to my own delivery room, and reattached to the monitors to ensure Baby C was okay. My delivery nurse was amazing. She did not hover over me, but simply automatically did things to help me deal with my pain. She kept asking if I wanted to do it without drugs...I struggled, fearing all that could happen without a buffer between me and the passage of our little girl through my body. I remembered back to how CR did a number on me as he entered the world, and did not want that to happen again while I could feel it. As my labor progressed, I continued to refuse to give in to an epidural.

My groans became drawn-out moans...like a wild animal. Embarrassing, as I look back, but it was the only thing that I could do to stifle the pain. I swear B thought he was in a Nat'l Geographic movie - I was just short of needing a leather strap to bite on. Now on all fours on the hospital bed, I kept feeling the urge to push - I never thought it would be a feeling that I could not resist - I had to push - but they had to first manually break my water...it was so much easier with CR when my body did it for me.

I kept looking around for a trashcan - I felt like I was going to get sick due to the pain, but the nurses around me did not see any need for grabbing a boot-bucket - I am sure they have witnessed much worse things hit the delivery room floor. At this point I was in so much pain that I screamed out "I want my f&cking epidural!!" Apparently Baby C's head was making it's initial appearance, so it was too late - SOL for a pain reliever...no hot anesthesiologist to tap my back and take away the ouchies.

"How much longer?!?!" I groaned. The nurses said it all depended on me, so I pushed and I pushed 'til Baby C popped into the world.

As soon as she arrived, B and I did not feel the immediate bond and elation we felt when CR joined us, but as soon as she opened her little peepers, we felt a little more connected - she was a little puffy and squishy from the fast delivery. One eye was droopy, and she had so much dark, long hair (that's why I had such horrible heartburn!!). It's just so crazy to add another little member of our family.

Baby C followed her brother's lead and gave me a second degree tear - what thoughtful children I have. After the whole delivery and stitching episode was over, I crazily felt great. After having CR, the epidural left me paralyzed from the waist down. I had to have a catheter to pee, and couldn't get out of bed. After Baby C? I seriously wanted to go out for a walk. I was nearly pain-free, and after a day I was able to literally go out for a stroll (illegally...B and I walked outside around the Fenway area unbenounced to my nurses). The only thing that ailed me was my throat from all the groaning during birth - I had the feeling that I went to a concert the night before...

All in all, despite the real intense pain of active labor, I would do it all over again without the drugs. I feel lucky to have had the chance to experience childbirth both ways.

Baby C is home, and is fast becoming a part of our family - we feel like she's always been here.

Elf on a Shelf...

This week at dinner, CR wouldn't finish his meal. I started to explain to him that it's getting close to that time of the year when a certain someone will be watching him, making note of whether he is being naughty or nice. I reminded him about the Elf on a Shelf, and proceeded to ask him who the little guy reports to about CR's behavior.

Mommy: So, CR, do you know who will be watching you to make sure you've been a verrrrry good boy this year?

CR: Daddy?

Mommy: Noooooo, he watches you too...this person is big, round, and wears red...

CR: Gee?!?!

My poor father. He doesn't wear that much red ;)