The Things We Endure for Disney

K needed to meet Rapunzel.

We saw the movie.

Her birthday was of the "Tangled" theme.

Having the t-shirt alone won't do.

We have the doll.

We will get the DVD.

She knows all the words to the soundtrack and sings it her sleep.

As do I.

But, we need to MEET her.
In person.

At Disneyland.

With a bajillion other fans.

The wait was a painful 90 minutes.

60 minutes just to see the clock strike 12 noon.

Then "30 minutes from this spot" in line.

Through crying.

And whining.

And patiently pleading (by me) to stop the crying and whining.

Then there were the small $1.79/each bananas and the off-brand chips that no one would eat.

Plus the 90 minutes wait time at the Princess Faire only to leave 30 minutes in without seeing anyone but other people in line.

Then a $30 doll I bought to chase away the tears.

Then.

it.

Happened.

Star struck.

Then she was bossy.

"I don't want Flynn in the picture."

It's your call.

"Mommy please stand next to me."

Absolutely.

Cheese.

Totally worth it?

She thinks so!

Stop the Ride, I Need to Get Off!

AHHHHHHHHHH!

Okay, that's out of the way!

It's a crazy week, things are moving too fast, and HOW is it the 10th of March already??

So much stuff going on, the anxiety has kicked in full force and the caffeine is exacerbating it!

DQ gets home from camp today, yay!

Tomorrow I have to take snack for K's preschool.

Friday is My Boy's birthday, snacks/cupcakes to school.

Saturday is his party.

Last weekend we were supposed to have the Bat-a-Thon for baseball. It was rescheduled to right in the middle of MB's party.

Figures. So now I'm in the middle of rescheduling it, calling/texting/emailing invitees to let them know.

Sunday at the butt-crack of dawn I fly out for the International Home Show in Chicago. My first blogger-related event!! I've never been to Chicago (let alone, alone!), I haven't personally met any of the other bloggers attending. I'm going to meet up with my brother's friends, who I also have never met.

I come home Monday night.

Whirlwind much?!

THEN, having just booked our summer vacation condo in Tahoe, I get a note that DQ's annual Ballet Intensive is smack dab in the middle of our vacation. If she doesn't attend, she doesn't compete. No exceptions. Fabulous. The condo is booked all summer.

Screwed.

Not to mention I turned down an all-inclusive blogging event in Cancun due to last minute and no passport.

Can I cry now?

wah.

I Have Four Hands This Week!

So it's awesome this week...Hubby is home with us.

He gets x amount of vacation hours and saves about 5 days or so to close out the year.

It's fabulous.

We don't have huge plans or anything, just doing the same old thing but with an extra pair of hands.

Well there's the sleeping in for him, which is lovely I presume, he's not a morning person at all.

Then there's the puttering around, the little fix-it jobs here and there, and playing in his favorite room, the garage.

He loves that stuff. Just hanging around.

I often like to get away during these times. I'm always home.

But, we do compromise and go bowling, for scenic drives, or other out-of-the-house things that are inexpensive but fun.

Lots of game-playing has been happening, and one of my favorites this week so far, the midday barbecue!

His famous tri-tip, salad and chili beans. At 2pm. So cool.

Fabulous family time.

What never changes is the kid chaos.

The noise level is still high. The kids still struggle to be in eachother's space all day long, but Hubby is here all day to live it as I have these past 11 years.

I hope he appreciates my sacrifice.

I was just chatting on the phone with a friend. She too has been home with her kids more than she's worked outside the home.

It's not for everyone.

It's hard work.

Rewarding?! Hell yeah, but still can do weird things to your mind, your soul, your mojo.

Luckily I have a strong group of friends, that like me, can get out once in a while for a GNO (girl's night out).

A re-grouping of sorts, a reminder that not only are we moms, but we are women that have other interests and also like to have fun.

Tonight's one of those nights.

One friend suggests it, I get on the horn with the next gal, we make it happen.

Sitters are called, dinner reservations made (well in a sense)...and we do it.

Often when I'm chatting with a girlfriend, one of us says, "When can I pick you up..?" and the other belts out, "NOW is good!" even if it is hours away.

Joking?! Yes, but no.

Let's just say we're always ready to go at the drop of the hat to get to our night's out.

I don't get away without mom-guilt though.

My oldest and youngest like to literally pull on me as I'm walking out the door with their, "please don't leave we'll miss you!" drama.

If I could only get them to understand...

Mommy will be a better mommy if you let me go.

I will be, promise.

Now get off my leg!

Smack Dab Right Between the Eyes

It has finally hit me.

"It" whatever it is.

Call it the summertime blues or just a heavy dose of reality.

School's out.

My daughter will be in jr.high, is 10 going on 30, and hormonal.

Dance is over, baseball is done.

The fighting has begun.

..and ended....and begun again.

I'm a referee every 20 minutes.

The economy sucks.

In the past almost-11 years we've lived on one income.

Today I cry and blame myself for not contributing.

I know, I know, I've done so much to raise our 3 children.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

But, what if.

What if.

What if I had been working for the past 11 years.

Would it been so bad if they were in daycare?

No.

I wouldn't be applying to grocery stores, Target, places where no one is getting hired then.

I would be a teacher secure in my job after 11 years, little worry of pink slips, and layoffs.

The grass is greener? Or just less weedy?

Sleeping is hard lately.

I go to bed with a knot in my stomach that SURPRISE isn't acid reflux.

Punched in the gut.

Just in time for our family vacation.

Mountain air. Crystal blue waters.

I can't wait.

I want to get away.

For just a little while.

Put the worries on the back burner.

Before I boil over.

Showering with Barbie

Had it really been 2 days since I last showered?

UGH.

Truth be told, it was TIME.

You know you have that feeling like, I cannot wait one more day second, I need to shower NOW!

So as perfect timing had it, I was home mid-day with K. Blerg.

Bribery works, so I grabbed her favorite snack and drink, put on a Strawberry Shortcake flick and grabbed my robe.

I thought, oh yeah, I have a good 20 minutes before she'd come knocking.

Just as I'm adjusting the water to HOT, I hear footsteps, then the door opening.

"Wutcha doin'?"

Um honey, mommy's in the shower.

"Me want to take one too."

You don't like showers, you can have a bath tonight.

pulling the curtain back "Mommy, you taking a shower wiss my Darbie?"

Clearing the shampoo out of my eyes, Um, I guess, as I see her on the shelf by my razor.

Honey, you're missing your movie, mommy will be out in a minute!

"My don't want to watch dat."

Great.

"Mommy you wash my Darbie's hayur, it's duhtee."

I'm on it.

Scrubbing away as quickly as possible, I dream of long hot showers and babysitters.

"Mommy you done?"

Almost! As I frantically rinse the soap out of my hair and attack my pits with the razor, trying not to cut myself up.

I shut the water off and grab my towel.

4 minutes, maybe 5. Sigh.

So not what I had in mind.

K walks out of the bathroom.

Where ya goin' K?!

"To watch my movie!!"

Figures.
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*don't forget about my $250 Visa Card Giveaway, contest ends 7/8/09*

The Early Days of Motherhood, part four

Part One
Part Two
Part Three

My Boy was born March, 12, 2001. From the beginning I knew in my heart I was going to bottle-feed.

My Hubby knew it too. He wanted me too. He knew what my past experience had done to me.

I didn't even try to nurse.

I had some very pro-nursing nurses in the hospital that questioned my decision and tried to get me to change. I didn't budge.

After about 3 weeks home with our second child, something new began.

COLIC.

No sleep for baby. No sleep for mom and dad.

Crampy, gassy, fussy, sleep-deprived baby. Crazed mom.

For the love of all that is good in the world, why didn't you nurse? See what YOU've done?!

At this point there was no way I was going to attempt to go backwards and take my son off formula and try and "charge up" my breasts to nurse.

It can happen. It's about supply with demand. Breast economics.

Not going to happen for me.

We tried soy, Nutramigen, Alimentum, lactose-free. Burping over the shoulder, burping across the knee, burping bent at the stomach.

Swirling the bottle vs. shaking it. Burping after 1 oz. Burping after 1/2 oz. I even burped a few times, but it didn't help him.

Gas drops in the bottle. More water. Less milk at a sitting. Sleeping propped up.

Short from standing on my head while feeding him, nothing helped.

Deep within me depression reared it's head. Post-partum or not. Because of the bottle feeding issues or because of the colic, it began...again.

Mother-failure.

Time went by and finally, thanks to Yaya and going against all that was right with child-rearing, we put My Boy to bed on his stomach.

GASP. That's not right, all the books say.... all the experts say..... everyone knows that that is taboo. Well, my mom's view was that I grew up sleeping on my stomach and I'm okay. We tried it.

Just that slight pressure on My Boy's tummy worked wonders. Of course our crib monitor was nearly tucked in his diaper every night to keep tabs on his safety, but he was sleeping. He wasn't as whiny, and less gassy.

So I'm the non-nursing mother who puts her kid to sleep against the rules.

Rebel.

Will all of this continue to affect my life 10 years later. Yes. And no.

Am I different from normal moms? Yes and no.

Am I worse than a normal mom? No.

Did I go against the grain? Yes and no.

Will I always feel judged? Yes.

Do I care anymore? No, not really. I cared enough to write about it. To heal my heart. To possibly connect to someone else who felt the same way. I worried about the comments. But, I shouldn't. This is MY story. It can't be told any other way.

Did I nurse my 3rd child? No. And, finally I don't regret a minute of it. It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. My love for them always has been the truest of feelings that cannot be affected by something so trivial.

The First Days of Motherhood, part three

Part One
Part Two

So that first outing with baby was a doozy, well at least for me.

You get the oohing and aahhing and then one peek at a bottle and POOF!

The nosiness kicks in.

The common sense filters are shut off.

People say the RUDEST things.

Oh are you bottlefeeding? Translation: You are giving your baby poison.

What happened, couldn't you nurse? Um, excuse me, STRANGER, none of your beeswax.

You know that nursing is healthier for the baby, it gives them so many more antibodies!! Really, I hadn't read that in all 200 books I'd read.

You were one of THOSE. Well, ship me off to Exile Island.

Sure, all the sarcasm was in my head. All I could do was bow my head in shame and just pray that my daughter's health was going to be okay regardless of my worthless milk-makers.

And, that praying didn't help.

The more I was exposed to friends, family, strangers, the more stories I heard.

The all my kids just couldn't get enough of the boob stories don't help at all. Do people just say things like this to push the knife in just a little deeper?!

It worked for you fabulous. Don't bring it up to me during my struggle.

As much as I wanted to say, wanted to believe, I was doing the right thing for me and my baby, the more I caved and just let all the words hurt more and more.

You're always told that the most unsolicited advice will come after you have a baby.

It's true.

DQ became afflicted with ear infections at about 6 months on. Pretty consistently that she was put on preventative antibiotics, and would still get them.

The comments came. More were fabricated in my head. If you had breastfed, she wouldn't be dealing with this.

If, only.

All nursing children are healthy as horses. I know that's not true.

But, I beat myself up emotionally.

For 3 years I heard it all.

Bottle feeders will get rotten teeth.

Bottle feeders will be sicker kids.

Bottle feeders won't go to college.

Okay I made that one up, but where did it end? Why are people so merciless? Why can't they keep their words to themselves and accept that everyone does things differently and in the long run, whether my children were fed from formula or mother's milk won't matter!?!?!?!

It's not on the college application.

It won't be in a job interview.

It won't make or break finding a mate and living happily ever after.

It just won't.

Stop placing breast-feeding moms on a pedestal and formula-feeding moms beneath them.

When DQ was 2 years, 4 months old, I was pregnant with My Boy. First thing I thought...will I even try nursing or go straight to the bottle?

....Part 4.

The First Days of Motherhood, part two

Part One

I went to the nursery and scanned my detailed notes.

And by notes, I mean the chicken-scratch that is my tally marks on post-its of wet diapers and mustard-filled.

There are guidelines to follow when nursing, was I doing it right?

Those newborn diapers were so small, how could even tell if they were really wet. Was she drinking enough to produce enough output? Newborn breastfeeders poop like around the clock. That wasn't happening here.

Had my milk come in? What does that even mean?! I suddenly felt like a child. Helpless, incapable.

Something so important and supposedly natural, and private, and the bonding, the bonding would be so special... and....and....and....

Fail.

Stop the madness.

Hubby cracked open a supplementary bottle, that somehow appeared in our kitchen. Did the nurse bring it, did it come home in our bag of goodies?! Who knows. It was time.

My poor starved child inhaled the bottle like a champ.

A million emotions flooded me. Guilt being the main one.

Hubby was thrilled. Not only was the baby content, but he was involved. From the beginning Hubby was the husband and father you would dream of. Now, he would share feedings with me, be the equal partner that he wanted to be.

I saw this as a sign. An opportunity to sleep, but also a weight off my shoulders. I can do both. A little bonus formula will help me out until I can produce more milk.

Days would pass. I talked to friends. I should be feeling "full" if my milk was in. Heavy. Pain like you need to feed to relieve yourself. I had none of that. DQ still had the same latch, it seemed right, but we now had purchased cans of formula and were using them after each breastfeeding session.

Trying the pump one afternoon, I realized there was next to nothing coming out. Huh?!

Every two hours, was I doing nothing but providing a fleshy pacifier for my daughter?

I consulted a friend from our mom's group, a lactation consultant. I was offered sessions where she'd help, and was told to STOP the BOTTLE completely, it's too early and will cause nipple confusion.

My nipples and my brain were confused. Fabulous combo.

My head spun. My heart sank. This isn't working for me.

We decided to bottle feed exclusively.

At home, things began to smooth out. Sleeping for all of us increased. Taking turns worked itself out between Hubby and I. DQ was happy. Healthy. Growing.

It wasn't until I stepped out into public and realized what lied ahead.

.....Part 3.

The First Days of Motherhood, Part One

Looking back on those few days before my first born arrived, I try and remember how quiet our house was.

How the walls knew nothing of crayon or pencil markings.

The carpet was absent of juice, ketchup, and vomit stains.

The walls had virgin ears to the cries of a hungry infant.

Those days were also anxious for a new start, a new beginning, a new life.

The nursing bras were bought. The pads, the pump, all ready. Not a can of formula in sight.

Why? I was going to nurse my child. It's what was expected of me. Of mothers. What I had planned.

I set high expectations.

No supplementing, too costly. No bottles, just me, and my baby, my body.

The rush to put the baby to breast in the hospital was a blur. This nurse on this shift said the football hold is best.

That nurse on that shift said I should lay down.

Some nurses forceful and adamant that only breast is best.

Got it, taking mental notes.

Getting home.

Around the clock, feeding the baby. Am I doing it right, is she getting enough?

Who knows? Boobs and babies don't come with fuel tank gauges.

I will not supplement. It's not okay.

Okay for who? Baby, me? Society.

Struggling, not happy, not full, baby needs something.

I call the nurses station at the hospital 3 days later. An old family friend stops by. Comes to my bedroom to latch baby on. Latch isn't proper. Baby is starving.

Many nights those first days I remember crying myself to a mock-sleep. You know, the kind you get after a newborn.

Hubby is lost, he cannot produce milk. Knows we have alternatives.

No. Breast is best. The only way.

You don't have struggle, it's only one little bottle, a little help.

Defeated. I caved. In my mind, my heart. One bottle, then I will figure this game out. It's supposed to be natural, not this hard!

Where are the rainbows, the unicorns, the fairies dancing around. You know how new motherhood is portrayed in the movies. Where was my silver lining?

Already my mind and my heart were fighting, neither was winning.

....Part 2

3 of Me

If there were 3 of me, I could do oh so much.

I could be at dance, baseball, and relaxing all at once.

When Saturday comes, I won't fret, which way will I go?

Is Yaya available? Will I root for DQ or My Boy.

Competition times two.

Two towns, two times, two parents, 3 kids.

Mathematically incorrect.

Try out for winter sports I say.

Busy.

All fun stuff.

Sun, stands.

Auditoriums, reclining seats.

Don't make me choose.

If only there were 3 of me.

That 3rd one would eat the bon bons, drink the wine.

Get the pedicure, waste time.

Eeney Meeny Miney Mo.

Of to which activity will I go?!

Pity Party

A date night out, ruined by discussing the state of the economy.

The state of our health insurance premiums.

The state of where can I get a job?

I think one of the biggest challenges for a stay at home mom isn't about the child raising.

It's about the income...or lack there of.

For 10 years I've been without a paycheck. And after 10 years it feels more ominous than ever that I haven't contributed financially to our family.

Of course I am raising 3 amazing, brilliant children, and I don't regret being home for a minute.

But there are costs to raising a family. Costs that put pressure on the ONE bread-winner in the house.

My hubby works in town, comes home for lunch daily, and ends his day at 4:30pm with a 5 minute commute. We have it good. Spoiled even.

Could we ever change that for the commute-for-bigger-bucks lifestyle? Or the move-out-of-town-so-we-can-all-afford-a-better-healthcare-plan route? Would we change what's worked for 10 years to a mom-works-puts-K-in-daycare-thus-bringing-in-pennies-due-to-childcare-costs choice?

Ugh.

Casa Chaotic

I have serious CHAOS disorder.

No, not CRS-can't remember sh*t. I have that too, but that's a different post.

CHAOS-Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome! (thanks Flylady.net)

Seriously. I dread having people over.

I mean I love the company and the social part of it all.

But, my house is a mish-mosh of dorm decor, mismatched furniture, stained carpets, and un-classy things.

See how I said "things"...because i'm not even sure what classy is.

Think Pottery Barn, but completely-not-even-close-to that!

In the past 10 years, we've devoted our lives and house to all things children. I've aptly named many our carpet stains as "the stomach flu incident of 2002," "the dropped candle debacle of Easter, 1999," and "unknown issue #245."

Yes, we've gotten our carpets cleaned since all of that. But stains have their way of coming back in our house. That's why we've nearly made all our floors laminate. Carpet is the devil when you have 3 children!

Anyway. I enjoy going to my friend's "Adult Homes" where there is no trace of mess nor toy within a 100 square foot area. You ladies know who you are...Ro! G! K2!

Chalk my issues up to one income, 3 kids, and no decorating sense whatsoever.

Luckily the lava lamp and the futons are hidden in the garage. We only pull out the beer bong when our younger crowd of friends stop by. You know, the little league dads!

But something you'll find all over our walls, besides handprints, dents, dings, and crayon....photos.

Tons and tons of photos. Our personal artwork. Our precious memories.

So what if Pottery Barn didn't throw up in my living room.

Who cares that I don't have anything granite in the house except for the rocks My Boy finds at school.

One day we may have a "Better Homes and Gardens" home....

...but the quiet will be deafening.

The cleanliness will be too tidy.

And, the look will be a bore.

Will it be worth it?

Free For All Friday

There is just SO much in my head. Expressing it all would be called "word vomit" or the pleasant "verbal diarreah" expression my mom used to use.

K's progressing well with potty training at home. We're raising a partial nudist, but everyone has their calling right? What is more frightening is that she's climbing out of the crib daily. A few months back she did it and freaked us out by just showing up behind the door after we had put her in her crib. That was a fluke.

But now she's doing it daily for nap, and nightly at bedtime. To save her from any harm we're just allowing her to nap on the couch. Or not nap at all. The schedule is definately different, but with the PT'ing going on we just need to go with it, we can't strap her down in the crib, so we pick our battles.

Last night I found her roaming in the hall saying "nye nye couch." I steered her back in her room and put her back in the crib. I layed on the pull out bed/sofa in her room and she fell back asleep. A second time she roused, Hubby got to the room before the Houdini antics ensued. *yawn* Fun times.

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I was tagged by Susan over at Fordy Days and Nights for the 6 Words Meme. I am supposed to define my life in six words and the tag 5 other lucky people.

1. Hubby
2. MyBoy
3. DQ
4. K
5. Love
6. Challenge

I'm going to tag....

Ranch Girl
Ciara
Brittany
Flickrlvr
Ann

...and anyone else who'd like to do it!

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Heading camping Sunday for a few days. It'll be nice to hang out with Hubby's brothers and my two sisters in law. Our little 18 month old neice L will be there too, it should be a blast!

As before I have a few posts ready for my absence PLUS [this just in] TWO AMAZING GUEST POSTERS that you are going to LOVE, if you don't already! They will be here Monday and Wednesday please make sure you leave them tons of love!

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Saw The Step Brothers.....oh my god I am significantly [more dumb?] dumber now that I watched that movie.

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Rock for the final five on Last Comic Standing...Jim Tavare, Marcus, Jeff Dye, Iliza Schleszinger, and Louis Ramey!

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Got my hair cut today, and colored. It's the A-Line bob type but not so dramatic and not so short in the back. Love it. Color is RED. Like dark red raspberry not fire truck. Maybe a picture on Sunday's Weekly Winners...if I can get a decent one.

This Week at Dancers Anonymous

Wednesday
9:15a.m. Go to dance studio and await Limo.
9:55a.m. Get picked up in Limo with best-dance-friends to be taken to the local movie theater. It's student appreciation day and the studio instructor treats the girls












10:00a.m. Arrive at the movies. Parents wait patiently as 7-8 limoloads of girls arrive and walk the "red carpet" dressed to the nines.

*Sorry this is sideways, I don't know how to fix it!*


10:15a.m. Popcorn and soda is purchased and they enter Alvin and the Chipmunks.
11:30a.m. Pickup time...until later.
3:30p.m. Arrive at dance studio dressed for picture day.
3:45p.m. Wait in the heat-filled upstairs studio as the photographers are about 30 minutes behind schedule.
4:15p.m. Take first picture-ballet-then change into hip hop costume.
4:45p.m. Take HH picture-change into Jazz costume.
5:20p.m. Take Jazz photo.
5:40p.m. Take Tap production photo, luckily same outfit.
5:55p.m. Take Jazz Duo photo, change into Jazz comp. outfit.
6:10p.m. Take Jazz comp photo, change into Misfits costume.
6:30p.m. Take Misfits picture, change into studio sweatsuit.
7:25p.m. Take solo photo and comp team pic. OUTTA THERE.

Thursday
8 a.m. Wake and dress for auditions
8:45 a.m. Arrive at studio, half-grumpy, wait for Hip Hop Auditions for next year's competition team
9-10a.m. Learn dance, perform, get judged.
10-11a.m. Audition for Juniorettes Tap and Jazz competition, learn dance, perform, get judged.
11 a.m. Come home and organize outfits for Dress Rehearsal tonight.
6 p.m. Leave for Dress Rehearsal
6:05 p.m. Arrive at auditorium and set up Kaboodle and Costume carrier, get dressed for first dance.
*approx.* 9:30p.m. Finish 6 dances of 39 studio performances.

Friday
5:30p.m. Arrive at auditorium for day 1 of Recital
7p.m. Recital begins, dress and undress 6 times and perform dances
*approx* 10pm. Final Bows

Saturday
11:30a.m. Get to auditorium for day 2 of Recital
1p.m. Recital begins, dress and undress and perform 6 dances
*approx* 4p.m. Final Bows
*approx* 5p.m. End of the year pool party for competition teams, secret sisters revealed.

---1 week off before summer dance classes begin---

Gotta hand it to DQ, she's focused, determined, and dedicated to dancing. It's her world. She promised to be a good girl, keep her grades up, and not complain about her schedule. She has kept up her side of the bargain.