Hello, my dear 43 followers. As you have seen, this here blog has been giving me some technical difficulties. As such, I moved it to Wordpress. A platform that doesn't make me want to punch Google in the face repeatedly. Please to be following me over there, where I can actually write. THANK YOU!
PrideandParentage.Wordpress.com
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Age Progression of Little Man
When thinking of how to define how the Little Man has grown through the years, nothing but energy comes to mind. So here it is: Little Man through the years of how he will treat bad guys.
At age 4, if a bad guy came in our house, THIS is how they would be treated:
At age 5:
He says he will "under arrest" them and kick 'em in half!
The other day, he said, "Karen, if bad guys come in the house, you and the baby will hide while Daddy and I pretect (sic) you. I'll kick 'em into space!"
At age 4, if a bad guy came in our house, THIS is how they would be treated:
At age 5:
The other day, he said, "Karen, if bad guys come in the house, you and the baby will hide while Daddy and I pretect (sic) you. I'll kick 'em into space!"
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Age Progression of a Bot
The Bot is now FIVE months old, and she's ENORMOUS! It took this long to get into a good routine with her. She has started sleeping a lot better. She has rolled over twice, sat up for a few seconds on her own once and stood holding on to the ottoman once. She is super happy most of the time (as you will see). She wakes up smiling every morning. I want to compare her size from birth to now, and I figure, might as well share!
First, here's a picture of me as a baby:
Here's the bot when she was born. Uncanny, right?
Here's the bot when we were leaving the hospital. Look how tiny and how she barely fills the car seat! She didn't like that at all.
This was a month old, in November.
And 2 months in December. Super growth!
Three months:
GIANT BABY!!!
First, here's a picture of me as a baby:
Here's the bot when she was born. Uncanny, right?
Here's the bot when we were leaving the hospital. Look how tiny and how she barely fills the car seat! She didn't like that at all.
This was a month old, in November.
And 2 months in December. Super growth!
Three months:
She was already dangling over the car seat at that point. This is a recent 5-month picture. She's at 17 lbs and about 28 inches, almost to the limit of the car seat. This dress is a 12-month size. It could be a shirt.
GIANT BABY!!!
Monday, March 18, 2013
Airing Dirty Laundry
So, I have been trying to log in here, and I have not been able to. Some Google account doesn't recognize the Blogger or something. I figured it out. YAY! HERE I IS! It's been forever. I have often sat down to think of a blog to write with zero results. My writer's block since the Bot was born has been unreal. I haven't even been able to work on LuLunacy. The ideas are just...gone. Luckily for me, a message shared at church yesterday jogged something in my noodley noodle. Lemme share the story:
A husband and wife were having breakfast one morning when the wife looked out the window and saw the neighbor hanging laundry. The laundry was not clean at all. She remarked about this to her husband and wondered if her neighbor knew how to properly wash clothes. She couldn't believe that her neighbor would put such dirty clothing out on the line to dry. The next weekend, it was the same. The wife was incredulous. "Do you think she believes that is clean?" she asked her husband. The next weekend, the wife looked out the window, and the neighbor's laundry was sparkling and clean. "I wonder if someone told her how to wash clothes," she said. Her husband turned to her and said, "No. This morning I got up early and washed the windows."
After I heard this story at church, I had an excellent blog idea about it. Now, as I finally sit down to write it, writer's block has struck again.
Side note: It is SUPER flippin creepy when the Bot sleeps with her eyes open. Like, major heebies.
Anyway, the story is about judgment and all that. I'm sure I had something profound and full of geniusness to say about it, but I don't now. My mind is as blank as it always has been, so I guess, just enjoy the story and come to your own profoundly genius conclusions.
A husband and wife were having breakfast one morning when the wife looked out the window and saw the neighbor hanging laundry. The laundry was not clean at all. She remarked about this to her husband and wondered if her neighbor knew how to properly wash clothes. She couldn't believe that her neighbor would put such dirty clothing out on the line to dry. The next weekend, it was the same. The wife was incredulous. "Do you think she believes that is clean?" she asked her husband. The next weekend, the wife looked out the window, and the neighbor's laundry was sparkling and clean. "I wonder if someone told her how to wash clothes," she said. Her husband turned to her and said, "No. This morning I got up early and washed the windows."
After I heard this story at church, I had an excellent blog idea about it. Now, as I finally sit down to write it, writer's block has struck again.
Side note: It is SUPER flippin creepy when the Bot sleeps with her eyes open. Like, major heebies.
Anyway, the story is about judgment and all that. I'm sure I had something profound and full of geniusness to say about it, but I don't now. My mind is as blank as it always has been, so I guess, just enjoy the story and come to your own profoundly genius conclusions.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Christmas Letter
OH, HAI!!
Ok, so the Internets is alive with the talk of the Christmas letter. A letter that you send to everyone you know telling them about all of the exciting stuff you and your family did that year. I gotta be honest. I've never heard of this! I thought maybe it was a new thing or something, but no! Apparently this dates back to before the Internets where people did this thing called writing to one another. Crazy!
I can't imagine that people have enough huge life events to make a whole letter, though, so what does the letter entail? I mean, mine would be all "Eric and I had a baby. Big Man turned into a little fish and is doing wonderful on swim team. Little Man earned his yellow belt in Tae Kwon Do." That would be the extent of our exciting news. What do you fill the rest of the page with?
"The cats continue to poo in a box. The boys clean the bathrooms every other Saturday. I do a lot of laundry. The bot needs her nails filed often. Eric types on a computer all day. This little girl on Supernanny looks like Justin Bieber." Looks like my Facebook statuses. I should probably reevaluate that.
Ok, so the Internets is alive with the talk of the Christmas letter. A letter that you send to everyone you know telling them about all of the exciting stuff you and your family did that year. I gotta be honest. I've never heard of this! I thought maybe it was a new thing or something, but no! Apparently this dates back to before the Internets where people did this thing called writing to one another. Crazy!
I can't imagine that people have enough huge life events to make a whole letter, though, so what does the letter entail? I mean, mine would be all "Eric and I had a baby. Big Man turned into a little fish and is doing wonderful on swim team. Little Man earned his yellow belt in Tae Kwon Do." That would be the extent of our exciting news. What do you fill the rest of the page with?
"The cats continue to poo in a box. The boys clean the bathrooms every other Saturday. I do a lot of laundry. The bot needs her nails filed often. Eric types on a computer all day. This little girl on Supernanny looks like Justin Bieber." Looks like my Facebook statuses. I should probably reevaluate that.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
The Birth of Paige London
Friday, October 12, I woke up feeling a little stranger than
the day before. Since I’d been having
frequent, painful contractions for weeks, I didn’t think much of it. Got the kids’ lunches made and got them on
the bus. Eric went to work. I was feeling funny, so I laid back
down. A few minutes later, a rather
large contraction hit, so I decided to start timing them. They were frequent and stronger than I’d had
them before, so I thought maybe we should head up to my mom’s to be closer to
the hospital. We took our time packing
up and heading out. On the way up, my
contractions got even stronger. Eric
suggested I call my OB and see what to do, so I did. They asked me to come into the office for a
quick check. Herein lies a series of
events that led, ultimately, to the most wonderful thing I’ve ever done.
We got to the OB’s office, and the nurse checked me. She said she couldn’t tell if I was really,
really dilated or not dilated at all since the baby’s head was so low. She said she was going to have the nurse
practioner come in to do the check. The
NP came in to check, and her eyes got really wide. She called it 8 cm dilated with a +2 station. Basically, baby is gonna fall out! They rushed me into a wheelchair and through
the halls over to the hospital. My mom
and doula thought they weren’t gonna make it.
They were prepping the delivery room like crazy when I got there, and a
resident who was in attendance came in to catch the baby. My contractions were still crazy strong, but
I seemed calm, so she checked me again.
I wasn’t dilated at all.
The NP made a mistake. She said I
was the same 1.5 cm I’d been for the last few weeks of contractions. Uh...ok.
Huge disappointment. I thought I
was about to have a baby! She said my
water was broken, however, so I needed to stay.
That was 11 a.m. on October 12.
No tests for amniotic fluid were done since I was bleeding as well, and
that would mess with the test. At least
my mom and doula had time to get there.
They had all the time in the world, it turned out, because when I was
checked 12 hours later at 11 p.m. I had
only dilated to 5-6 cm, and that’s where I stayed. Pitocin was started. I labored unmedicated for 29 hours total, so
29 hours of concentrating really hard at staring at the wall or ceiling and
breathing and trying not to scream. My
mom, Eric and Tonya taking turns rubbing my feet, head, back and shoulders for
hours. Taking shuffling walks, sitting
on the ball and the toilet, getting on hands and knees, swaying and rocking
through the most painful experience of my life.
At hour 29, I was checked again.
Still 5-6 cm. No
progression. In fact, my cervix had
swollen, and my effacement had thickened back up a bit.
I broke. I could push
through the pain. I couldn’t push
through the emotions anymore. I asked
for the epidural. I could no longer
relax knowing that for 29 hours I had just done absolutely nothing, even with
Pitocin. I was doomed to lie flat on my
back, not feeling my legs, for the rest of the labor. The epidural was placed, and another crazy
labor event happened. My BP and Paige’s
heart rate dropped to dangerous levels.
Suddenly, AWKWARD! My nurse, Maggie,
who has been an L&D nurse for over 30 years, started arguing with the
resident, a meek doctor all of about 27 or 28 years old. He wanted my Pitocin shut off. She did not.
He was all, “Last I checked *I* was the doctor here!” And she was all, “Don’t you dare touch my
machine again!” “I DIDN’T! Another nurse did!” He’d had another nurse turn it off when Maggie
wasn’t looking. Yeah. We didn’t see that resident again. Also, Maggie called for a check. Dr. Bolin checked and...broke my water. Which was never broken at all. *sigh*
Once my epidural was in and we were stable, however, I was able to relax
and joke and talk with my family again.
For ten hours we labored like that, mostly with me on my left side. They rolled me to my right, and Paige’s heart
rate dropped again. Dangerously. For a long time. Enough to freak out the on-call
physician. After a position change, she
stabilized, but we had to start talking C-section. Paige was in a dangerous position.
We let it go for another 2 hours before it was called. I was STILL only 5-6 cm after 39 hours of
labor. It was time. Time for the weirdest C-section in the
history of C-sections. First, I was
scared to death. I’ve never had surgery
before. So, I was making all kinds of
stupid jokes. The anesthesiologist told
me I’m hilarious. Thanks. I’ll be here all week. Literally.
So, he pushed the meds and they started the draping
and...OOOOOOOWWWW!!!!! Uh...I wasn’t
supposed to feel that. The anesthesia
didn’t take. They had misplaced the
drape and ripped it off (really hard, dudes.
I have a sore.) I felt it. She pinched me. I felt that, too. OOPS!
My spinal catheter had fallen out.
Time for a new one.
Six new ones. I now
have a lot of holes in my back. Eric had
to root around in drawers to find a new kit.
Ready-made surgical assistant!
So, they finally get it going to where I can’t feel a dang thing. The anesthesiologist takes a call ordering a
pizza in the middle of surgery. Then,
suddenly, I hear, “Step back! Step back! SOMEBODY CATCH HER!” Yeah.
Med student was helping to stitch me up and nearly fainted into my open
body cavity. Luckily she fainted
backward. She had to be taken care of
before my surgery was completed. It
lasted twice as long as it should have.
Freaked out my family for sure, wondering where I was for this short,
“routine” surgery. Paige was stuck in my
sacrum. She was never going to progress.
In the end, though, we got Paige London Kachelmeyer, at
10:19 p.m. on October 13, 2012, weighing 8 lbs 8 oz and 22 inches long. Super long.
Like her daddy.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Life From the Exhausted Mother
I haven't written a blog in a long time. Reason? Writer's block a little and a lot of exhaustion. There just aren't enough hours in the day. My calendar looks like this:
See? When would I have time to do any bloggy blogging? Today is crazy, too, but I gotta get off of my feet, so here's some random funny and some baby news.
This morning, the dudes were playing Star Wars in the basement. I got Big Man a Luke Skywalker costume, though he informed me that it is really Obi Wan. Whatever. He looks awesome in it. I got Little Man a Darth Vader costume. It is five sizes too big. They were used, and continue to be used, every day since I've bought them, so WIN!
Anyway, they were playing, and Little Man was using this miniature basketball for something. Big Man took it and wouldn't give it back. Here is Little Man's reaction:
"Nooooooooooooo!!!! GIVE IT BACK!!!!! Fine! I'm telling Yoda! AND I'm not playing Jedi with you anymore! I'm finding a NEW master, and HE will let me have a ball WHENEVER I WANT!!!"
Haaaaaaahahahhahahahha!!! Then I decided *I* was the new master, and the dudes should put their laundry away and clean their bathrooms and scoop the cat litter. They did so very quickly and without complaint. I used the force. If by "using the force," I mean Eric told them that if they did it super fast, then they could play Halo.
In baby news, there's a lot of baby news. I'm 34-1/2 weeks and experiencing new things every day. On the diabetes front, I suck. I could not keep my sugars controlled with the diet the nutritionist gave me, so we switched it around a couple of days ago. Things have been going better, although not perfect, since then. My doctor doesn't wanna do insulin, yet, so that's good. Needles. *shudder* I'm sick of poking myself four times a day.
I'm also sick of not being able to eat what I want. Changing my diet has always been really difficult for me, though I found it easier to "stick with it" since I have to be strong for the Bot. I'm not just trying to lose weight or something. I'm trying to keep her healthy. The second she's born I'm going to have to look at Eric and say, "Congratulations, Daddy! Now get thee to Starbucks immediately for a pumpkin spice latte, and by the way, a cupcake from Le Dolce Vita and a Big Mouth sushi special from Sapporo needs to be on the way, too!"
Trying to keep her healthy means flu shot for mama, too. I've never had one. Needle. Ugh. I get the death sick every year, though, and I'm sure this year will be no exception. The dudes are already bringing nastiness back from the germ factory that is elementary school. Coughing, sneezing, and poison ivy all around!
Contractions. My stomach is rock hard, and I can feel her head in my nether bits. These are weird and odd things. I've been having them for weeks, but now they are stronger and more frequent. Not frequent enough to be considered preterm labor, but strong and frequent enough to be considered more than a minor annoyance. I hope they give me abs. That would be awesome. It certainly FEELS like they're workin my ab muscles. I'll be the first woman in history to leave the hospital after giving birth with 6-pack abs. I'll find some way to make a million dollars with the "prodromal labor" technique. There will be a video. And an infomercial.
I panicked about a week ago and was all, "OMGOSH WE ARE NOT PREPARED!!!" I'm not scared of going into labor or giving birth anymore. I think I've educated myself enough on them that I'm just all OOOOHM about it. But, I'm TERRIFIED of when she is actually here. I went all crazy like, "We have no crib! No dresser for her clothes! No pack and play! No car seat! Not enough diapers!" I went on a crazy spending spree. We have all of those things now. I acted like she was going to be here in the next few hours, and we'd have nothing. I'm calm now, though. I got better.
Eric's ex-wife text me yesterday and asked how I was feeling and if there was anything else I needed. I was all cool as a cucumber calm and just, "Nope. We are totally prepared to the max, and I feel allllll riiiiight." So she was all, "Great! Pack your hospital bag!"
PANIC! PANIC!!! OMGOMG HOSPITAL BAG, WTF GOES IN THERE I AM NOT PREPARED!!
She told me what goes in there. It's not that hard, Karen, you idiot. Calm the eff down.
See? When would I have time to do any bloggy blogging? Today is crazy, too, but I gotta get off of my feet, so here's some random funny and some baby news.
This morning, the dudes were playing Star Wars in the basement. I got Big Man a Luke Skywalker costume, though he informed me that it is really Obi Wan. Whatever. He looks awesome in it. I got Little Man a Darth Vader costume. It is five sizes too big. They were used, and continue to be used, every day since I've bought them, so WIN!
Anyway, they were playing, and Little Man was using this miniature basketball for something. Big Man took it and wouldn't give it back. Here is Little Man's reaction:
"Nooooooooooooo!!!! GIVE IT BACK!!!!! Fine! I'm telling Yoda! AND I'm not playing Jedi with you anymore! I'm finding a NEW master, and HE will let me have a ball WHENEVER I WANT!!!"
Haaaaaaahahahhahahahha!!! Then I decided *I* was the new master, and the dudes should put their laundry away and clean their bathrooms and scoop the cat litter. They did so very quickly and without complaint. I used the force. If by "using the force," I mean Eric told them that if they did it super fast, then they could play Halo.
In baby news, there's a lot of baby news. I'm 34-1/2 weeks and experiencing new things every day. On the diabetes front, I suck. I could not keep my sugars controlled with the diet the nutritionist gave me, so we switched it around a couple of days ago. Things have been going better, although not perfect, since then. My doctor doesn't wanna do insulin, yet, so that's good. Needles. *shudder* I'm sick of poking myself four times a day.
I'm also sick of not being able to eat what I want. Changing my diet has always been really difficult for me, though I found it easier to "stick with it" since I have to be strong for the Bot. I'm not just trying to lose weight or something. I'm trying to keep her healthy. The second she's born I'm going to have to look at Eric and say, "Congratulations, Daddy! Now get thee to Starbucks immediately for a pumpkin spice latte, and by the way, a cupcake from Le Dolce Vita and a Big Mouth sushi special from Sapporo needs to be on the way, too!"
Trying to keep her healthy means flu shot for mama, too. I've never had one. Needle. Ugh. I get the death sick every year, though, and I'm sure this year will be no exception. The dudes are already bringing nastiness back from the germ factory that is elementary school. Coughing, sneezing, and poison ivy all around!
Contractions. My stomach is rock hard, and I can feel her head in my nether bits. These are weird and odd things. I've been having them for weeks, but now they are stronger and more frequent. Not frequent enough to be considered preterm labor, but strong and frequent enough to be considered more than a minor annoyance. I hope they give me abs. That would be awesome. It certainly FEELS like they're workin my ab muscles. I'll be the first woman in history to leave the hospital after giving birth with 6-pack abs. I'll find some way to make a million dollars with the "prodromal labor" technique. There will be a video. And an infomercial.
I panicked about a week ago and was all, "OMGOSH WE ARE NOT PREPARED!!!" I'm not scared of going into labor or giving birth anymore. I think I've educated myself enough on them that I'm just all OOOOHM about it. But, I'm TERRIFIED of when she is actually here. I went all crazy like, "We have no crib! No dresser for her clothes! No pack and play! No car seat! Not enough diapers!" I went on a crazy spending spree. We have all of those things now. I acted like she was going to be here in the next few hours, and we'd have nothing. I'm calm now, though. I got better.
Eric's ex-wife text me yesterday and asked how I was feeling and if there was anything else I needed. I was all cool as a cucumber calm and just, "Nope. We are totally prepared to the max, and I feel allllll riiiiight." So she was all, "Great! Pack your hospital bag!"
PANIC! PANIC!!! OMGOMG HOSPITAL BAG, WTF GOES IN THERE I AM NOT PREPARED!!
She told me what goes in there. It's not that hard, Karen, you idiot. Calm the eff down.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
It's a National Holiday!
Is it "do whatever you can to try to get your brother in trouble" day? How about "sneak around the house breaking rules and trying not to get caught" day? No? Then surely it's, "act like a know-it-all teenager and pretend your parents are stupid" day.
I mean, they haven't been unmanageable or insane or anything, just obnoxious. They fought downstairs so much that I quit refereeing and just shut the door. The rule is, if your brother is bothering you, you calmly come upstairs and say, "Hey, so and so is bothering me when I am trying to play XX." Then, I go down and get said bothering brother to come upstairs and let calm brother finish whatever he was playing in peace. However, they don't go this route, usually, because it means pausing their video game or stopping whatever they are playing for the 3 seconds it takes to come up and tell me. So, for an HOUR, it was screaming, "OOOWW! STOP HITTING ME!" "STOP BITING ME!" "I DIDN'T!" "GET OFF OF ME!" "STOOOOOOOP!!" The hope is that I will hear this screaming tattle and come down and automatically know who "started" it. Instead, I always just end up going down there and saying "game over. Separate." and BOTH of them get into trouble because how in the crap should I know who is doing what? It's a giant cluster. Then the arguments of "he started it!" starts. I remind them AGAIN of the rule, and that if they are both screaming, they both get in trouble. Then they stomp to time out for 7 minutes or whatever, and go back downstairs, and it starts all over again.
Today I just turned on some music really loud, shut the basement door, and tuned out the screaming. Eventually, Big Man's video game was over. After screaming at his brother and pushing him and doing lord knows what in retaliation for whatever annoying little brother thing Little Man was doing, Big Man then decided that he was gonna try the "come upstairs and tattle calmly, blaming everything on Little Man" approach. It didn't work out for him. I told him I didn't want to hear the tattle. They were both fighting, and they'd be separated for an hour. I didn't even let them eat lunch together. After Little Man was done with lunch, I told him to brush his teeth and clean off his bathroom counter while Big Man ate. After Big Man was done, he had to do the same. I told them not to even look at one another until 1:00. They can play with one another then, and sorry if they're bored, but that's what happens when you're mean to your friends.
Little Man happily played Candy Land alone in the living room. Big Man, however, tried to pretend I was stupid. He went over to stand right next to Little Man and stare at him playing Candy Land. I told him he was not to bother his brother, and to get out of the living room. "I'm not PLAYING with him. I'm just looking at him." *eye roll* I told him to get out of the living room, so smarty pants stepped back two steps into the tile entry way connecting it to the living room and continued to stare at Little Man and tell him what colors to pick, starting Little Man on the, "Don't tell me what to do!" argument. From Big Man, "I'm not IN the room now." I told him to either go up to his room or down to the basement. He doesn't even need to be on the same floor of the house as his brother. He went downstairs. Five minutes later, I'm cleaning my own bathroom, and I hear a whispered argument. Little Man had moved to where Big Man was playing this time to play right next to him to try to get Big Man in trouble for being in the same room. I sent Little Man upstairs to his bedroom with the game.
Five minutes later, Big Man decides HE needs to be upstairs, too. Of course. That's where the biggest chance of provoking Little Man into an argument by just being near him is." I told him he can go in his room and close his door to play, but he isn't to be anywhere near Little Man's room or in the loft separating the rooms. At 12:45, a mere fifteen minutes until they are allowed to play together, Little Man sneaks into Big Man's room and takes a CD. Big Man sneaks back into Little Man's room to try to have a "quiet" argument regarding the CD so that I can't hear that they are together and fighting again.
I stopped messing around, then. No more free range of the house. I told them they've added another hour of not playing together, and for this hour, they'll be in their rooms with the doors shut. If I hear a door open for anything other than the bathroom, another hour will be tacked on. I've had enough.
Sure has been quiet, though, and I've gotten a lot of cleaning done with some great tunes in my ears. They are allowed out in five minutes. Let's hope we can get some family fun in before their dad gets home.
I mean, they haven't been unmanageable or insane or anything, just obnoxious. They fought downstairs so much that I quit refereeing and just shut the door. The rule is, if your brother is bothering you, you calmly come upstairs and say, "Hey, so and so is bothering me when I am trying to play XX." Then, I go down and get said bothering brother to come upstairs and let calm brother finish whatever he was playing in peace. However, they don't go this route, usually, because it means pausing their video game or stopping whatever they are playing for the 3 seconds it takes to come up and tell me. So, for an HOUR, it was screaming, "OOOWW! STOP HITTING ME!" "STOP BITING ME!" "I DIDN'T!" "GET OFF OF ME!" "STOOOOOOOP!!" The hope is that I will hear this screaming tattle and come down and automatically know who "started" it. Instead, I always just end up going down there and saying "game over. Separate." and BOTH of them get into trouble because how in the crap should I know who is doing what? It's a giant cluster. Then the arguments of "he started it!" starts. I remind them AGAIN of the rule, and that if they are both screaming, they both get in trouble. Then they stomp to time out for 7 minutes or whatever, and go back downstairs, and it starts all over again.
Today I just turned on some music really loud, shut the basement door, and tuned out the screaming. Eventually, Big Man's video game was over. After screaming at his brother and pushing him and doing lord knows what in retaliation for whatever annoying little brother thing Little Man was doing, Big Man then decided that he was gonna try the "come upstairs and tattle calmly, blaming everything on Little Man" approach. It didn't work out for him. I told him I didn't want to hear the tattle. They were both fighting, and they'd be separated for an hour. I didn't even let them eat lunch together. After Little Man was done with lunch, I told him to brush his teeth and clean off his bathroom counter while Big Man ate. After Big Man was done, he had to do the same. I told them not to even look at one another until 1:00. They can play with one another then, and sorry if they're bored, but that's what happens when you're mean to your friends.
Little Man happily played Candy Land alone in the living room. Big Man, however, tried to pretend I was stupid. He went over to stand right next to Little Man and stare at him playing Candy Land. I told him he was not to bother his brother, and to get out of the living room. "I'm not PLAYING with him. I'm just looking at him." *eye roll* I told him to get out of the living room, so smarty pants stepped back two steps into the tile entry way connecting it to the living room and continued to stare at Little Man and tell him what colors to pick, starting Little Man on the, "Don't tell me what to do!" argument. From Big Man, "I'm not IN the room now." I told him to either go up to his room or down to the basement. He doesn't even need to be on the same floor of the house as his brother. He went downstairs. Five minutes later, I'm cleaning my own bathroom, and I hear a whispered argument. Little Man had moved to where Big Man was playing this time to play right next to him to try to get Big Man in trouble for being in the same room. I sent Little Man upstairs to his bedroom with the game.
Five minutes later, Big Man decides HE needs to be upstairs, too. Of course. That's where the biggest chance of provoking Little Man into an argument by just being near him is." I told him he can go in his room and close his door to play, but he isn't to be anywhere near Little Man's room or in the loft separating the rooms. At 12:45, a mere fifteen minutes until they are allowed to play together, Little Man sneaks into Big Man's room and takes a CD. Big Man sneaks back into Little Man's room to try to have a "quiet" argument regarding the CD so that I can't hear that they are together and fighting again.
I stopped messing around, then. No more free range of the house. I told them they've added another hour of not playing together, and for this hour, they'll be in their rooms with the doors shut. If I hear a door open for anything other than the bathroom, another hour will be tacked on. I've had enough.
Sure has been quiet, though, and I've gotten a lot of cleaning done with some great tunes in my ears. They are allowed out in five minutes. Let's hope we can get some family fun in before their dad gets home.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
HOOLIGANS!!!
....the definition of the dudes when Indiana is under drought conditions with a heat advisory for nearly the entire summer, and stepmama is great big pregnant. Drought conditions means no sprinkler or slip n slide. Heat advisory means no trampoline or digging outside in the dirt or playing tag or hide and seek or even going out for longer than a few minutes at a time. Pregnancy means no going down the dangerously steep hill to the lake or going to the Children's Museum for hours of walking. Hence, we are all stuck inside all day every day.
This...it leads to fighting and a LOT of it. The dudes have separate interests and completely opposite personalities. The Big Man wants to play video games or watch TV and movies all day. The Little Man gets bored after 10-15 minutes of screen time. He prefers running around the basement making noise and playing construction or trains. Big Man prefers to be alone. Little Man won't play unless Big Man will play with him. Therefore, Big Man has perfected the terrible tween "get out of my face" persona, while Little Man has honed his annoying little brother skills to absolute perfection. After 10-15 minutes of being in the same room together, it begins:
Big Man: OOOOOW! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! OWSTOPIT! STOP! STOP! DON'T YOU DARE! STOP!
Little Man: *shriiiiek giggle giggle*
Big Man: O.M.GOSH.WHY.ARE.YOU.*insert yelling tattle here so that he doesn't have to pause his game to get up to tattle and instead yells so that he knows I HEAR the tattle*
Little Man: *giggle giggle haha*
Big Man: STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!! STOP IT! OOOOOOOW! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! WHY DO YOU KEEP PUSHING ME? *eyes never leave the TV screen but begins flailing hoping to connect with annoying little brother flesh*
Little Man: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!! KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAREN! HE HIT ME!!!
Abouuuuuuut 452 times a day. So, I separate them. And all is quiet. Until they are bored being alone and try to play together again. Then, lather, rinse, repeat. I try to play games with them. One always accuses the other of cheating, then one will throw the cards or the pieces across the board and declare, "I'm not playing anymore!" and stomp off. I try to take them out. Constant complaints. It's too hot out here. My feet hurt. The water's too cold. I don't care that I had a popsicle before we left the house, I want you to spend money on ice cream now! The drive is too long. He's on my side of the car. He's touching my blanket. His blanket is touching my leg. He looked at my car. He said I cannot pretend that my car is an airplane.
I had to pull over on the side of the road for them to get out of the car and stand in the grass in time out yesterday. I know it's normal and that it's boredom and that a lot of it is that we just moved and they only have one another to play with until school starts and they make friends at the new school, but for real...I need a bicker break!
They were fighting this morning. I was chatting with my friend Amanda and told her I needed to make them lunch. She suggested bread and water because, "if they're going to act like convicts..."
"Here's your bread and water."
"After lunch, I'm going to put you out in the yard with a weight bench and a basketball."
"After rec time, we'll go ahead and tattoo you guys with Mom hearts using a toothpick and an ink pen."
"Craft time will show you how to make a homemade shiv."
This...it leads to fighting and a LOT of it. The dudes have separate interests and completely opposite personalities. The Big Man wants to play video games or watch TV and movies all day. The Little Man gets bored after 10-15 minutes of screen time. He prefers running around the basement making noise and playing construction or trains. Big Man prefers to be alone. Little Man won't play unless Big Man will play with him. Therefore, Big Man has perfected the terrible tween "get out of my face" persona, while Little Man has honed his annoying little brother skills to absolute perfection. After 10-15 minutes of being in the same room together, it begins:
Big Man: OOOOOW! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT! OWSTOPIT! STOP! STOP! DON'T YOU DARE! STOP!
Little Man: *shriiiiek giggle giggle*
Big Man: O.M.GOSH.WHY.ARE.YOU.*insert yelling tattle here so that he doesn't have to pause his game to get up to tattle and instead yells so that he knows I HEAR the tattle*
Little Man: *giggle giggle haha*
Big Man: STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!! STOP IT! OOOOOOOW! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! WHY DO YOU KEEP PUSHING ME? *eyes never leave the TV screen but begins flailing hoping to connect with annoying little brother flesh*
Little Man: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!! KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAREN! HE HIT ME!!!
Abouuuuuuut 452 times a day. So, I separate them. And all is quiet. Until they are bored being alone and try to play together again. Then, lather, rinse, repeat. I try to play games with them. One always accuses the other of cheating, then one will throw the cards or the pieces across the board and declare, "I'm not playing anymore!" and stomp off. I try to take them out. Constant complaints. It's too hot out here. My feet hurt. The water's too cold. I don't care that I had a popsicle before we left the house, I want you to spend money on ice cream now! The drive is too long. He's on my side of the car. He's touching my blanket. His blanket is touching my leg. He looked at my car. He said I cannot pretend that my car is an airplane.
I had to pull over on the side of the road for them to get out of the car and stand in the grass in time out yesterday. I know it's normal and that it's boredom and that a lot of it is that we just moved and they only have one another to play with until school starts and they make friends at the new school, but for real...I need a bicker break!
They were fighting this morning. I was chatting with my friend Amanda and told her I needed to make them lunch. She suggested bread and water because, "if they're going to act like convicts..."
"Here's your bread and water."
"After lunch, I'm going to put you out in the yard with a weight bench and a basketball."
"After rec time, we'll go ahead and tattoo you guys with Mom hearts using a toothpick and an ink pen."
"Craft time will show you how to make a homemade shiv."
Monday, July 16, 2012
Damage Control
I have to go behind the couch in order to open the windows in the house. I can no longer fit behind the couch. Generally, I like to shut the AC off and open the windows in the mornings before it gets too hot, and then I'll close them and turn it on when the heat starts showing up. I was going through the other morning doing this, and I had to get behind the couch. I didn't fit. The dudes were on the couch, so I asked them to get up for a second so I could move the couch out an inch or so. The comments for this were as follows:
Little Man: Yeah, we have to get up because Karen's body is so fat.
Big Man: (attempting damage control) No! Her body isn't fat, it's just her belly that is really fat!
Er...it totally is. I'm at the stage in pregnancy where I don't fit places that I used to and where I'm kinda sore and tired all of the time. I'm about 28 weeks along and starting to feel like an elephant. My feet and lower back hurt all of the time, and I feel exhausted if I climb a flight of stairs. There's heartburn and uncomfortable (non) sleeping. I'm ready to meet the Bot and cuddle her and love on her. I have around 2 to 2-1/2 months to go.
I hired a doula! I'm totally excited about this. I was really worried about having someone there that can help calm me down. I'm going for an unmedicated birth. I don't want to do anything to slow her down coming out, and I REALLY don't want to do anything that would slow down her functioning after birth so that she can breastfeed right away. I know my family will see me in pain, and as soon as I say, "OMGosh DRUUUUGGGGS!!!" they will not want to see me in pain and demand drugs, too. A doula will remind me of my birth plan and calm me down a bit to work through it. Totally excited to the max.
I had other stuff to say in this blog, but the dudes started fighting, and Big Man woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning with a hellacious attitude, so I needed to send him back to bed. Then Little Man accidentally erased Big Man's Mario game on the Super Nintendo, and Big Man was all of the way to the end castle, so TRAGEDY! I've been trying to console a crying Big Man and find another Super Nintendo to put in Big Man's room that Little Man can't touch so that this doesn't happen again.
*sigh* Oooooh, the tribulations of a SAHM. *hands to forehead. dramatic sigh. faint.*
Little Man: Yeah, we have to get up because Karen's body is so fat.
Big Man: (attempting damage control) No! Her body isn't fat, it's just her belly that is really fat!
Er...it totally is. I'm at the stage in pregnancy where I don't fit places that I used to and where I'm kinda sore and tired all of the time. I'm about 28 weeks along and starting to feel like an elephant. My feet and lower back hurt all of the time, and I feel exhausted if I climb a flight of stairs. There's heartburn and uncomfortable (non) sleeping. I'm ready to meet the Bot and cuddle her and love on her. I have around 2 to 2-1/2 months to go.
I hired a doula! I'm totally excited about this. I was really worried about having someone there that can help calm me down. I'm going for an unmedicated birth. I don't want to do anything to slow her down coming out, and I REALLY don't want to do anything that would slow down her functioning after birth so that she can breastfeed right away. I know my family will see me in pain, and as soon as I say, "OMGosh DRUUUUGGGGS!!!" they will not want to see me in pain and demand drugs, too. A doula will remind me of my birth plan and calm me down a bit to work through it. Totally excited to the max.
I had other stuff to say in this blog, but the dudes started fighting, and Big Man woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning with a hellacious attitude, so I needed to send him back to bed. Then Little Man accidentally erased Big Man's Mario game on the Super Nintendo, and Big Man was all of the way to the end castle, so TRAGEDY! I've been trying to console a crying Big Man and find another Super Nintendo to put in Big Man's room that Little Man can't touch so that this doesn't happen again.
*sigh* Oooooh, the tribulations of a SAHM. *hands to forehead. dramatic sigh. faint.*
