Weird Science

The other day Daddy and Little Man were on a walk in our fab new back yard; all 1.5 acres of it. As the two bonding outdoors men walked around our pool that currently looks like a pond, Little Man made an observation. "Daddy, those frogs are doing horsey back". Why yes they are Little Man, hehe. I remember life growing up with a pool in the backyard; frogs. Now I know why. So rather than dwell on what we will deal with when we pull off the cover in May, Daddy decided to use this as a learning opportunity. Don't worry Aunt Tammy, we are not teaching sex education yet...well not totally. Daddy scooped up the trail of eggs with a net a couple of days after the walk and placed them in a fish tank in our laundry room. We talked to Little Man about what will happen over the next few days and will document it with photos. Little Man was intrigued and wanted to visit the tank often to "check on the poles". He told me they will grow mouths soon so they can get food. That is good Little Man, I have enough mouths to feed. Daddy may still have a nice store front, but there is a reason he no longer carries inventory.

When Frogs mate, the male frog tends to clasp the female underneath in an embrace called amplexus (I Guess Little Man was not aware of this term and thought it looked more like a horsey back ride). He literally climbs on her back, reaches his arms around her "waist", either just in front of the hind legs, just behind the front legs, or even around the head. Amplexus can last several days (braggers)! Usually, it occurs in the water (yeah, like my pool!), though some species, mate on land or even in trees (hey, can;t be picky right). While in some cases, complicated courting behavior occurs before mating (true of humans too), many species of frogs are known for attempting to mate with anything that moves which isn't small enough to eat (hmm, sounds familiar)!

Frogs and Toads tend to lay many many eggs because there are many hazards between fertilization and full grown frogness! Those eggs that die tend to turn white or opaque (how about that, I wondered about those little guys). The lucky ones that actually manage to hatch still start out on a journey of many perils. Life starts right as the central yolk splits in two (let's not debate when life begins but this might give us an idea). It then divides into four, then eight, etc.- until it looks a bit like a raspberry inside a jello cup (I am not sure I can eat jello again, never like raspberries). Soon, the embryo starts to look more and more like a tadpole, getting longer and moving about in it's egg

Let me explain something. I am not a girly girl, but I am not a huge fan of things that crawl and are slimy. I like to camp but prefer to do so with some luxuries like a space heater and at least a community shower area. I need a place to do my business that does not involve leaves. With that said I have to tell you I struggle with not acting like things that gross me out don't gross me out. Little Man is already a little put off by stuff and I certainly don't want to confirm any concerns he has. I must say though, every time I go to the laundry room and I see that fish tank with that slimy confetti string of eggs I shudder a little. I have not actually touched the snake of eggs but in my mind I can feel the individual bumps as I run my finger over the eggs. Yuck. I should stop thinking about that, or just stop doing laundry.

I have to thank the University of Google for my scientific references. Although I have a B.S and will soon complete my MBA, the S includes very little science and a little more bull.

Weird Science

The other day Daddy and Little Man were on a walk in our fab new back yard; all 1.5 acres of it. As the two bonding outdoors men walked around our pool that currently looks like a pond, Little Man made an observation. "Daddy, those frogs are doing horsey back". Why yes they are Little Man, hehe. I remember life growing up with a pool in the backyard; frogs. Now I know why. So rather than dwell on what we will deal with when we pull off the cover in May, Daddy decided to use this as a learning opportunity. Don't worry Aunt Tammy, we are not teaching sex education yet...well not totally. Daddy scooped up the trail of eggs with a net a couple of days after the walk and placed them in a fish tank in our laundry room. We talked to Little Man about what will happen over the next few days and will document it with photos. Little Man was intrigued and wanted to visit the tank often to "check on the poles". He told me they will grow mouths soon so they can get food. That is good Little Man, I have enough mouths to feed. Daddy may still have a nice store front, but there is a reason he no longer carries inventory.

When Frogs mate, the male frog tends to clasp the female underneath in an embrace called amplexus (I Guess Little Man was not aware of this term and thought it looked more like a horsey back ride). He literally climbs on her back, reaches his arms around her "waist", either just in front of the hind legs, just behind the front legs, or even around the head. Amplexus can last several days (braggers)! Usually, it occurs in the water (yeah, like my pool!), though some species, mate on land or even in trees (hey, can;t be picky right). While in some cases, complicated courting behavior occurs before mating (true of humans too), many species of frogs are known for attempting to mate with anything that moves which isn't small enough to eat (hmm, sounds familiar)!

Frogs and Toads tend to lay many many eggs because there are many hazards between fertilization and full grown frogness! Those eggs that die tend to turn white or opaque (how about that, I wondered about those little guys). The lucky ones that actually manage to hatch still start out on a journey of many perils. Life starts right as the central yolk splits in two (let's not debate when life begins but this might give us an idea). It then divides into four, then eight, etc.- until it looks a bit like a raspberry inside a jello cup (I am not sure I can eat jello again, never like raspberries). Soon, the embryo starts to look more and more like a tadpole, getting longer and moving about in it's egg

Let me explain something. I am not a girly girl, but I am not a huge fan of things that crawl and are slimy. I like to camp but prefer to do so with some luxuries like a space heater and at least a community shower area. I need a place to do my business that does not involve leaves. With that said I have to tell you I struggle with not acting like things that gross me out don't gross me out. Little Man is already a little put off by stuff and I certainly don't want to confirm any concerns he has. I must say though, every time I go to the laundry room and I see that fish tank with that slimy confetti string of eggs I shudder a little. I have not actually touched the snake of eggs but in my mind I can feel the individual bumps as I run my finger over the eggs. Yuck. I should stop thinking about that, or just stop doing laundry.

I have to thank the University of Google for my scientific references. Although I have a B.S and will soon complete my MBA, the S includes very little science and a little more bull.

Three's a Crowd

I know the topic of the family bed can be a controversial one. Like any topic that is heavily debated, you will find material to support or oppose the subject. In the end you have to do what is best for you and your family. When Little Man came home in June of 2005, we decided that co-sleeping was an idea we liked. Little Man slept in a co-sleeper "box" in the middle of the bed for about six weeks. This allowed us to get much needed rest as well as be available for his every need. At six weeks of age he moved to his crib and was a great sleeper; taking regular naps and sleeping up to fourteen hours a night. When we brought The Babe home in November of 2006 things were a little different. We lived in a two story house at the time and did not want him to go upstairs just yet. We had a huge master closet so we made that his nursery. Don't worry, there was room for a crib, rocker, changing table, and still room for clothes. The close proximity to us also provided us comfort when he was diagnosed with RSV at seven weeks of age and sent home with an oxygen saturation monitor. The Babe would sleep with us on occasion, primarily when we were so sleep deprived that we could not get up from a feeding or when Daddy was out of town. The Babe moved upstairs to his own room when he was nine months old. Now that we have moved to a one story house we are all on the same level and it is great!

About three months ago Little Man started waking in the middle of the night and crawling into bed with us. We thought it was sweet and did not see any harm in it. When we moved to the new house we did not fight it because we knew he was a little anxious and thought it might help the transition.

Enough is Enough. I want my bed, and sleep back. It might make Little Man feel safe and cozy but I am sleep deprived and grumpy.

I love Little Man and cuddling with him but he has taken to sleeping horizontally in the bed and by the end of the night either Daddy or I end up in his bed. We tried moving him back to his bed when he sneaks in but end up waking The Babe with fits of screaming. We tried threatening to put up the "baby gate" but that didn't work. Daddy thought we should tell him there are alligators under the bed but I thought that might come back to haunt us.

A few nights ago we saw a small glimmer of hope. Instead of putting the gate on his room, we put it on ours. He came to the door and called for us. Then he rattled the gate. We told him to go back to bed. Screams. I got up and gently placed him back in bed. He asked me to lay down with him. I told him I would check on him in ten minutes; of course knowing we would both be back to sleep by then. A couple of hours later the scenario began again but rather than get up I simply told him to go back to bed. He did.

We might be on to something.

I know this is not the end of it. I am guilty of taking naps with him and falling asleep at night when I put him down. We get in bed and tell stories of the day and talk of what we will do tomorrow. This time of the day is my favorite time with Little Man. He has so much energy it is impossible for me to get him to settle down during the day. This seems to be the time he is ready to give me some cuddles and Mommy Time.

We seem to focus on all the firsts that our children experience. What about the lasts? Rather than focus on the fact that this is the last time he will sleep with us I will focus on the fact that I am helping him be independent.

Maybe the ENT surgery will help this too?

Three's a Crowd

I know the topic of the family bed can be a controversial one. Like any topic that is heavily debated, you will find material to support or oppose the subject. In the end you have to do what is best for you and your family. When Little Man came home in June of 2005, we decided that co-sleeping was an idea we liked. Little Man slept in a co-sleeper "box" in the middle of the bed for about six weeks. This allowed us to get much needed rest as well as be available for his every need. At six weeks of age he moved to his crib and was a great sleeper; taking regular naps and sleeping up to fourteen hours a night. When we brought The Babe home in November of 2006 things were a little different. We lived in a two story house at the time and did not want him to go upstairs just yet. We had a huge master closet so we made that his nursery. Don't worry, there was room for a crib, rocker, changing table, and still room for clothes. The close proximity to us also provided us comfort when he was diagnosed with RSV at seven weeks of age and sent home with an oxygen saturation monitor. The Babe would sleep with us on occasion, primarily when we were so sleep deprived that we could not get up from a feeding or when Daddy was out of town. The Babe moved upstairs to his own room when he was nine months old. Now that we have moved to a one story house we are all on the same level and it is great!

About three months ago Little Man started waking in the middle of the night and crawling into bed with us. We thought it was sweet and did not see any harm in it. When we moved to the new house we did not fight it because we knew he was a little anxious and thought it might help the transition.

Enough is Enough. I want my bed, and sleep back. It might make Little Man feel safe and cozy but I am sleep deprived and grumpy.

I love Little Man and cuddling with him but he has taken to sleeping horizontally in the bed and by the end of the night either Daddy or I end up in his bed. We tried moving him back to his bed when he sneaks in but end up waking The Babe with fits of screaming. We tried threatening to put up the "baby gate" but that didn't work. Daddy thought we should tell him there are alligators under the bed but I thought that might come back to haunt us.

A few nights ago we saw a small glimmer of hope. Instead of putting the gate on his room, we put it on ours. He came to the door and called for us. Then he rattled the gate. We told him to go back to bed. Screams. I got up and gently placed him back in bed. He asked me to lay down with him. I told him I would check on him in ten minutes; of course knowing we would both be back to sleep by then. A couple of hours later the scenario began again but rather than get up I simply told him to go back to bed. He did.

We might be on to something.

I know this is not the end of it. I am guilty of taking naps with him and falling asleep at night when I put him down. We get in bed and tell stories of the day and talk of what we will do tomorrow. This time of the day is my favorite time with Little Man. He has so much energy it is impossible for me to get him to settle down during the day. This seems to be the time he is ready to give me some cuddles and Mommy Time.

We seem to focus on all the firsts that our children experience. What about the lasts? Rather than focus on the fact that this is the last time he will sleep with us I will focus on the fact that I am helping him be independent.

Maybe the ENT surgery will help this too?

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Reasons we are going to take Little Man's Tonsils and Adenoids while retubing:

1. A child not yet the age of three should not have already had strep three+ times.

2. A child that had tubes fall out in November should not have had 7 ear infections since.

3. He still has fluid on his right ear since his last ear infection over three weeks ago.

4. Doing it now will avoid missed school and socialization once in school.

5. He is a mouth breather when he sleeps. Of course, now how will I be able to tell he is asleep without actually going in his room?

6. What three year old wouldn't want to eat ice cream and smoothies for a week.

7. Research shows sleep apnea is related to cardiac issues later in life.

8. Fewer antibiotics because he will be sick less (hopefully).

9. Better sleep for him means better sleep for me.

10. Aren't the adenoids pretty much like the appendix...useless.

11. Maybe we can finally turn down the radio.

12. A cranky three year old post op has to be better than a cranky teenager post op.

13. He is our test child anyway.

I will keep you posted on the routine surgery and when they can get him in. I am very optimistic that this is the best thing for Little Man. Not only have I attended Google University to consider our options, I have received lots of advice from others to support our decision.

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Reasons we are going to take Little Man's Tonsils and Adenoids while retubing:

1. A child not yet the age of three should not have already had strep three+ times.

2. A child that had tubes fall out in November should not have had 7 ear infections since.

3. He still has fluid on his right ear since his last ear infection over three weeks ago.

4. Doing it now will avoid missed school and socialization once in school.

5. He is a mouth breather when he sleeps. Of course, now how will I be able to tell he is asleep without actually going in his room?

6. What three year old wouldn't want to eat ice cream and smoothies for a week.

7. Research shows sleep apnea is related to cardiac issues later in life.

8. Fewer antibiotics because he will be sick less (hopefully).

9. Better sleep for him means better sleep for me.

10. Aren't the adenoids pretty much like the appendix...useless.

11. Maybe we can finally turn down the radio.

12. A cranky three year old post op has to be better than a cranky teenager post op.

13. He is our test child anyway.

I will keep you posted on the routine surgery and when they can get him in. I am very optimistic that this is the best thing for Little Man. Not only have I attended Google University to consider our options, I have received lots of advice from others to support our decision.

Wordless Wednesday

Chaos for Little Man...Hilarity for The Babe

Order is Restored

Wordless Wednesday

Chaos for Little Man...Hilarity for The Babe

Order is Restored

You say that like it's a bad thing

Am I the only parent that gets a kick out of eaves dropping on the conversations of their children? It can be a real hoot to listen to the dialogue between a 3 year old and 18 month old when they don;t know you are listening. The other day, the boys were playing in The Babe's room. I am not sure what they were doing exactly, and I am not sure if what came out of Little Man's mouth was in jest or if he was mad at The Babe. Either way it was funny.

"You little Masterson"

I could not help but chuckle. Obviously Little Man pays attention to what Mommy says to The Babe. I am one of those moms that uses middle names when the boys are doing somethign they should not. You know, "Babe Masterson get off the cat". "Little Man Michael get off your brother".

Brother must have felt The Babe was doing something that was not safe and was looking out for him. At least that is the way I will tell it.

You say that like it's a bad thing

Am I the only parent that gets a kick out of eaves dropping on the conversations of their children? It can be a real hoot to listen to the dialogue between a 3 year old and 18 month old when they don;t know you are listening. The other day, the boys were playing in The Babe's room. I am not sure what they were doing exactly, and I am not sure if what came out of Little Man's mouth was in jest or if he was mad at The Babe. Either way it was funny.

"You little Masterson"

I could not help but chuckle. Obviously Little Man pays attention to what Mommy says to The Babe. I am one of those moms that uses middle names when the boys are doing somethign they should not. You know, "Babe Masterson get off the cat". "Little Man Michael get off your brother".

Brother must have felt The Babe was doing something that was not safe and was looking out for him. At least that is the way I will tell it.

Birth Story Carnival-Ride #2

Some people get sick on carnival rides. Some get so sick they decide never to ride again. Others forget easily and take another chance. After all, not all rides are the same so we can’t assume we will have the same experience on a different ride. I am a gluten and decided to take another spin.

When Daddy and I found out we were having Little Man we already knew we wanted another child. Timing was important though. Daddy wanted to try for “Irish Twins” (ya know, like Brittany Spears but without the white trash). I told Daddy I would consider it after I recovered from delivering Little Man.

For my immediate, or church family, you may want to skip the next part. You may have a hard time looking at me at the next dinner or at the communion alter.

There was the fear of getting back on the bike after delivery, but nothing a few margaritas won’t fix. Nana Joetta came down to Florida from Missouri to meet the “grand” child and we took advantage of the opportunity to go out with other adults for our first night out as parents. We stared at one of my favorite spots in Bonita Springs; Cantina Laredo. “The Cantina serves authentic Mexican dishes in a sophisticated atmosphere.” You might question how sophisticated this group was by the end of the story. After dinner we head to Dwyer’s Irish pub for drinks and dancing. By the end of the night we are crashing a friend’s pool that stood us up for Kelly Clarkson of all things’ serves them right. When their eight year old daughter came out side and asked the home owner why we didn’t swim during the day he said “honey, that just wouldn’t be as fun”. Gracious Jim finally said we didn’t have to go home but couldn’t stay there. We headed to our neighborhood pool. About an hour into our dip we are rudely interrupted by our neighbor security that informs us the pool area has new security cameras and accuses us of “indecent exposure”. As mother of a four week old, I was pretty proud of myself and explained I was far from indecent under the circumstances. All the couples headed home, which fortunately was walking distance from the pool.

**This is the part that does not need details but I will say I lost my fear and got back on the bike**

The next morning we relive the night by telling stories to Daddy’s mom. She is so cool.

Daddy and I realize we have a good chance of getting pregnant soon; after all, they say you are pretty fertile after delivery. That is why they suggest abstinence until the six week checkup. At my six week check I ask my midwife for forgiveness rather than permission. She tells me all is well since I was healing well and obviously comfortable.

Weeks turn into months and what had once been “for the fun of it” turns into “trying” to conceive again. It was so easy to conceive Little Man what is the deal this time. I remind myself how lucky we are and how beautiful Little Man is; maybe we are meant to only have one. I feel guilty for being so selfish; after all there are lots of people that don’t even get pregnant once. We move back to Missouri in March of 2006 and I visit my new OB (they don’t do midwives here, but that is a whole other post). As I sit and talk to my new fabulous OB Frank he tells me to be patient and although Daddy is irresistible, cool down and it will happen. Little did Franks and I know I would be back in eight weeks and be eight weeks pregnant! I told you he was fabulous; I didn’t even have to take my clothes off or take fertility drugs! The irony of The Babe’s conception is it was the night that I flew in from Florida with Little Man. Daddy was leaving for an annual fishing trip on the White River and I told him (at midnight when we finally made it to bed) that it was time. He asked, with a very sensitive tone, if it could wait; he was so tired form the move. I laid on the guilt. You don’t want another baby do you? I am finally ovulating (looking back I don’t think my body fully got back into cycle until this time) and you changed your mind! It worked. He sighed and said fine, roll over. He is much more romantic than this makes him sound.

I will fast forward to delivery as my pregnancy was pretty uneventful. I was sick a lot; partly due to what Little Man brought home from daycare and the fact that I was pregnant in Missouri in the winter. Yuck and Yuck.

So my due date was a topic of regular debate at my check ups. I said December 21st; I should know, I was there. Frank said closer to early January. He must have known something I did not. The three of us were planning our Thanksgiving trip to St Louis to see my dad and family. Our plans were changed when at the beginning of the week I went for my check up. Hmmm, you are dilated to a five and at least a month ahead of schedule. You should stay in 417 land unless you want to be stuck in the city on steroids to prevent labor. I had already been having contractions and knew we were close. I had not experienced Braxton Hicks with Little Man so I figured this was for real. We spend Thanksgiving in town with Daddy’s family and have a great time although I missed my annual trip to the city for Turkey. I spent the next week experiencing intermittent contractions and going about my business; eating spicy food, having sex, and walking a lot. I was still convinced I was not that early mind you.

Tuesday November 28th. My contractions are getting a little stronger and different than before. I call my doula Ginny. If you are not familiar with doulas you should check them out. They are a fabulous addition to the birthing process and great advocate for your health and well being of the baby. Ginny also took a lot of pressure off Daddy so he could enjoy the process. Ginny tells me to take a bath and try to relax; if the contractions continue they are probably real. I do as instructed and head to bed. I am awakened around midnight and know it is happening. You know what I mean moms; you just know. We start clocking them; about 5 minutes about. Call Nana to come over for Little Man. She is swift and arrives quickly. We head to the hospital where we enter through the ER and head to L/D. Ginny arrives shortly after us. A call to my OB, who happens to be the only doctor that stays at the hospital when he is on call, says we will monitor my progress. Progress is slow and I am told a couple of hours into that I will be sent home but I am instructed to not do anything to induce labor. The nurse leaves the room and I told Daddy and Ginny I am not leaving without this baby (we still did not know if it was a boy or girl). My contractions are still solid and steady. The nurse comes back in to check me; baby’s heart rate is dropping, time to admit. Told you I wasn’t leaving. I am very nervous. I know I am a little early but now is my baby ok? Did my activities last week cause this? Bad mommy.

We are admitted and Ginny’s hands are immediately tied by the nurse. Do not do anything to induce labor. Ginny’s job here is to make me comfortable and make labor less miserable. Now she is told not to do that. I cannot even get out of bed to pee. Baby’s heart rate is still an issue; I am placed on oxygen. Nurses continue to monitor me and the contractions. Finally they take me seriously when the contraction monitor almost combusts from the contractions. Here comes epi man, who happens to be the guy that did my happy gas for knee surgery and Little Man’s tubes; we are almost family now.

Highest priority is on the baby’s well being. Every contractions causes a dip in his rate. I am slowly progressing but with the heart rate issue they decide to break my water. This ain't my first rodeo so I am ready. Still not fast enough; a little shot of pitocin should do the trick. A little more, ah right there. Here comes Frank and as if there is an echo from Little Man’s delivery “Where the hell have you been”? He laughs and so do I. I am strangely jovial at this point, trying to make a love connection between single OB and single LD nurse. We joke about the sex of the baby. Every has their ideas. Doc says it would be great if the baby was a black girl. According to Frank, not only girls, but African American children that are early, tend to be smaller and as such will go home with fewer health issues. That may be good for The Babe, bad for me. We all get a good laugh…which allows me to push. One , two, three. Here the Baby Be. The Babe arrived November 29th around 9am at 6.9 lbs to a full room of well wishers. Me, Daddy, Doula, Frank, NIC doctor and nurse, and LD nurse. NIC doctor says he is a healthy 37 week baby. Told you Frank.

The Babe is laid on my chest and I am in awe of our new miracle. How can I have possibly done this again? I cannot wait for Little Man to meet his brother.

This is where things are drastically different from Florida. Our room, is not private. Tip: if you must share a room, try to get the window seat. The bathroom seat means you see every person come in the room and have to watch your roommate every time she uses the bathroom.

There is an snow storm, not pretty sunshine. There are lots of visitors, not privacy. The Babe does not stay in the room with me. He has to stay in the nursery to stay warm as he is having issues regulating his temp. I have to call the nursery to beg them to bring him to me. The time we are together at the hospital we eat and cuddle and talk about brother and life in the tree house. We are both excited to go home. Before we go home, though, The Babe must pass “the car seat test”. Can he make it in a car seat for up to 45 minutes? No. The Babe needs a “car bed’ which is a flat version of a car seat that makes sure that The Babe’s airway is not blocked should he tilt his head too far down. I am ok with this. He can use a regular car seat in a few weeks after he passes a follow up test.

All is well the first few weeks. Christmas is coming and we are excited about the holiday with a 17 month old and new born. Little Man loves his brother and is a big helper with the bottles and diapers. At this point The Babe sleeps a lot so Little Man is not really fazed by him.

Week 3 for The Babe. I am startled by his screaming one afternoon when he wakes. This is a new scream. Pain. I try food first. Scream. Maybe he needs to poop? I take off his diaper while considering a suppository. Daddy comes in while I remove the diaper and says “that is not right”. From the other side of the room Daddy sees the bulge. Hernia. Inguinal. I stay home with Little Man and Daddy whisks The Babe to Peds office. We were away this may happen; The Babe had one ball that liked to crawl up. We had been monitoring it and pushing it back in place if necessary. This one required some effort from the Ped Surgeon. We are scheduled first thing the next morning to operate. Guess who does the happy gas? Same guy that did all the other happy gas. We are really family now. After a double hernia operation The Babe is good as new. His belly button was a littler herniated as well but will grow out of it by the age of one.

The holidays are uneventful and we do the regular run around town. The New Year comes and goes and The Babe is sleeping a lot more. We figure he is sleeping off the cold brother brought home. We decide to call the doc when he begins to not want to wake to eat. Seems The Babe’s cold turned into RSV. Oxygen saturation is 73% at the Peds office. Although The Babe was a little early we, along with our Doc, decided not to do RSV shots because The Babe did not meet the weight requirement; talk about feeling guilty. Back to the hospital we go. We are “quarantined” and spend three days monitoring The Babe. He looks like a science project hooked up to all the hoses and bells. It is nearly impossible to pick him up to feed him and love on him but we do. His saturation rises and he begins to eat well again and gain weight. We are sent home with a monitor to make sure he stays on the track to health. Then the ice man cometh. We spend the next week fighting the SWMO ice storm of 2007. We are out of power for a week and use a generator to get things “back to normal”. It was the scariest time I can remember. Feedings by flashlight. Using a portable cooler to keep his formula. Turning the monitor on before each feeding to check sat rate only to turn off to avoid battery drain. The part of the house that was not heated was 43 degrees. We spent our time in the master bedroom with the gas fireplace on to heat our room and the boys’ rooms. That which does not kill us only makes us stronger.

The Babe is our little tough guy now. Nothing seems to faze him. He can roll off a bed, get his fingers pinched in a drawer and not miss a beat. Then walk over to Little Man and pull his hair. What does Little Man do? Scream bloody murder!

Birth Story Carnival-Ride #2

Some people get sick on carnival rides. Some get so sick they decide never to ride again. Others forget easily and take another chance. After all, not all rides are the same so we can’t assume we will have the same experience on a different ride. I am a gluten and decided to take another spin.

When Daddy and I found out we were having Little Man we already knew we wanted another child. Timing was important though. Daddy wanted to try for “Irish Twins” (ya know, like Brittany Spears but without the white trash). I told Daddy I would consider it after I recovered from delivering Little Man.

For my immediate, or church family, you may want to skip the next part. You may have a hard time looking at me at the next dinner or at the communion alter.

There was the fear of getting back on the bike after delivery, but nothing a few margaritas won’t fix. Nana Joetta came down to Florida from Missouri to meet the “grand” child and we took advantage of the opportunity to go out with other adults for our first night out as parents. We stared at one of my favorite spots in Bonita Springs; Cantina Laredo. “The Cantina serves authentic Mexican dishes in a sophisticated atmosphere.” You might question how sophisticated this group was by the end of the story. After dinner we head to Dwyer’s Irish pub for drinks and dancing. By the end of the night we are crashing a friend’s pool that stood us up for Kelly Clarkson of all things’ serves them right. When their eight year old daughter came out side and asked the home owner why we didn’t swim during the day he said “honey, that just wouldn’t be as fun”. Gracious Jim finally said we didn’t have to go home but couldn’t stay there. We headed to our neighborhood pool. About an hour into our dip we are rudely interrupted by our neighbor security that informs us the pool area has new security cameras and accuses us of “indecent exposure”. As mother of a four week old, I was pretty proud of myself and explained I was far from indecent under the circumstances. All the couples headed home, which fortunately was walking distance from the pool.

**This is the part that does not need details but I will say I lost my fear and got back on the bike**

The next morning we relive the night by telling stories to Daddy’s mom. She is so cool.

Daddy and I realize we have a good chance of getting pregnant soon; after all, they say you are pretty fertile after delivery. That is why they suggest abstinence until the six week checkup. At my six week check I ask my midwife for forgiveness rather than permission. She tells me all is well since I was healing well and obviously comfortable.

Weeks turn into months and what had once been “for the fun of it” turns into “trying” to conceive again. It was so easy to conceive Little Man what is the deal this time. I remind myself how lucky we are and how beautiful Little Man is; maybe we are meant to only have one. I feel guilty for being so selfish; after all there are lots of people that don’t even get pregnant once. We move back to Missouri in March of 2006 and I visit my new OB (they don’t do midwives here, but that is a whole other post). As I sit and talk to my new fabulous OB Frank he tells me to be patient and although Daddy is irresistible, cool down and it will happen. Little did Franks and I know I would be back in eight weeks and be eight weeks pregnant! I told you he was fabulous; I didn’t even have to take my clothes off or take fertility drugs! The irony of The Babe’s conception is it was the night that I flew in from Florida with Little Man. Daddy was leaving for an annual fishing trip on the White River and I told him (at midnight when we finally made it to bed) that it was time. He asked, with a very sensitive tone, if it could wait; he was so tired form the move. I laid on the guilt. You don’t want another baby do you? I am finally ovulating (looking back I don’t think my body fully got back into cycle until this time) and you changed your mind! It worked. He sighed and said fine, roll over. He is much more romantic than this makes him sound.

I will fast forward to delivery as my pregnancy was pretty uneventful. I was sick a lot; partly due to what Little Man brought home from daycare and the fact that I was pregnant in Missouri in the winter. Yuck and Yuck.

So my due date was a topic of regular debate at my check ups. I said December 21st; I should know, I was there. Frank said closer to early January. He must have known something I did not. The three of us were planning our Thanksgiving trip to St Louis to see my dad and family. Our plans were changed when at the beginning of the week I went for my check up. Hmmm, you are dilated to a five and at least a month ahead of schedule. You should stay in 417 land unless you want to be stuck in the city on steroids to prevent labor. I had already been having contractions and knew we were close. I had not experienced Braxton Hicks with Little Man so I figured this was for real. We spend Thanksgiving in town with Daddy’s family and have a great time although I missed my annual trip to the city for Turkey. I spent the next week experiencing intermittent contractions and going about my business; eating spicy food, having sex, and walking a lot. I was still convinced I was not that early mind you.

Tuesday November 28th. My contractions are getting a little stronger and different than before. I call my doula Ginny. If you are not familiar with doulas you should check them out. They are a fabulous addition to the birthing process and great advocate for your health and well being of the baby. Ginny also took a lot of pressure off Daddy so he could enjoy the process. Ginny tells me to take a bath and try to relax; if the contractions continue they are probably real. I do as instructed and head to bed. I am awakened around midnight and know it is happening. You know what I mean moms; you just know. We start clocking them; about 5 minutes about. Call Nana to come over for Little Man. She is swift and arrives quickly. We head to the hospital where we enter through the ER and head to L/D. Ginny arrives shortly after us. A call to my OB, who happens to be the only doctor that stays at the hospital when he is on call, says we will monitor my progress. Progress is slow and I am told a couple of hours into that I will be sent home but I am instructed to not do anything to induce labor. The nurse leaves the room and I told Daddy and Ginny I am not leaving without this baby (we still did not know if it was a boy or girl). My contractions are still solid and steady. The nurse comes back in to check me; baby’s heart rate is dropping, time to admit. Told you I wasn’t leaving. I am very nervous. I know I am a little early but now is my baby ok? Did my activities last week cause this? Bad mommy.

We are admitted and Ginny’s hands are immediately tied by the nurse. Do not do anything to induce labor. Ginny’s job here is to make me comfortable and make labor less miserable. Now she is told not to do that. I cannot even get out of bed to pee. Baby’s heart rate is still an issue; I am placed on oxygen. Nurses continue to monitor me and the contractions. Finally they take me seriously when the contraction monitor almost combusts from the contractions. Here comes epi man, who happens to be the guy that did my happy gas for knee surgery and Little Man’s tubes; we are almost family now.

Highest priority is on the baby’s well being. Every contractions causes a dip in his rate. I am slowly progressing but with the heart rate issue they decide to break my water. This ain't my first rodeo so I am ready. Still not fast enough; a little shot of pitocin should do the trick. A little more, ah right there. Here comes Frank and as if there is an echo from Little Man’s delivery “Where the hell have you been”? He laughs and so do I. I am strangely jovial at this point, trying to make a love connection between single OB and single LD nurse. We joke about the sex of the baby. Every has their ideas. Doc says it would be great if the baby was a black girl. According to Frank, not only girls, but African American children that are early, tend to be smaller and as such will go home with fewer health issues. That may be good for The Babe, bad for me. We all get a good laugh…which allows me to push. One , two, three. Here the Baby Be. The Babe arrived November 29th around 9am at 6.9 lbs to a full room of well wishers. Me, Daddy, Doula, Frank, NIC doctor and nurse, and LD nurse. NIC doctor says he is a healthy 37 week baby. Told you Frank.

The Babe is laid on my chest and I am in awe of our new miracle. How can I have possibly done this again? I cannot wait for Little Man to meet his brother.

This is where things are drastically different from Florida. Our room, is not private. Tip: if you must share a room, try to get the window seat. The bathroom seat means you see every person come in the room and have to watch your roommate every time she uses the bathroom.

There is an snow storm, not pretty sunshine. There are lots of visitors, not privacy. The Babe does not stay in the room with me. He has to stay in the nursery to stay warm as he is having issues regulating his temp. I have to call the nursery to beg them to bring him to me. The time we are together at the hospital we eat and cuddle and talk about brother and life in the tree house. We are both excited to go home. Before we go home, though, The Babe must pass “the car seat test”. Can he make it in a car seat for up to 45 minutes? No. The Babe needs a “car bed’ which is a flat version of a car seat that makes sure that The Babe’s airway is not blocked should he tilt his head too far down. I am ok with this. He can use a regular car seat in a few weeks after he passes a follow up test.

All is well the first few weeks. Christmas is coming and we are excited about the holiday with a 17 month old and new born. Little Man loves his brother and is a big helper with the bottles and diapers. At this point The Babe sleeps a lot so Little Man is not really fazed by him.

Week 3 for The Babe. I am startled by his screaming one afternoon when he wakes. This is a new scream. Pain. I try food first. Scream. Maybe he needs to poop? I take off his diaper while considering a suppository. Daddy comes in while I remove the diaper and says “that is not right”. From the other side of the room Daddy sees the bulge. Hernia. Inguinal. I stay home with Little Man and Daddy whisks The Babe to Peds office. We were away this may happen; The Babe had one ball that liked to crawl up. We had been monitoring it and pushing it back in place if necessary. This one required some effort from the Ped Surgeon. We are scheduled first thing the next morning to operate. Guess who does the happy gas? Same guy that did all the other happy gas. We are really family now. After a double hernia operation The Babe is good as new. His belly button was a littler herniated as well but will grow out of it by the age of one.

The holidays are uneventful and we do the regular run around town. The New Year comes and goes and The Babe is sleeping a lot more. We figure he is sleeping off the cold brother brought home. We decide to call the doc when he begins to not want to wake to eat. Seems The Babe’s cold turned into RSV. Oxygen saturation is 73% at the Peds office. Although The Babe was a little early we, along with our Doc, decided not to do RSV shots because The Babe did not meet the weight requirement; talk about feeling guilty. Back to the hospital we go. We are “quarantined” and spend three days monitoring The Babe. He looks like a science project hooked up to all the hoses and bells. It is nearly impossible to pick him up to feed him and love on him but we do. His saturation rises and he begins to eat well again and gain weight. We are sent home with a monitor to make sure he stays on the track to health. Then the ice man cometh. We spend the next week fighting the SWMO ice storm of 2007. We are out of power for a week and use a generator to get things “back to normal”. It was the scariest time I can remember. Feedings by flashlight. Using a portable cooler to keep his formula. Turning the monitor on before each feeding to check sat rate only to turn off to avoid battery drain. The part of the house that was not heated was 43 degrees. We spent our time in the master bedroom with the gas fireplace on to heat our room and the boys’ rooms. That which does not kill us only makes us stronger.

The Babe is our little tough guy now. Nothing seems to faze him. He can roll off a bed, get his fingers pinched in a drawer and not miss a beat. Then walk over to Little Man and pull his hair. What does Little Man do? Scream bloody murder!

Birth Story Carnival-Ride #1

Thanks to Lotus for this great idea!

The Arrival of Little Man

It was Memorial Weekend 2006. We spent time hanging out with friends in the Florida sun. This was the weekend that my mysterious rash started showing up in the middle of the night. The only thing that would stop the itching and burning of the swollen red patches was to submerge the afflicted area in super cold water. The next two weeks entailed me and Daddy waking in the middle of the night to me itching and crying. My fabulous nurse midwife prescribed some meds that would help with the itching but one evening I had this weird feeling it was sedating Little Man, which was really what the “anti-itch” ingredient did for me. While driving to the ER he began kicking again; to tell me to go back to sleep probably.

About two weeks before my due date my cervix was “swept” at my request and my midwife agreed based on the situation with the inexplicable rash and my increasing discomfort due to it. A sweep is defined as:

Membrane sweeping is done by your midwife or doctor. While internally examining you, he or she will simply "sweep" a finger around the neck of your womb (cervix). The aim is to separate the membranes around your baby from your cervix. This releases hormones called prostaglandins, which may kick-start your labor. A membrane sweep increases the likelihood that labor will start within 48 hours. It has a higher chance of working if the neck of your womb is already softening and preparing for labor. It does not increase the risk of infection to either you or your baby.

This is a debated topic and you will find varying opinions. My midwife told me if I am ready I will be in labor within 24 hours but she highly doubted it would work. I told her I would see her tomorrow. She laughed.

Although Little Man was due to arrive around the end of June but on June 17th I woke around 4am the day after my sweep with what we had affectionately named “The Rash” and went to the office to work. I went back to bed and woke around 9am to some back pain. Lots of back pain. Took a shower. Didn’t tell Daddy yet. More pain. Sit. Stand. Walk. Told Daddy. Three minutes apart! Called my midwife at the hospital. This is where I have to remind Daddy’s grandmother that not all midwives work in the woods; some work in hospitals with doctors. I will not delivery this baby on newspaper in a box.

Patty tells me to call later if still in pain. I was at her office within an hour. The hour included me crying and trying to eat jello; then I remembered in birthing class they said one symptom of labor is nausea. Regular back pain, check. Nausea, check. Get to the hospital and get examined. I was only dilated to a 2 and 70% effaced. I was told to go home. You. Have. To. Be. Kidding. Get in the car. Hit the dash with each knife twist in my lower back. I thought labor pains were supposed to move? At home darling Daddy hurries to get work done; thank God we work together at home. Daddy gets work done and pack the bags. The day includes more crying, sitting on the birthing ball, leaning on counters and watching the clock. Still three minutes apart. By 5pm I am done; this cannot go on. We are at the hospital by 5:30. I am checked in and this is where it gets a little fuzzy. I am still only dilated to about a 2 and 70%; I am not progressing.

I am admitted and begin to vomit. A nurse comes in to give me an IV of anti-throw up meds. She must have been a new nurse; how many times can you poke me arm. I was a little cranky at this point and when the “IV specialist” comes in I asked “can you get it in one try?”. I was kind of kidding. Kind of. I hear one of the nurses say to another under her breath that vomiting usually does not occur until you are further dilated….ok…you girls hear me yet? This baby is ready I don’t care how wide the door is, he is knocking.

What seems like hours pass and Patty finally arrives. She only has one other patient tonight in the room next to me so she will be hopping back and forth. For those that do not know about midwives let me tell you this. They are fabulous. When we moved to Florida in 2004 I needed a new OBGYN. I was referred to a particular office that had OBs and Midwives and chose an OB. After all I need a “doctor”. I soon learned that one particular midwife delivered about 90% of all children in my neighborhood…and there were a lot of kids in this hood of 1400 homes. I had the opportunity to switch to the midwives and took it. Thank god. More on Patty in a bit.

Patty arrives and I ask here where in the hell she has been. She laughed because she knows how funny I am. I did not laugh. Epidural Man arrives after Daddy heads to get the bags from the car. Daddy later tells me he kind of planned it that way; he was not sure he could watch. It took a few attempts to get the epi in my back; I guess I was not cooperating. Epi man gave me a little motivation when he said “honey, this is your last chance, I have other patients I need to tend you so if you want this you better bend over”. I did. I instantly felt like I was back at my sister’s first wedding on the beach in Puerto Rico…dos curevos frio por favor!”

Still not progressing. I am informed they need to break my water. A little discomfort and suddenly I have wet the bed; please change my sheets. Watch and wait. Time passes. Patty tells me I will know when it is time. Here we go let’s push. Either I wasn’t doing it right or Little Man wasn’t ready, after pushing for about an two hours we still weren’t progressing. Patty instructed me to take a break and try again in a few minutes. I am later told that after two hours of pushing with an OB I would have been taken for a C-section; thank you midwifery! I took a little siesta while Daddy and Patty talked for 45 minutes! Remember when I said midwives are awesome? Patty was with us the whole time! She talked with us, rubbed my back with essential oils, played music, dimmed the lights and encouraged me. I wake and realize that it was not time to push earlier, it is now.

I am starting to appreciate the fact that I worked out up until the last week of pregnancy; I am not sure I could have pushed that long without the site up improvement. It took Little Man 5 hours of pushing to come out. That is why you had back labor mama! He was sunny side up! Silly boy. Here comes my cone headed boy. Patty puts a cap on him so I don’t see what looks like a Dan Akroyd in the Cone People skit on SNL. 7.9 lbs and tons of red hair (that will soon turn on me to blonde) have arrived. We laugh, we cry, and we call our nationwide network of family. He is here!

Lee Memorial Hospital in Ft. Myers is awesome. We were taken to our private recovery suite with bed for Daddy and Jacuzzi tub. I am wired. Can’t sleep. We keep Little Man with us at all times. I nurse and sleep. Nurse and cuddle. Reality sets in. It is Friday and we run our own business. Daddy plops the laptop on the bed desk; charge the cards mama, we have to pay for this somehow! I am watching Little Man sleep while I e-mail some of our distributors; what are you doing they say you just had a baby! I know but I can’t sleep and probably never will again. I am filled with joy and anxiety. Almost three years later I still am.

We take Little Man home on a sunny summer day in Florida. He left the hospital a little jaundice and did not improve when we got home. I stopped nursing because he just wasn’t eating. You have to poop the biliruben out bud; better start eating! Back to the hospital after a few days so he can get a tan in the bili bed. Feelings of regret; should I not have asked to be swept? No time for that, there will be plenty of time to second guess my parenting in the years to come.



The Van Zant song below was playing on our radio when we took G home…appropriate.

I was raised on the westside shanty town
I didn't get up until the sun went down
When your back's against the wall
You better get tough
You learn real quick how to swing and duck.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Some folks cheat and some folks lie
But I can judge a man from the look in his eye
Don't hand me Jack and try to call it cola
I know the difference between shit and shinola.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)
(I'm talking about mama, oh sweet mama.)

Mama was no angel but she taught me right from wrong
She knew every single word and every single note of every song
She taught me how to gamble, how to roll the dice
If it makes you feel good do it don't think twice.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Talkin' about my sweet mama
Mama didn't raise no fool...

Birth Story Carnival-Ride #1

Thanks to Lotus for this great idea!

The Arrival of Little Man

It was Memorial Weekend 2006. We spent time hanging out with friends in the Florida sun. This was the weekend that my mysterious rash started showing up in the middle of the night. The only thing that would stop the itching and burning of the swollen red patches was to submerge the afflicted area in super cold water. The next two weeks entailed me and Daddy waking in the middle of the night to me itching and crying. My fabulous nurse midwife prescribed some meds that would help with the itching but one evening I had this weird feeling it was sedating Little Man, which was really what the “anti-itch” ingredient did for me. While driving to the ER he began kicking again; to tell me to go back to sleep probably.

About two weeks before my due date my cervix was “swept” at my request and my midwife agreed based on the situation with the inexplicable rash and my increasing discomfort due to it. A sweep is defined as:

Membrane sweeping is done by your midwife or doctor. While internally examining you, he or she will simply "sweep" a finger around the neck of your womb (cervix). The aim is to separate the membranes around your baby from your cervix. This releases hormones called prostaglandins, which may kick-start your labor. A membrane sweep increases the likelihood that labor will start within 48 hours. It has a higher chance of working if the neck of your womb is already softening and preparing for labor. It does not increase the risk of infection to either you or your baby.

This is a debated topic and you will find varying opinions. My midwife told me if I am ready I will be in labor within 24 hours but she highly doubted it would work. I told her I would see her tomorrow. She laughed.

Although Little Man was due to arrive around the end of June but on June 17th I woke around 4am the day after my sweep with what we had affectionately named “The Rash” and went to the office to work. I went back to bed and woke around 9am to some back pain. Lots of back pain. Took a shower. Didn’t tell Daddy yet. More pain. Sit. Stand. Walk. Told Daddy. Three minutes apart! Called my midwife at the hospital. This is where I have to remind Daddy’s grandmother that not all midwives work in the woods; some work in hospitals with doctors. I will not delivery this baby on newspaper in a box.

Patty tells me to call later if still in pain. I was at her office within an hour. The hour included me crying and trying to eat jello; then I remembered in birthing class they said one symptom of labor is nausea. Regular back pain, check. Nausea, check. Get to the hospital and get examined. I was only dilated to a 2 and 70% effaced. I was told to go home. You. Have. To. Be. Kidding. Get in the car. Hit the dash with each knife twist in my lower back. I thought labor pains were supposed to move? At home darling Daddy hurries to get work done; thank God we work together at home. Daddy gets work done and pack the bags. The day includes more crying, sitting on the birthing ball, leaning on counters and watching the clock. Still three minutes apart. By 5pm I am done; this cannot go on. We are at the hospital by 5:30. I am checked in and this is where it gets a little fuzzy. I am still only dilated to about a 2 and 70%; I am not progressing.

I am admitted and begin to vomit. A nurse comes in to give me an IV of anti-throw up meds. She must have been a new nurse; how many times can you poke me arm. I was a little cranky at this point and when the “IV specialist” comes in I asked “can you get it in one try?”. I was kind of kidding. Kind of. I hear one of the nurses say to another under her breath that vomiting usually does not occur until you are further dilated….ok…you girls hear me yet? This baby is ready I don’t care how wide the door is, he is knocking.

What seems like hours pass and Patty finally arrives. She only has one other patient tonight in the room next to me so she will be hopping back and forth. For those that do not know about midwives let me tell you this. They are fabulous. When we moved to Florida in 2004 I needed a new OBGYN. I was referred to a particular office that had OBs and Midwives and chose an OB. After all I need a “doctor”. I soon learned that one particular midwife delivered about 90% of all children in my neighborhood…and there were a lot of kids in this hood of 1400 homes. I had the opportunity to switch to the midwives and took it. Thank god. More on Patty in a bit.

Patty arrives and I ask here where in the hell she has been. She laughed because she knows how funny I am. I did not laugh. Epidural Man arrives after Daddy heads to get the bags from the car. Daddy later tells me he kind of planned it that way; he was not sure he could watch. It took a few attempts to get the epi in my back; I guess I was not cooperating. Epi man gave me a little motivation when he said “honey, this is your last chance, I have other patients I need to tend you so if you want this you better bend over”. I did. I instantly felt like I was back at my sister’s first wedding on the beach in Puerto Rico…dos curevos frio por favor!”

Still not progressing. I am informed they need to break my water. A little discomfort and suddenly I have wet the bed; please change my sheets. Watch and wait. Time passes. Patty tells me I will know when it is time. Here we go let’s push. Either I wasn’t doing it right or Little Man wasn’t ready, after pushing for about an two hours we still weren’t progressing. Patty instructed me to take a break and try again in a few minutes. I am later told that after two hours of pushing with an OB I would have been taken for a C-section; thank you midwifery! I took a little siesta while Daddy and Patty talked for 45 minutes! Remember when I said midwives are awesome? Patty was with us the whole time! She talked with us, rubbed my back with essential oils, played music, dimmed the lights and encouraged me. I wake and realize that it was not time to push earlier, it is now.

I am starting to appreciate the fact that I worked out up until the last week of pregnancy; I am not sure I could have pushed that long without the site up improvement. It took Little Man 5 hours of pushing to come out. That is why you had back labor mama! He was sunny side up! Silly boy. Here comes my cone headed boy. Patty puts a cap on him so I don’t see what looks like a Dan Akroyd in the Cone People skit on SNL. 7.9 lbs and tons of red hair (that will soon turn on me to blonde) have arrived. We laugh, we cry, and we call our nationwide network of family. He is here!

Lee Memorial Hospital in Ft. Myers is awesome. We were taken to our private recovery suite with bed for Daddy and Jacuzzi tub. I am wired. Can’t sleep. We keep Little Man with us at all times. I nurse and sleep. Nurse and cuddle. Reality sets in. It is Friday and we run our own business. Daddy plops the laptop on the bed desk; charge the cards mama, we have to pay for this somehow! I am watching Little Man sleep while I e-mail some of our distributors; what are you doing they say you just had a baby! I know but I can’t sleep and probably never will again. I am filled with joy and anxiety. Almost three years later I still am.

We take Little Man home on a sunny summer day in Florida. He left the hospital a little jaundice and did not improve when we got home. I stopped nursing because he just wasn’t eating. You have to poop the biliruben out bud; better start eating! Back to the hospital after a few days so he can get a tan in the bili bed. Feelings of regret; should I not have asked to be swept? No time for that, there will be plenty of time to second guess my parenting in the years to come.



The Van Zant song below was playing on our radio when we took G home…appropriate.

I was raised on the westside shanty town
I didn't get up until the sun went down
When your back's against the wall
You better get tough
You learn real quick how to swing and duck.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Some folks cheat and some folks lie
But I can judge a man from the look in his eye
Don't hand me Jack and try to call it cola
I know the difference between shit and shinola.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)
(I'm talking about mama, oh sweet mama.)

Mama was no angel but she taught me right from wrong
She knew every single word and every single note of every song
She taught me how to gamble, how to roll the dice
If it makes you feel good do it don't think twice.

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Chorus:I was born in the sweet hot Florida sunshine
Good lookin' women backwoods and moonshine
Learned more about life on the streets then in the school
My sweet mama didn't raise no fool. (That's right.)

Talkin' about my sweet mama
Mama didn't raise no fool...

Who's your Blogger?

I started blogging back in January as a supplement to the journal I keep for my boys. Over the last few months I find myself on line more than with pen and paper. Having owned and operated an Internet based real estate marketing company for the past ten years, I consider myself pretty Internet savvy. With that in mind, I have a new dilemma; although I began my blogging "career" with Blogger, I know there are other platforms out there. I look at this platform thing kind of like Mac versus PC. Am I too analytical for WordPress or Typepad? Am I just far enough along that it is time for me to graduate to another platform? I dream of one day finishing my MBA, teaching at a local university, and hanging out with "the intellectuals" at coffee houses on campus...while blogging about my lectures on my MAC. I have a friend that is extremely talented and artistic; she uses a MAC for design work. I like lists and spreadsheets on my PC. Are there personalities that go with blogging platforms or am I over thinking this. Much like I would love to be a writer or rock star, I know my limitations. Do I know them, or even have them with blogging?

What is your platform personality?

Who's your Blogger?

I started blogging back in January as a supplement to the journal I keep for my boys. Over the last few months I find myself on line more than with pen and paper. Having owned and operated an Internet based real estate marketing company for the past ten years, I consider myself pretty Internet savvy. With that in mind, I have a new dilemma; although I began my blogging "career" with Blogger, I know there are other platforms out there. I look at this platform thing kind of like Mac versus PC. Am I too analytical for WordPress or Typepad? Am I just far enough along that it is time for me to graduate to another platform? I dream of one day finishing my MBA, teaching at a local university, and hanging out with "the intellectuals" at coffee houses on campus...while blogging about my lectures on my MAC. I have a friend that is extremely talented and artistic; she uses a MAC for design work. I like lists and spreadsheets on my PC. Are there personalities that go with blogging platforms or am I over thinking this. Much like I would love to be a writer or rock star, I know my limitations. Do I know them, or even have them with blogging?

What is your platform personality?

Happy Freakin Easter

Happy Freakin Easter

Thursday Thirteen

I have what has been called "the memory of an elephant" when it comes to things like names and phone numbers. I can recall birthday's and other trivia that I find necessary in my day to day life rather easily. My wish, however, is to work on the part of my memory that will remember more important things like the following as long as I live. My boys are growing up so fast and I am just so lucky to spend as much time as I can with them to enjoy it all.

1. They way Little Man loves to wake The Babe in the morning by offering him a book while asking him "how his nap was" and if he is "feeling good".

2. The way Little Man likes to play with my hair when we settle down at night and are in his bed for bed time routine.

3. The way The Babe says "cracker" for anything related to food. He says it just like Little Man did; with a little hollow accent that is hard to explain.

4. The way both boys use the sign for more to mean more of anything, not just food. They both have their own version which looks more like one fist pounding the other palm; usually because one hand is full of food.

5. The way The Babe's blue eyes sparkle when he giggles and the corners of his eyes curl up.

6. The way The Babe cuddles and is a mama's boy in ways Little Man never was, and still isn't.

7. They way The Babe wanders with toys and drops them at whim, while neurotic Little Man follows to put them back in their appropriate place.

8. The way Little Man loves his music fast and loud; with lots of guitar.

9. The way Little Man wants to be like Daddy and can't wait to help us in anyway.

10. The way most days I can not tell which boy is following the other around; they love to be together (most of the time).

11. The way The Babe will snuggle up to your neck and says "night night" when he is tired.

12. The way Little Man will place his hand gently on my face during bedtime routine and say "just lay down" to get me to stay a little longer.

13. The way The Babe dances; bend the knees a little and bounce, lift the right elbow, and turn. Then repeat.

For my boys:
My Wish
Rascal Flatts

I hope the days come easy and the moments pass slow,
and each road leads you where you want to go,
and if you're faced with a choice, and you have to choose,
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you.
and if one door opens to another door closed,
I hope you keep on walkin' 'til you find the window,
if it's cold outside,show the world the warmth of your smile,

more than anything, more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
and while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.

I hope you never look back, but ya never forget,
all the ones who love you, in the place you left,
I hope you always forgive, and you never regret,
and you help somebody every chance you get,
Oh, you find God's grace, in every mistake,
and you always give more then you take.

But more than anything, Yeah, and more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
and while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,

Yeah, this, is my wish.