All those boy hormones

Hi! I'm a hormonal mess. Just thought I'd share. Everyone is my house is sick to death of me right now. All I've done is cry off and on all day. It started last night, when I decided to watch Grey's Anatomy (Season premiere, cause you know I was birthing a child at that exact time last week. Holy crap that was a sad episode, with all the dying and impaling and yelling.) and I've not really stopped. I cried at commercials this morning, some of your blog posts and the fact that I've managed to misplace one teeny tiny sock. I wish I was kidding. I just can't stop. I've fought with my husband, yelled at the dog and ignored my daughters. I didn't sleep last night, which effing sucks, because the baby did.

Mr. Perfect Baby (did I mention he slept five hours in a row, then ate, then slept more, the last two nights?) gets the award for keeping me from just totally losing it. I'm not depressed, at least I don't think so. Unlike with the girls, I do know what to look for. Hi, been there, done that, still...well never mind. My doctor (and husband and MIL) is paying close attention. It's just these dam hormones. They are kicking my ass. It's like major PMS without the bleeding.

My MIL (bless her) said something today that made the most sense to me. She said, "you had boy parts and hormones in you for over nine months and now you don't. Both ways are a shock to your system. Made complete sense, didn't help much, but it made sense. She will not be getting random items thrown at her head.

I came here thinking, if I just start writing, something better will come to me. You know, the "if you build it HE will come" thing? But it's just not working for me.

Baby birthing story to come, when I can manage to sit down and finish it.

You don't screw with a new mom

You just don't do it. You just don't. You don't fuck with a hormonal woman whose just given birth. It's just wrong. A nurse should know better. Can I just say, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Ok, I'm better now. Let me explain.

On Saturday morning we were supposed to leave the hospital. The nurse came in to take the baby and give him one last check over. She didn't come back and she didn't come back, an entire hour went by. I pushed the button and asked the nurse when they were bringing Harrison back and they said, we'll check and let you know. Forty minutes goes by. Somewhere in there, Logan shows up to get us. We wait and I wonder what's taking so long. After a while, I send Logan to go and see what's up. They send a nurse back in with him and start asking all of these questions about our family's blood. Is there any hemophiliacs in our family, any blood disorders of any kind, have I been on blood thinners and didn't tell them? I answered their questions and then promptly lost my shit. I just couldn't deal with it. With everything we've been through in the past year, the thought of something being seriously wrong with this perfect newborn was just too much. So I sobbed and sobbed and yelled at the nurse and yelled at my husband. Then I demanded to talk to the doctor. Come to find out, they hadn't called a doctor to look at him. They were basing it all on the fact that he was bleeding still because of the circumcision.

I told them I wanted my son in my room immediately and a doctor called now and if they didn't do it, I'd sue their asses off. Not exactly sure what I could have sued them for, but it was the only thing I could think of in the moment. Within two minutes, Harrison was in my arms and a doctor had shown up. My doctor in fact, who was there, having just delivered another baby. She takes one look at me and asks the nurses to leave the room.

I take back everything I ever said about this Doctor and her not wanting to induce. She is amazing. She sat on the bed and hugged me for a few minutes, whispering tiny nice things to me and Harrison. Then she examined him. He was bleeding a tiny bit from the circumcision, but not bad at all. She said, sometimes in there beginning if there isn't enough Vaseline on him, it will rub on the diaper and bleed. Also, she said, sometimes the vitamin K shot takes a bit longer to work and possibly he didn't get all of it, because he was really squirmy when they given it to him. So she gave him another small shot of it. Which stopped bleeding in less than a minute.

They freaked me out for nothing. Which sucks, but I'm so glad there was nothing wrong with him. I couldn't handle anything being wrong with him.

In other news, my son is perfect. I dread saying it out loud, because then it might change, but he is perfect. I am so in love with him, that I can't even explain it. We all adore him. He sleeps and eats and when he's awake, he's very aware. He is a cuddler, but if you put him down (which doesn't happen a ton) he is perfectly content. He doesn't seem to mind his noisy sisters. When he is awake and in the room with them, he follows them with his eyes. He eats like a champ and when he wakes up at night to eat, he goes right back to sleep. He's definitely a keeper.

So now, please excuse me, because I have to go and stare at and kiss my son.

Small Harrison update

Hi everyone! Thanks for all the well wishes. Especially to Becky for being so nice to post for me.


I'm kinda tempting fate by posting here, since the hospital wi-fi goes out all the time, but I thought I'd try and give you a short update. I adore this boy of mine. He was worth every single second of complaining, overdueness and uncomfortableness. He's only been here for two days and I can't imagine how I've lived without him all my life. I felt this way with the girls too, but it is a bit different. He's different and most likely I'm different too. Older, wiser, lamer...something. I was up until 4am with him Friday morning. We just chilled in bed and gazed at each other. Just getting to know each other better. Logan snored away and I could have cared less. At one point the nurse came in and she was like, this is so wrong. I told her, nah it's by choice. Plus, I'm a night owl and Logan is an early riser, so the baby wake up and eat at crazy times has always worked out okay for us. I wasn't going to sleep in the hospital at all anyway.

And plus, I had to stare at my son. My son, so strange to say, but so awesome.



I know, I sound like a crazy in love fool. That's okay, cause I am. What's that song, I'm in love with a boy? That is me, I'm in love with a boy. And his name is Harrison. Harrison Thomas. He was up almost all of the first night, but I was too. Some kind of weird adrenaline thing. Yesterday he slept and ate all day and last night he slept and slept, I had to wake him up to eat. He is a mellow baby; only crying when a nurse screws with him. Oh and when he gets changed, but that is mostly due to the circumcision (yeah I know, blah, blah, blah...I let Logan decide and Harrison is fine) he had done yesterday. But he settles down really easy. Bailey was a pretty mellow baby (but not a sleeper), but Harrison is the winner. No clue if it will last, but it's really nice. He has jet black hair, which is funny because he gets that from my father-in-law. It's a strong gene, all of Logan's family has black hair, except for him. We were shocked when neither of the girls had it. But Harrison does; it's black and straight (Thought it was curly, until I washed his head, because they hadn't done a great job on it. When it dried, it wasn't curly anymore.) and sticks up in the middle like a mohawk.


I will tell you all the birth story in the next few days, when I have more time. Also, I'll post some better pictures when I am out of this place and can take some better ones. The light in here are horrible and I keep getting really yellowy shots. Since he's not jaundice at all, I don't really want everyone to think he is.

Look at the size of his feet. He is going to be a giant one day.


He has Bailey's cheeks and Morgan's chin; my eyes and feet and Logan's nose, ears and eyebrow wrinkles. But he has all of our whole hearts.

We have a baby!

Hey everyone. This is Becky here for Issa to let you know that she FINALLY had the baby today! Harrison Thomas was born at 8:08 pm. She doesn't know his weight yet but she says he has her whole heart. Awwwww. As soon as I see any pictures I'll post them!

update: he weighed 8lbs 6oz and he was 20 inches!

Am going to try they only thing I have left.... Now with update below

Cry, I'm going to cry. Like a big ole baby when I go into that doctors office today. Won't be hard to do it, not with everything that's gone on this month. I'm determined to get this baby out, one way or the other this week. Wish me luck, because I'm not sure crying will work on this lady. I may have to resort to not leaving until she says she'll set up a time to induce.

UPDATE: Baby has been given pink slip. If not born by Monday, I will be induced.

Wednesday weirdness

• Last night I heard water running at 2am. I got up to pee (what you thought I'd get up for no reason?) and then walked around to see who had water on. My MIL is still here, so I wasn't overly concerned. The noise was coming from the girls bathroom, so I went in to check it out. There was Morgan in the bath, shampooing her hair. I was a little worried that she was sleep-bathing, so I really gently asked her what the hell she was doing. Getting ready for school was her answer. She woke up, convinced she was running late and hopped in the bath. At 2am.

• Someone was on my site last night for two and a half hours. They read or clicked through 62 pages. This is only my 52nd post, so I'm not sure how they managed to do that. It kinda freaked me out a bit. Then again, HI, to whomever it was. I'm nice, would you like a cookie?
  

• I dream about food all the time now. But when I wake up I can only manage to eat a few bites of something at a time. There is just no room for food.

• I feel kinda like an ass. I had just commented to Emily at Wheels on the Bus that if her daughter was born before my son, I'd totally me mad and cry. Her due date was a few weeks from now. Then I went back last night and saw that someone had posted that she had her baby last night. Emily, I was totally kidding. I'm so happy for you. Congrats on the new baby!
  

• I spend my days plotting against my son, which is probably not the best thing. But really he's giving me no choice. In fact it's not just me whose doing it. Here's a piece from a chat I had the other night with When She Wore Ponytails. It totally cracks me up that other people are going to help me screw with my son.

When: the message below your name*** just made me snort my diet pepsi. It's now an adjective.

4:26 PM me: too funny.
4:27 PM not the pepsi snorting so much, cause I know that hurts
When: bless your heart. i know you're tired of being pregnant. that part hurts, too. hehe
me: yep...kinda sucky
4:28 PM When: he's waiting for friday...that's my birthday...he wants to be born on that random stranger's birthday LOL
me: but hey maybe he'll be born old enough to get a job
it's just as plausible as the Libra thing my mom says
4:29 PM When: hehe, if he doesn't move on or out soon he'll need that job. he needs to start paying you rent
me: yeah...i swear he asked for a burrito this morning...little shit
4:30 PM When: that settles it...Celine Dion for his 8 track player
me: i'm thinking michael bolton or that one guy meatloaf
When: oh meatloaf is an excellent plan..that way each song is a really long torture
4:31 PM me: yep that sounds good to me
that and the pinto
and a pager instead of a cell phone
When: a VOICE pager...not one of those cool "number"ones
hehe
4:32 PM me: with a button that I can talk through at any moment....like hey son, mommy misses you, it's time to come home and cuddle...and he'll be 17
4:33 PM When: that's awesome. only problem is with the pinto there will be limited people to embarrass him in front of
you'll have to make sure he's in a crowded room
me: oh it has room for a girl
4:34 PM When: true! and the joy of calling him "Pookie" in front of her will be so awesome as you eat a burrito that will actually fit into your tummy now that he's out
me: dude there is so no room for a burrito
right now
When: I totally get that
those cravings are annoying when where the heck are you supposed to put it?
me: especially those huge tasty ones that my husband loves
4:35 PM exactly
i just get to smell things and eat two bites and throw it out. on second thought, I have become my kids
*** In Google the message below my name says yep...still pregnant.

My grandpa

Some of my first memories as a child are of him. They were always around in some ways, but when I was three years old, he cemented our relationship for life. He and my dad were moving my aunt and cousins from California back to Texas. We were a caravan of sorts. My dad in the moving van, my aunt in her car with her kids and dogs and my mom, brothers and I riding with my grandparents. I sat in the front seat on the arm rest (who needs stinking seat belts?) in between my grandparents. We sang the entire way. He found me quite an easy going kid, at least this is what my grandmother told me the other day. I was content to read my books, color and sing with him...for two days straight. The memory that is ingrained in my head is him teaching me a new song, just as we hit the Texas border; I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream. Perfect timing mind you, as Texas was the Dairy Queen capital of the world. When my grandmother made him past the first one, his eyes twinkled as he turned to me and said, lets keep singing until your grandma changes her mind. She did, at the very next town.

I wrote his obituary, it was my contribution to my family last week. I'll share it here with you. I've X'd out certain details and I hope you'll understand.

"Charles B. XXXX Jr., age 86, of XXXX, Texas, died on Sept. 12th, 2008, in XXXX Meadows. His loving family surrounded him as he went home to the Lord. Charles was born on Dec. 15th, 1921, to Charles B. XXXX and Martha Ann XXXX in XXXX, Texas. Charles married Glena XXXX on Jan. 20th, 1953.

Charles left Texas A&M University to join the Army Air Corp in 1942. He served as a pilot in New Guinea during WWII. He served for 28 years in the Air Force before retiring as a Lt. Col. and starting a second career in real estate and general contracting in XXXX, Texas. He served as president of the XXXXX Board of Realtors. As a respected businessman, he was known for his integrity and servant heart.

Charles was a devoted Christian who loved God, his family, his church, and his community. He taught Sunday school and served on committees at almost every duty station and church of which he was a member, spanning a course of almost 50 years.

His civic contributions included building a nursery addition at XXXX Baptist Church, chairman of the remodeling committee at XXXX Baptist Church, fundraising for the Girl Scouts, and remodeling the Maternity Cottage, a home for unwed mothers. Perhaps his greatest contribution to the community was his visionary leadership in facilitating community involvement and a capital fundraising drive for a new women's shelter for First Step, where he also served as a board member. He donated general contracting services to build this wonderful, upgraded facility, which provides a place of safety and comfort for women and children of this community. As a result of his contributions to First Step Shelter, he was awarded the Texas Man of the Year award.

Charles is survived by his wife, Glena; his five daughters (Am taking out all of the names here, as it was starting to look a bit x rated) and his son; 14 grandchildren; and 13 great-grandchildren; his sisters, Bernice and Charlene; as well as numerous nieces, nephews, and cousins.

He was proceeded in death by his mother and father as well as his six siblings. Charles was a good man, who will be sorely missed.

There will be a formal military salute to honor Charles' contribution as a military veteran at the graveside."

Here's the thing though, this tells you nothing about the man my grandfather truly was. Basic details sure, but not the real man that I knew and adored. Granted this is a long Obit; the final editing took place by committee, headed by the head honcho, my grandma. She wanted it to say so much more, she wanted the world to know what an amazing man she'd married and loved. I'm with her, I want the world to know what an amazing man he was. To tell you all every small detail about him that made me adore him; made my brothers and cousins and I look up to him. That made 295 people show up to his service. But there's no way to do it, to give him the justice he deserves. I couldn't do it in his obituary, nor can I do it here. But I will tell you a few things about him, small things, so you can have a taste of what he meant to us. So you can understand how I had to hide in bed for a week.

When we'd visit, he'd take me and my brothers to work with him. He'd pay us to work for him, from like five years old on. Sometimes it was shredding files or filing things to help his secretary. Once he had us move a hole huge stack of bricks forty feet. Brick by brick. Other times we'd wash his and grandma's cars and he'd pay us in watermelon. He taught us to be hard workers, to do our work right the first time and to appreciate the money we were making. He also taught us to do things for others, because it was the right thing to do, not because we'd get anything back for it.

When I was ten years old, he found out my aunt was being beaten by her husband. He forced her to leave him and turned him into the cops. Then he designed and built a shelter for battered women and children. It's a state of the art facility on land that he donated. He had the materials donated and found people to donate their time to build it. He furnished it himself and set up a fund to pay the taxes for twenty years.

They had a house on a lake that we spent weeks every summer at. It would be them and a whole group of grandchilden. We swam (in life vests) all day, boated and learned how to play tons of different types of card games. There was this huge hill from the house down to the lake and he used to ride him lawn mower for hours, making the hill grassy for us to roll down. We always worried that he'd roll that lawn mower down the hill and asked him to bring the regular mower up to the house. He always said, no, I'm good on this one...till the day he rolled it into the lake. Thankfully he wasn't too hurt. But when the doctor asked him, he said, I should have listened to my grandchildren, they told me and I didn't believe them.

My grandpa was the strong silent type. All he had to do was look at you and nod his head a bit and you stopped doing whatever you weren't supposed to be doing. He had a presence, anyone who knew him would tell you this. People would always say, oh you're Chuck's grandkid? Oh he's a great man, he helped me out this one time. Because he had, he always helped anyone in need. But give him a baby to hold or a toddler to sing too and his face just lit up. He loved little kids and they always loved him too.

When I flunked seventh grade on purpose (to see if I could, a story for another day), my mom made me call and explain it to him. I was so sure of what I'd done until I had to explain it to him, then it just seemed immature and idiotic. He told me he was disappointed, that if I'd wanted to make a point about our education system, there were better ways to do it; that he expected me to right this wrong. I did and I've never done something quite so stupid, just to see if I could. I never disappointed the man again.

A week and a half ago, hospice gave my grandmother a week to live. The nurse asked her if there was anything they could do for her. She said, not thinking it was possible, I'd like to see my husband one more time. The nurse went down to the nursing facility and brought him to see her. They laid, side by side, in hospital beds and held hands. She said good by to him, that she'd see him on the other side. He said, don't worry my love, I'll be holding the door open for you. More words than he'd said since Thanksgiving of last year. He died the next night. They had a love affair like one you see in the movies. Second marriage for both, but they'd been married for almost fifty-seven years.

I love a Brad Paisley song, Waiting on a Woman. Well that was them, he waited on her for years. On Friday, just before he passed my mom held the phone up to his ear; I told him, Grandpa, I'm sure there is a park bench outside the gates of Heaven, you can wait for Grandma there.

Some people flit about the world, never making a difference, only thinking about themselves. My grandfather was not that man. He spent his entire life trying to make this world a better place. A giving, caring, selfless man; a man I will always miss, has left this earth. There is a big hole in my heart.

Overdue

One week or one day, depending on what mood my doctor is in at the moment. Either way, it sucks. She has no idea which and that makes me just as angry as being overdue at all. If I weren't so dang close, I'd switch doctors. Don't get me wrong, I like the woman. But you can't tell a nine million month pregnant woman that you might have been wrong and her real due date might be the 20th of September, instead of the 15th of September. It's just wrong. Might is not a word pregnant woman should need to hear. Either way, I'm overdue. Way overdue in my head. Even if the 20th is my real due date, which I seriously doubt, I'm still now overdue. She won't discuss induction until Friday and then she still isn't fond of it. Well you know what, I'm not fond of Lettuce, but I still eat it.

I have had this reoccurring dream the past few nights. The baby is born and then he gets up and walks around and talks, like a toddler. The farther along I get, the more I fear this happening.

I wonder if all the newborn clothes I bought, will even get worn. I wonder if there is something wrong with him, that makes him not freaking know how to be born. I wonder what is wrong with me that I'm a big wussy this time around, when the last two times were a cinch.

The contractions are killer. I've had them off and on for weeks now, which just makes me want to cry. Only on the 11th did I have enough at once that I thought, ok it's time. Then they went away.

My back hurts all the time, I can't move without hurting, I can't sleep without hurting. I get leg crams and foot cramps and last night I even had a toe cramp. I've got heartburn, sinus pain, acid stomach and nauseousness....which never really went away. I'm not even hungry anymore, he's just taken up too much room. The walking, which the doctor recommended, I've been doing tons of that and it just isn't working. I've tried everything that has been recommended to me by everyone (save for the castor oil, am not sure I'm willing to go there) and nothing works. Hell, I've even tried sex....multiple times we've tried (notice the word tried. Sex at this point, not so fun for either of us.) and it's done nothing. Nothing except make me more uncomfortable.

So here I sit, still pregnant. Aren't you glad you stopped by?

Off my break, but still no baby

It's almost funny but I've taken to answering the phone that way, Hello, we have no baby. It's catchy, no?

For the past week we've unplugged. No TV, no computer (683 posts to read), no work, no nothing. Although I did send the girls to school, because I was trying to save my sanity, not end up in the loony bin. I have no idea what happened in the world last week and I'm not overly concerned about it. I've spent most of the week in bed or playing mindless games at the table. Dominoes anyone? We only decided to undo our hibernation today, since Logan really wanted to watch football.

My Grandfather passed away the 12th of September. I have a post in my head about him, which I'll get too in a few days. My Grandma is still hanging on, although the theory is that she just wanted to make sure Grandpa's funeral went her way. We (not literally me) buried him last Tuesday. The world is missing a great man. She won't be far behind him, but no one has a clue how long she has. She's had uterine cancer for two and a half years. She did chemo and radiation until this spring, when she quit. She's been on Hospice for 9 weeks now.

In other news, I still have no baby. Oh well I have one, he's just sitting on my bladder and poking me constantly in the kidneys. He seems to not be quite ready. Maybe he wants to be a Libra? No idea, but I know he's not here yet. I've given up guessing on the day, I'm really hoping before I hit 60 or something. Dr. Masochist, on Friday, said that she's not fond of inducing. Really convenient for her to tell me now. She said she wouldn't even discuss it until next Friday.

So that's where I am. How are all of you?

Oh I almost forgot; I have an article, potty training in five steps, that will be up at Alpha Mom at some point soon. I'll let you know exactly when, but I wanted to tell you all now. There are going to be a bunch of posts over there, all of which are how to do something in five easy steps.

Today

Ok, so here's the deal. My grandpa is dying. He is passing as I type this and my grandma is about three quarters of the way out the door to follow him. The baby isn't here yet and I'm most likely going to miss both funerals. A baby and two funerals in a week. It's going to be a long week. If the baby is born in the next day or two, I'll go and join my extended family in Texas (not the evacuating portion, luckily) in paying my last respects to two of the most amazing people that I've had in my life. But my son is my first priority. I've tried to cajole him into coming, bribe him into coming and order him into coming, to no avail. I won't force him, I just can't handle doing that in this moment.

I am emotionally spent. I have nothing in me to say. Soon I will, but not right now.

Becky will let you all know as soon as the baby is born. She'll post it here.

I'll be back in about a week, once I've had time to process everything that is and will happen this week.

2,996 project: Thomas J. Kennedy

I'm going to post this tonight, just in the off chance that I'm not able to do so tomorrow.

Two years ago, I joined this thing called the 2,996 project. 2,996 people took a name and wrote about a person on their blog. Some of you may remember it, some of you might have been a part of it (Jennster, Becky, Alissa, Kristin?) and some of you might have no clue what I'm talking about.

We wrote about someone we'd never met. A man or woman, any race, age or religion; we didn't know until we were given the name. The name was of a person who died on September 11th. Seven years have gone by since that day, but I'll never forget. (It is weird to think that I could possibly have this baby tomorrow.) Two years have gone by, but I've never forgotten the man whose name I was given to write about. I will always remember him and wonder about his family. I will always hope that his boys grow up to be good strong men; men their dad would be proud of.

Agree with the war, don't agree with the war. Obama or McCain; Biden or Palin. None of it matters in remembering the people who died on that day. This day is a day to remember the men, women and children who lost their lives and to remember the ones left behind.

This man, he got into my heart. I'd never met him and I'm sure I'll never meet his family, but they touched me forever. We did it too remember and I know I always will.

(This was posted on my old blog on September 11, 2006)

Thomas J. Kennedy

When I signed up for the 2,996 project, I had no idea which name would be sent to me. I didn't know if I'd get a man, woman or child. I didn't know if that person would be young or old. From America or from another country. It didn't really matter to me. I just wanted to be able to remember someone who was no longer here. I also wanted to be a part of something wonderful. I feel that this tribute is wonderful. When we talk about people who are no longer with us, it keeps their memory alive. At least that's what my mother always told me and I have no reason to doubt this.

What I didn't know in accepting a name was that the person would get into my world. The name I though I was getting, became a person. A man, with a life and people who loved him. A man, not to much different from my husband, brothers or dads. And he got in. I let him in. As I searched the web for him, I found more and more. Just small things here and there, but the pieces came together like a puzzle. As I found more pieces, I grew more attached. How funny to grow emotionally attached to a man you've never met. But I did anyway. That's when I started getting worried about this post. Could I do it right? Could I make you feel the way I do about this man? To care about him, even thought you'd never heard his name? Well, I'll have to give it a try.

Thomas J. Kennedy (Tom) was born on January 24, 1965 at 12:45pm. He was born in the car right in front of the hospital. His parents, Eileen and Bill had trouble getting there in time because of a bad snowstorm. He had two older brothers, Brian and Bob. He had blond hair and "the bluest eyes in the world" according to his mom. She also has said on his memorial site that he was funny, always cracking jokes and a gentle patient man who everyone loved. His father, Bill said that he loved all babies and kids and they tended to gravitate towards him, because he spoke to them like they were adults. (I found his mom's email address, but choose not to bother her.) He also loved to ski and be on boats.

Tom was married to a woman named Allison and had two baby boys, Michael and James, who were two and 10 months when their father died. I couldn't find Michael's birthday, but by guessing, I'd say he is 7 years old today. James will be five on November 17th. He was a hands on dad who loved to spend time with his boys, bathing them and reading them Goodnight Moon every night. This is the same book, we've read to Morgan and Bailey their entire lives. I read somewhere that he wanted to have five kids, but two was all he was around long enough to have. His eyes lit up every time he told someone about his boys. His aunt said she'd never seen him happier than on the days his sons were born. He loved being a husband and father.

Tom was at the World Trade Center that day because he was a firefighter with the Ladder Company 101 in Brooklyn. His company was one of the first on the scene because their firehouse was just across the east river from downtown Manhattan. There were seven guys "brothers" who went in together. None of them made it out. They all died heroes, having saved many lives that day. Tom when in to try and save more people, when the towers fell. He died doing what he loved, what he lived for. Even before she knew what had happened to her husband, Allison knew that he wasn't afraid to go into the fire. She said "they were all excited to go into the fire. That's what they live for." "They didn't have fear, that we as civilians would have. They didn't ever think they wouldn't come out of a fire, ever." He had no way of knowing that September 11th, 2001 would be the last day of his life. That it would be the last day he'd ever seen his wife and sons. That he'd die a hero. And I can't say it for certain, but even knowing it, he may have gone in anyway. It is what firefighters do. He was a firefighter, it is their job to protect people. They all know the risk. Everyday when they go to work, they are putting themselves at risk. For us. For people who they don't know.

Everything I read about Tom was a glowing blurb of his life. People he'd saved through the years. People who thought they were going to die, but instead he came to their rescue. Some called him a hero, others an angel. There were stories from family and friends. Stories about fishing with nephews, playing hide and seek with his nieces, skiing with friends, being there for his family. Everyone said how wonderful his boys are, that his wife is doing a wonderful job with them. There are wonderful stories about her too. People say that their son Michael looks like her, but James is the spitting image of him. People tell stories about the boys too, how big they are, smart and sweet and caring and how they are each others best friends. I'm sure Tom would love to know that. In fact, he probably does.

Tom never saw his youngest son walk. Never walked his boys into pre-school or kindergarten. Never taught his boys to ride bikes, read, catch fish. He'll never get to teach them to drive or how to be nice to girls. He won't be there when they get married and have babies of their own. He would be 41 years old today. Thomas J. Kennedy was a father, husband, son, grandson, uncle, nephew, friend, firefighter and a hero.

Tom did indeed die a hero, but he was a hero in life too.

My MIL is here and I'm so excited....

You want to know why? Because she is here to cook for me for the next TWO weeks.

That sentence alone could be the whole post for me. Like, hi my MIL cooks, the end.

I adore food, but um...I'm not a cook. I burn even the simplest things. In LA it wasn't a problem at all, because you can order in (oh LA Bite how I miss you) every night. Not just pizza and Chinese, but from some of the best restaurants in LA. Delivered to your door in 40ish minutes. It's one of the things I miss most.

I never had to cook. My kids used to think mommy cooking means, mommy makes cookies at Christmas. I am a phenomenal baker. I can make any kind of dessert; brownies, cookies, cakes. From scratch even. But I can't cook. I make a mean cereal and Taqitos from the box. Truly, without fruit and veggies you can steam in a bag, my kids might never eat a balanced meal these days.

My mother in law is a chef. Like for a living. Can you hear me sqeee over the computer? She teaches classes (specializing in Italian food) at some of the best culinary schools in Los Angeles. But none of that matters. What matters is she is here to cook for me...ok and her son and grand babies. Homemade food.

When she arrived last night (by car, she is afraid to fly; well really she has to be drugged to fly.) I had to resist the urge to ask her to cook for us. We went out. She looked at me, looked at Logan and said, okay so tomorrow I cook...but thanks for not making me do it tonight. Logan was like, oh mom, you know Issa wanted you too. Luckily she knows her son well. When we went to college we (the collective we, which was about 6-8 people) used to go "home" about three nights a week. Which is kinda sad when you think about it. Most college kids won't get a home cooked meal until Thanksgiving, but we all had one a few nights a week.

At the end of two weeks here, we will all be begging her to stay. Not just because we'll be eating homemade Gnocchi, chicken Parmigiana and....oh wait where was I? Ok, so we adore her food, but we adore her too. I am so thankful that she's here right now. I cried when she got here, I was so thrilled to have one of my moms here for me right now.

So yeah, the end. My MIL is here to cook for me!!!!!!!!!!!

Random thoughts #2: Ignorning the elephant in the room

I'm going to ignore the elephant in the room today. Maybe, hopefully, god willing that will make said elephant show up. I am a bit of a wreck today; I just want to stay in bed and cry. Not for any real reason, just because. So, instead of that I'm going to talk about random things that swim in my head at 2am.

• My grandparents are dying. I've done this before, with my dad's parents, but it doesn't make it any easier. My grandmother is pretty much on her death bed (that asshat cancer) and I know she's extremely close to passing. My mom thought she was dying on Saturday and sat with her for hours and then she woke up. I've seen her numerous times in the last year and honestly I don't want to see her the way she is anymore. I want my memories of her to be ones where she was conscious and up trying to force feed people, not sleeping in a chair with the morphine drool. I've said everything I could possibly say to her and I continue to call and talk to her and say it all again. I've made my peace with her leaving. She's in pain and I don't want her to live this way anymore. What kills me, is I'm possibly going to miss her funeral. I want to be there, I want to pay my last respects to a woman I adore. Unless this baby is born soon, like in the next few days, I'm likely going to miss it and then I still might. The living come first, this I know. However if there's anyway possible for me to go, I will.
  

• I'm going to say this and I know someone will think, oh what an asshole Issa is. But here it is; my mom is going to miss the birth and I don't want her too. As much as I wish I could be at the funeral of my Grandma, I also wish she'd pass so my mom could be here, with me instead. I know this is horrible, I do, but it's how I feel. Third kid, we can totally handle it, no problem; but I still want her to be here. It makes me so fucking sad that she may not see him until he's weeks old.

• My mother-in-law is on her way here right now. She's awesome and I can't wait for her to get here. She'll stay for two weeks, just to help out. I always hear people talk about how horrendous their MIL's are and I'm so glad mine isn't.

• I've made a new bloggy friend, iMommy. Do me a favor will you? Any of you who have more than one kid, please go and give her some advice or just tell her that's it's going to be okay. She's pregnant with her second and she's got that worry, you know the one. The worry that we all had, that we weren't ready or enough something for two kids, that we weren't sure we could ever love that second kid or connect with that second baby like the first one. Just to remind her that she's not alone. That it will be okay; that a second kid somehow makes their place in your family and heart. Please for me, even just go and say hi. Thanks.
  

• I get my cast off tomorrow, which is so awesome. My freaking hand feels like sandpaper. I can only hope a whole layer of skin doesn't fall off. Like a hand snake or something. Wouldn't that be gross?

• I'm so ready for new TV. Why do they have to wait so dang long to show us new stuff. Why do actors need four months off anyway? None of us get four months off a year. My DVR is sad, she (yes, mine is a she, what's yours?) has nothing to keep her company. She doesn't know what to do with herself when she has less than thirty hours to keep her happy.
  

I guess that's it right now. Everything else in my head is about this tiny baby...well and miscellaneous song lyrics. I may come back and add more later. I told you all I was kinda bitchy.

T- one week. Am still pregnant.

I'm now at the point of a pregnancy that everyone despises. There are many reasons for this, I'll give you a few.

1. Your brain is now mush, as you spend all your time, praying that you'll go into labor. Yesterday we were about to leave the house and Logan says, Babe, you gonna switch your shirt before we leave? Turns out my shirt had been backwards for three hours. He'd have left me alone about it all day, if we weren't going out in public. I have a smart husband.

The kids are always having to look for things for me, or go back into the house to retrieve things that I've forgotten.

2. People calling every day asking if you've had the baby yet. Honestly now, when I do, you shall be the last to know.

3. People asking, haven't you had him yet? Yes, I did, I just didn't lose any fucking weight. Duh, people. Come on now, don't be that retarded. Unless you see a baby in my arms, I have had no baby yet.

4. You keep expecting the baby to just fall out, because he's so dam low: Every time I bend over to pick something up, I think the baby is going to just go plop on the floor. Then I think, well that would be lovely and dang easy. Which if you think about it, is dam fucked up. But mostly it's because he's so dam low that the pressure is just insane when I bend over.

5. Random strangers always have something to say. This woman said to me, oh a boy, oh they are always late. Another said, I predict the end of the month. My own step-mother said, well labor with boys is extremely long and hard, no matter if you've already had kids. Really, all the time? I don't think so.

6. I'm tired and uncomfortable and in pain and a dam big grouch. I've never been this pregnant. Technically, Bailey was born on a Sunday night and she was due the following Monday, so I'm only about 10 hours more pregnant than I was with her...but it feels like more. The boy is bigger than she was, or I'm bigger. Whatever. The end.

PS. Posting might be light around here until this baby is born. I'm sure none of you want to keep hearing, I'm not in labor and I'm a (huge) grouch, on a daily basis. If/when I go into labor, I'll send a Tweet. Those of you who do not use Twitter, you can see the Tweets on my sidebar. I also think you can click the link that says, follow me on Twitter and it will take you to my page. You don't have to sign up at all to see what I've said. Eventually Logan will post something, but he's Internet challenged, so I just can't promise anything.

PPS. If one of you would be willing, I can give you my login info and I can text you when he's born and you can post it here if you want. Let me know and we'll set it up.

Picture/Video Sunday

I asked them when they thought the baby would be born. I guess we'll see if they are right. Please excuse the blue teeth, as I am a sucker on a warm sunny afternoon, for a good blue Slurpee. Played at the park, walked the lake, going to have hot wings for dinner....we'll see.

I could be wrong, but I think we're getting there. Hopefully I haven't just jinxed it, but whatever.

Classic moments, #1

My first look: Two bikers, one woman and one man leaving the Costco parking lot at the same time as me. Awesome bikes, leather jackets, boots; the whole get-up. Looking freaking bad ass.

Second glance: A container of Twizzlers strapped on the back of the mans bike. Box of CornNuts strapped to the back of hers.

Half way up the street I see him take something out of her hand and set it in his lap. It's a box of the homemade Christmas cards that I'd just walked by.

The whole thing made my day. Classic. Seriously.

Happy birthday babe

29 years ago toady a baby was born. A big (seriously 9.7 pounds) chubby adorable bald baby with one piece of black hair on the top of his head. I have been told he looked like a mini Homer Simpson, just cuter. When I met this boy he was a gangly but still dam cute fourteen year old brat. He walked into my freshmen English class and I fell instantly in love. Lucky for me, the teacher sat him right next to me. We proceeded to flirt for an entire 55 minutes, then I promptly asked him if he wanted to ditch with me and my friends and go to the beach. Yes, of course, he said. The rest is history. By the end of the week, this boy and I were dating. Later, we'd marry and then we'd live happily ever after.

hahahha...I always wanted to write that last line. Sorry, I couldn't help myself.

I've loved this man, for as far back as I can remember. I don't remember when it hit me that I loved him, but it wasn't too long after we met. I've loved him through good times and bad, through heartaches and joy. I've never fallen out of love with him, but every once in a while, I fall more in love with him. When I watch him cuddle on the couch with our girls, or pick one of them up and carry them into someplace just so he can hold them, even though they can walk; I love him more. Last night when my brother called in a panic because he was $300 short on his rent, and my husband said, wire him the money, but wire him a cushion too, I fell more in love with him. When he talks to our unborn son and gets all teary eyed when he says he can't wait to hold him, I fall more in love. I look at him and I can picture him walking our girls down the isle one day, teaching our son to drive, sitting with me on the front porch when we're old, talking about the good ole days. It's something I have been thinking about lately, how much I adore my husband. Something about having a baby, a son, has made me realize how grateful I am. I hope our son is just like him, I pray our son is just like him. Nothing would make me happier.

On this day, every year, for as long as we've been together, I send my mother in law a gift. I call her and thank her for giving me the greatest gift in the world, for giving me her son. Because she raised one of the best men I know and she deserves to be told what an amazing job she did.

We've had a hard year and a half, but it's starting to get back to normal. There are great things happening right now and also some sad things, but I know we'll be okay. He took care of me when I needed him....he took care of us all and I can never thank him enough for the way he did it. All I can do is pray I never fall apart like that again. But I know he'd hold the pieces together anyway. I know I'd do the same for him.

Yesterday or the day before Logan said something about us saving the baby stuff this time, saving it for the next baby. The next baby, I said? You're crazy man, you keep that thing away from me, is what I said to him. But really, there will probably be one more. Because honestly, I adore making and having babies with the man.

Anyhow....to my love, my heart, the father of my children: Happy birthday. Dude, you're older than me for the next 8 months. I win....haha.

Announcements for the day

I am tired, grouchy and in desperate need of a Venti coffee.

In other news: I am three centimeters dilated.

I was asking the doc if she thought I'd make it to my due date and she said honestly I have no idea. While truthful, it wasn't what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear that I'd have this baby by Friday. Because I am so ready to be done with this. I hurt everywhere, I'm short of breath all the time, I can't get comfortable and I'm just so dang tired. Also, I need some brain cells back, he's sucking them all up right now.

The doc goes, well I guess you try the old stand-bys. Walking and spicy food I asked? She looked at Logan, looked at me and says, well that and sex. Logank was like, all right, yea me....but I just laughed and said, isn't that how we got here in the first place? This my friends will be the last resort, because the thought of it, makes me kinda want to cry. (As an aside, do you think that jumping on the trampoline would work or that I'd just injure myself more than I already am?) I do get my splint-cast deal off next Wednesday, but I can use my fingers again to type and I can feel that it's getting better.

Soooo...yep, that's all I've got for now. Send good thoughts for labor okay?

These hormones are kicking my ass

One more kiss mama, she says as we walk into the playground of her school. I lean down and kiss her and she wraps her little arms around me. Mama, remember when I stayed home with you all the time, before I ever went to school? Yes, I do. Me too, she says. Some days I miss that. Some days I miss you mama. I miss you too love.

Dude this kid is going to be the death of me. Seriously, I watched her walk away, hitching up the waist of her skinny jeans and I just wanted to bawl. My baby girl is going to be seven years old in a few months. Seven. Do you understand how big that is? She's so helpful lately and trying so hard to be good; to not get in trouble for her attitude or for being rude or mean to her sister. Last night she told me she can't wait for me to have the baby; sat and told him that it was now time to be born, that she was done waiting. Patience is not a virtue she posses.

She talks about the next thing all the time. What will we do next weekend? Next summer? When I'm eight? When will I be old enough to wear makeup, old enough to drive, to date? When I answer, I can see her mentally write it in her head, like she's saving it on a calendar.

I want her to stay this age for a while longer. Six has been my favorite age of hers. I want her to be little enough to play in the bathtub with her sister, taking turns making mohawks on each other. To be little enough to be read too, even though she reads to herself perfectly well. Little enough to want to kiss and hug me as I drop her off at school.

I want her to stay my little Morgan bean sprout for a bit longer. To know that just because I'm having another baby, she is still my baby too. She doesn't need to grow up so quickly, because I'm okay with having three babies. Because no matter how old she gets, she will always be my first baby.

T-12 days or so

This weekend we were in the mountains for a wedding. It was a beautiful wedding, but dam I'm so over weddings. This is the forth one this summer, the third of which the girls were in. I mean really, don't these people know any other little girls?

About half way through Sunday, I started having those fake contractions. The Braxton Hicks things. I never had them with either of the girls, so I had no freaking idea. I thought I was going into labor and I freaked the fuck out. One of the groomsmen was nice enough to choose that moment to tell me about the woman who, just the previous weekend, had been in the mountains for a wedding and upon leaving stopped in McDonalds....and gave freaking birth in the bathroom. Seriously, he wasn't even lying. A friend of mine works in the hospital that they brought her down to. While it was an interesting story, it was not what I needed to hear when I was having contractions, four hours away from home. Nope, not helpful.

Turns out, they were fake contractions. Somehow I'm thinking this baby is going to be different. See, with Morgan I went into labor and she was born six hours later. With Bailey....well she was born two hours after my water broke, I hadn't had a single contraction before that. I went from nothing to continuous contractions with her. Now this boy, well I guess he'll do what he's going to do. But the fake contractions, I could have done without that. Cause really, ouch. He's dropped, I keep thinking he's so low, that he could just stick a hand out and wave at me. I go in tomorrow, so we'll see if I'm dilated at all.

So yeah, that's what's going on with me. The nursery is ready, the suitcase is packed, the boy has a name; he can make his grand appearance whenever he wants. We're ready and looking forward to squishing him. I just can't wait to hold him and smell his tiny head...well hopefully his tiny head.

I have about nine zillion posts to read and a mountain of stuff to do here...plus Morgan is off of school today. I promise to visit you all at some point today or tomorrow. How was your long weekend?