Walk for babies

Most of you won't know this, because it's been so long that I rarely discuss it, but Morgan was born a month early. Her due date was January 10, 2002. When my water broke on December 7th, 2001, I kinda lost my shit. As we rushed to the hospital, I imagined all of the horrible things that could possibly be wrong with my tiny baby and I just hoped over and over again, that somehow she'd be okay. She was okay. A tiny peanut of a thing, but she was just perfect. I guess she just wanted to do things her way...which is absolutely no different than the way she's been for the past seven and half years.

We got lucky, this we know. I am thankful every day, when I hear about what others have gone through, that our baby was healthy; that she was only born a month early and not two or three.

Not everyone is so lucky. We all know people. Friends, family, blogging buddies, whose kids needed help early on. Some were born way to early, some born on time, but they all needed medical intervention. Babies who weren't supposed to make it, but did because of the miracle that is our medical society.

Years ago, a friend of my mothers had a baby boy who was born seven weeks early. He lived until his due date and then passed away. They didn't know then what they know now. Maybe had he been born today, he'd be alive. No way to know for sure, but it's definitely a possibility.

A lot of you probably read The Spohrs Are Multiplying. If not, you really should be, because Heather is a freaking crack up. Even funnier than her blog, are her Tweets. The girl regularly makes me shoot wine through my nose. Heather's little baby girl Maddie was born early. Seriously early. And while she has some lung issues, she's come a long way. You only have to look at her (and oh hey, you can, see below) to know she's a miracle baby. Don't you just kinda want to squish her? Maybe even buy her a pony?

Heather and her husband Mike are raising money for March of Dimes, by participating in a walk for babies in April. Because of Maddie and also because they seem to be nice people in general, they are dedicated to raising money for March of Dimes. To help babies like Maddie everywhere. They are really close to their goal, but I'd love for all of us to maybe help them exceed it. Even ten dollars would help. March of Dimes is a phenomenal charity that helps support parents of preemies, preemie babies and in general is trying to make it where all babies are born healthy. It's a great cause.

For Maddie, I am not telling you about how I am dying of Strep throat right now. (Possibly for Maura as well, so she doesn't throw a shoe at my head from California.) For Maddie, I am not telling you how after childbirth, this is the most painful thing I've even gone through. For Maddie, I did not post last night when I'd had a vicoden and some wine. Which really is good for all of humanity. I'm also not telling you about how I cried at 2am when Morgan came to me and said her throat hurt.

This post is for Maddie.

Dear Issa's indivisible Internet friends,

Please excuse Issa from blogging, reading, twittering, thinking and hearing for the next oh two, three, maybe four days. She is sicky. She has caught The Crud from her lovely child. The one who has been hanging off of her non-stop since Monday morning. The one who hasn't learned how to cover her mouth every time she coughs, not just every fifth time. Which is bad considering how often she is coughing.

Issa is just thankful she lives in the land of Nyquil, melts in your mouth Cloreseptic strips and cookies. Because well, duh.

Issa will return when she doesn't want to poke her eyeballs out with a spork to relieve the pressure. You know, if she had a spork handy. Which she doesn't and her husband won't go and buy her one.

Please hold up the Internet while she is away. She would be very sad for it to disappear while she is ill.

Thanks,

Issa's laptop.

It had to happen eventually, I mean I am a mommy blogger

Poop. Lots and lots of poop. I don't normally discuss poop, at least not on the Internet. Not because I couldn't, but because there are so many other things for me to discuss. Like trips to the ER, with four year olds, who go in with a 105 fever and come out with Pneumonia again. Or my obsession with one sappy country song, that I haven't managed to buy yet, so I have the guys MySpace page open and I just keep listening to it over and over again.

Today though, I need to ask a question about poop. I've never quiet had to deal with so much at the one time. Boy poop? Is much worse than girl poop.

So here's my question: Have any of you ever, after you've trashed a set of sheets, a blankie, an outfit and a teeny bear, after a poop explosion, ever looked at your baby, the baby you cherish and would move the moon for, and wonder if you might could trash him and get a new one? A clean, non-pooping one? Just for a second?

Friend's don't let friend's go to play dates

First off let me just say that if one of you lived here and we had a play date, I'm sure it would be fine.

I? Am not a play date type of a mom. I am spoiled. This is what comes from your best friends having kids at the same times as you. Built in best friends, second generation style. No need for silly things like random play dates with parents you don't know.

I should have known, should have remembered; that I'm not a play date person. I should have never said yes. This woman, whose demon spawn...I mean child, is in Baileys class, has been asking me to have a play date for a while. I don't hang out at the school much. I mean, I volunteer, but I don't spend the whole time my kid is in pre-school talking outside with the other mothers. Some of them do and that's fine, I'm just not one of them. Because when my girls are in school, I tend to have very important things to do. Like blogging.

So, this woman had been asking me for a play date and kept telling me that our girls play together so nicely, so I finally agreed. We went over to her house on Friday afternoon.

First, her demon child kept hitting my kid. Oh she had a cookie today, was the mom's response. Ok, because that is a great response to your kid whacking mine upside the head. Don't bother to stop her from doing it a few more times. A child who has had a cookie, can't ever be told to knock it off, I suppose.

Then she started talking, non-stop. The mom, not the kid. The kid is behind in speaking. Most likely because her mom talks incessantly. About absolutely nothing. No joke, she'd ask me a simple question; like, how old is your baby? Then she'd interrupt me two words in to tell me about some random story about her life. Because her kids were almost five months once and they... I don't know, ate a lot? Then it led to a story about when she was a baby and then about her mom's life. Also, every story somehow led to Scouts. I guess her son is in scouts. She must be the most annoying scout mom ever.

Small tangent here: I hate scouts. Every one of them, girl, boy, cub, whatever. What they stand for; their homophobic attitude; but mostly, I hate the cookies. I know, I may be the only person in the world who hates girl scout cookies, but I do. I despise that they are at every grocery store in the state right now, hawking those nasty cookies. Dude, if I wanted your cookies, I would have bought them from the 6 little girls in my neighborhood who each came by and rang my door bell early Sunday morning, for six weeks in a row. No, I don't want your dam cookies, now let me in the god dam store. End tangent.

So, I heard about the scouts. Then she went and on about her Unity church and how amazing it is. How rainbows shoot out of every ones asses after they go there. Then how she just can't believe we don't go to church. We don't go to church. Period. We don't belong to a religion. Period. And what the heck is a Unity church anyway? Wait, don't answer that. I don't care if I know. If I was planning on choosing a religion it would be one of the ones in my family.

I started getting desperate, so I sent out this Tweet from the bathroom:

Somebody save me. I am in playdate hell. Can one of you DM me and i dont know be in labor or have ebola? Something. Please 3:45 PM Feb 20th from txt

Then nothing. Crickets. Chirp.

I waited, hoping someone would see it. But nope, nobody was on to see it. Then I sent a text to my BFF Kate, saying pretty much the same thing. She texted me back, I told you not to do play dates. You never listen.

Am looking for a new BFF by the way.

Eventually we left and as we did, Bailey says to me, Mommy why did we go there? I don't even like that girl.

Great kid, just great. You couldn't have told me that earlier? Play dates are not for the weak at heart and they are definitely not for me.

YMCA Auction and a few other random things

A few weeks ago, I told you all about an auction my buddy Matthew was going to hold for his YMCA. Well it's up now and there are some great items to bid on. Matthew is a great man and this is for a great cause, so please go and check it out.

My friend Becky (who has a blog, but it's protected) had her baby girl on Sunday. Olivia was 4 weeks early, but she's perfectly fine. The little peanut (She is a peanut really; 5 pounds, 17 inches.) of a thing is absolutely beautiful. Congrats to you Becky.

Today is another day. Am I doing great? No. But I'm doing better than yesterday. Thank you to all of you for your lovely comments and emails. I'll be okay in a day or two.

I have no title

Just when I think I've got a handle on this lovey depression, it come to pay me a visit. I've been a bit weepy the past few days and I thought I knew why. Turns out it's just PMS. And my little friend, depression. At least I'm starting to notice a pattern. Not that it makes it any more fun, or makes me feel any better. But at least it's consistent.

Melancholy, it's such a pretty word. A word out of a novel. A dramatic novel, but still. It's such a nicer word than some of the others that could be thrown my way this week. Words like spaz, pain in the ass, whiny, crier, asshat. Although the one person who could throw some words my way, won't. Because he's not that dumb. He likes his cups not thrown at his head, thank you very much.

I don't really want to blog, I don't really want to talk, I don't really want to feel. I just want to curl up in a ball for a few days and sleep.

I force myself to do the things I don't want to do. I've noticed I feel better faster if I do them. This works for me and me alone. I can't say it would work for anyone else, nor would I bother to try. But this space helps me. If I come on here and say, I'm having a suck ass couple of days, I feel better. If I call my friends or chat with friends online and say, I'm sad; I feel better. Yesterday I had to force myself to play with my children. Was I short with them, yes. Did I yell at my dog last night for acting like a dog, yes. Did I make my husband want to throw a cup at my head, yes I did.

So here I am. Me, putting myself out there once again. Showing my insides to the world, just hoping that writing these words help in some way. If you haven't seem me around these past few days, this is why. If I'm not around for the next few days, know this is why. I am okay, I truly am. I'm just feeling kinda blah.

You know, for a baby, he's not really so bad.....

My lovely son, these words were said to me last night by your older sister Bailey. I'm going to write this down for you, so you'll always remember. Because you may never have a real baby book, but you'll have these little things that I've written down on this blog. Dude, don't worry, I have a baby book, it's not all that interesting anyway.

One day, in February 2009, your sis said something semi-nice in your direction. Please remember it, because I doubt it will ever happen again. She loves you, she really does, she's just not that overly fond of you. Hopefully that will go away one day, but I can't promise anything.

No worries though, the rest of us adore you.

Random thoughts, the Vegas edition

- Krispy Kreme donuts are awesome.

- All five us in one room, was really not that fun. We all need more space than that. Plus, all of them snore.

- Issa did not sleep the entire trip.

- Saki and beer are not a good combination. Just in case you were wondering.

- Issa is a lightweight drinker, just in case you were wondering.

- If spinny is not a word, it is now, because that's what my room was like on Saturday night.

- No water, tons of caffeine, crying for days and too much alcohol make Issa a hung over grouchy individual. That was on Sunday morning and today, I don't feel that much better.

- I've never been in a hotel in Vegas, where I could hear the people in the room next to me. This time though, I could. Lets just say, they had a lot of fun in the bathroom. Way too much fun in the bathroom.

- Going to Vegas with my children is a completely different experience. They thought it was so exciting. All combined, there were seven children, ages seven and under. The baby loved all the light and sounds, the kids loved the non-stop entertainment and sugar. I did things that I never would have done. M&M World was a big hit. A big thank you to the lovely Maura for the suggestion. If you ever get the chance, I highly recommend going. I mean, unless you for some strange reason don't like M&M's and then I'm not sure I can know you anymore. :)

- Wedding ceremonies in Vegas are fast. In my next life, this is the way I'll be getting married. No drama, no big deal. Just a quick ceremony and then cake. Oh wait, there wasn't cake. Now I see the flaw in my plan.

- Vacations planned last second cost butt loads of money.

- The last second vacation: is worth every single cent.

- I didn't gamble at all, although Logan lost every cent we had brought for it. Sunday morning, I handed him the baby, as we were checking out and I told him I wanted to play $20 in the Wheel of Fortune machine. Two pulls and I won. I won $300 over the amount of money, that this entire weekend had cost us. I won it all back; plane tickets, hotel room, food, snacks, shoes for my child, because I forget to pack her any and she was wearing snow boots, the swim suits we purchased, everything. I gave the $300 to Chris and Steph as a wedding present. I mean really, what do you give people who have been living together eight years, when they get married? Cash works.

That's all I've got in me today. The kids are at home. I really needed them to go to school today. Like, I really needed them to go to school today. All they've done since yesterday afternoon is argue with each other and with me.

Vegas here we come...

Yesterday, I received a call from my one of my best friends. He said, I’m getting married. On Saturday. In Vegas. Oh and please don’t tell anyone.

Oh yes, really? Dude, you know better than that. You’ve known me too long to believe that was even a possibility.

There are no secrets in the BFF group. That’s the only rule we’ve got; that there are no secrets. You don’t remain friends forever if you keep secrets from one another. So, Chris calling me and telling me to keep a secret, especially one as big as that? Hellz no.

Everyone knew within an hour. Possibly sooner than that.

Steph, Chris’s long time girlfriend was pissed at me last night. For telling everyone, when I was asked not too. She knows the no secrets rule, she was just pissed that I’d enforced it.

This morning though, she called me crying. They always knew they’d get married one day. They’ve been together over ten years. They have two boys together. She said when they did it, they wanted to go big, to have a huge wedding, but they wanted to pay for it themselves, so they have been saving. But her mom is dying. She’s been fighting cancer for two years and I guess on Monday, they gave her six months. The chemo isn’t working, cancer is wining. Steph is her only child, so she and her dad asked her mom what she wanted to do, if anything that she’d never done. She came up with three things. She wants to see Steph and Chris married; she wants to take her grandsons to Disney World for the first time; and she wants to spend a week with her husband in Greece.

Chris has no family. We’re his family. He was raised by his grandmother who died while we were all in High School. He spent his last two years of High School, living at my house. I reminded her of this last night.

As we talked this morning, oh rather she talked, I listened and we both cried, she said, he wants you there, he’s just afraid to say it. So, we’re going to Vegas. All of us. Of course we will be there, there is no question. When your family needs you, you go. The end.

Of course, holy crap, now I’m going to Vegas. I’ve managed to get a flight out tonight and we’ve got a hotel room. We’re taking the kids with us. What’s a fun filled Valentines Day in Vegas, without a bunch of kids?

It should be fun actually. We haven’t all been together at once in three years. So, it’s a reunion of sorts. Now, all I have to do is pack five people, one being a baby, for two days. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh

Ok, I’m better now. I hope you all have a great Valentines Day. If you don’t care about Valentines Day, have a great weekend.

Cupcakes anyone?

Yesterday when I went to pick up Bailey at pre-school I somehow found myself committed to making cupcakes for their Valentines Day party. Back in the day, I used to go and buy cupcakes for my kids school stuff. I even bought the good ones from Sprinkles Cupcakes. Have you ever had sprinkles cupcakes? They are too die for. If you ever have the chance, please try one. But back in those days I had a pay check...man I miss the pay check days....anyhow, I'd go and buy the lovely expensive cupcakes, no problem. Everyone was happy and the world went along just fine. Time has changed though and today I make cupcakes. (Because honestly, there isn't a Sprinkles Cupcakes around here.) I made 62 cupcakes to be exact. No mix, by hand. With a recipe from Martha Stewart, the Sprinkles Strawberry Cupcakes recipe.

But I am no Martha Stewart. I can bake, in fact I am a better baker than a cook. But still, it's not something I do often. Unless the slice and bake cookies count, which I doubt they do. These cupcakes are not so easy either. They are very detailed. The frosting is the killer. It has real strawberries in it.

So the girls and I made cupcakes. Loads and loads of cupcakes. There was flour split, eggs dropped and milk somehow missed the bowl about four times. My girls, they love to cook. They get that from their grandmother, because it sure as hell isn't from me. But they got my absolute inability to use less than every dish in the house while cooking. Also the clean as you go gene, they are missing that one too. Then we made frosting, a gazillion tons of frosting. But the frosting doesn't really go on the cupcakes easily. Then the red hearts fell off. Then we re-put them on, basically squishing them into the frosting.

After we were done, my BFF Kate had the kids make Valentines at her house, which is great since I am not crafty. The ones in the box would have been more than fine, if I was doing them. In fact I send them to Kate's house often, specifically so they can do that crap at her house. (I'm not kidding. I've banned scissors from my house until Bailey stops cutting up full pieces of paper into shreds and leaving it all over the floor.) While they were gone I sampled a cupcake or two (have to make sure they are not poison) and cleaned frosting off of every surface in my entire freaking kitchen. Also, I'm pretty darn sure that Harrison is not allergic to milk or strawberries, because I'm sure he got a taste of frosting, since he was rolling around the kitchen floor. What can you do? He's a third kid. He's lucky we didn't hand him a BBQ rib the second he was born.

Later that night when Logan came home, he and Bailey had the funniest conversation. I am still laughing my ass off at it. The girls were sitting at the table doing "worksheets". I put that in parentheses because it's not real worksheets. Well it is, but not from the school. My kids go to a choice school. Basically they don't believe worksheets need to be sent home as homework, which I fully agree with. When Morgan gets homework, it's more hands on, more creative and not mind numbing. However, my kid is um special. I mean that in the best way, really I do. But people, she makes up her own worksheets. For her and for Bailey. Different ones each week. Bailey loves it most days. So anyway they were sitting at the able doing worksheets and I was doing yet another load of dishes when Logan walked in. She said all of this to him, without ever looking up from her sheet.

Logan: Babe, what's for dinner?

Bailey: Daddy, I think you should buy a new question.

Logan: (laughing) Oh yeah, what question should I have asked?

Bailey: You should say, honey, where am I taking you for dinner.

Logan: Thanks little girl. (Yes we call her little girl. Morgan will answer to big girl and the baby looks up if you say, the boy. They all have numerous nicknames.) Ok, honey, where am I taking you for dinner.

Me: Good question. I'm not sure, but somewhere with wine sounds like a plan.

Bailey: Daddy, that will be two dollars please.

Logan: What, why?

Bailey: Because you bought my question. Now pay up.

Logan: Please.

Bailey: And thank you.

Me: Babe, the girls an extortionist, but you'd better pay her. Because she's right, you needed to change that question.


Later my BFF Emmy called me and after I'd explained my entire day to her, she said, you know you can buy that mix from Williams-Sonoma right? And you can, you can buy the mix for Sprinkles Cupcakes at Williams-Sonoma. However, as I so nicely told her, that would have been helpful six hours earlier.

By the way, today is not Friday. I didn't know that until I was completely done. So I have 64, no 58, um 54 cupcakes sitting in my fridge. burp.

Co-Sleeping. Who me? No, never.

Yeah, that's what I said. It worked out too, because we never once let the girls sleep with us. Never. You think I'm kidding, I'm sure. Oh what about when they are sick, you're thinking. Nope. When they are sick, they sleep in their own beds. If they are scared or very, very sick, they sleep on our floor in a sleeping bag. What? I need my space at night. This is what I always said and I went with it. My girls slept in their cribs from night one.

I've never judged co-sleepers, I'd just never understood it.

Then Harrison was born. I can't tell you how it started exactly, because it wasn't the plan. He does have a very lovely crib in his room. The first night we brought him home, it was kinda cold outside and the wind was coming through the windows, making his room a big chilly. So we brought him to sleep with us. That's pretty much the best I can come up with. He's not spent a single night in his crib. Not one single night. He naps in there though. When he naps that is, as he's not really big on daytime naps. he prefers cat naps. Which in reality is okay, since he sleeps about eleven hours at night. I know, I know. Don't ask me how I managed to do this, because I didn't. I've not put that out there before, for fear of him suddenly not sleeping so long at night. He's been doing it since he was about ten weeks old, except for last week when he was sick and Monday night when he woke up twice for no reason. He doesn't move much, he just sleeps in between us, happy as a clam. Are clams happy? I've never understood that statement, but whatever. He just lightly snores and that is actually a really comforting sound. He's a perfect angel bed buddy.

But we're thinking it's time for him to sleep in the crib, before he gets old enough to fight us about it forever. I don't want a toddler sleeping with me. An infant is one thing, but a moving baby and toddler is another. Also, we've made the decision to go to Hawaii alone, as a couple. To you know, get naked and make more babies....or something like that. So, we have to get him to sleep by himself, in a crib, or my mother will shoot me and then I'll be dead. Which really, I'm not that into. I rather like life.

Tonight is the night. I'm hoping I just put him in his crib and he falls asleep and he stays asleep all night. No idea on the chances of that, but hey, he's pretty freaking easy so far, so it might just work. If not, I have no ideas on how to stop this trend we started. Because I never had this problem before. Any ideas would be welcome. Wish me luck though, because I think I'm going to need it.

Dear Andrew,

This morning when my phone rang, I knew who it was without looking at it. It was Chris, saying, can you believe it's been ten years? I knew it was him, before he even considered calling me. Ten years ago, he used to call me every day and ask if it was real. After the first month of that, I had to make him stop. I couldn't say the words aloud to him and listen to him cry any longer. After that it was every month, at least until it had been a year. Now I get the call on this day, every single year. Chris, out of all of us, took your loss the hardest.

Even though it's still early today, I've talked to them all. Just for a minute, to say hi. To remember you. Later today, I'll call Thomas and your mom as well, so they know I'm thinking about them too.

Ten years today and some days I still wonder if it's real. I wonder if we were wrong, if you are still out there somewhere, walking around. Drinking in a bar, having the last laugh. I know it's true, that you are dead, there is no doubt about it. But some days, I wish more than anything that is wasn't.

A lots happened in the past ten years. Logan and I are three weeks away from our tenth anniversary. We've got two little girls and an infant son. Part of me wanted to name him after you, but I decided to leave that to your brother. James and Kate have been married almost eight years and they have two kids, a girl and a boy. Chris is still with Stephanie and they have two little boys. I don't remember if you met Steph. Possibly not, but I think Chris met her before you died. I know we'd all heard him talk about her. Emmy is living the crazy life of a New York prosecutor. We are still just as close, closer if that's possible. We don't see each other all the time, well except Kate and James and I, because we live so close together. When we are together though, it's like no time has passed. Somehow you always come up in conversation. It's our way of keeping your memory alive, to bring you up during important moments.

Your brother is doing great. He's in the Navy....just like your dad, I know...but he's so different than your dad. He's still that kind, sweet, generous kid you knew, he's just somehow become a great man. He's been married for only a year, but they just had a little girl last month. Drew Isabelle is her name and she's just beautiful. She has your moms eyes, just like you did. Thomas is a good man. He's young, but he's very mature. He'll make a great dad and husband. When you died, we all promised to watch out for Tommy and we've kept our promise. He promised us he'd make you proud and I swear to you Andrew, he will. He takes care of your mom; she's lived with him for the last two years since your dad died. The last time I talked to her, she seemed to be doing great, thrilled to have a little granddaughter, that's for sure.

Emmy was here for a vacation a month or so ago. One night we were all playing some silly drinking question game. Questions like, if there was a fire and everyone was out, but you could save one thing out of your fridge, what would it be? Kate pulled a question about if you could go back in time and change one thing, what would it be. She didn't even need to answer it, we all knew the answer. You. All of us, if given the chance to go back in time, would save you. We just sort of sat there for a minute in thought and then we had a drink for you.

Andrew, the thing is though, none of us know how exactly we'd save you. We don't know how we could have saved you back then. We didn't know you needed to be saved. We've analyzed it for ten years and we still don't know what we missed. Nineteen year olds are a bit dense, but I think you hid whatever was going on, pretty freaking well. That made it so much worse for us. Don't worry though, even though we all went through a phase of being pissed at you, we've long since moved passed it. Now when we think about you, we remember the crazy things we did as kids.

I wish you'd told us what we could have done to help. We'd have done it in a heartbeat. Until the day we die, we will all wonder what we could have done to help. Maybe one day, we'll get the chance to ask you.

Andrew, I still miss you. We all do. I have very few childhood memories that don't include you. As an adult, I've found that people don't stay close like we all have. Most people don't even stay friends throughout school, with the people they met as tiny kids. It's not normal, people tend to not believe that we are as close as we are. We were so blessed to have had you in our lives for the time we did. But every day, we still miss you. Our lives are way less entertaining now. If your nineteen year old self saw us all today, you'd probably tell us we'd gotten dam boring. We are very unlikely to wind up in prison though. So that's possibly a plus.

I hope where ever you are, that you are at peace.

We will always love and miss you.

Melissa


Just so the rest of you know, Andrew was one of my best friends. We met in first grade. 10 years ago today he killed himself. Left his dorm room one day to go to class (he had even said to Chris, after class, we need to go surfing, as he left) and instead drove home. He shot himself in his old bedroom with his dad's gun. He left no note and although we knew something was up with him, we never knew what. He'd not confided in any of us. We'll never know why he did it. What we do know, is it changed the rest of us forever. Any innocence we still had at the time was lost that day.

For Andrew Kevin McConnell.

Dear Anony-mouse #2

I've thought long and hard about what to say or not say to you, after that lovely comment you left on my last post. Here's my thoughts:



Hugs and stuff,
Issa

What would you do?

There is a small argument going around my house. It's also not being helped by my parents or Logan's parents. As we're getting nowhere, I thought I'd do what any brilliant person with a blog would do; I'd ask the Internets.

Here's the deal: In March, 3/3/09 to be exact, Logan and I will have been married for ten years. We were planning a four day getaway weekend to Hawaii in a few weeks. But now because of the memorial thing for my uncle, which will be right around then, we're going to put it off until April. Which is really okay, because my birthday is in April as well. Now though, we're thinking of going for a week to ten days. Maybe two weeks, who knows?

The argument is about taking the kids. I want to take them all, make a vacation of it. They'll be on Spring Break for part of it and I could care less about them missing a bit more school. We didn't really have a family vacation last year. Logan wants to just take the baby. You should know, if we'd gone like we were supposed to in three weeks, we were most likely going to take Harrison. I mean, dudes only four months. However, by the time we go, around the middle of April, Harrison will be almost six months old. My friends were planning on keeping the girls, when we went next month.

My parents and Logan's parents have other ideas. They want us to fly as a family to LA, spend a day or two with them and then leave all three kids with them for a week or so. They want their grandchildren too themselves, for optimal spoiling. They think we should leave the baby, that we are baby hogs and need to learn to share.

We go back and forth on this, we have all week. We are no close to making a decision than we were a week ago.

So lovely Internets....and might I say, you are looking absolutely fabulous today....what would you do? Bring them, just bring the baby or leave them all in the capable, yet spoiling hands of four grandparents?

Not sure when it happened

Last night, at say two thirty-four ish am (tentatively) Logan and I found ourselves with three sleeping kids, on the bathroom floor. Croup. Oh it's such a lovely sound. I knew they all had coughs, I'd been listening to it all day, but I didn't know how bad it was. At 1am, I found out. Bailey and I spent about 45 minutes on the bathroom floor with the shower on at full blast. Then the baby started the seal cough and Logan brought him in the bathroom with us. After another half hour Morgan woke up, came to find us, saw us all on the floor and went and got her blanket and pillow and came in and laid down in between us. All of this without a word. It was almost like she thought it was a slumber party and she was somehow missing out on it. Withing minutes she was asleep. Bailey was asleep in Logan's arms and Harrison fitfully sleeping in mine. Everyonce in awhile, they'd all start coughing. It was like being in a TB ward or something.

We sat there watching them sleep, listening to them cough for a while without talking. At some point, Logan asked me when it happened? When did what happen, I asked? When did we become the adults?

You know, I just don't know. I'm not sure when exactly it happened. When Morgan was a toddler and got sick in the middle of the night, I'd still look around for who this mommy of hers was. Why was she looking at me when she said it. I'm not sure when it happened, but I no longer look for her real mommy anymore. I am a grown-up. Logan and I are grown-ups. We have three children, a dog, a mortgage and car payments. In a month, we will have been married for ten years. We save for retirement and our kids colleges. We pay our bills on time and we get our carpets cleaned every now and again. We drink more coffee than alcohol and we enjoy going to bed at a reasonable hour. At some point, we became adults. We're just not sure when exactly.

I'll tell you a little secret though. I don't mind this life. The life of an adult with a family. In fact, I rather enjoy it.

Not Me Monday

I thought I'd participate in Not Me Monday, something that My Charming Kids does every week. Mostly because none of these things really warrant a full post. And you know, it's Monday.

I did not tell my husband that we absolutely had to make Harrison start sleeping in his own bed last week and then let him sleep with us all weekend. Nopes, not me. (We are four months and a week into co-sleeping, something I was never going to do. Now I just am not ready to not sleep all cuddled up with my little dude. I will say though, he's a perfect sleeper when he sleeps with us. Napping on his own, not so much. I have doomed myself, this I know.)

I didn't tell the entire world, including the Pizza Guy that I was rooting for Arizona yesterday, just because I thought the Grand Canyon was pretty, too irritate my husband.

I didn't have to explain to my seven year old child what a tampon is used for. Seriously I was not ready to explain this in great detail. My kid though, she's very inquisitive.

I did not drink a lot of wine. Nor eat way too much food yesterday.

I did not threaten to beat my Wii Fit into a bloody pulp because it can't seem to just be happy that I use it once a month. I am okay with being fat, now leave me the hell alone.

I did not forget to buy the book for the InstaBook Club, even though I was in Borders twice this weekend.

I did not throw a big ole fit at my husband, because my dad decided to hold my uncles memorial the weekend of my anniversary. In Yellowstone. On the week we were wanting to go to Hawaii. You know, to celebrate our ten year anniversary. But no, it's better timing for him to wait another six weeks to honor his brother. Because honoring the dead, is always about what is convenient.

I do feel like a big ole asshat for complaining about the one above. Then again, I cried when I postponed my anniversary trip too.


Want to join in on Not Me Monday? The rules are here:

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.