The craziest three and a half hours of my life

December 16, 2003

5pm-ish: I was driving home from work, stuck in traffic, when I noticed I was having contractions. I wasn't just STARTING to have contractions. I was having 7-minutes-apart contractions. Huh. Strange that I didn't feel my contractions while I was at work? I call Alfred and he asks if we should meet at the hospital. I don't know what compelled me to tell him to meet at home but I did.

6pm-ish: I am finally home (yes, my commute to work took me about an hour for a 30 mile drive) and I realize that perhaps we should have met at the hospital after all. I called my parents to come to our house to stay with Desiree so that Alfred could take me to the hospital. We grab my hospital bag and, as we wait, Alfred tries to complete the hospital registration form that we had not brought to the hospital yet because it was still 4 weeks before my due date. By the time he gets to the section about my work address and social security number, my contractions are so strong that I can't talk to him anymore. I'm pacing the house, which I realize is WRONG, WRONG, WRONG since walking around speeds up the labor, but it was the only way to get my mind off the contractions. By the time my parents get to the house, I'm almost in tears and I waddle as fast as I can to the car.

7pm-ish: We finally get to the hospital. Alfred LOOKS FOR PARKING while I'm holding on to the back of the passenger seat in a death grip. (It isn't until I told this story that someone asked why Alfred didn't drop me off at the front of the hospital so that they could wheel me up to the maternity ward while he looked for parking. Alfred and I just looked at one another and laughed so hard! Duh!) We walk into the hospital, freak everyone out in the elevator as I cursed and breathed through contractors and get to the maternity reception area where the nice lady at the desk proceeds to ask me to have a seat and wait since all the beds were currently full. I beg the lady to please, please, PLEASE find a place for me ASAP before I have the baby right then and there, PLOP, on the floor. Seriously. Alfred tells me I'm scaring the kids in the reception area and it take everything in my power not to shout obscenities and become physically abusive.

Feels like a whole day has passed but it probably is only 7:15pm-ish: I'm finally in triage and they hand me a gown to put on. I barely get this on and practically crawl to the bed they have waiting for me. The nurse takes a peep and "WHOOPS, UM, LET'S GET A WHEELCHAIR! WE'LL HAVE TO BRING HER TO THE OPERATING ROOM SINCE ALL THE REGULAR LABOR ROOMS ARE FULL!" I ask if they aren't going to hook me up to those monitors first and they say "No time." I ask if I can get an epidural for the pain and they say, "Sorry, sweetie, no time." I ask if I can get ice chips since my mouth was so dry and they say, "Sorry, no time." AUUUUUUGGGGHHHH!! They get me on the operating table, the nurses act as stirrups for my feet and a couple of others are holding my back up. The nurse trying to get the IV in me is having trouble because my contractions are so close that I can't relax long enough for her to get the needle in me. The head nurse comments that if my doctor doesn't get there soon, she might have to deliver the baby herself! All I remember is begging to push and everyone telling me to HOLD ON! Wait just a little bit longer! Finally, my doctor walks in and as soon as he does, I ask if I can push and he nonchalantly says, "Sure!" as he is washing his hands and by the time he gets in front of me, TA-DA! My Katelyn was born at 8:30pm.

Happy 5^th birthday, Katelyn. The sweetest daughter, the most loving sister, the biggest animal lover, diva and sometimes pain-in-the-butt-because-you’re-so-stubborn-and-too-smart-for-your-own good person I know. I hope today and the rest of your days continue to be the “best day ever” for you.

Best Birthday Ever, I can tell already

I wake up to a crying Jacob who won't let me put him down, not even so that I can pee.

While I'm in the bathroom, I can hear Katelyn crying "I want my mama!  I want my mama!"

Both of the crying kids join me in my closet while I try to figure out what I'm going to wear to work today.  It's hard to think over the crying.  I ask Katelyn, "Guess whose birthday it is today?" and she asks, "Who?" I point to myself and she gets sad.  She says, "But I want to blow out the candles."  I tell her, "Forget it."

*Alfred has not said a word to me all morning.  Snatches the crying boy away from my closet and brings him downstairs.

I get the kids dressed and put them in Alfred's car.  Nothing from Desiree either.  *sigh*

Go into the house and start tidying up.  Finally, Alfred comes up to me and says gruffly "I'm leaving now.  Happy birthday."  Gives me a peck on the lips and leaves.  

Opens up door again to holler "Don't forget that the trash needs to be taken out today!"  I didn't answer. "Sherry!"  OK! "Oh, did you say something the first time?  Coz I didn't hear you." Shuts door.  Cue tears.

It really doesn't help that I'm PMS-ing.  I shouldn't even really care.  I don't usually care about my birthday.  Damn hormones.

On the bright side.... I woke up to 9 birthday greetings on Facebook.  

*Long story that I'm NOT going to share about an argument we had last night.

The Joke's Over

The one thing that really kept me up at night after finding out that I was pregnant with our first (and would be ONLY) son was the fact that he would have three older sisters as his playmates. I plagued Alfred with questions, "What if his sisters were watching a Disney princess movie? Would he not be allowed to watch with them? What if he wanted to play with their dolls? What if they dressed him up in their princess costumes?? What if? What if? What if?" And what about me? I don't know anything about playing with boy toys. I grew up with two sisters - all I know is Barbies, baby dolls, and doll houses. What the heck do you do with dumptrucks? Trains? I can barely throw a ball straight. I don't have an athletic bone in my body.

Because I worried so much, I think Alfred has done his best to take everything in stride. When Jacob was a baby, we could even laugh about it. Now that Jacob is a year and a half, Alfred's patience is starting to run thin. Alfred does not find it even remotely amusing anymore. It frustrates him. It frustrates me that it frustrates him because I don't know what to do about it. If Jacob spends 100% of his waking moments with Katelyn and all he ever sees is Katelyn playing with dolls, Littlest Pet Shop, My Little Pony or Barbies then naturally that is what he will want to do too, right? If he never sees anyone playing with trucks, cars or trains then how would he find any of that interesting?

I tried last night. Oh, how I tried. I busted out the yellow dump trucks and all the other little trucks... I don't even know what they are called. One pushes the dirt around, one scoops up the dirt. I threw some of Katelyn's seashells into the back of the dump truck and ("Look, Jacob! Yay!") let the truck dump it all out. Then I took the other trucks and tried to show Jacob, "Look! Let's push the shells around! Come on! Let's get it all back into the truck!" All the while, Jacob sat in my lap and couldn't tear his eyes away from Katelyn who was playing My Little Pony at the other end of the room. After a short while, he just got up from my lap, walked over to his sister and snatched the pony she was playing with away from her. My mission failed.

My friends reassure me all the time that Jacob will grow out of it. My question is... HOW will he know to grow out of it? How will he learn to prefer boy toys over girl toys when there is no one to show him?

If only I could DREAM...

Alfred and I were watching Stephenie Meyer being interviewed on Ellen and she talks about how the idea of writing Twilight came from a dream she had. They discussed the unexpected success of the Twilight series, the perks of being a big, huge, success overnight on her first book ever written, the fact that her husband was able to recently retire and how they get to spend so much more time with their kids, yada, yada, yada. Alfred looks and me and asks, “Why don’t YOU write a book?” My answer, “She got the idea of her book from a dream. I have to have MORE than a couple consecutive hours of sleep at a time in order to dream. No dreams, no ideas for a book. Sorry, babe.”

Cool trick, cool trick!

Jacob's favorite TV show of all time is Yo Gabba Gabba. Thanks to his Uncle Archie, he also loves that wretched Barney. He's beginning to warm up to Hi-5, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and The Upside Down Show but his first love will always be Yo Gabba Gabba. On this show, there is a segment called "Cool Tricks" where a person showcases their (you guessed it) cool trick (huh, whaddaya know). This include breakdancing, beatboxing, martial arts, playing music on their hands (picture hand farting noises but to a tune), just to mention a few. And the one cool trick that Jacob has learned from this astoundingly educational show... I'm such a proud mama... drumroll, please... hanging a spoon from his nose! (*thunderous applause*)

Not to be outdone, of course Katelyn and her BFF, Kyalin, had to show that they know how to do cool tricks too!

My future mini-me

As I was leaving my mother-in-law’s house, I stepped on the gas a little harder than necessary to come out of my fancy three-point-turn and Katelyn gasped and then giggled. At the next corner, the road curves slightly and the cars that are coming around the corner are hard to see behind the parked cars. I was about to make my left turn when a car pops out from behind the blind curve so I slam on my breaks and Katelyn gasps and then giggles again.

Katelyn: I think maybe you need driving lessons!
Me (laughing): YOU need driving lessons.
Katelyn: I can’t have driving lessons. I’m just a kid! See? Look at my legs!

I look back at her sitting in her booster seat and she swings her legs, showing me that they don’t even touch the floor yet.

Me: You’re right. You are still too little.
Katelyn: And my voice is… uh… funny.
Me (laughing): I think you have the cutest voice ever.
Katelyn: It sounds funny. I want to sound like you.
Me: Oh, don’t worry. You will when you are all grown up.
Katelyn: And I want my hair to be like yours, and my lipstick, too.

I will never have a bigger fan than Katelyn.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

I was feeling very lazy last Thanksgiving weekend so I wasn’t sure if I would be able to make myself crawl into the coat closet/storage of doom in order to haul out the Christmas decorations. Sunday afternoon, I shut my eyes against what would be another very sad Chargers defeat and found myself dozing off with Katelyn on one side of me and Jacob on the other side of me. All the while thinking, “I guess we’ll take the Christmas stuff out NEXT weekend.”

When I woke up, Alfred was no where around. I heard Christmas music coming from the garage which could only mean one thing – he was in the garage taking down the outdoor Christmas decorations. The kids and I ventured outside and, oh, how their faces lit up when they saw the candy cane lights lining our lawn! Our front door was lined with a Christmas ornaments garland, to which Jacob kept exclaiming “Ball! Ball!” as he tried to pull each off of the garland. With all the holiday excitement in the air, how could I NOT bring out the rest of the decorations? So off I went… through the jackets, over the mountain of shoes, past the Halloween décor, over the miscellaneous “I’ve-been-looking-for-these!” to the coveted Christmas decorations. As I brought each box out, Katelyn became more and more excited! She went straight to work on decorating the Christmas tree while Desiree and I decorated the rest of our house.

Katelyn barely got the front, bottom half of the tree decorated before she gave up and insisted that she and Daddy needed robes ASAP!! And hot chocolate! And they needed to sit in front of the barely decorated Christmas tree in their warm and snuggly robes and sip their hot chocolates. That girl is hi-LA-rious!

This being Jacob’s first Christmas being mobile, he went around the house trying to undo all the decorating we had done the way only a little boy could. Pulling stockings off the fire mantle, taking all the music-making-stuffed-animals and throwing them on the ground, pulling the ornaments off the tree, etc. I always marvel at how different he is from his sisters. So much more mischievous.

Speaking of being mischievous, Jacob really pushed the limits of my patience the other night:

• I was cooking dinner when he asked for some oranges. I peel an orange, put the slices in a Tupperware bowl and let him have at it. When I came to check on him, he had squeezed a couple of slices so that the coffee table had a nice layer of orange juice floating on top of it.
• As I was cleaning up the orange juice, he proceeds to rub the orange rinds all over his face. I take him into the bathroom to wash him up, put him back down and then go back to check on the dinner I was cooking.
• As I was cutting up some meat for Katelyn’s plate, Jacob climbs on one of the chairs and teeters on the edge of it! I drop everything (knife included) in a huge clatter and dive action-hero style to save him from falling off the chair. Put him back on the ground and get back to work on the plate I’m making for Katelyn.
• Not even two minutes later, I hear glass shatter and look up to see Jacob on top of the step-stool that we had put next to the fire mantle in order to put up some Christmas decorations. How the heck did he get up there so fast?! He had knocked over my glass candle holders off of the fire mantle and there were shards everywhere underneath him, on the floor, on the SHAG carpet. SHAG, my friends. I went over the carpet with the vacuum a gazillion times and my paranoid mind STILL keeps imagining that there might be shards still hiding deep inside the carpet. I think I will vacuum again tonight… just to be safe….
• I put him in his highchair so that I could clean up the glass. By this time, Alfred is home from work. He goes to the kitchen to check on the kids and Jacob has rice stuck all over himself – his hair, his face, his shirt, his pants. So Alfred strips him down to his diapers and lets him finish his food.

By the time I was finally done cleaning, everyone else was done with dinner. I sat down to eat my cold dinner and gave Alfred a replay of our night and I could see that he was trying desperately hard not to laugh. The corners of his mouth kept twitching but, being the smart man that he is, he kept his face solemn and his words sympathetic. He knew that I was already pushed to edge by this time. Laughing was DEFINITELY not going to help. All I know is, Jacob is sooooooooooooooooo different from his sisters.