Playing With My Food.

Lately I have been feeling rather blah. I blame it on the postpartum hormones. I really, most days don't want to go grocery shopping or even cook. The weird side effect to this, is that I have been playing with my food. Well, really my recipes.

One night, I'd asked Tony to stop by the grocery store to pick up two ingredients. He had picked up some tools first, and was worried that if he went into the store, there would be too great a chance that someone would happen to steal those tools out of the saddlebags on the motorcycle. *sigh* Needless to say, that day was a day where I kinda needed to go grocery shopping and was trying to stall one more day. That means, I was looking through my cupboards, trying to find something to cook for dinner. I had finally figured something out and needed those two ingredients. Not having those ingredients, sent me to my cupboards again, racking my brain, trying to figure out something to cook. So I grabbed a few things and threw them together in a casserole, hoping it would work. Voila! Fiesta Casserole was born! Of course, I waited until after the approval of the Manley horde to name it. I knew it would be a frequent menu selection when Tony came home the next day saying it was yummy even as left-overs for lunch.


I have had a good handful of evenings that I got a little creative, out of desperation, in the kitchen, but my faulty brain can only think of a three at the moment. I made stroganoff, but used rice instead of noodles (since we were out of noodles). My favorite recipe deviation so far, has been Chicken Bacon Ranch Alfredo. Yeah, bacon makes everything awesome!

I'm not really one to deviate from recipes. I'm a tried and true kind of girl. I don't like wasting my time, money, and efforts to risk it not turning out, or taste not so good. I also am hesitant to try new recipes without having a personal recommendation. Again for the same reasons. So this has been completely out of my norm. All this has come from being so desperate not to make the one thing that I already had the ingredients for, but not the time or energy to make that night, or from absolutely avoiding Wally-World Hell (because it is just that with 4 children in tow) that I have to get creative with what's available. Aaaaaand, because I love you all so much, I'm posting the recipes too! :) Enjoy!

Fiesta Casserole
1 lb hamburger (cooked, salted and peppered)
1 can black beans, drained (15 oz)
1 can diced tomatoes, drained (14.5 oz)
1-2 c rice, cooked according to package instructions
1 can Campbell's Fiesta Nacho Cheese (10 oz)
1-2 C sour cream
1-2 C shredded cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 350. Layer first 4 ingredients in list order. Combine nacho cheese and sour cream together. the more sour cream you use, the milder the casserole is. Layer mix on top. Cover with foil and bake 45 min. Remove foil, add cheese and bake another 5 min or until cheese is melted.

Chicken Bacon Ranch Alfredo
3-4 Chicken breasts, cubed up. (you can also use Tyson's grilled and ready chicken/ 3-4 C)
1 small package Linguine or Fettuccine noodles, cooked according to package directions.
1 small package real bacon pieces (I find it's easier than buying bacon and cooking it)
1 package ranch dressing mix
2 C heavy cream
1/3 C butter (yes it must be butter)

Add cream and butter to a saucepan. Cook over medium heat stirring frequently-constantly. Bring to a boil. Then boil 10 min, while stirring constantly. While making sauce base, cook chicken in hot oil in pan on stove top(or heat precooked chicken) and boil noodles. When sauce has boiled 10 min, remove from heat. Add ranch seasoning, and stir until well mixed. Add bacon pieces and chicken. Add to noodles. You may choose to mix noodles and sauce together, or lay a bed of noodles on plate and put a ladle-full on top. Enjoy!

Old Habits

I've heard way too many times that "old habits die hard." I beg to differ. Yes there are those pesky ones that like to hang on for dear life, but then there are other ones, ones you'd like to keep around, but don't have the time to exercise, feed, nourish, bathe, and clothe. Oh wait. Sorry. Forgot I wasn't talking about kids. You get the gist though.

About a month ago, a friend called me up and said, "Hey I remembered that you play the flute! Can you be part of a musical number at church?" Well, maybe not word for word, but that was the idea of the conversation. I said sure, even though in my brain I was feeling like a little kid lost in a museum storage room. Do I even remember what a flute is? Where is mine? Do I even still have one? Do I remember how to hold it? Can my lips still hold a good embouchure? I'm not sure I remember fingerings, let alone how to read notes?! Ugh.....what did I just get myself into?

So, I looked up the music, and it was like reading gibberish. I had to do an Internet search for fingering charts. I'm a horrible sight reader anyway, I've always learned better from listening and mimicking. Guess you can't really call it learning, but that's how I play music. Play it for me, then I can play it back.

I went to the first practice, just me, and 4 girls singing, with one of them trying to play the piano part. It was the first time I'd picked up a flute in probably 8 yrs or better. Yeah, I pretty much massacred it. I hate doing that in front of people. I'd much rather massacre music in private while I learn it, or in a large group where you can't really hear MY mess-ups. Certainly not where others can listen to my awful excuse of having a go at flute playing.

I was surprised that my fingers remembered quickly what the fingerings were, as long as my brain remembered which note it was that I was reading. My embouchure not as lacking as I expected. It was kind of an impressive embouchure for having been on vacation almost a decade. As for my sight reading? I never had it in the first place. So I tried my best to listen to the piano and get an idea if my part from it. No such luck. They are two very different parts. Luckily, I did find an accompaniment track when I got home. It  came from the website we are using the music from, and has the piano and flute parts.Yesssss!

I spent a few days practicing my part, sitting at the computer, listening to the track. By day two, I felt a lot better about it. The following week, the other flautist, the piano player, and I got together for our own little practice. I felt a lot more confident this time. I was even helping out the other flautist, since she was in the same boat as I was. I felt pretty good about myself. All except I kept playing pretty sharp.I'll fix that.

In another two weeks we will be playing our musical number in front of a large congregation. I even told my mom so she could come. She loves to hear and watch me play my flute; she bought me the one I currently have, even after I hardly played anymore.

Even though I felt like a lost puppy when first asked about this daunting task, I'm glad I agreed. It gave me a reason to brush up on an old skill, that at one time was second nature to me. It's also given me an opportunity to play music with others again. I've missed that. Playing flute all by yourself is no fun and kind of awkward. I'm surprised at how much I lost, but how quickly it came back to me. Maybe I won't be so glad, come the day I have to actually perform in front of everyone, but at least I won't be a lone, and quite so rusty.

Downtrodden

Today that is how I am feeling.

I wanna cry. My tailbone has been giving me fits for months now. I'm used to dealing with it during pregnancy, since it's something that I've dealt with during all four pregnancies. I blamed it on my widening hips, leaving my tailbone all alone to hold my burgeoning belly weight, and it complained loudly about it. Having problems after pregnancy, well, I am not used to that, and so now I am complaining loudly about it

Yes, I still can't sit for very long (ie; 5 min) without being in pain, or wincing when I get up. My other three pregnancies, the tailbone pain was gone almost immediately after giving birth. Why, oh why, is this one different. Why am I still in pain?!?!


Before you pull out your condescending "you should go to the chiropractor" thoughts, I have. Four times now, since giving birth, and my daughter is 8 weeks old. Not once have I had any respite, not once has it felt better, even for a day. No, I have not hurt it during roller derby either, and I haven't fallen and landed on my bum, so I know it's not broken or bruised. So there!


I am at my wits end about it. Like I've said before, I am a ninny. I cannot handle pain that lasts long enough for me to analyze and think about. If it's quick and over fast, I don't have to really deal with it, just mention how much it sucked. But this?! This has gone on FAR too long.


Then, yesterday, I drove an hour to go to roller derby practice (I haven't been in two weeks for gas money reasons) all for pretty much nothing. Well except for my tailbone to hurt from the drive. A contractor for the rink screwed up and painted hockey lines on the rink floor on the wrong day. Wet paint = moaning and groaning about all my wasted gas money.


Today, I went to work out in my circuit training class at the YMCA, like I have been for two weeks now. I was struck with some bad self-thoughts while looking at myself in the mirror while kicking, bouncing, and all that jazz. When did I get so jiggly? Ugh! Yes I am there to tone and lose weight, but I look so awkward doing it right now and my side view of myself is so undesirable, that I felt very discouraged. Plus, I know that since I am breastfeeding, I cannot do things that would help me lose weight faster, because it would be bad for my Abigail. So I'm also discouraged that this is going to be a long journey down this weight loss path, and I'm going to be seeing a lot of that jiggle in the mirror at class for a while.


So today, I feel downtrodden and I want to cry, a lot. I want very much to find a solution to my tailbone ailment, to my gas money problem (so I don't feel awful for spending it to drive to roller derby practice again Wednesday), and for this weight to melt off me faster, please.

Anticipation!

I can not express enough how excited and terrified I am for tomorrow! "What's tomorrow? It's Sunday, people don't do stuff on Sunday,"  might be the train of thought running through your mind. If that's the case, then you probably don't converse with me often, or occasionally read my status updates on that addictive social networking site.

Tomorrow is D-Day. Derby Day. Roller Derby Bout Time! I LOVE roller derby and LOVE bouts!! What's a bout? Eh, some not-so-in-the-know people would call it a game. It's not a game though, it's a bout, and you will get a skate to the face if you call it just a game....

2010 Season

I digress. I have not competed in a bout since last August. That was the last game of our season for 2010, and then during the off season I managed to convince myself it would be a good thing to add another child to our family, and voila, I got pregnant, just like that. Which consequently put me on medical leave of absence. No one wants to hit a pregnant girl. (Well unless said pregnant girl is into lots of drama and man stealing....then I'm sure someone would want to hit her. Thankfully I'm not like said girl.) Plus, even though my OBGYN loves me lots and lots (because I bribe her with Sonic drinks), she mandated I wasn't allowed to do any hitting drills. Oh poo. That takes the fun out it, not to mention it makes it no longer worth the hour drive to practice.

So I avoided derby for a while, cuz nothing sucks more than hanging around something you love when you can't participate. I kinda felt like someone in AA avoiding the bars when all my friends are there. Not fun.

Then I had Abigail in June, and two weeks later got the go ahead from my OB that I could return. Huzzah! Tomorrow I get to skate in the bout! This is where I'm so nervous, and my tummy is filled with butterflies! I'm not ask skinny as I was at the end of last season, and my endurance level is down too. So now, I have some big shoes to fill. Everyone remembers my abilities from last season, and is expecting very similar results, and....I'm terrified I will let them down.

Oh well. Derby isn't about winning. It's about loving it while you get exercise, camaraderie, and the chance to get your anger out without anyone taking it personally. So here's to tomorrow! I'm so dang excited I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep tonight!

Alex and the Toilet Seat

Alex came to me the other day looking like this......

Sorry it's fuzzy....dang low quality phone cameras!

....asking me to get it off his head! I pulled and squished his ears through, and tugged. No such luck. So I took a picture, (for future blackmail and embarrassing-his-date use) and then used scissors to cut it off.

When I asked him what in the heck was he thinking, he simply said, "Well it came off everyone else's head!"

And I'm thinking, "Great, now ALL of my kids have pee germs on their heads..."

Sneaky Make-up Artist

Autumn is sneaky. And quiet. And mischievous. Not a good combo for the Mommy who gets to clean up afterwards. Twice this week she has gotten into my mascara. The first time I had left my purse in her reach (ie, counter) and got to clean off the black marks from her tummy. I caught her before it had become a HUGE mess, although she had dumped all the contents of my purse out. So I thought I would thwart any further mascara mishaps and move my mascara to a higher location.

Today I caught her sitting in the bathroom sink, with half of the medicine cabinet emptied, mascara all over her face, tummy, legs, arms, the sink, mirror, and a few of the things she had pulled out.

She got to go to time out, and gave me nasty looks while I took pictures. I took a minute to breathe before I sold her on eBay.

As American As Baseball

Frequently my brain doesn't work like I want it to. Many times, I find fun things to do with the kids or the family, sometimes I even remember to write it on the calender. Then the said event comes and either it's too late to go or participate, or I've plain missed it.

This year, I finally remembered before it was too late to jump in on the fun activity. I got Alex signed up for the Osborn Wildcats Coach-Pitch Team. (Coach pitch means the coach is the pitcher for those that don't hit off a t-stand). I figured it would be a lot of fun for Alex and his high energy level, I mean what better way to get out some energy than to run around some bases? I also thought it would be good for Alex to make some friends before he started kindergarten in the fall.

So May came, I bought him baseball pants, was able to find him a glove that fit him (at a garage sale for 25 cents-I was happy!) and practices began. Alex was really excited about playing baseball....until he had to stand in the outfield....which turned into playing in the dirt with his glove. I must say, on one hand, it is somewhat entertaining to watch a bunch of young, energetic boys, stand in the outfield waiting for their turn to catch or throw a ball. Many sit down, play in the dirt, or watch the birds and clouds overhead, etc. On the other hand, I wanna wring his neck for not paying attention! As Tony and I watched practice, I realized my son knew NOTHING about baseball! Of course, why would he?! We don't watch TV, so he'd never seen a game, and it didn't cross my mind to ever tell him about baseball, after all, I'm not a sports nut, and the only sport Tony is nutty about is racing.

Coach Ferren did a good job of getting the major points across to my little hyper boy. Alex about ran out of excitement for baseball until he got to play his first game. He didn't do very well, but because of the encouragement from his coach, he got excited again. So Tony borrowed a glove from my brother, we bought Alex a bat and ball, and my crafty husband made Alex a T-ball stand, and they practiced in the backyard. That made baseball even more awesome, because it meant one-on-one Daddy time for Alex.

The next few games were not exactly fun for me, as it was hot and I was waaaaay pregnant, and it hurt to sit or stand for very long. A couple games, I stayed home, and some games got cancelled due to weather, but then came the tournament. Alex was pretty blah about it, until we explained that they were special games, and if his team did well they could get a trophy. Suddenly baseball was even better!

So we drove to Clarksdale with new Abigail in tow, and watched Alex play. He was able to hit the ball every time, and make it to first, and with the other hitters behind him, make it to home. We won. It was a fun, suspenseful game to watch, which is not the norm when watching little boys play baseball. So we were on to the next game, set to play the next day....except it got rained out.

A week later, they rescheduled the games. The first rescheduled game, it was sooo hot, that I didn't want to take Abigail or Autumn out in it. So Tony took Alex and Alex's personal cheerleader Anthony to the game. (Anthony gets pretty excited for Alex and shouts encouraging things a lot at him. It's almost as entertaining watching him jump up and down on his little short legs, fists pumping, as he shouts in his cute little Anthony voice.) They won that game!

The next game it was still hot, and a late game, so Tony just took Alex on the motorcycle. This of course is probably more cool to Alex then playing in the game, and he likes the fact that he can fit Mommy's helmet! While Alex was on base, he had to go to the bathroom and couldn't hold it, so they had to call a time-out! (I find this humorous, I mean, can you imagine watching the Royals and them calling a time-out to go pee?!) The umpire was not pleased. Again, they won. Tony said they were all really good games to watch, and he enjoyed watching Alex do so well, since again, he hit every ball and was able to get all the way home. Alex is hitting from a T-stand, but still, you gotta give a 5 yr old a little credit here.

Finally the Saturday was going to be the last day. If they won their first game, then the won the tournament, but if they lost, they played the same team again, right away, and either would end up with 1st or 2nd place, depending if they won or lost that game as well.

It was hot, but I wanted to watch Alex play what could be his last game of the year. It was really sunny, but thankfully there was a decent breeze and some clouds to help out. I was really hoping that they won so we wouldn't be stuck in the sun for 4 hours. Alex hit the ball when he was at bat, all but the last time (I think it's because he wasn't using his bat). During one inning, when Alex was in the outfield, he was watching a big bird (heron, I think) fly over head and a ball rolled behind him. He saw it after it went passed him and tried to get it, but by that time several other teammates were running for it, and he got stuck at the bottom of a dogpile. He cried. It was a good game though, and they ended up winning by 2 points, thank goodness!

Then the medals were given out (one for 1st in the tournament, and one for 3rd in the league since they missed two games), t-shirts that stated they were the champs, and pictures taken with the team trophy. Alex was ready to get out of there, but I was able to get him to pose with the trophy and his bat.

So there you have it. I remembered and was able to get my child involved in something fun, that ended up being fun for all of us. Not to mention Alex now has baseball medals hanging on his wall.... I think I'm more happy about those than he is. :)

Rumors

There have been some rumors flying around like a mad, and I must say, that since they are all about me, I must be responsible and do my duty to dispell the crazy talk.

I am not Super Woman. 

Sorry folks, I hate to break it to you, but I'm not. I am also not a "bad mamma jamma", "hard core", someone to be in awe of or scared of, and a few other complimentary descriptions using expletives.

To be frank, I'm just crazy.

Plain and simple. I'm crazy about roller derby, and the pesky business of laying in bed all day and healing after having a baby, had gone on long enough! Yes, I know that I'm still technically healing, but since I'm not bleeding anymore, and activity isn't causing me to start bleeding again, (sorry if that's TMI) I just can't keep off my skates. Can you  blame me?

My husband says my head is getting a little inflated, so I figured I'd tell all my ardent admirers to halt with the flattery, so that my head will get back to it's original size. After all, flattery gets you no where (or so they say) and I certainly don't want my head to be ill-proportioned to my body, cuz then I'd just look silly.

Seriously though, I'm only returning to my derby love so soon, because I know my body is healed enough, and that I need derby to get back in shape. If I was not lucky enough to have a healthy, quick healing body, I would be just a normal as the rest of you mere mortals.

So carry on, feel free to compliment me on other aspects of my awesomesauce, just keep the Super Woman comments to a minimum. After all, a girl needs to be somewhat sensible.

Crazy Day O' Birth

Do you remember me whining about all those contractions keeping me awake at night, and then turning out to be nothing? Well, Tuesday morning my body decided to say, "Hey! You've been punked!"

If you know me very well, then you know I am a big supporter for a woman's choice to have her baby how she wants, as long as it doesn't threaten her or her baby's life. So having a baby at home is just as ok as having a baby in the hospital, same with having a baby using pain drugs vs no drugs. If you know me at all, you also know I'm not brave enough to have a baby without being in a hospital.

I will admit, that this time around, I had a definite opinion on how I wanted to do it this time. I refused to have a baby while on my back and my legs in stirrups. I had done it that way the last three times, and hated it. My babies always chose to be sunny-side-up (facing my belly button instead of my spine), which meant slow dilation, because their heads weren't positioned to push on my cervix the best way. Aka, loooooong labors. Even longer when you take gravity out of the equation. I was in labor with Alex for 36 hours, Anthony 14, and Autumn 4, simply because they induced me with her. All of them I had an epidural, because with sunny-side-up babies, it means horrible, awful back labor and I, frankly, am a wimp. Having an epidural means I am stuck with having a baby on my back with my legs in stirrups. So this time, I was going to attempt no epidural. I didn't want them telling me I couldn't use gravity to help me out. So I enlisted the help of a dear friend who is a doula. She was to be my bulldog while I was busy trying not to give in to having an epidural. She would be the one to help me tell the nurses I would NOT be putting my legs in those stirrups and they could shove those stirrups....in the closet!

Ok, long explanation out of the way. That is so you know, I did not intend in ANY way to have a baby on my living room carpet. Yes, that's exactly what happened, and no I do not intend to repeat that again.

I woke up throughout the night, as I had done for over a week now with contractions here and there that were strong enough to disturb my precious sleep, but weak enough I knew it wasn't "time". Around 2:30 am they were frequent enough that I gave up trying to snooze in between, and went to wait it out in the recliner. Around 3:45 they were about 3-5 min apart, so drank some water and went for a walk around my block. I pulled out my phone and played on facebook while I walked. About half way around the block I realized these contractions were hurting enough that I was pausing when I had one. So I walked back home, and at about 4:10 am, called my doula to let her know what was going on, that she and her daughter (who was going to baby sit my sleeping kids while I was at the hospital) might want to head my way.  At 4:20 my contractions were strong enough I felt this wasn't my body psyching me out, so I woke Tony. My contractions at this point spread back out to 3-4 min apart and I was thinking, "Great, watch them stop now!" Tony put the car seat for the baby in the mini van while I packed a bag for the hospital in between contractions. I was in no hurry, knowing I still had hours to go. At this point I got really whiny. I told Tony, I was seriously reconsidering the epidural thing, cuz I'm a wimp and couldn't handle it if the pain was going to get worse than this, and I just knew it would with hours left for it to escalate. I just hoped that I was dilating enough that the hospital didn't send me back home (like they had done on one of my previous labors). Then I started to whine that maybe I'd waited to long and wouldn't get the chance to get pain killers. I was soooo worried at that point that I was not going to have a choice in the pain killer department and was stuck doing this pain killer free. I called the OB ward to let them know we were on our way and would be there in about 45 min. Two contractions later my water broke at 5am. Yup, I'd waited too long, but at this point it wasn't just for the pain killers. My water had never broke on it's own before, and there I was kneeling at the couch in the living room. I told Tony I felt like I really had to push, and his response was, "No, don't do that!" He heard the splash from the kitchen. Remember when I was whining about having an extra month of fluid for Abigail to swim in? Well, let me tell you, that's a LOT of liquid to be splashing on my carpet. I then moved to the door to put on my flip flops to get in the minivan, cuz I knew we needed to go, with or without the duola. I just hoped the sleeping kiddos would be okNOW! I told Tony we weren't gonna make it, and he asked, "What do you mean we aren't gonna make it?" Right then my doula walked in the front door as Abigail was crowning. Luckily she is awesome and is also a midwife in training and brought her birthing kit. Three more contractions and Abigail had arrived at 5:13am. She must have been in one heck of a hurry.

Doula Dee, clamped the cord, had Tony cut it and we wrapped Abigail up and headed to the hospital. They kinda freaked when Tony called them halfway there and let them know we were coming with a brand new baby in tow. Security met us at the door, wheeled me in, whisked Abigail off to the nursery, and then set me up to sew me up. Abigail and her shoulder shanks got me pretty good.

Everything turned out well. Looking back, it was really crazy, and I'm glad I was in a labor induced fog, or I might have freaked out a little bit about all the amniotic fluid on my carpet and having a baby in my living room with no drugs. I'm glad it happened the way it did, actually. I was able to have her in a position that felt way more natural to me, and without drugs, not that I had a choice though. I am really glad it only took 2 hours and 45 min (I was surprisingly not wore out since it was so short), otherwise I would have had time to succumb to the wimpier majority of my personality and would have ended up having a baby exactly how I didn't want to, on my back, with my legs in stirrups.

What Insanity Must Feel Like...

I have come to a firm conclusion that insanity must feel just like being pregnant. Not just any part of being pregnant, because honestly most of pregnancy can make you question why on Earth anyone would want to do this, let alone more than once, but specifically the last two weeks. In my case, this pregnancy's last two weeks has been far more unbearable than my other three pregnancy endings. Mostly because I have LOTS of extra amniotic fluid this time.

Let me give you an idea. When I was 36 weeks along (that's 4 weeks from due date), I had enough fluid that my uterus was as big as it should be at 40 weeks. So a whole MONTH'S worth of extra fluid. Now compound that with already not being able to tie my own shoes, sweep the floor without my hips aching, not being able to sit for more than 5 min without my tailbone making me want to scream, and not being able to bend over without sending shoots of stomach acid up my throat, and I think you get the idea. Sick of my whining? Well get over it. I'm pregnant and whiny and if you don't like it, go read someone else's blog.

To make things worse, my body is gearing up for labor. It's not being very nice about it either. Why? Because it's interrupting my sleep, every night, for the last four nights. Just three nights ago I was woken up by contractions strong enough not to let me sleep, for four hours, and they were about 5 min apart the whole time. It's worse than hitting snooze for 4 hours. I also don't do well on lack of sleep. I get snarky. Especially when my body is already drained making a baby AND a bunch of extra fluid. Sheesh.

So I'm tired, snarky, uncomfortable, hot, feeling a little crazy, and just plain ready to get this over with......anyone got a crochet hook I can borrow?

Toothless

Alex lost two more teeth. So now he looks like this......

Kinda cute right?

Well he was kinda scared about it. He had already lost his bottom teeth, (as you can see they are growing in nicely now) and his top two teeth were loose then. For some unknown reason, it's taken months for the top two to fall out. Well, they had help. Daddy and dental floss.

You see, he got kneed in the teeth on the trampoline, they were no more ready to come out then, than before. He got hit in those teeth with a baseball (he missed catching it) and again, still the same. I thought for sure one of those events would have made one fall out. They've been really loose for at least a month now, but Alex has been timid about tugging on them or pulling them out.

So finally we bribed him. I believe it was with candy. We also played it that Daddy was nicer at pulling teeth than Mommy. So Alex agreed to letting Tony do it. We tied floss to one and gently yanked. Came right out, bled a little too, but Alex was worried enough from the little pain he felt, that he didn't want to let Daddy do the other one right away. Although he did promise to let him pull the other one the next night.


Night two. The second one hardly bled, and Alex said ouch before Tony even tugged, but it came out. That night we put both teeth in an envelope and put it under his pillow for the tooth fairy, who rewarded him nicely.

So out of all of this, I finally got some peace of mind, (cuz those teeth hanging all funny in his mouth and turning yellow, really bothered me), Daddy got to do the yanking, which I think he was glad to take part in, and Alex got candy, a $2 bill ($1 for each tooth) and a lisp.

Oh Woe is Me....

I must first write a disclaimer. I love being at home with my children, and am truly blessed in so many ways.

 Today though.......

 I didn't sleep well at all last night, and lack of sleep makes me a cranky person. So today, with the weather so gloomy outside, and my lack of sleep, I'm not feeling very grateful. So I'm venting.

My hips hurt, my butt hurts. This means I can't lay down very long, I can't sit very long, or even walk around too much. Absolutely not cool.

Everything at this point is giving me heartburn, so even though I'm hungry, I don't want to eat. When I do, I regret it, either instantly, or within the hour.

I keep having lots and lots of Braxton Hicks contractions, and for some reason am really frightened of something happening that causes me to loose Abigail. Normal paranoia I know, but still I'm on edge when I can't remember the last time I felt her move.

It's rained enough, and then stopped raining enough that the kids wanted to play outside. So I let them. Then they tracked mud and sand in the house.

Guess I should be grateful that I have a house, since a lot of people just hours from me lost everything they had in a tornado. I am, but I still don't want to clean up the mess, cuz it makes my hips and belly hurt more.I should also be grateful that I haven't lost any loved ones from this nasty weather either. I am, just wish they would leave the sand outside.

Oh well, mess, here I come. Then maybe it's my nap time.

Sweet-Little-Stinker-Butt-Princess-Crazy-Hair

 Her name is Autumn Dawn Manley, but she has lots of other nicknames. Stinker-butt. Autumn-potimus. Princess Crazy Hair. Baby Girl. Sweet Cheeks. Little One. Sweetheart. Princess (I swore I'd never call my daughter that, but yet it comes out of my mouth, a lot). You get the picture, I'm sure. She is adored by her brothers and, sometimes that is the only thing that saves her little chubby butt cheeks when she makes them mad. Sometimes I wonder if I've been replaced by her, because Tony is enamored with her. It took him, probably, til she was a year old before he could bring himself to raising his voice to her, let alone put her in time out or spank her. She is his baby. She is also, almost two....

...and in a hurry to grow up.


I don't blame her, she wants to be just like her big brothers. I'm (still) potty training Anthony and she wants in on the toilet sitting action too. She frequently insists on picking out the clothes she wants to wear, and sometimes even tries on 3 different pairs of shoes before she decides which ones will be allowed on her feet. Oh yes, she's very opinionated too. A good dose of stubbornness is tossed in as well, (how could it not when she is the daughter of Tony and Liz?). She wants to buckle her own car seat, which is currently not in her dexterity range yet, so I let her try and then she screams when I do it instead (because she has been trying for 3 min and still hasn't got it). She no longer will eat if someone else is feeding her. She absolutely must be the one doing the feeding. This is frustrating to me, mostly because she gets frustrated and then won't eat anymore. Cleaning up the mess isn't fun either. Ugh.

 She doesn't like messes either. If she thinks there is a mess, I have to stop what I'm doing and give her the means to clean up said mess, or she will empty the diaper wipes container trying to do it herself, and then stuff them all back in, used or unused. She will come to me with a small bit of mud on her finger saying, "mess...mess" which is my cue to clean it off for her. She doesn't like being dirty either, although it frequent;y takes her a while to notice if she's dirty from playing outside. She will also insist on taking a bath if she thinks mess is sufficient enough that wipes won't cut it. Well, she also insists on a bath if someone else is getting one, or taking a shower. Many times I've showered with her crying "bath.....bath....baaaaaath" outside the bathroom door. She gets upset when I don't let her help load or unload the dishwasher, or get out the packet of soap and put it in the little soap door. Same goes for the washer and dryer. She also won't let me vacuum without her assistance. She squeals at me, like, "How dare you clean up a mess without me?!" At least she's not afraid of the vacuum anymore.

She also thinks she can take on her brothers. She will pull Alex down to wrestle him. She will take things from Anthony. She bites Anthony frequently too, only him for some reason (I think it's because she is almost as tall as him and he should kowtow to her). She has even asserted some dominance over the full grown golden retriever, Cooper. He absolutely tolerates her smacking him on the head while she shouts "Don't" to him for licking her face. I think he only tolerates it because then she hugs and kisses his head, probably to kiss him better for hitting him.

 She will lower her head, furrow her brows and point her finger at me and tell me to "Stop" (although it comes out more like "top") or "Don't" when I get on to her. She gets to go to time out frequently for being sassy or back-talking when she does that. Where does she get this from?! Yes I know, modeled behavior I'm sure, but it's definitely her own brand of attitude.Way too much 'tude for two!

She is also such a sweetheart that she gets away with all of the stinker-butt-ness. She started giving hugs really early. Like, before she could walk. Not just wrap-her-arms-around-you-and-call-it-good-hugs, but wrap them around your neck with conviction and squeeeeeze hugs. Best little girl hugs E-V-E-R! She loves to snuggle with me first thing in the morning for a while, before she decides to wallow all over me. She loves to help, likes throwing things in the trash for me, and giving me my phone (well unless she wants to play with it at the moment). She goes to bed without a fuss (almost every time). She is infatuated with all things baby. This is a good thing, since one will be joining our family in the next month. She will rock stuffed animals or her baby doll and whisper sh-sh-shhhh to it. She loves music and dancing to it.

Even though I'm a grown up and she's just a little toddler, I know that it isn't her making me let her do anything, that it is I, who lets it slide. Really, most of the behavior I let occur, is because I don't mind. I don't mind her cleaning up messes, being helpful, trying to potty train, feed or dress herself. I just wish she wouldn't scream and squeal so much about it, especially the times when it's not convenient so I don't let her.

really hope don't rear their ugly head when princess #2 is born), I just can't help but adore her. I mean, what mother couldn't love the almost two-year old who drags a blanket and pillow to the coffee table, makes her self a little bed, and falls asleep while you type a blog post about her, without a fuss or a whimper?! I think I'll keep her.

Potty Training A Stubborn 3-yr Old

 Warning; lots and lots of bathroom talk to follow.

Day 10...... That's how many days into this ordeal I am. I decided that, now that I am home full time, I have the time to finally potty train Anthony. See, I'd planned on doing it several times before now, but would start, and wouldn't end up having the time to commit to be able to finish the job. I'd even taken him to buy his own "big boy" underwear. That was not enough of a motivation for him I guess.

See, my dear sweet little Anthony is the shy, silent type, in public anyway. He'll hide behind me or bury his face into my leg if someone he doesn't really know tries to communicate with him. He frequently hollers "Mom!" at me just to tell me "I love you mommy," in his little mumble voice. Frequently he mumbles and talks really quite. He is also very stubborn. No, I will not blame it completely on his father's genes. Oh yes, Tony is quite stubborn, but I think I equal him with my own stubbornness. So basically one of our children was doomed to get a good helping of it in their personalities. Honestly, more than one child got it, but Anthony is blatantly so. An example. "Anthony, it's lunch time and we don't have books at the table for lunch, please give it to me." He walks past me and puts it in the window seat. Granted he solved the issue, but that wasn't what I'd asked. This is quite common with this particular child. More often than not, he will do what he wants, unless threatened with time-out or spanking, or revoking of some privilege or prize. Many times in those instances, he cries and I still have to make him comply. But he is so DANG cute, and he's my little bear. (He hates it when I call him that and corrects me every time - "I'm not little bear, I'm An-tony!!!") It's probably the only reason he hasn't been sold. I'd make good money off those green-eyes-and-thick-blond-hair looks of his, you know.

Anyway, now that you have an idea of the personality I'm up against, let me vent entertain you.

I started last Monday. Tony had asked me what I had planned on doing that week, since I don't work at a paying job anymore. I told him, "I'm not buying any more diapers for Anthony, I'm potty training him this week." Ok, now we are on week two, but anyway. I took Anthony to the store to pick out his choice of candy for rewards. He was excited. I let him put on big boy underwear. He was excited. I told him to sit on the toilet and try and go potty. Nope, not so excited now. I felt like I was fighting him over it every time I tried to get him to sit on the toilet. I don't even want to count how many messes I cleaned up and underwear put in the laundry the first day either! When I'd realize he'd peed in his underwear, I wouldn't get angry, just ask him oh so nicely where he had peed so I could clean it up. I would even explain I wasn't mad, just needed to know so I could clean up the mess. He still wouldn't tell me. One time he told me the couch. Nope, nothing on the couch. I figured it out about five min later when I stepped in a puddle on the carpet. In my socks. LOVE that feeling.

Tuesday, same thing. Wednesday was worse, because he needed to poop. Anthony has pooping issues. We still haven't figured out if it's a mental or physical issue. He's on Myralax daily, (at least the days I remember, which is most 98% of the time). He still gets blocked up now and then. I don't know if it's because he holds it in and doesn't want to poop, or just has troubles pooping. Well it gets to the point he dances around on his tip toes and whines. Sometimes this can go on for a couple days, but all we can do is wait. Enemas make it worse. Sometimes his little body tries sooo hard to poop, that the more liquid stuff stuck behind the blockage, gets squeezed out. Well, Wednesday this was the exact case. I found myself cleaning up more poop smears than the last time we had a puppy in our house. So I threw in the towel. I put him in a diaper and told him if he was gonna be a baby, not go potty in the toilet, and have to wear diapers, then he was taking a nap like a baby. Not my finest mommy moment. He was not happy. (Me neither buddy). Alex, of course chimed in, that Anthony wasn't making mommy happy was he, and it makes mommy really happy when we go potty in the toilet. Exactly, little man.

That night, I gave all the kids a bath, because I'd let them play outside in the puddles while I worked in my flower beds. (I totally over did it and my pregnant belly told me all about it the rest of the evening). After bathing, Alex had to pee, so he stood at the porcelain throne and peed, just like he has been for years. Well Anthony wanted to be like his big brother and join in, so he stood on his tip toes and peed right next to Alex. All by himself, no coaxing, nothing. I saw the whole thing. He was so excited! So was I! He came running to me, telling me all about it and asking if he had made me happy. Of course, I followed my cue and gushed all about how happy he had made me. He asked if he could put underwear on again, and I sadly told him that no, it was bed time and he had to wear a diaper to bed. As I gave him a kiss and hug good night, he pleaded with me, "Mommy, can I  please wear underwear tomorrow? I don't wanna wear a diaper." Absolutely!


Together, somehow, we had hit a major milestone. He is now super-duper excited to make me happy and go potty in the toilet. I think he also enjoys having power over Alex when it comes to the treats. Every time he gets a treat, he can let Alex and Autumn have one to, if he wants. So he makes Alex as him, e-v-e-r-y-t-i-m-e. (Alex even made the mistake of asking me, and Anthony said "No Alex, you have to ask me!") We've had a few accidents, but only maybe 3 or 4 pee ones since Thursday, and it's Wednesday again. He even asked if he could wear underwear to church when I told him we needed to put a diaper on him. He promised no peeing in his underwear at church. He kept his promise, through three hours of church too! He still hasn't pooped in the toilet. Heck, halfway through typing this I had to go clean him up from pooping in his underwear. Even though this is taking waaaay longer than anticipated, and I still get frustrated, I think we will both come out of this alive, and my little stubborn, tender hearted, three year old, potty trained.


P.S. Autumn seems to want in on the action too, yesterday she lifted the front of her dress and walked up to the toilet while Alex was peeing. It was too funny. Maybe she'll potty train waaaay early. Wouldn't that be awesome!

Today is Another Day Marked by Freedom

So today is the official day that our vehicle loans get paid off! I received my last paychecks from both jobs this week. So I was able to sit down Wednesday, and write a check for the remainder - $1212.75, and mail it to Exchange National Bank and Trust Co. This paid off the loan on the truck and the minivan. Paying this off meant that $690 a month is no longer going out the door to pay another creditor (although they've been pretty cool creditors, and I recommend them highly). It also meant that between not paying daycare ($200 a week average) and not having the vehicle payment anymore, has allowed me to be a mom full time! :) I know, I know, this news isn't new to anyone, I've already told you about paying off the loan through all of the hard efforts me and my husband have put into our finances.

BUT, today it's official! Just had to share.

Oh yeah, and I'm potty training Anthony, and today is the first day (since Monday) that he has been excited and willing! So today may be another day of freedom from changing diapers on the stubborn three year old!

This is your 4th?!?!?!

This is a question I've been hearing a lot lately. Most people are appalled or incredulous that I am pregnant with my fourth child. Once I confirm, that yes, this is the fourth child that my husband and I are going to have, I get another question. Normally that question is, "You know what causes that, don't you?" My normal response is, "Why yes I do, and I enjoy it thank you!" I mean, come on! Anyone who has ever hit puberty knows what causes pregnancy, do I look like that stupid? Sometimes it's "Was this one an accident/surprise?" My reply, "Nope, we like to plan for these kind of things, wouldn't you?"

What really surprises me about these kinds of conversations, is that people automatically assume I have multiple "baby daddies", that I'm crazy, or stupid for having more children than two, three is pushing it, but four?! Someone even asked me if I am a Duggar Family follower. Does having four children automatically put me in the same boat as someone who has 19 children? It's almost like I've been lumped with cultists. When did our society get to this point?

I totally get that not everyone wants to have as many children as I have, but when did four become such an astronomically large number of children to have in a single marriage family? Most of the time it's not even because people are thinking of the financial aspects of having more than two children, (raising children isn't cheap, as we all know). They just react like I must be some birth-control-refusing,-religious-fanatic,-submissive-wife-ruled-by-my-husband-to-be-stuck-in-the-kitchen-pregnant-and-barefoot-for-as-long-as-I-live, crazy person. Yeah. If given the chance I talk next about how I can't wait to get off maternity leave so I can get back to roller derby. That's when I get some really funny looks. Ok, but back to why people even treat me this way in the first place. I've even noticed that my husband doesn't get half the comments I do, and most of them refer to having a little more self control. Really?!

I come from a large family. 10 children, all with the same parents. Half of us, so far, have or are expecting a 4th child or more. My oldest sibling is done, (baring a medical miracle or adoption) at 7 children. Another sister just had her 7th child and doesn't plan on being done anytime soon. You get the picture. In my family, children are welcomed joyfully, blessings that outweigh the monetary costs. Now I'm a little more on the moderate side of things amongst my siblings. I'm probably done with baby #4, although I kinda always wanted 5, I could be fine with 4. Especially since when this baby is born, I'll have two boys, then two girls. It absolutely satisfies the OCD part of me! I don't have a strong feeling either way, being done or not done. My husband is completely on the "done" side of the fence, and even though I am a very strong-willed, opinionated woman, I do love him so, which means his opinion is important too. (If you read that right, that means that, no, I am not ruled by my husband, but we are in a p-a-r-t-n-e-r-s-h-i-p. I'm not sure that most married couples know what that means anymore.)

Ok, long story short. We are not crazy. We do believe in birth control. I did not trick my husband. My husband did not get me pregnant to control, rule me, or keep me submissive. This baby was not an accident, although the timing was a little sooner than we normally plan. We are excited to meet her, and I am excited to finally not have to feel like the worst mother in the world when I abandon her to return to work, because this time I'm a stay-at-home-mom. No that doesn't make me a lazy leech on society. We are not on welfare or any state assistance. We are not poor and have nothing better to do. We do believe in God, and I feel that adding or not adding more children to your family is something that should be done prayerfully, with His guidance. That doesn't make me a fanatic.

So if society really thinks that four children is too many, I'm sorry for those that subscribe to that thinking, for you will miss out on four times the hugs, kisses, and I love you's, and watching your children accomplish something new (even if it is beating Daddy at racing on the PS3). Yes that means four times the messes too, but four times the helping hands to clean it up. We have time for our children, they are not neglected, but they get one-on-one personal attention, (a sister of mine and her husband do "kid dates" which I think is an AWESOME idea). We can afford our four children and still be able to go out on dates, or take our children to McDonald's if we wanted to, so that can't be the reason why four is too many.

So I guess, for society, the real reason for thinking four is too many, is because most didn't get to babysit as a kid and learn how to take care of children, so they are scared of having even one. Right? Ok, that's me assuming things. Sorry. Seriously though, who decided that wanting four children makes me insane or that the mainstream ideal is two children at most?

Absence

Ok, so I know it's been a long time since I've posted. A really, really, really long time. Yeah like 8 months. You still love me right? First let me explain. This has been the summary off my life events in order for the last 6 months.

1-Tony came home from being on the road (we paid off $27k in debt while we was on the road!!)

2-I promptly became pregnant (I'm sure you don't even need to ask if it has anything with event #1).

3-I went back to work because without the overtime income from Tony being on the road, we still needed my income as well.

4-My boss informed me he was going to be closing down my place of employment, probably within a few weeks, and sooner if I got a job elsewhere.

5-I freaked.

6-I tried seeking employment in places that would pay me what I was used to making. No one wanted me. I went back to work at Sonic.

7-I continued to work 2 jobs. Job #1 was going to be available a little longer and our family needed the larger income, but I didn't want to quit Job #2 for fear of Job#1 ending shortly and not being welcomed back at Job #2. (Although now that I think back on it, Robert will ALWAYS take me back, hehehe).

8-I worked 60-70 hours a week for the next 3 months while pregnant. (Most the time I got 5 hours sleep, to get up and work for the next 17 hours. Sometimes 10 days in a row before getting a day off, or even a half day off.)

9-Tax return came back, and it was GINORMOUS!! Yes they definitely WAY overtax overtime. We were able to put $15k toward our auto loan.

10-I continued the "work myself to death" for another month to pay off the remaining balance on the loan.

11-I quit both my jobs to be a stay-at-home-mom!!!

So while there were several times I thought I was gonna die, or that I had to call someone on the way home from one of my jobs to keep from falling asleep while driving, or I thought I was gonna kill someone else because I was too tired to have any patience, or that my children didn't know who I was anymore, well, it paid off.

After almost 6 years of wanting to be home with my children, Tony and I have finally worked our little tooshies off enough to make that dream a reality.

After all this, Tony likes to tell me that I just proved that I'm stronger than I give my self credit for. I know that I cannot take all the credit. I am not a nice person without a decent amount of sleep, especially when I'm pregnant and most of my energy is being used to create a baby. I also had some horrible morning sickness during most of this time working two jobs. I was pretty much forced to be a vegetarian, and I hated it. I was able to function (though barely sometimes), and I was a reasonably pleasant person (albeit rather whiny) and managed not to bite off any heads or kill anyone. I was blessed. God blessed me with the strength to make it through this so that I could accomplish my goal to be home with my children and raise them the way He would want me to. I have no doubt that I had divine help, cuz yeah, I'm a wimp. No joke there.

The last 4 months have been the hardest, toughest ever! I am thankful for my wonderful husband who listened when I cried, who cheered me on, who picked up the slack around the house, and for being so patient with me, who insisted that our children needed me home. I am so lucky to have such a wonderful man in my life. I am thankful for all the snuggles and hugs and kisses my children are lavishing me with because they missed me so. I am grateful for a loving Father who knew precisely what I needed, not an easy out, but to be strengthened in the exact way I needed, so that I could accomplish what I had to do, so that I could fully appreciate the blessing of being at home with my children.

I am so happy to be home.