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 Sometimes I wonder if I've been replaced by her, because Tony is enamored with her.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.

Budding Barbers

So yesterday I was being a fun mommy. (Not that that's unusual, just I let my "you-can't-do-that-because-it'll-create-a-mess-that-I-have-to-clean-up" mommy take the back burner for the day. Remind me not to do that again.) I was cleaning up the house, and because the boys wanted to build a fort, I decided to help. So I brought the chairs from the dining room table into the living room, and with blankets I helped them build a fort. I remember doing that as a kid and how cool it was. So I felt like a cool mommy for doing it. Then while the boys played in the fort, I did dishes and laundry.

Next thing I hear hushing and "Don't let Mommy see". "Uh-oh." is my first thought, so I walk into the living room to stop whatever behavior is going on.

Too Late.

Hiding in the fort were two boys, scissors, and chunks of hair on the carpet. Ugh.

So I decided I would cry. I'm not really a cry-er, but I figured it would help them not want to cut their hair again, if they saw it made me cry, and well, it wasn't that hard to push the emotions to the surface.

So here are the pictures. I think you can tell which little boy was the barber.
They got their clothes too.

I was able to not kill them, here is the proof they survived a little longer anyway. I probably scarred them for life, because I kept telling them that now they had ugly hair. (Scare tactics, I'm not above using them.) So Alex didn't want to smile for the pictures because he said he didn't like his new ugly hair.

Well then, you shouldn't have played with Mommy's scissors.
Of course, now he likes how fuzzy his head feels. So maybe I didn't scar him for life, but hopefully I scared him enough not to do it again.

All I have to say is, I am ever so thankful that Autumn was napping in her crib. Her hair is just now starting to grow in, and surprisingly, she now has more hair than her brothers.