Entranced

It just occurred to me that I haven't posted in over a week. I have been working on a couple of posts, but neither of them is finished yet.

The idea finally smacked me up side the head came to me that if I write my posts in email I don't have to worry about them going into Draft folder purgatory. And did you know that they made it so you can post from an email!? All these new fangled things, I swear. Yes, I are smart. S-M-R-T.

Anyway, my family is in town so I have been spending all my time with them since we are rarely in the same state anymore. My mom got to town a few days before the new arrival, and will be here until the New Year, but miracles do happen and my brother, his wife, and son were also in town!

I am not a big fan of my sister-in-law. The most recent reason because they almost didn't come into town. She wasn't going to take time off work, but wouldn't let my brother make the six hour drive alone with his son. My brother may not win a father of the year award, but he loves his son more then anything. And since he is a stay at home dad, I think he is capable of making the drive without her. In the end, they did come into town and that is what really matters. My kids got to spend time with their cousin, and I got to see my brother.

I tried to make sure I was giving my nephew the attention he deserved since I only get to see him once or twice a year, but it was hard. Fighting for my attention was this sweet little bit of nothin.

Brandon At One Week Old

I just want to nibble on his little hands.

Tell me you could resist!

He is the last baby of my family, so leaving that aside, and that he is my sister's child, and that I stood by her hospital bed for over three hours in three inch heels trying to bring him into the world, he is just sweetest bit of nothing I have seen since my children were born.

His mommy finally took him away from me since I wasn’t going to give him up. So I traded one sleepy boy for another. My Buckaroo fell asleep almost immediately following him climbing into my lap.

Sleeping Buckaroo

Looking at that picture, I can’t help but see glimpses of the boy and man he will become. Prior to being around my nephews, Buckaroo seemed little. Not little in the sense of height, because he is only and inch shorter then my daughter who is two years older, but little in the sense of young. Seeing him with his cousins, I was just struck by how much bigger he is both physically and emotionally.

I am a little sad to let go of the illusion of him being my baby/big boy and having to start seeing him as just a big boy. I don’t want another baby, or to keep him from growing up, it is just hard letting go of that time in our lives. I know I still have years before he will stop climbing in my lap to snuggle, years before I won’t be his comfort on the same level that his blanky is. And even after those years, I believe he will still run to greet me when I arrive home, and give me impromptu kisses and tell me he loves me; but he is grown up. He is turning into a big boy/little man.

I guess I didn’t pay as close attention to the loss of those years with my daughter because Buckaroo was born and suddenly my attention was split between the two. I had a more gradual realization with Angel Cakes. Watching her grow into herself and the person she will become has been easier because she always seemed older then her age. This is the Sassy Pants who at two told me that we needed to fix the lock on the cabinet because it was ‘dangerous’; it had ’chemicals’ in it. She said these words so effortlessly. When I look back at the pictures from when I brought Buckaroo home from the hospital, I can see what a baby she still was, but she just seemed so much older, more mature then her years.

I spent the time enjoying her and learning how to be a mom in each new phase of her life. With my son, I am more experienced and know that this is the end of those years. As much as I look forward to seeing the amazing children they will become when they enter school and later how they handle the challenges of every day life as an adult, I can’t help mourning for the passing of the baby years.

Day After

I hurt. From head to toe and everywhere in between. I feel better after the 3 hour nap my son and I had but am paying for it now. My daughter wasn't tired, so I told her she didn't have to nap as long as she had quiet time. Why did I do this? I felt like I was hungover even though I didn't anything to drink. Chalk it up to days without sleep, constant stress and running. So now I get to clean up the huge bottle
Of baby powder that she spread everywhere and played baker with.
I left my house at 6 AM Tue and didn't return until 11 PM Wed. I went to work and then straight to the hospital. They started the pitocen at 9 PM Tuesday night and I didn't leave her side until I was leaving to go home. My mom and her husband were useless.

They were upsetting and stressing her more then they were helping. I was ready to send them out of the room if they didn't stay quiet. Instead of encouraging her and telling her how good she was doing, they kept telling her that she would deliver any minute. They were telling her that for over two hours. Her pain meds had started to wear off at 8 centimeters and she wanted to push. I calmed her down and talked soothing to her and she wouldn't let go of my hand.

When it came time to push finally she was tired but came through like a champ. Her husband counted for her while I encouraged her and helped her push. It took about an hour and then her beautiful son was born.

I finally came home knowing that twenty people would arrive at my house at 2 PM. My husband did what he could, but he had the kids to deal with so there was lots left to do before I could start cooking.

My day started at 6 AM and everything was done and food was in the oven when the seven other kids decended on my house with their parents and grandparents. Just having nine kids makes for a loud house, but of the nine kids six of them were five and under.

I was kept running by making sure the food was cooking properly and everyone had everything they needed. I am sure I wasn't the best hostess, but it had been a long couple of days. I think I was entirely justified in getting a little upset a few times. I like fresh naked bread as much as anyone else, but not when you try to cut it on my counter with nothing under it! I mean fucking really!? And is it too much to ask that you occasionally pay attention to your kids? If they are shreeking at the top of their lungs and you don't say something, don't get upset when I or someone else does.

As much as I deserved, needed, and probably should have had a drink, I didn't. I was scared that without the coffee I started drinking Tuesday morning and hadn't stopped drinking since I would fall on my face in exhaustion. Everyone was shoved out the door to their respective homes by 8 PM and my house was asleep by 9.

Perversely, I am looking foward to going into work tomorrow so I can relax. I don't even mind that I will again be up at 6 AM on a Saturday to do it.