I Had a Birthday, Shout Hooray!

The day before my birthday, I took little jC to a dentist appointment.  The dental assistant said "You look 15.  I thought you were his sister."  She was only 16 years off.  It had been a while since I'd heard a comment like that, so I thought I'd grown out of it.  But it appears that I will forever be looked at as a teenager.  I won't complain about that!

My birthday started out with a birthday greeting and being crowned as the birthday princess.

Then my birthday card.

I couldn't figure out how he managed to find a card specifically for someone turning 31.  Then I realized how sneaky he was.


 I was also left 4 small gifts I was instructed to start opening at 10.  One every 2 hours.
A small key chain flash light...because I light up juC's life.
A pack of ponytail elastics...because he likes when I put my hair up.
A "magic towel"...because I stink and need to take a bath.
And a crystal growing kit...so I can grow my own bling.

The kids were their usual selves.  So it was just a day, except now it was a day as a 31 year old.  Little jC loves birthdays though, so there were happy birthday wishes sprinkled throughout my day.

When juC arrived home from work, he brought my two of my favorites.  Georgetown cupcakes AND a peanut butter cream pie from Wegman's.  (All of which were consumed by yesterday)

 Then it was time for dinner.  Very sadly, one of my favorite places to eat was closed for 2 weeks which meant juC couldn't go pick up some carry out for us.  So I thought it would be a good idea to have some birthday torture by taking the kids to a sit down restaurant for some hibachi.  The super good food totally outweighed the bad of Lula deciding she didn't want to sit by the time it was time for us to eat our dinner.  It was a perfectly delicious birthday dinner.

After dinner, back home we went for my last birthday gift.  I got a new digital camera, bringing my camera total to 4.  I am very happy to finally have a new small camera that actually takes good pictures, and that the battery doesn't pop out of.  

Yay for birthdays!  juC did good.  I tried to convince him that since my birthday was on a Friday, we should celebrate it the whole weekend, but that didn't go over too well.  Maybe next year.

Numbers, Numbers, Numbers

Little jC is a numbers man.  Some people say that all kids his age are interested in numbers, but homeboy is obsessed.  Numbers on calendars, a clock, addresses, ages, phone numbers, speed limits.  If there is a number involved, he wants to know about it.  And having numbers for street names in Utah instead of word names was the most amazing thing.  My favorite question of our trip out there was when we were on the interstate and he asked "What does "9,000 so" mean?"  (9000 South)

So yesterday when he was sitting at the table saying he was working, it wasn't too big of a shock to find out he was making his own calendar.

But there is a strong possibility that I had one of those proud mommy moments that you sometimes get.

He also likes words.  After he learned the alphabet he became obsessed with what sounds each letter made.  And he always wanted to know what letter words started with.  It was great but could be tricky to have a conversation when he kept stopping to say "What letter does table start with?"  But then again, it was fine, since most of our conversations consisted of questions like "What sound does 'n' make?"  I have to admit I'm glad he's well past that phase, and now it's fun to see him writing things.  When he was working yesterday he kept saying something about "jud dot com".  It wasn't until I was checking out his calendar that I found this.

Realizing that he thinks it's "duc com" makes me giggle.

My hope with his number and letter writing skills is that he will soon be able to work out a budget for us and help us stick to it.

Goal Setting.

It appears that at the young ages they are, my kids understand the importance of goals.  (Something that I still don't quite get the importance of at my age.)

They all have some goals they are trying to achieve, but it seems that they are all contradictory to the goals I have.

luC
luC's goal--To see how much food she can shove into her mouth at one time.
my goal--To keep luC from gagging and choking every time she eats.

luC's goal--To take off her diaper every single time she goes down for a nap or bedtime.
my goal--To not have to wash sheets every day.

luC's goal--To see how hard she can squeeze cC.
my goal--To keep cC in one piece.

luC's goal--To see if she can set the world record for loudest scream.
my goal--To keep my hearing until I'm in my 90s.

jC
jC's goal--To stay awake, all the time.
my goal--To have a well rested child.

jC's goal--To put up a fight about everything, even if it's something he actually wants to do.
my goal--To do fun things with my kids even if they aren't cooperating.

jC's goal--To make luC miserable.
my goal--To keep each of my children happy.

cC
cC's goal--(just like his older brother) To stay awake, all the time.
my goal--To have a well rested baby so as to have a well rested me.

cC's goal--To crawl around the kitchen floor getting his footed sleepers dirty, proving that the floor isn't as clean as I thought it was.
my goal--To keep cC out of footed sleepers when he's crawling around so that I don't see how dirty my kitchen floor actually is.

cC's goal--To get into everything he can possibly get to.
my goal--To try to keep up with keeping the house baby proofed.

My husband doesn't like to be left out of anything.  So he has taken it upon himself to also set some goals that are contradictory to mine.

juC
juC's goal--To never replace the toilet paper on the holder.
my goal--To not be the only one replacing the toilet paper on the holder.

juC's goal--To avoid doing the dishes at all costs.
my goal--To avoid doing the dishes at all costs.

juC's goal--To see if he is capable of completely tuning out a crying baby 24 hours a day.
my goal--To be sane.

The Ugly Truth

 This has become our kitchen more often than not.  Why is it so impossible to keep the kitchen clean?  It gets to the point that it is so much that I don't even want to deal with it.  So I don't.  That's kind of the way the rest of our house has gotten as well.  It's too overwhelming so I do nothing.  The last couple of months of my pregnancy with cC, I somehow found an enormous amount of energy to get some major cleaning and organizing done in our house.  So maybe the answer to this problem is to have another baby already?

hahahahaaaahahaaahaha.


Today I needed to go to Target for diapers.  What I got was yet another dose of reality that jC would be starting kindergarten soon and that it depresses me immensely.  He saw the backpacks and lunch boxes and wanted to pick his out.  He was excited, I was holding back tears.

I know a lot of people think that all day kindergarten is better than anything, EVER.  I am not one of those people.  jC has school from 8:20 to 3:35.  (That's not including travel time if he takes the bus)  Am I really one of the few people in this world that feel like my 5 year old being away from home almost as long as my 35 year old husband during the day is not even close to normal??  The thought alone makes me want to puke.  Don't get me wrong, I think school will be great for him, and I look forward to slightly more peace for a portion of the day.  But 4 hours or so would be plenty!  School starts September 4, and in my personal opinion, that day is coming way too soon.

hahahahahahaaahahaa.
(Sorry, still laughing about the having another baby now comment.)

Penny For Your Thoughts?

luC is the worst, THE WORST, about putting everything in her mouth.  It drives me absolutely crazy.  And it caught me off guard, because aside from the typical baby phase jC went through doing it, it was something he never did.  After I realized luC wasn't growing out of that phase, I came to appreciate jC's desire not to do that even more.

That's why a couple of weeks ago when I noticed jC had found some change and taken it into his room for quiet time I didn't think I needed to worry.  I did have a brief moment of "Not a chance you're playing with that in your room behind a closed door." but then I thought "Give the boy some freedom.  He doesn't put things in his mouth and he likes to count it."

So there I was, enjoying the peace and quiet rarely found in our house on a Sunday afternoon.  (Shout out to quiet/nap time.)  Then I heard jC's door open and him frantically call, "Mooom?"  The poor boy looked scared out of his mind and he told me...a penny went down his throat!  I hate the feeling of panic I get in moments like this.  He seemed ok, but was saying his throat hurt, which made me worry it was stuck in there.  In an effort to lighten the mood, I briefly explained to him how the penny would eventually escape.  Nothing lightens a possible medical emergency like poop talk.

After fetching juC from his nap, and further examination (and a google search from juC about kids swallowing pennies), it appeared the penny had found a temporary resting place in jC's stomach.

Shortly after, jC and I were resting on the couch while he enjoyed his favorite activity of watching me play Candy Crush.  He informed me that after I was finished with the game, he'd go to the bathroom, but he sounded concerned.

"Will the money be in my pee?"

I'm just going to keep trying to find the humor in that question, instead of thinking about what could have happened if it had gotten lodged in his throat and he couldn't breath while I thought he was quietly playing in his room.
Being a mom is too scary!

Allow Me To Reintroduce Ourselves

You may have noticed the effort I have made the last few weeks to actually blog.

I thought this would be a good time to reintroduce ourselves.

First, there is my husband, juC.  He is half way through his 30s (poor thing) and works at a job as an employee doing work.  In his free time, he enjoys reading really long books about secret spies in the government, stalking people on facebook (I'm going to get in trouble for that one, but how can you be mad at someone for telling the truth??), and driving me crazy.  He is really good at making breakfast for dinner, grocery shopping, and taking the kids off my hands so I can take naps.

 Then comes our first dear child, little jC.  He will be 5 in September and starting kindergarten.  It makes me want to cry.  He is all about cars, blocks, and numbers.  He loves little cC with all his heart and loves to torture liitle luC with all his heart. He loves going on adventures, which means he hates when it's time to leave adventures.  He also loves to dance.  And when I say loves, I mean LOVES.  jC is proof that the last 5 years of my life have gone by insanely fast.

 Next up is our little luC.  And when I say little, I mean little.  (She is 2.5 years old and is in the 5th percentile for her weight, so that gives you an idea of just how little I mean.)  But don't let her littleness fool you.  She has a massive personality.  She is sweet, compassionate, and full of love.  She is also ornery, sassy, and impatient.  She cannot be convinced to do anything she doesn't want to do.  Unless you cry, thenn you can sucker her in.  (Something jC learned all too well!)  She gives the best hugs.  In-the-entire-world!!  She loves to play with dolls and read books.  And knock cC over.

Which brings us to our newest addition.  Little cC.  And by little, I mean the youngest in the family, not little like luC little.  In fact, he's only a couple pounds lighter than her!  cC is a big old ball of happiness.  Except when he's teething, then he's a big old ball of crankiness.  He really has the best smile that quickly turns my frowns upside down.  His favorite thing to do (aside from sleeping when I want him to be awake, or being awake when I want him to be asleep) is to crawl around the house looking for things to stick in his mouth.  Which means I often find him chewing on someones shoes.  He's a sweet boy!

And last of all, it's me, aniC.  A nearly 31 year old stay at home mom, that feels like a 14 year old that got stuck playing a game of house 5 years ago that won't stop.  Seriously, my life does not feel like my life, but like I'm just going along pretending.  I keep waiting for someone to say "Ok, you can stop now." but apparently this is the real deal.  I also feel like I'm stuck between wanting a million and one babies and feeling like I'm going to lose what's left of my sanity at any minute.  So I'm just plugging along.  Doing my best to be a mediocre wife and a competent mother.  (I've found it's easier to succeed if you set your standards low.)

So, that's us.

--And if any of my loyal readers that always looked forward to "kitty Thursday" are wondering about sweet little, izC, I have bad news for you, good news for her.  izC has a new home.  One with no kids to torture her.  I miss her tremendously, but I don't miss constantly harassing my kids for constantly harassing her.

The Important Questions

It's funny how when you are dating someone, you ask questions that you THINK are important to know if you are compatible with the person and if marriage would work out.  Too bad all of the answers to those questions end up changing through time and experience.
How many kids do you want?
Where do you want to live?
What baby names do you like?
All questions I learned had very changeable answers, depending on the year.  And they really just aren't all that important.

Now that I have kids, I realize what questions I should have asked.  The ones that are actually important. And some other questions that have nothing to do with kids, but I really wish I would have known.
(Please note that it doesn't necessarily mean that it would have changed my mind about marrying my dear, sweet, amazing, loving juC. It just would have been nice to prepare myself mentally. Nor does it mean that these questions would have had negative answers.  But let's just say with most of them, I wouldn't be thinking I should have asked them if it hadn't manifested itself somehow in our dear, sweet, amazing, loving children.)

-How bad is your eyesight?  At what age did you need glasses?
-Did you often get in trouble at school?
-Do you set your alarm unreasonably early and not get up when it goes off, and use the snooze button often? (I knocked out his snooze button usage right away!!)
-Were you a bed wetter as a child?
-Were you a good sleeper as a baby and child?
-Did it take hours for your mom to get you to sleep?
-Were you a picky eater?
-Are you or any of your blood relatives psycho?  (Just to clarify, none of his are, but I should have thought to ask.  He should have thought to ask, too.  Because just because none of his are doesn't mean none of mine are.)(If you are part of my family and reading this, I'm totally not referring to you.)
-How is your snoring?
-Were you a big baby at birth?  (Thankfully, he wasn't.  He was actually quite small.  But it's not something I thought to ask until I was pregnant, and came to terms with the fact that the baby had to come out.)
-How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?
-Is your family known for making cute babies?  (I actually didn't need to ask that question.  His nieces and nephews were the perfect evidence.)

Just a few questions I'd never thought about.  So perhaps if you have any single friends or family that are looking for "the one" you should share this list with them so they know what they should really be asking.
But, it really doesn't matter, I suppose.   I chose unbelievably well, even if I wasn't presented with all of the facts.

A True Story of Courage

If you know me, you will understand why this story is one of true courage.  If you don't know me, perhaps you should.  Or you should just know that the fear I have of the intruder mentioned in this story is a fear like no other I've known before.

Last week was a week just like any other.  No, that's not true.  Last week, for the first time in my life as a mother, I had to have us up and ready every day of the week to get jC off to his day camp that we'd signed him up for.  (You'd think it wouldn't be that much more difficult than getting us all up and ready for preschool when he was going 3 days a week.  You'd be wrong.)  (Have I mentioned how much I am NOT looking forward to jC starting kindergarten in September and having to do it every day for months on end?)

We were up.  We were ready.  We were running a few minutes late.  No big deal.

We were just moments away from being able to walk out of the door.  I placed cC in the car seat that was sitting atop the kitchen island.  I began to put the straps on him.  And that's when things got scary.

As I was about to put the second strap on cC's shoulder, I saw it.  There it was...RIGHT THERE.  It was walking right along the handle of the car seat that was pushed back flush with the seat itself.  It was right by my poor, defenseless babies head (and right by my poor defenseless arm, might I add.)

A quiet squeal escaped my mouth, alarming my other children to the immanent danger.  jC, being the scarediest of us all could not hide his fear.  I put on a brave face and assured him that I would protect my sweet little children from this unwanted evil intruder that had come into our home.

In the face of danger, I pulled myself together and acted quickly.  In a matter of seconds, I had poor helpless cC out of the car seat and safely on the floor.  jC was impressed by my fast acting, life saving maneuver.  I was, too.  But there was no time for celebrating cC's new found safety.  There was still an evil being to rid our home of.

So I did what any other person in my situation would do.

I grabbed a sturdy, easily held box that was on the kitchen island, and threw it at the car seat.  My aim was bad given my mental state.  I picked the box up again.  I pulled myself together and gave myself a brief pep talk.  Then I aimed the box at the demon and threw again.  My aim was better and it knocked it down onto the floor.  (Don't worry, my children were safely away from the battle ground.)

I was in the zone.  I had my 3 dear children to protect and this was the moment of truth.

I grabbed the box for one more go at it.  With precision like no other, I dropped the box on this spawn of Satan, and heroically put my foot on the box, squishing the contents underneath to smithereens.

That monstrous spider messed with me on the wrong day!  When evil tries to come between a mom and her 3 dear children (no matter how scared the mom may be of the evil), evil will fail!!

Pardon me while I work through my issues on my blog

I know we aren't supposed to say things like this, as mothers, but jC has been quite the difficult child the last couple of weeks.  No, that's a lie.  To be more accurate, it's been much, much more than a couple of weeks.

You see, jC is 4, almost 5.  And I can only assume he is acting like a typical 4, almost 5 year old.  (At least that's what I tell myself for comfort.)  Yes, he is is still very young.  However, when he is the oldest of our children, I put (unnecessary) pressure on him to act older and more mature.  I know it's my flaw.

-He says no to everything we ask him to do.  But he doesn't just say no.  (Although we hope he does when he's older.)  He's all "NooooOOOOoooooo!!!!" *foot stomp* *arm cross*
-There are about a million and one toys in our house, most of which he is never, ever interested in.  Until luC starts to play with it.  Then he makes it his life mission to take it away from her and keep it away from her.
-I cannot tell you how many times I've watched him play nicely with luC,  bringing me a brief moment of some relief, and then 2 seconds later he smacks her in the face.
-He often has to be put in his room for hitting and not staying in time out and then hitting some more.  Then pounding and yelling on his bedroom door after he is put in there.  (The pounding and yelling is music to our ears, which is why we make it happen so often.)
-The first hour of church has become torturous for us.  He takes everything from luC.  He won't let her play with anything she wants to, and he beats up on his poor defenseless daddy.  But, he does all of this with a smile and laughter.  If you are a parent, you know that this is one of the most frustrating times as a parent to keep calm.
-He will not eat new food.  Even when it's delicious and I know it's something he will like.  He repeatedly says he doesn't like it and goes back to that whole  "NooooOOOOoooooo!!!!" thing I first mentioned.
-Every single night before bed, he has to go to the bathroom.  Every.single night.  And yet some how, it seems to come as a surprise to him each night when we make him do it...just like he's done all the previous nights before.  The effort it takes to get him just to go to the bathroom sometimes before bed is exhausting just to think about.

I could go on, but I'll refrain.  You get the point.

So...jC's bed has a shelf as a headboard.  It's been great.  During quiet time (a must in our house) he uses his shelf headboard to play with his cars, build with his blocks, and play with any other toys he feels needs the shelf-headboard treatment.

One day, he had his door cracked and I stood there watching him play.  He was playing with the blocks in the above picture (although this picture was not taken then.)  He was stacking the blocks up high, making them symmetrical on each side of the shelf.  The problem was, the shelf was a little off kilter and one side wasn't making for an even building ground.  I knew, as he was about to put a piece on that it would make that whole side fall.  He was putting so much care into it.  On went his next piece and down went his work of art.

He hung his head down, let out the saddest little "humph" with the saddest little frown on his face, and defeated, dropped his shoulders and hands.

In that moment, I felt everything a mother feels for her child when a child feels hurt and disappointed.  (Yes, all because of some silly blocks.) I saw him for the little child that he truly is and am always forgetting he is. I wanted to rush in there and fix his shelf and help him fix his building.  I stayed and watched for just a little bit more, and saw him as he picked his head up and tried to build it again.  But, going back to those motherly feelings I was having, I rushed in there to help him because I couldn't take seeing him disappointed like that again.

I will always remember that look on his face.  A look that I had never seen as he's played around the house. It was an honest moment he had when he had no idea anyone was watching.  And every time he is hitting luC, or yelling "NO!" at the top of his lungs, or refusing to go to the bathroom even though his legs are crossed to prevent an accident...I try in that very moment (not always successfully) to remember that look on his face.  To remember how little and innocent he truly is.  And when I do successfully remember that moment and remember who he really is, it makes it much easier to handle those difficult moments.

Accomplishments

luC is 2 and a half years old.  It is safe to say that accomplishments she makes at 2.5 are not things that I would consider accomplishments at my age.

Figured out how to get the cap off of something...accomplishment.
Got a shoe on with no help...accomplishment.
Reached something that was up on the counter...accomplishment.
Finding random pieces of food around the house or car and getting to eat them in all their stale glory...accomplishment!
Getting something away from jC....ACCOMPLISHMENT!!

This knowledge that her accomplishments are "smaller" than things I would consider is nothing new.  

But a couple of days ago, as I drove us around running errands, I watched her in the rear view mirror.  I watched as she took the sunglasses off that *I* put on her because she has a hard time getting them on right. I watched her as she tired with all of her concentration to put her sunglasses on top of her head, the way I wear them when I'm inside.  I watched her as she struggled and got a little flustered as she'd get them on and they'd immediately fall down.  And I watched her as she finally accomplished getting them on there.  She looked so proud of her "little" accomplishment.

When we pulled up to our house, I got my camera ready and I opened the door.  I asked her if I could take a picture, and she was more than willing to capture her accomplishment in a picture.  Her response was "I put them on mine head!!!"  The look on her face in the picture says it all.

It got me thinking about myself, and what I consider accomplishments.

As a mother with young kids, I often feel like I accomplish nothing, and I often feel like I fall short.  Truth is, a large part of this is probably because I not only compare myself to other moms, but because I compare myself to moms that have kids that are grown up.  But I compare, none the less, which never has a positive outcome.  

The bottom line is, in my comparison with other moms, I focus on all of the things I don't accomplish. My house doesn't seem clean enough, my kids don't seem well behaved enough, and my fuse isn't long enough.

 But when I really think about it, and stop making comparisons, I accomplish so much....even if people on the outside might consider it a small accomplishment.

I got out of bed....accomplishment.

I didn't lose my temper when one of the kids did something wrong...accomplishment.

I made a dinner...accomplishment.

I got out of pajamas and put make up on...accomplishment.

Taught my kids what a word means...accomplishment.

I made it a whole day with out crying...accomplishment.

Gathered the trash for juC...accomplishment.

I went to the grocery store with all 3 kids...accomplishment.

Defused a fight between jC and luC...accomplishment.

The day is over and my husband and children were cared for and loved...ACCOMPLISHMENT.

No matter how anyone else views it, each accomplishment I make throughout the day, big or little, is still an accomplishment.  And I need to be more like luC and be proud of each one that is achieved instead of comparing and focusing on all that isn't.  Maybe...just maybe, if I focus on those accomplishments instead of supposed failures, I'll actually start to view myself as the good mom that I have been accused of being.

Kitty Thursday

My lap is no longer my own.  At any given time I have a living being taking up residence there.  Sometimes two.

Birthday Girl!

It's so hard for me to believe that our sweet little luC is 2 today!  She is such a little spunky breath of fresh air.  Except for when she's not.  Trust me, you don't want to make her mad.  But she has the sweetest heart. juC has been having a lot of melt downs lately when she has something he wants, and as soon as he starts crying she nicely gives it to him.

She loves:
Her baby brother
Playing with her dollies
Singing songs
Her blankies
Making a mess during meal time
Yo Gabba Gabba
Juice
Spaghetti
Going outside
Driving me nuts when we go to the store
Coloring
Giving hugs (that might be my favorite on the list)

Kitty Thursday--Christmas Edition

Typical cat...thinks she's a gift to all.

My New Normal

After luC was born, I didn't leave the house by myself with my 2 kids for months.  I'm talking months, and months, and months, and months, and months, and months, and more months.  I know.  BUT, in my defense, any time luC made even a peep of a cry, jC would have a completely ridiculous meltdown.  She would have been done with her crying for 10 minutes and jC would sometimes still be freaking out about it. So the thought of going out with the two of them alone was absolutely the most stressful thing imaginable.  It was a hard time (as documented here)

Which is why I'm utterly proud of myself.  (don't judge me for being proud of myself.)

December 3 was a day I was dreading.  December 3 was the day that I would be alone with all 3 kids for the first time.  I was SO very lucky enough to have juC home for 2 weeks, (with a visit from my helpful parents in there), and have juC's parents here for 2 weeks.  Having help for the first month (minus 2 days) of cC's life was amazing, and the thought of going at it alone was petrifying.  (don't judge me for feeling this way, not everyone is as awesome as you are.)

So imagine my surprise when I found myself not only going out with all 3 kids out of necessity (taking jC to and from preschool), but also out with all 3 kids enjoying some unseasonably warm weather.  And as I walked along with cC strapped to me, pushing luC, and jC riding along in front of me I had an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment and happiness.  December 3 wasn't the easiest day in the world, but it also wasn't the hardest.  I actually survived.  Which led me to believe I would actually survive the days that followed.

3 kids is my new normal and it still blows my mind.

All about the birth

So as not to shock anyone with the ending, I will start there....where baby cC was born.  Right there in our master bathroom bathtub.  Yes, it was a water birth. Yes, it was planned.  Yes, I'd do it again.  And yes, the more I read about hospital births vs. home births, the better I felt about my decision.  Admittedly, I thought people who had home births were crazy.  So one of two conclusions can be drawn.  1) They are not crazy.  Or 2)  They are crazy, thus making me crazy, too.

Now, on with the story...

It was Monday, November 5 and I expected NOTHING that day. My estimated due date was November 7, and since jC was born on his due date, and luC 5 days "over due", I only assumed that cC would at least meet his date as well.

jC usually has preschool Mondays but it was a teacher work day. So after I took him and luC with me to my weekly chiropractic appointment at 9:30 am, we headed to to my favorite children's consignment store about 25 minutes away. They have a play area for the kids so I very slowly shopped for what I was looking for, letting them play...until they started leaving the play area and playing with merchandise. As we drove back home I was having contractions but felt like Braxton Hicks. Since we'd been out and I hadn't been drinking water I figured that was why since that's usually when I get them.

We got home, I fed the kids lunch, ate lunch, emailed someone from craigslist about a king size headboard I was interested in and wanted juC to pick up with in the next couple days, put the kids down for quiet time, realized I was having more "Braxton Hicks" so I drank a ton of water. In an effort to stay on top of things until the baby came, I did a couple small loads of laundry. I was still having the contractions after drinking all that water, so I ate thinking maybe it was because I hadn't had enough to eat. (I only had one sandwich for lunch, which is so unlike my 2 sandwich lunch self)

A little after 2 I thought that the contractions seemed a little stronger than Braxton Hicks but other than that I didn't feel any different.  I have this thing where I expect every labor to be the same.  luC's was different than jC's, so I assumed that this labor would either be just like jC's, or just like luC's whose labor starting with my water breaking. 

 I decided to start timing the contractions at about 3 pm, and they were ranging from 2 to 4 mins apart. I got the kids up, and then texted juC at about 3:15 and jokingly said I didn't think he'd make it to work the next day, then told him I was having contractions but didn't really think it was anything. Then I texted my midwife to tell her, but again said i don't think its anything but wanted to let you know just in case. About 3:30 juC asked if he should come home. I said probably sooner than later just in case. Then because the kids were driving me nuts, I said that yes he should come. 

When he got home I was skyping with my mom, who had called at 3:55. I told her that I wasn't sure but I think something was going on. I got a load of laundry and took it upstairs to fold and put away and then laid on the bed to rest for a bit. I told juC to go ahead and make dinner. We had chicken tikka masala from Costco in the fridge. When I went down for dinner around 6, the contractions were definitely stronger, but I was still thinking there should be more side effects or something. We ate dinner, I cleaned up a bit in our bathroom, then I put jC to bed while juC put luC to bed. At about 7 juC and I got the bedroom prepped for everything. Then I got in the bath tub to try to relax. The contractions were getting a bit stronger.  It all felt surreal, and I was mostly just going through the motions of getting things ready even though I wasn't convinced it was happening.  My midwife kept me updated about where she was and kept saying she'd come check on me to see if I was in labor and I kept telling her no, it was fine.  

(This was my last "belly shot", taken at 7:03, whilst I was having a contraction and trying my hardest to stay in a standing, upright position.)

My midwife and assistant got here around 7:45 pm. Soon after I got out of the tub...cant remember why. I still was saying I wasn't sure what was going on and if it was really happening.  But my contractions were definitely getting stronger and I was having to work harder to breath through them.  It was probably around 8:20 that there was a little bit of blood and I was finally like "OK, this is really labor".  I got back in the tub and after a couple intense contractions it got really intense!  juC was sitting at the edge of the tub timing them, and the midwife and her assistant were downstairs. They heard me when the contractions got much more intense and came to see how things were progressing.  I had done pretty good with not "vocalizing" (screaming), like I did with Lula, but when it got to that point, I definitely started getting louder.

I had a super intense contraction where I could feel pushing...not me pushing but my body pushing.  During this time I was on my knees, with my arms resting on the side of the tub, and putting my head down on my arms when I had the contractions.  When my midwife came in, she said I was fine how I was, but because of the position I was in, I'd have to catch the baby myself because they wouldn't be able to reach him.  For some reason the added responsibility of catching the baby seemed too much, so I turned so my back was to them so they could catch the baby. After I moved the contractions came one after the other and my body took over with pushing and it was soooo intense and so surreal. My water broke sometime soon after pushing.  I remember thinking it was weird that I felt something pop and it took me a second to realize what it was. 

 It was the most intense pain ever, and I remember saying "I can't do this!" because, you know...I had a choice at this point. What I'm assuming was about a minute later, cC was born at 9:08 pm.  When he came out apparently his body came up front towards me instead of back towards them (which is what normally happens) so I scooped him up, which I never thought I'd do.  It's kind of amazing to actually get to be the first one to hold him, since my previous two were first held by the midwife at the hospital that delivered them.  
I'm still in awe about how fast it all happened!!  And one of the most amazing things about natural birth...once the baby is out, that intense pain that you imagine couldn't possibly be any worse is just gone...
And it was probably good that I didn't really know for sure it was happening so I could go about my day normally.

Having a baby, in my house, in my own way was absolutely amazing.  juC joked that he wanted his money back because the midwives didn't even do anything, I did it all myself.  (They obviously DID do stuff, like take care of me and the baby after his birth.  And getting me to calm down a bit when I needed a reminder to do so during labor)  There was no checking to see how far dilated I was (Thank goodness, that's one of the worst parts of labor).  There was no one telling me it was time to push.  No sitting in a hospital bed in one of the worst positions to birth.  No one telling me when to push and counting me through it.  It was all me, all my body.  Even though I had luC naturally, this experience was completely different.  I was so aware of every part of my body.  So aware of how amazing it was that my body was doing the work and knew what to do.  So aware of every single aspect of the miracle that childbirth is.  Seriously, how amazing is it that these little humans grow inside you, and one second they are there, a part of you, and the next, they are out in this world. 

It all happened the way I said I wanted it to.  I always told my midwife that my dream would be that I'd go into labor one afternoon, be fine, get the kids in bed, and have them asleep in their rooms when I gave birth.  I didn't really expect it to happen that way, but I'm glad it did.  Although, I think juC and I will both admit that one of the advantages to being in a hospital is having your children taken care of by someone else, so that when you are up all night after giving birth, you don't have to get up with kids the next morning.  

So, with all that said, I guess if I could sum it all up in one word, it would be...amazing!

To see a few more pictures, visit my private blog www.welikeadventures.blogspot.com