Raising Kids

I am constantly wondering if I'm raising good kids. Will they be polite? Considerate? Loving? Funny? Kind? Athletic? Smart? I don't discipline all that much. If Grayson throws a fit, I send him to his room and let him out 45 seconds later. If he slams his head on the floor in anger, I hug him and make sure he's okay. I guess he really hasn't done anything all that bad yet so I'm not sure how I will handle that. I want my boys to own their mistakes. I want them to feel remorse and understand what they did wrong so they don't do it again. I just want them to be the kind of people you WANT to be around. I want them to be teenagers that other parents wish they had. Now, this might be tricky with my attitude and my husband's inability to stop running his mouth. But I've been fortunate enough to have seen it done right.

I know two kids who ARE the kind of teenagers you want to be around. You know the type. Well, you probably don't cause they are very, very rare creatures. I won't name them cause I'm not related so it's not my right. But for many years I had the privilege of being a big part of their lives. I still get to see them occasionally and they've been on my mind a lot lately. They are polite, considerate, loving, funny, kind, athletic AND smart. And ya know what? They weren't raised anything special. They have a dad who, even through his many faults, loves them unconditionally and would give his life for them. They have caring grandparents who are loving and supportive. They have aunts who have always treated them as their own. And they have a mom who unselfishly guides them, disciplines them for 45 seconds and then hugs them to make sure they're okay. Maybe it's not all that hard after all.

See ya later. I've got some kids to hug.

It's Just A Dream

Why do I constantly feel like something terrible is going to happen? A rated R movie full of kidnappings and bloody endings is on a constant playback in my mind. Just in writing those first two sentences I've checked to make sure that Gideon wasn't smothered and Grayson hadn't rolled off the bed at a weird angle and cracked his neck. I know, I'm really fun at parties.

Is this normal anxiety or locked up mental institution crazy? Do you ponder destruction every time you enter a room? Do you hear a noise in your child's bedroom and automatically assume a psycho killer has chain-sawed through the wall and taken your child? Oh, it's just me?

Just to be clear, I don't push this level of crazy on the kids. I don't run screaming into the bedroom when I hear those sounds of death (or the tow truck slamming into the wall). I nonchalantly mosey on down the hall with my heart in my throat wondering if the last thing I had told my child was how much I loved him or how much he makes me want to jump off the roof.
And usually this doesn't effect our daily lives. I still punish. I still tell Grayson he's killing me one fit at a time. I still push the boundaries and -GASP- allow the children to be in a different room than me! (Well, not together cause Grayson WOULD accidentally kill his brother.) Hell, these kids even go to their grandparents' house. That means I'm stable, right?!

Buttttttt............what am I gonna do when they start school? Or drive? Or move out? Oh geez...all that stuff's really gonna happen. Am I going to outgrow these delusions?

Well crazy mommy is checking out. I have to take their temperatures in case they caught H5n1 during nap time.

My 15 pound preemie

My boy turned 4 months old yesterday. It seems like he was born forever ago. And not in the cliched "I feel like he's always been with me" or the "I loved him before he existed" way. In the " I can't believe we both made it outta that alive" and "I wanna put it far, far behind us" kind of way. This kid knows how to make an entrance. And not in a good way.

I'm sure y'all know about the 10-week early deal and the horrific NICU experience. That's old news. And news that I've finished whining about :)

Disclaimer: If you are currently pregnant, or ever plan on being pregnant, ever, then don't read this next bit of crap. It never happens to anyone (except me) and you'll spend the rest of the night googling "how do I prevent my uterus from blowing up and spitting out my 4 pound baby into my ribs". Seriously, this kind of stuff only happens to this chic. I'm sure your sweet little bundle of unborn joy will stay sweetly tucked in your closed uterus for the duration of childbirth. That is the way it is intended to be, right? Well apparently nobody told THIS GUY.......

I'll give you the short version and highlight the scary parts. November 7th I was home with Grayson, 30 weeks and 5 days pregnant. My hubby was in Texas for work and my boy and I were gonna eat and play and eat and nap. Butttttt.....instead I started bleeding and freaking. And freaking and bleeding. In that order. Fast forward to a scared baby daddy speeding home from Texas. My scared daddy rushing me to the hospital. My step mom and brother holding my hand all day and the sweetest little blonde haired boy winning over everyone in Labor and Delivery. The day was pretty much uneventful. They tried to stop the contractions, unsuccessfully, and we talked about VBAC and NICU. The baby was gonna come, but on our terms. So they thought.

About 3 I asked for something, anything, to help with the pain. Ya see, I'm no hero. I know the contractions are getting worse. It hurts, but it doesn't have to. VBAC, C-section, whatever, as long as I can't feel it. They gave me a little morphine which helped 2%. And then my kid decided he was busting out of that hellhole he'd been living in. Uh huh. Ouch. You ever had anything rip through an organ and hang out in your abdominal cavity? (My pain is worse than yours. For real.) :)

My step mom then attached herself to me, calmly, and ordered them to fix whatever was causing this pain. My dad, God bless him, did NOT have a heart attack as he watched the monitors. I think that was his biggest accomplishment in this life! Gideon's heart rate was in the 40's and I was screaming. And screaming. Emergency c-section time. Get the kid out. I was strapped down and the doc stood over me with a scalpel. Told Steve, the anesthesiologist, to put me out quick or she was cutting anyway.

But that's what I got for being a brave big girl! We were both battered and bruised, but hanging on. And four months later, I'm still amazed at our good fortune. We are blessed. We are lucky. And we are happy.

A test of blog, if you will

Oh lawdy. I'm doing what I said I'd never. I'm gonna write this blog even if no one ever reads it! Truthfully, I think blogs should be mandatory. Yes folks, I'm that nosy. If you've ever posted a public thought, it's a sure bet that I've read it. A couple times. And ya know what else, anytime I get the chance to use "if you will", I'm all over it.

Fact is, I've got a pretty great life. Most of the time it's disgusting, but I love it and all the disgusting people in it. Three people were put on this earth solely for my happiness and I intend to tell you all about them.....not today (baby steps). But I'll show you a couple of freaking cute pictures.

Gosh they're cute. Anyway, I think this is gonna work out. I've got a lot to say and Grayson is sick of listening. Too bad for you.