because it's his birthday...and because i don't want to forget

Today is my littlest munchin's birthday. Two years ago I was taken on the Mr. Toad's Wild Ride of childbirth in a scene that played out much like a movie.

Before I begin, let me preface this by warning you that there will be foul language...as that was all that seemed could come out of my mouth that day.

Everybody has a different labor and delivery story. With my first child it played out much like a book. Induced, in labor for 30 hours, epidural so I didn't feel a thing, three to five pushes and he was out. The second time around was not so predictable.

In the style of an ultimate cliche, I of course went into labor on labor day. I had a feeling that day was it when my contractions just never wained. I started to notice their persistence around mid day, but figured I had some time before it could be anything serious...around 11pm that all changed. My contractions started to build, and being the wimp that I am I of course started to cry.

I called my doctor only to find that both he and his associate that was my backup were off...so I left a message for Dr. Random letting her know I thought I was in labor. She called back and told me to hold off until my contractions were 5 minutes apart. At that point they were 5, then 10, then 5, then 15...so I laid back down and continued counting. Around 1 am they were still inconsistent, but the pain had become to much to bear.

I told my husband that we needed to get our asses in gear and get to the hospital. Thanks to an incredibly long delivery the first time around we still dragged our feet, my husband finishing a glass of wine and a football game before we even headed down the stairs. On the way out the door he also noticed that one of our house guests had a flat tire, so thinking he had all the time in the world, he decided to fix that first too.

At this point I was couldn't take it anymore...

Me: We need to go to the fucking hospital NOW!...LET'S GO!

My husband, who at that point realized he probably shouldn't mess with me, loaded our gear into the car and started towards the hospital. In the car the contractions were more than I could bear. I kept screaming and crying for him to hurry the fuck up, and he kept telling me I was acting it up and just to breathe. (easy for him to say!)

All I kept thinking was: Oh my god, what if I have this baby in the car.

I mean, it was PAINFUL...so I knew this was farther along than we had thought.

By the time we got to the hospital it was a little before 2 am. Of course I was sitting in my wheelchair, waiting to get pushed in, crying my eyes out and wincing in pain while about 3 other ladies going in because they were in labor sat there silently breathing in through their nose and out through their mouth, while looking at me like it must have been my first time (show offs...little did they know).

When I was finally wheeled back to the room for a nurse to check me because I was so in pain she said I was only dilated to a 4 and that "they usually sent people home if they weren't a 5", but because they knew my mom (who is also a delivery nurse in the hospital) they would let me stay.

Within 10 minutes the pain increased. I started asking for an epidural, but was told they had to take my blood first to ensure I could receive one. A nurse who I believe had shit for brains started poking around my arm to insert the IV. At that point the contractions were so bad, and she was then poking around on my second arm that I started to boil. Her inability to find a vein caused me to yell at her to "just put it in my damn hand already!"

They barely got an IV in when a contraction came along, I screamed, and my water broke.

Me: My water just broke! My fucking water just broke!

Nurse: Are you sure?

Me: I am sitting in a puddle of fucking water! Yes it broke!

The nurse checks me and sees I am now at a 6....and I this point the pain had become so unbearable that I started begging for my epidural, Demerol, anything that would take the pain away. (It is only about 2:30am)

Me: Please, please, please can I get my epidural!

Nurse: We can't give it to you until your blood work comes back.

Me: (Contraction) PLEASE! (screaming) Just give me some fucking drugs!

Tim made a joke for me to stop cursing at my mom's friends while they began turning me on my side to help with the contractions. My husband then tried to get in my face to try to tell me how to breathe. While I am sure his intentions were good, we had not taken one childbirth class, even though my mother teaches them, since our "birth plan" for both kids was that I was going to get an epidural, so why would I need to know how to breath? I just curse at him to shut the hell up.

While I was laying on my side the pain was so insanely incredible that I was seeing white light.

Me: (Screaming) PLEASE! PLEASE! JUST GIVE ME SOME FUCKING DRUGS! PLEEEEEEEEASE!! SOMETHING!!!!!! ANYTHING!!!!!

The nurse warned me to calm down, and told me that they couldn't do anything because the baby's heartbeat was irregular. While that scared the crap out of me, I kept screaming anyway because I was an uncontrollable psycho banshee by then and there was no stopping it.

My mother started putting a cold cloth on my neck and it calmed me down a bit, so she ordered Tim out of the room to get me some ice. (Tim later told me he was down the hall and around the corner and it sounded like I was screaming right next to him).

While Tim was out and I was laying on my side with nurses frantically monitoring the baby's heart beat, I had the contractions of all contractions. I let out a blood curling scream and POP! the baby's head starts to come out!

All I could think was: Holy fucking shit, holy fucking shit, this baby is coming and I am going to feel every last bit of it.

Me: I can't do this! I can't do this! I can't do this!

Tim, who was about to walk back into the room, got told by a nurse that he "better get back in there." Thinking he was funny he replies, "I'm not going back in there, she is mean!" but headed through the door anyway. Of course, when he walked in he was welcomed by our little baby's head crowning. (He also later told me that at that moment I had the complete ghostly look of fear and realization that the baby was coming right then).

I was so paniked that I just kept screaming and thinking: There is no doctor here, I have no drugs, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

Every time I screamed the baby pushed out a little more. One of the nurses turned to me and said "You're going to scream this baby right out of you!" then she grabbed my shoulders like a mother would when scolding her teenager and yelled "Now get on your back and open your legs or you're going to tear!!"

I quickly shut my mouth and just nodded while whimpering out an "ok!"

Not knowing whether I should wait for the next contraction to push or just go for it I hesitated. All the nurses surrounding me yelled "Just PUSH!"

And with about one push Dylan was born at 2:59 am. He literally popped right out...and of course all the pain subsided. I cried, Tim cried, my mom cried, I think a couple nurses cried...it was intense.

Dr. Random didn't show up for another 25-30 minutes after Dylan was born, so I got to examine my placenta that was sitting on a tray table for a good while...which I of course thought was fascinating.

At the end of it all I made sure that they put the nurse's name who yelled at me as the delivering doctor on the hospital certificate...and if I would have dragged ass any more than I did at home I probably would have had Dylan in the car. To reiterate, I was checked into the hospital at 2:05 and had Dylan at 2:59.

My actual doctor later told me that when labor goes that quickly it is much more painful...maybe he was saying that to make me feel better for being such a nut, but it made me feel a bit better nonetheless. I was also told that I scared the living hell out of a lady having her first child...to the point that she asked immediately for an epidural.

I do have to say that the recovery of a non-epidural delivery was much better than one with it. When asked by a friend the day after I had Dylan if I would do "natural" labor again (I hate that term as it is all natural) I was like, HELL NO!...but now, if we go for number 3, I may just stick it out.

Happy birthday little man...you were were every last minute of all that pain.

addiction

I have a serious problem. I am severely addicted to photobooths. Not in the sense that I actively seek them out daily to get my fix, but more so in the matter of not being able to pass one by without jumping in for a series of shots (the photographic kind).

At a recent wedding for 2 amazing people, a photobooth (dubbed the "pogobooth") was set up by their talented photographers from Pogo Photo . As soon as I realized what was being set up, I was drawn right to it like a fly to a florescent light.

In quite an embarrassing result, a good bulk of the photos from the booth are of me...and me and my husband...and me and my buddy mar...you get the picture. Let me shed some light on the subject:

Truly terrifying. I think I may need an intervention.

top 5 mommy moments of the moment

On multiple occasions in the past week or so, I have hit some milestones in raising my children that would make any mom feel accomplished.

Here are my recent top 5:

5. I received my first family portrait drawn by my 4 year old. We must be well fed as we are all pleasantly plump and are sporting rather large smiles. This is definitely getting framed for future observation.

4. A love for music has officially been instilled in my little ones....and not just kiddie music...I am talking all kinds (rock, musicals, classical, oldies...the list goes on). The proof that it has stuck is a double edge sword as they tend to kick and scream if I turn the music down or off in the car, and don't stop until I turn the tunes back on. We also had a whole weekend go by where cartoons were not asked to be put on once in the morning during music time!

3. This one was a mommy/daddy moment, as the hubs and I both work on developing it. For the first time ever since we tell him daily how much his little brother should mean to him, Jonas came up to Dylan, placed a blanket around him, and promised me that he would always protect his brother. (hearts feel free to melt)

2. Jonas completed his first season of Little Kickers. If you aren't sure what that is, then let me explain. It's basically a soccer league for 3-4 year olds where instead of playing against each other, they get to kick the ball around willy nilly while sporting mini cleats and oversized shin guards. In one word...adorable. But the coolest part for me...I AM OFFICIALLY A SOCCER MOM! (minus the astro van and high waisted jeans)

1. I removed the first ever splinter to pierce my poor child's skin. I noticed the little menace as I was tickling my kid's tootsies and felt a little bump on the bottom of his foot. Of course, the minute I exclaimed it was there and that it would have to be removed the crying began. I reassured my little one that it was for the better that the splinter came out, and that he would just have to sit still on Daddy's lap...so he gave a small nod and complied. I have to say, I was a bit nervous that I wouldn't be able to get it out efficiently...but low and behold the power of a mother saving her child from infection prevailed! I still am rather proud of myself for such a clean splinter removal...and of Jonas for sitting so still while I saved his foot.

birthday blues

I meant to post on my actual birthday this week (monday) to gripe and moan about the perils of aging and the wrinkles that come along with it. But alas...the whole full-time working mom thing came into play and writing was last on the list.

It's not like I am actually worried about getting older, I mean, I'm not that old...it's just that I feel like I have accomplished so much...college degree, super cute kids, loving marriage, career growth (in no particular order)...and now that I am approaching the 30's I feel like I don't have a plan.

This sudden realization has been causing me such massive amounts of grief and anxiety that I have been switching uncontrollably from being angry and mean, to crying and moping, to sitting up all night fretting.

I'm definitely not the type of person that feels as though my whole life has to be planned and in control at all times, but I just feel so lost. I know what I want and need to do for my kids in the coming years (basically be kick-ass at all things motherhood), but what do I want and need to do for myself?

As the question looms I find myself potentially seeing outlets outside of my everyday schedule. Do I pick up a new hobby? Resurrect an old hobby? Go back to school? Plan a big trip?

Regardless of what I plan at least I know the hubs and the kids would still think I'm pretty awesome. So, here's to another year older, potentially more wiser, and a bit more unknown.

fashion friday

2 weeks in a row...not bad right? Today's fashion inspiration started with this:

That there...that's my sis in a photo taken by one of her buds. And she looks super cute! She totally is one with her 1950s pin up vibe, so when I saw this I immediately sprung to look for some other shots from the 1950s that reminded me of how adorable and fun the fashion was during that time.

Why don't we travel in style anymore? 

Love when I see how clean cut and groomed the boys were back then.

Even the chick leaning against the wall thinks she looks rad.

What happened to the times when little girls dressed like little girls?

I want to replicate every one of these pieces. Can curves please be in again?

Remember when stewardesses were stylish? 

I adore the 1950s biker threads.

I can guarantee that I am going to spend the next few hours sifting through sites online to find some vintage pieces from the era. Maybe if I spread the purchases across a couple cards the hubs won't notice the sudden depletion from our bank account....wish me luck!

happy mother's day...to me

This year I gave myself a little present. I packed up the kiddies, dressed identical and all, loaded them into their radio flyer, and headed for the backyard for an impromptu photo shoot. Since the hubs was working all day...on a Saturday...I figured this would be a good way for the kids to get outside, and for me to maintain a bit of sanity.

It was early enough that we could enjoy a cool breeze, and all maintain our composure.

I absolutely love being a mom to my little stink mcgees...and I am pretty sure I annoy them to no end by reminding them every day. Here's to all the moms and mommy-to-be's this mother's day!

the return of fashion friday

Don't get too excited...I am not making any promises. But with the arrival of the Kentucky Derby this weekend, today is all about hats.

Here are a few that I would sport in a second.

When you are thinking Derby, the bigger, the better.

Philip Treacy is a genius.

Love anything with a 1970's feel to it.

This chick not only models, but makes her own hats! I am in love!

Couldn't leave out an adorable pill box.

The 1920's were such an awesome time for females. Women were so cute and stylish...and hats were totally in. 

You will not believe how many of these I found for sale on Etsy! Completely worth checking out. I have decided to start a collection...could be my new obsession...move over shoes!

silly billies

In trying to make an effort to blog more often, yet not having much energy to, this is the best I can do.

Can you tell that my kids like to make faces? We are a proud family of goofballs.

home

One of my brothers recently asked me to send him some photos that I had taken of the house we grew up in. It inspired me to sift through the photos and take a trip down memory lane, a trip which I am going to share with you.

Before we begin, here are some facts:

1. The house is over 200 years old
2. The house is located in the Catskill Mountains of NY
3. The house served as a party hub whenever my parents were away
3. The house is still in the family, although my dad got it in the divorce and completely ignores it
4. The house is haunted

 Ah yes, the roller rink....I lived only a couple doors down

I got there just as they were burning down the barn in the back - so weird to see the 3 story beast gone

 Found this in the pile of rubble

I was so upset I couldn't rescue this to use with my kids

 This used to be an awesome garden - my parents grew a lot of their own veggies

 My father decided to add a tree house finally when I was like 15 - needless to say it was a "party box"

 I couldn't believe this was still there after all these years

 I used to go down to the creek to write in my journal - very dramatic teen of me

 Cellar Door - they do say it is the most beautiful word

 The sad part is, we used to tie my youngest brother up and lock him down there to torture him - I have apologized a million times for that...even still to this day

Even looking through the photos creeps me out a bit. Like the spirits who "lived in my closet" will come through the picture and haunt me now.

But, I can say I do have an appreciation for the quaint beauty of the house and the land. I hope my brother makes it work this summer with the "artistic retreat" he is planning on having in the house with his buds...maybe I'll just stop in for a bit to reminisce and tell some ghost stories.