We are surviving. And doing a pretty good job of it, if you ask me. I might even say we are thriving. After I kind of dropped off the face of the earth with my last post about being so incredibly scared of life with three children, it probably gave a bad impression. But really, I'm doing okay.

That first week alone went HEAPS better than I could have ever expected or imagined. Avonlea is a dream baby. Seriously. I have never met such a laid back, easy going, happy newborn. I think she must have known that mama needed a little help because I don't know if I could have survived having another high needs infant. I am so grateful.

The week after that, my mom and sister came down and stayed for a week, which was heavenly. One of my biggest issues is feeling completely alone, and for a whole week I was surrounded by the people I love and didn't have to be lonely. Not having them close by is so hard. SO incredibly hard. Those of you have have family nearby, no matter how crazy they make you sometimes, CHERISH IT. You don't know how lucky you are.

The past few days, we've been thrown another curve ball that has sent my anxiety through the roof. Avonlea developed a rash on her face. It started out as a couple little red pimples and just multiplied from there. I figured we were just getting plagued with baby acne again and would have to ride it out. But it kept getting worse, and by Monday her whole face, ears and scalp were covered with a raised, crusty rash. I called the pediatrician, which I rarely do, and took her in. "Oh, yes, that just looks like baby acne. There's nothing you can do but wait." Really? This is baby acne?



I wish the picture was able to capture how red and inflamed this rash looks, because it's bad. It is absolutely killing me to see my precious baby this way. So needless to say, I was not content with the pediatrician's "diagnosis." *insert gigantic eyeroll here* So yesterday, we saw our wonderful midwives, who took one look at the rash and said, "It's yeast." I cried. Both because I was glad to have an answer and because I was terrified. I'm sure every mom has heard the horror stories about how resistant yeast can be. What if I can't get rid of this? What if it gets worse, and turns into thrush on top of this incredibly ugly rash that already makes people stare and question?

I'm trying not to get ahead of myself and just take it one day at a time, but that's just what my mind does. It latches onto the worst possible scenario and runs like lightning with it. I keep thinking "everything will be so much easier when this is gone!" I hate it. I want my perfect little baby back. I don't want her to have to deal with this.

So for now we're doing two things. Applying apple cider vinegar topically to change the pH of her skin, and - this part really sucks - I have to remove all sugars and simple carbohydrates from my diet for at least two weeks. Awesome, no? I'm only on day two and I'm already struggling. I am just not a meat and veggies girl, and well, that's about all I can eat. So it sucks. But I'll do it because I really don't want to deal with this for even one more day. Avie is such a sweetheart and any time I'd take her out before the rash, I'd get tons of ooooohs and how cutes and so preciouses. Now, no one says anything. I'll see their eyes light up as I walk by with the carseat, and then they get a glimpse of her and quickly walk away. It breaks my heart. Maybe that's vain? I don't know. But it sucks.

So that's where we are right now. My kids are awesome but I'm struggling emotionally because of something I can't control, so hopefully what we're doing works. I feel like it consumes me right now and I want to be done with it so I can just enjoy her again.

So. We are five days into being a family of five. Five! Five days seems ridiculously small when you're talking about something that will be around for the rest of your life, but also incredibly long when you remember being in a moment of feeling that the pain would never end and OMG THIS BABY IS NEVER COMING OUT. So yeah, wow, it's already been five days since I experienced that and conquered it. Tomorrow is Saturday, and then it's Sunday, and then Monday morning will dawn, Shelby will go back to work and I'll be thrust into dealing with three children by myself. Which is, in a word, terrifying.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Lots of people have been asking how the baby is, and how the boys are doing and if they are in love with their sister. The answers are wonderful, pretty good considering, and most of the time.

Avonlea is fabulous and beautiful and perfect. She's a great nurser, is letting us get a fair amount of sleep and seems to be in perfect working order as far as five-day-old babies go. She's a pretty chilled out baby, which I'm scared to get excited about since Beckett was such a hellbeast, but I'm hoping our luck continues in that area. Her umbilical stump fell off today and I totally cried because she's changing so much already and um, wasn't it just a few days ago that she was still INSIDE ME? Sheesh.

The boys are really doing fantastic, considering their world has just been dramatically interrupted by this tiny pink yelling creature. Sawyer doesn't seem to be phased much at all. He goes about his day as he normally would, occasionally walking over to ask if he can hold "his baby." He likes to tell me about the things he's going to do with her when she's bigger, his favorites being play tag and drive with his cars. Beckett has been acting out a small bit, but doesn't seem to be jealous. I've been making it a point to give him lots of cuddles and remind him that he's still my baby too. He's incredibly sweet and loves to kiss her head, and when she yells he asks, "What did she say?" Too stinkin' cute.

And Shelby is, of course, amazing. He is the perfect husband and perfect daddy and there are several moments throughout each day that I look at him and am just overcome with emotion at how I got so lucky. That sounds ridiculously cheesy, but guys, this man is seriously the kind you just don't find very often. He makes me dinner, gets me Dunkin' Donuts whenever I want and watches the baby in the evenings so I can get a few hours of sleep. Avonlea has him wrapped about a dozen times tightly around her finger and it is absolutely adorable to watch.

And then there's me. Ha. I'm doing.. okay. Mostly okay. But sometimes not okay at all. Physically, I'm healing rapidly. Thanks to a fabulous waterbirth I have no tears to worry about, which is awesome. I'm not too fatigued and the afterpains are finally gone (HATE those suckers). My belly is shrinking and I'm counting down the weeks until I can start exercising and get my body back. Oh, how I can't wait to have my body back. I feel so unattractive right now. I know that will come with time though.

Mentally? Emotionally? Well, that's a different story. The first couple days were great. I felt on top of the world, completely overjoyed with my baby girl and had a constant smile on my face. I was inviting visitors to come see us the day after she was born. My midwife visited on Tuesday and warned that some moms experience a flood of emotions on the third day and I admit it - I fully expected to skip that whole bit.

And then the third day came. With it came the tears. Oh my goodness, the tears. Out of absolutely nowhere and for absolutely no reason. I'd be standing at the counter eating a bite of chicken and just start bawling. I began to feel panicked, anxious, overwhelmed and sad. The What Ifs started flowing in. What if I can't handle this at all when Shelby goes back to work? What if she's a high-needs baby like Beckett was? What if I just lose it in the middle of the day and I have no one to call, no one to rescue me?

There is also extreme sorrow over not having my family here, my mom in particular. When Sawyer was born, she had a flexible job and we could go visit her at work every single day. She lived two blocks away and could swoop in any time I needed her, for any reason. Then came Beckett, and although she was working a different job, she was still available almost all the time and if it weren't for that, I'd have gone insane. So to not have her here at ALL? With a brand new baby? It is killing me. I miss her so much. Nothing could have prepared me for how crippling it is to need someone near you and they just can't be there in person. Phone is wonderful - she has already saved me more than once just with calming words. But it's not the same.

Then there is the worry that the mental and emotional havoc I dealt with just a couple months before I got pregnant will return, in the form of horrible post-partum depression. I am scared. I still have my medication and I could easily start taking it again, but the thought of going back down that road of dependency is a double-edged sword. I have a gorgeous, healthy new daughter and a wonderfully supportive family. I should be bursting with happiness and it angers me that I let irrational worries cloud that positivity.

For now, I'm trying to just take it a day at time. Enjoy the moment and not worry about what will come tomorrow, because when it comes, I'll handle it - do I really have any other option?

Last night was a rough one but today has been good. I have to keep my focus on the good. And right this moment there is a daddy cooing at a tiny little baby as she kicks her feet and gazes at him with her big blue eyes - sounds like something pretty good I don't want to miss. Goodnight for now.

Here are some pictures.

We did these the weekend before Easter. Don't mind my bloatiness. It seems to be a lovely side effect of pregnancy for me. Bleh. Aren't we adorable though?

2008 had it's fair share of good, bad and awful. It goes without saying that I am beyond stoked that 2009 is here and I'm ready for a fresh start.

2008 became the end of life on earth for two of my closest grandparents. Both losses were shocking and very unexpected, and gave me my first real dose of loss in my life.

My parents moved away in 2008, leaving me to truly grow up and learn how to live day to day without my mom a phone call away as a last minute baby-sitter or grocery shopping partner.

I struggled with many personal demons in 2008, and I'm confident in saying that I have overcome them. Confusion over sexuality, battles with severe depression and a troubled relationship consumed my life for over half of 2008. I turned to partying and alcohol and shut everyone out. Not my proudest moment as a mother by far, but I'm so incredibly lucky that my wonderful husband stood by me through the worst of times and we are now proudly past those demons, together.

2008 made me the mother of a pre-schooler and a toddler instead of a toddler and a baby. My boys are the only ones, aside from my husband, who have stuck by my side no matter how bad it got and were always able to bring a smile to my face. I am so incredibly in love with them and couldn't imagine two more perfect children.

We got the shock of our lives in 2008 when the baby we never thought we would have was conceived. I won't lie and say it was easy at first, as we were both confused and scared and unsure if we could handle it. A third baby was not in our plans but we have embraced it with open hearts and are now beyond ecstatic about this new little life.

2008 left our family, like many others in America, struggling in this horrible economic crisis. But we thank our lucky stars that my husband still has a job, we still have our house and we still have each other. We will get through it, and I feel that things will get better sooner rather than later.

Hello, 2009. Nice to meet you. I hope we become great friends.

I'm a scrooge this year. I'm not afraid to admit it.

I decided last week that I wouldn't put our Christmas tree up this year. The boys are young enough yet that they don't really care, and I get a headache just thinking about what fun it would be to constantly be chasing our two kittens out of the tree. They are into EVERYTHING still, being only 5 months old, and I think we'll have much better luck next year when they're more mellow.

DH and I also decided we aren't getting the boys any big gifts. We'll fill their stockings with small stuff and they will be perfectly content with that. I have always hated how commercialized Christmas is, and how it's all about who gives and gets the best gifts. Absolutely hate it. And I refuse to succumb to the hysteria.

Now, before I come off as the worst mom on the planet, I will say that we are traveling to Wisconsin to spend the holiday with my parents, and my mom does have her tree up. So they will still get to experience the lights and ornaments and wonderment there. She also will undoubtedly go overboard with gifts, so the boys will have plenty to rip into on Christmas morning.

We're also creating some new traditions to carry on through the years that I feel are more important and worthwhile than a bunch of gifts. Sawyer helped me make Christmas-shaped sugar cookies a couple days ago, and tomorrow I'll let both boys "paint" designs on them with icing. We're going to "Breakfast with Santa" this Saturday too, which will be the first time the boys have visited Santa. I'm still waiting for the first good snow to help them build their first snowman, but I'm thinking we'll just have to wait until we get to Wisconsin where the white stuff is plentiful.

I'm still thinking of other ideas to make the holidays fun for our family without breaking the bank. This little bambino I'm cooking was a huge surprise, and thus not planned for financially, so we really need to be careful with what we spend in the coming months. We have to get a new vehicle at some point, because three carseats won't fit in our Ford Focus. We also need to begin making payments to the midwife for the homebirth, since Indiana is backwards and insurance probably won't cover any of it.

Okay, so maybe I'm not so much a scrooge as just extra frugal this year - and all about making things easier on my extremely fatigued and morning sick self. I tend to get down on myself a lot for not being super mom and having elaborate Christmas-themed plans each day until the 25th, or a pristine house adorned with snowflakes and garlands in every room. But I'm getting better about realizing that it's not the quantity of what I do, but the memories I create for my kids that really matter.

This post was not supposed to be so serious, I swear! Tomorrow will be better with pictures of my crazy men covered in a rainbow of icings and loving every minute of it.

On a good note, my husband is awesome because he dyes my hair - and actually does a good job. No more roots!

I was all geared up to write 30 posts in 30 days for NaBloPoMo. I had some ideas ready and planned to look to some other blogs for interesting writing prompts.

Then Halloween happened, and seemed to drain me of every ounce of energy and motivation I had, and I decided to take a short bloggy vacation instead. I haven't checked in on my Bloglines feeds in days and the 'new post' button on my dashboard has gone untouched. So, like a few others, I'm a drop-out. But that's okay! I'll enjoy reading a post a day for the whole month at my favorite blogs. I never was good at meeting deadlines anyhow.

And I have to say, the break has been nice and much-needed. I had a very ME weekend, which I don't do very often. Friday night, my mom and I treated ourselves to Starbucks. I sipped hot chocolate and munched a pumpkin cream cheese muffin as we sank ourselves into their big comfy chairs and had a nice chat. We try to do this about once a month and I always look forward to it. I'm so lucky that DH doesn't mind at all and in fact, encourages me to go out and leave the boys with him. He knows I need the break and is always good at reminding me that it's OKAY to want that break. Sometimes my mommy guilt clouds over me and I feel so bad leaving them for a few hours, but I feel so refreshed and reenergized when I do.

Saturday, I left Beckett with DH and took Sawyer with me to my sister's softball game. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a chance to do something with just him, and it was so nice. Seriously, you cannot believe how much easier it is to only have to worry about a two-year-old and no baby. I was able to actually sit down and STAY sitting down as he played around me. No fumbling a squirmy baby, no trying to discreetly nurse a distractable infant among dozens of people, no shushing or swaying or walking. Yes, I'm definitely one of the few mamas who can't wait for the baby stage to be over. I don't want my babies to stay babies. I love the age Sawyer is at and will be a much more stress-free mom when Beckett is there.

My judgement is probably clouded a little by the fact that he still wakes, oh, five or six times a night. Those of you who deal with a sporadic night-waker and still go on to have more kids, my hats are off to you. I'm just not that resilient I guess and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It is HARD. I thrive on sleep and am a wreck without it so this round is it for me, no more babies. DH agrees. So uh, any tips on breaking him of nursing every hour and a half at night would be much appreciated. For the gift of sanity, I would be forever indebted to you.

Saturday night, my parents watched the boys for us so we could make it to church. After two failed attempts at taking them with us, we've accepted the fact that we'll just have to wait until they're a little older to enjoy church as a family. It's either a battle to keep them quiet throughout the service (resulting in us paying attention to nothing but them and kind of defeating the purpose of going to church in the first place) or they scream for us the whole time in the nursery. Bless the little old lady that runs the place, she does try. But they just aren't comfortable with her and I won't force them to stay there and be hysterical the whole time.

So, we were able to enjoy the service alone for once and it was a nice breather. Afterwards, DH took the boys home and I went out for dinner with some friends I hadn't seen in awhile. I really owe him now because he allowed me TWO getaways this weekend. He's a brave man. I told him he needs to plan something with his friends and asked him, "Don't guys go out to dinner like women? Why can't you do that?"

"Oh, yes, I'll just call Larry and be like, 'Hey, you wanna hit Panera with me? Oh oh and there's a JoAnn's right there, we can make a night of it!'"

Judging by the high-pitched lispy voice he used, I'm guessing that's a no? Men are strange. Don't some guys do the beer and wings and sports thing? Mine is just weird I guess. But then again, I did marry him because he's not a typical man.

So, now we're at Monday morning yet again. We survived falling back an hour and the boys seem to be back on their normal schedule. I'm determined to make this week go by quickly, because Saturday is when I get to head to my hair dresser for a pretty drastic change and I'm antsy with anticipation. Maybe we'll hit up the Children's Museum and meet some friends for lunch. The days always seem to go so much quicker when we get out of the house.

And on that note, the baby is up.

20071031_1239, originally uploaded by sam&bex.

Happy Halloween, y'all!

We took the boys to a pumpkin patch today, a first for both of them as well as us. It was a nice little farm, and pretty good sized for actually being inside the city limits of Indianapolis. They had a market, corn mazes, a hay mountain for climbing, pony rides, lots of concession type stuff, some games and a hay ride out to the actual pumpkin patch. Oh, and a giant robotic dinosaur that munched pumpkins!

Out of all those things, which seems most likely to frighten a two-year-old? The dinosaur, right? Or maybe the ponies if he's extra skittish? Wrong and wrong again. No, Sawyer was afraid of the hay ride. The tractor pulling a trailor filled with hay that tugged along at a whole five miles per hour. He cried the entire way to and from the pumpkin patch, complete with a dramatic flop of his body among the hay. He even refused a Snickers bar from a nice lady sitting across from us, and you know it's serious when my child turns down candy.

As soon as we were off the trailor, he switched gears and skipped all over the pumpkin field, sitting down at every pumpkin in his path and hugging it. His eyes were bigger than his body because he kept trying to pick up pumpkins that weighed more than he does. Then he wanted a green pumpkin, and then a pumpkin that was split open with flies grazing on the fruit. We finally convinced him to pick up one small enough that he could carry it himself, and he did lug it all the way back to the trailor on his own.

We explored a corn maze, which Sawyer deemed as "too cool!" and then hit the market where he chose a green apple to munch on the way home. We hit concessions on the way to the car and picked up a giant bag of kettle corn which DH and I have already almost polished off. If you've never had fresh kettle corn, you're missing out. It is nothing like the microwave kettle corn. At all. Our ability to eat a whole 4-foot-tall bag in one day is proof of that.

Tomorrow we'll paint the pumpkins to adorn our front porch, because Wednesday is Halloween. And then it's November. And OHMYGOD how is 2007 almost over already??

DH took both boys in the car to get dinner, and before that they were at the park. I have had almost two solid hours of wonderful silence and it has been heaven. I used the time to bake up a butternut squash I've had sitting on the counter for awhile now (did you know you can keep those babies around for close to four months and they don't go bad?) and pureed it up for Beckett.

That batter bowl is filled with almost eight cups of squash. It loaded up four ice cube trays of 14 cubes each. The cubes are about an ounce each, so I made approximately 56 ounces. When you figure that jars of Gerber squash are 2.5 ounces and $0.59 each, that's $0.23 per ounce. I bought the squash for two bucks -- about 3.6 cents per ounce. Sa-weeeeet. It smelled a lot better too. Now my whole house smells like Autumn.

It was actually fun for me to do this time, nothing at all like the horrors of peaches. I want to try some pumpkin next. If only he was older, I could add some cinnamon. Yum. Oh, and I guess it would help if he'd actually eat the food. We're working on that again tomorrow.

Sarah tagged me to tell her what I think should be in the running for "Grosser than Gross." You sure you want to know, Sarah? I think I had one of my grossest moments today, actually. Clearing dishes off the counter and into the dishwasher, and I opened a sippy cup to rinse. Oh, look! It has milk in it from four days ago! It had morphed into a solid moldy milk patty, and let me tell you internet, this is not something you want to experience. It was the worst, most overwhelmingly putrid smell ever. I was literally heaving while I rinsed it down the drain. That, my friends, is grosser than gross.

Sawyer also took off his diaper today and peed on the linoleum, which I later slipped and fell in. That was pretty gross, too. But it's got nothing on the sour milk or grape skin and raisin poops I have scraped into the toilet. I always tell DH that I need to call Mike Rowe and have him feature the dirty job of motherhood on his show. Because I think we wade through the poo and puke with the best of 'em. Just saying.

I'm supposed to pick a couple other people to tell their tales of grossness, so I tag MomSmoo, Louann and Jayna. Gross me out, ladies!

Also! Jayna thinks I'm nice. :) She bestowed this little award on me. Thanks Jayna! I'm amazed that I fooled you into thinking that flattered. ;) To pass on the spirit of niceness, I'm giving this award out to Sarah and Louann, who both gave me a very warm welcome into the blog world.

I also got another award a few days ago from Dixiechick. Thanks, girl! I'm really feeling the blogger love lately.

I started this post over an hour ago and the boys have been back (and very loud) for 20 minutes now. So I should get them off to bed and then finish my grocery list so I can replenish the barren shelves of my pantry and we can stop eating the natural disaster rations for dinner.

Note to self: baby-sitters can be a good thing.

We planned to meet up with my family tonight at Abuelo's to celebrate my brother's birthday. (My baby brother is 19. How is that possible?) I had it all worked out in my head: our reservations were for 5:15 and Beckett had woken up from his nap at 2:45, we needed a half hour to drive up there so he could take a quick nap in the car at 4:45 and be a happy little Chunk through dinner. Sawyer would be hungry and would sit nicely and chow on cheese quesadillas and chips. And I would get to enjoy my bacon-wrapped steak and shrimp.

Well, having lived with my children since the beginning of their existence, I should know to never form expectations for outings. Because the way they behaved in the restaurant was definitely some damn good birth control for all the other patrons.

Sawyer's dining experience went something like this: Kick and scream when Daddy tries to put me in the high chair. Throw crayons. Crumble chips. Run to another empty table to sit. Kick and scream. Grab glass box of artificial sweetener packets. Walk around taunting mom that I might drop and break said box. Kick and scream at another high chair attempt. Be taken outside. Come back inside. Throw artificial sweetener packets in the fountain. Hurl more chips and crayons across the table. Complain loudly from the high chair. Notice everyone is ignoring me, so scream even louder. Be taken back outside, where I yell for Grandma over and over. Wait until Mommy and Daddy box up their food and are leaving to stop yelling and ask to go back inside. Cry for Grandma and Anna the whole way home.

Beckett just plain didn't want to sit still and protested very loudly about it. Rather than falling asleep on the way home like I expected, he cried and was so hysterical when we got home that he wouldn't nurse.

So, we spent about twenty minutes total in the restaurant (which happens to be my favorite) and I got to box up most of my 18-dollar entree without touching it. The steak and pappas just weren't the same out of the microwave five hours later.

You can read my husband's rendition of our evening here. He went into much greater detail (and I think he pays more attention than I do).

I think that as consolation, I should totally win the pink Dyson that 5 Minutes For Mom is giving away. Dyson is even donating the full value in cash to the Breast Cancer Research Foundation, so everyone wins! Check them out, leave a plug in your blog and you have a chance at winning too. But hurry, tonight's your last chance! (And besides, it's mine anyway!)

As you may have gathered from my last post, our house is sick today. It started with DH bringing a cold home a week and a half ago. Just your typical congestion and sneezing. He was over it in a few days, and by the weekend I thought the rest of us had gotten lucky and dodged it.

Not so. I started sneezing yesterday and by late afternoon, my head was spinning. I went to the store to search for some fabric storage options and had to leave my cart in the middle of the aisle and go directly home because I was worried I might pass out. I spent the rest of the evening on the couch, shivering and being achy all over. DH ended up taking me up to bed and piling four blankets on top of me, then shoving a heating pad underneath me, which did the trick to snap me out of the chill.

The baby must have sensed something was up because for the first time ever, he slept seven consecutive hours. And then four more on top of that. That's a record for him, and was much enjoyed by us. Thank you, Chunky.

This morning, I still couldn't get out of bed without my knees going weak, so DH played Super Dad and stayed home. I slept the majority of the day (which I haven't done since... hell, since I was pregnant with Sawyer) and by mid-afternoon, I was up and around again. Only to notice something a little off about Sawyer. And within twenty minutes, something was really off, because he spent the next few hours going into random fits of crying and twisting around on the floor. We concluded that he must be sick as well, which was heartbreaking to witness because I knew how awful I had felt last night and couldn't imagine how confusing that must be to a two-year-old.

The last time he was really sick was with a 12-hour stomach bug around Christmas, and he slept through most of it. (That was also when he painted my beige carpet a nice shade of orange with his puke. Fun times!) When he gets colds, it never seems to bother him. So seeing him this out of sorts was a new thing for me.

He went through bouts of wanting things, then not wanting them, crying, screaming, and then being happy again. He wouldn't even talk on the phone to Grandma, which is when I knew he must really feel awful. I finally convinced him to cuddle up on the couch with me and watch iCarly, and he seemed to feel much better after that. It probably also helped that his Tylenol kicked in around then. We called Grandma back and he croaked out in the saddest little voice, "I siiiick." Talk about a heartbreaker!

He's in bed now, so hopefully he'll feel better in the morning. Now I just have to hope and pray that Beckett doesn't get a nasty case of it, because he's a drama king on a normal day so I can just imagine the show we'll get when he is sick for the first time.

DH's grandparents left this morning. I was sad to see them go, because this was probably the only time they will ever make it out here. Papa Sam is 80 and Nese is just a few years younger. I am in awe that he managed to drive over a thousand miles one-way just to see us. And we weren't even their only stop! From here they were on their way to Jonesboro, Arkansas to visit more family before heading back to Texas. Amazing.

Oh, and Papa Sam also mowed the lawn for DH on Monday. Wouldn't it have been nice if that energy had been passed down a couple generations?

I felt bad because Sawyer wouldn't give them hugs goodbye. He was ranting about wanting the 'CROWNS' and was completely fixated on it. He did wave and blow kisses when they drove away, which made my eyes well up.

Shortly after they left, the Comcast repairman showed up. We've been having problems with channels going out the past few days. And I shouldn't say repairman, because there were actually three repairmen. The best part? They brought three men in just to tell me the cable going into the back of the box was loose. A couple righty-tighties and it was fixed. Yeah, I felt stupid.

As they were leaving, Sawyer ran to the door and bellowed out, "I'll miss you!" and started blowing kisses. Only 10am and already the boy ain't right.

Tonight, I got the bright idea to run to Wal-Mart for some cording to finish a drawstring backpack I made for Sawyer. I made it for him to use as a Halloween goodie bag, so the fabric matches his grizzly bear costume. It is adorable and all I needed to finish it was three yards of this stupid cording.

Normally I avoid Wal-Mart at all costs, but it's closer and cheaper than JoAnn's if I'm not buying fabric. Although tonight I'm sure I would have actually gotten home sooner if I'd just driven the extra distance to JoAnn's.

It's always a given that I'll have to stand around awhile waiting for an employee to come cut. Tonight was no different, and there was a woman ahead of me so I got to wait even longer. She and the employee bickered about whether the collegiate fleece she was buying was to be sold by the yard or by the panel. After what seemed like hours of scrutinizing the end of the bolt, she declared that the price was per panel (which I could have told her because, duh, if it comes in a panel, it is sold by the panel).

After that ordeal, she spent quite a bit of time making sure the fleece was rolled up just so, secured with multiple rubber bands and back on the shelf before assisting me. Apparently it would have been out of the question to help customers first. Whatever. She meticulously measured out three yards of my cord in slow motion. Every single employee I have ever encountered in their fabric department does this so severely that I'm beginning to wonder if they are trained in being so damn slow. I could have cut it myself, printed out the ticket and been to the checkout in the time it took her to cut a single piece.

The next 20 minutes (and no, I'm not exaggerating) consisted of her leaving to hunt for Scotch tape to secure the ends of the cording, rolling each color back up and securing it on the roll before moving to the next piece, realizing the printer was out of paper and calling for back-up. The manager that came then spent another 20 minutes putting the paper in upside down, stabbing at the machine with scissors trying to open the lid, watching me pop it open easily in two seconds, printing the receipt out on half a sticker and ringing my order up three more times trying to get it to print correctly before I just grabbed my stuff and stormed off, telling them I'd figure the rest out myself. In Slow Motion, because that is the Wal-Mart mission statement.

Now, I consider myself to be of average intelligence. I have never worked at Wal-Mart, or anything similar, in my life. And yet, I was doing their job better than they were. You know, I try not to perpetuate stereotypes but this one is like shooting fish in a barrel.

And of course, as I always do, I chose the check-out lane that seemed short with only one cart ahead of me but was actually four guys with their things all in one cart. Meaning four separate orders and payments. By the time I left, I had been there over an hour just to purchase some cording and nursing pads.

We had been intending to put Beckett to bed at 8pm and by this time it was 8:20. As I sped home I envisioned myself getting pulled over for speeding and explaining to the officer that it wasn't my fault because I had just been assaulting by a handful of lobotomy patients at Wal-Mart. And he totally would have understood and let me go with a warning.

Beckett went to sleep in his bed tonight. By himself. Without crying. At all. Words cannot express how relieved this makes me feel. I was beginning to think we had a mutant child who doesn't require sleep. I'm sure we'll have some setbacks still but I am a believer now that he can do it. Hallelujah.

Today was our last day with 'Nese and Papa Sam. The boys had such a good time with them. I need to remember to get some pictures of the four of them before they leave in the morning. We all know how cooperative Sawyer is with the camera though so I won't hold my breath.

Case in point:


That was him saying, "Mommy, I don't see any stars." Hey, anything to make him look at me!

He did smile for a couple seconds when I started singing the Puppetmaster song from Yo Gabba Gabba. That show is not right.



Papa Sam found an empty bird's nest in the back yard. Sawyer was not impressed and tossed it across the driveway. I need to ask him what he did with it, because I want to make a nature table like I've seen some other bloggers doing lately.



And Beckett did what Beckett does best.

I'm totally being a bad hostess and am holed up in the office instead of out entertaining our guests. Shame, shame. I needed to blog about this tonight though, or a few days will pass and I'll end up forgetting.

First of all, Happy 6 Months to my little Chunk. *sniff* To celebrate his half birthday, he had his very first taste of something besides mama milk. He's been showing the signs of being ready for solids for awhile, but I wanted to wait until six months. So this morning, I mashed up some banana for him, as well as put a slice in the safe feeder and let him go to town.

This is all I need, thanks.


In short, he was less than impressed. He dug chewing on the safe feeder but each bite of the mush I tried to give him was met with a sour, contorted face. He didn't actually swallow any of it, I don't think. I guess that he liked the taste but not the texture, as it still had some small lumps. I was right, because we tried some Gerber Stage 1 tonight instead and he gobbled down the entire container. Next time I guess I need to use the blender.

Down the hatch.


Ehhhh, or not.


You're kidding, right?


We grilled out at my parents' house tonight, and then congregated outside for one of the last nice evenings of the season. It was so gorgeous out. Perfect temperature, no humidity, no wind and the leaves are just beginning to get a tinge of orange to them. I love this time of year. Beckett crawled around in the grass with Pappy and Sawyer spent the entire evening drawing with sidewalk chalk. He screamed in agony when it was time to go home and we had to leave the chalk behind. Our ride home featured a very loud rendition of "GET MORE CROWNS PLEASE GET THE CROWNS." (Crowns = crayons, which is what he called the chalk, for those of you who aren't fluent in toddler-speak).

He gags on a miniscule chunk of banana, but blades of grass are no problem. Does not compute.


Yum, dead grass.


He looked at me maybe three times total, despite my frantic hopping and exclamations of, "Look! I'm Dora and Boots and Drake & Josh are on and Diego is here with Baby Jaguar!! Come get some cookies! There's an alligator on my face!"




And when he did look at me, it was for a split second, resulting in a blur (because I don't have that sweet 'kids and pets' setting to cheat with).

My brain is too ravaged to blog tonight. Major sleep issues going on, still. I'm pretty sure it's because we are inconsistent and always just do "whatever works" to get him to sleep, whether it be walking or TV or a car ride or nursing. He needs the same thing every time to fall into a routine.

I remember someone telling me with Sawyer to put him down for a nap after he has been awake for two hours, even if he didn't seem tired. And it worked with him. So we will be starting that tomorrow, equipped with the Ocean Wonders Aquarium that I will steal from my mom's house.

I would give my left ovary for him to be able to put himself to sleep. This stuff is torture. I can handle the night wakings, but the never-ending battle to actually go to sleep in the first place? Six months of that is quite enough, thanks. I'll have a break now, please.

I will be sparse around these parts for the next few days. But with good reason! DH's grandparents from Texas are coming to visit us for the first time and I am stoked. The last time they saw Sawyer, he was 9 months old, which obviously means they haven't met Beckett at all. So tomorrow will be spent battling the sleep monster and disguising my house to make it look like wild boars don't actually live and breed here. If I don't come back in five days, you can be pretty sure a closet swallowed me.

If any of you pay particularly close attention to my tags and my blurb at the top of the sidebar, you might have noticed that my boys are no longer Sam and Bex. Some of you know (and some of you probably don't know) that those are not their real names. When I started this blog, I had the intention of keeping a certain veil of anonymity over myself. I altered each of our names slightly and planned to refrain from mentioning my business, Myspace, place of residence, or any other telling info. Some of that I will still uphold as planned, but I just couldn't continue with the altered names. My boys are Sawyer and Beckett to me and no matter how I try, I can't call them anything else.

Before Beckett was born we thought we might call him Becks or Beck. Neither name has really seems to suit him quite as well as the full name. DH instead has taken to calling him Beckers, and while it's a pet name that will surely embarrass him in front of his friends in a few years, it's surprisingly fitting. I, on the other hand, call him Chunk a good part of the time. Chunky if I'm being extra cutesy. I'm sure he's going to love it when he starts school. Heh.

Sawyer has always been Sawyer-Man to us. Sometimes Bubba also, but most often, Sawyer-Man. Don't ask me why, because I can't tell you. When I was pregnant with him, I used to sing "Do you know the Sawyer-Man, the Sawyer-Man, the Sawyer-Man" to the tune of The Muffin Man. And then once he was born, I made up a stupid little song to get him to laugh. "Sawyer-Man, he's a big big man, he's a big big big big man." He knows the song well now, and I can sing the first few words and then he will chime in with "MAAAAAAN!"

Today I spent some time going through the massive piles of clothes littered around Beckett's room, and I know everyone says it -- but wow, time flies. Most of his clothes are what I had left over from Sawyer and even though I didn't buy much new, I still unearthed dozens of pieces that he didn't even get to wear before ballooning up to 22 pounds. I folded away onesies and cute overall outfits and some soft fleece sleepers from 'Nese and Papa Sam that still had the tags attached. It was just never cold enough for him to wear them and now they're too small.

And although I say we're done having babies, I can't bring myself to sell or give away any of it. Partly because of the "What if?" voice that plays in the back of my mind, but also because.. well, I'm not really sure why. I never thought I would be attached to their clothes but I guess I am. Before I got pregnant with Beckett, I gave a bunch of Sawyer's clothes to my cousin who had a boy. I wasn't emotionally attached to them and figured we could just buy more when we had another baby. I can't do that this time though. I guess it must be something about these outfits going through two children that makes them that much more special.

I tell everyone all the time that I can't wait for the boys to be older so we can take family vacations, go to baseball games (or in DH's case, coach Little League), and be free of the stresses that come along with diapers and nap time and breastfeeding. But as I laid in bed tonight nursing Beckett after a failed attempt at putting him down awake in his crib, I allowed myself to drink it all in -- his scent, his soft head, his body curled up next to mind, hand stroking my face. And for just a little while, I wanted him to stay like that, perfect in that moment, just a little longer.

I have spent the better part of my morning scrutinizing Money Magazine's Top 100 Place to Live list. At first I was reading about each city on the list and marking off or adding to my own personal notes, but I found that much more interesting are the reader comments. I got many good suggestions from those and we have a lot of research to do. It's funny how drastically different real world perspective is to that of the magazine. The criteria this year was for small towns with a population lower than 50K, which I'm not sure is something I would want to move to.

Anyone who knows me, knows I hate it in Indiana and can't wait to leave. I've lived in both the Indianapolis suburbs (if you can even call them that) and in Muncie, which is about an hour and a half northeast. High crime rates and small minds are abundant in both places and I am finding that it is mind-numbingly boring, at least in our small corner of the city. Indianapolis boasts diversity, but that is admittedly not something that peaks my interest. I long much more for a friendly atmosphere and family-oriented city, as well as better school system and scenery. Indiana is ugly, the schools are atrocious and most of the people I meet here are incredibly traditional.

I mentioned going out the other night with my mom. What I didn't mention is that we tried to go to a bar and had to leave after 20 minutes because I couldn't stand the smoke. When we do move it will definitely need to be to a city that has a public smoking ban. Indiana is absolutely full of smokers (who get very defensive about their "right" to smoke, no less) and I hate it.

Reading more and more about the different parts of Central Indiana, I'm really kicking myself that we didn't do more research and instead just settled on a home in a subdivision with a horrid Homeowners Association just because the house was big. Stupid stupid stupid mistake on our part. Lesson learned the hard way.

I am lucky to have found a niche in a babywearing group, which has led me to several moms who share my philosophies. If it weren't for them, I would likely be much more miserable!

DH IMed me this morning with a couple different job listings, one in Westminster, CO and one in Needham, MA. The idea of actually being able to afford Massachusetts is laughable at best, but it sparked my interest and three hours later, here I sit with a 20-city long list of places we could move. We are fortunate in that DH has skills that are needed almost everywhere and he would not have much of a problem finding job opportunities all over the US. Which is both good and bad. Endless choices, but a very difficult decision!

The one thing keeping us in Indiana is my family. The thought of moving my boys (and myself!) away from my mom and the rest of my family is heartbreaking. But they have no plans to move until my sister graduates, which won't be for another six years, and I just don't think I can tough it out that much longer. She recently started a new job where we don't see her but once a week anyway, so that has helped me to get used to the idea of living away from them. That's growing up, I guess!

So, anyway. Where do you live? Do you like it? What do you like about it? I need ideas! My list so far spans the country, with places such as:

• Texas: Carrollton, Keller, Lewisville, Grapevine and Friendswood
• California: Claremont, El Dorado Hills and Thousand Oaks
• Arizona: Surprise, Payson, Gilbert and Flagstaff
• Colorado: Boulder, Louisville, Parker, Westminster, Ft. Collins and Durango
• Utah: Logan and Utopia

DH and I grew up in Texas and we've always had a great love for the state, so moving there would be awesome. But I also think California, Arizona and Colorado are beautiful places with lots to offer. Having not traveled to many other places, it's hard for me to picture living somewhere like Washington or the East Coast. But I saw rave reviews for Naperville, IL, Edmonds, WA, Coeur d'Alene, ID, Berkeley Heights, NJ, Cary, NC, and Irmo, SC. How in the world do I even begin to narrow this down? Obviously job availability will play a big role.. but wow. It's easy to get overwhelmed.

I guess first I need to decide what is most important to us. Right now I would say affordable housing (in ratio to median income), plentiful leisure activities, job growth, school systems, crime rate and health care are at the top of my list. Not as important are diversity and weather.

Most of all, I just want to love where we live. I want to be proud of living there and involved in the community. I want it to be a great place for my children to grow so that we can move there and stay there for a long time. It sounds like such a pipe dream right now, but maybe some day it will happen.