I don't know what Kindergarten will look like...

It has been awhile but I am needing a little outlet for now, so I am back. We are about to start a high schooler and a kindergartner in our home. I have a set plan for my 9th grader. She is excited. We are "outsourcing" a lot of her learning this year to our local co-op.

Kindergarten, somehow, seems like a larger undertaking to me than high school. How can that be? I guess it is because of the person I am kindergartenering (yes, I know that is not a word). I have four kids, and they all have very different personalities. Denton is my kindergartner. If he were to go to public school, I have NO doubt they would try to slap a label on his forehead day one. He is perfectly capable of intense focus, when it suits him. He can sit and watch a nature show, that would bore the pants off of most people, for hours. He can sit and look at a nature book for as long as I let him. At a zoo, you might think he can read because he can immediately identify almost any animal. I am not talking lions, tigers, and bears. I am talking koati, lemur, and blue tongued skink. He is smart, sensitive, and funny. He can also be very physically intense.

I guess I could compare him to a cat. One minute, he could be lounging quietly, the next he is scaling the couch and taking a flying leap towards his passing sister. I don't really KNOW what he needs. I am researching and studying and working to help him. When he is in a time of physical intensity, you can see it on his face that he can't help himself. You can yell, scream, command, but he really doesn't seem like he can stop himself. He NEEDS to move.

So, I don't know what kindergarten will look like in our home for this child. We tried a little "typical" kindergarten last year. Work books, reading lessons, etc. They didn't go over too well. I thought maybe he wasn't mature enough. I mean, I am sure he wasn't. I don't think much has changed. I am not saying he isn't mature. In a lot of ways, his maturity astounds you. He is very intellectual. I have done a lot of research, and I am just not sure "school at home" is what my little guy needs. We really want more than that for him, too.  Here are a few articles I have found interesting.

The Unhurried Homeschooler

An Interesting Article on Unschooling

This isn't the exact link, but it is the same idea.

How School Fails Boys

So, pray for my guy, pray for us. And if you have any experience with a dude like this, maybe leave some advice?

That is all.

Have you seen me lately?

Summer time is here. There are some things to know about summer. 1) It is hot, and lately super humid. My favorite thing is walking outside and instantly being covered in sweat! 2) There are a LOT of bugs! 3) I dunno... that's all I had.

Anywho, summer is upon us and there is a cacophony of summer activities screaming our name everyday. If we wanted to go somewhere, we have a choice of at least two things on almost every day of the week. For instance, on Tuesday of this week we decided to forgo swimming (me + scared of the water 2 year old + not scared of the water 4 year old + tiny baby + Reghanne at camp = um no) to go to the Mommy and Me music class at the Red Oak Library. FUN! NEW! YAY! We got loaded up, we were totally running late. We skidded into the parking lot on two wheels (not really) at 10:31 and ran in the door to find... NO ONE! We tugged on the, locked, doors of the library... nada. A lady came out of some secret passage and said,"Ma'am, we don't open until 11." I said, with disdain and annoyance,"WELL, then WHY does this calendar RIGHT HERE say Mommy and Me 10:30-11:30??? HMMMMM" and then she said, "That is on Monday, ma'am... today is Tuesday."

oh.m.gee.

Seriously??? Cue the boys crying because Mom is a moron. Cue Mom's feeble attempt at fixing this whole thing by taking them to the park next door even though the humidity is like 100% and I am sweating buckets.

So we came home, Michael laid on the couch and cried for his paci, I picked him up to find he was boiling lava hot with a 102 degree fever. So glad we all shared my water at the park. WINNING!

This isn't even counting the fact that last week, I nearly forgot Scarlett at the church when dropping Denton off at VBS. Not to worry, she was in good hands, those hands just didn't lactate! You can mail my mother of the year award to the following address...

When life is like a commercial... Another TMI story...

Have you seen the commercial where the little boy tells his Mommy he went potty and she is super excited until she realizes it is in the bathtub and not the toilet? Well, a similar incident happened at our house this morning. Michael has gotten in to the habit of taking his diaper off because he finds it hilarious to chase his brother and sister around saying, "Wanna see my butt???". So, today while I was nursing, he took his diaper off. I sent him to go get a new one so I could put it on him when I finished nursing. He came out a few seconds later, out of his ROOM no less, and said,"Hey Mom, I pooped." I was like,"Whaaaa???" He said, "Yeah, I pooped actually." (Actually is his new favorite word, he says it after nearly every sentence.) So, Denton went to inspect. The minute he walked in to his room he screamed, "EWWWW!!!!" How exciting for me. I put the baby down and went in to survey the damage, and sure enough, there was a logging trail, right there on the carpet. Good stuff... I will spare you the picture I took and texted to Clint... he wasn't in the house and I felt he shouldn't miss out.

Two mysteries, one week.

Two days ago, Michael fed Scarlett something. He originally told me she was "crying for corn." I was in the next room making dinner, I asked him what he said, turned to wash my hands and she started screaming. I ran in and found his hand half way down her throat and he said she "slallowed a quarter." I actually did panic some. I texted my mom and Clint, they both asked if she was breathing...

Small rabbit trail.... if my baby were not breathing, I wouldn't be texting, come on.

Okay, back to the point. She was fine. She nursed and calmed down quickly. I searched the floor and found no sign of money. Michael calls all money a quarter. I didn't feel like she could have swallowed a quarter or any money. Michael was insistent that he had fed her something and she had "slallowed" whatever it was... We decided to just watch her. Surely showing up to the ER with two kids over the course of three days flags you and puts you on some sort of list.

Fast forward two days, I was changing my dear Scarlett' s diaper and... tmi alert.... a popcorn kernel fell out of her butt.

To add to a fun week of concussions and swallowing foreign objects... I walked in to my laundry room at 6:30 this morning to find my two gerbils had sprung themselves from jail. I was not thrilled, nor was Clint when I woke him up before seven on his day off. Luckily, we quickly discovered that they had both escaped the cage and had immediately fallen in to the open washer and become trapped.... HA!!!! Idiots....

Brain injuries and Bunny Rabbits

Accidents happen in a matter of seconds, unexpected, and unpleasant. We had one such accident on Saturday. Our sweet Michael was sitting on the top bleacher in the dugout with his blastball team. It was a picturesque scene. All the little uniformed kiddos, lined up in a row, chewing bubble gum and chatting, waiting for the other team to show up. Daddy was standing in front of him talking to another mom, and I was standing behind the dugout to take advantage of the shade for my sleepy girl, Scarlett.

I guess in a child's mind, Daddy is ALWAYS ready to catch them, and on a whim, Michael stood up on that 3 foot high bleacher and jumped to his Daddy without a word of warning. He slammed into him and fell to the ground, catching the base of his head right on the edge of the bottom bleacher. It was loud, it was scary, it was similar to a lot of other times he has fallen and hurt himself. Expect when Daddy picked him up his head was to the side and his body was rigid, then in an instant he was crying, dirt smudged all over his handsome little face.

We tried the usual stuff, snacks, juice, water, to cheer him up. I wiped the dirt off his face and sat down with him in my lap. His head was sweaty, his face turned grey and his lips went white. Then his head fell back and his eyes closed, that was when we knew this wasn't like the other times. We yelled a half hearted apology to our team and took off for the car. I sat with him in my lap for the short trip to the hospital, shaking him and engaging him so he would stay awake.

We were at the hospital for less than two hours but every second felt like a week. When they put the cervical collar over his face and he didn't flinch, I knew something must be terribly wrong. He went in for his CT scan and Daddy held his hand while I waited with the other kids in the hall. He told Daddy he was scared, we were all scared. Denton told me he was afraid his baby brother was going to die. I assured him he was fine, he just needed to get checked.

Our brave boy

After the CT, the real Michael started coming back. He started to talk, he noticed the baby crying in the next room, he began to get angry about the collar, and he wanted a SNACK! What a joy to hear him cry and be grumpy! The scan was clear for head and neck, the figured he had a mild concussion, was maybe knocked out, and had been in shock. We met my mom for lunch at Taco Casa and by the time we left, he was attempting to jump off the top of the booth (lesson well learned! HA!)

That day, every time I looked at him I thought I would cry. I can't imagine my life without this maniac. Last night he ran around the house to find Daddy, and he came back in seconds screaming and terrified. I grabbed him and asked what was wrong. Through his tears and panic he said "THERE WAS A BUNNY WABBIT OVER DER!!!!" I couldn't help but laugh, I told him bunnies were nice, he said "There are SCAWY!!!" Keep away from my baby boy, you wascaly wabbits!!

Babies, Bodily Fluids, and Easter... in a nutsell

Scarlett and her Great grandma... LOVE!

What a crazy month! My little Scarlett is almost six weeks old already, how did that happen???

Life with a newborn is always interesting, but it gets a little more so with each addition. It is a juggling act keeping up with the very different needs of four human beings at wildly different stages in life. We have the almost teenager who is going through big changes, the content four year old (who would have ever thought that a four year old would be the easiest child?), the enraged two year old, and the new baby.

I have discovered that Scarlett has two main likes, being fed and being held. If I do those two things almost constantly, she is pretty happy. She does supply a large amount of things to clean. She likes to spit up just around the time that one of us is wearing a clean shirt OR I just happened to forget the burp rag. She also prefers to poop in a clean diaper that has only been on her for less than 10 seconds, sometimes she poops before I even get the second tab fastened. She is a beautiful sleeper at night though. She is currently sleeping longer than my boys! She is a great snuggler, too. She has dropped a few smiles in the last few days and been awake more. Her tiny personality will soon emerge.

She lives a rough life!

Other notable occurrences over the last month, the once a week barfest.... I can't explain this oddity. Let me just begin with the fact that I am TERRIFIED of barfing. When someone in my house barfs, I go in to a mental tale spin. I panic.... How many times will they barf? Where will they barf? WHO WILL BARF NEXT??? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH So, on my birthday, Denton walks into my room and vomits lasagna (TMI) on my carpet. Happy birthday Mom!!! We missed the birthday party that night, but he was fine the rest of the day. This was on Sunday, so now I am counting the days for the incubation period. Any time anyone acts even remotely weird I scream, "ARE YOU GOING TO THROW UP!!!????" at them. I chase them around, doing the basketball REJECTED slap every time they have someone else's cup in their hand. BOOM REJECTED!!! Nothing happens. YAY!

Then, on the next Sunday.... Michael walks into the kitchen and throws up on the floor while I am making dinner. AHHHHH!!!! Cue the hyperventilation and pouring apple cider vinegar down everyone's gullets (this is the newest sure fire avoid the stomach bug cure I read about on the last vomit). Now, back to a week of psychotic hand washing, reject slapping, giving hour long lectures any time someone shares ANYTHING with ANYONE!.... nothing happened. 

This time, I actually gave up the panicking a little sooner. We all spent a lovely day at the zoo that Thursday. It was very warm, water cost a fortune, we shared two bottles of water. It was a glorious day!! 

See the smiles!

We came home and had pizza, yummy! Everyone was HUNGRY, especially Reghanne, she ate A LOT (can you see where I am going here?) Everyone was tired and cranky, Reghanne was sent to bed early. Then a couple of hours later, her door slams open and she runs into the bathroom and doesn't shut the door. I look at Clint quizzically and say "What's that about?" then I get my answer.... She has thrown up... pizza.... on the floor... hheeee whoooo hee whoooo (this is the sound of panic) WE SHARED WATER TODAY!!!! I am almost in tears. Anyways, nothing happened. And that is, HOPEFULLY, the end of this strange tale.

We have also had FIVE baby lambs since Scarlett was born. Two of which I watched being born, which was amazing and hard. I felt bad for my mama sheep. We cheered them on! They were champs! 

How cute is this guy??

Scarlett had a couple of notable firsts this month. Her first Ranger's game. We went for Daddy's birthday and we even stole our Bubby and took her along. It was a super fun day!

Rockin' a hair bow!

She also had her first Easter and her first "bluebonnet picture". Easter was so fun, we had all the cousins over. We hunted, played, dyed, and ate!

Flower child.

They tried but it was misty and Lauren wasn't having it!

Worst bluebonnet picture ever!

Reghanne is hard at work trying to make beautiful eggs, while Michael dyed them ALL blue!

Daddy got to spend time with the kiddos!

And here are a few pictures, just because.

I said aloof, not a doof! 

Blue snow cones rock!

I wanna soak up the sun!

Well, I guess that is all for now. :D

Scarlett's Birth Story

I have really been putting off writing this birth story. It has almost been two weeks now, and somehow, that seems like a lifetime. I almost can't imagine life without her, and I almost can't imagine going through the labor. How does that happen? How does something that is so very, very real and so very, very memorable turn into something that you almost can't believe you did in just two short weeks?

I had been having some prodromal labor for a couple of weeks. I had even had about 9 hours of continuous contractions on this rare and random March day that was filled with ice and sleet. I am glad she didn't come then. I was worried about my midwives driving in that weather. So, on March 11, we went for our 40 week appointment. That morning I ran errands, returned a faucet, bought chickens and dog food, and headed to see Roxanne. I told Roxanne that I was done sitting around waiting to go in to labor, it would happen and I had too much to do. She checked me and said I was about a 2 and had effaced some, so it was sure to happen at some point and all those contractions I had been having were not for nothing.

I went home that afternoon and hung out with the big kids outside. It was such a beautiful day! I had a book club meeting that night, so I made an early dinner for the Daddy and big kids and we ate. Just about the time I was supposed to leave for my meeting, I felt exhausted and not great. I had been feeling really great all day, but this feeling was just overwhelming and I decided to stay home and go to bed early.

I sat up in bed around 1 AM trying to figure out what had woken me. A few minutes later, I got my answer... ouch! Immediately I thought, "Great... another night of contractions. I am never going to get any sleep." So, I laid back down and tried to just go back to sleep. Then another contraction, laying down was not cutting it... this actually hurt pretty bad. I was really having to breathe through them. I wrote down the first contraction at 1:24 and got out of bed to try to let Clint sleep. No reason to make everyone suffer. I went to the living room and sat on the birth ball. They were coming roughly every 10 or so minutes and they were not pulling any punches. I was hurting. Sitting in the dark, just wondering if I should wake someone up. I kept making deals with myself, "Okay, if it goes on for an hour, I will wake him." "If they get closer together, I will wake him." I was excited though because I thought it was the 13th. The 13th is "our lucky day". We like everything to be on the 13th for easy remembering. I looked at my phone and realized it was the 12th, I decided I was fine with the 12th because I certainly didn't want to be in labor for 24 hours! ha ha ha (warning: foreshadowing)  I decided to walk, because that had actually stopped them on that icy night before.The walking actually made them get to about 4 minutes apart, so I sat down again. After every contraction, I had to use the restroom. I was so tired, and really lonely. Sitting in the dark, breathing through these contractions. I went to the laundry room and watched our new little day old chicks, sleeping and snuggled under their infrared bulb. That was actually kind of calming and warm. I decided as long as they were somewhat far apart, I'd let everyone sleep.

Around 4 ish, I decided to try to lie down again. They were still pretty regular, but I knew if I was going to labor that day, I needed some rest. I laid down and almost sort of slept for about 30 minutes before I was hit with another hard contraction. At 5, Clint's alarm went off. THANK GOODNESS! I had been waiting for hours to have someone to commiserate with me! I told him, I don't think you can go to work today, I might be in labor, I have been up since 1:30 am. He was not really thrilled that I hadn't told him. He asked me how close they were and I said ten minutes, but he thought I said two! I think he said something like "Heather NICOLE!" and I was like, "NO, NO TEN minutes!" ha... He said "Is it the 13th?" I told him I'd had that thought too, but it was the 12th, which was fine with me. He joked that maybe she wouldn't be born until the 13th and I let him know, I didn't think that was cute.

At his insistence, I called Roxanne, I let her know what was up and Clint went and made me coffee and breakfast: bacon, eggs, grits... YUM! I also called Mom and her and Roxanne both said they'd get ready and head over. They came and we sat around and chatted. I walked, the kids got up. They were happy to see Ms. Roxanne was there and knew what that meant! Finally, baby sister day!

I was anxious and tired of just walking in circles, so I made Roxanne and my Mom some breakfast. It was a really nice distraction, and it kept me moving. The more I moved, the closer they got, and I was tired. I kept resting on the birth ball or a chair off and on. Clint told me the more I moved, the faster she'd come. I just really wanted to lie down!! But it was no use, it hurt too much. At some point, I had Roxanne check me to make sure it was really labor. I was a 5 and 80% so that made me feel better. (some of this is foggy, I probably should of written this sooner). My Mom asked me to help her plan our dinner menu, as we all figured I would have Scarlett and we'd have dinner. Cue the fireworks and happy smiles. The end! ha ha ha

We decided on meatloaf, mashed potatoes, roasted veggies, and the kids and my mom baked a strawberry birthday cake, complete with HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCARLETT 3/12/14. ha ha ha

Here is where it gets jumbly. I will have the hubby provide some edits after he has read it. I took a shower, which really helped, but eventually the hot water runs out. I got checked again. I was an 8 and fully effaced. That was so great to hear on my part, at an 8 with Michael, I was holding him within the hour. I figured we were on the downward slope at this point. I think the intern midwives came while I was in the shower. I remember telling Clint that everyone wasn't even here yet and he said "Yeah they are, they are all four here, in the living room." Dinner time came... and went... I felt yucky, and hungry, and bad... so, I just ate a small plate to fight starvation and keep my strength, but not too much, I didn't want to be sick. We were all in my room, watching old sitcoms: Sanford and Sons, All in the Family, etc. I was laughing between contractions. Those shows always entertain me, I just love them! I kept feeling like I was SO CLOSE, almost to transition. I'd get uncontrollable shakes and then nothing would happen. The contractions would even sort of stop. Then they would come really fast and hard again. I remember sitting on the toilet through some, that helped. I started getting upset and frustrated. She checked me and said I was really close. I just needed to relax. It was hard though, I was frustrated and so dead, dog tired! I had never been so tired. I started to get scared that something was wrong. I was scared that I wouldn't have the strength to finish.

I decided on a shower. That would help me relax. So, I got in. Clint paced. Roxanne had told me to try squatting and bearing down through some contractions to finish dilation, so I did that...

When I got out I felt sort of renewed! My contractions kind of stopped. I sat down in a chair in my towel. She suggested I eat... I had an apple and sent to Clint to get a cheese stick. When he returned and handed it to me, I just burst in to tears. I just couldn't do it. I felt like I was failing. It hurt. I was tired. In my head, I just wanted to go to the hospital or something. I don't really know. I knew I'd likely not make it to the hospital without having her, I just wanted to be anywhere else. Like the act of leaving this place would somehow alleviate the pain. I was a mess. Roxanne was right there, every second. Assuring me. Clint was there. I just couldn't do it! Clint told me to get up and move some more, that it would get her there. I just couldn't!! The 12th came and went... it really was the 13th... Clint prayed with me, that God would help me and we'd finish and we'd be healthy and everything would be safe. Roxanne gave me some witches brew to cure all ails.

I calmed down, and stood up and here they came again. Harder and faster than ever. The other midwives came in and I knew I was in transition because I sounded like some sort of cross between a wild animal and the exorcist. I kept asking if it was time to push, it wasn't. This went on for awhile. Hard contractions. Me asking if it was time to push. Me telling Clint mean stuff, weird stuff, in whispers. I don't want to divulge too much here. I said I was tired and laid down on my pillows. I almost fell asleep. I told Clint I was going to pass out, like asleep... he thought I meant pass out for real. The next contraction hit and I said OHHHH NO SHE IS COMING OUT OR SOMETHING! and I jumped up really fast. It was FINALLY time to push... and it hurt. So, I kept standing up like I was going to run away or something. I would have, if I could have, if it would help at all. They kept telling me to press down into the contractions, I think I kept telling them no because that hurt. I asked them why I didn't do "shit the normal way, in the hospital with drugs!!!" (haha just kidding, I didn't really want that... well...) My water broke. Then I felt her little head!

They told me she had a lot of hair. Then, they said to stop pushing... fine by me! Her hand was by her head! There is the problem. She had to be re-situated some. She wasn't even completely born and she started to cry! Then finally, she was here! 1:34 AM... almost exactly 24 hours after my first contraction. So pink and beautiful.

See how pink! She matches the towel!

 I collapsed on the bed. My mom and Reghanne came in. The midwife team was in high gear. But I was in slow motion. Eventually, I sat up on the bed. She nursed. Clint woke the boys up and brought them in one at a time. Denton was sleepy and happy to see his sister. Michael never managed to get his eyes open! Poor guy! Then they checked her all out. She was perfect, of course! Some wonderful person ran us a nice warm bath and Scarlett and I got in and floated around a bit while we talked to Daddy in the dark. It was so relaxing and wonderful!

I got out, and my bed was made! The laundry was started. No sign that a baby had just been born here. Roxanne gave me the rundown of do's and don'ts... then they quietly slipped out and we all went to sleep. You can't beat a home birth!!! And you can't beat Roxanne, Clavel, Laurie, and Jeanne. You really can't... they are the best group of ladies ever and I couldn't have done any part of any of that without them. They loved on my hubby, my kiddos, and my Mom too. They treated us all like family, and we are so very grateful they were with us on this big day!

I have pictures to add... someday when I find my camera cord thing.

A year...

My husband sent me a link today from my post almost exactly a year ago. A poem I wrote, and forgot. Find it here: I am a Mama The timing is wonderful. It has been a year since I wrote here.

What did I do for a year? Well, if we are being honest, it was a pretty wild year.

Shortly after I wrote that post last  year, I went back to working away from the home. We are self employed business owners, and sometimes, as a family, we make sacrifices. I went back to work and things got crazy! I was away from home 5-6 days a week. My husband was juggling soccer and baseball on weekends, my mom was juggling kids on the weekdays. We were doggy paddling to stay afloat, praying everyday, and thankful for the opportunity I had to work.

Somewhere in the middle of that temporary job, I got another job! It was a miracle too. It fell in my lap and was the answer to a million prayers! I could work from home and be with the kids while still connecting the dots between not enough and enough.

After three months of working two jobs, I finally finished the temporary job, took a month off the regular job and headed to Hawaii with the kids and my grandparents.

Hallelujah!!!

This is just what the doctor ordered!

We missed Daddy a lot, but as a gift and a huge surprise, my Grandpa brought him over for the second half of the trip!

We found out about our big surprise right after this was taken.

I was really happy to see Daddy, but for some reason, my brain didn't think so. I was mean to him. I am never mean to him, so this was kind of strange. Right after we took this picture, we went back to the house and found out that we were expecting a baby!! No wonder Mom was mean and didn't feel well!

So, after months of financial uncertainty, here we were, expecting a baby. I was scared, Clint was elated. He called my first few months of pregnancy pre-partum depression :) Miracles began to shower down on us. Opportunities that hadn't been there before, checks in the mail we weren't expecting, and slowly I was able to really get excited. We found a wonderful midwife after a lot of looking and found out we were having a our first little girl together. Finally, a little sister!!

It's a girl.

Sometime in February we got really brave and decided to have our little girl at home. And, to come full circle, on March 13, 2014 at 1:34 AM, almost exactly a year after I published my Ode to Motherhood, we welcomed our fourth child into the world. Scarlett Wynelle Hardin. Our miracle, our joy, the great addition to our happiness.

Sweet baby!

So, now we start a new adventure. I am hoping to get back to writing here. It is purely selfish though. Not for you at all really. When I went back and read my posts, I felt the memories just wash over me. I loved reading my thoughts from a year ago. I loved seeing my kids during times gone by. I love this little record.

I am a Mama...

I am a Mama.
I grow and I stretch.
I endure pain and torture.
For three months, I wretch.

When it is over, if I am lucky,
I count tiny fingers and call you my Monkey.

I am a Mama.
I hold tiny hands.
I comfort big tears.
I explore foreign lands.

Your imagination astounds me.
And if I am lucky,
I will watch you grow up, but you'll still be my Monkey.

I am a Mama.
I try to protect you,
from fears and from dangers.
I won't let anything get you!

I will work until it hurts,
I will stand and not bend.
I will do what it takes,
To meet all the ends.

This title wasn't just given,
It was earned,
Every letter.
I am YOUR Mama,
I pray you never wish for better.

God trusted me,
a sinner, no saint.
But, each day he gives me,
the courage, the strength.

I am a Mama,
but my hope rests in my Father.
I will give all I have,
for my sons and my daughter.

This is not fake.

So, I read this blog yesterday. I read a lot of blogs, I don't know. Anyways, this particular blog was how we should all stop lying on Facebook. Stop pretending our kids are adorable little angels. Start being "real" about our life. For me, this is real.

We really eat with our feet here.

I am a real person. I really have crappy days. I don't really see why I need to whine in my Facebook status about my crappy day. Who needs to know? How is whining in a very public forum going to fix my crappy day? What GOOD does it do?

If I am having a crappy day, I feel like I am going to "really" do one of two things: Say nothing. or Try to make it better. Try to focus on the positive. How is that fake?

I do not post pictures of Michael, screaming at my feet, pushing me away from the stove with snot pouring out of his face. I don't post pictures of Reghanne's latest math meltdown, or Denton falling to pieces because he can't have lemonade. I post cute pictures of my kids because other peoples cute pictures of their kids, sometimes cheer me up. Who wants to see a snotty nosed baby that isn't theirs? And, to be honest and real real selfish, I post pictures of my kids because when someone comments on them, or I am just browsing old pics out of boredom, it brings memories pouring back into my head. Things I have forgotten, times I don't remember. I always walk away with a smile on my face.

We really love ice cream.

At church the other day, we heard a great sermon about "Getting our shine on!" and how when you shine, it brings GLORY to God! I don't think posting every little bad thing or minute detail of your terrible day or every rant and rave you ever think about, real or not, is going to bring one ounce of glory to your Heavenly Father. If I was a better church goer, I would have written down ALL of the verses he gave about being the salt, being the light, letting people smack both of your cheeks and steal all your clothes, and not complaining, but I didn't. So... just know he said that stuff mm kay.

I am BLESSED to be this stressed. My worst day home with my kids, is better than my best day away from them. That is real. My husband makes me laugh, when all I want to do is cry because I had a bad day. That is real. My friends find ways to lift me up, even when they have no clue that I am down. That, my friends, is real. Bitching and moaning is not the kind of REAL I want to be. I want to be REAL positive, REAL happy, and REALLY focused on God.

I am not saying I will never say another bad thing on Facebook, but for me, my goal is to avoid it. Just sayin'.

Nothing is Forever

Hello friends, it has been a long time since I have written. This is not due to lack of material, my children are constantly giving me great topics. I have a real lack of time mostly, my growing family keeps me busy.

I have been thinking lately about forever. I have had many instances with my children where I have though "Oh my GOSH! They are never going to stop (whatever it is)!!!" Denton was a major nursing lover. I mean, he loved his time at the tap. I thought to myself, "He is going to nurse until he is 40!" Then, one day, he stopped. He just STOPPED and never nursed again. He also was a beast to potty train. We fought, and struggled and I gave up about 10 times. Then, one day, he just stopped fighting (mostly). Same thing with co-sleeping.

Brothers!

All of these things, at the time, felt like insurmountable challenges that would never end. Now, here I am, in the thick of things with another little boy. If I ever thought Denton was headstrong and stubborn, Michael is ALL of that and then some. At almost 15 months old, he is still nursing 6 times a day and every two hours at night. He refuses to sleep anywhere but my bed, no matter how "comfy" I make it in an attempt to trick him. It is hard to get angry though, because I look at Denton, and remember, one day he won't need me as much. I look at Reghanne and know, one day he probably won't even want my help.

A moment of sweetness

I think I can apply this lesson to any facet of my life. Those bills aren't going to be there forever. The laundry from all these little people, will eventually disappear. The stress I feel today about whatever it is, is fleeting. Nothing is really forever in this life. Each season will pass like breath, and we find ourselves in a different challenge. Sometimes it is harder, sometimes it is not, but it will be different. All I can do, is continue forward, not wishing for the current challenge to be over, but enjoying the moment that I am in today. Those midnight cuddles, sibling struggles, and potty battles are going to turn into grown ups one day. I must relish even the difficult times!

A vision of the future

Moldy bread never said "I love you"

Just in case you all didn't know about it, I am pro-life. Not just a little bit, not just when it is easy... always, zealously, unashamedly. It is what I am, I have always been this way since I found out what abortion was as a kid. As a child, I knew that a life was a life, no matter what.

Just in case you didn't know about it, I have felt a call on my life recently to minister to those who are post-abortive and pre-abortive and to those who have lost their way sexually and don't know how to make it back.

When I was younger, I would look at a person who had chosen abortion and my heart would break for that baby. A life that would never be lived. A smile that would never be seen. A tiny hand that would never be held. I decided I would love those babies, even though they were never allowed to live. While I had so much love in my heart for those babies, my heart was filled with anger towards their mothers. A baby isn't an inconvenience... it is a person. How could they murder a child so that their life could continue on, unaltered (in theory)?

As I have grown and matured, I have felt a pressing on that anger. My anger has turned to sadness for the mothers of all those precious little lives. Because their life doesn't continue on unaltered. I have heard COUNTLESS tales of the hurt and pain endured over a lifetime after an abortion. So instead of the "inconvenience" of a child, these women are burdened with pain and emptiness, and a void that they feel can never be filled. I know that those women's pain is not any less real just because it was a "choice" they made.

I have been vocal about my pro-life stance lately and last week a person that I know said "The loaf of moldy bread on the counter is a life, but I'm not keeping that around." I have rolled that thought around in my head for a week. At the time, I didn't know HOW to react to it. I didn't want to react in anger, because I don't think approaching this subject with anger is going to do anyone any good. At the time, I deleted the comment, and deleted the person. After a week, I know what to say now. A moldy loaf of bread never said "I love you." It never wrapped its tiny arms around me and kissed me. It never filled my heart with pride at an accomplishment. It never cried out for my touch alone in a moment of pain. Moldy bread never looked into my eyes and unleashed its first blinding smile on the world. It never giggled during a tickle fight. Moldy bread is not akin to human life in any way, shape, or form. Moldy bread is dead and on its way out. It is not useful to the world. It won't change the face of the planet. A baby, a zygote, a fetus, and embryo... it is LIFE on its way IN! Its very presence in the womb is already changing the world.

I have friends who are post-abortive, and I want to tell you, I love you. I hope that you have found the hope and healing. I love you. Your baby loves you. God loves you. You are more than that decision. You can or have been remade in Christ. I am not judging you. I am not condemning you. I love you.

And if you or someone you know is struggling with the decision of abortion, please talk to me. I will GLADLY take your baby or help you find someone to take your baby, in a heart beat, in a minute, no questions asked. I am putting that out there and it is the truth. I love you, and I love your baby.

Yesterday someone posed a question that was posed to them, "If you stop abortion, what will you do with all those babies?" and my answer is, "I will love them."

That is all.

Heather on being 30

It has been a second since I was here blabbering about stuff. Oddly enough, having three kids tends to keep you somewhat busy. There is never a shortage of things I want to record here but finding the time is almost impossible it seems.

So, I turn 30 tomorrow. It is sort of weird. I remember thinking 30 was really something that would take a long time to happen to me, then suddenly, here it is. It just appeared out of nowhere. Time was apparently moving at warp speed when I thought we were just putzing along, Sunday driver style.

I have been thinking about being 30 a lot, and kind of wondering if it scares me as much as I think it should. I guess it doesn't... really. The only thing it has done effectively is to give me some regrets. I regret that I just realized the kind of person I want to be and started making a concentrated effort to be that person. I regret that I spent 29 years (give or take), having no direction. Floundering around in the world, looking for my voice, my purpose, myself. Oddly, when I finally realized who I wanted to be, it had very little to do with ME! I want to be a better wife, a better mama, and a better believer. Most of the things I want to be "when I grow up" are concentrated on service to others.

So, I guess the biggest regret is that for 29 years, I have been a little egocentric if you will. I spent the greater part of that time worrying about MY best interest, my wants, desires, and happiness. Once I realized that the focus shouldn't be me, it was amazing how quickly my interests, wants, desires and happiness were fulfilled by my service to others.

Two BIG things have happened this week, and I guess maybe the timing is coincidental, but it is probably more like a God thing if I am being honest. First of all, I developed a spot on my face. Here I was, thinking that all I was getting for my 30th birthday was skin cancer and a scar smack dab in the middle of my face to prove it. Here I was thinking "I am not ready to be sick. My kids, my kids, my kids." I finally convinced myself to go see a dermatologist, and guess what, it wasn't skin cancer. So for my birthday, I didn't get a scar, I got perspective. I got a wake up call. That is pretty great gift. Thanks God.

Secondly, I have spent a lot of time recently and in the past trying to figure out how to impact the world. Last week I realized that my heart is ministering to those who are affected by abortion, pre and post, and girls who think that the things that they have done define them and that there is no turning back from where they are today. While I have never had an abortion, I have many friends that I have seen go down that road. I have also been in a place where I felt that my decisions defined me and that there was no going back. So, I am moving forward, starting a ministry to those girls who are lost and those women who are hurting.

I ask that you would please pray for me as I start this journey and if you are interested in helping in other ways, let me know. I don't know what those ways are yet, but I bet God will make it clear to me in time.

That is all.

Magnablend is all your fault.

Yes you. You sitting there with a smirk on your face saying "Magnablend isn't my fault!" Oh yes, yes it is. I am sorry to say but it is. You are fighting it NOW but maybe this is too little too late. I am just a person. I don't know much about much. I am directly affected by this move. I see that building every time I walk out my front door. I just moved to this house too.

My last house, was about a block away from the other plant. I lived there when I was 8 months pregnant and it burst into flames. I lived there when the acrid smell of burning chemicals filled the air. I lived there when the nauseous smell of dead fish from the pond across the street from my house started to permeate the air.

The thing is... it's my fault too. It's my fault that the commissioner's are laughing behind our backs at the thought of us believing we can make a difference about what happens. It's my fault that company is walking around with it's check book open writing checks to open doors that SHOULD be closed to them. It's my fault and it's your fault. Not all of you, but most of us.

We are complacent. Contented to a fault; self-satisfied and unconcerned. Does that describe you before all "this" happened? Before "this" how many of you knew the name of ONE commissioner? How many of you voted in a SINGLE county election? Not me. And you know what, when you become complacent with your government, they will walk all over you. This is proof. This is just them showing you the fruits of you labor, or lack thereof. They quietly went about doing whatever they wanted to do because they knew by the time we were ready to stop them, it'd be too late.

I am saying this and I know it is going to make some of you mad. The truth can be one of the most painful things to hear. Here is another truth for you to sink your gnashing teeth into, no matter how mad you are now, how many threats to toss them from office you make... they DO NOT CARE. They are relying on the same level of complacency that got them here to carry them through. They are depending on the fact that YOU are gonna forget, get over it, and move on. They are relying on the fact that you are NOT going to vote them out of office because they are relying on the fact that we care as little about our government now as we did before all "this" started.

I am saying this because I WANT to make you mad. I want that anger to boil over and seethe to the point that you DON'T forget. You do vote them out. It may not change "this" but it might keep us from getting obliterated in the future. You have always had these rights, they weren't taken away, they just weren't used!

Don't give up on this fight. I may say it's too little too late but I pray every single day that it is not. If it is though, I hope you allow those trucks roaring down our little street, your decreased property value and your toxic surroundings to be a constant reminder to NEVER EVER EVER AGAIN become complacent in local or national government. Despite the fact that government is FOR US, we can not trust them. Power breeds immorality and WE are the people who are in charge of keeping those in power in check.

KEEP FIGHTING!

That is all.

Financial Peace Uni-torture

Okay, I have only been to ONE class but still... It's like eating a salad instead of a cheeseburger, or going running instead of having an all day ice cream and moviethon (Neither of which I would actually do but I am trying to make a POINT). Where was I? OH yes, it's like theoretically doing either of those things, you know it's good for you, you know the benefits will be great, but it's never very fun.

We just started Financial Peace University (FPU from now on). I WISH someone would have told me it was 13 weeks... oh ma gee... that is one big commitment! For anyone with three children, two of which are small, you gotta know that it is HARD to be somewhere, on time, at night during prime dinner hours, for 13 weeks straight.

Now, having been to all of ONE class and not really knowing much about anything so far, I do know that I'm going to have to stop spending lots of money. I do know that we already cut out going out to eat COMPLETELY (unless it is an invite from someone on their dime or a birthday celebration). UGH! I want a TATER TOT! I want some lemonade from Chickfila... sweet (well sour) sour, sour lemonade... not made in my kitchen from a Country time container. The good stuff, poured straight from the teet. I want to sit in my "regular" spot at CFA and drink coffee while my kids play and don't bother me for hours on weekday mornings. I want limeades. I want to NOT cook three times a day. I want to not do dishes.

But I also want out from under debt. I want to take some great vacas with the kiddos and pay cash for cars. I want to retire and know that I can pay my bills (which will be few and far between because I will not have debt). I guess I want all that more than tater tots... most of the time.

But not right now.

That is all.

New Year, New You?

I am not really a New Year's Resolution kind of person. I think of New Year's like a birthday, it is really just another day. It is special in a way that it marks time, but nothing MAGIC happens on that day. Because it is now 2012, I will not instantly become a person that can overcome all the things I couldn't yesterday. You don't magically become older on your birthday either. Every single day of life counts and you (we) should all strive to make it do so.


In saying that, I have had some things on my heart for some time and in the spirit of the new year, I will share them.

I have thought of a lot of things I'd like to change about me lately. My life is great, but I am not really allowing it to live up to its full potential. I have a list of things that I think I need to work on but it all really boils down to one thing. I want to live a more purposeful life. To be more engaged in the every day. To be gentle with my children, understanding with my spouse, responsible with my finances. To create lasting relationships. To get on the floor and play, run in the yard, and roll in the grass. To make memories with and for my children everyday. To spend less time on my (gasp) computer and in front of my (double gasp) television.

Lately I feel like I have been sitting back watching life happen to me and others. Well, it is time to get my hands dirty and dig in because if the Mayans were right, I want to get my money's worth.

That is all.

The Hardin's (half) cross country trip...

Okay, not even half... more like a fourth probably. 1500 miles with a 6 week old, a 2 year old and a preteen is... interesting. Or did I mean to say fun?

We drove up to see Clint's cousins near Lynchburg. Clint quickly realized that this trip would be MUCH different than his last trip there as a bachelor. After only being on the road for about an hour we made our first 40 minute stop! This particular stop was very interesting. The gas station was shady to say the least. There was no changing table, the counter was small and soaking wet and there were no paper towels. I ended up drying the counter with thin, flimsy toilet paper. I layed the boy down and opened his wipes to find two, DRY wipes. I opened the diaper to find that it was A) an enormous poo and B) the poo had leaked out of the diaper on to his back. Two dry wipes, no paper towels, and a counter covered in poo. Not the best way to start our trip.

After two days of traveling we arrived. That night, food poisoning (the result of a gas station hamburger) arrived on Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas to me!! I felt much better by Christmas day and we had a great time celebrating. While we were there we toured Jack Daniels which was fun (but stinky, or great if you like the smell of whiskey).

We decided to take a mini family vaca on the way home and give ourselves 3 days to make the return trip. First stop, Nashvilee, where we stopped at Antique Archeology and ended up meeting Mike Wolfe! Hubbies dream come true!

Next stop, Memphis! We had an amazing dinner that night at a place called Amerigos that we ended up to when our first choice had a 25 minute wait, what a happy accident! The next day we toured Graceland. We also stopped in to the Cozy Corner which the guide book called the local favorite. It was in a sketchy part of town. We almost didn't stop but man were we glad we did!!! That was the best darn BBQ served by the friendliest people on Earth! Go there, just not at night ;)

We then traveled to Hot Springs were we spent the night. We journeyed to downtown for some German food and ended up in one scary looking joint in the basement of a building with a bunch of people at a bar staring at us. We quickly retreated to a restaurant upstairs where the lady at the door asked usif we had just called. We said no and she invited us in... despite the "WE ARE CLOSED" sign. WOW, delicious. Another happy accident! The next morning we went to the wax museum, the alligator farm, and a bath house. Later we headed home.

It was a hard trip. It was a long trip. In the end there were tears, fights, and a lot of crying but outweighing that there were smiles and a lot of memories made!

That is all.

I have a new title...

I guess I will start from the beginning. After high school, I went to the Marine Corps, because of a shotty body, my career there was cut short. When I came home, I made a couple of half-hearted attempts at college, had a baby and (eventually) found a decent paying job that didn't require a degree. When the bottom fell out of the mortgage business in 2008, I found myself working as a glorified data entry clerk for about half what I had made at my previous job and I was HATING it! My boss, Gary Mckiddy, could tell I wasn't happy and one day he called me to his office and asked, "What do YOU want to do? What will make you happy?" I said I wanted to graduate from college and he told me if that was what I wanted, then I better do it. He would call me back in a couple of weeks and see what kind of progress I had made towards that goal.

I went to Dallas County Community College and enrolled in courses for fall 2008 that week and now, here I am, two days away from graduation. That day, my boss believed in me, but more than that, he held me accountable. He required updates on grades and progress and he changed my life. He motivated me. I don't want to discount my husband's role in this, because he has pushed me and supported me through these years. He forced me tokeep going when I wanted to give up.And my grandfather has always inspired me. But that day as the day that changed things for me. Just knowing that someone on the outside saw potential in me changed my way of thinking.

This process has taught me three things.

Number one, never stop trying to inspire greatness in others. My boss could have just told me to quit pouting, he could have fired me, but instead he encouraged me even though he didn't have too.

Number two, never give up on your dreams. Over these years I have been supported a great deal, but I have also been discouraged. Not everyone could see the purpose in what I was doing and some people even attempted to discourage me from finishing. I blocked out the negative and focused on the positive, even when there didn't seem to be much positive to focus on.

Number three, accomplishing anything takes a LOT of perseverance!! Since the Fall of 2008 I have gotten married and had two children. I have taken books to both Jamaica and Hawaii. I studied history on my honeymoon, I took finance finals on a lanai! When my son was born 5 weeks early, I hobbled to the hospital waiting room computer to beg for extensions on assignments. When my roof caved in 5 days later, I sat in a bed in a hotel with my newborn working through a week's worth of past due assignments. My kids have sacrificed, my husband has sacrificied. It has been so hard, but I did it.

And now, I have a new title: College Graduate. It may not mean much to everyone, but to me it is the realization of a lifelong dream and ten years of blood, sweat, and TEARS (trust me there have been tears!) I approach my graduation on Friday with a mixture of emotions. I am happy of course that I have accomplished my goal. I am not as happy as I thought I would be to be finished with school. Through all the trials and tribulations, school has given me a purpose. When I stopped working, I leaned on school to make me feel like I was still contributing somehow. Now, with school done and work not really something I am ready to explore with all the little ones, I am what? A mommy, a house wife? I don't mind those titles. I actually love the mommy title, and the wife title (minus the house part ;) ) My new goal, is finding contentment in my new title.

That is all.

PS. YAY I AM GRADUATING!!!

pps please don't take my spelling in this blog as an example of my education, I am typing one handed while feeding a baby!

The Terrible Time Snatcher

I have realized something in the last two weeks. I didn't just give birth to a baby. Somewhere, somehow, when Michael was born, a time snatching monster was introduced in to our life. The first time we noticed it we were heading to a doctor appointment the day after we got out of the hospital. We were all sitting around ready so we decided we were going to leave 15 minutes early so we could stop and grab breakfast. We ended up leaving 5 minutes late because it took THAT long to get everyone to and in the car! How is that real?

Today, I realized it was time for Michael's second PKU test (which I had completely forgotten about). I wanted to get there before lunch with tomorrow being Thanksgiving to make sure someone was there to do the test. I got the boys up at 830 in the morning and we all started getting ready. We didn't arrive at the hospital until 1130 and didn't get home until 2! The test only took about 20 minutes and the drive is about an hour. Where did the rest of that time go?

I think a summary of my night last night could explain some of it. So about 5 I realized it was five and Reghanne had basketball at 6. I jumped up and threw together some spaghetti for when we got home. Then I made Denton a snack because I knew he would be hungry. I fed Michael, changed both boys diapers and by this time we were running late. I rushed everyone to the car but Denton was tired. He laid down in the driveway screaming because Reghanne opened the gate and not me. I wrestled him into his seat and drove down to the gate... I spent 5 minutes trying to get the gate opener to work (the bain of my existence). I am hauling down 1446 and my phone rings, it is Clint, no one is at the pracite facility. About this same time I drive into the dead phone zone AND Michael begins projectile vomitting the entire contents of his stomach because in my rush, I couldn't burp him. I ask Reghanne very calmly (HAHAHA NOT A CHANCE) "do you have practice tonight???" She says "Oh, haha no I forgot, sorry." Michael is heaving, Clint is saying "HUH? What? I can't hear you? No one is here? HELLO HELLO". On a side note, Denton had fallen asleep at this point and went right to bed, without dinner when we got home. So at 130 in the morning he woke up asking for breakfast and raring to go...

Maybe time just flies when you are having fun? Sometimes I am convinced I might lose my mind. Or maybe, that I have already lost it and that is how I got in this position!

Somehow, I don't lose my mind and I can even smile because, even with their antics, my kids are cute and sweet and quite comical.

I decided to go to bed around 930 last night. I got up and changed clothes. Michael was asleep so I decided to change him to get him to wake up and eat. Mid change, he peed all over the blanket and my pajamas. I got a new diaper and put it on him. Then he started eating, then the burping, then he pooped. Another change, another mid change pee, another wet leg. Five diapers later it is 1130 and I am just lying down. Sometimes you just have to laugh not to cry! :)

That is all.

Part Two of the Birth and a Qualifier

Ok, where was I... So we went home around 10, and left the kids at my Mom's house for the night. The nurse at the hospital had declared me 3 cm and told me she figured they would see me back that night. But "people like me" usually like to labor at home as long as possible. (People like me being those looking for natural births). It didn't really matter when I went, the doctor I had fallen in love with as out all week for her boards, so there was NO chance she would be delivering my baby unless I managed to stay pregnant until Friday! (no thanks)

I had contractions all night but they were manageable. I could sleep for about an hour or so at a time. I got up around 1:30 and went back to bed about 4:00. I was in some pain but just relaxing helped me a lot. The contractions were about 15 minutes apart all night, give or take. Over the last few months I have been working in the ECCHO nursery with two great ladies who know TONS about birth and so when I got up on Tuesday, I contacted them and they stayed in close contact with me through out the day helping me along. Jessica suggested I get some breakfast and try to rest as long as possible. Maybe take a bath and see if I could doze a little there. So, I got up and made some toast and made Clint an omelet and then went and hopped in the tub.

I have always heard how great the tub is during labor. My friend Julie described it as a liquid epidural (something like that) just the other day. For me, the tub was AWFUL!!!! I have never experienced "back labor" but I definetely had it this time. The minute I sat in the tub the contractions got stronger. I could barely recover from one when it seemed another was creeping up on me. I stayed in the tub for a little while and got out. Tried to rest and couldn't so Clint and I decided we would go for a walk to see if we could decrease the time between contractions. I put on my butt toning tennis shoes and we headed out. Our driveway is about a mile if you go down and back so I made that my goal.

When we got to the end, my grandfather saw us and came out to say hello and see how things were. As soon as I had started walking, the contractions went to 4 minutes apart. I didn't want him to worry so I chatted with him through two contractions. Clint could tell I was dying, apparently I am not a great actress! :) So, we headed back to the house and when I got in and sat down they went to about 6 minutes apart. I called Tara and she was encouraging me and telling me how I awesome I was doing. Jessica told me that the point of rest was over, I needed to change positions every 3 or 4 contractions to keep them rolling. I laid on one side and then the other while we watched a couple of movies.

I was really starting to get uncomfortable. Both Tara and Jessica thought it as time to go. I was nervous, I didn't want to get there and find out nothing had changed or have them stop again. We decided e would go and when I got up to get my shoes on etc the contractions were rapid fire. I couldn't complete any task without having to breathe through one. I had been marking them on a paper all day and it was to the point where all I could say was "another one" and Clint was writing them down like crazy. He said "Now it's getting serious" and we hopped in the car to head to Mansfield. The drive was interesting. We got behind a TXDOT truck on the back roads to Midlothian and he was not afraid to drive 20 MPH! Clint tried to get around him by going a different direction. Then when we got to the main road it was school dismissal so we were behind every bus, through every school zone and at every red light between our house and the hospital. I thought we would NEVER get there.

We arrived at the same time as Tara. After Monday night, I knew I needed someone there with experience or I would not make it. This junk hurt and it would be all to easy to give in to pain meds. Tara was kind enough to give up time with her family and call in to work to be there for me. They took me to observation and checked me, said I was 7-8 cm and quickly got me in to a Labor and Delivery room. It was right around 3:30.

This is when we apparently started scaring the living hell out of nurses :) They called me a "trial of labor" because I was there for a VBAC. Apparently they have no hope for people like me. They made me get an IV port "just in case" things went South, told me I couldn't have any food, drinks, or even ice chips and then pretty much checked out. Tara snuck me some coconut water (rebel). And I sat down on the weeble wobble ball. The contractions continued but again, were totally manageable. Tara was pushing on my back during them which helped the back labor immensely. I am so cloudy about most of this, I think I might have to get her to write it all down for me!

The contractions were getting more difficult to breathe through and I was really starting to dread them. I just felt like the "finish line" was never going to come. Tara suggested I try something new so I put the back of the bed all the way up and kneeled there with my arms over the back of it. About that time my nurse came in and, with a very quizzical look, said "What are you doing???" I said "Trying something new." and that was about the last thing I said in a normal voice for the next 10 minutes or so.

The next contraction I felt "something". So I told her that and she checked me and said I was an 8. I was NOT HAPPY about that and vaquely remember rolling my eyes as the next contraction came. Suddenly, my Mom walked in the room, I asked her what she was doing there, told her I was in a really bad place, and another contraction came. This time, I was more clear and screamed "I FEEEL SOMETHING DIFFEREEENNTT!!!!!" Then all hell broke loose, pardon my french but that is the only way I can describe it. My nurse told me I needed to turn around and lay down. All I could hear was sneakers on tile running like mad. By the time I managed to turn around there were about 10 people looking at me. She checked me and said I was complete, the bed started moving. I felt like the chick from the exorcist. I wanted to run out of the room.

They told me the doctor was there and was going to get dressed. I asked "WHICH ONE??" because I didn't know what the doctor looked like (which is kind of comical). For the next few minutes I didn't open my eyes. I have NO CLUE what happened except that I was screaming like a maniac, ripping the skin off people's hands, and thinking that if I could get up and run I would... It couldn't have been very long. I have no CLUE how long I was like that... in between contractions I felt like I would just barely regain "consciousness" and it would all go crazy again.

I started to cry and say I didn't want this anymore. Someone said just reach down and touch your baby. I opened my eyes and looked and I could see his head, I felt his warm little noggin' and all the sudden, just knowing it was almost over, I knew I could do it and felt calm. Then he was born at 6:24 and I was amazed. I think at some point I was like "OMG there was a baby in there!" My mom asked, "What is his name?" I looked at him and said "Michael". (We still hadn't completely decided up to that point.)

He got a chance to nurse before they put him in the incubator to clean him up. Shortly after the big kids came and we all got to watch him get his bath while I ate the SWEET steak dinner the hospital brought me! (It had a bottled Coke so I was pretty darn happy!) I felt like a million bucks. The nurses couldn't believe I was walking around and carrying my two year old all over the delivery room. After a bit, we all walked down to the other room, baby Michael in tow!

What a blessing!!! When Denton as born, I barely saw his face before they whisked him away. It was only by God's grace that I even saw him the day he was born. This experience was SO much better and our family is absolutely blessed by this little baby boy.

We are also extremely blessed to have our new friend Tara. With out her, I never would have made it. She was really my rock and I will always remember her and be grateful to her for that! (Clint was ok too! :))

The qualifier. I described the birth as a "horror show" yesterday and I just wanted to kind of clear up what I meant with that...

I was in labor for 48 hours but they were relatively pleasant. The very end of the birth, I believe it is commonly referred to as transition, was very extreme and I was the horror show. I turned into the chick from the exorcist. I was a little scary.