Ringing in the New Year

Thankfully, New Year's is not quite as bad without Chris around.  I'm doing what he and I would be doing anyway.  You know, just sitting around.  Granted, it would be much nicer if we could do this together, but I'm not as sad about it as I was about Christmas.  I'm looking forward to the new year, so I've got that going for me.  We actually had a New Year's party last year.  It was really fun and all, but it was a lot of freakin' work.  And also, a lot of tired kids.  But the food was good.  I made a bunch of southern food.  It's tradition in the south to have collard greens and black eyed peas for good luck for the new year.  Well, I didn't actually make the black eyed peas, but I made collard greens (and they were actually good!) and a bunch of other delicious greasy fattening food.  I'm thinking I might make all of that yummy stuff when my brother comes up to visit with my mom in tow in a couple of weeks.  I have hambones from Christmas that need to be used.  Don't worry, they're frozen.

Speaking of frozen, it's been so incredibly cold here lately.  I think it stayed in the twenties all day today.  It's killing me!  Our house is kind of old.  I mean, not really old, but it was built in the 60's, so it could use a whole lot of upgrades.  Our windows are all original, which means they're crap.  Our furnace is also original, which means it is pretty much the crappiest.  We also have a wood stove in the basement, which is original, but surprisingly not crap at all.  So I heat the house at night with a fire.  Because Idaho is the last frontier, I guess.

I never knew there was anyone left who actually heated their home with a wood stove by choice until I came to Idaho.  My in laws don't even have central heating, but their stove is huge and it heats their house easily.  They also cut down their own wood on their property and pay $5 for electricity in the winter.  Okay, so I'm guessing on their electric bill, but I'm sure it's not the awful amount that shows up on my bill every month.  Although, my sister has since told me her in laws use a wood stove to heat their home in the winter, and they live in Georgia.  But they also used to live in Idaho before they moved there, so maybe they got the idea from their frontier life out in the Idaho sticks.

Hey, look!  I'm huuuuuge!  With hopefully 7 weeks to go!

Anyway, wood heat is pretty nice, but it's getting harder for me to bring wood in from outside.  I only bring in an armful each night, maybe two if I start a fire earlier than usual.  I will probably have to start actually asking people for help soon.  You know, either that or do everything myself and go into labor.  I have such a hard time asking for and accepting help.  I'm not really sure why.  It's not like I'm cold calling folks and asking them to scrub my toilets with their tooth brushes.  So very many people have offered to help me in different ways, and I haven't taken many of the offers yet.  Well, I haven't needed to yet.  But that time is finally coming, and I have anxiety from it.  Like I said, I don't know why.  I really like helping people because I like how it makes me feel.  Why would I want to deny others of that?

Well, I must go tend to a choo choo crisis in the dining room now.

There's a choo choo crisis every five minutes in this house.  I'm not even exaggerating.

Yeah, it was awesome.... not.

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the hut (work with me here)

Nothing was stirring, except for Ben's butt

I had just gone to bed after setting out presents with care

In hopes that peaceful sleep would be the night's fare

Young Benji was sleeping, his bum poking straight up

His toots filled the air as he gripped his water cup

I slept a blissful hour or so, with dreams of delight

Imagining the morning scene after we'd awaken from night

When over in Ben's bed I heard a great splatter

I sprang from a dead sleep to see what was the matter

Away to fetch a diaper, I raced to the boy

Not expecting the explosion his gut had deployed

I lifted him up- I'd just change him as he slept

Unfortunately I discovered his jammies to be quite wet

I carried the sleeping boy at arms length to the bath

Hoping there would be nothing to trip over in my path

Ben woke as I stripped him of a poo filled sleeper

And rinsed him quickly in the tub before the water grew deeper

The middle of the night surprise bath filled him with cheer

I just prayed that more sleep might be near

Poo laundry was washing and the little boy clean

Snuggling me in new pjs with his eyes all agleam

I kissed his face and told him good night

Laid him in his bed and turned off the light

This story has no moral, but I attest to it's truth

Santa brought me nothing this Christmas except a big Benji poop.

Really, when stuff like that happens, you've got to laugh about it to stay sane, am I right?  And this seriously happened to me at about 2 am on Christmas morning in every detail, plus a bunch of other details that had no rhymes to go with them.  

Christmas morning was great.  Ben was happy and excited.  He loved everything he opened and immediately demanded that I remove it from its packaging so that he might play with it right then.  So it took a while to convince him to open all the presents.  I had been planning on hosting Christmas dinner, but seeing as how the plague saw fit to visit our home the night before, I apologetically canceled.  There are a lot of little ones in our family, and I didn't want any of Chris' sisters to have 2 am poosplosions either.  Meaning dealing with their kid's poosplosions, but I guess it would be unpleasant to be the one actually having the poosplosion, too.  Anyway, I digress.  I do that a lot.  I ended up being alone on Christmas, which made me kind of sad, but Ben was super happy and crazy about everything, so that helped.  

I cooked the hams I was planning on making for dinner because they were already thawed and they were from my in laws' farm (yum yum homegrown pig meats).  The ham was pretty much incredible.  Ben also really liked it.  He kept asking for pieces as I was cutting it up.  

I hope everyone had a great holiday.  I'm glad it's over because I don't have to be sad about it anymore.  I can just look forward to the babies being born and Chris being home for a couple of weeks and my mom coming out to stay for a while.  All good things coming up in just a short time.  It will be difficult and sleep depriving, but also doable.  I have lots of knitting I need to do for the babies, so that will be fun in the meantime.  And also decluttering the remaining rooms in my house that I haven't decluttered yet.  Which are three.  Well, maybe two and half is more like it.  I think if I talk about it enough, I might be able to nag myself into actually doing it.  Like, "Holy crap, Bekah, okay, I'll do it, just shut up about it already!"  I'm hoping it works out that way.  Although, I could just end up ignoring myself.  Meh.  

Happy Christmas!

So my last post was kind of whiny and sad.  Sorry about that.  I do think I'm afforded some mope time what with Chris gone and all, but I don't need to spread it around.  I'm healthy, all my kids are healthy, and I have a warm home.  I should concentrate more on the positives in my life.  Like babies.

I'll be 30 weeks tomorrow.  So far, I've had no complications whatsoever.  My dr worried briefly about my cervix, but an ultrasound showed it to be completely fine.  The babies were 2 lbs 7 oz and 2 lbs 8 oz at 27 1/2 weeks, so I think they're probably three lbs each or close to it now.  They move a lot, and I love feeling them move just as much as I loved feeling Ben move around when I was pregnant with him.  Although, I'm sure they will be a lot more painful than Ben was really soon.  I should really take a belly picture to post.  I'm so crazy huge.  I think I'm full term size now.  I've gained less than I gained with Ben, though.  I think I'll either gain the same amount as I did with Ben, or maybe a little bit more by the end of this pregnancy.  Most of the weight is in my belly this time, though, less in the flabby arms and double chin.  It's coming, though.  I'm sure of it. 

I'm pretty excited about tomorrow morning.  I made a video for Ben at Portable North Pole.  You fill out some questions and upload some pictures, and it gives you a personalized message from Santa.  Ben freaking loved it.  He squeals with delight every time he watches it.  And now he thinks that anyone with a white mustache is Santa.

Yeah, anyone.  I'm pretty sure he probably won't connect the dots between Santa and all the presents he's going to get tomorrow, but I'm still pretty excited.  Santa was a pretty exciting thing to me when I was little.  I can't wait to share that with Ben.  I also made a stocking for him because I couldn't find any to buy that I liked.  I found some pretty cute Christmas John Deere fabric and lined it with green fleece.  Ben liked it a lot because it has tractors on it.  The kid likes tractors.  He always has. 

Anyway, I should probably stop procrastinating now.  I'm throwing the Christmas dinner at my house tomorrow, so I need to tidy things up a bit before it gets too late.  And also start a fire.  I'm freezing. 

Merry Christmas (or whatever you happen to celebrate) and Happy New Year to you and yours!

A Sorta Kinda Christmas

The last Christmas I spent without Chris was our first one as a married man and wife.  I'm pretty sure most people know the story of how we got married 3 weeks before he ran away to Iraq the first time around.  I was living in GA with my family, and we had a crazy cross country trip of a wedding and semi-honeymoon.  That Christmas was also the last one I spent with my blood relatives. 

Since then, I've adopted the traditions of Chris' family.  My family doesn't really have many of those, short of eating delicious food all together, of course.  My family does food and togetherness more than anything else.  Not that we're a negligent bunch or anything.  I'm just the youngest of six, so when I got older, the kids part of Christmas (meaning the fun part, of course) went by the wayside.  When I married Chris, however, four of the five of his siblings were still minors living at home.  Which is really weird, now that I think about it.  All but one is out now and is or has been married and have children.  Anyway, I digress.  My point is they have traditions, and I've adopted them, or rather I have been adopted into them. 

I generally take change pretty well.  I've always been adaptable and just roll with it.  But this year, I'm realizing how much these traditions mean to me.  Since Chris is gone, I feel myself clinging to the familiarity of Christmas.  But it's also not quite the same this year, not only because of Chris, but because his parents and brother are living on the other side of the country until next summer.  Chris' other siblings and I are, of course, doing Christmas things together.  But it doesn't feel the same.  I feel lonely for a Christmas I know.  For a Christmas with my husband home with me.  For a Christmas together. 

He'll be home next Christmas.  And we'll have even more family by then.  I look forward to that.  But I also lament that he won't be home this year for Ben's first Christmas that he'll actually be aware that *something* is happening.  It's the most wonderful time of the year, but also the most difficult when you're the wife of a deployed soldier...

This is going to be a short one

I haven't spent much time on the computer since I came out to GA, so I haven't made any time to blog.  Pretty lame excuse, I know, but it's true.
 
Last night we had a trunk or treat at church.  I made a skunk costume for Ben to match the hat I crocheted for him in August.  I thought he was pretty cute.   

It has a tail, too, but I didn't really get any good pictures of it.  He didn't want to wear it at all when I tried to try it on him after I made it.  He chased his tail around and tried to pull it off when he caught it.  The next night when we were getting ready for the trunk or treat, I told him people would give him candy if he wore his costume.  He had no problems wearing his costume then. 

Here's a picture of 22 weeks.  I'm so big.  Seriously.  I'm going to be crazy huge by the time they're ready to come out. 

I'm thinking it might be nice for my husband if I try to update my blog more.  It will be good to give him an update on everything.  Not that he's been dropping me hints or anything... (I'll give you a hint- he has)

Since my last post, Chris left.  It sucks.  I miss him a lot.  It's definitely different this time than the first time he was deployed.  My every moment is consumed by Ben, so there isn't a lot of time for self pity.  Ben is talking so much now, and he's a lot of fun.  There are days when he's obviously about to turn two- testing his limits at every turn and throwing fits left and right.  And sometimes it coincides with a very difficult day for me which makes it an even more difficult day for both of us.  But things are usually better for both of us if I force myself to be more patient.  So I've been doing that a lot more, and that's good.  Ben is much more fun to be around when I can be calm about his chaos.  A side benefit of that is he's much more willing to help clean up his messes- to the point that he's even occasionally picked up his toys before I even asked him to.  If I can raise neat kids, that would be amazing.  Because, uh, I'm not neat.  Neither is Chris.  We're the anti-neat.

In spite of my self professed disorganization, I have actually been able to keep my house clean since Chris has been gone.  This is pretty good because when Chris leaves, I pretty much don't feel like cooking or cleaning at all.  And I didn't cook at all for a while there.  But I finally broke down and bought groceries, and I've challenged myself not to eat at any restaurants at all.  It was a lot harder at first, but it got easier.  I think these things help me not to be depressed, too.  Cleaning house sucks, but if I stay on top of it, I guess it's not so bad.  I still have to wrangle my laundry before I leave, though.  It feels like a huge ginormous overwhelming task, but when I finally make myself do it, it probably won't be a big deal.

The twins have been moving more and more as of late.  They're still not very strong, so it doesn't hurt when Baby A kicks me in the cervix yet.  I'm getting so big, though.  Seriously.  I just went to take another belly picture because I've not been so on top of those.  I took my first one at roughly the same point as the first one I took with Ben.  This is almost 17 weeks with Ben.  My belly was still lumpy with pre-baby fats, but it was at this point that I finally had a uterus with a baby in it poking a little bit outward.

And here is almost 17 weeks with Things 1 and 2.  I realize the distance is different, but you can see the bigness with the second that is not in the first.  I'm already wearing maternity clothes in this picture, people. 

And here is me tonight at 19 weeks.  I didn't realize how much I had grown in the last two weeks.  Holy crap.  And considering I will be having a c-section at 38 weeks (I'd like to hold out longer, but I know that when I get there, I will probably be ready to do anything to get them out), I'm half way, y'all.  Also, 38 weeks is considered full term for twins, and their bodies are just as fully developed as a 40 week singleton.  Just so's you know I'm not planning on getting them cut out of there before they're ready on purpose (crossing fingers that I don't have pre-term labor with these here babies).

Anyway, the point is- I'm fat, people.  And I'm getting fatter exponentially.  I'm totally okay with this, though.  If I'm growing, that means they're growing.  I don't know if you remember, but when I was pregnant with Ben, I was always worried that he'd have some kind of congenital defects.  Not that it would have affected our love for him in the least bit.  I just felt like it was just too lucky for us that we finally were having a baby and he might be completely normal and healthy.  It was really lucky, and I'm so grateful.  But this time around, I'm so terrified of pre-term labor and having the babies before they're ready and what if they're too little and they die?  I'm afraid of not being able to take home any babies at all.  Or taking home one instead of two (is it greedy of me to want both of the babies I'm growing?  Okay, no, I know it's not).  This time around, I feel like we were so lucky to get two babies from barely even trying (one IUI!  one!  And I only had 2-3 follicles ready.  If I only had two eggs drop, that was a 100% fertilization and implantation rate, y'all.  That just doesn't happen for us!  But it did.).  Anyway, it's just crazy pregnant lady brain.  Every pregnant woman worries about her unborn child/ren.  And the worry just never stops, even after they're born.

About the child of mine that I birthed almost! 2! whole! years! ago!  I know I talked about him already, but I can talk about him some more.  We've changed up our sleeping arrangement again.  Having him in the pack n play in my room just was not working.  I thought if I gave it enough time, it would, but it didn't.  It took him forever to fall asleep, and every five minutes of that forever, he would stand up to request that I cover him up again.  I know, I know- the easy answer is just to stop doing it and eventually he'll stop asking, right?  He'd scream and scream and scream and scream.  Now, I didn't reinforce the screaming by giving him what he wanted, but it made for nights that were horrible for both of us.  And I didn't want to keep doing that, so I would get up and cover him up again the next night.  Now that I have to roll myself out of bed (okay, that's an exaggeration- it's more like a shimmy-hop on my butt), I tired of the constant up and down.  So I moved him back into my bed with the reasoning that I don't care if he plays until he goes to sleep, if he wants me cover him up, I don't even have to lift my head, and as a rule- he may not play with my hair to get to sleep.  So, there are pros and cons- I'm happy I don't have to get up and he's happy to be sleeping next to me.  However, the likes to be touching me AT ALL TIMES, which makes me crazy.  Also, his playing before he goes to sleep consists of ring around the mommy (crawling all the way around me multiple times and laughing hysterically) and/or sticking packing peanuts (don't ask) into the floor fan in the room and consequently having it scare the crap out of me because I think he's getting hurt by the fan- which makes me jump up, completely wide awake and unable to wind back down into sleepy land.  Okay, in fairness to him, he's only done it one time yesterday at nap time.  The crawling around me thing happens almost every night.

I know I'll have to get him out of my bed before the babies come, but I'm still trying to figure out how.  But we will do it somehow, out of necessity.  But not until after I get back from Georgia.  Oh, yeah, I'm going there for six weeks.  Chris is in Mississippi, and I'll be able to go and see him before he leaves the country.  It's about a six and a half hour drive to my family from there, so I figured I'd go ahead and make my last trip out to GA for a long while.  I leave in less than a week.  I still have so much left to do...  Anywho, I'll leave you with some pictures of the boy.

Ben's playing in his dad's footlocker before he left.

He's modeling a hat I made for my cousin's little boy's Halloween costume.  He loved it so much I had to chase him around the house to take it back to send it to said cousin.

Oh, the dramz!

Okay, so they're actually letting Chris come home everyday after formation, and probably will keep doing so until he has to leave on Monday.  Which is also my birthday.  Boo!  It's a good thing I'm not all into my birthday anymore.  It's just really not a big deal anymore.  I don't think I've actually even had a cake in years.  Which is fine because I don't like cake.  That's probably why I never have one. 
Anyway, I'm sure I'll probably be pretty upset next week when I leave Chris at the airfield.  I'm thinking I should be able to see him when he has pass again right before he leaves the country.  We don't know when it will be, but I have an idea of around the time it *should* be.  So Ben and I are going to GA for a little while to spend Thanksgiving with my family and also be ready to drive to wherever Chris is when he goes on pass (he'll most likely be at one of two bases in the southeast). 
I'm so insanely tired.  I'm always tired right now.  Ben and the babies are pretty much sucking the life force out of me.  Which is as expected, but it's pretty much kicking my butt.  I keep waking up in the middle of the night at the tiniest little sounds, and then it takes me two hours to get back to sleep.  I'm pretty sure this didn't start happening to me last pregnancy until third trimester.  It's so frustrating, though.  I'm so glad Ben still naps, though.  If he stops wanting to nap before he's three and a half, I'm going to die.  Period. 
Blah.  This is so boring.  I don't blame you if you stop reading now.  Uh, if anyone is actually reading this now.  Hello? *echoes*  Yeah, I thought so. :) 

I got so bored just re-reading what I had written that I wandered off to read other people's blogs for a while last night.  I found this great charity album that was put together by Pacing the Panic Room.  The writer's step-son has Smith-Magenis Syndrome, which is an uncommon genetic disorder that affects the individual's physical and cognitive characteristics.  More research is needed, of course, and the proceeds from this album are 100% going towards that.  And the music is pretty awesome.  Children's music usually grates on my brain.  I HATE it.  You will never find a Wheels on the Bus cd in my house.  Because of course, Ben would love it SO much that he'd want to listen to it a million trillion times a day.  Perhaps I'm a really horrible mother because of this deliberate omission in his childhood (I don't care).  I already have to bargain with him as to how many times I will read his new tractor book to him in one sitting.  I didn't even know he knew the word 'tractor'.  Anyway, the music is for kids, but definitely enjoyable for an adult.  Ben is currently dancing around the room to "Potty Time" and yelling "POTTY!!!!".

We saw the babies again this past week.  I'm still not quite far along enough for their gender bits to be big enough for accurate identification.  However, the sonographer's guess is two boys.  TWO BOYS!!!  I'm may have three boys, y'all!  Just thinking about it makes me really really tired.  I was SO sure I was having a boy and a girl, but I think it was mostly in interest of self preserving my sanity (and also buying cute girl clothes).  So yeah, my sanity?  Will be losing it.  Baby A is pretty much definitely a boy, but she wasn't so sure about Baby B.  So we'll see in a month. 

Also, mah belly is huge.  One day I just looked kind of dumpy and overweight.  The next day I woke up and had a pregnant belly.  I just looked through my archives for comparison with my last pregnancy, and I'm already so much bigger than last time.  I'll have to take a picture because, uh, I've been too lazy to take any belly pictures thus far.  Except for a really crappy one on my phone, but I'm not putting that on here. 

Now if you'll excuse me, Ben is having a crisis because he can run his trains across the air vent in the floor.  I think he thinks it's supposed to be a track...

Chris is home on pass.  He has today and tomorrow left.  Time just doesn't stop.  No matter how much I wish for it to stop or will it to stop with my mind ('cause, you know, the whole 'willing things to happen with your mind' totally works normally...), time completely disregards my desires.  For the past several months, time has been somewhat of an aggressor in my life- constantly pushing me forward, hurtling towards some unknown future.  Well, unknown except for the fact that I knew my husband would have to go, and that is what I've wanted to avoid.  I've been trying very hard not to think about his impending absence, but the day is almost here.  I can  no longer avoid confronting his departure.

It's been easy to hold it together, simply because I've been in a sort of denial of time.  There's always been more time, so I would make the best of it.  But now there is no more time.  Well, a day and a half.  I have him for a day and a half more.  My house will feel so lonely when he leaves.


P.S.  I disabled comments on this post because I'm not looking to have a pity party of any sort.  I know folks feel bad for me and wish that it didn't have to be this way, and I appreciate those good feelings from people.  I just wanted to express what I'm feeling right now.

Hey y'all.  As usual, I've had a ton of ideas for blog posts in the past however long it's been since I last posted.  But I don't feel like writing any of them (except for maybe the one about nose picking- but do you really want to read about that?).  The husband has left for AT, which means I have about a handful of days left that I get to see him.  A few days in about a month when AT ends and a few days in MS right before he leaves the country. 

It's going to be hard for me.  It already is.  I miss him like crazy, and he just left yesterday.  It'll be really hard for him, too.  We're several years out of the newlywed phase, but we're still just as crazy about each other.  No.  More crazy about each other, I think.  But I worry most about how hard it's going to be on Ben.  He really loves his dad.  His eyes light up when Chris comes home from work, and Ben runs to the door to give him a hug.  He's used to Chris being gone for a weekend here and there for drill, but he'll probably start looking for his dad around the house soon. 

We recorded Chris reading him bedtime stories, so I can show them to him every night.  We also had some family pictures taken (which is kind of hilarious because Chris and I are not very photogenic- I'm pretty sure most of the pictures are of us looking weird and Ben being completely adorable), so I can put them in a book for Ben to look at whenever he wants to. 

Side note: This is so not the time period I would normally choose for family pictures.  I seriously should have planned better and done them three months ago when I weighed two babies + a food baby less (Food baby = when you eat a bunch of food and look pregnant).  I'm at that stage where I don't actually look pregnant, but I've obviously gained weight.  I just look like I've been eating way too many sloppy joes.  I'm not really complaining about it.  I don't mind.  I just don't think I would have immortalized my pillsbury dough paunch with pictures if I had thought about it sooner. 

Bah!  So as I was writing this last night Ben woke up and wanted to go back to sleep with me while playing with my hair.  Well, that just wasn't going to happen.  That's how I used to put him to sleep a few months ago, and we're not going back there.  He was pretty insistent about it.  So I ended up having to go to bed while helping him to go back to sleep in his own bed (he'll go to sleep on his own (normally), but he won't go to sleep by himself- he needs someone in the room).  But this is why he did it:  I put him to sleep that way one night.  I stayed the night at my mother in law's house, and it was the easiest option to get him to sleep without disturbing everyone else in the house.  One! night!  I've learned my lesson.  Thankfully, he stayed asleep once he finally fell back to sleep last night.

I will be happy when this whole deployment thing is over, although it will be triple the crazy when Chris gets home.  I hope the babies will be good sleepers.  Seriously.  If I have two more sleepers like Ben, I will probably die.    

Aaaaaaand then my brain exploded.

As you may remember, if you have known me for any length of time since I birthed my son, we have sleep issues.  No.  He has sleep issues.  After my last post about it, I followed some of the advice I received.  First, I just ignored him when he got out of bed (we had a baby gate set up in the doorway, so he couldn't get out- Parent A or B would sit in a chair outside the door).  But the problem with this method was that once he realized I wouldn't play the game of putting him back into bed, he just played.  He sleeps with a floor fan going in his room.  It was really hard not to laugh at him when he would squat in front of the fan and yell to hear his voice get chopped up.  So, anyway, this was not helping him get to sleep. 
Next method was to put his mattress on the floor beside our bed with the hope that he would settle down to sleep if he was sleeping where everyone else was sleeping.  Ha.  Yeah right.  The new game was to climb onto the bed and jump all over Mom and Dad.  Again and again and again. 
So now, we still have him in our room, but we brought in the pack n play.  And that is his new bed.  He seems to be adjusting to sleeping in it okay for nap time, but you can just forget about bedtime.  We do our routine- the same every night- he's always yawning and rubbing his eyes during stories.  I know he's freaking tired.  But as soon as we close the last book, he jumps up and has a party.  He goes completely wild.  The end of story time is his cue to wake up and NEVER GO TO SLEEP.  In the past week and a half, the shortest length of time it has taken to get him to sleep has been maybe half an hour, which is definitely not typical.  Most nights, it takes an hour and a half.  Tonight, it took three hours.  THREE HOURS!!  And we don't just put him in his bed and leave him there.  One of us lays in our bed beside him, so he knows it's time to go to sleep.  But it's such a huge thing that happens every single night, and it's killing me!  But I just don't know what to do.  I can only hope that eventually he will just sleep already.  Because really, I got nothin'.

 

*sigh* I love that kid more than anything.  Even if he makes me crazy.  (Not a new picture, but still cute.)

So, we saw the twins again last Friday.  They're growing and their hearts are beating.  And according to the old wives tale about heart rates, we're having two girls.  But I also remember that Ben's heart rate was pretty high this early, but it went down further later on. 
I had my first appointment with my OB on Monday.  I will just say now that I love my OB.  She also did fertility treatments, and she had triplets.  So she doesn't take this multiples thing lightly.  I'm glad because I've been getting a little freaked out by all the potential complications that are more likely with each extra baby you're carrying.  She gave me a book, When You're Expecting Twins, Triplets, or Quads, and I'm really glad.  I guess I just had this idea that with twins, you're just a little more pregnant, and it would be a lot like a singleton pregnancy, but bigger.  I had this idea that you couldn't really do much about potential complications unless you're unlucky enough to have them.  And I'm sure some of that is true, but apparently there is a lot you can do to try and prevent bad things from happening.
Also, one of the things that's really stressed in this book is how much more weight you need to gain with extra babies and how quickly you need to gain it.  Now, I'm not on the small side.  I am a large milkshake.  And even taking that into account, I'm supposed to gain 20-25 lbs by week 20.  I am now 9weeks and several days, and I have gained one pound so far.  I don't even know how I'm going to do this, y'all.  Now, I totally buy into this business of the weight gain.  Studies show a strong correlation between the weight a mother of multiples gains during pregnancy and the babies' birth weights.  I would really like to be able to take my babies home as soon as possible after they're born, you know?  But I just don't know how I'm going to be able to eat that much.  And then there's all the water to drink and the milk.  They advise drinking a quart of whole milk a day.  A quart!  That's a meal in itself!  Well, at least the Zofran seems to be working well enough to allow me to eat and cook.  That is a definite plus there. 

I'm sure I'll do it all somehow.  I'm just overwhelmed.  I'm freaked out about Chris leaving so soon.  We have no more weekends together.  Well, just one, but I don't really count it because he has to use the entire time getting ready for Annual Training.  And then we get to have a few days together before he's mobilized.  There's just not enough time.  I need him.  I'm worried about what to do when I get so big I can hardly move, and it will just be me and Ben.  How will I take care of him?  How will I give him the snuggles and kisses and loves he'll need from his mama?  And more practically, how will I change his diapers when I can't pick him up or get up off the floor once down there?  I've gotten plenty of offers for help, but I can't really call someone every time Ben needs a diaper change.  I have more worries than I have answers.   I hope I figure it out before I get there.

Uuuugggghhhhhh....

You know, I'm trying really hard to be a good sport about this morning sickness thing, but it just really really sucks.  I could at least tolerate it if I could just feel better after I hurl.  But of course not!  The focus of much of my day is to not puke.  And sometimes I lose it by the end of the day, and it's just bile.  I try to keep something in my stomach all the time because it's worse when I'm hungry, but it doesn't seem to be working so well anymore.  The dr's office offered me Zofran if it gets too unbearable, but I've read that it mostly just keeps you from throwing up, but you still feel sick.  I don't know.  Maybe I should try it.  Sometimes my nausea is debilitating.  If I move, I will puke.  I know.  Whine, whine, whine.  Well, I guess I can because it's my blog.  So there.

In preparation for Operation: Outnumber Mommy Overkill, we traded in my husband's truck for a minivan.  I'm not really one of those people who gets hung up about what kind of car I drive, so I'm not worried about looking like a soccer mom or anything.  Anyone who thinks that will see my slovenly butt get out of the car and perhaps change their mind.  Or not.  I don't care. 

But now I'm obsessed with the possibility that I may somehow land in a body of water somewhere and not be able to get all of my children out of the car.  I told this to my husband, and his response was, "Just don't drive into a lake or anything."  But what if a semi rams into me on a bridge?!  So I'm going to have to get one of these to be able to cut seat belts and break a window if I ever need to.  But two infants and a toddler?!  The idea of not being able to save one (or more) of them scares the pee pee out of me.  I know I'm being a little ridiculous here, but it still seriously freaks me out.  Luckily you don't cross quite as many long bridges over rivers in southern Idaho as you do in the northern part. 
Although, just a few years ago, there were five kids going to school (this happened in my husband's home town), and they slid on an icy road into a pond.  They all drowned.  I didn't even know these children, but I couldn't even read that article just now without crying, I'm still sad about it.  I also find it hard not to cry when I drive by that pond.  I can't imagine what it must be like for their parents.  So maybe that has something to do with why I'm so freaked out about my kids drowning in a car and me not being able to do anything about it.  It's just so horrible and tragic.
Yes, I know.  I'm crazy. 

Man, now I feel like Debbie Downer.

Not for the faint of heart

Or something.  This is a disclaimer that I will be talking about a yeast infection (mine) and associated parts (the vajayjay- also mine).  So if you are offended/completely grossed out by this, you might just want to skip this post.

Some people get a lovely pregnancy glow or shiny beautiful hair.  And then when other ladies get pregnant, they get yeast infections.  I guess I'm one of those ladies this time around.  I thought that maybe it was an allergic reaction to the new progesterone suppositories I started using.  (ahem, they do not go in the butt- in case you were wondering) But as time when on, and it got worse and worse, I realized the beast for what it was. 
I did some googling and enough reputable (although I admit, I'm using the term somewhat loosely) sources told me that it was okay to use Monistat.  So I get the seven day because it takes longer, so it will seriously just knock the crap out of that yeast, right?  I wasn't relishing the idea of having to stick progesterone and Monistat up the hooha for a week, but really, I don't like sticking something up there every day anyway and I have to, so it's moot. 
Did they do something to Monistat?  Change it in some way?  Because it burned like 300 flaming demon suns of evil doom.  I have never wished I could completely remove my vagina until that moment in my life.  I ran around the house doing the pee pee dance and basically dying.  I thought maybe there was a reaction with the progesterone and cursed my brain for not thinking of the possibility BEFORE I took it until I found some forum full of people talking about how horribly Monistat burned them.  Thank you, internet, for reassuring me that I hadn't ruined my vagina forever.  It was really hard to imagine otherwise at the time.  I called my OB, and they prescribed some diflucan.  I didn't want to go that route originally, but my yeast infection was so so so bad at this point that I just couldn't stand the idea of waiting for yogurt and probiotics to work.  It takes time, yo. 
So I was bragging at Jen at Maybe If You Just Relax that I hadn't puked in days(!)  I guess you must know what happened then.  Vomiting and lots of it.  (Wow, I am just the purest source of disgusting topics today, aren't I?  Thank you, babies!)  And queasiness that won't go away now.  I want to eat, but everything looks just gross.  I've been able to eat french fries and chicken sandwiches.  I'm doing somewhat well with salty.  I know I won't mind eating healthfully someday when I can actually eat again.  I made this casserole last night with broccoli, carrots, celery, brown rice, and cheese that I would normally just drool over.  I was able to eat it last night, but when I heated some leftovers for Ben today, I gagged.  It's sad because the concept tastes so good to non-morning sickness Bekah.  Anything with cheese on it tastes so good.  But not right now. :(  So sad. 
Okay, no more complaining about being sick (at least for this post).  I just didn't get hit with it very bad with Ben.  But it does make me feel better that the babies must be doing all right in there.  I'm anxious about my next ultrasound.  I'd be pretty upset if we lost one and didn't know it. 
I really should take some pictures of Ben to show you.  He's getting pretty big.  He's getting better at communicating, even though there's still plenty he tries to tell us that we just don't understand.  He's such a fun kid.  He's started to play pretend more.  He has a plush snake he sleeps with that everyone kisses every night (and a puppy and a koala).  Chris will make the snake hiss and tickle Ben's face with its tongue.  Well yesterday, Ben brings a tower of single mega blocks over to me and hisses while he tickles my face with it.  I just love that kid.  And yes, I think he's amazing and awesome and adorable and the best.  Because he's my baby.  Holy crap, what am I going to do with three babies?

It's like the song that never ends.

You know what's ironic about the title of my last post?  I still don't think my mom has even read it yet. 

I need to clean my house with an urgency.  And yet.  Here I sit.  Not doing anything urgently even though I should be.  I hate cleaning anyway, and moving too much upsets my stomach at the moment.  So yeah, it's like that.  I'm sure I'll get off my butt and do something about it today, though.  Ben keeps pulling can openers off the counter in the kitchen.  You know what really sucks?  That he can pull anything off the counter in the kitchen.  Man, it is really annoying.  It's my fault.  I'm supposed to keep the counters clear, right?  *grumble grumble*
Let's talk about Ben's sleep habits.  I know how boring it must be, but it's an all encompassing endeavor over here.  Before I started working at that temp job, Chris and I decided it was time to Get Serious about having Ben sleep on his own.  We put a chair outside of his door and after his bedtime routine, we kissed him, said good night, and put him in his bed.  Chris sat outside of his door until he fell asleep.  It actually went really well.  He got upset at first, but in a pretty short period of time, he fell asleep.  We had some ups and downs, but we managed to get it to where he was going to bed by himself consistently every night.  When he woke up in the night, it was usually pretty easy to settle him. 
Until, randomly, he started waking up in the middle of the night and not going back to sleep for three or four hours.  I was working by then, so we pretty much died.  We put him to bed later, and it stopped the extreme night waking, but I don't know if he gets enough sleep like this.  And now, he has decided that going to sleep is for suckers and he'd rather get out of bed, so I have to escort him back to his bed.  It's a game for him, but I don't know how to make it stop.  It usually takes an hour and a half to two hours to get him to go to sleep this way, and there's a lot of frustration on my part.  I don't like being grumpy and impatient with my kid, you know?
I guess I'll probably have to start from square one again, but even further from where we started in the first place.  We're doing kind of a modified version of The Baby Whisperer's Gradual Withdrawal, but now that he is actually able to sleep on his own, I don't know if that will work.  The problem seems to be that he gets up and wants me to take him back to his bed.  Now, I will lead him back to his bed, and just say something like, "It's time for night night, go to sleep, " and then go back to my chair, not engaging with him in any interesting way.  But for him, he thinks it's fun that when he gets out of bed, I get out of my chair and take him back to bed.  He just thinks that's hilarious, and he will do it again and again ad nauseum.  So, really, I'm just playing his game with him and helping him to prolong the inevitable of sleep.  So now, I have to develop a new strategy.  I know we wouldn't really have this problem if he was in a crib, but it's just not an option.  He has never ever ever been a crib sleeper.  And when I realized this, I took down the crib and got him a toddler bed.  Anyway, anyone else have this kind of problem?  Any suggestions?  Even though it takes so long to get him to sleep, it has been so blissful to be able to sleep in my own bed all night, next to my husband even!
Blah.  I guess I should go clean my house.  I've been putting it off for long enough today, I suppose. 

Hi Mom

You're probably going to be the only one to read this, since it's been several months since I've posted anything here. 

Some big things have been happening around here.  I got a temp job.  I got fired from said temp job after two weeks.  Because I had one mild disagreement with my trainer.  I didn't even get rude!  But she told my boss I was being unprofessional, and that was that.  The week before The Incident my trainer was talking to me about the long term opportunity of the position.  I told her I wasn't interested at all in being hired on.  When I interviewed at the temp agency, I specifically requested no temp to hire placements.  My husband's being deployed soon (oh yeah, that's another thing), and I have no interest in doing the single working mom thing while he's gone.  It's hard enough being a single stay at home mom.  (Also, Mom, I don't know how the heck you managed working and taking care of six kids.  Honestly, I will never get over how insane that must have been for you.) 
So, anyway, when my boss was doing the firing, she said that the position was going to be around for a long time, and then said she couldn't have someone that couldn't get along with her lead person.  Okay, remember, it was a MILD disagreement.  I don't even dislike the chick at all.  We have a lot in common.  So, whatever.  Keywords, I think, are "position is going to be around for a long time".  I think they just didn't want to put all that time into training me when I was going to leave and then they'd have to get someone else.  Whatever.  I didn't like working full time in downtown Boise anyway.  It added an extra unpaid two hours in traffic during which my head exploded daily.  I realize that Boise traffic isn't as bad as most other metropolitan areas where they actually have people and all.  I do remember Atlanta being much worse, and I would probably kill myself if I lived in Provo and worked in Salt Lake City like my brother used to do.  Traffic still makes me angry, though. 
Yes, the husband is being deployed again.  It will be in the next few months or so for a year.  I'm worried about several things- of course, I'm worried about his safety.  I worry enough about him just riding his motorcycle to work.  I'm also worried about how I'll take care of the house and Ben while he's gone.  I envy naturally organized people.  I desperately need routines and organization, and that's just not my bag.  I mean, it took me long enough to get a solid bedtime routine for Ben, and even then it pales in comparison to the "recommended" bedtime routines from books.  It's just going to take practice and lots of discipline, I guess.  I'm also worried about being pregnant and giving birth while he's gone.  Uh, yeah.  About that.
We don't have that awesome fertility coverage on our insurance that we had when I got pregnant with Ben.  But when my period came back, we both felt like we should try for another kid.  After my second cycle, we decided not to leave it up to chance because we still had no idea what the condition of of our fertility was, and we just didn't have time with him leaving so soon.  So I went to the fertility clinic again.  Luckily, our insurance covered the meds and the initial bloodwork, but all the procedures and ultrasounds had to come out of pocket.  And that part hurt, let me tell you.  It was money that we just didn't have.  So we decided we'd just do one IUI, and if it didn't work, well, there's always next year when he comes home. 
Our fertility, by the way, is in the exact same state as before.  My body still hasn't gotten the memo about ovulating, and Chris' swimmers are still wonky shaped.  But you know what?  It worked.  I'm growing a baby.  Actually, I'm growing two babies.  My mind is still blown.  It took so many months of IUIs to get pregnant with Ben, and this time?  Once.  And we get to have twins.  I can't believe it!  But it's true.  Chris and I saw their tiny little hearts pumping away.  Of course, the unthinkable could technically still happen and we could lose one or both.  But at this point, the chances are way slim.  I would post the ultrasound picture, but I haven't scanned it yet.  We'll go back in two weeks for another peek at the babies at 9 weeks.  But as of now, their heartbeats are strong, and they're measuring perfectly. 
My morning sickness has been crazy bad this time around.  Some days I can't keep anything but water down.  Although there are some days that I don't puke at all, but even then I'm queasy all day.  But how the heck can I even complain?  I'm so freaking lucky! 
When I was trying to get pregnant the first time, I went to a lot of infertility message boards for support.  I saw a lot of women with primary infertility criticizing others with secondary infertility.  Saying they didn't have it as bad.  And you know what?  They didn't.  Primary infertility is worse.  I was instantly at peace with the idea that this one IUI might not work.  I'm sure I would have cried if it hadn't, but I still have my son to cuddle and kiss and love and mother.  Dealing with infertility was so different the first time around.  And I'll never forget how awful it was. 
So if you know me on facebook, and you're wondering why I'm not shouting the news from the rooftops, it's because of primary infertility.  I have friends on there that have been trying for years and years and years- tried all the treatments they could afford- to no avail.  Granted, I'm not very close to some of them, but I still don't want to be that pregnancy announcement that makes their day feel a little bit worse.  Most of them don't know my whole story with infertility, and I don't want to cheapen by saying, "Hi, I'm pregnant, but it's okay because I dealt with infertility too!"  Somehow, I don't think that will make them feel any better. 
But I will be happy and giddy and talking about the babies off of facebook, which is probably the reason I'm posting this now.  I'm still awfully worried about how I'm going to manage two infants and a two and a half year old with my husband overseas, but I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

I spend most early mornings curled up around Benji with my feet hanging off the end of his toddler bed.  He wraps my hair around his fingers and twists it around and around to soothe himself back to sleep.  Sleep is much different now than how it used to be.  I've successfully managed to night wean Ben, but he still requires my presence to get back to sleep.  He loves to have company in that little bed.  For a while, Chris was able to get him to sleep, and he slept well for my mother in law while I was in the hospital.  Since then, he has decided that I'm the only one who will get him to sleep.  I've decided that I don't mind this too much.  We've made progress, and this is good.  I'm sure we'll keep making progress, however slow.  That's all that matters.

I've started my gardening efforts of 2010.  Well, sort of.  I haven't actually tried to grow anything yet.  The frost risk in my area isn't quite gone yet.  Last weekend, my brother and his family came to visit from Utah, and they helped me with some yard work.  Like scooping dog poop and filling in holes my lab has dug (hey, thanks, guys!).  We also dug out all the dirt and weeds from one garden bed, and filled it with some deliciously wonderful soil for my future plants.  Uh, delicious to said plants.  I didn't taste it, or anything...  I think I'm just going to start this year with one bed, and if all goes well (meaning, I don't kill everything), then I'll do the other garden bed next year, too.  I'm planning on doing a square foot garden.  I've had the book since we lived in the trailer.  Chris got it for me as a gift because I really really wanted a garden, but our yard was so tiny.  I never did anything with it because our yard was still too tiny for a garden and two big dogs.
But this year, I came across this site, and decided to give gardening a shot.  I'm! so! excited!
But before I can plant anything, we have to put a fence up around my garden beds to keep the dogs out.  To do that, we also have to cut down the apple tree.  Before you go lamenting my apple tree, I will tell you that it has been very poorly kept.  It probably hasn't been pruned in five to ten years, so there are a lot of branches that shouldn't be there.  It also hasn't been thinned properly through the years, so there are a lot of branches that have been weighed down and broken by the fruit.
I'll also throw in this disclaimer- I don't know anything about growing apple trees other than what I just told you.  The plum tree, on the other hand, can still be saved from its previous neglect.  It really just needs a good pruning this fall.  I thinned the plums out last year, and we had a fair harvest from it.  Those plums were yummy. 
Anyway, when I say that *we* have to cut down the apple tree, and *we* have to put up a fence around the garden beds, what I really mean is that Chris has to do it.  I would try, but I would do everything wrong and then Chris would have to redo it anyway.  Except, I probably would not try to cut down the tree.  I would most certainly destroy property accidentally.  And Chris won't be able to do it for a couple more weeks.  So I'll be cooling my heels on the gardening front for a bit.  But I may plant some seeds anyway.  They probably won't sprout to be big enough for my dogs to bother them until Chris can put up the fence anyway. 

Absenteeism

I haven't felt like blogging in a long time.  Or I would think about things to write and just never get around to it.  They're always the same excuses with me, I tell ya.  There gets to be a point when so much has happened that I could never remember it all to tell you.  And well, I'm sure it's not all interesting enough to relay anyway. 
I think the biggest reason I stopped blogging for so long is that my depression took a sharp turn for the worse after I returned from my visit to Georgia.  I went off my prozac while I was visiting to see how I'd do.  I did well because I was on vacation.  Yeah, that figures.  When I came back and the reality of daily life set back in, I went back on it.  And as inadequate as the drug was before, it was completely ineffectual when I started it again.  My mood quickly rolled downhill.  I am still amazed at how awful and horrible I felt after such a short period of time.  My thoughts flew uncontrolled into dark areas of melancholy and languished there unchecked.  I knew if I didn't find a way to stop it, the rational part of my brain would eventually shut down and surrender itself.  I have too much to lose. 
I do see a therapist, but the medical doctor treating me was my Ob/Gyn.  I had to wait three weeks to see her to talk about changing my medication.  Those three weeks were agonizing, but I clung to my hope that when that time came, I would be offered some sort of respite.  She told me my symptoms were beyond her scope, and I really needed to see a psychiatrist.  I can't really fault her for that, and I appreciated honesty.  However, the wait for a psychiatrist was another two and a half to three weeks.  I couldn't wait that long. 
In my desperation for help, I checked myself into the hospital.  I was scared.  I've had depression for most of my life, but I've never been in a psychiatric ward.  I had images in my head that there would be psychotic, schizophrenic, involuntarily jerking people who foamed at the mouth surrounding me as we all settled down for the night in padded cells.  And thinking of that now makes me laugh, heartily.  There are probably places that are like that.  But not the place I went to.  It was a short term facility designed for people like me that need emergency mental health care and can stay for 3 days to 2 weeks while they get back on their feet again.
Because I felt ashamed of my inability to hold it all together, I somehow thought that would translate into how I was treated there- as though I had done something wrong.  I was, of course, treated only with respect and kindness by all the staff and most of the other patients there, too.  A nurse even went out and bought heads of cabbage, so I could use the leaves as compresses on my sorely engorged boobs (OMG, they were hurting so bad!).  I really pushed myself to go to all the groups that were offered and to try to make a plan of how to change things when I got home.  I actually enjoyed my time at the hospital, but I needed to get home.  I didn't see Ben the whole time I was there, and it killed me!  I was put on a different medication, and I was able to go home after a three day stay. 
I'm glad that I went.  I'm still waiting for the full effect of my new medication, but it seems to be kicking in a little after a week now.  Everything is still hard.  I have to make myself do things, so I don't fall back into the old routine that made my depression worse.  They're silly things like getting out of bed, eating, putting on clothes.  Simple things, I know, but not so easy when you're at your lowest point. 
I'm so lucky, though.  These things are easier when you have a loving, supportive family.  Chris was with me through the admission into the hospital, and he came to see me every day I was there.  He took time to talk to me every time I called him.  He took great care of Ben that first night I was gone.  My mother in law took him for the next few days.  I was so grateful that she did that for us.  She has been over to my house several times since then, just helping me to adjust and to get things done around the house.  My sisters in law have helped, too.  Like I said, I'm lucky. 
There's much more to say.  Hopefully, I'll have a bit of time to post some more soon.

To sleep: perchance to dream...

I'm home, home at last!
I stayed up until 1:30 am the night before we caught our 8:20 flight on Thursday.  Ben does this thing where we sits in the suitcase and pulls all the clothes out while I'm trying to fill it.  You know, because he's a baby, and it's fun.  So I have to pack when he's not around.  I was very very tired the next day, and Ben was, too. 
Our first flight went off without a hitch.  And I'll just say now that I am so very grateful to TSA for allowing families with strollers to cut in line.  We wouldn't have made it to our flight on time otherwise.  I was traveling with my sister in law, Velvet, and her two little ones.  She also stayed up until 1:30 am the night before to pack.  Nonetheless, we were a cheerful group.  We were headed home!  We had a two and a half hour layover in Dallas.  We were dreading it, but it went by surprisingly fast with the help of the most awesome airport play area ever!  On our way to catch our 12:25, we heard that our gate had changed, and we needed to get to a completely different concourse.  DFW is pretty huge, yo.  We made it at 12:08.  Hooray!  But wait, they weren't yet boarding, and the man and woman at the counter ignored us when we went to get tags for our strollers. 
We thought maybe it was delayed, so we just sat and waited.  Fast forward 15 minutes, and I see two lines of people at the counter.  Hooray!  We must be boarding!  I go over to the counter, and see that the flight information on the board has changed.  El Paso?  Huh?  "What happened to the SLC flight?" I asked.  Gone.  It left already.  Wh-wh-what?  We've been sitting here waiting for boarding to start!  Apparently they boarded everybody that was there at precisely 11:55, and shut the doors.  The lines of people at the counter consist of angry travelers who were supposed to be on that flight, just like us. 
We spent the next several hours trying to get answers or a least a freaking meal voucher (for now, we had to wait for a 9:20 pm flight- MUCH to our chagrin) to no avail.  I was told that we simply didn't hear the final boarding call- when we were sitting a merely twenty feet away, in view of the counter at the gate.  We had come in on a connecting flight, so their staff knew we were in the airport.  Why weren't our names called?  I've submitted a complaint to American Airlines, and I hope to receive a favorable reply. 
What we went through that day was outrageous.  A complete and utter lack of customer service.  I will never fly with them again.  We spent twelve hours in an airport with three small children through no fault of our own and without any compassion from the airline for our situation.  Luckily, our kids did really well.
The next day I caught a flight back home to Idaho.  I'm so happy to be home.  I've missed my husband, and I've missed my house.  Oh, I have missed my bed so much.  

I'm in GA and have been for a couple of weeks now.  It's always weird visiting my hometown.  There are so many memories, and it was so long ago (well, relative to the length of my life so far).  Sometimes I remember things as though they happened to someone else.  I have a lot of regrets about the decisions I made.  But I'm also really happy with the way things ultimately turned out.  I guess if my present is where my past landed me, I could have done so much worse.  
I like coming back, though.  I like to see how much has changed.  And obviously, I like visiting my family.  That's probably my favorite part.  I only wish that Chris could have come, too.  He pretty much never gets to come with me because of work and/or school.  Suck. 
It would be nice to take a road trip across the country as a family, but Ben is so not ready for that.  We would have to stop too much, and that would annoy the both of us.  When we drive to places, we don't like to stop until we get to our destination.  It works pretty well that we're both like that, but it doesn't work well with kids.  At all.  So, it will be quite some time.  Well, especially since Chris is getting deployed again anyway.  Double suck.

We had my father's funeral the day after I flew into GA.  I wasn't originally planning on singing.  One of my brothers and my two sisters have sung at most of the funerals that have happened in our family in the past 6 years.  We decided at the last minute to sing some songs.  I'm glad we did.  The four of us sang the same hymn we sang at my sister, Sarah's, funeral- Lead, Kindly Light.  Then Eve and I sang Blackbird and a song that she wrote about my dad several months ago before he died.  We want to record it, and I'll post it if we manage to do it.  It was a good service, though.  I really felt closure, and the eulogizer even managed to elicit some compassion out of me for my old man. 

Finally!

I would normally be sleeping right now, but I got up to build a fire, so Chris wouldn't have to before he went to work.  But Ben is asleep, and I can post.  I'm really sleepy, though.  My body isn't made to function before 8 at the earliest.  Well, not when I have a kid that refuses to go to sleep until midnight or later.  And even then, he wakes up a lot if I'm not in bed with him.  I've kind of just resigned myself to the fact that this is just the way things are.  It won't last forever, so I should just be patient.  Sometimes it's really hard to be patient.
I'm gearing up to go out of town again.  I'll be in GA with my family there for three! weeks!  I'm pretty excited about it.  I am a little grumpy about leaving my house for so long right after I got back from a two week trip to Utah, but it's worth it.  I usually only get to go out there once a year.  And I'm also supposed to sing at my dad's funeral with my brother and sister, but I just caught my second cold in as many weeks, so we'll see how my voice sounds when Saturday rolls around.  Apparently, it also makes me form sentences with too many conjunctions.
How is it that I can think of things to write on my blog all day long only to have none of it come to mind when I'm actually sitting here typing.  And I know some might tell me to write it down, but I pick my battles around here.  If the cub sees his mama with a pen and paper, well, he just needs to have it.
I finished our taxes yesterday.  Hooray!  But because we're claiming the new homebuyer credit, we have to paper file, which kind of sucks, but it's worth it.  Side note: Target makes generic cherry cough drops to compete with Luden's, and they are just as good.  Actually, I really don't know that they could be considered as anything but candy.  Nothing soothes a sore throat like some delicious candy cherry drops is what I always say.  Anyway, taxes.  They are done.  The year that we don't overpay on our taxes will be the year that I hate to file.  But it will probably also mean that our house is paid off and we'll both be done with school.  So I guess that would be pretty nice. 
I've decided that if I'm going to have an etsy shop, I need to put real hours into it if I actually want to to become a supplement to our income.  Chris has reservations as to whether I'll actually make money doing it, and I really hope that I can.  I have some designs floating around in my head, but I have no pattern making experience, so I'm hoping I don't ruin any fabric while I experiment.  Because I hate to waste fabric.  Really, I hate wasting anything that costs money.  So stay tuned for the someday when I will actually start an etsy shop, I guess.  But of course, that will be after I get back from GA.  Poor Chris.  I think he might starve to death while I'm gone.  Man cannot live on ramen alone.  It won't keep him from trying, though.

The Walmart here has put all of a woman's menstrual needs in one place.  You can buy pads, tampons, woman targeted pain relievers, and Dove chocolate all from the same section of shelves.  It made me laugh.
Speaking of pads (that segue just wrote itself, people),  have you heard about the new iPad?  I can't decide if it's awesome or not.  Although, I think if I were to buy such a thing, I would purchase one of it's PC based competitors.  Not that we'll be buying one in the next century.  We have plenty of computers per capita in this house.  (Sorry Chris)  But last night, I was thinking about how cool it would be to have a small device that could access the music on our network and sing me to sleep.  Because then I wouldn't have to have the foresight to divine what exactly I'm going to want to listen to later in order to put those musics on my phone.  I'm also hesitant to buy an mp3 player because my phone plays music.  But my phone's (which was not my first choice for a phone, but we got them for a penny! each on amazon) music player has horrible awful organization.  I can't play an album in sequential order.  I get to listen to it in whatever jumbled order the phone decides to play it.  It's not set on any kind of shuffle or random.  It's just stupid.  But I just can't bring myself to purchase an mp3 player.  If I could use one in my car, I might.  But I can't use an FM transmitter because those plug into your cigarette lighter, and mine doesn't work.  I have a feeling that it would cost more than it's worth to fix that.  Eventually, someday, when I get a new car, none of this will matter (or maybe, just the cigarette lighter part won't matter).  But right now, I plan on driving my Subaru for ever and ever until it dies.  I like not having a car payment.
Wow, this post has been one long ramble.  Sorry about that.  I guess that's what happens when I've gotten negligible amounts of sleep and try to communicate.

I've been avoiding posting on my blog because I knew when I did, I'd have to post about my dad.  I haven't really had the best relationship with my dad ever, really, but I thought I had finally come to be at peace with the way things were and accept them.  Then he died a few weeks ago.  My initial thought was that I'd never have to feel disappointed again because he could never let me down now.  I felt like I could finally forgive him for good.  But that initial feeling wasn't cemented.  I've gone back and forth and up and down.  I've talked with my brothers and sisters and mom, and we all have different feelings and similar feelings and have just been trying to help each understand our feelings.  I think we all feel guilty to some extent for not feeling worse about his death than we do.  At least, I know I do.  But I even waver back and forth as to how guilty I feel.  Sometimes I don't feel that way at all.
I went down to Utah to visit my brother for the last two weeks while Chris had a training course for the Army down there.  While I was down there, I had a realization hit me that I know some of my siblings have already had (heck, maybe all of them have).  I don't know why, but the thought chain had just never occurred to me.  My dad chose to leave when he did.  He came to the hospital for my birth because my mom told him he had to (not to say he didn't enjoy it; he found the c-section to be quite interesting).  Then he went home and packed his things, so he could be out of there by the time my mom's parents got there.  They didn't like him, so he figured he'd get out before then.
I can't speak for everyone, but for Chris and me, the day our son was born was amazing.  Nothing can compare to the magic that I felt when my child came into this world.  How could my father leave his family on such a day?  I've continued to think about it, and the train of thought has gone further, but I don't want to talk about it on here yet.  It just really hurts too much.  And as betrayed as I feel by my father, I still don't want to speak too poorly of the dead.  He was my father, and I always loved him unconditionally for it.  It feels fake to accept condolences for his death, though.  I'm not hurt by his death; I was hurt by his life.  I have to find a way to forgive him and at least accept the choices he made in his life, even if I can never understand them.

Firelight

Our house still has its original electric furnace.  Blech.  That means it costs us an arm and a leg to use it.  We found that out the hard way.  Chris and I don't like to be cold.  We hates it.  And because we are self indulgent, that means our furnace has always been set on 71 or 72 in the winter.  Because we also like lounging around in our underwear.  We're way spoiled, obviously.  So our power bill for December was absolutely outrageous and somewhat crippling, really, and now we've had to change the way things are meant to be. 
Luckily for us, our house came with a wood stove.  It's a smallish old thing and it's a bit drafty, but it appears to actually work well enough to keep our entire house warm.  We were thinking about getting a new one, but I think we've nixed that plan.  We were also thinking about getting a new furnace, but that was dismissed as well.  We are determined not to go farther into debt. 
So I've been learning how to build a fire in the wood stove.  I've had limited experience trying to build them in my in laws' wood stove, but I've always failed.  I've also pretty much failed in building lasting, hot fires in our little stove- until today, my friends, until today.  I woke up too late to revive the fire Chris built this morning.  I tried, and I'm actually a bit decent at fire revival (but let's face it, it's pretty easy), but there just weren't enough live coals left.  And then I built a fire that I had to fight a bit to get going, but eventually, it was beautiful.  I'm so proud of myself, folks.  It took a while for it to start radiating heat into the rest of the house, but right now it's comfortable enough that I could be in just my underwear if I wanted to be.  But, uh, don't worry 'cuz I'm not. 
My husband and I sat down yesterday to look at our finances and make a plan for the next couple of years.  First off, it was really apparent how much less we make without me working.  I realize that what I do at home in caring for our kid is valuable, but I still feel guilty about not contributing to our income.  I'm not sure I'll ever stop feeling guilty until I find some way to add to our bank account through my own efforts.  Chris doesn't feel the same way as I do, though.
The process of looking ahead and making plans was really upsetting for me.  Chris already talked about it on his blog, so I guess I can say something here.  He's *probably* (but not certainly) going to be deployed again sometime later this year.  I've done pretty well about not dwelling on it, but we had to talk about it last night, and I'm just really messed up about it.  I hate it so much when he's gone.  And this time I'll have Ben, and and just wish we could all be together.  We've been trying to look at the positives like the extra pay that will be coming and how much we'll be able to save, but to be honest, the money just isn't worth it to me.  I just wish he could stay home with us.  But time will probably go even faster than it did last time he was deployed.  We were thinking that we'd record Chris reading a bunch of books on video, so Ben can see him every day.  I want him to be able to recognize his Dad when he comes back.  Any other ideas on what we could do to keep them close during the deployment?

I've got to wrap this up, but I don't want to end on such a crappy note.  My title reminded me of this SNL short.  It makes me laugh so much.