Me, My Boy, and The Girls

I remember the night well.

It was a Sunday, and it was approximately 7:30 P.M. when we walked through the door with him. I remember looking at him, and then back at McDaddy and asking, “Well, now what do we do?”

Our household had just grown by two feet, and we were the proud [inexperienced] parents of a brand new baby boy.

When we left the hospital, not one single soul had asked for a license, or credentials. Or a resume. Or fingerprints. Rather, they wished us well and sent us on our way with this living, breathing baby boy who had stayed an extra night in the hospital. Without me. McDaddy spent that night shuffling breastmilk to the hospital so that the nursery nurses wouldn’t give our sweet boy formula, and ruin his taste-buds for the real deal.

I had no trouble producing milk. In fact, the hospital nurses were so amazed they ran in and out of my room, escorting their friends in to see the horrendous amount of liquid spewing from my mammary glands into the pump funnel. (The pump funnels are a whole ‘nother post, but seriously, the girls?  They loved to show off!)

Looking back on it, the whole breastfeeding ordeal was a big part of the problem in the beginning. While spending FOUR WEEKS on bedrest, I had read all kinds of books about how to care for this sweet baby. Unfortunately this was before we had a laptop and before I was an iAddict. McDaddy and I thought we were being all productive and responsible when we attended a child birth class and a breastfeeding class; both of which turned out to be a big waste of time because I ended up having a C-section AND because the breastfeeding instructor was full of crap. 

The breastfeeding instructor went on and on about breastfeeding being a natural act that even the Indians mastered. Not one time did this “experienced” instructor mention that we might have difficulty in this completely natural act, or that my boobs would be sore and agitated and mean.

Or that I might be sore, agitated and mean.

We were a pair.

For sure.

Me and my boobs, I mean.

Not me and the instructor.

For some reason, I had this grandiose idea that McDaddy and I would bring this tiny baby home and the three of us would live happily ever after here in our hill-top home (Welcome to the inside of my head!) The reality was though, that it was December, and there was snow and ice on top of this hill, and I had a newborn baby that had been born four-weeks early, and a pediatrician that instructed us to keep this sweet baby home for at least a month to avoid the Christmas crowds and germs. I had a newly engraved PERMANENT eight inch reminder that this sweet baby had to be extracted from my body, and when given a choice between eating and sleeping, I chose sleep every time because I was breastfeeding  feeding on demand around-the-clock which translates to no more than three hours of sleep at a time.

Is it any surprise that I was also nine kinds of depressed?

I had read about postpartum depression, but I was full of fun and laughter and had a healthy baby boy, and how in the world could anyone be depressed about that? And to make matters worse, my sweet baby boy didn’t get the memo about breastfeeding being natural and so every three hours I was reminded of what a breastfeeding failure I was. I would pump, feed, wash, rinse, and repeat.

And cry.

I cried because I couldn’t make him “latch” on.

I cried because I didn’t want to be alone when McDaddy went to work.

I cried because I felt like it.

I cried because I boiled pacifiers and melted every last one of them.

I cried because it snowed.

I cried because I was sore.

I cried when he cried.

I cried because I just knew I was going to mess this up.

And just about the time that I’d get myself convinced that I could do this it was time to feed. AGAIN.

And again I’d be reminded that I was a breastfeeding failure and why IN THE HECK can’t I make this work? Bless McDaddy’s heart, he would wash and assemble all the pieces of the pump and deliver them to me with a look on his face that said, YOU CAN DO THIS!

Only I wasn’t so sure.

I would repeat the whole crazy scene several times a day and eventually McDaddy made a phone call to our Pastor’s wife, who is also a Licensed Counselor. He mentioned to her that I might have *a touch* of postpartum depression and would she please be willing to talk to me about THE TEARS and THE HORMONES and THE BOOBS and THE CRAZY.

Ok. So maybe he didn’t really mention my boobs.

When we arrived at our Pastor’s house, I felt like a weight had been lifted. I was sitting before a seasoned mother of four boys and she was actually telling me that I. was. perfectly. normal. She laughed at my crying fit over the boiled pacifiers, explaining that I wouldn’t know true heartache until my sweet boy got his heart broke for the first time.

By a girl.

Or Girls.

As in plural.

Somebody shoot me.

Just put me out of my misery and shoot me now because as sure as God is my witness, I will not survive this motherhood gig.

Our Pastor and his wife comforted me, encouraged me, and prayed with me. And after that, our Pastor’s wife did her best to talk some sense into my sleep deprived, hormonally imbalanced head and by the end of our visit I was feeling some better. She reassured me that it would get better.

It HAD to get better.

And it did.

Not before I spent half the night pacing the floor and crying out to God to please make this sweet angel STOP CRYING, and convincing McDaddy that we needed to take him to the ER because OH MY WORD SOMETHING IS WRONG HE SHOULDN’T BE CRYING THIS LONG for no reason.

Only he was.

It took a frustrating THREE WHOLE MISERABLE WEEKS for Stevie to “latch” on. 

One afternoon my friend Amy was here visiting and I was sharing my breastfeeding frustrations with her. Out of nowhere, my sweet boy FINALLY latched on and I let out a war-hoop (which is a redneck way of saying I yelled real loud) and did a little dance in my chair. When he finished, I called my girlfriends, went door-to-door in my neighborhood, and I might have even announced it at church.

And little by little, this sweet boy and I came to an understanding – that I was ill-equipped to raise him and apparently he had drawn the short straw at the mommy choosing party – and he was just going to have to bear with me on this journey.

It wasn’t always easy but the three of us survived.

And in THREE SHORT YEARS, I signed up to do the whole thing again.

A Little Sit-uation

If you’re a regular visitor ’round these parts, you know that I spent about four weeks of my life shopping for living room furniture. I shopped frantically and often. I went a little crazier crazy.

We purchased our previous furniture immediately after moving into our home eight years ago. When I first saw it on the showroom floor, it jumped out at me and I loved it from that very first second. It was country and comfortable wrapped in one big fluffy package. It saw us through two babies, four weeks of bed-rest, Stevie falling off of it and passing out, lots of puke/poop episodes, and it has served as a bed for Stevie as he often wakes up to find himself sleeping on it, and I couldn’t tell you the number of 3 am nursing sessions that included me watching reruns of “The Cosby Show.” You could say that me and this couch has been through a lot.

Please say hello to our old couch.

It was an exciting day in our neighborhood because lookie here…

Two really nice fellas delivered our new furniture today.

Feast your eyes on this beauty.

 It’s sapphire blue and it all reclines. And, I should tell you that the pillows that you see are the pillows from our old couch. Our new pillows will match my beautiful country rocker which is not here yet.

Here’s the view from my big, blue, bloggychair.

I am tickled and it works for me!

I’ll be even more thrilled  when my country rocker makes its way to our doorstep to replace my big, blue, bloggy chair.

Visit THAT family for more Works For Me Wednesday posts.

Thursday Thirteen – Thirteen Things Stevie learned in Kindergarten

While the McFamily was enjoying the camping trip that I keep rambling on about, I had the chance to ask Stevie if he was getting excited about starting the first grade. We talked about how it would be different from Kindergarten and how much fun it would be meeting new people and having a new teacher.

As he began telling me about things he learned in Kindergarten, it struck me that a blog post was being born.  Because as you can imagine, I am always on the lookout for a good blog post. Especially one including thirteen of something. 

I waited until this week to post this one because school for our county started yesterday.

It was fun hearing about all the things he learned in Kindergarten. I’m sure his Kindergarten teacher, Mrs. F. will be pleased that he retained such useful information.

1. You should not bring a knife, bow, arrow or gun to school. (Ahem!)

2. Killer whales hunt fish and are friendly to humans. (I had no idea about the friendly part. Nothing with the word Killer in their name sounds friendly to me, but what do I know?)

3. I learned how to plus and minus.

You need to pay specific attention to these math lessons, Stevie. If your dad is working out of town, I’m afraid I will be of little help once you get to the really complicated math, say, around third grade.

4. If you do not milk a cow 2 -3 times each day, it will get sore and swollen.

I cannot speak for the cow, but I know this to be true. After breastfeeding, the girls will NEVER be the same.

5. One of our Rainbow rules was, “Respect All Property”

6. The counselor taught us about worrying and the opposite of worrying and why we shouldn’t worry.

7. The art teacher taught us how make really big snowflakes.

8. We learned that you should always turn off a computer when you are finished using it.

9. You can tell how old a tree is by the number of circles in the middle of the trunk.

10. Sharing is always good.

11. Coloring nice makes the teacher happy.

12. Always try your best to write good sentences in your journal.

13. No yelling in the lunchroom.

Sweet boy, I hope you have a wonderful time in the first grade!

Learn lots of great stuff and don’t yell in the lunchroom.

And be sure to leave your bow and arrow home too!

Enjoy your Thursday, y’all.

Searching For Stuff

I actually typed this post several weeks ago and filed it away for a rainy day.

Or in this case, for a day when my laptop decided to lay down and die.

Did you hear me?

I said the words. Laptop. Lay down. And die.

In the same sentence.

I am sitting here ready to burst out into uncontrollable sobs at sister-in-law’s desktop hammering out a prelude to this post and somehow  I feel like the mere mention of my laptop woes may somehow bring the thing back to life. 

I’ve done all I know to do.

Which includes unscrewing all of the little hatches on the back of the laptop blowing the dust out and replacing them. (That sentence alone is probably making McDaddy shudder!)

And while I did feel like some sort of techno genius, I’m sad to say. Still no laptop.

So, I wait with eager anticipation for an e-mail from McDaddy that I thankfully WILL be able to access from my iPhone that will surely include instructions about what to do to make it all better. Because that’s what McDaddy does. 

He fixes things.

Until then though, I’ll release this post out into the blogosphere from SIL’s desktop and hope like heck that McDaddy can give me something that will aid in my fixing this thing.  Hey McDaddy! If you’re out there, give me a call.

Pretty please.

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I am constantly amazed at the things that people type in the search window at Google to land there at front door here at Inmates. It happens to be one of my favorite things about this little blog.

It’s been quite some time since I’ve done one of these posts, but some of these are just too good to pass up. I sometimes laugh out loud (I am not a fan of the LOL thing by the way!) as I read them in my feedjit window.

Let’s start with this one from West Covina, California….

West Covina, California arrived from google.com by searching for neighbor keeps insisting on a playdate after i’ve already said no.

  • Hello West Covnina. Stick to YOUR guns. If the neighbor child is not your first choice of a playmate for your sweet angel, then employ whatever methods necessary to put the smack down on their continual requests.

Baltimore, Maryland arrived from google.com by searching for funeral home dead body what happen.

  • What’s up? Baltimore. A month ago, I could not have answered that question. However. My mortician friend invited me to watch an embalming and I can tell you with certainty that you probably do not want to know. If you are a freak curious person like me, you can check it out right here at Inmates in a post titled What I Learned At The Funeral Home. That should tell you all you need to know.

Kingsland, Georgia arrived from google.com by searching for unleashing your wife’s freak.

  • Kingsland, you are making me blush. I’m not sure why you are attempting you unleash  your wife’s freak, but might I just say, Rock on! I hope that something you read here at Inmates gave you some great ideas for achieving your tasks. (I’m sure my sweet McDaddy is smiling just thinking of the possibilities!)

Navarre, Florida arrived from google.com by searching for FASHION FOR STAY AT HOME MOM AGE 35.

  • Greetings Navarre. I would love to be able to say that you’ve come to the right place for fashion tips. However, I keep it real around here. For that reason, I must warn you that my fashion expertise is limited to Tommy Hilfiger t-shirts and Yoga pants. If that’s what your in the market for, then I’m your gal. If not, then you might want to visit Big Mama’s place. She is a fashion guru and could probably give you some fantastic fashion advice.

Gilbert, Arizona arrived from google.com by searching for paper gown at the gynecologist.

  • Hello Gilbert, Arizona. I am chuckling because I clearly remember the post I wrote about my experience at the gyno. I’m still not real clear about why you’d be searching for the words paper and gown and at the gynecologist, but then again, why do any of us search for what we do when we’re going down Google Ave? (I do KNOW that I use way too many run-on sentences.) Hopefully, you got your questions answered. Please feel free to stop back at anytime.

Brooklyn, New York arrived from google.com by searching for milia self extraction successful.

  • Hi! Brooklyn. What’s up? In the past few weeks, another milia sucker has popped up. I was pretty sure I would attempt to extract the thing myself but the more I’ve thought about it, the more hesitant I am to use a sharp extraction tool on my face. I’m thinking that I should probably just call the dermotologist. However, if you are gung-ho on the self-extraction, here’s the tool you will need. Be sure to stop back by and let me know how that goes for you, would ya?

 

Stony Brook, New York arrived from google.com by searching for what was the word that paula stumbled on in the top 11 2009.

  • Hello my new American Idol friend in Stony Brook, New York. What are you trying to go clog up my friend, Google? We all know that Paula makes up words and stumbles over words. Its one of the reasons I watch AI. If my memory serves me correctly though the word you are referring to is authenticity.

Montclair, New Jersey arrived from google.com by searching for Why do flowers smell like a funeral?

  • Howdy Montclair! Is it just me or do I have more than my fair share of funeral related posts? Flowers often remind me of a funeral home too, and in my humble opinion the funeral home stinks. For that reason, I have left specific instructions for McDaddy to purchase the a solid mahogany casket haul my hind-end out the road to our lovely little church so that I can be displayed in all of my dead glory instead of the stinky funeral home when my time here on earth is done. And no, that is not a lot to ask when you’re speaking of one’s last wishes.

Ayr, South Ayrshire arrived from google.co.uk by searching for acrylic nails breastfeeding.

  • Whoa. South Ayrshire. You got me there. Not sure I’ve ever included those three words together in a post but I guess anything is possible.  I hope your nails look fabulous and that your having a successful run at breastfeeding. It can be a little tough at first, so hang in there. You should know, however, that the girls will NEVER be the same.

Gainesville, Texas arrived from google.com by searching for suddenlink phone service always down.

  • Gainesville, Texas! Welcome to Inmates. Before I get started on this rant little tale, let me go grab a picture to show you.

 

Those happen to be two Suddenlink trucks and that also happens to be my driveway. You can’t tell it from the picture, but this is two of four trucks that paid me a visit one Spring day in an attempt to fix my internet connection.

I spent precious hours of my life that I can NEVER get back dealing with Suddenlink’s internet mess. The Suddenlink man in my area probably spent more time at my house than he did his own, HOWEVER, a sweet VP named Mr. A stumbled across my blog, read about my dramadifficulties and got his Suddenlink peeps on the stick. It took some time but eventually they were able to provide reliable service at the McResidence. I will not agree with them that the service is faster than Verizon because honestly, it seems slower than ever before in the history of our internet service, BUT, it is reliable and dependable. Once McDaddy gets back, I plan to have a meeting of the minds to determine if Suddenlink is indeed the best solution for our internet needs.

—–

See, I told you that would be fun.

Now, I’m off to perform another surgery on my poor, pitiful DELL laptop.

Wish me luck!

Bras and Bats

Welcome to another edition of Things I Learned This Week.

I’m sure Jo-Lynne over at Musings Of A Housewife would be surprised to find out that her blog carnival was a topic of conversation during my night out with the girls. It came up while we were discussing things like bras and bats.

Yes, I said bats.

Lets kick this thing off…..

Things I Learned This Week (in no particular order)

- A paintball will kill a bat. (Odd, but from what I understand, true)

- When purchasing a scrapbook for a year’s worth of completed scrapbook pages, it is a good idea to purchase all refill pages at the same time or else you might find yourself making multiple trips to Michael’s in search of one last pack of pages for the next three months.

- The technicians at Suddenlink will keep at it until all of your internet woes are corrected. Hallelujah. Praise the Lord. And Amen.  (Thanks, Mr. A for all of your help! I’m glad you found my blog!)

- If you find yourself out with the girls on the same day that you lose your sanity for 39 minutes thanks to the raging hormones that are taking over your body and you are in search of a chocolate fix, you should know that purchasing a 6-pack of Reese eggs (to share, of course) at Toys-R-Us will cost you $1.10 more than if you wait until you hit Target.

- After breastfeeding two kids, the girls will never be the same. You will be reminded of that for years to come each and every time you try on a new bra.

- When purchasing monster trucks for easter baskets, it is a safe bet that you will pay more at Toys-R-Us than you will at Target. (Do you see a trend?)

- Being a guest blogger for Happy To Be At Home’s Kitchen of the Week feature actually requires you to spend more time in the kitchen and, you know, cook.

There you have it. Now, wasn’t that fun?

Be sure to visit Musings Of A Housewife for more things that folks have learned this week.