Monday, August 22, 2011

Norah's "Nu-UH" Alarm

See this cutie patootie?

Don't be fooled. Sometimes, she uses her cuteness as a weapon to ward off future siblings.
Let me explain:
Norah is a totally different baby than Lily. When Lily went to sleep at this age, she was out. We were also exclusively cosleeping, we didn't even have a crib for her yet. Life was very different. Norah actually starts  off her bedtime in her own crib and I go get her later in the night to sleep with me so she can nurse. This is perfect because Eamon and I can go to bed and do the daily rundown pillow talk business without worrying about her waking up. We can talk about our dreams of going to Spain, laugh at how much I burned that night's supper, or even fight about how I was POSITIVE I threw that dirty diaper at the foot of the bed away earlier. Little Norah stays sound asleep.
UNTIL her "Mama and Daddy got somethin goin on" alarm goes off in her head.
At first we thought it was just...coincidence, but now, I think there is a "Three Under Three ain't happenin lady" reflex that is programmed into her.
Here's what happens:
Baby is sound asleep.
Mama and daddy laughin it up, brushing teeth, taking showers, flushing toilets, makin general noises.
Baby is sound asleep.
Car alarm goes off in the parking lot.
Baby is sound asleep.
Lily slams her door repeatedly to make sure we know she hates bedtime.
Baby is sound asleep.
There are pit bulls raping each other while a gang of illegal citizens bet the spoiled white kids if the pit babies will be blond or white. [possibly added for dramatic effect]
Baby is sound asleep.
Daddy starts kissin on mama...
Baby throws blanket 5 feet in the air as a result of "alarmed baby arms"
Snickering occurs.
Baby goes back to sleeping soundly.
Sheets rustle.
Baby grunts in disapproval.
Mama and Daddy start discussing why their sweet baby girl hates them so much.
Baby falls back into deep sleep from hearing parents defeat.
Mama thinks the coast is clear.
Baby is sound asleep.
Mama throws leg over daddy's.
Norah let's out a  "nuh-uh-UUUHHH!!!" [not added for dramatic effect. actually happened]
Mama again wonders why she waited for marriage to have sex if it's only happened twice [drastic underestimation for comic effect]

 Clearly, just thinking about it irritates her. ;]

Hope y'all had a great weekend! [don't worry, we did...eventually]

This is the part where I wait for my husband to yell at me about boundaries on the internet....blah blah blah

Friday, August 19, 2011

I Quit.

You have one, I have one, my grandmas even have one.

When I was pregnant with Norah I gave serious thought to "Why do I have a facebook?"

  • To waste time in between class/work/sleep and play games with my friends.

Not to keep in touch with family. Not stalk anyone I went to high school with. Just to play and waste time.

During the time I got married [and then pregnant]

  • To keep up with friends from college.
  • To keep up with friends from high school.
  • To get advice from other pregnant/married friends that I actually knew. [not random strangers on forums]
  • To keep up with family.

Now that I have two babies running around the house, all of the reasons above are still the only reasons I have a Facebook account. BUT. This is what it looks like.

  • I talk about myself all day. How awesome I am, how much I suck, whatever I think will get the most comments at the time. I even mention how much other people suck, and every now and then how awesome they are. Once in a Blue Moon I talk about how awesome God is.
  • I have become a horrible listener. At the beginning of my marriage Eamon said I was such a good listener, and for someone like him, that was a God send. Now I feel like I only listen to "comment." I listen to add my thoughts, give my two cents. I spend my time thinking while I'm listening to what I'm going to say instead of giving my full attention.
  • I keep people on my page for appearances. I don't really care about what they have to say, their kids, what books their reading, or how rad they look in their new jeans. I don't want them to be mad at me for not adding them, so I just hide them. [And what the hell is up with that?! So what if someone doesn't add you! I guess because the culture has made it to where you add anyone and everyone, that if you don't add someone, OR WORSE, delete them, that means you hate them! It's absurd!]
  • Which, for me, leads to stalking. Say I add someone, but I don't want to make them mad, so I hide them. But every now and then I want to see what nonsense they have going on in their lives. I even joked with a girlfriend "I just keep her on there so I can go and look at the stupid shit she says sometimes." Wow. I'm not that person, but I've become that person.
  • I'm a very passionate, opinionated person. That and 420 characters don't always result in a pretty outcome. For instance, I recently said how I'm sick of the back handed comment "you're so brave for having a homebirth" because it doesn't encourage the mom in anyway. I've actually talked about it here before. But somehow, it got turned into a huge "Home-birth V Hospital birth V planned C-Section" debate. NOT what I wanted. How dumb am I to think that a what I say can be interpreted properly on the internet [including my blog] but especially through a filter that is the "type what you want when you feel it" of the Facebook status?
  • I judge people. All day long. I have less than 200 friends on facebook. On purpose. So [nearly] everyone I know on there I have met in real life. These are not just strangers! I think things like "Or you could put a shirt on for your profile picture that all of my friends see when you're on my page" and "If she went with doctor so and so, she wouldn't be having that induction" and "Good Lord, she's gained a LOT of weight since high school" and the list goes on.
  • I ignore my kids. True story, my kids, my household, shoot, MY BUSINESS all get put on hold when I'm keeping up with the latest vaccine debate, plot summation of the office, or waiting to see what someone said in response to my utterly hilarious comment. As a matter of fact, while I was watching the video below, deciding on what I was going to say when I posted it on facebook, Norah pooped on the floor, I covered it up with a cloth diaper, and cleaned it up when I was done watching it.
  • I scope out my photography competition. It's too easy. Let's be real, NO. ONE. was offering full sessions for mothers and their nursing babies as part of their business, certainly not in the DFW area. Then all of a sudden BAM. It's everyone's brand new, oh so creative idea. Suddenly other photogs in the area were getting props for ripping me off. Shoot, I've even seen photographers out there shoot my EXACT pictures...just, out of the blue?! But instead of being mature about it, I go to their page, I get fired up because of so many people talking about how gorgeous their picture is and how creative and original they are. It festers in my head like cancer, growing.

Now facebook doesn't DO any of these things to me, it doesn't make me this way or force me to do anything, but it does bring these things out in me like nothing else.
So it comes to this: I quit.
If someone gets pregnant or has a baby or needs prayer for their surgery, and really wants me to know, I'll find out. If God's doing something gut wrenchingly beautiful in my life, I'll let you know here. If Lily teaches Norah to ride Rusty with assless chaps, I'll take a picture and post it here. But it's going to take some discipline. Here are my ground rules:
I am keeping my business account because, let's face it, most of my clients love to share their pictures on their facebook pages!! : D So, Only get on to upload pictures for my clients, I can update the status there and reply to any comments up to 3 times a week.
I don't get a twitter feed on my phone, so taking the time to tweet through a text is still fine for now, but if it becomes obsessive, that gets the ax too.
Only update my blog up to 3X a week.
Only check my email in the morning and the evening.

What I can already predict is going to happen is that my friends who I love will see this and think that I'm judging them for keeping their accounts, think I'm pretintious, or just taking it too far. I will loose contact with some people, and my business may not grow as quickly.
I'm hoping that maybe I can encourage at least a few people to re-evaluate why they have a facebook. If it's working, then it's working, no need to defend yourself! If any of the above mentioned "side-effects" sound familiar above, maybe you should rethink how you're going about things :]


Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Sh*t Happens. Again. And Blood. And Boogers.

There's a crap stain on the carpet from where Rusty got sick yesterday.
There's a cockroach party in our trash can that I can't conquer.
There's unanswered emails, two whining babies, a husband left unsupported, and an uninspired wife/mama/small business owner.

Today I don't want to keep up appearances, or go out of my way to make everyone happy on my own merit. I want to tell every photographer that's emailed me "I'm starting my own nursing photography too!!!" Well aren't you creative?

Which all make me want to fall on my face, beg Our Father for forgiveness, and just praise Him. Praise Him til my throat is soar and my knees can't hold me up. Without hearing babies whine or Elmo "la-la-la-la-ing". But I can't. Right?

Today is one of those days I seriously have to question whether or not I'm upholding our first and most important commandment. 

I wrote that on Monday morning.
Everything got crazy and I stopped typing. While making dinner that night, Lily stuck her hand in a can of olives, got it stuck and nearly sliced the pad off of her middle finger. While trying to wrap it, I passed out...the blood. Supper's still cooking on the stove, Norah's crawling around on the floor, there's blood all over the girl's bathroom sink, Lily's freaked the eff out, Eamon's trying to pin her to get the damn gauze on her hand, and I lay there trying to snap out of it and get up but I can't. I have a shoot in an hour. Everything calms down, Eamon gets Lily everything she needs at CVS, I regain consciousnesses, save supper, do my shoot [in a Motley crew tshirt and basketball shorts. gag.] come home.
Tuesday. La-dee-da. Get errands done, have make-up on and eyebrows plucked, didn't shave my legs, but who cares, feelin good about the day. Naptime comes, Lily wakes up an hour early. Crying. Slobbering, boogering, crying. Everything is "hug" "I okay, I know, I know" cry, cry, cry. I think , "Surely, dear Jesus who loves me and all the little children of the world, she can't cry all the way to Southlake, through dinner, and grocery shopping, LET'S GO!!" As we're driving the 30 mins to Southlake, the tears are still coming, the tweets are sounding more irritated, Norah's like "What the hell is wrong with sister? Who took her booby away?" and I'm starting to think...maybe she's not just throwing a fit. We get into Central Market, order [through Lily's sobbing] sit down, and wait, while Lily insists on being held by daddy, still sobbing. Food gets to our table and Eamon orders me to suggests we get to go boxes and eat in the car. We do. Lily passes out in the car seat before we even leave the parking lot. Norah starts fussing. God hears me question His plan for my life and quietens her down. Eamon drops us all off at the house, Lily falls asleep in my arms, naked, watching Sesame Street. I wake her after feeling the drool on my arm [still an hour before bedtime] and she says "Mama, ni-night, fwees?" How could I say no. Pj's on, tucked in bed. As we're saying prayers Lily nods and "Yeth, mmmhhhmm"s to my desperate plee to Jesus in asking to break her gums and bring forth pearly whites. Norah and I play til daddy gets home. Dad's home, we're all pooped, Norah decided to play "Norah the Explorer" in our bed, gets some milk and finally goes to sleep.
The rest of the night was "waaAAAAAAHHHHH, MAMA!!!!"
*put shirt back on* "coming sweetie"
"I' hurts, mama, hurts!"
Lay in Lily's bed, get her to sleep, remember I have another baby back in my bed that will eventually need nursing.
Go back to my bed, hear the crying, see creepy baby figure in doorway, invite said creep figure into my bed, get woken up 30 mins by pain screaming, followed by puke.
Clean up, fall asleep, wake to screaming and "I be ri' back" from Lily. She does be ri' back, crying because she's tripping over the small selection of Linens & Things that she is carting into our room as she prepares a tent for Jesus' homecoming gets her stuff in our bed.
Barf, rinse, repeat.

'Tis now Wednesday.
I've got a fire roaring in my belly and a sleep deprived brain that can't accurately articulate my thoughts. What do I do? Apparently let it spew all over the innocent bystanders of the internet with disregard to who it burns.
No pictures today folks. Just a poop stain on the carpet, a baby with a finger condom and a rambling, half insane mama.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Heat Wave

Y'all, someone left the door open to Hell right under Texas.
It was 115 yesterday. One fifteen people. As in ONE. HUNDRED. FIF. TEEN.
We're not allowed to have window units in our upstairs corner apartment [read, surrounded by the sun] so in the evenings it gets up to about 90. People keep talking about rolling blackouts being planned and my husband said that if that happened, he was getting off work and taking us to the mall or something. We will straight up die if we  don't have AC. With our ac cranked it gets up to 90, with out it? I'm sure it'd be hotter than 115. On the news they were talking about a family that fully a bird and veggies in their car. I kid you not.

Every day I just want to strip down to my bones and lay in the tub, because the TUB is cool. Once you start putting water in it, it's warm. Yep, there hasn't been cool tap water for who knows how long. Lily and Norah have been naked.

Here's some link love for ya:
PLEASE help donate to Evelyn and Adeleine
My 4 month old can crawl. True Story.
Chelsea from Us Three Birds just welcomed her sweet baby at home! WOOT VBACs!

Hope your week's been going...well, a lot cooler than ours!