I didn't do the dishes last night.

If you knew me as a teenager – or even in college – or even for a while post college – or really anytime before I got pregnant, you’ll know that cleaning has never been high on my priority list.  It was not until I realized that I’d be responsible for a tiny person who would crawl on my floors, put things in his mouth, and learn from my example that I really decided to shape up.

I found FLYLady online.  It resonated with me.  I started working through her baby steps.  I shined my kitchen sink.  I started running my dishwasher every night and cleaning it out every morning.  (I actually race the coffee pot in the mornings… it’s never won.)  It’s shocking what having a clean sink in the morning does for the rest of my day.  It makes me feel calm and in control.  I could go on and on about the value of this program, but if you need it, you know and you’ll go check it out.

Last night, after dinner, I fed Bo and we had a 2 month old photo shoot. 

He's totally adored.

Then, I gave him a bath.    

Well - WE gave him a bath.

Then Des went to bed.

No shame in my game.

And then?  Instead of putting Bo in his bassinet and cleaning out the sink, I sat and snuggled him while Cam and I watched Doctor Who.  Gone are the days when we’d have nightly LOST or Battlestar Galactica marathons.  Gone are the days when we had no one to worry about but ourselves.  And soon, the days of having a tiny snuggly baby in an adorable sleeper will be gone too.  And I want to enjoy them.  I cursed the dishes in the sink this morning, but I know that I’ll do them tonight.  In the grand scheme of things, it won’t matter that those dishes sat in the sink for 24 hours.  What matters is that I spent quality time with Cameron and Bo last night. (And treated myself to an early night in bed!)

There’s a balance here somewhere.  I’m still figuring that out, but for now – I’ll err on the side of spending time with my family, thank you very much.  You can excuse the mess, or you can excuse yourself.

Milestones

Yesterday was a big day - Bo finally met his (once removed) grandparents.

It made my heart happy.

And then...

ALL NIGHT LONG!

 

And if you like the photo - you should see the behind the scenes footage.  :)

He's such a lucky boy. 

Our trip to the ER and Bo's {almost} Birthday

Yesterday was the most frightening day of my life.  Cameron and I went for Bo's weekly check up.  It started as a normal day.  At lunchtime, I left work and came home to meet Cameron.  He drove us up to the doctor.  I felt tired, but otherwise not bad considering that whole pregnancy thing.  The nurse weighed me and sat me down to take my blood pressure.  The look on her face panicked me.  She instructed me to go into the exam room and lie on my left side and wait for the doctor.

It wasn't my life that flashed before my eyes as I laid there - it was the last 9 months.  It was all the people who told me to take it easy and all the times that I rolled my eyes.  It was the stubborn way that I had screamed at my husband that I am pregnant - not an invalid, thankyouverymuch!  I prayed for this baby like I had never prayed for anyone in my life.  I couldn't find the words to express my fears, and I don't think that I would have even been able to pray them if I could find them.  Have you ever been so terrified of something that speaking about it makes it too real?  That's where I was.

The doctor came in and explained to us that based on my blood pressure, she was sending us to the hospital for blood work and monitoring.  She explained the dangers of high blood pressure and pregnancy.  She said words like seizure and stroke.  She told us that based on the results of the tests, things could progress in a couple of ways.  They'd do blood work and an ultrasound.  Based on the results, they could possibly go ahead and induce labor. 

I knew that I had done this.  I looked at Cameron, knowing that he had told me so.  He had informed me thusly.  I knew that he had every right to be angry with me.  He just looked scared.  Our doctor was fantastic.  It was like she knew everything.  It was as if she had lived our situation.  She told us that she had thought during pregnancy that she could do it all.  She told us how angry she had been at her husband when he insisted that she slow down.  She told us that this is hard and would be hard and when it was all said and done, we'd love each other more than we ever thought possible.  I believe her.

Cameron drove me to the ER.  I was admitted to the triage room in the labor and delivery wing.  My blood pressure was still way way too high.  After 10 minutes on my left side, it came down significantly.  They drew blood for labs and asked for a urine sample.  I was horrified to realize that the couple of minutes and the small amount of effort it took for me to go to the bathroom was enough to spike my blood pressure to a frightening degree.

I took my first wheelchair ride down to the ultrasound lab.  Baby Bo got all 8 points on his BPP, and we took solace in that.  The ultrasound tech estimated Bo's weight at 8 pounds and 4 ounces.  He was moving and shaking in his normal squirmy way.  They wheeled us back up to triage and I was put back in the bed.  Cameron and I shamelessly eavesdropped on the nurse as she consulted with two of the doctors from our practice.  She told them that ALL of my labs had come back normal.  My blood pressure was still elevated, but I was otherwise healthy.

I was discharged with instructions to return in 24 hours.  I've been off my feet now for over 12 hours.  Bedrest for a pregnant woman who has to pee every hour or so is difficult to wrap my head around, but I understand that this is imperative.  I knew that being a parent would change things.  I knew that my son would teach me things.  I just didn't know that it would start so early.  I'm learning to swallow my pride.  I'm learning to ask for help.  I'm learning what it really means to love someone else more than myself.

The War in my Front Yard

Cameron likes to mow the grass.  He likes to mow grass so much that when we bought our lawnmower, he got a push mower.  Not a self propelled push mower, but a for-real, you do ALL the work lawnmower with a bag on the back so that it collects clippings and gets heavier and heavier.  Needless to say, I have never mowed our grass.

I honestly think that mowing the grass is cathartic for him.  It’s his man time.  If he has something on his mind, he can escape the house and sweat and grunt and work it out in his white noise enveloped solitude. 

A couple of weeks ago, while I was at work, he put the kids in front of some delightful 80’s cartoon (thank you, Netflix!) and headed out to beautify the yard.  (Disclaimer: I was NOT present for this, and so keep in mind that part of this is how it happened in my imagination…)  About halfway through mowing the front yard, he ran over an underground nest of hornets.  A cloud of black, angry insects swarmed him immediately.  He ran across the yard, kicking off his flip-flops (yes, FLIP-FLOPS) as he ran because the angry buzzing menaces were covering his feet and had been trapped between the soles of his feet and the flimsy foam shoes.

He attempted to enter the house calmly, so as not to alarm the kiddos who were still engrossed in Inspector Gadget or Woody Woodpecker or something.

He retreated to our cubicle of a master bathroom where he immediately stripped down to survey the damage.  Unfortunately, as he stripped down, about 5 irate hornets came out of his clothing and proceeded to dive bomb him.  (Had this been me, I don’t think that anything in the bathroom would have survived.  I’d probably have broken everything in the bathroom and possibly climbed naked out the tiny window, pregnant or not.)  He received a couple more stings before he managed to kill them. 

My favorite part of him telling me this story later went something like, “And then I realized that they were INSIDE WITH ME, and they were stinging me again, and I thought ‘I WILL BURN THIS HOUSE TO THE GROUND!!’”  I can’t say that I would have blamed him.

Instead, he burned their house to the ground – but we’ll get there.

By the time I got home that night, his feet were more swollen than my 8 month pregnant ones.  He was covered in perfectly miserable looking whelps, and I found myself thanking God that he hadn’t gone into some sort of shock based on the amount of bee poison he had had injected into his body.  I still had to beg him to take an antihistamine and a pain killer… his Tylenol aversion is another story for another time.

I explained to him very rationally that one of the benefits of renting our house was that we could just call the landlord and have her take care of it for us.  He (slightly less rationally) declared that this was his war and he was going to finish it. 

Once the swelling had gone down, and I believed that another battle with them wouldn’t send him into shock, I okayed his next offensive maneuver.  The plan of attack was to pour gasoline into their main entrance, light it on fire, and cover it with something to prevent their escape.  This is supposed to be done at dawn or dusk (if not in the middle of the night), because they are less active.  Because we live in a subdivision, setting the yard on fire in the middle of the night seemed like something that might cause a panic. 

Tuesday morning, after I left for work, Cameron placed his plan into action.  He dressed from head to toe (no flip-flops this time!), tiptoed out to the hole in the yard, poured a gallon of gas down the hole, and then covered the whole thing with a piece of cardboard that had been soaked with gasoline as well.  He then ignited the whole thing.  It flamed up almost 6 feet and then fairly quickly burned itself out.  Most of my yard was still intact, and he reported that he only saw a few hornets stumble  out of their now-destroyed home.  I waited a full 48 hours before sneaking out there to take photos of the burned spot in my yard, but according to him, there has been no more activity around the nest since Tuesday. 

Scorched Earth.

And that is how you win a war.

10 things about ME!

It’s official – I’m a little obsessed.  I’ve started reading blogs – not just blogs of people that I know – but blogs of people at random.  It started as curiosity – I just wanted to know what other people wrote about and what their blogs look like.  Then I realized that there are all these women out there who are blogging, and I have things in common with them!  Could be pregnancy or stepchildren or just seeking inspiration on how to be a better Christian wife.  Knowing that there are people out there who have the same struggles, triumphs, and occasional losses makes me feel better about my life.  I’m going to give all credit to Jenni from the Blog for this – 10 things about me (before the baby comes and no one cares about me anymore.)  Just kidding.  I think.  Also, I’m going to try my best to leave pregnancy out of this – but it’s harder than it sounds at this point.  Let’s go!

Home Sweet Logging Camp - Ketchikan, AK

1.  I live in Georgia, and I love it.  I’ve lived in California and Tennessee with holdovers in Oregon, Alaska, Florida, and Africa.  I’ve done my share of travelling, and one day I’ll strike out again.  Wanderlust runs in my family. 

2.  I was always one of those smart kids in school.  I was tested in kindergarten, deemed ‘gifted’ and got to spend a couple of hours a week doing word puzzles and the like.  I was the salutatorian in my graduating class.  As an adult, it doesn’t seem to make much difference.  My husband says that my logic doesn’t make sense to anyone but me, and left vs. right still sometimes escapes me.  I married one of the smartest people that I’ve ever known.  He challenges me and makes me think critically (even when I’d rather not).  I love him for it.

3.  I work 40+ hours a week for a logistics company.  I was promoted to Account Manager about 3 months ago.  I don’t blog about work.  It’s not that interesting anyway.

4.  I wish I was one of those people who just seem to be born organized.  I’m not.  I’m scattered and always seem to have something better to do than clean or organize anything.  I wanted my life in order, but I just couldn’t figure it out.  I found FlyLady about 6 months ago, and I am now proud to have people come over and visit.

5.  I have a B.A. from Mercer University in Leadership and Community Service (specializing in non-profit business) with a minor in French.  (Go Bears!) I spent 2 years living the sorority life, but it was too much of a time commitment once I moved off campus and got a job.  I believed for some time that I had spoiled any relationships that I might have had with my ADPi sisters for not making it work, but 10 years later, they are some of my nearest and dearest friends.  The last two years of my college career were devoted to historic houses, waiting tables, WesleyFoundation, and this girl.

Pi Love for life!

6.  When I was 15, I met a boy on the interwebs.  We had just gotten AOL, and I was kind of a rebel.  He and I corresponded via email for sometime, then progressed to late night chats on the telephone.  I think it was late in my Junior year of high school that I met him face to face, and I’ll say that I fell in love with him then – though – I probably loved him for some time before that.  We were friends until the summer after my Freshman year of college.  We went our separate ways, learned a few things about life, and grew into adults who knew what they wanted.  In 2009, we reconnected.  In 2010, we moved to Nashville, TN.  In 2011, we moved back to Georgia and got married.  We are expecting our first son a few weeks before our 1 year anniversary.  His big brother and sister are anxiously awaiting his arrival. 

Once upon a long, long time ago!

7.  I have trouble saying ‘no’.  I love to volunteer for things, and I tend to get myself in over my head. 

8.  I am a Christian.  I was raised in the Methodist Church, and I consider the congregation there to be just another part of my huge, extended family.   I am a member of CrossviewCommunity Church, and I serve in the Preschool.  

9.  I am a sucker for puppies.  I am a sucker for dogs.  I have to ration the cute puppy photos that I allow myself on my Facebook because I’m pretty sure that if I posted everything that made me melt with cute, I’d start losing friends.  I adopted Gus from the Walmart parking lot 4 years ago.  Per the little girl who gave him to me, “His daddy was a lab, and his mama was a FOX.”  My mom thinks that he belongs to her, and he wouldn’t be very happy in our little house.  I settle for dog-sitting when she goes out of town.

My favorite puppy and my beautiful sissy!  Double win!

10.  I don’t have much of a filter.  I’m incredibly adept at saying ridiculously inappropriate things at all the wrong times.  My friends think I’m funny.  They say that they love me fiercely, but I think they may just keep me around for entertainment.  It’s easier to keep in check when I’m writing instead of talking, so if you want the true experience, you’ll have to take me to dinner or something.  (I like Chinese food...)

Yeah - I love him.

I haven't figured out buttons yet.

This morning, I woke up, rolled over and scooted towards where I believed my husband would be.  I wanted a quick snuggle before I ran out the door to work.  I woke up quite abruptly when I realized that he wasn't there.  I waddled to the living room, expecting to find him on the couch - he and Dr. Who have been pulling some late nights recently, but he wasn't there either.  In just a minute, he came stumbling out of Tyler's room, still wearing his blue jeans and clutching his back.  He spent the night in a twin sized bed with a squirmy 4 year old to protect him against whatever boogieman had been after him last night.


He is our protector, our provider, and our everything.  I've seen him go without sleep, work multiple jobs, and cook delicious and nutritious meals out of practically NOTHING when it was necessary.  Through it all, he always makes time for his family - for each of us individually AND for us as a unit.  He demands togetherness when the rest of us roll our eyes.


He tells people all the time that in our relationship, he is the reacher and I am the settler.  Truth be told, he made me a better person because he believed in me so strongly.