chaaaaaaaaaaange

"Let's talk about change baby, let's talk about you and me, let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be, let's talk about change."  Name that tune....with a change in the one word of course. Haha.  Yes, I said "Change" again, which just so happens to be the topic of this blog post.  So let's do this...
I suck at it.  No, like seriously.  Not.  Good.  At.  All.  If I think about mine and David's marriage the last 11 years, it's been filled with constant change.  So I should be used to it, right?  Negative Ghost Rider.
We've moved so many times it makes me wanna throw up....because I absolutely despise moving.  Let's count how many times, shall we?  We started in Mankato, then moved to Rochester.  Lived there for 6 years and moved 3 different times within Rochester during those 6 years. Because....we're cool? Yes.  Then we moved to the cities, and then St. Cloud, and finally in two weeks we get to move hopefully for the last time (or at least for a very very long time).  We bought a house!  Yay!  Here it is...

Isn't it pretty?  That porch people!  It's so pretty.  I call it my "Anne of Green Gable's house."  (Only the cool people out there will know that reference :)  Just kidding.  But not really.  We're putting down roots people! By the way....do you pronounce is "roooots" or just "roots?"  Was that a weird question?  My brain is totally awry right now, my apologies.  

Anyway, yes, so we're putting down roots and it feels so good.  However, in order to finally get there, we have to go through misery....meaning the act of packing and unpacking.  I could say so many swear words right now associated with how I feel about packing, but I won't.  Because that would be inappropriate.....or would it? (Said in a sly-tilted head kinda way)

By the way (again)....we're watching the MN Wild right now and they just scored, yay!  See people?  Awry.  I just like saying that word.  Awry.  It makes me sound smart.

Anyway....back to change.  I don't do very well when my life is in chaos, and that's what it feels like at the moment.  I know it's temporary, but still.  My life is literally all packed up in boxes.  I know it'll all be fine and dandy, but in the mean time..... I'll be sitting on the floor crying.

We scored again!  Maybe one MN sports team will actually have a winning record this year?

So that's all I really have at the moment.  I feel like I had so much more to say when I first started this post?  Hmmm.  To be continued.....

So I told myself I'm going to blog more often, because I love doing it and it's a great outlet....even if it's a short little quick one without much to it.  So here goes.
This week has just been funny...one thing after another....and I always tell myself to write this shit down so I remember it later!
So Max is saying something new everyday, and while this isn't really funny, it's worth writing about.  Ok so this isn't new (But funny)...so when anybody "passes gas" (if you will)....Max says, "toot!" and then giggles his little head off.  What a boy.  I will never get tired of hearing that.  He also started saying "I love you." So a couple days ago I walked downstairs to say goodnight to the kids (David was putting them to bed).  As I walked into Grace's room I see Max saying "I love you too" to Grace and giving her a hug.  That was the first time I had heard him say that.  Let's just say my heart melted into jelly....and I will never forget that moment.  Ever.
Gabe had a moment worth writing about as well.  He was at a baseball game and hit a super awesome line drive....but it just so happened that it hit a kid smack in the head (Like, the kid had to come out and put ice on it.) Just a disclaimer....the little boy is OK! That being said, when I asked Gabe if he felt bad for the boy he said "Nope." Such a proud mom moment.....NOT.
So a little while later I asked again if he felt bad at all, and he said, "Ok, yeah I kinda felt bad mom......but did you see the hit?" Ok well......that was better than the first answer! He's hilarious...and still hasn't gotten his two front teeth (Ok that was random).... but he lost them months ago!  David thinks when they come in they're going to be huge!  We laugh about it all the time.
And then there's Grace.  I could write a book about this girl.
So today she went to a garage sale in our neighborhood with a couple other friends. She had her little wallet filled with change and she was so excited!  She comes back a little while later beaming!  She walks up, and in her hand is this hideous huge Teddy bear that actually has the year "1990" on it, with the tags still on it.  Not to mention a weird plaid color and shedding like crazy.  David and I just look at each other, trying not to laugh, and before I know what to say, he says to her...."Honey, do you know if they have a return policy?"  No joke.  We looked at each other and laughed....for probably like 20 minutes. It was one of those moments that isn't planned or thought through, but is funny as hell.  Did he just really ask our daughter if the garage sale had a return policy?  Why yes...yes he did.  David does have a pretty good sense of humor.  However, he's the funniest when he isn't actually trying to be funny.  When he does try...he fails miserably.  Turns out Grace only spent 50 cents on the damn thing.

On a side random note....turns out that the cool skateboard thingy that Grace has been wanting to get was not called "whip stitch" after all, but in fact, a "Rip stick." Glad that was cleared up because it felt weird to me.  All of you that sew will get a kick outta that.

On another side note....it's 10:45 at night and I really just want to have a hotdog.  However, I went on a really awesome run tonight with my neighbor and am trying to use some self control.  It's not working.

On that note...goodnight.

So I literally just started 4 different blog posts....each topics are ones that I've been meaning to write about for months now. I started the first one and seriously got about 3 sentences written and....block!  Next one, same thing.  Shit.  3rd one....this is it, It's going to be funny yet serious, thought provoking and completely awesome.  Fail.  4th one was THE one.  A topic fresh in my mind and full of awesomeness.....And you wanna know what happened?  I was sitting here, thinking of what to write next and my 2 year old walked by and said "I poop" with a devilish grin on his face, giggling uncontrollably. Yep.  I lost all intelliegible thoughts at that point.  So I figured I would blog about what I had intended to blog about.... and then just write a bunch of bullshit that people will hopefully find enjoyable to read.
So currently I'm sitting in our comfy rocking chair typing away and thinking these things....
----"My 2 year old has poop in his diaper and I should probably take a break and change him.  Nah...just a few more minutes, he'll be fine.
-----"I should really be doing some cleaning...picking up and making sure the house looks ok when David gets back.  Nah....he's golfing, so why should I slave away when he's out having a blast?"
And last...."I really want to watch some trashy TV, like The real housewives or something..."
Ok, that last one was completely random, but that's what was on my mind.
Lets talk about Max.  This is what I'm currently seeing...

Yes, he's on the table with poop in his diaper (and his shoes on nonetheless).  Totally enthralled with my water bottle and thinking how smart he is for getting away with being up there. This kid is a hoot.  He's so cuddly and loving, yet smart and devilish. He just started saying "I love you" and its probably the cutest thing I've ever seen.  Seriously

And this is what I found Gabe doing currently.

This kid.  The face you ask? Currently he is mad at me because i wouldn't let him play on any screens (iPad, xbox or tv).  I told him to get creative.  After throwing a nice little fit, he eventually  found some cool race car printouts online that he printed (with my help of course) and is now coloring them.  He actually is having a good time doing it despite the frown on his face.  Sigh.

When does school start again?

And then there's Grace.  I found her in the garage with a couple of friends doing this...

She's always been a little monkey...a daredevil who's not afraid of much.  A few minutes after I took this picture, she came in with a huge smile on her face and said, "I just fell doing a really cool trick!  It only hurts a little....."
This girl is going to give me gray hairs. No joke.

Did I mention that David is golfing tonight?

Oh sweet sweet summertime golf league.  Isn't he just the luckiest? Just so lucky....I can't stand how lucky he is. So......lucky.

So here I sit....trying to write this fantastic blog about one certain topic that is totally awesome because I have so many ideas in my head....and this is what I came up with!  Ha! I guess this is real life...a real night in our life.  Hope you enjoyed!

A Plethora of thoughts.

I often think to myself.  "Why don't I blog more?"  I love to write.  It's a good stress relief for me, and it helps me sort through the things that I'm thinking.  And then, mid through that peaceful thought, I get hit in the head by a hard baseball, realizing I'm smack dab in the crossfire of a mean game of catch between Grace and Gabe.  And I come to my senses.  Duh.
That's why I don't blog more.  Thing 1 and Thing 2.  And then there's the baby.
As moms, we are moms first.  Our kids are at the top of our list.  Taking over, unfortunately, sometimes who we were before kids.   I can't remember what I did before kids.  Seriously, what did we all do before kids?
Oh, wait.....I do remember....the hard baseball that hit me in the head just now must have jogged my memory.   I took naps.  I love naps, and would take them often.  I played guitar way more, and wrote lots of songs...songs that bared my soul and made me feel as though I could conquer the world with my clarity and life experiences.  I wrote in a journal every morning, writing anything and everything and feeling so good afterwords.  Feeling as though I had life figured out....or as much as I could in that moment.   I also had time to think before kids.  Lots of time, actually in retrospect.  I also wore way cuter clothes.  Why is that?  My wardrobe before kids was way more fashionable.  And smaller.  And brighter.  Interesting eh?  I'm lucky if I go out in public without breakfast plastered all over me from Max playing the, "I think it's fun to throw food at my mom" game.
David does the laundry, and can't stand my underwear.  Sorry for maybe being too personal....and scatterbrained, but I'm trying to make a point.  Before kids I actually had some nice underwear.  I actually still have those, but 10 years later, they're not so nice anymore.  David actually has to buy me nice underwear because I won't buy them for myself.  It's true.  Every once in a while, a favorite pair will go AWOL.  And I know exactly where to look because he always throws them in the laundry room garbage.  (It's not a secret anymore honey) A couple of times I picked them out and put them back in my drawer....which never lasted long, and soon would find them in the garbage again.  Sigh.

I'm realizing that this blog isn't very cohesive.  Which then made me laugh like a crazy person because since kids, my thoughts are never very cohesive anymore.  That's something I was better at too before kids.
In amidst of all of the realization of what I've lost since kids, I also have a list of things that I've gained. Besides 15 pounds, I've gained more patience and understanding.  Patience not only toward my kids, but other people in my life as well.  Patience for different kinds of situation whether stressful, overwhelming, or down right terrifying.  And understanding not only what I'm capable as a mother, but as my own person.  My kids bring me so much joy, and the amount of love that I have....

Well, just had to take a break and break up a fight...Grace and Gabe were literally piling driving each other and trying to claw each other's faces.  What was I saying before that? I lost my train of thought. Oh yes... how my kids bring me so much joy...

On another note, school started yay!  Grace and Gabe both get on the bus at 6:50, which gives me about an hour to myself before Max wakes up.  I actually get to drink hot coffee.  It's really the little things in life people.

On even another note, after Saturday David will (hopefully) be a Board Certified Nurse Anesthetist.  He takes his boards and maybe our crazy life will settle down a bit.  Or not.  In the past 28 months we've had a surprise baby, moved twice, bought a minivan, I've experienced single motherhood at it's worst, and learned why the divorce rate for this program is so high.  That was supposed to be funny.

On that note, signing off for now.  Until next time...which from my track record, won't be for another 6 months.  At least I'll have a lot to say by then.

Crazy is no joke

"I felt incapable of mothering my baby. I felt my life was over, that I was losing my mind, and would end up dead or institutionalized." -Amelia, 34, Teacher, California USA

"Why do mothers have to pretend that their mental health is not going to be effected by massive rapid change (following childbirth) combined with prolonged sleep deprivation? Why does PPD have a certain shame to it...when it is, in fact, the most logical manifestation on the face of the earth? As a friend of mine put it, "Labor is a set of contractions…and then a mother is born." -Ava, 32, At Home Mom, New South Wales Australia

"If you have PPD, don't blame yourself for how you feel. Don't ever underestimate the magnitude of the challenge you're experiencing. Applaud yourself for going through it and be proud of your willingness to face up to the struggle. You'll grow and develop from it. Motherhood is a true crucible. You are surviving the heat that melts you and the hammering that bends you into shapes unimaginable. You will never find final form, but you will discover the enduring strength of steel, the breath-taking strength of your own courage and abilities…and the inspiring strength of you." -Shelby, 32, Librarian, Michigan USA

June 2012
I have 3 kids.  3 beautiful little miracles that I wouldn't trade for anything.  So then why, at this time in my life, a time that society tells you the ways in which you SHOULD be feeling, why do I feel this way?  Panic, anxiety, sadness, lonesome, fear, scared, dread, numb.  These words describe how I'm feeling 3 weeks after having Max, my 3rd child.  
In my experience, moms don't talk about this...because it's ugly....and shameful.  We feel ashamed, embarrassed, guilty.  We don't want people to think we are bad mothers or bad people.  We don't want people to really know what we're feeling, the depths and horror of our raw emotions. The truth is I think people should know, need to know, because left untreated, post partum depression can destroy lives.  I've decided that I'm going to talk about it. I'm going to write about what I'm feeling and experiencing, no matter how scary, vulnerable, or judged I feel. Writing has always been therapeutic for me, so I figured that maybe writing how I'm feeling and the experience that I'm going through can maybe not only help me through this, but also other moms that might have or are going through the same thing.
I experienced this some with my first child Grace.  After 24 hours of labor where pretty much everything that could go wrong, did go wrong, I ended up with a c-section.  After an epidural that went horribly wrong, I had a period of a time where I could barely breathe and couldn't swallow at all.  This was by far the scariest moment of my life.  My labor stopped after that, and fear from the doctors that the same thing would happen with another epidural, I was left to labor hours and hours after that, virtually pain medication free.  I'm not telling you this for pity, or attention.  I'm writing this because I've realized that this was one experience that aided in my PPD (Post partum depression).  One reason that makes sense as to why I would wake up in the hospital with panic attacks that left me feeling that I couldn't breathe.  I'm writing this because it's helping me heal from an experience that happened 6 years ago, and in turn might help me heal from it this time around.  
I remember times where I would be standing at the sink doing the dishes, and out of the blue I would just start to cry, and my breathing would start to shallow, and panic would paralyze me..and I didn't know why.
I felt a certain disconnect with Grace. I knew I loved her, but I didn't feel like I thought I would feel.  When I heard her cry in the night I didn't want to get up, I didn't want to take care of her.  The last straw was when my c-section scar got infected.  I had to go in and have the part of the scar that was infected re-opened and packed with this long gauze like stuff.  That was it.  I lost it.  I told the doctor what I was feeling, that I think I needed help.  I was put on an anti-anxiety/anti-depressant.  Yes, Tom Cruise....I take those medications, medications which I attribute to my healing.  Call me weak, I don't care.
To make a long story short, I got better.  Slowly.  I remember one night that my mom and sister were at our house, and I was finally able to join in on our family ritual dance party.  My mom said that was when she knew I was getting better.  I could start to do the things that I used to do, and they started filling me with joy again.  i wasn't a zombie anymore, wasn't emotionless.

Fast forward to my third baby Max.  I had him on June 7th, 2012.  My scheduled c-section went great, without a hitch.  In fact the next week after went great as well.  My mother in law took Grace and Gabe, my two older kids for a week so that David and I could have some time with Max by ourselves.  It went pretty well.  He slept all the time, and David and I found ourselves repeatedly watching infomercials on t.v, twiddling our thumbs and looking at each other with kind of vacant nods.  We didn't know what to do with ourselves!  I honestly thought I was in the clear, that this time would continue to go great and smooth.  About the 4th or 5th day after being home I started feeling a little off.  It happened mainly at night, and I remember the first mini panic attack (I say mini, because much bigger ones were to follow).  My brother's girlfriend was here, helping out, keeping me company and helping around the house.  We were watching tv and I suddenly felt the panic coming over me....my breath getting shallow, tears coming to my eyes.  I looked at her and told her what was happening, and I'll never forget how she handled it.  She didn't stare at me like I was a crazy person, didn't judge, didn't get flustered, didn't even bat an eye really.  She simply got up, looked at me and said in such a calm voice, "Ok, what do we need to do, do you want to watch a movie?  What can we do to make you feel better?"  She knew I needed a distraction, and it helped.  I will forever be grateful for how she handled that situation. That  panic attack didn't last very long, but they started coming more periodically.  Everything felt different this time around.  Nothing felt right.  I was not only overwhelmed, exhausted, and anxiety ridden, but I was terrified, defeated, and hopeless.  I remember thinking "I can't do this....I just can't."  My experience was worse with Max.  I don't know why, but everything was different with Max.  Nothing felt right.  I was paralyzed with anxiety.  Paralyzed with panic and fear.  Paralyzed with every horrible emotional possible.  I felt like I honestly 100% couldn't do it, couldn't raise three kids.  I remember thinking one night, my worst night, that I should honestly be taken to a hospital, be put in a psych ward.   My mom was here, and I had this panic attack that lasted forever.  I remember pacing around the house, trying to catch my breath, trying to calm down....and I couldn't......all the while telling my mom that I couldn't do this.  I can't do this.  I can't do this.  I wanted to run away from it all...run away and never look back.  No mom should ever have to feel like that.  The feeling I had was something I don't wish upon my worst enemy.  I thought I was going to go crazy....the kind of crazy you curl up and die from.  I didn't want to take care of my son.  I resented him for being born...for how I was feeling. He wasn't supposed to come....not for a few years.  So I resented the fact that he came when we weren't ready....messed everything up.  My husband is a full time grad student....always busy.....money is super tight....our house is too small...how are we going to make this work?  

Fast forward to October 10th, 2012.  I wrote the first part of the blog in the depths of my sickness.  I couldn't finish the blog because it was too painful, too much.  So much I couldn't say...so much I wanted to say.  It was all too much.  Luckily, with all the experience I've had, I knew the warning signs...knew when I needed help...knew when to surrender.  I went back to my doctor 4 times in the first month.  They were so helpful, so understanding, so worried.  I'm lucky to have the support I had.  Once again, I started to feel better.  It took longer this time, but eventually I started feeling myself level out.
I ache for all those mothers out there who go through the same thing.  It's the hardest thing i've ever done. The hardest thing I've ever had to go through.  And I'm such a better mom, wife and person because of it.
Max is now 4 months, and the happiest baby I've ever seen.  His smile can light up a room and melt my heart over and over.  I no longer feel any of the resentment I felt in the beginning.  He is one of the best things to happen to me in the last year.
So let's start talking about these things, moms.  Because for the longest time, I felt completely alone...like i was the only person in the universe that was experiencing this.  But what I found out was that some of my best friends had gone through the same thing.
Women need to know that this can happen....that these feelings/experiences are sometimes just part of who we are.  We aren't weak, we aren't crazy (well, maybe me....) we shouldn't be ashamed or embarrassed or any of those emotions.
I am a better person because of the things i've gone through.  And it feels good to write it all down.  Call me crazy, you're probably right.  Call me weak, you're a fool.  Call me a bad mother, shame on you.
I am proud of who I am, the experiences I've gone through, and the outcomes that have arisen.  My circumstances don't define who I am.  They only make me stronger.

Life is short...so let's dance already!

Life is too short to take yourself too serious.  You need to have some fun, get crazy once in a while, enjoy being silly and acting 20 years younger than you should.  My siblings bring this side out of me.  There's something about my sisters that transforms me into a crazier person than the already crazy person you all know.  Does that make sense? My brother is just starting to participate in our crazy activities. I think the first time David saw me with my sisters he thought... "What....the....."  We really are a sight to be seen.  Our favorite thing to do when we get together is dance.  And I don't mean regular, booty-shakin', same old boring dance moves.  I mean crazy, spasmodic, looks like we're having a seizure dancing.  It's actually a really good workout, and it's really fun.  This is what is usually looks like

Sometimes it's so crazy even I get scared

Well, actually it's very important to get a good stretch before our rigorous activity.

No, I'm not picking my nose.  Really, I'm not.  So once the stretching commences, the real "dancing" begins

My sister Liv likes to show her little 14 year old butt.  She's really 24, but looks like she's 14.

We also like to make different faces that tend to change with every move we do.
Any chance we get, we love to have a good rockin' dance party.  And everyone that visits usually has to participate

My brother Geir likes to hide in the background when we have dance parties.

 We also really love to pose.

We really really like to pose

Did I mention we like to pose?

My brother Geir has the posing down.  So does my older sis Berg...she likes to pretend she's a tiger (She's a few pics above)


Sometimes the posing goes terribly wrong

But that is all part of it.

Occasionally we'll get out some props

Nothing is really off limits with us.


This aspect of sibling-hood is something I thought about when we found out we were expecting our third child.  I hope my kids always have a "child-like" quality in them. I hope they always enjoy spending time together. I always want to encourage individuality in my children... always want them to explore every part of themselves and really enjoy life. I don't want them to be embarrassed or hide who they are.  I want to show them that life is fun...it's about enjoying every minute of it and not taking yourself too seriously.  It's good to let your hair down, bust out some awkward spazzy moves, and just lose yourself in the moment.  After all, life's too short not to!
So go have some fun...act a little crazy, it's good for you!  Oh, and don't forget to take pictures!

Third pregnancy, bring out the sweats.

I remember when I first was pregnant with Grace, my oldest.  I was going to be the cutest, most fashionable darn pregnant lady....ever.  I wore fun things, cute and flattering.  (as much as you can) I loved showing off my bump.
You see all of the celebrities who make it their job to "win" in the best dressed preggo category.  And they are all so darn cute.  It really makes you want to try, right?
Wrong.  I'm on my third pregnancy people, bring out the sweats.
My body is way different than it was when I was pregnant with my first.  Things shift and droop, and fluctuate and stretch.  I'm tired after chasing after my 4 and 5 year old..the last thing I want to do is spend any time on myself.  I'm tired of putting on my old maternity clothes and realizing that they don't fit right...that throughout the other two pregnancies, my body has changed enough to need new clothes.  Argh.  This, in itself makes me want to put nothing else on but sweats.  Who wants to buy maternity clothes?  Yuck.
This is an example of how I know it's very different going from your first pregnancy to your third (for me anyway) :
I was on the phone the other day with my sister, who just had her first baby in October.  We were talking about maternity clothes and she asked if I needed any.  I said, maybe (and maybe because she is almost 6 feet tall, legs for daze, and never gained any weight other than her belly).  She rattled off a few items that she thought would fit, and then got really excited and said, "oh, and I have this really great leopard print dress."  I about fell over.  Now don't get me wrong....my sister wore the cutest clothes...never ashamed of showing off her figure.  And it totally worked....she was, probably the cutest pregnant woman I've ever seen...right up with all the celebrities.  But in all seriousness...who the hell wants to wear a tight leopard print dress with their third baby?  I think I'd rather wear a moo moo (or however you spell it).  I don't know why, but this time around I could really care less.  Is that bad?  I've even turned into that mom who brings their kid to school in their pjs. (Namely, sweats) I even wore my slippers one day by accident. It should have been embarrassing, but sadly it wasn't.  The thought of putting real clothes on right now makes me want to vomit.
Seriously, you should see me right now.  Actually, no I'm glad you can't see me right now.  You might vomit yourself.
I often wonder, "What happened to me?"  I used to love wearing heels and cute clothes.  Now I've traded them in for ugly black slippers that make me shuffle like an old person when I walk, and oversized baggy sweats that make me look 3 sizes bigger than I am.
I think part of it is because with Grace, it was my first.  I didn't gain THAT much weight.  With Gabe...ha, totally different story.  I grew OUT of my maternity clothes, gained way more weight,  grew a couple of chins and, in the true words of a good friend, "Got as big as a truck!"  Now, if he wasn't one of David and my really good friends I would have punched him in the nuts, but all I could do was agree with him because it was true!  I was as big as a big ass Mack truck.  So, when you get that big, who wants to wear anything besides oversized unflattering sweats?  Not me.
So, if you see me out and about...do not expect me to be donning a leopard print dress, heels...or even jeans for that matter!
It's my third pregnancy people...bring out the sweats.