Category Archives: events

Balls

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Hi. How was everyone’s holiday? Mine was good. I hosted. The turkey turned out okay, and could’ve been better, but was more than just edible. I think next year we’ll either buy separate turkey parts, or attempt to FRY! THE TURKEY! Everyone raved about the stuffing/dressing, including the non-stuffing eaters, so I consider that a major win. The chocolate pie was devoured within 24 hrs (thanks Vance!) and I accidentally left the pumpkin pie out over night and it spoiled before I got to eat my fair share of it (all of it.) The best part? EVERYBODY LEFT WITHIN 3 HOURS OF EATING. That was just plain awesome. We didn’t go shopping on Black Friday, but we did enjoy reading stories of pregnant women punching impatient deal-seekers in the face for ramming carts into their protruding bellies. Ba-fucking-zing.

I had originally started writing this elaborate post about how idyllic my vision of Thanksgiving at my house is, and how the reality of the actual day begins to haunt me in the days leading up it, and how it always turns out better than I expect, and how I love my family and the holidays, and blah blah blah. I didn’t finish it because it seemed somewhat anti-climactic against the news we were dealt yesterday.

Yes, dealt. Kind of like a blow. To the baby-maker.

We had our big 20-week ultrasound to determine the anatomical correctness of our new addition. I was a nervous wreck pretty much the entire day and night before. I wanted to know what we were having! You know, with my first unexpected pregnancy, I didn’t have any specific requirements or desires, because it was a baby! I’ve never really even held one of those before! And we get to see it! But this time,  we mistakenly walked into this experience with expectations and standards, and that, my friends, is the stupidest thing you can do.

Here’s what we knew: based on our 12-week “ultrascreen,” the baby has 2 arms, 2 legs, 10 fingers and toes, and a complete head, a 1 in 430 chance of having down syndrome and a 1 in 10,000 chance of having some other chromosomal or neural tube defect. So, as far as anyone could tell, a healthy baby that moves and kicks mommy in the bladder.

What we were expecting: a still healthy baby who would look good in pink.

What we got: A still healthy baby with 2 kidneys, no obvious heart defects, and a penis.

Yeah, not a girl. We really, really, wanted a girl. We were stupid enough to convince ourselves that there is no way it couldn’t be a girl! Right? It’s a girl. It has to be, or else we…I don’t know what we’ll do, but it just can’t NOT be a girl.

So when the tech dug around a found the baby’s parts and said “those are boy parts, it’s pretty clear, as you can see” the room got really quiet. I don’t know what she expects or usually sees, but I would find it odd to get NO reaction from a family upon hearing the gender of the unborn child, which they requested. I want to believe that maybe she thought we were just weren’t surprised, or just fascinated by the movements of the blood leaving the heart.

And there is no doubt that we are having a boy, because I had 3 ultrasounds that day. 3 ultrasounds: the anatomy scan, one to look at my bladder at the OB’s office, and another to look at my bladder at a urologist’s office. At the urologists’s office, the nurse was REALLY EXCITED to get to scan a pregnant chick, so she really wanted to see that baby. She instantly spotted his parts. I have to admit, her excitement made it a little easier to be okay with the situation.

So, there were tears. Lots of them. There was guilt, because we were crying over the news that were again blessed with a healthy baby boy. The guilt made the depression and sadness worse. Vance tried to tell me that it’s okay to be disappointed, and I shouldn’t be ashamed, but maybe he didn’t get it. I wasn’t just disappointed, at that moment I was devastated.

This is what the internet calls “gender disappointment.” There are websites, articles, and forums dedicated to the subject. Sometimes, it can be “extreme,” and some parents even consider adoption and abortion. I’m not extreme; just a control freak who has a really hard time accepting things I can’t change or have a say in.

I’m better now. I’m getting more used to the idea of having 2 boys. Deven is going to have a playmate of the same gender to run around with and be best friends with, and that’s a pretty awesome bonus. At first I hated the idea of having to find crib bedding for another boy, because I hadn’t liked a single thing I had seen for boys. I looked around again yesterday, and found cute green and brown  blankets and sheets with monkeys. I have found that I hate blue stuff, but can certainly live with neutral colors and themes. I’ve always been like that, though. I hate overly-boyish stuff with cars and footballs and dinosaurs as much as overly-girly ruffly things that resemble cotton candy. I can live with green and brown jungle animals.

And it’s not like I’m going to have a pair of obnoxious football-obsessed goons. We are not capable of that, seeing as Vance doesn’t really like football that much, or any sports for that matter. We are geeks, and we’re probably going to end up raising geeks. Video game-obsessed, Star-Trek loving, action-figure collecting, Stephen Hawking-reading geeks. It’s already started; Deven loves Firefly and Rush. It’s all we know around here!

I wish I could post the pictures, but all we have at the moment is video. We even got a couple of 3d/4d shots of his face. This early, I have to say 4d is kind of useless. All babies look the same at this stage, so I wouldn’t waste my money on 4d scans until at least 35 weeks. The regular 2d shots were really good. Like I said, I wish I could post the pictures and put them next to the one’s from Deven’s 20 week scan. You can see how different they look already. Yes, I know I just said all babies look alike on the 3d, but on the 2d we could see his features and make comparisons. This baby has a different chin, and eyebrows, and totally has Vance’s mouth.

The best and biggest surprise you get the day the baby is born is seeing what the baby looks like.

So there you go. When I get the scanner hooked up, I will post the pictures from the scan.

This little guy is due to make his entrance on April 13, 2011. His name is Archer Kain. If you think that’s bad, we came very close to calling baby #2 Goody Gee Goodwin.

Potty time

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I’ve actually seriously just started the process of introducing my three year old son to the concept of going potty. I am saying “actually seriously” because I have in the past attempted to get this boy to try and go potty, and it was for various reasons unsuccessful. With each attempt, I would put my foot down and say “WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT, YOU ARE GOING POTTY, DAMMIT” and I would take his diapers away from him and pull him kicking and screaming to the potty every half hour. Needless to say, it never worked. I would end up quitting inside of a day.  He wasn’t ready, and I was being too aggressive, and not paying attention to his needs and understanding. Not to mention, I made the process unbearable for me. I couldn’t stand the thought of going at this for more than one day like that.

Training this little one comes with it’s own unique set of challenges. He has delays, which we have not entirely pinpointed yet (he has an evaluation on the 26th of this month), but we know for sure these delays effect his ability to understand what we are saying to him. He doesn’t answer questions, and he doesn’t get certain concepts involving contrast features. (Like big/small, wet/dry. Make sense? Am I using the correct term? I have no idea.) It’s also unclear as to whether he can detect when he needs to go. He’ll tell us when he has gone poop or needs a change, and when he needs to “number 2″ he’ll go up to his room for a bit, but he doesn’t tell us that’s what he is going to do. It took a lot of tracking and observing to catch onto that.

The questions still remains as to whether or not he is sensitive to the sensation of needing to pee. He’s never been a really sensitive kid. He’s been known to skin his knees on the playground, and we wouldn’t find out about it until we find a trail of blood behind him several minutes later. He rarely cries or complain. That’s great in every other aspect except for this one. He’ll sit on the potty for 10 minutes or so, and then pee in his pull-up within 10 minutes of getting up. I’m unsure of how to go about explaining the concept of needing to pee to a kid with delays, or to a kid with who doesn’t seem to notice or care. We’ve tried the pee-pee in the cloth underpants thing. Unless he makes a mess on his floor, he is indifferent to being covered in his own urine. Right now I am thinking he’s not going to notice or care about pee until we throw him a party the first time he accidently pees in his potty.

I’m going at it very differently this time. I’ve decided to take a much slower, more patient Deven-lead approach. I’m trying to get him used to the idea of sitting on the potty by getting him to sit there a few minutes several times a day. As I said, before, the only way I would get him to the potty was by strapping on full armor and dragging him with his extremities swinging. Now, I’m actually LISTENING to him. If he says he doesn’t want to, then fine. It’s not a big deal, tomorrow is another day. But, being the strong-willed little warrior he is, he may never ever want to go and sit down on the potty. I have to offer him INCENTIVES. I started offering him stickers for every time he would sit on the potty for a few minutes. It’s worked out pretty well! Day 1 ended with him covered in 10 different kinds of stickers. It’s a reward for giving it a shot, for entertaining the possibility. Thank you, kid, for at least trying. I consider it a win if this gets him to go at least 3 times in a day.

On the off-chance he actually goes on the potty, he will get a piece of candy. I know what you’re thinking: OMG what a horrible parent, she is giving her kid FOOD as a reward! JUNK FOOD no less! Given the circumstances of my apparently numb-bladdered child, I’m not too terribly worried about childhood obesity just yet.

Of course, I’ve been reading him books on the subject of going potty, and I’ve been doing my own reading as well. I remember going to Barnes and Noble looking for a couple of books on the subject of potty training and being extremely UNDERWHELMED by the number of books for parents, and extremely OVERWHELMED by the books for kids. Seriously, parents need a variety of books on parenting the difficult/gifted/male/female/imaginative child, but none on potty training? Seriously, it’s not one of those things you are just PROGRAMMED to know how to handle. My biggest obstacle in this process has been my own lack of knowledge on what the fuck I am supposed to do. No one seems to have any direct answers, and there are no 24-hr help lines.  But, lucky for Deven, he’s bound to find a story or two (or ten…twenty) about a little boy just like him with a crazy mom who  is trying to get him to sit on this little bowl-seat-thing with eyes. He’s the lucky one.

This is going to be a long, difficult process, and I’m sure I’m going to have 2/3 less hair than I began with. But I am determined to follow through with this with minimal tears (from him), tantrums (from both of us), and guilt (both of us). We’re both learning here, and in the end, we’re going to come out a lot more skilled.

I am so very determined to have a potty trained toddler by the time we have a new baby here.

Longest. Week. Ever.

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Today was Deven’s birthday party. Words cannot describe the relief that a) it has ended, b) that there were no casualties, and c) that there is a ton of new stuff to keep Deven and mommy entertained :)

This entire week has been hectic. I have yet to really get a chance to sit down and reflect on everything. There are still things on my list of shit that HAS to get done this week that have yet to be fulfilled.
Let me break it down:< /p>

Sunday: First exam in Medical Terminology. Has to be taken on site. I didn’t do it on Saturday for whatever reason, waited until the next-to-the-last second to take it. I drove the entire way to the campus not realizing that I had a FLAT TIRE. I was close to driving on the rim when I finally made it to school. My brother came to the rescue with a can of Fix-A-Flat. Was very cynical about the effectiveness of product. He was right; tire was COMPLETELY FLAT by the time I got home. Angry husband put on a spare. Gave darling wife a good scolding.
Several hours later, transformer explodes somewhere on the other side of the freeway, POWER GOES OUT IN THE ENTIRE NEIGHBORHOOD. We contemplate eating our pets. Luckily for them, power came back on a few hours later.

Monday: Discount Tire gets us a new tire with a factory rebate. Deven’s birthday money bought a new tire for mommy’s van >:/
There goes the plan of buying presents AND groceries this week.

Tuesday: WCLP meeting at Mangia’s pizza. Worst. Dining. Experience. EVAR. That alone was insanely stressful.

Wednesday: Begin training videos at “new” job. There are 9 of them, they are an hour long EACH, and they are interactive. All of those other important things that need my attention, like lectures for SCHOOL, suddenly find themselves forgotten at the bottom the totem pole.

Thursday: Deven’s birthday! Took him to Build-a-Bear. Deven wouldn’t concentrate long enough to choose a damn bear. He threw an epic screaming fit because mommy couldn’t afford a ride on the mall train. We ate lunch, Deven’s behavior improved. Went back to Build-a Bear, Deven chose a Panda! On the way out of the mall, Deven spots balloons in the mall Dentist’s office. Threw another screaming fit, but somehow convinces the receptionist to let him have a yellow balloon. We leave the mall. All is well. Pizza for dinner courtesy of Uncle Bo.
Let it be known that plans and toddlers DON’T MIX.

Friday: the day before Deven’s party. Still haven’t done an official head count of guests, still haven’t found party decorations, still havent cleaned anything in my house, still havent finished training videos, still haven’t bought a damn cake. Deven has a doctor’s appointment. I leave early hoping we’ll be able to get party supplies before the appointment. We take two steps into Party City, Deven sees balloons and starts SCREAMING thinking I will get him one. We turn right around and leave. I want to cry because I can’t get anything done with him. We get to the Doctor. I am secretly hoping he gets a shot as retribution for being a butt the last couple of days. He gets 2 shots, I die a little on the inside when he starts crying. I cuddle him. He’s still my baby. Doctor tells us Deven is still delayed (another post ENTIRELY) and is very short, 5th percentile for height. We are told to contact the elementary school, and are given a referral to see an orthopedist. Later that evening, after a horribly ineffective nap, I get to drive in the rain to retrieve a last minute cake. Mother in law arrives to save the day.

Today: Party day! Nothing is ready. We still need to buy the party supplies and go by the toy store before the party, but we are late heading out the door. I don’t get to the party site until an hour before the party. None of the decorations are cut out, let alone ready. I still have to get the pizza. Vance and Deven are late and don’t get there in time to help. My dad, step mom, and brother arrive before they do, and end up helping with the decorations. The party begins. There are tons of people. Deven got tons of great gifts. We got to hang out with family and friends. We are really blessed.

Tomorrow is the first at my job. I am going to be EXHAUSTED. All of that running around and there will be 0 chance of working a nap in there.
Rush is on Thursday, and since Vance’s mom will be watching him, we decided it would be easiest for her to just take him for the week. This gives me a lot of necessary time to catch up on everything (like school and sleep), but after a pretty much completely Deven-oriented week, it’s going to be weird and a little lonely without him here. There is going to be all of these toys all around us that we were going to play with together, and he’s not going to be here. Also, and this is going to sound a little strange and irrational (pregnancy), my big boy JUST turned 3, and a part of me feels like I don’t get to feel out this new age. He’ll still be 3 when he gets back, I guess.
What am I doing? I need to hit the hay. Sleep has been really hard to come by these days