TraumaRama

I can't believe that it has been a month since my last post. I have started at least two since then, but I just haven't been able to untangle my mind enough to write anything even slightly coherent. I am not sure that I've yet reached the point that I CAN write something coherent, but at this point of the morning it is quiet around here and it's the best chance I'll have all day.

To start, it has been a tough month for me. Up to the first part of June, Cayton was still attending her school/day care and Vivi and I had the place to ourselves. Starting June 1, Cayton began staying home full time and Vivi and I just did not know what we were in for. Now, when Cayton was a newborn, my world was "fairly shook" by her arrival and I thought that caring for a baby was just about the most difficult thing that I could ever do. Well, it was. That is, until she hit the toddler years. So, by comparison, Vivi has been a a breeze. But, the combination of a three-year-old and a newborn is the very definition of a mindscrew (to put it mildly). So, this adjustment period could be the reason I haven't written much of late.

Adding to the difficulty of advanced parenting is my oldest child's genetic gift (from me) for hurting herself or being involved in freak accidents. You may remember Harvey Attacks 2008. Well, following that was Staples of Death. Most recently, last weekend in fact, was Gravity Strikes! We were going to take the kids to the zoo in OKC with my parents and my sister. Well, about 5 minutes after arriving at the zoo, Cayton fell off her daddy's shoulders and smacked her head on the concrete. We thought she was going to shake it off, but about an hour later, she started vomiting and we ran full out to the EMTs there at the zoo. After a quick check, the EMT said that she was going to be fine because she hadn't lost consciousness and her pupils were reacting and she was alert. He told us to keep her awake for at least an hour or so. With that, we left the zoo then and headed back to my sister's house. Along the way, Cayton began to look worse and she kept drifting off to sleep. Just looking at her mouth hanging open and the droopy eyes, we were worried. So, we decided to go to the minor emergency clinic. We thought that was a good idea after she started throwing up again. They sent us over to the ER for an X-ray. After the ER doctor said that she was fine, we were able to breathe again. She was ecstatic that she had gained at least three stickers and a popsicle.

Since that incident, Cayton has tried everything in her ever growing repertoire of tricks to damage herself. I took her to a sprinkler park and she managed to bust her bee-hind on the concrete there and at her Meme's house she performed a flip right into the wall. So, now, she has a nice set of bruises on her back. They go great with the black eye from Gravity Strikes! that is just now beginning to fade. You would think that my tiny girl was going around picking fights. But, Mama keeps telling me that these things happen with little kids and that I'll have to toughen up. I'm sure she speaks from experience given that I managed to knock a hole in my head when I was two and I bit through my lower lip when I was in the fifth grade. This is in addition to all the other injuries that didn't require a trip to the ER. So, I guess she's right about the toughening up part. Either that, or my one glass of wine a night routine might get out of hand...

But, things are not all trauma and mayhem around here. Staying at home with the girls has given me the luxury of time to wallow in their childhood and to soak up all the sweetness that I can take. Although some times I think I will go mad trying to take care of everything that they need, I am wise enough to see that this is the deal that you make as a parent. Kids are the most wonderful and, at times, the most terrible thing that will ever happen to you. But, you can't expect to be given something so extraordinary without paying a price. For me, that price is likely to be my sanity. But really, I think I've come out good on this deal. I've never really been all that sane anyway...

Project Update

Not that I have a ton of time to work on my hobbies, but now and then, after all the babies have been properly feed, kissed, hugged and put to bed, I have a minute or two to work on some needlework projects. I started one for Vivian about a week before she was born. There is some procrastination for you. But, I am proud to say that I am officially half finished with it. Here is a quick pic to let you know what I'm working on these days:




The design will be repeated on the left side of the piece and Vivi's name and date of birth will be in the middle of the heart. You can see that the word "born" is sort of floating there in the middle. When I start a new project, I have to start in the middle for counting purposes. I know some stitchers break out a ruler and start in the upper corners, but that's too technical for me and I'm sure I'd screw up on some minor detail and then the whole thing would be jacked. At which point, I would freak out and have a total meltdown and all of my project supplies would end up in the fireplace. And really, those freak outs of mine just upset Blake too much...

Anyway, that is the current project. I have managed to finish one, but I didn't get it framed in time for St. Patrick's Day. But, it's cute and I guess I really ought to show off something that I have finished.



This is a project that I have been working on for my mother. It was supposed to be a gift for Mama and Daddy's 35th wedding anniversary. But, given that they just celebrated their 36th anniversary, I'd say that this may be a Christmas gift. I'm not committing to a specific year, but Christmas it is.




The finished piece will have some animals and charms and, theoretically, a nice border around the whole thing. You may notice that the border is totally fricacked and I will have to rip it out and start over. That is mainly why the piece has not been finished. I just haven't gathered the ambition to actually start ripping out the stitching. I just hate, hate backtracking.

Speaking of projects, I guess I should include an update on my most important project(s). The girls are doing really well and Vivi is really beefing up. She will outweigh Cayton in a month or two at this rate. Of course, that's not really a benchmark since Cayton is a noodle and has, for some reason, gone on a hunger strike. I can't get the kid to eat anything. I think it's slightly disturbing that a three year old has serious ripped abs. But, whatever. Here are a couple of pics of Cayton demonstrating her patented strangle hold maneuver on Vivi.

OK, Deep Breath... Here Goes

After some time and distance, I think I am finally able to discuss Cayton's final head wound episode. I might say that for her part, Cayton is well over this whole incident. In fact, she was pretty much good to go following the staple extraction, though I was really tempted to ask the doctor for my own lollipop and sticker. I guess just knowing that she was OK made the deal a little easier for me, but not by much.

We first attempted to get Cayton's staples removed about a week after the original injury. The doctor wanted to wait a couple of days more because at that point, the wound still looked a little raw (her word, not mine). So, we waited an additional two days. Blake and I suffered for every minute of those two days since we knew it was going to be rough. I just tried to avoid thinking about it and having to focus on parenting two kids helped a bit. But, it was still tough.

So, Thursday rolled around and off we went to the doctor's office. We told Cayton that we were going to see the doctor and she was all excited. Poor little girl... Anyway, I was thinking that maybe it wouldn't be so bad, and that after all, it could be a whole lot worse. I mean, she could have a disease or Harvey could have bitten her face. It could have been so much worse. But, it's funny how attempts to gain perspective like this really don't help much. It's not like you are only allowed to suffer if your tough day is catastrophic. Oh, you aren't digging out from under the rubble of an earthquake or fighting terminal cancer? Well, man up because your ordeal ain't crap! No, anything that hurts your kid is terrible and it's OK to wallow in it (according to me).

At the doctor's office, we headed right in and the doctor looked at Cayton's head. She felt that it looked pretty good and that if we didn't get the staples out soon, her body would start reacting to the foreign objects in her head (the staples). Anyway, that sounded bad to me. So, she sent the nurse in to take the staples out. That sounds simple, right? Well, it was until we got to Staple Number 3. Of course, it couldn't be easy. Nope, not for us. Well, SN3 was lodged and twisted. Horror! We had to hold Cayton down while the nurse tried to take it out. I think if I live a hundred years, I will not forget holding Cayton's legs, feeling complicit in hurting her and hearing her cry out for her Daddy. Seriously, I know I am being dramatic here, but that's how your brain works when you have kids. Every little thing that hurts them sends daggers through your chest and, I swear, it feels like a fist clenching your stomach.

Well, Nurse #1 couldn't remove the staple. Queasy as I am about staples/stitches, I was tempted to remove it myself just to get it over with. But, Cayton was just too keyed up and holding her down was not getting the job done. So, Nurse #2 was summoned. He took one look at the staple and decided to call the doctor. At this point, Blake was holding up pretty well. But I, to my horror, was not doing well. I actually was crying a bit and that is NOT something I'm comfortable with. Blake mentioned that I could step out of the room if I wanted to, to which I think I said something like, "Are you kidding me? I'm her mother and I'm staying in the room. I can't leave my baby!"

The doctor arrived along with her lighted magnifying spectacles. She looked at the staple and told us that if she couldn't get it out, that we'd have to take Cayton to a surgeon and have it cut out. That didn't sound like a good option to me. So, Blake and I were both hoping that the doctor could get the thing out. She took a stab at it, but Cayton just wouldn't hold still. So, they pulled out the big guns: the papoose board. This is basically a board with straps to hold down a kicking screaming kid. Seriously, it was like every traumatic image you could have rolled into one event. Blood, surgical instruments, kid freaking out, kid strapped down to a papoose board...

The doctor was able to get the staple out without sending us to the surgeon. So, everything ended well. Cayton got a lollipop and a couple of stickers and walked out of the doctor's office like nothing happened. Blake and I were a bit worse for wear, but relieved to have it over with.

This just leaves one final piece of business to wrap up. Harvey has to go, so that promises to be tons of fun. I tell you, I am very, very tired of having my heart ripped out. When we get Harvey dealt with, I think I will have to take a vacation from all of this drama. Though, given our luck over the last month or so, we should probably keep it simple and dog free!

She's the Big Sister!

As you can see from the pic, Cayton is doing well and has recovered from her run in with Harvey.  But, as much fun as she appears to be having holding her baby sister, I'm not sure Vivi looks like she's having a lot of fun.  I told Cayton to hold V's head, and I think she took that to mean that you have to hold it in a death grip fashion.

The main thing to note is that Cayton loves "her baby" and is really taken with being a big sister.  She asks constantly to kiss the baby and for some reason, her favorite thing is to grab the baby's arm or legs and pump them up and down.  V doesn't seem to mind, though I usually put a stop to it pretty quickly.  It's cute though to see Cayton taking over big sister duties and V seems laid back enough to let Cayton practice.  At least, so far she's cool with it.  I look forward to watching their relationship grow over the years.  If they are lucky, they will end up being as close as my sister and I are.  I truly hope that happens for them because it certainly is one of the best parts of my life!  Love you Ereeno!

 

In our next installment, I will relate the horror of staple removal.  Cayton is fine, but I'm still recovering.  I'm not sure when I'll be able to actually relate the details, but I think maybe I'll be up to it in a day or two.

And Now, the Worst Day...

OK, so this picture is the happy ending of a really scary story.  So, while you process the fact that you are looking at a picture of a bloody kid eating popsicles, let me explain.  As per usual, when your world is calm and happy and you start to think you have things under control, life decides that you maybe need a good ass kicking just to keep you humble.  In our case, the ass kicking really was second hand.  Our poor girl met up with the business end of our dog Harvey and she lost big time.  

Cayton, my friend Teresa and I were all sitting around the table outside and Cayton was running around after the dog.  I had been watching her because I don't let her play with the dogs unattended.  Anyway, I turned to say something to Teresa and in that instant, Monday went completely down the drain.  I heard the incident before I saw it. Harvey started freaking out and I turned to him, ready to tell him to lay off of Sophie (our other dog) as they play fight all the time.  But, what I saw will be seared into my mind for as long as I retain my sanity.  I saw Harvey with his mouth on my girl and then he seemed to realize what he'd done and he backed off with, I swear, an "Oh crap" look on his face.  Then, Cayton started screaming and I think I actually vaulted out of my chair and landed in front of her in a single bound.

When I got to her, I saw some marks on the back of Cayton's neck and they were just minor abrasions, so I felt better immediately.  Then, I straightened up and noticed (in a strange out of body kind of way) that my hand was covered in blood.  Then, I backed up and looked at Cayton and saw that the left side of her head was covered in blood.  Knowing my limits, I didn't even stop to examine the wound, I just grabbed her and ran into the house with Teresa and the baby leading the way.  Blake came running into the kitchen from another part of the house, no doubt drawn by the sounds of two hysterical women and a screaming three year old.

All I remember was thrusting Cayton toward Blake and saying, "Is it bad?  Is it bad?"  Thankfully, Blake has the self-control and calm of a slab of granite, so he glanced at her, looked at me with a face devoid of expression and said, "It's not bad, but bad enough that I have to take her to the hospital."  So, he grabbed her and left immediately.  Meanwhile, Teresa had the baby and insisted that she would stay and watch the baby and I should jump in the car with Blake.  I made it down the stairs and out into the garage before it dawned on me that I had to take the baby since otherwise she would have nothing to eat until I got back.  Given that an ER visit can take several hours, I thought neither Teresa nor Vivian would be happy with me.  So, Teresa had to drive Vivi and me to St. Francis since we didn't want Blake to have to wait on all of us to get our selves together enough to figure out what we were doing.

Cayton was seen immediately at St. Francis and the nurse assured us that the wound was not bad and was a clean, straight gash.  Apparently, if you are going to be gashed in the head, this is the way to go.  She also said that head wounds often look worse than they are because they bleed so profusely.  I have to say, Cayton did look like she'd just arrived from the war front.  I figured that her appearance would scare the patients in the ER waiting room.  Several little kids did stop to gawk.  Anyway, the doctors and physician assistants were amazing.  I would never have thought that you could put three staples in a kid's head without restraints, but they managed it. Plus, she rode out of there on her Daddy's shoulders with two popsicles and a smile, so I would say that they are actually beyond amazing.

So, now I sit here sufficiently humbled by whatever cosmic forces are in charge of keeping us in line and I am trying to find something in all of this that I can take with me.  I guess it helps a little, when tough things happen, to think that there is reason or wisdom that can come from it and that it isn't completely random.  Here is what I have so far:

1. Seriously, don't get in the dog's face.

2. Kids are extremely resilient, brave little things.  Surprisingly so...

3. Even at 33, it's totally acceptable to call your mama and sob uncontrollably.  She will listen because she wants to and not because she has to.

4. The choice between your child and a beloved pet is easy.  The follow through is tough.

5.  You can't protect your kid from harm, even if you are sitting 5 feet away.  So, it's best to leave self-doubt and blame behind and realize, as the aforementioned mama told me, "Shit happens and you can't do a damn thing about it."

6. The only easy thing about being a parent is loving your babies.  Everything else is HARD.

 

Another Best Day of My Life

If you haven't heard, Vivian Claire arrived on April 3 at 10:08 pm.  That was really a good thing too, because after what seemed like about 2 years in labor, I was more than ready for her to get on with it.  Anyway, she is practically her sister's twin born 3 years late.  We are so blessed to have both our girls and we are looking forward to many years of good times and great memories.

Here are a few pics.  I hope to have some new ones soon.  My sister owes me a few since we were totally retarded when we packed for the hospital at 3:00 in the morning.  We barely packed clothes, so you can bet the camera didn't make it.

My Apologies

I would like to apologize to any first time moms-to-be who might have read my last blog post. I hate to think that I scared the bejesus out of anybody.  Mostly I was just having a bad night and I was dwelling on the whole birthing ordeal.  Don't get me wrong, I stand by what I said.  It is quite a trauma, but people do it all the time.  So, you can definitely get through it.  But, as I mentioned, I've been there before and I know what I'm in for.  I basically just don't want to do it. 

Certainly, I can't wait for Vivian Claire to arrive.  I'm so ready to meet her.  It's just that I kind of wish she could show up like my other family and friends, you know, like with a nice bottle of wine and some fancy cheese.  It certainly would be less work on my part.  But you know, if something is worth having, you have to work for it. 

So, I conclude by saying that I am feeling a little bit tougher now.  I guess I just needed to have a little bit of a break down to gain some insight.  As usual, my kids are really causing me to reexamine and rethink things.  

Personally, I think I need a little break from all of this self-discovery and improvement...

The Big Finish

OK, I admit it.  I am scared.  It's about that time and I'm looking at the inevitability of having to go to the hospital and do my thing.  I've been so ready until now when it's really about to happen and now I think I'm "just not gonna go".  I kind of have that feeling like when you are strapped into a roller coaster and you're at the top of the hill and you'd get out of the damn thing if someone would really give you the option.  It's the fear of what's coming coupled with the complete and utter loss of control.  There's no fear like the fear of having to do something and you know just exactly what you are in for.  You can't tell yourself, "Oh, it's not that bad". Bullshit. It IS that bad and you know it.  No illusions, no kidding.  I think it's times like this that you also have to face that you are one person and you have to go some things alone.  No one can do it for you and you can't turn back.  So, nothing for it but to hike up your britches (or lack of in this case) and face it head on.  Still, if I could make Blake do this for me, brother I so would.

There is some consolation though in knowing that this won't actually kill me and I get a nice parting gift.  But, since I'm still on this side of the ordeal, I will have to own up to some moments of panic.  I try to let them pass, but tonight I think I'm just a little wimpier than usual.  However, like any good girl from the country, I do have someone to turn to.  Even though I do have to forgo the "liquid courage" that I might otherwise turn to, I do have George to see me through.  There's also Merle if things get really bad.  I find that if I feel a freak out coming on, I can break out the iTunes and work through a lot of trouble.  A little cryin', lovin' and leavin' can at least get me through the evening and I bet I'll feel better tomorrow.

Or, I'll be in the hospital working on the big finish to this seemingly never ending pregnancy.

Elephants in my Backyard

This past weekend Cayton and I went down south to Hugo to see my parents. Blake had taken the weekend to go to Vegas as a sort of last ditch effort to recapture his youth before Vivian makes her appearance. Really though, it was a well deserved weekend away for him and a good excuse for me to head home and soak up some attention and pampering from my parents.

As usual, Mama cooked everything that I ever thought I might want to eat. It was all so delicious that I really had to tear myself away from the table. Mama is a great cook and it really does a soul good to wake up to some biscuits and gravy and hot coffee. Plus, given that I currently don't sleep well, I woke up early both mornings and was able to spend some time with Mama just chatting and relaxing.

On Saturday morning, despite the cold, Daddy and I took Cayton to the annual winter festival at the local elephant sanctuary. Yes, that is right, the local elephant sanctuary. Hugo happens to be the winter headquarters for several circuses, so it's not completely random that there would be some elephants hanging around town. But, it might surprise you to find that Hugo is home to the second largest herd of Asian elephants anywhere (this is according to their literature). In fact, I think there are maybe 23 or so elephants at the sanctuary and the herd even includes two very cute babies. So, my small little hometown is cooler than yours.

Anyway, Cayton had a wonderful time checking out the animals at the festival. Just to recount, there were literally tons of elephants, a baby hippo, baby goats, llamas, a camel (rather reluctantly providing rides to the kiddies), a burro and some kind of bovine creature that I'm pretty sure isn't native. There were even some gorgeous performing horses doing their thing in the circus rings that were set up. All in all, it was a great experience for the five dollar admission price. I'd encourage you to check out the Endangered Ark for more info and to donate to their goal of preserving and maintaining the Asian elephant population in North America.

Here are some pics from the excursion --

How many kids can you cram onto an elephant?

One of the baby elephants (no, that isn't me...)

Cayton and some really cute baby goats

Performing horses

Cayton and Daddy

Always Waiting

I went to the eye doctor this morning for my yearly eye check up. Sometimes, this seems really pointless to me. Aside from the fact that my eyes actually refuse to do their one job, which is SEE, they are in perfect condition. According to my doctor, I have beautiful retinas and perfect eye pressure. I'm really flattered, but how about some eyeballs that WORK??? Oh well, I think this is something I should really take up with God someday, so I'll let the doc off the hook.

Anyway, the part of the appointment that really irritated me was the two hour wait in the waiting area. Seriously??? I usually expect to wait a bit when I see the eye doctor since the average age of eye patients is about 92 and cataracts apparently take a lot of explaining, but this was totally ridiculous. After about an hour and a half, I started to think that maybe somewhere in the high-tech patient sign-in system, something had gone wrong. I walked to the desk and asked how much longer I'd have to wait given that I did need to go to work at some point.

"Oh, what is your name?" I told her and her next question was "Have you ever been here before?" Now I ask you, what in God's name does that have to do with anything. Would I have gotten in more quickly if I'd been a new patient? If so, I call shenanigans on that. Anyway, she said, she was sorry and that she hadn't seen me sitting there. What? I know someone else that needs their eyes checked. Given that I'm 31 weeks pregnant and was wearing a houndstooth maternity coat, I think the astronauts on the space station could have seen me.

Anyway, when they finally called me back, the nurse/assistant/whatever, said, "Are you ready?" I'm thinking, oh yes. Given that I had two hours to get geared up, I think I'm finally emotionally ready for this eye exam. She seated me and then started in with the tough questions, "What is your name?" Jesus, Mary and Joseph! You have my chart AND I actually did make an appointment. I should have come up with something really funny here, but I was actually pretty pissed, so I was in full Gwen Cayton (my mom) pursed lip mode. Then, with a question that shored up my faith in the medical community and their powers of observation, "Are you pregnant?" Maybe they should make medic alert bracelets for pregnant people just so there is no confusion...

Oh well, at least they made every effort to get me in and out once I mentioned to as many people as would listen, "I've been waiting over two hours". What I really wanted to say was something like, "I'm 31 weeks pregnant, I have a three year old and I haven't slept since maybe 2005 and I'm finally pissed off and tired of waiting. Can we hurry this along???" But, really, what would that have accomplished? Every time I have ever blown up and made an ass of myself, I've felt so bad about it that I've concluded that it isn't worth it. I can just exorcise my demons on this blog and use my anger for entertainment value (at least I hope it's entertaining).

After all of this, I was a bit sensitive to waiting for things and I started to notice that a good portion of my day consists of waiting for things. I got in my car and headed toward work and spent what seemed like an eternity waiting to get through traffic. Then, I stopped at Panera to grab some soup for lunch and stood in line waiting for someone to have mercy on me and take my order. Again, I was apparently invisible despite my condition. After that, it was hurry up and wait for a parking space in my parking garage and then wait for the ancient elevators in my building. I just get so tired of all of this stalling, waiting, and being patient. Maybe this is all just some kind of plan that God has to teach me to be a better, more patient person. But, really, I don't think learning patience is possible for me. There is just too big of a learning curve.

Granny's Lullaby

Ho sheep, ho sheep, where's the lamb?
Way down yonder in the valley.
Butterfly, butterfly picking at its eye,
Poor little thing cried Mama!

Mama says when she goes away,
Take good care of her baby.
When she comes back, she'll bring a piece of pie.
Poor little thing cried Mama

I was rocking my baby and singing this lullaby to her a couple of days ago. I know it's a strange one, but my granny used to sing it to me and she sang it to my mama when she was a baby. I also remember Granny singing this to my sister on one of the few occasions that Erin would permit such things. So, this song has always had a place in some of my best memories. I guess that is partly because I remember lying soft in my granny's lap while she rocked and she would sing and it was really peaceful. The other reason is because she would usually change the next to last lyric to "bring a piece of pumpkin pie" (my favorite) and I always have been a big fan of food.

The other day though, I was singing this song to Cayton in the way that I've done so many times. She was snuggled up in her blanket and her eyelids were fluttering and, against my will, I slipped back to my childhood and I suddenly missed my granny so much. I don't think about her a lot because she's gone and I don't like to dwell on things I can't change. But, for a minute or two, I spent some time thinking about how I would have liked her to meet my baby and hold another generation on her ample, grandmotherly lap. It would have been nice to hear her take on whether or not Cayton is similar to me. Or, if she couldn't remember, it would have been quite a moment just to hear her sing this silly old song that I imagine she picked up in her own childhood.

As is common with these types of memories, it came and went in a second and I was left feeling a little sad really. Granny was a big part of my childhood since I grew up in a small town and she lived maybe a mile or two from my house. So, when I think of growing up, inevitably thoughts of my grandmother pop up and, nine times out of ten, I end up laughing about something she said or something she did. Often as not, I just get really hungry because she used to cook for me all the time and it was always something that I wouldn't eat now because of my ongoing efforts to avoid becoming, as she would say, "as big as the broad side of a barn".

I guess maybe when I was thinking about her, I realized that my granny really had quite a lasting impact on me. While this wasn't such a groundbreaking revelation, it was significant in that I could see that she gave me something that I can take with me. Not only do I have a healthy appreciation for salt pork and buttermilk biscuits with gravy that tastes so good you'll slap your mama, but she passed along that silly little song that ties past generations to this. So, while my girls won't know my granny in person, they will know who she was and how she touched my life. I think she'd be happy to know that her song lives on. That, and I can make some mean buttermilk biscuits...

Fun Times at the Doerr House

If you could just imagine me sitting on the floor in front of Cayton begging her to pee-pee in the potty, you would have a great idea of what's been going on in our house for the past 4 or 5 days.  I think this whole potty training thing is the least fun I've had in my short parenting experience.  This is ridiculously frustrating and BORING.  I have about 35 seconds of down time in any given day and now I spend it sitting on the cold tile floor staring at a toilet and begging for divine intervention.  Not that I haven't been in this position before, but at least I had some good party memories to get me through AND I had an idea that the misery would end.  I have no idea when Cayton will get on board with this whole "going in the potty" deal.  She was fairly happy with the way things were. 

In other news, we did get out of the house today for a trip to the park.  It's rarely 70 degrees here in January, so we took advantage of the good weather.  Cayton got to ride her bike and visit the ducks at the pond.  Unfortunately, we didn't think to take bread for the ducks and she was pretty irritated since there were other kids there feeding the ducks.  But, ever the resourceful one, Cayton decided to feed them some sticks.  Yum...

Sing it Merle...

Coming from a long line of country people who like to sit around philosophizing, I admit that I do my best thinking listening to either Jimmy Buffet or Merle Haggard  (a glass of scotch helps too).  Sometimes, I can even do a little ruminating with Pat Green, but as you can tell from my title, tonight my companion was Merle.  I downloaded his new album and on it was a great song called Learning to Live with Myself.  I guess it had really been a little too long since I spent some time just drifting in and out of my own head and maybe that's why this song really hit me just right.

Merle pointed out that "until he gives me my call, the hardest of all will be learning to live with myself".  I immediately identified with that statement because no matter how at ease I am with being me, I find at times that I can really get frustrated with some of my darker tendencies.  For instance, I really had to control myself at the grocery store over the holidays.  After the fifth old person had nearly run me down with her buggy trying to outrun me for the Ritz crackers, I really did have to call on the Good Lord to give me strength.  Seriously, pregnant or not, I was crazed.  Then, as I mentioned in the last post, there is just no way I can be patient with the nosy cashier people at the mall.  On top of all of that, I am getting crankier by the minute and should be really cantankerous by the time I'm, oh, say 40.  

But, being serious, I wonder how in the future I will like myself.  I'm sure that there will be regrets and mistakes that I will acquire and I can't help but think that it might be difficult to carry that around.  While I'm generally an easy going person, there is always that other voice that likes nothing better than to point out all my shortcomings and missed opportunities.  Of course, the flip side of that is that I will also acquire wisdom and some really great things will happen.  So maybe the good and bad even out.  It's hard to say at this point.  But, while I haven't totally learned to live peacefully with myself, I have learned that there isn't much that I know for certain.  So, I guess I'll just have to wait and see.  When I figure it out, I'll let you know.  Don't wait up...

You Will be Under My Spell...

Cayton received a fairy princess costume from Aunt Erin and Uncle Dray.  She immediately put it on and she even knew just what to do with her magic wand.  I apologize in advance for the narration.  Please don't let the nasal-y voice over take away from the action...

Cayton Loves Christmas

Here are a few pictures from Christmas Extravaganza 2007. I don't have any from the Doerr side of the family since I was pretty much done with the whole Christmas thing by then, but I will try and snap a few this afternoon of the cousins together.

Cayton and Nanny trying to decorate the tree

Cayton and Uncle Dray showing off her spiffy new PJs

Cayton the Fairy Princess

Cayton is ready to head out into the country with her standard issue camo hat

The three (almost four) of us!

A Few Questions Ma'am

Has anyone else noticed that checking out at a store in the mall is getting increasingly more personal and time consuming? I used to run and hide when I would go to the store with my mom and they'd ask her something like, "What is your address, zip code, SSN, etc?" and she would look them in the eye and with her blood chilling Mom voice say, "Can I just pay for this stuff please?" The girl behind the counter would flush red and mention that they have to ask this stuff and Mama would say, "Well, that's fine but I don't have to answer. Now, do you want my money?" Of course, she's actually my hero for not taking a bunch of crap from the mall checker girl, but I'd usually still be hiding due to my fear of conflict. Well, no more!

Recently, I went to the mall on a mission to buy a dress to wear to Blake's office Christmas party. I didn't expect to find anything, but amazingly, I popped into the maternity (yeah, not sexy) store and found the perfect dress on the rack at the FRONT of the store. Wow. Anyway, the hot pink strapless dress was the perfect size (read that - tarp like)and it was cheap. I have to let everyone know that it was marked down to $16.99. Seriously...

Well, being the only person in the check out line, I assumed (incorrectly) that I could check out quickly and be on my way. Whatever. Well, I took the cornea searing tarp/dress up to the counter and the painfully young looking girl started to ring me up. First question: "What is your phone number?" This is usually an easy answer but I always give the wrong number. Well, I must have given Motherhood Maternity the right number at one time because my stock wrong number was not pulling up my record (why they have to have a record on customers is beyond me and frankly a little irritating). So, next question: "What is your address?" I've mentioned my unwillingness to enter into conflict, so I went along and gave my address. I mean, who knows? When they sell my info, I'm sure that I will be ecstatic to receive every baby related mailer in the universe.

At this point, I think about 5 minutes had elapsed and we hadn't gotten to the scanning of the card. I'd lost patience because I was so hungry that my legs were beginning to shake and I could only think about Auntie Anne's pretzel sticks. Store chick looked at me and and asked my due date. I was getting irritated. All I wanted to do was buy the damn dress and I felt like this transaction was turning into a police interrogation. Again, I answered the question and tried to smile but I think it was maybe more of a grimace at that point. She finally rang up the sale and told me all about how she had just marked the dress down and didn't I have great timing. Yeah, great timing.

So, about this time, the computer Internet connection jammed up and I started to think that using a credit card for this purchase was a bad idea. While we were waiting for the credit card scanner to run, store chick decided to finish up the CIA dossier that she'd been building on me and asked if I'd like to enroll in the Motherhood Maternity 529 plan card (I'm sure MM gets great return on investment). I declined on the grounds that I already had one with an actual financial institution. I declined two free magazine subscriptions and I also declined further info on cord blood storage. Then, the final straw. Standing there with what was, at that point, a fairly good sized check out line, store chick looked up from her cash register/big brother device and asked, "Are you going to nurse?" WTF???

That was it. I instantaneously became my mother. That's all it took. It was like the Big Bang. All the irritation of the last, oh, I don't know, twenty minutes had taken its toll. I gave her my meanest look and heaved and sighed and said something scathing like, "I don't know, yes, I guess. Why?"

Given that level of venom, she immediately finished me up and sent me on my way.

After I got my pretzel sticks and made it back to the car, I called Mama and told her all about my experience. She felt really bad for me and was extra incensed on my behalf. I feel sorry for the store clerks that she may encounter between now and Christmas...

This is How He Does It

This is a conversation that took place in our house last week. We were talking about divorce, not about getting one, just in general.

"God, I think that would be so awful. I just couldn't imagine dealing with everything that would entail," I said.

"Yeah, after 16 years I finally figured out one woman, I wouldn't want to start all over".

"Oh really. When exactly did you get me figured out?"

"Well," said Blake, with not a little hint of "smart ass" in his voice,"you have to admit, I'm coping!"

There you have it folks. The secret to a happy marriage: coping skills. Could be it's the secret to a marriage to me...

But, after I put the verbal smack down on Blake, I thought about what he'd said and I think I extracted a bit of truth out of his words. I'm pretty sure that in any relationship, romantic or otherwise, there are times where you have to hunker down and persevere if you want the relationship to endure.

So, you all be sure to look out for the Blake and Charla "how-to" marriage book coming to a store near you.

Happy Halloween

Here are a few shots from Cayton's trick or treat fun. She was quite a candy gathering pro. I wasn't sure if she would understand the procedure, but she had it totally under control. She would head right up to the front door of any house and say "trick or treat!" Then, she would hold up her pumpkin and wait for the goodies. Of course, since she's militantly polite, she would yell "Thank you!" as loudly as possible. Then, she would wait for a "You're welcome". If she didn't hear it, she would repeat "Thank you" until she did. For the record, "You bet" is not an appropriate response to "Thank you" as far as my baby girl is concerned. Either you pony up with a "You're welcome", or you're going to answer to this 3 foot tall etiquette nazi.

With Daddy at HallowZOOeen

A Cowgirl and her Horse

Check out the Spiffy Outfit

Cowgirl is Tired!!!

Mama Done Lost Her Mind

Here are a few pictures of Cayton in her new Christmas dress. I totally went nuts and bought her a dress from Wooden Soldier. My reasoning was that since she will only allow me to dress her for a short time and given that she will only be little once, I could splurge for a seriously cute dress. I'm not sure that justifies what I paid for this dress, but it's so cute that I really don't care.

Temper Tantrums Run in the Family

Seriously, Terrible Twos? That's the best description? I think something like Torturous Twos or You'll Want to Drug Yourself Enough to Skip the Twos or even Please Dear God Strike Me Deaf Until 2010 Twos. I subscribe to the "Strike me Deaf" thing because I think I could cope if I could not hear, "Mama, Mama, Mama, AHHHH!!".

Cayton has been testing me AND asserting her independence all at once. I'm pretty good with standing my ground, but the independence thing is really eating my lunch. It's not that I'm all sad because she's growing up and doing her own thing. Oh no, if only. No, the problem for me is that she wants to do everything herself and she has NO skills. While she can put together a jigsaw puzzle, sing about 100 songs start to finish and in tune, count to 15 (in English) and 10 (in Spanish), knows her seasons, and is pretty good with a fork and spoon, girl cannot put her pants on right. Nine times out of ten, the shoes go on the wrong foot and sleeves are an instant tantrum. If she'd just chill and let me take care of the morning routine it would take about 45 seconds start to finish. But, Cayton's method for dressing and grooming takes about 30 minutes not including temper tantrums (hers and mine).

Brief reenactment, our house 7:30 am:

"Blake, Blake, Blake, Blake, Blake, Blake..." This is me trying to wake Blake up so that he will go upstairs and get Cayton out of bed. He has no hearing in the morning and gets really pissed if I yell, so I do a pretty good impression of the teacher from Ferris Beuller. He finally rolls over and says, "huh?" as if he has no idea why I'd be trying to wake him up.

Ten seconds later, the monitor erupts as Cayton surmises that Daddy is here to wake her up and she can therefore throw a pretty good fit. They stalk downstairs, Cayton asleep on Blake's shoulder along with Edward the giant bunny rabbit and the green blankie.

First step is to get Cayton to sit on the Big potty. This is where independence starts to ruin the morning. She is the only one allowed to put the potty seat in place and then she has to scale the potty to actually sit on it. I think she'd rather fall off and crack her head than have either one of us help her.

She takes a bath and then it really starts, The Battle Royal of Putting on Clothes. This is absolutely my least favorite part of the day. If I weren't pregnant, I'd use one of my flying anxiety Xanax pills to get through this, no doubt. I start to put her pull up on her, nope she has to do it. But, her process starts with her rolling around on our bed, then looking to see which characters are on her diaper, then she puts the pull up on backwards, I tell her so, she pulls it off, starts to put it on again (backwards), I step in because I can't stand it, then screaming.

Since I outweigh her by a few pounds, I usually strong arm her and get the drawers on her. She is terribly offended, not to mention startled by my iron strength and she takes a moment to really roll out the "you hurt me AND my feelings, you are a terrible Mama" routine. This involves some ginormous tears and a lip pucker that could possibly go into the Guiness Book of Records for the distance that she can stick her lip out.

Then, Good God Almighty, it's jeans time. I hand her the jeans and the process is pretty much like the pull up but obviously the leg holes are longer. So, she puts them on and manages to get both legs in the same hole. So, we start over and of course I am not allowed to help no matter what. So, you can imagine how tough it is to stand back because it's pure mental torture to watch someone with unrefined motor skills trying to do something that you could do in about 1 second. You stand there watching, your own hands going through the motions, giving advice and you might as well just walk off. But what do I do? I tell her she put her jeans on wrong, she pulls them off, puts both legs in the same hole again, I step in to help because my OCD is too much, and then screaming. This time, it's both of us screaming and I think Blake has run off.

After jeans, it's shirt time and that goes a bit better because somewhat like the pull up, I use the strong arm technique and it works this time because it goes over her head and she can't put up much of a fight. By the time she can really start in on me, the shirt is on. As for hair and shoes, I've long since called Uncle on that and I just run a quick comb through the hair and let her take care of the shoes. If she's OK with wearing her shoes on the wrong feet, then so am I. Who am I to judge?