My First, And Only, Retraction, or Edit

So many of you, as I did, thoroughly enjoyed the post about my letters I never intend to send. DH enjoyed it only half as much as we did.

I WAS LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY WHEN HE READ IT!!!!

OK, in all seriousness the man giggled, and then asked for a retraction.

I told him HELL NO……..but the words never left my lips. DAMN IT!

He Google messaged me……”Did you post the retraction yet? That I DID NOT clog the toilet?”

I ignored the Google message. Never happened. (LMAO)

“It was Big G’s fault the toilet clogged….you know how he is?”

Again…..the retraction why? Like father like son?!

“You know he likes to use A LOT of TP and baby wipes to wipe his ass.”

Yes my dear boy still uses baby wipes….he will also be the only child in the lunchroom at school using a warm, lemon scented towel to wipe his hands and face before and after eating.

Here I am on a Monday night, when I would rather be making my beer brew soap….which is OH SO DELICIOUS! You can use it as a shampoo bar too, so rocks, lots of lather, great conditioning.

OH RIGHT, sorry, so here I am posting my retraction about the “toilet and ass wiping abilities of DH.” As I had promised him…..because I never break a promise….unless it has to do with our parents….then I don’t promise anything….

Here is my official retraction to Mr. Fish:

My Dear Husband, I love you and at least 90% of the time your wiping abilities and flushing capabilities are adequate. However, at least 10% do require some tweaking. But I am willing to accept my wrong doing in that the dear boy Big G was the single, sole, and ONLY culprit for the toilet clogging incident that I, yes me ALONE, had to clean up. Please accept my public, very public apologies for the misrepresentation of your business with the latrine. Good day.

I can’t wait to see his reaction to this post.
I haven’t been able to stop laughing since I started typing!!
I love you dear.

Little Bitty Soap Giveaway!!

You can have a piece, well pieces, of the Little Bitty Soap company in your home!

My sister Brittany is hosting a giveaway of my special blend that I made for her and a lucky reader to enjoy in their home and bath!

So please head on over to Brittany Greer’s casa and check out the Little Bitty Soap Giveaway!

To my Husband on Fathers Day

I knew in your heart that you wanted to be a father. Your armored exterior was merely a facade of protection from the world, not letting them know that you are a sensitive, loving man.


From the time we went to our friends back yard barbecue and we fell in love with that little girl who radiated to us. We were so fresh as a couple that kids were just a far off fantasy. She clung to me like I was her mom and she fooled with you as she would her own father. Her grandmother told us that her parents looked just like us and that her name was “Sara.”

That day forward we knew what we would name our daughter……if we ever got to the point of marriage. For which we did.


We walked down the aisle on October 1st, 2000 (you barely making the ceremony thanks to my over anxious, highly intoxicated family starting the show without you). Our first born was a son in 2003, Grant Thomas. Grant for the simple fact he was a gift after our heartbreak and struggle, he shares the same initial as your Grandfather as a token of remembrance and Thomas after your father.

When we thought our family was completed YOU were the one who roped in my heart for another child, for Big G and for us. We got a two for one special and you were radiating while all I was doing was radiating heat and hormones during the incubation! We welcomed a day after Valentines Day in 2008, Seth Michael, Seth because you liked the name and very fitting of the appointed second son, Michael for both our uncles, and Sara, our princess, our sole girl, our finale, Noel after her mother as the first born daughter.
We were complete in every sense of the word.


I love the moments where you struggle to be the father your children deserve, the father you want to be, the father you feel you did not have in your own dad. I love the moments where you sit among them and they crawl on you like the solid oak tree in a summer field. I cherish the moments where you stop and just look at all we have accomplished, how special, beautiful and wonderful our children are because of our love and your foundation as a father. You are a wonderful Dad. You are patient, kind, stern, and a push over, you love without beginning or end, definition or purpose, bumps and bruises are mended with kisses and tickles, frights are cared for with hugs and snuggles, and each one of those little people saw you first upon their arrival into this world and for that I could not be more blessed.

I love you my husband, the father of my children, best friend, worst and best enemy, my debate partner, my comic, my lover, my soul mate, my eternal love.

Happy Father’s Day.

Letters I never intend to send

I love writing letters. Especially ones with such raw emotion, with vigor….I love vigor, and you can vent all your angers, frustrations, hurts, and sadness without repercussion or worries. So today while battling with Pickles Magoo on his napping (or failure to take one) I thought I might take a moment to relax. Catch up on my friends’ blogs and all they have going when I hear screams…two to be precise coming from down the hall. One is Pickles Magoo, with a faint choking sound, and the other is Big G again a faint sound of distress and I am unsure so I jump from my chair and book it to the intersection of three doors.

I felt like Bob Barker should have jumped out with flashing lights from the Price is Right to help be choose a door because I opened all of them. No new car…damn. Twins in their cribs, no one is choking, okay onto door number three. NOT door number three. Please oh please…..why did I have to open door number three.

While nothing Earth shattering….or at least not in my mind….had taken place, Big G was standing in a mess the was preemptively caused by his loving, and sometimes clueless father whom I love, adore, and wanted to strangle.

There I stood….in the bathroom with water, I will go with water so I feel okay, under my feet and three screaming kids. Armed with nothing I scrambled for the plunger. All the towels were in the wash….Cheese and rice who’s bright idea was it to wash all the towels today!? Oh right, me. I plunge the toilet cursing Big G’s fathers name over and over and handle that small fire. Run into the Squids room to handle their fire…….still reeling in my anger and frustration I sat down to write this letter to DH that I never intend to send:

My dear love,

I understand nature comes calling. We all, as beings upon this Earth, either animal, insect, and or bird will generate excrement of sorts that must be expelled from our bodies for proper operations. However, your asshole is no different than any other in this household. Each of us has an asshole, each of us will take a heinous shit from time to time. These do not mean that you qualify to use MORE toilet paper than usual to wipe an asshole that quite frankly is the size of a quarter. Your ass on the other hand may be large, but your starfish is much smaller. Please take heed next time you wipe your ass that if you require a double flush to hang around and flush that second or maybe a third time so as to avoid a high speed blow out for me to clean up. Otherwise I will suggest you take the “Proper Ass Wiping Class” with your five year old son in order to learn proper technique and adequate toilet paper consumption. Thanks again for playing, have a great day.

Your loving wife and Plunger Employer Extraordinaire,
Karie

I felt so much better to have gotten that out and we never had to fight about it. I just told him how we had a clog….preemptively caused by him, and all was right again.

I am never bored….

Not true….I am actually bored quite often.
My therapist Patricia “Pat” always tells me,
“Bored is healthy, bored is good.”

Bored is good for the boring. Pft! No really, I like being bored, but I feel unaccomplished. I know, sounds crazy, which is why I pay $75 a hour for a great therapist! Anyway, I have found a new project! Actually I am planning on, OK seriously hoping, that my little project turns into a successful venture.

I have always had a love of all things homemade. I am a big fan! I mean I try to homemake a lot of our family meals among other things in our home. So one day, while sitting in my bathroom.. thinking…I had an idea. I will try to start my own little business.

I won’t do catering…..too many issues and I don’t have a big enough kitchen. Although I know I can do it…just a lot can go wrong. Will go wrong. and I do not want to clean that mess.

I won’t do a franchise….not right now at least.
Too much initial investment and too little return on the initial investment.

I can do homemade bath and body. I love bath and body. I live for bath and body.

Seriously, in my bathroom I have at least 30 different designer perfumes….not counting all the samples I have received here and there. Soaps?! Yeah, I got soaps from the homemade French savons to the local farmers market cold processed. I love soaps. Maybe has to do with my OCD of cleanliness but I love feeling clean, smelling clean, or using the soaps for just a great fragrant accent in a drawer, bathroom, or just as a decorative accent in a bathroom.

So here has been my little project and of course the little linky on the right hand sidebar…..yeah the brown box…Little Bitty Soaps….that’s me:

 

Cold Process “Sweet Pea Pie” Hot Process “Spa Massage”
(honey, oats, sweet almond oil)

Hot Process “Boyfriend” Bath Soak Salts & Teas
Lavender & lavender leaves

 

Hot Process “Honeymoon”
Lavender & Rosemary

Home Improvement: Mrs. Fish’s Thursday Tips and Tricks

One of my friends asked me the other day,”Karie, is your house always this perfect? All the time? With Twins? And you were going to school? And you work out of the house? And, and and…..”

I felt so embarrassed, I mean I really do try to let my house go. To let the dishes pile up, the laundry spill out into the adjoining rooms, for my house to collect dust like the desert floor. I mean I really do try to let the old girl go sometimes.

But with three kids, a husband and a dog who cannot distinguish her own identity you learn a few little tricks here and there that help you stay on top of all the messes and keep a clean house without spending days or endless hours slaving, only for your hard work to be flushed away.

Here are my tips and tricks to staying on top of my house:

  • I don’t spend one WHOLE day cleaning and doing laundry. I spread the love around. I do laundry everyday, a load at a time, this way, laundry gets done and I get caught up without spending an entire day devoted to dirty linens and such.
  • I clean my house one room at a time, or one section of the house at a time, one day at a time. This way I just have to maintain. I vacuum everyday, only because I hate crumbs and such under my bare feet. Maintaining is a lot easier than power cleaning.
  • I do dishes as they are dirtied. I run the dishwasher at night so in the morning I can unload it and start fresh, and I never have piles in my sink. (Well never say never…..DH has still to learn the location of the dishwasher to the sink.)
  • Trash is handled by DH and Big G….sometimes me if they slack.
  • Big G’s chore is to feed the confused Bulldog.
  • Little Bitty knows the location of the trash and recycling…..we are still working on the logistics.
  • Pickles Magoo only knows where the food is…..the fridge. And that it can go on the floor for the confused Bulldog to clean up. This makes sweeping a breeze.
Hope this helps some of you Mom’s who feel like your whole life revolves around cleaning the house. I try to look at it as “maintaining my perfection” (*cough…bullshit), OK, so I try. I have to say though that maintaining a clean house is easier than always trying to clean a dirty house. I hope to post some more of my Tips and Tricks.

Giving Credit where Credit is Due

I have had so many wonderful men and women come into my life since I began blogging. Either by a simple stumble, maybe a mistake, a referral, or some obligation but I have been so blessed. I think so many bloggers deserve recognition and credit that this post is for you! I am humbled by your comments, your feedback, your friendship, your support that you deserve to be recognized for being such a wonderful person, blogger, and friend.Please go check these wonderful ladies (and gents) out. They brighten my day, have wonderful reads, and are near and dear to my heart!

  • Beth
  • Stesha
  • Stacie
  • Equidae
  • Holly
  • Modern Mom (Still have yet to learn her name…I am so BAD!! But she knows I love her!)
  • Miss Behavin
  • Lizz
  • Karrie
  • Lisa
  • Melissa (I love her to death and she knows it!)
  • Tess
  • Valerie (She has a heart of gold!)
  • Aubrey
  • Helene
  • Veronica (She is my alternate deviant twin)
  • JAM Just call her Jam! LOL
  • Alisha
  • Jennifer
  • BuckerooMama
  • Sissy
  • SITS Girls Tiffany and Heather (We all love them!)
  • Stephanie
  • Veronica Lee
  • Angela
  • Melissa of Sweet Serendipity
  • Muthering Heights
  • Jaime
  • Meg Ryan’s Mom (she is a crack up!)
  • Sherry
  • Sandy
  • Kadi
  • The Monkeys Mama
  • Cynthia
  • My sisters
  • Shelly
  • Becca
  • Fiona
  • Melodie
If I don’t have you on the list take no offense…I most likely was pulled away by the Squids as I have heard random screaming ALL DAY and the time is almost 3pm AZ time which mean I have to get off my bloggy duff to run errands and start making dinner for tonight. Oh so glamorous life you know!? I love all the ladies (and men) that I read and wanted to share my love and create a post just for you!All my bloggy love and friendship,
Mrs Fish
(Karie)

Oldest Child Syndrome

Being the oldest child of any family is a real pain in the neck. Really, it sucks a giant goats ear if you have to know. Speaking, clearly, from experience.

I, am the oldest of 5 children. Not all from the same mother. Hang in there….
I have 2 “blood” siblings from my mother, then 2 “half” siblings from their mother.
Our common denominator is…..our father (yeah he was a man whore).

Now being the oldest of THAT many siblings is trying at best. My youngest (half) sister completely looked up to me and thought I was and am the most beautiful person ever. Very sweet of her, granted she just turned 20 so I chalk her up to being naive and not as jaded as I am. My younger sister, the sister I called my baby sister, poor dear always felt the need to live up to me. She too thought I was some goddess of heaven, I think, when we were growing up. Only recently did she find that I am not, nor was I ever, perfect.
Perfectly flawed really, but far far far from perfect.

My mother. Ah, yes, my mother. I was the first. I was the guinea pig. I was the one child you learn from, make all your mistakes with, wish the world for, expect the most out of. Yes, I was the ultimate mold, the continuous masterpiece in progress.

I EFFING HATE BEING THE OLDEST!

I love my mother dearly, but when she gets around me and starts “mothering” me in front of other people like I am still that masterpiece to be molded, my pitchfork and horns begin to poke through my skin and I can feel the fiery wrath of hell behind me just waiting to be unleashed at my command. I understand and love that she is my mother, I would ask for NO OTHER, however, STOP with the crap. And let me explain the crap…..and of course I am the only child who gets it….because you see I am the unconventional, NEVER have listened to my mother, oldest child. Strong willed, my way or the high way, you are always wrong I am always right oldest child. The other children get her crap…..but not to the extent I get it, because I am the first and oldest child, forever and always, the oldest child.

Here is how the “crap” was laid today in my “perfect” kingdom.

My mother, God-mother (yes I really have one of those….my folks were old school), sister, nieces and nephew all came to visit and play in the pool today at my house. I love visitors, because they visit and then they leave. Not like guests…guests stay a while….I hate guests. Anyway, the women are sitting around the kitchen yakking like a bunch of hens would while the children played when we began discussing children. I hate this discussion…..always have….I was hounded by a MIL for years about bearing fruit for her and what does she do? Never visits. Gosh, off on another tangent…sheesh! See this is why I have a therapist.
OK…..where was I?
Oh yes, the discussion about children.

Mom is telling god-mom all about my sister, myself and our brother and how many children we each have, planned to have, going to have, are not going to have anymore. Yadda Yadda Yadda My mother, being the snipe she can be threw out into the conversation about my situation with more children, like I really need more children…with my history,

“Well in my mind you are not done having children yet since neither you or C are fixed yet!”

“That does not mean we are going to have more children mother, this just means that we have craptastic health insurance and the cost of “FIXING” the flowering fruit is out of our budget, so what is in our budget is condoms.”

“No! You are not done yet. Until that deed is done, in my mind you are not done.”

“Not going to argue with you about MY uterus and HIS penis.”

ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO KNOW?

Now my mom never means these comments as a joke, or a kid, or I’m just saying. No, she says this to drive me mad. Half the time I want to reach over and choke her. Does she NOT understand the brutality I went through with my pregnancies? With my journey to motherhood? Does she truly not get that I AM DONE?!

Sister on the other hand, she chimed in how she is fixed, which mom backed her 100% that she is done having kids. (No offense Britt….you know how Mom can be)

???????????????????? Are you serious????????????????????

See as the oldest child we are pushed to the very edge of being perfect, we have to meet these untold standards. What standards? Where is the damn book that says “You must be this tall to ride this ride.” I find myself riding on Big G in that manner and I have made a conscious decision to stop, because I do NOT want the boy to end up like me. Resenting the comments his mother makes. I also do not want him to constantly be in pursuit of something that is unattainable and does not exist……PERFECTION. He is perfect in my eyes just the way he is, no better no worse. He is my creation and that makes him perfect.

I just do not understand why moms push the oldest children as hard as they do. I mean my life is challenging enough WITHOUT the childhood minutiae my mother can bring to the table.

So Mom, I love you, but do me a favor and keep your crappy comments to yourself. Even if you think you are just making cute jabs that are jokes or what have you….I really don’t need anymore hell in my life. Bad enough hell is my neighbor, I’d like for it to remain so.

My future daughter-in-law, I am so sorry

My Dear Daughter-in-Law,

I write this letter in complete embarrassment. I am thankful you love my son for all of his fine qualities. The boy was always so lovable and very affectionate as a young child. So much so that I apologize for the way he may kiss you. His intentions are good but his teacher was terrible!

Have a DOG-GONE Great Day!

I know…….a real knee slapper!

I wasn’t always a REAL mom

My journey for motherhood began seven years and three months ago. I had no intention of becoming a mother. NONE. My mother told me for MANY years that I would reap every hell I had sown to her. I would reap because of my own children that “One day, your kids will do the exact same thing you have done to me!!” And so I vowed to never have children. I vowed to never get married.Eating all of those words will probably explain why I am on a diet!

I met my husband in the spring of 1997 in Albuquerque. Of all places, a bar. I know, such a bad cliche. He was married in the process of a divorce. I, was a hot young thing with no intention of settling, he was looking for fun and so was I. Needless to say we have been having fun together since then! We married in the fall of 2000.

Shortly before we were married we discussed children. I still did not really want children. I did not feel I was mother material. I was very set in my ways, a control freak by all means, perfectionist on every level, I was jaded, harsh, young, and could not be bothered. I worked long hours as a finance manager in the car business. That lifestyle was no place for children, my father was living proof, as was I since I was third generation “car guy.” As we talked more and discussed our future life, goals, and dreams, I began to crumble under my inherent calling of womanhood and the “clock.” So we agreed on children, well I did. I demanded no more than two, and of course if we could get it done in one shot with twins I would be more than satisfied.
Like I truly had any control over my conception of a child, you can tell I was a TRUE control freak back then. You can also tell I have had LOTS of therapy since then! HA

In June of 2000 I went off the pill. For a few reasons, one which was to lose the 15 pounds I had gained on the pill so that I could get into my perfect wedding dress. Right now I would kill to look like that again….but that in itself is another post. The other reason I went off the pill was to begin our unprotected sex journey to conception.

The journey took TWO LONG years before I even got pregnant.

One March Sunday I awoke and just had “that feeling”, the one where you KNOW to take a pregnancy test, where you know your heart will jump out of your chest in complete disbelief? I called my boss and told him I would be late to work that day…..I was pregnant!! DH was already at work that morning, he worked the first shift at Home Depot. I being the sentimental little miss I was ran over to Wal-Mart, picked up an “I Love Daddy” bib and took that to him at work. I arrived and walked to the millwork desk where I found him loading doors into an overhead display. He seemed worried as to why I was stopping by to see him on my way to work. My eyes began to well and I handed him the bib. He pulled the bib out of the bag and looked at it in disbelief……just as I did with the stick I just peed on not 45 minutes earlier….and he asked what this meant. I asked him what did he think it meant? We went around and around for a minute and then I told him I was pregnant. We just stared at each other for a minute and then hugged like there was no end. Our movie moment was over and then we both had to get to work.

I was beaming! I beamed for about a week, maybe two. I hadn’t even had a chance to have my first doctors appointment to confirm via ultrasound that I was pregnant. Complications set in…..fast!!

While at WORK, work of all places. Nothing but men, jaded, alcoholic, mean, self centered asshole men. I began to show signs of a miscarriage. I ran out of work, grateful my boss was a good, kind hearted man! I went to the ER with DH where they said that I was having a “threatened” miscarriage and that all appeared fine, but to take things easy. Another week passed, and again while at work, signs, signs that I had no idea about with cramping, spotting, I was a train wreck! I was sick, nauseous, not nauseous, not sick, I was a pregnantly confused young woman. My body was telling me yes and no to pregnancy. I waited until I was out of work and things seemed fine. I knew then it was stress from work. So I called in sick to take things easy on a Saturday. This was UNHEARD OF in the car business. I took the day easy watching TV, not worrying. Until that night and I knew we had to go to the ER. Something was terribly wrong. DH and I sat in the ER for over 10 hours. Grueling tests, pokes, prods, no drugs, ultrasounds, more tests, LOTS of waiting. My HCG was off the charts, so they said I was definitely pregnant, maybe a little farther along than I had calculated. But the bad news came at just before dawn. Just before dawn on Easter Sunday. We were miscarrying. We looked at each other in silence, in love. Our first loss as a couple. We had never experienced the grief and loss we experienced that day. I called my mother…..and I called into work for Monday. We were in mourning. To add injury to insult, we were also told I had LARGE ovarian cysts. WHAT?!!

And so we sat…..waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for the “miscarriage” to happen. I was writhing in pain for DAYS. Emotional and physical. I had returned to work on Tuesday only go go home. I was in the worst pain, somewhat spotty. I called my doctor only to get the run around THREE different times by the nurse who answered when I finally put my foot down and was my normal bitch self. I told her I was in pain. I told her I had NOT lost the baby yet, not enough substance. I TOLD HER I FELT LIKE MY LEGS WERE BURNING!!! I went to the doctors where they did an ultrasound. OH SHIT, is what the tech told us.

GREAT! WTF is that suppose to mean?

The doctor came in, told us to rush to the hospital for surgery I had an ectopic pregnancy and I was bleeding out. If I did not go into surgery that day I would surely bleed to death.

FANTASTIC!

After all was said and done I had found I was pregnant with twins. Fraternal quite obviously, one in the womb which was my “blighted ovum” as they called it and the second became entombed in my right fallopian tube which is nonexistent to this day. Thanks to a ruptured appendix four years prior that left scar tissue which choked off the path to the uterus. I researched from then on all about pregnancy after an ectopic……the results were dim at best. 37% success rate.

SUPERB!

I was looking forward to struggling to get pregnant once again. However, I endured great pain in order to conceive. You see I never did fertility. Crossed my mind, but never did. I knew I was fertile, but standing on my head and raising my pelvis were not assisting in the dates of DH’s sperm and my ripe eggs. I had to be tested before I attempted to conceive again, the doctors had to test whether or not my left tube was open for business. There I lay…on a cold, sterile, flat bed with my “Frieda” exposed to some random lab guy who was inserting an instrument into my vagina and met my cervix. He explained how a “balloon” at the end of this tube would inflate to open my cervix and a dye would enter to check the tube. GREAT, sounds easy. Nope. I begged for more rectal exams before enduring that test again. But the results were life changing. We had an open tube that was ready for traffic. That was July of 2002…..by December, when we thought we would NEVER get pregnant, we conceived. I know the date. Christmas Eve. Such a beautiful night.

Yet in the time that we found the results and conceived we put our house in Albuquerque up for sale, started job hunting and decided Arizona was the place to move. My family lives here (there) and so we thought, that would be perfect. Still close to family.

In January of 2003 I scheduled a trip to Arizona to interview with car dealerships, at least three, and a few mortgage companies. I met with almost all of them but settled with the dealership since I would be making the most money. (Wrong! Thats a whole story in itself) I returned home and went to work the following day. My general manager and the owner of the dealership I was working for found I was job hunting, they knew I was going to give notice. They let me go with my vacation pay and the pay for the rest of the month! So I was well on my way to moving. I got home that day and knew….just knew in my gut to take a pregnancy test, I was only like a day late if that.

EUREKA!!

I called DH at work….told him the great news about being let go early. He was shocked. I told him about all the money being paid out. He was relieved. I told him I was pregnant!

***********CRICKETS***********

But we moved anyway and I had an ultrasound and this baby was a keeper. My Big G!
On September 14, 2003 at 2:22pm weighing in at 8 pounds 2 ounces and 19.25 inches long, DH and I welcomed Grant Thomas Herring to the world. Big G!

I couldn’t believe I did it! I made it through 10 months, 8 hours of labor, 45 minutes of hard pushing, and I did it! I was a mom. But I never felt it. Something was there, but not there. I have pictures where you can see I adored the boy (and still do), just gazing at him. Yet, something felt missing. I went back to work at 7 weeks and he went to daycare. I was crushed. I cried a week straight dropping him off, but that slowly eased.

DH and I met troubled waters after having Big G. We went from living in a house to an apartment when we moved to Arizona, so cramming all your house furniture into a tiny apartment with two dogs was not ideal. Plus we began to grow apart. We finally bought a house though in February of 2004. We still live in the same house we bought, the house is home. DH and I started to come back to center with each other, things were mending, I was struggling personally. I felt something was wrong with me. And then we had another blow. In May of 2004 we found we were pregnant………AGAIN! I was furious. I was just barely done being pregnant. DH was excited, I was pissed. He was crushed. After some time and just before our first appointment (since I am high risk I had to go in right away) I finally accepted and was happy to be pregnant. Then the doctor did an ultrasound. He took forever. I wanted to know what was going on. And then I heard the words…………………..

You have TWO in there………..You see?!

Then I wanted to lose my mind. I couldn’t believe it. But we had another quick jab. I was asked how far along I was…..because the yolks did not look big enough. So we rescheduled to come back in a few weeks to check. Those were the longest.weeks.ever! The following ultrasound was killing me. I lay in wait for weeks to tell people we were pregnant, I told some, I need positive affirmations. The power of positive did not yield. The twins were mono-amniotic (sharing the same sac, quite possibly identical twins) and they were not growing. No heartbeat. No babies. No healthy babies even if the pregnancy took and went to term. I was warned of Twin to Twin Transfusion, heart problems, a whole spectrum of medical mumbo jumbo that I immediately heard “wah wah, wah wah wah wah.” We were devastated again. To add more injury I was sent home with a script to help ease along the miscarriage.

TWO THUMBS UP!

Within a few days of that appointment I was fired, over the phone, by my boss at the time. So that was great. I had lots to contend with. Luckily one of my old bosses (at a different employers) offered me to come back and I worked for them for a year and when I was pregnant with Big G, so I was happy to oblige. They were also very sympathetic of what I was having to endure…..as the process was not moving along. But then it did….and I never wish the experience upon any woman in my life. I awoke to labor pains at 16 weeks gestation. Awful. I could not wake DH. I would not. So for hours I suffered alone until the ordeal was done. I writhed, cried, hid, felt shameful, prayed for mercy. And then I suffered more as I began my awful bout with depression which lasted me some time and then the nasty medication that completely ruined me.

I had a breakdown in 2006. I nearly lost my mind. I almost had myself committed. I detoxed off of the worst anti-depressants known to man. I searched, I fought, I lost, I won, and then I was saved by a wonderful woman. She told me how to deal with myself. That feeling was OK. All that I had learned was wrong, and I have been every sort of medication (except the occasional motrin for headaches, etc) free since March of 2006.

In 2007, DH and I went to our friends wedding in Reno. We. Had. A. BLAST! Big G free weekend to enjoy ourselves. And we did. And we got loaded on many occassions. And DH told me he wanted another baby. And so after celebrating a wedding and in the nostalgia we worked towards another baby.

June 2007 came upon us fast. This was the year The Police were on their reunion tour. GET. OUT. OF. TOWN. We got tickets. On the floor. We rocked out to The Police that year. And that night, nostalgic from the concert, we conceived. June 18th 2007.

July rolls around and we were planning the 4th. Somehow DH and I got into an argument. I ran to the store to get smokes (I was smoking at the time) and a pregnancy test. I know, great combo! Like a salad and a double cheeseburger.

I get home from cooling off, take the test. DH and I are still battling. We were on the brink of the BIG D coming to our lips when I return to the bathroom. I was in tears. Still. From the fight. From the results. I stood there as we were half assed deciding our fate when I whipped out the pee stick. His jaw dropped. We laughed. We mended our stupid fight. We started going back to counseling.

The pregnancy seemed to be your regular run of the mill, feel like crap, look like crap, eat like crap. But I felt like something was going wrong again! I know right…a running theme. I go to the Urgent care thinking I had a UTI or a bladder infection. The ass hat doctor tells me I have back pain. WTF?! Dude….I have pain….not back pain….the pain is near my back…..but not my back. We go to the ER. I couldn’t take it, granted the doctors appointment was in 2 days, but I had not eaten in those two days and could not keep anything down. I knew I was having a girl, but did not want to be so seriously ill. We went through tests again in the ER, but thankfully in a hospital that is knowledgeable unlike the ones in Albuquerque.

Tests, tests, lots of tests. Pain, pain, and lots of pain. I accepted their drugs. I needed their drugs, I felt like I was going to die. Now I can handle A LOT of pain. I went to 7 during my BACK LABOR with Big G before I crumbled for the epidural. The tests were run, and now I just wanted results and I wanted to go home. The doctor came in with the nurse, the time was just after midnight, approaching 1 am.

“Well folks, everything looks totally normal. So you have nothing to worry about.”
Me and DH “Whew so everything is A-Ok, the pregnancy is alright, I am alright?”
“Yeah nothing wrong with you………you just have two babies in there so that will cause a bit more discomfort.”

***********CRICKETS***********

“Um two babies?” I asked in disbelief….brinking on the edge of tears. DH, “TWO BABIES!? OMG babe did you hear that?”
“Are you sure?” I asked again.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” the doctor said. We both shook our heads unable to speak a word.
“Yeah you are looking good, we saw two heartbeats in there, so can’t ever say you didn’t get good news in the ER.”

And we left still dragging our jaws on the ground. Slid into the car and screamed. Then we called everyone. We woke them up. We told them our shocking good news.

On February 15th 2008, at 36 weeks and 4 days by Casearean section I delivered Seth Michael at 4:53pm weighing 8 pounds 2 ounces 19.75 inches long and at 4:54pm I delivered Sara Noel weighing 6 pounds even and 19.25 inches long.

From them on my job as a mom has changed. I have been able to see and enjoy all the firsts. I was robbed with Big G because I had to go back to work. I was robbed based on my own selfishness of failing to accept I was a mom, I wanted my DINK lifestyle. I robbed my oldest of a healthy, well adjust mom the first few years of his life. But I feel like I am making that up to him. I am a 30 somethings mom now who has no desire to keep up with fashion….I mean I am lucky if I match at all some days. I have two more children that I am learning from everyday, watching grow like I should have with Big G. I should have just stopped to watch, what was my hurry?

I am better with compassion to my children, I am patient, kind, and I am always listening. I listen to the sound of the giggles. I listen to the cries, I know which ones are pain, hurt, hunger, tired, thirsty, or the ones that mean I just need a hug. I didn’t always know these things. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but felt obligated to do so. Now, I love it. I look back at how BORING my life was before kids. My house was always clean, I mean I vacuumed dog hair…big woop. Meals were boring, we sat and watched TV never speaking. Now, dinner is like a three ring circus with Big G and the twins, never a dull or lifeless dinner. I no longer go days or weeks without a hug from someone, as I get hugs all day everyday. I used to spend money on excess fashion, where now that is spent on school clothes, school shoes, and play clothes for my kids, now I spend on their fashion. I used to never worry about what time I went to bed, and now, I am lucky to stay up past 11pm.

Some women claim they were “born to be a mom,” I think we are all born to be a mom based on gender makeup. But moms are made. My kids made me the mom I am today. I love them more than words can say and I never regret, wish, or ask for anything different with them or in for myself in my life. Each and everyday I try to stop a little longer to cherish, love, and memorize them just as they are in that moment, on that day, because they grow so fast.