Essential Oils

I'm dusting off my small corner of the internet because I have fallen into something amazing, and I've had a lot of questions about it, and this is the easiest way for me to let it all spill out. 

Essential oils, y'all. 

But first, let me make a few things clear. I'm not a doctor. I don't pretend to be a doctor. Don't ever take my word over that of a medical professional. Also, I'm the daughter of a pharmacist and the daughter in law of a nurse. I will NEVER completely cut modern medicine out of our lives. I will continue to vaccinate my children. I will continue to give antibiotics and fever reducers when necessary. I in no way believe that oils are going to cure every ailment we ever come across and we will never need anything other than them again. 

Ok. Now that that's out there.

I AM amazed by oils and I AM sure you would be too if you gave them a try. 

I kind of fell into oils by accident. I had seen and read a lot about them through blogs I follow and other accounts on social media. I was intrigued, so I was excited to attend a class about them. I was skeptical, but I took the plunge and bought the starter kit. You guys…..best decision ever. I got nine oils plus a diffuser….and I have used every single oil at some point and the diffuser is running in our home DAILY. 

People keep asking me how I use them and if they REALLY work. Ummm yes. 

Landon came down with croup….AGAIN. Every time he has a cold or ANYTHING, he seems to get croup at the end. Which usually results in at LEAST a trip to the ER for steroids and breathing treatments, and has ended in a hospital stay from dangerously low pulse ox levels. So naturally, as soon as I start to hear that hoarse bark, I panic. It started at 10:30 one night last week and Jeremy was ready to get dressed and head to the ER. I asked him to let me try something first, and if it didn't work, of course, we would get in the car and go, no questions asked. I rubbed Frankincense (seriously….a miracle oil) and Peppermint oil, in coconut oil, on his chest, throat and back. People…..the cough stopped within three minutes. Stopped cold. He fell asleep and we NEVER heard that bark again. WHAT!? How is that possible!? 

Well…..croup is inflammation in the wind pipe / vocal chords. Frankincense is a NATURAL inflammatory. And peppermint helps open everything up. I am telling you, I was sold. 400%. I was in complete shock, and so was Jeremy, even though he still refuses to admit that these things just might be little miracle workers. 

Another amazing testimony? My hair loss. It was bad, friends. I've written posts about it before, and after Luke was born, it took on a whole new level of craziness. I was at my wits end and nothing the dermatologist suggested was working. So I tried Cedarwood. I rub it in all my thinning (or BALD) areas before bed every night, and once a week, I add a few drops to my shampoo and let it sit on my head during my whole shower. Not only has my hairdresser asked what I've been doing, but the dermatologist herself was in shock when she saw how much new growth I have. I'm talking an inch and a half of hair on all my trouble spots. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you truly know how down I was about the struggle with the hair loss, you know how huge this is for me. And something so SIMPLE. And uh…cheap. My large bottle of Cedarwood that is probably going to last me a good 6 months was $11.25. Yep. And bonus: Cedarwood helps with sleep! So I rub it on at night and get new hair AND good rest! Winning!

These are just my two huge testimonies, but I have a million more small ones. A wart on my toe (so, so gross and no idea where it came from)….GONE. Thank you, Frankincense. Without freezing, cutting, anything. Just oil. The most stressful hour of our day (the witching hour….5-6pm, the last hour before Daddy gets home)….now peaceful and FUN thanks to diffusing Stress Away. Landon's craziness before bed and inability to calm down for at least an hour before falling asleep…..down to 15 minutes MAX thanks to Lavender and Peace & Calming. Stains on the leather in my parents motorhome that NOTHING would take off…..gone, thanks to Lemon oil. Ridiculous bug bites that would drive Landon crazy for a solid week….eased within a day by Purification. Strep ran rampant through both the boys a couple months back. We snuggled them, loved them, SHARED POPSICLES with them for two straight weeks. Jeremy and I came out unscathed….that's Thieves. Fevers that would be lessened but not broken by Tylenol or Advil….gone completely with Peppermint oil. Nasty stench in my washer and dishwasher? Disappeared with Purification. I could keep going….

And you guys….all of those oils (except the Cedarwood) came in my kit!! I was going to start off just buying a couple oils and see what happened….you have NO idea how glad I am that I just bit the bullet and bought the kit! I never would have known the power of these things, or how much I could change with them!

Honestly, there is an oil for ANYTHING. If you have something going on that you want to know about, ASK ME! I'll look it up and make sure you get something to do the job!

The next must haves on my list are DiGize which will help with stomach ailments (helloooooooo fear of puke), and Oregano which is another good one for germ fighting. I just stocked up on Thieves and Purification for the start of the school year as I send my baby off to preschool (!!!), because I can only imagine the kinds of germs that he'll be bringing home. I have a whole routine planned out using the oils, ask me if you want more information! 

For the record….I am NOT a distributer of Young Living Oils (at least not yet), so I'm not trying to make myself any money off of this. I truly believe in them and what I've seen them do for our family, and I would LOVE if they helped someone else too. Even if you're skeptical, seriously, ask! I can make you a believer!! :)

Simplify

Happy New Year!! I hope everyone had a safe and fun New Years Eve, and is ready to welcome 2014!

Every year, I find myself making resolutions. And every year, I find myself swearing I'm going to keep them, and work really hard at them all year. Last year, I really did try to remind myself throughout the WHOLE year about my laundry list of resolutions, and I think I did a fairly good job at keeping them….most of them…..most of the time. 

But this year, it all seems a little overwhelming. All these promises to make to myself, when really, all I want to do is get some sleep and keep my kids alive and happy through each day. Right now, anything else I accomplish is just icing on the cake. And most days…..not much more DOES get accomplished. 

So….because of that, I've come up with ONE resolution, ONE word, to focus on in 2014. And I'm determined to make it work. 

Simplify. 

That's it. Just simplify. (I'm starting with the simplifying of my resolutions…..so far, so good). 

I've been doing a lot of reflection since Lucas was born, and I'm realizing how overwhelmed and anxious I'm feeling about just about everything in my life. 

Our house… I feel like we're packed in, and I'm overwhelmed by the amount of, for lack of better word, CRAP, that we have and we don't need. So I need to simplify. I need to purge and clean and organize. I always feel better in a clean, orderly house, so I need to get on it. Plus, I'm drowning in toys. I don't know what Santa was thinking when he bought so many toys with so many small pieces that he KNEW a certain 2 year old would never keep all together, and as a result, his mother would spend a huge chunk of her day just trying to count and pick up said pieces. Going to drive me to insanity. Get it together, Santa!!!

My "social media" accounts…. They're getting overwhelming. And it's a love-hate relationship that I have with them, which is really hard to work through on some days. In one respect, I love having Facebook and connecting with old friends, new friends, family I don't get to see often, and I love having that outlet to share photos and news about the kids with those that we don't get to see or talk to by other means. And I have found a community of moms on Instagram that I'm slightly obsessed with. I love seeing pictures of their kids, hearing stories, and getting their input on my own. I feel like we're all a close group of friends, even though we've never met. The encouragement and kind words are wonderful, and they're just what a mama needs some days. It's also nice to see their bad days, because it makes me realize I'm not alone. Who doesn't need that? But I find myself checking in on both of these far too often. And trying to pose my kids for superficial pictures because "that'll be cute to show everybody". {Just for the record, those superficial photos NEVER work out, so whatever you DO get to see, is just real life. What two year old and 8 week old are actually going to pose for their mother? Not mine.} But it's all getting to be too much. And I need to simplify. I need to stop worrying about what's going on with my friends cousins girlfriend's brother on Facebook, and start getting down on the ground more and playing with one of those toys with a million parts. I need to stop worrying about catching Luke's smile on camera, and just enjoy them when they come. What really matters is what's happening inside the walls of our own home, and our own hearts, not anywhere else. 

My relationships…. Ok so this one isn't SO bad. In 2013, I truly did revaluate certain friendships, and tried to distance myself from any of the negativity and drama. And I'm proud to say that I did pretty good. Especially once I got pregnant. I realized how many more important things I had to worry about and focus on, than insincere friendships. And I found the friends that truly DO mean the world to me, and are always there, always care, and that quite frankly, I missed. And I focused on those, and I'm happier for it. There are certain relationships that I still need to work on, I still want to put forth more effort into, and I'll work on that in 2014, too. But mostly, I'm going to work on the relationships that are closest to me, and take up the most room in my heart, starting with my husband and kids. And that's simple in itself. All they want is to be loved and taken care of, and I can do that….without effort. 

My life in general…. There are days when it all just feels crazy heavy, and I feel panicky. I'm not so unrealistic that I believe that I won't still have days like that. I have two kids, there are always going to be days when it's overwhelming. But on those days, I need to remind myself that laundry CAN wait, and the dishes in the sink don't HAVE to be cleaned right this second, and the house hasn't been vacuumed in two days? That's ok. And I don't want to go out and do that with those people? IT's ok to say no. Let's be honest, this will be the hardest one for me. My OCD can't handle a lot of those things. BUT, I'm hopeful that once the simplifying takes place on the house front, and things are more organized, and there's LESS, that it will come easier. That could be naive, but going along with one of my resolutions from LAST year, I'm trusting God and hoping that He'll show me the way to make it work, and to help me feel ok about it all. Because, yes, all of these things are enough to cause anxiety in and of themselves. 

So… what this is all means, and that this might be my last post for a while. Then again, it might not be. But when I'm not here, and I'm not posting pictures and status updates, I'm busy enjoying my SIMPLE life with my beautiful boys. Lucas is already 8 weeks old. 8 WEEKS!!! He's becoming a little person. I'm being reminded every hour of how quickly it all goes, and how little time we really have to soak it up and enjoy it all. I don't EVER want to look back and have regrets, and have to say "I wish I would have set my phone down and enjoyed them more". Nothing is worth feeling that way. And why in the world do I feel the need to have every random person I'm "friends" with know what I'm doing at any given time? It's kind of weird, honestly. And who REALLY cares? Aside from my mom? And she knows what's going on all the time anyway, does she really need a Facebook status to tell her? Probably not. Although, she may argue otherwise. Sandra, you don't. I'll call you instead. 

So my friends, I hope you have lofty goals for yourselves in 2014 too, even if it something simple. Because no matter how simple, change is always hard to execute, so congratulations if you're setting your mind to it, whether you accomplish it or not. And nobody says that your resolutions HAVE to be accomplished by December 31 of this year, I'm STILL going to work on my resolutions from last year, I know I haven't perfected them yet, but what matters is that I'm trying. And my "simplify" efforts will need to continue long past this year as well, but you've got to start somewhere, and I'm starting here. 

Remember Me?

Remember way back in the day when I used to blog? And I actually really enjoyed it? And then I suddenly fell off the face of the earth? And then I showed back up one Sunday and I was another kid richer? That's happening today.

So why exactly did I stop back in the summer? Well...things got crazy, for one thing. And it's a real long story, so I'm just going to give the short, edited version. On July 4th, I started having what felt strikingly similar to contractions. At only 21 weeks, that was obviously pretty unnerving. I downed my water, and tried to ignore them as we headed off to our annual family dinner and fireworks. But by the next day, it was obvious they weren't going to go away on their own, so we headed into Labor & Delivery, panic stricken. They hooked me up and confirmed that I was contracting, and did a fetal fibronectin test, which came back positive. For those of you who are lucky enough to never have had to worry about preterm delivery, it's a test that picks up a certain protein that is generally only present within two weeks before you deliver. A positive test means that you have a higher chance of delivering in the next two weeks, and a negative means you're probably good to go. Through all the drama and hospital stays with Landon, I never once had a positive. Never. But on July 5th, at 21 weeks, I got a positive with Lucas. And since the age of viability is 24 weeks, I was told pretty much just cross my fingers, say my prayers, and don't move too much.... there was nothing else they could do for me. And so we left the hospital in tears, thinking this was the end, and we had to just go home and wait for it all to come crashing down.

If you know the rest of the story, you know that I made it to my scheduled c-section at 39 weeks and 1 day. Ridiculous, right? A lot went down in between there, including a few more trips back to the hospital, an overnight stay, a LOT of progesterone shots and NST's, every day spent with my mother in law in the morning, and my mom in the afternoon, some weird reactions to medications and a lot of tears and frustration. But, at the end of it all, I was a staple at the doctor's office, closer to my mother in law, and I had a beautiful, healthy baby boy. And the cherry on top was that my two year old didn't completely hate me for being a big blob all summer long.

But the real point my return to this world is that I want to document Lucas' birth story, before all the details start to get blurry. Landon's was traumatic, and every second seems like it is just burned into my brain and will never leave. Lucas was a completely calm, peaceful experience, and I feel like small bits are already starting to fade as I adjust to life with two boys.

So around 34 weeks, my doctor told me we could officially schedule my c-section, and if I made it that far, great. If not, I was past the critical point and we knew would be safe. So we scheduled me for Wednesday, November 6 at 9:45 am, never thinking I would actually make it that far. I had this ideal dream of an October baby, but was petrified of a Halloween baby. So naturally, I was fairly certain he would show up on the 31st. But....October came and went, I passed my 35 week 4 day mark, which was when Landon was born, and pretty soon it was November and it was obvious that since I had made ZERO progress in over three weeks, I was going to make it to November 6th.

The night of November 5th was a surreal one. It was our last night as a family of three. The last night I would be tucking Landon in as an only child. The last night I would be struggling to sleep with the now GINORMOUS belly. I cried when I put Landon to sleep, lingering next to his bed, holding his hand for just a bit longer, taking in every ounce of him. And I was grateful that it took him a little longer to drift off. When I finally tore myself away, it's safe to say that I maybe slept for 20 minutes the whole night. How do you sleep when your life is about to change so monumentally in just a few short hours? You don't. Not if you're actually putting any thought into it at all.

When the alarm when off at 4:45, I knew there was no turning back. This was it. So I got up and showered, and did my hair and my make up (ridiculous most of you will say, but to me, I knew it was the last time for a long while that I would have the chance to do this, so I was going to live it up.....and look much better in post birth pictures than I did in Landon's). Of course, Landon isn't stupid, and he heard us both up, so we had a 2 year old up and joining the party at 5:15. But again, secretly, I was thrilled....I couldn't stand the thought of him waking up and us not being there and then when he did finally see us again, his whole world would be changed. So the 5:15 wake up was welcome, and the early morning snuggles were exactly what I needed.

It's strange, but I wasn't nervous at all. Maybe a little anxious, but I think it was more just excitement to finally meet him, not so much worried about the surgery. Which, after Landon, it was kind of amazing to me that I had such a sense of calm going into it, but I did. I was confident with the doctor delivering me, and something was just telling me it was all going to be ok. I don't know which of my angels it was, but I'm thankful they were there. Shockingly, I didn't even cry when leaving Landon. We got our hugs and kisses, told him we were going to meet baby brother, he told us he was excited, and we were off. Everyone was just....ready. And happy.

We walked into the hospital together, calmly, in no real hurry. Checked in, relished in all the congratulations and "good lucks" we were wished, and made our way up to Labor & Delivery. We were thrilled to find that our favorite nurse was there, and she was taking me. She would be with me through pre-op, the surgery, and recovery. Any anxieties I had lingering at that point disappeared. Everything was lining up. 

The whole pre-op process is kind of chaotic. There are a ton of people coming in and out, taking blood, asking questions, making you sign things, telling you things, overwhelming you. But still, I felt good with Jeremy, my parents and my nurse by my side. I was thrilled when the doctor finally came in, talked to me for a few minutes and told me we were about ready. This was it. And just after 9:45 am, I kissed my parents goodbye, watched Jeremy get suited up, and walked myself down to the operating room. That's when it started to get real. 

Operating rooms are never calming. Ever. They're stark and they're scary. Thankfully, I had a group of women in the room with me that was hilarious, and we clicked well. I laughed through getting my spinal while my doctor held my hand and told me jokes. The anesthesiologist and I had an understanding, and she loaded me up with anti-nausea meds every time I started to feel a little woozy. And my nurse was right there to continually assure me that I was doing fine. If you've never had a spinal, then you don't know how weird it is to suddenly look down and see people maneuvering your legs and realizing you can't feel a thing, like you're just a torso and head laying on a table. THAT freaked me out. Not a fan. But....hey....better than feeling them slice me open, I suppose. 

It didn't take long, and pretty sure Jeremy was back next to me, and they told me it was go time. My only job was to lay there and wait for them to tell me I was officially a mother of two. It felt like an eternity laying there waiting. I know my stomach is huge, but come on, how long can it take you to get to this kid? And then suddenly my doctor looked over the drape and told me they were about a minute away. Holy crap. One minute. In one minute my second son would be here. And I am not screaming in pain, or exhausted from pushing for 4 hours. This is amazing. And sure enough, about a minute later, at 10:22 am, I heard his first screams. Beautiful, gorgeous screams. They held him up for just a second and I got to finally see the face I had been praying for and loving for 39 weeks. And he was damn gorgeous. 

Lucas Michael Teltow

November 6, 2013

10:22 AM

7lbs, 7oz. 20 inches. 

And just like that, we went from a family of three, to a family of four. Another very surreal feeling. 

Because he was born via C-Section, he had some fluid on his lungs that didn't quite get squeezed out, so my fears came to fruition when they whisked him off to the special care nursery. I had this vision in my head that since I made it to 39 weeks, I would have him with me from start to finish and we wouldn't have to see another child hooked up to monitors and IV's. No such luck. But once again, we were so fortunate, and anything "wrong" with him was minor, and our stay in special care was short lived, and by Friday afternoon, we had him in the room with us. 

Next came some lessons. Things they don't tell you about when you have a C-Section. The spinal will take HOURS to wear off. And you will feel certain that you are paralyzed for life when they ask you to move your toes, and you realize your brain can't even compute how to tell your toes to move, let alone actually make them move. The morphine they give you will make you itch like crazy. And you will continue to itch, especially your face, for hours. You will swell. And I mean.....swell. Like crazy. So crazily that you won't even recognize yourself. Case in point....

Yikes.

But on the flip side, there are the side effects of becoming a mother of two that people don't warn you about. There is more swelling. Of the heart. Way bigger than any bodily swelling you'll experience. When people say you don't realize that your heart can love another human as much as you already love your first, they aren't lying. But it's a completely different kind of love. The love I have for Landon can't really be explained....he made me a mom. He taught me everything. That's not the same love I have for Lucas. Lucas completed me. I thought was complete, but I wasn't. I thought our family was perfect, but we were missing something. Now we aren't. That's pretty big stuff for such a small little dude. But he manages to pull it off well. 

The first few days were challenging. I had hormones to deal with, I was missing Landon, I was in pain, I wanted Lucas with me, I was struggling with breastfeeding and all the emotions that go along with it (that's a post for another day), and um.....having a baby is just a lot in general. But we had a small birthday party for him, per Landon's request, and there were lots of visits from my favorite two year old to pull me through. 

We finally made it home three days later, and life officially began. Landon fell right into the role of big brother perfectly. He has been wonderful. He has his moments of desperation for our attention, but he is such a great helper, and he truly loves his brother, which makes it all worth it. 

As for me....life as a mother of two is intense. It's non-stop chaos. But it's also non-stop love. I am running on fumes most days it seems, but neither of my boys seem to notice. And they love me just the same after a full nights sleep, or only a few hours. And the feeling is mutual. Although.....I do have a slightly higher appreciation when Luke will go for a four hour stretch in the middle of the night ;). 

I don't know how frequently I'll be back here to update on every day happenings, but I do have a lot of things I want to write about, and this little session here has been incredibly therapeutic. I snuck out this morning to a local coffee shop, and I'm sitting here with a coffee in hand, by the fireplace, listening to Christmas music, and writing. And for the first half hour or so, I was trying to decide if I was proud of myself for taking the time to do it, or if I was guilty for not being at home with my boys. I'm thinking now that it's the first. I'm about to head home refreshed....which means I'll have more patience with terrible two happenings and spit up. So this might have to become a ritual. It's a nice recharge. 

So, until the next time, I'll be with these dudes, loving life. 

The Trials (and Errors) of Being a Mama

This parenting business is tricky stuff. And it's no secret that I feel like I'm screwing up daily. I have this phenomenal support system that takes every opportunity they can to remind me that all parents feel that way, and that I'm actually not ruining my kids life. I am so beyond grateful for them, and I know that some days, those reminders are what get me through.

But...there are always those moments. Those decisions. That you look back on and you think, "WHAT!?". I've had a couple of those lately. And I've taken my time to feel down and awful about them, and now I'm onto the next phase. The phase of "Ok, it happened, we fixed it, I still live and breathe for Landon, and he still loves me. Let's move on."

Case study #1? A traumatic case of croup and a hospital stay. While in my deepest core of common sense I know that I didn't do anything to make him sick, there is still a very large part of me that is screaming, "But you didn't keep him healthy!!!". And that part....well she's a real bitch. I was so embarrassingly proud of the fact that we all got through the winter without really being sick. A cold was the worst of what hit us, and it was so minor, that it's almost not even worth mentioning. I somehow got my kid through the one of the worst "puking seasons" I've heard of in a loooong time, unscathed. I was amazed. I had this crap under control. Hand sanitizer, lots of wiping down surfaces, and basically being hermits.....that's the ticket. But....spring came, and brought with it warmer weather, and I got too confident. Yes, we still washed our hands and wiped down the grocery store carts. But I didn't think twice about putting him in the swing at the park, and going out to eat just didn't seem like that big of a deal anymore. And, sure enough, a rash turned into a fever, that turned into a cough, that turned into the worst 72 hours of my life.

Long story short, a couple weeks ago, we noticed a rash on Landon after playing outside all day. We figured it was either heat rash, or some random reaction to his sunscreen, and didn't think much about it. That night, he spiked a fever. He woke up the next morning with an insignificant cough, but the fever was higher and the rash was worse, so we went to urgent care. Did a strep test, came back negative. Determined he had an ear infection and a viral rash that would clear up on its own. Satisfied with that answer, we headed home. By late that evening, the fever was through the roof and the cough had become that unmistakable "seal bark". We tried everything to get him through the night so we could go and see our doctor Monday morning. Steam, cold air, snuggles, popsicles, everything. But around 1:30, his lips started turning blue, and it was a whole different ball game. Two breathing treatments, a round of steroids and several hours in the ER later, his oxygen levels were still way too low, so we were admitted to the hospital. At this point, I had to watch them hook my baby up to oxygen, load him onto a gurney, and I had to follow an ambulance down to St. John's Main. Yes, he was with his father and I knew he was ok, but still.....that had to be the worst feeling in the world. Following behind this ambulance, not knowing how he's doing at that very moment, knowing that we are about to be admitted to the pediatric floor and not knowing what would come next. Yes, most kids come out of croup fine, he did before, when he was 6 months old. But this time was different, this was serious, and every horrible thought I could possibly have was going through my mind. There is no way around it, I was a complete mess, who hadn't slept in 24 hours. We spent the next 24 hours trying to comfort a scared, miserable little boy, while nurses and doctors tried comforting us. I had to listen to countless people tell me to go home and sleep, that the baby needed me to. I had to then tell those people countless times that they were out of their damn mind if they thought I was leaving my hospital gown clad toddler and going anywhere. So I stayed awake for another 24 hours, truthfully, not even thinking about what I was doing, just watching his numbers on the monitor, and watching his chest rise and fall, and listening for any sign of him struggling to breathe. By that 48 hour mark, I don't think tired was even registering on my radar anymore. Thankfully, after one full night of monitoring, they let us go home. He was much better, but still not himself, and it would take days until he was. We came home on Tuesday, and it was Friday morning before the crazy kid I know was back. Of course, he came back right as I was being struck down with whatever insane virus had attacked him. It's now the following Thursday, and I can finally say that I feel like I can rejoin the human race today. Amen!

Moral of the story? It's going to happen, he's going to get sick. God forbid it ever gets that bad again, I will be a complete and utter disaster of a person once more. But I didn't do it to him. I couldn't stop it. At the end of the day, I listened to my mama gut, got him where he needed to be, and I did the only thing I could.....I didn't leave his side, I loved him, I let him know it was ok, and he knew he wasn't alone. Maybe I shouldn't have been sobbing uncontrollably alongside him when we were holding him down for breathing treatments, maybe seeing him in a teeny tiny hospital gown shouldn't have made my heart break into a million pieces. But....that's me. It hurt him, so it hurt me. In the end, as a mama, I did ok.

Case study #2? The damn toddler bed. We got a positive pregnancy test back at the beginning of March, and my mind went into overdrive. Oh my God....he needs to be potty trained, and out of the crib.....NOW. We only have 9 months. It needs to happen NOW. Well now I'm stepping back and doing that "What???" thing.

We nearly immediately switched his room, put him into the old office room, and put him in a toddler bed. That had been the plan all along. When baby #2 came, they would go in the green room, boy or girl, so we could avoid painting, and Landon would get the blue room. Yeah, well, I don't think the plan was to traumatize us all at once. Quite honestly, he did awesome the first week or so, he truly did. But then he got sick, and he was in the hospital, and he refused to sleep without being held. Cue the last week. He has refused to stay in bed, he doesn't fall asleep until nearly 11, and then is up at 6:30, and he's miserable. All.day.long. If he's not sleeping, it means we're not sleeping, and it has all just been basically awful. I have done countless hours of research on how to make this easier, and in the end, it all came down to one truth: he's just not ready. He's still a baby, let's be honest. And he's just not there yet. So what the hell was I doing? I have no idea. Trying to save us money by not having to buy a new crib for a new baby? Stupid. Needless to say, after a long talk, his crib was moved into his new room last night (and yes, he went right to sleep at 8:30, and slept through the night), and today, we'll move the rest of his "old" furniture in as well. The baby will get the green room, but it'll get new furniture, and Landon will keep HIS. And he can stay in his crib for as long as he needs to, and I can soak up the fact that my two year old isn't a COMPLETE "big boy" yet.

Moral of THAT story? I made a mistake. I pushed him too far, too soon, for no reason. And yes, I feel silly and pretty awful about it now. But, we're fixing it, and we're making it right again. That's all we can do. I can't go back in time and change everything, or I would. I could sit and sulk and cry and beat myself up over it, but what will that do? Not much. What matters is that we figured it out, and he's feeling comfortable, safe, and well rested again. That's a win.

And now we're into panic mode with his birthday party this weekend. Jeremy has had the whole week off, thank God, because I have been useless while I fought off this sickness, but we haven't gotten nearly as much done as we wanted to have done by Thursday morning. So today, after a hot shower to wash off any remnants of the "grossies", I'm off, to tackle the last minute needs of a two year olds birthday party. And, most importantly, I will make sure that he has the best damn Diego party I can give him. This ain't gonna be no "case study #3", kids.

Oh...and lastly....I felt baby's flutters for the first time yesterday. One of the upsides of being stuck in bed and not able to move. It's amazing how much you forget about that feeling when it's no longer there. But let me tell ya.....it's pretty damn cool. And this bambino can flutter to its hearts content, mama is soakin' it up.

Stop and Smell the Roses....errr....Dandelions

Life with an almost two year old is a little.....hectic. Emotional. Bipolar, really. Add to it pregnancy hormones, and those around me, specifically my husband, probably deserve a medal of honor.

Although.....Tuesday marked the end of my first trimester (and I loved that it fell on my bestie's birthday....there was just a whole lot to celebrate that day), the weather has FINALLY turned beautiful, and I do actually think that the second trimester brought with it a batch of feel good hormones. I've found myself more patient, happier, and just generally lighter, the last few days.

But that doesn't change that I still live with a small monster, that wants to test me every minute of the day. This week has been a whirlwind of great moments for Landon, and really, really awful moments. I could just write about the good ones, but that would portray us as this perfect, always happy, always together little family....which we are NOT.

Wednesday night, Jeremy decided to take Landon to a soccer game. In all fairness, I feel like his expectations for Landon's behavior may have been a little too high. He should have known the wiggle worm would never sit in the stands without argument and watch high school girls kick a ball around. However, I still know that he witnessed the utter mess that Landon can become....you know....the mess that I'm always telling him about, but he never seems to be around to see. Yes, well. They came home about an hour later, and I could hear Landon's screams before he even opened the car door. Jeremy looked like he had just run a marathon, and he was just beside himself. I listened as he told me all about how he threw himself on the ground, walked over a woman's north face jacket, screamed when Jeremy tried to pick him up. I know he wanted a lot of sympathy, but really, I couldn't help but laugh. Especially when he told me, "No, you don't understand. He was awful". Oh, I don't understand? No, but I do. This meltdown is equivalent to the ones that I have sat and cried over at the dinner table. The ones that happen in the middle of Target, or in a restaurant. The ones that my dear, sweet husband always tells me, "He's two. He doesn't know any better. It's ok. He'll get better." So I said those same words to him. Funny enough, they weren't much comfort.

He was embarrassed. And I get it, totally. The funk hung around him for the rest of the night and into the next morning, despite our sweet, loving Landon having returned. My hope is that the lesson behind this is that the next time I'm mortified and frustrated, he gets it. I'm probably asking for a lot, but my fingers are crossed.

That day was followed by yesterday, when that ugly creature didn't rear his head at all. I had a perfect toddler all day. We played outside, we went for walks, we watered our seeds, we read books, we took a three hour nap, we ate all three meals PERFECTLY, and we ended our day with a wagon ride with Daddy. He went right to sleep, never got out of bed during the night. All in all....he really did have a "perfect" day. He has those days.....where he really does seem like he might bypass the terrible twos.

But those days are always followed by days where we are reminded that no, he will not skip over them. He will land right in them, really sink into them, and who knows how long they'll last.

Today was....an in between. There was a lot of whining about nothing this morning. But he was phenomenal in Kohl's and Michaels during our errands. He wasn't happy when I told him we had to come in to eat lunch, and he threw himself on the ground and kicked and hit. But, he ate his whole lunch, and then fell asleep on our walk afterwards. He took a short nap, but woke up with a smile on his face and a hug for me and a kiss for baby.

So we went to the park. And I made a decision. Just him and I were going to the park. Not my phone. I wasn't going to wait for the perfect moment to snap a picture that would be great on Instagram. I didn't want to follow him around waiting for a cute face to share on Facebook. No. I wanted it to just be about him and me. So we swung on the swings. We went down the slides. We climbed the huge sled hill (and ran down) three excruciating times. He stopped to smell every single dandelion in a field of dandelions. He ran the bases on the baseball field. He was thrilled. And he was....again....perfect. He listened wonderfully, he laughed, he reached up and grabbed my hand while we were walking the trail. He kissed me, he said "Mommy!" with such glee. My heart exploded at that park. And I was so grateful that I made it just about us. In 6 months, it won't be "just us 2" anymore. There'll be another little bug hanging around, so I need to savor every moment of "just us" that I can. And today I did. Until it was time to strap him in his carseat.

He walked to the car perfectly. I told him we would go home and have a popsicle, and he kept chanting "opseeecle, opseeeecle". Picked up and put him in his seat, and that happy child disappeared, and out came that monster. There was kicking, there was screaming, I was even slapped across the face. I assured him that he would not be coming back to the park if that's how he acted, and he proceeded to kick his DVD player off the seat, to what I was sure was its demise (I'm happy to report, that the monster got INCREDIBLY lucky, and didn't break it). There were crocodile tears all the way home. And I felt myself starting to get angry, but those feel good pregnancy hormones must be little heroes, because they stopped me. Instead, I was thankful for the hour we just spent together. For the laughter and the happy. And I reminded myself that these tantrums are going to come, but they are far outweighed by the good. And I somehow managed to calmly (me, not him) get him in the house and let him finish his fit, which included some books being thrown. Sure enough, once he got it all out of his system, in an instant, that happy boy was back. Crawling onto my lap, giving me hugs and saying "orry Mama".

The thing is, he knows when he's being bad. And he knows how to behave better. But, just like his mother, in the heat of the moment, it doesn't matter. He's upset, and he has to just get it out. I know how that feels.....needing to just "get it out". So I let him do it. Because it never fails, that once he's done, he appreciates having had the chance to scream and be sad, and I get the reward for it. The hugs, the kisses, the "orry"'s, and the "love ya"'s. And those are so much more important than stressing out over the screaming.

Does that mean I will gladly let him throw a fit in the middle of Target if he doesn't get his way? Hell to the no. But it means I will let him feel upset. Feel anger, and sadness. I won't just give in and give him his way to make him always be happy. It's a part of life, and he is learning that he isn't always going to get exactly what he wants. I'm praying (hard), that with time, he finds better ways to express those emotions, but in the meantime....he's two. And this is what he does. And we aren't going to change him, I wouldn't want to. So we're going to roll with it. And we're going to learn from it. And we're all going to be ok. 

By the way...the other peanut, the small one inside, is doing phenomenal. But it's already taking a hint from its older brother, and is very stubborn. It hid from the poor ultrasound tech for forever on Wednesday, and it likes to hide from me every time I try to find it with my doppler. But when we do find it, it's adorable, with a perfect heartbeat. And really.....that's what counts. 

The Secret Is Out!

Again....I haven't forgotten about this corner of the internet. But when trying to keep a major secret, the last thing I need to do is start writing. It's sure to come out.

I have gotten asked so many times why we didn't say anything about baby #2 the second the test turned positive. And we did....to some. Our parents, Jeremy's brothers, my best friend, my cousin.....my DOCTOR.....all got calls or text messages the instant we knew. Slowly, we let other people in, close friends, other family members, but for the most part, it's been our little secret.

We're cautious. We have watched people lose pregnancies. We've watched the hurt of going back and telling every person they know that it didn't stick. It's such a personal thing, such a heartbreak, and while I am an open book, there are certain things that I don't need every member of my high school class to know about. Not everyone needs in on that pain. But of course, if God forbid something did happen, we would need support. So our families and our closest friends knew right away.....they're our rocks.

On the flip side, it's such an exciting thing, it's nearly impossible to keep inside. And I have been wanting to shout from the roof tops since the day we found out. And as much as you want to be positive, and believe that everything will just be fabulous and perfect, I'm also a realist who knows that it doesn't always work that way. I went through hell to get Landon into this world.....an incredibly hard, long 8 months, followed by a miserable birth experience. During his pregnancy, I found out so many things about myself, my body, and my health, and those things make eternal optimism rather difficult.

Point blank, myself, and two of my cousins, have a blood clotting disorder. This nasty, mutated gene that we have, can cause a clot to travel to the baby, and cause a miscarriage. I watched my cousin go through it three heartbreaking times. When I was first pregnant with Landon, I demanded to be tested right away, to avoid going through the pain I watched her go through. My first doctor refused, and I switched. When I finally got to a doctor that would test me, I tested positive.....which meant had I NOT been tested, Landon might not be here today. I was insanely fortunate with him. We did what we had to do, and I got a healthy baby out of the deal. But every pregnancy is different, so every pregnancy brings a new set of fears and anxieties.....especially about what is going on inside your body.

This time around, I am with the single most incredible doctor I know. She knows me, she knows my story, she knows what I need, and most importantly.....she knows what I need emotionally. I feel exponentially better about this go around, just because I have her on my side. It's a huge relief.

All of that being said, anything can still happen. But we chose to look at all the positives of the past 11 weeks. So far.....this pregnancy has been completely different. I feel sick SO much more often, but the BIG things, have all gone smoothly. All my initial blood work came back flawless, which is insane for me. My doctor even told me she read over it 3 or 4 times, sure she had to be missing something that was off. But NOTHING was. Hurdle number one crossed. Our first ultrasound, even though incredibly early in the game, showed us a small little kidney bean, with a beating heart. Hurdle number two crossed (For those that don't remember, Landon's first ultrasound didn't show a heartbeat, and we were told the pregnancy may not be viable). And each subsequent ultrasound has shown a growing, gorgeous little person with a strong heart rate and last time, two legs and two arms that were waving.

We're having a baby.

And every single day, that still blows my mind. We were blessed again. Our luck is immeasurable.

I thought the second go around would be different, emotion wise. I've been through this, the heartbeat is cool, but it's not like it's my first growing child inside me. No. So wrong. It's the same exact feeling. We made another life. It's such a fragile, precious miracle, that it is such an incredible blessing to have it ONCE. But twice? Someone up there really, really loves us.

And this time around? I get to see Landon watch it all. He points at the ultrasound pictures and says "Baby"; he kisses my belly goodnight every night; when we ask him if he wants a brother or a sister, he tells us he wants a cow (yep....daily). It's already amazing to see him.....I cannot imagine the feeling I will have when I see him HOLD his baby brother or sister. Kiss its cheeks. Share his toys. Comfort it when it cries. If anything, the emotions are even HIGHER this time.

So we're starting the journey again. We're still nervous, we're still on God's plan, and only he knows what this baby will be, and if this baby will make it to us. But today, we're choosing to believe that yes, it will. This is the tiny soul our family is missing, and we cannot wait to welcome it.

We are SO thankful for all of your well wishes and congratulations. It's wonderful to know that you are all as excited as we are. And for those of you in the "inner loop".....you've been amazing.....and thanks for keeping your mouths shut ;) Well....except you Dad.....I've been hearing that most of Port Huron has known for a while now. But hey, an excited Papa can't be blamed. And we LOVE that you're that excited.

As for what's been happening while we've been doing all this secret keeping? I've been feeling....well....like crap. Much worse than with Landon. Landon's could be described as "occasional bouts of nausea that passed quickly". This kid can be described as "all day, every day misery, broken up with occasional urgent cravings that need to be satisfied RIGHT THIS MINUTE". Zofran and I have become very good friends. As have me and pretzels, lemonade, Olga's Snackers, Chicken Ceaser Pitas, and McDonald's french fries and chocolate shakes. And one night after dinner, an entire package of cinnamon rolls. Hey man, baby wants what baby wants.

I've been laced with so much mommy guilt for the days spent just laying on the couch and not doing much to entertain Landon. Fortunately, he's been great. We do a lot of snuggling, watching Diego, and reading. And I am soaking up every single second of life with just one child. Savoring every inch of him. That makes all the sickies seem worth it.

However, the Michigan weather is making for a very bored, stir crazy toddler, and this mama can't blame him. We've been teased with a few beautiful days, and we spend every second we can outside. Spring and Summer have to be coming eventually....right??

In other news, he's officially in his new "big boy" room and "big boy" bed. The transition, so far, has been harder on me and my mama heart than on him. Last night was our first rough night, and I'm sure we're in for more. But as I was laying on his cold, hard floor, trying to reason with him why 4am was NOT a good time to be awake, I kept telling myself that this won't last forever. Just like his waking up every 2 hours didn't, or any of the other precious newborn things. So I need to cherish it now, when Mommy sleeping on the floor next to your bed is still "fun".

We're also planning a Diego birthday party, because as crazy at it is, this little dude will be TWO in just  25 days. THAT is insane. But it has been so much fun watching him get into this year. Helping pick out decorations, telling everybody he's having a "pawty" with "Deeeeaygo" because he'll be "TWO!". But it DOES still feel like we were just telling everybody that I was pregnant with HIM. I'm still wondering why the years WITH the babies fly so fast, yet the time being PREGNANT with them goes SO slow? It's a weird time warp thing that I'm reeeeeeally not a fan of.

We went camping with my parents a couple weekends ago to test out their new motorhome.....which is beyond gorgeous. It was rainy and cold, and kind of miserable weather wise, but Landon was ENTIRELY into it. I cannot wait to take him this summer and let him get the full effect. He would have stayed outside jumping in puddles all day, every day if he could have convinced someone to stay out there with him. But taking trips to the campground store with Papa was the highlight of his day, and swimming was maybe his favorite thing ever. Just goes to show, again, what a little person he's becoming. And....he is ALL boy.

Other than that, we've just been here, hiding out, trying to conceal my growing stomach and avoid the last traces of winters illnesses traveling around. But it's a huge relief to say that I don't have to hide the pooch anymore, and hopefully the cold weather is headed out, and the beautiful spring will coincide with the end of my miserable first trimester! THAT will be a beautiful day.

**Edit: As I was finishing this up, my beautiful boy sat up from his nap, leaned back and fell out of bed for the first time. To which.....he laughed. Thank ya, Jesus!**

Rock Your Red

This is no doubt about to be a controversial post, so let me preface it by saying this:

I support gays and marriage equality.
I believe in God.

If you disagree with me, but believe that everybody is entitled to their own beliefs and thoughts, then please, feel free to continue reading.

If you disagree with me, and believe that I am an advocate for the devil's work and am spreading sin, then please click out of this window right now. We have nothing else to discuss.

I have a friend. My first friend in this world. A boy. Believes in God. Liked to give me scars and beat up on me. Always had my back. Would play the husband when we played house, and on one of my all time favorite home videos, says the words, "Honey....will you please hand me the coffee cup?". Would have wars with me in my basement with our cassette players: his playing Michael Bolton, mine playing Barry Manilow (hey....we were children of the 80's). Would also fight with me over who got to carry the hot pink purse when we played dress up.

In high school, my friend confirmed what most of us had long believed; he is gay. And that day, I knew that I had a job to support him and love him more than ever. That was also the day that I formed a belief system on the entire "gay topic", that I refuse to waiver from.

Do I believe, for even a second, that at 5 years old, he had the mind set to "choose" to have a natural inclination to want to the hot pink purse? Do I think that at 16, he "chose" to be ridiculed, criticized, taunted, bullied, hated? Do I think that today, at 28, he wakes up every morning and "chooses" to go against what society says is "right"? No. Not for even a millisecond do I believe any of those things.

Instead, I believe that the God that both him and I believe in, made him exactly how he wanted him. And HE chose to make him gay. And by doing that, he gave me a person that I admire, love, and respect more than most straight people in this world. My friend is a beautiful, amazing person. So is his boyfriend. And they have a relationship that is more solid, loving and REAL, than so many of the "conventional" relationships I know. And it really, really drives me insane, when I hear anybody tell me that they aren't entitled to that relationship.

I go to church. I read the Bible. I love and trust God. And just like I believe that God made my friend the way he is, I believe He made me to love and support him. I don't think God makes mistakes. And I certainly don't believe my friend is one.

You don't have to agree with me, you don't have to believe the same things I believe. But, if you are as Christian as some of you claim to be, you will listen and respect me. My own husband and parents don't share my same set of beliefs. But....my parents watched me and my friend grow up together, and they love him. My husband knows how strongly I feel, and welcomed my friend into our wedding party....because he likes HIM.

My question is this.....so you believe in marriage being solely for a man and a woman. How does the marriage of two men REALLY effect YOU? It doesn't. You still get to marry YOUR choice of human. Nobody is taking that away from you. You still get to believe exactly what you want, nobody is taking THAT away from you. What I would LOVE to take away from you is your pure and utter hatred, because THAT isn't ok.

Do you hate that man because he's black? No, because he didn't choose to be born black, and then you'd be racist. Do you hate that woman because she has cancer and can't pay her bills? No, because she didn't choose either of those things, and you'd be a pretty evil person. So why does being "christian" allow you to hate my friend for loving another man? For the life of me, I can't see how it does.

I know a few people who will read this, probably "de-friend" me, and for the rest of their lives, look down on me. That's ok. If that's how you feel because I love without boundaries and exceptions, then I don't really need your approval anyway. And I don't need my son knowing that kind of hate. Because I am raising him to see the world as a beautiful place. Where people can be whoever they are, without shame or guilt.

I also know a few people who have chosen to just not discuss this topic with me, my father included. Because we will never see eye to eye. And I will NEVER back down on how I feel. And those same people know that if they make a rude, uneducated, hateful remark, I WILL blow. I don't sit back and let that slide, and I DO get angry. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and beliefs, absolutely, but that doesn't entitle ANYONE to harbor hate.

After a particularly ugly episode with my father and husband on this subject, I asked my counselor why I get SO heated. I believe a LOT of things, but they don't drive me to such anger, and tears, when someone disagrees with me. And she hit the nail on the head. I sat back and listened to people say things when my friend came out. I let them say evil, hurtful things. And for the most part, I didn't say a damn thing. Because I didn't want them to think I was gay. I didn't want them to hate me. I never joined in on the rude remarks, but I never stopped them either. I realize I was young, and a high schooler, and it was probably a natural reaction at 15. But now, it doesn't seem natural at all. And it kills me. Kills me that I didn't stand up and tell them all how absolutely ridiculous they are. How wonderful of a person he is. Kills me that I just let it all go because I was afraid of how I would look, while one of my very best friends was hurting. Makes me sick, actually. And now, I refuse to EVER let someone make me feel bad about supporting him, or for believing what I believe. I owe it to the person who would walk through fire for me, to do the same for him.

At the end of the day, I could sit here and rant for hours. Fill this post with studies and statistics, but I don't need to. Because I believe what I believe. And I'm not here to force you to feel the same way. I'm just here to say that today, and every day, I support marriage equality, and I pray (to GOD) every night, that one day, I'll be able to watch my dear friend marry the love of his life, and that I'll get to watch them have a family (oh yeah, I'm totally cool with that too, if you hadn't already guessed). Why? Because they deserve it. More than most. They have a love that deserves to be celebrated every day. They are PEOPLE that deserve to be celebrated every day. Just like you. Just like me.