Lately, I've been thinking a lot about growing up.
For the most part, I've been trying to figure out when the hell I did it?
Did it happen when I graduated high school almost 7 years ago? At that point, I thought it had, but I was most definitely wrong.
Did it happen when I got married in 2005? No, I can honestly say it didn't happen then (and despite what my husband thought, it hadn't happened to him yet, either).
I don't even think it happened when my first child was born when I was 21.
Getting divorced didn't speed up the process.
Even when I was living on my own, working a full time job, rasing a toddler, I was still not grown up.
Every day, I find myself sounding more and more like my own parents. I understand the thoughts and frustrations that were going through their minds when they had to discipline me... The same thoughts go through my head when my three year old will not listen or refuses to eat supper.
So, being months away from my 25th birthday, raising a three year old, a two month old, and essentially step-parenting a 16 year old boy... Am I finally grown up?
No. I'm not. But I think I've finally got it figured out.
I will never grow up.
Until the day we die, we will always have lessons to learn about life, love, existence... We will never stop needing to be reminded to be polite, use our manners, or to put others first... We won't always act responsibly, or react rationally... And as independent as we may feel at different points in our lives, we will always need someone else. We will never have it all figured out.
So, I am not grown up, yet... But I do believe I've finally hit that point in my life where the growing up process starts speeding up.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Monday, November 30, 2009
I shrink, therefore I am.
One of my most favorite things to do is wash laundry.
Ok, not really... But it's something I do every single day. Somehow between the 4 of us (Owen's laundry is done separate) we manage to dirty up an entire large load of clothes in a single day. And Kade's only here part time.
As often as I do laundry, I'm still not very good at it. I pretty much suck at folding clothes... I still have trouble telling the difference between Steve's and Aaron's jeans... I forget to throw a fabric softener sheet in the dryer at least twice a week... I've caught myself hanging Steve's clothes in MY closet (don't ask?) I've ran the water and detergent only to realize I never put the clothes in... I have had to wash the same load twice because I couldn't remember if I added the detergent or not... and I don't check pockets.
Checking pockets really is a must. I am constantly washing things that should not be washed in the washing machine, with clothes. I've washed mechanical pencils and ink pens (I've got stains to prove that), lighters, chap stick, dollar bills, and oodles of change... But the most surprising yet?
A pack of cigarettes.
The other night, Steve was getting ready to leave for work, and was frantically looking for his brand new pack of cigarettes. He ran out of time looking, so he gave up and bought more before work. I of course told him that he could save himself the trouble and just quit smoking... but he didn't like that idea.
The next day I was doing laundry (of course) and when I went to switch the load over to the dryer - I found his missing pack of cigarettes... In the bottom of the washing machine...
How in the heck I put a pair of jeans in the wash with a full pack in the pocket without realizing it is beyond me... I'm going to blame it on the lack of sleep.
Their plastic seal was still completely unbroken. I opened them up, and they were still dry... They also still stunk just like cigarettes. I assumed they were okay, so I put them on the nightstand for him to find when he woke up later in the afternoon.
I was secretly hoping that they would taste like laundry detergent and the taste would be disgusting enough to make him quit cold turkey, but apparently they were fine... He smoked them, no complaints.
Of course, knowing me, this was probably one of those times I forgot to put the laundry detergent to begin with... Go figure!
Ok, not really... But it's something I do every single day. Somehow between the 4 of us (Owen's laundry is done separate) we manage to dirty up an entire large load of clothes in a single day. And Kade's only here part time.
As often as I do laundry, I'm still not very good at it. I pretty much suck at folding clothes... I still have trouble telling the difference between Steve's and Aaron's jeans... I forget to throw a fabric softener sheet in the dryer at least twice a week... I've caught myself hanging Steve's clothes in MY closet (don't ask?) I've ran the water and detergent only to realize I never put the clothes in... I have had to wash the same load twice because I couldn't remember if I added the detergent or not... and I don't check pockets.
Checking pockets really is a must. I am constantly washing things that should not be washed in the washing machine, with clothes. I've washed mechanical pencils and ink pens (I've got stains to prove that), lighters, chap stick, dollar bills, and oodles of change... But the most surprising yet?
A pack of cigarettes.
The other night, Steve was getting ready to leave for work, and was frantically looking for his brand new pack of cigarettes. He ran out of time looking, so he gave up and bought more before work. I of course told him that he could save himself the trouble and just quit smoking... but he didn't like that idea.
The next day I was doing laundry (of course) and when I went to switch the load over to the dryer - I found his missing pack of cigarettes... In the bottom of the washing machine...
How in the heck I put a pair of jeans in the wash with a full pack in the pocket without realizing it is beyond me... I'm going to blame it on the lack of sleep.
Their plastic seal was still completely unbroken. I opened them up, and they were still dry... They also still stunk just like cigarettes. I assumed they were okay, so I put them on the nightstand for him to find when he woke up later in the afternoon.
I was secretly hoping that they would taste like laundry detergent and the taste would be disgusting enough to make him quit cold turkey, but apparently they were fine... He smoked them, no complaints.
Of course, knowing me, this was probably one of those times I forgot to put the laundry detergent to begin with... Go figure!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Birthing Owen
Owen Wayne Watson Nov. 9th, 2009 11:03 am. 6 lb. 14 oz. 20 in.
"Every pregnancy is different." I'd heard this phrase many times throughout my pregnancy with Owen. All I had for comparison was my pregnancy with Kaden over 3 years ago. The similarities between the two seemed to end as soon as the morning sickness was over. I had a normal, relaxed pregnancy with Kaden, and Owen was causing concern from the very first ultrasound.
After getting a mere 4 hours of sleep Sunday night (on the couch, 11pm-3am, waking every hour) we went in at 6am to have Owen's labor induced. I had woken up with an upset stomach that triggered contractions off and on through the night... This wasn't unusual - I had contractions off and on throughout most of my pregnancy with Owen, and it was a big factor in my taking off work early.
We got to labor & delivery just before 6am. I put on the oh-so-flattering hospital gown, and crawled into the uncomfortable bed. The nurse checked to see if I had dilated at all on my own (again, triggering a contraction) and lo and behold - I was already at 3 cm before any of the induction process was started.
They started the pitocin drip at around 6:30 and broke my water about a half hour later. The contractions were tolerable, until about 10:00. They were coming closer together and Steve suggested I ask about the epidural. I didn't think I needed it yet - because I was in nowhere near the amount of pain I was in with Kade.... But I asked anyways, and the nurse told me that the doctor was giving an epidural to the other gal that came in to be induced at the same time I did... (which made me feel MUCH better about going ahead and getting it) and as soon as she was finished she would send her in to do mine. The nurse checked me and said I was about 4-5 cm. That was 1-2 cm in 3 hours. At this rate, this was going to take all day!
The anesthesiologist was in about 10 minutes (3 hard contractions) later. Getting the epidural sucked! I had about 3 or 4 more nasty contractions while she was threading it through my back, and I just felt like different. I told the nurse as they got me situated on my back again, that I was feeling a lot of pressure. It felt like someone was sitting on my belly. She said she'd check me again to make sure I hadn't "done anything surprising."
Well I had. In the amount of time it took for them to get the epidural - twenty, maybe thirty minutes max - I had gone from 4-5 cm to being completely dilated and ready to push. And my doctor was not at the hospital.
The epidural kicked in and all I felt was relief. I was practically in a state of euphoria, cracking jokes and making fun of myself the whole time they were telling me not to push because the doctor wasn't back yet. Steve thought it was the meds making me loopy... but I remember it all, very well... I was just very happy. I was relieved because I'd survived. I was dreading labor after a miserable 14 hour labor with Kade, and this one had been cake. I was happy I stayed awake and would remember it. I was glad it was almost over after barely 4 1/2 hours.
I wasn't too concerned that my doctor was not at the hospital and there were nurses telling me NOT to push. I asked them "How the HELL do I not push?" And they told me to breathe - just like in the movies. Short ridiculous breaths.. So there I was, looking at Steve, panting like a dog, feeling like a fool... but absolutely elated, and in an incredibly good mood.
The doctor finally got there and in two pushes, Owen was born. I could FEEL him sliding out of my body... I got to hold him in my arms while we were still physically connected. I had no cuts or tears, and Owen (with Apgar scores of 9 and 9) was absolutely perfect.
At our first ultrasound, they discovered that Owen was missing a vessel in his umbilical cord. He only had two, where there were supposed to be three. They said it happens in 1 percent of pregnancies, they didn't know why. We were warned about the possibility of heart & kidney defects, Down Syndrome, low birthweight, and even the risk of stillbirth.... None of which are things we wanted to hear. We had multiple ultrasounds to watch his growth, and went in for other monitoring the last 4 or 5 weeks. The ultrasounds showed no problems with his heart or his kidneys, which was a relief. We turned down the chromosome testing they offered us to check for Down Syndrome.
We were told he would likely be a "petite" baby. At our last ultrasound at 36 weeks, they estimated he weighed 5 pounds. At my 38 week appointment, my uterus was measuring 6 weeks small. Steve and I were expecting a 5-6 pound baby boy...
As it was, Owen's birthweight was the exact same as Kaden's was... And Owen was a half inch longer.
It was, overall, one of the most incredible, unforgettable experiences that I've ever had... and I couldn't be more blessed to have this little man.
"Every pregnancy is different." I'd heard this phrase many times throughout my pregnancy with Owen. All I had for comparison was my pregnancy with Kaden over 3 years ago. The similarities between the two seemed to end as soon as the morning sickness was over. I had a normal, relaxed pregnancy with Kaden, and Owen was causing concern from the very first ultrasound.
After getting a mere 4 hours of sleep Sunday night (on the couch, 11pm-3am, waking every hour) we went in at 6am to have Owen's labor induced. I had woken up with an upset stomach that triggered contractions off and on through the night... This wasn't unusual - I had contractions off and on throughout most of my pregnancy with Owen, and it was a big factor in my taking off work early.
We got to labor & delivery just before 6am. I put on the oh-so-flattering hospital gown, and crawled into the uncomfortable bed. The nurse checked to see if I had dilated at all on my own (again, triggering a contraction) and lo and behold - I was already at 3 cm before any of the induction process was started.
They started the pitocin drip at around 6:30 and broke my water about a half hour later. The contractions were tolerable, until about 10:00. They were coming closer together and Steve suggested I ask about the epidural. I didn't think I needed it yet - because I was in nowhere near the amount of pain I was in with Kade.... But I asked anyways, and the nurse told me that the doctor was giving an epidural to the other gal that came in to be induced at the same time I did... (which made me feel MUCH better about going ahead and getting it) and as soon as she was finished she would send her in to do mine. The nurse checked me and said I was about 4-5 cm. That was 1-2 cm in 3 hours. At this rate, this was going to take all day!
The anesthesiologist was in about 10 minutes (3 hard contractions) later. Getting the epidural sucked! I had about 3 or 4 more nasty contractions while she was threading it through my back, and I just felt like different. I told the nurse as they got me situated on my back again, that I was feeling a lot of pressure. It felt like someone was sitting on my belly. She said she'd check me again to make sure I hadn't "done anything surprising."
Well I had. In the amount of time it took for them to get the epidural - twenty, maybe thirty minutes max - I had gone from 4-5 cm to being completely dilated and ready to push. And my doctor was not at the hospital.
The epidural kicked in and all I felt was relief. I was practically in a state of euphoria, cracking jokes and making fun of myself the whole time they were telling me not to push because the doctor wasn't back yet. Steve thought it was the meds making me loopy... but I remember it all, very well... I was just very happy. I was relieved because I'd survived. I was dreading labor after a miserable 14 hour labor with Kade, and this one had been cake. I was happy I stayed awake and would remember it. I was glad it was almost over after barely 4 1/2 hours.
I wasn't too concerned that my doctor was not at the hospital and there were nurses telling me NOT to push. I asked them "How the HELL do I not push?" And they told me to breathe - just like in the movies. Short ridiculous breaths.. So there I was, looking at Steve, panting like a dog, feeling like a fool... but absolutely elated, and in an incredibly good mood.
The doctor finally got there and in two pushes, Owen was born. I could FEEL him sliding out of my body... I got to hold him in my arms while we were still physically connected. I had no cuts or tears, and Owen (with Apgar scores of 9 and 9) was absolutely perfect.
At our first ultrasound, they discovered that Owen was missing a vessel in his umbilical cord. He only had two, where there were supposed to be three. They said it happens in 1 percent of pregnancies, they didn't know why. We were warned about the possibility of heart & kidney defects, Down Syndrome, low birthweight, and even the risk of stillbirth.... None of which are things we wanted to hear. We had multiple ultrasounds to watch his growth, and went in for other monitoring the last 4 or 5 weeks. The ultrasounds showed no problems with his heart or his kidneys, which was a relief. We turned down the chromosome testing they offered us to check for Down Syndrome.
We were told he would likely be a "petite" baby. At our last ultrasound at 36 weeks, they estimated he weighed 5 pounds. At my 38 week appointment, my uterus was measuring 6 weeks small. Steve and I were expecting a 5-6 pound baby boy...
As it was, Owen's birthweight was the exact same as Kaden's was... And Owen was a half inch longer.
It was, overall, one of the most incredible, unforgettable experiences that I've ever had... and I couldn't be more blessed to have this little man.
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