World's Okayest Mom

So, I was on fb last night (shocker) and someone had this mug as their profile picture:

I thought it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen! Okay, I may have had a glass of wine while I was looking at it, but it's seriously funny! I thought it offered such grace in motherhood, because Lord knows I need a lot of it! Such freedom!

Bad morning? It's OKAY! Yelling at my child to stop her yelling? It's OKAY! Don't feel like getting the glitter out for crafting? It's OKAY! Would rather spend time playing Bejeweled Blitz to beat my high score (Like that's gonna happen. This week was awesome!) than have a dance party in the living room with Monster Me? It's OKAY! Put her in front of Yo Gabba Gabba so I can write a blog post? It's OKAY!! I can TOTALLY be a slacker now, because I'm just an okay mom. I went to bed so excited!! Squeal!

Then I woke up and started doing all of those things. Seriously. Except beat my high score - not for lack of trying. And at first I was like, "Yesssss!" Then I was like, "Hmm." I started getting grumpier and grumpier, and more unhappy with myself.

What's that old saying about if you reach for the clouds you'll only reach the clouds - or something like that. Obviously, I'm more of a stars-type girl since that saying has never been spoken by me. There's this raging war in me to WANT to be the best. Okay is NOT okay. Do you know how mad I get when I don't have the highest score in Bejeweled? But... do you know how often I don't have the highest score? Ha! Like everyday! I live in a state of frustration. Because I'm not the best, and I never will be. I really don't like glitter. I'd really rather play on the computer. Maybe it's laziness, maybe it's weariness. I don't know, but I don't like not even trying. I don't want my kids to remember me always telling them to go away because I'm on the computer. I don't want my husband to come home to a nagging, crabby wife everyday. How horrible a life is that for all of us?!

On the other hand, it's okay to not be perfect! It's okay to lose the struggle sometimes! It's okay to cry yourself through until naps or change the time on the clocks so bedtime is earlier, because it's hard! (This was me yesterday! This is why I grasped with joy at the Okay Mom concept!) It's okay to have messy floors, a glitterless house and a child watching Yo Gabba Gabba. (At least she's learning a song about not biting her friends which, I guarantee you, will come in handy.) It's okay to sit in the clouds sometimes, but it's not okay to settle in there and never look up.

Can you relate? Are you the World's Okayest _______ (insert whatever you are in life right now: wife, mother, child, barista, teacher, lawyer, friend...)

So, how do we start reaching for the stars in a cloudy world? When no one notices, cares or pats you on the back for your obvious awesomeness? I have no idea. Sorry. Let's let each other know if we figure it out, okay? Part of it, for me, is to not compare myself to others I see who really seem to be the Best Moms. You know they're not perfect! Maybe more on that in the future... I need to see what makes MY house, family, and life happy and strive for that. 

A few minutes ago I did a one person poll (does that work?!) and asked Monster Me if she thought I was a good mom. She said no. Come on!! Seriously?! I asked what I could do to be better. She said give her cookies and play a game. Instead I shooed her away so I could finish writing. Probably didn't score any mom points. Maybe I'll live in the Okay Clouds until noon, then get the Princess Friends Forever game out. I just know there's glitter involved...

By the way, this absolutely isn't a pity call for people to respond and say what a good mom I am - in fact, I'm telling YOU: YOU are obviously awesome, YOU'RE doing a wonderful job, and I think YOU'RE a great ________! (fill in the blank)

Get ready for the cheesy saying... Are you ready? You sure???

Let's reach for the stars!

(Imagine me thrusting my fist into the air and holding that pose for 3 seconds.)

Edie Jane - The Story of a Very Tiny Baby

Monster Me (Ok, whatever. Her name is Edie Jane. If you're a bad guy, don't track us down. My husband will make you regret it.) is turning four years old today! This is special because she was such a miracle baby. I have to keep reminding myself of that (sometimes several times a day...) during the tough moments. Like ALL of Sunday...

This is Edie's story - it's kind of long, and not very funny and it's more for me to remember. There are cute pictures throughout, though...

A week old Edie Jane with my wedding ring.

The first picture of Edie. They gave this to me before I really saw her
myself and I had to do some serious deep breathing.
That C-Pap mask only stayed on for 24 hours!! Praise God!

Edie's Story

Edie was born 10 weeks early due to my having something called HELLP syndrome. At least, that's what I was told by one of the numerous doctors I saw. It's an extreme preeclampsia that shows up earlier and gets worse with each baby. My body thinks the baby is a foreign invader (kinda accurate...) and rejects it (Not ok!!) Julianne was born 4 weeks early and usually (with regular preeclampsia) future babies are fine, but with HELLP it gets worse each pregnancy. I didn't know I had it until the next pregnancy. So... long story short - we barely made it. My blood pressure was crazy high and I was so drugged up on magnesium to prevent seizures that I don't remember much except being in a terrified haze.

I was at Willamette Valley Vineyards' Wine, Cheese and Pear festival, (don't worry, I was only sampling the food that time!) with several girlfriends, and got a call that I needed to get up to the hospital in Portland that very day. Of course, I was like, "Are you freaking kidding me?! She's too little! I still have 2 1/2 more months! I haven't even had a baby shower yet!" My husband was at his Army drill weekend and I had my 2 year old at home with my mother-in-law. I called him in a panic and he was able to leave to drive me up to the hospital, where I spent the next six days trying to keep my blood pressure down and the baby in. The hubs was scheduled to leave for California and then Iraq for a 14 month deployment within a few weeks. Originally he would have missed Edie's birth. The Army was actually gracious (thank you, thank you, thank you!) and let him skip the California training so he was here for the birth, the five weeks she was in the NICU, and for one week after she came home. Then it was me and my two girlies for over a year.

Back to the hospital... Apparently, I have a "hostile uterus", so she wasn't growing well. But, there was something amazing - I had the steroid shots to help her lungs because they knew they we weren't going to sustain the pregnancy much longer. The doctor did an ultrasound to check for practice breaths (I had no idea that babies practice breathing inside!) So, the doctor was watching and watching the screen and I was getting nervous. Then he said that usually babies do a few little flutter "breaths" with their lungs to practice, but my little fighter was doing continuous "breaths" for a very long time. He said he'd never seen it sustained so long before and he was a specialist! The hubby was with our then-2-year old each day while I was up in Portland. I remember being so scared and stressed, which really did nothing to help the blood pressure. He would bring Julianne up to visit me and she couldn't even sit on my bed because it would move the stomach monitors and alarms would go off. I hated that stupid monitor. I just wanted to hold Julianne, I was so lonely. And, when it was time for them to leave he would have to carry her out crying and I could hear her screaming/crying all the way down that hall that she wanted her mommy. It broke my heart. That was the longest I'd been apart from her. I have a strong faith, but I think, looking back, it'd never really been tested until then. What was God trying to do?! I was going to have a very premature baby and be alone for most of it without my husband around to help. I read a verse in the Bible that I'd never noticed before - that's how God works, isn't it? He gives what we need at exactly the time we need it, if we're listening. We're never alone. The verse is Isaiah 26:3 "You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you." Four years later and that verse still brings back the emotions of that time, and God's faithfulness. My heart was scared and wavering, but I kept repeating under my breath, "My mind is faithful, I trust you, give me your peace. You promise your peace. I trust you."

So... they kept telling me that we were trying to keep her in until 30 weeks - as soon as you hit 30, the chances of developmental problems go way down. She was born the morning of the first day of 30 weeks, by C-Section. They had to knock me completely out, because the anesthesia wasn't working and I could lift my legs and felt all the test-pricks. Yikes!

Yes, there's a baby in there!

We called her Saggy Baggy for awhile...

Edie Jane was born on March 12, 2009 was just 2.5 pounds, 15 1/4" long. I vaguely remember them wheeling me on the bed, into the NICU, past an incubator with a little bird-like creature with a mask over it's face in it, but I was so drugged that's about all I remember. I didn't see her for at least a day. I ended up having to stay in the hospital for my own needs, because they couldn't get my blood pressure stabilized, for a week longer. Which really sucked. I hated it. My baby was in the NICU, and I was laying in a bed, pumping milk every 4 hours for a baby I didn't get to feed. They wrote her name with a heart around it on the white board that I stared at all day, as all the emotions of my baby, my husband leaving, being away from him and my other daughter, and all the post-pregnancy hormones coursed through me. I'm an emotional person anyway, so I was teary quite often. The nurses kept asking me if I was ok or if I wanted the chaplain to talk to and I kept telling them I just needed to cry it all out and go home! I think I was the crazy lady on the floor.

Finally I was able to start walking down to the NICU to visit her. I was so excited to go for one of her feedings and so disappointed when it took 5 seconds for the less-than-one ounce of milk/formula to go down a tube in her mouth. She was still too little to touch & hold, her nerves were too sensitive. Eventually I was able to Kangaroo Hold and have her up against my chest. I'm not kidding, her head was the size of a tennis ball. I was so scared to touch her. She looked like a naked bird - all bones with saggy flesh around them.

She had an attitude even then - flippin' off 
the world. 

Her little feeding tube.

But... and here's where the miracle part continues: she was perfectly healthy. She wore the c-pap mask for only 24 hours, then she was breathing on her own! That was crazy. The nurses nicknamed her Polly Pocket and said she was SO feisty. Apparently, she almost rolled herself over at negative 2 months old. They were all very impressed with her and told me she was a fighter and I should be thankful for her feistiness now, but better start praying for her teenage years. So true!! I just said to the hubs last night, after she had a major attitude issue, "What are we going to do when she's a teenager?!" Start praying for us now. Please. Pretty please.

Finally they told me my blood pressure was stable and I could leave the hospital. The problem was, I had to leave without my baby. It was the worst feeling, I felt like the worst mother, driving away. Of course, the awesome nurses at St. Vincent's shooed me out and said there was nothing for me to do except stare at her (which I didn't mind doing), and my family needed me at home. We live an hour from the hospital, so every day we'd drive up and I'd spend time with her, hold her, try to nurse, stare at her and wonder what our future held, then I'd leave again. I was never able to fully nurse her (Don't judge me, I tried everyday.) but I kept pumping (Every three hours for five months, I deserve an award for that!) so I was able to feed her my milk mixed with formula with the extra nutrients she needed. I still have NICU flashbacks when I smell hand sanitizer.

Me and Edie-Bitty.

We celebrated with each gram, ounce and pound she gained. We celebrated when she finally got butt cheeks. We celebrated when she hit 3 pounds and before she was 4 pounds they told me she was sustaining her own body temperature and would be ready to go home soon. As excited as I was, I was glad we waited till she hit 4 pounds so I didn't break her!

One week after we got home from the hospital with Edie Jane, my hubby left for Iraq. It was a tough time. I HAD to rely on God for the strength, patience, peace and joy I needed each day to take care of those two little girls (Edie was very needy and colicky, and Julianne was very angry and emotional that Josh was gone) while worrying about him overseas. I have a great family, church family and MOPS group who helped me so much!

She loves big sister!

So... long story short (HA!!) Edie is four!!! She challenges us, makes us laugh, is so silly, feisty, and smart. She's still pretty small, well, petite but tall. She hasn't had any developmental problems from an early birth and we're thankful everyday for her. Here are some cutie-pie pictures of her in the last four years:

At the Children's Museum - she's
always been a character!

Enjoying the beach.

Unicorn Horn Hair phenomenon - she STILL gets this.
I love it!!

Easter. Obviously...

Her 3rd birthday party.

Edie Jane!

The Silly Bugs Are Coming!!

The Silly Bugs are visiting my little Edie (MM if you only read the first couple of posts!) on her birthday eve (tonight!) and she is very excited!

What are the Silly Bugs? Well, I'm glad you asked! When my brother, sister and I were growing up, the Silly Bugs would visit us during the night before our birthday. We'd leave a little treat for them and they'd play very silly tricks on us. Not sure why we left the treat if they still messed with us. Maybe it could have been worse...

When we woke on that magical morning, our room would be transformed with trickery. Balloons may have covered our floor, streamers hung from our doorway, crumpled newspapers filled our shoes and once my room was a maze of string tacked wall-to-wall so I had to climb through it all to get out. They always left us a Hapy Burfdy note written in silly writing, spelled incorrectly as a bug is wont to do. When I was out of high school and was living in Ireland for two years, missing my family on my birthday, I got a package and the Silly Bugs had somehow slipped a note and gift in there for me without my parents noticing! It totally made my year. I love my family.

This was such a big, memorable, fun part of my childhood that we decided to continue inviting the Silly Bugs to visit our children. When they turn four, the Silly Bugs start visiting. Edie is going to experience her first visit this year and she's very excited!!  Here are some pictures from last year's visit to Julianne on her 6th birthday.

The note Julianne left for them. 

  

They had drawn all over the mirrors in the bathroom!

The Silly Bugs left a silly note on their easel. On top of the kitchen table!

Her bed was decorated with streamers! 

The hallway was filled with balloons and streamers and they had to fight their way
through!



  

If you have a little one and would like to start this cool tradition, but don't know how, just say the Silly Bugs heard about your kiddo from Edie and Julianne and thought he or she was so cool and fun, they decided to come visit on the special day! I'd even be happy to send a little note saying he or she is on the burfdy list! :)

Apjfelfj, Mildskfjal, Breskfjaf

The title of this post is very similar to what I see when I'm in the grocery store trying to figure out what the heck I wrote on my list. I don't know if it's the Age of Computers/Devices that has created the downfall of the (actual) written word or what, but I can never find a pen, my hand starts cramping, and in the end I can't read it anyway. I'm out of practice.

This is why I don't journal on paper. Wait, that's not true. This is one of the reasons I don't journal. I can type waaaaay faster than I can write and I'd need several of those wonderful pink pearl erasers to fix all the mistakes that a quick hit of the backspace key does so beautifully.

I tried to find my old journals/diaries from high school. (Mom: did you ever read these?! Never mind, I don't want to know.) I think they're in the attic since I searched everywhere for them in the house. I'm a little nervous about not knowing their exact whereabouts, but I'm too terrified busy to go up and check the attic. Anyway, I stopped writing in my diary when I was a senior in high school. So... 20 years ago. (You did the math right: I graduated when I was seven. I'm brilliant like that.)

I'm pretty sure I actually started each page with "Dear Diary," and if I missed a day I couldn't just go on, I had to make up each day I'd missed, trying to remember what happened. I have issues. The books are mostly filled with which boy I had a crush on, occasionally highlighted with many smiley faces and exclamation points as I told of a crush who said, "Whoa, Amber!" to me in the hall as I tripped in front of him. Eeekkkk! He talked to me!! He knows my... oh, who cares. He talked to me!!!! :) :)

Online diary-ing (Wait, that isn't a word and it sounds really bad. Let's change that to journaling.) is so much easier! Especially when I'm not recounting the super boring details of each day pretty much for my future self, since it had strict instructions for anyone who wasn't me to never, ever, EVER open those sacred pages. Here would be a sample of my written diary if I still did it today, and had a translator for my handwriting:

Dear Dairy,
Today was almost exactly like yesterday. I wore a gray shirt instead of black, though. You know me, I like to change it up! The girls got ready for the morning with minimal nagging, yelling and grumpiness, so that was good. We got to school on time but Monster Me was mad because Adventure Girl wouldn't give her a hug goodbye. AG was mad at MM because she wouldn't stop singing when SHE wanted to sing, and MM got more slug bugs on the way to school than her. MM and I went grocery shopping, but I couldn't read half of what was on my list, so for dinner we had tacos with no shells, lettuce or taco meat. Bummer. Kind of. We DO like cheese... That's about it! Talk to you tomorrow!
Love Always, Amy

156 Million and Me

What is it with blogs, anyway? Ok, I need to come up with a different name for blog because it just doesn't sit well with me. I decided to do a little research and see where the heck "blog" came from. I learned two things:

1. The word blog is a portmanteau of web and log.
2. The word portmanteau is the combining of two words to make a new (often ridiculous sounding, in my opinion) word.

There you have it. Next time you debate the result of merging lunch and dinner/supper (into either linner, lupper or dunch, perhaps?) you, my friend, have experienced a portmanteau. For some reason I though portmanteau was some sort of 19th century travel equipment... Maybe that's trousseau... Oh, those French!

Anyway... Here is a startling fact. In February of 2011 there were over 156 million blogs worldwide. Are you kidding me? In two years I wonder how much it has grown. Well, it's however many million, plus one now! Maybe I should rename this blog to Plus One. Maybe not. Sounds like I'm always the extra at a fancy dinner. Wouldn't mind that... Especially today with just leftover stew for dinner. Actually, for dunch. I was too busy cleaning with my new steam cleaner (yea!) to eat earlier.

If you think the word blog is annoying (ok, maybe I'm the only one) it gets worse. There are vlogs - video blogs; blawgs -legal blogs; and if you write a book based on your blog it's called... wait for it... a blook. Seriously. I can't make this stuff up.

So. Where does that leave me? I have no idea. Instead of online diary (which has other connotations to be revealed at a later date) I guess I'll stick with blog. And I'll say it while rolling my eyes in a perky/crafting/cooking/photographing/cute ponytailed/perfect family sort of way. There is, of course, NOTHING wrong with any of those things -it's just not me! Although, ironically, I DO have a ponytail right now...

Monster Me & Adventure Girl

So, I've noticed on some other blogs I've seen, mostly through Pinterest (WHAT did we do before Pinterest?! Share ideas verbally, in small groups, building relationships? How did we survive?) that some of the cool-kid bloggers (you're a cool-kid, too - don't worry!) seem to use pseudonyms for their children. At first I was like, "What?" then I was like, "Ohh..." On Facebook, my husband (still thinking of a pseudonym for him) does NOT like me to refer to him by name or even mention him really. Part of it is his job, part is his military stuff, and part of it is a stubborn rebellion toward social media. Luckily, with fb I can pretty much decide who sees what in regard to information and pictures. At least, I choose to believe that so I can sleep at night.

With blogs (man, I dislike that word!) there doesn't seem to be a setting to control who can or can't see your life. (I probably should get a locked diary if I want that, eh?) Hence, the protective pseudonyms I guess. So. I've been thinking of what to call my kiddos. It was an interesting exercise on personality, really. Not just the cutesy nickname you used when you rocked them to sleep as a baby, but something that sums up who they are right now. I recommend it for your own kids, family, and friends (of course, if it's not uplifting you may not want to share it with people who can beat you up.)

Here they are:

Monster Me (MM for short):  My three-(soon to be four!)year old is Monster Me. My good friend pointed out a few years ago that MM says and does everything that I WANT to say and do, but can't get away with as a responsible, peace-making grownup. Instead of her being mini-me (which she also is), she's the monster in me set free. True story. If you think you know MM based on her curly blonde hair, sweet smile and the song she sings as she skips down the church hallway, you're seeing the grown up me version. The monster is there. Trust me. From birth she's needed anger management classes - it's not just because she's three. But... she's wonderful, smart, talented, funny, cute, and so much more. Just like me. Ha!

MM looking cute on a ride

One of MM's MANY self portraits...

Adventure Girl (AG for short):  My six-year old is Adventure Girl. This is a self-titled persona she made up when she was about three, and Adventure Girl visited often. She had a pose, an outfit and a serious attitude to go with it. But, as I think about her through the years, she really is adventurous. She's girly, but she spends any moment she can playing with dirt and mud in the backyard. She climbs and hangs out in the spindliest apple tree you can imagine - I'm sure it will break soon! She climbs door frames and stands on her hands -sometimes while on her top bunk. She loves sports and wants to be a doctor. She's like me in a different way from MM. I used to joke that she's all the good aspects of me, while MM is all my bad traits. Oh my gosh, that's terrible! And not totally true... AG has a kind heart and loves others. I went to Africa last spring and worked with a medical & dental team. When I came home, AG carried around a doctor kit and played "Going to Africa" and helped all the baby dolls in our house. Love it.

Adventure Girl persona, when she was three

At six, jumping off of anything

A butterfly (NOT a German barmaid) and Bat Girl

Sisters skating and being best friends

I'm blessed. A little crazy some days, but blessed. By the way, my intention is to use MM & AG in my posts, but let's face it: I'll probably forget. We'll probably survive. But I'll truly avoid using my mysterious husband's name...

Blah, Blah, Blog

Never in my life did I think I would write a blog. There are several reasons. 

When I think of blogs:
1. I think of people showing off their big bad crafty selves.
2. I think of people writing a version of their family's Christmas letter every few weeks for others to read.
3. I think of it as an article that is polished and professional.
4. I think of it as something helpful for others - teaching them something.
5. My husband says it's egotistic to think others want to read what we write.
6. I really don't like the word blog.

I'm not crafty, I hardly ever read people's Christmas letters (sorry!), I'm not polished (except my toes), and I really have nothing to offer except maybe a chuckle or two - I'm totally ok with it being at my expense. My husband is very loving, but I don't really care what he thinks. Ok, that's not true at all. He just doesn't see the benefit of social media. And all I hear when I think of the word blog is Blah, Blah, Blah - who cares!

So. That being said, here I am! Ha! This started at 2am when I couldn't sleep after I caught my 6-year old (literally) as she was sleep-walking off the top bunk. Phew! I wanted to write about it because I thought you all would laugh, but fb didn't seem the place to express everything.

I love telling stories, but unless I'm reading them I shouldn't do it out loud. Ask my sister or anyone who's tried to listen to me stop, start, start over, get sidetracked, order a coffee, start snorting with laughter, and in the end forget the punchline. Not joking. And... I'm a little socially awkward (it's ok, you can agree!) unless I REALLY know someone. I don't do small talk well. I do better when I can type, erase, and figure out what I'm really trying to say so I don't forget the punchline.

I've been told here and there throughout my life that I have an engaging writing style (my college geography teacher said I should write for an Oregon geography publication - thanks, Mr. Wolfe!) so I hope if you choose to read my ramblings that you're engaged. Otherwise, move on and learn a craft from someone else's blog!

I have no agenda. You're welcome.