Raising Arizona

For some reason Mommy Guilt exists in the hearts of moms. I for one have no Mommy Guilt. I am sure you are yelling out, "hogwash," "LIAR," "Fraud," "BULLSHIT!" But really why the guilt? Why do you feel guilty as a mom? What have you done to feel so much guilt? What haven't you done to instill your feelings of guilt?

The critics and so called "know-it all" authors of parenting put out books every year telling moms and dads alike how to raise better children. More productive children. Overachievers. Perfect children.

Um, who the fuck wants perfect kids?

I know I don't. Life would be boring. Dull. My children's lives would lack luster, uniquity, entertainment, thrill, joy, pleasure, and pain. I also would not be challenged as a person to grow spiritually, emotionally and mentally to deal with the day-to-day challenges of being a parent. (Especially a parent of multiples!)

The TODAY show yielded an interesting segment yesterday that caught my attention. A segment on raising kids. My segue into this was yielded in part by my spinning about a post I read about raising kids and how this post referred to an article about an experiment. I should have said to myself..."who cares really about what some quack says in an experiment.....the endless possibilities and outcomes in an "experiment" will possess tons of variables" but unfortunately the underlying theme was the "Mommy Guilt." Being that I am a glutton I watched the segment.

So this TODAY show segement that I briefly entertained with my shortened attention mentioned parenting items and how to fix parenting problems. Such as praising children. That praising children does not assist in the self-esteem of children.

Now I am not feeling this. While Michelle Borba quickly quoted a Columbia University study that praise is excellent in adults not in children made me think WTF? Children are little adults in my mind. Your mind acts much the same in the way it processes information, however, an adult will be able to synthesize the information a little bit more in depth and to a certain difficulty than a child. Which would suggest to me that children need the same as adults, with the age appropriate spin. She does also say that if a child is praised based on smarts you are NOT suppose to....but to praise based on effort. I for one see this as CRAP. I think a child, especially children who are young and unsure do like to hear both! I for one can speak from experience. I was urged as a child to work harder and praised on my EFFORTS when I was yielding B's and A's in school. I personally felt inadequate and not smart enough because of my less than stellar grades. While I may have invested effort, this did not antiquate to smarts. Although the flip side may be that I was told I was smart and then slacked off in school.

My other problem I have with this segment is kids with the very mention of depression. I understand that kids have feelings and those feelings and needs should be acknowledged by the parents. But running your kid to your local psychologist for a diagnosis of depression as young as age THREE BOGGLES. MY. MIND.

If you honestly feel that your child is depressed did you ever stop to talk to them? No wonder you have guilt. You failed to acknowledge your child, to reach out to them and say, "What do you need from me?" "What can I do for you?" And then SHUT the eff up and listen to them. Don't parent. Don't judge. Just listen. Most kids will tell you what they need. If you cannot stop to listen to those needs and assist your child in a healthy manner to assist in the productive, emotional, and spiritual growth, then Xanax sure as hell WON'T!!

I am not saying that kids do not get depressed, I am saying that their depression at the RIPE age of three is probably induced by his or her environment which could quite possibly be alleviated by talk therapy, not drug therapy, also by mom or dad not allowing their children to feed on the environment they create. So Mom or Dad...get help first, for yourselves, before you deem that your child needs help. I am also saying as well that parents should talk to their kids, listening to them is HUGE. I am not sure how many times I will say it but listening is amazing. That is all our kids do...is listen. They listen to and pick up on everything we say and do. If you want to know how bad your life is....LOOK AT YOUR KIDS. They will reflect your home-life, your views, your feelings.

Addition to home-life issues is the issue of your child as a person. The mention of a child being materialistic is based on a learned behavior most likely from the parents. This can be solved. How? Quit worrying about brands, material things, the best. If you have to shop at Macy's for image then that is your perogative, but do  not expect your child to not demand stuff from Macy's again if you mention clothes shopping. Giving your child everything like toys, nice clothes, the best shoes, does not show them you love them. This will not alleviate your guilt. This does not boost self esteem in your child. This spoils them. If you want to spoil them fine, but do not defend your child when you later learn of behavioral problems, do not deny the capabilities of your child to wreak havoc.

I guess I am lost on the whole guilt thing with raising children. I go to bed every night knowing that my kids are FABULOUS. Not because they are mine, but because they really are great kids. I have come across some real turds of children and really they are good kids, with AWFUL behavior that is not corrected...by the PARENTS. You know them and this is the short list:

• No manners
• Expect everything
• No respect for anyone or authority figures
• Materialistic because that is all they know from their parents (the more stuff = higher status, when really this just means you are a bigger douche compensating if you ask me)
• Throw a fit if they do not get what they want, make demands
• Ignore the rules, pretend the rules do not apply to them.

I also happened across The View. Man, talk about gluttonous jackpot of parenting segments this week for me to watch and read. This was on spanking. I had a problem with this topic. Not about the "to spank or not to spank" issue but the fact that we as a society are truly so wrapped up in judging ourselves and others based on parenting. I mean really, those who are out there writing the parenting books are the ones who probably had the worst parenting.

Whether you spank or not is based on you and your child, not whether or not your parents spanked you. My parents spanked me, but I do not like to spank. My kids do not respond to a quick swat on the tush. Big G used to get swats, he did not respond well and began hitting back. We corrected the whole situation with no hitting and not spanking so he did not correlate the two. His hitting was in part to feeling inadequate about correctly expressing his feelings. We got him a pound a peg and a stuffed toy to take out his anger and frustration. But I think again our society is so judgmental on whether or not we spank, whether or not to "praise" for the right things at the right time, so many rules.

Parenting comes down to the brass tax of common sense. If you cannot common sense parent then you need a license to breed. I cannot tell anyone how they should or should not raise their children but really folks, do we need to read all of these books that contradict or elaborate further on our day-to-day efforts as a parent?

I have a therapist and a lovely one at that. She taught me how to be a better person, to be better, to not react but to act. With her guidance I have learned to be a better parent and better guide to my children. With that they are happy, level, easy going, unexpecting. Because I am a level person and I do the best I can I carry no mommy guilt. None, nada. I have had one moment of guilt as a parent.....on Wednesday when Big G has his early release day....I forgot it was early release.

The school is no more than five minutes away and he was released at 2:25 I got to the school at 2:40. I felt awful only because I thought he might be afraid. But he was not. He laughed at me and said "Mom, you're late!" I felt guilty for being late that day, however, my guilt was put at ease by the smile on my son's face and the fact that he knew I was coming, the day itself slipped my mind for early release.

I guess I feel no guilt about raising my children because of the simple fact that they are not like a car. My best analogy....plus many years in the business you can use the analogy A. LOT! But seriously, kids are not like cars with brand new stickers, they may smell new, that lovely smell each has when you bring them home. Your total lust for each, although the car lust for sure fades while the lust and love of children is eternal. They both operate extremely well with no bumps or dings and you protect each one so gingerly until they get a little older and you know, things happen. But the difference with a car and your child, besides the blatanly obvious, is that Handy Dandy Owner's Manual.

Children are not sent home with an owner's manual tucked into their diapers. Just your common sense as a person, your comparative knowledge of how your parent's raised you, how you think you ought to have been raised or your ideals of raising children. THAT'S IT! So each day we do the best we can. We love with every inch of our mortal selves. At the end of the day, we look forward to tomorrow and the new lessons we learn as parents and say to HELL with the guilt. To hell with the whacks and their books. There is nothing more true than a mother's intuition. Follow it, embrace it, let your soul  be your guide to raising your children and most of all, no guilt. Parenthood is by FAR the most stressful, full-time, hands-on, kiss my ass I am doing the best I can do job out there! Do not feel guilty for doing the best you can, but be sure to give them your best. Give your kids all you have got, because you only have this one life with them.

How You Do It

Something a mom of multiples hears all the time is :

"How do you do it?"

Granted, we really are no different than any other mom. We all birthed a child, we care and love for our child or children, we worry, we do the best we can, we struggle, we cry, we scream, we want to pull our hair out, we are just like any other mom.

With one exception.

Multiple and twin moms gave birth to MORE THAN ONE child at ONE TIME.

So when you dress your children the same that may be a year or two apart in age, this is not the same as twins or more. Because you had two in diapers at the same time. Say a newborn and a 14 month old or so....this is not the same as twins or more. Now don't get me wrong, I am not bagging on these women. But really....you open a whole new can of something when you say:

"Well, it's like having twins"


Right! Like a colonoscopy is the same as having a vaginal exam right? They are down in that nether region...rooting around...its like the same.

I laugh. I cannot help but laugh. Or smirk like I want to tell some twit that her comment about "Well it's like having twins" or "Well they are like twins" IS. NOT. TWINS.

Again, not bagging or berating. I am clearly stating the obvious. Which back to the obvious question of "How do we do it?"

I tell you what. I really do not have a clue how we do it. Something went off in my brain that told me I had no choice. In reality, I did have a choice.
A). care for my children or B). leave them to fend for themselves and dub myself a terrible mother. My decision was pretty crystal, A!

From the moment they were born I knew I had to run the show like a perfect machine. Rituals, schedules, timing, noting all of the pertinent details of everything from changing's and the types of changes. Did we have a #1, a #2, or a combo platter. Feedings. How long, how much, breast or bottle. Which in my case it was breast and for how long. Did I have to pump. The whole thing became a science during the first six months. I called my therapist. A LOT!

I cried. A LOT. My therapist told me to, she said crying was healthy. I had to grieve. I had to feel like I was falling apart. I did and then pulled myself back together and went right back to taking care of my babies. All three.

You really take for granted trying to maneuver 2 infant carriers and a 5 year old. Who do you load first? Who gets unloaded first? You run the chicken and the egg question in your head. You weight lift and learn to man handle them both at the same time. Now I look like a quarter back grappling each one under an arm, but before I would cradle each one in a palm and arm. No choice, no option. Especially when you have a husband who could sleep through the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.


Doors are fun. If they are not automatic or have the handicap button, you really struggle. No one helps you. They stare. They gawk. Then they interrogate you. You are a celebrity and they are the paparazzi. You want to run. You want to ignore them.

Questions. Oh the questions. I have contemplated the idea of toting stickers with me that have the coined phrase "Here's your sign" because I am appalled at the boldness and daft beauty in the probing. I have a whole post dedicated to questions...one I should update and bring forth as I get new questions everyday. Especially when the one woman who had separate fathers was spotlighted. Oh that day was a joy.

Judgment and ridicule. We get that too. Not sure why. I mean we don't ask for help. We don't. Twin and multiple moms go to other twin and multiple moms for help. Watch them. They rarely ask any Joe Blow, "would you mind helping me for a moment." We are usually the ones who have folks offer themselves upon us as if we are invalids and completely incapacitated to care and watch over our own children. They are the ones that reach in and want to hold your child when you are shopping. Those folks give me the urge to shop with a fly swatter. Seriously, I don't grab at your children or at your walker saying "Hey let me give you a boost" or "Hey great baby, let me hold him/her for you." Seriously?! We also get that EVERYONE else knows that we could not have had boy/girl twins or girl/girl or boy/boy twins that are fraternal.

NOPE.

They are all identical. Um...okay. Thanks for playing, you do not get to go to the bonus round. I am not quite sure why people assume that twins mean same sex. But I have had so many say, "so how long were you on drugs before you got pregnant." Again, seriously?! I want to say not long, hubs got me all liquored up pushed me down on my back and WHAM, did we get lucky!

How do we do it?


One foot in front of the other. Long, heaving breaths with our eyes closed, our minds empty where we return to center and build the gumption to keep moving. We have a sick and twisted sense of humor. We learn to laugh at everything, freak about nothing (unless Earth shaking of course), and share what we go through...with everyone. Because we are truly blessed to have a body that was a holy vessel of sorts for two special people to take residency for nine months. Blessings of kisses and smiles and hugs. I truly believe that if we stopped and thought about all we do as parents of multiples and twins we truly would lose our mind.
However, we do it just like every other mom.
We love, dig in for the long haul, hope for the best, worry, cry, wipe tears, chase off monsters, wipe butts, clean messes, give every ounce of ourselves and our unconditional love and at the end of the day hope we saved a little for ourselves.

I wasn't always a REAL mom

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

Eating all of those words will probably explain why I am on a diet!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GREAT! WTF is that suppose to mean?

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

FANTASTIC!

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

SUPERB!

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

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

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

EUREKA!!

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

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

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

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

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

You have TWO in there...........You see?!

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

TWO THUMBS UP!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mini Me's

When Big G was born I was so joyful that I had a perfectly healthy and beautiful baby boy. I love Big G like no words can explain. But in all honesty, my vanity started to get the best of me when all I heard was "Oh my gosh!! He looks IDENTICAL to his father."

And so I thought I was doomed to have all of my children look exactly like their father.

I know, I am pretty vain. But seriously, when someone tells you how your children look like you, their mother, the comment just hits you and is heart warming. Especially because we are the ones who endured TEN, yes 10, MONTHS of agony, bliss, exhaustion, constipation, sleeplessness, irritability, bloating, weight gain, excitement, love, affection, bitching, moaning and the sheer fact we were uncomfortable right before we delivered our precious little person.

You can imagine how ELATED I was when the twins were born. I immediately bust out the baby pictures and did my "Nah nah, eat shit" dance to show how the twins look just like me! I know.....I am a terrible sport. But seriously....for FIVE years, all I heard is how people couldn't believe Big G was mine because he looks JUST LIKE HIS DAD. FIVE YEARS!!
The only thing that stands out on Big G that he gets from me are the radiant color of his eyes (we have piercing blue eyes) and this really cool birth mark, oh and we can argue till the cows come home...both of us....with each other....and other people if they let us. Big G and I are born to argue! LOL


So here are some fantastic 70s sporting photos of me.....and my comparable Mini-Me.

Mini Me (Pickles Magoo)

Me (circa 1978, 1979 ish)

Me (circa 1979 ish)

Mini Me (Little Bitty)

Me (circa 1979 ish, I was about their age in this picture)

I am just so glad that my genetics finally came through on the looks of our kids. Do not get me wrong.....DH is one sexy beast, but if our daughter looked like him......she might as well pack everything in now and go butch, or lipstick for that matter. I'd love her just the same.....seriously....she is very pretty and totally cute.

I am most thankful that I was able to go 36 weeks, 4 days, 16 hours and 53 minutes before delivering Pickles Magoo and 54 minutes before delivering Little Bitty.
Both were PLENTY healthy and good sized twins, so I know my baking abilities are more than plentiful that is for sure!
As an added bonus they got my striking good looks, goofy loving nature, and they are the best of DH and I all the way around with smarts, love, good nature, bad tempers, and sensitivity.
I am so blessed with my three gnomes!

Truth be told....I'm a Failure

I for one am not a perfect mother, I am 100% WIP (Work In Progress). I have no books to teach me to be a mother, no books to tell me what is what, I just have my simple knowledge to help me decipher my asshole from a hole in the ground. I am humbled by the fact that I love my children whole hearted, that they look to me for everything. They can throw fits for their father and the moment I walk in the room.....all is right with the world again.

I do not have the answers. Any mother who claims to "have the answers", well sister.....you need to ascend to a higher astral plane because we are clearly, unworthy.

Each child, each mother, each family and situation yields different actions, reactions, and well care handling. I do not expect my sister to raise her kids the way I raise my kids, despite the fact that we were raised in the same home by the same parents. I also for one would never tell my sister "you are doing this wrong" when talking to her about raising kids. I think that NO MOTHER has that right. I for one would not want anyone to tell me that how I am raising my kids is wrong, how I discipline them is wrong, what I feed them is wrong.

I birthed 22 pounds 4 ounces worth of kids. Big G was 8.2, Pickles was 8.2 and Little Bitty was 6 even. I even had two at the same time. But this does not give me any right, the fact I have three or that I birthed two at the same time does not give me any right. But yet I see mothers from my local Costco to the blogosphere who judge women.......ESPECIALLY mothers without mercy and I cannot understand why.

So here are my failures that other mothers call out on:

Truth be told I am a mother who does not spank....while every ounce in my angered body wants to swat my child I do not.
I do not put my child in a timeout in a corner, he is sent to his room....where he has NO toys.
I do not always feed my children organic. (GASP!)
I do not let my kids drink soda, lots of juice, eat certain snacks, so clearly I fail as a mother.
I fail at the fact that when I brought the twins home all Big G wanted to do was play with his siblings instead of hit them be angry and ignore them.
I fail at the fact my five, soon to be six year old son can count to 200.
I fail that my son can count in Spanish.
I fail that my son has known his alphabet and colors since he was three.
I fail that my son asks to be excused from the dinner table each night.
I fail that the twins can show me with their hands, sign language of sorts, that they are all finished with their meals.
I fail that Big G knows how to load the dishwasher.
I fail that he feeds the family dog.
I fail that my 15 month old daughter Little Bitty knows where the trash is located and properly disposes of trash.....and some miscellaneous items too.
I fail that they kiss and hug, without a cue.
I fail that ALL of my kids are in bed generally NO LATER than 8:30p.m.
I fail that at every meal my kids have at least one food group.....somehow.
I fail as a mother that ALL of my kids are happy.
I fail that all of my kids are healthy, well fed, and well cared for.
I fail that I choose to vaccinate my kids, for everything, yup, even Swine Flu (just kidding).
I fail that I want my kids to go to public and private schools.
I fail that I want more for my kids that what I had.
I fail that I work EVERYDAY on my marriage to my love so my kids have happy, healthy, get over it, parents.
I fail that EVERYDAY I work to be a better mother, mom, wife, individual.
I fail that I make self-centered choices, for myself, my kids, and my family...
I fail that I have LOTS and LOTS of faults....and I admit them, embrace them, and learn from them.
I fail that I have cussed in front of my children.
But most of all........I fail because they know ME as Mom. I fail that I raise them as a mother, as their mother.

I can keep going. Do any of these fit you? Do you fail at any of the aforementioned the way I have?

Please give me my due process if you are one of those mother's, because clearly, you need to ascend sister and I for one am unworthy. Because of you our world would be perfect, full of codependents, naysayers, and happy people for judgments to be passed by a mere mortal.
Leave the judging to others of a higher power would you please?! Agree to disagree about how anyone raises their children. No parent, no mother, no one on Earth is perfect. We all do the best we can with the tools we are given...which by the way are from another mother.....usually our own. We live, we learn, we pass on. We try to break cycles, create new ones. We love with no end and beginning, no boundaries and no limitations. So the next time you think about saying how you do not like someone because of the way she raises her kids or the opportunities she has been given or failed to receive, just remember we have ALL been there.
We have all had good times and bad, wealth and poverty, sickness and health, life and death, gratitude and ungratefulness, felicity and sadness, crudeness and civility.

Not Getting It....

I love my moms that dropped by to share their comments about Mother's Day Sucks! But I have to say that some people are NOT getting the message. I wasn't bagging on Mother's Day, I wasn't saying that my day sucked, I am not that negative. I am a realist...which is why most people dislike me, I give you everything you wanted without a big red bow, without the sugar, just raw, pure, unadulterated slap you in the face good 'ol honesty *UPDATE There is no drama in honesty, if there is...well then the saying IS true.....ALL THE WORLD IS A STAGE.

Here is the deal with Mother's Day. You moms, and you know who you are, that go around telling everyone what a "Joy joy wonderful" day you had are full of it! Yup you are grade A, 100% full of minutiae and I will tell you why before you stop following me or leave me a nasty comment that I will leave for ALL to see. You moms are settling. You are settling for ONE lousy ass day for people to treat you like you are special, to appreciate you, to tell you endlessly that they love you. WHY THE HELL DO YOU ALLOW THIS ONLY ON ONE DAY? And then brag about what a singularly wonderful day you had and then the rest suck a goats ear. I say you are settling.

You are settling for less when you deserve more. You deserve to be told at least once a day, once a week, or once every 12 hours that you are appreciated. If you are not being told this or your husband and or children are looking at you like you are speaking Greek then go on strike. If you are not being TOLD everyday at least that you are appreciated then quit. In all honesty quit your job. At a real job you are told you are appreciated, you get a paycheck. The paycheck of being a mom and being a stay at home mom at that is being told you are appreciated.

Some of you are arguing saying "Well I know they appreciate me." Great, so why not tell you more or more often for that matter. Why do we settle for one day, maybe two a year to receive flowers. Do different flowers not bloom year round? Can you not buy a Hallmark card anytime and anywhere for that matter? Can you not tell me on more than just one day a year how much I am appreciated?

I used to get so angry with DH because I would power clean my house, where you could eat off the floors like they were the finest wood ever laid and my stainless steel was so clean you could use the appliances as mirrors, and then he would just leave clothes, dishes, and whatever strewn everywhere and completely destroy my masterpiece. I thought I am going to quit...to hell with cleaning. But I cannot do that. Why not? I am a clean control freak, I am so OCD about cleaning. I mean I venture into the area around the toilet to clean that no man has gone before....and I do mean no man. If my man went there I know I would get more appreciation as he would see the schtuff I put up with for cleaning, can you say HazMat?

So I finally yelled at him and he asked what exactly I wanted. To be honest I wasn't sure at the time, but then I was sure. I wanted appreciation. I wanted to be appreciated for the hard work I do around the house. I don't mind hard work at all, cleaning, yard work, those are all my muse for blog content in addition to the kids. I can putter at my work and think quietly in my head, taking note, and then I am able to look at what I accomplished. And the victory is even sweeter when someone tells me "Wow, looks great babe. Thank you, we appreciate you." Those few words make every day a great day. I don't need a pedicure, or a luncheon, flowers, or a card, while they are appreciated I don't need and or want them. I love the daily appreciation, love, and respect from the everyday and not just on Mother's Day.

For you Mom's that had an average day and nothing spectacular, that's okay. Accept this. I have lived long by this "Expect the worst and hope for the best" that way I am never disappointed or let down. Especially on days like Mother's Day, but I am not saying I had a craptastic day, I had a nice day, again nothing spectacular, just a really great average day. So while I didn't have one day where I was treated like a queen, I know that everyday I am a princess who is loved and adored and always goes to bed with her prince. So ladies, here is to you for being a mom!!

A mom has the hardest job on Earth. You are appreciated, you are loved, and you are special, EVERYDAY not just Mother's Day.

Drumroll........One Lovely Blog

The award goes to ME!! My lovely and giving friend Veronica Lee over at Of Rice and raMen was so kind to award and gift me with the lovely award of One Lovely Blog.



In all my ranting and venting she brought me back down to tell me that even in the storm we can find blue skies. So I thank you Miss Veronica and send you my love for being so kind and sharing this bloggy award. Now I am to share this so I am going to psycho comment on all my mommy blogs that I love and adore and follow....all 117 of them and I will....I will post that they get the award if it's the last thing I do.

Mothers Day SUCKS!

I know I am such a Scrooge and I am sure most of the Mom's who are reading this are saying "But how can such a wonderful day suck, you are just so negative Mrs. Fish." Well you know I am not really negative, just totally honest, blunt, and forthright with the fact that Mother's Day is no different than Valentine's or Easter. Honestly the day is just another day for Hallmark to reap the rewards of poor suckers to go out and buy some sappy card about how much they love their Mama's and how Mama's are so special. Why the hell do we need a day for this, really? I mean we, females, are the only mammals that can carry, bear, and care for our young like no other. We are the foundation and rock of the entire family unit, everyone depends on Mama.

Don't get me wrong I am sure that plenty of single Dad's can handle the job of Mom, but the bond of mother and child is like no other and if you tell me different, well then you didn't bond with your child like the majority of other mothers did and have.

So I have to say that Mother's Day sucks! We expect to have this grandioso day of celebration, relaxation and pampering. What effing planet do you live? Sure I had breakfast made for me, but I still cleaned up the dishes, sure a paper was brought to me, but I still had to put it in the recycle, sure messes were made by the kids and guess what.....I was still left to clean them. For those mom's who got a scot free day....how nice, but guess what, you got a hearty dose of reality today as Monday has come upon us and it's back to the old grind again. At least I can say that I didn't expect my mother's day to be filled with relaxation, pampering and being able to not "be a mom." I still comforted those who needed (like my Pickles Magoo who was a little under the weather.....which is why I failed to blog for some days), rocked my babies to sleep, kissed those and wished them a good night, and made the best Mac N Cheese, even if from the microwave, it was still made with love and they all appreciated that dinner was made by Mom.

I think Mother's Day should be everyday, why have one special day to celebrate all that makes a Mom, Mom. I tell my Mom almost everyday how much I love her and she knows by my own accomplishments as an individual that she had some part in my actions and where I am today. So Hallmark, to HELL with your effing holiday, everyday should be mother's day. Be sure to tell the Mom's in your life and all the Mom's you know how special they are everyday, and show a bit of gratitude for the hard work we Mama's do all the time.