And then there were two

Hard to believe just two years ago I was ever so thankful to the higher powers that be that I went into labor THE DAY after Valentine's. While still a blessing to deliver two sweethearts on the sweetest day of the year I wouldn't want these two to be screwed eternally. Like being born on or around Christmas. As a child you miss out on the loots.

I went into labor at around 9am or 10am that morning. A Friday to be exact. Grant was home that day since he did not have his early learners class. I made a late breakfast and breathed through my contractions. What a joy to actually feel my contractions. My abdomen tightening and releasing was such a thrill for me. I had back labor with Grant so I prayed for mercy for any poor soul that touched, talked, or let alone BREATHED on me when I was in labor with him.

After breakfast I did some laundry and then decided to tell my mother I was in labor. The Chad called in that morning; he was having a late start since the company he worked for was on what they liked to call "Mormon Standard time" which meant everything was at least 15 minutes or more behind the scheduled time. My kind of company if you ask me.

We timed the contractions which I know this may sound sick, but I loved them. So thrilling and getting stronger by each hour or so. They were still about 20 minutes apart. I cleaned the house and mopped the floors. Did some dishes. Needless to say I was nesting at the last minute. Finally at about two that afternoon I called my mom and said it was time for us to leave and I needed her to grab the boy. He was unfortunately not allowed to come since the time of year was RSV season and I was technically in "pre-mature" labor but definitely not pre-term. Been there done that with the twins which is another fabulous story.

By the time my mother arrived and we headed to the hospital we were in the midst of rush hour traffic and the hospital was in the north valley. A good 30 minutes or more to get there on a regular traffic day so add 15 minutes for good measure. I was breathing through them still. Now they were getting closer....about two minutes apart and we were on the interchange which meant at least another 20 minutes or more to get to the hospital as we jockeyed through rush hour on the 202 to the 51.

We walked straight up to the OB floor where I checked in and was placed in the same crappy room from my pre-term experience. I was then greeted by the bitch ray of light nurse that everyone wants when in labor with twins. Condescending, cold, and just a bundle of "So glad to have you as my nurse." Thankfully her coven must have called her back because I was greeted by the true bundles of joy shortly after her. A nurse who was ever excited and I was happy to have someone there to treat me like an intelligent human and not just a humongously pregnant blond broad.

Vitals were done and I was walking through drug options by my anesthesiologist who quite frankly reminded me of Mr. Burns from the Simpsons. Creepy! I was then wheeled into the OR buck naked and prepped for surgery. WTF!!??

I was so excited to have these babies but oh dear what in ever is holy in this world was I thinking about being cut open....AGAIN!!??? AWAKE??!!

So The Chad joined me after I was numb and was completely clueless to my lack of feeling until I felt a sensation of rushing which meant they were working on me and I was told "You will feel a bit of tugging."

ARE YOU DAMN SERIOUS?! HAVE YOU FELT THE TUGGING!? Holy schnikes Batman that is the weirdest feeling on Earth. And so I lost it. Yes.....bawling. Crying. Wailing. Begging to know the answer:

"What the fuck were we thinking honey bunny?" As The Chad wiped the tears from my eyes and the OR erupted into hysterical laughter! I cried in my head...stop laughing you imbeciles you have no idea.

Then I heard the beautiful sound of a baby cry. Baby A. 4:53pm. Lots of scurrying about and "Oh my gawd's." What were these OMG remarks about. Please tell me. Again I hear, "Some more tugging" to which I want to say, are you hearing yourself man...I will show you a tug! And they say Baby B. 4:54pm. No cries. Again, the scurrying and The Chad tells me they are beautiful and they all run off.

I lay there. Cold. In shock. Really. I lost a good amount of blood, throwing my body into shock where I am borderline convulsing from the cold. I am about to lose my mind. Thoughts and fears. Lots of fear and no one is talking to me. I lay in a pool of tears unable to speak, fighting back all my urge to scream out and cry. I am given blankets for warmth but the warmth is gone like a fart in a windstorm. I am lost in my own thoughts, a sea of confusion demanding to know where my babies are what the hell is going on will someone help me.

I am wheeled back into my room where I begin recovery where I am swarmed by the medical team. Finally the swarm and their buzzing begin to subside and I see the man who looks like a boy in a candy store. He is beaming. Grin from ear to ear like the cat who ate the mouse. Telling me all about the experience in the nursery with the twins. I am hurt but ever so eager to hear. Wanting so badly to have been in there with them.

He explains the condition with Baby A, Seth Michael Herring weighing in at a strong 8lbs 2 oz. Yes. That's right. In fact Big G weighed that when he was born. He is doing well, they were a bit worried about him but he is doing well. Had to suction him a bit extra since he had a bit extra fluid on his lungs but he is doing well. I demand the APGAR on Seth which was a 9. Oh thank heavens! I then beg to hear about Baby B Sara Noel Herring weighing in at a petite, but ever so healthy 6lbs even. She is smaller a needed a bit with her glucose levels but she is doing really well. Hardly any crying and she came out with her eyes open and bright. The OR staff called her a peanut because of her size and the OMG I heard was the sheer size of Seth. Beast!

Not until that night was I finally able to hold my children. To weep and stare at them. In sheer awe of the 36 weeks and 4 days of incubation to get to this moment. A moment of denial and disbelief. Is this my life? Are these really my children in all their beauty and perfection? Their snub noses and beautiful round heads. Grunting and nuzzling. I wanted to just look at them and hold them ever so tightly. Never forgetting this moment. I did it. I really did this. I brought life to TWO separate people in the same womb. Healthy. I could hold them and be with them. I was on the highest cloud. And at the same time my brain went into overdrive.

I now had a c-section to recover from in addition to caring for these babies. i got my ass in gear and got up as much as my body would not let me. I forced myself through my exhaustion to walk. I had to walk. Walking would jump start my bowels again. I fought. I didn't sleep for 36 hours. I deprived myself and I was beginning to fail. I could not do this. I finally shook off the mommy guilt and asked the nurses to take the twins and feed them for me so I could sleep. A measly four hours but four hours on pain meds was better than none. I learned to sleep more in the next 24 hours. I learned to manage them and manage my time. I plotted out feeding schedules and times and who preferred what breast and what I could do to make sure these two remained healthy and strong.

And today I look at what I can do to retain my sanity for just a few more hours. As I watch them push chairs to countertops to retrieve the Blackberry, the "pown" as they call it. I watch them load the dishwasher and say 'Cheers' as they clank their sippy cups together. I cry at small moments when I am alone to know they are my legacy. I am saddened that I will never hold a baby of my own again. The downy molt of their skin smelling like Baby Fresh lotion and the faint smell of a new diaper. The beautiful sleepy eyes of two nursing faces. The small fingers caressing the side of my breast as I fed them. So I grieve the end of my era as a mother to a newborn. I embrace my future as a potential grandmother.

I hold them tighter today as they turn two. Strong, intelligent, resourceful, obstinate and loving they are, I am in awe that these two people are mine. All mine. How fast the time flies. How I want them to grow up and how I want them to stay this small, cherishing each moment no matter how frustrating when they unload the recycle bin together. Toss tupperware dishes full of dirt into the house. Or unload my bathroom of my toilettries and the 10 pack of razors I bought is now a three pack since seven were used as a flushing experiment and basic entertainment. I will never forget the moment I found I was pregnant with them, delivered them, held them, knew I loved them, and I will never forget how I watched them grow.

Happy Birthday Seth and Sara...love Mama.

Because People Like to Say Salsa

Each day the duo have something new to say and they make me laugh! I try to get video...even though the quality is totally terrible on my phone but its the fastest pocket size camcorder I have. I need one to capture all these fun moments. So here is Seth boy with his newest word:

That Love and Feeling

While I would love to serenade you to The Righteous Brother's I will spare you my lusterless singing ability. But I will share something that piqued me to do this post. I happened to be helping a dear friend who needed to vent and was seriously about to lose her mind, much like the rest of us who are on the brink thanks to motherhood, and I was amazed at the observation she had about a loved one who is very near to delivering a baby. Mind you moms....a baby. An innocent, new car smell, bundle of peeing, pooping, boobie loving joy.

My friend told me how she thinks her dear loved one appears to not in anyway be attached to her unborn child. I was speechless. Seriously almost stupefied. But a comment and observation such as this is not the first to put me in the blond woman trance.

When I delivered the twins my mother made an astonishing remark to me the day they were born that forever lives in me; "How does it feel? Is it any different?" Okay is what different because I had a C-section so yeah that was different to have someone play with my uterus from the outside in AND I could feel the "tugging" which really freaked me the hell out. Plus the whole catheter thing...can you say GROSS! She continued to say, "Do you love them both...exactly the same, no more no less, you just love them?"

The amazing thing with carrying any child is that as a soon to be mother you truly either have that love and feeling or you don't. You either build a primal, instinctive bond with your unborn child or you do not. I am a firm believer that although women were given a uterus that does not mean they were given the ability to love and rear a child...well rear yes, love and feeling, no. I also feel that some women are just incapable of those feelings on a higher plane period.

My pregnancy with Grant was amazing and I took so much for granted at first, but at about six to seven months when I really began to show and his kicks grew in intensity and my co-workers saw me flinch all of the sudden my belly was an alter of love. My friends and co-workers would flock to touch my belly, feel Grant kick, I knew I was beaming because I was so blessed with the creation of life inside of my body. I could feel these kicks and turns and hiccups ALL the time. To watch their faces was such a blessing, that I should cherish my pregnancy in spite of the heartburn, constipation, wetting my pants, cravings and awkward sex. A moment that these people, who were caressing my stomach like a love ball would not understand, and I needed to forget all my woes as I watched how my audience was in awe at my creation of life.

Now the twins...well...my reaction to finding out about my pregnancy spoke volumes as to my utter excitement. I had an almost acrimonious attitude, albeit I was delighted to be pregnant and that I was bound for a healthy pregnancy, but the thought of two individuals invading a very small space of real estate that is my uterus was less than a stellar thought. Once I went through my stages of grief in a rather swift fashion I was excited and I knew this pregnancy was a challenge.

The experience was all of a challenge. Carrying two healthy babies to almost full term and by not suffering from any illnesses or gestational induced diseases I had won the battle. But above all the experience was phenomenal. To feel two distinct individuals kicking, hiccuping, moving, I wanted to pet them, and so I did. I would spend hours rubbing my bulbous midsection that almost seemed alien-like. I would talk to them, sing, have big brother do the same and have him feel all that I felt, I was captivated by this pregnancy.

So upon their arrival I knew at that moment, that I heard each cry that I knew I loved these children. When Grant was born, I was overcome, I was wrought with emotion and did not want to let my baby go, ever! With the twins I was much the same and yet felt so hopeless lying on an operating table, fully lucid, unable to reach and hold my children, unable to unleash my raw emotion of birth. For hours I waited for them, waiting to hear and see them, hear more of their cry's to know they are mine.

Finally when I was allowed the opportunity to hold them and see them I was hypnotized. I just looked at the two of them. In awe. They are mine. I did it and I just wanted to trace their faces with my finger and look at each tiny finger and toe as I had cherished so much with the birth of Grant. I broke down, overcome by the love so easily disbursed to these two tiny people. So when my mother asked me if I could love the two of them equally, just as I could one, I should have taken more sensitivity, because who wouldn't love the two, equally and unconditionally.

But I can see now how the love for a child is so individual, how the love and feeling for a child or unborn child still in utero is based on the mother and the primal bond that either exists or it doesn't. I truly feel for those who are incapable of loving a child in that way or unable to love any child for that matter, maybe a lot has to do with age, but I can say that the feeling of seeing your children for the first time after such a long gestation is something to be treasured, and one I feel each and everyday I see them. Regardless of the messes they make, the back talking, the fits, the absolute disasters and embarrassments I can still look at them and be hypnotized by that love and feeling.

I Suck as a Mom

Not only do I suck as a mother...but just about every other uterus that has hosted the parasite child and or children that we love today is a suck-tatstic mom. I know...how dare I say you suck as a mom. Well admit..you do! Hell, all those ass hats who CLEARLY think they are such great human beings that camp out on Twitter, Facebook, blogs, in the "Self Help" section of Barnes and Noble, you know they MUST be better mothers, fathers, parent's right? Look where you can find them.

Wrong. Here is why they can eat rat heads and suck a goat's ass. Our parenting skills are courtesy of our parents with a twist, we take what we learn from them and put our twang into parenting. Think of it as a cubre libre, a rum and coke...with a lime. We aren't given the master manual of how to raise our children to June Cleaver standards, which I am still researching, I believe June was flawed and...I know that if you are given a nickname like "Beaver" you are bound for fricking therapy!

I was talking with The Chad today about my blog. I told him I was so happy to take a step back, to see where I was, to look at the kids again in a different light and before I knew it we were discussing my book. Yes. A book. My book. The book I am writing based on the fact that I am a parenting expert who knows diddly shit! Just like all the other diddly shit knowing parents out there. We talked so much about all the funnies from our early parenting days with Grant. Simple items like 'How to Feed Your Child.' Sounds easy right? Wrong. If you were like us, we fed the poor boy until he puked. Yup. Projectile, overfilled the damn tank like they tell you not to do at the gas station, mistake of over feeding our kid. How were we to know? He just kept going....so we rooted him on like any good parent watching their child at a hot dog eating contest. Until we got the Poltergeist effect of formula hurled onto us with a projectile reach of at least five feet. Good form Grant baby....all over me AND dad.

We make mistakes. Lots of mistakes. Mistakes are not bad, mistakes are meant to be lessons to be learned. I look at mistakes as information that was mis - tooken. Yes, I mistook the information to be correct. I was not necessarily wrong, just an err. By looking at my mistake as a simple err rather than a brow beating incident that would result in endless mommy guilt that I would inevitably take out on my child who would take out on their child and we all would end up on Jerry Springer in therapy.

Being a parent is the hardest job on Earth. Our training sucks, the vacation time only gets better after 15 years of service (maybe less), the pay is wet and sloppy (but hey...I will take kisses any day of the week), and the hours are a bitch (Parenting gives a new meaning to the "graveyard" shift). So before you swing your royal gavel about being a parent or someone else's parenting skills, take a step back and remember you may be pointing one finger at them. But you have at least three pointing back at YOU! Each of us that are parents do what we can with the tools we are given and we can build a bridge or we can build a fortress. Parenting is like a flower with each petal, each bloom, and each dormancy a new chapter in how we shape our children and ourselves. Making mistakes and learning from them is all the fun of looking back at how we have flowered, bloomed, and how we pollinated with beautiful people for whom we call our children.

Do your best, love your kids, and know that you are doing your best with what you know at THAT moment in time, in your life, and that you did and will continue to do right by your children and yourself. Because I know that I can look at my kids and know that I am not perfect, but I love each one of my children perfectly, no one can change that and no one can tell me how to raise them or love them.

The Hat Diva

This little girl is something. She is overly independent, knows exactly what she wants all the time, demands it, is ornery as all get out, gorgeous, loving when she wants to be, and has her tender moments and of course she is bossy. Man, she is her mother's daughter. But I love shoes....she loves hats, I will forgive her when I see her at Churchill Downs donning the biggest, most fabulous hat ever while sipping a mint julep.

Until then, I will enjoy these precious moments with my baby girl. Some days I cannot get over how beautiful this little girl is and she is all mine! Best of all, she plays in the mud, water, and loves to say shit...or is it ship...or chip...either way she is one of a kind and all mine. My Little Bitty, Hat Diva.

Wordful Wednesday: Dinner

The kids are all now at a certain age where we are all sitting at the dinner table. While the twins could probably stand to continue their seating in high chairs, they are socially at the point where they want to be at the table with the family.

I am all for it! Why not? Why not start now and teach them manners and keeping their food on their plate that they have been working so hard to do and by using utensils which they are mastering. They just have to get past that not ever spoon is a spork and not every fork is a spork.

Our scene from dinner just last night. The first night with the "kiddie" bench since I bought a matching farm bench to match the farm table in the kitchen. This way, they can sit next to one another like they like and at the table with big brother, mom, and dad.

I just love to see all three of their smiling faces at dinner. Such a joy to have my family at dinner every night. Now if they would all "SIT" and sit still that would be even better!

For more Wordful Wednesday fun visit Angie and her circus, Wordless fun can be found at Extraordinary Mothers, 5 Minutes for Mom, and WW Hub.

The Warm Fuzzy Mommy Moment

A lot of moments in a child's life can be considered proud parental moments but none so bright as watching your child evolve. When I had Grant I was a full time career woman, basically a child was extracurricular for me at the time. Call it status quo of life, having a child at 25 was something I was suppose to do and internally I had this drive, a desire to be a mother. I did not quite grasp the motherhood warm and fuzzy until Big G was about three. The Chad and I experienced a lot of emotional and trying ups and downs early into Grant's life; with living in a nice but cramped Scottsdale apartment as we waited for our home to sell in Albuquerque so that we could buy another home here in Arizona, putting a dog down, losing employment, gaining employment, having a child, moving again, getting pregnant again (with twins) and losing the pregnancy, losing employment again, gaining employment again. We went through a lot so we were busy trying to be the responsible adults and basically in survival mode to care for our child that I did not get to stop and say, "Hey I am a mom, my child is unbelieveable."

I finally was able to experience that warm fuzzy, the emotional wave of the real connection of motherhood only after our turmoils, only after I received the opportunity to stay at home with Grant and work out of the house. My baby boy was sent to daycare at the ripe age of seven weeks. I missed almost everything, but experienced and learned a lot. I look back now and am sad that our life circumstances were such, but I do not carry any regret just a pain in my heart that I know will be healed over time. But I had my moment where I watched my boy play and smile, cause trouble and push the envelope of what was allowed in our home and I was awe struck. Dumbfounded at best. I could spend all day with him, uninterrupted, raw, precious.

He is my child. I gave birth to him. No aliens will be back to take him home. He is not leaving, he's all mine, to love and guide through life. To watch him fall down and get up, to watch him follow his dreams, to gaze upon him and he in turns looks at me to embrace me with the largest hug his small arms can muster and say:

"I wub joo mama"

I have watched him as he has evolved in his young life. I will watch him as he continues to evolve, grow and mature into a wonderfully brilliant young man. From the day he was born I knew he was brilliant. Not because of his father and I (although we do make damn fine children), but he has a spark like that of a growing star. His spark will one day reach a super nova and revolve in that state for all eternity as I do not see his brilliance overtaking him. But in the last few years I have really watched him change and become his own person.

So today was like any other day with the exception of a parent teacher conference. I chalked this visit to be like the rest, minus The Chad again as he is traveling for business. Upon walking into this meeting though I did have a new feeling, the warm and fuzzy that has swept me before, came in waves again. I began to recall Grant through the various stages of his life. From the bean sized shadow on a black and white ultrasound printout, an infant, an adventurous tot, and now he is a young boy, almost a young man with his demeanor.

One day I felt I woke up and he was this magnificent creature who has a wide and wondrous mind that sees no boundaries in his fellow man. Each carries the same features and abilities as he, ever accepting, ever loving, and he treats everyone as an equal. I am speechless to watch him interact, his bold blindness as if he were Eve prior to the apple debacle. The meeting commenced and when they told me of his educational brilliance I felt another wave, deeper than the one before. I could not believe the accomplishments of my child. Math, addition and subtraction, graphing, time and money, grammar and grammatical tenses, reading books at the first and second grade levels and progressing rapidly. My eyes began to well and I fought back the tears. I fought my feelings in the middle of a mundane, seemingly average parent teacher conference.

Tears of grief for the fact that I am slowly losing more and more time with my boy as he becomes a man. I want nothing more than to hold him tight to take in as much as I can during the ever fast moving continuum of time. Soaking in everything as I watch as the gears turn and lights click with him. Of course my tears of joy at his singular accomplishments. While I know I am his mother, and his father and I have played an intricate role at home, I know he is on his own. I am not there to hold his hand but I gave him tools and he is creating a masterpiece. For which I will always be his biggest fan, ever so proud of him in everything he does from his most prestigious accomplishments to the most dolt fall backs, he amazes me still and forever. I also know that your brother and sister are so lucky to have you as an older brother. I am so proud of you.

My New Reality Show

Forget the "Table for 12" and move over "Jon and Kate" because had my body gotten her way....I would have had my own reality show. Seriously 7 kids in 4 pregnancies...do the math. We would have been a school of fish...or maybe a gaggle as the title would be so fittingly called.

I shared my story of not always being a mom and my conception quest, but little did you know that conception was the least of our problems.

When DH and I began our parenthood journey we did like every couple does. We screwed like rabbits. We did. All the time, anywhere, anytime, whenever we could. Here, there, everywhere. We were like Sam I Am eating our green eggs and ham.

After a year or more of trying and still an empty nest and a cold oven, we did what the old wives would do:

• Stand on my head
• Tilt your hips at a certain angle
• Not move after sex (okay, passing out counts too)
• Drinking a caffeinated beverage
• Not drinking a caffeinated beverage
• Waiting a few days in between
• Eating more beef
• Taking my temperature
• Took his for good measure

You get the gist.

So when a baby didn't come we began to question our ability. My ability. I knew it was all me. Something drastically changed after my appendectomy. I did not have a traditional appy but a nasty ooey gooey mess of peritonitis appy. The kind you clearly die from, which I almost did. I had complication after complication and I think I have had more CT scans than anyone under the age of 25 is allowed. Finally after recovery and giving up and just getting back to rabbit shifting and the occasional married sexless night we get pregnant.

JOY & RAPTURE I tell you!

I could not believe the test in front of me. I freaked. I freaked some more. I ran to the store and bought more tests. PINK, PINK, and more PINK told me YES! I called the boss on a Sunday to tell him I was running late for work and they could sell cars without me to draw up papers for at least an hour. I ran to DH's work and surprised him with a bib that says "I Love Daddy."

He looked at me like I was nuts. He looked at the bib confused. Me confused, the bib is nuts! Sheepishly he says, "You're....??" YUP! And like that we were pregnant. But not like that was all that hard....or easy. Nothing in life has ever been easy for me. Not saying I have had the hardest life, but I was never given even the chance to look at a silver spoon.

A few weeks later...cramps, bleeding. Possibly a scare. Went home to rest and called the doc. They said go to the ER if it gets worse. So I did, as the pain got worse. Six hours later....a threatened abortion which means that bleeding happened but the pregnancy seems A-OK. Wait until my docs appointment to follow up. Which was at least a two month wait. But clearly my body and higher powers had other decisions because only a week and a half later I was in the same ER. FOR. EVER! Writhing in pain. Wanting to kill the nurse. Wanting something for the pain but not wanting to hurt the pregnancy. After an ultrasound and many more hours of waiting on into the morning of Easter Sunday we get the news. We are miscarrying.

Devastation. And then the five stages of grief. I took a week off of work to get my act together. During that week I still did not experience any "miscarriage" per se. Lots of pain. Burning in my upper top thighs. More pain. I called my doc. At least 100 times. I had some incompetent nurse attempt to coddle me as if I was a teen pregnancy. My mom finally told me...."Karie, this is the time to be a bitch!" So I did. And was I ever in my doctors office faster than you could make the appointment. An ultrasound was done and an "Oh Shit" was said by the sonographer when the doctor came in to tell me I was being admitted to the hospital downtown.

OK

Por que? Well, seems that I have a "blighted ovum" which is a pregnancy that didn't take in my uterus and an ectopic pregnancy. Fabulous. What does that mean? A surgery and a D&C. So I lost my right fallopian tube and twins all in one fail swoop. Great first round.

For months later while I wallowed in my sorrow, continued to work my ass off at the dealership with the false hope of ever getting a promotion, I researched my condition. Was it a condition or a fluke? Turns out I had a condition. I had adhesion's from my appendectomy, severe enough to wrap themselves around my right fallopian tube, choking off the path. I researched pregnancy with one tube after an ectopic. Chances of another ectopic at the time were HIGH. Chances of getting pregnant on one fallopian tube. 34%. The odds sucked. So in July of 2002, a few months after the ectopic I had a test done to determine my chances of pregnancy on my left fallopian tube.

The test seemed simple enough. Inject dye into the tube, do X-Ray simultaneously, done! Not so much. They only told me that before until I got there when they decided to open my cervix with a plastic balloon to shoot the dye into my fallopian tube. Pain pain and more pain, followed shortly by burning, burning, buring. Get this done! Success. The left tube is open no problems.

So we washed, rinsed, and repeated the above pregnancy attempting ritual. Until one fateful December night, on the red chair. My mother now owns that chair. *Hi Mom! Yes, Christmas Eve to be exact. Weird how I know this but I just know. In the meantime our house in up for sale, we have plans of moving from then Albuquerque to here (Arizona) and I am job searching. In January I fly to Phoenix for five interviews and land a job. Fly back that night, and the next day plan to submit my resignation working until the end of the month. Because I was a greedy bastard at the time running a department I wasn't given enough pay or the title for the 100 plus hours I was putting in and the bullshit I would shovel each day.

Into work I go. Daily morning meeting. Then I am asked to stay behind by the GM and the owner. My heart is racing which tells me...they know I am bailing. YUP. They told me I didn't have to stay until the end of the month, I would be paid out on all my deals (SA-WEET!), my vacation, and this month (last months deals) pay. FAN- FREAKING-TASTIC! Vacation! Until I got home.

I had a suspicion. So I took a pregnancy test. And another. And yet another, until I had eight urine sticks waving in front of me like an orchestra. Pretty much I was pregnant. I freaked. I called my mom again. I called DH. Hey dude....I got let go today AND I'm pregnant AND we are moving in two weeks.

Yeah, that's how we roll.

That was January 2003 and on September 14, 2003 we welcome our Grant baby.

So after being settled in Arizona, buying the house, in May we get a huge oops! Yes. BIG. OOPS. May 2004 mind you. I am pregnant again, totally spontaneous, not planned. Only this time I am mad. In total denial. Hubs is excited. Sure. Of course you would! You don't have to be pregnant, fat, have heart burn, hemorrhoids, indigestion, swelling, random farts, sure. Peachy Freaking Keen! We get into to see the doctor right away. I am finally getting used to the pregnant idea. I have told people...bitterly, but with a smile. I am bitter because I JUST had a BABY! YEESH! So the ultrasound day comes, early mind you because I am high risk. Nanner nanner. Sorry. So really, high risk so they do an ultrasound to be safe. Would you believe it.

TWINS

I about died. Reanimated myself, slapped the hubs, told the doctor he was lying and seriously changed my shorts. NO. No way! Oh yes, and they are identical. Why? How can you tell? By the sac. They are monoamniotic twins which means that they are (were) sharing the same placental sac. Not good. But the doc says the ultrasound seems funny, so he wants to see me in another four weeks. Pleasure.

Four weeks later we are in the office. Ultrasound again. The doctor is taking all sorts of pictures, not saying much. We sit in silence, with an eight month old. The twins are not growing, they are failing, no heartbeat. Crushed. Just when I got used to the idea of having twins, and being pregnant for that matter, the low blow. I am devastated. Not again. Not another loss. We leave in silence. Only after the doctor reassured us that I will miscarry on my own within the week. Here is my medication. But had the twins gone full term we would have experienced twin-to-twin transfusion, possible heart failure, major health complications. We accepted the blessing in disguise. Nonetheless any easier.

Neither was going into full blown labor, in your home, in the middle of the night and not being in the hospital. I wish for no woman to experience the horror and pain at 17 weeks the miscarriage of a child, or two.I know you wonder why I didn't wake my husband, to support. I tell you ladies, there are things in life that we spare the ones we love the experience and overall trauma. I know he is strong, but not like this, this is unlike anything any man or woman who has children would want to go through or even have a support team to share with. This is a loner job. One that sickens me, but I know everything happens for a reason.

After that I am done with children. Grant wasn't named Grant for no reason, he is our gift, our blessing. We moved on. Or so I thought.

I was a hot mama! I was looking good, lost all my baby weight and was looking hot. We take a trip to Reno Nevada for our dear friends second wedding. Yes they had two. They are goobers. He has his wedding which was called the Vow-B-Que, they exchanged vows, were legally married, Ta-Dah! She got the white wedding in January of 2007 when we flew out again. During this time DH is nostalgic, we are missing Grant since he was with grandparents, and the day we fly out, we find our friends are pregnant, right before they leave for their honeymoon!  But the night before in an alcohol induced state, the hubs says to me "Let's have another baby."

Yeah...he baited me.

Months pass, we hear The Police are doing a reunion tour. SO. THERE. And we were. On the floor of USAirways Center in Downtown Phoenix. We have a sitter. A Hotel within walking distance. DATE night at its finest. We partied up the night, totally nostalgic in The Police concert on June 18, 2007. We then head back to call it a night...if you know what I mean. Wouldn't you know just a few weeks later. I am pregnant. AGAIN!

WITH. TWINS.

Now the chapters have closed. The third and final twin pregnancy was a success!
Because on February 15th 2008 @ 36 weeks and 4 days I delivered Seth and Sara.

I tell you I am the luckiest and blessed spontateously, pregnanting twins, all the time woman ever!

A Super Halloween

At times a mom can over think a situation. I was always told by my mother, buy the RIGHT size as some items run larger (like costumes) and some run smaller (wedding dresses).

So this year I was the ultimate mom with the goal to totally humilate her twins in true mom style with the sick humor that I have. Murphy and Karma stepped in. Foiled again.

The gnomes were suppose to dress up as just that! GNOMES! AWESOME! Garden gnomes. But alas, I think one garden gnome was called away for a Travelocity commercial. So the Little Bitty was left to tend to the garden by herself while I rushed as fast as I could to the store to exchange the too small gnome outfit for one that fit.

Foiled.

They were sold out. But we did make "Doo"  and the kids had a blast!

Lots of candy for mom and dad to eat.

Big G went as Obi Wan and he really looked like him....if only he wasn't so cracked out on candy I could get a picture of him. He ended up having a sleep over at his friend's house next door.

You can also see my kids are way too busy to sit still for pictures!

Wordless Wednesday: Sunday Morning

Find more Wordless Wednesday @
Extraordinary Mothers
5 Minutes for Mom
The HUB

When a parent leaves

My dear bloggy friend Melissa has this awesome little blog which landed her on a little show called Dr. Phil (well not EXACTLY like that, but thats not the point). She was called to be a part of the show because of her very STOUT opinion about motherhood and parenting. Her post and her position on the show resonated with me as a mother and with my inner child.

I am an abandoned child. No, my parents did not necessarily leave me at the firehouse to become a ward of the state. I was raised by both my parents until their divorce. My father moved out and then checked out, emotionally, physically, and mentally. His ties to his children were non-existent, if ever ties were present, hard to tell based on his actions. My mother, her sole focus was to be sure we were taken care of physically and basically. Food on the table, clothes on our back, roof over our heads. I do not blame my mother at all, she did what she had to do as a responsible parent and she went into survival mode. Nurture was not a priority when coming straight out of a nasty and bitter divorce. My mother did right with myself and my siblings, I commend her for all that she endured with raising three kids alone and the trying years we gave her. She could have made the choice to leave. To leave her three children in the care of a man who was not even half able to care for himself, who had (and still has) addiction issues, denial, emotional detachment, strong sense of egoism. While my father was not the fittest parent to care for children he mentally, physically, and emotionally made the decision to leave. Which in my opinion is more damaging than a parent leaving based on a divorce.

While watching the bits of the show I was angry that mothers, MOTHERS, do this to their own children. They make the decision to leave, possibly out of the whole feministic movement, who knows. What I do know is that everytime I leave my house without my children my uterus turns in knots. I know when my oldest does something he should not have before my husband even calls, I can tell when my twins have gotten hurt before I get a call, before I run to their aid I know exactly what is wrong. I feel like something is missing when they are not there. While I enjoy my personal time, I feel my sense of responsibility to them, ALL THE TIME.

I am not saying I am a perfect mother or a mother that has some tremendous bond. As a parent myself I have days, moments, hours where I want to escape. Escape the pressures of being a parent. But only for a moment, until I am brought to center. Where I have my three feet of personal space, to take some deep breaths, to have a moment of Zen. Then I can tackle yet again, this job, duty, the love of being a mother.

I watched as these mothers left. They felt no attachment. None. None to care for their children. To provide. To nurture. To build a protection and level of security that all children need no matter what their age. While my mother provided basics during and after the divorce was finalized she began to nurture again and still does. My mother is the sweetest most hearty woman I know. Her goodness is what makes me what I am today with the balance of my father and his not so stellar qualities. Which segues me back to my father and his detachment. When parents divorce and leave they make the physical decision to leave the shared home, stated fact. Okay, these two people clearly cannot be under the same roof. However, the decision to leave should not include the decision to check out emotionally.

I am tainted goods. I have an inner child with deep rooted damage of a father who left. A parent who abandoned not just because of the divorce, but because he chose NOT to care for his children. Father's to some degree I can see how this is easy, to disconnect from children, they do not have the internal bonding that a mother shares with her child in utero. At times when I think of my pregnancies I can pin point each rib that each child dug a heel or elbow into. I still get a wince of pain. So I can see how fathers may checkout. But I cannot understand for the life of me why a mother would leave. HOW? How can she live with herself? Is she so delusional to think that she has no responsibility to that child? I commend Melissa for what she does.

She is a step-mother to her step-children that live with her and her husband (children's father) FULL-TIME. You can read all about her story here. I connected with Melissa because when my father divorced my mother he was immediately "dating" his previous ex-wife. Yeah, my mom was #2. My father makes the wise decision then not even a year after they are separated to "date" and three months after the divorce is finalized in January of 1988, April 1988 my new half-brother is born. O.K.A.Y. But at least my less than acceptable father marries and impregnated (twice) a good woman. Yes in 1989 a half sister arrived. Nonetheless though, my step-mother was my surrogate mother every other weekend that we were in the drunken custody of my father. If not for this woman life would be unbearable, scary, and downright suicidal if not a complete free-for-all. My step-mother took myself and my two siblings in as her own. She loved us, fed us, clothed us even. She would take us on hikes, plan day trips, dance with us, color with us, teach us to cook. Sounds like any normal mom right? Except she did not bear us from her womb, she merely married my sperm donor, who divorced MY mother.

I truly understand and feel the pain of the loss of a parent. The disconnect. The abandonment. But I have to say I would be devastated, I would not be who I am today if I did not have my mother nor my step-mother. I have been blessed to have had TWO extremely beautiful, strong, loving women in my life who taught me love, respect, and beauty. They taught me that even when the going gets tough, you dig in, bear down, and fight. My mother fought for us in the divorce, she fought to not let my father make any attempts to rip us from her. So for those of you who have lost your mothers I am so sorry. I know your feelings, but cannot begin to feel your pain. Your pain is like no other than can be healed. The loss of a parent to death can be grieved through the stages of grief, but a parent and or mother especially lost out of her own self-decision is devastating. Mothers are the world. They don't call everything her mother Earth for no reason, because a mother is our entire worlds.

For those mothers and fathers who have left I wish I could wrap my head around your reasoning, your disconnect, your emotional detachment, your failure to adhere to the unwritten laws of parenting. I do not judge, I just wish some of us could understand. Are your motives selfish? Are they the inability to cope? How can you abandon your child? YOUR CHILD?

These Kids Eat Like....Hobbits?

You thought I was going to say

I fooled you!!

Seriously I think my kids eat ALL the time. Non-stop from the moment they wake up to the time they go to sleep. You would never know with Sara, unless she has a tape worm or something, we don't call her Little Bitty for nothing! Seth and Grant could probably eat some linebackers or at least some fullbacks under the table FOR SURE! And they aren't fat.....but I have been tracking their eating, and seriously all day. So instead of telling you their eating schedule, please watch this informational video that I found on YouTube which will fully explain the extent to which my children eat....and the times they eat!

My Falling Star

You see my great post about Grant being the star student?

Yes, DH and I are so proud. What an accomplishment.

Until Today. I thought twice about posting, but I think there is an air of surrealness to being a parent and bragging about being a great parent with having a great kid. My star student initiated actions that resulted in a friendly call from my friend "The Principal."

Correct, THE principal. Papa...well she is a Mama Grande. The head honch, the big kahuna, THE BOSS.

She called me to tell me about some unfortunate circumstances, unacceptable behavior, and disgusting actions. Not that my son is not totally capable, but really I figured these would be left until at least high school.

• His blatant disregard for authority
• His disregard for his unacceptable and intolerable actions
• His foul mouth! (Decided he would call everyone a "fucker" today)

I am totally in awe that my boy decided to act so unfavorably, so much like a heathen, so dispicable. I do not doubt his culpability and capability, but I doubt the he acted alone and without provocation. So I now ask you, have you had one day where you are like "OMG, where is my kid?" when the principal or teacher calls? Have you had a day where you are just completely lost on what happened to your normal, everyday, easy breezy child? I just cannot believe my kid....my boy acted in such a manner. Again, not denying it, just completely cannot believe he could act that way, especially in school. I hope we can resolve this, I would hate for my Star Student to fall from grace.

My Star Student

Grant Baby I am so proud of you!

I hope I tell you enough each day how proud I am of you. I am so happy that you are having a WHOLE week in the spotlight as Star Student! You deserve it buddy, way to work hard! Good job on your poster too bud, even if Mom did help a little with the poster of everything that makes you special.

I love you!
Mom

The All New Momma Diet Plan

Ladies, the buck stops here for all those diet scams and plans.

(Oh really?!)

Have you tried all pills, exercises, food and meal plans? Exercise machines and bogus contraptions? Let me tell you I have the ultimate plan for you and this is how you begin said plan!

1. Have twins, or at least a couple kids, get nice and round.
2. Make sure said kids have appetites like NFL Linebackers
3. Make meals they will NOT eat and YOU will (or so you think)
   
4. Sit down to attempt to eat said HOT, warm meal children will not like
5. Children flock to you and said HOT meal to eat it
6. They eat it off YOUR plate
7. Every speck
8. Leaving you just the crumbs
9. ENJOY your little morsel of a meal, at most 100 calories in crumbs ladies
10. You will be fit and trim in no time with that meal plan, BON APETIT!
    

Watch the gnomes, at least the Little Bitty Sara gnome,
in action as she feeds her Daddy...after she feeds herself.


Mom and Dad feeding from Karie Herring on Vimeo.

STUPID

How to address the word?

Adjective, noun usage in a statement, declaration, question, pronoun, formal title (stupid ass)

I think stupid is a pretty broad word, you might get creative and use words like dolt, dull, dumb, dense.

In fact Merriam-Webster defines the word as:

1 a : slow of mind : obtuse b : given to unintelligent decisions or acts : acting in an unintelligent or careless manner c : lacking intelligence or reason : brutish
2 : dulled in feeling or sensation : torpid
3 : marked by or resulting from unreasoned thinking or acting : senseless
4 a : lacking interest or point b : vexatious, exasperating car won't start> (Merriam-Webster, 2009)

So imagine my stupid surprise when I received Big G's progress report. I was saying but of course in awe of how well my child is progressing with kindergarten and this explained much of his boredom and troublesome behavior. He receives tickets rising in color much like a  soccer penalty for talking too much not my boy, rough-housing and playing in line, just normal kid stuff to which the rules are enforced so children understand proper behavior in school. My awe was not just his intelligent progression but the comment. Yes. THE COMMENT. DH says I am over analyzing, but I have an issue with this statement that I will outline in BOLD:

Needs to be reminded to keep hands to himself when playing or upset, and not to use words like "stupid"

Now I really should not be too upset but I have a problem with this statement. Why not use the word stupid? If he is calling people stupid that is one issue, but that was not specifically addressed. If Big G is doing that (calling people stupid), I will for SURE put the kibosh to that minutiae. He is not to call anyone stupid until he gets his own job, moves out and deals with the stupid people on his own.  Then I can let him know "I told ya so" when he tells me about all the stupid shits of the world.

But if he is saying SOMETHING or an IDEA or an activity is stupid then that is his feelings and opinion on the matter. Furthermore, the something, idea, activity, etc may very well be STUPID to my boy as the STUPID does not present an intellectual challenge for him. Meaning....it's stupid. I mean I would be more upset ROFLMAO had he said something was Effing stupid.

I would also have expected more in the student-teacher department of this statement on the report:

"Uses word stupid, might suggest using different feeling words or adjective to define feelings, such as I don't want to, I don't like it, it's boring, its not fun"

Do you see where I am going with this?

I think I might have been more receptive to that statement, rather than the vague, stupid unintelligible, statement leaving me to stew until parent teacher conferences in a MONTH!! Yeah...STUPID!!

What would you suggest? Do you have a problem with stupid? I know I have a problem with some stupid, but not to define something that does not engage my child in an intellectual fashion of his liking.

What do you think?

Heathens on the Playground

Lately an alarming incident has been taking place at Big G's school. Not your typical playground Mom and Dad gossip of "Did you know that Jenny is sleeping with Dan while Mary is gone on business?" alarming business but that with our children.

Big G attends a very affluent school. The school is 20 years young in a largely middle to upper-middle class neighborhood. We had him transfered in and a boundary exception because the teachers are of a caliber I have not seen. The students are your typical suburbanites with their Hurley attire and boutique fashion, with the exception of some children who exhibit behavior unlike their outwardly appearances.

I am hoping you know of the children I am speaking. The ones who are the bully, the pusher, the one that makes you scratch your head wondering where the parent's influence may be in the child. Well these children have been terrorizing my son as well as countless other children of KINDERGARTEN.

Image Courtesy of SafeNetwork

Yes folks, these children start early. Probably much earlier than kindergarten, however, since this is the first time they are released from the captivity of their own homes the behavior is probably assumed to be normal depending on the home life.

The children start small with pushing, maybe pulling on a backpack, scaling chain link fences as if in some training session, and then the behavior begins to escalate into full body pushing resulting in a child scrambling to catch their footing as the ground quickly approaches their backside. And then....the worst of all fears is when the full assault begins. I also do mean assault. I understand children will play and play fight, but when a child, A CHILD, comes at another child that resembles the actions of a full aggressive punch or attack more than just concern is raised about the children who are the victims and the children who are the attackers. This is what a scene looked like the other day when DH took Big G to school:

Now this would make me wonder how the HELL a five, maybe six, year old child knows how to throw a PERFECT right hook into another child's face! The victim grabbed his nose and face as anyone would who was truly in pain. Tears and then crying. While the attacker stood there....watching as if he were an artist in awe of his work. Truly disgusting! DH ran in between the scuffle to break things up. Waited for the teachers to assemble and grab their students to hurry off to class. DH came home shortly after to explain to me the happenings and how this is the same child that was bullying our son. We talked and agreed that he should talk to the principal. Especially because this behavior should NOT be condoned nor ignored as "child's play." I also urged him to use our clout with the school, which was noted by the principal and makes for stronger ground when you as a parent are more than active in your child's education and school functions.

The situation was addressed, our fears and concerns put to some ease. Until yesterday.

Yesterday when DH took Big G to school again the heathens were at it again. Only this time, LUDE! Not just mean, offensive, assaulting, the typical M.O. for these creatures, no, now as KINDERGARTENERS they have upgraded to lude behavior. These heathens happen to be siblings, twins to be exact, and one twin happened to decide to grab a classmate and HUMP....yes folks....HUMP her with growlings sounds. Need I say more. I heard this and as a MOTHER and a mother to a daughter I was BOILING! If my boys did such an act I would have them by their balls crying for mercy, begging and pleading like choir boys on Sunday for the all merciful to save them from the hell I would put them through.

So as a mother to a daughter I was even more irate. Who let's their children act like this? Where did these children learn this behavior?  Then the next question was....when will it stop? Will these actions only escalate until these boys are a menace to society? Leeches of our justice system? How the hell can these children go on like this and NO ONE other than the parents do anything to stop them?

Luckily other parents saw this behavior, saw the actions, saw the fighting.
Luckily they had the cajones to say something as well. To take the appropriate actions for these children to be wrangled, parented, taught the fine art of civility.

Now I ask you, how many of you have seen bullies? How many of you take action against bullies? Do you tell your children to ignore them? Walk away? Tell the teacher? How many of you have taken action against your children for being the bully? I truly want to know.

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.

To My Oldest Son

My dearest boy. My ultimate lesson. My pure display of life. You grew within me, as me, a part of me for nine hearty months. I could not grasp that you were mine to have. That I had earned something so wonderful, so selfless, so magical. You came into this world with wonder and curiosity. You showed me patience where I thought I had none. 

Each day you showed me how I was a good woman to you, I was a good mother to you. But I saw even more how you were such a wonderful, god-send of a gift to me. I had my days and you had yours. I did what I needed as a new mom out of love, out of a so-called duty, working by some manual I had not received. We figured the job out as we went along.

Days were new learning experiences and each passing week still seemed so new. Again such a wonderment of life. Our first child. Our first lesson. My first lesson of life, of undying, unwavering, unconditional love. To give of myself to you in all that you needed. Just a pure awe of what two people can create. Your dad still could not believe who and what you were. Your looks in relation to one another were and still are uncanny. If not for my pregnancy photos no one would know you were mine. Except for my adoration for you.

You showed me how to love and live with each passing day, week, month, year. The joy of living in each moment as if it were all new to me again. Learning all the new details and curiosities and magical wonders of the smallest and largest things in life. All these moments were moments not to be missed. You fought sleep for this simple fact.

My dear boy your smile and laugh were and are contagious. People gravitate towards your giving, loving, and sincere light and energy. Such a unique soul that your dad and I claimed aliens would arrive to take you back home one day.

Your will and spirit can never be broken but with time you have tamed to become a little man. All grown up with your boyish charm. I cannot believe to this day that you are mine. My gift. My gift of life, my new life. I never thought the day would come where I could be a mother, let alone your mother. Your rock in our home, your point of origin to know you are always home wherever we went.. My ease at night after a long day, just to see your face, hear your laugh, and smell your hair.

I yearn for the times where I was the one you always wanted to protet you and tuck you in at night. To fight off all the "bad guys" with my super powers, but I find that I am only your second line of defense. Now you have your own powers, you can do so much on your own. Was it not just yesterday we were fighting diapers and bottles and sippies and underoos? Now I try to fight to keep you forever young. As forever in my heart you will not age, you are my smudge on an ultrasound, my scream in the night, the one who told me I was indefinitely a "mama." Where has my short time gone with you? Stop growing so fast.

I remember the day I took you to daycare and cried the day I had to leave you. Leave you without me to be there to answer for you and care for you in each and every need. Now I leave you to learn, to become more of the one-of-a-kind you are. Doing things your way. You now leave me to go off on adventures, to grow your self, to gather your identity more and more, and yet I still cry as I watch you grow. I so badly want to experience that with you. To carry your sadness, pain, hurt and fear, but all I can experience is my love to you in those moments where you need me for comfort.

I have never met someone who loved everyone and everything in life the way you do. No mean bone in your body, only a hug to share with all. I have watched you grow into an amazing young man and can only be amazed more and more at how truly wonderful of a person you are. To share all that you do, to love without boundaries, to give when you think someone has nothing, to never expect when your father and I have such higher expectations of what you should have. My simple boy who thinks the world of even the smallest, meager, gifts, never knowing any different.

Who could ask for anything more of a first child. I love you Grant-baby. I am so glad you had the best sixth birthday as I cannot believe I have been so lucky to share these years with you and so many more to come. A mother and father could not be more proud at your patience, your love, your giving, your selflessness, you my boy amaze me more and more. I love you. Happy Birthday!