Just some doctor stuff

Today was Baby Girl's two month well check and H's three year well check. Baby Girl is now 11 pounds 8 ounces and 23 inches. H is 42 pounds and 40.5 inches. She is in the 50th percentile for weight and the 60th for height. He is in the 97th for height and the 98th for weight.

Okay, now that the stats have been properly (pseudo properly) recorded...

I am one of those mothers that firmly believes that we over vaccinate children here in the States. I am one of those mothers that also believes there is a link between vaccines and autism. My husband was raised in a third world country and contracted malaria twice, hepatitis once, and goodness knows what else. He lost two of his siblings at very early ages to illness. He has a niece and a nephew that are both permanently disabled because of childhood illness. He firmly believes in vaccination. So, we compromised. We decided to start our children on a scaled down vaccination schedule at age one.

H was born and we were in agreement that we would start vaccinating him after his first birthday. Then the months progressed and it was clear to us that there was something different about him. My family/friends/doctor were leaning towards autism as the answer to why he was different. They scared me. They scared us, and so it was decided that we would wait until H was three to start his vaccines. He received his first two today, which leaves him with two more that he will need this year and one that he will need next year.

I wanted a doctor that I had faith in, one that also had faith in my child. I wanted a doctor who believed that I as a mother had some credibility even though there isn't an MD after my name. I found one. We waited (and waited, waited, waited) for an opening in their practice. Finally when Baby Girl was born we were able to slip in because they started accepting newborns and their siblings. I had been eagerly anticipating the well check appointments we had today.

The doctor is convinced that H, based on meeting him, reviewing his records, and talking to me, is NOT autistic at all. She is confident in her diagnosis based on his exemplary communication skills. However, he shares many problems commonly found in children with autism. She notes that as being a curious kind of coincidence. We are now going to embark on a path to try and make H (and me) happier. She will treat him for yeast infection because he has problems with excess levels which is theorized to contribute to some of his behavioural issues. We will also start eliminating foods from his diet (like dairy, ugh) and see if he needs to be tested for food allergies. There are a million other little things that I am too tired to get into right now. I am putting all my eggs in our new doctor's basket. I sure hope that I am doing it because it is the right thing to do and NOT because she is telling me what I want to hear.

Having unburdened myself of this weight, I am going to bed. H fell asleep while I was typing. He is snoring on the Thomas table and I am contemplating replacing the Cranky the Crane under his head with a pillow and removing the rest of the trains and track so I can cover him up and leave him there. Hey, he is 42 pounds after all.

OCD does not become me

What happened to me? Seriously, I need to know. I have always been an OCD class organizer. Mess? Not a problem. Dirt? Really didn't see it. Heaven forbid I find a lego in the cars box though! I can clean. I can even clean well. The only problem is that I detest it. So...I try to wrangle as much help from the troops in that department as I can. The help from the troops, in addition to supplementing those troops, has led to complete and utter chaos.

The chaos has led to a total breakdown of my genetic code. I have always been programmed to organize the heck out of everything and put everything in the designated spot, all the while ignoring the muddy paw prints decorating every square inch of my living room. Lately though, I can see the paw prints, but, I can't even begin to fathom where anything actually belongs. Ugh! I am like an amputee trying to learn to walk again, painfully struggling to regain what I've lost.

The problem is compounded because I am unable to move on to the next task until the first is completed to my satisfaction. Unfortunately, I am like a bird, throw something shiny and I forget what I was on about to begin with. For example, I need to do laundry. I am very behind in our washing, but, I can't actually make myself load the washer until the laundry room is organized the way it should be. So, in my attempt to do a load of laundry (or five) I've spent two days organizing my laundry room, which still isn't completed...so I haven't done (any) laundry.

This goes for unloading the dishwasher too because I have to sort through all the silverware that my husband mixed patterns in their drawers and all the dishes which are now thrown pell mell into the cupboard with little to no regard for the good, the bad, and the ugly. Mind you, I can't even start on the dishes or silverware until I've cleaned off the counters and put the photos that I got in the mail into their correct albums and rotated and fronted the pantry and fridge so that my children can clearly read the labels and that they are opening the oldest products first.

Think I'm crazy yet? Well, I am. This particularly peculiar brand of OCD that I exhibit is actually kind of a good thing though. One of those things that I need to regain hold of and once again make work for me instead of against me. Unfortunately in my current lock down mode I can't seem to figure out how to open the circuit and stop going in circles. I need to get a grip, and soon. Otherwise, things like having to sterilize baby bottles because she is drinking out of her last clean one will make me stark raving bananas.

Can you 'come down' with ADD at this point in life? Maybe that's my problem. Probably I won't give this too much more thought tonight because I noticed that the kids mixed the regular Uno cards with the Cars Uno cards, and, sadly instead of doing laundry, I will sit here and separate the decks...before I can finish the laundry room, or even go to sleep.

Hey Mom!

LB: Hey Mom, if JB ever gets kidnapped, can I have her bed?

Can you feel that brotherly love? The unwritten commandment is, "thou shalt not covet your sibling's bed," you all have heard of that one, right?

There is no such thing

...as a stupid question.

I don't know who coined this phrase, but, I do know that they should have to spend some time answering the questions my husband and oldest child ask.

For example...

Hubby: Where exactly in the pantry did you say the BBQ sauce is? *asking from the refrigerator*

Chocolate, rant, hamsters, and strip teases

H: Mommy, I wanna go to the health food store and get a 'shock-lit' please? The apple store, hunh-kay?

I am ashamed that my three year old equates the freaking health food store with chocolate, I am alternately amused that he calls it the 'apple store' as their logo incorporates a small red apple.

In other news, I hate summer camp. I hate getting up at oh-gosh-darn-dark-mother-flipping-thirty. I hate the small fortune in gas that I have squandered away on this venture. I hate that my oldest son won't even go without a fight, I hate that I hate it all. These last two weeks have been awful. Without the big kids around, I can't do anything. The only store I can go to is Costco because their shopping carts are awesome two seaters with the over sized basket that fits BG's carrier and my groceries. Otherwise, I find that I am lacking the ability to push a cart, pull another, and toe a third for groceries. If you are wondering, I have indeed tried this. This week was better, I drove the children and dropped them off at a more convenient time...as in when we woke up and got dressed, but, my grandmother in her attempt to help my kids have fun this summer will be picking them up next week...at the a** crack of dawn. Frankly, it makes me feel a tad suicidal.

H had his first day of drop off Gymbo summer camp. The manager and I compromised on him being allowed to attend although he isn't potty trained as long as I stay at the mall so that I can swoop by and change him if necessary. This is a small concession on my part, because honestly as hot as it is, as hard as it is to wrestle with three car seats, a double stroller, and a baby sling, I would probably have chosen to just hang out at the mall anyway. H walked right in, closed the door behind him and didn't give me a second thought until it was time to leave. He asks me roughly every five minutes when his next class is because, "my teacher needs me Mommy!"

Tomorrow we are heading off early to see G-Force. I've never seen a movie in 3-D (okay...modern 3-D) so I'm hoping it will be as cool as my kids promise and as cute as the ads look. At any rate, I'm hoping I'll like it better than HP-6.

My H took his diaper off after dinner and we were treated to a dancing three year old twirling a diaper on his finger...makes me wonder what Daddy is letting them watch on television when I'm away. Although if that killer left arm he has doesn't work out to be an NFL career...maybe he can be a Chippendale???

One little man strikes gold

I took H to the mall on Sunday. His reward for being good and walking with his monkey on his back (read he was wearing his kiddie leash) was a ride on our mall's new train. This miniature train is awesome. For three dollars you get a ten minute train ride all around the first floor of our indoor mall. The train is still very new however, and it attracts lots of attention from unassuming customers who aren't expecting it.

So...we're on the train, in center court, shoppers staring at us, people waving...very much on display and H sticks his finger up his little nose, quick withdrawal, then promptly puts his little treasure in his mouth. In front of roughly 100 staring spectators. Hey guys...who wants to ride in the blue car now?

This may just qualify as the ickiest, most embarrassing moment of my life thus far.

Two months old today

BB holding the big two month old girl today!



Baby Girl looking at the camera...sort of.



A smile...but, not for Mom.



Our serious look.



I can't believe how fast these months have passed.

Date night

Last night, my step son came over and gave my husband and myself a few precious hours to ourselves. The problem was deciding what to do with them. We drove out to the movie theater. The only movie my husband wanted to see was Public Enemy, the only movie I wanted to see was Ice Age...so we agreed to not see a movie.

We then headed to the mall. My husband added to his American Eagle tee-shirt collection. It is actually something of a joke, every time we go shopping my husband buys an AE tee-shirt. He now has 30+ tees from them and 3/4 of those are gray. We also visited Gap. What the hell happened to them? It used to be a nice-ish store, but they were oozing Old Navy quality yesterday, which is cool for fast growing kids, but impractical for lasting adult duds. Nevertheless, I picked up a polo and a tee for BB and a pair of flip-flops for LB for a grand total of $10.04.

After the mall we agreed to have dinner out. We ate at Carrabba's, and my husband didn't even complain when I had a beer AND a glass of Sangria. We even ordered an appetizer. For us it was definitely a treat of a caliber unseen since our 10th anniversary.

It is amazing how well we get along in the absence of our children, and yet, I feel at a loss without the kids. I am beginning to wonder if my idea of a good time will forever be zoos and animated movies. I am also starting to cringe at what now qualifies as a date night. Shopping malls and family restaurants are a long way from the Irish pubs and and dart shark bars of my past.

The pee pee dance

I do hate to knock Gymboree because I love their clothes and I love their sales, but, I will fault a children's clothing store for not allowing a pint sized customer to use their bathroom. If I were in retail (been there, done that) and most of my customers were in diapers or potty training, I think that I would have a restroom they could use, because if it weren't just good business, it would also cut down on the number of 'biohazard spills' I would have to deal with in a day.

I had dropped by the mall on Monday with a game plan. I wanted to get to Gymboree and put all the extra special deals on hold so that I would be able to swoop back by today and buy them using my ample supply of Gymbucks. Since I am not one of those gauge your eyes out if I see you so much as glance at something in my kid's size kind of moms, I was nearly trampled to death and maimed for my efforts on Monday. Having barely escaped with my eyeballs intact, I was loathe to return today to claim my bargains. I was even less excited about the trip to the mall with all six children. I was brave today and I persevered, we stood in line for what amounted to eons. During the long wait, my daughter announced that she had to go to the bathroom. I asked the sales lady where their bathroom was only to be told that their facilities were for employees only, but, that I could make mine a traveling circus and head halfway across the mall to the public restrooms.

I wasn't very happy about that. Not happy to give up my place in line. Not happy about having to return and stand in line for another half hour. Not happy about a children's clothing store not even trying to accommodate us. So, I huffily requested they put my stuff back on hold because I would have to return tomorrow. God help them if they put my things back. Really. Because, the next time I would have to pull down my daughter's pants and have her pee on the floor next to the register.

I wish I were

I am very sad. In my heart I am in line with all the people seeing Harry Potter at midnight. In reality, I am at home because all the people I would trust to babysit are in line to see Harry Potter. Although, tomorrow morning at 9:30, my oldest son and myself will be at the movie theater for, get this, the second show of the day...the first one starts at 9:00a.m.

I just finished rereading the book and I'm ready for tomorrow. I am so absurdly excited about seeing the movie, and I am happy to have a child to bring with me so that I look legit. This is one I would sit by myself in a corner to see, but, it is so much nicer that I don't have to.

I am leaving off the eye make-up. I fear my son will have to be repulsed by tears I will most likely shed at the end. At least he won't have to look at my raccoon eyes.

Updated thoughts:

We saw it this morning and I absolutely hated it. I was so busy trying to reconcile what we were watching to what happened in the book, that I didn't even cry. I am so sad, things happened in the movie that will prevent the final two films from being too similar to Book 7. What did you guys think?

Happy 3rd Birthday Baby!

Blowing out their candles.


At his 3rd Birthday Brunch this morning.


The cutie always steals the show!

"I'll have a mimosa thank you," said Mom, "because really don't I deserve one for surviving the terrible twos?"

This year has brought many amazing things for my Hercules. His speech has taken off and now there isn't anything he can't say in either English or Spanish thanks to Handy Manny, Dora, and Diego.

He has been made a big brother again in the last year and I must say that he is the very best big brother. He holds "Wayla" and hums little songs to her while kissing her softly on the head and telling her how much he loves her. He has continued to be a great big bro to TLL. "His girls, " he calls them. I can't articulate how proud I am of the love and attention he lavishes on them.

My little man makes my morning with his sweet, "good morning Mommy," always served with a smile and a kiss, sometimes a little cuddle time too, but, only if I am very lucky. As much love as he gives his Mommy, he is still a Daddy's boy too. There is nothing like the twinkle in his eye and the smile on his face when Daddy walks in the door after being gone. Christmas morning pales by comparison.

I can scarcely believe how smart he is, singing the alphabet song, counting, and then counting backwards. His mind is sharp and easily figures out how things work and the mechanics of almost everything. I am on a daily basis amused by his wit and frustrated by his cunning. No matter if I am laughing or crying, I am blessed to have this amazing little boy in my life...and I am forever in awe that this perfect little man is mine. I love you Hercules, have a happy birthday!

Our craptastic week

Disclaimer: I am in a terrible mood and seem to be unable to write this post without using language that is highly inappropriate and that I know some of you find offensive. You have been warned.


Thursday of last week was The Little Lady's first birthday. BB, JB, and BG were all trending up on the illness scale. LB and H were trending down. TLL mercifully did not get sick. My husband came home early (read: he did not stay an extra night in the hotel to rest before coming home) and I had a sitter for a few hours so that I could do some birthday shopping. We had plans to go to dinner that night that my husband wasn't happy about. I insisted that we still go because a.) I didn't feel like cooking or cleaning up b.) all the children still wanted to go c.) we always have a birthday meal out and one day my daughter will see the pictures of her big day. We did modify our plans and went to our favorite pizza place instead out for Japanese. The pizza place knows us, there is a server that insists on taking care of us, and they sit us at a table that is typically reserved for baseball teams (really) they welcome us whenever we go and the only person that stresses the experience is my husband. It makes me crazy that he can ruin just about any occasion with his frustration about the way our kids behave. It isn't that our kids are bad...they're just kids. Which is why I choose to frequent this particular busy, loud restaurant where my kids can play musical chairs and not disturb the other patrons because we are tucked back in our corner. Dining out with the kids isn't half bad, listening to my husband say things like, "can't you make him stop touching that?" Or, "make him eat that [pizza] with a fork," make me want to stick a fork in my eye. The kicker is his, "are you having fun really, because I'm not?" *Hubby, after six kids I thought you would have figured this out before now, but....it isn't fucking about you...or me even...it is about the kids.*

On Friday we went for a family Fourth of July portrait. I chose that day because my husband would be home and I thought that an extra pair of hands would be a good thing. I was so very wrong. Tensions were high after our lovely family dinner, but, I put on my best game face and dressed six children (by myself) and off we went. At the portrait studio we had a looooong wait. Never a good thing when your appointment fell shortly before nap time anyway. I gave up pulling H off the props in the waiting room when our wait hit the 45 minute mark. When they actually called us, the real fun began. I spent 15 minutes cajoling H to cooperate, putting shoes back on TLL, soothing BG when she cried, etc. Hubby spent that time standing across the room with his arms folded over his chest saying things like, "this picture was really important, enough to go through this right?" After the photographer announced that she had ONE shot we could work with I called it quits. BG was screaming at the top of her lungs, H was running away from me and playing with props, TLL was sitting quietly in her stroller, and the big kids were helping me repack the diaper bag. I implored my husband to help, so he picked up TLL with her bottle and disappeared into the mall. Jon & Kate fans, remember that scene in Toys R Us when Kate started screaming? Yeah, well, I would have made even her flinch. I lost it. Totally. Fishwife, thy name is Viv.

Saturday was the 4th of July. I was determined to make up for our crappy couple of days so I was extra mellow (read: I bought a 12 pack of Stella) and patient with everyone including my husband. We had a great day. Until it was time for fireworks. My husband was driving (badly) downtown and because he loathes traffic, he was driving in the opposite direction of the fireworks. He made no less than three illegal U-turns, the first blocked oncoming traffic on a bridge for ten minutes. Then he tried to park illegally...only to be stopped by security at that location. I was sure the fiasco was going to prevent us from seeing the fireworks. It didn't. He found a private lot (nice dear) and parked. We walked onto [private] property and watched the show. Granted we were with about 1,000 other people, but, I was in no hurry to mark our holiday with a ticket we could ill afford, or to find my truck with a boot, or worse yet...towed. None of these things happened...thankfully. Then, because we were in a lot that wasn't designated for parking, the police directed all traffic out of lots that were open for parking first. We spent 1.5 hours sitting in the parking lot waiting while H screamed, "wah, wah, wah," over and over again without stopping. BG cried with a frightening intensity during that time, nothing could calm her. My husband and I glared at each other. Yay for holidays!!!

Sunday brought a fever and sore throat for me. I hastened to the urgent care center in a panic after my recent hospital stay. I left with a bottle of antibiotics, but, unfortunately I still feel like the living dead.

Monday was mostly uneventful. I stayed in bed as much as I could nursing my fever and feeling terrible. The kids destroyed the house with abandon. My grandmother showed up around four without warning. She was carrying summer camp info for my big three. She wanted to start them the following morning at seven. Umm...thanks, but, no. The idea of getting six kids out of the house in rush hour traffic at 6:30 in the morning while running a fever was to say the least unpalatable. We agreed that they'll start next Monday instead. Still, I'm not happy about the interruption and misery to our routine.

Tuesday was blessedly uneventful.

Wednesday, H was napping and I noticed he was wearing a plastic circus ear, so I tried to take it off. You know, I gave it a healthy yank, but, I then realized that it wasn't a plastic ear, but, rather his own ear swollen to roughly five times the normal size. Fuck! One emergency trip to the pediatrician ensued. Of course, it was raining. Turned out to be a bug bite. Thankfully, it did not become infected.

Thursday brought TLL's one year well check. Back to the pediatrician in, you guessed it, the rain. She is growing well. 60th percentile for height and 80th percentile for weight. My husband decided to return on Thursday night, because he had to go to the district office to have his computer fixed Friday.

Friday. I had a follow up appointment with my OB/GYN, that I had to miss because my husband conveniently forgot that the reason he was coming into town was to watch the kids while I went to the doctor and he instead decided to *donate* four hours of his time to Uncle Sam and make an appointment to get his computer fixed. Thanks Hubby.

This brings us to today. Party time for H and TLL. My grandparents have chosen not to attend, but, they notified me via e-mail that they will "remember their birthdays at another time." Piss me off much? You betcha. My husband never bothered to call his sister to invite them, so I am assuming that they will not be here even though I sent them an invitation. My stepson also ignored his invitation. My aunt will be here at least. *Sigh* Apparently all of our family is as fucked up and dysfunctional as we are.

Happy 4th!

We're all ready to go see fireworks!


TLL and her best buddy BB.


JB holding BG.


Hope everybody had a Happy 4th!

I intend to post early in the week about the family photo session that nearly ended my marriage. Good times folks, good times.

Pictures from my little girl's big day

The Little Lady loving on her Aunt Rita today.


The Little Lady eating my keys at dinner.


Jelly Bean, the birthday baby, and me at dinner.


The Little Lady 'enjoying' her baby birthday cake.

My baby is one year old today

Today is The Little Lady's first birthday. She is a beautiful, chubby, smart baby. She has plenty of hair for me to put bows in and the most amazing great big gray eyes. She steals our hearts again every time she smiles and her laughter is infectious. She is taking steps by herself now, but, she isn't quite ready to walk yet. She is late to play the teething game with just her front four teeth. Everyday she says new words and impresses us with the games she plays. Her personality is is laid back and cheerful, but, she has a temper to match my own. I am sometimes overwhelmed by the love I feel when I look at her. She is our little princess. A true Daddy's girl (he dotes on her) and still her Mommy's baby (I might dote on her a little too) our Little Lady is a big blessing.

Happy Birthday! Mommy and Daddy love you so much and your brothers and sisters adore you too!