Unheeded advice

There are things in life that people warn you about, but you just don't understand, or maybe you don't believe them or maybe you just don't process the information fast enough to adjust your response.

"Don't look down!" And then you do. 

"Watch out for the dog!" And then you trip over the dog. 

"Don't eat the green sauce, it's too hot." And you eat it anyway and your mouth burns for hours. 

When I was little we had a candle that sat on top of our fireplace mantle and it was one of those holders that looked like it stepped out of Mickey's Christmas Carol. You know what I'm talking about? The brass holder with the little curly-q handle? It was burning one night and I wanted to get it down so I could get a better look at it. I stepped up onto the brick ledge in front of the fireplace, raised up onto my tip-toes as high as I could, and then pretended to be Stretch Armstrong as I reached up to get it. I was just barely tall enough to get a grip on the handle. About that time Mom looked up from the kitchen and said, "Don't do that! You're going to burn yourself!" I looked at her like she was stupid and I remember rolling my eyes. I wasn't grabbing the flame, how was I going to get burned? I didn't know that the melted candle wax was also hot and would run over the edge if not kept level. As I lifted the candle holder up, it was too heavy for me to hold steady with one hand and, sure enough, the hot wax ran onto my hand and forearm. Needless to say, it hurt like hell and I cried like a big baby and got the "I told you so" speech. 

A few years ago our local fire department responded to a barn fire and unfortunately there were some show pigs inside that got burned. It was a horrific sight and I cried for the animals and for the teenage girl who loved them. The owner was going to have to put down (that's euthanize for you Northerners) two of the animals because they were too burned to save. My sister-in-law was standing there and I told her to turn away so that she wouldn't have to see what was about to happen. But, she didn't get turned around in time and now the images are burned into her memory. 

People used to tell me how exhausted they were after they became parents and I thought, "What a bunch of weenies!" Now, I wish I would have slept more in my 20's instead of adopting the philosophy that you only live once and sleep can wait. My pregnancy was a new revelation on sleepiness. I would pull over on the side of the road every day on my way home from work because I needed to take a nap. When I got home, it was another nap. After dinner, another nap. I couldn't get enough sleep. It was exhaustion like I've never experienced. 

Until now. 

Just when think you've hit the bottom of the abyss, you find that, no, it really is an abyss and there are endless depths to the level of sleepiness you feel. Shawna and I were talking last night, and as a brand new Mom, she said she was tired ALL the time. I said, "I hate to tell you this, but it doesn't get any better. And I'm not even breast feeding!" Even on days when you get a little more sleep, you never catch up. Even when you sleep when the baby sleeps, you never catch up. When I was trying to breast feed and pump, I would fall asleep as soon as the pump was attached. I don't know what it is about being a parent that causes you to suddenly fall asleep mid-sentence. And all I can think is thank goodness I don't have twins! How do people do it?! I don't know if I would be able to function. A friend told me when I was pregnant that once the baby arrived I would learn how to function and do more on less sleep. Boy, was she right! If I could lay down and sleep for the next three days and not have to worry about anything else, I would knock people down to get to my bed. However, I have to say that the little angel we call Rocco does make it all worth it. And I'm pretty sure that sleepiness is directly linked to Mommy brain and memory lapses. 

Do not be alarmed if you see me napping in my car, in the grass, at a ball game, or leaned over my cart at Walmart. I may get caught up on sleep and rejoin the living in about 20 years. And here's my advice to all of the not-yet-parents out there ..... SLEEP!! Sleep a lot! Sleep all the time! Enjoy it! Relish it! Take advantage of it! Then go have kids and become a zombie like the rest of us. We will welcome you into our ranks; we don't discriminate! 

Grammar snob

I have a confession to make; I am bit of a grammar snob.  Yes, I will secretly and silently judge every word you write and mentally take a red ink pen to your words, marking corrections all over your imaginary paper.  And apparently, I'm not the only one.  Whew!  Thank goodness, because I was afraid I was on an island here.  Yesterday, I made mention on my personal Facebook page of a common grammatical error I see too often and my friends began to let loose with their own grammatical pet peeves.

It's not that I am smarter than anyone else or that my grammar is leaps and bounds above others, because it isn't and I am certainly not an English language expert, but grammatical errors stick out at me like a sore thumb, they always have.  Even my own mistakes irritate me to no end and I will feel an overwhelming compulsion to go back and correct them.  I just can't let it go.  And when my phone autocorrects my words and substitutes the wrong word and I don't catch it, I almost lose my OCD mind.  I know many lovely, wonderful people who have bad grammar and no, I don't go around correcting them, just like they don't tell me that I have a hideous laugh, an Okie accent, and big teeth.  We even each other out.

So, for today's public service announcement, here are a few of the verbal pooh-poohs that top the list:

"I have _____ for sell."  No you have _____ for sale.  You sell an item, you don't sale it.  You aren't saleing (that's not even a word) something, you're selling it.

"I have an ideal, let's go shopping!"  No, you have an idea, not the same thing.

"I was born death in my left ear."  No, you were born deaf in your left ear.

Dis, dat, da - these are not proper substitutions for this, that and the.

"All I like are a few more pages."  No, all you lack are a few more pages.

"I done that."  No, you did that or you have done that.

"I got my hair did."  No, you had your hair done/fixed/cut/permed/colored/etc. and I'm not 100% sure that saying, "I had my hair done," is grammatically correct. ???  Something about the phrase just doesn't sound proper.  I only use the "hair did" line in a completely facetious and joking manner, and yes, I've used it in this blog.

"I seen this movie."  No, you saw that movie or you have seen it.

You're and your - not the same thing.

They're, there and their - again, not the same thing.

An and And - not the same thing.  Using the letter N as a substitution is also a no-no.

Our and are - not the same thing.  Using the letter R as a substitution is only acceptable if you're spelling names like Babies 'R' Us or Toys 'R' Us.

To and too - not the same thing.

And yes, I realize that I do things like starting sentences with the words so, and, or, and but, sometimes I make up my own words, I probably say the word "like" too much and I'm in love with commas and run-on sentences.  But, let's not talk about me, let's talk about everyone else.  If everyone could just play along like nice little boys and girls and start using the correct terminology, in the correct tense and context, my OCD will quiet down and I won't have to make embarrassing confessions to strangers via the internet.

And if all of that offends you, you really need to lighten up.  This is, after all, just a silly little blog written by a woman who's brain is stained with baby poop.  :)

I have a FB page!

I have created a Facebook page for my blog. You can find it at www.facebook.com/thisoklahomagirlslife or if you search Facebook for "this Oklahoma girl's life" you will be able to find it. So, get on over there and "like" my page! Thank you!

Heavy decisions

Well, today is a day of mixed emotions. On one hand I spent the morning rocking, feeding, tickling, consoling (he's teething), and playing with Mr. Rocco. On the other hand we had some not-so-fabulous news about our biggest child, Diamond, our German Shepherd.

Oh, Miss Diamond, I love you so! And to think that the end of your life could be near makes me grieve terribly! I can't talk about it or even think about it without crying. 

When you adopt a furry child into your life, you know that you're probably going to outlive them. But, it's not something you think about and instead you focus on the joy that they bring to your life. And when the day finally arrives when you have to start thinking about the end, it hits you like a ton of bricks, sucking the life out of you and crushing you to pieces. 

When D and I first started dating I had a half beagle-half pit bull dog named Brandy. She was the gentlest, smartest, strongest, and most sensitive dog I'd ever been around. She and I were best buds and companions and when she, D, and I began living under one roof, she did not adjust well. She began acting out at every opportunity to let me know that she was not happy with the situation. Eventually, I decided to give her to a friend who gave her to a 12 year old family member who wanted a dog to be his new BFF. After I let her go, I never again asked how she was doing; it was too painful. Ignorance is bliss and I prefer to think she lived out her days as a happy girl who won the heart of a 12 year old boy. 

We lived without any furry children for about six months before I told D that I needed a dog. I've always had dogs and I felt incomplete without one. I told him that I wanted a blonde Cocker Spaniel and I wanted to name her Marilyn Monroe. He said okay, but stipulated that he would get a German Shepherd. I did not want a dog that big, so we didn't get any dogs. A few more months went by and I simply could not stand it any longer and I relented, agreeing that he could have his GSD, but he/she would not be an inside dog. 

Oh, how life likes to throw you curve balls. 

We found both of the dogs we were looking for in the Midwest City area and drove down to get them. We picked up Marilyn first and, holy wow, the environment she came from was atrocious. There were seven adult Cockers and about as many puppies in the house and they were allowed to pee anywhere they wanted and do as they pleased. I could not snatch up that little four pound ball of fluff fast enough! I wanted to take all of the dogs, but knew it was too much for me. She was so tiny that she fit in the palm of my hand. 

Next, we went to pick up Diamond; D picked out her name and it was fitting because "diamonds are a girls best friend" and she would be Marilyn's BFF. She weighed 25 pounds and looked like a full grown dog next to Marilyn. I was determined to not get attached to her, though, and kept telling D that she was his dog. We got back in the truck and headed off to the pet store to get all of the supplies we would need. 

A few miles later I asked D, "Did you fart?" He said he didn't, but something smelled downright awful, and we all know that a dude's fart is BAD. I said, "Are you sure?" He swore he hadn't farted and I didn't believe him. Then, I looked in the back seat and Diamond had had diarrhea all over the back seat. OMG! was all I could say and we immediately pulled over. I told D that his dog was the one who had crapped everywhere, therefore he was going to clean it up. So, there I sat, in the grass on the side of I-40 in 5 o'clock traffic, holding the dogs while he gagged and hacked and dry heaved and made absolutely no progress on the poo party clean up. Finally, I told him to come hold the dogs and I used an old blanket to clean up as much poo as I could and then I had to scour the grass for discarded, used napkins so I could finish cleaning it all up because someone did not store extra napkins in his glove box like I told him to. There is no amount of antibacterial gel large enough to eliminate the nasty feeling you have after picking up hardened pieces of used napkins on the side of the road. Blech!

Initially, I stuck to my guns and made Diamond stay outside. I felt awful, but I did not want to give in because I didn't want to deal with her shedding. She would cry at the door and use her food bowl as a pillow and I felt more guilty with each passing day. Then, I saw a news segment about dogs, specifically GSD's, and how they need to be a part of a family and if you aren't going to let them be inside, then you really shouldn't have one. That was the day I caved and we have been covered in dog hair ever since. 

D is Diamond's boss; we were told that GSD's only have one master in their life, but I am her Mama. She is attached to me and wherever I go, she goes, constantly under my feet and keeping watch for me. When I leave, she sits at the back door and waits for me to return. She alerts me to strangers and pesky critters outside. 

Diamond and Marilyn are truly BFF's and we've always known that if something happens to one of them, the other will suffer tremendously. I will suffer tremendously! Diamond has had a couple of seizures in the last few years and she has arthritis and in July she developed a tumor in her mouth. We had it removed and the Vet had to cut so deep that he had to remove her main canine tooth on her upper left side. The tumor came back in the last few weeks, growing faster than it did before and it's about three times bigger than it was before. Dr. Brett was afraid that she would have other tumors on her lungs or in her joints, but as of right now, she doesn't. However, they may have to cut out half of her jaw to remove this tumor and until he can consult with a vet who specializes in this kind of treatment, we don't know what her recovery would be like, what the risks associated with the surgery are, what her quality of life would be, how much all of it will cost and if we can afford it. And whether she has surgery or not, there is a risk that the tumors will spread throughout her body and we don't know what kind of damage that will cause. 

So, we have come to that point where we are going to have to start considering her quality of life and weighing the risks. I feel completely helpless and at a loss. We have had Diamond and Marilyn for 10 years! I cannot imagine our lives without them, even though I know it will happen. They are our babies and it breaks my heart to see either of them suffer.

Resting. 

Sleeping by the fireplace at Christmas. 

It was the first day of school and everyone was posting pics of their kids, so I posted one of our kids, too. 

Happy, happy, happy!

Best "butties".

Isn't she a beauty?

How she sleeps. 

If you are a praying person, please say a little prayer for us as we wait for more information and face some hard decisions in the days ahead. If you're not a praying person, if you could just channel some positive thoughts this way, that would be great, too. I feel like I may be crying for a long time.....

Healing, one stitch at a time

Two years ago this month we found out we were pregnant for the first time and since everyone had been waiting years for us to have kids, it was BIG news. I was so excited that I immediately bought our nursery bedding, a diaper bag and some gender neutral onesies. We had been trying to get pregnant for over a year and for months I had been looking at cross stitch patterns, trying to decide on one for the nursery. I finally settled on a picture of a mare and foal in front of a barn, shaded by beautiful trees. It would be something that was always age appropriate and the picture, along with each tiny stitch, would convey my love for our little one. And I liked that it was a mother and her child; the child standing close to mom for security and mom looking on with love. I had already bought the kit, but was waiting until we got pregnant to officially start working on it. When the day finally arrived, I quickly set out studying the pattern, sorting thread and preparing my fabric. 

But, it wasn't meant to be.

A few weeks later we miscarried. 

We were completely heartbroken and unprepared for such a circumstance. It never even occurred to us that we could have a miscarriage. I thought that they were few and far between. Apparently, they're quite common and I was shocked by the number of women who came out of the woodwork to tell me that they'd also had miscarriages. I guess it's just something that no one wants to talk about, which is completely opposite of how I feel. I feel like not talking about it makes it more taboo, exacerbates the feelings of pain, loneliness, and sadness that a parent has after that happens, and it feels like we're not remembering the tiny soul that we lost and Heaven gained. I was so very, very sad and I put away all of the things I had bought, laying the onesies out neatly in a drawer, putting the bedding and diaper bag in the back corner of a closet and burying the cross stitch deep into my craft stuff. I'd already started stitching on it and now I couldn't bear to look at it. 

We spent the next couple of months recovering and I tried to console myself by getting my hair permed. But, my hormones were completely out of whack and instead of nice curls, my hair got fried. Literally. Bozo had nothing on me. 

By the end of January, we were pregnant again. I told myself that I didn't want to let the miscarriage hamper my joy for our second baby and I dug out the cross stitch and started working on it again; stitching just as much love into it as I had several months before. 

Then we went in for an ultrasound and I knew by the look on the nurse's face that something was wrong. We waited a week, there was nothing else to do, and then they confirmed that our second baby had died. I didn't think I could bear it, but I did. Somehow, we survived miscarriage number two and once again, I buried the cross stitch beneath pounds of fabrics and threads and other craft kits. 

By July, the only thing on my mind was losing the weight that two miscarriages had given me. I was running in the 110 degree heat every day and I had lost over 15 pounds. We were making plans for Jakob to arrive and while we were still trying to get pregnant, we were focusing on other things. I had come to the point where I almost wanted to get rid if all of the baby stuff we had bought. I didn't want to look at it or even have it in my house anymore. And the beautiful bedding and cute little onesies no longer held anything but pain for me and I wondered if getting rid of them would help me start from a clean slate. But, I just couldn't bring myself to take that step. 

Then, in September we found out that we were pregnant with baby number three. We were happy, but cautious. I was afraid to get too attached for fear that this baby would also be taken from us, but I still dug out the cross stitch one more time, determined to channel my love into those tiny stitches, whether he/she lived or not. 

I guess the third time was the charm, because mine months later our little Rocco was born! When I was about six months pregnant I dug out the bedding I'd bought so long ago, planning to get rid if it and buy something new, but to my surprise, I fell in love with it again!

I worked on the cross stitch almost daily, stitching all of my love for him and facilitating my own healing one tiny stitch at a time. I hoped to be finished before he arrived, but that didn't happen because he came a month early! As any new parent knows, you don't have time for ANYTHING except baby when you're a new parent. It took us a few months of adjusting to get into a routine that works and I finally got to start working on the cross stitch again. I finished it this week and got it washed, ironed, matted, and framed and I couldn't be happier with how it turned out!

Here it is after I finished framing it. 

And here it is on the nursery wall. 

As you know, I also made the boot light, but I also decorated the star. It was plain when I bought it at our local drug store, so I bought some beaded garland to embellish it. I want Rocco to know how much time and care and love I put into his room; putting a piece of my heart in every detail to express my love for him. Having him in our lives has managed to ease the pain of losing two babies and he is truly a blessing. If something happens to me, he will still have some small representations of how much I love him; something physical that he can hold on to and look at; something that says, "I love you SO much!" if I'm not here to say it to him. 

Mommy brain

I have a problem. I can't remember anything. This trend started when I was pregnant and would forget things like putting on my deodorant in the mornings. And no, that didn't just happen once.

I take my coupons into Walmart and I forget to use them. I can't even count how many times this has happened to me. I will even set them aside in my wallet so that I don't forget them, then I get to the register and completely forget about them. I will see them as I get out my debit card and it still doesn't dawn on me to use them. It's like they just blend into the background.

If I have a gift card, I will go to the store specifically to use it, get to the register and forget about it. This happened to me at Babies 'R' Us a few months ago. It really hacked me off because it's an hour drive to that store and I intentionally drove there so I could use my gift card. So, I had to make another trip on another day. Use the gift card, waste some gas - this is my life. A few days ago, I returned some items to Walmart, had the refund put on a gift card, stuck the card in a special place in my purse so I would remember to use it, got to the register and forgot about it again!

I will ask for a to-go drink and leave it sitting on the table. Then I feel guilty because not only did I waste the tea, but I wasted a styrofoam cup and a plastic lid, as well. I ask for a doggie bag and forget the food on the table. More waste.

In my own home I frequently lose my shoes, socks, phone and drinks. I have been known to have 5 cups of water spread throughout the house because I forgot where I left the last one. A few days ago I lost my eyeliner. I used it and set it down on the bathroom counter and the next day it had disappeared. I spent 5 minutes looking all over for it, knowing I hadn't taken it out if the bathroom and no one else had moved it because Rocco and I were the only ones home for 2 days. After looking all over the counter and the floor four times, I looked down for the fifth time and there it was. On the counter. Where I'd already looked four times. I'm not taking responsibility for this incident. Someone, and by someone I mean a spirit, moved it and was toying with me. Just kidding. But, seriously, it appeared out of thin air.

I was going to send a text to a friend the other day and when I got ready to type it, I couldn't think of her name. A lifelong friend! This must be a small representation of what Alzheimer's feels like. I could picture her face, her house, her family, but I couldn't remember her name.

I still make my to-do lists, but I will sometimes forget that I made one or I can't find it, so I start a new one or I just say screw it and don't even bother. I eventually find several lists in the bottom of my purse. I keep thinking it will get better, but I have a feeling this is just another Mom fantasy.

I will walk from the kitchen to the bathroom to gather up the trash and by the time I get to the bathroom, which is less than 5 seconds, I've forgotten what I walked in there for. I stand there for several minutes, looking around, hoping that I will see something that reminds me why I am in there. Usually, I will give up, go back to the kitchen and five minutes later I remember that I need to get the bathroom trash. I waste much of my day in this kind of routine.

I have no idea what's going on, but I'm pretty sure that motherhood has cost me my short term memory. My brain is consumed with taking care of our little one and there's not much room for anything else in there. I can remember to get the bottles washed, formula and nursery water stocked, diaper bag filled, baby fed, washed and happy, but for the life of me, I can't remember much else. So, here's my apology: If we run into each other and you start talking about something I should be familiar with and I stare at you with a blank look on my face, please forgive me, chuckle to yourself, tell me how cute my baby is and give me a little reminder to get back on track. My brain is stained with baby poop.

A Butterfinger bender

Do you ever have days where you just crave something so badly that you feel like if you don't get that "thing" your front teeth will fall out or your right arm might shrivel up or maybe you'll just have a mental breakdown and turn into a rabid beast or be like one of the mutts from "The Hunger Games"? Man, I hate days like that!

Last week we bought about $50 worth of Halloween candy, which will probably last all of an hour when we go to Mom's to pass it out to trick-or-treaters. All of the candy sat in our house for three days and I wasn't tempted and didn't even want a bite of any of it. I was actually kind of repulsed by the number of calories the candy contained. 

Then day four hit. 

And I don't know what happened. 

All I can say is that the bag of snack size Butterfingers was calling my name. It was a playful taunt at first and I just ignored it. "Kiiiiiiiiiiiirsteeeeeeeeeen!" it was saying in a hushed tone, like it had a secret to tell me, and before long it was barking out my name like a drill instructor and ordering me around. "Get in here, cadet, and open this bag and eat a candy bar! That's an order!"

Okay, one won't hurt, right?

Except I didn't stop at one. 

Tsk, tsk. 

Oh, I tried, though. I went back to the living room, fed the baby, rocked the baby, played with the baby, bathed the baby, drank a glass of water, drank another glass of water, and the whole time I could hear that bag screaming at me, like a toddler who just wants to be held. Pick me up and I'll be quiet. I promise. The next thing I knew, I had gone on a Butterfinger bender and eaten about half the bag. 

Oh.

My.

Word!

How  does that happen? I was consciously telling myself to stop, but my taste buds and my stomach and that happy feeling that chocolate gives you were all overriding my sense of self control. I was unwrapping them at warp speed and shoveling them in as fast as I could, like it was an Olympic event, and all the while telling myself that it was okay. I don't normally eat candy, so this entire episode was extremely out of character for me. I felt completely out of control and I didn't even care. 

After I'd eaten about one fourth of the bag, my craving had yet to be sated. Seriously, what is wrong with me? So, I decided to just keep eating. Why, you ask? Well, I had a theory. I was going to eat them until I felt sick; the theory being that if I made myself sick on them, I wouldn't want them anymore. I didn't say it was a good theory. My brain was sick that day. Forgive me. After half of the bag was gone, I still wanted to keep eating and I still didn't feel sated. Again, seriously, what is wrong with me? I wasn't hungry, I wasn't even hungry when I ate the first one. However, I was quite disgusted with how much I had eaten, so I made myself stop, even though I wanted to devour the rest of the bag. Why I didn't stop after the first one, or even before the first one, is beyond me. Call me weak. I went to bed thinking about Butterfingers. I told you something is wrong with me. It was an epic fail kind of day. 

The good news is that even though I didn't make myself sick on them, I haven't been craving them anymore! Plus, D finished off the bag yesterday.