But of course I didn't have time yesterday to do Day 2, so I'll just segment the writings today, or write Day 3 tomorrow. We'll see how the day goes. :)
Back to the story...
Around 5 or 6 am my dad called, panicking, worried that he missed something. Nothing had changed (still 1, maybe 2 cm at this point). I told him not to panic and to take his time getting back up to the hospital. Less than an hour later, he walked in the door. By this time, I think I had already started my second bag of pitocin. They were also worried because my contractions were frequent (as in, they never stopped. 20 seconds in between the end and beginning of each one, at the most) but they weren't hitting the intensity they wanted. They gave me more stadol and I passed out again. When I woke up, I noticed that both times I had been given the stadol, my contractions slowed down and weakened. Considering how slowly I was progressing, I didn't like seeing that. I decided not to take any more stadol, and only go for the epidural if I really needed it.
Somewhere during this day, I think early in the morning, they broke my water. It hurt like hell.
In the early afternoon, the doctor told me that if I didn't progress in the next hour, that I was going to have to get a C-section. They had already turned up the pitocin to near max level in order to try to get my contractions going. The stadol set it back, the fact that my body just wasn't ready to be in labor set it back. But they only had 2 more strength levels to go before they hit the max level. (You can't go over a certain level, because otherwise, once you deliver, the pitocin won't have any effect and the contractions won't continue and they need to in order to shrink your uterus back down- I think that's how she explained it.)
**This will be jumping ahead, but it doesn't really fit anywhere else. At some point, The Dude went into a bit of distress. They practically stopped the pitocin to calm down my uterus for a bit. Since they knocked it down so much, they were able to slowly build back up and that solved the pitocin problem mentioned above.**
Anyway, at the news that I was probably going to get a C-section (Let's be real, in 17 hours, I had progressed ONE cm. It was going nowhere.) I was devastated. I didn't want a C-section. For one, I wanted to be able to eat, 2, I didn't want to be completely numb and have to wear the compression boots, 3, I wanted to eat real food-not jello for 24 hours, 4, if you have a C-section, you are pretty much always going to have a C-section, 5, I have a tattoo on my lower stomach and hip, and a C-section scar would have totally ruined it. The last reason sounds silly, but I love that tattoo and yeah, I didn't want to have a scar going through it. I was so bummed at this point. I knew that when they checked me at the end of that hour, I was going nowhere.
Luckily, when they checked, I was at 3 cm. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to keep me from having a C-section. Pretty soon after that, the rest of my water broke. I was miserable at this point because Jude would only let me lay on my left side. His heart rate dropped if I tried to lay any other way. The contractions were still not too intense, but were so frequent. They literally didn't stop. I was having one, continuous contraction. At hour 19 after being induced, I finally asked for the epidural.
This was a big step for me. I am so claustrophobic and I have Restless Leg Syndrome and I absolutely freak out if I am held down or can't move a part of my body. Knowing that with the epidural I wouldn't be able to move my legs ALMOST kept me from getting it. If the labor hadn't been so drawn out, I might have endured. But I wanted the damn meds. It was a great feeling to be able to relax. It was also great because I couldn't feel the pain in my left side from having to lay on the same limbs for hours.
At 6:24 pm (thank you facebook status updates), I was in hour 21 after being induced, on my 3rd bag of pitocin and still had my trusty oxygen mask on. A couple of hours after this, John and his mom were in the room. I fell asleep with a neck pillow on (you can see it in the post before this one) and with the full-on oxygen mask. When I woke up, I forgot that the epidural had been administered. I freaked the eff out. I couldn't move my legs, I had a huge plastic mask on my nose and I had that damn pillow wrapped around my neck. I threw the neck pillow across the room, pulled the oxygen mask off and started crying. I begged John to come move my legs. He sat at the end of the bed and moved them in a bicycle motion for me. After about 10 minutes, I finally calmed down. I also felt kind of crazy. But can you blame me? No food or water for a day and a half, I couldn't get up out of bed (I think I got up twice to use the restroom but once I got the epidural, I was bed-ridden) and the labor was going nowhere. The nurses came and talked to me and told me to just let the epidural wear off a bit and I would be able to move a little. Wiggle my toes, etc.
I got a bit luckier (?) than that. Since I was stuck on my left side, the epidural drained to my left side (yes, gravity pulls it down). This left my right leg able to swing freely. It was the greatest feeling in the world. I could only barely feel the contractions, AND I could move one of my legs. This also left my left side completely numb, but I didn't care.
Finally around 10:30 pm, I hit 4 cm. The nurses and doctor all got excited and said labor usually progresses very quickly from that point. I got kind of excited but was beyond getting my hopes up. When I was induced at 8-9pm on November 30th, all the medical staff said "Oh! You're going to have a December 1st baby." John's mom (jokingly- at least, I hope) said, "Can you hold it for one more day, so he can share a birthday with his dad?" When she said that at the beginning, I just looked at her and laughed. "Absolutely not." Well, when I hit just 4 cm at 10:30, I knew that The Dude was going to be sharing a birthday with his daddy. Happy birthday sweetheart!
So by midnight of Day 2, I was celebrating that fact that I had progressed 3 cm in 28 hours, and that my son and my husband would share a birthday. And, that I had managed to escape a C-section for the moment. That night was pretty restless and scary, but I'll get in to all of that on the Day 3 post (later today?)
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On Friday, my sweet baby boy, The Dude, will be 9 months old. He's already passed the mark of being out longer than he was in my belly....
Friday, December 2, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Birthing The Dude- Day 1
I've always wanted to put The Dude's birth story in writing. It's a daunting task because it was a long (and I mean long) process. I decided with his birthday approaching, I would write out his birth story and separate it by days. So here's day 1...
It was November 30. I was scheduled for a weekly check-up that day at 2:00. I hung out with the girls in the morning (I was on bedrest. That's all I did. Hang out with my girls.) It was rainy out, which meant that we had our normal mud pit out back. I ate lunch around 12 while the girls ran around outside. Right before I was supposed to leave Angie gave me a big hug and I had to change.
It seemed like a pretty normal morning. Eat, play with dogs, eat again, play with dogs, change clothes. There was one (big) hitch. I had been monitoring my blood pressure all morning. I felt unusually dizzy and my blood pressure readings (I had been on bedrest for 3 weeks due to high blood pressure) were sky high. They started out in the 150s/100s. Then they crept up to the 160s. The last one I took before I left was around 1:30 and it was 174/110. That's beyond dangerously high. I didn't freak out about it because I was on my way to the doctor. I was waiting for John to come pick me up. He of course got held up at work, and I was sitting at home, freaking out and stewing because he was late to pick me up. (Of course! Of all the days to be late to the doctor!) He finally got home and off we went to see my doc. I had my list of blood pressure readings in my hand and was super nervous. I was warned when I was put on bedrest that I could be induced around 36-38 weeks depending on how everything went. I was 37 1/2 weeks along. Something in my gut (The Dude?) told me that the next time I walked through my front door, I would have a baby in my arms.
When we got to the doctor, the nurse took my blood pressure. It was, of course, kind of high, but not scary. I gave her my list of readings from the morning, and as she scanned them she raised her eyebrows, like "oohhh, those are not good." We carried on and I sat waiting for the doctor to come see me. She proceeded like a normal checkup and told me I was 1 cm dialated. I started to gather my things and she said, "So, do you have your packed bags in the car?" Schwhatt? (We lied and said yes.) She told us that she was sending me down to labor and delivery (one floor below my doctor's office) and she was going to have tests run to check my liver levels, etc because she was concerned from the high BP readings I had that morning. She also said that depending on how the tests came out, we could be having a baby that day. As we stood in line at check-out, we had this conversation:
Me: (giddy with the excitement of getting the dude out and having him in my arms) We could have a baby today!
John: We are NOT going to have a baby today.
Me: Can't you even consider the possibility that he could come today? Or that they at least induce me?
John: No. He's not coming yet.
He really didn't think so. As we checked out and the girl gave us the papers to take down to the hospital, she said "oohh, you could have a baby today!" I turned to John and smiled my "I win" smile.
We got to labor and delivery and I had to get the hospital gown on and get the contraction and fetal heartbeat monitors strapped on. We settled in for what we thought would be an hour or so. John called his work cause he originally thought he would be out for no more than 2 hours. (Little did he know, he wouldn't be back at work for 6 days). The nurse came in and took all my blood work. She came back about 30 minutes later and said that she had to get clearance with the doctor, but all the levels came back normal and I would probably be going home. We discussed getting McDonalds on the way home for dinner (by this time it was around 5 and I was oh so hungry). My mouth was already watering at the thought of the quarter pounder I was going to get. We were still waiting, and I heard horror movie screams. Not painful grunts. Screaming at the top of your lungs, Michael Myers is chasing me with a butcher knife, screams. After waiting for an hour, the nurse popped back in. We asked her about the screams and she goes "oh yeah. Natural birth. Not by choice. She was allergic to the meds." Then she delivered the knockout.
My test levels were fine. She was still waiting to get clearance from the doctor (there were virtually no births the week before (Thanksgiving week) but the barometric pressure dropped and my doctor had THIRTEEN patients in labor that day) but instead of sending me home, she said it was about 100 percent certain that I was going to be induced. Turns out, I was handling everything okay, but Jude's heart rate was dropping every time I contracted. Another hour went by, John went home to check on the dogs and get my bags. While he was gone, the doctor finally made her way into my little room. She confirmed that I was getting induced. She checked everything, guesstimated Jude to be 7 pounds and got a nurse to get me admitted.
I was moved to the big labor and delivery room. It was around 7 pm. John's mom came in first. My parents and stepmom were soon to follow. By the way, this whole time, I was only worried about finding Fox on the TV. Glee was on that night (Sectionals!) and I didn't want to miss it. I was left with nothing to do. At 8 pm, right as Glee was coming on, a nurse entered the room. She was going to put the IV in so we could start the pitocin and get labor going. Sounds easy, right? Yeah, by 8:50, after FOUR nurses and EIGHT different points of entry, and getting fired by the IV team, I finally had an IV. And Glee was almost done. By that point, I didn't even want to watch the end. I was so bummed. By this point, everybody was there. I could only have 3 visitors at a time, so the parental units were being very courteous in taking turns going in and out.
I have never seen my dad so nervous. The man was pacing, asking 100 questions. My mom was confident that I would have Jude by 5am. She was induced with my sister around the same time at night, and delivered mere hours later. She was fully confident I would do the same. Around 1 am my dad asked me if I thought he would miss anything if he went home to sleep. I told him no. I hadn't dilated any further past 1 cm and they told me inductions could last anywhere from 12-24 hours. By all means, he had plenty of time to go sleep comfortably for awhile (especially since his wife was on crutches.) He reluctantly went home. My mom and John passed out in the chairs of the room, and we had a relatively quiet night. (Although I was hungry as hell and had never wanted a diet coke so bad in my life.)
I technically went past midnight/Day 1, but my stadol made me pass out around 4 or 5, and I'll start tomorrow from when I woke up.
**Post edit: When we were sitting in the testing room, waiting to hear from the doctor, John still did not believe that I would be delivering any time soon. When the nurse initially told us that I was probably going home, he got this shit-eaten grin on his face. When the nurse came back and said we were probably inducing that night, I think I had the biggest shit-eaten grin on my face. I win.
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| Taken 4 days before the start of our story |
It was November 30. I was scheduled for a weekly check-up that day at 2:00. I hung out with the girls in the morning (I was on bedrest. That's all I did. Hang out with my girls.) It was rainy out, which meant that we had our normal mud pit out back. I ate lunch around 12 while the girls ran around outside. Right before I was supposed to leave Angie gave me a big hug and I had to change.
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| Muddy paw print of love |
When we got to the doctor, the nurse took my blood pressure. It was, of course, kind of high, but not scary. I gave her my list of readings from the morning, and as she scanned them she raised her eyebrows, like "oohhh, those are not good." We carried on and I sat waiting for the doctor to come see me. She proceeded like a normal checkup and told me I was 1 cm dialated. I started to gather my things and she said, "So, do you have your packed bags in the car?" Schwhatt? (We lied and said yes.) She told us that she was sending me down to labor and delivery (one floor below my doctor's office) and she was going to have tests run to check my liver levels, etc because she was concerned from the high BP readings I had that morning. She also said that depending on how the tests came out, we could be having a baby that day. As we stood in line at check-out, we had this conversation:
Me: (giddy with the excitement of getting the dude out and having him in my arms) We could have a baby today!
John: We are NOT going to have a baby today.
Me: Can't you even consider the possibility that he could come today? Or that they at least induce me?
John: No. He's not coming yet.
He really didn't think so. As we checked out and the girl gave us the papers to take down to the hospital, she said "oohh, you could have a baby today!" I turned to John and smiled my "I win" smile.
We got to labor and delivery and I had to get the hospital gown on and get the contraction and fetal heartbeat monitors strapped on. We settled in for what we thought would be an hour or so. John called his work cause he originally thought he would be out for no more than 2 hours. (Little did he know, he wouldn't be back at work for 6 days). The nurse came in and took all my blood work. She came back about 30 minutes later and said that she had to get clearance with the doctor, but all the levels came back normal and I would probably be going home. We discussed getting McDonalds on the way home for dinner (by this time it was around 5 and I was oh so hungry). My mouth was already watering at the thought of the quarter pounder I was going to get. We were still waiting, and I heard horror movie screams. Not painful grunts. Screaming at the top of your lungs, Michael Myers is chasing me with a butcher knife, screams. After waiting for an hour, the nurse popped back in. We asked her about the screams and she goes "oh yeah. Natural birth. Not by choice. She was allergic to the meds." Then she delivered the knockout.
My test levels were fine. She was still waiting to get clearance from the doctor (there were virtually no births the week before (Thanksgiving week) but the barometric pressure dropped and my doctor had THIRTEEN patients in labor that day) but instead of sending me home, she said it was about 100 percent certain that I was going to be induced. Turns out, I was handling everything okay, but Jude's heart rate was dropping every time I contracted. Another hour went by, John went home to check on the dogs and get my bags. While he was gone, the doctor finally made her way into my little room. She confirmed that I was getting induced. She checked everything, guesstimated Jude to be 7 pounds and got a nurse to get me admitted.
I was moved to the big labor and delivery room. It was around 7 pm. John's mom came in first. My parents and stepmom were soon to follow. By the way, this whole time, I was only worried about finding Fox on the TV. Glee was on that night (Sectionals!) and I didn't want to miss it. I was left with nothing to do. At 8 pm, right as Glee was coming on, a nurse entered the room. She was going to put the IV in so we could start the pitocin and get labor going. Sounds easy, right? Yeah, by 8:50, after FOUR nurses and EIGHT different points of entry, and getting fired by the IV team, I finally had an IV. And Glee was almost done. By that point, I didn't even want to watch the end. I was so bummed. By this point, everybody was there. I could only have 3 visitors at a time, so the parental units were being very courteous in taking turns going in and out.
I have never seen my dad so nervous. The man was pacing, asking 100 questions. My mom was confident that I would have Jude by 5am. She was induced with my sister around the same time at night, and delivered mere hours later. She was fully confident I would do the same. Around 1 am my dad asked me if I thought he would miss anything if he went home to sleep. I told him no. I hadn't dilated any further past 1 cm and they told me inductions could last anywhere from 12-24 hours. By all means, he had plenty of time to go sleep comfortably for awhile (especially since his wife was on crutches.) He reluctantly went home. My mom and John passed out in the chairs of the room, and we had a relatively quiet night. (Although I was hungry as hell and had never wanted a diet coke so bad in my life.)
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| 10 1/2 hours into labor- no oxygen mask yet, feeling good but bored |
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| My guests keeping me great company (seriously, how can you sleep? Baby is on the way!) |
**Post edit: When we were sitting in the testing room, waiting to hear from the doctor, John still did not believe that I would be delivering any time soon. When the nurse initially told us that I was probably going home, he got this shit-eaten grin on his face. When the nurse came back and said we were probably inducing that night, I think I had the biggest shit-eaten grin on my face. I win.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
We have a deck!
And an elliptical...
And a cute baby boy who will be a year old in two weeks...
And two very cute, very snuggly dogs...
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Closing in on the first year
I can't believe that in less than a month, my baby, The Dude, my little bean, my peanut is going to be one. It seems surreal. My goal is to post his birth story on the one year mark. I will make it happen! The plans for the party are finally in motion. I hope everyone that loves him and cares about him can make it and can celebrate with him. I have to say it's been an amazing (almost) year.
The poor dude is sick right now, which always sucks. It's just a little virus, but that makes his asthma act up and we have to up the breathing treatments, which he hates. He doesn't like to sit still for 30 minutes and it makes him sleepy, so he fights it the whole time.
He's getting so close to walking on his own, but every time he steps out of him comfort zone he falls, which leads him to not even want to stand. So he keeps crawling at lightening speed. I still can't believe how big he is. And I can't believe how lucky Stem and I are to have him.
Stem and I finally had a date night. The Dude stayed with Grandma K for a few hours while we dined at the fine establishment of the Fern Creek Applebees. Then we went bowling. I didn't take any pictures. Except of the awesome bowling shoes Fern Bowl had. I so wanted to steal them.
A few more pictures, although the first ones totally deserve an explanation. Stem's mom (Grandma E) likes to buy The Dude clothes. She gets him awesomely fantastic clothes. The last shopping spree included 3 sleepers. One was orange stripes with a dinosaur, one was blue with guitars and the other one was white with frogs, mushrooms and hearts. I wasn't there when they were given (the weekend I was in St. Louis) but apparently my sis-in-law started laughing when Stem pulled the frog one out. The trim on it was pink and the collar had slight ruffles and of course, was pink. Of course, it was meant for a girl. Grandma E, slightly embarrassed, offered to take it back. Stem said no, and that he loved it. When I saw it, I had the same reaction. It's adorable! I have no issues with my son wearing pink. Will it have any bearing on the person he becomes? Absolutely not. Is it an adorable print? Absolutely. Does The Dude look cute in it? He looks cute in anything, so again Absolutely. It's not going anywhere and he's already worn it three times. I do have to say, it made me realize how masculine his features are already. Most babies, if dressed in the "other gender's clothes" will look like the gender those clothes were intended for. But not Jude. He looked like a little boy, wearing an outfit with some pink in it. Wow, that was a long explanation. Here's the pictures:
The poor dude is sick right now, which always sucks. It's just a little virus, but that makes his asthma act up and we have to up the breathing treatments, which he hates. He doesn't like to sit still for 30 minutes and it makes him sleepy, so he fights it the whole time.
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| After a bath, boogies in tow |
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| Cuddling with his seal- my old (fake?) beanie baby from over a decade ago |
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| Hitting the seal on the wall. Cause that's the fun part. |
Stem and I finally had a date night. The Dude stayed with Grandma K for a few hours while we dined at the fine establishment of the Fern Creek Applebees. Then we went bowling. I didn't take any pictures. Except of the awesome bowling shoes Fern Bowl had. I so wanted to steal them.
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| The coveted bowling shoes |
A few more pictures, although the first ones totally deserve an explanation. Stem's mom (Grandma E) likes to buy The Dude clothes. She gets him awesomely fantastic clothes. The last shopping spree included 3 sleepers. One was orange stripes with a dinosaur, one was blue with guitars and the other one was white with frogs, mushrooms and hearts. I wasn't there when they were given (the weekend I was in St. Louis) but apparently my sis-in-law started laughing when Stem pulled the frog one out. The trim on it was pink and the collar had slight ruffles and of course, was pink. Of course, it was meant for a girl. Grandma E, slightly embarrassed, offered to take it back. Stem said no, and that he loved it. When I saw it, I had the same reaction. It's adorable! I have no issues with my son wearing pink. Will it have any bearing on the person he becomes? Absolutely not. Is it an adorable print? Absolutely. Does The Dude look cute in it? He looks cute in anything, so again Absolutely. It's not going anywhere and he's already worn it three times. I do have to say, it made me realize how masculine his features are already. Most babies, if dressed in the "other gender's clothes" will look like the gender those clothes were intended for. But not Jude. He looked like a little boy, wearing an outfit with some pink in it. Wow, that was a long explanation. Here's the pictures:
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| The closest we got to a good picture and of course, Ang is right there. |
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| Sneak attack kisses from Ang |
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| Getting a good picture of the two of them? Good luck. |
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| If anyone thought Grandma E messed up with the frog outfit, then she totally redeemed herself with this one. "Every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man." |
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
I never have time
I never have time to update this thing. Sometimes (all the time) I wish I could be a (part-time) stay-at-home mom. I wish I had more time to spend with my son. I wish I could just spend all hours of the day soaking in his awesomeness. I love that kid more than anything.
I read a lot of mom blogs and several of them are written by moms who have lost children (babies). I sat last night, exhausted, wanting to go to bed, but trying to organize ALL of my clothes and getting Jude's birthday party planned and figuring out Halloween, making sure all the grandparents get to see Jude, etc. My mind was swirling. I was tired. I wanted to go to bed. John was asleep on the couch for the second night in a row. I had asked him to put Jude down and he didn't budge. I sat down in the rocker with him and turned on his lullabies and tried so hard to get him to sleep. He wasn't having it. He kept grabbing my glasses, grabbing and twisting my nose with his sharp fingernails (which I basically got yelled at at day care for. Screw you guys. Have you tried to cut an almost 11 month old's nails? It sucks.) He was pulling my hair and kept going back to my glasses, which, if he breaks them, I have no back up and no money to get more. I kept gently saying no, and pulling his hand away. His face was so sweet while he was doing, but it hurt. I tried to stay calm with him. I was getting mad. Then I remembered all the baby-lost parents out there and I felt guilty for getting mad. I figured any of them would gladly trade me places and have a baby scratching their face and pulling their hair. So I started crying. I finally walked out to the living room, yelled at John and made him put Jude down. I still feel guilty for getting aggravated with Jude. Which is ridiculous. Just because I am one lucky person to have him in my life doesn't mean I need to be happy that he's scratching the hell out of me. I think I feel so much empathy for the baby-lost parents that I feel like I should enjoy every single minute and praise everything Jude does. It's unrealistic. As much as we want to believe, kids are not perfect. If I get aggravated with Jude it doesn't mean that I love him any less or don't appreciate every minute I have with him. I have high anxiety and I think with reading these other mom's blogs, I worry even more that something will happen to Jude or I will jinx him. I really need to relax and enjoy my time with him.
Which takes me back to wanting to be a stay-at-home mom. Or at least a part-time one. I remember reading a blurb in my HR class in college about two moms who filled one position at a company. One mom worked Mon, Tues and Wed morning, and the other one worked Wed afternoon, Thur and Fri. Any other moms out there want to split a full-time position with me? (I wish. Unfortunately, the mortgage, utilities, cable, insurance and wireless companies don't want me to be a part-time stay-at-home mom.)
Anyway, here's the half-weekly dose of pictures.
I read a lot of mom blogs and several of them are written by moms who have lost children (babies). I sat last night, exhausted, wanting to go to bed, but trying to organize ALL of my clothes and getting Jude's birthday party planned and figuring out Halloween, making sure all the grandparents get to see Jude, etc. My mind was swirling. I was tired. I wanted to go to bed. John was asleep on the couch for the second night in a row. I had asked him to put Jude down and he didn't budge. I sat down in the rocker with him and turned on his lullabies and tried so hard to get him to sleep. He wasn't having it. He kept grabbing my glasses, grabbing and twisting my nose with his sharp fingernails (which I basically got yelled at at day care for. Screw you guys. Have you tried to cut an almost 11 month old's nails? It sucks.) He was pulling my hair and kept going back to my glasses, which, if he breaks them, I have no back up and no money to get more. I kept gently saying no, and pulling his hand away. His face was so sweet while he was doing, but it hurt. I tried to stay calm with him. I was getting mad. Then I remembered all the baby-lost parents out there and I felt guilty for getting mad. I figured any of them would gladly trade me places and have a baby scratching their face and pulling their hair. So I started crying. I finally walked out to the living room, yelled at John and made him put Jude down. I still feel guilty for getting aggravated with Jude. Which is ridiculous. Just because I am one lucky person to have him in my life doesn't mean I need to be happy that he's scratching the hell out of me. I think I feel so much empathy for the baby-lost parents that I feel like I should enjoy every single minute and praise everything Jude does. It's unrealistic. As much as we want to believe, kids are not perfect. If I get aggravated with Jude it doesn't mean that I love him any less or don't appreciate every minute I have with him. I have high anxiety and I think with reading these other mom's blogs, I worry even more that something will happen to Jude or I will jinx him. I really need to relax and enjoy my time with him.
Which takes me back to wanting to be a stay-at-home mom. Or at least a part-time one. I remember reading a blurb in my HR class in college about two moms who filled one position at a company. One mom worked Mon, Tues and Wed morning, and the other one worked Wed afternoon, Thur and Fri. Any other moms out there want to split a full-time position with me? (I wish. Unfortunately, the mortgage, utilities, cable, insurance and wireless companies don't want me to be a part-time stay-at-home mom.)
Anyway, here's the half-weekly dose of pictures.
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| Confusing Angie by ringing the potty bell (a wind chime the dogs hit to tell us they need to go out. Yes, they're geniuses) |
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| Mischief in the cabinets |
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| Confusing Suzzy (our best door chime hitter) |
Friday, October 21, 2011
All I have time to do is...
post (a lot of) pictures from this week.
We were in St. Louis to see The Ladybirds (from Louisville) and the Martha Graham Dance Company
I highly recommend you check out both of these groups.
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| Bright flash- dark car |
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| Pumpkin butt! |
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| Sisters in St. Louis |
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| Cool funeral home sign in St. Louis |
We were in St. Louis to see The Ladybirds (from Louisville) and the Martha Graham Dance Company
I highly recommend you check out both of these groups.
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