Ross

That you've been excited before. Your wrong. Until you've been Lauren Ross and have been asked to give the opening prayer and scripture in primary, you never really have felt excitement.
By excited I mean that the next day your little 4 year old mind has Mathew 16:19 permanently burned into your brain because you've asked Mommy to help you say it a million times already. It also means that you fall asleep at night thanking your lucky stars for the free little Lauren sized copy of the New Testament that someone gave you at the fair, which just happens to have your special scripture in it.

30 weeks, 30 pounds, 30 cm from the top to bottom of my uterus. 30 is the number of the week.
Didn't feel like doing hair or make-up but there it is anyway. The belly.

Would you look at my blog lately???

I seem to have misplaced my rose colored glasses.

Don't worry though! I'm charging up both of my camera batteries and I've gotten my hands on paint! Painting is probably one of my favorite things to do, and I love the color! Can't wait to share.

I mean, prenatal appointment.

The boy appears to be doing great, I'm doing great. I passed the glucose test and my blood pressure is as good as it was before I got pregnant.

But, ONCE AGAIN, I've been informed that I need to lay off the carbs. By no less than a person whos knowlede of my personal eating/work out habits is exactly zilch.

I say the doc needs to take his own advice.

Brett says he'd pay money to have seen the doctor tell me that last Thursday night. Laugh it up Honey.

It's not like I have a tough life, or my situation is unbearable, but I had a very, very bad day last week. Actually, exactly a week ago now that I think about it.

It started with me being almost 7 months pregnant and waking up early to get my 3 kids to the zoo for their play date at 10 am. I still have morning sickness and it was in the 90's by the time we got there on top of me really not wanting to go. But what can I do when the kids already knew about it. I hate disappointing them. During the two hours of walking around, with my pelvic bone feeling like it was about to break in half, it was over 100 degrees outside and I could barely walk. So afterward I was so tired that I decided to take my kids to McDonald's(a place I loath, but they like) so they could eat and play in the play area where I don't have to be right by their side the entire time, and I don't have to clean up afterward.

By the time we got home at about 2:30 I had a horrible headache and I was so tired that I could have laid down and been asleep before my head hit the pillow, but Brett's cell phone had died the night before and our plan was up with our current cell company so I had to do some research on where to go and how to get the best deal. I'm huge on finding the least expensive way to get things done. So this literally took me 4 hours of on the phone/Internet work talking to a few dozen people who hardly spoke English while my kids ran around me and made as much noise as possible. I'm also freaking out because my house wasn't in order and I still had to pack for my whole family to go visit my parents and siblings for the weekend, a thought that is enough to set me on edge all alone. And I'm a freak and hate leaving town unless the house is spotless and all laundry is done.

I was so upset and tired, my head pounded, it was turning into a migraine and all I wanted was to have the phone issue worked out so I didn't have to deal with it anymore. Plus Brett had to have a phone asap for work reasons. I was sitting on the couch talking to a women, who I'm pretty sure was a moron because I had been trying to get her to understand the 9 digit number I was giving her for about 7 minutes already, when my 6 year old son came walking into the living room carrying my bowl with left over Relief Society fruit salad in it and asked me if he could have some.

Now you've got to understand, this bowl is one of my most favorite possessions. I'm not big on material things, but this bowl was given to me as a wedding gift and it was so pretty and every time I looked at it it just made me happy. It was my favorite bowl! I'm sure we all have things that it would break our hearts to lose, this was mine.

I told him to go put it away and we would talk about it as soon as I got off the phone, so he walked into the kitchen to put it away. All I heard was the crash and I knew what had happened. I stopped talking on the phone and went to see with my eyes what had happened. And I just lost it. I started sobbing and I couldn't talk to the obnoxious women on the phone who could hardly speak English, who kept saying, "Hello? Mame? Are you there?" She just wouldn't shut up!

A few minutes later Brett got home from work and walked in to find me trying to get it together with tears pouring down my cheeks on the phone and my bowl shattered all over the kitchen floor and my son, who I hadn't said a word to, crying at the kitchen table. Brett calls me his callous, heartless wife because crying and overreacting and emotional outbursts are just not something I do. Ever. He was flabbergasted, literally. He didn't even know what to do.

At this point the dumb women on the phone was still asking me to repeat the same number over for about the 20th time and I just got so mad that I swore(something else I simply never do) and hung up the phone and threw it. I was so mad and upset, I walked upstairs to my room, shut and locked the door and went into the master bath and cried my eyes out. I looked in the mirror and I looked horrible, like I didn't even want to see myself, especially didn't want anyone else to see me.

At this point it was past 6 and I had a date I was missing. Brett's parents had bought tickets for me and them to go see the new Harry Potter movie and they were waiting for me at the theatre. I was so torn because A) I had to get away, B) I would feel like slime if I waisted their money, C) It was so horribly hot outside that I had to do something indoors and I had no idea where to go to be alone.

I decided that I'd put my sunglasses on, do my makeup to cover up the mess as much as possible, and hide away in a theatre for a few hours.

Brett let me go without question and I met up with the In-laws as planned. They thought at first that I just had a bad headache, which I did. Migraine actually, but I have the sweetest parent in laws, they knew something was wrong. According to my father in law, he knew something was up when I was quiet for once and said no thanks to candy and soda. He's lucky I'm the type to take that comment in a good light, ha.

Anyway, they ended up driving me home and made sure I got there okay and said they were worried about me. I later sort of explained what was wrong, but really I've been so upset about it since it happened that I haven't really talked about it.

When I got back home, still fighting tears back and mostly losing that battle whenever I thought about my bowl, I walked in to my house scrubbed from top to bottom, kids in bed, fresh smell of cleaner, and everything ready to be packed in the morning. And of course this brought more tears because I was so grateful for a husband who knows what I need. What a man. He didn't even bug me about what had happened since he pretty much figured out the basics and just waited for me to want to tell him about it. I married a saint. I know it and I'm so thankful for it. Otherwise, my bad day could have been a whole lot worse.

If you read that entire thing, wow, and I know it's pathetic. Brett's teasing me about it all the time now that he knows it's safe. He thinks his new emotionally unstable wife is just hilarious to make fun of.

Okay, anyone familiar with my birthing options knows that I'm a fan of birth aux naturals. Or as intervention-free as possible anyway.

Weeeelll, just when I think I've heard every rotten thing there is, I come across a term like this, pit-to-distress. I'm not a cursing kind of girl, but after reading a personal account from a labor and delivery nurse HERE and another HERE I kind of feel like finding one of these moron doctors and cussing them out, possibly getting violent with them.

Pit-to-distress- literally meaning they bump up your pitocin on doctors orders in order to cause fetal distress and make for a quick and easy c-section! Can you believe it! Doctors, people supposedly dedicated to health, actually putting a baby at risk on purpose in order to make things easier on themselves!

I'm just completely outraged about this.

I think pitocin is about the most abused drug there is, but even without any prejudice against it, how can this kind of nonsense actually be going on in hospitals across the US?

Here are some of the highlights from these articles I find most "entertaining."

"Oxytocin is a hormone released during labor that causes contractions of the uterus. The most common brand name is Pitocin, which is a synthetic version. It’s often used to speed or jump-start labor, but if the contractions become too strong and frequent, the uterus becomes “hyperstimulated,” which may cause tearing and slow the supply of blood and oxygen to the fetus. Though there are no precise statistics on its use, IHI says reviews of medical-malpractice claims show oxytocin is involved in more than 50 percent of situations leading to birth trauma."

Nothing I didn't already know there, but it gets me every time. Then there is this sentiment that I can't agree more with.

"I imagine that all of us who have openly questioned the practices of obstetricians in the U.S. have been hit with the same backlash. We must be selfish, irrational and motivated by our own personal satisfaction. We’ve been indoctrinated into a subculture of natural birth zealots and want to force pain on other women or just feel mighty and superior. We fetishize vaginal birth and attach magical powers to a so-called natural entrance to the world.

Nah. It’s stuff like “pit to distress” that made me run for the nearest freestanding birth center. If I had to do it all over again, I’d stay home."

"Hyperstimulation of the uterus (more appropriately called tachysystole) is harmful and dangerous for both mothers and babies: "

"The truth, however, is that many times stopping tachysystole is not as easy as just shutting the pitocin off. Although the plasma half-life of pitocin is about 6 minutes, it can take up to 1 hour for the effects of pitocin to completely wear off. And for a baby in distress, one more hour in a hyperstimulated uterus is too much! So guess what?! The physician has two choices:

#1 Administer yet another drug (like terbutaline) to decrease contractions and wait and see (unlikely to happen), or

#2 Administer yet another drug (like terbutaline) to decrease contractions while heading to the OR for an emergency cesarean section (much more likely to happen.)

Because in the end…who wants to “sit” on a compromised baby?!"

"What these practitioners don’t realize is that when they work with nurses like me (and there are many out there!!), they are working with someone who values the health and safety of women and babies (as well as their nursing license) much more than a fake cordial kiss-ass relationship with some high-and-mighty doctor! But let me tell you, its really frigging hard to work like that! That is, to constantly battle with practitioners who have such a different philosophy about maternity care than you do! I mean, even the best nurses will start to doubt themselves if they are constantly being bullied and told that they “can’t cut it” or are “incompetent” if they don’t follow the status quo! Like many other nurses, sometimes I just don’t have the energy to argue and fight. Sometimes I have down right lied to a doctor over the phone about how high the pitocin really is (telling them it’s running at a much higher rate than it actually is). Other times I just “forget” to turn up the pitocin for hours at a time. One time I actually disconnected the pitocin and discretely ran it into the floor!"

"In closing I would like to say that I am NOT anti pitocin, but like ALL labor & delivery interventions, I speak out and advocate for the appropriate, evidenced-based, and safe use of them!"

I can't agree with these women more. I decided with my first baby how I felt birth would fit us the best and I've tried my best to stick to it with results I'm happy with. I love the part where she says we're not "indoctrinated into a sub culture of natural birth zealots and want to force pain onto other women or just feel mighty and superior." I laughed out loud at this.

I can't hardly mention my birthing preference without some mom saying something retarded like, "Well, I got an epidural since I wasn't trying to win a medal." In response to statements like this I don't say anything. I get annoyed and try my best to ignore it. I would love to point out how I never said anything against their birthing choices, or how I haven't noticed my NCB mother medal sitting on any of my shelves. If I got a medal for anything I think it would be for not punching every person who told me I was dumb and should just ask for the epi a week before I go into labor.

And I don't want to sound like I think all doctors are horrible. I'd say I have a love/hate relationship with them. I have known some amazing doctors who I would fully trust, I've had a few who I like very much but have had to fight with to make sure I'm not bullied, and then I've met some I wouldn't let near me or my children with a ten foot pole. Overall, doctors are great though and we'd all be goners without them.

I know it's because I've been spending too much time on Babycenter lately, but the ignorance out there is really getting to me tonight. (If you don't know why, you can go read my other witchy post a few down from here)

I'm a breastfeeding, co-sleeping(sort of), circumcising(shock me!), disposable diapering, stay-at-home zealot! Ha.
So if I happen to say something about breastfeeding my babies, A) I'm not saying you're crap if you don't and B) it's just what I do so don't be offended because it came up in our conversation.
I don't lecture or belittle women for their choice, even if I do happen to acknowledge the proven fact that breast milk is the best for a baby. This is just true. I know how hard it is to breastfeed a baby, I had to pump my milk for Ethan for an entire year because of serious complications, still, no medal. It's just what I chose to do because I felt it was the right choice.

I believe I've sort of morphed this post about ridiculous medical malpractice into a soap box on mothering choices. Woops. But seriously, why can't mothers simply respect each others choices without being snarcky or rude? I don't recall ever once trying to degrade a mother for her choice, no matter how I really felt about it. Isn't it more productive to be supportive?

My brain is fried for the night so I think I'll leave it at that.

Lauren: "Mommy, you're tummy is getting bigger all the time, but not fat! Just bigger because of my brother."
What a good girl!

Ethan: "Mom, not to be mean or rude, but your stomach is getting fatter every day."
Baaaad, bad boy. No Popsicle for you!

Guess my two oldest kids have gone above and beyond wanting to be an Oscar Meyer Wiener at this point.

For the last few weeks Lauren has been emphatically telling anyone who will listen about how she wants to be a mommy when she grows up. We are so excited to be a mommy! Wow.

Ethan has wisely said, "I have a long time until I'm grown up so I think I'll wait and decide later." Very wise. But I'm pretty sure the kid is going to discover a cure for cancer or something.



Ethan a few minutes ago,"Sometimes sisters can be really annoying."

Never had it personally. Actually, after I have a baby I'm so happy to not be pregnant anymore that I really think some of the happiest days of my life have been those first three weeks or so of newborn time.

What I want to know is whether there is something called prepartum depression? If not I'm pretty sure there should be.

Here I am in my 3rd trimester, just two weeks shy of 30 solid weeks, and every day seems like I have a huge hill to climb. My morning sickness, while never really going away, did give me a bit of a break for about 7 weeks here, but now it's come back in full force and I'm once again struggling everyday to keep food down. Even though that definitely isn't stopping me from putting on the pounds like a mad woman. I wore white pants today with a white shirt over a pink one, looked in the mirror and realized I looked like Mr. Stay Puffed. Hello marshmallow women!

On top of that it's like my hormonal level has taken off. I'm weepy, emotional, mad, easy to anger and all around pissed off most of the time. I'm pretty sure the hot weather isn't helping my witchiness very much either. AND I'm so freaking tired all the time. No energy what so ever. I wake up at 9 am with the kids and by like 12:30 I'm dragging my feet and wishing with all my heart for a nap. I'm so over being pregnant! I'm done! Aaaand I still have 12 weeks of it left. And I'm sick of hearing from happy pregnant women how much they love being pregnant. Remember how I'm easy to anger? Yeah, every time I hear this it's like I'm instantly mad again and just want to ask them if they want a cookie for that cheery, happy, annoy the crap out of me attitude.

So unless you have something derogatory or down spirited to tell me about pregnancy, just a warning, don't talk to me.

[Exit bright little rain of sunshine.]

Okay, one more thing. I got told yesterday by a casual acquaintance that my boobs are getting huge! Not a close personal friend, but someone I rarely see just had to point out the fact that my boobs and my belly are in a competition! And I really can't tell you which is winning. Let me tell you, my confidence level can't get much higher.

You can go HERE for a reminder of what the rest of Ethan's room looks like. I changed my mind on what to do to finish up this wall after my mom-in-law bought a vinyl cutter! I'll be having lots of fun with that.

Who felt they had to steal a car, drive through Nampa being chased by cops, then try to evade them by driving into my driveway at 3 something in the morning, ditching the car causing a full on police search all around my house and property, further preventing me from getting the precious little crappy sleep I can get while encasing a parasitic creature inside my massive belly:

You suck!

Something about having people come to my house always makes me go nuts thinking about all the things I need to do to make it look nice. It seems like no matter how much I clean, it's never enough.

Today we had family come over to start our 4th of July celebrating so naturally I have been going nuts all day long getting my list of must do's done. The result: I'm pretty sure that my pelvic bone is about to break in half. No kidding, I can hardly sit or stand without significant pain. This same nastiness happened during my last pregnancy too and I'm thinking it's a dang good thing this is the last time because it just might snap after growing another kid on top of it.

Last night as I was sitting on my couch writing out my long list of to do's(when I should have been paying attention while Brett read scriptures to the kids, naughty me) I got overwhelmed thinking there was no way I could fit it all in. And I really felt like the sky would fall if not every single thing on my list didn't get fulfilled. So a few minutes after 9 when all the little monsters, minus Lily, were snug in their beds I disappeared outside to weed out my flower beds so I didn't have to do it in the heat of the day today. Brett came out once he realized what I was doing probably thinking the whole time that he married a nut job.

This basically means that instead of doing something constructive, like love up to my husband, I was outside pulling weeds in the mud with him, since my sprinklers had just turned off. And then of course I was emptying the dishwasher and folding laundry on the couch so I could do important things today like take the kittens back to the pet shelter for adoption, bleach all my tile floors, reorganize the game cupboard(since obviously the first thing people do when they come to my house is open my game cupboard to make sure all my dice are in their proper place, every domino is accounted for, and every stone in mancala is spaced evenly throughout the board).

This also means I'll very likely be teased and taunted by my husband every time I wip my special list out to cross off another completed item. He just can't understand the empowerment list makers like me get from crossing off a goal that has been met!

Sick! It's just sick! When I go to other people's houses I don't care about its state of cleanliness, to a point that is(come on, if things are horribly dirty and stinky anyone is bound to notice). I don't look for scuff marks or disorganization, and I certainly don't criticise them in my head, so what's my mental problem here? Do I really need to tear out the carpet under the stairs in my daughter's closet because I smell something and I can't stand it? Am I the only person who feels like my house just always smells and I get embarrassed because I can't tell if it's my pregnant nose overworking it's self or if other people really feel the same way!? PS thank goodness for Scentsy and Bath and Body shop, you help me keep my cool. Am I the only nut job out there? Or is this my quirk? Everyone has things about them that they go OCD over. Should I not worry about my OCD tendencies when it comes to my house keeping image?

Most importantly, is there a pill out there somewhere that will allow me to sit and fully enjoy watching my kids during our family fire works shoot off without stewing over the fact that I didn't get Tuke bathed and groomed today, since that was the item on my list that did not get completed?

Oooohh, my pelvic bone! Vicodin please.



On a side note: While driving in the car with the kids and going over our game plan to achieve homely cleanliness, Ethan came up with a great idea. If you haven't ever seen the PBS kids cartoon "Cyberchase," I'm sorry but you'll get the basic idea. Ethan said very enthusiastically that we would act like the Cyber Squad and try our best to defeat Hacker! If we get all the things on the list done like Mommy wants then we defeat Hacker! If not, then Hacker wins and gets to erase Motherboard's memory. Guess Hacker won this round.