Wisdom for my daughter

Dear Selah,

I have, like, a truck-load of wisdom to impart on your precious little mind. At the risk of forgetting it before you are old enough to understand it, I will occasionally document some if it here for you. You're welc. 

Wise Motherly Gem #1: 

There comes a time in each of our lives when, upon casually strolling into what used to be one of your fave mall-stops, like Urban Outfitters, you will look upon the high-waisted, severely torn denim shorts that cover less leg and buttocks than a reasonable pair of mom-derwear. You will glance at the display of neon sports bras adorably labeled "shirts." And it hits you - you're officially an old person. Bring on the wrinkle cream, girlfriend. 

Do you see this? This is something called "Hair Chalk." Just...WHY?

My little fraternity brother

Jack is my wild man.

Like, remember that MTV show 'Jackass' where a bunch of guys ate disgusting things and performed stunts ridiculous enough to make professional stuntmen shudder? Sometimes when that show is on  TV, I think I'm watching home videos of Jack instead.

When he sees a snack he likes, Jack brings it to us from the pantry and hurls it at us. ("Hint, hint, mom.")

Headstands are his favorite pasttime.

If he encounters an unidentified object, he tastes it for further inspection.

Upon getting in the car, like a soccer mom in Oprah's studio audience, he checks under his seat for a prize, finds one and rejoices...except the prize is not new car keys. It's two stale cheese-its. Promptly eaten.

He dips his head in puddles.

He dumps his water on his pants that I just removed from the dryer and put on him. Twice. Before 10am.
 
He loves syrup so much that when I pour it on his waffles, he watches and shakes with excitement. 

But this wild man has a tender love for his little brother that warms this mamas heart. When he spots Carter, Jack lights up and exclaims, "Beebee!" The feeling is mutual, as Carter smiles at brother, despite the impending risk of suffocation by Jack's backside.

 

A glimpse into our life in 13 years...

 I feel the same way about that, Jack.

 I mean, what's more hilarious than a cow doing a flip when you tap it? Absolutely nothing.

 

"That boy cray."

 

"And also, how squishable are my cheeks?!"

Last week was a little trying. One morning I was nursing Carter at the kitchen table while on the phone dealing with doctors appointments and all that fun mom business. Selah thought it was a perfect time to make something that isn't an emergency seem 911-worthy. "Mom! I NEED some Cheetos!" I did the silent, spastic head-shaking-eyebrow-frowning-one-hand-up-motioning-stop that my mom used to do to me when my 3-year old self would deem unimportant matters urgent upon the start of her phone calls. I remember this signal feeling weighty and hitting me like, "Uh-oh. Mom's lost the ability to speak to me, her eyes look funny and she clearly just lost control of one of her hands...I think I will try my request again in a few minutes."

I do not have the same impact on Selah when I try to copy my mother's Shh!-I'm-On-The-PHONE Face. I think she reads it more as a challenge. Like, "Oooh, I always wondered how to make a grown woman look like a total psycho...Just ask for Cheetos while she's on the phone! I wonder what will happen if I do it over and over..."

So she did. After my Shh!-I'm-On-The-PHONE Face Trick failed me, I took my nursing baby into the other room and closed the door. TWO minutes later, Selah had forgotten about the Cheetos "emergency," but I emerged to find this:

 

J-Man and Aunt Jemima having a picnic. On the kitchen table. Jack's pj pants were covered in syrup, as was the table, his hands, arms, face, feet and hair.

I ushered him into the shower (but not before taking some pictures, obvi,) where he screamed at me, like, "Whyyyyyy do you have to remove this sticky goodness I worked so hard to shellac to my body?!"  
 

 

Post-traumatic shower incident

 And then yesterday I'm loading the dishwasher when I hear a crash. I turn around to find this:

Jack could not figure out how to open the cupcakes, so he just threw the whole box on the ground and it busted open. Perfect.

This post's for you, my hilariously messy fraternity-brother-esque toddler.

Sick day

Amidst the daily chaos of raising these sweet, messy little blessings, sometimes I wish I could take a sick day. Not often. Just like, I don't know, when I get the stomach flu?

Yesterday was a trying day - attempting to simultaneously suppress nausea and make crustless peanut butter toast, nurse, burp and change Carter every 2.5 hours, moderate a Selah/Jack Ultimate Fighting Championship match over a plastic motorcycle, keep Jack from sitting on Carter, and dole out enough love and attention to keep my kids out of jouvie once they hit puberty. 

I longed to be at a different life stage if I was going to be vomiting all day: my elementary school days when mom brought me ginger ale and saltines...my free, self-indulgent college days... Really, any other day would do. Just not this one, please.

My knight came home from work, switched out his sword for my apron and took on all homemaking and child-rearing responsibilities. (Swoon, right?) I've basically been in bed for the past 24 hours. Funny thing though. I woke up from a nap today around noon, still sick, but with an additional, itchy sense of, "Why am I not up doing something right now?" I was feeling kind of useless - like I wasn't serving my purpose.

And then I scrolled through my instagram feed and read this:

How cool is that?! 

Trying to be thankful for the stillness right now, quietly trusting the One who perfectly made my sweet little peanut butter sandwich-eating, Ultimate Fighting Champions. How cool the way He speaks to us wherever we are. And I love that He uses iphones, too.

Hope you are feeling better than I am. But in case you aren't, I hope you are enjoying the stillness too. 

Biggie Smolls

Two weeks ago David's sweet mom offered to watch all three kids for us so we could go to lunch and get a car wash. 

Accustomed to being a huge beast of a pregnant lady, I suddenly felt as svelte as Gisele in my one-week post-partum body. Being one week post-partum, however, my uterus was still large enough to contain Gisele, and I definitely looked like it. As we waited for our car to finish getting all fancied up, a nice man in his 60s looked at my stomach and said, "Boy or girl?" 

Not wanting to embarrass both of us by telling this well-meaning idiot that I was NOT pregnant, I simply smiled and responded, "It's a boy!" I hoped he would stop asking questions so I didn't have to elaborate, but he persisted.

"So, when are you due?" he asked.

Hmm...technically I wasn't yet due for another two weeks even though Carter had been born already. So I told him: "Um. I'm actually due January 25th."

He raised his eyebrows, "You're kidding! You look amazing! A lot of women are huge when they are nine months pregnant. Not you. Wow."

"Aren't I just so teensy?!" I enthusiastically agreed. David tried not to choke on his laughter as he shuffled his waddling wife out of the waiting area to prevent me from inflicting bodily injury on this poor, unsuspecting fool. 

As if this wasn't enough, for the first few days after I came home from the hospital, Selah said (completely innocently), "Mommy, turn around, I want to see if your tummy is big or small." I turned around and she said, "Nope, it's still big."

What's with all the haterade everyone has been drinking? 

Oh, well. The comments are worth it when I get to cuddle my sweet baby boy...but I reserve the right to take that back if someone asks me if I'm pregnant with multiples. 

Just pulled these pics from my phone, thought I'd share. Took these two in the hospital.

Smiling as he dreams of his best friend, Placenta. 

My sweet sister and Baby C

Doesn't he look so brilliant already?!

Ladies, you can't see it, but there's an asterisk at the end of "bachelor," and it says "Effective in 2038."

An Epiphany

I guess it's time to share the deets of our third-born's arrival, especially considering I'm bound to forget everything any day now due to the chaos that is raising three children ages three and under. Particularly when one of them is Jack.

Our almost 3-week old boy was actually supposed to arrive yesterday - January 25. But I was scheduled for a c-section January 18th due to a pretty rough delivery with Jack last time around. I'll spare you those details.  

Starting on New Years' Eve, I began having what felt like productive contractions. But they were either not strong enough or not regular enough to be legit labor. (They tell you to go to the hospital when contractions are 5-7 mins apart and 45-60 seconds long.) I'd get contractions throughout the days following, but they were nothing to write home about. Then on Sunday, January 6 at about 5pm, I called my friend Erin Daly to wish her a happy birthday. She jokingly mentioned that she was disappointed that I didn't have the baby on her bday. Mid-conversation, I noticed my contractions moving closer together - every 2 minutes. I started to make myself some dinner but thought better of it when I remembered that you shouldn't eat before a c-section. 

At this point, I was 40% sure I was in active labor. I really, really didn't want to go to the hospital and then get sent home if this wasn't the real thing, but David reassured me it was not a big deal if that happened. Vincent (David's teenage brother) was spending the night that night already - David and I planned to catch a movie after the kids went to bed. So Jackie (David's sister) came over to help put the kids to bed, and we left for the hospital at about 7:30pm. 

David and I hung out in triage where they monitored my contractions - which were definitely regular. The doc came in, checked me, and told me I was in active labor - 5 cm dilated. They checked me in and told me I'd be in the OR in 30 minutes, having a baby in 45. Um. WHAT?! 

Maybe this shouldn't have thrown me into a crazy fit, but it absolutely did. I was still wrapping my brain around the idea of being in labor 3 weeks early, hadn't even told Ash (my sister) or my parents that I was at the hospital, but in 30 minutes I'd be laying flat, getting sliced open and meeting our new baby boy. WHAT?! 

David made phone calls to family as they poked me with my iv and the anesthesiologist explained to me that in order to numb me, they have to give me a shot in a very small, very specific place in my spine. No prob, I thought. Just like an epidural. I had to get shots in my spine for the epidurals with Jack and Selah, this will be just like that, I figured. (I was wrong.)

They sent me in to the OR, and the anesthesiologist started poking away at my back. Ok, so imagine that you are sitting there, getting poked in the spine with a big needle. Try to think of the things you'd LEAST want to hear the doctor say while administering the anesthesia... I can think of a few:

1.) Does that feel like it's in the middle of your spine? (Um. Yes? You're the one looking at my spine!)

2.) Hmm...your spinal spaces are really tiny...

3.) Did you ever have spinal fusion surgery?

4.) Let's give this a try in a different spinal space.

5.) Let's give this another try in a different spinal space.

6.) Ok, third time's the charm. Let's give this another try in a different spinal space.

7.) Me: Ouch!!! Him: What?! Me: Shooting pain, down my leg! Him: Which leg? Me: LEFT!!! OW! Him: Hmm... Let's give this another try...

For real, folks. While Dr. Spaceman (30 Rock, anybody?) was poking around my spine, he made a little spinal fluid leak, which resulted in spinal headaches 3 days later. I hope you never have to endure a spinal headache, friend. They are gnarly. Like, so incredibly painful that even though I was taking Percocet  and Ibuprofen for the c-section pain, this headache almost made me vomit. (Graphic, I know. Sorry.) We almost went to the hospital to get a spinal patch to fix the leak, but decided at the last minute to wait it out, thanks to a call from my sister's friend who had experienced the dreaded headaches. The next day they were gone. Thank God.

ANYWAY, back to Carter. :) Dude came out of my tummy 15 minutes into the procedure. I couldn't feel anything, just heard him crying, which in turn made me cry. He weighed 6 lb. 10 oz. and was 20 inches long. 

He has been a perfect little bundle of joy ever since...well, except he's still trying to get the hang of the whole sleeping at night thing. The pediatrician says he looks exactly like Jack did as a newborn. I agree. He has that light brown newborn hair that I'm pretty sure will turn blonde just like his big brother's did. His eyes are an inky blue, which I'm imagining will turn brown. He is just so tiny and sweet. Trying to soak in every newborn minute. Particularly the good ones. (I'm happy to leave the spit-up covered, screaming ones behind.) 

Jack and Selah can't get enough of Carter. Selah asks to hold him all the time. Jack lays next to him and pats his tummy. (Although he also likes to throw balls at him. We're working on this.)

In case you haven't already just scrolled straight to the pictures, here they are:

Selah meeting her little brother for the first time at the hospital.

Grandma and Selah

This is the last picture I have of being pregnant, on January 4th. Selah, me and my sweet niece Ava. 

Can't believe it's been almost three weeks! I'm not sure where I'd be if it weren't for my awesome support system. David's mom has been over here helping me since day 1. My mom and sister both dropped everything to come visit for a few days and help me take care of my home and kiddos. And Ashley's mother-in-law Maria even flew into town to stay with Ashley's kiddos to make that possible. We've had about ten meals brought to our doorstep by sweet friends so I haven't had to worry about feeding our family. I am so incredibly thankful for all these women!

We've entered another level of craziness at the DeFrank household. With three kid ages 3 and under, the moments have become more intense - the good ones better and the bad ones worse. Ash and I were talking about how sometimes when you start to feel like you are getting comfortable in life and managing things ok, God reminds you that you need Him. Glad our "reminders" are so cute.

Until next time,

-Molls