TheLifeandTimesofaMom

Life and Times of a Mommy(:

It’s happened…..

The one thing I hoped and prayed would never happen in all 18 years of raising my child. My oldest, Trey, the three year old, had learned to cuss…. It’s safe to say that I am mortified. Probably beyond mortified, but I’m not totally sure what is beyond that…. So I’m just going to stick with mortified.

This is probably my favorite picture of a child throwing a fit. Don't know what's going on but it fits my mental image perfectly!

This is probably my favorite picture of a child throwing a fit. Don’t know what’s going on but it fits my mental image perfectly!

A few weeks ago, I got a call from my wonderfull husband on the way home from work. My child had hit, bit, probably hit, and called the director of his daycare every name in the book except for white girl. Needless to say, my mouth had punched a hole through the car floor and was dragging along behind my car getting road rash while I was driving. My child has NEVER EVER EVERNEVERNEVEREVERNEVEREVERNEVER acted like that before in all his three and a half years on this planet.  He was so bad that the daycare was considering calling me to come get him. His explination behind this horrendous episode? He wanted his tractor. I was absolutely shocked. I called my dad and told him it was official. I couldn’t disown my son. He acts just. Like. Me. Preeeeeeety scary……

Last week, I got a text message from one of his teachers that I am SUPER DUPER UBER close with. (Back story: she was the director of the daycare I went to when I was in elementary school. She pinned me down and sat on me one time while she was like 7 months pregnant because I was trying to run off. See why I can’t deny that he’s my son?)  She said that he had kicked her and called her a bitch. I almost fell out into the floor at my office. I could not believe my child was acting like this again!!! My child just doesn’t do stuff like that…. I asked the teacher if I needed to come pick him up. Her response was almost priceless: “No. I just wanted to let you know. I’m playing on Facebook while he throws his fit. I think that makes him more mad than anything because I’m not paying attention to him. He’s so cute.” I smiled to myself, because I knew she was thinking back to when I was younger and all the hell I put her through. I’m the reason she has wrinkles and gray hair, not her three children.

I asked her what the reasoning behind this episode was. She said that he was told to go to the bathroom, but there was another little girl in there and we guess he didn’t want to wait. A few minutes later, she text me again. Again, the text was priceless. “Dude,” she said, “he just stopped in mid yell and told me he was ready to go back to class.” At this point, I could picture what was going on in the office where they were sitting. She was probably about to fall on the floor from laughing so hard, and he was probably looking at her like she was crazy.

Pop quiz time!!! Where you paying attention? I hope so. Ready? It’s an easy one, promise. Only one question. Okay. Here it is.

If  your child acted like this at school/daycare/caregiver’s, what would be your form of punishment? This is a hige debate between hubby and I. He thinks that Trey should be grounded for a few days, along with a spanking. I, on the other hand, disagree. I think a spanking when he gets home, and being in trouble for one night is good enough. So. There is your quiz. You’re on the clock! Ready?!?! On your mark! Get set! Go!!!!

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This a little late, but my computer and I had issues!

June 29, 2012, afternoon. I convinced my husband to take me to the hospital because I was having some pretty intense irregular contractions. So, off we went. I was soon admitted with pre-term labor. I spent a week in the hospital. The first night was the worst.
They pumped this stuff in me called magnesium citrate to stop the contractions. I don’t take IVs well in the first place. So first they gave me morphine for pain and phenagren for the nausea caused be morphine. With my arm on fire from that, they then gave me the magnesium citrate. It felt like I was on fire from one wrist, up my arm, across my chest, and down my other arm. I then proceeded to hold a plastic barf bag up to my face and tried not to dry heave. And of course, since I was in pain, I held my breath. Which made my blood oxygen levels plummet and the blood pressure cuff go crazy. Then (going to get a little TMI here for a minute) they felt a need to insert a catheter, after I repeatedly told them no, because I didn’t have to pee. After removing it, I screamed and cried and whimpered and tried to not to cut off the circulation in my husband’s hand for about 30 minutes. My step mom, who was my rock through this whole ordeal, was in Texas. My parents cut their vacation short and drove 6 hours to come be with me. By that time, the pain in everything but my arm had stopped. I was poked and prodded every four hours the first twenty-four hours, because of the magnesium. Then, I thought I was having contractions yet again, and they took my food away. Who in their right mind takes food away from a pregnant woman?! Did they want to die?! But, anyways.
After that I was in the hospital every weekend for a month, with no changes. Just irregular contractions. One time, a doctor told me that I could stay over night in the labor and delivery room I was in, if I really wanted to. I said no, wanting to sleep in my own bed.

Friday, July 13, 2012, 9 pm. (Of course it was the 13th. Just my luck right?!) My husband and I had just left the dollar movie theater after watching What to Expect When You Are Expecting. (Guys. If you haven’t seen this movie, I suggest you watch it ASAP. It’s a great movie!!) When we got in the car, I started having some uncomfortable contractions, but they weren’t regular enough for me to time. We got home and I went to lay down. Within about 30 minutes I was in tears from the pain. It wasn’t that it hurt really bad, it was uncomfortable and I didn’t really know what was going on. I’d spent a week, and every weekend for a month, in the hospital with no change. By this point I was beyond frustrated. I consulted this wonderful site, and they said to wait it out. I went against their directions and about 11:30 pm, I woke my husband up and back to the hospital we went.

My baby and his feeding tube.

My baby and his feeding tube.

Saturday, July 14, 2012, 5:30 am. My little baby boy decided to grace us with his presence. After almost ripping a nurses face off so that I could push, I finally got to meet the little boy who insisted on coming to join this crazy world earlier than he should have. They had gave me a shot for his lungs a month before so he was breathing just fine. Eating, however, wasn’t going so well. He had a tube in his nose most of the time he was in the hospital, and he was in the hospital for a week. That was the hardest thing in the world to watch. A nurse told me that we could only stay two nights in a room off the nursery. So, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night, hubby and I drove literally 10 minutes away to our town house to sleep as much as we could through crying, just to get up the next morning and drive another 10 minutes back to the hospital. Friday, a doctor (my favorite one by the way) told us that he didn’t care what anyone said, we could stay as long as he was there. The next day he went home.

His smash cake. The box was like four times bigger than the actual cake. So we were all surprised when the cake was like three inches tall and the box was like a foot tall!

His smash cake. The box was like four times bigger than the actual cake.

Sunday, July 14, 2013, 2:00 pm. My little man’s first birthday!!! Now, this birthday party. It couldn’t be easy, ya know, since it was the first. Something HAD to go wrong. A week before the party, I moved it from Saturday to Sunday because my mother in law had a float trip on Saturday. She had already spent money on the float trip, meaning she had already bought the alcohol for the float trip. So, not very many people showed up to the party. But we still had fun! However, I ended up wearing more cake than little man did!

After he smeared cake all over his face. Yes, he looks like he ate a smurf.

After he smeared cake all over his face. Yes, he looks like he ate a smurf.

Then he got done and stuck his pacy in his mouth.

Then he got done and stuck his pacy in his mouth.

After he got done playing in the cake, he had a bath and went outside with my in-laws. A few of my friends who came to the birthday stayed inside with me. I went to the bathroom and came out and had what was left of the smash cake thrown at me. I then proceeded to scream bloody murder because my friend’s wife scared the ever-loving crap out of me. The cake landed face up on the tile floor, so, of course, I grabbed and took off after her. And a cake fight ensued. After the cake fight ended and it was all cleaned up, my in-laws left and I noticed some cake sitting on the high chair still. My friend’s wife had her son laying on her, so we asked hubby to go around the corner to get her some potato salad. (Hubby was yet to be wearing any cake.) So I hid around the corner and attempted to smash cake in his face. I somewhat got him. But, I mostly just got potato salad smashed in my hair. Sadly, I do not have a picture of that. Potato salad smells horrible to me and it was all I could do not to get sick waiting to get into the bathroom to wash it out. But, I do have a picture of me wearing the cake!! So here ya go, laugh it up!! I sure did!!

The girl on the left is my friend's wife and I'm on the right. Obviously, I lost the cake fight. I was laughing way to hard to really fight back.

The girl on the left is my friend’s wife and I’m on the right. Obviously, I lost the cake fight. I was laughing way to hard to really fight back.

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Sick babies are no fun

Man….  Teething sucks!!! Kase is cutting two teeth. It’s the two next to his top front teeth. The ones in between his front teeth and his incisors. On top of that, hand foot and mouth disease/virus/whatever you wanna call it, is going aroung daycare. For those of you who don’t know what this wonderful illness is, I pulled this from the CDC website.

Hand, foot, and mouth disease is a common viral illness that usually affects infants and children younger than 5 years old. However, it can sometimes occur in adults. Symptoms of hand, foot, and mouth disease include fever, blister-like sores in the mouth (herpangina), and a skin rash.

Symptoms are fever, general feeling of unwell, poor appetite, and a sore throat. A few days after the fever, sores show up in the mouth. Then, a rash shows up. It shows up on the hands and sole of the feet. It can also show up a number of other places. Thankfully, all we have is the fever. My poor baby feels like crap!! He doesn’t want to cuddle, but he doesn’t want to cuddle. The poor little guy is just miserable!!

Now. I have a question for all the mommies (and daddies I guess) out there. When I was little, I went hunting with my dad. I learned about guns. I learned to respect guns. But, once I started going to daycare, I stopped playing guns. It wasn’t allowed at daycare. I know that it’s not allowed in elementary schools. Hubby thinks that it’s no big deal. As does his family (who, by the way, still haven’t left my house….). I, on the other hand, don’t have a problem teaching my boys about guns and to respect them, but I don’t want them playing guns. It’s a big deal around here. My grandmother was a custodian at an elementary school, and it wasn’t an oddity for a kid to get suspended because he was playing guns. (The child probably had more than one offense, but still, it’s a big deal.) So my question is: Do you let your kids play guns?

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A Little Bit Nostalogic Today

I can’t help it. My baby will be one in 29 days!!! He is getting so big!! When he was first born his daddy could hold him with one hand!! He could barely fit in newborn clothes. And his car seat!! He was practically swimming in it!! Now, he’s almost conquered crawling and just tried to pull himself up on my table!! (He kid of slid on his butt farther underneath the table and then fell over, rather than getting up.)

My little man!!

My little man!!

Kase, pronounced like case, Daniel Ferguson was born July 14, 2012. He was born at 35 weeks and had to have a feeding tube inserted into his nose because he wasn’t eating. After spending a week in the hospital with pre-term labor, having my food taken away, and being in and out of the hospital for a month, I had to spend another week in the hospital with my baby. Thankfully they gave me a steroid shot while I was in pre-term labor to increase his lung production, so he was breathing perfectly fine. He was actually quiet compared to his brother. Key word there, was.

This was the day he came home from the hopital. He was so tiny!!

This was the day he came home from the hospital. He was so tiny!!

Now, he is spoiled rotten. He slept in bed with mommy and daddy for six months. Then, mommy got tired of sleeping in uncomfortable positions. So mommy put him in his own bed. He still falls asleep on my dear hubby’s chest every night, and he’s held a lot more than he should be. But his giggle is the most contagious thing ever. And, when he’s in his walker and he drops something, watching him walk in circles trying to figure out how to get it is rather humorous.He’s a cuddly little ball of fun, most of the time. Not to mention that he has curly hair just like his daddy. So, when he wakes up the back of his hair, which is the longest part, is a mass of curls poking out everywhere.

I look at my oldest and remember his first birthday like it was yesterday. I know Kase’s will be the same way. I’m so excited to watch him attempt to eat cake and figure out what the hell his mommy put in front of him. He has his two bottom teeth but his top two have just barely poked out from his gums, so he hasn’t really been introduced to very many solid foods. So hopefully he will be able to eat it. We are still deciding on the theme. Actually, I haven’t even began to debate what I want to do. His party is 28 days aways, so I guess I better hurry up and decide!! The party is going to be at my house so I’m not sure how crazy I want to go with decorations and what not. I will be sure to try to remember to take pictures and post them!!

Supporting his daddy's favorite football team.

Supporting his daddy’s favorite football team. (His bib says “everything tastes better when we order take out.)

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Let’s Get Down to Business!!!

First off. I want to say Happy Mother’s Day to all those lovely mommies out there!! Hope you ladies all had a wonderful day!! Second off we are going to play catch up again. Sorry guys. I was having a rough weekend. But we are back on track now!! So here we go!

Day Ten. This one is someone that you wish you had never met or someone you need to let go. I don’t really wish I hadn’t met anyone or need to let anyone go. This kind of ties into the whole no regrets thing. Everyone that has been in my life has made me the person I am today.

Day Eleven. Something people seem to compliment you the most on. Hmm. I’m gonna have to say my eyes. While they annoy me, everyone else loves my eyes. It annoys me that they can never, ever, ever pick a color. Everyone else thinks it is so amazing that they change colors so much. Also, I get a million compliments on my hair. It annoys me though because it’s straight as a board and more often than not it doesn’t cooperate.

This is a good example of what mine do.

This is a good example of what mine do.

Day Twelve. Something you never get complimented on. I honestly don’t get the many compliments on my smile. And I’m a very smiley person. I smile constantly. Plus, being a receptionist it’s part of the job. But yeah, hardly any compliments on my smile.

I wish I could wear lipstick this color!! It's gorgeous!!

I wish I could wear lipstick this color!! It’s gorgeous!

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Day Seven

Day Seven. This may be my favoritest post yet in this challenge. Today’s truth is someone who has made your life worth living. There are many people that bring joy to my life. There are many people who I love dearly and can’t imagine them not being in my life. But there is one person, actually one little boy, who means more than word can describe to me. That would be my three year old son, Trey.

You guys have heard a little about what happened here, but not the full story. Just that his dad left me and I was all set to be a single mom when he came back and it just was craziness. Well. There is more to the story. You guys also know that I have depression and anxiety. What you don’t know is that when not on medicine, I get pretty down.

When his daddy broke up with me the first time, I balled my eyes out and asked God to give him back to me. I cried so hard that my dad, who didn’t trust me with medicines for obvious reasons, had to give me Dramamine so I could calm down enough to sleep. When he walked out the second time, the same thing happened. I cried and begged God to give him back to me. Little did I know, that feeling of abandonment and hopelessness would only get worse.

After I moved out of his apartment, we didn’t talk about anything but my amazing little boy. But then, right after he turned one, we decided to try and work it out again for him. Stupid me, thought it would work. Our relationship quickly faded back into what it was. Then one night I was up long after everyone was asleep. (I was living with my then best friend and there were some people over.) I asked him something, I don’t even remember what now. I can’t remember what he said either, I just know it crushed me. That night was the first night I seriously considered hurting myself.

But, as I sat in the dark living room, by myself, I thought about the baby asleep just on the other side of the wall. I thought about the way his face lit up when he saw me, him taking his first steps, him saying his first word, and all the milestones I would miss if I were to do anything. The love I would miss out on if I left my amazing little boy.

Every time I get down or have a really bad day, I go home and I cuddle my baby. The baby that will never understand just how much mom loves him and how much mommy needs him. This three year old, bouncing, frustrating, loving, exasperating, amazing little boy definitely made my life worth living.

This is my little man on his nanna's horse, Carlos, wearing his uncle's hat. His poppy is leading the horse around but you can't see him. My step mom cropped him out.

This is my little man on his nanna’s horse, Carlos, wearing his uncle’s hat. His poppy is leading the horse around but you can’t see him. My step mom cropped him out.

 

 

 

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Haunted at 17 (But Not By Ghosts or Anything Cool Like That)

So in my pursuit of interesting blogs to read I came across a post titled “Haunted at 17”. Now when I read this, my first thought was “Whaaaaaat?! Someone is haunted?!” Clickety click click…. I found distraction99’s blog. The series she is doing is called the Haunted at 17 series. (Go check it out. It’s pretty awesome! Libba Bray, author of the Gemma Doyle series is in there!!) It’s not, in fact, about being haunted by ghosts or anything, but about physical things that haunted them. Like their hair, and sex, and a past that was better than the present.

Me at 17 and about 3 months pregnant.

Me at 17 and about 3 months pregnant.

It got me to thinking. What haunted me at 17? Well, many things, frankly. And these things were somewhat different from the beginning of my senior yearto the end of it. I was haunted by fear. Fear that I wouldn’t get into to the school I wanted (Oklahoma State), fear of leaving everything I knew to chase my dreams. Then it was fear of being a single mom, fear of not being a good mom, fear of failing myself and my unborn child.
Senior year is supposed to be a time of having one last hurrah with your friends. A time for obsessing about college essays and scholarships and ACT scores. A time to say goodbye to the beloved teachers you had, and rejoice in never seeing the ones you didn’t ever again. For me, that’s how the first two or three months went. I mean I worried about that stuff through the whole year but after September, I had some more pressing matter on my mind.

Now I was never regular when it came to my…lady stuff. (I know, too much but I have a point, I promise. Do not click away!!) So when I was late and pretty much couldn’t remember when my last…lady thing…I didn’t really give it much thought. Until I almost blew cinnamon roll chunks all over the dash board of my dad’s truck. (And I can guarantee I would have been the one cleaning it up, no matter how sick I was.) Instead of heading to school, we stopped at my grandmother’s which was on the way. Once there, and after my dad decided to let me stay home that day, thinking I had the flu or a stomach bug, I texted my best friend and told her we needed an emergency sleep over with a pregnancy test that weekend. Before I could do that, however, my dad and step mom took me to the doctor to make sure I didn’t have the flu after the second day of almost redecorating the inside of my dad’s truck with yet another cinnamon roll.

Here is where my fear of deans and professors turns into fear of disappointing the one person I loved more than anything in the world. My hero. My protector and savior. My daddy.

So when my flu swab came back negative, my dad walked into the room and said “you have morning sickness”. I said yup and broke down in tears. After confirming my eggo was, indeed, preggo, we set up a meeting with the baby’s father, who had dumped me a few weeks before. (When I describe what the guy meant to me back then, people tell me I sound like a bad country song. So I will spare you that horror.) A few months later he’d walked out of mine and my son’s life, only to decide to come back when it was convenient for him.

Here is where the biggest fear, that still haunts me almost three years and another baby later, comes in. The dear of being an utterly terrible mom. The fear of failing my child(ren).

Over past two years, I’ve had people tell me I’m a great mom despite the challenges I face with depression/anxiety and a baby daddy that, I swear, is only around to make my life complicated and hard. I still have the fear of letting my kids down and damaging them somehow, but I just take it day by day, and hope they end up with more sense than I did.

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O Doctor’s Office, How I Despise Thee

But no. Seriously. If I had it my way, some people who work at doctor’s offices wouldn’t work there. Because at the moment I’m tempted to pull half of them through the phone/window (which ever one I’m talking to them through), rip there faces off, and shove it down their throats! Today, when a nurse neglected to tell me important information on the phone, I almost did just that.

Back story.

I’m trying to get my two year old into a free program offered by a daycare. For that I need a whole list of things, one of which being a physical. So. Being the smart mom I am, I called to schedule one ASAP. After sitting on hold for a good 3 minutes, the nurse at his current doctor’s office informed me that, because my son has medicaid (how much I despise medicaid is for another day…) he can’t have another “well child check up” until after he turns three, or in June (which is when he had his last one). Not real sure… I was pretty upset by this point. She also informed me that the office that did the check up in June of last year could get me the records. I not so politely informed the woman I was talking to that I didn’t know what clinic it was that did the check up. That was 9 months, part of a pregnancy, and a baby ago.

So. After spending a good three days trying to find this clinic in the phone book and through other doctor’s offices, I finally contact them on Thursday of last week. The lady on the phone tells me that she will have the paper work I need faxed over to my office by two that afternoon. Great, I think. This is going perfect. Well. Two in the afternoon comes and it goes. No paper work. The rest of Thursday and Friday are crazy! So I don’t get a chance to call until today. (Yes I realize I left out Monday, but to be honest I’m not totally sure Monday happened at this point.) I tell the lady on the phone that the records where supposed to be faxed by two Thursday. She asks if I signed a paper. Uhhhh….. No. I called your office. On Thursday. At like 11. I didn’t sign crap…. So on my lunch, I haul ass to the doctor’s office to get the paper work I need thinking “Oh this will be no big deal. I can get them and get back to work no problem.” Boy was I WRONG!!!

I get there. I again inform the chick at the counter that I needed these paper faxed, that they weren’t faxed, and I need them today. She has me fill out that I need to have the papers faxed, while informing me that it will take five to seven days to get the paper work. Which is literally right behind her. Now, I understand that doctor’s offices are busy. But… There was one family in the waiting room and some other chick sitting at the counter next to the one I was talking to. So. You’re telling me that it takes you five to seven days to get off your ass and find records I need? Awesome…… I need these papers by Monday, but obviously that isn’t happening. So I responded to her with “So if my child doesn’t get into daycare it’s your fault.” The nurse then looked at me, shrugged, and said “No, it’s yours for not coming in sooner.” My response? The same response any stay at home/working mom would have: “I’m sorry but I had sh** to do.” And then stormed out.

This is obviously not me but this was my face after talking to that woman. Source: www.betterparentinginstitute.com

This is obviously not me but this was my face after talking to that woman. Source: http://www.betterparentinginstitute.com

I then proceeded to call my lovely step mom and complain to her about it. (She almost always saves the day.) She then told me to call another doctors office to see if they had any appointments. (This was after trying to tell my son’s dad that my son needs a physical. He, of course, ignored me. Heaven forbid he pay more than child support… But again, that’s another day.) This doctor’s office wouldn’t do it. The next office I called didn’t have appointments open. The next office didn’t even bother to look because as soon as I informed her that I was self paying, she told me about a cheaper clinic. A first visit at her clinic was like $130. So. I scored the phone book for this number. I texted Google for this number. (For those of you who don’t know, yes you can text google to get phone numbers! You just simply type “google” but with numbers!) Couldn’t find this stupid number

Again, not me but you get the picture. Source: www.ldsphonecounseling.com

Again, not me but you get the picture. Source: http://www.ldsphonecounseling.com

Finally, my dad calls me and tells me to call the doctor’s office that my grandma goes to. (This is the same office I went to for the longest time.) Hallelujah!!! They have an appointment at two today and I need to be there by 1:40 to do paper work!!!! Now comes the task of asking off from the job that I’m a temp at….. Oh. Lookie there. Not a problem! My boss totally understands!! I guess something will work out with all this!! 😀

Where I wish I was.... Being oh so happy about how things worked out. Source: www.123rf.com

Where I wish I was…. Being oh so happy about how things worked out. Source: http://www.123rf.com

 

 

 

This comes after I get pulled over for speeding, get cited for no insurance, and get a court date in a month. Which I will again have to take off from my temp job for. Awesomeness right?!

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