TheLifeandTimesofaMom

Life and Times of a Mommy(:

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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Long Live

Have you ever had a person come into your life in a….different way and leave in the same manner? Someone that impacted you so greatly that you can’t forget them, no matter how hard you try? Maybe they were only in your life for a short amount of time, and they still have that impact on your life. Such an impact that things like driving by a certain place to listening to a song bring memories flooding back. For some people, that person is a significant other, or a family member, but for me, it is a girl I met in high school. I think about her constantly. I’ve tried writing about her a few times but just couldn’t quite get the words right. So today, I’m going to try again.

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Her name was Elizabeth. We met my junior year of high school, after I moved home. We both had a mutual guy friend. His name isn’t really important so we will call him S. My dad and S’s mom worked together, so when my dad’s house burned down, he stayed with S’s family and another family that lived with them. That’s how S and I met. So when I moved back home and found out he was going to the same school as me, we started hanging out. At first, Elizabeth didn’t like me because she thought I was trying to steal S from her. (High school drama, it’s great isn’t it?) I thought it was rather hilarious that this girl, a sophomore, was so insecure about a guy, who was a total ass, that she was going to be a bitch to a junior. Well, in the mornings before class started we would all sit along a wall and hang out. S and I would be at one end, Liz and her friends at the other plotting my downfall. Eventually we both discovered that the other was pretty freaking awesome so we became friends.

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Senior year rolled around and every morning we would hang out in the cafeteria. Well, in September, I found out I was pregnant. I was sicker than a dog Every. Single. Morning. for three months straight. Liz, being the amazing person she is, would come hold my hair back every morning while I got sick. If she walked into the cafeteria and I wasn’t at our usual table, she would come straight to the bathroom to check on me. When baby daddy finally left me, Liz and I made the joke that she was the baby’s daddy. Once I started showing, every time she saw me she would say hi to my belly before she would me. When I had the baby, she convinced S to bring her up to the hospital to see me.

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Finally, I graduated and it was her turn to be a senior. Once I stopped working crazy hours, she was at my apartement. In May, right before her graduation, her house flooded. After this, her grandparents couldn’t really afford to have her live with them, so she moved in with me. Talk about some fun times!! I mean, we had fun when ever she came over to hang out, but now, we were living together!! We moved out of my one bedroom apartment into a two bedroom apartment. Guys, I’ve never in my life had so much fun setting up a bed. She had an iron frame bed with not one but two mattresses on it. It was the bounciest bed I have ever been on!! WE had so much fun in that apartment. Even had a party or two.

Then it all went to hell. See, the guy I had been dating (a friend from high school) and I broke up. I just wasn’t emotionally stable enough for a relationship. He had been staying at our place, so when we broke up he took his stuff back home to his mom’s. Liz and this guy had never met at school, they had met through me. (Which is were a lot of the hurt feelings come from, I think.) After he moved back to his parents, her and him became friends and started texting. He mentioned something about his mom kicking him out or something, so Liz invited him to move back in with us. The way we saw it, since he was in the National Guard and go paid like $200 every time he went to drill (once a month), that was an extra $200 to help out.

Things got awkward. They were friends, I had stuff going on and I didn’t know what my head and heart where thinking. (This is about the time my hubby comes in but we will get to that.) I couldn’t figure out if there were feelings there or not. Then, somehow, I figured out they had feelings for each other. A fight ensued. (No one was hurt. Just some very delirious talking, as Liz had been asleep, and yelling. I was yelling.) We made some rules. The rules weren’t followed. By either of us.  Eventually, the two of them moved out, leaving me and my hubby (we were dating at the time) with a $130 electric bill we couldn’t pay. They eventually moved back in and things never got any better. Finally, hubby and I moved out.

They got married, hubby and I got married. They got pregnant, we got pregnant. Liz, the guy, and I pretty much stopped talking. Liz and I talked about pregnancy stuff while we were pregnant but it just wasn’t the same. He would text me while he was at drill, which I found odd. I mean, yeah we had been friends in high school, and we had dated, but so much…..shit had happened that it just wasn’t the same. Eventually, hubby got annoyed by him texting me. My husband isn’t the jealous type (anymore), but he saw what I went through and how bad I had been hurt. So, he played a joke on them. It was a kind of juvenile one and it was taken too far. Finally, I said look, things aren’t the way they used to be and we obviously can’t joke around anymore, so lets just cut ties now. They agreed, although they didn’t see anything wrong with wanting to talk to an old friend.

I think about her often. Lately, I think about her at least once a day. I drive by the apartment complex we lived in together every day. I think about all the fun times we had and the memories we made. I think about every time we drove around in my car, screaming out song lyrics and making up crazy dances. I remember feeling betrayed, alone, and let down. I remember her making me laugh after I had just been balling my eyes out. I remember laying on one of our beds talking about boys and how stupid they were. I remember watching movies and crying together. I remember the good times and the bad times, but mostly the good. Every time I go to church (her apartment is by my church), every time I drive past our old apartment, every time I listen to certain songs, I think of Elizabeth and how close we were. The sister that I never had. The friend that I thought would be there for always.

If, God forbid, fate should step in
And force us into a goodbye,
If you have children some day
When they point to the pictures
Please tell them my name.
Tell them how the crowds went wild,
Tell them how I hope they shine.

Long live the walls we crashed through.
I had the time of my life, with you.
Long, long live the walls we crashed through.
All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you.
I was screaming long live all the magic we made
And bring on all the pretenders
I’m not afraid.
Singing, long live all the mountains we moved
I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you.
And long, long live that look on your face
And bring on all the pretenders.
One day, we will be remembered.

-“Long Live” by Taylor Swift. This will always be my song to her. She may never think about me and we may never talk or ever see each other again, but I will cherish the memories we made forever.

Long live all the magic we made, I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you.

Long live all the mountains we moved, I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you.

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Memories For Sale

The PromptOn a weekend road trip, far away from home, you stumble upon a garage sale in a neighborhood you’re passing through. Astonished, you find an object among the belongings for sale that you recognize. Tell us about it. 

“Oh, look! A yard sale thing!” I exclaimed. I shook my mom awake and pointed at the signs. “Wanna go?” I asked. She mumbled an agreement and we followed the signs. We were, after all, exploring a quiet town on the border of Mexico. The yard sale was actually a multi-family street sale. There were homemade things along with old TVs and the like. Things the families didn’t have a use for, or things they made for a living.

After finding a parking place, we wondered through the mayhem looking at things. Somehow my mom and I got separated. There was a multitude of people, stuff, and animals roaming around. It was bound to happen. Glancing down, a glint caught my attention. I leaned down and rummaged through a box until I found what I was looking for. My fingers connected with something cool and solid. I knew what it was immediately. It was small. Small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. The transparent glass was a dark blue. The little glass bird struck a nerve deep. Standing there, under the hot sun, I was transported to a cool room.

Bacon was sizzling in the frying pan. Saturday mornings at Mamaw and Papaw’s where always my favorite. It meant going through old cards, playing with the glass blue birds and shoes, and Granny making breakfast. Mamaw and I were already in the den going through the random things she had around the room. I was asking her questions, trying to get as much information as possible before she slipped away, back inside her mind wherever it was she went when an episode hit. Suddenly, Mom was there. Dragging me into the kitchen to eat. She squeezed into the chair in between the table and the window and I sat across from her. Mamaw sat on the right, Papaw sat on the left, and Granny squeezed in wherever she could. Buster, the dog, came and sat down next to me, waiting for bacon or a vanilla cookie, whichever he got first. I glanced at the window above the sink. The little blue glass bird caught my eye. 

I was brought back to the street to the sound of my mom calling my name. “Look what I found, Mom.” I held up the bird for her to see. As expected, her eyes misted over, just like mine were. “I wonder if they have anymore.” We scoured through a few more boxes looking for anymore birds. Just the one was found. We paid for it and left. When we got back to the car, I tucked the bird into my suitcase, in between about a million soft t-shirts. “Mamaw would love that,” my mom said, watching me.
“I know,” I replied. “That’s why I don’t want it to break. I don’t have any thing else of hers. This one might of been hers. She’s probably the reason we stopped. You know how she loved yard sales.” We climbed into the car and continued on through the town, looking for a place to stay.  The street sale was a memory I would cherish for ever.

This is what the actual bird I'm talking about looks like. There is a factory near my home town called "The Bluebird Factory" where the actually make birds like this.

This is what the actual bird I’m talking about looks like. There is a factory near my home town called “Terra Studios” where the actually make birds like this.

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Moments

The challenge this week is to write about a moment that identifies us. One that has stuck with us. whether its from this morning or from years ago.

I’ve spent a good three days thinking about that moment. I’ve started, erased, started again, and trashed many beginnings. I’ve even gotten ha;f way though a couple. The problem is picking a moment and putting it into words. Taking a snapshot of life and describing the feelings, the emotions, the intensity of that moment. So that every body understand is. And doing it in 60 words or less.

There are so many moments in my life it’s hard to pick just one. (And you guys already know about my most defining one. The one where I almost redecorated the inside of my dad’s truck and then told him what was going on.) So, I thought I would do an overview of a few moments that stand out in my mind.

March/April, 2000. My great grandmother had just passed away, and it was up to the family to go through her things and decide what to do with them. I was seeing parts of her I never knew about.

September, 2000. I walked into a hospital room and was greeted with “hey baby!”. This was the first time in 5 years or so the my great grandmother remembered me. She passed away three days later.

February, 2001. My great grandfather left this world to join the love of his life on the most fitting of days, Valentines Day. His best friend and companion, his fog Buster, laid next to him for hours until a friend came to visit and found him.

Med-end, 2005. I laid to rest, the last thing that connected me to my beloved great grandparents: their dog Buster.

Summer, 2009. I went to summer school and met a boy. That boy was already taken so he introduced me to his friend. We started dating.

September, 2009; New Years Eve. 2009; August, 2010. The times that boy left me. (Obviously April 2010 is in there, as that’s when I had my son.)

April, 2011. In a smoke filled hooka lounge, some people randomly sat across a table from us because there was nowhere else to sit. That is the night that I met my husband. He didn’t say much, as he is shy, but we realized we knew each other when we met again on a dating website.

These are just a few of the moments that stand out in my mind. Some are obvious;y happier than others. I should have learned a lesson from some of them. In their own way, each moment defines me. Each moment tells you a little something about me. They all say something different. Some mean more than others, some hurt more than others, and some are happier than others.

Everyone would handle each of these moments in a different way. Me? I choose to use them to make me stronger. When most people would be broken down, I use them to build me up. To remind me what I have been through and what I can handle. Especially on those days that try to break me.

Moments. They can change your life and do one of two things, make you or break you. It’s all up to you.

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