Post Childbirth: Getting Out of the Hospital

The second 24 hours of Eddie’s life we in some ways worse and in some ways better than the first 24. Between the constant trips to the NICU and my own recovery from surgery, it was exhausting. Ending that first day in the NICU just holding Eddie for a while was exactly what I needed (see the post from 4/13 for the whole story). Little did I know the horror that awaited me as soon as I left the NICU. Speaking of horrors, while the gross stuff is getting less and less, there is still a bit of mention of it. Just so you are warned.

Up until this point, I was pretty happy with the staff, both nurses and doctors, at the hospital. There were one or two that I liked less than some of the others, but for the most part they were friendly, caring, and good at their jobs. However, the nurse I had overnight from midnight to about 7am on Friday was the worst nurse of my stay. And not just of my stay, but the worst nurse I have ever come into contact with ever. It was a different nurse that took me over to the NICU so my first meeting with her was when she came to take me back. My friend that helped me over there had gone home about 15 minutes before I let the NICU staff know I was ready to go back to my room. I guess my new nurse had never had to get a patient that was connected to the locked morphine pole before because she came by herself. I was a bit hesitant because I knew how hard it was going to be to get me back with only one person. I attempted to explain this and got a not so friendly response. And all the way back it was like she was mad at me personally for wanting to go hold my kid. Like I was ruining her day. It is really tiresome when people complain about things that are part of their jobs. And not an odd part of their job, but just the everyday job. I was glad that I was going to be asleep for most of her shift. But first I had to get safely back in my bed. When we finally got back to the room, she stopped the wheelchair twice as far from the bed as I normally was with nothing to hold onto  and then really did nothing to help me back to bed. Just stood there and watched. I was befuddled at this point because complaining is one thing, being seemingly purposely mean to a patient is another. If you’re going to make me work this hard to get into bed, at least be there to give me a hand. It’s only been 24 hours since I was strapped down to a bed with a bunch of hands in my insides. At least I was finally going to get a little rest, and my body was telling me that’s exactly what I needed.

Well, except for the fact that they were still taking my blood pressure a few times an hour. On a sidenote, I HATE having my blood pressure taken. The only thing you can do to me that is worse is stick me with a needle. I don’t know why I hate it so much. Something about the squeezing and then being able to feel your veins and arteries opening back up as the pressure is released. Makes me squirm. But, I had gotten used to the thing going off enough that it didn’t phase me that much. I could pretty much sleep right through it. So this nurse makes a much bigger production out of taking my blood pressure than she needs to. It was like she was trying to wake me up. I guess that didn’t work enough because about 2am, she comes in and wakes me up and announces they are taking out the catheter RIGHT NOW. Ok lady, I’m recovering from surgery and pushed myself to try and breastfeed all day and pushed a bit too hard. I need some rest so I can regroup and start again the next day. And you are not helping me get better at this point. It’s not that I was against having the catheter out, but the idea of trying to get some sleep when in the back of my mind I was afraid I was going to pee all over myself... it wasn’t going to work. Even though she was really pissing me off with her attitude toward me and hostility to the world, I gathered my thoughts and did my best to explain to her, as calmly and rationally as possible, that I just needed to get some sleep without and poking or prodding or worrying about anything for a few hours. Come back at 7 or 8 in the morning, take out the catheter, and let’s go from there. She didn’t seem to like that I was going against her expert opinion. She said I would have to explain it to a doctor. I invited that, as at least the doctor would probably have a better outlook on life and patients than her. It certainly couldn’t get any worse.

Somehow I managed to get some rest that night. They took the catheter out in the morning and now I had to worry about emptying my bladder on top of everything else. But you can’t get better if you don’t push yourself. And best of all, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to have that nurse ever again. And if I did, I would protest until I didn’t have her assigned to me. Friday to Saturday is a blur of seeing Eddie, a few visitors, and attempting to pump. I wasn’t getting a ton of milk, but every little bit was leaps and bounds ahead of nothing. At some point they took the morphine away and starting offering pain pills instead. I didn’t mind a bit as I wasn’t using the morphine anyway. Like I mentioned before, I have a high tolerance for pain, and the pills were more for management so the pain didn’t escalate beyond control. I was taking as little as possible. I remember one visitor coming while Eddie was still in the NICU, he took a five minute video of me holding Eddie and talking about him. My favorite was when I showed off the Baby Lo-Jack device attached to his umbilical cord. They put an alarm device so you can’t smuggle the baby out of the hospital. It’s not really a Lo-Jack, but that’s what it reminded me of. I love that video, it’s so precious.

First thing Saturday morning I starting asking over and over when Eddie was coming to the room with me.  It had been over 48 hours, after all. The culture should be done and I wanted to know the results, which I figured would be negative. Eddie was showing no signs of weakness or illness. He has been healthy as can be since he was born and still is to this day. Finally I got word that the culture was negative and they just had to do his hearing test before bringing him to me. I don’t think I have ever watched a clock like I did then, even more than when I was in terrible pain the first night and had to watch ten minutes tick off before pushing the morphine button, or as I jokingly started calling it “the magic green happy button”.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the NICU nurse brought Eddie to my room and handed him over to me. I could hold my son without all the wires and monitors attached. It was glorious. I could breastfeed as often and as long as I wanted. I didn’t have anyone hovering over me and could take my time. I wasn’t having a ton of luck and Eddie seemed to be hungry constantly. By evening I was wondering if this mother thing was for me. And that’s when the shift of the best nurse I had the entire time I was in the hospital started. She was amazing. Caring, outgoing, helpful, knowledgeable, funny, and generally awesome. She helped me try to get Eddie to latch on properly without being in my face and grabby. She didn’t get frustrated and kept calm, which helped Eddie and me both stay calm as well. After a while, she stood back and said, “You’re doing everything right, he’s just not getting it. Keep at it, it should come.” That’s the vote of confidence I needed. I pretty much held him until I was about to fall asleep. I wrapped him up and put him in his bed. He cried a lot and it was hard for me to keep getting up and down. Finally the nurses offered to put him in the bed with me so I could breastfeed while laying down, plus being nearer to me he would probably sleep as well. I wasn’t sure that would work, but sure enough, he was quiet and calm until morning. It was the best feeling ever, and such a change from Thursday night/Friday morning.

Sunday morning, with Eddie still cuddled up next to me, the doctor came in and said I was doing very well, how would I like to go home today? If I was physically able to jump up and down, I would have. Instead I sleepily smiled and said that sounded good. Late morning some good friends of ours came to visit. Their timing couldn’t have been better as they helped me get everything together and helped Eddie and me get dressed and out to the car. I don’t think that’s the visit they had in mind, but it was exactly what I needed. At some point the doctors came and took out the staples in my abdomen. I was quite surprised when the tool they used to do this looked like a bigger version of an office staple remover. I guess it makes sense though.

Eddie was on his way home. I was still clueless about how I was going to take care of him while recovering from the C-section. But at least now I was starting to become confident in myself that I would find a way.

The Struggle of Childbirth

Warning: This post will use fun words like vagina, cervix, uterus, placenta, catheter, and other things that may not be for the easily grossed out. It’s about a baby being ripped out of someone else’s body. You have been thusly warned.

Childbirth is not for the weak. No matter what the situation it is a struggle. It’s kind of amazing that the human race has lasted as long as it has considering this is what we need to do to reproduce. I read everything I could and envisioned what I would do in different situations. Let me tell you, I did not run enough scenarios to prepare me for what actually happened.

My due date was Friday, July 15. My baby shower was on Sunday, July 17. What can I say, I live on the edge. I had an appointment on July 21, if nothing happened by then they were going to schedule an induction. I went to that appointment still pregnant, still no signs of labor. I wanted to put off the induction as long as they would let me to see if I went into labor naturally. I knew my husband had some work appointments over the weekend so I talked them into waiting until Monday night, July 25. I got to the hospital around 9pm. They did an ultrasound to make sure the baby was facing the right way and things like the placenta and umbilical cord were in the right place. Or at least not the wrong place. Baby looked great, everything was great. About 10pm they gave me the first drugs to jump start labor. It would take about 12 hours to gage if it was starting to work. My husband went home and I slept. Next morning: nothing. So they gave me another dose. Another 12 hours, only a slight dilation of the cervix. This entire time they had me on an IV drip and were carefully measuring my urine output. I kind of felt like a toddler being toilet trained. They gave me different drugs, and something started to happen. Enough that they were able to insert a tube through the vagina and blow up two balloons, one on either side of the cervix. The idea is that it would put pressure on the cervix to encourage it to open up.

This was NOT comfortable in any way. Also, I had the end of the tube taped to the inside of my thigh. Ug. I was so happy when it fell out while I was peeing. My water broke or at least partially broke at that time as well. Conveniently, I was sitting on the toilet when that happened. Less mess to clean up. Now they started the good drugs in earnest. This somewhere around Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. I was dilated 4 centimeters and it was starting to look promising.

The contractions started really coming at this point. They were bad. Worse than I imagined. Worse than I could have ever imagined. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. I was able to handle the pain, but I couldn’t have followed any kind of directions or tried to push. My poor husband was freaking out seeing me in that much pain. I know he wished he could have taken it all away. Love him so much! The worst thing was that the contractions were coming but the cervix was stubbornly not dilating. Finally I couldn’t take the pain anymore and had the epidural. I think if things had been progressing faster I would have done it without drugs like I intended, but I didn’t see an end in sight. And I can tell you, I do NOT look forward to ever getting one of those again. It does not feel good. The worst part of the whole thing was the anesthesiologist asking me if he had the right location on my back. Um, dude, you’re the one looking at it, and you’re the professional. How should I know? Got the catheter put in at this point as well. At least I no longer have to get up to go to the bathroom, right?

So now the contractions are still coming but I am in little to no pain. I have still only dilated 6 centimeters. It’s Wednesday night, July 27. I came in and they started the drugs 48 hours ago. I have heard women screaming from down the hall followed by baby cries at least three times, if not more. I am ready for this kid to be out. If the contractions are allowed to go on much longer the constant squeezing of the uterus will start to put the baby into serious distress. I also was starting to run a low fever and they had ice packs all over me. They finally gently suggest that maybe they should do a C-Section.

My worst nightmare has just come true.

C-Section. The words ring out in my brain. C-Section. No. No. C-section. Nononononononono. No. C-section. NO! NO! NO!

At this point, I have quite a crowd in my room as earlier in the day when there was the big jump in cervix opening everyone thought it was going to happen soon. My dad was there as well as two good friends of mine, and of course my husband. My first thought when they suggested a Caesarean was to just flat out tell them no, this kid is coming out of the hole that is already in my uterus, thank you very much, you don’t need to make another one. But then I thought about the fact that the hole nature had provided was not getting big enough for the kid. So I shooed everyone except the husband out of the room so we could talk about it.

Thank God I am blessed with the most amazing, supportive husband on the planet. Who also isn’t afraid to admit he was just as scared as I was.

We decided about 11:20 to do the C-section. They didn’t seem like they were in a complete rush at that point so the freaking out husband and dad-to-be asked if he had time to go outside and collect his thoughts (I wished I could have done that too!). All of the sudden they are wheeling me into the operating room. I kept saying, “You are not cutting me open until my husband gets back! Where is he? Wait!!!” They kept assuring me he was right outside. Good thing he came in before they started doing anything or they would have had a crazy woman on their hands. It seems that something on the baby monitor made them move with a bit more urgency. Getting the epidural turned out to be a good thing as that was already set up. At this point, it is about 11:45pm. So... will the kid be “born” on the 27th or the 28th? I can see the big clock on the wall even without my glasses on. It inches ever closer to midnight and they are starting to work on me. I can hear the doctors and nurses talking but I’m tuning them out because if I listen to what they are saying I’ll get grossed out knowing they are talking about me. I am just concentrating on my husband and trying to talk to him as much as possible. Then the clock hits 12:01 and I at least know the birthdate, even if I still don’t know the gender yet. 4 minutes later, they announce it’s a boy and I can hear him crying. My husband was convinced it was going to be a girl, and I can still hear him say, a little unbelievingly, “I have a son?” Finally, I could put a name to this thing that had been kicking me for so many months. Meanwhile, I’m still strapped to the table as they continue to put everything back together and staple me up. And thus the clueless journey began. Little Edward Russell had come into the world.

Edward Russell shortly after
being yanked out of me

Next time: the switch from labor and delivery to the maternity ward.

The Wonder of WonderCon

As I’m sure you know, this past Sunday was Easter. My husband and I are both pretty active in our church and rarely miss a Sunday. I help teach Sunday School and he works the sound board two Sundays a month. So you would expect us to be in church on Easter morning, right? Not this year! WonderCon was in Anaheim this weekend. For those of you non-geeks, WonderCon is an annual comic book convention held in the spring. It’s usually held in San Francisco, but due to construction and scheduling conflicts it has been in Anaheim for the past two years. Now, I was a little annoyed they planned it for Easter weekend, and even more annoyed that the one thing I really, really wanted to go to was a panel at 11am on Sunday. But since WonderCon may move back to Northern California, this was even more of a one time opportunity and we decided to play hooky from church and go get our geek on.

The 2013 eggs

My husband Sam got the afternoon off work on Friday to go. I decided not to go as dragging Eddie out of the house on an extended trip with lots of unpredictability can be stressful. He’s an easy going kid so I probably normally over worry about things like that. Plus a lot of walking around while pregnant, not exactly the most fun thing. I did use the opportunity to get the Easter Eggs dyed, however. I love hard boiled eggs and dying eggs is just plain old fun. I usually seem to get around to it about two weeks after Easter. Sam had a great time at the convention. He got a page and a sketch from a favorite artist. He also met up with some friends to go to a panel and dinner afterwards.

Panel for Much Ado

We got up early Sunday morning to get ready to go. We didn’t have to pay for Eddie but we did need to stop by registration and get him a child badge. We then got in line for the Much Ado About Nothing panel. In case you don’t know, Joss Whedon filmed Much Ado last year with a pretty amazing cast. It is due to come out in June of this year. And if you don’t know who Joss Whedon is, shame on you. Nathan Fillion was slated to be on the panel but couldn’t make it. That was a bummer, but I still wanted to go to the panel as I tend to like Whedon and I love Much Ado About Nothing. Eddie was getting pretty fussy as the panel went on. It was near his lunch time and he was also getting pretty tired by then. I fed him as much as I could while sitting in our seats. Eventually we got out of our seats and put him in the stroller and then went off to the side to try and get him to sleep, which he did.

Convention floor

After that we wandered around the convention floor. It was a lot bigger and a lot more crowded than I thought it would be. Lots of neat stuff for sale. I could have spent a fortune if I had let myself. We ended up buying a really cute Batman kid’s cup since clueless mom forgot to pack the sippy cup. After a few hours, Sam met up with a friend and went to another panel. I took Eddie outside to eat some more and then and wandered around some more. I made it over to Artist’s Alley. I really could have spent a small fortune here, or maybe even a large fortune. I did pick up the card of one artist that had some amazing dragon paintings. I would love to get some prints for the kid’s room. We also headed over to the large T-shirt seller to get some shirts for Eddie. Ended up with a cool X-Men shirt and a Hot Wheels shirt. We then headed up to the panel Sam went to, Spotlight on Amanda Conner and Jimmy Palmiotti. It was a little strange that almost all the lights were off, and the darkest part of the room was right over Amanda and Jimmy. As a result, I didn't get a very good picture of the panel. Eddie got a little fussy near the end of this panel too, but not as bad. Remember how I said he is always an easy going kid and I was probably worrying too much? Yeah, not really. At least if he is in the stroller and we are moving, he is quiet and seems to be happy. Eddie loves Batman, it was one of his early words, so one thing we came home with is a Mr. Potato Head Batman. Too much awesomeness. We convinced ourselves we were “buying it for Eddie”. After a half hour more of wandering the floor, I was ready to drop so we headed back to the car.

Eddie as Batman

Convention floor eating area

The Anaheim Convention Center bathrooms definitely do not get Joanna’s Parent Seal of Approval. The one I was in was pretty big. There was a large area right as you enter that was pretty much useless. There was a mirror all along one wall with a narrow ledge. The other wall had absolutely nothing on it. As you got to the back of the room there was about 6 stalls and 3 sinks. No handicapped restroom, no baby changing table, and dinky little stalls. I had to leave Eddie in the stroller outside the stall because there was no way the two of us could fit in there with or without the stroller. I had to change him on the narrow ledge and was afraid he was going to squirm and fall to the tile floor. Thank goodness he must have been tired enough to just sit there. There is so much wasted, non-useful space in this restroom with no amenities. It was ridiculous. There is also a general lack of places to sit around the lobby of the convention center that are not the floor. I think twice before sitting on the floor since it’s much harder to get up when you’re six months pregnant. There was seating in the convention floor near the refreshment stand, but not enough to accommodate the crowd. I took a picture of the only empty seats I saw all day. The elevators were not well marked and there was only one of them. Escalators are great... if you don’t have a stroller. 

Other than the lack of parent friendly facilities, the convention was a lot of fun. It’s always comforting to attend an event geared toward us geeks. There is always someone that is even weirder than you at a comic book convention. Always.

Name that baby!

Naming a baby is one of the most fun things about being a parent. There are literally endless possibilities. I have two rules: I won’t name a kid after a non-dead relative and first names should use standard spellings. Both of these rules save a lot of heartache. The first for your family members that might feel slighted and the second for your kid having to constantly explain and correct people. But I, as well as my husband, love the idea of using names from our families.

So about a week after I found out I was pregnant the first time, we were driving to Las Vegas to visit some friends of ours. It’s about a four hour drive from Los Angeles. I thought this would be a good time to talk about baby names to give us something to talk about on the drive. The whole conversation took all of 2 minutes. Maybe less.

Me: We should think about names for the baby.

Sam: I want to name a boy Edward after my grandfather.

Me: Ok, sounds good. I want to name a girl Jean after my mom.

Sam: Ok, sounds good.

Me: How about middle names? Edward Russell, after my grandfather?

Sam: Russell is a little weird, but ok.

Me: Yeah, but it’s a middle name.

Sam: How about Caryl for a girl’s middle name after my grandmother?

Me: Sure. So Edward Russell for a boy and Jean Caryl for a girl?

Sam: Yeah, sounds good.

I don’t remember what we talked about during the other three hours and 58 minutes.

So now I am pregnant again. The names for the new baby weren’t as easy or obvious. Well, the girl’s name was since we didn’t use it. If we have a girl it will be Jean Caryl. But for a boy’s name? My other grandfather was named Otis and Sam’s other grandfather is Sylvester. Sylvester is ok for a middle name and I don’t like Otis at all. Neither did my grandfather, he went by Bob. If you go farther back, my family is nothing but James and John (for generations they had no originality AT ALL). Both of those names violate my “no non-dead relatives names”. Sam’s dad is John and my dad is James. The rest of Sam’s family has VERY German names that didn’t excite me at all. Yes, including Adolf. We talked about other names but didn’t come up with one that we could both agree on.

My uncle has done quite a bit of genealogical research of our family and put it all on line in a searchable database (check it out here). I was playing around with it and started going back through my direct line and eventually got to the first family that came over from Scotland around 1770. The first one of my family that was born on what became American soil was born in 1771 and named Benjamin. I love it. It’s a Biblical name and a family name.

So if we have a boy it will be Benjamin Sylvester and a girl will be Jean Caryl. The difference in the length of the two names cracks me up. We don’t know the gender of the baby to be yet, but we are prepared either way.

It’s nice to have one thing I’m not clueless about.

I Miss My Mom

One of the reasons I am clueless in this parenting journey is I no longer have a mom to ask all my stupid questions to and ask her what I was like as a baby. I’m not looking for sympathy, it’s just a fact of life.

I’m an only child. Well, sort of. I have a sister who was born four years before me and died at age 3. I never knew her. I was born almost exactly a year later. Yes, that makes me a replacement baby. In 2000, my mom, dad, and I went up to Santa Rosa to my aunt’s wedding. Her fourth one, as a matter of fact. Thank goodness she finally figured it out and married the right guy. The day after the wedding we were driving the back roads of Sonoma County to visit a few wineries we liked and get a bottle or two from each. It was quite a pleasant day. Right up until the car crash that changed my life forever. My dad was fairly seriously injured and didn’t get out of the hospital until a month later. My mom was killed instantly. I had a bump on the head. Yes, a bump on the head. That was it. Not even a concussion. I walked out of the car to the amazement of the paramedics.

So I always knew that it was going to be difficult if I had kids because the only family I have anywhere near me is my dad. He’s great, but not for advice on baby care and definitely not for babysitting newborns. My mother-in-law lives in Michigan (blessing? curse? both?) so that’s not  lot of help. I don’t have any siblings. I have quite a few cousins, but none nearby. The one I’m closest to is a 7 hour car ride away. Most live out of state. If you are a parent and have your parents or siblings living nearby and they help you out all the time - don’t ever, ever take it for granted. Even if they drive you crazy some of the time. Or all of the time. I am lucky enough to have a few friends that are like family that are almost always willing to babysit and help if need be, but it’s just not the same as family. I don’t feel weird about asking family, but with friends it’s a whole other story. Bottom line - none of them are my mom. There is just a different connection you have with your mom than you have with anyone else, especially after you have become a mom yourself.

After the accident I missed my mom terribly. But when Eddie was born it was a whole new level of intensity. No one to call at midnight to ask stupid first-time parent questions. No one to come over at the drop of a hat because I couldn’t take the pressure. No one to ask what I was like when I was a baby. My dad, in typical male fashion, kept telling me over and over that he didn’t remember me when I was a newborn. Gee, thanks Dad. Just because you’re thinking it doesn’t mean you have to come out and say it point blank. It is hard to have kids, but it even harder, SUPER hard if you don’t have the family support near you. And even if they aren’t near you, just knowing that they would be on the other end of a phone in a matter of seconds is comforting. I know that as Eddie and Baby TBD get older my dad will be willing and able to take them for the day or possibly more, but those first few weeks you bring a newborn home that are so intense and scary... that’s when I missed my mom the most. And I know there will be new hurdles once the kids get older and they won't have grandma around. I don't know what that's going to be like for either me or them, but I bet it's going to be hard.

But, you get through it. There is a saying that God never gives you more than you can handle. I don’t think that’s exactly right. God just knows he made us so resilient that we can handle just about anything that’s put before us because we have to. We don’t always have a choice. Of course, God did give my husband and me the world’s most awesome baby. I mean, he slept through the night for the first time at two weeks old. That did make getting through it easier. After a while you realize you can't screw it up too badly and start to relax. Every decision is not a life or death one. Not everything you fear is going to happen. Being clueless is actually ok.

But I still miss my mom.  A lot.

Commence blogging... GO!

So I have to confess. I know next to nothing about blogging, computers/Internet, or parenting. I'm hoping to learn as I go with the first two as I have so far with the last one. First, a little about my family. I married my high school sweetheart Sam after knowing him for 20 years. Yeah, I know, that's a bit odd. We have an 18 month old boy named Edward, or Eddie, who is the light of my life. Seriously, this kid is the happiest kid on the planet. It's not just me who thinks so. I have strangers stop me all the time and tell me this. He makes it incredibly fun and easy to be a stay at home mom. We sure got lucky with this one. I mean, yes, he does get cranky and sometimes throws a fit, but for the most part he is embarrassingly well behaved. Flirty, even. Sam and I are expecting kid number 2 in 4 months (July 1). Hopefully the second child is half as good as the first, although everyone tells me I'm bound to have a devil child to make up for how awesome Eddie is. Our family is rounded out by a cat Jada. Eddie loves Jada. Jada tolerates Eddie. Their relationship is quite cute.

Besides being a mom, which takes up a surprising amount of time, I'm also into car rallying and have been since... well... forever. Literally. My parents were rallying when I was born. No, not at the moment I was born, but I spent a good amount of my childhood in the back seat of a car driving back roads. So what is rallying? A time-speed-distance car rally is not anything like racing. It's on public streets with regular every day cars. The basic idea is you get a set of instructions of where to turn and what speeds to average between certain points. Occasionally you come across checkpoints that record your arrival time and give you at departure time. Your time between these checkpoints is compared to a mathematically calculated time and you receive points depending on how off you are. Like golf, low score wins. Like golf, when you're doing good it's great and when you're doing badly, it's torture. But it's always enjoyable, a nearly perfect mix of math and fun driving. Eddie is going to grow up as I did spending a lot of time in the back of a car driving around on car rallies. I wrote an 8 hour car rally when Eddie was 2 months old. It took three days and he was a perfect angel the entire time. Well, until about the last 40 minutes, he just wanted to get out and feel the wind on his face.

I'm active in my church and teach Sunday School and play in our bell choir. Teaching Sunday School is something I just kind of fell into (it seems like most if not all of the parents get sucked into volunteering at one point or another) and I'm as clueless at that as I am at everything else. Music, on the other hand, is a passion I'm had all my life. I grew up playing the violin until I realized I really didn't like it, then played trumpet and trombone. But it's no fun playing an instrument unless you have the opportunity to play with other people. That's what makes bell choir so amazing. You can't do it without every single member of the choir. When one person is missing, you can hear the hole that is left. It's really fun to be a part of something that becomes larger than the sum of it's parts. Plus it's nice to get out of the house without the kid and interact with adults at least once a week.

I also like to read, although I don't seem to get nearly enough time these days to do so. Well, let me take that back. I read a ton, but all the books have a pictures and a limited amount of words. And I often read the same book over and over and over and over and over. And then read it again.

So this blog is mostly a journal for me so I can look back with my kids when they are annoying teenagers and remember what they were like when they were cute and adorable. But if you'd like to come along for the ride, please do. I'm sure it will be a lot of bragging about my kids. Or complaining about my kids. Or random stuff I'm into. Or rants about life in general. After all, I am clueless and making this up as I go along.