The Battle of the Bulge, Part 3: Week 7

Considering I have three children under the age of four (which I feel like I mention a lot, but in all honesty, it's my entire life right now, so I have no choice but to mention it), these last seven weeks have been straight-up survival mode.

I have been stuffing my face with anything I can get my hands on. Combine that with the fact that my pubic bone/sciatic nerve are still bothering me, the fact that in these seven weeks, we have dealt with two surgeries, two bouts of the flu, another ear infection, recovery from having a baby, and that baby getting thrush, I really can't be too hard on myself.

But last Sunday, when I saw the picture that I took with my mother, grandmother and kids, I said to myself that I really need to take better care of myself.

First of all, I'm always hungry. ALWAYS. It sounds like an excuse, but seriously, I can't get enough food. And when you're in survival mode, you don't stop to count calories, or really, give a shit what you're eating. You could probably put something like squid in front of me and I wouldn't think twice about shoveling it into my mouth.

Second of all, did I mention I have three kids under four? I couldn't care less about counting calories or giving a shit what I put in my mouth. As long as it gets rid of the hunger pains.

Third of all, Drew is a fairly good baby, and in the afternoons, he takes a solid nap. Which allows me to utilize my new kitchen. I really like using my new kitchen, particular my "baking corner" where I have everything nicely and neatly stored and can access it with ease. Only the problem with that is I never bake anything healthy. Pumpkin bars? Blueberry muffins? Banana bread? Once I bake it, I shovel it in, just like the rest of it.

So going back to the picture, on Sunday when I got home with the kids, I decided that was when I was really going to take stock and invest in my weight. Considering I already have an issue with the way I look normally, I was horrified when I saw this photo.

I bought a scale, downloaded an app to help hold me accountable and away I have gone!

39 Weeks and incredibly heavy! Less than a week later, I went in to be induced!

With my pregnancy, I was heavier starting out because of the anti-anxiety medicine I was on to deal with all of Catherine's issues (and the mom guilt that was incredibly heavy).

At James and Catherine's birthday parties, most likely about the time I got pregnant. I weighed approximately 165.

The combination of pubic bone and sciatic nerve pain did me in. I did a lot of sitting, and a lot of eating. From my typical, ideal weight of 160, I went in to be induced weighing 205. That's a whole 45 pounds gained, the most of any of my pregnancies.

I love taking fun pictures with my kiddos and this was just a quick snapshot/selfie. I was horrified when I saw this picture. At first, I thought surely it was just a bad angle. Then I saw the photo I took with my kids, my mother, and my grandmother. Nope, this is my reality!

So on Sunday, I decided that enough was enough! Now that spring is here, we are coming out from under the dark rock that was our life for seven weeks. The only problem I have with all of this is that none of my clothes fit...

Do I own the typical flow-y shirts and looser pants from previous post-pregnancies? Or just having them in my typical wardrobe? Absolutely. But even some of those don't fit right, and it's not necessarily because I am big, but these boobs are out of control. 

I always loathed being smaller chested, until I had the chance to take these 40C's, and depending, 40D's, out of a joyride. I fricken hate it. they are so big, I feel like they push my arms out from my sides. It's terrible. I can't wait to have my A/B's back!

Here they are, out of control! 

So, I have been watching what I eat, and making sure I eat every two or three hours to keep the metabolism going. One of the big things my mom would always tell me when I talked about weight gain was that pop was the worst culprit. All that corn syrup! So funny story - the morning after I had Drew, I knew I needed a Mountain Dew or I would get a headache, so I had Eric bring the one from the previous day from the truck. I took one swig and thought I was going to throw up. It was horrible tasting! Thus began my taste aversion to all pop, which is bizarre, considering I used to drink it every day. But now I can't stand the sight or taste of it. So what does one person do when they rely on pop for all their caffeine needs, but can't drink it? Go to cappucino mix, of course! Which only has 120 calories per 4 tablespoons. So, that's what I have been drinking every morning. It will be interesting to see what I will do when I go back to work! But for now, that works.

So in all, I have been watching what I eat, and breastfeeding, of course, and here I am, down 4 pounds from Sunday. So, that was interestingly easy. The app that I have, of course, doesn't allow for calories burned through breastfeeding, so I just put it in as an exercise (and somedays, it is exercise!) and put the least amount that you might burn (400), and that helps to keep me accountable. It's nice to see that my "hard" work is doing something. Hopefully by this time next week I'm down at least 8 pounds. Hopefully!

The first trial run with a new tunic, hair did, make-up on and ready for a work day! Only took me an hour and a half! 

'til next week!

1.5 Months and Another Update

Last Friday night, I found myself miles away from showering, breastfeeding Drew while sitting on a children's stool in the bathroom while my other two children took a bath, a.k.a. dumping water from their cups onto the floor outside of the bath.

Oh, and I was also bawling. I was at the end of my rope. And my children aren't even home with me all day.

Drew had not slept in hours, and was constantly nursing. Eric had stupidly scheduled his vasectomy for earlier that morning. Catherine was developing another ear infection, while Drew was somehow getting pink-eye, and James was just being a 3.5 year old butt head, as some 3.5 year old's can be.

Did I mention that I was bawling?

At some point, Eric came up and got Drew from me, all while miraculously keeping his bag of peas on his balls in tact, which was pretty impressive. I got the kids out of the bath, cleaned up the mess on the floor, and prayed that bedtime would be early that night.

I somehow managed to find some time to shower, while Drew slept in Eric's arms as Eric iced himself in our recliner. The other two were in bed and I remember standing in the spray wondering how the fuck my life had ended up like this?

And what's even more exciting is that in the face of it all, I have to somehow hold myself together and be the matriarch that my entire family needs me to be. But on Friday night, I was done.

Saturday morning wasn't much better. I had gone to bed with wet hair, making it a disheveled mess on Saturday morning. I was wearing spit-up covered sweat pants that are too short, a nursing top that is not flattering at all, and I come downstairs to a house that is literally torn apart by two children because I had not had time to clean it up.

I came downstairs to a text message from my best friend saying, "I am headed your way!"

How could I have forgotten that she was coming to meet Drew? Even moreso, how could I call her and tell her not to come?

But that's exactly what I did. My house was a mess, my hair was a mess, my kids were a mess (because let's be honest, they didn't take baths, they played around in the water) and quite frankly, my life was a mess. I called, an anxiety-riddled, overwhelmed, mother with three kids under the age of 4 and my life seriously felt like it was falling apart.

And I was doing it all on my own, since Eric could hardly walk, let alone take care of three children.

A couple days before this, Eric's mom had asked if she could do anything since Catherine was getting tubes in her ears on Tuesday. I jokingly said, "You can come down this weekend and help, since Eric is getting snipped on Friday." We didn't hear anything, but on Saturday afternoon, here comes Terri and her boyfriend on their white steed-like pick-up truck to save the day. And the first thing they did was load up James and Catherine and take them to the library.

Did I mention that I cried?

They backed down the driveway and I sat on the couch and wept. I had not had a break in what seemed like a week. Between Catherine's tubes, Eric's vasectomy, Drew's unusual crying streak, and my trying to just keep the house going, I had not had a quiet, clean house in what felt like ages.

You would think all this crying would be a precursor to maybe getting some medicine for post-partum depression, but I've been through post-partum depression, and this is not it. This is just sincerely being overwhelmed by the demands brought on me by three children. And the person who is getting the brunt of my being pulled in nine million different directions is James.

James: "Mom, will you play with me?"
Me: "Absolutely, but Drew is crying, which means he's hungry. Let me feed him and then I will play with you."

And in the 20 minutes it takes for me to feed and burp Drew, 20 things have happened to pull my attention further away from that request.

I forgot to stir the meat in the crockpot. Oh shoot! I forgot to add the seasonings! While I'm in the kitchen, I'll put these dishes away. Oh wait, I have to redirect Catherine to play with something in the living room so she's not getting in the dishwasher or drawers. Crap, Drew is crying, I need to get his pacifier. Ugh, he came unswaddled! Catherine is getting into something she shouldn't. Drew is crying again. The cat wants outside. I trip over something and go to put it away.

And then James says, "Mom, are you ready to play with me?"

Shit! I forgot that I was going to play with him!

And so it goes, round and round like that, a sick cycle where I can't ever get ahead and where I feel like I am always neglecting one of my kids. But James the most because he is the one who needs me the least.

So I try to put aside small amounts of time with them. Sometimes it's James and Catherine together, such as this morning, watching George. Then I put Catherine down for her nap, and James and I watched some more Curious George. Once Drew is up, I'll take him downstairs and feed him.

And so it goes.

I have learned to forgive myself. I have learned to roll with the punches, not worry about "getting ready for my day," and there have even been a few days where I went without a shower, and even one day where I went without brushing my teeth (so gross!). But that was one day that has come and gone, and slowly, we are working into a routine with three kids.

I had no idea it was going to be so difficult.

So onward, to our updates!

Drew-boo:
You, sir, are gigantic. You eat like a champ, and I'm pumping extra milk here and there, which is exciting. You weigh about 12.5 pounds, so you're on par to be 13 pounds, maybe more, at your 2 month well-child check-up. I have put away all your newborn clothes (or rather, put them into bins to sell them at my next No-More-Kids yard sale), and have phased out almost all of your 0-3 month clothes. You are mostly in straight-up 3 month clothes, and surprisingly, they aren't even really that big on you. While we were back visiting family this weekend, I saw a picture of James at 3 months and holy moses, you look identical to him.

You are just now starting to smile and coo, which came slowly because you have been so miserable. You not only had a rash and fever last Sunday, but come to find out Wednesday, you had thrush. Which means I have thrush. I was confused as to why nursing had all of a sudden turned  painful again, and I thought it was a lazy latch. So I went to my breastfeeding support group, as I religiously do every week, for an LC to check you latch. She took one look at your tongue and said, "oh my, he has thrush, bad!" So we went to the doctor, who wasn't our typical ped. because ours was out of town. She wasn't very helpful, and didn't tell me anything to help me with my thrush, so I posted on a parenting group that I'm a part of. And the replies I received? That the nystatin that was prescribed to Drew would not be helpful and to instead, use grapefruit seed extract. Umm, where the hell do you find something like that? I can tell  you, not anywhere in town. After doing some research, it turns out that not only does GSE (grapefruit seed extract's street name, apparently) help, but also coconut oil. I religiously put coconut oil in his mouth every feeding, and it was been amazing. Combine that with the GSE, and he hardly has any blisters left in his mouth - mostly just a few on his cheeks. Not to mention, you are a much happier baby, and you're sleeping so much more soundly! This mama is thrilled.

Speaking of sleep, you have finally gotten into somewhat of a routine, which is a little weird. You will fall asleep after your last "night" feeding about 9:00-9:30 and wake up for your first middle-of-the-night feeding at 1:30 a.m. Exactly. Literally, there is no deviation in this at all. Whenever I hear you starting to stir and wake up, I check my phone (because sometimes, I'm so tired I'm not sure if I actually fell asleep or not). It's always 1:30 on the nose. You eat a lot in that time, and are usually done between 2:10 and 2:20 a.m. and God bless you, you fall right back asleep. It usually takes me a little while to get back to sleep after that, but then you're up again at 5:30 a.m. exactly. Again, there is absolutely NO deviation from this time. Not 1:31 a.m. or 5:31 a.m. It's always 1:30 a.m. or 5:30 a.m. on the nose. crazy. So it's exciting that you are actually going about 3.5 hours between feedings at night.

During the day, it's another story. Usually after that 5:30 a.m. feeding, it's another one at 8:30 a.m., then 10:30 or 11:00 and then you're down for the count until at least 3:30 or 4:00. Normally, I can feed you in the late afternoon right before I go get the other two from daycare. Somewhere in there, about once or twice a week, I try to pump some milk just to get a freezer stash going, but I would say the fact that you're gaining about a half pound (or more) a week, says that I have plenty of milk for you.

All in all, you are an easy baby, when you're not in pain from thrush, or coughing and stuffed up from a virus. Or being pummeled in the face with a rattle from Catherine. Welcome to the shitshow! :)

Catherine: 
This weekend, I took a picture of you wearing horns and wearing a onesie that said "Little Princess" and boy can a picture speak a thousand words! I would say that is you, to a T, most of the time. You are frequently voicing your opinion, throwing temper tantrums (to which we ignore or threaten time-out, which puts the kabosh on those real quick), or pummeling Drew in the face with his blanket, rattle, or trying to stick his pacifier in his eye. If you're not trying to steal the pacifier for yourself. All in all, you love to help, you love getting into things, and you are pretty wild. I have a feeling in about 12 years, I will be doing everything to break a wild horse, but until then, I will try to bask in the fact that you are adorable most of the time.

You got your tubes in your ears March 8, and a week later, you had nasty, brownish/red/yellow goop coming out of it. Yep, another damn ear infection! Seriously? This one came with the typical fever, but the fever only stuck around about 12 hours, was lower grade than typical, and the nurse said if your ear was draining, the tubes were doing their job. I have also noticed since you got tubes that you have less of a runny nose. It seemed like we were constantly wiping your nose (or you were wiping it on something, which was awesome), and now, we still have to wipe your nose, but it seems like it is so much better than it was! For your ear infection, we just had to start the antibiotic ear drop regimen all over again, get a new prescription (there are so many damn prescriptions for our kids sitting in our kitchen cupboard, it's ridiculous), and hopefully, that will be the last ear infection we will see in a long while. Hopefully.

I have noticed that you are starting to be more verbal. You will point to things and use the same vowel for each, and I swear you are trying to say James. I also swear you are trying to say Drew. You can say Mom, which is adorable, but you won't say Dad (which you did before we started to see your speech regression). I suppose it will work it's way back, but it's so nice to see you actually starting to progress on your own, rather than us just hoping for something that will happen.

When they cleaned your ears prior to the surgery, the doctor said your ears weren't even fluid filled, but it was more like a jelly substance. So no wonder you couldn't hear! The doctor even said he guaranteed that you could hear better, even if the rest of our "issues" don't improve. Once we got you home, I noticed it right away, as it was 72 degrees, we had the windows open, and it was garbage day. That truck came into the cul-de-sac and was horribly loud, and you hated it. You are also very quick to react to barking dogs, which I am sure you haven't really heard before. You either scramble the other direction, or scramble into our arms.

You are still what I would call "needy" but you are beginning to be so much more independent. The most exciting thing is that you are actually starting to play with James. More times than not we are trying to keep you apart, but there have been glimpses of what it will be like when the two of you are a little older, and it melts my heart. At the end of all of this, I am so glad we had our kids really close together. I can't wait to see how close you will be when you're older.

James:
Oh, little boy, you are ready for a world beyond toddler-hood, and it makes me a little sad, but on the other hand, I am excited for it and for you. We signed you up for pre-school, but I haven't received any word on whether you were accepted. However, I did receive an email about a mandatory parent meeting for all students accepted. Ummm... where's the acceptance email? I haven't emailed the woman back, as I am sure I will get an acceptance email. For God's sakes, the registration is a Google Form, and I am a heavy google user. So I didn't have to put in any of my information, the google form auotmatically did it for me. So I just had to select the time of day I wanted James to go (morning or afternoon), and some of his information. I refreshed until the link was live at 7:01 p.m. and was finished at 7:02. I also credit my mad typing skills. :)

We also signed you up for Wee Ball, which is essentially a dumbed down version of Tee Ball. Although you won't be 4 by the cut-off, which would put you in the 3-4 year old division, I signed you up for the 4-5 year old division because you are 43 inches tall, you are 42 pounds, and honestly, you throw and kick a wicked ball. Everyone who has seen him kick and throw a ball have commented on how good he is at throwing, catching and kicking, It seems like you are growing up so fast.

Us: 
It seems like Eric and I are passing ships in the night, but it's getting better. Just a little while ago, we had ten whole minutes on the couch by ourselves. No kids (James was upstairs watching George) and Iowa Basketball on the TV. It was glorious. Now that Eric has finished a couple of outstanding jobs, his work schedule is more manageable. His balls are healing, and things are good.

Not to mention, it's the first day of Spring!

I hear a baby crying! Lunch time!