Edie

Introducing, our Eden:

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Five Months Old

Nine Months Old

Now at eleven months old, she's on the verge of walking and will be a big kid before we know it. She's our happiest baby by far, with a smile that takes up her whole face, and an infectious giggle her brothers love to induce. Welcome to the family, Edie!

JoJo's Birth Story

Two weeks ago today, I left the boys with Grandpa and headed up to my midwife's office for my weekly appointment; I told them I'd be back in a couple of hours, kissed them goodbye, and asked them to behave well while I was gone. Less than 8 hours later, I was holding their sister in my arms and Nana & Opa were putting them to bed.

__________

At my midwife appointment, it was determined that my body had progressed to the point that labor was imminent. We talked about 'the plan', since it looked like I would be going into labor in the next day or so. I voiced concern about laboring at home with the boys and being 30-45 minutes from anyone who could help; my midwife could see that I was letting the idea of being in labor at home, alone with two toddlers, get the best of me. She suggested that we consider the option of 'inducing' labor then, which would only consist of breaking my (already bulging) bag of waters and allowing us to labor in the hospital instead of on the highway and to stay in one place instead of trying to move and cope with contractions in the car. Husby and I had already discussed this option that morning, so I readily agreed and headed over to Labor & Delivery.

At about noon, I was admitted to the hospital. Alone. Husby still needed to leave work, pick up my Dad, and bring him to collect my car (which had the only seats for the boys). Our doulas were also on their way, but as I had feared, I was on my own for more than an hour before my 'team' began to assemble. Fortunately, I wasn't technically in labor yet, and was able to answer all of the nurses questions and enjoy a last few minutes of calm before the storm.

Since I was planning an unmedicated birth, I was able to talk the nurses into letting me go without an IV. After Eli's birth, and all the craziness associated with my IV, I was relieved that I didn't have to worry about it. It was understood by all that they had permission to do what was needed in case of an emergency (start an IV, stick me in the thigh, knock me out, whatever), but I was able to be without needles and plastic in my arms for my labor. What a relief!

I was also allowed to wear my own clothes, which I had planned specifically for the type of labor that I wanted. Instead of a hospital gown, which is fairly restricting and uncomfortable, I donned a super soft bikini top and simple black wrap skirt, with a tank top added for some modesty at first. Everything I was wearing could be quickly removed if and when that became necessary, and yet I felt more like myself than some invalid in an institution. (Perception is a huge factor for me in labor!)

At about 12:30, my team was ready and my midwife arrived to break my water. Since I wasn't having steady contractions yet (or really, any at all to speak of), we set out to walk the halls and get Baby Girl moved down into a better birthing position. Without the cushion of her bag of waters, I could feel her head come down as we walked ... and walked ... and walked ... lap upon lap around the Labor & Delivery and Recovery units. Nurses waved and joked with us as we passed them again and again, snacking on some grapes and crackers to keep our energy up.

With a couple of stops back at our room to rest and check my blood pressure, we spent more than 2 hours trying (and failing) to get contractions started. Our doulas suggested a side-lying release to help get my body into a better position, and helped me twist around on the bed to try it out. Right around the same time, we got a new (much friendlier) nurse, who was excited that we were planning to birth "the way they do back home" - she was a midwife in Australia, where epidurals are unheard of and "natural" is also "normal". I loved her immediately, and the stress in the room dissipated instantly. 

We were passing 3 o'clock, and starting the get a little nervous that nothing was happening, when my first contractions hit. I had just sat up from the side-lying release, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and mentioned to our doulas that nothing felt different - and suddenly was hit with three strong contractions in a row. Husby sat on the stool at the side of the bed and I was able to lean into him to work through them. He gently stroked my arms and encouraged me to relax into the pressure.

We knew we wanted to labor (and possibly birth) in the tub, and our nurse set to work getting it all set up. It was suggested that I try to empty my bladder before things got moving too quickly, so Husby and I moved into the bathroom for a few minutes. On the toilet, I was beginning to moan softly to help focus my energy during the peak of a contraction. When started to feel a bit nauseous, and our doulas came to the rescue, spraying oils around the room that calmed both my stomach and my mind. Contractions continued to get stronger, and I asked that the tub be filled so that I could get in soon (I knew it would take 10-15 minutes to fill, and didn't want to wait much longer than that). My midwife asked that she be allowed to check my dilation before I got into the water, just to make sure things were moving like we thought they were, and then stepped out to put on her scrubs. A few contractions later she was back, and we moved to the bed for a check. I had been at 4cm when she broke my water, and as soon as she tried to check my cervix it "melted" into a 7+. She held it there for a contraction, making sure it would stay and continue progressing, and said I was nearly to 8cm by the time she was done. 

With confirmation that things really were moving quickly, I was anxious to get some relief. Before we had moved to the bed, I had begun to fight with myself in my head, arguing for and against some pain medication as the intensity of contractions built. But as soon as I was enveloped in the soothing water those thoughts melted away - the weightlessness and warmth made the contractions exponentially easier to cope through. In the water, my need to vocalize was much less, and my team remarked that they hardly knew when I was contracting - I sat mostly still and fairly quiet between and during each contraction for quite a while. In our peaceful, darkened room, soft music played in the background and labor took over my whole self.

After a few minutes, my midwife suggested changing positions to keep things moving along; I shifted from sitting with my back against the side of the tub to leaning over the edge into Husby's lap. He put a pillow down for me to rest my head, and lightly rubbed my head and arms.

Rocking felt better than being still now, and the movement of the water worked with me to keep a steady rhythm both in and around my contractions. I was told that I could try a mini-push at the peak of a contraction just to see what happened; I tried a couple of times, but the heat of the water was overwhelming and we knew I needed to get out to cool off.

In between what were now very powerful contractions, Husby and my midwife help me move to the bed. I knelt facing the back, my arms draped over the raised head, and tried to push through a few more contractions. The intensity was overwhelming, and I couldn't get on top of my contractions long enough to push effectively.

I heard myself ask if they could just pull her out since I couldn't do it, and then Husby's voice was in my ear reminding me that I was doing it, and she was so close. The team was trying to talk me through flipping over to see if I could push better on my back or side, but before I could process what was being said I had repositioned myself to lay on my left side, just as I had ended up with Eli. My pushes were much more productive this way, and soon I was being alerted to her impending exit. I could feel her descending  but it felt like she was moving much slower than I wanted her to; I stepped up my pushing, and was quickly warned to slow down. There were oils and compresses being applied to help lessen the sting of stretching, but the pressure of her head was too much and I couldn't keep from pushing for very long. Her head slowly emerged, and everyone cheered - except for me, who didn't feel any of the much anticipated relief. One, and then two, agonizing pushes later, her shoulders were born, and then the rest of her in one massive, final push. 

We had been out of the tub for less than 10 minutes, and my baby girl was being placed in my arms. The bliss! The joy! The hilarity of double-checking to see that my girl was, in fact, a girl! "My girl! There's my girl!" was all I could say, and she snuggled into me, all covered in vernix and slippery and wonderful. Her Daddy kissed my forehead, telling me he was so proud of me. "We did it," I whispered to him. "She's here." The look in his eyes said it all - we were both overjoyed and relieved.

Her color was beautiful, and her cries were strong. Husby cut her cord after it had stopped pulsing, and she stayed with me until I began to shiver. I handed her off to snuggle her Daddy while piles of warm blankets were brought in to help me regulate my temperature.

Her placenta was delivered with one small push, and my bleeding was under control with very little help from massage, so I was bundled up and soon had my girl back in my arms.

This was it. We had a daughter. We were a family of five. And we couldn't have been happier.

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Photos courtesy of our wonderful doulas:
Sister Doulas - Kaitlin & Vanessa Manville

Midwife: Aliza Chkaiban

Hospital: Baylor - McKinney

Announcing: Baby Sister

In the Quiet

One toddler breathing deeply in his bed an arm's length away,

another snuggled to my chest as he settles down to sleep,

and their sister stirring inside me, anxious to join them.

My hands may be full, but so is my heart.

The Birth of a Brother

Having arrived at the BirthCare Center for a 7am induction, we went over the birth plan with our doula, MissJ, one last time as the nurse started my IV. Four attempts and a sore arm later, I was hooked up to 500cc of fluid - two veins had blown before the nurse changed over to a smaller catheter and was able to finally get a working connection. She was trying to make things as comfortable as possible for me, but wanted to try again for the larger needle once I was re-hydrated; I was in no mood for more sticks and ready to get things going.

By 8:45am, I was adequately hydrated and able to be unhooked from the fluid lines. My doctor arrived for the induction, and when informed about the trouble we had getting an IV started joked that we would have had an easier time if I had heroin track marks for them to follow. He asked the nurse for his 'fresh stick from the tree out back' with which to break my water - his sense of humor put the room at ease.

Hoping to help speed things along, we went for a walk around the building. But as had been the case for the last few weeks, as long as I was up and moving my contractions were light and easy. Back in the room, I decided to rest in a chair for a few minutes, and before I knew it I was having some pretty strong contractions.

This can't be the real thing yet, we're just getting started. Wait it out, it's only going to get worse.

I didn't last very long sitting by myself - soon I was asking that Husby be nearer, holding me and helping me breathe through each contraction. We had talked about using the bath tub to help relax when things got tough, and before we hit 10 o'clock I was ready to get in. I let go of Husby just long enough for him to get into his trunks (in case he needed to get into the water with me), and settled into the warm tub. With the hand-held shower head pointed at my belly I was able to work through contractions fairly effectively.

Down the hall, another laboring mother coded, and our nurse was pulled to help bring her back. She returned a little shaken, and asked me to re-consider the larger IV catheter 'just in case', since the small one I had wouldn't allow quick administration of drugs should it become necessary. For her sake, I decided to give it another try since my veins should be more cooperative after the fluid I was administered. A young anesthesiologist was sent to do the sticking, since they were supposed to be better at finding good veins quickly.

Just hold on, work through this one contraction and she'll be done. You can do this.

Two failed sticks later, she was annoyed with my being in the tub since it made things harder on her. Contraction after contraction kept me from being able to communicate.

Make her stop! Someone make her stop and get her out of here!

As I finally caught a break from contractions, MissJ reminded me that I could tell her to stop anytime. "No more" was all I could utter as I pulled my arm away from her.

"Are you ready for your epidural now?" Her snotty voice made me want to scream, but my energy was needed elsewhere.

"No. Get out."

I was starting to shiver in the tub, so we decided to get a seat for me to sit up on and get more of my body under the shower. Half way out of the tub another contraction hit me and I landed harder than intended on the seat; it flipped sideways and fell into the tub, taking me with it. I didn't have the will to try again, so a warm blanket was brought in to put over me in the water; Husby and MissJ poured and sprayed water over me and on my belly to keep me from freezing and help me relax.

After about a hour and a half, the intensity of the contractions was really starting to effect my thoughts.

I can't take this if it's just going to get worse.

I heard myself asking for drugs.

Wait! That's not what I want! Don't give me drugs! I can do this!

Husby could see the panic in my eyes, and asked me if I wanted to be checked (we had agreed ahead of time that we would take this first, smaller step before hooking up to any pain meds).

Yes! That's what I mean! I don't want drugs, I just want to know where I am!

To be checked, I had to be in the bed - which meant I had to get out of the tub. Towels and blankets were readied to dry me off and keep me warm, and we waited until a contraction was over to start moving. No sooner did my feet hit the floor than a huge contraction hit, and I went limp. With MissJ in front of me and Husby behind they managed to keep me from hitting the floor until I could support myself again and make my way to the bed.

I needed to lay on my back in the bed, but only made it up onto my hands and knees before another contraction hit. The nurse tried anyway, and thought I was about at 7cm, but asked me to try to roll over so she could be sure. A couple more contractions passed before I could move, but once I was settled she confirmed that I was already almost at 8cm.

That can't be right. We haven't been doing this long enough.

My brain knew that we were already in Transition, the hardest but shortest part of labor, just before the pushing stage. But my mind was reeling with the intensity of the contractions, and I again heard myself asking for something to take the edge off. MissJ was ready with the suggestion of Stadol, which wouldn't make the contractions themselves less intense but would give me more of a break in between to catch my breath and relax - it was the one thing I had considered beforehand, and was prepared to accept if needed given it's minimal effects on the baby. Since I was already so far along (and just wouldn't admit it to myself), my doctor would only approve a quarter of the usual dose. Administered during a contraction to further lessen it's effect on the baby, I felt it almost immediately - as long as I kept my eyes open I was alert, but as soon as I let them close I started to doze when I wasn't contracting. Thanks to the Stadol, I was allowed about a half an hour of 'rest' before the real work began.

The contractions started coming three and four at a time, and I was having to really work to get through each one. To cope with the intensity, I had been breathing low and started vocalizing with my exhales. As the intensity rose, and my breaks shortened (the Stadol was wearing off), my vocalizations began to get higher and tighter. Reminding me to focus low and slow my breathing, MissJ could see that we needed a change and suggested using a squat bar.

Once I was upright, Baby flipped himself around to face upwards, causing intense back labor. MissJ moved around behind me to help support and put counter pressure where I was hurting. Husby moved in front of me to help hold me up, and my eyes locked on his just as one of my toughest contractions hit. My vocalizations were high and tight as my body fought against me.

Don't freak out. If you freak out, he'll freak out, and we need him to not freak out.

His calm voice brought me back: "You can do this. I'm right here. You're doing so well."

My legs no longer able to support me, I laid back on MissJ, who's knee happened to land just at the point in my back that needed counter pressure. I had planned to rest for only a moment but ended up staying there for quite a few contractions. A second nurse appeared and began preparing tables and instruments; I heard myself asking what she was doing, and was told that she was setting up for delivery.

She's got to be crazy. She has no idea that we just got here. We are so not ready to have this baby.

The idea of readying for the birth, along with the rising intensity of contractions, began to overwhelm me and I again asked to be checked. Our nurse was out of the room, so the second nurse stopped her setting up and came over to see how far I was. She measured me at about 8cm, essentially the same as I had been an hour before. I was disappointed to say the least.

We're not even progressing! What does she think she's doing setting up all that stuff? Now I have to stare at useless tables for hours!

When she returned, our nurse held a fetal monitor to my belly and detected decels in Baby's heart rate. She helped me move to lay on my left side to alleviate some stress on him - in an instant, my contractions changed. Up to this point, I was able to focus on being open and relaxed with each contraction. Now, when I tried to be open, my body started pushing on it's own. Since I knew I wasn't to 10cm yet, I tried to pull back and keep from pushing, but it only made things more intense. When a contraction ended, I tried to tell Husby and MissJ that I couldn't stop myself from pushing. I looked up to find my doctor walking in to check on us. He quickly slipped his gloves on to check me; he felt merely a rim, but said I could easily push past what was left, and that was all I needed to hear.

Here we go. Deep breaths. Holy cow, we're going to have a baby.

With the next contraction, I pushed with intent. Being able to feel what I was doing, I could focus my energy where I knew it was effective. As I felt Baby descend, my doctor helped him to turn back into an easier position; I gripped Husby's hand a little tighter. His voice encouraged me that I was making progress, and with MissJ's help I repositioned myself for the birth.

Through two or three contractions I pushed continuously, and before I really knew what was happening, my son was born. LittleE joined us at 1:27pm, weighing 8lbs 13oz and measuring 20 inches long. Placed immediately on my chest, he looked up at us, his parents, for the first time, and my heart swelled.

Impending Birth

It's 4:45 on Friday morning, and I can't sleep because the child in my belly will very soon be out. Grandma snores in the living room, ready to take over Toddler duty as Husby and I venture off to the hospital's birthing center. We had planned to go into labor naturally, on our own, but lately my blood pressure, protein, and sugar numbers have been concerning, and my doctor has scheduled us for an induction this morning for our safety. Technically, today is our 39th week & 4th day of this pregnancy (although if you count by my dates instead of the ultrasound, we're really at 41 weeks & 5 days), making it reasonable to ask Baby Boy to leave his current residence and enter the world with the rest of us. Nervously excited, I sit here typing in the dark while Husby catches a few more minutes of sleep. In just a few more hours, I'll be able to sit back and marvel as my husband holds his second son for the first time.

Rocking

The slow rhythm calms. Back and forth, back and forth. Soft music plays in the background as his head sinks heavily into my shoulder. Back and forth. His legs wrap around my ever-expanding belly, perching himself atop his brother. Breath sounds grow slow and heavy as little hands reach up to hold my face. The scent of clean baby wafts up to me, and I lean in for a stronger sniff. Back and forth. I close my eyes and memorize this moment - this small boy held tight, in his last days alone. Soon my time will be shared between two, both in need of love - and rocking. But for now, I treasure these moments with my firstborn. Back and forth.

Birth Plans

In preparations for Baby Boy's impending arrival, Husby and I have been taking classes and reading up on all things natural. Both startling and surprising are the facts that surround that way babies are born, especially in our 'educated' nation. Arming ourselves with a knowledgeable, experienced birth team, and taking the time to research all possibilities and options, we're confident that this birth will be quite different (and safer for both Momma and Baby) than our first. While RJ's birth seemed perfectly normal at the time (and, in deed, it was 'normal' by American standards), we've since learned much more about how childbirth is supposed to happen - naturally - and are hopeful that we'll be able to put that knowledge to work for us in the coming weeks. We've found a wonderfully supportive doctor and hospital, have hired a Doula to assist us in labor, and wrote out our birth plan to help guide us to the birth experience we desire. And while we know that things can change as we go along - even up to the last few moments of pregnancy - we pray that we'll be able to follow through with our plans and deliver a healthy baby boy in the end.

28 Weeks

Hello, third trimester ...

Goodbye, wedding ring, sanity, sleep, energy ...

Target

I really shouldn't be allowed in Target by myself (or without Husby - am I ever really by myself anymore?). I could spend hours just perusing the isles, much to the chagrin of my toddler. Even packed tight with animal crackers and apple juice, my diaper bag can only keep him happy for so long, and then I am forced to take my items to the counter and head home.

Over the last few days, I have spend entirely too much at my local Target(s). Out of the 3 nearby, we have chosen a favorite - and I assure you we will be frequenters.

I always go in with a short list and a plan to stick to it. And I almost always come out with at least one additional item. Recently, my list consisted of maternity tops [all of mine from the last pregnancy are AWOL], and I did pretty well sticking to it. Although, I may have purchased more than I intended. And over the course of more than one shopping trip. But at least now the Belly and I will be properly covered, and that's what's important, right?

24 weeks

Since we're moving durring the time I'd usually have our 24 week check-up, my doctor wanted to see us a few days early. Baby boy is growing right on schedule, with a heart rate in the 150s. They're readying a copy of my records for me to take with us, making it easier for my new doctor to be up-to-date.

Open-Door Policy

After a couple hours of running errands and meeting Husby for dinner, RJ and I returned home a little later that usual tonight. I planned to take him straight up to be, skipping the bath since he was so tired. We gathered our things and headed inside, only to be greeted by an unlocked, open front door.

Since the death of bin Laden, our security has been heightened and we've been instructed to report any and all suspicious activity. With no husband available to check for bad guys, I whipped out the cell phone to call the SPs (security police who patrol base housing). Not three minutes later I had two Airman doing a security check of the property. They assured me that the house was clear, but asked me to notify them if we noticed anything missing or strange.

RJ is now sleeping peacefully in his room, but I'm having a hard time winding down. Did I leave the door open? We were in a bit of a hurry when we left, but I always lock the door - which obviously means I shut it. So how did it end up open? Maybe I forgot this time - Pregnant Brain will do that to you at times. But the whole thing shook me a little too much, and I find myself waiting up for Husby to get home at midnight. Maybe then I'll be able to sleep.

Birth Options

This baby's birth approaches, and while I continue to tell myself that we have plenty of time to prepare, the time of preparations is upon us. As I prepare myself for the delivery of another child, I look back at the experience we had bringing RJ into the world and find myself wondering if all the drugs I had were really necessary. After all, women have been birthing babies for thousands of years - there's got to be something better than hooked up to machines, laying in bed, waiting for a stranger to tell me what to do.

Enter friends who've delivered naturally. With these women to answer my questions and reassure me that my body can, in fact, handle this, I've set out on a course toward a (more) natural birth. In Kansas, where we'll be in a matter of weeks, I found an instructor in the Bradley Method who I plan to contact upon our arrival. Hopefully, Husby and I will be able to find an hour or so a week without RJ (ha!) to meet with her and learn all the things that can help us work together to birth this child. While I'm not completely opposed to pain meds (lets face it, I'm a bit of a wimp), I would like to make it farther on my own and maybe even avoid an epidural.

By no means do I make any promises, other than to have a healthy baby in the end, but I want to give myself more options this time around. This could all be a total failure, but a girl can at least try, right?

Baby Wearing

The more I research what's best for my children, the more I'm finding that the 'old' way of doing things is the way I like best. 100 years ago, we didn't have playpens and bouncy chairs; instead, women strapped their babies to themselves so they could continue working while caring for the child. Today, there are many who look at women who 'wear' their babies as some kind of hippy who doesn't want to conform to 'normal' motherhood. But what good reason can you give me for leaving my child while I get other things done?

When RJ was small, I had a sling to carry him in. With him snuggled close, I could wash and fold the laundry, start dinner, and write a blog - with both hands free! He loved being near me, and even slept most of the time he spent in the sling. Unfortunately, I ordered a size too big, and once I lost my pregnancy weight, it became too loose for him to sit in it comfortably. Since he was getting to be a heavier, more mobile child, I didn't bother to order a smaller one - we just adjusted our routine, and he was able to play independently while I worked.

This time, instead of a sling, I'm looking forward to wearing my child in a wrap. After some research (that I should have done before RJ), I found a simple tutorial here on how to make my own. Rather than spend upwards of $30, I can get all the fabric I need for about $10 and have a baby carrier tailored to our needs. This way, Baby can be near me at all times, and I'll still have a hand or two available to catch RJ. Plus, there are tons of YouTube videos with instructions on different ways to wear Baby depending on his age and our needs - I can even nurse him in it, which just might come in handy when the toddler doesn't want to sit still while Baby eats. I've yet to find a flaw with this plan, and as such have sewn a wrap for myself and one for my sister and her little girl. Now I just have to wait 4.5 more months to use it.

20 Weeks

Momma's Belly - 20 weeks

Halfway through this pregnancy, today was our second ultrasound. Baby is big enough now that details are identifiable - including those of the gender variety. After an hour of examining all of Baby's other parts, the technician invited Husby and RJ in for the big reveal: 

we're having a baby brother!

Baby Boy - 20 weeks
(Not his best angle, but proof that there's a baby in there!)

We're all so very excited to add another little boy to our family - the men especially. I will admit that my mommy instincts told me this baby was going to be a girl, but bring on the testosterone. I have enough female emotions for this family, and boys are what I know. It looks like you won't be seeing any pink in our home anytime soon.

Ice Cream

For anyone looking for a new business venture, 

I have a recommendation: Ice Cream Delivery.

I find myself home tonight, with a sleeping child and a husband who won't be home from work for hours, and a sudden craving for ice cream. Of course, the last of our supply was finished off just yesterday - and not by me, I might add - leaving my craving unsatisfiable. With no way to go out and get it for myself [this particular craving isn't bad enough to warrant waking the sleeping babe], and no one to get it for me, I'm stuck. If only there was a delivery service I could call. I'm not sure what I would order exactly - it would depend, of course, on their selection - but I know it would be sweet and cold and delicious. But, alas, here I sit, with no delectable dessert to delight me.

But oh, wouldn't a service like this make such an amazing profit? Imagine, pregnant women everywhere, able to get their ice cream on a whim! And maybe they could offer more that just frozen treats! What if they would run and fetch for you whatever it was that your baby belly beckoned? If only ... 

Perhaps we should make that 

Pregnancy Craving Delivery.

Sixteen Weeks

Momma's Belly
16 weeks

The belly, as seen from Daddy's view

Kicks & Wiggles

The baby books say to expect to start feeling movements at about 18 weeks, but here at the 15 week mark this child is certainly making their presence known. Daddy has yet to be able to feel anything from the outside, but Momma is enjoying the flutters and flips. And while this child's gender [and name] remain unknown, s/he is well loved by us all.

Jeans Re-Do

Growing another baby means growing another baby belly. Said belly will no longer fit into my regular jeans, so it was time to pull out my stash of maternity clothes from when RJ was still in-utero. I dug through the pile of fabric to find my early pregnancy jeans [the ones my mother-in-law so graciously bought for me just after we found out we were a family of three] only to discover some severly worn areas in need of a little TLC ["tender love 'n' care", not "The Learning Channel"]. What to do? Iron-on patches would be too big and too visible, but what other option is there? And then I remembered a tutorial I stumbled on here. Since the early stage of this pregnancy will be over the spring and summer [and here in Mississippi it's already spring weather], revitalizing this sad pair of pants into a new skirt seemed like the perfect solution. Plus, I was already working with maternity pants, so I didn't even have to worry about adding the belly panel. Easy, scheasy.

I set to work ripping out the inseams, and before I knew it I was ready to put my sewing machine to good use. With some stopping and starting again [RJ doesn't always allow me to work a project all the way through in one sitting], my once un-wearable pants magically transformed into a rather fashionable skirt. Never before have I attempted to make [or in this case alter] clothing, but after this project I just might be more adventurous.

BEFORE

AFTER

Mommy Day

After 10 months of non-stop Mommying - not to mention the preceding gestation - I was more than ready for a day off. Husby graciously volunteered to have a Man Day with RJ while I took a Mommy Day for myself. The boys ran manly errands like taking a trip to the hardware store, and I got a chance to do some shopping and self-maintenance without worrying about how long I had until the next meltdown.

My agenda included a haircut and eyebrow wax - both of which were well overdue - and a search for at least one new maternity top. Success on all fronts! I last had a haircut when we were still in Texas, and it wasn't a good one at that - I hate it when the stylist doesn't really listen to what I'm asking for, and/or adds in an element I didn't want, which is what I got last time around. This time, I was as clear as I could be explaining the very simple cut I desired, and she rocked it. *sigh of relief* My new 'do, while just what I wanted, also served to highlight the caterpillars which had taken up residence above my eyelids. It was high time for a wax, even if my pregnant skin wasn't really on-board with the idea. But even a red inflamed face didn't stop me from doing some shopping, and without a winy toddler along for the ride I was able to try on clothes for the first time in months. Unfortunately, the majority of what was available was ... not my style. I did score one sweet new top though, and I'm pretty excited to have a 'nice' maternity shirt. As an added bonus, I decided to check out the $10 Boutique next door to see what goodies they might have to offer, and landed myself a new purse to boot.

After over four hours on my own, I was ready for some lunch and some down-time with Husby. I learned by text that RJ had just gone down for his afternoon nap, and Husby hadn't eaten yet either, so I stopped by our new favorite Chinese restaurant on my way home for a stash of Crab Rangoons and other delightful take-out. Once home, a nice relaxing afternoon awaited me - one where I got to spend the rest of RJ's nap alone with Husby, and even when he did get up his Daddy continued to keep him occupied so that I could rest. It was blissful. I might just have to make this Mommy Day thing a more frequent occurrence.

Recap:

• Haircut: $25

• Eyebrow Wax: $10

• Pretty Shirt: $15

• Cute Purse: $10

• Total: $60

• Having a day to do whatever I want: Priceless.