OCD

I have lots of theories about life in general and people in specific. I have never really thought of myself as an obsessive person; though I have had some moments with my children. Eventually I realized that it really doesn't make that big of a difference if things don't happen in the exact right order for them to be happy and well adjusted. Cadence is going to have a much easier go of it than Bishop (clearly the first child, and therefore, everything was done by the book with him). A small example? She get's her diaper changed wherever. I think Bishop had his diaper changed a solid 4 times off the changing table in his diapering years. I was a purist like that.

At this point, I am happy to get us all out of the house on time, and clothed weather appropriately. Even if Bishop is not wearing the 'outfit' that came all together from the store. That was a revelation for me. How silly, right? That I always put him in the exact same outfits and didn't really 'mix' it up till well after his 1st birthday. And that was only because they don't make the whole outfit thing for older toddlers. This is not at all how I dress, so I am not sure why I thought that was how kids need to dress. Whatever.

There are specific orders to how I do things, but I like to think I am flexible...while knowing that I am, in fact, not. Last week Bishop was helping me make his PB&J sandwich, and he started putting the jam on first. Which is not how I do it. And the jam was on the left piece of bread.

You may not know this, but the proper way is to put peanut butter on the left slice of bread, then wipe off the knife, then jam on the right side. And you don't mix up the order or the bread slices. EVER.

I also never wash my face before I am done washing my hair in the shower. This one seems pretty logical to me. If I wash my face, then wash the conditioner out of my hair, and it gets on my face...it is dirty again. Because conditioner feels slimy which = dirty. Anyways, I always wash my hair first, then start at the top of my head (face) and wash down. It's the shower 'trickle down' theory.

So I had to catch myself last week before I lectured Bishop about why the peanut butter needed to go first, and on the left piece of bread. You will be happy to know I let him finish his sandwich without even switching the bread slice sides.

SO what are your compulsive things? We all have them. It is either just the way we were taught to do things, or it is an order we have taught ourselves. How do you make a PB&J sandwich? Do you lick the knife? Not wipe if off at all?

Gah. I am just going to pretend everyone does it the right way.

The nudist colony

I realize that I blog about my children (particularly my son) far more than I do anything else. I was trying to decide what else I should talk about, and I realized...as a stay at home mom, my kids tend to be my day. So I guess it is okay for me to mention them so much. With that in mind-

How did I end up with 2 wanna be nudists? I say wanna be because they aren't allowed to be. At least, not in public. It is rough when I go to check the mail, and Bishop runs out in his underwear. Or in a shirt...and no underwear. <--- That was worse than the just underwear one. It's funny because he starts the day off dressed, and it seems to be a natural process that by lunch, he is down to just underwear, or the underwear has gone missing. After nap, we start out clothed again, and when Zach gets home, he is usually down to a tshirt and underwear.

Cadence has started complaining about her clothes. I am hoping she doesn't learn to undress for a LONG time. Does that make me a bad parent? I don't think so. When Bishop was in diapers, I NEVER let him see how I took them off, mainly by distracting him. So I never really had issues with him taking his diapers off. Pants are just too easy. The second we get home from somewhere, his socks and shoes get taken off (he has figured out how to 'toe' off his shoes, no hands needed!!), then, he goes potty and usually puts his pants in an obscure place, so I can't find them. Then his shirt magically disappears while he is playing, and the next thing I know, he comes out naked.

He also fakes injuries to get out of trouble. Primarily to his pinky finger. I have a hard time believing his pinky gets hurt that often. Now I am off to put his clothes back on him for nap time. Just another day in the nudist colony...I mean, Ivey house.

Kiss?

It is incredible to me what a kiss will do for a toddler. Really, any owie is suddenly better when it has been kissed by mom. I feel like there could be some really deep theological discussion inserted here about how faith in what we are told/know/God caring for us...things along those lines. But I am not in a theological mood at the moment.

Because my son has recently been asking for us to kiss him...in inappropriate places. Not for any reason, other than he had been hurt there. Yesterday, during one of his birthday parties, he followed me around for several minutes, trying to take off his pants so I could kiss his owie on his bottom better. I had to tell him several times that mommy wasn't going to kiss it. It didn't make sense in his 3 year old mind that mommy wouldn't make something better when it was clearly in her power to do so. The best incident happened about a month ago.

Zach was playing with Bishop in the living room, and Bishop somehow injured himself...so he went up to Zach, pulled his pants down, and said "Kiss?" and he didn't want a kiss on the bottom, if you get what I am saying.

Yet another incident of us falling over laughing while Bishop stands off to the side wondering what the heck is going on.

We have also had to start limiting what movies exactly that he is watching. We knew the day would eventually come, as he mimics what he hears, and we don't really want to be called to the toddler Sunday school because he told someone to F off or something like that. So clearly, most action type movies were out. Recently, we have discovered romantic comedy is off limits too. As he doesn't get that there is an appropriate way to kiss, and an inappropriate way. So he sees people on a movie kissing...and wrestling... and he promptly comes over, sits on my lap, and tries to kiss me. Ahem, really kiss me.

So. Movies limited-check.

There are many things that I expected when we decided to have kids. But trying to explain the difference between kissing and the inappropriateness of kissing your mom with tongue to my toddler was no actually on the list. I think Cadence is going to be super easy because we will already be savvy to all the strange things kids pull.

French kissing attempts included.

So, I made my first foray into homemade baby food. Which...is surprisingly easy...

Actually, my mom has told me for years that she always made all of our baby food, that is was no big deal, that sort of thing. But the little jars are darn easy, if ridiculously overpriced. And here's why. So babies usually start eating around 6 months of age. And this is good to get them used to eating. But all the eating that they do until they are one is just complimentary eating...meaning that their diet really should be breast milk/formula and then toss in a food for them to try. However, they shouldn't be substituting a nursing time for a feeding time until they are older. Much older than 6 months. So the idea that I need to pay for those little jars of baby food...which are nasty as can be, seems pretty silly. Though, to be honest, I jumped right on board with Bishop.

This time around...I decided to try out the homemade version. I feel like I have become this uber-crunchy momma who uses cloth diapers and only feeds her baby homemade organic food. Don't get me wrong, I love the earth; but I love to save money more. Call me cheap, but I can spend a dollar on sweet potatoes and feed my child for over a week instead of 2 days. Seems like a no-brainer to this thrifty mom. So when considering making homemade baby food, I went to my always there when I need it guide-

The internet. Bet you thought I would say my mom. Not that I think she did it wrong or anything, but I like reading lots of how-to's before I just hop into something. So after some extensive study, I found a pretty awesome baby food making site. So I jumped in.

Well, actually, I went to WalMart first, but THEN I jumped right in. This is what I needed-

Ice cube trays

Ziplock freezer bags

sweet potatoes

tin foil

food processor

And thats it, actually. I washed the potatoes, put some fork holes in them, ran them under the water again, then wrapped them in tin foil. I baked them at 410 for about 45 minutes. Let them cool a tad, unwrapped them, cut them out of their skins like I do an avocado, tossed them in the food processor (which my mother in law bought me when Bishop was born for just this purpose...it's a mini version). I thinned mine down a tad. You can use breast milk, formula, or water. I didn't make mine very thin, knowing that I will probably thin it more when it comes time for Cadence to eat it.

Out of the food processor and into the ice cube trays. Each ice cube portion is about a tablespoon. Anyways, popped them into the freezer after wrapping the trays in saran wrap. Let them freeze nice and hard, popped them out and into a ziplock bag. Labeled the bag (frozen baby food is good for about a month) and tossed it back in the freezer.

And just like that, I got a big Crafty-Crunchy Momma star. You are welcome, Earth.

When gallbladders attack...

So, I had a pretty crazy day last Friday. This blog may get a little into detail...so just advanced notice if you want to check out now, I would understand. It's not all that bad, just body functions. It's odd to talk about what your pee has been like recently with friends, so that's your only warning. What's a little pee between friends...that's always been my thought. I mean, if you got stung by a jelly fish, I would pee on you. But I am nice like that. Ok. Refocus...back to the attack.

I have been not well for a few weeks. It all started with what we thought was my back. I went to the chiropractor, who adjusted me a couple of times. I did feel better...not 100% better, but you know...back pain takes time, and all that. So. About a week later, I was pretty sure I had the flu. I was throwing up, running a fever...all that fun junk. That was on Monday night. By Wednesday morning, I was feeling better, still not 100%, but at least I wasn't throwing up, and my back wasn't KILLING me, and I could sleep about an hour at a time at night. So...doing better. Then I got itchy. I thought it was because I had taken several baths the night before (back pain), and my skin was dry (?). So, I lathered up on lotion. But then my pee was orange. And not just like, dark, need to hydrate a bit, dark yellow. Like, the toilet paper was orange, too. So, that's not normal. I drank more water on Thursday, hoping it was a UTI, and I could flush it out a bit. Funny thing, I was in a meeting on Thursday morning for Rejoice, and Chantel commented that I looked tan. I am not tan by any length of the imagination, so we were just commenting on how the lighting must be making me yellow. Weird lights. So, Friday morning, after sleeping a little better on the couch, my pee was still super funky, and I am still itchy. I decided to pop into a quick care type place because I am sure that I have a kidney infection, and just need some antibiotics. So I go in, give a sample. The doctor comes into my room and tells me that I do not have a kidney infection, I have jaundice.

My first response to this is...I don't drink!! What could be wrong with my liver? I barely take pain medicine when I am dying of pain... so the doctor tells me that there is nothing wrong with my liver, that it is my gallbladder. That I probably have a gallstone obstructing my common bile duct, which would cause the jaundice. He told me that he would get me an appointment with an internal medicine doctor for that day, and that I HAD to go. He said if I couldn't get in to see someone that day, that I need to just go to the ER.

So I had an appointment, went home, Zach called my mother in law so she could come watch the kiddos for us. We went into the doctor, who was a PA. Now, there is nothing wrong with PA's, except this was was pretty...uninformed? Uninterested? I think he may have just been used to dealing with the elderly. So, he went and got a doctor who worked with him, the doctor came in, did the exam (OWWWWW) again, looked at my eyes (jaundice) and told him I needed to have an abdominal ultrasound and some blood work. Stat. (what do you think stat means, by the way? Zach and I were talking about this...)

So off we go to get the ultrasound. Across town, of course. Wait FOREVER...in an empty waiting room. Which is so frustrating, because I kept thinking...it's not like they are so super busy...

Anyways, we finally (about 45 minutes and several Royal Wedding Insider episodes later) back, the lady does the exam (OWWWWW) and tells us it is positive. Which to me, means good...but in medicine, it means bad, apparently. She told us that my gallbladder's sides were inflamed, there were things in it, the common bile duct was dilated (bad?), and I have upper right quadrant pain (duh). She said to stay by the phone because we were probably going to be going into the hospital that night.

So. I go and have blood drawn, and head home. The moment we walk in the door, my mother in law tells us that the radiologist had called and we need to go to the hospital. Then the doctor calls and tells us the same thing. So. Off to the hospital we had to go. I went to get diapers and formula for Cadence, since I clearly couldn't feed her, and wouldn't have time to explain how my cloth diapers work to my mother in law. So.

We get to the hospital...and wait...and wait...and tell the same story about 23 times...and wait some more. It really wasn't that bad. We got there around 5:30ish, and I went into surgery around 7. It was pretty interesting...

I no longer have a lip ring. We had to take it out for the oxygen mask...and I was too out of it afterwards to be concerned about putting it back in. We did have a hold up before I could go into the OR to see if I am pregnant...I am not (whew). So, they took me in, put me on the table, and as they are strapping me onto the table (they strap your arms out to the sides) the anesthesiologist comments on how this is a funny pose for me to be in on Good Friday. It is funnier when you consider that they then cut into my side (ahem). Anyways. I laughed about that, breathed in the oxygen like they told me to, and then I was waking up in recovery.

The surgery took about 4 hours, which is apparently a really long time. My gallbladder was all kinds of messed up. And they had to do a separate procedure where they sent a scope down my throat, through my stomach, into my large intestine, then into my common bile duct. They had to make a little cut in it in order to take out the stone. So my throat is all kinds of sore between the breathing tube and the scope being put down it. Ouch.

I have 4 little incision points on my abdomen, which a pretty sore and hurt to stretch. My right shoulder hurts, because apparently they put gas in your abdomen when they do this type of surgery. The air then travels to a high point (my shoulder). And it is actually more painful than the incisions are.

So I am doing and feeling better, am on the mend from the surgery, and am minus a gallbladder. I am currently eating a super low fat diet, as I no long have a gallbladder to help break down the fat in foods. By low fat, I mean that I have eaten oatmeal for breakfast, and homemade chicken soup for lunch and dinner the last several days. And before that, it was just broth and saltines. Someday, I should be able to eat fairly normally again...until then, sounds like soup for dinner!

The Prodigal Return

As many of you know, and those who don't, our dogs, Amon and Spartan, got out and went on an adventure. Actually, after much work in fortifying our fence, and over $100 later, they simply moved what we had done, and dug under anyways. I may have mentioned that the cost of a chain v. the cost of pouring concrete, but we got the concrete instead. And out they went. Anyways, they got out on either Sunday night or Monday morning before 8:30. Either way, Amon was rescued the following Wednesday. Still no sign of Spartan, though we did continue to search for him.

So you can imagine my surprise, when, over a month later, I get a call at 9pm saying that this family has our dog. Actually, they have had him the whole time, and as luck would have it, just found his collar.

Ahem. It gets better.

So while talking to this guy on the phone, getting directions to his house, he asks me to please come up the ally, and that his white truck with a camper and a flat tire will be parked out there. Oh, and while I was out, could I please pick him up a 6-pack of soda. Coke or Pepsi would work.

...uh...wait...did you just ask me to buy you soda? At least he wasn't too particular, I suppose. He did explain that his previously mentioned truck did have a flat, and he had just run out of Coke... cocaine?

Right. So. I am supposed to stop at a store, buy him some snacks, then try to find his house from the ALLY at 10pm at night, where we would make the coke/dog trade off. Ok, then. Spartan was actually at a house a block up from where Amon was found, which is not at all surprising, as I couldn't see them splitting up. So, I got in my car, drove over there, stopping at a Mavrick and buying a liter of Coke, just in case the guy really won't fork over my dog without it.

I get to the street, which is in a SUPER shady part of town, and realize...there are allys on both sides. So I drive up one...no white truck with camper and flat. Drive up the other one, and there it is! There is a girl waiting by the truck with Spartan. I called and he ran right over (thank goodness), and I said, "Here's your Coke...?" The girl apologized for that and said that her mom wanted to talk to me before I take the dog. Then she leads me through a dark backyard, all the while, I am imagining that I am about to be mugged.

The mom just wanted to let me know what a good dog he is (I know) and how sad they are that he is leaving (too bad) and that the boys have become so attached to him. She the proceeded to have the two little boys say good bye, which is making me feel bad, but, uh, he is still my dog. I have a theory that one of the boys purposefully took off his collar so they could keep him and then decided to put it back on. At least, that is how the mom made it sound. So the boys are crying, I am standing in mud...and yeah. Awkward. I said something to the effect of, "Well, thanks for taking care of him...we appreciate it" and left. Spartan, being the good dog that his is, followed right along, jumped in the car, and we got out of there.

Shady. That's all I am sayin.

Semi-Pro

Have you ever gotten your hair done then after washing it yourself NEVER been able to style it as well as your hairstylist? I have considered many reasons this may be so. Perhaps they style better because they see the whole 'picture' so to speak? They know all the tricks? They went to school for this?

The last is true, but I have recently discovered a secret. Or maybe it wasn't a real secret, but something that just hit me in the head recently. Here's what happened. My curling iron went on the fritz. This is unacceptable behavior from a curling iron in my house. So I set out to buy a new one. Actually, Bishop and I set out together, leaving Zach home with a napping Cadence. So. First stop? Walmart. My favorite brand of curling irons are the Conair ones with the super round barrel. So. They, of course, have 2 rows of the size I always buy. 2 empty rows. So, after Bishop chased Jemme and Josh around Walmart for a while, we headed on to Target.

Same story, take two. We get there, and they are out of that sized barrel. Really, stores...really?! At this point, I am thinking, "This is a sign that I am supposed to let my natural wave shine through." Luckily, level-heads prevailed on that decision.

So, I decided to poke my head into Sally's Beauty Supply, to check prices on professional curling irons. And yeah, they are more expensive. But I was pretty desperate, and didn't feel like trying out Fred Meyers...or *shudder* Kmart.

So I bought one. Of the cheaper variety...sort of. It did come with a 2 year warranty (?!), so hopefully I don't lose that paper when this curling iron decides to take a little vacation. I paid more for it than I ever have paid for a styling thing before...and here is what I found out.

High quality styling product= high quality styling ease! OH. MY. GOODNESS. Curling my hair is faster, the curls are better formed, and last longer. And yes, I am blaming all this on a curling iron. Your hair looks better after the salon because the tools they use are better. Didn't think it actually made a difference, but uh, wow. It really, really does.

So, yes, they are more expensive. But they style better, last longer (with a warranty!?), and heat up faster. Do I love my new curling iron? Yes. My hair curls faster and stays curled.

And for an on the go mommy, quick and easy is the way to go.