They Light My World

Lucy will be 6 months old in 2 days.  I’m watching her sleep next to me right now as I write this.  Her little cleft chin, her sweet rosy cheeks.  She is so perfect.  I want to just drink up all of her and save it somewhere it will be safe.  I never want to forget loving so much or being loved so much.  The purest, most innocent love in the whole world.  And I get it every morning when she opens her eyes.  She grins so big I think my heart might explode. 

I worry when my children get older that they won’t need me.  It’s that feeling that I am the most important person in someone’s world.  And I am that to them.  They are and will always be that to me. So I catch myself daily, very consciously, drinking in the love of my girls and I am warmed and overwhelmed at how much I love being a mom.  I am so blessed it takes my breath away sometimes.  

Goodnight my sunshine.  See you in the morning love. 

It does NOT get easier when your baby is 3 months old, it just gets REAL

So we’re 3 months in.  I was sitting on the front porch after putting Grace and Lucy to bed and heard Lucy…who very obviously had just woken up, screaming at the top of her baby lungs.  Moments later I heard Grace’s trademark “passionate walk” thump, thump, thump (think Ace Ventura).  Thump, thump, thump.  Yep.  She’s awake too.  I just want them both to be asleep at the same time.  Just once.  Just for a few hours.  Dear Lord is that too much to ask???!!?! 

I sat there for a second, sipping my wine.  I took a deep breath and went back into the house. Grace was covered in black mascara.  Did she take my mascara to bed with her?  Did she sneak into our bathroom all stealth like and give herself a makeover in the two minutes since I had put her to bed?   Lucy was still screaming.

 I had to remind myself that this is only temporary.  The waking every two to three hours with my 3 month old.  The constant and unnerving backtalk from my 3 year old.  I just want one day to go by where I don’t have to do things like pick chewed gobs of gum out off of the dog, or try to scrub permanent marker off the kitchen cabinets. Or just one day where I don't get pooped on, or have to pick up poop, or wipe poop off bottoms, or "come look at my poop mama", or "she pooped on me mama".  Any and all poop related things.  I know people all over the world have done this…and survived.  I have friends and family members who have done this…and survived. 

Today I worked out at 9am and decided to stay for 10am long interval endurance…not because it would be great training (in fact it’s probably counter productive). But because today, 3 hero WODS  literally combined together would be easier than taking care of my own children. 

Am I a bad mom? I don’t know.  I don’t think so.  My kids love me.  They drive me insane, but I know they love me and I love them more than words.  But these last few weeks have been rough.  They say it gets easier when your baby is 3 months old.  I am here, telling you all now, THAT is incorrect…it gets REAL when your baby is 3 months old. 

 6am to 6am to 6am.  Those are my hours now.  No paycheck, no bonuses, no sales goals.  Just keep the kids alive and the house not burnt down. 

I’m not complaining.  I know how very blessed I am.  Okay,  I am complaining a little.  This stuff is rough.  And if you see me and I look like I haven’t slept in 2 weeks and I smell like vomit, poop, and old milk…it’s because I haven’t slept in two weeks and I’m covered in vomit, poop, and old milk.  

So how are you adjusting to having two children?

People ask me this all the time.  Why wouldn’t they?  I’m curious too.  How am I adjusting? 

I (we) are pretty much constantly in survival mode. Feed children. Clean children.  Repeat.

But this is not what I tell people when they ask.  I normally focus on the positive, “It’s great.  It’s so much easier adjusting to having a newborn when it’s your 2nd”.  Which is true. 

What I don’t say is that when my children go to sleep I high-five myself in my mind for making it through another day and keeping them both alive.

Take something as simple as going to the grocery store.

Johnny and I went to the grocery store for the first time today together since Lucy was born.  I put Lucy in the baby Ergo (baby carrier) and Grace in the cart.  But I didn’t just “put” Grace in the cart, there’s always a tantrum, or , “that’s not the right cart”, or she wants to sit in, “the big part”.  But after all that…she was in the cart. We get into the store, and Johnny was all walking around like he had all the time in the world, moseying down each aisle. 

At one point he was comparing prices on all of the 400+ different types of coffee and I finally had to say to him, “Honey…you do not realize that I have a 14 pound human time bomb strapped to my chest, and we have a 29 pound grenade bouncing around in our cart, pulling cans of beans and corn that we do not need off the shelves. Get your coffee…and we have to get out of here.”

Normally when I go to the grocery store with both the girls it’s like some covert-secret-military-operations- crap.  Get in, get out.  With as few casualties as possible.  We don’t have time to “look at ingredients”, or  “go back to that other aisle”.  WE are on a Mission. 

Johnny didn’t know.  Why would he? (it was his first assignment;).  It’s the "little stuff" that is really actually big stuff, that takes getting used to. Not that one child is easy.  But I would go ahead and say that two is twice as hard. 

Taking both my kids with me to my dentist appointment. So that happened.

I’m running late.  Shocking.  I have a dentist appt at 1.  I  grab a zip lock bag and literally pour the rest of my preschoolers lunch into it.  We’re taking lunch to go today.  I put my 11 week old (Lucy) in her car seat that weighs 80 pounds and we are out the door. 

I have not showered.  Heck…I’m not sure that I showered yesterday either.  I have not combed my hair.  I AM wearing a bra and I DID brush my teeth…so I have that going for me. 

I get to my dentists office and lug my car seat, my baby, my preschooler, and my gigantic diaper bag inside.  While in the waiting room I hand my daughter the remains of her lunch and watch her dig around in the Ziploc bag full of peanut butter sandwich and cheese.

The dental tech calls me back and we get situated to clean my teeth.  The baby is immediately crying and Grace is letting me know that she HAS A HANGNAIL AND ITS GOT PEANUTBUTTER IN IT…CAN YOU GET IT MAMA?!!!!

“Play with my phone Grace” …I watch in horror as she smears peanut butter and cheese all over my iphone.  But she becomes quiet. 

I am now feeding the baby (Lucy) under a nursing cover while reclined in the dentist’s chair with my mouth wide open as the tech cleans my teeth.  I think this is the point where my peanut butter covered child thought it would be fun to jump on my leg and pretend it was a horse. 

They cleaned my teeth for about an hour while all this was going on.  And no cavities!!! 

When we were finished I gathered up my kids, made sure that my boobs were inside my shirt, and literally ran (or hobbled with stupid dumb car seat) out the door. 

Lucy June Hietter…My Miracle Baby

In honor of Lucy’s 9 week old birthday, I’d like to share a story about our little miracle. 

On September 4, 2013 I was 9 weeks pregnant.  Johnny and I were absolutely over the moon planning for baby #2.  That morning I woke up with really bad cramps and  I was bleeding a lot.  I called Johnny (who was at work) in tears and told him that I thought we were loosing the baby. 

We immediately called our Doctor. Her office instructed us to go to Cox Urgent Care.  We showed up at Urgent Care in tears.  The whole family did.  My mom and dad, my sisters, my brothers.  Everyone was there.  We waited the usual BS inordinate amount of time to see a Doctor. During this time we called my Doctor’s office twice just to make sure Urgent Care was where we were supposed to be. 

Finally the Doctor walked in.  I was still bleeding a lot.  He checked me and confirmed that I was, indeed having a miscarriage.  My cervix was open and we were loosing the baby.  I remember feeling like I was floating.  Like I was looking in on someone else’s life that wasn’t mine. 

I had already cleared out a bedroom for the nursery.  The baby had a crib.  This baby had a place in my heart and how could it be gone? 

Johnny and I just cried.  We walked into the waiting room and the whole family cried together.  My mom held me and assured me that my baby was in heaven with all of the other babies that have been lost, including hers.

That night Johnny and I grieved together.  I think I drank a bottle and a half of wine.  We stayed up late talking with each other and just got drunk. 

The next day my mom sent me flowers.  She brought over a big Starbucks Coffee that morning and we just sat on my couch and cried together.  I managed to go on a short run to try to sweat out the stupid amount of wine I drank the night before.  While I was running I remember blaming myself.  If only I hadn’t done this. Or that.  I had closed the door to her nursery.  I’d deal with that later.

The Urgent Care doc instructed me to follow up with my obgyn in the next week or so.  I called her office and they said they could get me in that afternoon…or I could wait until Monday (it was a Friday).  I decided to get it over with and just go. 

I think the appointment was at 3. I remember looking at all of the other pregnant girls in the waiting room and being so jealous.   The nurse called my name, I went in, and they took me to the ultrasound room.  I was lying on the table and made a conscious effort NOT to look at the screen.  I just wanted it to be over. 

The ultrasound tech did the belly-gel stuff and said, “and I see a baby.  See.  Right there.  She looks good.”

“Wait…what?  No…that can’t be right.  They told me she was gone.  What?” I was stunned.  What!? And I was crying.  Again. 

“No, she’s right there.” The tech was almost as confused as I was.

I was then taken to a room and pretty much immediately a nurse and my doctor were in to see me.  They confirmed that yes, my baby was alive and looked healthy.  They said the bleeding was caused by a hematoma in my uterus, and they apologized profusely for the confusion and negligence on Urgent Care’s part. 

This was my miracle.  I figure, we all get one real miracle in our lives if we’re lucky.  And Lucy is my miracle.  I’ve never experienced such a gamut of emotions in such a short amount of time.  I thank God everyday for my children.  And I thank God that Urgent Care doctor was wrong and I have a happy, healthy nine-week-old baby to prove it. 

Sh*t Happens

If someone would have said to me at this time last year, “ Hi Amy…just wanted to let you know that this is this last night you and your husband will ever have out as non-parents/ expecting parents.” Really…I doubt I would have done anything differently. I remember our last night out. And it was awesome. I think we ended up at The Boogie. Enough said.

So that was almost one year ago exactly. Crazy how things can change. I now no longer spend a fifth of my income on cigarettes (I quit). I can’t remember the last time I slept 6 hours straight. And I am certainly not a size 4.

I was feeling especially good about myself today and decided to try on a pair of my pre-pregancy jeans. I quickly realized… THAT was a pipe dream. I told my thighs and myself that we would be okay.

So miss Grace and I went shopping.

I’m a big fan of baby wearing. I wear my baby everywhere and today I wore her to T.J. Maxx. I knew that I had a very finite window of opportunity to pick out the perfect outfit. I walked in the store and tried to politely acknowledge the, oh-what-a-cute-baby stares and politely ignore the less friendly, she-brought-her-newborn-baby-shopping looks.

Grace is an excellent shopper. She was awake the entire time was and acutely aware that the ceiling at T.J. is much different than any ceiling she’s seen before. I gained at least 15 minutes right there. I eyeballed clothes that may or may not fit over my hips, I grabbed as much as I could carry, and headed to the dressing room.

The girl attendant asked me if I wanted the, “ family room”. Which is cool because I felt very V.I.P. Not really, but it was much larger than the normal rooms and had to be unlocked with a key. I took Gracie out of her sling and did a wee bit of nursing to keep her happy…then I set her down and began trying on clothes.

Picture one crazy sleep deprived lady…jumping around…wiggling in and out of clothes, simultaneously making every silly face in the book to keep baby happy. That was me.

Grace found this very entertaining. She was smiling and laughing and kicking. Man, I love my baby. No joke. Anyhew, I found my outfit and then it happened.

Grace pooped all over herself. Of course I’m not totally inexperienced. I had a diaper bag with a change of clothes…in the car. She pooped right before we left. The look on her face was priceless. It was, “Well, that felt good Momma..but we need to do something about this RIGHT NOW…”

Crap. Poop.

I took my poopy (and then screaming) baby outside to change her clothes. Again, I got some stellar looks.

I sat in my car with my baby and wondered if I was the only mother on the planet whose child pooped in public.

I’m not a quitter and I decided to re-enter the store, minus the poop, and purchase my outfit. I felt like I had won some sort of race. Go me.

Grace was happy as a clam and her momma learned that shopping…and really everything with a baby…is a whole different animal.

Dear General Mills, Inc...

Mr. Kendal Powell
Chairman, President, CEO
General Mills, Inc.
1 General Mills Blvd.
Minneapolis, MN 55426

January 15, 2010

Dear Mr. Powell,

I should probably start off by letting you know that I am a big fan of everything that you guys have going on there at General Mills. Totino’s pizza rolls, Pillsbury, Betty Crocker, Bisquick, Haagen-dazs. I mean it is pretty much mind blowing when I think about all of the salty,sugary,and delightful goodness that you deliver to the world. So thank you for that.

Mr. Powell, I’m writing you to talk about Chex Mix. When I think back to my childhood, one of my very favorite food-related memories is watching She-Ra: Princess of Power and munching on Chex Mix. As a kid, I absolutely loved Chex Mix and it tasted especially good with real Coke. My favorite part about Chex Mix used to be at the bottom of the bag. The little Chex shards, the salt, the peanuts- my sisters and I would fight over who got to eat the “the bottom of the Chex bag”.

It is a rare and wonderful thing, when a food…a taste…a brand... follows you from your childhood into your teens, your early experimental 20’s, and then into adulthood (I think that’s what they’re calling 29 now). Today I bought a bag of Chex Mix Original. Something is different. Something about Chex Mix has been different for awhile. First of all it is not as salty. But I don’t even care that much about the sodium.

Okay, we both know where this is going. So I ask you Mr. Powell- where are the peanuts?

I know I’m not imagining this. There used to be peanuts. It’s like General Mills, all sneaky-like, did away with them. Surely I am not the only person in America who has noticed this adjustment. Although, I did Google “what happened to the peanuts in Chex Mix” and came up with nothing. I attribute this to my poor Googling skills. Or is it a cover up? Luckily I am not that fragile…otherwise, this type of discovery could have rocked my world.

Really, I just want to know why. Why did you take the peanuts out of my Chex Mix? Peanut allergies? Did you just want to boast that Chex Mix has 60% less fat than every other bag of carbs on the shelves? I run 5 miles a day and I don’t give a flying squat about fat. I just want my Chex Mix back. And if you label the bag “original”, it should contain the original peanutty deliciousness that I remember from my childhood.

Thank you for your time in reading this letter and I look forward to your response.

Sincerely,

Amy M. Hietter