Parenthood

You know, my perception of parenting before I had children is rather comical. I mean, I always knew that carrying a child for 9 months wouldn’t be all fun and games and that labor was likely going to hurt like hades but no one told me that being a mother to a 3rd grader was going to be dreadful. I hate to use such a strong, ugly adjective but it is rough.

Let’s take tonight for example. In an effort to help Dagen prepare for one of his FOUR tests this week, the hubs and I tag-teamed the study effort, the first being in Science over mass and motion. And then we moved on to Social Studies where he has been studying South Carolina history. Exciting stuff, right? I learned more tonight on settlers, crops and tribes than I honestly cared to know. We are discovering that if we want to see Dagen succeed in school, we are probably going to have to refresh {or learn for the first time, in some instances} what he is learning. PS – this was not in my list of expectations.

Listen, don’t get me wrong. I don’t send my boys to public school and expect that they fully handle his education with no help at home. I just never thought I’d be carrying third grade coursework for the second time at age 32. That’s all.

And then let’s discuss reading. He hates it. No, seriously hates it. He has no desire to read at all and I cannot relate. I love to read. {NERD ALERT!} I remember sneaking a flashlight as a kid, hiding it under my mattress, and pulling it out to read under the covers. When I give Dagen a book to read in his room, I usually go back 10 minutes later to find his light off while he is out cold. I know that I can’t expect him to love it like I did/do but, darn, he has to at least give it a whirl.

Now, he can speed read like a champ but his comprehension is, well, sad. Last week, he had an assigned story in his school reading book. We made sure he read it every day {as did we} and then asked him questions to test his comprehension. It appeared that he had it, except his test score indicated otherwise….and it was even an open book test. Seriously, son….IT WAS OPEN BOOK! Bless his little heart, these next nine years are going to be L.O.N.G. and probably painful {for all of us!}

For a brief moment, let me just rant about one more thing in this pregnancy. I can’t eat onions. Not only can I smell them a mile away with this ridiculous basset-hound nose but if I taste one in my mouth, I have to spit it out or risk the upchuck. WHAT?!?! I absolutely adore onions – red, yellow, white, green – and typically ask for extra on my burger, pizza or salad but, for whatever reason, this fetus has decided that ‘it’ is repulsed by them. I just don’t get it. I mean, I know that these crazy things happen but, golly Pete, what if these aversions never go away? What if I never want another cup of coffee or I never get to enjoy a slice of mushroom and onion pizza again? I just can’t even deal with the thought right now. {BTW, there are other distastes right now, those are just my two tragic ones…}

And since I titled this blog Parenthood, you should know that we have started watching that TV show on Netflix and you should, too. It’s the one show that totally makes you feel like a normal parent, even if you’re really screwed up like me.

That is all.

8w1d

So this week has been interesting. We started off at the OB’s office for our first appointment which included an early ultrasound of the bean. The scan went great, all looks on track and we even saw {but didn’t hear} the beating of little d4’s heart. Presh! Naturally, the older brothers were excited to see the pictures of the baby. That is, until they actually saw them and thought we had lost our minds because, surely, we didn’t think that blob resembled a baby?!?

Move ahead two days later to where I experienced probably one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. As I was walking down the preschool hallway at church before our Wednesday night Missions class, my heel got caught in the bottom of my pant leg and I went down. I can’t even imagine how ungraceful it looked to the many innocent bystanders but in my mind, I saw it like this….



Honest to goodness, folks, I don’t get embarrassed by much. When you have loud boys like mine who speak everything that their little minds think {and usually in public}, you just seem to form a bit of a ‘Whatever!’ opinion and learn to laugh stuff off.  However, this was awful. I remember seeing it happen in slow motion but seriously thinking it was a dream. 

I’m fine, the bean is fine {or so I assume} but it will take some time before I’m giggling when the memory comes to mind. For those who saw it, that is who I really am. PS - I'll be burning the perps that caused my fall.  {i.e. cute black heels}

But guess what? The next day, I popped up* out of bed and participated in the best team-building activity EVER with our staff. It was called the Greater Greenville Race and was a bit of a scavenger hunt in downtown G’ville that ended with lunch and prizes for the winners {that would be our splendid team that took 2ND PLACE!}. I swear we walked 5 miles in that 90-minute span of time but it was so much fun! See, TobyMac, I did get back up again!

So I should probably clarify the above *verb*. I may have been a little optimistic on my choice of words. Popping up out of bed actually means rolling out with lots of yawns, groans and sighs…and that’s when I actually sleep in my bed. As of late, I am experiencing some awesome morning sickness that actually means early morning sickness {i.e. 1am}. I have the overwhelming feeling of barfing but nothing comes out. It just sits in my throat. What kind of twisted torture is this kid playing on me?

Because of this mess, I’m not able to lay flat so I have to take it to the couch, where the tushy gives a bit more than my rock-hard mattress. I’m really over this. No, really. Who has time for nausea, not to mention the headaches, dizziness, bloating, fatigue and other stuff that goes with these wonderful issues? I’ve got meals to make, carpets to clean, boys to bathe. I just want to eat and eat A LOT, without everything making me sick. I want my pregnancies back from d's 1-3.

Can we now discuss my limited wardrobe from being in this awkward, in-between stage? I’ve pretty much got five outfits that I can comfortably {and appropriately} wear to work before I go full maternity, three of which are accessorized with a jean jacket. And this mess of a hair? Yep, it will probably be up in this low, wet pony-tail every morning until my personal stylist, the fabulous Delecta Rollins, forbids it and gives me a ‘do that requires zero effort. Except that doesn’t exist for my frizzy fro.

I really don’t want to sound like a Debby Downer but this part of pregnancy is ROUGH. My poor boys have been great. After I pick them up from school and we do homework together, I curl up in my normal spot on the couch while they battle each other in Mario Kart around Mommy’s limp body until Dallas gets home, whispering, ‘Do you think she’ll ever not be tired?’ to each other. Sad face but I can’t help it. I promise, boys. It won’t be like this for long, says Darius Rucker.

7w4d

Yesterday, Dagen came up to me and, as he does so often, tenderly gave me a hug.  It warms my heart that this rough-and-tumbling yet super sensitive and gentle little boy willingly hugs his mommy.  And then he spoke. 

Dagen: Mommy, how big is the baby now? Is it still the size of a bean?
Me: Um, yeah, something like that. 
Dagen: {with a puzzled look}…so if it’s that small, why is your belly so big right now? What else is growing in there?

One day when I expose my stash of secret pictures of him playing ping*pong stark naked to his high school friends and he asks me why I would do such a cruel thing, I’m going to point him right here. 

And because I need a laugh, I figured you do, too.  If you are or have been pregnant, I’m sure you can relate.  Last week, I cried during a fight scene in Karate Kid.  What the wha...?

6w3d

Funny how men & women are different. If a man reads that title, he thinks it’s the name of a new Star Wars character. If a woman reads it, she knows it’s pregnancy-related. Unless that man is my husband who has already updated ‘his’ due date on BabyCenter so that he receives weekly emails on the growth of our unborn bebe and subsequently sends me links to this, that and the other as if I’ve never done this before. Thanks but no thanks. I will sleep on my back until I no longer can and if I choose a bag of donuts over an apple for my snack, I strongly suggest you hold your remarks.

 Ahem, I digress. So 6w3d, for those in the dark, is code for six weeks and three days into this human-growing process. With Dagen, I had a cute little journal I logged everything in. And I do mean everything. With Davis, I had a free Enfamil calendar that I might have marked the big dates with fun little stickers. With Dayne, yeah, I did nothing. Sorry, buddy. It was the life in which we lived. With this one, I’m going to try my hand at blogging some things. Or this might be the only one, given the fact that I’m home from church today because I’m fighting serious nausea & dizziness. Whatever. You’ve gotta start somewhere.

So these symptoms I’m griping about this morning have been bothering me kicking my butt these last couple of weeks. No, it's not like I’ve never experienced any of it before but I’ll be darned if they don’t seem elevated. Take nausea for instance. It seems to show up around the same time every morning and last for several hours. It closely resembles the way I feel when riding through the hills of Tennessee with Dallas behind the wheel except it’s not over in 10 minutes…it lasts 2-4 hours and it’s brutal.

And then add some random smells that I’ve somehow developed aversions to and it’s even worse. I can understand being nauseated by the smell of hard-boiled eggs or fish or something stinky but my biggest aversion right now? COFFEE. My beloved java. Listen, friends, I haven’t gone a day without coffee in I-don’t-know how many years but right now, I’m on an eight-day hiatus and it bites. Not only can I not drink it but I can’t even smell it! {Sad, sad face} I guess this is a blessing in disguise for my growing fetus but my selfish me is missing my pumpkin spice latte. It’s October, for crying out loud, which is when all the seasonal flavors are out and I can’t even enjoy it. This is a travesty.

The other major symptom I’m battling is exhaustion and Dallas would gladly attest to this. My poor husband just wants to hang out with my cool self in the evenings after the crazies are down for the count and it’s all I can do to keep my eyes open until 9:00. Yesterday, I laid down for a late nap with Dayne and didn’t wake up until 4:30pm. Had he not kidney-punched me with his heel when turning over, I might have slept until this morning and still looked forward to an afternoon siesta. It’s really ridiculous but I can’t help it.  Maybe if I could stomach some coffee, I might have some energy. Hmmph.

And then let’s not even discuss my growth. Seriously, it’s absurd. For the record, the scale hasn’t changed but, by golly, this belly has. You always hear that, with every child, the ‘pop’ comes faster but I’m already embracing the belly band. At 6w3d {it was actually at about 5w2d, if I'm being honest}. So yes, it’s possible that, by this time next week, I’ll be in total maternity wear. I can’t even believe I just typed that.

There are others in my list of First Trimester Fun but I’ll spare you the details only to say that they seem worse this go-round. Why is that? Is it because I’m 32? Could it be a different gender? Or…{gasp}…could there be more than one in there?

First ultrasound a week from tomorrow. Stay tuned.  

Let's Even Up The Teams

So we’re having another baby….and, boy, the comments have sure been interesting. ‘Are you NUTS?’ ‘Don’t you know what causes this?’ {Yes, Dallas sure does!} ‘Will you be the next Duggars?’ ‘You’re only four weeks and telling people?’ And my personal favorite – ‘How on earth will you raise FOUR children in this economy?’ So in case I haven’t responded to everyone via text or social media, YES this was planned, NO we are not in a competition with the Duggars and YES we have gone crazy but, hello, that was long ago. We have and are praying for this baby until the day he/she arrives and do not take this gift for granted one bit. And I sure do share early…you will understand if you see me in two weeks and wonder how I managed to digest a cantaloupe and it make its way to my quads because I get B-I-G and fast. Shallow, maybe, but I need a justification for this. Now, I realize that the baby is the size of a poppy seed {which is really tripping the boys out} and that it can’t possibly cause such blimping yet but those doggone hormones that 'force' me to eat whole containers of Cookies-N-Cream Extreme ice cream sure can. Trust me. Telling the brothers last night was interesting. I would post the video but I asked Dallas to destroy it immediately. In hindsight, I should have let him keep it so that we could show the boys later in life but, in the moment, I felt the baby would never want to hear some of the reactions. You know, the part where one of the boys just keeps repeating, ‘You’re just kidding, right? You guys are funny. No, really. You’re just kidding, right? RIGHT! R…I…G…H…T?’ That being said, some of their other reactions were as such: ‘Is it a boy or a derl?’ ‘Show me.’ ‘Is there one baby or two?’ {oh lawd!} ‘If it’s a girl, I’ll brush her hair.’ Now, I won’t lie. At first and in random periods of the day, I’ll stop and think, ‘Wow! What have we gotten ourselves into?’ But here’s the deal – this life is already crazy but so crazy awesome. With each bit of chaos, I find myself letting things go one little bit at a time. Take this morning for instance - Dayne came in the kitchen while I was cooking breakfast and told me there was poop on the bathroom floor. Did I drop the spatula and rush in to clean it? Nope. I yelled at asked Dallas to come downstairs and do it. Oh and that poop? It was from sometime yesterday. Obviously I know it’s gross but I’m over it. {Note to self: Review our family sanitary policy on fallen feces with husband.} See, I’m totally mellowing out. Bring on baby #4. {ETA: Why is Blogger freaking out right now and running all of my sentences and paragraphs together? THIS will make me panic more than the stinkin' poop!}

Back2School Time

I am now the mommie of a 3rd grader, a 1st grader and a K-3’r. What the wha...?

It seems just like yesterday I was threatening my husband’s life on Dagen’s first day of kindergarten. Now I'm walking three into school {okay, I can stop pretending now that Dayne isn't with me - he's not really in big school yet but if you tell him I said that, I'll deny it up and down...} who are turning red at the sight of certain little girls {no, Lord, please...NOT YET} and asking me to walk away without so much as an awkward acquantaince, one-armed hug. Sigh.

It’s cliché but they sure do grow up quickly. Although the days may seem long, the years are short...far too short.

The Quarter Catastrophe

I thought my next post would be about my recent girls weekend to the beach. However, I feel Davis swallowing a quarter topped the ‘What’s New with the Darnells’ list so I’ll go with that.

I’ve had several people ask me how it happened and, for a moment, I wonder if I’m missing something. I mean, is there any other way this could possibly happen other than him opening his mouth, placing the quarter in and swallowing? I just don’t want to be out of the loop…

Okay, I’m done with sarcasm. {And if you believe that, you clearly do not know me AT ALL!}

Once we established that Davis was not choking on said coin and that he was breathing fine, I took him {along with his 3-year-old brother – yeah, GOOD TIMES!] to the local urgent care center. Within a few minutes, we were taken back to the room where the Yankee technician took some x-rays. {And FTR, I don’t say Yankee to be ugly – he was way cool and I happened to love his accent, being that I used to have one of my own from living 4 years in Worcester, MA. And if you’re wondering, it’s pronounced Woosta, not WORE-CESS-TUR where cars are ‘cahs.’}

Now, if I’m being honest, I was a little nervous when the x-rays were developing on the computer behind me. No, I wasn’t concerned that they wouldn’t find the quarter or that it was lodged somewhere else. I was just expecting to see a pile of chewed up toenails and half of Woody’s plastic hat residing in his left intestine.

You see, my sweet little Davis has a bit of a chewing issue. This is nothing new and no surprise to us. I’ve just slacked off on my job of lathering up his toes with Mavala {the greatest cure for thumb sucking & nail biting} and apparently he’s moved on from toenails to twenty-five-cent pieces…

And so now we wait and, with each passing bowel movement, we pray. According to the pediatric gastroenterologist {i.e. baby belly doctor}, if he doesn’t rid himself of the coin within 36 hours, they have to ‘go in and get it.’ I have no idea what that entails or which end they will ‘go in and get it’ from nor do I want to think about it just yet. I believe Davis feels the same.

Lucky for me and not so much for Dallas, every BM has to be thoroughly examined. Since he’s still on summer break and I have to work, he’s the lucky guy for the job. He did send me this pic after the most recent inspection.



He then informed me that he would be swallowing a quarter in about 35 years so that Davis had to do the same for him. I laughed so hard, I thought I might need to visit the potty myself.

Whenever this little George Washington does appear, whether naturally or surgically, I’ll share a picture. And right below that picture will be the one of me on the beach with a cheeseburger in one hand and a Twix bar in the other, where I knew nothing but eating, sleeping and eating for 4 days. The one that I had intended to share instead of a stained coin.

A bright side perspective - he's got a great story for his first grade journal. There's always a bright side, people. You just might have to 'dig' for it. {Hardee-har-har}