Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Deck the jingle bell rockin' around the O Christmas Tree

I like Christmas music. I'm not a fan that at the very second Hallowe'en's last "Tick-or-treat" is uttered, the fa-la-la-la-las start in earnest. But for the most part, I enjoy the songs that this time of the season inspires.

But there is one song that needs to be packed up in a weighted box, and dropped into that supposed bottomless lake somewhere in Russia, so it may never make our ears bleed again.

I am, of course talking about the Christmas Shoes song. If you've never heard it, don't google it, Youtube it, or look it up in any way. You will have it stuck in you head for the rest of the year, if not for the rest of your life.

It has all the makings of a classic bad song; saccharine-sweet and sung from the point of view of someone who isn't in the "Christmas spirit". There's a little boy (who was dirty head to toe - his words, not mine) in line in front of him at the store. Said boy is buying a present (the Christmas shoes) for his Mama, but doesn't have enough money. Said boy's Mama is dying (either that or she's in tight with the Big Guy upstairs, because in the song, she might "meet Jesus tonight"). The singer's heart grows three sizes bigger as he plunks the money down for the shoes, and he suddenly remembers what this time of year is all about. Yes people, it's a song with a lesson.

When a story has a lesson, it's called a fable. Does that make this a sable? (song+fable=... aw, forget it, it wasn't that funny anyway)

Then, at the very end, a choir of children start singing the chorus. I don't have anything against children singing, per se, I just hate it when it's tacked onto the end of a song for the "pulling-at-your-heartstrings" effect. Bleh.

You're probably saying to yourself right now, "wow, what a cold, cold-hearted person. We should throw her into that bottomless lake in Russia."

But just because I can't stand songs that make you chubby because they are so over-the-top sweet, doesn't mean I don't have a heart. O Holy Night makes me have to pinch my arm to keep from crying every time I hear it.

And THIS version... well, it makes me cry in a whole 'nutha way.



Merry Christmas everyone!

Wishing you a Merry Christmas!

Happy 3 Months!

Somebody please slow this ride down... I cannot believe that Mattias is 3 months old already. Although I miss the snugly newborn phase, I am loving that I get to see his cute personality emerge.

This little guy smiles every chance he gets, and he's now adding laughing to his repertoire. It's not a full-on belly laugh yet... more like a "heh". But he makes me feel like a freaking comedian, because he laughs at everything I do!

He still loves to snuggle when he's sleepy, and there is nothing better then rocking him; his sweet head nestled on my shoulder and the rest of his body curled up to mine.

Love this little guy so much... just look at that face! Happy 3 months, Mattias!

'Cause her friends don't dance...

Elise channeling Elaine Benes. The girl's got moves.

Even more things Elise says

That's McDonalds! - What she said while watching a Jack in the Box commercial.

I love my Poppa all day!

I eat my food all - This is a direct translation of "I ate all my food" from Portuguese.

Elise: Why you screaming Momma (in my defence, I wasn't screaming, just pleading with the car in front of me to actually use that thing known as a gas pedal and drive faster than 20 miles an hour)?
Me: Because some people just don't know how to drive
Elise: But Momma knows how to drive... you drive soooooo good!
hee hee... she's pretty smart!

What's that the noises? - Translation: What's that sound?

My nose is sweaty! - What she says when her nose is running

Me: Elise, you're a conundrum
Elise: I'm not a hockey player!

Me: Elise, you can't wear those crocs with that dress, they don't match
Elise: The point is, I get to wear my crocs.

Me: Elise, do you want to come with me to the mailbox to mail some letters"
Elise: Which ones Momma, B and D?

Poot taste - Toothpaste

Sticky Mouse - This is what she calls Mickey Mouse

Me: Elise, do you sometimes talk just to hear your own voice?
Elise: A little bit...

We were doing an alphabet puzzle, and for each letter I would ask her what words start with that letter, for example; the letter T, she would answer "toe". When I held up the letter J and asked her for a word, her reply was, "jay-jay"... which is what she calls a specific part of the female anatomy. Awesome. Can't wait until they cover the letter J in pre-school.

I can't see the difference, can you see the difference?

On the left is me the day before I gave birth to Elise. And on the right is me the day before I had Mattias. The difference in size absolutely astounds me. And Elise was only 2 oz. bigger! How crazy...

Hold me closer, Tony Danza

A few weeks ago, Elise started taking tap and ballet lessons. To say she is the cutest Tiny Dancer ever is a huge understatement... judge for yourself:

a still shot of Elise doing her trademark dance... think Elaine Benes (from Seinfeld) meets the chicken dance. One day I'll have to post the video of it. It's pee your pants funny (at least to us).

note the thumbs... it's like she's channeling Elaine

Okay Mom... enough with the camera

Why don't I ever crave broccoli?

I found this post in my drafts folder... I'm not sure why I never posted it, but the memories make me laugh, so enjoy!

Dear God,

I'll bet you have people asking You, "what is up with (fill in the blank)" all the time. Like the platypus for example. I'm guessing You've taken Your fair share of ribbing on that one. Personally, I think the platypus is kinda cool; a downright funky animal. I only regret that I've never seen one in person.

But I really gotta ask You, why did You have to come up with pregnancy hormones; namely, the ones that make me crave weird things at odd hours of the night? It's not like being pregnant isn't hard enough, what with the nausea, the wild mood swings, and the getting bigger with the round ligament pain and things of that nature.

And let's not even mention the pain of child birth.

What I take issue with is the fact that I can be marching my shopping cart down a grocery store aisle, minding my own business and keeping to the exact letter of my shopping list when BAM! Out of nowhere, I spy a bag of marshmellows and think to myself, "how good would a roasted marshmellow be right now?"

Never mind that I'm nowhere near a campsite, and the fact that it's ten billion degrees out during this very pleasant (she said, sarcastically) Texas summer day. All I can think about is a white-melty-blob of high-fructose-corn-sugar-goodness. All rational thinking goes out the window and I toss the marshmellows into my cart.

Fast-forward a few hours later, and I now find myself in front of my stove, "roasting" a marshmellow over an electric burner on a wooden kabob skewer. And by "a" marshmellow, I mean 5.

Well, pregnancy cravings must happen for a reason, right God? At least that's what I'll keep telling myself as I'm double-fisting the candy corn.

Yours very hungrily,

Joanne

Maybe we are doing something right

We have a neighbour that recently fell and broke her hip. Right now she's in the hospital and is facing a long road to recovery.

Today, as we were driving home from hanging out with some friends, Elise pipes up from the back seat, "I want to go visit B in the hospital." Totally out of the blue. Fred and I hadn't even been talking about B. In fact, we had told Elise about her a few days ago and hadn't brought it up since.

So Fred dropped Mattias and I off at home, and took Elise to see B. When she got home, I told Elise how proud I was, and how sweet it was of her to want to go see B in the hospital. Then I asked her why she had wanted to go.

Her response? "Because she was in the hospital!" But the kicker was what she added afterwards.

"She's sick and maybe lonely."

A pretty terrific moment in the midst off the terrible threes.

Lest We Forget

Growing up in Canada, November 11th (Remembrance Day) was a time that we would reflect and give thanks to those who gave their lives for our country.

There was always an assembly at school (usually the day before, since Remembrance Day was always a day off), marked by the reading of In Flanders Fields (see below), and the playing of Last Post. This was followed by two minutes of silence at 11:00 am (the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month), the time the Armistice of World War I was signed in 1918. To this day, the sound of a lone trumpet makes me want to bow my head and stand silent.

We wear poppies on our lapel to honour our veterans; a symbol of the famous poem In Flanders Fields which was written by a Canadian during WWI. To read more about the history of the poem, you can go here.

I thought it appropriate to post the poem today, in Remembrance of all who died so we could live free.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— Lt.-Col. John McCrae (1872 - 1918)

I'm not even kidding... three years later

I'm going to keep on re-posting this every year until someone listens...

Dear Person or Persons in charge of Daylight Savings Time,

Yes I know the time change was a few days ago so this may seem a little late. You see, it took a few days to put my thoughts down into writing because I've been wandering around my house trying to figure out WHAT BLOODY TIME IT IS.

It seems some of my clocks are smarter than me and change on their own. Some, my husband changed on Sunday. And others still display the "old" time. My problem is, I can't figure out which is which.

So, onto my issue with you. I hate the very concept of DST. It is, quite simply, a load of crap. I don't care that on some farm, in a far away land it makes the cows happy, or whatever bull you're touting, but it screws with my life and it must stop. And I don't appreciate the propaganda the news is spewing by telling me, "you gain and EXTRA hour!" That is pure crap to the highest degree.

We're onto you, yes we are. Who are we? We are the parents of children who cannot tell time, and ergo do not give a flip about your stinking time change. We are the parents of children who are now waking up a FULL HOUR EARLIER than normal now, because of a reason that no longer exists. My daughter has decided to add an extra half hour to that, because that's how she rolls.

An hour may not seem like a lot to you, but when your days are filled with house-cleaning, meal-preparing, blood-sugar-checking, insulin-shot-giving, child-rearing, errand-running, diaper-changing, laundry-washing and nose-wiping; and you do it all while suffering from the 500th consecutive bad hair day, AND quite certain you have poop smeared somewhere on your person (because why else is THAT SMELL following you around the house like the dog when she's hungry), well then, I would say an hour is HUGE.

So I am urging you, PLEASE, for the love of all that is holy... do away with DST. Or I shall be forced to hunt you down, find out where you live and start banging away on your bedroom window an hour before you usually get up. I will also knee you in the groin for the extra half hour. Because that is how I roll.

Happy Two Months!

I didn't realize it until I looked down to the lower right-hand corner of my computer and saw the date staring back at me; 11/7/2010. Mattias is two months old today!

I cannot believe how time has flown by, wasn't it just yesterday that he emerged from my belly, all red-faced and screaming? It seems like my cheeks should still be wet from the tears I shed when I first laid eyes on him.

What can I say about the littlest man in my life? For starters, he is incredible. He is about the easiest baby could ever ask for. Oh sure, at first we went through the adjustment stage, where all he wanted was to be held, but soon he seemed to figure it all out.

Lately he has been all smiles. They are the most beautiful gummy grins ever. This child seems to smile with his entire body, every part of him wiggles with pure joy. And did I mention that he slept through the night at 5 weeks?

Because I know you want to see them, here are some recent pics of my sweet baby boy:

I'm a bit of a dork... but you probably already knew that

When I was growing up, before DVD players in cars, before portable game systems, before IPhones and IPads, back when kids actually had imaginations; we used to have to entertain ourselves on long car trips. I know, GASP!

One of my favourite things to do was exchanging "What do you call a man with no arms and no legs" jokes with my brothers. For some reason, I find these hysterically funny. And for prosperity's sake, here are a few of the ones that will get a chuckle out of me every time:

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs sitting in the water?
Bob

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs up on stage?
Mike

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs laying under a car?
Jack

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs hanging on a wall?
Art

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs laying in front of a door?
Matt

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs being sent through the mail?
Bill

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs sitting on the beach?
Sandy

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pot on the stove?
Stu

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs sitting beside a hole?
Phil

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs sitting in a hole?
Doug

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in the morning?
Don

What do you call a man with no arms and no legs on the barbeque?
Frank

And quite possibly my absolute favourite:
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs sitting in a pile of leaves?
Russell

Two little pumpkins...

Elise 2007 / Mattias 2010

They are only three days apart in these pictures. Elise seems to be slightly more unhappy than Mattias, wouldn't you agree?

Halloween Pictures

I am way, way too tired to come up with something witty to write here. So... just enjoy the pictures and let me go to sleep.

Check out the size of that pumpkin!

Mattias in his Halloween shirt (a present from Megann)



My lil pumpkin



One day he's going to be so mad at me for doing this to him



The princess and the pumpkin

Go Rangers (yeah, I know...)

Ready to trick or treat!

This guy tricked out the walkway to his front door... the sign says "Welcome to the Insane Asylum. Wait, I thought that was MY house

Waiting for the candy

Elise, Mattias and I... you don't want to know how many people ask me if I'm STILL pregnant while wearing this wrap. People, that's a FREAKING 7 week old baby in there. Come on!

All this snuggling wears me out

Happy Halloween... and GOOD NIGHT!

Is she three... or thirteen?

The person who coined the term "terrible twos" was on crack. Or not very bright. Or just didn't know the age of their own child. For us, the twos were really quite terrific. Elise was a wonderful child; all sweetness and light. I figured if this is as terrible as the twos get, I have it made!

And then as we inched ever closer to her third birthday, we noticed a change. She started talking back. Saying "NO!" when we asked her to do something. She would roll her eyes, and stomp her feet at us. She was sassy, and not in a good way. What happened to my sweet little girl?

Then last night, I snapped. Fred was reading her a bedtime story, but was so tired he kept falling asleep as he was reading. Finally he told Elise that he would finish the story (which was quite long) tomorrow. This did not sit well with Elise and she started yelling "NO!" and whining. I went in and explained that Poppa was so tired and she needed to be understanding. Fred even offered to read her a shorter one, to which she yelled, "NO!" again.

So we gave her a choice... no story, or the shorter story. First she wouldn't choose, then she said, "no story." So when we said good night to her, she started crying. I told her that she had made her choice, and if she didn't settle down, all her toys, books, and stuffed animals were coming out of her room. Her reply? "Take my toys."

I told her to think carefully, because if she continued with this attitude, I would take ALL her toys away, and she would have nothing left to play with. Her response again was, "I want to you take my toys!" Followed by more screaming. She should know better than to dare me.

So I took a laundry basket and took everything out of her room, all the while she was shrieking (think tornado siren loud). Then I went downstairs to take care of the rest of her stuff. Because it was 10:30 at night (and I'm a bit crazy), instead of carting all her toys out to the garage, I took packing tape, and taped off the area where all her toys were. Sort of like a crime scene. Greatness.

Her behavior last night isn't the worst example of how she can be, but it was the final straw. Fred and I are not the strictest parents in the world, but we do demand a certain level of respect, politeness, and obedience from our offspring. We have talked to her about acceptable behavior, and when everything is going her way, she is very agreeable. It's when things do not go her way that she turns into a whirling dervish of toddler angst.

So we have taken away what she holds dear... her "stuff". She understands that the only way to get it back it to earn it back with good behavior. So far it's going pretty well today. Except for one set-back where she lost the toy that she had earned back AND went to sit in time out.

It's cool... Rome wasn't built in a day. We'll do this one stuffed animal and puzzle at a time.

Look who's smiling!

He's seven weeks old today and has been giving us the sweetest toothless grins for about a week now. It's been hard to capture one with the camera, but I finally got it! How cute is he?

It's time!

What a great day to be a Texas Ranger Fan! World series, here we come! And what a sweet way to end the game; A-Rod striking out looking.

The Rangers are really the only Dallas-area sports team I can stand. I don't like the Cowboys for the exact same reason I don't like the Yankees. The ego. The entitlement. The "we're-awesome-just-because-we're-the-Cowboys-and-it-doesn't-matter-that-we-suck" attitude. Plus I'm not really a fan of the game anyway. The only thing football is good for is putting me to sleep fast on a Sunday afternoon.

The Mavs don't do it for me either, mostly because their owner is a dink. It's like watching a 13-year old trapped in an adult's body. Seriously, he reminds me of Tom Hanks in Big, only not cute or lovable at all. Disliking the owner is another reason the Cowboys bug me. Need I expand on that?

And the Stars? Well, I don't like any hockey team that isn't the Canucks. And what is a hockey team doing in Texas anyway? Somebody took a very wrong turn somewhere. I think Elise says it best... "Boo Stars!"

But the Rangers are a different story. Especially this year's team. They are extremely talented, yet seem humble. They seem to genuinely like each other and love what they do. I think the fact that they use Ginger Ale to spray during the celebrations so Josh Hamilton can take part is aweome. And the "Claw and Antlers" thing tickles me to death.

So bring on the Giants/Phillies... because, It's Time!

Why we need a cure

If you are a parent, I'm sure you remember all too well standing over your baby's crib or bassinet, watching them breathe. I bet you even held a finger or put a mirror under their nose just to make sure. When Elise was born, I lived in fear that SIDS would steal her away from me as she slept.

And when she reached an age when SIDS was no longer a concern, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Little did I know that a few months later I would have a newer, bigger worry to deal with.

Diabetes comes with a laundry list of complications; heart disease, nerve, kidney and eye damage are some of them. But there is another complication. A more sinister, less talked about one. It's called Dead in Bed Syndrome. Basically, a person with diabetes can pass away during the night due to an untreated low blood sugar.

Today my heart is aching for the family that lost their 13 year old daughter to Dead in Bed Syndrome. And the part that hits hardest is that her parents, by all accounts, were diligent in their care of her diabetes

When I usually explain to the uninitiated all the work that goes into caring for Elise, the response is always surprise. Especially when I get to the part about how we get up at least twice a night to check her blood sugar.

I know it seems over the top to most people, but as Elise's Mom, I will do everything in my power to protect her from harm. And I know that I cannot be there 100% of the time. I know I cannot protect her from every evil in this world, but you can bet that I will bust my ass to try.

Let's look at it this way; when you get in your car, you either strap your kiddo into their car/booster seat, or make sure they put their seat belt on, right (let's disregard this is a matter of law for the moment)? Why do you do this? You're a safe driver. You obey all posted speed limits, you use caution, and pay attention to the road.

But what you can't control are other circumstances; drunk drivers, people who text and drive; and the ones who just plain suck at driving. You have no idea at what might happen next, so you do what you can to protect your child... it's just good ol' common sense, right?

Unfortunately, a parent is NOT a pancreas. No matter how hard I try, I cannot replace that precious organ in Elise's body. I was not created to control and maintain blood sugars. All I can do is use my common sense and do my absolute best.

And this is why we weigh every carb Elise eats.

This is why we check her blood sugar 10-12 times a day, and at least twice a night.

This is why we don't leave Elise with anyone.

It is why, every seven days, we inject a sensor into Elise, so we can monitor her blood sugar via a Continuous Glucose Monitor.

It's why I ALWAYS have a watchful eye on Elise.

It's why Elise comes with us on our date nights.

And why I carry a backpack full of strange gadgets and food. It may seem odd to you, but it might just save Elise's life one day.

It's why I am so tired, so distracted, so overprotective, so consumed and so frightened. Because stories like this happen. And they happen to people who do everything they can, just like we're doing.

And so, my heart is breaking. Not just for this family, but for all the other D-families out there who hear these stories. And the need to check their kiddos a little more often and hold them a little closer consumes them that much more.

Please God, let us find a cure soon.

First day of school

Today was Elise's first day of pre-school. Since she now wears a continuous glucose monitor, we finally felt comfortable enough to leave her in someone else's care. We were very impressed by this school, and Elise's teacher has Type 2 diabetes, so it seemed like a good fit. Elise was pretty excited...

Come on Mom... let's go!


My little pre-schooler

Does she look ready?

Now she's not so sure

In the end, she did great. Of course, some tears were shed, but none of them were hers. I am so proud of how she just jumped in with both feet and never looked back.

It looks like school is already working; when she heard Mattias crying when he woke up from his nap, she told me, "we need to go upstairs to see what is troubling him."

And then this afternoon, she asked to put on her jacket because she "wanted to be a doctor and take care of her sick baby."

That's my girl!

The problem with pacifiers

I've always thought that we humans are a pretty inventive people. I am always amazed when I pick up a Skymall magazine and see all the crazy gadgets they have in there. It makes me want to yell, "yes, YES... I NEED THAT!"

And not just in the magazine either. There are so many great inventions or innovations that people have come up with. For example:

Your bum gets cold while driving? Built in seat warmers!

Public bathrooms are a dirty, nasty place? Self-flushing toilets!

You want to travel to far off places and not spend hundreds of days on a boat developing both scurvy and rickets? Air travel!

Are you cold and lack the ability/intelligence to use a blanket? The Snuggie!

You see? All these wonderful inventions because someone saw a need and decided to do something about it. So why, for the love of sleeping babies, can't someone invent something to keep a pacifier in a baby's mouth?

Because it is so completely craptastic when that baby is waking up crying every 10 minutes due to the fact that the pacifier has fallen out of his mouth. And short of lying on the edge of my bed, with one hand draped over the bassinet forcibly keeping the pacifier in his mouth, I have run out of ideas. Well, there is duct tape... but I haven't resorted to that. Mostly because I don't have any in the house.

Seriously though, we can blast people into outer space, land them on the moon, and bring them back to earth again, but we can't find a way to fix the pacifier problem?

NASA, are you listening? Bill Gates, Steve Jobs... anybody?

How about you, Snuggie guy?

Please sir, can I have some more?

Sleep is a very sacred commodity in our house. Between having a 3 year old (who is a total night owl and sometimes stays awake until 11:00 pm) with diabetes, and a newborn; sleep can be hard to come by these days.

That's why I have to give a shout out to my amazing son, who, just 1 day shy of being 5 weeks old, slept 8 hours last night (from 11:30 until 7:30). And a few days ago, he slept 7 hours. I'm loving it!

Now if only I could get 8 hours of sleep in a row, life would be grand! Heck, I'd settle for 5 hours of non-stop slumber.

Happy one month, Mattias!

So I totally flaked on posting about my baby boy's first month... blame it on the horrors of mastitis, which I delveloped on Thursday. But late is better than never, so here it is!

-He is now 9 pounds and 6 ounces... I can't remember exactly how long he is, but the doc said he's in the 95th percentile.

-He sleeps soooooo much better than Elise ever did. All the baby books I read said that newborns sleep an average of about 16 hours a day. Elise slept 11. It nearly killed me. Mattias sleeps about 15 - 18 hours. At night he goes 6 hours before I wake him up to feed. I'm sure he'd go longer, but I want to make sure he's eating enough.

-All he wants is to be snuggled and carried everywhere. Unfortunately, he's not a huge fan of carriers/wraps etc., but I'm going to keep trying to make him like them! I don't have enough arms and I don't think I'll be able to learn how to give Elise her shot with my feet!

-He LOVES bath time. If he's at all fussy, one of the best remedies is to put him in his bath chair and give him a good scrubbing. Again, totally the opposite of Elise who used to scream through her bath.

-He maintains eye contact very well and I swear he was about to smile at me today. He can also hold his head up for a good 5 - 10 seconds. I love it when I'm holding him on my shoulder (burping position), and he lifts his head up to look into my eyes. I melt every time!

-It's still hard to tell if his hair is going to be red. In some light, you'd swear it is, but he really doesn't have enough to tell.

Here are some uber-cute pics of my little guy:

Snuggled with Momma

Please, no pictures


Hanging with Elise

Baby burrito

Yeah, I'm cute!

Ahhhh, the life of a baby

Lounging and smirking

Hmm, shall I eat, sleep or poop now?

Houston, we have a package

Everyone has a price... and a currency. The hard part is figuring out what it is.

As I have written about before, Elise has an issue with dropping her kids off at the pool. She potty trained pretty much within a day, but absolutely refused to poop. We talked it over with her doc who told us it was going to become a power struggle, and that Elise would go when ready.

To speed up the process, we resorted to bribery. I was tired of changing giant-sized poopies and shelling out almost $10 for 20 diapers. First, we took her to Target and let her pick out any toy she wanted. We told her that it would be her reward for making poopie on the potty. She seemed excited. I was too.

But when it came to go-time, she refused. She even told us she didn't need any toys. After that we tried money. Yes, my (at the time) two year old was motivated by cold, hard cash. But not, apparently, enough to do the doodie.

Food was not really something we wanted to use, but since we do give her an M&M for behaving during her shots, we tried that. Nope. Finally, I just gave up.

One day I just sort of snapped. There was no reason that my daughter, who knew well enough that she had to poop because she would bring me a diaper and tell me so, should not be able to sit on the potty to do her business. So I told her no more diapers. Then I tried one, final bribe; television.

Elise doesn't really watch TV, not for a lack of effort on her part. I'm just not a fan, especially when I see how she zones out in front of it. But I told her that if she pooped on the potty, she could watch a nuvie (her word for cartoon). She seemed excited. But I didn't get my hopes up.

Then on Tuesday, she announced that she had to make poo-poo, so I told her that there would be no diapers, and she could watch her nuvie when she was done. To my utter surprise, she hopped right on up and went to work. Within 10 minutes, we had a package.

To say there was much rejoicing is an understatement. I laughed. I clapped. I danced. At one point I think I almost started to cry. She seemed rather pleased with herself too.

And then I let her watch two nuvies. You gotta celebrate the first deuce in the toilet in style, you know.

I'm Four! Four weeks old...

Is it just me, or does he look ready to do some kung fu fighting?

The good, the bad and the ugly of my hosplital stay

The Good

Food - My rule of thumb is that any food that I personally didn't have any hand in making is good food. Even better, the hospital I stayed at actually does a wonderful job at preparing food. Plus, every morning you get a menu with a whole plethora of choices for each meal. I spent a lot of time agonizing on whether I should choose cheesecake or angel food cake for dessert.

Nurses - I love the women and men (although I have yet to meet a murse... I think they are mythical creatures, like unicorns or a helpful government worker) who work in this profession. In another lifetime, I think I would like to have gone to school for nursing. They showed me mercy when necessary, and kicked my butt when it needed kicking. Yay nurses!

Drugs - Not that I am a big proponent of drug use, but having your belly/uterus sliced open really, really hurts. Unfortunately I am allergic to almost all of the "good stuff", but found the right mix of Darvocet and Motrin worked quite nicely.

TV - We don't have cable at home... the hospital does. And I can watch it in bed. Does life get any better?

Calling someone to magically take the baby away - For the most part, Mattias hung out in my room. But at night, I would call for him to be whisked off to the nursery and brought back in a few hours for a feeding. It was all sorts of lovely. Mostly because it led to...

Sleep - Can you believe I got more sleep in the hospital with a newborn, than I usually do at home (if you're a parent of a diabetic, you can). Because we have to check Elise's blood sugar at least twice a night, I usually get about 4 hours of sleep a night. Towards the end of my pregnancy, I was getting about 2 hours. So the hospital was heaven for me. Sleep heaven. And the naps! Sweet, wonderful naps.

The Bad

Lactation Consultant - Usually I have no issues with these (mostly) women whose job it is to look at and touch women's breasts on a daily basis. But I was matched up with the Lactation Nazi this go-around. Seriously woman, I nursed my first for 2 1/2 years. I just stopped 8 months ago. I can handle this! Mattias dropped a lot of weight in the hospital... almost 10% of his birth weight. And I guess that's a no-no. This lady basically wanted me to nurse him every hour, threatening me with formula if he didn't gain any weight. The problem was that Mattias was a very sleepy baby and would rather snooze than eat. The funny thing is, the pediatrician didn't think his weight was a big issue. Sorry Lactation Nazi, the doc wins this one.

Asking about my poop - I love starting the day with a bright and cheery, "so, have you had a bowel movement today?" The only thing better is being threatened with an enema when your answer is no.

Loneliness - With Elise, Fred was at the hospital with me the entire stay. This time, he had to go back and forth between the house and the hospital; sleeping at home so he could care for Elise. I spent a lot of time by myself and it was very lonely. Especially during the overnight. Thank goodness for nurses and cable TV!

The Ugly

The bill - I haven't seen it yet, but I'm sure it will make me cry.

Now we are four

This is Mattias's birth story. I am aware that is will probably be of no interest to anyone but me and those directly related to me, but I wanted to write it down while it is still fresh... hopefully one day Mattias will be interested in hearing about his arrival into our world.

Elise's story was very different and it was interesting to compare the two. Of course, we knew from the beginning that I was going to have a planned c-section with Mattias. I would have liked to try a VBAC, but the complications are a little frightening to me, plus I LOVE my doc, and going for a VBAC would have meant going with another doctor. I'm a tad bit finicky about who I let slice me open and root around inside me.

We chose a 12:00 pm surgery time because it worked best with Elise's schedule, and I really wanted her to be there for the birth. Given my history with any plans I make associated with birth, I should have known better. We checked into the hospital at 9:45 and settled in for what turned out to be a long wait.

My doc was called into an emergency, so my surgery was pushed back. I was getting so nervous and I just wanted to get it over with. Noon came and went, with no ETA. I was all dressed up in a gown that showed off my booty, and no place to go! They had me hooked up to a monitor and I was having some pretty strong contractions that were getting closer and closer together. Mattias wanted to be born that day, one way or another!

At lunch, my husband thought it would be appropriate to get Chick-fil-a for himself, Elise and my Mom; and they all merrily ate in front of the poor preggo who hadn't eaten anything in almost 14 hours. Then they all acted surprised when I was all surly.

Unfortunately, after lunch my Mom had to take Elise home because it was nap time. I was catching up on some blogs when my doc finally stuck her head in my room. It was 1:51 pm and all of a sudden I wasn't so sure I was ready. Things happened pretty quickly after that. They rolled me to the operating room, and the anesthesiologist (aka drug doc) got to work on my spinal. I was so nervous about this part, but turned out to be no big deal.

As I was being prepped, the nerves started up big time. Fred was brought in, all done up in his OR duds and before I knew it, the slicing began. My husband, being the weirdo/rockstar he is watched the whole operation from start to finish. All I could do was thank God for that beautiful blue curtain.

At this point, I received one of the nicest compliments ever from my doc... as she was cutting into me she exclaimed that I had almost zero fat and that my belly was ALL baby. When you're 9 months pregnant the weirdest things will make you happy. I'm just sayin'.

The drug doc did a great job of keeping me occupied from the start of the surgery until Mattias was born. There are really no words to describe the sweet sound of hearing your baby's first cry. It is one of the most unreal experiences in the world, and I wish I could have recorded it to listen to over and over again. Of course I started to cry too, and all I wanted was to lay eyes on that beautiful baby boy of mine. The waterworks really started a soon as I saw his sweet face. Love at first sight!

The rest of the story is pretty mundane; I was taken back to recovery, given some super-awesome drugs, was able to hold and nurse Mattias for the first time (awww, my heart absolutely swooned... this was one of the things I missed the most), and then wheeled into my room where I got to witness Elise meeting her brother for the first time. At one point during my journey from room to room, I remember waving the "queen's wave" at my doctor. What can I say, I love me some good pain killers!

Welcome to the world baby boy... I'm awfully glad you're here.

Sleepy Time Smiles

Ohmygoodness, don't you just want to eat him up? And I get to kiss this little face every day. Sigh, this picture makes me happy.

She loves him

One week old!

Has it really been a week? Already? I can't believe my sweet boy is one week old today. We are head-over-heels, crazy in love with this little guy. So far he is so mellow and all he wants to do is eat and snuggle.

I swear that I could just sit all day with him cuddled on my chest and smell is head. Does that sound weird? Have you ever smelled a newborn's head? Dear Lord, it's enough to make your uterus quiver. I mean, mine is already all twitchy from all the post-birth stuff, but I'm already dreaming of the next one. Just don't tell Fred...

Anyway, here's our adorable little one-weeker just hanging out.

Mattias's Birth Announcement Video

Introducing...

Mattias Linden Cunha was born on Tuesday, September 7, 2010 at 2:27 PM CT at Las Colinas Medical Center in Irving, Texas. He weighed 7 pounds, 11 ounces and was 19 inches long. That translates to 3.48 kilograms and 48.3 centimeters.

Check out www.helpmefred.com/mattias for all the info...

Everyone is doing well :^)

Stick a fork in me...

I'm done!

My last pre-birth picture. I'm going to meet my son in a few hours and I CAN' WAIT!

Hopefully Fred will have time to hack into my blog account to post some updates, so stay tuned. Thank you to everyone for all your prayers, thoughts and well-wishes.