I am....

...irritated.
I'm not unhappy, or depressed, just...irritated. Maybe I'm having an early 30's crisis. I used to blog, I used to read other people's blogs, I used to do more stuff out with the kids, I used to be more social, I used to be able to have a glass of wine or two, I used to look forward to my evenings after the kids were in bed. Now? I dread the evenings (especially laying in bed) because that's when the heart palpitations occur and they freak me out and make me think I'm going to have a heart attack or a stroke (irregular heart rates raise risk by at least %15, so I'm not a weirdo for thinking this). I can't drink much, if any, alcohol because that just makes it worse. I'm not sleeping well. When I do have free time now all I want to do is either take a shower or read my book. I should be showering right now, actually, because Carter is at preschool and Owen is napping. F#@*!
I'm tired and irritated, goddammit.

I really want to write down all of the cute, wonderful and utterly hilarious things my boys are doing these days but I feel trapped by my current condition. My dumbass "panic disorder". A stupid ass behavioral condition that I have somehow inherited from both sides of my family. I want to be the person I was 9,10, 12 months ago. I want to be more light-hearted again. It makes me mad. But seriously, I'm not depressed or unhappy....just frustrated.

Having children affects people differently, obviously. I developed a whole lot of fear. Fear for my children, fear for my own health and the health of my husband because I want us to be there for our kids until we are old and gray. This fear comes from love, of course, but still... There are mom's out there who "turn their kids loose" and shrug off the bumps, bruises and tears. I guess that's not me. There are mom's out there that barely make an effort to actually "parent" their children and spend all of their time watching daytime soaps. That's not me, either. I've taken on being a MOM as my sole existence on this planet. Have I lost myself along the way?
I sometimes wonder who that girl was that climbed mountains and traveled to foreign countries. Who was she that felt exhilarated by a thrilling rollercoaster ride or standing in a truck bed as it wove it's way through mountain roads of South America? Who was she that drank warm rum from a Cola bottle and salsa danced on a steamy Cuban night? Who? Because either I have forgotten her or I have lost her. Losing who I was, frightens me. I'm hoping I'll remember.

I frown more, now.
I nag.
I "bluster" at my children and husband.
I don't know who I am anymore besides a MOM.

What happens when the kids are in elementary school? I feel like I'm not really sure what I will be doing "when I grow up". It's very odd. Will I still be held back by my "disorder"? Will I go back to my old "career" (I say this loosely because being an archaeology field tech isn't exactly a job to retire to, therefore not a career in my eyes).
My husband wants me to write a book, start my own business, go to law school....anything. He has strong ambitions for me and I'm like, "uhhhhhh, I dunno....". He thinks I'm brilliant and I think I'm vague and average. He thinks I'm wildly creative and I think I'm rather narrow and boring. So one of us is right and one of us is wrong. Logically...
Anyway, this does all sound like some sort of life crisis but I really don't feel awful about it all, just kinda confused.
I would like to keep up with the blog like I used to, if only for my memories of this time in our lives. It is really so fleeting and precious. Maybe I will, maybe I won't...we'll see. I'm glad my husband is so encouraging and optimistic, though, because that is what keeps me afloat. Without him, I am lost. Without my boys, I am nothing.
Ohhh, so dark and reflective. :)


Next time I stab at these sticky laptop keys I will be cracking a few jokes and uploading pictures to bring us all up to speed. When will that be? Who the hellllll knows.

Peace and quiet? Yeah, right.

Ahhh, my brain is swiss cheese. I have so many things I want to blog about but unless I get a dictaphone and take it to bed with me while my brain runs itself weary, I will never remember what they all are.

Most days I can't even hear myself think. My thoughts are rather quiet, unobtrusively polite voices and they stand no chance of making themselves heard over my two year olds constant flow of questions, endless chatter, yells, screams and commentaries. No chance.

This is me: "What?" (expression of bemused anxiety)
This is him: "Mommy, mommy, mommy! Why is it wet outside? Why is Owen sitting there? Why is that sound loud? Where is daddy? I miss him. Let's go for car ride! I'm very tirsty. Why? Why? Why? How come? I hungy. I love you too, Mommy. I want my someting else. I want cartooons. I no like this. Look at me! I want my clippers. Dat's very yucky. Mommy, you close your eyes.... Tah dah! Show you something! I want wonder pets on puter! Noooow! Watch me, Mommy! Mommy, mommy, mommy!"
This is Owen: "Daadadadadada-bababa-dabadaba! EEeeeeeeeeeek! (crying) Squaawk! (raspberries) Goooooo-badabababa-dadadadadad"

Quite a symphony. So after each day is "done" (I use this term loosely since I am always on duty), I will sit and read or watch TV and think, "oh, how peaceful". During this peaceful time the dishwasher will be running, the cuckoo clock will be ticking away, the washing machine will be starting it's spin cycle and the baby monitor will be the background "shooshing" noise to it all. Then my husband will say "God, that clock is distracting!" or "Can't you turn that monitor down?". Are you kidding me? What does peace mean to each individual, really? This racket qualifies as pretty damn quiet if you ask me.

It's been a rough month

After so long gone, it's hard to start writing this blog again. Sigh. But I fear I must or else I risk disappointing my two, known readers.
I will first say that I needed all my energy and time directed inwards to deal with some personal issues. Secondly (and probably directly related), I haven't felt much like writing anything down. Soooooo, without further ado.... I will make my excuses, apologies and then get down to some good ole fashioned bloggin'. Yeehaw.

Well, I don't want to make a huge long explanation here but I do want to kind of sum up what I've been dealing with the last month and a half. Okay, this is gonna be choppy.
Mid January, Kevin is out of town and I have a panic attack (apparently, I didn't know this at the time). Called father-in-law and almost go to ER but it fades after a couple of hours. At doc's office bright and early. Tests. Tests. Tests. Okay. Diagnosis: Post partum anxiety/panic disorder........maybe. Haha, great. Well, everyday thereafter (except the odd one here and there) I have mini attacks, mostly at night; can't breathe, heart is crazy, becoming somewhat antisocial, fluttery, loopy, just trying to maintain myself while also being a good momma and wife. This is hard. I wasn't sleeping well...it was debillitating. I can't quite explain how awful it's been. I'd even venture to say that it's been one of the worst times in my life.
Anyway, it was getting worse and worse as the weeks crawled by. I laid in bed at night counting my heartbeats and each breathe thinking that it may be my last. I wrote a letter to my husband and family "In case something happens". I researched, equally, heart disorders and panic disorders. I wasn't convinced it was a hormonal/chemical/mental thing. I didn't feel that stressed or anything, I wasn't depressed.......so weird. Finally I made another cardiologist appointment to rule out that end so that I could then focus on what exactly I was supposed to do about all of this. I needed to get back to living my life instead of fearing it.
The day before my appointment I had another attack that sent me to the ER in the middle of the afternoon with my two kids and husband. Geez. As the nurse is taking all my vitals I'm telling him my heart is galloping all over the place and I can't breathe, my arms are numb and I feel like I'm gonna die and he says to me, "You're fine. Your heart rate's fine. Your blood pressure is fine." And then I swear he rolled his eyes.
This is frustrating. I'm in tears. Am I a loon?? Why am I feeling all this in my body if it isn't happening?
Anyway, tests, tests, tests. Nothing. Fine. It fades again. I go to doctor the next day. I'm fine. It's not my heart (they assured me...I'll admit I was still skeptical). According to the tests I am a healthy 32 year old woman (with perfect cholesterol levels among other things). WTF.

So there you have it. I'm not crazy. I'm just chemically unbalanced? Like a ninth graders first lab experiment. Shit. "Don't mix the Base and the Acid!!! Awwww!". Somebody fix me.

The past week we've been working on getting rid of this whole thing and getting back on track. I will get through this. The thing that really pisses me off though is that it's like my body and mind aren't listening to me. Everyone knows I have control issues so that's the most frustrating aspect of all this. Like my sister said, I almost wanted it to be something physical so that I could tackle it and treat it. If something was broken I could fix it. When it's as elusive a thing as hormones or a chemical imbalance you don't have a way to just "take care of it".

I've been doing well the last couple of days though and I'm hoping to be back to normal shortly(or as close to normal as I can be, wink wink to all my homey's). I have a list of things to blog about and I'm running out of space in the margins. I have pictures to post, milestones to track and a whole lot of bitching to catch up on. However, right now I'm going to bury my nose in a book and relax. I need to get back to normal slowly....so maybe I'll blog about the boys later this weekend. I bet it'd cheer me up to start writing all their silliness down, again.
Love to all of you.

Birthday festivities

I know I planned on it but we didn't really vacuum because we wanted to..... It was an accident.

You know that cupboard that you never go into that has all of your wine glasses that you got for your wedding that you never use anymore because if you have any vino you opt for a short, squat juice glass? This happens mostly because life these days is no longer an elegant sip from the rim of a delicate glass bowl but more of a lippy guzzle from the thick, cheap edges of machined blue glass. Ha. (Also, our toddler must never ever be around these top-heavy hazards.)
Anyway, after a wonderful birthday day where we went to the zoo (with new stroller glistening in the sunlight), went and got a free birthday car wash :), had family over for a visit, and I made an extraordinary crockpot concoction (mmmmm, see recipe below), we had some mommy/daddy time.
As we are chatting and putting the dishes away Kevin reaches up to open the infamous cupboard door, for god only knows what reason; I forgot to ask. In slow motion the shattering began; even before the door was fully open and before the first glass even touched the ground. The sound of a train barreling through a thousand glass window panes is the only way I can describe the noise.
We just stood there, dumbfounded, with our eyes scrunched up while glass rained down and shot around the kitchen like shrapnel. Awww well. I think I may have dropped the F-Bomb to break the shocked silence. Appropriate, I think in this case.

Amazingly both children slept through it and the following Haz Mat clean-up. Good grief. I felt like an FBI agent collecting minute samples at a crime scene. Splinters of glass were freakin' everywhere, people! You know when you have kids that it is imperative that you get every damn piece, right? Or else you risk the glass-in-the-foot scream and the hold-him-down-while-I-get-the-tweezers game.
Somehow after all that I went to sleep and I did not---I repeat, I did not--- have an anxiety attack or insomnia. Yeah! First time in almost 3 weeks! It was a birthday present to myself, from my subconscious, I guess.

Musing.....you know this is the first birthday that I did not blow out any candles on a cake. Weird. We just didn't get around to doing anything typically birthday-ish.

My weekend was lovely and I don't want it to end. Today I put a roast in the crockpot in the early a.m., visited with family again and left Carter at home for a while so me, the hubband and babes could go shopping and spend one of my giftcards. :) He had to keep reminding me to slow down and take my time because I am used to being on high-speed at a store. I usually only have a limited amount of time before Mt. Cartersuvius blows and buries us all in his liquid hot tears so I'm not used to ....taking...it.....sloooooow.
I tried on a bunch of crap, made unhappy girlie noises about my body shape and the problems of clingy fabric, and finally decided a two new things. I never shop for clothes for myself. This is kinda major.

What a good weekend. *sigh* Oh. Except for the fact that my little brother got car jacked at gunpoint on Friday.....that wasn't so great. Effing Detroit. I miss it but only because it's my Home. However, it's a really shitty place to be sometimes and now I remember why I wanted to move away. Crime and winter. Thank All that is right and good in this world that he is okay.

Here is yummy crockpot recipe that takes 5 minutes to put together:

Bluberry Crumble Cake
1 21oz can blueberry pie filling
1/2 cup butter
box of yellow cake mix
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
Place pie filling in crockpot. Combine dry mix and melted butter, sprinkle over filling. Sprinkle walnuts on top of that. Cover and cook on low 2-2 1/2 hours. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream (or whipped cream).

Welcome February and all the joy therein

I guess I'll be around for a while, people....we think. According to my doctor, I probably won't die. Gee, thanks for the upbeat neutrality, doc. Way to walk the line. Then to follow up with a heavenly message (completely normal, right?), he proceeded to Witness to me. Only in the South would I ever discuss Faith with a medical doctor.
I momentarily had to do a self check to make sure I didn't stamp my forehead with Heathen before I left the house that day. Do I exude a pagan smell? Do I not know the secret handshake?I'm sure he wouldn't have told a good Southern Baptist girl that she needed to find her faith and pray. *shrug*
Well, the last two evenings I haven't had any mini attacks or major problems going to sleep. I've almost felt halfway normal. Knock on wood but I just want to get through this, mentally unscathed.
Thanks for all the calls and emails, family and friends! I thought that maybe I was on suicide watch or something from the amount of times my phone rang this last week or so. Haha. I love you all and I appreciate your fervently held beliefs that I am not a crazy loony person.

Anyway, as I enter my birthday week I've decided to examine the post partum body. Ahem. Yes, it is a must because I am still not fitting into any clothes below the waist. I really couldn't understand it at first considering that I am not that far off from my previous weight (before baby). So now I must have a meeting with the foreman of the weight distribution department and ask him why he is not going by the original blueprints. Have they been misplaced? Do I need to hire another architect?
Ah, I wish it were that easy. I will begin running or something next week to see if I can shift this gravitational pull of all things fatty in the northward direction. I expect to post hot body pics within the month. (<--- self delusion)
Yesterday, we all went up to the park and Carter Kaneival rode his bike around the track for well over a mile (he only landed on his face once; pretty good for 2 1/2). I kept up but I was basically jogging or speed walking the whole time and I am sore! Something must be done people! This is ridiculous. I suppose chasing a toddler around your den or bending to pick up toys doesn't exactly count as high impact aerobics, huh?

Well, here's to a healthy start to my 32nd year. Happy Birthday this month to Me! As well as my nephew Eric and sister Maggie and to numerous friends and acquaintances. Gotta love us Aquarians! We even have a song written about us. ;)

Now that I'm firmly established in my 30's I can see the Love/Hate relationship I had with my 20's. I can say that I kinda miss that girl with her somewhat irresponsible & flighty ways, her travels & adventures and her shoe shopping obsessions. Ahhh, but I think I like me better now. Change is good and your 30's are made for being a grown-up. Well, for most of us, that is. :)

Joy to the World, I broke my toe

I am not pleased.
Yesterday, I was rushing around trying to get us all dressed and out of the house when I took a corner too fast, except my baby toe stayed behind...hugging the doorjam. Ugh. Whenever you hear a "crunch", you know it's bad. So I dramatically fall to the floor screaming....yes, I'm obnoxious, "Ahhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhh!".
Carter pokes his head around the corner and says, "Mommy? Booboo hurt you?", to which I reply "Ahhhhhhh!".
You'd honestly think since I did the whole natural childbirth thing that little things like broken toes wouldn't phase me. Yeah well *shrug*, it hurt like hell. Pain is pain.

I figured I'd sprained it before and so maybe I should just tape it to the other toes and get on with my day (not the best idea but this was very inconvenient so therefore I was in denial). Okay, fast forward 2 stops and 4 hours later as I'm prying off my shoe; 'that's a lovely shade of purple', I think to myself, and 'my what an interesting angle...'.
*Sigh*
My least favorite thing to do: call the doctor, because I know this is going to cost me a fortune and be a totally unpleasant experience as I drag two very tired and crabby children into the office. Of course, it took two hours even though they said they could see me "right away". Limping, hauling baby in carrier and making sure toddler doesn't run into oncoming traffic is not my chosen Trifecta, if you will (I much prefer vanilla stoli, baileys and frangelico. haha, mmm).
To make matters worse, the hubband was out-of-town so the afternoon and evening was very interesting and loooooong.
I ended up being sent home with a stupid looking shoe that probably costs about $600, that I have to wear for 4 weeks. Great. No offense to the Post-Op Shoe Industry but I would much rather spend that kind of cash on some Manolo Blahnik's, thank you very much (at least then I'd get a matching pair).

Anywhoooo, that was my day. Merry Effing Christmas to me. Ha.

Hectic Holiday scramble

I had a moment today when I really thought about how many poopy diapers I change a day. I am just a giant, lactating pooper-scooper. There I was feeling guilty that my husband takes out all of the baby diaper trash and the other garbage everyday and then I was like, huh? I am knee deep in poop all day! But thanks anyway, honey, for all of your hard work and chores you do when you get home. :) I pree-shee-ate it.

Anyway, I felt very productive this morning. Forgive the list but it is important to understand my accomplishments.

-I got up (grudgingly)

-got coffee-d

-fed both kids (different breakfasts of course)

-wrapped up packages to take to the UPS store

-collected addresses

-gave toddler a haircut

-showered him

-showered me

-got dressed

-got kids dressed and cleaned up

-packed diaper bag with fresh snacks

-got in car with everybody and didn't forget anything (this is an achievement). It was only 11am. Woohoo!

-mailed gifts off from UPS (only sweated a little bit as Carter "helped" them move boxes around store)

-went to Target after making a deal with 2 year old that he would stay in the cart if I got him a "Tweet".

-got a bunch of crap, checked out, got home and realized I was missing something that I paid for already......CRAP! And I went there for Scotch tape and hair dye (because I have dingy post-partum hair) and of course I forgot the tape. I was doing soooo well! *Sigh*

Anyway, I did all of this with a quiet, sweet baby and a little boy who listened to me relatively well. I only had to bribe him with Christmas marshmallows, mini candy canes, the promise of hot cocoa later and a Diego bubble blower piece of crap, 2 dollar toy. Not bad for some sanity and no tantrums. Before I realized my mistakes I was on a high and wanted someone to High-Five me.....so I asked Carter for one on the ride home. He's my buddy.

Of course, once I realized that I screwed up, I was just deflated. I suck at this.

*****
Funny thing: At the UPS store a lady was talking to Carter and asking him if that was his baby in the carrier. He said "Uh-huh. Baby come out Mama bewwy!" and proceeded to lift up my shirt to show the nice lady my E.T. belly. Thanks, son.

Stuff of little consequence

I'm thinking about taking a blogging break.
We are sick, sick, sick people in our house. Moan groan. My throat hurts.
Kevin and I argued about comma's tonight. We are lame, lame, lame people.
I am trying to remember all of the adorable and cute stuff the kids are doing to blog about later.
I still hate, hate, hate Thanksgiving. It used to be nice but now...not really.
I like getting packages in the mail. I stalk the mailman. His name is Paul.
I want to drink Bailey's on the rocks in a snifter and sit in front of my DVD fireplace and listen to my Billy Idol christmas cd.
I want to go cuddle my sweet little sick boy who is now curled up with his octopus blanket and his bunny...lovingly snotting on my pillow.
I want to go stare at my wee small babykins while he sleeps. I like to watch him breathe. It calms me.
I am dreading the Wrapping of the Presents.
I need a haircut and color. A boobjob. A pedicure. A tummytuck... and so on, infinity.
I hate my cat.

Fin

Target bound

Okay, so I did it.

I left the house today with 2 babies, a couple of snacks and a mission. I needed 3 birthday cards and I needed them from Target. I suppose I could have gotten them from somewhere else closer to home but I wanted a good selection and I also wanted to check out Halloween costumes.....and really, I just plain miss Target. So Kevin agrees to meet me there so that my first outing with 2 won't end in complete disaster. Yeah!
I know I didn't do it all by myself but it sure felt like I accomplished something Big. I just had to get that first outing out of the way. It's almost like losing ones virginity (TMI) or when the doctor gives you the go ahead to have "personal time" with your husband again after childbirth (really TMI). Just get it over with and the next time won't be so bad, right?
Only one minor temper tantrum from the 2 year old and some minor screaming from the 2 week old. However, I was exhausted and sweating (damn hormonal dump) by the time we got back in the van.
Okay, now I'm thinking big. The zoo next? or the park?
Hmmm.
I may have to use our toddler leash a bit more now. I can't run after Carter while toting a baby in a carrier. It's bad enough seeing me breastfeeding one while dragging the other through the house to his Time Out chair for throwing things....again. We are having issues. Tantrums and Terrors. I'm lost in them all. Night terrors scare me and tantrums piss me off. Amazingly little Owen slept through a 35 minute screaming fit last night and most of the day tantrums he just kind of blinks and rolls his eyes at, like "gimme a break, kid! I'm trying to eat here..."
Definitely dealing with high emotions in our Big Guy. It breaks my heart to see him so worked up. In fact I may be shopping for toddler sized straight jackets if this keeps up. It's freakin weird. He kicked daddy in the face last night and drove him to the the guest bed. Good grief. I'm just gonna give it time and hope that we all settle into a schedule. I just wish Carter would nap during the day more often. Today he did and everything was less traumatic by far. I wonder how tonight will go.... They say the night terrors are tied to little ones needing more sleep and quiet time. Mommy needs some, too. :)

Well, I can only be so many people in so many places at once. I will just try to be 100% mommy to both of the boys 100% of the time. Easy peasy.

Things I learned as an Archaeologist

1) When in a foreign country McDonald's taste basically the same. Taco Bell does not.

2) Never declare "I think it's a point!" or "I got a point base!" or "Look's like a Biface!" until you have cleaned it up and are absolutely sure of what you found. This will save you the embarrassment when one or more of your more experienced coworkers wanders over to examine your find and says "Nah, that's just a rock".

3) Doritos make good tinder in the field. If you light them they just keep burning...like wood. Weird.

4) Never say "I think I can make it..." while driving a crew vehicle filled with your coworkers. They won't like you so much for risking their lives.

5) If working with mostly males opt to ride in the truck bed at the end of the day rather than squishing in the cab with them. This will save you from a most odorous journey.

6) Alcoholism is a job skill and is expected. Keep up.

7) Lab work is mind numbing but you get out of the bugs.

8) Bugs are evil, evil, evil.

9) If you are an Archaeologist, a female and weigh less than 600 lbs you are considered hot stuff.

10) No matter what you tell the locals they will think that you are digging for gold and hording what you find. They will watch you.

11) Never take a coworkers shovel. Never. Never. You may be inadvertently harmed on the job if you do. Your shovel is an extension of yourself and when it breaks or "disappears" it will be mourned for months.

12) No one will think the less of you if you are attacked/swarmed by evil creatures (ie, fire ants, ticks, yellow jackets) and run screaming from them. No one will blink an eye if you strip down to your skivvies while doing so, either. All in a days work.

13) While tramping through a swamp never try to be funny and shout "Alligator!". This will only piss off your tense coworkers.

14) If you hear thunder, work stops and "waiting it out in the trucks" begins. This usually means telling off-color stories, doing crossword puzzles and reading old newspapers. Or if it's late afternoon it's "Early drinking day!". However, if working in another country....Not so much. OSHA regulations aren't followed quite as well and you are expected to endanger your life more-so than normal.

15) If you leave the field and "forget" a coworker, you will be in major trouble with your superiors. (I only did this once. Oops! In my defense, he was a very bland individual who didn't stand out much)

16) If you get the work-truck stuck you will be made fun of for months and possibly years. If you are a female and get it stuck you are just proving that your gender is incompetent. What a bunch of bull. (I never got the truck stuck, btw. I have successfully defended the female role in archaeology. yeah! ha)

17) Never date an archaeologist unless you know for a fact that he showers everyday. There are many, many, many who do not. Lemme tell ya, showers are important. (I married a very clean one)

18) And finally, if you ever walk through a nest of ticks (very disturbing) and decide to spray down your pants with half a can of bug spray in a vain attempt to kill the little bastards, DO NOT then try to light them on fire. The result is a rather warming fireball below your waistline. Pick one; either fire OR bug spray. (Fire works best)