Atlas Roman Cobb is ONE

I told myself, I'd post this story before Atlas turned one. Ambitious, right?  HA.  But really.  It took me several months to recover and then learn how to survive working and manage our family of five. And then there was some emotional and hormonal stuff that just wouldn't let me write this all out without weeping.  Ugh, I hate to cry.  Then, I stopped nursing and became normal again.  And here we are, planning Atlas' first birthday!  Here goes nothing... 

PS.  Don't read if you're squeamish.  Or currently pregnant.  I'm writing it ALL so I remember it.  You've been warned!  

I could have SWORN I'd go into labor at 37 weeks.  then 38.  then 39.  nope. 1 day after my due date (11/24), Atlas was born.  

                                       

last doctors visit at 40 weeks!

And, truth be told, the doctor on call considered sending me home, but God was merciful.  I was ready to pull out some theatrics too... crying, wailing, fake labor, whatev! 

The day I went into labor I felt terrible.  I mean, look at me!  I was swollen, restless, uncomfortable, and just ready to meet my baby and find out if it was a boy or girl!  Tag and Story were with grandparents and it was just Brentley and me hanging out for the weekend.  We were both anxious and eager to get this whole thing over with because we had PLANS.  I mean, Tag and Story were conveniently with family, and we already had given our nanny the time off, and she had started another temporary job.  Brentley had the time arranged off from work... this weekend was THE time to have this baby.

So, because I knew the only way to get labor going was to not sit around, I cleaned my whole house.  I mean, scrubbed the bathrooms, vacuumed the floors and furniture, mopped, swept... etc.  Then, around 1pm we went to eat hot wings--YUM!  By the time we left the restaurant, I was really feeling contractions about 5-6 minutes apart.  We went home and watched Hunger Games and without me moving, the contractions got closer, 2-4 minutes apart.  They weren't painful, but I could feel them start and end.  I had been told not to wait too long because I would need antibiotics to be administered 4 hours prior to delivery due to having tested positive for Strep B (did not have this with Tag or Story).  So, even though I hated to go before I was really in active labor, I just kept thinking-- if I don't get the antibiotics in time my baby might go blind or worse (thanks babycenter)!

Not knowing how fast labor would progress for a third baby a day past it's due date, we went on over to Duke.  I walked from the parking deck (which feels like a half mile walk to the L+D entrance)... again still trying to keep labor up.  Two different doctors checked me to confirm I was at 5 CM.  This is the thing about delivering at a teaching hospital:  you get poked, prodded and examined twice as much because there are so many students learning to be doctors and some who are learning to be super doctors with post doctorate training and they practice on YOU.  Cool for everyone else, not cool for me;)  Also, lets not forget that the "the checking" process usually hurts like a mothery mother.  So anyway, they admitted me around 8pm and started the first dose.  By the time I got into the room, contractions started waning.  SO, I walked the halls for a few hours off and on.  By 11pm, the contractions were still 3-4 minutes apart but still not strong.  That's when the other doctor said maybe they shouldn't have admitted me, and I almost lost it (refer to aforementioned theatrics).  

They let me stay, and decided to start pitocin.  So I kind of sort of slept through the night and the nurses came in at different intervals turning up the pitocin.  I woke up not feeling the contractions, though the machine said I was having them.  I got on the ball and moved around and rocked and stood and did everything I could while hooked to the IV.  The best news yet came when Dr. Nieves walked in to let me know he was on duty for the next 24 hours and smiled big with two thumbs up saying "we're going to have a baby today!"  I was reminded in that moment that God had orchestrated every second of my life to that moment.  Because Dr. Nieves delivered Tag and Story, he knows I have big babies, and he is literally THE best OB-GYN doctor in Durham (actually, in the world), and I'll argue to my death on that!  Many other women agree with me, AND my nurse practitioner Connie secretly agreed when I told her what I thought of him.  Besides, what are the odds of getting the same doctor 3 times in a row in a practice of 8+ docs who rotate on call AND a teaching hospital where a handful of other docs are back up options to deliver?  God was all over it! OK back to the story... around 12pm that day (I think) I began feeling the contractions and knew things were about to go down, literally!  After a while of laboring on the ball, I started to feel like I couldn't hold myself up any longer and the doctors told me to get back on the bed so they could check me.  

Once on the table, the nurse said I was 6 CM (which meant I had progressed only 1 CM over night), and I wanted to lose my cool over that.  It's always super frustrating to hear that you've been laboring and in pain for what seems like a long time only to make such little progress.  I mean, I was hooked to Pitocin ALL night?!  But, as a veteran baby mama, I knew in the back of my head that result didn't necessarily mean much.  The next 30 minutes were super awful (I would later figure out that I was literally dilating from 6-10cm). A nurse asked me if I wanted any medicines and she offered fentanyl (I think) which I hadn't tried before.  I was tired and discouraged by the progression so far, so I said yes.  I could feel it relieve me in spurts over next 20 minutes.  It literally relaxed me just enough between contractions so I could actually take a deep breath.  But, I loved that when contractions came, I could still feel them and push through them on my own (OK, "love" might be hyperbole, but I did prefer to feel labor rather than not feel it with epidural).  Soon, Dr. Nieves came in all decked out and ready to catch a baby, and I was deemed "ready to push."  So that I did.  Writing it out makes it seem much less painful than it was, but really.  Contractions are awful, but when they are helping you push out a baby, they are super awful.  I thought I would D-I-E. OUCH.  While pushing, someone kept coming in to tell Dr. Nieves he had to go tend to another patient who required an emergency C-section.  He kept saying, "just five more minutes", and the next time, "just five more minutes."  Finally, someone important must have come in because Dr. Nieves introduced me quickly to a midwife who had been in the room but now was going to deliver my baby.  I didn't say anything about it, just kept pushing (and screaming) on the count of 10, and minutes (maybe seconds?) after Dr. Nieves walked out, Atlas was born.  

                     

                        Atlas Roman Cobb 

                           9 lbs 12 oz

After he was born, they tried to let me hold him, but I was so weak I couldn't do more than nod my head, tears flowing down my face. But then they rushed him off and the mid-wife urged me to push again.  I could barely try.  Soon the nurses started to hold my arms down while another one pushed on my stomach to finish the little-known last part of the delivery process without me.  I lost my head screaming and fighting at this point, because whatever they did, it was so painful.  And it seemed deliberately painful... though now I can see they knew something I didn't and were trying to help me.  The afterbirth came, but so did lots and lots of blood.   The next thing I knew, someone yelled something like "CODE RED" and the room flooded with people.  There was an anesthesiologist asking me questions and swiftly prepping my arm.  Then Brentley came over to kiss me goodbye and told me he loved me, and I didn't know why he was saying goodbye.  Then, the bed wheeled out of the room and down the hall with me in it.  I didn't really have any idea what was happening to me, I was just fighting to stay conscious.  It was so surreal.  I closed my eyes riding down the hall and next opened them in the operating room as a nurse beside me told me to count back from one hundred.   

What felt like minutes later, I woke up in another room with the mid-wife talking to me and Brentley beside me holding Atlas.  It was a recovery room.  They wanted me to nurse Atlas right away, but I literally couldn't hold him.  I tried, but since he wasn't crying I gave up and asked Brentley to take him back before I dropped him.  In fact, I don't remember Atlas crying at all that first day--only me. The mid wife asked me what I knew about what happened. I told her I knew I had bled, but that was it.  She then told me that they took me back to do a D and C and that thankfully Dr. Nieves was able to stop the bleeding without doing an emergency hysterectomy.  She then said, "You know that this is it, right?  You shouldn't try to have any more children."  It was a shock, but at the same time the delivery was fresh on my mind, and I did not have any intention of going through it again.  So I nodded, and I wept.  

Soon, our parents came in two at a time to see that I was OK.  I kept crying and then they brought in Tag and Story, and I lost it.  I have no idea why I was crying so uncontrollably-- something to do with anesthesia, but the kids were so frightened.  I could see it on their faces, but I couldn't make myself stop.  Brentley stood to my right, holding Atlas, and even while smiling and feeling thankful, I  just wept.  Finally, Tag asked why I was crying and my mother-in-law told him that the doctors had given me medicine to make me cry (bless her!), and that they were happy tears.  I agreed, but still the tears continued.  I truly don't believe I've ever cried so much in my life.  Dr. Nieves came to talk to me more about what happened, and of course ended up comforting me.  He emphasized how I shouldn't have any more children after this and told me that in the hemorrhage I had lost 2 liters of blood (average person has 5.5 liters in their body).  They had to give me a blood transfusion, replacing 2 units (pints).  

    

We returned to our room around dinner that night, and I still hadn't nursed Atlas properly.  I was so weak from the blood loss I could barely hold him, and nursing just took strength I didn't yet have.  I remember Keith (B's dad) and Joy coming late that evening.  They had left their small group at church to come, and they told me that everyone in their church had gathered that evening to pray for us.  I had a button to push for pain meds, and I could tell at that time that I had really used it!  I was still emotional, but also highly drugged up.  After they left, I decided to only use the meds when they came in to push on my stomach/pelvic area to check for clots.  I finally asked for a breast pump and pumped for Atlas--that was nearly 12 hours before his first good feeding.  I had this balloon in my uterus to help it not bleed out, plus these air casts on my legs (to prevent blood clots) and I was stuck in bed until all that was removed.  

I have a distinct memory of being in the room with the lights off that first night and I heard another woman screaming in labor in another room.  After three deliveries, that was the first time I had heard anyone on the floor giving birth while I was there.  The maternity floor seems to be designed to allow for privacy and they are pretty sound proof.  Except not that night.  I giggled thinking that it was likely another woman heard me screaming bloody murder earlier that day.  I prayed for the women around me that night.  I prayed for the one whom Dr. Nieves left me to care for.  I prayed a tearful thanksgiving over Atlas.  The miracle of child birth was freshly realized for me that night.    

Weak and as in pain as I was, the next day I began asking the nurses to be free of IV, catheter, meds so that I could get a bath.  I just knew if I could bathe, I'd feel better.  My mom came to stay with me so B could go home to shower and check on the kids.  While she was there she helped me get a bath.  I had to sit on a chair in the shower so she could wash my hair.  Looking back, I can't even fathom being that weak, but I know I was!  I very much remember thinking of how blessed I am to have a mother like her.  

A few hours after my bath, Brentley returned and my mom left.  The doctors came in to take Atlas to be circumcised around 8 pm that night. They administered a small dose of tylenol to help with the pain just before, and brought him back right away.  But almost immediately upon bringing him in the room, concerned looks appeared on the nurse's face and she left the room.  A doctor came in and they let me know that Atlas had a fever.  It wasn't terribly high, but babies aren't supposed to have fevers, and he had Tylenol which meant it probably would have been higher.  At this point, I was emotionally unprepared for anything else.  But then they told us they had to do a spinal tap on Atlas, which was risky and difficult to do on an infant.  I remember standing by the bathroom door holding on to Brentley for dear life and weeping.  He was scared too, I think, but he reminded me that God loves Atlas better than we could.  And he encouraged me to recall God's faithfulness in our lives, and to remember how God had delivered us and our loved ones before.

They brought Atlas back and said they were unable to get spinal fluid from him to test and that they'd need to try again later.  I requested formula for him to increase the liquid in his body and became regimented with pumping to ensure that he got enough so that the next time they would not miss it.  The next day they tried again, and they were able to get fluid but it was inconclusive.  The only step left was to admit Atlas for at least 7 days to watch for other symptoms to develop.

Our friend, Joe Jackson (also our pediatrician), came and read scripture and prayed over us.  He was there when the doctors moved us out of the maternity floor and over to the pediatric floor to continue watching Atlas.  As someone (Maybe Joe?) pushed my wheel chair down the hall past door after door of terminally ill children, I realized just how blessed we have been.  We still didn't know what was going on with Atlas, but I did have a sense of peace that he was OK.  The basic thing the doctors were watching for was meningitis.  Which, by the way, I had as an adult in college in 2005.  It was horrifically painful, and the thought that my infant could suffer it-- unthinkable.  

By the time Brentley and Joe left Atlas and me in our new (much smaller) room, the nurses had been in and we began fever watch for 48 hours.  It was the day before Thanksgiving.  The nurse checked him every four hours for fever, and NOT once did he present an actual fever on that floor.  Meanwhile, I had a much nicer bed and he was tucked in his bassinet beside me.  It was truly a time of rest.  I watched the Harry Potter Marathon on ABC Family-- falling asleep when I could.  I was still so weak, I could barely walk the 5 steps outside of my room to get ice from the machine for my nalgene bottle of water.  (I was extremely thirsty that entire week).  But I felt awful calling a nurse to wait on me with creature comforts when there were young patients there who truly needed them!  (BTW-- Duke nurses are amazing times 10!)  Our Pastor, Eric, stopped by that night to see me and Atlas.  He had a daughter who had meningitis when she was born.  After a while, he looked at Atlas sleeping peacefully in his bassinet and said, "You know, I'm not a doctor.  But when Susie had meningitis, she screamed for days."  He told me about how Dan (his brother-in-law who also goes to our church) came and held her screaming little body for hours so Becca (his wife) could rest.  Terrible as it was to hear about, it gave me peace.  

Thanksgiving Day came and our extended family was gathered in Lucama without us.  That was hard and sad, but I kept thinking about how weak I felt, even still. And, I marveled at how God had provided me this rest.  I mean, lets be real.  I would NOT have had a peaceful quiet room with the baby in the bassinet beside me and a nurse to bring me water and snacks had I been at home.  

Atlas had no fever and the doctors decided to let us go several days earlier than we expected. Tag, Story and Brentley made a mini Thanksgiving feast after their naps (baked chicken, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole) and brought some to me when they came to visit.  It was delicious!  That "black friday" after Thanksgiving the whole family came to pick Atlas and me up, and we had our first day home as a family of 5.  I had begun to nurse Atlas a little at the hospital that last day, and once home in my trusty glider-- everything fell into place.  Praise be!      

          

This year, I've speculated a lot about what went wrong.  I sometimes wonder if Dr. Nieves didn't have to leave at the last minute, would I have hemorrhaged?  He was always very patient and gentle with that last part of delivery, and after Tag he even gave me another epidural because the placenta was stuck and he knew he'd have to cause me pain to get it out safely.  After Story he gently massaged my stomach for a few minutes, and I had no issue.    

I wonder if maybe I was being impatient or pushing my body to have Atlas because I wanted to be in control?  Maybe my fear of having an even BIGGER baby pushed me to try to make my body go into labor?  They say you can't really do that, but if it is possible, I know I tried!  

I also wonder about if I had been strong enough or clear headed enough to make sure to nurse or feed Atlas a bottle right away, if maybe he wouldn't have presented a fever.  The cause was never definite, but I suspect it was dehydration.

Nevertheless, this did happen.  I know God is and was in control, and I can see how he used this to bring Himself glory.  And, traumatic as it seemed at the time, I do glory in my redeemer!  He is faithful and merciful.  His mercies are new every morning.  He has given us a community of brothers and sisters who lifted us up in prayer.  I felt them.  He made Brentley my husband and the father of my children.  That is a precious gift.  And he gave me Atlas-- unexpected, but so welcome.  Unplanned, but so loved.  We are SO very grateful for our healthy, happy, handsome, Thanksgiving baby!  

thoughts on the changing season

regrets.
almost every time i post a blog, i have major regrets.  like, "what if i said something that offended someone," or "what if my kid grows up and reads this," or "what will so-in-so think," or "welp, now everyone knows what a loose operation i'm running. they must think bla bla bla, about me."  

but then i remember this one sermon i heard years ago.  it was about how some of us tend to replay conversations in our heads about how we said something or what we talked about or what we should have said better.  And how that behavior is a form of pride. and though that might not automatically compute for you--think on it.  it's so true.  why would we second guess ourselves if not for fear of what others think?  will they be mad/offended/hurt/upset?  OH NO!  i might be forced to admit that i'm not perfect and have to apologize.  enter humility--the opposite of pride.     

and as it turns out, pride is my achilles heel.  i care too much about what others think, about what my outside self presents to the world.  i care what you think about my parenting skills, my outfit, heck i sometimes care what you think about my kids' outfit.  i care about posting my opinions and thoughts on blogs  and, i care if i hurt anyone ever with my words.  i care about that last thing because Jesus is in my heart. and because i want the words from my mouth and the meditations of my heart to be acceptable in HIS sight.  and, if i hurt anyone with words, it's most likely, NOT acceptable.  plus, i want others to see the merciful, saving grace of the father when they interact with me.  i want my life to reflect, not me and my works, but God and His works.  i want you to see Jesus in me.      

this season of my life is changing my propensity to care for what others think of me, though.  it's wearing me down so thin that i no longer have the energy to create a second, more presentable version of myself.  i'm at a point where i can no longer manage to remember to regret how i said what i said... that other day.  i just have to hope and pray that God's grace covers my shortcomings in the eyes of others too.  not necessarily by blinding them, but maybe by giving them the grace to not be easily offended.  or maybe by revealing to them in that moment, just how weak and dependent on Him I am--just like they are!  

(One of those days where I couldn't do much more than turn on Woody and Buzz before bed.  lounging with my 3 babies--in utero counts!)


and for all those other sinful, pride-filled ways that i care, well, i need to get over them.  i hope and that when we have guests over, they don't notice the cobwebs in the corner of the room, or the skittle colored handprint on the light colored chair.  i hope that whenever i offer for someone to ride with me some place, that it wasn't one of those (hot) days where i forgot a diaper in the car.  not that it matters... i'm prreeeetty sure, my car still smells like a diaper.   

(and, shout out to my dear friend tracy who did not make me feel bad at all last week when she saw the spread of chick-fil-a chicken and french fries, from days before, on the floor in the back seat of our car.  i love you sister!  and, i did clean my car this week--haha!)  

new challenges.
                



(Photo from 37 wk apt.  I'd post 38 wk apt photo, but y'all know how vain i am!)

tomorrow, i'll be 39 weeks pregnant with baby number 3.  for the past few weekends, brentley has given me saturdays to sleep, nest, and sleep more. last night, i went to bed at 730 and slept till 730 this morning (save 4 or 5 bathroom trips).  it was glorious.  it is glorious!  i am rested, my toes are painted (had a pedi just a few hours ago, what what!), and now i'm catching up on my blog, trying not to needlessly spend money, but OH-SO-READY for this baby to come!  but at the same time that i'm ready, i'm not.  because, i'm still not ready to be a mom of 3 kids.  i'm terrified.  i'm overwhelmed.  i feel guilt for even saying that, but there it is.  

i suppose i'm very aware that i'm at the precipice of the most challenging season of my life yet.  and my performance here is crucial.  i don't mean the birthing performance.  because,  that ain't no performance.  it's straight up survival and raw biology.  it's something you try to remember forever and forget at the same time.  no, i mean the performance of being a wife and mother to 3 kids under 3.  those are my top priorities, and i want to be awesome at them.  i want tag and story to never want for mom's attention.  i want for them to each know and feel absolute love and adoration from me.  i want to be faithful to discipline them well.  i want to keep them all alive and well (i'm so serious here!).  i want this new baby to capture my heart the way tag and story have.  i want it to be loved and cherished and adored in equal measure.  i want my family to want for nothing from me--for me to be able to give it all.  i want my man to know how much i cherish and adore him.  i want him to know how strong being with him makes me.  i want to not be the grumbling wife who only speaks of her aches and pains and terrible night's sleep.  i want to be the cheerful mother who does not snarl at making the kids breakfast before i can make my own coffee.  i want to remember to thank B for coming home and jumping into the madness with joyful energy.  i want to use my 6 weeks maternity leave from work to help create a smooth transition for my family.  i want to be so ambitious even though i know those first 6 weeks are mama-zombie-land.  

But, the reality of what i want is entirely impossible.  i cannot be any of these things without supernatural strength that only God can supply.  i won't do any of these things without drowning in thoughts of ME (because i'm selfish like that), unless God changes my heart, daily.  and so, as i think about the challenges ahead with fear and trembling and joy and anticipation, i find myself reading and re-reading (because our homegroup is studying Philippians), these passages below...prayerfully.  

Oh Lord help me to, in humility count others more significant than myself.  help me to rejoice in You.  help me to not be anxious, to be content, and to ask you for strength DAILY. 

Christ's Example of Humility

2 So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, 2 complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. 3 Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. 4 Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. 5 Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, 6 who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, 7 but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. 8 And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. 9 Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:1-11, ESV)

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. 5 Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; 6 do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

8 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. 9 What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.

God's Provision

10 I rejoiced in the Lord greatly that now at length you have revived your concern for me. You were indeed concerned for me, but you had no opportunity. 11 Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. 12 I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. 13 I can do all things through him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:4-13, ESV)

ok.  i'm done with my blog post overload this weekend.  i probably won't post again for 3 months, but hopefully soon i can at least post a photo of our soon to be family of 5 complete with gender reveal!!!!  and, if you remember us in prayer, i'd be ever so grateful!  there's nothing we need more.  

PS: here's a cute video, if you want to see what tag and story think about my baby belly or hear tag sing his song.

October Rewind

  

The month of October this year, just FLEW by.  Work was crazy for Brentley and me...just that time of year.  Tag caught the fever of Halloween early (no thanks to stores putting out costumes and decorations in early september), so we ended up celebrating the whole month.  

We started off in early October by going to a pumpkin festival with some friends.  It was Tag's first shot at using a port-a-potty... with mixed results.  Tag and Coen had fun just running around commenting on the tractors, the pumpkins, and the "gun shooters," which were the people acting out a scene from the wild west.  The boys saw all of 45 seconds of this act, and immediately figured out guns, how they work, and how special the shot gun shells they received were.  I've tried not to have toy guns in our house or even let Tag watch TV with guns or anything of that nature... but it seems it's in his blood.  HA!

Below I'm about 32 weeks prego and Tag is doing his awesome squishy smile.  That kid is really not interested in posing for a camera...much like his father.  But I do cherish these photos!  Oh, and Story rode a water buffalo--LOVED IT! 

 

The next night, B decided that since we didn't actually buy a pumpkin at the pumpkin festival, we should go to Kroger and get some.  But, the anticipation of carving it was just too much.  So we did it...a month early.  The kids actually seemed to enjoy it which is what really counts.  We had to keep SK in the high chair about half the time to keep her from messing with the knives.  Eventually, she and Tag helped pick up and pull out seeds which I had every intention of baking into a delicious pinterest worthy snack... but I tossed em.  Ain't got time for that! Besides, Story seemed content to eat them raw.  (SO GROSS, and no we didn't let her... she just kept finding them and trying to eat them).    

After we got some of the seasonal celebrations out of the way early, Tag felt very confused about what he wanted to "be" for Halloween.  He wanted to be something "spoky" (as in wheel spoke rather than spooky), like a ghost or a skeleton.  When he talked about school, he told me what everyone else was going to be and depending on the day he was going to be Batman, Robin, a Skeleton to scare his friends, a "Bampire" (i think he got this from the 1983 version of spiderman where they fight a vampire?), super why (Wyatt), Jake and the Neverland Pirates (Jake?),and the list goes on.  He also almost always told us what Story was going to be, and of course it coordinated with whatever he wanted to be.  After a few trips to Kroger, B went ahead and got Tag a smiley faced skeleton costume.  It was super cheap so we had to keep it away from him all month until he could actually wear it.  Sure enough, it didn't make it past one wear.  But, he wore Captain America to school the Wednesday before Halloween and everyone loved it!  They said it really fit his personality (Though, I think Hulk fits better)--HAH!

Below are a few photos from the month which kind of capture the spirit of the season.  Tag dressed up regularly, and occasionally I was able to capture a photo.  In the one below, you'll notice he's holding a booger sucker (stolen from baby's room), which he considers his water hose because he's dressed as a fireman.  Couldn't you tell? 

 This is me dressed up as a 37 week pregnant woman who was only 35 weeks.  My kids grow in crazy spurts!

 Miss Molly took Tag and Story on a mystery ride, and they got to go to McDonald's where Tag got this super awesome batman mask.  It was a challenge trying to get it off before he got out to go to school from the carpool line.  Furthermore, Tag now affectionately calls McDonald's --Old Mac Donalds, and asks to go on the regular.  "Can we PWEESSE go to Old Mac Donalds?"  If they still had Reeces McFlurries, then maybe.  But no.  JK.  kind of.   

 Tag got this police costume earlier this year and has never really played with it too much, but then his school had firemen come to talk about fire safety.  They showed him their fire suits and helmets, and hoses.... and instantly, he wanted to be a fireman for Halloween.  This police hat below became his mask to protect against fires.  The boots too.  All a part of the outfit.  

We found this park tucked away near us called Twin Lakes.  So we hit that up about every other week.  Tag and SK love to look for ducks and feed them (if we remember to bring bread).  They have a fun park too.  

  

On Halloween, Miss Molly came dressed as Wonder Woman.  Tag calls Wonder Woman, "Woman Girl."  But anyway, the kids loved it!  I adore this girl, Molly.  She literally is Wonder Woman for us some days.  Tag was being stubborn and wouldn't pose for a picture, though he was dressed in his Skeleton costume already.  Story, we decided was better off in her Halloween shirt until all meals were finished =)

Tag's costume for school on Wednesday before Halloween.

 Our neighbor Angie took this photo of us on Halloween.  I love how Tag actually smiled.  It's almost as if he knew he was about to go trick-or-treating! 

 The first house we went to was Miss Graciella's.  Story just busted right on in!

 On the way over to Miss Graciella's house! Tag didn't even let us put his costume all the way on.  Once he saw the kids starting to Trick- or treat, he was off!

  
Below is a photo with JR and Katrina. Tag couldn't figure out who JR was dressed up as... "who is Chunky, mom?" And, I honestly don't know what to say about "Chucky" except I hope Tag never, ever, knows about him.  Anyway!  Katrina was dressed as lovely little Snow White.  Tag is bursting with excitement below... can you see him trying to contain it?  

 This last picture was a sweet moment for me.  As I waddled behind, I just had to stop and take a photo.  It's our very first trick-or-treat!  We're headed over to Ms. Mel's house (lives directly behind us), where we were hooked up quite nicely with candy! 

       
PS: Here's a video of Tag while he was carving his first pumpkin with daddy 

Just Keep Going.

I'm in week 1.0 of feeling that burst of energy where you nest like crazy.  I'm 29.5 weeks along in pregnancy # 3.  In my head and by the looks of my person, I'm probably 32.5 weeks.  NONE of that makes sense. But it's where I am today.

September at work is our busiest, craziest, make it or break it month since it's the end of the fiscal year.  I kind of love it in that I'm-really-productive-under-pressure kind of way.  School /PMO is back in session for the kiddos.  Routine has come back into our lives, and I embrace it!  I want to give it a hug, I missed it THAT much this summer.

[Tag on his way to school Monday.  SK not pictured, as she was still in PJ's and under the weather :/]  

We've been working on getting Tag and SK set up in the same room this past week, which so far is going OK.  I don't want to say anything more, lest it turn into the disaster I fear and don't have time for. 

I feel like I can say good things about the potty training situation, though.  For real.  It's done.  I think we built it up and made a big deal of it, and Tag was kind of intimidated by the process and by failing.  But once he got past his first real #2 situation, it's been pretty much smooth sailing.  Lately he's been insisting on standing up to pee, which is not always awesome, but I let him.  Because he's learning to clean up after himself, so he can help tidy up the accidents.  PRAISE BE!  The other day though, he insisted he stand up to poop.  And, after saying "no" 10 times and a mini melt down from him, I was like-- OK.  Stand up to poop.  Let me know how that works out.  He called me in when he was done and I suppose worked out the logistics in his head and realized it's best to sit.  

I will say that potty training was a good wake up call for me on all my presumptions.  I definitely recall making comments like "if my child is old enough to ask for a diaper, then he will be potty trained."  Well, truth be told, I probably wouldn't have even had him potty trained at 3 except I had Miss Molly helping me, AND I knew he needed to be for 3 year old pre-school.  The thing is, that comment was stupid.  I apologize to whomever out there I said that to, and I apologize in advance for any other similar statements you may have heard from my arrogant mouth.  We can all say whatever we want about parenting before we get to the stage where we have to do said parenting, and then we'll likely eat our words.  From now on, I say--SURVIVE!  JUST KEEP GOING.  DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO.  

A neighbor of mine was telling me how she had her adopted son potty trained at 18 months.  I was like, seriously????  And then I literally said, "I don't believe you."  And she responds, "I was a single mom.  I couldn't afford diapers any more."  And, then I got it.  DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO.  And, props to Ms. Cynthia!  One day, she's going to be on HGTV or some Oprah spin off winning a car for her awesomeness.  OK, I digress.  

[Sunday morning, sick day in mom and dad's bed]

Back to what I have time for (or not).  You know that saying "... like a well oiled machine" or "... run a tight ship."  That's how it is around here.  We run a tight ship.  Our daily schedule varies, but here is a sample of how Monday and Today should have gone based on the schedule.

MONDAY
7am-wake, feed everyone breakfast, have a quiet time, tv show for kids, etc. prepare for/check in at work 
8am-get ready for school (pack bags, lunches, cups, diapers, etc.)
8:30am-B leaves for work
8:40am-leave for carpool (allow 15 minutes to actually get in car and leave) takes 5 minutes to get to school.
9am-drop tag off in carpool
9:15am-drop SK off at PMO
9:30am-Jodi home to work 
11:55am-Jodi to pick up Tag in carpool line
12:15am-Home, feed Tag, eat lunch
12:30pm-Molly arrives, Jodi back to work 
12:45pm-Brentley picks up SK from PMO
1:00pm-SK and Tag go down for naps 
(Molly preps dinner while kids nap, cleans,etc.)
4:30-5:00pm- Brentley home from work (works 5 minutes away also), lets Molly go 
5:00-6:00pm- Jodi off, depending on meetings, work to be done, etc.
6:00-8:00pm-Dinner, family time, bath time, reading time, BED TIME!
8:00-10:30pm- Jodi + Brentley time. Maybe work time.  Bed time.

TUESDAY
7am-wake, feed everyone breakfast, have a quiet time, tv show for kids, etc. prepare for/check in at work 
8am-hang with the kids upstairs, do chores, work if needed
8:30am-B leaves for work
9am-Molly comes, Jodi work.
1pm-Kids nap.  Molly works her magic
4:30pm-B comes home, Molly leaves
5-5:30pm ish-Jodi off, depending on meetings etc.
5:30-8pm Dinner, family time, bath time, reading time, Bed time. 
8-10:30pm- Jodi + Brentley time. Maybe work time?  Bed time.

REALITY
But Monday and Today did not go as planned.  Story has had a virus since Saturday night (same one Tag had last week), and couldn't go to school Monday. But luckily, Tag woke up at 6:30 am, and SK not until 8:30, so I got some work done that early morning.  She was quiet and sleepy all morning, so I was able to work most of the morning until time to get Tag at 11:55am.  Molly came at 12:30pm and made quick work of getting the kids down for naps, the house and dinner while I worked.  We ate an early dinner (which was YUM), went to Walmart (mostly just to get out of the house), and then came home to bath time/bed time.  I went for a walk at 7:30 with the RGC ladies.  

Tuesday morning I had a 7am conference call, so I was up at 6:30 to work.  Call gets moved to 9am at the last minute, so I got to see my boos a little more than planned.  Tag and Story slept in the same room for the first time last night and didn't wake until 7. Beginners luck, I fear.  9 am Molly arrives and I have back-to-back conf calls until noon plus one more before Story has her 18 mo well check at 3pm.  I tell Molly to put the kids down for early naps, get them dressed for the doc and pack snacks/cups.  Work until 2:30 and rush to get ready to leave.  Thankfully, I showered last night, and my hair goes back into a bun!  My neighbor Ashley comes over because she's locked out and needs to not melt in the 90 degree heat until her hubs gets the key, so she stays at the house while I rush the kids to the doc visit.  Zero time to talk, BOO! Finish at the doc and get home at 4:45, just in time for Brentley to take the kids so I can attend another conf call at 5.  Work till nearly 6, when B brings home Chic-fil-a (whoop!).  Make home made (Fosters) brownies for family at church in the hospital, while B gives kids a bath.  SK poops in tub, so I rush upstairs to help.  Get kids cleaned and in PJ's in time for B to go visit said family, but brownies weren't ready in time :/          

And that's just how it is some times.  After a year or so of this rigmarole, I've come to embrace some truths.  

First, there are SO many ways in which God pours out his grace in days like today and Monday.  I mean, my 7 am meeting could have been on, and I'm a little afraid of talking to people in Israel at 7am about important things.  I just don't have my brain screwed on quite tight enough at that hour.  And, it could have been 6 am.  Last week it WAS 6 am.  But it got moved to today at 7am, then 9am.  To me, that's a gift!  I see Molly as such a gift to our family.  I had a lot of anxiety and stress about hiring a perfect stranger to come in and care for our family, and I prayed and cried over this decision.  But God delivered!  And a year + later, she's still here blessing us daily with her service.  I went to the doc to check in on SK, and she's healthy and beautiful and growing so well.  Tag went with us, and the whole way there we talked and told me to not have a wreck, not to hit other cars, not to run over trees.  He reminded me that green lights mean "go."  He opened doors for me at the doctors office.  He told Dr. J all about Story and how she had a fever.  When she got her shots, he was so affected and told me over and over that when he sees that Nurse again, he will tell her "that's not good, and don't do that!"  He and Story made my heart swell.  When I got home, Brentley was home in time for me to jump on my call.  That doesn't always work out, but today it did.  Again, GRACE! 

 [Dr. Jackson allowed Tag to help him check SK out.  He's listening to her heart beat in this picture, with his Toy Stethoscope]

 [I love to take photos of SK.  I am sure it's because I'm her mom, but I think she's so stinking beautiful.  Today she made faces that made me think she looks a lot more like Brentley. Maybe # 3 will be freckly with red hair and a crooked smile  like me;)]

[Hanging around waiting for shots...]

Second, not ever day happens like this.  Some days go exactly as planned.  Some days go better than planned.  Though we obviously always have a plan!  Some days I have no meetings.  Some days end with me going straight to bed at 8pm.  There are always Saturdays and Sundays which are OUR days to do just family things.  One Friday a month, Brentley's mom and step-dad come keep the kids while we work, and it's like as exciting as a birthday around here.  The kids LOVE it.  

Third, I don't actually know anyone whose life looks like this, but that IS OK.  As much as I like having other examples to compare myself to (usually to torture myself in guilt, envy, or pride) I don't have any comparisons for this situation.  After a few years of stressing how our lives look compared to others, I think I'm finally over it.  I'm embracing this life where we run a tight ship.  It's a season.  It will change.  It will look different a year from now.  I find joy every day in my family and our life together.      

Lastly, when I think about it, I can't see my life any other way.  I'm the type of person who squeezes the minutes out of a day.  I think I'd do that even if I won the lottery tomorrow.  My parents can attest to this-- as I distinctly remember conversations where my dad would say to my mom, "Jodi's involved in too many extra curricular activities and needs to focus more on school."  But to me, going to school at 7am to lead FCA devotions, having school all day, a volleyball game at 4, then staying late for another club meeting until 8pm was what I JUST HAD TO DO.  And of course, I had to work Friday nights and Saturday mornings at Ray's Cafe, and ref little league basketball games on Saturdays, because I needed money to shop at the worst mall in North Carolina and eat at Applebees with my BFF's!  

And my precious mother, (who is like me in this way) fought for me to be allowed to do so.  And no, I wasn't a straight "A" student.  But I mostly made honor roll (gold card, holla), and got into college.  So I think at the ripe old age of 30, I've embraced the truth that, I'm more of a "Jill of all trades, Master of none" kinda gal.  Always have been.

So this is how things are for us around here.  We've got baby # 3 on the way in T-11 weeks.  We're rocking out school, schedules, the amazing Miss Molly, work, church, family life... and there isn't time to stop.  only time to JUST KEEP GOING!  I could fret about it all, or admit that I love it.  We're blessed.