Me???

Cute, aren’t I?   But man oh man am I NAUUUUUUGHTY.

Thank goodness I have these eyelashes…

…and these perfect piggies…

or my Mom would have probably sold me on eBay by now.

Grady will be 20 months old tomorrow.  That oh so thin line in between baby and big boy.  You’ve heard of the terrible twos?  Well they  hit our house about 17 months.   He truly is THE definition of ornery.   A little example for you…

When Cooper was Grady’s age an occaional swat on the hiney or the threat of taking away a beloved toy solved most discipline problems.  Cooper is a people pleaser.  A stern “you really disapointed Mommy” and he’s in tears.

Grady?

Not to much.

After exahusting all forms of punishment for his naughtness, I took the advice of Super Nanny (seriously… I watched two episodes) and got ourselves an official “time-out” chair.  I wish I would have used one years ago for Cooper.  Just say the words “time-out” and he’s appoligizing and begging for mercy.

Grady?

Not so much.

He completely understands how the time-out system works, and he’s pretty much decided it’s worth it.  I can see him holding a toy over Cooper’s head about to whack him with it and I yell… “Grady!  NO!”

He pauses… looks me directly in the eyes… thinks for a minute… whacks Cooper in the head and then runs directly to the time-out chair before I can say a word.

Like I said…

He’s pretty much decided it’s worth it.

Take things away, reward him, spank him, talk to him, yell at him, time-out… I’ve just surrendered to “this too shall pass”.  Good parenting, huh?  Despite his naughtiness, he is really such a fun kid.  His personality is soooo SOOOOO BIG.  I can’t imagne what’s going to come out of his mouth once we can understand everything he’s saying.  I have vowed not to hurry him in to toddler-hood just because I have a new baby.  I want to savor these binky-sucking (daddy will make him give it up on his 2nd birthday), lion-hugging, rock me to sleep days as long as I can.

Sidenote…  if you’re not on Facebook, you need to be!  Here is what’s going on over there on my FanPage…

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More Facebook specials coming next week!  Click here to find my fanpage!

Sweet baby Nash Potato was a month old yesterday.  It won’t be long now and he’ll be asking to borrow my car and lying about where he’s headed in it.  I was soooooo (did I mention sooooooooo) fortunate to have my Mom with us in Iowa for the first three and a half weeks of his life so I didn’t miss out on all the holding, loving, and cuddling that comes along with a new baby.  If my Mom hadn’t been here taking care of my other two kids, I can’t even imagine how fast the past few weeks would have went by.  I’m so glad I’ve got to savor every second because at this point, I’m thinking this is going to be the last newborn that ever lives in our house.

Did I just put that in writing?

Yikes.

Ever since we figured out that we could conceive naturally (read that story HERE) I have secretly had my heart set on having four kids.  Four little boys to be exact.  After having to have a c-section with Nash, I’m pretty sure that this McCloy clan was meant to be a “party of five”.  I simply can’t imagine having to go through the whole c-section experience again.  I’ve been meaning to blog about it for the past few weeks and I figured Nash’s one month birthday would be a good time to share the story.

With Coop-diddy and G-funk I never had any contractions at home.  With both of them I had scheduled inductions (Cooper a few days before my due date because he was getting too big, and with Grady two days after my due date).   Both child birth experiences were a breeze.  Do my hair, put on make-up, drive to the hospital, start the pitocin, feel a few tiny contractions, get an epidural, doc breaks my water, watch some TV, push six times and I’m holding a baby.  In fact, I have always said I’d rather have a baby everyday for nine months straight then be pregnant.  Childbirth was always easy… until Nash Potato came along.

I went to the doctor on Tuesday morning and he said I was dilated to a two.  This was HUGE news considering that I don’t even know if I was a two when I asked for the epidural with my first two kids.   We scheduled my induction for the following Monday morning (the 25th) and I went home to be in agony for six more days.  I was sooo stinking uncomfortable.  I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions for several weeks, but by Wednesday they were coming a lot more regular.   I would finally think “okay, this is for real, we need to go to the hospital” and then they would stop for a few hours.  The contractions kept me up all night and not knowing if this was “real” labor and feeling so out of control of the situation was miserable.  I just kept thinking “there is no way this is “real” labor… I don’t go in to labor… my babies don’t come out on their own… I’m having this baby on Monday”.  By Friday afternoon my contractions were painful enough that I couldn’t do anything else while I was having one.  By the time Otey got home from work at five I was pretty sure that we were going to the hospital but decided we would wait and leave once we got Cooper and Grady to bed at 7:30.  By about 6:15 there was no more waiting.  My contractions were getting regular, close together, and very painful (did I mention PAINFUL???).

This is an entirely different blog post, but my OBGYN’s office sucks (it’s the only one in town).  There are a bunch of Dr’s and when you go into labor you just get whoever is on call.  I really like my doctor and since I always (not this time) have to be induced, I’ve never worried about the “on call” thing.  Thank goodness the Dr. on call was really nice and I felt really comfortable with him.  He checked me and said that I was dilated to a four and I was for sure in labor.  I laughed and told him I was sorry he had to come in on a Friday night but not to worry I was a super fast baby-haver and he’d be home in bed in no time.  I asked for the epidural (by now I was REALLY REALLY REALLLLLYYY in pain).  He told me he wanted to see a change in my cervix before he let me have the epidural.

What?!!????!!??

Who was this quack and where the hell did he get his medical degree?  He obviously didn’t know how FRICKING bad contractions hurt or he would have let me have my epidural.  Remember… this might have been my third kid, but I had never had a contraction that hurt worse than a menstrual cramp.  This whole “real” labor thing was for the birds.  I needed some drugs and I needed them RIGHT THEN.  Finally after a lot of moaning and gnashing of teeth I got my epidural.  Ohhh…. my beloved epidural.  They broke my water and I quickly dilated to a six.

Now is where things get complicated.

I got stuck.

Stuck at a six for two and a half hours.  We would have just waited it out but Nash’s little heart rate was dropping really low during my contractions.  Low enough that the doctor started discussing the possibility of a c-section with us.  I was stunned and terrified all at the same time.  Terrified that Nash wasn’t going to be okay, and terrified of having to have a c-section.   When I went in to have Cooper, I was totally mentally prepared for the chance of a c-section.  Everyone always warns you that labor doesn’t follow a “plan” so I knew then to expect the unexpected.  But not now.  I didn’t have c-sections.  I had super-uneventful ninja like child births.  This was my third time and it was supposed to be just like the other two.  Unfortunately, Nash had other plans.

The longer my contractions went on the lower Nash’s heart rate would drop so the doctor told us he thought it would be best to call in the surgical team.  Otey and I of course agreed.  At this point I didn’t care if they took him out through my nose, I just wanted him out and okay.  Otey got on his scrubs and I got my oxygen mask and hair net and they rolled me down the hall to the surgery room.  I knew that having a C-section was best for Nash so that was exactly what I wanted to do, but I was so scared of the unknown (and unplanned… I’m a big time planner) that I couldn’t stop crying.  They moved me over to the operating table and people buzzed all around me.  I tried to control my breathing (I was pretty freaked out by this time) and just focus on the door that they would let Otey come through in just a few minutes.  I didn’t know a lot about the actual c-section procedure, but you are completely awake during the whole thing.  They strap your legs down, and then have you extend your arms out (like in a crucifix position) and strap your arms down too.  They hang a sheet right at your chin so that you can’t see what’s going on and then the fun begins.  You don’t feel any pain, but you can feel everything.  I know that makes no sense, but you can feel their touch, the pressure, their hands… it was definitely not an experience that I want to go through again.  The doctors were wonderful, and of course Otey was right beside me and wonderful as always, but man did I hate it.  One of the hardest things for me was having my arms tied down.  After Nash was out and he and Otey went to the nursery, I cried and pleaded with the anesthesiologist long enough that he undid them for me while they stitched me up.  All in all… the whole c-section experience sure sucked the joy right out of childbirth for me.  Don’t get me wrong, getting Nash was worth every second of it, it’s just not at all how I want to have babies.  The worst part of the whole experience has been the recovery.  We chose to go through a large vertical scar from the abdominal surgery I had as a teenager and the combination of all the old scar tissue and the vertical incision has totally kicked my but.   I absolutely despise being incompetent. Not being able to pick up or hold my other kids, needing help just to get up off the couch, crying when I cough or sneeze… not my idea of fun.  Otey and my parents deserve trophies for taking care of (and putting up with) me for the past few weeks.

Things are starting to resemble normal around here.  Well, as normal as our house ever was.  I start back to work this weekend and besides being sleep deprived, I feel ready to get back on the road.  Otey is going to travel with us on our first couple of trips out until I get some sort of a routine.  The other boys started traveling at three weeks old and even though Nash is going to be five, it’s a whole new ball game with three of them.  This first trip out my just confirm that three kids in enough!

Actually he turned four twenty days ago (on February 1st) but I’m a little behind on blog posts.

Where on earth has the time gone?  It seems like yesterday that we headed to the hospital to have our first baby.  Here we are… four years later and my sweet baby is FOUR YEARS OLD and a fantastic BIG brother twice over.

I pride myself in being calm, cool, and collected the majority of the time… but knowing that we are only one year from FIVE???!!!  One year from going to school??!??!?  I am going to be that blubbering Mom on the first day of Kindergarten.  The thought of being away from him all day long five days a week makes my heart ache.   I just can’t imagine…. so for now, I’m going to cling to four with all I’ve got.

Here’s a three, two, one Birthday flashback for you…

Coop Diddy turns three

Coop Diddy turns two

Coop Diddy turns one

THREE WEEKS????

My tiny little baby is three weeks old already!  Time has just flown by since January 23rd.  Cooper turned 4, I turned 32, and my Mom and Otey have kept our house running.  This whole c-section thing has TOTALLY kicked my booty.  With my first two kids I just squirted them out and got right back to my normal life.  Nash… not so much.  I’m still no where close to 100%.  Today I realized just how fast the tiny newborn days have slipped away and I locked myself in my room with little Nash Potato and tried to capture the last few fleeting moments.  I have TONS of photos to share with you from the past three weeks, but here’s ten minutes from our house today.

It’s 11:15 and I am up with nothing else to do but blog.  Why am I up… is that what you were wondering?  No… you weren’t wondering?  Too bad… I’m about to tell you anyway.

I AM UP BECAUSE I CAN NOT SLEEP NOT ONE MORE MINUTE UNTIL BABY NASH IS EVICTED.

I lovvvveee this baby.  I love that I get to be his mama.  But OH MY GOSH I am miserable.  I’ve felt like I was in labor for the past few days and tonight I started having pretty regular contractions.  I did what any woman about to have her third baby would do when contractions started… I finished watching The Singing Bee, I took a shower, I fixed my hair, I applied a little makeup, and I began to mentally prepare to push a human being from my loins.  Problem is… after all that… the contractions have mellowed out and now I’m sitting in front of my iMac while the rest of the house sleeps.  But man-oh-man does my hair look good.

I have a regular doctor’s appointment at 8:30 tomorrow morning so my plan is to handcuff myself to the stirrup and cry uncontrollably until my doctor agrees to evict Nash ASAP.  As of right now, the tentative plan is the 25th…

THAT’S A WHOLE WEEK AWAY.

I don’t think so.

If something doesn’t give soon, I’m getting ready to try every old-wives story there is to start labor.

Okay.  I’m done complaining about the woes of being nine months pregnant.  I shall not complain not one more (I’m talking about on the blog Otey… don’t get excited) word until Nash arrives.  Speaking of little sweet perfect baby Nash, he still has no middle name.  Feel free to chime in with any suggestions you might have.  I’m pretty sure it has to be two syllables or more (Nash Bob or Nash John just doesn’t work).  We also want it to be a fairly traditional, or a common name.  I think two “cool” or “trendy” names is too much for a McCloy kid.

If you need a little baby visual inspiration.  Here’s a shot of Rusty and Lisa’s sweet baby Veda from the summer.

Now if those perfect little baby toes and pouty lips don’t make being “up” seem worth while… nothing could.

I’m off to eat some salsa and do some deep pelvic squats…  keep your fingers crossed my friends.

YUCKOLA.

But for some reason with this pregnancy I felt like I needed to make sure I had a couple of images to document just how GIGANTIC I get when I am pregnant.

When I emailed Collyn I made her swear she would delete them off her hard drive and never use them on her website or in her portfolio.  I love taking photos of pregnant women, and I really do think pregnant women are smokin’ hot… just no this pregnant woman.  The thought of subjecting perfect strangers to my strech marks and pastey white belly makes me gag. Again…

YUCKOLA.

So anyway… Collyn agreed and we got together for the worlds fastest and coldest photo shoot (I seriously only cared about having a couple of images).  We waded through snow drifts knee deep (did I mention it’s cold in Iowa?) talked a tiny bit of camera geek talk and said our goodbyes.

Today Collyn emailed me her favorites, and  you know what?  I am really glad that I (more importantly SHE) braved the cold to get a couple of images.  Although I look at them now and have a hard time feeling all warm and fuzzy while being attacked by baby Nash and trying not to pee my pants while he does backflips on my bladder… I know in just a couple of short weeks when he’s laying on my lap in front of the computer…

…they will mean the world to me.

Thanks Collyn.

It’s amazing  how real everything becomes once that IV is in, the monitors are turned on and you begin the wait for your baby to make his move.  Some of us relax and wait it out with a little TV time…

Some of us get ridiculously happy with the thought of the soon-to-be baby eviction… oh, and maybe keep our phone in arms reach to blog every ten minutes or so (check out July 2008 archives for baby Grady’s play by play)…

I have never “went” in to labor.   I like to call it “cozy uterus syndrome”.   With Cooper and Grady both, my delivery date arrived only with the help of modern medicine… specifically… a little Pitocin.  Now as soon as they pump me full of the fluids (let’s blame those fluids for my above puffy face), get the Pitocin flowing, and most importantly get the epidural in, I’m fast as lighting.  I’m talking like a labor ninja.   That’s when the above perky happy pregnant lady turns into the “holy crap I’m about to deliver another kid” lady…

But for the lucky ones like myself, the doctor walks in and tells you it’s time to push and ten minutes later you hear the cries of your new baby.  The real magic happens an hour later when the true miracle that you were a part of for the past nine months gets rolled in to your room… bundled like a perfect little clean burrito sleeping away after the hard work of entering the world.

And the real kicker?  They actually let you take it home with you two days later.  That part still remains the most amazing (and scary) to me.

I CAN NOT BELIEVE that 18 months ago I went throught this… and two weeks from now I am going to go through it again. When I say I CAN NOT BELIEVE…what I really mean is…

HOLY COW.  I AM ABOUT TO BE RESPOSIBLE FOR THE LIFE OF ANOTHER TINY HUMAN BEING.  YIKES.

I have been starting to get ready for the big day this week.  I actually bought a package of newborn diapers and drug out my tub of newborn baby boy clothes (one of the benefits of having three boys in four years… the clothes don’t have time to get dorky).  Tonight I was folding the tiny itty bitty little shirts and was overwhelemed with how small they seemed.  Otey and I both just can’t believe we’re only two weeks away from baby boy number three.

Baby boy number three who from this point forward will be known as Nash.

Nash McCloy.

Nash (my-parents-can’t-come-up-with-a-middle-name) McCloy.

Nash McCloy.

Nash.

Cooper, Grady, & Nash.

Does it sound like I am still trying to get used to it?  That’s because I am.

Otey’s Mom really wanted a picture of all four of her grandkids in the same shot.  I told her I would try as long as she had realistic expectations.  I mean we are talking three WILD little boys and one sweet one.  When I deliver baby version 3.0 in January, Otey’s parent’s will have five grandsons under four.  Can you imagine what holidays are going to be like at their house in a couple of years?  So anyway, this is about as good as it gets with a 3.5 yr old, 2.5 yr old, 1.5 yr old, and a (did I mention sweet?) almost 1 year old.

I think this was the second frame I shot and about 6 seconds later Grady was done.  Arched back, get your frickin’ paws off of me Cooper… done.   And sweet baby Jasper?  He would have been hitting the road with Grady if only he could walk.  Instead he was left to scream for help while Cooper and Cole stuck grass in each others ears.

Cole and Jasper belong to Otey’s little brother Ben and his wife Brandy.  I forced them into an unplanned family photo.  Ben with his deer hunting beard and Brandy… who am I kidding, she always looks photo ready.

The forty-three second shirtless photo shoot somehow led to a spontaneous bathtub party.  Cooper and Cole were WILD… a good Mom wouldn’t have let a kid Grady’s age in their with them.  There goes my Mom of the year award.

The plan for Sunday morning was to get all the kids dressed and ready and try again to get all four of them in some photos.  TRY is the key word here.  We missed the “happy kid” window.  Grady and Jasper were ready for morning naps, Cooper and Cole were once again (you’re never going to guess) WILD.  I did catch a few of them around the house before we headed out to the barn.

For my photog friends… no dodging no burning.  Do these boys have killer eyes or what?

Otey and Ben somehow got stuck in the middle of the photo shoot when they were really in the middle of working (notice their nice boots).

Let me commentate this one for you…

Otey just said “Why do I have to be in the picture?”

Cooper is shouting “I’m a lion!!! ROOAARRR!!!!”

Which of course leads to Cole on all fours shouting “ROOOAARRR!!!!!”

Grady is still trying to get it together from the breakdown he just had at the end of trying to shoot the four boys (that’s why he has his binky).

And Ben is smiling like that because he knows his sister-in-law with the camera is leaving town as soon as we get this photo over with.

Oh, and Jasper?  I’m sure he’s just seconding what his Dad is grinning about.

Moral of this story?  If you have four kids 3.5 and under that you would like a photo of?

Call me in three years.