Who needs Zumba if you have a Rug Doctor!

As previously discussed, Bun has asthma. My third child has to create her version of first-in-the-family and so she has. She is the first with asthma. This new diagnosis has prompted her momma to rid the house of all dust, dander, and dog hair. (I DO hear the Mission Impossible theme song, I DO.) Today's chore was steaming the carpets. The rug doctor claims to be steaming mad at dirt, I happen to be steaming mad at asthma. We're a good match.

Have you ever steamed the carpets with a 14 month old running around? IMpossible- right? WRONG! Totally do-able. As you can see, I simply strapped the child onto my front and off we went! Bun is not a huge fan of loud noises so to make the event all the more fun, I danced, bounced, and sang all while steaming the carpets. See the image in your head? It IS as funny as it sounds. Just think of all the extra calories I burned with all that extra baby weight! 23 pounds to be exact. I haven't worked out this much since 2008! I may just make my own line of workout videos!

Words you don't want to read...

O.K. so here's the deal. Bun has asthma. And after about 14 months of denial, it's really official. (She's always been a "loud" breather... I suppose hoping all that "loud" breathing would go away just didn't work.) Time to face it head on and move forward. And doing what any momma would do, I neurotically scour the internet for any and all info. Which is when I come across the "Asthma causes people to go to the hospital or even die" line in the BREATHING EASIER WITH ASHTMA informational page. I'm sorry, but does anyone else see the problem with the title and info therein? And now I can't seem to get past the last word. I'm having google-induced-psychosis.

Die? I am just coming to terms with having to shove a mask on my babe's face while she screams 6 breaths. And then repeat. Die? I just started super deep cleaning everything in the house from top to bottom to try and reduce allergens. Die? I just bought every treat and toy I could think of to give her for the next 5 days while we go through "roid rage" from her steroids. Die? I just started her food journal so we could pinpoint what foods cause her the most problems. Die? I just made plans for getting the dogs groomed and shaved to see if it helps. Die? I just looked into special HEPA filters for the furnace. Die?

Is it inappropriate to write that I simply need to take a deep breath and calm down? I mean, isn't the inability to take a deep breath the whole reason I'm doing this???

Dear BREATHING EASIER WITH ASHTMA, either re-title your info BREATHING EASIER WITH ASTHMA SO YOU DON'T DIE or maybe, just maybe don't mention the DYING part on the first page. It makes it hard to think about the rest.

Sincerely,
Weezie's mom.

I AM A REAL MOM

I was born in 1971. GULP GULP GULP! According to my math, that was like 23 years ago! My mother wasn't present at my birth. Odd, but not that odd. There was another woman there, my birthmum. And I want to thank her for going through pregnancy (I'm a little more than thankful that abortion wasn't legal at that time, I'm just saying), I want to thank her for going through labor (before the era of routine epidurals!), and I want to thank her for giving me to my mother. My real mom.

My mom has always been my mom. Always. She might not have been there when I made my entrance into this world, but she was the one holding me while riding in the wheelchair when I left the hospital and has been with me ever since! I think this counts as real.

My daughter was born in 2009. I wasn't present at her birth either- neither was a doctor, but that's a story for another day. However I was the one who stayed with her night and day in the intermediate care nursery, I was the one who fretted over her first few days as they ran this test and that test, I was the one who patiently held her on her side and fed her drop by drop because she just couldn't grasp the whole "suck, swallow, breathe" thing. It felt real enough to me.

And this is NOT a comment on birthmums and the choice they make for their child. Do not mistake, there are not adequate words to express the benevolence I feel towards birthmums. How do you thank someone for the life you have?

This is however, a response to the questions I hear about my "real" mom and Bun's "real" mom. I actually had someone ask me about Bun's parents. And he wasn't asking about the Canuck or myself. Grrrr.

That's a grrrr of frustration, not anger. I am the real mom to all of my children. They live with their parents. They are all loved equally- even the one who is almost 16 and eats ALL the ice cream in the entire freezer in one sitting. (grrrr again!)

I get it, you think I'm being overly sensitive. But blame it on the real daughter in me and the real mom in me. Defending my mother, defending my child. And the next time you want to know about someone's birthmum, asked them about their birthmum. If you ask them about their real mom, they might just write about it.

In a blink of an eye...

Oh my goodness! She's ONE! Where did that year go? I can no longer say things like, "Can you believe that a year ago, we didn't even KNOW about BUN?" I seriously uttered that phrase at least 365 times in the past year! Probably more, definitely more! Of course, the phrase has now changed to, "Can you even imagine the past year without Bun?" NO WAY!

I think I know what it feels like to win the Super Bowl, to earn a gold medal, to pick all the right lotto numbers! Actually this is better than all that. She's been our baby for a year and I still get excited at the thought! It literally takes my breath away! Happy Birthday Bun, I'm gonna go catch my breath...

The Road Less Travelled a.k.a. Cleaning Beanie's Room

Beanie's room was clean... Once... About 10 months ago. That's when we moved Beau to the Man Cave in the basement, moved Beanie to the big room, and Bun got her nursery. Everything was moved out of the big room and it was clean! I mean, new paint, shampooed carpet, even the blinds were scrubbed! Then Mess Master moved in and that was the end of clean. Two weeks ago, I'd had enough. Enough of trying to remember if Beanie's bed was next to the wall or the window, enough of being awakened each morning by Beanie asking if I knew where her clothes were, enough of the shame that comes from a room that may or may not house a family of pigs. I'm not calling Beanie a pig, I'm just saying that OTHER pigs might think she's a pig. I did it. I hired grammy to come watch Bun the Danger Magnet (She couldn't very well GO into her sister's room while I cleaned, she might be bitten by wild farm animals or something!) while I spent the day attacking the room of doom. I knew my eldest daughter was incredibly creative, but little did I know to what depths her creativity ran! She does all the typical I-cleaned-my-room-but-really-everything-is-just-stuffed-under-my-bed but in addition to that I found countless cleaned-my-room surprises. For instance. I found a plastic jar stuffed into the back of a drawer. I opened the jar and found- pajammas, a feather boa, a giant fake coin, a bib, a sock, a poster marker, a t-shirt, some fabric, a ponytail holder, a pixter game, and a couple other things I can't identify! I have to admit, I was a wee bit worried at this point. Does Beanie have some hoarding disorder? Um no. She had to pick up her room, there was a jar, she shoved everything on the floor in it, put it away and VOILA room "cleaned." We had a little chat. It went a little something like this, "Beanie?" "Yes Mother?" (Hey I said a LITTLE something not exactly.) "Beanie, I cleaned your room today." "Oh THANK YOU!" (That part was real.) "And Beanie if it ever looks like that again, I get to pick out your clothes for a week!" "I promise it won't!" (With fear in her eyes! What could be worse than MOM dressing me?! Just wait daughter!) "And Beanie, if you still make messes after that, GRANDMA gets to pick your outfits for a week!" (Now she's tearing up- the HORROR!) "I PROOOOOMMMMIIISSSSEEEE!" And that was that. After 8 hours, 6 black trash bags, and several hundred deep breaths the room was clean. And I mean it, if it goes to the pigs again I'll be posting pictures of Beanie wearing mom jeans and an applique vest!

The seven year miracle.

Baby #1 arrived approximately 9 months and 4 hours after I told the Canuck, "I want a baby." Baby #2 arrived about 10 months and 3 minutes after I told the Canuck, "I want another baby." Baby #3 didn't make her appearance until 7 years after I told the Canuck, "I really think we need another baby."

Those 7 years were loooonnnnnggggggg.... It didn't take 7 years by choice, it took 7 years because it did. The end. During that time, 596 babies were born in my neighborhood and I went from being the crazy-baby-loving-lady to the crazy-babies-make-me-sad-lady. I hated being that lady. She's a downer.

Finally, after the heartache from failed fertility treatments ebbed a bit, the Canuck and I decided we'd better pursue the adoption route. We didn't know if it would work for us, but we never ever wanted to say, "We should have at least tried."

We went for it. I could fill up an entire disertation on the adoption process, however I will sum it up in three parts- Paperwork, Paperwork, and Paperwork. oh and money. (our baby bills should be paid off in 2024. and I'm not joking.)

Let's fast forward to the month our PAPERWORK was complete- December 2008. We attended the temple with our ward and at the end of our session we found out about Bun. Kinda. Sorta. Not really, but in a way we did. Follow that?

A dear friend of ours hugged me in the temple that night, looked me in the eye and said, "February is going to be a very good month for you. It's going to work out for you." (To this day, she says she doesn't know why she was prompted to say this to me. She just felt it and said it.)

Let's fast forward to January. January came and went with all our usual birthday grandeur (this year it was curling at the Olypmic Oval and snow shoeing in Heber). That was January.

Next comes February, THE MONTH. On Friday the 13th of February, our caseworker called to say that a birthmum wanted to meet our family on Monday. Our caseworker wanted us to know that this birthmum wasn't due for a while- middle of March. This birthmum isn't sure she wants to place her baby. She's not sure you're the family if she does. etc. etc. etc. To say that we felt like we were on a crazy emotional roller coaster that weekend would be a lie. We felt like we were on the Witches Wheel of emotions. That's the ride that spins you around and goes upside down and you don't know where you are but you think you might throw up at any second. That was the ride we were on! And here's a secret for you- I couldn't help but think, "I thought February was our month, this mum isn't due until March." (I was still holding on to that little temple experience from December.)

And then came Monday. And the phone call that I THOUGHT was going to go something like this:

Caseworker: "Oh hi, I'm sorry but birthmum has decided she can't meet with you. She's got some issues to work out. These things happen. O.K.? bah bye."

Acutally it went more like this:

me: (expecting the worst), "Hello?"

Caseworker: "Hi. I just wanted to let you know that the birthmum meeting is still on, but we had to change the location."

me: (still thinking the worst), "Oh, o.k."

Caseworker: "The baby just didn't want to wait any longer. She was born about 3 hours ago. You're going to meet at the hospital, is that alright?"

At this point I stopped breathing while she told me about the baby and deep down inside I thought, "IT'S FEBRUARY! FEBRUARY IS OUR MONTH!"

I spent the next couple hours pacing, getting ready, and trying to find flowers to give to the birthmum. (someday I'll tell the flower story) Those hours made the weekend's Witches Wheel ride feel like the carousel in front of K-Mart. I tried hard to be calm and casual and optimistic. That is very hard to do when you feel like you're bungee jumping off a moving train over the Grand Canyon filled with alligators. Somehow I managed to get the kids and meet the Canuck at the hospital without being eaten by the alligators.

We met our caseworker, we met birthmum's caseworker, and then... And then we met Bun. Bun was just a little itty bitty thing (she came early- had to make it here in February I guess) and had a face only a birthmum and mommy could love. Bun's birth was what they nicely call "precipitous." Or in other words, "that baby shot out so fast she would've landed in the next room if the nurse hadn't caught her!" And when you're born like that, your face takes a beating. She was purple from forehead to chin, her eyeballs were even bruised, and her nose... oh my... it didn't turn the right color for a couple weeks! SHE WAS PERFECT!

We all took turns holding Bun and falling in love with her. The next day her birthmum signed the papers that said Bun would be ours. After that, we ate snacks and played games. It was our very first family night with Bun. In that moment, all the craziness, the tears, and the disappointment of waiting seven years to get baby #3 completely disappeared. Now we know why it took 7 years, we were just waiting for Bun to get here. That's all. Life is like that sometimes and you just have to wait it out.

Why I have three children....

I am mom to three kidlets. Ages 15, 11, and.... 6 months. Yes, that is a bit of a gap it's true. And no, we didn't set out to space the kids quite like that. HOWEVER.... I would highly recommend it! I'm thinking perhaps everyone should wait a decade in between children- you'd be amazed at the perspective you gain! When Bun was 5 weeks old and I was SO TIRED I GOT INTO BED ON THE WRONG SIDE AND ALMOST CRUSHED MY SLEEPING HUSBAND, I laughed and said, "Oh well this stage passes fast, and hey! When did you start sleeping on this side of the bed? 17 years ago? oh..." When Beau was 5 weeks old, things like that didn't seem quite so funny.
So why did we do it? Why did we go for #3 when #1 and 2 were finally potty-trained, sleeping through the night, and learning to drive? The answer is featured in the photo above. Beau and Beanie. We were warned that we would be questioned about our adoption quest especially because we already have two children. Our answer was, "We're on this quest BECAUSE we already have two children." We know we love this parenthood journey, we love these two delightful people who call us mom and dad, we know that two was not our luckly number. We knew there was a #3. And no matter how much time it took, how many times our hearts broke, how crazy it seemed to even try, we KNEW there was a #3. It was plain and simple.
BUT... the "knowing" and the "doing" in this case were not quite in sync. We KNEW there was #3, but the "how to get her here???" Not so simple- kind of long and complex actually. I'll try to sum it up next time in the "How I got three children," post.
Now you know, the Canuck and I are addicted to our kids. We spent almost 7 years trying to get our next "fix." And wouldn't you know it! We're addicted to her too!