On: Being Alive

IT'S ALIVE! Oh, wait. I mean, I'm alive.

Yikes, you know life has changed when you realize you haven't blogged since September. That's a bad thing. I know.

In my defense my well structured life suddenly changed, and I'm still dealing with the aftermath. The Marine, Munchkin, Boy Wonder, and I no longer live in the land of sand and rocks. We're back in the PNW. The gray and rainy state of one of my favorite authors, Christina Dodd. Needless to say, it's been an adjustment. Though, thankfully, the weather has been mild and less rainy than it usually is. It's been easier to acclimate from constant sun when most days recently have at least had a glimmer of sunshine.

We survived the drive from California, and even survived the moving company misplacing our household goods for a week. Now we're in our new home. We're not settled, but that has a lot to do with my own OCD tendencies when it comes to organization.

I'm choosing to view this move as a good thing. I'm focusing on all the positives and all the new possibilities that are waiting ahead. I can't wait to be settled in so my little family and I can start living again.

How have things been with you, dear readers?

R.S.

On: Class, Working Out, and Plotting

Once again, it's been a while since I posted. Over the past four weeks I've spent far too much time analyzing terrorist activity, studying Al Capone, and realizing that I'll never be a criminal analyst. I'll save that for people who can focus on one thing for longer than the time it takes to eat a cookie.

During that time if anyone had peeked in my windows they would have seen a person living in workout clothes, a messy ponytail, and most likely spots of burp-up on me. I would likely have been sitting on the couch, lap top beside me, Boy Wonder in my lap, feeding him and studying. I might even have been actually typing with one hand.

I wasn't sure I was going to survive, let alone finish the class. It was a close one. Especially when everything was do by one minute to midnight yesterday, and I still had a final counter-terrorism scenario to create as well as a twenty question short answer exam to do.

Luckily, I made it, and I couldn't be happier.

During the crazy last couple of weeks, my only 'relaxation' or 'me time' I took, was the twenty-five minutes a day it took to complete T-25 (and sometimes a shower--don't judge). It helped keep my sanity. I'm seven weeks down with only three more weeks left of the program. I'm not ashamed to admit, I'll miss it when I'm done, but I can always go back. I've also started Shaun T's Hip Hop Abs program (and no, I really don't think I'll ever be able to move like they do. Good thing I keep the curtains closed when I workout.) it's a lot of fun, and will help me reach my post-baby body goals.

I've also spent my quality shower time plotting. I refused to allow terrorist or Al into the shower with me. Instead I've been focusing on the books of essays I've been plotting. I've got some of them done, but I have a feeling they're going to take a different turn than I first imagined, and that's okay.

I hope this Labor Day has found you safe and happy. Best wishes,

R.S.

On Recreating Myself. Again.

It's been almost two months since Boy Wonder was born, and during that time I've enjoyed the snuggles, grins, and warmth that comes from his little body while he sleeps in my arms. I've enjoyed watching him grow and change, and seeing the expressions on his face as he becomes more aware of the world around him.

 What I haven't enjoyed is feeling like I've lost myself somewhere. I'm not the same person I was when the Munchkin was born. At that time, my life was completely different than it is now. I hadn't started school yet (that happened when she was three months old), and I wasn't actively writing, blogging, or doing anything particularly crafty or time consuming.

 My world revolved around my daughter and keeping the house clean. Occasionally we would run errands or go hangout at a friend's house, but mostly we would spend time snuggled on the couch, or playing on the floor. No matter what it was, I wasn't stressed out. I didn't worry about some huge thing looming over my head, and because of this, I felt like I had the parenting thing down.

Things aren't quite so simple anymore. Even though I realize a lot of the issues I'm having currently, are of my own making, I seem helpless to walk away from them. I've got the self-imposed deadlines looming over me. Things that really aren't set in stone, that I feel like I'm falling behind on. It makes no sense, while at the same time making too much sense.

I've got homework for a class I can't drop, and I know that no matter what I'll make it through it, but still I stress about every second of the day. There are other things that could go by the wayside, and not doing them won't matter a bit in a day, a week, or a year, but they hang over me like a dark cloud. I just want to enjoy the time I have with my son before he grows up and these days are gone.

I need to find peace with myself.

 I've been told that each child changes you, that with each new life you create, they recreate you into a different (and hopefully) better version of yourself. I firmly believe this. The person I became after the birth of the Munchkin was one I was proud of. I know, given time and patience, the person my son will create out of the stressed out ashes of my previous self, will be awesome.

Until then, I need to focus on what is really important. Spending time with my children. Taking a few moments to put away what I've incorrectly decided was important, for what is truly important. Whether that is reading a book with the Munchkin or dancing around the living room with her; feeding Boy Wonder (who seems to be a bottomless pit just like the Marine), or comforting him while he screams in my ear and shakes his little fists angrily.

The creating of art for myself and to sell, can take a backseat until a time when my children need me just a little less. The writing of the hundreds of books running through my head, can wait until Boy Wonder doesn't need to eat every two hours, and the Munchkin doesn't want to show me what new dance step she just created when she was supposed to be brushing her teeth.

It's time to sit back and let the re-creating begin, without the fight I've been giving it, because in my heart I know it's time for that change, I'm just having a hard time letting go of the old me for an uncertain future with a new me.

Have you ever had experiences like this? I really would love to know your stories.

R.S.

On: A Letter to a Long Ago Friend

I was thinking about you today, and then pictures of your kiddos popped up on my newsfeed. As a person who hasn't ever particularly thought people's kiddos were cute, I've got to say, you and Andrew have made some gorgeous little ones.

I've missed talking to you, and wish that we could have stayed in better touch. I often wonder how it is that we managed to remain close the whole time we lived on opposite coasts, yet as soon as we're on the same coast our lives seemed to have taken us in different directions.

I realized today I no longer know what you do in your spare time or what interests you. The person who was with me through some of my most difficult experiences in life, I don't know anymore.

I'm sure you're just as amazing as you were then, but I find at times it feels like a piece of me disappeared when we stopped talking. 

I'm happy and healthy, and I have a great life. A life so much better than I ever expected it would be after losing G.

I gave birth to my son just under seven hours before G's ninth birthday. I like to believe one brother helped the other into the world.

I hope your life is as happy as mine, and that your dreams and goals are everything you wished them to be all those years ago.

Maybe someday, we'll be able to catch up again, because even though I've made new friends, great friends, there is always a place in my heart where you belong.

R.S.

On: CSI NY

I've spent the last couple of days snuggled on the couch with Boy Wonder, working on posts for my various blogs, and watching CSI:NY on Netflix.

First it was Miami, now it's NY. I'm addicted.

Maybe there's a twelve step program I should look into.

A couple years ago I actually met Gary Senise when he and the Lt. Dan Band came to our base for a concert. He's actually a really nice guy who came off as being very quiet. After posing for the typical fan photo, he asked me to thank The Marine for his service to the country.

What are your favorite shows?

On: Reading, Re-evaluating, and Relaxing

As of tomorrow, Boy Wonder will be one month old. It's amazing how quickly they grow and change, and how quickly they grow and change us.

I'm reminded how important my goals, plans, and dreams are, because each and every one of them are for a better life for my little ones. I'm also reminded, daily, that things take time, and I need to be patient.

There are so many things I want to accomplish, and I'm anxious to get started.

 Anxious to get words on paper (or screen).

Anxious to get back to my pre-baby body, again. Hopefully this time it won't take me four years. It shouldn't since I'm only ten pounds shy of my pre-pregnancy weight and still have two weeks before the six week-get-off-my-butt-and-workout date of July 18. I've been doing what I can to start the process. Eating right, walking, and doing daily yoga.

Unfortunately, I'm still not getting as much sleep as I'd like, but that too will change in time.

So far, my routine doesn't involve as much of my goal oriented focus as I would like. Instead it is full of snuggling with my little man, catching up on all the reading I didn't have the mental focus for while I was pregnant, and taking it easy. These are all important things, and I cherish these little moments, because they won't last long. Boy Wonder won't always want to snuggle, or sleep curled up on me.

I have a tendency to stress myself out when I'm not moving toward a goal, so I spend a lot of time telling myself that each day, every snuggle, every nap, is getting me one step closer to where I want to be mentally, physically, and monetarily.

Not to mention, nothing makes me happier than snuggling with Boy Wonder and reading a good book while he softly snores.

Life isn't always simple, but when it is, it's important to enjoy the simplicity.

R.S.

ON: Getting on With Life

Again, I've been a horrible blogger, but I'm not going to apologize this time.

Instead, I'll try and do better.

Boy Wonder is three weeks old today, and we're still trying to get our routine down. Having a newborn is a huge change for me. It's been almost six years since we had a newborn in our home. Everyone has experienced a learning curve this time around.

For some reason, the first time seemed easier.

Maybe, because the first time, I had nothing to compare it to. I didn't know what to expect, and this time I did. Of course, knowing what to expect doesn't mean things are going to go as expected. Every child is different.

Boy Wonder is no exception.

He's gorgeous, and solid. There is no chub on him other than his cheeks, but he's got some serious weight behind him. If he keeps his body style, he'll be perfect for football. Something I don't even want to contemplate.

However, for the first two weeks he had his schedule backwards. Night was day, and day was night. It was miserable for me. In a house full of early birds, having a night owl proved to be complicated and difficult. When he puts his mind to it, BW can sleep like nobody's business.

He's finally figuring out a better schedule.

Now that things on the sleep schedule front are getting better, I have hopes that we'll get a routine down that will allow me to balance all the other responsibilities in my life. Like writing.

I've missed it.

I realized the other day that a novel I'd written two years ago, but never edited or published, has been niggling at my brain again. The characters want their story told. I hope soon, I can make that a reality for them.

There are also other writing projects I've been sitting on for a while. Some I actually made a little progress on during my maternity sabbatical.

My plan was to have them published before the new year. I'm honest enough with myself to say that is highly unlikely. Getting pregnant and having a baby tend to put a crimp in plans and New Years Goals. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to hit any of those goals mentioned here. Good thing, I'm flexible. That's the thing about goals. They don't go away just because the date changes.

What has been going on in your lives? I'd love to know.

R.S.

The Finish Line: Boy Wonder Arrives

It was a typical sunny day in the desert, and the weather man promised excessive heat for the next four days. I was thirty-eight weeks pregnant, and like every other day of the past nine months my stomach dictated what I wanted to eat. That’s what brought me to the base’s Starbucks at 1107. Before I’d reached the door I could taste the delicious brownie I had my heart set on.

Then my water broke.

In front of six Marines who barely looked old enough to shave.

If things happened the way Hollywood portrayed them, those Marines would have had a story to tell their buddies when they got back to work. Luckily for me, when my water broke, nature took its course and the water was more of a trickle than a gush.

Knowing what was important, I still got my brownie.

The drive to the hospital took six minutes--an eternity when every bump and stop caused a fresh gush of fluid to escape. When my sister and I secured a coveted ‘expectant mother’ parking spot we hustled, or in my case, waddled with a sense of urgency, to the labor and delivery floor.

Labor and delivery at the base hospital is a lot like any other place in the military. A lot of hurry up and wait. Once I was secured into a room and strapped into an uncomfortable bed with monitors and IVs, the real fun started. 

By fun, I mean the lying around waiting for the contractions to actually start doing something.

Five hours after I arrived, the doctor pushed Pitocin into my IV, in an attempt to move my labor along. Every hour a nurse came in and upped the amount of the drug dripping into my body, and every hour was the same. A lot of waiting without change. 

It wasn’t until nine hours and half a season of Veronica Mars later, something finally happened. My contractions stopped playing nice and sent a pain through my body so intense the world went black. It felt like something had broken. The Marine later told me it was probably his wrist cracking when I put him in a wrist lock.

I rode the pain of each contraction, silently for the next hour. Veronica Mars was still playing on the television, but I couldn’t focus on what was happening. I no longer cared whether she was with Logan or some other guy. With each contraction, the pain escalated. By the time I was ready to give up on the idea of a pain medication free birth, the doctor informed me I was too far along. My son would arrive within the next two hours.

For those of you who have never experienced child birth, two hours is an interminable amount of time. It might as well be nine months. I didn’t want to contemplate another two hours of my insides being torn apart by Edward Scissorhands or my own personal torturer--Freddy from Nightmare on Elm Street.  

As it turns out, Boy Wonder wasn’t interested in hanging out that long either.

 Thirty minutes later I demanded, to the room at large, to get the doctor, because the baby was coming. I’m not sure who went for the doctor, or hit the call button, because at that moment I was hoping to go numb from the waist down. Blacking out would have been okay too.

Within moments the room was packed like a frat house on a Friday night after finals. Aside from my three person morale team that included the Marine, my sister, and my dear friend (and work husband), Corpsman K, there was a fleet of medical personnel: A doctor, a nurse, and three Navy Corpsmen. The perfect beginning to a joke.

It was a regular party, and I was the girl on the table.

I pushed for thirty minutes, and during that time I realized some very important things.

 I’m stronger than I gave myself credit for.

 It is possible to silence an entire delivery room with a single look directed at Corpsman K when he made a comment about his arms being sore from fanning me off with a clipboard.

The song Ring of Fire has a whole new meaning to me now.

At 2215 on June 6, 2013 Boy Wonder came into the world. Six hours shy of nine years to the day his brother was born an angel. On the anniversary of D-Day. To the sound of Taps playing across the base.

For the third time in my life, I experienced love at first sight.  

On: The Final Stretch

I've become the worst type of writer and blogger. You know the type. The one who hasn't bothered blogging. To be honest, until a few moments ago I didn't realize it had been quite so long. The days are all blending together.

That might have something to do with the day to day life of a pregnant woman. There just aren't enough hours in the day, enough energy in the body, or enough motivation to keep up with anything more than the basics of living.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel though! I'm nearly there. Boy Wonder is due June 10th, but there is just as much chance he'll be born earlier, because he's showing signs of being more than ready to make his appearance. After spending a delightful day hooked up to monitors in Labor and Delivery last week, the doctor told me she'd be surprised if he didn't come much sooner. It really all depends on him.

Now, I haven't been completely away from the writing bug. I have been working on a new project. Different from my usual writings, but hopefully just as good. If only I could find the motivation to work on it more. Even my motivation to do all the crafty things I've been doing in preparation for my son's arrival, have waned. Luckily, this happened after I finished the diaper bag, the changing pad, the burp cloths, the blankets, and the car seat wrap.

Everything is ready. I'm just waiting on him.

How have you all been?

R.S.