Are You Writing This All Down Somewhere?

This is Caden.  He's holding one of the zucchini's (one of the 1.5 million zucchini's) that gew from my 4 zucchini plants this year.  I think even a monkey could grow zucchini and eat well.  Caden is our most "verbal" child.  Being the youngest of three brothers, hanging out with me all day, or just having a strange early grasp of the english language could be any of a number of reasons.  Regardless, his brain still functions and reasons like he's 2, he just occasionally blurts out the most adult sounding responses and ideas.

I was relating a "Cadenism" story to one of my friends the other day and she said, "seriously, Cort, are you writing this all down somewhere?"  Not really.  I write down alot about my kids, but sometimes things are so random to me I don't really think to write them down.  So, here you go friend, and maybe Caden WILL one day appreciate me posting this for the world (okay, the 4 people that follow my blog) to read.

In case you haven't heard, I'm pregnant.  This news may not have reached the two individuals that live in a cave on the deserted island yet to be discovered.  What you may not have heard is that Caden is also pregnant ... yes, he's pregnant.  This pregnancy has not been "stellar".  Between my old uterus, overly active clotting blood, daily regiments of puking, and general complete bitchiness, Caden has been by my side.  When I'm over the toilet praying to God that there cannot possibly be another day of puking in my future, Caden is there, rubbing my head, and saying, "don't worry Mommy, I go get u a towel, k?"  I can't even get that sort of sympathy from Jon!

Caden is there at the doctor's appointments, sitting on the bed with me, holding my hand, and watching the screen looking at the "monster" (what he calls the ultrasound images of his baby brother) telling me,. "it's okay momm, the doctor will make you feel better, he get you some medicine okay?"  And during the two times a day that I have to "shoot up" my blood thinner inkections, Caden seems to instinctively know when this will happen and he joins me in the bathroom to say, "okay, u takin' ur shot?  It's okay mommy, u be okay."  Jon has to leave the room because he can't handle watching me inject myself, Caden doesn't even flinch.  I think Caden might be a little more help in the delivery room and I might have to retire Jon for this delivery.

I suppose that it was inevitable that Caden would eventually catch this whole pregnancy "disease".  A couple of months ago he casually mentioned "his baby" and I said, "oh yeah, your brother in Mommy's tummy?" to which he responded, "NO MOMMY!  MYYYYY baby!" and then he lifted his shirt up and pointed at his stomache.  Caden was pregnant.  I had two choices at that moment.  Since he's my third child and I have become rather laxidazical in my parenting compared to my first child that was potty trained at gun point and wore matching sweater vests 90% of his life, I took the choice to accept and congratulate him.

Caden has now been pregnant 4 months, 2 months less than me.  He begins most of his days telling me that his baby wants to eat this or that for breakfast.  When he gets cocoa, he grins and says, "this is deeeeeelicious, my baby lubs it!"  This love his baby has for certain foods is not limited to cocoa.  The baby also apparently loves french fries, hates vegetables, and needs apple juice about 6 times a day. I bought Caden his own "baby" a few weeks after his announcement, and he held on pretty tight to his "baby" for all of a week.  He named it baby, then Thomas, and then Baby Thomas.  Baby Thomas now sits on the floor in his room, and occasionally gets the pleasure of sleeping in the bed with Caden if Caden remembers to ask for Baby Thomas.

The whole pregnancy thing hasn't really worried me, as much as entertained.  I occasionally give into impulse to humand or Caden's pregnancy and ask him about his baby.  As of 2 weeks ago he announced there are 2 babies growing inside of him.  I guess he's having twins.  "TWO babies?" I said.  Where are the babies growing in there?"  According to Caden one is in his boob and the other one is in his ear.  Who knew babies could be so versatile in their locations?

The only time I have been "concerned" as in might need to seek a professional play therapist for Caden is when I came downstairs and noticed he had hijacked my baby doppler ... had the earphones in his ears, and the doppler on his gutt.  There sat my 2 year old, doppler on his gutt, checking his baby.  I just took a picture on my phone and sent it to his Dad.  What else are you going to do at this point?  Caden recently told my perinatologist that he's pregnant.  The perinatologist sort of just looked at Caden with a confused look on his face.  I think the perinatologist was trying to figure out WHAT Caden had jsut said because surely it wasn't that he was pregnant and had a baby in his tummy ... two babies no less.  Caden repeated, "I got two babies in here," and pointed at his gutt.  The perinatologist looked at me and I said, "yeah, you heard him right, he's pregnant, it's twins, and better to jsut humor this situation than try and figure it out." 

You would think a perinatologist that deals with babies EVERY DAY would have humored the poor kid, but instead he just sort of looked at Caden, cocked his head to the side, and said, "huh, really?"  I guess that's why the perinatologsit never went into pediatrics ... no sense of humor.  Let's hope he finds some funny bone before this baby arrives.  I can only IMAGINE the one liners Caden will come up with when the actual baby is born.  He might as the doctor to go ahead and take his babies out now as well. 

Ask me about the SWAT team at my house ...

Not a typo, yes, I said SWAT.  I can honestly say that the greater Longmont, CO police department has my vote for being great.  First, the important part.  Noone was hurt, nothing was stolen (as far as we know).

My only experience with a SWAT team (okay, how many people can say they have even had one experience with a SWAT team?  Seriously.) was when I was home visiting my parents.  Jon and I were living in Japan, Drew was a baby, Jon and Josh were out golfing, it was about dusk, Dad was tinkering in the garage, mom, baby and I in the house, and one of Dad's former "clients" showed up in a long blonde wig to catch up with Dad after having long been "on the run" years earlier.  Yes, he was crazy as hell,  Yes, Mom happened to go in the garage only to see that Dad had managed to talk the crazy man into the backyard, out of the garage, and he motioned to mom "911" when crazy person wasn't looking.  Anyhow, long story short, SWAT team ensued, crazy person was arrested and the North Ogden police department could yet again resume all of their efforts to the crazy girl that lives across the street.  Good times.

My kids go to two different schools.  Drew, the 13 year-old, goes to a charter academy across town.  Bradyn, the 8 year-old, goes to school about three blocks away within our "planned neighborhood" community.  Every day I drive across town to pick up Drew at 3:30.  I have exactly 15 minutes to get home to pick up and/or meet Bradyn at home (if he rode his bike).  I've always made it home before him, but occasionally worry there will be that "one day" I don't so I always make sure the front door is unlocked.  After all, nice SAFE neighborhood.  Uh-huh.

Tuesday afternoon I was running late, as usual, to get Drew from school.  Recognizing my time frame to get Drew from school, drive back across town, etc. being no less than a down to the minute strategic military operation, I pulled out of the garage with a fleeting thought of,  "wait, did I leave the front door open for Bradyn?"  I had this momentary internal conversation with myself about not having time to go back in the house, and it would surely be okay to leave the garage door open just this once in case Bradyn beat me home.  So, Ieft it open.

Picked up Drew from school, passed Bradyn mid-way home from school, and pulled up to the house only to notice something "wierd".  The garage door wasn't open.  I recalled the whole internal conversation I had in my head earlier, and thought, I KNOW I left that open for Bradyn, why is it down?  I pulled half way into the driveway, stopped, punched the garage door opener, garage opened, Bradyn pulled into the garage, I left the truck running, and told him to go get in the truck with his brothers for just a second.  I had this off sort of feeling something wasn't right. 

I quietly opened the door and took a step inside.  I didn't even notice Caesar (dumb dog) wasn't there to greet me like every other day on the planet.  He always hears the garage open and comes to the door to attack people with licks when they enter.  I was suddenly "overwhelmed" by this horrible feeling of darkness and fear.  In the next second, I had this "moment".  It wasn't a nudge, it wasn't a feeling, it was an actual voice in my head that said, "Get out NOW!"  I obliged, closed the door, and walked back to the truck.  I pulled out of the driveway, closed the garage door, and parked in front of the house.  I called 911 and said, "I think there's someone in my house," and then recalled all the events.

The 911 operator dispatched the police, then started asking some questions.  I had my cell phone on the speaker so Drew was listening in on the whole conversation.  "Are there any cars in your neighborhood that don't look like they belong there?"  I started scanning the street and said, "uh, no, I don't think so."  Drew piped in and said, "Mom, there's that car again!"  I looked out the door to see a red car slowly passing our house, and the two people inside staring at me in the truck talking on the cell phone.  Of course, to add to what was now feeling past wierd to fear, the people in the car staring at me, had on Halloween "scream" masks.  Of course.

"That's the second time they passed our house, Mom!"  I looked at Drew, the operator heard him, and said, "get the plate."  I got the plate, told the operator, and while she checked the plate Drew told me when I went inside the car had driven by the house really slow with two people in Halloween masks.  The operator said, "let me see if that car even has reason to be in your neighborhood."  Apparently, it didn't.  A cop car showed up, no lights, and parked a few houses down, then came to the truck window.  I got off the phone with 911, and he said, "could you park another house away for me?"  Again, I obliged.

The cop approached the side of the house, stood there for a minute, then put his hand on his gun and started getting on his "walkie talkie" thing.  Suddenly, there was one, then three, then four cop cars parking on various parts of the street without their lights on, and cops running out of the cars with a couple zipping up "SWAT" jackets on their way to the house.  The cop returned to the truck and said, "I'm going to need you to park further down the street a few houses, and can I have the garage door opener?"  Uh, okay.  I sat there with the kids and watched 6 cops surround the house, hide behind the front porch, the side of the house, the back of the house, and in front of the electrical box in the front yard with their guns drawn.  Uh, not okay.

The garage was opened and all 6 of them swarmed the house, guns drawn, and dissapeared inside.  The next thing I noticed was the red car had returned, with the two "scream" masked people, and they drove slowly past the house again.  Again, not so okay.  During all of this I called Jon, he was on his way home.  Jon got there a second after the cops had gone into the house, and got into the truck with us... me, and the three crying boys that is.  Bradyn started the water works, Caden started crying because Bradyn was crying, then Drew started crying and yelling at Bradyn to stop crying.  Not boys I would ever take into combat.

Jon and I were calming them down, waiting, and then Jon told me the whole other side of the golf course across our backyard had a road block of cops.  The cops emerged from the house, signaled us to the house, and said everything was okay.  Jon went into the house with them to check everything out, and the kids and I stayed in the car.  Apparently, someone was in the house, but they "fled" out the back.  In the time I had left the house to get Drew, then came home, there wasn't enough time for whoever to steal anything.  The red car?  According to the cop, most likely the look out car.  How did the person get out of the house and not caught? 

I left the garage door open, when the person went in to "case" the house (according to the cop), they closed the garage door.  When I got home, and opened the garage door, they were most likely still in the house, (hence sick feeling) and I had "spooked" them.  Caesar not coming to the door?  Dumb dog without a guard dog bone in his body was probably busy hanging out by the back door as the thief was escaping, probably offering him a good-bye lick and thanking him for coming by to visit.

After I called 911, and the cop arrived, he did see a "shadow" or something, called for back up, but didn't go inside the house until they all arrived.  The road block, back up getting there, etc. all took time, and apparently it was enough for the thief to escape.  The cops were amazing, fast, and thorough.  When they were talking to Jon I commented, "what a stupid thief, boy did they pick the wrong house, we don't have stashes of cash and jewels in there!"  The cop was rather serious and said, "yeah, but that's not what the take, they don't take time to rifle through your drawers, they want the quick and fast electronics, and you have alot of electronics."  They said there was evidence that some of our electronics had been "tampered" with, but from what they saw, nothing seemed obviously stolen.  Jon concurred (had the thief taken any of Jon's precious electronical devices (television, xbox, computer, etc.), Jon would have been so miffed he'd have scoured the golf course himself with his own rifle to retrieve his "stuff".

We were instructed to make sure over the next few days we didn't notice anything missing or strange, and in the future to lock all the doors AND keep the garage door closed.  We're now installing a key pad garage door opener and activating the formerly inactive alarm system already installed in the house by the previous tenants.  I've tried to chat with Caesar (dumb dog) about who was in the house, but he's not talking.  I think he has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (yes, I can joke a little bit about this now). 

The kids are still a little spooked, but okay.  and Drew now sleeps with his air soft pellet rifle next to his bed (for sure, that would inflict damage, "I'll shoot you with one o' these pellets, and they have the potential to bruise the thickest of skins!) Of course, obviously, I feel violated in what I thought was our safest of neighborhoods, but I'm comforted by the fact that various factors came into play to not make the whole situation so much worse ... the closed garage, my dumb dog's absence of a bark, the sick feeling and voice in my head that gave me a stern order to leave the house, and the police's amazingly fast response time.  The scream masks and the red car are still a little haunting in my mind, but the people in the car looked like teenage boys.  Jon and I agree this was most likely a harmless, albeit illegal, attempt at a botched robbery, and not some fatal psychotics escaped. 

Oh, the world, the world.  It makes me a little sick in the gutt to think my boys now have a real life experience with a small part of what is bad in the world.  Lock your doors, hug your kids, and SHUT your garage!


 

Annual Pumpkin Farm Trip

This free scrapbook design personalized with Smilebox

Annual Doctor's Visits with SLOW CHILDREN

Yesterday we took the kids to the pumpkin farm.  Our first stop was a sign placed specifically for my children.  I had them pose for it and could barely hold the camera still a I was shaking with hysterical laughter.  After the past couple of day I had the pleasure of spending with my "slow children" this sign summed it all up. 
For those of you planning on having children, or adding to your already one child home?  Don't have children in the same month ... ever.  Jon and I made the fatal error of having 2 of our children in October.  We put alot of "effort" into these two children's arrival (thank you medical science and infertility drugs), so there was never any planning of "when" we wanted to have the kids, we were jsut ecstatic we were having any kids at all.  Our two eldest kids are exactly 5 years and 10 days apart.  Had I not been induced with #2, they would have been born exactly 5 years apart, to the day (yes, they had the same due date, go figure).  Thank you for induction.

When you have two children in the same month there is initial, "oh, how cool is that?!"  As they age, and birthdays go from a couple cheap toys to IPODS and Kindles, and blow out birthday parties with half the nieghborhood, the oh how cool part leaves the building only to be replaced by, "should we second mtg the house this month?"  While putting a second on the house, you also have to schedule annual "well child" visits with the pediatrician ... for two kids ... and you schedule them the same day thinking, "let's get this done in one shot."  Yesterday was that day ... and my kids are certified morons.

Drew is now a couple days shy of 13.  He had NO CLUE I was taking this shot ... trust me, a smile from him these days is a rare piece of camera wizardry.

Bradyn is officially 8.  He still likes to pose for shots, and was all to willing to pose for his post bouncy house excursion shot with a HUGE grin!

Both of them register on the intelligence scale somewhere a notch above a monkey with opposable thumbs.  (okay, seriously, apparently they are smart according to the school, but I think they leave smart at the front door to resume stupid at our house and all subsequent events wherein I have to take them in public.)  When Drew and Bradyn were a few years younger, I used to take them to the grocery store, etc. with me.  The trips were a living hell ... each and every time.  My opposable thumb monkey children can apparently not keep their damned hands off of each other (thank you Dad, who knew I would use the, "keep your DAMNED hands off of each other" line ot my own children one day). 

They hit, they squeeedl, they throw themselves to the floor, and yes, there have even been incidences of them taking things off the grocery store shelves to use as ammo complete with shooting sounds and grenade explosions (think chocolate chips, marshmallows, nuts, whatever they can grab fast and fling farthest at their sibling).  I finally stopped fighting the power and left them in an aisle about three aisles away from me one day.  They were busy acting like morons, so they had no clue I was not even in their line of sight.  When the finally found me, they resumed their moronic antics, and when people started to notice, I started walking away, staring at them, hoping people would realize that these were not MY children, and where the hell was the mother of these idiots running rampant through the store?  Sometimes it worked.  One time it worked really well when I fisihed my shopping and then had their nasty butts paged to the front of the store.  In their idiotic maneuvers they never realized I was on the other side of the store, they looked a little "deer in the headlights".  Drew was pissed, Bradyn was scared, and both agreed this was totally embarassing.  Two weeks later, we were right back on it.

The doctor's office doesn't offer the same poosibility of anonymity.  The doctor only has to assume these are your children you are accompanying into the office, although I am considering suggesting to the right ear taht these are my respite care children, and certainly not mine.  Yesterdays' visit began with a little beat down in the truck on the way to the doctor.  This would not be me beating anyone ... this would be Drew beating Bradyn and vice versa ACROSS the car seat with Caden in the middle.  There were some slang insults, a few tears, and alot of "moooooooommmm!"  I threatened them ... which I know is useless ... but I was hoping.

CADEN AND MOM riding the TRAIN ... Mom 6 months pregnant and SQUEEZING in the train ... Caden fearing for his life that if the train lurches fwd to fast, we're both going to fly from said train if our butts loosen their grip from the sides.
We checked into the doctor's office.  So far so good.  The threat was actually holding water.  Bradyn and Drew went into the waiting area with Caden while I signed some paperwork at the desk.  Caden immediately found the water cooler (moth to a flame) and started helping himself convinced this had to be a waterpark and not a doctor's office.  I ran to intervene his efforts, only to hear the echo on the other side of the room ...  "get off me you homo!"  Are you serious?  There, in the waiting room of the doctor's office was Drew and Bradyn, sitting by one another, now sprawled on the floor closed fist beating the crap out of each other trying to pull the other's underwear somewhere up over their head.  "Get ooooooofffff!  Mooooooommmmm!  Tell him to stop!  Get of meeeeee!"  They both were screaming the same thing with an occasionally derogatory slang of homo thrown in for effect (and to get me sued if an ACLU attorney was within ear shot).

I threw on my best, "I will kill you when we get home or perhaps beat the hell out of you right now if you don't pull yourselves together, " look followed by a stern, "GET UP!" muttered under my breath.  They mamanged to get themselves back into their chairs for 30 seconds, I got water boy situated, then again with the, "stoooooop iiiiiit, mooooooom!"  I turned for a second to see they had managed to both stay sort of in their chairs, but were now standing over their chairs, beating each other down from the side, one on top of the other.  Are you kidding me.  Gratefully, the nurse came out from the back and said, "okay crew, let's do this."  I saw fear in her eyes, I know I did.

The first fight began about who would be weighed first.  Of course, because hey, you're both getting weighed eventually, might as well turn it into a battle.  I finally slung Drew butt forward to the weight machine, he scowled, but the nurse was able to get his stats.  5' 83 lbs.  Wow,  He grew a little.  Bradyn, 4', 76 lbs, wow, he lost a few lbs.  Caden insisted he too get on the scale, shoving Bradyn none to lightly off the scale (I think he screamed, "get off now before I slap you!" (his new phrase of attack).  Bradyn was laughing so hard he obliged.  Caden.  38 lbs.  Let's do some simple math:  Drew, age 13 83 lbs Bradyn, age 8 76 lbs Caden, age 2 38 lbs.  Do you see what I'm getting at here?  Bradyn is catching Drew at alarming speed and they are 5 years apart.  Poor Drew.

Both of the boys managed to pull their crap together while in the doctors office minus the threat to dump over the pressurized oxygen tank, screaming and fighting over who would get to sit on the table, etc.  There were minor throw downs, and I am sure I just looked haggard.  We knew the nurse and I casually mentioned, "Oh yeah, Tekla, did I tell you we're having ANOTHER boy."  She looked at me, jaw dropped, and had to turn away to shake her head and say, "uh, really, wow."  Yeah, sort of my reaction.  The flu shots were accomplished (of course after the battle of who goes first to which I let Tekla decide and she opted for alphabetical, oh good, oldest to youngest.)  Drew was rather manly, Bradyn squeeled and asked for soemthing to bite down on (girl), and Caden screamed as I held him down, "do NOT give me that shot, get AWAY from me right now!!!"  The shot was fast, fairly painless, and they are now resistant to that strain fo the flu for the season.  At this point I offered Drew the car keys and both boys and said, "head out to the parking lot, get them strapped in, I'll be right there.

Now, admittedly, I toyed with the idea of taking an unguided tour around the hospital jsut to regroup my life and wonder why in the world God would be so cruel as to send 4 boys to this most impatient of mothers.  But, the doctor came in one final time to update me on all the things she found from their 30 second check up.  Drew has falled off the growth chart (jack sprat), Bradyn is also off the growth chart (and jack sprat's wife) to the other end, and Caden is following in Bradyn's larger than normal shoe steps.  Poor Drew.

"Heading to the pumpkin patch, the pumpkin patch, the pumpkin patch!  It's AWESOME MOM!!!"

Tomorrow ... the pumpkin patch.  Oh joy, oh bliss, hoping there will be horses and petting zoos so my allergies can rear their ugly head and as I try to feign a smile the tears and sniffles (allergies) will be minimal.  Maybe I should just take a pre festivity benadryl, then I will be high and maybe not remember their antics.  Stay tuned ...

Pulmonary what?!

Since I keep this blog as therapy and a pregnancy journal, how could I help but not document yesterday's events?  Yesterday ... sucked.  For a few days my breathing has been getting "shallow".  Since it's my 4th baby, and not my first rodeo, I figured, "huh, baby must be carrying high like all of my children..."  Around month 7-8 with all my pregnancies, I cease to breathe correctly as my children prefer at that point to hangoff my tonsils.  Their insistence on being this high in my body creates a tad bit of a space issue for my lungs, and my lungs always lose. 

But ... I am only 22 weeks, so this is pretty early.  Yesterday morning the breathing got a little worse and led to the light headed, pass out, nauseas (more than usual) feeling.  I waited a little while, then thought, "huh, maybe I'll call my perinatoligist (sp) just to make sure this is an okay sign for me and the old uterus."  Apparently ... not a good sign.  The nurse says, "hold on a minute,"  then the doctor ... "blah, blah, come to the hospital NOW, go through the ER and they will page me, pulmonary embolism, don't go to Longmont ER, they can't handle your situation and you'll end up getting life flighted here anyway"  That's about all I heard.  After pulmonary embolism left his lips I thought, "this is it, this is where my death issues have been coming from, I am going to die of a blood clot."

Of course the hospital I have to deliver at is in Denver (40 mins away).  I call Jon, he comes home, and he Caden and I head down to Denver.  Needless to say, it was the ride of hysterics, I already couldn't get a full breath, and the whole, "pulmonary embolism" situation wasn't helping me "relax" and breathe even a little bit.  Long story short ... into the ER,  checked in to labor and delivery a few minutes later, lots of tests, lots of blood, lots of oxygen, and alot of waiting.  The baby was fine (my babies always are, it's my body that gives up on the whole pregnancy situation), and despite my shallow breathing, (still) so am I.  Tests were negative, (yeah, thanks perinatologist for stirring up my death issues) and I have a follow up in a few days.

I still can't catch a full breath, and I am absolutely exhausted (asthma sufferers, I cannot imagine).   It's absolutely wierd ... and sucks, but doctor and tests say it's okay, so I'll go with that until the follow up next week.  Honestly baby, you cannot relocate yourself from my body soon enough.  It's okay you're in there, not your fault, but maybe you could open a dialogue with your current incubation unit (my old uterus) so that you stay in there until you are fully baked.

I've picked your name (even though your Dad says it's a maybe, you're named, and that's what I'm calling you), and I'm not telling anyone until the ink is dry on your birth certificate.  Be grateful I'm not letting your Dad have a say so in this decision ... you're avoiding a major bullet there ... like being named after a sports figure or a state park or a dog.  You're oldest brother was almost named, "Baxter."  Yeah, I know, dog's name. He should be forever grateful I insisted on Andrew instead.  Hang in there baby ... just a few more months for both of us.