When you look up the picture for wicked....

After another "successful" evening of sucking at parenting, I decided that I should take to "the googles" and look up wicked stepmother.

Of course there was this picture:

I actually look like this A LOT!

Or this famous picture:

 
Another fairly dead on depiction of my face.

And then, shockingly, there was THIS:

You guys, this is how I feel like my face looks 90% of the freaking time.  It's exhausting, and frankly, doing nothing for my wrinkle lines.

I don't know what is wrong with me, but why is it that I have zero tolerance or patience for the things my kids do.  No really, like ZERO!

We are currently on this "new" (and by new I mean, revisited, we've been off it for many months, but here we are again) thing of Max being terrified of the dark, and of doing anything alone, AT ALL!  I mean, for heavens sake, last night he wouldn't even go out to the kitchen to fill his sippy by himself because he was scared.  Tonight, he wouldn't go find his sippy, he just cried and wailed and lamented that he was TOOOO SCARED!  Every night we find him on Maggies bed with her, even though we've threatened certain death if he continues.  And every day it's the same story, "I was too scared on my bed."

So, after I told them both to knock it off and get over it, cause there is NOTHING to be afraid of, and then went to my room....I felt bad. WHAT is wrong with me? Shouldn't I be comforting and consoling them? Shouldn't I be laying there rubbing their little backs until they feel better?  Instead, I'm just irritated that they're being dramatic.  While Max was sobbing about his fears, I hear Maggie say "Max, i need to get some freaking sleep, BE QUIET!"  Then, I felt bad enough about my suckitude that I went in and asked Max what he was so afraid of.  Between his gasping sobs he said, "the dark."  I convinced him to get up and come in my room to talk to me.  But not before Maggie insists that I leave the door open, because she's afraid.  I take him to my bed and try very calmly to ask him WHAT about the dark scares him.  He told me it's all the shadows, and that he's afraid the stickers on their closet door (large paper doll stickers of Maggies) would come alive.  Now,suddenly,  Maggie is bawling and carrying on from the other room, yelling she's so scared.  I'm trying to calmly talk to Max, reason with him, assure him, get him to talk to me, etc.  In comes Maggie with fake crying.  She's just too afraid to be alone, she tells me.  Wait a second here....was she just not miss smarty/rude pants to Max about HIS crying? So, anyway,  we talk about how there is always prayer, and that they are safe, etc.  After a prayer, while I was holding both of them, they calmed down and I was able to finally put them to bed.  THANK GOODNESS! But for reals.......am I the only craptastic "Wicked" mother out there that gets irritated by all this?

Where is all my tender love and compassion?

I think I lost it somewhere.

Or, how about yesterday when I had just finished with lessons, and there was a knock at the door.  There stood Maggie, Max and our neighbor Jessie.  Max stuck his head in the door and with a huge, proud smile stated, "Maggie and me peed our pants."

Uh, Iiiiiii'm sorry, you WHAT?

Yeah, apparently it was just to hard to get to a toilet and so, poof, they PEED THEIR FREAKING PANTS on their way home.  And by Max's very proud announcement, I knew accident was NOT a true term to use here.

I was lit.  I sent Jessie home, I pulled the kids inside and sent them immediately to the shower.  Aint no child o' mine gonna go around making golden showers in their pants "just because."

I told Maggie this was completely unacceptable.  She KNOWS how to use a  bathroom,a nd WHEN to use a bathroom.  She swore that she just couldn't make it in time.  But, that the real story with Max was, once he saw that she wet her pants, she said "ok, I can do that."  "And then he tried really hard, until he did Mom.  You HAVE to believe me on this."

So, let me get this straight, my 5, nearly 6 year old daughter was just to lazy to use the neighbors bathroom, whilst my 4 year old son just thought it'd be good times to piss in his pants.  AWESOME!

Needless to say, I wore my "wicked" badge once again. Forcing them to wash their own selves in the bath and shower and then sending them to bed early.

A short list (if you will) of my wicked mothering ways:
1. I make them wash themselves in their baths
2. I make Maggie wash her hair....ever
3. I FORCE them to brush their teeth.
4. I won't let them eat candy for breakfast
5. I buy Maggie new clothes that aren't to her liking.
6. I dare to ask them to pick up their room
7. I tell them NO, A LOT!
8. They've never been to Disneyland
9. I won't buy them something EVERY time we're at the store.
10. I am terrible about "Playing" with them
11. I yell at them

Oh, I'm sure the list could go on and on. They like to tell me on a daily basis how mean I am, and that I'm so rude.  

Good thing there is picture proof on the googles of that....Otherwise, people might believe ME when I say THEY'RE the rude ones.

Frustrations and feeling bad,

Allyson 

P.S. Word to the wise.  I may have written this whilst half asleep, and then fallen asleep and then published.  Forgive it's shortcomings.
 

It's been ONE YEAR since you came to me...

As I sat for a brief moment tonight watching The Voice, it hit me...One year ago tonight I was sitting on the couch, watching The Voice, timing contractions, trying to decide if they were good enough to be worthy of going to the Hospital.

Then I was reminded.....after Mayzie was born, I promised I'd share her birth story.  Hmm, how embarrassing, seems I never got around to it.  Soooo, how bout a little story of her birth, for her BIRTHDAY!

It is absolutely unbelievable to me that my beautiful, perfect, AMAZING MAYZIE is ONE YEAR OLD today.  Where did the time go. 

How did this sweet, sweet little alien munchkin:

Become this:

 soooo quickly?

April 2, 2012...I went in for my visit to the doc.  I'd been dilated to a 3 and 90% effaced for a week.  He went ahead and stripped my membrane (THAT was most unpleasant) and then we set up my "inducement" for Friday April 5. But the truth was, Jere was having NONE of it.  He was antsy, he wanted this baby out. He was begging me to do the castor oil and orange pop.  I had decided I didn't want to this time, and I really didn't.  We went on some errands and I had a few huge, painful contractions. I thought that was promising.  But then it seemed to subside. When nothing more happened, I decided that I would go ahead and do the castor oil.  I mean really, we all know patience is NOT my thing.  I wanted this baby here too.

At 4:00 I took an entire bottle of castor oil.........and, NOTHING!  I mean literally, nothing happened.  After a couple of hours, I was concerned. Why no poopsy?  Then, FINALLY at 8:00 I had an urge to go potty.  I went, it was not that great, but it started something at least.  The contractions began.  I started counting them at around 9:00, as I watched the aforementioned Voice. They were coming pretty regularly at about 5 or 3 minutes apart.  I knew that I could wait it out at home, but Jere likes to head to the hospital.  I held him off until about 11:00.  We waddled our way to maternity at Banner Desert and checked into triage.  I measured at a 4, this was good, but the contractions weren't that exciting.  They told me I had to be at a 5 in order to stay.  UGH!  So, i did my patented jog around the building in a hospital gown act.  I hate that.  Me in my giant bellied, naked under a gown glory jogging in place in the chapel, walking up and down the stairs, walking, walking, squatting, lunging, whatever else I could think of to get to a 5 and be able to stay.

45 minutes later I toodled back to my nurse, she checked me out and good news, I got to stay. They checked me into a room and let us settle down, and I use that term lightly,  for the night.

The night was long, and mostly sleepless, but not that thrilling.  They told me that the doc would be in around 6 to break my water.  Lies.

Just before 6 a.m. I told them I needed to go to the bathroom.  As I moved to try and get up I heard and felt the wierdest popping sound.  And then there was a trickle running down my leg.  I called the nurse in and told her that maybe my water broke, cause I certainly wasn't peeing myself, but it was pretty wet.  She said, no, you didn't break it, but maybe just punctured it.  She got me up to go to the bathroom.  I went, and there was a good amount of bloody show and I continued to "leak" down my leg.

From there it went pretty quickly.  The contractions came pretty quickly and I was dilated to a six.  I said, let's get this epidural, I'm not interested in no pain, YO!  The doc came in to administer the epidural.  It felt like he was hitting my spinal nerve, it HURT and that had never happened before. But he finally got it in the right place and put the drugs in.  And away he went.

Literally just a few minutes later I was dying.  I was like "Why, WHY does this hurt so bad? I have an epidural, holy CRAP why is this HURTING?" Let's keep in mind that I have not felt childbirth. I'm all about the drugged up birth.  I called the nurse in and she smiled and said "are you feeling a little pinch, a little uncomfortable?"  I was like, "NO, I'm feeling eVERYTHING, WHY?"  And at this point I was dilated to an 8 or 9 or something and there was no doc in sight.  He was stuck in freaking traffic, but on.his.way.  So, I'm literally doing the lamaze breathing, squeezing the crap out of Jeres hand, feeling every blasted contraction,  trying NOT to have a baby until the doc got there. Apparently, the epidural did not so much work, and I'm a fast transitioner.  FINALLY at 8:30 or something like that the Doc rolled in, sat down and told me to push.  I gave it a good push and booyah, she was on her way out.

In just a moment (well, you know, hypothetically speaking) at 8:53 a.m. Amazing Mayzie made her debut, and she was the picture of perfection at 8 lb. 11 oz.  The doc insited that she was really 9 lbs., but when they wiped her off, it took away that oz. 

She was calm and serene from the start.  I remember laying in my room listening to the baby next door cry and cry and cry and cryyyyyyyyy non-stop, and Mayzie had never so much as made a peep.  She literally never cried.  She slept and laid there and looked around and just emminated an aura of peace.  I'm always so grateful for that.  She was a champion latcher and a great little nurser from the get go.  Really too bad that I had to wake up the next morning with a blood clot and ruin the whole nursing thing.

This has been a year of pure joy when it comes to Mayzie.  She smiles for everyone, she's fairly easy to go to anyone.  She is happy, and giggly and sweet and bright, oh so bright.

She started walking 2 1/2 weeks ago, and she's just a girl on the go these days.  She loves to wave at people and blow kisses.  She LOVES dogs and her clearest word is "DOG."  She also says mama, dada, BAH which means bottle, or drink. Other words are bye bye, ba (as in bath) which she very excitedly repeats over and over when its bathtime,  and we swear we've heard Max and a Maggie once.  

She is a fantastic sleeper, she happily goes down for 2 naps a day and down at bedtime.  Rarely is there any fight, and if there is, then she clearly isn't ready. She's very good at letting you know when she wants to sleep, and when she wants something.  She's determined and strong willed.  She does NOT like to be told no, and gets rather easily offended if we say that to her.  She will cry big, sad crocodile tears.

She's incredibly patient and accomodating to all her cousins and her siblings who really love to play with her like she's their real life baby doll.  It's quite adorable to watch her get passed around and fought over by all the cousins.  There is still line ups for turns to hold Mayzie.  I'm so thankful she is loved.

I am so grateful, every day for her sweet addition to our family. I'm thankful for her smile, her peace, her beauty, her fun personality, and the happiness she brings me. She is perfect, she is AMAZING!

 Newborn

 2 mos.

 4 mos. at her blessing

 3 mos. in Greer

 3 mos.

 6 mos. Halloween

 8 mos.

 8 mos. Christmas morning

 10 mos.

 Easter Sunday 11 mos.

 8 or 9 months

 I guess it's not always Sunshine and Lollipops!

Trash to Treasure Tuesday Table Edition

Duhn duhn duhn............................

An actual trash, to treasure!

I TOLD you all, like 8 months ago that I WOULD do it....eventually.

Right, so like 8 or 9 mos. ago now, in the back corner of the magical thrift store in town, my eye caught this solid oak table, buried underneath some not so classy other things.  I bent down and peered at the price.  It said $9.00.  I blinked.  I rubbed my eyes. I stood up, looked around. I bent down again and checked just to make sure.  Mmm hmm, indeed, NINE DOLLARS!  So, next, I did what any disbelieving thrifter would do, I ordered a store worker to get over there, RIGHT NOW! I non challantly asked him if this indeed was the price.  I practically "dared" him to tell me otherwise.  He looked it over and said, "Yep, nine dollars it is."  I then asked him incredulously, "WHY is this so cheap?"  He replied..."So you'll buy it."  Well played Mesa thrift, WELL PLAYED!

I ripped that tag off and marched right on up to the register.  For 9 bucks i didn't care if I NEVER did anything with it, it was gonna be mine.  I was sure there was a lovely project in there.  I had the heavy table lugged to my car and thankfully it fit.

Got it home, pulled it out of the van and promptly placed it in a place of honor in my garage, where it has been buried ever since.  I mean really, it has been such a delightful catchall.  And in those 9 months, I could just NEVER find the motivation or drive to get out there and actually paint the thing.

But, the serendipitous moment came when my fabulous friend Kalli was having a giant (and I mean giant) sale this last Saturday. I mumbled to myself...now is your time VP, get 'er done.  So, I purchased the necessary paint and stain and what have you and then lost all my drive again.  FINALLY at 9:00 Friday night I cleaned out my garage enough to make a project possible.  I lugged the table over, readied the sander and began sanding.  you read that right, me the NON sander, totally sanded that table top, for nearly THREE HOURS! It was ridiculous and I still didn't get it all. Meh! I have no patience, i was ready to move on.

So, sanded, sanded, sanded, sanded, vacuumed, wiped it down, at a snack, wiped it some more and then stained the top. While that was setting, I spray primed, though I didn't need to, just wanted to, overkill.  Then I wiped down the table top and left it to cure while I whipped out the painting. I used the Behr two in one paint, lap pool blue.  It's really a beautiful color, though the pictures don't do it justice.  The painting took no time at all, and I had maggie (yes it was midnight, but she just simply couldn't sleep) to jabber away the minutes.  Before I knew it, project was complete, and I was pretty pleased with it.

So, here ya go:

BEFORE:

 AFTER:

I love her so.  And, apparently, posting it on facebook at 1:20 a.m. was a good thing, because a girl I know bought it that morning, for considerably more than I paid for it.  Then again, it's a great table, and I put a lot of work into that freaking sanding, and such.  Totally worth it though, because the cool rusticness of the top against the smooth, pretty blue of the bottom is awesome.

There ya go.....Trash to Treasure, Over and out.