The 7 deadly sins: A Mother's rendition. Part 1- Envy

Envy.

Lately I have been exhausted. This is never good for my mental state, I am not one of those wonder moms who can keep it together while running on fumes for more than 2 days at a time. I had reached about day 8 of lack of sleep until Nora suddenly got the hint and slept all night. I woke up in a panic twice, rushing to make sure she was alive. After the surge of adrenaline I fell straight to sleep.
not.
Good trick little baby.
I'll remember that in 15 years. Clara already has the "wait until the middle of the night, sneak into her room, and scream at the top of my lungs, only to turn around and walk back to my room" coming for her in that time frame.
I have been kind of tired where you just want to stare off into space until the repeated "mommy mom mom moooommmy" fades away into the ringing in your ears, which is also over powering the crying of a gassy infant.
Why did I eat that one brussel sprout? Poor baby is doubled over in pain. I envy the mother who has a pristine milk filtration system. I don't know if they make those...but I do know that We could put spicy buffalo sauce on anything when Nora was in utero and that baby loved it...but you sneak one slice of green bell pepper into my meal and we are done for.

During this spell of sleeplessness, I have felt like a prisoner in my home- especially while we have the 'extreme' heat warning. We cannot go outside without melting away, so I have caught myself feeling envious of those who leave their home every day. I am envious of Andy. I am envious of my neighbor who I see walk out the door every morning. But I catch myself, and I am ashamed.

I have countless friends who I know wish they could stay home with their children and not go to work. I bet some of you are reading this right now. That whole "first world problems" hashtag that is so popular( #firstworldproblems) ? I feel like I am the picture they should all link to.

It is hard not to wish and be envious of those on wild adventures, or those who are happy with their jobs and their routine. Regardless of how many siblings you grew up with, It feels like I had 29, or babysitting jobs or even teaching jobs you held before swan diving into parenthood...

 No one is ready for this shit.

I'm not talking about the diapers and the feeding and all of the materialistic images we grew up associating with children...I'm talking about the raw wear and tear on you most inner self.

I see Clara watching me, processing my every move. She is watching my facial expression and my body language. I am so frustrated in my behavior when I catch myself being short with her. She's just trying to tell me every single part of Madagascar 3 for the 37th time, and in all honesty I should be overjoyed that she wants to tell me about it. I really do believe I should! I have caught her saying "oh Gooooooosh" whenever anything goes wrong, in the same tone of voice I use when something red spills on the carpet.

She is a handful and pushes me to my limits every day, but she is so full of love that again, how can I be envious of people who have to leave their homes everyday?


I guess that makes me a #firstworldproblem hypocrite. I am envious of all of you because I cannot help it. Yes. Here I sit, blogging about being envious of others, while I am able to comfortably stay at home and take care of our children. I feel ungrateful even posting this, but my feelings are true feelings, and I will admit them. I know Andy appreciates that I stay home, from a monotary standpoint and from a respectful standpoint. We are well taken care of with Andy's military career and that should be enough.

But unfortunately, I am human. A middle class, American human and I always want more, and I want it fast. Do I fit the stereotype? I would be lying to myself if I could not see it. Therefore, I am constantly conflicted in my thoughts. In my envious state.

BUT!

I know if I was removed from this environment I would ache to have it back.  Every last blood curdling "NO" and every single silly giggle.

An old story...but it is still funny. At my expense. The Cabo trip of October 2011

Friends and Family,

I wrote this post long before I started my blog. I wanted to bring it to life, as documenting this story helped me realize how much I like to talk about myself...and hope to make everyone laugh while doing so. -Heidi
 
Allow me to tell you the tale of the passport my 10 month old needed to travel(on my lap) to Mexico. Let this story be a guidance for those with children, those who are thinking about creating children, or those who will not have children, but think they know someone who happens to be long term roommates with said small and growing humans.

The simple fact is : All United States Citizens need passport books if they plan to leave the country by air. You could be one day old. You could be 36,500 days old. The United States Government says we all must hold a passport.
Somehow, I was under the impression that children under the age of 2 did not need to have a passport WHEN traveling to Canada or Mexico from the U S of A. But I only shared that impression with a few people;and looking back none of them needed to get an infant a passport in the last few years. Apparently, it USED to be under the age of 2 blah blah Mexico blah blah.

Back up a little: Why do I need to get Clara a passport for Mexico?
It all started when two people fell in love. In 1982. Roughly 30 years later, they decided to take a trip to Cabo San Lucas for some much needed alone time, after spending the past 25 years raising 5 children. (2 are not even fully cooked and booted out of the house) It was after their plans made that they talked with with second oldest child who is stationed in japan in the Navy. He was then cordially invited on their trip, as they stated "We would enjoy seeing our children that we never get to spend time with, especially if he cannot come home for Christmas this year".

The moment that statement filled my ears, I had already invited my family to Cabo. Andy knew he would not be able to attend, as he would not be able to get the days off. Sorry Andy, We're outta here.
While my parents, my brother, and Clara and I planning a trip to Cabo San Lucas, my three younger siblings at home in Alaska were planning a mutiny.
In the end they won, and now all 7 Hartleys, the one Grandchild, and Nici are headed to Cabo for a one week vacation.

So back to passports. I'll have you know that I live 31 miles from the Interstate 15(31 miles of sandy, dry desert), and then 5 miles to the nearest town of Barstow, California. I can't think of a clever way to describe this town. It is very dumpy, and I bypass it to travel 32 more miles south to Victorville, Ca. For the Alaskans, Barstow is like comparable to a few choice places along the Parks Highway. I'm sure there are nice people and nice homes in there, but they are most likely more meth houses and sex offenders filling the neighborhoods. It is also near Hinkly California. You know, the town Julia Roberts brought to our attention after her cleavge show in Erin Brokovich. Literally,

Dumpy town aside,  I go to the Barstow post office to get MY passport changed (From Hartley to Lean).Gas is not as expensive as Alaska...but it is certainly close.I read online that an appointment was not needed, so I traveled 31 miles to discover I DID need a passport appointment, and I had to drive 31 miles home.
The next day I made an appointment, drove 31 miles to the Barstow Post Office, to discover that they would not allow me to keep my appointment because I did not have the application filled out. This time I was mad, as I had called that very day to make the appointment, explained I was driving from Fort Irwin, and they did not bother to tell me I had to come with a passport. Shame on me for not thinking ahead I suppose.

The next attempt, I made an appointment in Victorville because I did not want to deal with Barstow. We arrive at the address given on Google maps. There is no post office. Their phone number was busy, followed by continuous ringing. Frustrated, We asked a near by gas station, and they directed us to the post office that does not do passports.

At this point, I do not want to even go anymore. Spoiled little Heidi Jo, has the opportunity to travel to mexico on a vacation, and I throw a fit because of passport agencies. I quickly got of myself, said a thankful prayer that I have the opportunity to go, the car to drive me to try and get passports...blah blah blah. Humble Heidi, I'm working on it.

my passport in Real Life

I make the 4th and attempt to get my passport in Barstow. The lady is well past her working prime and complained how all postal workers were being forced into retirement and their jobs were not given to white people.
 Not only am I highly offended (get over yourself lady, we are in America, the country founded by different nations moving right in) but I am HIGHLY irritated, as she cannot see what she is doing.
 She took my passport picture after she asked me a question, so I am featured mid sentence with gopher teeth as my identification to enter and exit my country of residence. She also pointed to the wrong line for me to sign on..twice...and then scolded me for not reading it properly.
I'm practically blowing smoke from my tiny nostrils, but I keep thinking to myself, this is the last time I'll ever have to deal with this lady in my life.

I tell her I'm traveling with Clara, how Clara will be 10 months old, how Clara is a doll and gets into everything....she talks about her grandchildren...I tell her Clara is the first grandchild and this is the first time she is traveling abroad...
And then I leave on my merry way.

9 days before our departure...I get a weird feeling in my gut. I pull the computer out just to make sure Clara's birth certificate is all I need to travel to Mexico.

Fun fact. The passport is a necessity.HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS? Where there signs posted everywhere that I missed? Why didn't I see it when I booked the airline ticket?!?
WHY DIDN'T THAT LADY AT THE PASSPORT OFFICE IN BARSTOW MENTION I NEEDED TO GET HER A PASSPORT AFTER I TALKED ABOUT HER FOR 10 MINUTES?!?!??!?!?!

Caps lock off. You understand how upset I was. 

The blame can be placed everywhere. But ultimately it is my fault. I honestly thought Mexico was the exception for children under the age of two. Turns out, it used to be that way. I also had a hard time believing the photo taken of my 10 month old could be used 4 years later for the same child. She will look like 4 different people in between now and then. I do appreciate the security aspect, it will be a lot harder to steal my child and leave the country if they do not have her passport.
But come on. Perhaps if our next duty station is Alaska and we drive home (cross fingers and toes), then I will be so thankful for having her passport.

I'm getting ahead of myself. I figured out at 10 pm on a Friday that she needed her passport. I begin calling hotlines and whoever, and of course, the passport agency (you know, the state department) is closed until Monday morning.

margarita. baby shades. paci covered with sand. 

Another hiccup :
Parents: If you go to get your child's passport without your spouse, you have to have a notarized document of consent--they provide it on their webpage-- A Power of Attorney is not good enough. Even though it says.... "obtain all documents of travel as required by law". You also need a copy of the other parents drivers license.

After asking friends about weekend notaries and watching my question shoot up the chain of command, I realized I would have to wait until Monday to resolve Anything. Mostly because Andy was out in the field until Monday, so regardless I needed his notarized signature to move forward.

I found out there was a passport agency in San Diego. If you are leaving the country in less than 14 days, you can make an appointment and have your passport before your trip. That was the only information I knew about it, so I was hesitant to drive 180 miles without making sure I had all the right documents.

We left at 6:30 am on Tuesday, arrived at 10:00 (our appointment was at 11:30 but they let us in early), and I started the process. We had every single piece of information. I had even brought the power of attorney AND our marriage license, as they both had Andy's signature. The agent then tells me...As long as I have the photo of his ID faxed, I can pick up the passport that very day!

Wait...I don't have a copy of his ID WITH ME?!

IT was true. I had forgotten to make a copy of His ******** drivers license. I tried to show that I had TWO forms of his signature, as well as his notarized form of consent. NOPE. Needed his ID. No big deal, I can have it faxed to her right?

Wrong. Andy was out in the field that day, 20 miles from the company. His IDs were with him. After calling him 37 times, I finally got a hold of him. Frustrated with the system, he says "Heidi, You shouldn't need it. Tell the lady you don't need it". Frustrated with my husband I said some choice words. We then realized he wouldn't be back to the company--to a fax machine-- until 3 pm (the passport agency closed at 4).

Somewhere in the middle of the Mojave Desert....Andy found 3G. He took a picture of his license with his phone and emailed them to me. (I'm such an iPhone advocate right now...)
While waiting for the photos to arrive, we went to the dog beach on Coronado. My dog LOVES the water, and it makes me smile to watch him charge into the ocean and chase the waves.  Carrying a 27 pound baby on my hip through the sand is probably one of the best workouts I've ever completed...and it was a little too hard to manage both the baby and the over excited dog. I don't think I'll do a solo dog beach adventure again. (Looking back as Ju-Ly is no longer with us, I would do the dog beach every day with him if I could. Clara could have eaten sand and I could have not been such a complainer. It makes me feel better to know that Ju had a good time that day)

BUT AGAIN, complaining complaining...the ocean was beautiful. It was cold (60 F..i know, i know) but I saw a few dolphins and really enjoyed the crisp sea air. And the moisture! Goodness it was a nice change from the desert. I'm so thankful to be so close to an ocean.

2 hours later when I was about to give up and start looking for a place to stay the night, the photos came through. Thank GOD for my mother...who was home and worked with me.While sitting in the cell phone lot at the San Diego Airport (the only hassle free parking I could think of near downtown in my stress).....she printed the photos, and faxed them to the agency. It of course was more complicated than one sentence....but you get the point.

Finally at 3:00 pm, I knew that I had done everything in my power.

At 3:45...I was walking at my full 6 feet tall, out the door, to the car...with Clara's passport in hand.

After doing a round trip drive to Vegas to take Chloe to the airport on Saturday ( at least we were with a wonderful friend AND got this cute passport photo taken)...this round trip drive to San Diego was pretty exhausting. We did stop at Nici's house in La Mesa to let Ju-Lye stretch and Clara to crawl all over her grass. 20 minutes into our traffic filled drive, both kids were sleeping...and slept most of the way home. And for that, I think I am the most thankful of all.

Moral of the story: Get your children passports if you are even thinking about going on a trip that require International boarders. If you happen to live near a passport agency (sorry Alaskans), they will create said needed passport the very same day (still blows my mind) if you provide proof that you are leaving within 14 days, and ALL OF THE NECESSARY DOCUMENTATION. (caps necessary)


The trip was awesome. Here are some pictures. Enjoy :)

Ode to Potty Training

Every morning when I wake up, regardless if it is by choice or blood curdling scream from a child, I try to immediately think of ONE thing I am thankful for. Somedays it is that I am in good health. Some days it is that Andy has all of his hair. Today it is that I have control of my bladder. Because you know who struggles with it....Clara "NO" Lean.

We have come a LONG way. For crying out loud she has only been on this earth for 2 years and 5 months. She was an expert at exploding excrement from her diaper within the first few weeks of her life, and continued her fame well into her first year. I bought her a potty chair when she was only 13 months old. I was ambitious, I know, but I thought if I introduced it early it would be an easy transition.

The first time we sat her on that potty chair she peed! I was so ridiculous I posted a photo on facebook about it! I was a damn proud mama! My 13 month old is a genius!

False.

The potty chair sat unused for months after the glimmer of peeing on the potty wore off. By 19-20 months, I was really starting to encourage it. At that point I was pregnant with Nora...and I did NOT want to have two kids in diapers.

It is now that I stand on a stage and shout about my amazing Hoover Carpet cleaner. Andy and I did not agree on purchasing one, arguing that perhaps our next home will not have carpet. Well, this home does. And this home has carpet everywhere!!! Carpet in the dining room? Good one, Pinnacle privatized housing. Please, put families with small children in homes with beige carpet everywhere and then charge them a fortune when they move out.
I'm hoping that my Hoover did the trick, and that there will be no visible pee stains. "I wonder if she had a small dog?" No. I had a small Clara. Who straight up peed wherever she wanted. She peed standing on the coffee table. (We don't have to talk about why she was up there, but she was not allowed). She peed while walking up the stairs. She peed on my kitchen floor- which I almost praised because it was tile..but I refrained and continued to encourage peeing in bathrooms.

chocolate face

She progressed well. I began encouraging her with stickers. She got a sticker every time she tried. Well that wore off after about a week. i don't blame her. Once she started getting repeat stickers, the game was over.
So then I did what every mom does and I began giving her "potty candies". M&Ms. She got one every time she tried.
It was like potty mecca in this house. Clara was attempting to pee all the time. Pretty soon she saw where I kept the "potty candies" and the joke was on me when she drug a chair into the kitchen, climbed on the counter and devoured the entire bag.
So we gave up for a while again. Just put the kid in diapers. I was tired and pregnant and I didn't care anymore. Andy encouraged me to give it another go, he took the lead in the potty training endeavours. He'd even go in the bathroom and 'sit' on the toilet while she was on her own little chair.

 But as we know Clara is very observant...

And all of a sudden she would go to the bathroom...and pee would be all over the floor. What the hell is happening, I kept asking. Does she wait until the last minute and lose control the moment she walks through the door? Thankfully its on tile, so that's not such a bad clean up.
It dawned on me. This kid was trying to stand and pee.
"God Bless America, Clara, you have to sit to pee!!" I yelled when I caught her in the man stance peeing act.

My mom arrived a week before Nora was born and just started putting Clara in big girl underwear. I won't lie. I was so tired by that point, I couldn't handle having to worry about pee pants all the time. My mom nailed it with the timing, and we encouraged Big sister clara to wear underwear and to go to the bathroom on her own.

She lost it for a little while- too many people asking her if she needed to go to the bathroom lead to stubborn hard headed Clara holding it. And then it would be too late. Thankfully Reba and Mikey were here to help keep me balanced and help with the pee pants changing.

But the power struggle began the moment all of our company left and it was just us two. Please, allow yourself to imagine a stand off in the old west. Sunrise lighting up the sky, a light breeze blowing dirt and and occcsional tumbleweed past my feet. I grind one bare foot in the ground as I prepare to reach for toilet paper. Clara faces me, but wiggling with a potty dance. "Tell me something Clara...do ya need to go potty?" "NAAAAAAAAAAA OH!"

Clara posted outside the bathroom door

 Did I mention, as soon as all my lovely help went home..Andy went out into the field for several days and nights. Literally the next day. I was still recovering from my c section and was not supposed to lift anything heavier than Nora. (Clara weighs over 30 lbs, just FYI). So when Clara yells, NO, about anything...I was sort of powerless, as I could not afford giving myself a hernia while trying to drag a stubborn 2 year old to the bathroom.

 Get this. Clara would do amazing at pre school. She would go to the bathroom on her own. But she would come home and pee her pants within 15 minutes. I would ask her several times...and each time her "no" would get nastier and nastier.

This is what I felt like.

Shit hit the fan ( not literally, this is a pee blog posting thank GOD) when she peed in my new BOB stroller two days in a row. Heidi, you terrible Mom, kids have accidents all the time. Look me in the face and say that. And then go scrub my expensive stroller out, for the second time, because Clara 'accidently' yelled "NO" when I asked her if she had to go to the bathroom for the past 10 minutes. The first time she peed on the stroller, I kept my cool and explained she cannot pee on my stroller. The second day was not so smooth. She went to her room, she got in big trouble, she was forced into a nap. She saw me cry from exhaustion and frustration. She saw me get so mad I talked to myself under my breath about how this stuff always happens when Andy is gone.She saw me hysterically laugh at my situation and then cry again because all I wanted was to sleep more than 2 hours and not wash piss clothes.


I honestly believe my child is smart enough to think "woah, mom is about to lose it. I better get it together".

And she did. Clara has only had accidents if her nap went an amazing long time.

She has had one accident at school, and with this closing story I dedicate this entire post to my friend Samantha Newcombe-Luther. This amazing woman and her husband packed up their lives, sold their home, and moved to Thailand. She works as a preschool teacher in Bangkok and she is ALWAYS posting hilarious stories about the children in her class.

Clara's pre-toddler program is awesome. They allow you to send your child while they are potty training. They ask that you send spare clothes if they are coming in underwear. I'm not sure if Sam's is the same way...she made it seem like the kids in her class ARE potty trained. Thus, when they have an accident you wonder if they did it on purpose. Some might laugh at such a statement. I fully believe her. Clara is a prime example of a kid who will pee her pants out of spite.

Anyhow- I go to pick Clara up from school and there is a plastic bag hanging in her cubby. I see her shirt, her skirt, her cinderella underwear, her socks, AND her tennis shoes are in there. I think to myself, oh man, she must have mucked herself out during arts and crafts time.
Nope.
Clara power peed her pants with enough force to blow through all of her clothing layers, down her legs, and fill her pink tennis shoes. Some how the hem of her shirt got hit as well. I cannot begin to imagine the position of her body, or what she was thinking when she just gave it her all.

Here is the kicker. Her teacher was not even phased. She explained it nonchalantly...oh, her shoes were filled with pee, so we will send her home in the loaner purple star shoes.
 I'm sorry, WHat?! I've never seen that before!

 It was at that exact moment, standing in classroom 125, that I thoguht to myself, "Dear Lord, what kind of stuff does this woman see every day?" And so my dear Sam, my hat is off to you. I can handle cleaning up my own child's pee. I have to do it all the time...and since I created and grew this beast, her body functions don't gross me out so bad. ..but some one else's snot nosed kid?
 No. Way.

Just a heads up, I had another baby. Whaaaaaaaat?

A good friend told me that whenever I decided to blog again...I should NOT apologize for how long it has been. "Seriously Heidi, no one feels dejected or hurt by your lack of adding to the blogosphere" or something like that. Thank you Paul MacDonald. How humbling and correct you are. I have thought of so many good things to write about, but frankly, when the time came that I was alone in front of the computer, I was facebook stalking my sisters.

Well I'll just skip to it then. I went ahead and gave birth to another baby girl. Just like that. Shortly after my last post we traveled to Alaska for our summer vacation. 
Andy and I knew we would like to start trying for baby number two, and I will over share:
We are such hardcore Alaskans that if our child cannot live in Alaska, it will damn well be conceived at home.

Or maybe it just worked out that way.

From my experience, I've learned that if you would like to get successfully pregnant and have a baby girl follow these instructions:
1. Be in Alaska. Any part of the state will do. I prefer Southcentral Alaska, even though Clara showed up in Fairbanks.
2. Drink a LOT of Raspberry Wheat Ale. Preferably Moose's Tooth microbrew over Glacier Brew House. I think Nora showed up with Alaskan Rasperberry Wheat--how fitting.
3. Don't even worry about it, think about it, or talk about it. That baby girl knows what to do.

                   *Disclaimer, I come from a family of 5 children. There is a chance I inherited some fertility strength in there.

I realized I was pregnant in the month of August, when I was suddenly crying at EVERY SINGLE gold medal ceremony during the olympics. I cried during the closing ceremony when they played 'God Save the Queen'...ummm and I'm not even from Great Britain. I also attended a music festival with close friends and no matter how much beer I drank, I was strangely sober. I guess once the rasperry wheat has done it's job, my body doesn't even acknowledge brewed hops. The phone call to Andy(who was back in California) was actually very endearing compared to the last time we found out I was pregnant. We were ready this time. We were a little surprised at how quickly it happened, but we had our shoes on and laces doubled knotted when it came to being parents, so we thought we were moving in the right direction.

And then the morning sickness hit. Clara was SUCH a handful...that I couldn't take it.

This HAS to be a baby boy, I kept thinking to myself. Along with "I'm never doing this again. I can't believe my Mom did this 7 times with 5 successful pregnancies. Andy is going to pay for this. I'm a terrible mom for making Clara watch Peppa Pig on repeat while I hug the toilet or lay on the couch"..... Andy left the entire month of October and went to Sapper school--(The Sapper Leader Course trains Engineer leaders in small unit tactics, leadership skills, and War-fighter tactics required to perform as a member of a combined-arms team in a contemporary operating environment.) Super conveinient timing right?





 I trotted right on over to Phoenix and hung out with two amazing cousins for a week, and then I just flew right on up to Silverton, Oregon to hang out with my Brady family. I planned to get as much traveling in as possible before I was too huge, and before Clara turned 2 and started to cost money on airplanes.





By the time Andy was home and my traveling was limited, I hit the second trimester. And it was awesome! I had energy, I was not sick, foods did not bother me...I was that 'dream' pregnancy you hear about. The doctor did make me see a nutritionist since I was apparantly the size of a beached beluga whale(my impression, not his), but I successfully maintained a healthy weight, I did not have gestational diabetes like they ALLLLLLLLWAYS think I'm going to get due to my size, and my blood pressure was amazing.

I'm sure those moms who did not have said success want to throw ice water in my face right now.
Well the jokes on you because I'm in the Mojave desert and I'd love it.

Also the third trimester was hell.

Clara and I got really sick after visiting "Disneyland, the happiest place to spread influenza on earth", and I spent several weeks completely drained.

Once my energy left, it never returned. And this is when Clara entered the "No". phase. TO EVERYTHING. Clara, will you please shut the door you opened? "no". Clara, will you stop hitting the tv with a spatula? "no". Clara do you want some chocolate? "no". Andy was working all the time, and I just had to tough it out with the most stubborn toddler in the west. Clara "NO" Lean.
Baby girl in my belly was not idle during this time. She was constantly moving, laying on my sciatic nerve and sending fire running down my right butt cheek to my ankle, or pushing my diaphragm into my brain so it made it hard to breath or think.
I was the poster child for "pregnancy" brain. I forgot Clara's name in public. I would call my mom and get confused because I thought I was ordering pizza. It was crazy.

Around month 7 and after talking to my cousin, who as of last Saturday is a AOBOG Board Certified Perinatologist! GO CORINNA!!!!!!!!! WHOO HOOOO!!!!!, I decided I was not going to take the risk of another giant baby getting stuck and unmentionable things happening to my body. I opted to have an elective c section at 39 weeks.

 My Dr. was skeptical, he thought I was just trying to get the baby out earlier, and told me I shouldn't be "Scared" that a dangerous situation could happen again. I told him we could do the c section at 40 weeks, but there was no way I was going to chance another 3rd degree laceration or worse.

 The last doctor had to physically yank Clara out because she was stuck so bad. No Thanks. I decided to listen to my gut and my cousin, and went through with it. 

The c section was awesome. It was completely planned, and I think that had a lot to do with why I enjoyed the process. A lot of my mom friends and family had to have emergency c sections. No one is ready for that, and I cannot even imgaine how scary it was. I was even a little scared when I walked into the big operating room, saw how skinny that table was that I was going to be on, and tried to crack jokes while the 10 people in there just stared silently at me. 

My anesthesiologist was awesome, and he completely put me at ease. He told me everything that was happening in regards to the spinal block. He also noted that my epidural placed for Clara was off to the left. Weird...since the whole left side of my body was numb but I felt EVERYTHING on the right. Interesting....Anyhow, this guy nailed it and I couldn't feel a thing. I had friends say they could feel tugging...stuff being moved around. Nope. I was cracking jokes with the nursing staff. I even let Xavier, my anesthesiologist, know that Andy sort of has a weak stomach when it comes to blood. And that he should make sure he can't see my open gut when Andy arrived. Andy was fashionably late because..well, his giant tug boat feet couldn't fit in the "scrub slippers". They had to go find a baby elephant size before letting him in the OR....typical. 
When Andy finally showed up, my 5'6 anesthesiologist was holding 6'3 Andy very tightly and walking him into the operating room. Andy thought the guy was acting strange, and we both laughed later when he found out what I said through my oxygen mask to the nursing staff trying to bring our baby into the world. Sorry Mandrew, I was definitely more concerned about my husband feinting than the complications of major abdominal surgery.

I walked into that room around 8:00 am. At 9:40 I heard the loud, boisterous cry of my 8 lb 8 oz Nora Michelle Lean. She was born at 39 weeks and she was so pissed that we took her out early that they hardly had to suck anything from her lungs. That kid cleared it out all by herself. She had chubby cheeks, a round little belly. And as soon as she was brought to me and I said "Hey little Nora!"...She stopped crying. My heart skipped a beat in such a precious moment. She knew who I was, I knew who she was. And we both were so happy to see each other. Sounds cheesy? Well it is, and it was such an amazing moment in my life.

 














I went to the recovery room and Nora was brought to me within the hour. Big Sister Clara got to come meet her within the first few hours of her life...and I cry just thinking about it. She did not try to hit the baby or cry. She was excited and wanted to hold her. She didn't like all of the IVs and tubes, but I can't  blame her. I bet I looked pretty strange to a 2 year old. I am soooooo thankful that 'Grandy' Mandy was here. My mom bleached my floors, cooked us dinners, and watched Clara "the werewolf" while we were in the hospital. Andy was attentive to all of my needs, and it is amazing to see what a great father he has become. I'm serious, all you guys who haven't seen us since college will be blown away. He comes home from work as soon as he can because he wants to hang out with us. Or because he knows I need a break. Probably the second one, but the fact that he cares makes me feel like a pretty special lady.

Today it has been 6 weeks since I had Nora Michelle Lean. When I was being discharged, my doctor shook my hand and said "I think we made a good choice. This baby was not ready to come out at all. I think she would have stayed in as long as possible and then tore you a new one". I love Dr. Toth and his bedside manner. We got along well. We both just said it how it was. I wasn't sure what to say when he told me he had been wounded in Vietnam. Thank you for serving my country and for rocking this C section? Why are you retired from the army but living at Fort Irwin, California? Regardless, I plan on bringing him back some amazing Alaskan goodness after we go home for a visit (no Raspberry Wheat).

  The worst part about the c section was that I was very limited to what I could do. The recovery was slow, but it seemed to last forever because I got really sick when I left the hospital. A sinus infection turned into an ear infection, and those antibiotics ruined my stomach flora. BUT: while I was stuck in my amazing green recliner I guilt tripped Andy into buying me, I had two awesome Lean ladies running my house for me. Reba and Mikey made sure Clara stayed alive and that the dog was walked. We now have Roxy, the German Shepherd, as Ju-Ly went to heaven unexpectidly last Aug. We'll talk about that a different day. 

I am recovering well, taking my 3 girls on double BOB stroller/dog walks pretty much every day...and I'm trying to eat healthier. Nora was a HUGE fan of Buffalo sauce, blue cheese, and wild cherry pepsi. I'm talking...I put buffalo sauce on everything. It was boarder line disgusting. I've reigned it in pretty well... But dammit, Andy found me ShockTop Honey Crisp Apple Wheat yesterday. Looks like I'll be eating salads to compesate my new found drink choice. 

Was this a boring blog entry? Maybe to some. I've got a TON of Clara and Nora and typical "Heidi" stories up my sleeve. So bare with me. I just had to tell you about our amazing addition to our family, and how glad we are she is here.

Pinterest recipe for Stuffed Peppers and Child Safety

As promised, long ago when I thought it was a great idea to blog about myself, I would like to share a receipe. Would you believe it, I found it on Pinetrest. The site I spend a little too much time on. If you have not been sucked into the Pinterest black hole...do it. Do it now. I love being able to organize the different receipes and craft ideas...among thousands of other things.
But this receipe.
It was fairly simple, and even though I had beautiful Marisha and Cynthia over to cook with me, I think I could have had a Pinterest Success Stories as opposed to a Pinterest Fail. Again, for those Pinteresters, you know exactly what I mean.

We made Turkey Stuffed Bell Peppers. The pin I found originated from the Skinnytaste blog, and it was the featured recipe on November 6, 2008, and I adapted it only because I did not have ingredients it called for.
http://www.skinnytaste.com/2008/11/turkey-stuffed-peppers-45-pts.html

Would you take a look at that delicious looking pepper.

 As you can see, it was not the photo I took.

We used 3 bell peppers, which made a total of 6 servings after we halved them....and then three ladies and two 18 month old children gobbled them up before we could take a victory picture.

But I promise, they looked just like this. Actually, we might have put a little more cheese on ours.
 Just a Scosh.
Because I am showing you the Original Recipe photo, I thought it would be polite to show you the original recipe as well. I will indicate where we added our own twist:

• 1 lb lean chopped turkey meat- Ground Turkey worked great
• 1 garlic, minced
• 1/4 onion, minced
• 1 tbsp chopped fresh cilantro or parsley Did not have
• 1 tsp garlic powder
• 1 tsp cumin powder
• salt to taste
• 3 large sweet red bell peppers, washed We used Red Yellow and Orange. All added great flavor
• 1 cup fat free chicken broth Mine had not obtained freedom from fat
• 1/4 cup tomato sauce Used Bertolli Four Cheese Rosa. It was a good choice. (sorry Mary)
• 1 1/2 cups cooked rice I used Brown Rice
• Olive oil spray
• 1/4 cup reduced fat shredded cheese

 The original recipe directions are as followed:
Heat oven to 400°. Spray a little olive oil spray in a medium size saute pan and heat on a medium flame. Add onion, garlic and cilantro to the pan. Saute about 2 minutes and add ground turkey. Season with salt and garlic powder, and cumin and brown meat for several minutes until meat is completely cooked through. Add 1/4 cup of tomato sauce(I used 3/4 of the 4 cheese Roma jar in the end) and 1/2 cup of chicken broth, mix well and simmer on low for about 5 minutes. Combine cooked rice and meat together.

Cut the bell peppers in half lengthwise, and remove all seeds. Place in a baking dish. Spoon the meat mixture into each pepper half and fill it with as much as you can. Place all stuffed pepper halves on the baking dish and pour the remainder of the chicken broth on the bottom of the pan(this helped cook the peppers). Cover tight with aluminum foil and bake for about 35 minutes. Top with shredded cheddar cheese and enjoy.(we put the cheese on top and then cooked. Cynthia even made a foil 'tent' so that the cheese would not get cooked to the top...and thus gave us a Pinterest Success vs Fail photo...which we would have had to post)

Clara featured in new child size 5 baby shark robe

Oh you came here for your Clara fix? Well look no further. Let me tell you something about this child. 

 She has learned "No". And not just 'No". It's "NO, emphasis on the short o"...almost like a nah".
 She spouts this horrific noise as she points her chubby inch and a half long pointer finger at me, at the dog, at the neighbors dog, at the kid in the pool who said hi to her...She is relentless.
I'm pretty sure she would do it to Pope Benedict XVI if he showed up in the mojave desert tomorrow.

She is perfecting tantrums daily, but she is also surprising me by how well she follows directions and how much easier it is getting for us to understand one another.

Andy and I realized that we ruined our chance to use the "I'm going to count to 3" as a rule of warning...as we played the "one, two, three, weee" swinging game as we walk on either side of her.

My Hartley-Diedrich family will be happy to hear that we did not abandon this way of (hopeful) preventative discipline, but chose to simply count in German. Lets be honest, it sounds a lot more threatening.

So when Clara will not climb down off the coffee table after I ask her, I simply start the slow chant (through my teeth) of "eins......zwei......drei..." and depending on her speedy reaction she ends up escaping with her dignity, or with a few minutes in time out.

Due to the fact that she has been falling out of her big girl bed, I must thank pinterest again for this wonderful idea! We nabbed a swimming pool noodle for $1 and simply slid it under the sheet. Tonight is the first night using it...we will see how it goes!

A series of Unfortunate Events(From a 1st world perspective)

I debated how to write this entry, as I wanted to share with everyone the unfortunate hilarity that plagued our house this past week. Yet, I felt like after my 'woe-is-me-I-have-Scoliosis-and-it-doesn't-even-hurt' post, that I should not follow up with more whining from a middle class American.

 But I'm going to.

It started out when Andy left his iPhone in a Humvee. Not in a friends car. Not on the desk at work. In a Humvee. Even though we've had an Army filled life for the past 2 years, somethings still catch me off guard. Long story short, there is no hope recovering the phone. Hopefully a bearded lizard out in the Mojave drug it back to it's hole and used the remaining battery listening to Toby Keith, Kenny Loggins, and the theme song to Robin Hood prince of thieves. (I try to keep Andy on his toes, musically).

So many ways to lose a phone from this vehicle..

That is my best assumption. In reality, someone probably found it and doesn't feel like trying to give it back. Someone took Andy's coffee mug after a giant formation of soldiers and I guess he had a little melt down in front of some people. Luckily, I had purchased a 2 pack from Costco, so I wrote his name all of the second one. I should have thought to write his name on the iPhone too...

Anyhow: I had planned on upgrading my phone once I got to Alaska in July. My iPhone has been awesome, but I'm wearing it out, and if anyone follows the facebook photos I put up, the quality is getting horrible. Why not get a nice camera instead? According to Andy, I still believe money grows on trees and I was told to make a "want" list...and when I get a job I'm allowed to buy those items with my own money. He's lucky is so handsome, otherwise I would have taken that statement and bought the car that had the built in DVD system.

The whole reason I was waiting to purchase a phone in Alaska was because California charges $50 in taxes to purchase an iPhone. I am not going to rant, but I do feel cheated. I do believe in taxes, and I understand why they are needed...but I do NOT believe in the tax of an electronic that is not the same across the country.

So what happened? I paid it anyways. Only one of our lines was eligible for upgrade, and we sucked it up and paid our dues to California. This state will be lucky if it sees ONE cent from us after we leave. (watch, now Clara will want to go to UCSD for college). So, as I write this blog, I am waiting for the post man to deliver the new phone. That means I haven't even showered, because you KNOW the one time I'm in no condition to answer a door bell, he'll ring it 4 times.

On Thursday Andy left into the field around 4 am. Because he is phoneless, and I think where they were running a mission he did not even have service, I have not been able to talk with him. It's frustrating, but like I've said before, I know he's only 20 miles out in the desert playing war, so I'll be okay.

But, while he was gone, I endured a series of unfortunate events with Clara.

It all started when she woke up way too early for her own good. Because she had begun to hit inanmiate objects and yell at the music playing while I did the dishes, she earned herself an early nap in her crib. About 5 minutes of crying protests go by and her cries turn into painful shrieks. I raced up the stairs at an incredible speed to find poor little Clara's leg WEDGED between two bars of her crib. I know she did this on purpose, but I don't think she took into account that her knees are larger than the rest of her leg (right, because she is only 18 months) and her poor right like was stuck bad.
I quickly, but gently, tried to ease her leg back into the crib, and poor scared Clara screamed louder in pain. I tried to maniptulate the cheap wood horizontally, to see if it would give just enough for Clara's leg to go back into the crib. It would not budge.



In the one or two seconds I stopped to think of my options, Clara looked at me with so much fear and pain that I summoned all my he-man mama bear woman strength and I ripped the bar clean off the crib.

Hopefully Andy has learned his lesson in proper photo etiquette

 She was pretty upset after the whole ordeal, and she has two dark bruises on either side of her knee. I guess this was Clara's newest way of telling us she was ready for a change in the sleeping department. You may notice that her mattress is lower than her crib frame. That was our attempt to keep her from climbing out of her crib, as she had done on the lowest crib setting back in February. You may recall 'rug burn Clara'...and she didn't climb out, she threw herself from the crib. We caught her in the act.

.





I decided to use this experience to turn her crib into a big girl bed!  It looked really promising, until I tried to leave the room and let Clara take a nap.

 
After an Hour of trying everything, (all those toys and blankets) I finally turned her big girl bed into a 3 sided crib and she fell asleep.

As of today, she has slept like a champ all night long in her "big girl bed". She woke up this morning, walked into my room, and patted me on the arm while making the 'hungry' sign. But today for nap time, I had to turn it back into the 3 sided crib. She is so worried she is going to miss something, I think the 'open' side of the bed is way too damn tempting.

So as it stands. 3 sided crib for naps...big girl bed for night time. It's progress :)

I have to wrap this post up with the story of the death of my Kindle. (See, I told you this was filled with 1st world woes)





I found Clara a pair of plastic pink high heels a few weeks ago. They are way too big and, like her mother, her foot is way too wide to fit into a normal heeled shoe. But she stomps around in them all the same.

During one of her stomping/cat walk struts. She tripped and fell up against the wall.

Well, since I am such a horrible mother, I laughed out loud before I covered my mouth to hide my smile.

Clara went from aspiring teenager to full pissed Godzilla. And that was when the rampage began. 

This is the result of Clara-zilla above

 RIP in Kindle. You were no match for 30 pounds of force reigning down up on you from the misunderstood stomp of a toddler. Thank you for getting me through over a 100 books.

I will leave this blog with a thanks to Kelsey Cebula, who said I could have her old one :)

And with this picture of the three of us at the Drive In watching Madagascar 3. Clara refered to it as "mommit mommit", since I pumped her up with "I like to move it move it" for the past 3 weeks in preparation for the movie :)