BlogFrog's Million Mom Challenge, It's Long, Sorry!

I read through some of the blogs on BlogFrog's Million Mom Challenge and realized, that wow, I really had some awful pregnancies. We lost our 1st at 12 weeks. Three of the four started out as twins, losing one early on in my pregnancy each time.  Pre-e, HELLP, a seizure while I was 27 weeks pregnant - with an extend hospital stay, having my OB's partner stand there with her arms crossed while I delivered B alone, feeling myself rip, only to have her stitch my tear up with NO anesthetic and, and, and, and...in a nutshell...being pregnant SUCKED!  I hated being pregnant. 

When D was a girl (verified at delivery), I breathed a sigh of relief (as my bp dropped to 60/20 from loss of blood), my hubby got his girl.  I was done.  With O, I cried when I found out I was pregnant.  I did not plan to be pregnant, I ALWAYS planned when I would be pregnant.  I took 8 tests and didn't believe a single one.  I went into to my OB's office and cried.  She knew I hated being pg. She even clarified with D that we were done now that we had our girl - in the delivery room, while trying to get my uterus to contract so I wouldn't bleed out and leave my husband with a 6 year-old, a 3 year-old and a newborn to raise alone.  When I went back in with this unplanned pregnancy, she thought the tests were wrong, seeing as I had just had an ultra-sound 5 weeks earlier.  She would have seen if I was pregnant.  So we did the blood test and she confirmed it, I was pregnant.  I cried again.  It had only been 13 months since I had D.  I wasn't ready.


I wasn't ready for Zofran to be my life source. I wasn't ready for the IV fluids because I couldn't eat or drink anything without puking it right back up.  I wasn't ready for bedrest.  I just wasn't ready.  I COULD NOT be pregnant.


Then the funniest thing happened, I bonded with this baby I wasn't ready for.  I was in for ultrasounds twice a month and loved watching her develop right before my eyes.  I panicked when I didn't feel her move that scary Monday.  She was stubborn, but after lots of Apple Juice, we got her going again.  The next day I came in for my regular appointment, all looked well.  However, she wanted me to lay low and take it easy - I got an early Thanksgiving break. The NEXT day (the Wednesday before Thanksgiving), after TWO appointments in TWO days, I got up and went to the bathroom.  There was blood on the toilet paper - just enough to make it pink.  I panicked again.  J, kinda blew it off, told me to come back to bed.  I called the doc.  She had me come in right before her 1st appointment of the day, even though she was certain it was nothing.  I made J come with me - which I never did.  When we got in (with an antsy D),  we waited in the exam room for a bit.  She came in, smiled and said, "Let's take a look and get you home." I got into the stirrups and she said, "Holy $h!t!"  and quickly ordered my husband to put the seat all the way back in the car and rush me straight to the ER.  I was 21 weeks and had an incompetent cervix.  (THANKS!  It brought 3 lives into the world and now you call it incompetent!!??)  I was going to lose the baby.  I would have given ANYTHING to stay pregnant, just a little longer, ANYTHING.  ANYTHING to keep this unplanned baby cooking.


We made our way to the ER, made our way up to the ante-partum unit and met with a lovely British perinatologist, mine was off for the day. He explained our options.  Do nothing and let nature take its course. Spend the remainder of my pregnancy in the Trendelenburg Position.  Finally, our last option, a cerclage.  Essentially we would stitch my cervix closed and hope it holds. (They never told me that really don't like to do a cerclage after 14 weeks and they never expect them to work after 18.  Thank God!) We opted for the cerclage.  I spent Thanksgiving in the hospital, feeling terror at every turn.  After a prescription for the most painful and viscous shot in the arse twice a week (only made by a single apothecary in the city), I went home and hoped to God that everything would be okay.


Christmas Day, was a long dram filled day and I fell asleep on the couch.  I woke up at 11:15pm and HAD TO GO!  You know how it is when you are pregnant.  When you gotta go, you gotta go.  I got up and thought I had leaked down my leg.  (Sorry, gross, I know.)  Swore the whole way to the bathroom. Once I got there, I did not like what I saw - blood. NO, NO, NO!!  We made quick arrangements for the three stooges and off we went to the hospital.  J and the nurse ran out to the car with a wheel chair, off we went to L&D.  Once we made it through paper work, it was a parade of doctor's.  I had a few ultrasounds, they kept me hooked up to the fetal monitor.  Finally an answer, a placental abruption, although it was mild.


Two more weeks come and go and I find myself doing a cyber happy dance - I made it to 27 weeks.  That was my magic number. We made it.  Now the worst of it was over and I envisioned myself making it to 35 weeks and having another good sized 6 pounder.


I had my two-a-week appointments with my OB, my bi-weekly with my peri and life seemed to be going well. One Saturday morning in January, I woke up with blood on the TP, again.  This time, I was ready.  I didn't panic, I already had a bag packed for me, as well as one for the three stooges.  I figured I would be home later that day, or maybe the next.  We get in, I figure I've done this before, no worries.  The same story, we think it is the abruption, but we can't find where it is.  That is not the bad part.  The bad part is where the contractions start. And they get stronger. Bring on the fluids. My OB comes in and says, "Sorry sweetie, we need to get these contractions to stop."  My heart dropped, that can only mean one thing - Mag sulfate.  


I am an old hat at the Mag, I have the temp dropped in the room, they bring in towels and ice water, some ice chips.  My doc and hubby work with me on my self-hypnosis.  I have been here and done this.  I can make it through another round. I am almost all the way through the bolus and I have not gotten sick.  I am pretty proud of myself at this point.  Then I cough and a wave of nausea comes over me and it is all over.  I knew this would happen.  No amount of cool water and breathing could stop this and I am sicker than a dog.

While I am getting sick, I feel the rush that sends me into a panic.  My water broke.  NO WAY.  THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!  I tell the nurse and she blows me off, tells me I just wet myself.  I tell my doc and she looks at me, certainly seeing the look on my face and  knowing I don't panic easily and orders a pH strip so we know for sure.  Yup, my water broke.  Dr. I then tells the nurses to get an u/s in here and we check on my baby girl.  At this point I am fretting spending the next 2 months in the hospital, trying to stay pregnant.  But that is not to be worried about.  

My baby girl has floated back up and is now on top of her cord, head down.  Not good.  So, off we go for an emergency c-section.


My b/p dropped so quickly that I had a hard time keeping conscious during the surgery.  I have flashes of my husband's eyes lighting up when he sees my uterus on my stomach, the anesthesiologist commenting on how big her cord was (full term size at 29 weeks - saved her brain, a miracle), Dr. Irland offering the stapler to the med student or resident and him sounding like she had just given him a million dollar check, the sight of her isolette being whisked away in a sea of scrubs, my only actual image of her- from my camera.  The rest becomes a blur until I am waiting to get my legs back in recovery, making my husband move them for me so I can get feeling back.  From there I made the phone calls to family, letting them know O made her debut ahead of schedule.  


From there it was 49 days in the NICU.  Every week, thinking that THIS was the week she would be able to come home.  Lectures from nurses when I called about her in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep. (I am her MOM, if I cannot walk into her room and check on her, I will most certainly call if I want!) Two days when I could not get into the NICU because of the snows that year - 100+ inches - and the guilt and tears that went with missing those two days. 


I think about all I went through to get her here and how grateful I am she is a trooper.   I find myself envious of big bellies and jealous when babies come home right away. I scold myself every time, but it seems to happen every time. I did not plan her, but I would not trade O for all the money in the world.  I look forward to watching Diane Sawyer's special this evening and I continue to pray for medicine to keep these little ones and their mommies safe - before and after they enter our world.  Thanks to God, St. Joe's NICU, Dr. Glaspey and the March of Dimes.  They are why my tough girl is here today.

What an Awesome Weekend!

Hubby cleaned my house from top to bottom...


Date night on Saturday with my hubby at one of the wedding of one of the guys from his FF and med class...


Packers are 13 - 0...


Watching all the Christmas movies I have DVR'd the last few weeks with the muppets...


An Excellent weekend, with only more school days until break.


Happy Sunday!

Sorry I Have Not Posted Regularly

I seem to have
forgotten!

But I seem to have no time with out children.  Take today as an example, I wake up to a foot in my face, toddler sized at 2am.  Put her to bed and like the proverbial bad penny, she's back by 3:30 - with her elbow up my nose.  Forget it.  Why try and sleep anymore? I am able to get both her and Daddy out the door by 5:30 - AM that is, get the other muppets dressed, fed and out the door by 6:10am.  Get to school at 6:30, hoping to get work done. HA!  Silly Mommy!  And there are 3 kids in my classroom door by 6:48AM. Sigh...

Get muppets 2 and 3 over to the lower campus at 7:15am, after frantically printing out the sheets for his Wisconsin A to Z book, that he forgot to print out - D through M, getting them to their school getting back to the upper campus, finding out my projector no longer wants to play nice with the network, teaching four classes straight, no potty breaks (the joy of overloads). And then ahhhh, lunch...hear the angels singing? 

A moment to breathe, pee, eat.  HA!  Who are you kidding??  Nope, instead, a group of freshmen BOYS, working on their project that is due on the 20th. (FOR THE FIFTH DAY IN A ROW!  Monday, I take back my lunch hour - errr, my lunch 23 minutes) Sigh...


One more class before the end of the day - looney juniors, who could care less about the Reconciliation refresher before Monday's gr. 6-12 Confession. They are just too close to break and being the the last period of the last day of the week...it didn't work.  Just to take the three stooges shopping, get them home and debate the merits of clean rooms for the last TWO AND A HALF hours.  


Since I know Daddy did not have a long night at the fire house and spent 16 minutes testing, the rest of the day standing around watching the other guys test, I am okay handing over the reins when he walks in tonight.  Yup, I am good with that.
  
Sigh...TGIF.  

Christmas is Back!

Now, yes, I know, there are only 22 shopping days. You are all saying, "well DUH!"  But, you have to understand, Christmas has changed and morphed and changed again.


Well into adulthood and married life, I LOVED Christmas.  I started planning where my village would go, how to deck the halls, what to make for dinner, what to wear to the midnight service, in like, July. Egg nog and Christmas music.  Wrapping presents and excitement.  I would beg my hubby to let me put the tree up a week before Thanksgiving and leave up a week longer in January.  I joined the crowds of looney toons on Black Friday and enjoyed breakfast with my husband at 7am when we were done.  It was an amazing joy.



Then, my bubble got burst.  Reality came, smacked me in the face and I withdrew from Christmas.  It was time to be a grown up and realize that the Hallmark holiday I created in my mind and J let me imagine was real all those years, was just that --------- imaginary.  That kind of happiness, real or imagined, did not exist in my world any longer.  Families fought over what day belonged to whom, guilt trips came from every direction.  No one would compromise.  No presents until after the 6:30 dinner because it was tradition, nevermind that my toddler was screaming his head off and overtired.  (You can imagine how that went when babies 2-4 compounded the stress.) I was on bedrest for two Christmases and that was MISERABLE - including a stress and "too much time off the couch" induced placental abruption. Guilt came from ALL sides of the family.  Last year, there were guilt trips because my FF had to work BOTH days of the holiday and schedules had to be rearranged.  "BUT, we've ALWAYS had it this way."  "Sorry, when the kids were little, I was the one to drive the long distance.  Now it is my turn to not drive.  I have earned it."  "But you spent all morning with that side, what about our side?"  "Well, we're still opening presents when we usually do, whether you guys are here or not."  My mind shut my soul down and my Christmas spirit was extinguished.   I retired from the world of Christmas.  I wrote myself a letter that I keep with the ornaments, reminding myself NOT to do this to my kids when they have families of their own. My hubby would be prodding me after St. Nick's Day to get the tree up and it came down the 2nd of January  - without hesitation, my village has not seen the light of day in YEARS.  It really is a sad tale.  The Grinch had stolen my Christmas.





My hubby was truly saddened by this.  Every once in a while, I would get the, "Remember when you got so excited..." talk.  And I would tune out, my eyes glazed over.  Finally, after last year, including a melt down because Christmas was especially hard now that we had been thrown into the Fire Life, we made a decision.  Christmas would come back.  It would be about our Children, our faith, our family.  If the rest of our family couldn't handle it, or got grumpy about his schedule, ah well. It would be their loss.

Today, is the hanging of the greens.  Today I am skipping the basketball game that has a toga theme attached to it for setting up the tree.  Today I am skipping my weekly dinner with my dad to get said tree decorated.  Today I am setting up the tables in the dining room so my FF and I can get the village up and illuminated.  And I am excited.  I am excited to see my kids' reactions when they wake up and see the village.  I am excited to pick out a Pickle Present for Christmas Morning.  I truly think I am actually excited again.


Keep your fingers crossed and keep sharp objects away from my bubble, it is amazingly strong and yet amazingly fragile.

Time to concede defeat

I have been denying it for a month.  Blowing off my husband at the very suggestion of it, every time.  But now...now I have to admit defeat.  I am sick. A Z-pak may just be in my future. 



I got up this morning and the shifting of snot in the back of my throat caused an hour long coughing fit that caused my lights to dim.  I hate that feeling.  So, my hubby called my principal while I was hacking away in the stairwell and not able to speak or breathe.  Lesson plans were emailed to the secretary.  Articles and questions were uploaded to the Moodle page. And now we wait.  The doc's office doesn't start answering the phone until 8, even though she sees patients at 7am.  I will call and I will be good and go in.  I just have such a hard time admitting I am sick enough to go to the doctor.


Now, if there was ever a good day for me to admit that I can't go in, today is it.  A huge reason why I have not been going in has been J's med classes.  He leaves the house when we do at 6am.  That means I have to take the kids to school and pick them up.  Well, if that is the case, I am already at work and I may as well just go in.  But today, my hubby has a rotation at St. Mary's and it doesn't start until 1pm.  So as we speak, he is taking the three stooges into school for me, while I hang here with O.  Her cough is starting so I thought I would see if I can get her in with me.

Persepective

I parked in a different lot than I usually do.  I looked at her parking spot and smiled.  She always makes me smile. I came into work, trying to figure out how to get the Maytag man out to my house - AGAIN! - and as soon as I read my second email, it was all forgotten.  We have lost a cornerstone of our school, the rest seems like it means nothing.


In a tragic accident, we lost Sister Virginia.  Sr. Virginia has been with the school since near on the beginning.  She retired from teaching in 2007 and still came in on a daily basis to run the school's writing resource center.  The stories she would tell would make your head spin and your heart full.  Sr. Virginia would often be the one to pull me aside after one of my ranting emails to staff, reminding them of this policy or that, which was being left to the side at that point, and tell me to give them heck.  Remind them of what we should be doing.  And in some points, seeing as I am the head of an all male department, remind me to remind them whose "boss".  She always made you smile.


Somehow, I was missed on the phone chain. I did not receive the tragic news the night before.  Instead, I got it through an email in morning, as I sat at my desk, trying to keep the three stooges quiet.  It took the wind out of my chest.  It was an accident, caused by the dark of night.  And, probably most tragically, the driver was a parent of several of our kids, two of which were in the car.  Their family needs to receive the prayers for healing.  I can't imagine the guilt and pain that they are going through.  Sister's position is assured, I have no concerns for her.  She will be missed, everyday, but my thought was that if Lord needed her, this was the only way he was going to get her.  Sr. Virginia would never leave willingly.

Photo by Matthew Olson of Kenosha News

We had mass in the morning, four priests (which is amazing if you have ever tried to get one on short notice and we had FOUR!) celebrated her life.  The amount of support she received from the community and alumni was amazing.  One of our engineers who was still at school when the accident happened, made a beautiful cross to serve as a memorial.  He was in shock and visibly shaken, even this morning.  I was grateful to see him during mass, when he is usually not with us. We got permission from the homeowners, took a large group of kids down and had another moment to remember her kindness, generosity, compassion and to ask that we might be able to take just a fraction of what she gave to the world and make that our goal.  I was asked to lead prayer, which I am not very good at.  My prayers in class are well-written and well rehearsed.  On-demand public prayer makes my stomach turn. But, I got through it and few of my kids said they got goosebumps, so I didn't fall on my face and embarrass Sister.



Please say a prayer for our larger family.  Sister impacted five generations, as a teacher, as the Mother Superior when we still had nuns, as a friend and her loss will be noticed by all.  I am grateful that I was able to have a chat with her the day before, she was an inspiration. I was blessed to have worked with her.

Hi, Mine Name is Trina and I Am an Addict

I admit it.  I am a TV junkie.  I love crime dramas and the oddity.  I have a DVR in the family room and in the bedroom.  With the kids, I don't get to watch a lot of TV while they're awake.  So, I record everything I might want to watch.  In theory, I watch TV once they go to bed.  But at that point there have still been dishes to wash, laundry to do, papers to grade.  You get the idea. If I gave in every time I wanted to watch something, my muppets would be running feral in the streets, my gradebook would be empty and my k9s would be ransacking the pantry. So, my DVRs are FULL.  Usually, I get caught up when my hubby is on shift.  Unfortunately, Paramedic School has goofed up my routine.



Upstairs, my DVR has stuff for my classroom and things I never want the kids to have access to (I am a closet American Horror Story fan, but that is a post for another day.) and is not quite as full.  Downstairs, however, has needed a trimming for quite a while.  I deleted new shows I have not had a chance to get into - no need to take up 5 episodes worth of space on my hard drive.  


Last night, my hubby stayed up late watching Animal House, as he has never seen it.  Me, I slept on his lap, as I have seen at least 905,489 times.  We got up to the bedroom around 1:30am.  My FF was not quite sleepy so, the bedroom TV was still on when I drifted off.



My girly girls fell asleep while we were watching A Christmas Carol last night and had their batteries recharged.  Therefore O crawled into bed with me at 4am and woke up her sister at 5am.  B woke up and offered to help clean the girls' room.  It looks like a bomb of tulle, bows and clickty-clacks, with some jeans and stinky shoes thrown in for balance.  My cue to get caught up.  I am on NCIS #3 with one more to go.  I still have a ton of NCIS: LA, CSI:NY, and Criminal Minds.  I am going to see what I can knock off while the three stooges are still willing to clean and my hubby is still snoozing.  Then, it is back to laundry and lesson plans.  Until then, I get to indulge in my addiction. 

Tell Me What to Do!

You can fuss about me all you want on my FB page.  I DON'T CARE!  WE HAVE ANOTHER DEAD BABY FROM CO-SLEEPING!

Police investigating Milwaukee's 10th unsafe sleep death this year   

By Crocker Stephenson of the Journal Sentinel

Nov. 18, 2011 10:56 a.m. 

An infant was found dead Friday morning after spending the night sleeping with an adult, according to police.

The baby is at least the 10th Milwaukee infant to die this year while in an unsafe sleep environment. Seven of those deaths occurred while the infant was sleeping with an adult or another child.

Two babies died after being placed on an unsafe surface or in an unsafe position.

Another died while sleeping with his sister and his grandmother, Lisa Humphrey, who has been charged with giving the infant a mixture of morphine and oxycodone.

Two of the co-sleeping deaths have occurred since Nov. 9, when city officials vowed to reduce Milwaukee's infant mortality rate by 10%.

Officials also unveiled what has since become a controversial advertisment campaign that pictures a baby sleeping in an adult bed, a large knife tucked in the covers nearby.

"Your baby sleeping with you can be just as dangerous," the ad says.

The American Academy of Pediatrics says the safest way for babies to sleep is alone, on their backs, in a crib free of pillows, blankets, toys and other soft objects.

I can tell you right where this was taken.

Tell me to read up on safe bed sharing.  Tell me how RIDICULOUS I am being.  Tell me how ignorant I am. And I will tell you we lost another life.  

Tell me what to do.  Tell me how to fix this epidemic.  IT IS MAKING ME SICK! 

I can't go door to door and I don't think that would do it if I could.  Shock and awe ads have people talking, but they are all bickering like a bunch of clucking hens.  Instead of name calling, HELP!  SOLUTIONS PEOPLE, SOLUTIONS.  Real live action  plans. Education is a powerful tool, YEAH, I get it (I am a teacher, remember), but how do we educate??  Read this pamphlet?  Yeah, not gonna do it.  Lecture??  Yeah, that simply causes people to tune you out and then your message is totally lost. Trust me, we as high school teachers see it more than we'd like and have to remind ourselves. No more theoretical.  No more this doctor says I am right and you are wrong.  NO MORE.  


No more lost babies.  No more lost futures.  No more broken hearts.  No more Empty Cradles.

World Prematurity Day

I think she finally hit 2000 grams this day!  No cannulas, thinking
about an open air crib.

My little 29 weeker.  My MIRACLE baby.  The reason why I take people's attacks so personally.  It is World Prematurity Day.  As a mommy of not only a 29 weeker, but also three 35 weekers, I am forever in debt to the March of Dimes for the work that they did before O was born and the work they continue to do.  Micro-preemies like O just didn't make it once upon a time.  Now, I am the proud mommy of a fiesty little rough and tumble gal!  Thank God for the work that the March of Dimes does.

My 8lb 8 month old CRAWLING!  So funny to see a
baby the size of a newborn crawling.  

Coming home day - 49 days old
4# 15oz

My miracle BIG GIRL!

Sorry, You Don't Get to Do That!

Great, you shared a bed with your baby and they didn't die. But what about those who did.  Just because your baby survived the game of Russian Roulette you are playing with her life, does not make it okay to promote it for others.  Wonderful, you bonded with your baby because you shared a bed.  So did I and they slept in a crib.  You don't get to tell me what a selfish lazy mommy I must have been.  You just DON'T!!


You don't get to judge me because I am actively pushing for safe sleeping in one of Milwaukee's poorest neighborhoods.  You DON'T get to call me a bad mommy because I let my babies develop the self-confidence to sleep alone.   YOU DON'T GET TO JUDGE ME!  Keep your malicious comments to your own Facebook page.  If you don't agree with the research and the stories on Pleasant Dreams, Sleep Tight, then move along sister, no one is keeping you here.  YOU DON'T GET TO CALL ME A BAD MOMMY BECAUSE I DID NOT BREAST FEED MY BABIES.  What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?  Obviously leaving them with out a mommy because I suffered ANOTHER 28 minute tonic-clonic seizure because I did not take my meds so I could safely breast feed my baby would be against AMA.  Oh yeah, my docs also frown on not taking my bp meds and aspirin...something about a heart attack or stroke or something.  Funny thing those prolapsed valves.  My children are all bonded to me, a bit more than I would like some days, like when I am grading papers and there are 2 on my lap smiling.  My super uterus brought my littlest into the world with a super cord, when conventional wisdom said the cerclage were NEVER hold so late in the pregnancy.  YOU DON'T GET TO JUDGE.   Yeah, you glowed through your whole pregnancy, once you got past the 'vaoprs' brought on by the first tinges of naseau.  Me, nope, I glowed from the violent vomiting for my entire pregnancies, oh wait, that was sweat and tears.  Zofran became my buddy and cut my hospitalizations by half once it was approved for OB patients.


We have a problem in Milwaukee.  BABIES ARE DYING.  Our infant mortality rate rivals that of developing countries and some third world countries.  Instead of calling me names, FIND A FRICKING SOLUTION!  Sorry you are offended by the ad campaign that came out this week.  GUESS WHAT?  As they were unveiling that ad campaign, firefighters were working on a 7 week-old who died from a  co-sleeping death.  How is that for tragic irony?  IT WAS A PREVENTABLE DEATH!  Stop judging, stop name calling and help.  If shock and awe saves a life, I am all for it.  As much enjoyment as you got out of posting that crap on my FB page, I got just as much out of it by deleting your post and blocking you from the page.  You are not helping anyone.  Be part of the solution, not a noisy clucking hen.


Google (or just click on the links) Milwaukee Infant Mortality rates or 53210 infant deaths or co-sleeping deaths Milwaukee and tell me what your great idea is to reverse this trend.  Make a difference, not a judgement.  You are not the Big Guy.  He will be the judge of me.  Get off your damn high horse and save a baby's life. 

Wish me luck, YET AGAIN!

Ummm, in theory, the Maytag Man will be waiting at my house in an hour when I get home from school. I guess they did not like a random firewife fussin' on her blog. I got a phone call and an email within 24 hours of business opening AND an appointment.  Hopefully it is something they can FIX TONIGHT!


Send your good juju my way.  I need it!










UPDATE - 1559 CST - YEAH, it works again.  As I suspected, a belt slipped off and it was a 30 minute fix.  Please let it stay running now, please.

My Poor 6th Grader

It must absolutely horrible to have your mom in school with you.  My kids survived having Daddy in their school, but it is totally different for middle and high school.  SEVEN YEARS of mom having total access.  Poor N!  Today was one of those days.  


We are at the end of the first term.  All of our kids (6-12) are required to do so much service per term and reflect upon it.  Since this comes from my department, I am a bit of a stickler about it.  N had no issues doing the actual work. Most kids are begging for some service, N did beautifully with it. He organized a neighborhood clean-up day for our neighborhood, got his friends excited about helping just because they can.  Continued that work over two weekends at my Dad's and took care of his yard, saving my Dad a lot of time and stiffness. It was very cool.


But...


Mom's a teacher...


and she made him spell neighborhood  and patience correctly.  GASP!  

If you could imagine the drama that ensued of those two misspellings and the suggestion of the Middle School Dictionary from the resource area of my classroom, you would giggle. 


Me, I am tired of it.  I let him live, but I made him interrupt Daddy who was studying before his classes at County Grounds.  Think that phone call was worse.

Maytag? It's Me, Trina. Can You Hear Me?

So, if you have read this blog in the last 2 months, you have probably gotten sick of my fussing about Maytag.  I have tried to play nice, I have tried being a snotty customer, I have tried to speak with someone in this hempisphere, I have tried their Facebook page (from which they have taken the discussions links down).  I have tried everything I can think of, shy of an all out media campaign.  

I think part of the problem is disappointment.  This was my first shiny new laundry set.  Our first set came from a teacher when I was student teaching.  It was the avacado green from the 60s, Maytag, ironically.  And we loved it.  No more trips to the laundromat.  Ahhhhh.  So nice.  And from there it was hand-me-downs and rebuilts.  But, finally I had a bright shiny new front loading set.  And it broke...within a few months.



Guess what, it is broken - AGAIN!  We had issues with the washer, then the drain to which it drains wasn't draining.  I finally get back to laundry and it stops working.  On Monday, I threw in enough laundry to get us through the week, until I could play catch up.  The first load, I did on my own.  No issues.  When it came time to toss the 2nd load into the dryer, from the washer, I asked my hubby to do it.  When he came back up, he commented on how it was really wet.  I guessed that he simply forgot to hit the 'Max Extract' button so it seemed wetter than usual.  Today, I decided to tackle laundry, even with the headache and medicine head going on. 



I get the first load out of the washer and once I get INTO the load, the middle, it is SOPPING wet.  Hmmm, that is really odd.  I put in load number 2, girls' comforters and move about my business.  About 20 minutes into the load, I head down to get food from the pantry and I notice that the washing machine is not spinning.  I literally stood there and stared.  What is going on?  I decide to hit the 'Drain and Spin' cycle, water did come out, but yeah, no spinning.


So you'd think this was a Blue shift, given my luck, but it is actually a RED shift.  BUT, seeing as my hubby is not a cubby anymore, he put in for OT and got it.  So maybe it is not the shift, it is just when J is gone...hmmm.  


So, it is a Saturday.  Tomorrow, I will drive 45 minutes to my Dad's and do laundry, just like my college days.  My poor dad.


MAYTAG SUCKS!  BUT, I am not the only one...  


And more...


And more...

Thank You Will Never Be Enough

Dear Heavenly Father, 

In every age, You call certain persons to defend the human family from oppression, tyranny, and evil. Since our founding as a nation "conceived in liberty," countless American men and women have stepped forward to defend our country and many others from aggressors, and to liberate those held captive. 

Today we revere all our veterans: those who rest in honored glory, those who still suffer from the wounds of war, and those who, with us, enjoy the blessing of living in the land of the free and the home of the brave. 

O God, thank You for the selfless sacrifice of these veterans and of their families. Help us to remember them, to pray for them, and to care for them. Please bring all our departed veterans into Your Kingdom, and console their families with Your unfailing love. Please heal our wounded veterans through the power of Your Holy Spirit, and give to all our veterans the satisfaction of having served You even as they have served us. 

Thank You for Your gifts of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. May we fight to keep these rights available to all. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen.

Veteran's Day Mass

Today we were supposed to join our lower campus for a Veteran's Day Mass at St. Mark's.  It is quite an impressive sight - 550 6-12 graders walking en masse to Mass.  We have police to help with crossings and for the most part they are all very good.  But today, it rained.

They shuffled our military kids, because it is so important to their families, but the rest of us carried on like normal.

One by one my juniors paraded in, first to check on what they missed in class (I have them so well trained) and second to tell me how ADORABLE my daughter with the curls is.  Really?  Again?

I heard them out, and this time - she actually was.  She was adorable, absolutely adorable.  When she went up during the Eucharist to be blessed, she asked the Eucharistic minister to not worry about blessing her, but send those blessings to the soldiers, because they needed it more.

Makes my heart melt and my chest fill with pride.  I wish we could have gone to mass.

Please say a prayer for our armed forces and the families that they leave behind.  A prayer for their safety and a prayer of Thanksgiving for the sacrifices they are making.

Found this and had to share!

Hey, Jealousy

Yup, I feel it rearing its ugly head.  J's year-on party is tonight. It is a glorious celebration.  The class of 07-26-10 has survived their Cub year.  And that was hard for J.  He is at a house of cave men.  Where most of the other Cubs were let off of some of their cubbie duties, the Cubs at 2s were not.  They were still doing housework all day, still banned from the TV, still expected to speak only when spoken to at dinner.  They were never released from that bondage the way their classmates were, unless they were at another house.  That was especially hard for my hubby.  He is older than his peers.  He is the proverbial nice guy, who took it personally when he was sworn at or called out on something silly.  And yet, he made it.  Now he can nap when he wants to, he does not have to clean 6 bathrooms by himself (joys of being at HQ), he does not have to miss Packer games because they fall on his shift.  He made it. He survived. It deserves to be recognized.  

J more than earned this year on party.  BUT, no spouses allowed.  It is their official welcoming into the "brotherhood."  Which I understand.  BUT, it is also the biggest gala night of the year for my school.  Our auction.  This auction brings in hundreds of thousands of dollars for our school. This auction allows us to keep tuition affordable.  I can't go.  All of my babysitters are going to be performing/serving/working at said auction.  Last year I went - with my dad - because it fell on a frickin' Blue shift.  This year, I just can't go.  No sitter, no date, no auction. It sucks. Once again, my life gets put on hold for the fire life.

But, I also survived this first year.  I moved my classroom, by myself.  I got all the kids to their new school, by myself.  I did Thanksgiving and BOTH days of Christmas, by myself. I survived hospitalizations of kids and packing up a house - by myself.  And yet there is no recognition or acknowledgement,  no celebration.  I don't need it, I guess. I just need a break.  My hubby was awesome and took the kids to his parents last week so I could grade papers.  That was a break, but really, grading papers is nothing fun.  It is work. 

It stings.  Once again, I am left behind.  I love my kids, but I would love a night to be a grown up.  I want to be part of this fire world.  J  was a Cub, he was kept at arm's length away.  J is not a party animal and is content to stay home and watch TV.  I am not, I need social interaction.  I have given most of that up.  And I am jealous that he has this night.  It sucks.  I am not proud and I have been trying to dismiss it from my head.  Luckily, I had the retreats to distract me, but now all I have is laundry.  J seems to get sick whenever I have something planned with other adults - it never fails.  Two weeks ago we were supposed to go  to Six Flags with another couple.  My dad was taking the kids.  I got free tickets.  I had it all worked out.  That morning, I knew it.  He woke up with whatever it was and it was gone the next day.  His graduation party - TWICE I cancelled it because he was sick.  Same thing with holidays, he is always sick or working.  Wish I knew what it was. I need people.  He doesn't and yet HE gets to go out, leave me with the kids and stay out late.  I am here - alone.  Tomorrow, he has to have a quiet house so he can study for a big exam on Monday.  So, I will be taking the kids to my dad's.  He also has a study group for said exam, which means yet again, I am get to do bath time and bed time alone. When he is on his 24/48s, it is okay.  As long as he is not silly and trading a ton of days and leaving me with 6 48s in one month, it is okay.   But this sucks.  I also know that it is made worse because of his paramedic classes.  Once again, he is a kid.  I need to make sure his laundry and homework are done and his lunch is packed.  But still - it sucks.

I am trying, I am trying...

I am just hoping he does not get sick for the Christmas Party.

Why is it all worth it?

This is why the sleepless night and two exhaustive days and sore quads are all worth it because of this...

What an awesome surprise to greet me when I walked into my room this morning!  This is why I love my job!

Wish me luck, AGAIN!

I teach at a Catholic pre-K-12 school.  I am the theology Department Chair and Church History guru.  What I am not, is the Campus Minister.  It is not something that I aspire to be.  I am happy being mommy #2 for a ton of kids.  I am okay being the hard nosed teacher who reminds them where the boundaries are.  I am HORRIBLY uncomfortable in the campus minister role, and here I am wearing that hat for a day or two.

We have all of our Upper Campus going on retreat for the next two days and it is a hot mess. This is the first time that everyone is going at the same time. The 6-8 graders will be working with the NET team for one day and our principal another.  I am working with the juniors tomorrow and the freshman the day after (our Campus Minister is bringing someone in for the opposite days) and our sophomores and seniors are on an overnight retreat.  Last year, I was a chaperone for the sophomore retreat, it was a relationship retreat and it was AWESOME! It was SO tiring, but the kids were great, it helped me build a relationship with them for this year.  The leaders at the Tyme-Out Center were phenomenal  and I was happy with someone else putting it together and me working with my group of misfit toys.  This year I am planning, implementing and leading a day long retreat.  All day with 75 teenagers each day.  Let's just say that I am out of my comfort zone, especially given the fact that I was not given much notice. BUT, I had 100 balloons blown up (just so the kids can pop them tomorrow!), 10 large washers with 8 strings tied to each for some teambuilding with tennis balls and solo cups, a really cool Glog (in my opinion anyway) for Run, See, Do, some cool reflective moments (I hope), some recently blessed class rings for the ring ceremony and a few good laughs in store (Again, at least I hope so).  And yet, I am freaking out as we speak and my hubby is at E2 for a study group.  My kids are acting like loons, all because I really need to gt something done.  7:30pm can't come soon enough!!

So, I chose a theme that revolves around humility, empathy, compassion and respect.  The verse I chose for the school year's theme reflects this as well:

As God's chosen ones, holy and beloved,clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness,humility, meekness and patience

~Colossians 3:12

It was a feeling that I was getting from our kids, something that they were lacking in their everyday interactions.  I am hoping that the next two days will be a good reminder for them.  My goal is for them to feel rejuvenated and to perhaps get in contact with their faith, while having fun and not realizing that they are developing their spirituality.  I took a lot of the games and activities from my days in Ropes and Challenges and adapted the reflection to reflect our theme.  I am hopeful that we will be able to pull this off.  Please wish me luck!

Verses to guide us from the Gospels...


"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you."

~Matthew 7:7

"Do unto others, whatever you would have them do to you."  ~ Matthew 7:12

"For the one who is the least among all of you, is the one who is the Greatest."  ~Luke 9:38