and although we had grand plans of packing up the house for our upcoming move we were still in our PJs at 1. I finally made my way into the shower at 1:30 with my latte in hand (thanks mom!) ready to start the day before we blew it. We left the house at 3 on our way to buy cat food to keep our furry friends from staging a revolution.
We piled three kids into the van ignoring the complaints and whines. "I don't want to go!" they said. "Tough" was the only reply they got. Down the street we went towards petco while the kids quietly munched on granola bars and fruit snacks.
My husband passed the turnout for the shopping center. I looked at him with my eyebrow raised. There isn't anything else out there save the local airport and a few farms. Headed southwest he said, "I need to see the ocean."
So we did. Out to Port Hueneme we went, my husband hoping to catch a glimpse of the big ships in the harbor. No such luck, but we did find a nice beach with a swing set. It was chilly but sunny and we happily swung facing the ocean for a good 20 minutes or so. The kids screamed with glee as daddy pushed them higher and higher until they were so tired they wanted to go home. We walked down the beach in search of funny looking seaweed before heading back to the car and the daily chores we'd abandoned for an hour or so.
Sometimes we forget how close we are to the ocean. It's the reason we live where we do and the reason we put up with the ridiculously high cost of living. Sometimes the housing prices and the price tag on a gallon of milk make your chest feel tight, but the smell of the salt air and the sound of the waves reminds you just why you work so hard to stay put. I don't know what it is about the ocean that just seems to make everything right with us. We are connected to it.
When we got home we sat out back and had popsicles marveling that we live somewhere it's warm enough to do this at 5 PM in the middle of winter. The joy on the kids faces as they slurped at their popsicles made me feel...full. Things have changed a lot in the 6 years since my husband and I became parents, and really, they just keep getting better.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
6 years ago this morning I woke up feeling...funny
I tapped soundly sleeping Mr. stb dangers mom and said, "Honey, I think I'm in labor." "That's nice darlin," he yawned before rolling back over. "HO-NEY I said I think I'm in labor!" He sat up rubbing his eyes with obvious amusement. "You heard the doctor," he said, "We have at least two weeks, you aren't even due for three." "Well, be that as it may I feel...funny."
I got up to take a bath realizing the contractions were contractions and they were coming faster. I spent the next hour in and out of the tub and shower while my amused husband made phone calls to his office to let them know I didn't think it was a good idea for him to go to work today.
Sometime around 10 I realized I really really wanted to go to the hospital. I think my husband was actually starting to take me seriously at this point because he started throwing things into a bag with a simple okay. Just when I finally thought I was getting out of there the doorbell rang. "Delivery!" How appropriate, our new baby's furniture had arrived. I had to wait another 15 minutes scared out of my mind while they hauled the furniture up two flights of stairs and into the small nursery we'd lovingly painted yellow with multicolored moons and stars.
Finally around 10:30 we left for the hospital. I'd been in labor for about 4 hours. We got to the hospital, found a place to park and made our way up to the maternity ward. My husband winked at the nurse and said, "My wife thinks she's in labor." She looked in her computer and said, "Well you aren't due for another three weeks (yes, tell me something I haven't heard TEN times this morning) but let's take a look. We go down the hall to a small examination room where she checks my progress. "Well?" my husband asks fully expecting to be sent home. "Hmm," she says, "She seems to be about 8 centimeters dilated"
At this point my husband nearly falls over. "I, um, need to go down to the car to get her stuff," he manages to say. "If I were you sir, I'd hurry."
Now on his way down to the car he is calling our family members and leaving messages about what's going on, one of which, the one he leaves for my mother, has become infamous. There is something about my husband stammering something about me being "eight cm didilated, I mean dilated" that can still send us all into roaring laughter every time we hear it.
Thanks to a doctor with a need to over manage and some complications it took 7 hours for little Danger to make his way into the world. He had his cord wrapped around his neck multiple times and meconium in his fluid which meant half the staff of the hospital was there to witness the miracle of his birth. It's amazing how that modesty goes right out the window while your sitting there spread eagle praying for a healthy baby to emerge from you.
And healthy he was and oh so small. I remember being afraid I'd break him if I hugged too hard. My normally stoic husband was reduced to a pile of tears. "He's just such a little dubba!" He exclaimed, a nickname that stuck.
It's hard to believe the 50 pound 5 year old I sent off to school with 2 dozen cupcakes was a 7 pound 8 ounce baby just 6 years ago. He's turned out to be a funny intelligent little kid with sparkly dark brown eyes and a smile that doesn't end. He was once a tiny squeaky newborn who relied on me for everything and now he is a not so small person who plays soccer and baseball and insists on getting his own cereal.
6 years ago I became a mother, a journey that has had its ups and downs, its thick and quite a bit of thin. It's a journey that has changed me in ways I could never imagine. I wouldn't change any of this, not for the wide world.
I got up to take a bath realizing the contractions were contractions and they were coming faster. I spent the next hour in and out of the tub and shower while my amused husband made phone calls to his office to let them know I didn't think it was a good idea for him to go to work today.
Sometime around 10 I realized I really really wanted to go to the hospital. I think my husband was actually starting to take me seriously at this point because he started throwing things into a bag with a simple okay. Just when I finally thought I was getting out of there the doorbell rang. "Delivery!" How appropriate, our new baby's furniture had arrived. I had to wait another 15 minutes scared out of my mind while they hauled the furniture up two flights of stairs and into the small nursery we'd lovingly painted yellow with multicolored moons and stars.
Finally around 10:30 we left for the hospital. I'd been in labor for about 4 hours. We got to the hospital, found a place to park and made our way up to the maternity ward. My husband winked at the nurse and said, "My wife thinks she's in labor." She looked in her computer and said, "Well you aren't due for another three weeks (yes, tell me something I haven't heard TEN times this morning) but let's take a look. We go down the hall to a small examination room where she checks my progress. "Well?" my husband asks fully expecting to be sent home. "Hmm," she says, "She seems to be about 8 centimeters dilated"
At this point my husband nearly falls over. "I, um, need to go down to the car to get her stuff," he manages to say. "If I were you sir, I'd hurry."
Now on his way down to the car he is calling our family members and leaving messages about what's going on, one of which, the one he leaves for my mother, has become infamous. There is something about my husband stammering something about me being "eight cm didilated, I mean dilated" that can still send us all into roaring laughter every time we hear it.
Thanks to a doctor with a need to over manage and some complications it took 7 hours for little Danger to make his way into the world. He had his cord wrapped around his neck multiple times and meconium in his fluid which meant half the staff of the hospital was there to witness the miracle of his birth. It's amazing how that modesty goes right out the window while your sitting there spread eagle praying for a healthy baby to emerge from you.
And healthy he was and oh so small. I remember being afraid I'd break him if I hugged too hard. My normally stoic husband was reduced to a pile of tears. "He's just such a little dubba!" He exclaimed, a nickname that stuck.
It's hard to believe the 50 pound 5 year old I sent off to school with 2 dozen cupcakes was a 7 pound 8 ounce baby just 6 years ago. He's turned out to be a funny intelligent little kid with sparkly dark brown eyes and a smile that doesn't end. He was once a tiny squeaky newborn who relied on me for everything and now he is a not so small person who plays soccer and baseball and insists on getting his own cereal.
6 years ago I became a mother, a journey that has had its ups and downs, its thick and quite a bit of thin. It's a journey that has changed me in ways I could never imagine. I wouldn't change any of this, not for the wide world.
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