When RLS Strikes

Have you heard of RLS? It’s a very annoying disease that is advertised constantly on TV because, for heaven’s sake, its keeping people awake! Restless leg syndrome is a VERY SERIOUS problem and nothing to be snickered at! Stop laughing, seriously. Or you may end up like me.

Last night (after a day that started at 4:45 a.m. and continued full tilt, without a break until 11 p.m., the second day in a row like this) I told Trent as we lay in bed that I think I may suffer from RLS. He said he thinks I suffer from “Squirmy Ass Sleeper Syndrome” and that I’m a hypocondriac. He may be right, but this lack of sleep lately is really making me loopy.

And it’s as if Lucy knows that I’m stressed out, that I’ve taken on too many projects, and she wants to make sure I know where my priorities are. So she’s woken up the last two nights in a row at 2 a.m. and proceeded to scream until about 4 a.m. Which gives Mama about 3 hours of sleep total, with only 2 of those hours being in a row. Which makes for one grumpy ass Mama. With RLS.

Last night during her second awakening I asked if Trent would go get her and give her some Tylenol, as I had to get up in about 2 hours and I’d tried everything else and when all else fails it must be teething, so TIME TO DRUG THE BABY! He got up and I rolled over. He came back into bed and she was quiet. For about 15 minutes. When the screaming resumed Trent rolled to me and said, “Hey, you may wanna go give her some milk and Tylenol.”

“You didn’t give her Tylenol?”

“No.”

“The Tylenol I specifically asked you to give her?”

“No.”

Then he rolled back over. And my head exploded. I went in, gave her Tylenol and she fell right asleep on my shoulder. Then, after I’d placed her back in her crib I stomped into our bedroom and hopped into the bed, pulled the covers off of Trent and smugly “harumph-ed” into my pillow. I showed him. I was right. And he wasn’t. Point, me.

Then my alarm went off.

Crap.

Best Laid Plans

“Hey, I think the baby’s up.”

“What, it’s only 6:18! You woke her up!”

“I did not wake her up, I’m late, I have to go.”

“Man, I had plans to poop and take a shower this morning.”

Proud

This past weekend there was a pinic for my new job. The quintessential summer work gathering, everyone brings their families and we all eat hotdogs and play games and some people drink too much and end up covered in mud after a heated tug-of-war competition. This was compounded by the fact that it stormed the night before, turning our cute little picnic area by the river into a bit of a swamp. The older kids were having a blast, most of them were completely covered in mud after a mere 5 minutes. It was a bit harder for those with little ones, as Lucy seems to think that mud is yummy and she would like to sit there and analyze each drop for 20 minutes. “Hmmm…this patch of mud is a bit swampier than the last, let me record in my journal and I’ll investigate when I’m back at the laboratory.”

While at this picnic, I mentioned to an unnamed source that these work functions were a bit more fun now that I have a family of my own and am not a singleton drinking large amounts of beer and sitting at the intern table with all of the 19-year-olds in town for the summer. This person responded with, yeah, but it’s still awkward being the youngest mother, isn’t it. I mean, do you see any other 24-year-old’s here with their babies?

That comment really stung, and, unfortunately, it’s stuck with me for the past few days. I think the reason it hurt so bad was because it’s absolutely and utterly false. No, I do not feel having a child at 24 is awkward. No, I am not embarrassed. It’s not like I’m living in the trailor park with Jim-Bob and our 4 kids and haven’t showered in 3 days and can’t get a job while good ole’ Jim-Bob goes out to the bar every night and blows all of our money playing poker.

Yes, I have a child. Yes, I’m young. But I would also consider myself a success story. I have a great education. A have a good job, a job that is a million times better than the one I had before and during my pregnancy. I’m supporting my family through a difficult time, both financially and emotionally. I feel like super-mom. Exhausting would be an adjective I’d use, but never embarrassing.

So to all you young moms out there, don’t let anyone make you feel bad or like a failure because of your children. Whether it was planned or not, I know that my child has made me more successful than I ever was without her.

Lucy’s Luau

Beer plus leis plus cupcakes plus one adorable little child in a pink grass skirt equals one hell of a first birthday. Yes, the celebration got out of hand, as many first birthday’s do. But we all had a good time. And I took a very long nap afterward.

grandma cindy

boys

kylee

cake

abbie

godparents

glasses

mara

Many thanks to Teresa for taking such great shots for us! You can see the whole set (there are a TON more) here.

(If the link doesn’t work, try clicking here)

Raising a Girl

This is an incredible article.

“How many men do you know are going to walk into store parking lots from now on wondering whether they’ll be snatched and their lifeless body left in the woods? Mugged, maybe. Guys worry about that. But not grabbed and disposed of like garbage. That only happens to men in a hellhole like Baghdad. Whereas, every woman I know lives each day as if what happened to Kelsey Smith could happen to her. It’s terrorism on a universal scale.”

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