I want to be Sydney when I grow up...

Nine years ago tomorrow I gave birth to an amazing little girl. Nine years ago today however I was extremely unamused with her. Thus the story of Sydney Taylor and I was born...

I previously posted my love for Avery and how I had several losses before his birth. That being said when he was about 9 months old I was feeling awfully tired and sick...a lot! Having believed the old wives tale that you cannot get pregnant while nursing I was quite shocked to discover I was indeed pregnant. When we went to our first doctor appointment to see how far along I was (no period to guide us) I just about fell off the table when the ultrasound showed a baby...yes a baby...not a deformed peanut...an actual little person! How did she get there? When did this happen? I was so completely exhausted with 1 child this had to be another son of god! I do not, repeat do not, remember having the energy for anything that could have led to this.

Here I was 20 years old, pregnant, and completely scared to death. Avery was an easy baby so that did calm my nerves...but 2?!? I think this is why God chose this path for me. Being younger I believed I knew everything and I started to believe raising 2 kids under 2 would be a breeze...needless to say youth is wasted on the young...

Fast forward 5 more months and there I lay on my couch waiting to fall asleep but filled with excitement for my scheduled c-section in the morning. As I watched some trashy tv show I felt a weird feeling in my stomach...and then my back...and then I realized I WAS IN LABOR! WTH?!?!?! David did not believe me at first and then finally decided to rush me to the hospital when I started lying on the floor wailing in pain. We all know I am a hypochondriac but when your wife is 10 months pregnant and clutching the couch like a bull ride gone wild I think hesitation is best left to the wayside. 

When we get to the hospital they too agree I am in labor and tell me I went from 0 dilation in my doctor appt earlier in the day to 4 cm now. Because of my previous c-section and what not they decide to stop my labor so until they can get an O.R. ready. This was wonderful, no, not at all. I was allergic to the medicine and went into convulsions while still experiencing labor...awesome. I was then rushed into an O.R. where I laid naked while they prepped me. Now for my first c-section my doctor was out of town and another doctor stepped in and apparently he left his signature on my body because as I lay, naked mind you, on that table the medical team commented on my having a Dr. Gordon bikini c-section scar...nice. Do they not realize that besides one time in college laying naked on a table is not my M.O.? I do also have to add here that when we later watched the video of Syd's amazing birth we discovered that while I was naked on a table having people discuss my bikini line incision my husband was outside in scrubs making faces and some sort of cone head people tribute on our camera...classy.

After a short surgery a beautiful baby girl was born. 7lbs 15oz and perfect. She nursed easy. She barely cried and she was the apple of Avery's eye. She had come as a huge surprise and on her own damn time but she was perfect. 

I have always felt a child's personality can be traced back to their birth. Avery's birth was long and complicated like Avery if you ask him to do something...anything! Sydney came when she wanted to, some might say punctual, and after a bit of a fight with me. She also came when I was prepared and knocked me on my ass...this continues to today. There are many days with her where I still feel naked on a table with people commenting on me. I don't know how many people will admit they wish they had the chutzpah of their child but I will. That girls has balls.

Sydney is the most hard working, punctual, determined, ornery, loving, kind, and dedicated child. She surprises me every day with her abilities. She is also strong minded and will go up against me in a heart beat...she is actually one of the only people to go toe to toe with me in our family. She will also defend her siblings to the end. Never cross a loved one of hers. I pity the first boy to break her heart.

Nine years ago I never imagined I would have 3 more kids after Syd but I wouldn't be the mother to them that I am if I didn't have her. She makes me want to be a better version of myself. If I had, had half of her talents and determination as a child I would have gone far...but I suppose in the end I have...Thank you Miss Sydney Taylor for letting me be your Mom and all the glory that entails...

Avery...

Every Mom loves their kids for different reasons. They also love different kids for different reasons. You never love one child over another but you do have a different connection to each. My connection to Avery is different on many levels.

When I was a kid I always wanted to be a Mom. When I met my husband I tried to have kids right away. I think I mentioned before that I got pregnant rather quickly. I was over the moon. I read every book, went to every doctor apt and when we went to find out if it was a boy or girl we found out something much worse. It was a girl. She was very sick. After a long week of lot's of doctor appointments and tearful nights we had to discontinue the pregnancy. My life was in danger and she was too sick to ever survive. I was 5 1/2 months pregnant and 18. I have regretted that decision every day of my life...and always will.

I got pregnant again 2 months later. I lost that baby at 6 weeks. At the time I figured God was punishing me for my earlier pregnancy. It was very painful.

Determined to have a baby I got pregnant again immediately after that. This time the baby was healthy. This time the baby was a boy. This time it was Avery.

I got down on my knees every day and prayed for this baby. In May of 2001 my water broke and after 24 long hours of labor I ended up with an emergency c-section. I had a huge, gorgeous, healthy baby boy.

Avery was the first baby I nursed. The first baby I laid with for hours just staring at. He was the first person to call me Mom. I have cherished these moments with all of my children but you always remember your first.

Avery is sensitive. He is funny, smart, loving, kind. He loves sports and reading and he is very mindful of right and wrong. He still gives me a hug and kiss in front of his friends. He sits with his little brother Colby and does home work. He feels pain when someone he loves his hurting. He is an awesome kid...and somehow he is my kid. 

He has also been through a lot. He has had broken bones numerous times and a split eye once. He has a heart murmur and an undiagnosed seizure disorder. He lost his hearing in his right ear 3 years ago. He has also had a tumor in his arm that almost prevented him from ever playing sports again. Just this past year he was hospitalized for Mono and the doctors were concerned he had tumors attached to his liver. Thank God he didn't but it was a long road.

In the past 2 years of his own health issues he also watched his grandmother battle cancer and his grandfather suffer a stroke. He spent an entire year in counseling and suffered from daily panic attacks. Watching my child suffer was more painful than anything I had ever known...or wish to know.

Have you ever held your child in your arms and tried to explain God's reasons or that everything would be okay and not to be scared all the while terrified yourself? Sadly, I have.

Avery can't ever be counted out though. He will always overcome. He has the spirit and the determination to go great places in this world and I know he will too.

He is an amazing kid who doesn't need someone spreading lies about him or gossiping about him. He's suffered enough. We just went an entire month without a panic attack. It's been a long road.

I don't know how to take away any pain he has suffered but I will do everything in my heart to try.

I always thought God punished me for losing my first baby, and sometimes I still do, I have had 4 miscarriages, but when I look at Avery, Sydney, Colby, Rusty, and Shelby I know he didn't.

God took away but he gave me so much more...and he gave me the best first child to start my journey that I could have ever asked for...

16 months going on 4

Shelby believes she's 4. She believes she can do what her 4 year old brother can do plus more. She has no interest in "baby" things. She does not want to play with baby toys. She does not want to sleep in baby beds. She is a 4 year old trapped in a 16 month old's body.

Examples for the skeptics out there...She refuses to drink from a sippy cup even though she can't really drink from a regular cup. She would apparently rather spill all over herself than be seen drinking from a baby item. 

She takes off her diaper the moment she pees to alert me to her need to be changed. I tried to explain to her that I'm more of a "couple" pees Mom and it's better for the environment any ways but she just rolled her eyes. 

She's always on the phone calling people, or tweeting about her poop...it's all very over my head. 

She does not want to be "left out" of any family event...period.

However my all time favorite is that she believes we are having debates about her choices. "Shelby do not climb on that table, Shelby do not take off her outfit, Shelby you cannot go outside ALONE!" her reply..."Mom, Mom, Mom, MOOOOOOOOM, Googoo, blah blah...Dad.

1 broken bed = 2 aspiring gymnasts...

My bed is broken. Not in a "I have 5 kids" good time broken but more of a "2 little monkeys jumping on the bed" broken. 

Sydney and Colby are apparently prepping for the 2016 Olympics and my very own comfy rest place has become their training ground. 

To say I am amused is an understatement.

Yesterday was a pretty grueling training session apparently. When I crawled into the sweet land of nighty night, well after I should have mind you, I was greeted with squeaks, cracks and I am pretty sure a moan from the mattress herself. 

When I awoke this morning, well before I should have mind you, it was my very own back letting out the squeaks, cracks and moans. 

I would post a picture of lady lullaby (that's what I call my best friend, the bed) but she has asked for no photos please.

Apparently a bed can only take children making or gymnastics, but not both. 

We will be "putting her down" soon but before we do I am going to make those little shits train everyday. Someone, somehow is going to get some kind of a medal out of this and if it ain't me it's going to be one of them....

You have 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

Countdowns are big in our household. We have the infamous yelling while slowly counting down. Which is a personal favorite because it evokes fear and a timeframe. 

There is the holding my hand up with all five fingers extended and then counting down quietly, this is mostly used in public and getting down to a closed fist is not an option. 

There is the walk by countdown in which I start counting as I just walk by a room where I believe arguing is partaking. 

You can also have the 2 count, count in which you really only have to start with 1 and the child knows getting to 3 means loss of...well anything in close proximity to Mom

Counting has become our recourse because honestly it's "inappropriate" to spank and time outs are not feasible for a 10 year old, even with a dunce hat on.

I find that counting to five has actually become a strange habit for me. When I am in public I am constantly counting my children, which is five. I don't even know when I am doing it. It's almost like a strange turrets tick or Rain man scenario. 1,2,3,4,5 repeat 1,2,3,4,5 yeah yeah five, alright five. You'll see me at the pool counting to five repeatedly and then raising my hand in the air and counting backwards from five. It's no wonder people stare. Throw in a sixth child and I'm at a complete loss. 

Counting has even become a working strategy for me outside of my children. Scenario A. Person cuts me off on the road, count to five instead of chasing them home and driving by repeatedly to evoke fear (as if small woman in minivans evoke fear). Scenario B. Husband comes home and naps on the couch because he's "had a hard day at work"...count to five instead of "accidentally" spilling ice cold water on him. 

There are many upsides to this ability to count.

In the end something I learned in Preschool has really managed to help me in my day to day life. If only the other things I learned in pre-k would apply so well. Everyone could use a little more nap times, sharing and freeze dancing in my opinion at least...1,2,3,4,5 end

I hate Spongbob and his B**** Squidward

My kids have this beyond annoying habit of being incredibly active for hours at a time and then suddenly walking through the door and becoming TV zombies. I have signed them up for every activity, every camp, every sport they can partake in just to prevent them from morphing into frozen brained creatures! 

I know the "simple" solution seems like turning the TV off...however it is not. My politely asking for the TV to be turned off results in screaming, yelling and then tears, all which are mostly from me. Have you ever tried to reason with a zombie? There is no reasoning with empty!

My kids are only even home for a couple hours per day. They run around as soon as they walk through the door completing all of their chores and then simultaneously jump on the couch and zone out into some atrocious show about dance offs, or kids that live on a cruise ship...which btw where are these kids parents? Why does icarly live with her brother? Who is a complete idiot? Why are kids on a cruise ship with a weird British man who obviously hates children? What are the cable networks trying to infringe upon our children? Who writes these shows and why are they allowed to?

I digress...TV is for me. TV is my only, repeat only, escape during summer. I get to zone out while watching grown woman throw drinks in each others faces. I cannot have this disdain against my baby, my first love, my toshiba!

Alas, until summer is over and we joyfully return the chaos back to school my TV and I will part...for quiet sanity...but like all true loves we will meet again in that little slice of Heaven I call September...

The path...

As I go through my life I often wonder how my experiences are affecting those around me. Are my children happy? Do they feel that they have a good childhood? Will I truly ever know?

I guess you never really do know how your life impacts others, especially your children...unless they grow up and tell you they hate you but I don't think any of us are wishing for that revelation...

I know that my children have a better childhood than I did, not because my Mom didn't love me but because she didn't love herself (sounds cheesy but true). I sometimes wonder what could have been however would that have led me to here?

I truly don't know many Mom's who parent the same as their Mom's. I find that a lot of the Mom's I know, myself included, parent the opposite of their childhoods. Does that mean I will have children that have small families, may never get married, or *gasp* daughters that work outside the home? Maybe. I don't really know why most of my friends chose their paths but I chose mine because I knew that my Mom wanted to stay home with us but couldn't. My Mom wanted a big family for herself but wasn't able. I didn't make choices against her choices...but as she would have wanted her path to be...while still choosing my path


I wont discover my true parenting skills until my kids are a little more grown and have to make life choices. In the end, in regard to myself, I feel most of my life choices were good. I chose a man that loves me, I never found myself in an addiction, I have genuine friends and I try very hard to be a good Mom and to be happy. I think that's enough...if not more than...

Do you feel you parent the same or opposite of your upbringing and why?