First, before any of my wonderful imaginary friends slit their wrists thinking I was leaving them out in some way - my "reply" email (get it, reply) went to a few folks who emailed me with concern in their typing. I had thought about a mass email to all of you, but dirty windows, legos and did I mention dirty windows distracted me. You know I love you!
Now, here's what accumulated in my dryer after a few loads of Pete's clothing. The boy likes shiny things.
~R
I'm going to copy and paste a recent email I sent to a few of my bluddies which will explain some things.
The answers to all of your questions is that "I don't know". I have gotten SO MUCH DONE around the house and I feel really good about it. I have a few more projects to tackle and then I will start the reconsidering part. I miss you all and plan to "visit" soon. Right now all of my computer time (what little I am on) is devoted to setting up our upcoming vacation.
(If you have no idea what that meant, then phooey on you and don't bother coming back.)
And for you visual folks, here's a few shots of our prairie dogs getting all hot and bothered because Spring is in the air. The white bubble in the bottom left is one of the underground viewing domes. My boys were in there just a gigglin'.
Love,
Robinella
Well Sarcastic Mom has taken the cake. Today we get to talk about our BooBs! My only complaint is that I have to post pictures of her boobs. I mean they are nice and all, but I kinda like my own.
My boob story began on Sunday, January 30, 2000. Pete came into the world then and he was yellow. Yes, I said yellow. He had jaundice. My birth plan was shot all to hell because I took the pain medicine after 14 hours of labor even though I swore I wouldn't and it still took another 4 hours. I let him sleep in the nursery, even though I swore I wouldn't. And you know what? The world didn't come to an end and we still bonded.
I was able to breastfeed Pete soon after he arrived and to this day, I am still amazed that he knew just what to do. He may not have known the proper technique, but he knew that boobs were his food source and he tried really hard. The lactation consultant came in and made sure we did everything right. Like, Lotus, I read all the books. Bought the breast pads. Stocked up on Lansinoh tit cream and purchased a Boppy pillow. These essentials I swear by even to this day.
Two days after we came home, the lactation consultant, who had been the one to notice the little yellow baby in the hospital, came for a visit and recommended a nurse come and draw blood. Yep, he had jaundice and a nasty little case of it at that. Me and Pete at 4 days old.
So we were given the "bili-blanket" and that didn't work. Held by BN. See him "glowing" and look at that umbilical cord remnant.
Pete was admitted to the Children's Hospital less than a week after we took him home. He had to stay in the incubator bed with the big bright lights (phototherapy) constantly on him and I wasn't able to hold him and breastfeed. Here he is being held by BN during one of the few times we could take him out for a few minutes. Love those glasses.
They brought in the big industrial machine breast pump and my swollen, engorged boobs produced ONE OUNCE of milk. So I had to feed Pete formula by sliding my hand and bottle through the cutouts in the bed. I cried and cried and they sent a nurse to help me with pumping, but my boobs refused to cooperate. An ounce here, two ounces there. Certainly not enough to feed Pete and help push the excess bilirubin out of his little body. But I kept pumping to keep the milk coming in and fed Pete formula through those little holes for 2 days until he was cleared to go home.
And then the marathon nursing began. Like clockwork, every two hours, I was in the rocker with him propped on the Boppy pillow. I never was able to pump and give BN a chance to feed him. I don't know why my boobs wouldn't pump, but as evidenced by this picture, Pete was well fed. He was 4 months old here!
We co-slept for his first four months and Pete loved that. In fact, I got to where I didn't even really wake up but Pete did! He'd scooch himself over to my exposed boob and eat away at my All-Night-Buffet.
My favorite boob story is how ecstatic Pete looked when he nursed. Eyes all rolled back in his head, and his free arm would beat my chest in tempo with his gulps. And I mean gulps! He was noisy. I always said I wanted a picture or video of it so that I'd never forget. I didn't get the photo or video so I will have to print this for my scrapbook to remind me when I am beyond remembering.
Entering our eleventh month, I woke up at 4am with a 105 degree fever. My right breast was HOT!! and I had red streaks that ran from the nipple to under my armpit. Turns out I had mastitis. How I got that so late in the game (this normally happens to beginners) I'll never know.
Fortunately, I realized what I had and went to my doctor that very morning. Any later and I would have suffered blood poisoning. UNfortunately, it was so bad that a normal dose of antibiotics and a booster shot of it didn't clear it up and I was referred to a breast surgeon specialist who ran all kinds of tests and did an untrasound on my boob. They were checking for cancer. She then cleared me of having cancer and gave me a double dose of antibiotics and sent me on my way. Hint: if you get mastitis, don't leave your doctor's office with a normal dose of antibiotics. Request extra and save yourself additional visits and cancer scares. At least that is what the surgeon said.
So we stopped nursing one month shy of my goal to nurse the whole first year. Let me repeat lest you didn't hear it the first time...the world didn't end and we still bonded.
That's my story. Mosey on over to Lotus and read more tit stories.
~R
...is not very schoolish. We play most of the day. Pete gets to learn a new math concept once a week. We use RightStart Math which does not use a lot of worksheets. It's more mental math. Each day we read one page from "Let's Read: A Linguistic Approach". He never liked phonics. And that's all folks.
Pete's 8. Pete loves to play and pretend. My boys spend the majority of their day outside - whether we are just hanging around the house or whether we attend local homeschool functions like park days, PE, museums, etc.
Rather than comment on comments, which I dislike, I'll just expand on them here.
Dawn has emailed me excellent homeschooling advice before. I love how she spent their younger years just reading to them rather than having them memorize facts. Unschooling is awesome and it's something I've tried implementing in our own home. BN likes the idea of unschooling but he needs a progress report to feel comfortable and Virginia requires testing. So to appease them both, we learn a little math and we learn to read. I've tried reading to them during the day, but they haven't been too keen on that idea, but I'm still trying.
Thanks Lisa for commiserating with me. It's tough. I commend you on your decisions, whether it was to remain home or not. What's best for you is what's best for you!!
Willowtree should demonstrate the proper technique for ass-whoopin'.
Holly, Joy and Sandy are no help but I appreciate their thoughts and comments. (Just kidding about the no help part.)
Jenni, you can see our "schooling" above so that explains that. We're loosey gooseys around here. We'll tighten up later, but for now, the school part is happy. And our public and private schools aren't so great around these parts. I'm not anti-school, I'm anti-schools-around-here.
Sandy did mention the 24/7 thing and I'll add "365"and that's really my problem. I just need to take more Robin time. Why do moms feel guilty when they take this much deserved and needed time for themselves? Doesn't matter anymore, I'm taking it. (insert evil laugh)
~R
You know, I've been (__) this close to sending my son back to school lately. I love him dearly. I want him home. I want him schooled at home, but he's really wracked my nerves these last two years.
What do I do? I give myself an attitude adjustment. I take myself out behind the house, give myself a good swift kick in the ass and move on. Have you ever tried to kick your own hiney? It's not easy and if nothing else, trying it will make you laugh. Until the next day when I need another one. I'm starting to like the ass-kicking. That can't be a good sign.
Anyway, I'm on the upside of the attitude adjustment right now and I feel positive - for now.
I wonder if any other home schoolers out there feel this way. How do you get past this? Will it get better or am I ruining us both? I'm sure it gets better,...right?
~R
(warning: lengthy post)
At the risk of getting audited yearly for this post, I felt it necessary to share this story and give hope to the millions of you out there who wait and wait and wait to file those taxes. (or at least the three who read this)
In 1996, BN and I were audited.
It all started when in 1998 we received a phone call from a collection's agency. We were very surprised to find a dollar amount in collections. After several phone calls and many transfers, I spoke with a grouchy old thing who informed us that we were audited by the IRS for our 1992 part-year tax return, on which I made a mistake, and owed the IRS $98. I was informed that the IRS was not able to contact us in 1996 and that we were sent to collections and we now owed just over $398!
Luckily, I keep all tax records for the suggested seven years. I still had 1992 in our fireproof safe. I pulled it out and went painstakingly through the form again. Have you ever filed a part-year tax form? It's a bitch. I found my error and actually noticed a second error. I didn't claim the "renter's credit" that I should have. Had I done it correctly, the IRS would have owed us a little money. What to do, what to do?
I contacted some IRS helpline. Guess what? Not helpful. So I contacted the legal liaison we had available to us through our employee benefits. They got me in touch with somebody legal in California and this person, this lawyer, said I could try to appeal but I probably wouldn't get anywhere with it and would have to pay anyway. Problem is, I'm hard headed and head strong. Think of me like a bull and be damn sure to get out of my way when I am wronged.
What did I do? I used a skill my Mom taught me. My Mom has this thing she does where she looks, on all accounts, to be very sweet and accommodating, while unbeknownst to you, you are really being reduced to a pile of shit. Have you ever heard the phrase, "Well, Bless your heart." If so, you've just been shit on.
So, I wrote a very "courteous" letter, two pages in length, explaining to the IRS just how easy it was to actually locate BN and myself (this is the dog dooky part). You see, in the years 1990-2000, BN and I were on the radar, so to speak. We were in the Navy, him 6 years, me 4 years. While BN was finishing those last two years in the USN, I was working for the Department of Defense. I used veteran's benefits (GI Bill) to assist with college expenses. BN also used the veteran's GI Bill. Each year I filed income taxes, both state and federal, with the IRS updating our address. The Navy, the DOD, and the GI Bill are all tracked using a little number that the IRS knows quite well. It's called our Social Security Numbers or SSNs.
I spent two pages explaining this to the IRS and then I wrote a check for $398 and sent it "in good faith" to the IRS with all of our particulars to ensure that not only did I get a return check for $398 but also for the additional $42 they owed me (remaining renter's credit). I didn't ask for interest and collection fees from the IRS on that $42. Nope, I just wanted my due amount. A check for $440 and a letter rescinding the collection and debt on our credit reports.
Just two short weeks after I sent this letter and "good faith" check, we received a check from the IRS for $440 and a letter explaining that we were in good standing with the IRS.
Don't let the IRS become a three letter word. Don't give them that power.
~R
When BN goes out of town, no matter how long the stay, the first day is always hard for me. The boys are wound a little tighter, the house suddenly has a void and I can't stand to be in my home the first day he is gone. I can live there on day 2, day 3, etc, but Day One is no good. I have to leave.
My Mom is the lucky one who gets to entertain us on Day One. I dropped BN off at the airport, tidied up the house, packed a small bag, loaded the kids and hit the road. My Mom is the perfect diversion for me. I love the way she smells. I love the food she cooks. I love the chaos that is her home. No matter where I've lived or how long I've been gone, her home is always the same. It grounds me.
My Mom has two mutts. Buddy and Ellie Mae. They've replaced me and my sister and helped my Mom get over the empty nest thing. Like all little brothers and sisters, they drive me nuts. My Mom does things for those dogs that I just have to shake my head at.
For instance, when she leaves for work, she leaves the t.v. on for Ellie. Apparently, Ellie Mae likes Dora the Explorer and Diego. Okaaay.
She's also the smart one. When Buddy is on Mom's lap, she'll run to the front door and start to bark, which makes Buddy think someone is coming so he gets up and runs to the front door. Ellie slinks away and runs back to Mom and climbs in her lap. She also hides Buddie's toys, especially the ones that squeak.
And neither dog will go through the door when it is open. Nope. They wait for it to close and then they use their doggie doors. So as the big sister, I like to hold the doors open longer than necessary just to see them sit and wait.
Thanks to Mom and the mutts for getting me through Day One and most of day two. Now I can't go to sleep because BN always checks the doors and even though I looked at all the locks and verified they are indeed locked, I can't go to sleep. Sheesh.
~R
