and then there were eight

I've sat down to write this post about a million times, but i'm always interrupted by a screaming baby, a six year old asking me how long to set the timer for microwave popcorn, or a husband who can't ever seem to find his keys. This is my life. Every. Single. Day.

Anyways, as you may have guessed by now, Seanie Mac (his nickname) is here!! He was born on March 30, 2016 shortly before 2 pm. He weighed a whopping 8 lbs 3 oz and was 20 inches long.  I wish I could say that life with a newborn is blissful, serene and all of that other silly asinine stuff you see on a baby shampoo commercial, where the post partum mom is smiling insanely and already back to a size 2, but this is real life.  He's actually quite fussy and demanding, wants to eat 24 hours a day, and prefers to be held all of the time (don't we all) and the only person wearing a size 2 around here is the baby. But he's super cute and we adore him, so it's okay.

I will spare you the details of my birth story, unless you really want to hear it. Really? You do? Well okay then.....

He was born in the passenger seat of my car, on the freeway while my husband was driving me to the hospital.....just kidding, that was a YouTube video I recently watched.  Amazing video if you haven't seen it. My birth story isn't nearly as exciting. I was actually induced on March 30th because i'm antibody sensitized with some rare antigens that can hurt the baby. Since this was baby number six and I was seriously the size of a hippopotamus, I thought there was no possible way I would go to full term. Peanut was induced at 35 weeks because of my antibodies and low fluid levels, so I just assumed Seanie would be here early as well.

He wasn't.

As 38 weeks approached, I pretty much would've done anything to get him out. I tried Evening Primrose Oil capsules without any luck, I ate fresh pineapple everyday, all day long until my mouth went numb, had sex with the husband even though I looked like a giant sea tortoise who flipped over on her back and got stuck, but Seanie just wasn't coming out. My OB assured me at my 38 week appointment that he would be inducing me at 39 weeks.  Let me just add in here that when you promise a hugely hormonal, miserable, pregnant woman that you are going to induce on a certain date, dammit you better follow through!! But of course he forgot to schedule it and I spent two days playing phone tag with the scheduling people. Finally after leaving a hysterical "If you don't call me back right this minute with an induction date, I will find you and kill you" they called me back. Okay, so I didn't actually say that last part as the last thing I needed was to give birth behind bars for threatening a physician, but I wasn't taking no for an answer.  Luckily for me my OB agreed that Seanie needed to come out sooner than later, and scheduled my induction for the next morning at 6:30 am. Crisis over, prison avoided.

My husband was less than thrilled as he had just been hit with a really bad cold and felt like death, but I tossed some Dollar Tree cold pills at him and told him to suck it up, because my poor vagina could not take one more second of an eight pound baby doing the Mexican Hat Dance on my cervix.  We arrived at the hospital and the pitocin was started. If you've never had this before, it causes horrible contractions that come very closely together. They are much more painful than natural contractions and you literally feel like you're dying a slow, painful, torturous death. I tried really hard to skip the epidural but after five hours of screaming and crying through contractions while my husband sat on a comfy recliner sipping his Starbucks, I motioned for him to call the epidural lady ASAP (if memory serves me correctly, I believe it included a hand gesture and an F word).

The epidural lady arrived and within minutes I was feeling relaxed and comfortable. Since I hadn't slept at all the night before, I decided this would be the perfect time to take a nap. My OB left and headed back to the hospital to see some patients, my husband walked downstairs to the cafeteria to eat lunch, and I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.....for about 10 minutes. Seriously. Ten freaking minutes. All of a sudden I felt like I needed to take a colossal dump and since this wasn't my first rodeo, I knew exactly what that meant, Seanie boy was about to come out. The nurse who must've had "she's going to blow at any second" radar walked into my room and said, "You're fully dilated aren't you?" and I shook my head and said, "Yep, I think so".  Of course I was so she told me to cross my legs (this would've been helpful advice say nine months ago) and to hold him in as she needed to call my doctor and tell him to get back to the hospital. A few minutes later my husband came back from lunch and things started to move very quickly. Once you see beds start breaking apart and stirrups folding up and full gowns and head gear going on (birth is messy), you know that shit is getting real and you also know there's no going back. If you've ever suffered from severe constipation and you've pushed out a bowel movement the size of a bowling ball, this is much much MUCH worse so this is about when the panic and fear kick in. It doesn't matter if it's your first, sixth or eighteenth, it's a scary thing to push a human out of your loins (forget the head....think shoulders...shudder).

As luck would have it, Seanie was in the posterior position which means he was coming face up. It's not impossible to deliver in this position (I actually pushed our third child out this same way) but it's not ideal. The doc could not get him to rotate so we decided to forge ahead and at this point all I wanted was the pain to end.  There are a lot of jokes aimed at women like myself who have large families with lots of kids that by the time the fifth or sixth kid comes out, they must just fall right out. Oh how I wish that were true.  I pushed and pushed (and pushed) and he did not want to come out. At this point everyone is yelling at me "push push push push push push" and I wanted to "smack smack smack smack smack" everyone, but I was not in the position to do it, so I took another deep breath and pushed.  Seanie Mac finally came out after several pushes and since I was still somewhat numb from the recently given epidural, I didn't even notice that my lady parts split wide open during the delivery and the doctor did some lovely needlepoint work on my vag.

I'll leave you now with some pics (no, not of my vag...the baby...geez!) I have so much more I want to say but i'll save it for later as i've already had to take a million breaks while writing this post to deal with baby boy and his brothers. At this rate, if I continue writing, i'll be posting this birth announcement when he's in college. 

Me and Seanie Mac shortly after his birth. 

He looks like he's contemplating whether or not he got a good deal doesn't he? 

 Coming home pic. 

Don't let this fool you. He isn't yawning here. 

Rather, he's putting most screamo musicians to shame. 

My son can out scream you all!

 

This isn't a good pic as far as quality goes (dark room, cell phone pic) 

but it still melts my heart. 

 

Sleeping newborn...my fave! 

 Photo shoot via daddy....this shoot did not go as expected at all.

We bought a fancy outfit for him to wear but he freaked out and went ape shit.

And forget about him falling asleep in one of those lumpy newborn poses

....nope not our kid!!!

So we did the best we could..he was actually screaming throughout this entire shoot

but my hubby is a pro so he managed to click some shots in between screams. I think he did an excellent job considering Seanie is not a cooperative client. He hates diaper changes, clothing changes, and just people messing with him in general. Definitely our child. No DNA test required.

 At 7 weeks he is smiling, laughing and cooing at us. 

I'll enjoy it while it lasts. I have teenagers.

Growing Pains

Where do I begin? I seem to be averaging about a post a year which I know there is no excuse for.  For those still reading, I thank you. I will be better, I promise. Soon I will have more material than I'll even know what to do with. If you keep reading, you'll find out why.

So much has happened in the last year that I could not even begin to catch you all up. The shortened version is my oldest two teens had moved out to live with my ex so we were down to three kids at home which was very weird. Most would think three kids is plenty, but when you're used to having five kids and even one leaves the house, you start feeling like an empty nester (okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration but it really does feel weird).  Our youngest recently turned six so we were just getting to that stage where we could finally do adventurous activities as a family like roller skating, hiking, swimming, etc. I finally dropped the Depo weight and was feeling fabulous about my new body. I was taking dance classes and was starting to feel like an independent adult again with my own life.

The great part of being an adult ballerina...you can drink after class

Back to my pre-pregnancy weight and feeling great! 

I even found my collar bones again. I was pretty sure they disappeared forever

Oh and we even got rid of our french fried infested minivan and downgraded to a cute little SUV that I absolutely love!

Here are the younger kids giving our minivan a loving farewell. 

I had my own loving gesture...

My hubby and I even went on a much needed weekend trip to Seattle see one of our favorite DJ's, Adrian Lux. The last time we went on an overnight trip without children was over 8 years ago if that says anything about what it's like to have a small army of children and no family in the area.  I'm not sure if I previously mentioned this in a different post but my husband and I actually met at an EDM dance club over thirteen years ago. We both love EDM music (electronic dance music) and used to be quite the dancers in our younger years (at least the Long Island Iced Teas we drank told us we were good dancers. Luckily this was long before smart phones or YouTube might have painted a different picture). Anyways, we started going to EDM shows again and dancing the night away. I *almost* became a raver, minus the drugs and the crazy costumes because i'm not sure a bunch of 20 year olds want to see an almost 40 year old woman dressed in nothing but furry angel wings and a thong.

Then again we're not too shabby for a couple of geezers

so maybe furry wings and a thong it is (kidding)

 Another EDM show we went to in Tacoma..

Above and Beyond (best show ever) 

and no, that angel is not me. I would've fallen and ended up in the ER. 

Maybe next time....

Despite all of the fabulous adult things going on in our lives some things never change like my dog is still a giant pain in the arse who poops in the house whenever we leave, my boys are killing each other over the Roku remote as i'm trying to type this, i'm still basically a chauffeur who spends my entire day driving kids back and forth to activities but I don't get paid for it, Winco is still my home away from home and yes, they're still using the same broke ass shopping carts from 1949.

So, this is the perfect opportunity to announce that we (well technically me) are having another baby. Yes, we have officially lost our minds and baby #6 will be here literally any day now.  His name is Sean (we'll be calling him Seanie because we're really big into nicknames) and he'll be our 4th boy. Our youngest two are both boys so we were kind of hoping for a girl at first, and the ultrasound tech even told us at 12 weeks we were most likely having a girl, but genetic testing results came back two weeks later and said boy. And then I ended up needing an ultrasound at 16 weeks and any doubts I had that the genetic tests were wrong, were quickly laid to rest. He is ALL boy. Then we came home from the ultrasound and our 11 year old daughter started acting like Satan and we breathed a sigh of relief that this kid has a penis.

 Here he is kicking my butt just like the others...

this kid never stops moving so basically we're screwed when he comes out. 

Sleep is apparently something that only happens when you die and

knowing my luck i'll be put in charge of all of the children in the after life.

The only thing that made us somewhat relax was that we were down to three kids and felt like, "Ok, we've had four kids before. We can do this."  Sure, our new SUV would be a little tighter, but we would make it work. What's one more kid, right? Right.....

and then it happened. BOTH (yes both) of our older kids moved back home. Boom. Just like that we're back to five kids with one more on the way.  So, our house is once again pure chaos (not that it ever wasn't), our poor SUV already looks about 20 years old thanks to Peanut literally coloring all over his car seat, his new jeans, and the seat of my car yesterday (thanks assholes at Crayola who claim their products are washable), and although we have third row seating, I'm worried we'll have to start strapping kids to the luggage racks.

Much more to come so please stay tuned...

Burrito Point

You know when you hear about teenagers driving around town trying to find a private, secluded place to park so they can make out?  Me either. I was an angel, but i've heard rumors that these places known in movies as the "make out point" exist.

I had a make out point experience of my own the other day, except that it didn't involve a boyfriend, or making out, but rather a burrito.  Yes, a glorious, squishy, bean burrito of deliciousness from none other than Taco Bell (minus the onions).

Let me back up a little.

I was running errands alone.  I needed to have blood drawn at the lab and had put it off for about two months.  Before my lab orders expired and I had to spend hundreds of additional dollars for a rheumatologist to re-order labs, I knew I needed to get my hiney in there and get it taken care of.  I ended up with the one and only super chatty lab technician amongst a sea of serious, "I'm just here to steal your blood and don't want to talk to you" techs.  I was not in a talkative mood at all. In fact I  would've rather dry shaved my legs with a porcupine, rather than talk to anyone. However, she was so darn sweet that within minutes she had me chatting and laughing as if we were long lost BFF's. Basically she is one of those magical happy people that I am not.

Anyways, I gave her my blood and headed out to run a few errands.  By the time I started to head home it hit me that I hadn't eaten all day.  I felt woozy, dizzy, and discomboobulated.  We live down the street from a Taco Bell.  Typically when I go to this particular TB, I get my food and then park in the Winco parking lot and eat my food before heading into the grocery store.  However, on this particular day I didn't need to grocery shop, and I sure as heck didn't feel like going inside just to eat a bean burrito.  So I decided to grab my burrito in the drive thru and find a private place to pull over and park on the drive home.

You're probably wondering why I couldn't just bring my burrito home to eat.  You probably don't have five kids. Imagine a lion bringing a single steak to a lion potluck.  It's like that.  There would be screaming, crying, possible bloodshed and "Why didn't you bring me something?" and if I did bring food home it would go something like this, "But I didn't want a soft taco. I wanted a Dorito taco. You don't love me.  WAAAAAHHHHH".   Kids are awesome.

Since it was close to dinner time and I didn't want to drop $30 on a pre-dinner snack for a bunch of whiney kids who were probably at home cleaning out my pantry anyways, I knew what I had to do. I needed to park and eat.   However, I quickly learned it's not that simple.

As I drove up and down the neighborhood trying to find a secluded place to park, I felt like everyone was staring at me.  I was getting the "Is this chick a drug dealer or a creeper" look, or at least that's how I felt.  In reality they were probably thinking, "What is that God awful noise that her piece of crap minivan is making?" I pulled over next to an empty soccer field and started to unwrap my burrito.  Way too many cars were driving by for my liking and I just couldn't do it.  I had burrito eating performance anxiety.  I put the burrito down and drove around the corner.  A man watering his lawn (pretty useless when you live in Portland by the way, but whatever) gave me the raised eyebrow, "Who are you?" look.   Damn! That spot was a bust as well.   I felt totally creepy and stalkerish driving down these quiet, residential streets.  Would I ever get to eat my flipping burrito in peace?

Finally I saw a place to park that wasn't in front of someone's house so I pulled over.   I was going to eat this burrito no matter what, even if people were driving by and gawking or taking crappy iphone pictures of me doing it.  I'm not attractive when I eat burritos.  I'm not attractive when I eat anything, but especially not a messy, ooozy, cheesy burrito.

I unwrapped my burrito.  My hands were shaking as I was deliriously hungry at this point.  I took a bite as beans, cheese and red sauce plopped down my shirt.  My burrito was cold but when you haven't eaten in several hours, you would eat a Goldfish cracker that had fallen down into the ass crack of your seat and was covered in hair, dust balls, and an old Lee Press On Nail.

As I finished my burrito I looked around to see if anyone was watching.  I turned on my ignition and pulled away, feeling a bit naughty as if I had just committed a crime and was leaving the scene.   As I got home I hid the evidence in my recycling bin as I know better than to bring empty food wrappers into my house with five kids.  My recycling bin holds the remains of many of my solo errand-running rendezvous.  If someone were to open the lid and look inside they just might find multiple McChicken sandwich wrappers, empty soda cups, Dutch Bros mocha cups, Starbucks cups, Reeces Peanut Butter Cup wrappers, and a bunch of other scandalous items.   I actually feel much better getting this all out in the open. My secret is out. I am having an affair...with fast food. 

You know you have a lot of kids when...

I love having a larger than average family.  However, some days I have that, "Oh my geez, we have a lot of kids" feeling. I grew up with just one younger brother. One sib! We each got our own row in the minivan. My kids are practically seated on top of each other. Who needs car seats when you have older siblings to help hold you down? I'm totally kidding, so please save your hate mail if you're one of those car seat nazis.

If you think you might have a lot of kids, but you aren't sure, this is an easy check list. If you find yourself answering yes to most or all of them, then yes, you're right there with me sister. I must note that as a mom to lots of kids, it's okay for me to make fun of myself, but we moms of many don't particularly care for others who poke fun at us. So here I go...

You know you have a lot of kids when:

*You go through a loaf of bread in one day. We buy a loaf of bread for each day of the week. You can say we go through more bread than underwear. No Atkins dieters in this house. Sandwiches are a staple. My kids will probably grow up and loathe peanut butter and jelly.

*Your grocery bill costs more than your monthly mortgage payment. Forget about Cheers where everybody knows your name at the local bar. You get the same reaction when you walk through the front entrance of Winco. Despite making a weekly list and checking it twice, you always run out of something (toothpaste, toilet paper, Advil, etc). Winco becomes your home away from home. You could grocery shop and sleep walk. Not a bad idea actually.

*You have no inside voice. Yelling is the new whisper. Okay, so maybe Mrs. Duggar has that super sweet, "Come on kids. Let's go outside and enjoy the daisies" kind of a voice, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she's raised her voice at least once and said, "Come on kids. Get your arses out the door NOW or this bus is leaving without you."

*Your kids couldn't tell you what a leftover is. Food gets eaten, even if it's something the kids don't particularly like all that much. That's not to say we don't have enough food to eat, because we do, but leftovers just don't exist.  Let's just say we have no need for a dog. My 16 year old son does a good enough job of cleaning everyone's plates.

*You don't have an extra seat in your minivan which means you are unable to transport other people's children around. Rats, rats, rats.

*It's cheaper to just buy a yearly membership to the zoo, aquarium, museum, or pretty much any place that offers family memberships. In one visit you've pretty much paid the damn thing off.  And forget about eating in the overpriced cafes that are on site. Your kids know you aren't buying $10 pre-frozen hamburgers and $5 sodas for everyone. We save that kind of financial rapage for Disneyland.

*This brings me to fast food restaurants. A trip to McD's for our clan, can easily cost a small fortune. Add in Redbox rentals for everyone and you probably could've sent your youngest to college.

*You keep all of your baby stuff stored in the garage. You aren't planning on having anymore kids, but you know darn well the second you drop that stuff off at Goodwill, two parallel lines will soon follow. You will keep that damn Rainforest swing in your garage until the day you die, or at least until your mid 80's when you're pretty confident that your ovaries have dried up like raisins and have fallen out in your Depends.

*You will never ever own a family photo where everyone is looking at the camera and smiling. Never.

*If you have a large family and want to add to my list, send it to me and i'll add you to the list along with a link to your blog (or Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, whatever).

Sundays are like the Titanic

Weekends at the Peanut Layne household are peaceful, quiet, and tranquil.  We relax, reflect and spend quality time with each other.  And then we wake up.  Seriously.  It's more like the hubby and I sit on the couch like zombies, drooling on ourselves while the kids re-decorate our house into a big ol pile of shit sticks.

This weekend was certainly no exception.  The hubby and I always have good intentions going into a weekend.  We talk about how we're going to seize the weekend and get out and do stuff.  But then the weather usually ends up sucky, the teenagers bail to hang out with friends, and the 8 y/o has a soccer game and before we know it, Sunday has arrived.

I'm personally not a fan of Sundays.  It's a dreadful reminder of a new week full of responsibility. It's still technically the weekend, but it doesn't feel like the weekend because Monday is looming over your shoulder.

Our Sunday went a little something like this: I woke up around 9:30 ish.  The hubby probably didn't get up until almost noon.  We spent most of the day sitting on the couch discussing what we should do, but didn't actually do any of it.  We decide on pizza for dinner since I didn't do the weekly grocery shopping yet and i'm too tired to cook.  The hubby gets a brilliant idea that the kids should go pick out Redbox movies on the computer.  He tells them to reserve them online, and he'll go pick them up.  Five kids on one computer equals lots of screaming, shoving, yelling over each other, etc. I feel like I just caught a glimpse of what the deck of the Titanic must've looked like, when people realized there wasn't enough boats. Total chaos.

Somehow the movies get rented, pizza gets cooked, and the kids eat dinner.  They retreat into their rooms to watch their movies.  The hubby and I hope this means we'll get a few minutes of peace and quiet. The hubby and I were wrong.

A few minutes later we hear screams coming from our bedroom.  Our 5 & 3 year old sons were supposed to be lying on our bed watching Hotel Transylvania.  Instead our 5 year old comes running down the hall with a bloody nose.

Apparently Peanut had climbed up onto our massive headboard again and was doing a move that resembled something like this…...

while using his older brother's face as a landing pad 

We play paramedics, get the nose cleaned up, and get the boys tucked into bed.  All is good for about 30 seconds.  This time Peanut is screaming that he hurt his elbow (on his brother's leg).  Movie gets turned off, the boys go to bed, and i'm ready to perform a vasectomy on my husband with some toenail clippers.

I collapse into bed, but I can't sleep.  It was one of those frustrating nights when you start to think about anything and everything.  You know, things from like 15 years ago, things from yesterday, things that haven't even happened yet.  I was still wide awake at almost 3 am.  My autoimmune disease was flaring and sometimes I have trouble regulating my temperature.  Despite cranking up the heater so our house felt like an Easy Bake Oven, I was still freezing cold.  So, I decided to take a bath.  At 3 am.

There I was in the tub, with legs so mottled from the cold, that they resembled something like the purple people eater.   As the hot water began to warm up my body, I finally began to relax.  I filled up the tub and then turned off the water.  All of a sudden my serene moment was replaced with blood curdling screams.  Peanut had woken up (no, he's still not sleeping through the night) and he was running up and down the hallway screaming for me.   My hubby was still sound asleep.  I'm convinced he takes horse tranquilizers before he goes to sleep.  Who the f#@k can sleep through that shit?  My husband. That's who. Irritated as hell, I climbed out of the warm tub.  My poor legs began to turn back into purple people eaters and I managed to get Peanut back into bed and turned on some Spongebob.  I climb back into the tub and the water was luke warm. I wouldn't of expected anything else.

When all was said and done I think I maybe got 4 hours of sleep.  This morning I was so tired that I accidentally dumped the coffee grinds into my coffee mug instead of the machine and I don't even think I noticed until I was half way done drinking it.