Six Months

In just six short little months, our lives have become almost unrecognizable. As you already know, we had a beautiful, chubby, baby boy in March.  In July we packed up and moved the fam from Portland to our dream location.  My husband found an amazing new job in his field, and we were extremely fortunate to find a rental house right away. I should mention that finding a rental or even a house to buy in this very desirable tourist town is like an episode of Survivor. People will straight up cut you to be the first one in line at an open house!  Unfortunately our two oldest kids (who are technically grown now but they'll always be kids to me), decided to stay back in Portland, so we're now a teeny tiny little family of six. You're probably thinking that means we're going to have more kids, but I can assure you that there will definitely be no more kids in the Peanut Layne household. My husband finally got fixed a few months ago (I know, I know, took him long enough, right?) but that will be in a separate post called, "Bringing four kids to my husband's vasectomy" so keep an eye out for that one.
 

Goodbye Concrete Jungle

Hello Beautiful Desert!

My boys are no longer home-schooled. That's right ya'll! I retired my role as a teacher and sent my boys off to public school in September.

First Day of School

 

 And you know what? They absolutely love it! I had so many fears, panic attacks leading up to the first day of school such as:

Will my youngest be able to wipe his own butt?
Will they get lost heading from the bus to classroom?
Will they say something off the wall and crazy that only home-schooled kids would say?

Okay who am I kidding?

Will they repeat things that they heard their dear old mom say?

But so far they adore their new school and are already making friends. And I adore the fact that from 8:30-3:30 pm, my house is strangely quiet and i'm getting lots of one on one time with Seanie Mac. Speaking of Seanie Mac, he recently cut two new baby teeth, is recovering from his first cold, is eating baby food twice a day, and weighs more than a baby elephant. No, seriously, this kid is HUGE! He's 21 pounds and about 28 inches long, wearing a size 5 diaper and 12-18-24 month clothes. And my arms totally look like Popeye arms from carrying him around the house, but muscles are in so that's good, right?

My Big Bald Cutie Patootie 

 It's funny but I never realized just how unhappy I was until we moved and I was forced to make some major changes in my life.  Before we moved I was in a rut. I was lonely, bored, and miserable, but after nearly seven years in the city, I began to think that my life was as good as it was going to get.  But, I was so very wrong.

It's incredible how a simple change in scenery, putting the boys in school, forcing myself to get out of the house and make some friends, and finally returning to my blog and writing again, is helping me slowly find my way back to myself.  

And boy oh boy, do we have some amazing scenery here! It really does take some effort to be unhappy here.  People are so ridiculously friendly and one simply cannot go anywhere without having a conversation with someone. The cashier will definitely ask you questions about your day, and then proceed to give you a brief synopsis of their entire life story (sometimes complete with medical history).  I found this a little odd at first as I was rarely spoken to in Portland except a quick and forced, "Hi, did you find everything okay?" My big city attitude is slowly disappearing, along with the heavy traffic anxiety induced road rage. I think i've only flipped the bird once in the three months that we've lived here (okay twice) and that's a big improvement from my previous finger flipping numbers.

It's Easy to Love Where You Live
When You Live Here

 

And before you roll your eyes and think i'm living a Pinterest perfect life or something, i'm still not, nor will I ever be. This morning I woke up to my middle son screaming, "MOM, HELP" at the top of his lungs. As I dashed out of bed, nearly breaking a toe on the door frame in the process, I entered the bathroom just in time to see the clogged, poopy filled toilet, cascade out of the toilet bowl and all over my used to be clean floor.  So yeah, you're very welcome for that mental picture (I apologize if you were eating a sandwich or something). Instead of getting my boys picture ready for picture day (insert groan here), I was lecturing them on their excessive use of toilet paper, throwing towels down all over the floor to absorb the poop water, and Febreezing my bathroom.  Yes, some things will never change my friends.

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.

The Post It Note Anniversary

My husband and I recently celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary. We've been a couple much longer than ten years, but we dated for a while before my dear sweet hubby finally popped the question (yes, he was one of those "I'm never getting married" types when I met him). Over the years we've had some good anniversaries and some not so good ones. Then there are the completely forgotten ones, and yes, i'm also guilty of forgetting a couple of our anniversaries (men, you aren't the only ones who forget, or maybe you are and i'm just a really crappy wife).

According to tradition different anniversary years have themes.  The first year is the paper anniversary, second is cotton, third is leather, etc. These themes supposedly help you determine which type of gift to buy your spouse.  For those of you approaching your tenth anniversary, i've made it very easy for you to find the perfect gift because I decided the tenth anniversary should be called the Post It Note anniversary because if your husband is anything like mine, he doesn't remember a damn thing you told him. Ever. Unless it has to do with sex because then he totally remembers, but anything else, you might as well be talking to the dog.

Here's a classic example:
I had an ultrasound scheduled for 8 am on Monday morning to check on baby's growth, my fluid levels, and basically to see if he's ready to be born because my OB was thinking of inducing me this week due to some recent complications.  I've known since last Thursday that I needed this ultrasound. I probably told my dear sweet hubby no less than 50 times about this upcoming appointment. We've talked about it, i've explained my doctor's reasoning for it, and i've explained that he will need to take our daughter to school because I wont be back in time to drive her.  I made sure there was NO possible way he could forget about this ultrasound appointment.

Last night I informed my daughter that her dad would be driving her to school in the morning. Her reaction was, "Huh? Why?" but apparently she wasn't the only confused person in the room.  My dear sweet hubby turns his head and gives me that look. Those of you who have been with someone for more than five years probably know this look well. It's kind of a cross between utter confusion and the stink eye, mixed with the squinchy face, and add a little bit of constipation on the side. I gave him a chance to redeem himself, took a deep breath and said, "Babe, you know why. I wont be here. REMEMBER I have an 8 am ultrasound in the morning?" to which he replies, "Um no, you haven't said anything about that at all"

This is where I had to excuse myself from the room because spousal homicide is highly frowned upon.

I started to wonder if maybe it wasn't my husband's fault and perhaps he truly had a hearing problem and needed some medical attention, but then I remembered that the man can watch soccer, football and UFC weigh ins and remember every last detail for weeks so I don't think dragging him to a hearing loss specialist would be very useful. Besides who wants to pay hundreds of dollars for a doctor to tell me what I already know...."Ma'am, your husband's hearing is perfectly fine. He just apparently suffers from selective hearing loss whenever you speak."

 So ladies, save the expensive golf clubs for another year, forget about the stupid chocolates or smelly flowers (because seriously what man really wants flowers) go to Costco and buy an industrial sized box of Post It Notes. Write important shit down and slap it on his forehead (you can decide on the level of gentleness you place them on his head) so he cannot "forget".  Because if your husband is anything like mine, the next time you tell him about an appointment, a meeting, a birthday party, a sporting event, basically anything that doesn't involve him getting sex, he will look at you and say, "Wait, what? No, you never told me that."
 

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...

Watch Out Maddie, There's a New Dancer in Town

Tap tap tap. Is this thing on? Hello? Okay, okay so I know I totally vanished off the face of the blogosphere (is that even a word?)  I could give you my reasons but they are sad and depressing and who the hell needs that, right? Anyways, I'm back and better than ever with a few (a lot) more grey hairs than I had a year ago.

First off, I lost about forty pounds.  At least half of it was stress related, but hell, I'll take it.  With the weight loss came a big transformation.  As my depression started to lift, I started focusing on myself and my needs since everything has been nothing but kids, kids, kids for the last eighteen years (oh yeah, I have an 18 year old now…gulp).

I danced a teeny tiny bit in college and loved it, but then I got pregnant with child number three and pregnant women and ballet leotards don't mix, so I quit. I didn't think I'd ever get to take a dance class ever again, but recently I started looking around and there are actually quite a few options for beginner adults who want to learn to dance. Lucky for me, a friend said she also wanted to take dance classes, so we signed up together which made it a little less intimidating.

Although I signed up a couple of weeks before my first class started, I waited until the day of my first class to buy my dance gear. Yes, I'm a procrastinator of the worst kind (just ask my children when their school supplies or Halloween costumes are purchased). There is one main dance wear store in our city that is pretty much the motherlode of all things dance (tap, jazz, ballet, Zumba, gymnastics, probably even stripper attire although I didn't look--next visit).

Since I'm a big chicken and was too afraid to walk into the dance wear store myself, I forced my husband and two young boys to come with me. Much less stressful than going alone, right? Yeah. Sometimes these things sound better in my head than in reality.  Of course the boys thought it was great fun running around the circular racks grabbing sequined hats and feathered boas while I stumbled around the store being completely ignored by two employees who looked like actual professional dancers…tall, thin, elegant, and oblivious to the fact that I'm stumbling around their store like a husband lost in a lingerie shop on Valentine's Day.

I feel your pain Julia Roberts. We are the same.  

After I gathered up some nerve I walked up to the counter and said, "I need help" and one of them took pity on me and said, "Okay, let's get you fitted for shoes."  Of course I just had to wear my black flats without socks that smell so bad that you can't take them off without tossing them into the back of the closet, shutting the door and running away.  They are beyond Odor Eaters. They really should be burned, but I'm pretty sure they are flame retardant at this point. I have no doubt that my feet were disgusting and smelly but at this point I had bigger problems. Like how I was going to squeeze my sweaty, swollen foot into a slipper that was crinkled up to look like an elf shoe made to fit a Build a Bear.  I did manage to get my foot into the shoe, but my toes curled up and the thought of dancing in them made me a little stabby. So she handed me another crinkled up elf shoe that honestly looked the same size as the previous elf shoe, but she swore it was bigger and this time my toe went to the end of the shoe which I guess is how they are supposed to fit. Whatever. I did briefly notice that there were two elastic straps hanging out, but I'll explain more on that later. 

After the shoes she said, "Now you just need to go find something comfortable to wear" and went back behind the counter.  Yeah, she totally abandoned me. Bitch. I looked out into a sea of various colored strappy spandex items and honestly felt like I was going to cry as I thumbed through racks and racks of leotards that claimed to be adult sized, but looked like they had a better chance of fitting my five year old.  Let's just say that the majority of these leotards are not cut for women with breasts, especially women like myself who breastfed four babies if you know what I'm saying. Mmmhhhhmmm. 

I finally found the plain, more modest looking black cotton leotards that didn't look totally Mormon, but at least allowed me to wear a bra and then grabbed some stretchy pants. I was going to buy some pink tights and a wrap around skirt but after trying on the first leotard with some short shorts, I'm glad I didn't. Did you know that they make about a million variations of tights? It's really kind of ridiculous. My husband and sons had already abandoned me at the dance store at this point so I ended up buying the first outfit that didn't give me a wedgie and left. Who am I kidding? They ALL gave me a wedgie.  

When I got home I still had a couple of hours left until class. I tried on my shoes and couldn't for the life of me figure out how to tie the elastic straps. First I tried to criss cross the straps and tie them behind my ankle. Not only did my foot look like a pig in a blanket, but I'm pretty sure I was mere seconds away from amputation, as my foot started to turn fifty shades of purple. I wondered if dancers just didn't have ankles? Or maybe I  had cankles?  

In a panic I started YouTubing things like, "How do you tie ballet shoes?" Several video tutorials popped up. Thank goodness for YouTube for realizing that people are stupid. It took a while but sure enough I found a video with the exact same brand of shoes that I had purchased and it said, "How to sew the elastic straps on your child's ballet slippers" SEW? Say what? Of course the black swan at the dance store failed to mention anything about sewing as I would've laughed in her face. Or perhaps she did, but I was too busy focusing on the fact that my toes were morphing into curly fries to notice. Either way I broke into a cold sweat. 

This is some bullshit. 

I gathered up my sewing supplies and began to sew. It took me over an hour to sew down the straps on shoe number one but I did it. As I shoved my sweaty, swollen foot back into my elf shoe, my heart sank. I sewed the straps on backwards.  No, really. I did. 

I threw the shoe across the room and started to think maybe I should take up a different hobby. A book club was sounding pretty darn good at that moment.  I cut the threads and started over. I finished the shoes just in time as my husband was calling me on his way home from work to ask if our daughter was ready for soccer practice. Daughter? Wait, I have kids? CRAP! Yeah, that was my reaction as I was so focused on sewing my shoes, I pretty much forgot that I had a child who was now late for practice. 

The next hour was complete chaos but somehow the husband and kids made it to soccer practice, while I made it to the dance studio, found my friends and got ready for class. Since it was listed as a "beginner's class" I was expecting that we would introduce ourselves, learn the positions (which I had long since forgotten) and take things slow and easy. Nope. Not at all how things went.  As soon as we set down our purses, it was pretty much "Okay ladies, line up at the barre and repeat these sequences after me" as she rattled off about fifty moves at a hundred miles an hour, followed by, "And then we'll turn and do it on the other side. Got it?" 

Beginner's class my ass. 

I briefly contemplated spraining my own ankle in a feeble attempt to escape any further humiliation or injury. Three of the ladies in the group were experienced dancers, who had multiple years of experience. The three of us friends who signed up together? Not so much. I'm sure we looked like an SNL skit but we hung in there until the very end, even when she was yelling out foreign words to us like, "fondu" which to me means "Oh cool we're going to the Melting Pot to dip some bread and shit into a steaming hot bowl of melted cheese" but FYI that's not what it means at all in ballet terms. 

After class I couldn't even walk down the stairs. My legs felt like Jello Pudding Pops. The next day was even worse, but today, I'm feeling okay.  I'm actually looking forward to my next class. I'm not giving up and I will become a ballerina dammit, even if it kills me. 

Maybe for Sia's next music video she will need a future version of herself in which she's a bit older, saggier mom to multiple kids, sitting in the carpool lane in her pajamas eating two day old soggy crackers out of her daughter's lunch box. If that's the case then watch out Maddie Ziegler cause I totally got this. 

My before class photo and after class photo

and yes, I should've gone to the bar after class and 

maybe I would've had I been able to feel my legs...

LifebankUSA Facebook Contest

I was recently contacted by a company called LifebankUSA, to help spread the word about a Facebook contest they are currently running. 

If you've never heard of them before, they are the only company that offers cord blood, placenta blood, and tissue banking, and the first to release placenta-derived stem cells for a successful transplant. New Jersey-based, LifebankUSA is a technological leader that is pioneering key medical innovations in the field.  Owned by the Celgene Corporation, a world-class biopharmaceutical company, LifebankUSA also operates a robust donation program and collects cells from anywhere in the US for use primarily in advancing medical research. 

As an expectant parent, your baby’s health means everything. Right now, he or she is protected in the womb and will soon enter the world. There is a lot to think about and prepare for, but an invaluable step you can take when your child is born is to preserve his/her stem-cell rich cord and placenta blood The ability of stem cells to save lives via cord blood banking has proven successful for replacing abnormal or diseased cells, and treating life-threatening blood disorders such as leukemia, lymphoma, and myeloma.  

On a personal note, I wanted to talk about my older brother Shaun for a minute. I never got the opportunity to meet him, as he died just three months before I was born from leukemia. He was only six years old at the time (diagnosed at age three).  This was almost forty years ago when cord blood banking unfortunately wasn't an option for expectant parents.  We are so lucky to have this opportunity today. 

When you bank with LifebankUSA, we include tissue banking (tissue from the placenta).* Placental tissue contains mesenchymal cells (MSCs) and MSC-like cells. While stem cells found in cord blood and placenta blood have been used to successfully treat patients, there are currently no approved uses for stem cells derived from the umbilical cord or placenta tissue. Possible therapeutic applications are in early research stages and LifebankUSA's parent company is actively involved in their development.

LifebankUSA will store the placenta tissue for you as part of our complete banking package using our cryogenic tanks for long-term preservation. In the event your baby's tissue cells are ever needed for future therapies, the tissue may then be processed and cultured using available technology at that time.†  Tissue banking is just one more layer of protection and peace of mind offered by LifebankUSA.

*Storage fees apply 

†Clients will be responsible for the cost of shipping the tissue and any culturing or expansion of the cells.

To enter the LifebankUSA Peace of Mind contest please click HERE and "like" their Facebook page. Then be sure to enter the drawing for your chance to win $500 OFF Cord Blood Banking! 

*LifebankUSA sent me a gift card in exchange for this post. 

Why some people (me) shouldn't wear make up

I've been feeling a little down in the dumps about my looks lately. I don't take care of myself. I do bathe daily, but other than that, I don't do anything to help myself out in the glamour/fashion department. I wear ugly pajamas that would probably get me arrested for indecent exposure if I wore them out in public (which I don't, except if you count dropping off and picking up kids but I don't get out of the car for that...although I totally should). My hair has gotten crazy long and a bit out of control, yet I do nothing to it except pull it back.  I never wear make up. I guess I've just gotten lazy.  I've gained a lot of weight and have like two pairs of pants that fit and I hate them both, and when you don't feel confident in what you're wearing, you just kinda stop trying or caring. 

Recently I decided to do something nice for myself and ordered some mineral make up. I used to wear it years ago, but ran out and just never ordered more (which is seriously the last time I probably wore any).  Today I needed to run a few errands so I put on my ugly clothes (haven't had a chance to do anything about those yet), put my long, boring hair in a ponytail (shut up), and was ready to walk out of my bathroom when a little voice in my head said, "Maybe you should put on some make up".   

So that's exactly what I did. 

It's a three step process so there is a concealer, the light foundation in the palest color possible (sadly I'm whiter than my toilet paper), and finally the blush.  

I thought that I had put on the foundation and started to reach for the blush to finish off the job, when I glanced at myself in the mirror and freaked the f@$k out. 

I looked like this....

My face was purple. PURPLE!!!!  I looked like Barney or Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Somehow Harold had snuck into my bathroom and colored all over my face with his damn purple crayon! 

I was about two seconds away from sitting down at my MacBook to write a super nasty complaint to my Ebay seller about how their foundation turned me into a purple people eater (yes, I'm too cheap to order it from an actual company), when I noticed the words "Sweet Cheeks" on the lid. I had covered my entire face with BLUSH instead of the foundation.  Cause I'm a genius. 

After realizing my blunder, I needed to get the purple off so I started to scrub. I wasn't purple anymore, but I now looked like this....

My face is now a deep shade of maroon from being scrubbed really hard, and I look like I have a fever/flesh eating virus. I'm about to head out to go shopping and I'm feeling super sexy. I may even frighten some small children. I'm so glad I decided to buy some make up to help me build my self confidence back.  Best decision ever.