Five Question Friday! (my very 1st one, aww)

1. Do you prefer cotton, silk, or flannel sheets?

Siiiiiilk. Not because I'm some sexaholic who enjoys the feel against my nakie body, though. I know, you're dissapointed. I just love how uhm, silky it is. There really isn't another word to describe it.

2. What time zone are you in?

Eastern. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

3. What is your favorite part of the holiday season?

FOOOOOOOOD. Okay, let me be more specific. Baked goods! I just love food in general. But all of the delicious things that come out during this season is Godly. Peppermint ice cream has got to be my absolute favorite (although it isn't baked). I guess peanut butter balls could be made year round, but it doesn't feel like Christmas without them (you don't bake those either). Okay, let me just stick with saying that TREATS are my favorite part of the holiday season.

4. What is your favorite "wintry" drink? (It doesn't have to be an "alcoholic" drink!)

Egg nog, but not the alcoholic kind. Although I do enjoy a nice hot chocolate with marshmallows and a candy cane on the side as well. Can I pick two?

5. In your opinion, what is the worst job in the world?

There are so many jobs in the world that would qualify for this. President, Government officials, firefighters, police officers... dentists. There is no way I could hang my face in a strangers mouth all day. And of course, pizza delivery drivers.

Big gaping holes are FUN.

Fo rizzle. Is it even cool to talk like that anymore? If you remember correctly, I was being electricuted every 10 minutes by my own freaking tooth. And it went on for, oh, 3 weeks? I finally found a dentist but the a-hole REFUSED to take only 1 tooth.

The following is EXACTLY what was said between us. No joke.
Okay, I'm joking but this is what my brain on pain killers heard.

A-hole: I know you're dying and you have 2 kids who depend on you 24/7 but I'm a jackass who wants to take TEN of your teeth. Because I can. Because you pay me to do it. Because you're poor and you have crooked teeth. So of course I want to take your front teeth, even though braces could fix those. You're already 21 and on the verge of death so let's get those bad boys out. You're used to purees anyways, right? Since you know, you're dying and here you are in my chair on the verge of tears because of the pain? Let's reschedule you in to take TEN of those bad boys out. Oh, and don't worry, it'll only cost you rougly 3,000 dollars. See how AWESOME I am?!

Me on drugs: crickets chirping. I get out of the damn chair and I go back to the waiting room where Paisley is being cute and Jasper's being cuter and hubs is sitting. I start crying because of a-hole.

We finally found a dentist who was willing to work with me. THANK THE TOOTH FAIRY FOR DENTALWORKS. Seriously, these bastards give you what you want. And it doesn't hurt that the man smelling my stank breath and chopping my teeth up was fun to look at. Although, I tend to shut my eyes while getting dental work. Are you supposed to close your eyes? I'm not sure how that works, but I feel like whoever is torturing my mouth probably doesn't want me staring them down. So I close my eyeballs. I hope that isn't rude.

So good looking dentist got me nice and comfy. He even even numbed my gums with some pink liquid on a q tip. How nice. He let that settle then he started asking me if this hurt and that hurt and yadda yadda. He warned me about the pressure. Then come the needles. The needles that go in your gums up under your teeth and OH THE PAINNNNN. What, no pain? Only one spot hurt. It was just a pinch, though.  So some time passes and all I'm feeling is pressure. That's it. And before I know it, my 2 teeth were gone. They took my 2 worst out (both were decayed and unrestorable). And I felt GOOD.

I've had a temporary crown on one of my teeh for oh, 8 years maybe?! Those things are meant to last for like 6 months maybe. Mine is still in tact. Mr. Goodlooking had to remove the crown and put it back on or else while taking one tooth out, it could have busted. They didn't even charge me for that. THEY REDID A CROWN FOR FREE. How sweet!
Then it was time to go and mr. goodlooking gave me a couple prescriptions and I opened my fatass swollen mouth to tell him that I was breastfeeding. So Mr. Goodlooking kind of turned into another a-hole and snatched the scripts from me. I called later and told them that I could at least take the Ibuprofen and they happily sent the script over to my local pharmacy.

I spent the rest of the day in pain and I was in full blown bitch mode. KIDS GET AWAY FROM ME I'M DYING. I'M DYING FOR JUST ONE MORE DAY AND THEN YOU CAN TORTURE ME. JUST LET ME DIE FIRST. I've also lost 5 pounds. I've been trying so damn hard to GAIN weight. I finally got up to 110 (eating junk food and fast food and only drinking soda and sweet tea is hard work.) and now I'm back down to 105. But, that just means that once I'm able to eat again, hubby must bring me cheeseburgers and large sweet teas after work. At 1 in the morning. That's seriously the best time to eat a hot a juicy burger. After you've already been asleep. I can taste it now.

Now I'm recovering and I can't use a straw and I can't even eat and I miss food. I haven't taken any pain meds today. I'M PAIN FREE. For the first time in 3 weeks, I feel no pain. I just feel 2 giant ass holes in my mouth that could explode and pour blood at any moment. I even slept with my head elevated last night. Please Tooth Fairy, let me okay like tomorrow. And make my toddler stop screaming at me at the top of her lungs.

I needed a week to recover. Too. much. corn.

Last Saturday was an adventure. My friend Alex and I packed up our 3 kids and headed to the balloon release. Once that weight was lifted off my shoulders, we headed for a corn maze. The first corn maze I have ever been to. And let me be the one to say that they are NOT meant for small children. A 2 year old, a 9 month old, and a 6 month old can't exactly comprehend that this is supposed to be "fun." I, too, found it hard to call this fun.

We pull into the parking lot and we're so effing excited. We grab the babies, strap the boys to our chests, and throw P in the stroller. The single stroller. With 3 kids. We kick ourselves in the tushies about 10 minutes later for not bringing the double stroller. But at this point, we're stoked. We go get our free waters and we head to the opening of this fun and exciting corn maze! We're still excited. We're excited and we start making turns. We're giggling and its fun. Jasper is passed out because he's got the boob in his mouth and the boy can sleep for hours like that. Which he did. Paisley is in the stroller talking and drinking her juice and she's happy. Harrison is on his mommys back and he's giving me the eye the whole time but he's happy so it's all good.

Didn't we just pass that sign? The one about the stupid corn. Wait, they're all about corn. This one is asking us what kind people like to eat in the summer time. Sweet corn, duh. That was our answer 10 minutes ago. We took a left, because our answers always tell us to go left. Apparently you can only take so many lefts before you end up at the starting point. Which we did. About 5 times. Making circles in 80 degree weather with a nearly 30 pound kid on your chest is FUN. And did I mention that I was wearing my adorable suede boots? Which ended up covered in red clay mud and are now drip drying over my bath tub? FUN. After 30 minutes of this nonsence, we're ready to get out. We've about drank all of our water and we're stuck in the middle of a dessert with no source of hydration. My daughter has a sippy cup and I'm jealous. I'm dying. It's been 30 minutes and I'm dying. Now it's been an hour. Harrison gets upset so we're all "hey, put him in the stroller and let Paisley walk!" Really? Bad idea. Princess P is so distracted by all the beautiful corn kernels all over the ground and they're worth keeping. So she's picking every kernel up, studying it, then placing it in her pocket.  Weeeee corn! Mommy, corn! She is way behind. Like, far far behind us. I want to get the hell out of this place. ICE CREAM TRUCK! I swear to the corn God that I hear the music of an ice cream truck. They've come to save us. We made it. And then the music is gone. Paisley was taking too long and we lost the truck. (Although, it never existed in the first place, I swear to you I heard happy happy joy joy music). I try enticing the toddler to walk faster by holding out teddy grahams... it's working, but not fast enough. I'VE RAN OUT OF COOKIES. Oh, hi more corn on the ground let me pick you up even though my mom is obviously bitching about being stuck in your precense. Harrison starts crying. He's upset and he's mad and he's hungry and I don't blame him one bit. So we feel bad for the little dude and all we want is to get him to safety. Alex tries to give Paisley a piggy back ride. It lasted all but 10 minutes. We decide that we need to find a rescue team before we die in this desert and we walk. We walk and we don't stop for nothing. I let Paisley fall behind but so long as she's in my sight I'm content. I'm bitching and I'm complaning and I'm bitching and bitching and I'm calling for Paisley to make sure she's alive and I'm bitching. Alex takes the lead and she gets full effing credit. BECAUSE SHE FOUND THE PEARLY WHITE GATES OF HEAVEN. Er, maybe it was just an exit sign. Same thing in my book, especially when you're dying from heat exhaust and dehydration. We pick up the pace. We somehow found the energy to race for the ambulance. Er, I guess it was just a car. We're running. "PUCKIN PACH! PUCKIN PACHHHH PUCKIN PACH!!!" I hear Paisley shrieking behind me and racing towards the effing pumpkins. We can get one from Wal-Mart I promise. It'll be just the same. And I swoosh her up into my arms and I'm juggling the two kids and Alex has already reached safety. And I join her. And we're FREE. And we're still alive, if you can believe it.

2 whole freaking hours. We wasted 2 hours and 12 dollars and I'm never ever ever doing that again. Corn mazes are NOT fun.

And just as I promised, Paisley got her damn puckin pach from Wal-Mart and she's perfectly happy with it. We're carving it tomorrow. Happy happy joy joy!

Screw a corn maze.

A taste of childhood

We've made it tradition to go home to Swannanoa, NC every year in September. During this trip, we take the kids to a park within walking distance of the house I grew up in (where my mom still lives today). We plan to get pictures each year so we can have a timeline for each year that my kids grow. *bittersweet*

clicky click click

All pictures are taken and edited by my stepdad, Eric. They are also copyrighted so I am unable to steal them. Hmph. We need to work on that, G. So maybe one day I can actually post them to my facebook. Until then, this is what you get.

The pictures shown on here are from Paisley's 1st Birthday, last Year. I was 25 weeks pregnant with Jasper in them. Also taken by Eric.

I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.

October 15th, 2011. Today is the remembrance day of pregnancy and infant loss. Today is the day that I celebrated our second born. Braylon "Baby Bean" Townsend was due on November 11, 2010. He was born into Heaven on March 25th, 2010 at 7 weeks, 2 days gestation.

Brandon and I found out we were expecting a 2nd child when Paisley was only 5 months old. Were we even ready for another one? We were, we just didn't know it immediately. We ended up excited. We were ready, we wanted this baby. I was happy. And then, I ended up in the hospital. I was discharged after 6 hours of waiting and tests with instructions to get my pregnancy hormone level checked in 48 hours. I was diagnosed with a threatened miscarriage and it was no big deal. I even saw our baby bean on ultrasound, squirming around with a flashing heartbeat. I heard the doctor say that our baby was perfect. PERFECT.  Not even 24 hours passed, and I lost the baby. There he was, outside of my body. My body which should have protected him. I failed as a mother. I was afraid to take care of Paisley for a few days. I had an irrational fear that I'd do the same to her. I killed one baby already. I wasn't cut out to be a mom. After reassurance I realized that I had to go on with life BECAUSE of her. Paisley was still here with me. Still alive, and she needed her mommy to be okay. And I survived. I survived for her, and because of her.

Having another child wasn't in the near future for us. I strugged with the idea of "replacing" Baby Bean with another child, even years down the road. Brandon and I struggled... we weren't sure of what to say to each other for about a month. We were together and happy, but very tip toey about our words to one another. We lost all affection... how could I be intimate at a time like this? Two months passed and I was still greiving, but I hadn't seen Aunt Flow. We made an appointment to make sure that my body expelled the baby okay. We were rushed to an ultrasound and there he was. My beautiful perfect, 7 week and 5 day old fetus. Our son. Everybody was in disbelief. My doctor had no explanation, no words. We created a life in the midst of a miscarriage - impossible, impossible. But a blessing. A blessing from God. Our rainbow after a storm. Jasper Ray Townsend. My reason for believing. My reason for having faith. My reason to pray. My son, and my savior. And he lived. And he was due on January 1st, 2011. Braylons due date was 11/11/2010, Jasper's was 1/1/11. Tell me that isn't a sign. Tell me that our son being born on Christmas Day isn't a sign. A sign that God is looking out for us, and that God is taking care of our 2nd child in Heaven. A sign that I need to just put my trust and faith in Him. If I could choose anybody to care for our child, it's Him.

It has now been 1 year, 6 months, and 2 weeks since we said goodbye. I still think of you every day, I still miss you. I'm greiving. I blame myself. I blame myself. I can't love your brother whole heartedly because I miss you. But if I had you, I wouldn't have him. I'm torn. I'm so so torn. I struggle. I struggle so bad with the idea of hanging on to you. I need to step back. For my own well being, and for the children here with me on Earth. I need to let go. Not forget, but not obsess either. I. need. to. let. GO.

October 15th, 2011. I did just that. I was a part of a community balloon release in honor of pregnancy and infant loss. I held you in my arms today. Not your body, but your spirit. I held you and your baby brother held you and your older sister held you. And I prayed. I let you go today. I didn't get to choose losing you a year and a half ago. I didn't get to say goodbye or tell you I love you. I wasn't READY for you to leave me. I didn't let you go, you were taken from me. And today, I changed that. I LET YOU GO. I let you free. I let myself free. I prayed, and I told you I loved you and that I'd see you soon. You're in a better place now, and I hope that I am too. I could never forget you, or stop loving you. But maybe now, maybe now I won't cry as much. I know you hate seeing me hurt, especially over you. I want to be strong for you, and for your siblings. I love you, and I hope you enjoy Heaven. I can't wait to hold you in my arms again. Today, I watched you in Heaven, and today, I promise to become a better mom to your brother and sister. I promise to believe in God and all of his glory. I promise to stop worrying about what went wrong. I promise to just. let. go. I could never forget you, and I can't promise that I won't think of you on March 25th of every year, or even November 11th. But I do promise that I will try my best to make it a day of celebration and rememberance. Not a day of grielf. Because March 25th is your BIRTHday. You weren't born here on Earth, but you were born in Heaven, the most beautiful place of them all. And I thank God for having such a place for you to be.

Lamentations 3:25 NIV

The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him

Your birthverse. If this isn't proof of God's existence, I don't know what is. God is good to me, he gave me your brother, because I have hope that he is taking good care of you, and I seek his advice and comfort. And he is good to me. It all goes together. I will never question my faith again, as I have struggled for years. In God's name I pray.

I let you go today. You will forever be in our hearts. Mommy and Daddy love you and miss you, and so do your brother and sister. Thank you for showing me a love I never knew.

And thank you to my dear friend Alex, who held me while I wept today. I don't know how a mother could do this without a support system. You'll never know how much this meant to me.
And as always, my husband who has also suffered. Maybe not as much, but I know that he hurts. I love you Brandon and I thank God for you, and that you've stuck with me. I think Baby Bean would be proud of his parents. You're my number one.

Who's a mother-sucker?!

I think that this is a good time to post my stance on breastfeeding. I obviously breastfeed. I am an advocate for breastfeeding, and I am a Lactivist.

"I believe anyone who believes in, supports and promotes breastfeeding and the value it provides to mother and child is a Lactivist."

Plain as day, there it is. I believe that us as women were MADE to nurture our children in any way possible. We were made to nourish their bodies with our own milk. I understand that some women are unable, and I am okay with that. If your body (or your childs) just isn't compatible with the art of breastfeeding, then I understand your choice or inability not to do it. I do, however, believe that every woman should ATTEMPT to breastfeed. Aside from choosing to keep your child once finding out you're pregnant, this is the first and most important decision you must make for your child. It seperates the uneducated or selfish women apart from the ones who understand the benefits and are able to seperate societys obsession with sex and appearance. All that baby wants is some colostrum! At least give him that much. Colostrum is the very first and most healthy food that a child should receive. And once the typical 3 days is up, if it isn't right for you, fine. At least you gave that baby the best thing you could, even if just for a few days. That is better than nothing, and your child will thank you one day (okay, not litereally but growing up healthy is good enough for me).

In The United States, it is considered taboo to breastfeed up to a year, or even 6 months, or at all! This just baffles me. In other countries, a child may breastfeed up to age 7. No typo there, either. It is actually reccomended to wean from age 2-7, and not before. I know that in this country that is INSANE. However, I have made the choice to let Jasper wean himself. He will quit nursing when he is good and ready. I won't do it for him. As my duty to comfort my child, if nursing comforts him (and boosts his immunity) then why would I take that away from him?

I appreciate all women who breastfeed. I especially appreciate those who struggle, but still continue in hopes that it will all fall into place. If it doesn't, and you must switch to formula, then be my guest. I applaud you. Formula is not a horrible thing, it is amazing that mankind has been able to create something that can mimic the nutritional value of breast milk. No, it doesn't boost immunity, and no it isn't a first aid kit, but it is enough for a child to sustain life for their first year. We're lucky to have that option. My daughter was breastfed until the age of 5 months when I lost my supply, and I put her on formula for the remaining 7 months - no big deal. I am not against it. And for those who are worried about societys views, I can honestly say that I have yet to get a gross look from a stranger when nursing in public. At the very worst, somebody has walked away. Nobody has told me to go to a bathroom or put a blanket over my child, or asked me why I would ever promote pornography to such a young soul. I believe that with the right education, and more lactivists in the world, it is becoming more and more acceptable in todays society. And I thank those who support us breastfeeders. The husbands, the grandparents, the sisters, the brothers, the in-laws, the doctors, and the strangers. You have no idea how much it means to us to know that somebody out there supports our right to feed our baby the natural way.

Breastfeeding is beautiful.
... even if it does destroy your once perky boobies. So what?

Oh, the nerve of some teeth!

THIS is what my tooth looks like every 10 minutes.

(Okay, I don't think it's THAT uneven. But I also left out the fact that the top is broken off. Sew me.)

This is also how my tooth (and mouth, and sometimes my whole body) feels like each time air touches my exposed nerve. Yes, an exposed nerve in my effing tooth literally makes me feel like I am being electricuted from inside my mouth. Every. Ten. Freaking. Minutes. Honest to God (or Hell since I seem to be in it these days) this is the worst pain I've ever endured. And I don't wish it upon anyone, even my worst enemy (which at this moment is anybody with perfect teeth, so maybe I should wish it upon you lucky a-holes).

So here I am with no insurance and a lightening bolt surging through my tooth. I am exhausted (thanks pain meds that are of no help) and I am grumpy because I am in pain and I think I'm dying. And my daughter is peeing all over the floor and couch. I feel GREAT today. And even though this would be considered a dental emergency, us poor folk can't afford to have an emergency. So, hopefully in the next few weeks I can get this lightening bolt out of my suffering mouth. An extraction, FUN. NOT.

This is hopefully my one and only bitchfest post. But seriously, I handle pain quite well. I'm the type to deny pain meds even after a 9 pound cannon ball shoots out of my wahoo. So for me to bitch, it means this is real. And I'm dying. And seriously people, get your effing teeth fixed before you get to this point. It isn't worth it. I'm scared to death of dentists but I swear to milkshakes that I will be hugging whoever has their grubby little hands in my mouth poking my lightening bolt and tearing into my mouth and removing the son of a bitch. EFF THIS.

You're my favorite slice of bread. Guess that makes you cinnamon toast?

WARNING: This post could turn ugly, or just mushy IlovemyhusbandsoverymuShidon'tknowwhati'dowithouthimhe'sabeautifulhumanbeing CRAP that wives sometimes write about.

(Hubs, I hope you caught that big ol' "s" in my word "much," you're the only one who gets the hilarious significance of that hehe)

Start from the beginning? Let's not. Just know that my husband and I got together in a HORRIBLE HORRIBLE way, but very quickly fell in love, which totally made it worth it to me. And look at us now. We obviously had great reasons unknown as to why we got together the way we did. (If you must know, I was having problems in my 1st marriage, met B, fell in love, moved in with him, and made a Paisley). I was and still am obviously very close with my family. My husband, however, wasn't lucky enough to have the same upbringing. Okay, I don't mean that he was unlucky. He definitely had a less than ideal childhood, but I wouldn't say he's unlucky in the least bit. I won't go into details, because some things should be kept between a man and his wife. Especially when referring to the hard times of a man (they don't always express their emotions, in case you weren't aware). Actually, I believe that I'M the lucky one, because of him. He struggles a lot with the idea that he hasn't accomplished much in life. I struggle to understand why he thinks this. The man has a family. He has created two beautiful children and he has honest to God saved me from myself. Now THAT is an accomplishment. No, he didn't graduate from college, and no he doesn't have a great career. But he does take care of us. My husband is sick. No, not gross as in he doesn't bathe or he has strep at the moment or he has crazy weird fetishes (that I know of). He literally has a disease that effects his liver and his overall well-being. He could be on disability, but he won't settle for that. He goes to work every day and works a shitty job so he can support ME and our CHILDREN. Now if that isn't a man, I don't know what one is.

There has always been questioning about his "character," or his intentions. I'm here to set it straight. He has broken the mold. If character was defined by one's upbringing, he wouldn't be with me today. He wouldn't support me or our kids. He'd be God knows where... and honestly, he woudn't be alive much longer. Don't question my husbands character. This is a low effing blow. He has been through way more than you could ever imagine, and yet he still gets up every day to take care of his family. He puts himself through hell for us when based on his childhood, he should have ran nearly 3 years ago. HISTORY DOESN'T ALWAY REPEAT ITSELF. And he is proof of that. He's breaking the mold and he's giving the Spillers/Townsends a new and improved generation and beliefs to uphold. I look up to you. I don't always show it and I definitely don't show my appreciation for you nearly enough as I should. But I promise you that not a day goes by where I don't look at you and wonder how you're even still here. You are beautiful. You are wonderful. You are far from perfect, but you're MY perfection.

Let's be frank. You're freakishly tall, you have a country accent, you're a certified Geek by all accounts, but you're also the thug that nobody wants to mess with (please tell me how you pull those off at the same time), and you're not exactly model material. Okay, I still stand by the fact that your face is model material (at least for a bad boys modeling agency... what girl doesn't love scars?!) You're not rich and you're pretty damn grumpy. Like 98.5% of the time. And you're lazy, and you're more needy than a high needs newborn. Seriously, bow down to me because I don't know any other woman who would be willing to take care of your grump-ass. But hey, I still love you and somehow find reasons here and there to tend to you hand in foot (just don't ask me for the reasons cause I blame it on love...)And despite all of these less than perfect things about you, I still love you. I still need you. I still enjoy you. We're polar opposites, and yet I NEED you. We're like a big battery operated heart (only your side is covered in comic book characters and air jordans (wtf?) and mine is covered in random but strong heart felt words... and probably some baby poo and old breastmilk). We have to stick together (you can be the - and i'll be the +) and the heart just wouldn't work if we weren't jammed into that dumb backside together. You're the - since you tend to be negative, by the way. Just another not ideal trait of yours. But you're also realistic so you get points for that.

I swear, I had an intent for writing this but I got so flipping side tracked that now I've lost the original purpose. But maybe somewhere in that mumbo jumbo of word vomit that I just sprayed all over the internet, somebody will understand.

And yes, I do love me some cinnamon sugar toast but I'm not positive that it's my favorite type of bread product. I'm also quite fond of the slice with marshmallow cream in a fluffernutter sammich. I'm also fond of any type of sandwhich cut into the shape of an elephant. (thank you elephant sandwhich cutter).

We're best friends like friends should be

NOT.

Okay, that sounds harsh. I can honestly say that I don't know what it's like to have a best friend. My first best friend I met when I was only 2 and we were inseperable until her family moved at age 11. We continued to see each other on a regular basis until recently. We're into different things and even though we're both moms, even that can't keep us close in contact. We go back and forth, we'll talk for a few nights straight, then we won't talk again for another 9 months. And yet, she's still on my list of bests. My next is Courtney, rather known as my complete opposite. Nobody understands it but we've been through everything together. From age 13 to now (21) she's kept me grounded. She's doing the college and career thing while I'm doing the wife and mom thing, sometimes I envy her. But always I adore her. Past that I gots no one. I have some friends here and there that I love very much, but I'm not in their list of bests so they don't make mine. HAH. Take that for bitterness. Although my most recent addition would be the sweet sweet Christa! She has quickly become the closest thing I have to one of those "friends-who-drop-everything-just-to-listen-to-you-bitch" types of friends. She is a SAINT. We're exactly alike, aside from one thing. The bitch likes to cook and clean. Okay, she may not like it, but she sure as hell does it a lot more than I do. I want to be like that. I'm slowly learning through her. But it's quite hard to give up my pizza by delivery, McDonalds, Wendy's, Taco Bell, Subway, McDonalds, McDonalds... damn, I finished my McDonalds milkshake. :( Oh.... right. See what I mean? I think I'm rubbing off on her though. I'm gaining her good habits and she's gaining my bad ones. We can meet in the middle, right? That will make us perfect, and also, just like twins. Too bad my best is 3 HOURS AWAY. Seriously, I'm beginning to hate that B and I had to move. And yes Christa, feel special and don't ruin this. I will keelz yew if you screw up the friend code in any way. And I'll pour bleach on your cloth diapers. And then I'll empty out your kitchen and replace everything with little debbies (okay, probably just the boxes since they're my weakness). Oh, and I'll steal your apple peeler slicer thingymabob, and your backyard. And maybe even your kids. But you can keep Madison. I don't need an older Paisley. This is a horrible post but I needed to ask Christa a serious question.... will you... send me a freaking amber necklace? KIDDING.

EDIT: So I guess it was rude of me to not mention some of the great friends in my life, even if I'm not first in their list. Jamie, also known as my "bestow" (thanks to cell phone typing error, it has become our word). She and I have an interesting past, and now, here we are as mommies to our beautiful 2 year old girls (only 3 months apart) and we're still as close as ever. And did I mention she's an incredible photographer? http://jaimicarroll.blogspot.com/ - go there, doooooooo it.
I also have Alex, who funny enough, became my friend in Parenting class in High School. We fell apart and reconnected once we realized that we both the ridiculous move to the Charlotte area, and she's also a mommy. Paisley is kind of in love with her son. :)
AND OHMYGOODNESS, I didn't even mention my husband. He pointed this out to me. I just assume that everybody knows he's my ultimate best friend. Because he is. We don't have the same interests exactly but boy oh boy he can make me laugh. And cry. And other things. And well, he's just incredible. It's one thing to marry someone you love, but it's another thing to marry your best friend.
AND there's always my mom. I call her on a daily basis just to tell he the dumb stuff my kids do that nobody else cares about. She listens and she giggles, because she's a friend. If you don't see your mom as being your best friend, you should. She's the one person who can't ever judge you poorly, so why not take advantage of that?  ;)

I should say that I'm grateful for the people in my life, even if you are 3 hours away and I only see you once a year. I lose sight of my friendships here and there. I get down on myself when I see you hanging out with your other friends and I'm tossed to the side. But that shouldn't matter. I've always got you when I'm in need and I've also got my husband, and he can't go anywhere without having to pay me. SO I think I'll manage. :)
I just wanted to write something and I'm not ready to continue on with the birth stories. I've had a good few days and I don't want to make myself cry thinking about Braylon. Maybe tomorrow or next week. Or next month. Hrm.

First you take the peanuts... (birth stories)

While it is an extremely interesting story, we will NOT go into how Brandon and I got together. If you know us, then chances are you know the story. Although I happily admit that we chose to make a baby only 2 weeks into our relationship, and we succeeded. Yes, Paisley was very much a planned pregnancy. While not the best idea at the time, nobody can deny that she has made a world of a difference in the lives of many. The pregnancy was a dream. Honest. No morning sickness, no discomfort whatsoever (except horrific nose bleeds). She was due on the 16th of September 2009, and that's exactly when she made her entrance. I was induced due to discomfort (I developed hydrocephalus at birth, requiring me to have a cerebral shunt and tubing into my abdomen. The tubing is only so long and as huge as I was in my 9th month, the tube was being tugged on... I HAD to get that baby out. I'm sure I'll give you the facts of hydrocephalus later). I went to the hospital at 6something in the morning, ready to be induced! First we started pitocin, then broke my water. HOLY WATER SPILL. That was the craziest thing I have ever experienced and it was quite hysterical. I was laughing my ass off because I kept randomly gushing and couldn't tell if it was pee or amniotic fluid. I made my nurse check a few times. My family had me laughing the whole effing time I was in labor, making fun of my belly bouncing each time I giggled. I received an epidural at nearly 7cm dilated thanks to the terrors of back labor, and after 20 minutes of pushing (while nurses, my doctor, and my family guessed if the "woman" on Maury was indeed a woman or a man - no, I am NOT kidding about this) my bundle of joy was born. 7lbs. 12oz. of pure bliss. She was a happy baby, yadda yadda. I breastfed her until 5 months when I lost my supply due to birth control (devastation). And I'll go ahead and say that in the room with me when I delivered was my husband, my mom, my sister, and my dad. Yes, my dad. I get gross looks for that one, but whatev!

I'm skipping a bunch (including a pregnancy) that will be blogged about next time. Miscarriages to me are very near and dear and they should be taken seriously. For the life of me, I cannot find a way to make it remotely funny so I will not be discussing it in an otherwise funny birthing story. Just know that when Paisley was 6 months old, we found out we were pregnant, lost it, then found out 2 months later we were pregnant again (with Jasper). Here's his story.

Our due date was January 1st, 2011. I was convinced I'd have a Christmas baby. This pregnancy was wonderful, too. No morning sickness, no nothing. Until I hit 8 months, sciatica is a mothereffer! But I got releif from Dr. Pretty, er, my chiropractor. Come Christmas Eve, I decided to make a castor oil milkshake. I KNOW, I KNOW. But I only used like half of the smallest recommended dose, so give me a break. And, nothing happened. Until after I fell asleep on the couch. My lovely husband decided to pull a prank on me. At 4 in the morning, on Christmas morning. THANK YOU JESUS (ha... ha..). I woke up to a pair of balls in my face (literally, and hubby don't be mad for me posting this... you know it's funny!). And I was in a puddle of something unrecognizable. I waited a couple hours before heading to the hospital because I honestly thought that I had just uhm pooed myself thanks to the castor oil (it causes contractions in your bowel, causing you to have diarrhea. fun, right?). Turns out it wasn't my water, but it wasn't poo either (so what was it?!) but I was already 5cm dilated so they kept me and broke and my water and yadda yadda. Jasper got scared and ran back up into my ribs, causing his own stress, and putting me on oxygen. Then when I hit 10cm dilated (epidural too by the way, Got it at 7cm as well), we discovered that he had a bowel movement. SCARY STUFF. Seriously, if your baby ingests his or her own poop, it can cause them to be in the NICU. Well, Jasper wasn't having any of that crap (hahahaha, I'm punny) and he thought it was a good idea to shoot out of my wahoo like a cannon ball! No doctor necessary, just went right into the nurses arms... I never even pushed! That's right, an 8lb. 10oz cannon ball shot out of my wahoo. And he was perfect... he hadn't ingested his poo (miconium), thank goodness. He ended up with some other medical problems which I'll get to later. But at that moment, he was perfectly healthy and happy, and obviously growing up to be a mama's boy. Why is Jasper's more interesting than Paisley's story? Ah well. In the room with me when he was born was only B! Mom and others was stuck in Asheville thanks to a white Christmas and my dad was at home with P.

I could go on and on about the weeks after births but I won't. I will, however, post about my parenting decisions at another time. Now time for cake. Again.

Introduction, introduction!

So here we are! 2 kids down and I'm finally beginning my blog. Boy, oh, boy am I behind the pack. PB&J are the master minds, or rather, the masters in general. P is Paisley. She is the oldest born on September 16th, 2009. B is the second widely known as Baby Bean (most recently named Braylon), born into Heaven on March 25th, 2010. And then we come to J who is Jasper, born on December 25th, 2010. I promise that my next post will be the stories of how one makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Assuming you know what happens when a man and a woman love each other, I'll skip all that nonsense and get to who was planned, who wasn't, what was the birth plan, who cared and who didn't, etc. etc. EXCITEMENT. And oh, this is the mother speaking. The most important slice of bread, Lindsay. The bottom slice is the husband, Brandon. He just gives us a good foundation to lay on while I hold us all together in one peice.