notes on the bathroom mirror.

before Emerson came along. marriage was easy. when you have nothing but each other it's not hard to make time to spend quality time with each other and connect and be romantic or whatever.

but then a third person comes into your world and you both love him immensely and he changes your world and he IS your world. So then you have to retrain yourselves to set aside time to also focus on each other sometimes. and it isn't exactly easy to, but it's necessary. 

we've been able to go on a couple date nights while my dad and step mom babysat for us. which has been wonderful but they don't live close so those don't come often. so I've been trying to get creative.

I bought a dry erase marker to keep in the bathroom to write each other sweet little love notes. I am pretty sure I saw this idea on pinterest. and I thought aww, cute. 

but because it is us we're talking about, "sweet" is the last thing they've been.

Obscene love notes would be a better description. Because we are perverted and immature. Obviously I'm not going to relay the messages that have been written on the mirror, because they would burn your eyes.

But nonetheless, that is what makes us perfect for each other so it's a nice reminder of why we are in love. And you know, the notes aren't totally perverted all the time, sometimes they are actually sweet, or sometimes they are sweet but slightly cutting. I.E. this.

"Tayl, I <3 you even though you left the diaper bag. <3/kynslie xoxo"

So now I understand what people meant when they said marriage was hard, but it's still not really THAT hard. just like, have to actually make sure we don't get totally lost in parenthood and forget to be lovers. (sorry that word is SO gross, but... I wasn't sure what other word would get the point across.)

sometimes you give birth to a kid.

I love my baby. I love him so much i can hardly comprehend it. It actually terrifies me how much I love him because it makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. However, what I loved less was the process of giving birth to  him. That's not to say I HATED giving birth because things were relatively easy and we both made it out healthy and alive but... let me explain.

I hate that I have to even say that. That I didn't *like* to give birth. I did so much research about childbirth. I would almost say that I knew too much for my own good. I knew that my body knew exactly what it needed to do and the pain was just my body doing the work of getting my baby out. I knew that I wanted to have a natural labor with a midwife at a birth center. To my dismay though, that wasn't how it was going to work for me. When I got pregnant I discovered that my insurance would cover EVERYTHING in a hospital and NOTHING with anything else. Some women would say, "it's worth the 5 grand +!" but that wasn't really in the cards for us. SO I made the best with what I had. I created a birth plan and told my doctors that I wanted to have a natural birth and they were on board. I wasn't delusional by any means, I knew that sometimes things happen when you have a baby and things don't go the way you want. 

BUT, things were going well for me. I had a very healthy pregnancy. My blood pressure was perfect, my pee was clean, my glucose levels were fine, Emerson's heart rate was perfect and his head was down, I was gaining the exact right amount of weight etc etc. So I figured, having the birth I want, should be no problem. I even chose to deliver at a hospital that was totally cool with women having natural deliveries. Everything was fine.

Then, my due date came and went. My OB asked me if I wanted to be induced. I said no. He'd come when he was ready.  So I waited and kept going in for my check ups. To my dismay, my blood pressure started creeping up at each subsequent visit. When I went in at 41 week 5 days, my BP was too high for my OB to be comfortable with so he said we needed to induce. My heart sank. So, we discussed the ways to get labor started and we came to an agreement that I was most comfortable with. I was grateful to have a doctor that listened to my concerns, discussed things through with me, and didn't bully me into things I didn't want. 

So we went home to get all my stuff I had packed. After that, we said a prayer in the car and stopped for lunch and went to the hospital. I wasn't even nervous. Why wasn't I nervous? I have no idea. I was about to experience something completely insane and then my life would be changed forever afterwards and there was no turning back. But at 12:45 PM on 11/11 I was like, no big deal, Let me put on this hospital gown that someone probably died in at some point and watch Honey Boo Boo while my cervix ripens. So for the first few hours, that's what I did.

Apparently contractions were coming but I couldn't feel them other than a little tightening. I would occasionally get up, walk around, pee, snack, whatever. Then I would have to get back in bed to check my blood pressure and the baby's heart rate. Fortunately, as I relaxed my blood pressure started to go down, but it wasn't down very much. And then I had to get Antibiotics in an IV because I was GBS positive and that burned my veins. It was really uncomfortable. At about 5:45 my OB came in to see how I was doing. He decided it would be best if he broke my water. I wasn't super stoked about that. But my BP was betraying me. So he did. And once he did, things really got going. I started to feel the contractions and within three hours they got really intense. At that point I had switched nurses and the new nurse was someone who had delivered her babies naturally, so she showed Taylor how to push my legs and knees into my hips to help relieve of some the pain during contractions. It did help a lot. What I really wanted was to get up and walk around but I had to get another round of antibiotics and my blood pressure was creeping up again. So I was stuck in the bed in pain. I did my best to work through them with the help of my wonderful husband but by 10:45 PM I was exhausted and at my wits end and my blood pressure was insanely high. Like I was about to have a stroke. It was like 200/110 or something. The last time I was checked I was at 5cm, and about an hour later I started having urges to push and my contractions were out of control. At one point I had 3 contractions that overlapped each other and the peak of the pain lasted about 5 minutes straight and the baby was squirmy so they had me on my side to get his heart rate which for some reason intensified the pain of the contractions and all I could do was lay on the bed and writhe and scream in pain.  So the nurse checked me again and I was at 8cm. I was so relieved to know that the pain was actually moving things along. I thought, Okay, I can definitely do this! I'm almost there! So I asked how much longer, and she told me 3-4 hours at the most. At that point I wanted to cry. I looked that nurse right in the eyes and told her I wanted the epidural. It was strange because I had always feared getting to that point in hospital, where I broke down and decided I wanted drugs and I would get it because it was available even though I probably could have done it without it. But in that moment, I was so exhausted, I would try to close my eyes and rest and then a contraction would hit and rest was not an option and so when I decided to get the epidural, I felt no guilt, I felt no fear, I was in survival mode.

when the anesthesiologist came in I felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Apparently I wasn't breathing very well so they put an oxygen mask on me. Looking back, I'm not sure if I should have been more scared about that mask but I didn't care. contractions were still coming every minute or so. When he told me I had to hold perfectly still while he jabbed me with that sweet sweet poison I was genuinely scared of being paralyzed or something. But I did it. I had a super intense contraction during that moment but I squeezed Tayl's hand as hard as I could and then it was over. 11:45 PM Within minutes I started to feel relief. For the first time in hours, I was able to smile. I wanted to kiss that anesthesiologist on the mouth. I was back to being excited about my baby coming. The strangest part of the epi was that I could move my legs, and I could still feel when I was having a contraction, but I just didn't feel any pain. I thought I would basically be useless from the waist down.

So I was finally able to just rest, I actually slept. Not well, because I could still feel the contractions (not pain). But, it was the rest I needed. I'm not sure I would have been able to push the baby out of me otherwise. Also, my blood pressure dropped dramatically. I was back in normal ranges. Around 4 AM, I started to push and blah blah blah I'll spare you the gory details but at 5:10 AM my little perfect goopy bundle of joy came out of my womb and into this crazy world at 8 pounds 5 oz and 21 inches long.

Looking back, as time has passed, I am totally okay with how things went down. BUT, the first few days I felt a little internal guilt for getting drugged up while I was giving birth to my baby. It made me upset to even think about it. I was ashamed. I didn't think I would ever be able to tell people my birth story let alone put it on my blog. But in the end, I did what was best for both of us in my situation. As we approach Emerson's one month mark, the most valuable thing I have learned is that the worst thing I can do is go online and read what other mom's are doing or have done. Mom world is a scary world. I'm not an expert... yet. But my baby is healthy and growing and happy and so am I, and so that means I'm doing okay. And everyone else in mom world who judges, can suck it.

Goodbye Tayl. Hello, Ryans.

this morning was crazy. we were walking out to my car to take Tay the airport when he started patting his pockets. he had forgotten his wallet inside. I handed my keys to him and I waited outside and destroyed some ant hills on the sidewalk. he walked out the door in a rush and i asked if he had the keys... he didn't. And he had locked the door. SO after about ten minutes of sheer panic he was able to finagle himself back in the house by strong-arming the lock through the doggy door.

we DID make it in time to the airport, with quite a bit of time to spare. when we pulled up to the curb and i got out of the car it all hit me at once and i started crying. I tried not to look at him cause that made it worse.

When I got back in the car after our goodbyes, it was like dejavu from 2 and a half years ago when Taylor came out to visit me and I had to send him home so he could come back in 3 weeks to drive with me to start my new life in Atlanta. I cried most of the drive home. Then I saw a Hooters billboard and stopped crying because it got me to thinking, and I got the best idea ever...

(this is where the blog takes a really strange turn, but i had to share this)

I developed a concept for a new restaurant which will basically a Hooters for women. I am going to find a way to clone Ryan Gosling and Ryan Reynolds (and possibly try to create some kind of mixture of the two, just to see) and that way I won't have to worry about finding hot guys because that will pretty much cover every woman's needs. I mean, if you don't like BOTH Ryans then you like one or the other, and if you don't like either, you're either A) blind or B) a lesbian, and you can just go to Hooters. Ok?

So there will be a bunch of these serving you delicious food (oh yeah that's another difference, the food will actually be good)

 

You will come in and get to choose who you want to serve you. (this is where my mixed version of the two will come in handy if you can't decide.) Also I will make them dress classy and sexy. This isn't Chippendales for crying out loud!
 But if you tip good and ask nice they'll probably show you their abs.


And then since they are clones I will program them to say really nice things to you like:

and

and I'll be all THANKS RYAN!

So yeah, basically I've thought of everything. EXCEPT the name. I thought about "Ryans" but then that seemed too boring. Then I thought about something obscene like "balls" but that was too obscene, plus not as clever as Hooters, and I won't be out bested by them. Especially cause they still dress like they're in the 90's. 

So ladies, that's where you come in, I need suggestions for names if I'm gonna make this happen.

wifed up wednesday: the two A's of an ideal homemaker

this week, I present to you, a lesson in homemaking.

You may find yourself scoffing "WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HOMEMAKING?" Well, I know what I've learned from reading this book.

You see, I found this book several years ago at the D.I., I saw the title and I saw the year it was published (1967) and I knew it had to be mine, because I knew it would be filled with sexist gems.

Since then, I haven't been able to get past the first chapter, but I've decided that from here on out I will pop in every now and then on wifed up Wednesday with a lesson in homemaking which I will learn from this book, which will require me to read it.

In the beginning of the book, she compares homemakers like unto a diamond. "Perfectly cut so as to bring out countless beautiful highlights. In both homemakers and diamonds, certain qualities must be present if each is to sparkle brilliantly and thereby be valued and cherished."

She then goes into listing a the twenty "facets" of an ideal homemaker....

Today, I am going to teach you about FACET NO. 1: "the two A's" that have the ability to completely change your world (assuming that your are a "real" lady and your whole world only exists within your home, as it should.)

The first is "A" is ATTITUDE

Your attitude can MAKE or BREAK your homemaking experience. You should not simply view your housework as a necessary evil that you must complete each day in order. If you don't enjoy your housework but complete it anyway, this is not good enough. You must love those dirty dishes, the skid marks on the toilet, the cooking, and the mountains of laundry. Otherwise, no one is going to appreciate what you do, and no one will like you. If you're struggling with this, it might help you to take your wedding picture and remind yourself of what a "SWEET" bride you were. Strive to be that sweet girl that your husband married, EVEN while cleaning the litter box.

The second "A" is APPEARANCE

BEAUTY IS A DUTY! Every morning you should get dressed VERY first thing in the morning. Getting dressed includes putting on comfortable clothes, combing your hair, applying make-up (EVEN A BARN LOOKS BETTER PAINTED), and putting on shoes. The reason most husbands are unhappy is because their wives have neglected their appearance. They find their wives slopping around in housecoats and curlers in their hair! CAN YOU IMAGINE? (Oh, don't forget about perfect posture!) 

Remember, if you LOOK THE PART of a perfect housewife, you will ACT THE PART.

Are you still confused about what you should look like right after waking up?

Let me help you:

or actually, prettier than this.

We were bored, so I curled Taylor's hair.

it got really weird, really fast. 

but hey, at least I didn't put make-up on him.