Framework

A couple of days before Sebastian arrived, Anthony and I left the twins with his parents and got out of the house to run some errands.  On our way home we made a quick stop at my favorite discount store here, Dirt Cheap.  If you’ve been reading for long you’ve probably heard me mention it a few hundred times.  It’s a wreck of a store (literally, stuff is piled on shelves and racks with no organization whatsoever) but a treasure trove if you have a little bit of time and patience.  They carry overstock, customer returns, and unsold clearance items from a bunch of stores including Kohl’s, Old Navy, and Target, just to name a few.  Anyway, every once in awhile I’ll be in right after they’ve cleared a section of shelves of old inventory to make room for new.  What they do is stuff as much unsold/old stuff into a shopping cart as they can, wrap it up with lots of plastic wrap, and sell all of the contents for $10.  You can’t remove the plastic wrap or swap things from other carts; what you see is what you get.  I’ve seen it happen only a handful of times and when I have it’s just been a ton of stationary, Halloween costumes, or school supplies.  This day though, it was Target – picture frames, lamp shades, jewelry, curtain rods, iPad cases, towel bars, plates, and a bunch of other random things.  I almost fainted and I was positive that if I didn’t buy one the minute we walked in it would be stolen from me by the ten people looking over my shoulder.  There were about six carts just whispering my name but after scanning them all as carefully and quickly as I could, we snatched up the two we thought had the most stuff we could use, shelled out $20 for ‘em, and unloaded it all into the back of the van.  Observe:

(Get this – talking the full price of everything we got in our two carts, we paid $20 for roughly $700 worth of merchandise!!!!!)

What I was most excited about were a plethora of gallery wall frames.  I wasn’t positive where they’d all go but as it happens I’m notorious for leaving walls blank for far too long so I thought maybe they’d light that fire…and they did.

Here, my friends, is what our hallway looked like yesterday morning:
Blah-zayyy.

With the entire city of Mobile (and the entire south) on ice lock-down, Anthony had Tuesday (yesterday and today too!) off, so I got a little time to be productive.  I shared a glimpse Tuesday on Instagram of some changes that were going on in said hallway with our plundered frames:

As I type, all the frames are hung and pictures are ordered and should be here next week, when I’ll share the how’s and what’s, where’s and why’s. 

Stay tuned…or should I say, sorry to keep you ‘hanging’.  Har, har, har…   

Happy Birthday Sebastian

I wish I had some crazy story to go along with the entrance of our first son into this world but alas, I don’t.  He was late and scheduled.  As nice as it would’ve been to have him in my arms rather than be 37, 38, 39, and 40 weeks pregnant, we were actually hoping for a late arrival – anytime after January 1st of this year – for insurance reasons.  (In a nutshell, after the twins were born we added them to my individual insurance plan while Anthony kept his own because we weren’t allowed to switch to a family plan until the election period.  That period came and we switched but our fam plan wouldn’t become active until January 1, 2013.  Great, good, grand, and wonderful, right?  Wrong.  Then we got pregnant with Mr. S in April and found out at our first doc appointment that we had at 365 day waiting period in which NO maternity care would be covered.  Mind you, we endured the same waiting period when we had first signed up for this insurance three years prior.  I mean, we were part of the same insurance company so why the waiting period when all we did was switch plans?  Might I also mention that I have been covered under this insurance (*cough*BlueCrossBlueShield*cough*) since I was a wee tot?  Is that an infuriating idea to anyone else?  “Get to the point Sheena!”  Right.  So, Sebastian was due Dec. 30th but his delivery wouldn’t be covered unless he was born in 2014.  A couple of days was literally the difference between us paying thousands of dollars or only paying a small deductible.  Nail-biting.  Well, the kid arrived Jan. 3rd and we still have an open savings account, thank God.  And, needless to say, we switched insurance companies for the above hassle and frustration PLUS the fact that due to Obamacare, our new BCBS plan was going to cost us $300 more per month (!!!!) starting in 2014 and loaded us with a deductible that was $5000 more than what our current had been.  What a joke and a whole ‘nother story.)

So, 2014 was here.  Anthony’s parents were here to help us out while we were at the hospital but they were only here until the 7th of January.  So, because we really needed their help while and after our hospital stay, we planned an induction for January 3rd.  Back up to the night of January 2nd, when this story starts…

You might remember I was induced with the twins.  I went in the morning of their birth because I was (and had been for three weeks) three centimeters dilated.  Seven hours later, they arrived.  With the boy (he didn’t have a name until a few hours after birth), I had been barely one centimeter for weeks so I was told to come in the night before the actual induction for a “kick-start”.  So, we put the girls to bed along the usual routine and then packed up and shipped out to arrive at the hospital around 10 pm.  We walked through the barren lobby, rose up the empty elevator, and waddled (just me, not Ant) down the quiet hallways of the labor and delivery ward where we were given our room assignment and me the super-stylin’, backless gown.  When we were settled and signed in, a nurse came in and checked my dilation (if I was three cm or more, I’d get to go home…I was hoping that was the case).  One freakin’ centimeter still at 40.5 weeks!  All-nighter at the hosptial ‘twas.  They gave me that little white pill they put up by the cervix to soften it, one at midnight and one at 4 am.  Exciting, no?  After the second one, I started feeling stronger contractions (strong as in still pretty weak but hefty compared to the boring Braxton-Hicks).  I was missing my girls, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was pregnant and delivery was imminent, battling whether I should get the epidural or not, scared at the thought of labor pains, dot dot dot.  For short, my mind was racing so sleep hid from me.  I faded in and out all night to whatever was on the mounted television or my phone until 6:30 rolled around and my doc came in to break the boy’s water.  Buuut, break it did not.  The kid really didn’t want to come out and he meant it.  After trying a few times, the doctor said he’d come try again later if it didn’t break on it’s own.  At this point I was a little scared I’d made the wrong decision to induce seeing as some little someone was hell bent on staying inside… 

But, the party kept on going.  Pitocin was added to my drip…oh wait, let me back up.  Right after my doctor left, a nurse came in to check me again (one cm, mayyyyybe two) and stick me with the IV.  Stick me she did and with no results.  I’ve had a few too many IV sticks in my life and have never given a nurse a problem poking me.  Then this one came along.  She was sweet as could be but she had to call in another nurse to get my IV in.  What’s worse than one giant needle poke?  Two, in my book.  Once nurse numero dos got my IV in, the pitocin came and with it, contractions.  Stronger and stronger, you might know how it goes.  Along with the contractions came water.  Apparently the sac had been punctured because with each contraction came a small tidal wave.  Check that one off the list and keep on laboring. 

By the time 9:45 am rolled around, I had had my fair share of contractions and requested the doctor with the numbing meds to come along to me “pretty, pretty please”.  My nurse said he had a few other rounds to make and that he’d probably be 15-20 minutes.  Okay.  Fifteen minutes passed.  Twenty minutes passed.  Thirty minutes passed.  Did you know that once your water breaks, contractions become 2847593 worse?  Forty minutes passed.  Welling tears.  Fifty minutes passed.  “Offer it up, offer it up, offer it up…AHHHH!”  An hour passed.  “Curse the anesthesiologist!/Somebody kill me!/We are DONE having kids!  An hour and fifteen minutes pass and guess who waltzes in.  Yep.  He who supposedly would have/should have been here an hour ago!  (Side note:  Never let your frustration towards a doctor wielding a very large needle show to said doctor.)  I know he wasn’t frolicking down the halls with a lollipop in hand or that he stopped and hit up all those post-Christmas deals on the way to my room so I tried not to be too perturbed at him but just happy all the pain was about to cease.  I tried my hardest to “bend over as far as you can” during” one of those wonderful post-water-break contractions and to keep my wincing to a minimum but damn, that hurt! 

One, two, skip a few because after the epidural kicked in with all it’s fuzzy warmth, uneventful was the name of the game.  The time was 11 am.  The nurse continued to come in and check my dilation (I had hit 5-6 cm sans epidural) and declared around 11:35ish that “we’re gonna start pushing.”  Part of me was excited it was finally time to meet this kid but the other part wasn’t.  The few minutes of shut-eye I had gotten the night before were obviously not going to hold up against the energy it took to push a baby out.  On top of that, my legs felt like they were on the fluffiest clouds you could pluck from the sky and I was warm and toasty and…….zzzzzz.  That’s what I wanted.  I wanted everyone to just leave me alone so I could sleep.  I didn’t want to push.  I was even okay with waiting a few hours to meet our son just so I could take a round trip flight to dreamland.  But, back to reality.  It’s time to push.  Legs up.  Here’s a contraction.  Push like you mean it only you can’t exactly feel where or how to push because you can’t feel anything under your lower back so you sorta just wing it and hope the kid is sliding out?  Yes and yes.

So with every contraction it’s three, 10-second sessions of pushing, over and over and I’m the most tired I’ve ever felt in my entire life when all of a sudden Anthony lets go of my hand and says “Babe, I’m sorry. I think I’m going to pass out.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

!!!Suspense!!!

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

!!!Suspense!!!

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I looked over at him and he was white as could be.  The nurse looked at him like “Great, he’ll pass out and then it’ll be me and two basket cases vs. the one I already have” and then she told him he’d better sit down.  And that’s as exciting as got.  Anthony put his rear in the nearest seat for a few minutes and took a few deep breaths and all was back to normal in a few minutes.  More pushing from me until finally the seas calmed and the wind died down as my wonderful doctor walked through the door.  (Seriously, I have theee best doctor.)  After what felt like an eternity (but in reality was about 30 minutes) of pushing with the nurse, it seemed we weren’t really getting anywhere.  Why?  Because the boy was transverse somehow – head down but crooked!!!  Like I said, hell bent on staying put.  Doc told me I could’ve pushed forever and never moved him because of his positioning.  I had one word to describe my son so far – “stubborn”.  Let’s hope he left it at the cervix.

Five minutes and a little help from the doctor later and our 7 lb. 7 oz. baby boy was born.  The time was 12:23 pm.

 

At this point I was so tired all I wanted to do was take a look at the miracle kid and take a nap.  Maybe sad but true.  I looked in awe at him on my belly and then handed the care-taking baton to Anthony.  The next few minutes and hours are a blur.  I vaguely remember nausea, feeding Sebastian (still unnamed) for the first time and being amazed at the power-nurser he was right from the get-go, drinking the two apple juices they gave me like they were my last meal (I hate apple juice but I was starving!), and the opening and closing of the door as nurses came and went.

Later, the recovery party started (always fun) as the epidural wore off and allll the glorious effects of giving birth came in full swing.  Don’t worry, I won’t go into details but I did “joke” over Instagram that I’d wish the pains of labor and it’s recovery on the next person that ticked me off…only I wasn’t joking.  Look out. 

Somewhere during that time we also settled on the name Sebastian Richard – Sebastian inspired by St. Sebastian, patron of soldiers and athletes and Richard, after my father who passed away in 2004 – vs. Solomon, Felix, or Isaiah or any other names I came up with that Anthony shook a stick at.  (Sebastian’s been Anthony’s dream name for a son ever since picking names for an upcoming kid has been an issue in our lives.  It also happens to be my sister’s favorite name and a strong contender for her first son.  That son was born last July and lucky for us, her husband wasn’t a huge fan of Sebastian so Augustin became him.  Crisis averted.)

That night my in-laws dropped by with the twins, who were a little weirded out.  At first they just stared at me and weren’t interested in giving me any attention much less climb in bed with me but after a few minutes they warmed up, checked out the tiny human in the room, and took to their norm of checking out the place and attempting an overhaul.  Can’t you tell how overjoyed they are via this gem?

       
I think it’s a framer, whadya think?  I know, let’s talk about how the only two people in utter comfort here are the men…

So, there ya go.  The first chapter in the story of our third addition.  There’s not much more I can say about it except that I’m glad it’s over and that it’s a real good thing you forget the pain (wait, do you really because I’m pretty sure the memory still makes me wince…) because we’d all be only-children, am I right?

.           .           .

Hungry for more labor pains?  Grace has a monster link-up with lots and lots of birth stories.  Go over and get your fill of other people’s pain…in the most miraculous and exciting way of course.  ;)

Cropped Minties

Oh life.  This past week was a doozy.  Last Thursday night Anthony and I were perched on the couch watching our favorite show, White Collar, when all of a sudden our furnace suddenly just shut off and our nostrils caught a whiff of burning something.  I freaked out a little thinking something was going to blow and Anthony remained calm and checked out the situation.  A few phone and house calls later and we found out the not-so-wonderful news that our furnace had breathed it’s last.  After all, it had a good 30 years under it’s blowing belt.  Even though we knew that at its age it was coming, it’s timing with a newborn around and the unseasonably cold weather here down south was nothing less than impeccable.  A few days of playing musical space heaters and a few thousand dollars later, we’ve got a shiny new furnace and a/c to put on this house’s resume.  Great.  Going along with the impeccable timing, Anthony had to leave in the middle of our outage to head up to D.C. with four bus loads of teens to stand up for the unborn in the March for Life.  It was bittersweet to see him go but a great sacrifice all the same.  Lucky for me, my younger sister flew over here from Dallas to help a mother hen and her three chicks out.  Thank God for her.  So, with all that hustle and bustle, the french door Anthony and I were planning on making and installing in the kitchen didn’t happen…yet.

.           .           . 

Oh parenthood.  I’m a go-getter.  Sitting all day just doesn’t do it for me.  And TV, I sat watched enough in the hospital before and after Sebastian was born to last me a year.  With that said, the new kid on the block is only satisfied if he’s nestled in the arms of ma or pa.  No swings, no soft surfaces, no co-sleeper…  So, as much as I love holding the kid alllllthedaylong, nothing ever gets done – no cooking, no cleaning, and especially no DIY.  It’s bittersweet and leaves me longing for the day when he’s old enough to just relax in his bumbo and watch his sisters scrap the place while I do something productive…not that holding him isn’t productive because it is and I love it, but I’m just in need of some activity/movement/excitement in my life (which is why Anthony is holding down the fort this afternoon so I can go out into the world sans children for just a teeny bit.) 

Anyway, what do you care, right?  I know.  It’s probably rambling and there are tons of people out there with weeks more trying than mine but the point is, I’m sorry if it’s a little slow around here in the next few months.  I’m going to try as hard as I can to blog because I really love and miss it and I hope you’ll keep following along!  And while you’re waiting for Sebastian’s birth story (if you even are), here’s a little something to keep you occupied until I’m awake enough to remember type out all those details.

Around the eight month of carrying around Sebastian in utero, I found these Liz Lange (Target) maternity pants at Dirt Cheap for $6.  Maternity pants from Target have never quite fit me right in the hip area but these were just asking for an alteration and since they were so cheap (and that color!!), I couldn’t help myself.  Home they came. 

 

I took them in using the same technique (technique probably isn’t the right word…hack job is probably more like it) I used with these white Gap maternity pants last year.  Here they be now…err, previous to the boy’s arrival: 

And that’s that.  I’d stay and write more (because you know my life be like crazy and lots of words could be poured out on it’s behalf…I only wish) but Anthony just suggested we go for a nice little family walk ‘round the block and guess who’s jumping at that chance…yep, this mom.

Have yourself a good weekend!

Oh and P.S. Some sweet somebody nominated us for a Sheenazing Award (inspired by the incredible Venerable Fulton Sheen…only a bit ironic that my name happens included in the title…) for having the best-looking blog over at A Knotted Life!  I’m truly honored and humbled!  I guess all my googling HTML and CSS code and pretending to be a blog designer has paid off!  Head over to check out all the award nominees and to vote for your faves!

Battle of the Bellies

Until I get the gumption to write up Sebastian’s birth story for y’all (crossing my phalanges for later this week), I thought it’d make sense to back it up a bit and post the bump comparison pictures I took during this singleton pregnancy.  I posted them on Instagram but never blogged ‘em so for those of you who aren’t ‘grammers, take a look.  It was obvious that my twin pregnancy would laden me with a king size belly but I thought it’d be fun to see how much bigger exactly.  Check it:

 

Crazy, huh?  I mean, the first half of Seb’s oven time wasn’t that much different than the girls’ but the second half?  Whoa.  And believe it or not, my singleton pregnancy was overall more difficult.  I was sore, my hips and back ached, I had some crazy nerve pain,  I was tired (because of chasing the twins around no doubt), and I had minor morning sickness up until week 15 (with the twins I had zero).  However, the weight difference was incredible.  Sebastian felt as light as a feather compared to the truckload I carried with the twins – 13 lbs. of baby compared to 7.5 lbs of baby.

Towards the end of this pregnancy I whipped up this comparison pic as well:
A 10 week difference in belly sizes!  So I wonder if that means that at 37 weeks with the twins I was actually measuring at 47 weeks…  Crazy thought.

One Week In

Greetings from Cirque de Tobin!  Let's talk about the past week, shall we?  It's been wild and tame and everything in between.

First, the obvious.  Baby Sebastian - one week young and in the business of making our family of four a family of five complete with three kids under TWO. 

It's as crazy and intimidating as it sounds.  However, I will tell you that taking care of one baby vs. two is a cake walk!  Where with the twins I spent the majority of my days during their first months nursing them, I spend about 10 minutes every two hours nursing this boy.  He came out of the womb knowing how to eat (I expect he gets that from his Pops) and gets his fill in no more than 10 minutes each feeding.  It took S and C at least 20 minutes to fill their bellies, making that 40 minutes plus to get them both fed when I wasn't feeding them at the same time.  It probably helps that I've got a little nursing experience under my belt now plus maybe men are just better and quicker at inhaling their food but the point is, it's crazy how much time I don't spend nursing these days.

A little more on Seb - he sleeps like a champ.  Those of you who have kids know you're supposed to wake your newborns up every two hours during the day and every 3-4 hours at night to eat.  Sebastian's pretty good at hinting he's ready to eat every two hours during the day but at night he'd go four plus hours without eating if I let him...which I have.  The nurse (just out of nursing school) who told us in a straight-from-her-nursing-textbook that we couldn't do that after he slept five hours straight in the hospital one night can sue me.  During the day he's in typical newborn-sleep-mode and while he's not sleeping is content with just peeking at his surroundings, which usually includes two over-interested twins getting all up in his biznaz.

They're absolutely smitten with him...a little too much sometimes.  C gives soft kisses (and licks) to his fuzzy head but then gets really excited and goes in for the ear grab or the binki snatch or the sock steal with full force.  S is always gentle with him and her fave place to be is nose-to-nose watching him bat his eyes or contort his face the way newborns do.  And then they're always pointing out his "nose" and stabbing him in the eyes to point those out.  It's cute and overkill all wrapped up in one big package stamped "sibling love".  

I have yet to type up a widdle birth story but let me tell you a little about the recovery...ouch, ouch, ouch.  I don't remember being as sore and in pain after the twins (whose labor was actually EASIER!)  Then again, I think a week after I had had them I was still constrained to a flat surface whereas a week after this one I feel 90%.  It's a real good thing you forget the pains that bearing a child brings because if you didn't, well, overpopulation wouldn't even be a word.  Am I right moms or amIright?

Anyway, the girls are still asleep and Sebastian is neatly tucked into the moby wrap strapped to my person so what else can I tell you?  Oh yeah, I FINALLY ordered a new laptop!  We actually ordered an HP a few weeks ago but sent it back because it had some major issues in the screen coloring department that couldn't be resolved after a frustrating call to HP and me repeating "I'm sorry, could you say that again" to the foreign man on the other line with the accent I just couldn't untangle.  Here's to hoping this one (which is supposed to come this week) won't disappoint and I'll be back and blogging per the usual because I SO miss it.

Oh and guess what?  I found my nesting bug!  Turns out it was waiting for me on the other side of pregnancy!  :)  I have all this new-found motivation to sew and create and paint and build and...and then I forget that I have a newborn.  So maybe it'll all happen a little slower than usual but there will be projects.  Actually, this week we're working on making a french door complete with inset glass out of a solid wood door to replace the hollow-core door between the kitchen and laundry room.  Also, we built that co-sleeper out of a thrifted changing table for Sebastian and so I'll get a post up all about that.  Here's a peek:

(There's been a little confusion with how it works based on the picture I took.  I snapped this after picture quick while it was not in it's usual spot of right next to the bed.  The short side at the top butts right up against our mattress and is the same height as our mattress, creating an extension of sorts.  The post will explain it better.)

Well, before I ramble some more I should probably scoot.  There's no time like nap time to do fun things like laundry, am I right?

#wrong