The Great House Misadventure

So I last left you with our bidding war saga. Well, that came and went and we were disappointed for a while, but as so many people told us; everything happens for a reason. Fast foward a few months and we continued to look at houses mostly online and went in one or two, but we weren't overly motivated to move. We eventually decided to go into a home that was just outside of town on five acres. It had been built in the last decade and had plenty of space. It needed nothing (not even paint!), which was a bit of a contrast from the changes we made to our last home to fit our cosmetic style. After touring the home we decided we really liked it but quickly learned it might be out of reach. The deal had to go through the owners' relocation company which wasn't accepting offers with contingencies; meaning they wouldn't take our offer unless our house was already sold. Well, our house wasn't even on the market, so we kind of let that go figuring it wouldn't be there by the time we got our house sold.

After seeing that it was the sale of our house that seemed to be holding us up every time, we threw our hands up and decided just to put our house on the market. We knew we wanted to move to something bigger, we knew we wanted to do it this year and we knew we didn't have a whole lot to lose. We figured if we sold and couldn't find something suitable we would just rent. At least we'd have a sold house and nothing holding us back next time. So we go through a marathon few days of cleaning our place up, fixing some little things and we eventually get it listed. Our agent, who has been fantastic through this whole process and very patient with us to boot, calls another agent to let her know he's listing our property the same night the sign goes in the yard. She schedules a showing for the next morning and BOOM! Offer, accepted, sold. So, we sold our house in 12 hours. I was in complete disbelief. Not to mention, now that other house is still on the market! Should we offer? Will they accept before our house deal is closed? What do we have to lose?

We make an offer on the other house. The owners accept immediately. We're thrilled! But, alas, the relocation company has the last say and says nothing. FOR. A. WEEK! We wait what feels like a year (but like I said it was just one week) and they ask for all kinds of documents on our house, the people who are buying our house and the people who are buying their house. This frustrated us, but we came to realize that it's a whole world full of cover your own rear-end kinds of practices now so we get it. To make a long story short, they eventually accepted our offer. Yay! Happy! Elation! Relief!

That was only the beginning of what would be the most frustrating month or so I've ever experienced. From this point on it was nothing but little setbacks and threats of the deal falling through. If I detailed them all, you'd get bored and stopped reading, but to hit the highlights: our deal almost fell through at one point (not due to anything on our end) so that threatened our new house deal, that was fixed but then the relocation company wanted more things signed, more documents, etc., the new house had a new septic tank put in (due to the old one being pumped out wrong) so that was a plus but the poor current owners had to move out for four days because of no septic, we found radon during an inspection in the basement (not a deal-breaker but one more thing to deal with), we had to install GFI outlets and fix a door at our current house, and the creme-de-le-creme: our closing was delayed by 3 hours due to a random happening on our mortgage company's part. We literally were driving our stuff around town because our other house had closed that morning and we had nowhere else to go.

So, needless to say it was a bumpy ride, but we got there and we now own our dream home. It's just far enough from town to make my husband happy, but just close enough that I'm not annoyed when I have to go to Wal-Mart! Why can't anything just be simple? Well, it's because of the misadventure factor of course! But life is still good.

We really do live under a lucky star, just as my Nana used to tell me.

Home sweet home!

Misadventures in Real Estate

My husband and I like to drive around. A lot. Probably more than anyone else on the planet. We do it to get out of the house, to pass time at lunch and to see what's on the real estate market. I guess you might call us the eternal optmists when it comes to home shopping. We're always on the lookout for our next dream home. We currently live in what was and still mostly is our starter dream home, but as families change and needs change, different sets of criteria become more desirable for the humble abode. So, you might say we're always looking for what's next. That's not to say we're not happy where we are now, we've just kind of made a hobby out of seeing what's on the market at all times. Some people call it an obsession, we just call it a passionate hobby.

Well, about a month ago our passion paid off, in what we thought were spades. See, with as much real estate as we drive by, view pictures and listings of and dream about, you'd think we go in every house that comes on the market. We don't. We couldn't do that to our poor real estate agent. I'd say we've been in maybe 3 or 4 houses in the last as many years. We've currently lived in our home (your standard 3 bedroom ranch) for 5 years. But on a recent trip to the country for our normal drive we stumbled across a gem (to us, trust me, many wouldn't get it). It was a little gray ranch house on about 3 acres of land with a creek running through the property; my husband's dream back yard come true and one that was close enough to town that I could adapt too. We called our agent, went in it and loved it. It was just a little bigger than our house which is what we had finally agreed was all we needed. It had the separate living and family rooms that I wanted and the landscape he wanted. We couldn't ask for more. After leavning we knew we wanted to make an offer so we left and went straight to the bank. We decided we'd get the offer on the table on Monday (this was late Friday afternoon).

The offer went out on a Monday (mind you this property had been on the market less than a week and in Charleston, IL, time that's nothing. Bidding wars aren't exactly a thing here.). A few hours later we were informed there was a competing offer and to give our best and final. So we did. After a few agonizing hours we learned we had been outbid and/or outdone, we're not sure which. We put in a hefty bid but were financing a certain way and asking for closing costs so we could move forward with the purchase and hold our mortgage and the new one until ours sold. That might not have set with the sellers and the other offer might've had more cash. Who knows. But at any rate, they didn't pick us and we were pretty much crushed. So, the moral of the story is, if you want something, hurry up and get it! Or something like that...

But the sting has lessened and we've decided we will move and upgrade this year while rates are low and prospects are high. Now is the time! Plus, something great might be on the horizon. Things happen for a reason and I'm starting to see how true this can be. We're currently looking into another dream home. Fingers crossed!

Elevator go...nowhere!

Wow! Long time, no blog! I'm back and sorry for the delay. I guess finishing up grad school, teaching a class at the university and taking on some extra responsibilities at work, plus a busy toddler have left me lacking in the free evening time department! At any rate I'm back and I'm going to try my best to keep on posting more often.

This misadventure begins with something I do every Tuesday and Thursday, but it's really more about what I didn't do. I teach class on those days in the same building I work in and I always go up the elevator and into the Journalism Department office to get keys to open my classroom door (which I don't have to now thanks to my very own set of keys!). This particular Tuesday I went into the elevator shut the door and waited to go up. And waited. And waited. I began to wonder, but not panic, if the elevator was stuck. So I stood there a little longer and pushed the "door open" button. It opened and I was still in the same place I started from (I think elevators are like magic little boxes. It's amazing that you can push a button and totally end up somewhere else with the opening of a door). So I walked back in and tried again. This time I actually PUSHED THE 2 BUTTON! Amazing. It went right up. I guess the moral of the story is, make sure to push the elevator button if you actually expect it to work. Yeah, I was "that guy" that day that got in and just expected it to go. In my defense, there are only 2 floors in the building and 2 buttons in the elevator so I guess I just kind of thought it only has one place to go, so it'll go there. Alas, it's not true. So just remember you have to command the elevator to go. Using the force just won't cut it. I happily admitted my error to the J. Department staff who laughed. At least someone got some entertainement out of the whole thing!

I did make it to the wedding! Here's a picture to prove it. Haha!

This reminded me of the time I actually got stuck in an elevator. It just happened to be on my wedding day. I was all dressed and ready to go and heading downstairs to get in the limo. We were married in Sarasota, Florida, on the beach so I was excited to get there and check the place out. A few of my bridesmaids were with me and as we got on, so did about half of a high school basketball team that was headed to a tournament from our same hotel. I don't know if it was weight overload (no fat jokes! There were a lot of people on this thing!) or just a malfunction but somewhere between the 4th floor and the ground level the whole thing just stopped. We all were quiet for a minute and then one of the basketball players pushed a few buttons and nothing happened. We began to debate pushing the help button but decided to wait just another minute. I was getting nervous that I was going to be late, although let's be honest, it's hard to start without me and the bridesmaids!  But anyway, I think a few of the guys could tell I was starting to worry and one of them said, "Don't worry, we'll get you out first and to that wedding if we have to push you out of the top!" That definitely lightened the mood. A few seconds later the thing kicked back on and we made it safely to the ground floor where we all came out with a story to tell. I'm still left wondering how their version goes though.

The Wrap Party Misadventure

This summer I was blessed enough to be a part of the St. Jude Mattoon to Peoria Run. The run is a fundraiser for children at St. Jude and culminates in a 150-mile run from Mattoon to Peoria where the fundraising is celebrated. I am not a runner, so I rode along and provided "run support." I also took photos and made a video of my trip (naturally, I'm a journalist!). It was an amazing experience and very inspiring to see these 50 runners and their physical and emotional dedication to this cause. After it's all said and done, there is a wrap party to share photos and memories. I decided to attend this party and take my 15-month-old. By myself. My husband was needing to get some  yardwork done and I thought, "What a great time for him to do that and we'll go and enjoy the party!" (In case you're interested in seeing what the run is all about, you can view the video I made here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lK2cW2YQWDI)

Now, I've been places with my son by myself before, but I can safely say this was a new experience. And a learning one. First, he's walking now so his favorite thing to do was run around and try to play with other kids and explore. Not so bad. I can just follow him and make sure he plays nice and doesn't explore anything too dirty or inappropriate. I never bothered trying to go to the bathroom while I was there because I honestly had no idea what I would do with him. I don't think he could stand still and behave in a bathroom stall long enough! He did well sitting at the table and eating snacks until dinnertime. I decided to take him to the line with me to get food (it was buffet-style). This is where it got interesting. Like I said, I was learning new things all the time here as I often am as a first-time parent. Luckily, I knew many people there and my friends Dalena and Rick were able to help me and entertain Tyler a little in line or what happened next could've been a complete disaster.

We're in line waiting patiently (well, sort of) and I pick up a plate and proceed to get a few rolls. Next is the buns for the pulled pork they were serving. Right about there in the line Tyler decides to grab the whole bun bag and pull it off the counter. Luckily, Dalena is right behind us to grab them before they all hit the floor and are rendered completely useless. We get that all taken care of an move up to the pulled pork. I reach up to get the tongs and Tyler beats me to them and pulls them out of the dish flinging hot pork juice all over. I'm struggling to get them and keep him settled down while he's wildly waving the tongs around. Dalena and Rick rescue the tongs before they get dumped on the floor or thrown at somebody, thank goodness! Another disaster averted. We did finally get to our table and manage to eat and watch the videos without incident (except Tyler falling asleep for a few minutes. I'm sure he was exhausted from all of that potential fun-ruining!).

I guess the moral of the story is, thank goodness for good friends and life with kids will always be a learning experience! It certainly made me appreciate all of those times I have help even more. It's crazy to think that it's so much easier when someone is with you. You can go to the bathroom, order a drink, walk across the room to talk to someone, etc., and there's another set of eyes to watch him! It's totally doable on your own, but again, it sure made me grateful for all the help I do get!

12 Reasons Why I Wouldn't Live Anywhere But a Small Town

"Sometimes you wanna go...where everybody knows your name!" Okay, so now that I've got you singing along with me, I'll move on to the actual topic of this post that the Cheers theme song so aptly segueys us into: 12 Reasons Why I Wouldn't Live Anywhere But a Small Town.

I realize this isn't a "misadventure" so to say, but it was a topic that just happened to be on my mind today. I was reading an article about 10 Reasons Living in a Small Town Rocks posted by a Facebook friend the other day. It focused more on the arts and artisans parts of small-town living, but it got me thinking about why I like living in a small town, and just to be different, I had to come up with 12 reasons, instead of 10, so here goes.

1. There's never any traffic. You may never find yourself in a legitimate traffic jam in a small town unless it's shift change or there's a funeral procession. And even then, we still only call it "rush minute." There is no such thing as rush hour.

2. When you go out, people actually do know your name (and sometimes your order at your favorite eatery, your kids' names, your cousins, aunts, uncles, mom and dad and siblings). Sounds like a bad thing, right? I beg to differ. There are advantages to this. Like going to the bank. They don't ask for my picture ID or my name. They already know me and bring up my account as I walk int he door. Another example I can think of is losing your dog. A friend of mine at work lost her dog the other day and the neighbor found her, let her in the back yard, fed her and sent an email out to her contacts about having this missing dog. The email eventually got to someone who knew my friend. That someone called my friend and the dog and owner were reunited. Only in a small town. And it's still the type of town where we post flyers with photos of our missing pets because there is hope that they'll actually be returned safely. Another good example is leaving the door unlocked. I've had to do this in more than one instance and I'm never afraid. Not having fear goes a long way in my book. I'm not saying all cities are scary, I'm just saying that the Beaver Cleaver-esqueness of small-town neighborhoods is something I can't get enough of. My neighbors still wave at you, bring you electric hedge trimmers when you're struggling with manual ones and stop by just to say "hi" sometimes. The interconnectedness of your community really makes you feel safe and welcome.

3. Shopping local is just about the only option and it's actually fun! I have actually recently adopted this as my new challenge. Shop as local as possible. Small towns develop little boutique businesses and if we choose to support them, we can also find out that they have more unique offerings than your big box stores. Let's face it: Most small towns only have a Wal-Mart, so patronizing the little antique stores, resale shops, health food stores and other pop-up mom and pops are our best option. And you better bet the items and food you buy are a whole lot better than a lot of your chain choices.

4. This is one the other article mentioned, but I agree with 100%. Trends seem to come late or pass us by completely and sometimes that's ok. At least we don't buy trendy things we'll be sick of in the immediate future. Since it takes so long for trendy things to make their way to rural America, many times they're over and done with before we even get wind of them. Two things here: again, we don't spend a lot of money on things that will only be hot for a short time, and two, if we do want to get something trendy, we have to go a long way to find it, so chances are it'll at least be a thought-out purchase before we make it.

5. People still get together just to chat. It's a slower pace in Small Town, USA, and people still get together at the local McDonald's or the cafe down the street just to have coffee and catch up. It seems in cities the hustle and bustle has everyone using the "I'm too busy" excuse. Not in a small town. We make the time for our friends and family.

6. It's not a competition or race to the 4-Way stop so that you can go first. I've noticed this a lot lately. Three people get to a four-way stop at the same time. Who goes first? Well, here in my small town, no one's in a hurry so we all wave each other on. One person tries to go, then another, then we get stuck again and the whole silly dance starts over. I actually love this. It's one of those things that makes me happy inside because even though we're all strangers, we really want you to just go ahead and get to your destination first. We're happy to wait.

7. Riding the lawnmower down the city streets is not an uncommon sight. So it's a little Redneck, but you can't help but think that guy or gal is headed to help a neighbor mow, right? Why else would you drive your mower down the street? No matter what the reason, you only see it in small towns and I love it.

8. High school football. Yeah, we're totally all "Friday Night Lights" around here during football season. You don't have to have a kid in sports to want to watch either. The whole community takes pride in their local high school teams. A deep-rooted, simple pleasure you can't get at this level of intensity anywhere else.

9. Volunteerism and community pride. Without volunteers and people taking a little pride in their hometown, most little villages, towns and cities couldn't survive. There's nothing like seeing a group of small-town people coming together for a blood drive, during times of disaster, or any other time. It's just a feeling I don't think can be matched in volume or degrees of care in any big city.

10. Farmer's Markets. Sure, there's fresh produce markets in big cities, but they're not your good, ol' downtown farmer's market. Fresh, homemade pies, homegrown corn, local tomatoes and sometimes even local music fill the streets once a month in many small towns. Neighbors chat, new friends are made and it's just the best example of local people coming together to support one-another.

11. Finding something to do presents a challenge. Again, sounds bad, right? I see it another way. Learning to discover the little things right here at home in your community is priceless. Maybe it's the local history museum or restored candy kitchen or soda fountain, but every small town has something like that and finding those little gems and making a day of them truly makes it worth the hunt. Cities are great and have an abundance of activities, but what's the fun in knowing where you're going when you can explore and create your own fun in rural America?

12. The people. People in small towns are easy-going, friendly and always willing to help. Flat tire? No problem. Even a stranger would probably stop to help you around here. It's just the way people are in small towns and it's something I've grown up on and will never forget. Small town people really do rock!

In case you want to read the original article I got my topical inspiration from, you can find it here:
http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/10-reasons-why-i-love-living-in-a-small-town-173511

The "Almost Done With Grad School" Misadventure

Have you ever had that sudden, gut-crunching feeling when the wheels fall off? I can honestly say I hadn't until near the end of my grad school career. I'm what many like to call "organized." I like to get things done (sometimes even before the deadline). So, I made sure that my final paper for my grad school thesis-like project was turned in with plenty of time to spare. I think my final draft was turned into my advisor sometime in late February and it wasn't necessarily due until early April. At any rate, I got it done, got it pretty much off my mind and continued to prepare for my oral presentation of the paper that was to come in mid-April (which means I made the Power Point and never looked at it again. I never practice speeches). About two weeks before my presentation I get to thinking about my panel committee (previously selected and scheduled for my big presentation). I start to wonder if I was supposed to give them my paper or if my advisor would do this. A little panic sets in, but I email my advisor and he says just to put hard copies in their mailboxes and all should be well. Ok, no problem. I can totally do that. I print the copies off five minutes later and in a matter of 10 minutes I have them dropped off to the appropriate people. While I'm dropping them off I receive an email from one of my committee members (and the chair of the department).

It says something to the effect of, "I haven't seen your paper yet, have you submitted it?" I quickly reply back that yes I had (it was done many moons ago) and that a hard copy is now in the mailboxes (which is required, no electronic copies will do). She emails back, "I don't feel like one week is adequate enough time for me to review your paper and perhaps you should reschedule your presentation." Panic. Pure panic sets in. Here I am, I have everything done, I worked hard to make sure I'm all scheduled and ready to go and this person wants me to reschedule?! There's that "wheels fell off" feeling. Just like a punch in the gut. I'm frantically searching through the handbook thinking, "Can she do this to me? I am all ready to go and I don't have time later to fit the presentation in my schedule!" I find the section in the book that says the paper must be submitted to the committee two weeks in advance. So, she's right. I didn't provide the paper in the proper amount of time for review. Now I'm really freaking out. My advisor is usually awesome at giving us deadlines and reminding us to do things like this, so I'm trying to figure out how I missed this one. I'm a graduate student, I should know better and don't need to rely on other people to remind me!

I forward the email to my advisor with a note simply asking, "What do I do!?" In the meantime, I haven't replied to her other than to say the copy is in her mailbox. My phone rings. It's the advisor. "What the heck does she think she's doing to you!?" He's pretty mad at this point just like I am. He goes on to explain that apparently nobody has followed this rule in the last 2 years and it's never been made a big deal of. He's all fired up and says he'll just find someone else to be on my panel if she can't find the time over an entire week to read a 40-page paper. He tells me not to worry and not to let it ruin my day. I'm a little relieved, but glad that he's on my side at least. He could've easily told me that I'm a grad student and I'm responsible for the hole I dug myself into.

Of course I worry. And of course, I never hear back from her. I have to have at least 3 people present at my panel so I go there the following week not knowing what to expect. She is there in the room for the previous panel but leaves before mine. So, I'm thinking, well, we'll  use the advisors backup pick who shows up right on time. She ends up coming back and sits down without saying a word. I'm just silently running through my presentation, trying to calm my nerves. My advisor decides to ask her why she's here. She says, "Well, I'm on the committee." He scoffs in disbelief and says, "Well, I didn't know if you'd be here or not since you sent that email." She says she would have told someone if she wasn't going to be there. By this point, it's five minutes past my time to present and our backup pick (it feels like the draft or something!) says he'll just stay because it doesn't look like my other comittee member will make it. So I start. I'm doing well. The door opens, here comes the final committee member.

To make a long story short, I ended up with a bonus committee member and I passed the presentation with distinction. So, I ended up with a Master of Science in Technology with a 4.0 Grade Point Average and distinction for my presentation. What started out as a scary week, turned out to be just about the best one ever. Even if it did mean nearly having a heart attack.

Misadventures in Beekeeping

No, I'm not a beekeeper. I just play one on TV sometimes. I've said it before, I have a pretty cool job. I host a travel show for a small PBS station and we travel around Illinois meeting people and visiting places that are unique. One of my recent ventures was to a beekeeping farm in rural Central Illinois. For anyone that knows me, you know I'm terrified of bees. Well, I'm terrifed of all flying insects really. So, when I ventured out to this bee farm for my show, I never dreamed I'd be getting up close and personal with the bees.

I was doing okay filming them. The beekeeper told me where to stand and assured me I wouldn't get stung, so all was well. Then he said "I've got an extra suit, maybe you want to demonstrate some of this on camera?" Uh, I'm sure I looked blank, but after grinding about it for a minute I decided that you only live once and I'd give it a shot. I suited up in the white suit, made sure all of the velcro was as tight as possible and proceeded to the chosen hive. I was going to lift one of the combs out of the hive for my co-host to film...WITH MY BARE HANDS! I was like, "Aren't there gloves or something?" I was informed that no, there were not. Your hands need to be sensitive so you know how much pressure you're exerting everywhere and not crushing bees. Ugh, I shuttered just thinking about accidentally touching a bee. But, at any rate I went ahead and picked up the comb and even managed a smile for the camera. Later, I got brave enough to taste the honey right off the comb (AMAZING!). It turned out to be a really fun and educational day, despite my fears. I maybe even got over some of them...a little.

I'm also happy to announce that I didn't get stung! I've posted the video above so you can see what all the buzz is about (Ha-Ha)!

The Pee Through and the Poop-a-Roo

Ok, so I never dreamed I'd talk this much about bodily functions until I had a child, but I think you might all get a kick out of these. I know I did (well, I'm laughing now at least). So you've all heard the adage, "Let sleeping dogs lie." Well, I'm willing to bet you've thought the same thing about babies, right? Never wake a sleeping baby. That's one of my primary missions in life. I always do my best to not wake my 10-month-old son once he's gone to sleep. So, recently when he went to bed at his normal time, I went along with my normal routine. I watch a video monitor while he sleeps and I usually go in his room a few times before I got to bed to do a physical inspection (I look at him, listen to him breathe, feel his arms and head to make sure he's warm enough). On this particular night he had been running a fever, so I put my hand under his back to make sure he wasn't sweating (if he was, I had planned to take him out of his sleep sack for a while). Oh, he wasn't sweaty, he had peed! That has never happened! He was soaked, his bed was soaked, everything was wet. Now I had to break my cardinal rule. I  picked up the sleeping baby and proceeded to get him out of all the wet jammies, sleep sack, diaper, etc. I laid him on the floor in his room because it was the fastest way. Right away I discovered the issue. His diaper was only closed on one side. We won't say whose fault that is...

Somewhere deep in my heart I thought, "maybe he'll stay asleep." Haha, wishful thinking! So he's screaming, I'm changing sheets, jammies, diapers all in a blur. We finally made enough noise to rouse my husband (I was trying to spare him the sleep loss). So, now we're all in on it, but we finally get everything dry and the baby back to sleep with a little rocking and the night proceeds as usual. Needless to say, I now stick my hand under the baby every night to make sure that hasn't happened! It was just such a weird thing!

On the whole other side of the bodily function spectrum is the toy at our house that we now affectionately refer to as the poop-a-roo. Everyone always thinks I'm joking when I say that every time my kid gets in the jumparoo, he has to potty. People always say, "oh surely not every time!" with a dismissive laugh. Well, I'm here to tell you, it's just about 99 percent of the time! My daycare even started laughing about it because he does it there in their jumparoo too. I guess it's just a natural "mover" so to speak, but everytime you put him down in there he jumps and screams and laughs and then just stops, and you know what's happening! I've washed the seat of that thing more times than any person probably ever should have to because you can imagine what doing your thing and then jumping up and down can cause...

Anyway, that's my tale of the pee through and poop-a-roo. One rare thing and one that happens all the time. Ahhh, the joys of parenthood. But I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

A Week of Misadventure

Sometimes life gets in the way...of blogging at least. So, I humbly register my apologies for not posting for a while, but I think this blog will explain why things have been a little hectic at my house lately. It mostly involves timing more than anything.

You know how life seems to be going along at a nice clip and you know it's too good to be true? Well, it usually is and it was a few weeks ago. I had a normal Tuesday and upon stopping into work on Wednesday I learned of a terrible loss a co-woker had experienced unexpectedly overnight. After recovering from the initial shock, I began to formulate how I could help and I decided to offer to take over much of her duties at work when I could. This entailed spending a lot of time trying to do both her job and mine (thankful that the time I couldn't help, a journalism professor here could). I was so glad I had the skillset to be able to help and it really just meant staying a little longer at work here and there. Well, this works all fine and good because my wonderful husband was available each night to pick up our son from daycare and take him home (which is usually my duty).

A few days of this and it's going well until lunch one day when my husband says, "I hate to even say this out loud, but I have to go out of town for a few days." Wow. Now my support drops out! Of course work would come calling now because that's how it usually goes right? Neither of us are overly busy for a long time, then all of the sudden, BAM! We talk it out and decide that I can get some help filling in the later times at work for the next few days so I can go back to picking up my son and it all works out great, crises are averted and all of that good stuff. Eventually, life pretty much gets back to the new normal. Now, I'm officially back to doing my own work, which is nice in a lot of ways but I was glad that I could help out when needed.

I have to be honest. I admire single parents or those that are alone for long periods of time. Raising our son is very much a partnership and I find myself a little bamboozled from time-to-time when I'm alone. It's the simple things like leaving the baby with my husband when I have to go to the bathroom, or when I want to take a shower or when I answer the phone, switch the laundry, etc. Oh, believe me, I've found ways around some of that by adapating as I'm sure all parents faced with this do. Some are normal, some are funny. My personal favorite is the day I took my son to the bathroom with me. It's a little strange, yes, but I just held him on my lap. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do! He's about to the stage now where you can't leave him alone because he's somewhat mobile and even a 2-minute trip to the bathroom could turn ugly and leaving him in his crib is just a stressful trip to the bathroom because he cries most of the time unless he's already peaceful and happy, so you do what you gotta do! I'm sure some of you out there can relate! You can't tell me you haven't spread a blanket out on the floor of your bathroom and made funny faces in the mirror while you put on your makeup in the morning to keep the little person in your life happy!? Well, that's at least another one of my little tricks. I try to do everything else after he's gone to bed for the evening.

So, anyway, the stress of doing two jobs in one, grad school, my single parenting moment and everything else has pretty much evened out now, but it was definitely one crazy week worthy of the misadventures. Oh, and as for my son...I think he came out of it okay too.

Oh Deer!

So, I'm not generally too much of a "soft touch," well, at least I didn't used to be. I think being a parent has changed that...or something. Anyway, just about everything makes me feel and overthink things now like I never used to. I give you this back story so I can get to the front story. It's all about a deer.

I'm driving to a meeting for a service group that I'm a part of down our area 4-lane highway when I see a police car in front of me turn on his passing lights and then red-n-blues some distance down the road from me. As I approach him, he's in the left lane stopped with his spotlight on shining into the median. I'm slowing down to respect him as I always do police and other emergency personnel (and maybe to rubberneck a little too) when I look over and see a deer. The poor thing is laying down, crouched kind of on all fours, just off the side of the road looking at the policeman in horror, but it can't move. I'm assuming it's been clipped by a car. So, wishing I could wash my eyes and brain and not remember seeing that, I drive on to my meeting.

Great, now I'm all teary thinking about what he might have to do to the deer. What's the protocol on something like this? Will animal control come get it and put it out of its misery? Will the cop shoot it? I pretty much figure the policeman will just shoot the poor thing. Now I'm all upset, but I manage to keep it together and get to the meeting after turning up the music a little and vowing to think about other things. Now, after the meeting, all the way home, I'm thinking about it again. As I approach the spot where the deer had been I'm looking into the dark to see if it's still there and wondering what did happen to it. I don't see it. So, I'm going with this: the deer wasn't hurt, she was just tired, took a little roadside nap and the officer just came along and sent her on her way. Ok? Ok. We're going with that and I'd thank you to let me live in my happy little place on this one! I guess this is more of a misadventure for the deer than for me, but still, I felt like I wanted to share this story for some reason.

I think the point I'm making here is mommy-guilt is real. Life experiences have made me soft. Everything that can even hint at pulling out emotions does now. And to the extreme! Hallmark commercials, thinking about other peoples' situations even when I don't know them, and on and on and on and on. Realizing how short life is and how important every moment is definitely is something I have come to respect more than I used to. Whether it's age or becoming a new parent, I both love and hate it. So thank you, you poor little deer for reminding me again that life is short and even if it's the little things, we shouldn't take them for granted.

The Ongoing Ear-y Misadventures

Happy New Yaer! Wow, my apologies for not posting in a terribly long time (especially in the blogosphere!). We've been busy at our house. Most of what's going on is what the subject of this blog is about. Ears. My poor son, Tyler, has had nothing but trouble with his for the last 4 months of his life and we've crossed over from understanding and consoling to downright anger and "get something done now" type of feelings. It started with an ear infection, which of course we didn't know about until it was bad. Ear infections in babies have a way of being stealthy until they're pretty full blown. I'd say this first one was when he was about 3-4 months old. We went to the doctor, got the medicine, healed it up, all was well. Then they started happening frequently, as in one would come up a week after the antibiotic course from the last one. So, we continued to see the doctor (about every 2 weeks) and kept getting antibiotics. I know I speak for a lot of parents when I say that all you want when they feel that way is to make them better. The poor guy tosses his head around and wakes anywhere from 5 to 15 times a night because of it. So after several months of this, we are referred to an Ear, Nose and Throat Specialist (ENT). We have our appointment with her and she suggests saline rinses to his sinuses and Prevacid to stop any reflux (also known as spitting up) that we can.

While I appreciate that she didn't rush right into surgery, I have to admit I was a little disappointed that she didn't go ahead and suggest tubes for his ears. We were just wanting SOME sort of relief. She said she thought the spit-up was splashing and sitting in his ears causing the constant infections. Try it for six weeks and come back (January 20th). Oh, ok. Would you like to come home and deal with this with me for 6 weeks, because I'm pretty sure you have NO idea!

Well, here we were 2 weeks before Christmas and he gets ANOTHER one. This time, his ear drum bursts. To say I am mad is a vast understatement. I get that she can't predict that, but now I'm ready to talk tubes. I hold myself together for the pediatrician who more than senses my frustration. She gives him more antibiotics and puts him on a semi-permanent preventative dose. She says "that should be enough evidence (for tubes)." Okay, that'll do for now, but I am NOT waiting until the 20th. Luckily, we got rescheduled for this Friday, January 6th. In the meantime, my poor little kid is still tossing his head around on occassion but is generally the happiest baby you could ever know. He's been quite the trooper. But I'll tell you one thing, I will not be discussing anything other than tubes this Friday. As far as I'm concerned, the ear-y misadventures must stop.

The Misadventure That Always Seems to Happen

My family and I recently went on vacation to Panama City Beach, Florida. We've (by "we" I mean anywhere from 11-13 members of our family) been going there for Thanksgiving since I was a little kid and it's part of the year that I always look forward to. This year, everything was different...mostly in good ways! It was Tyler's first trip to the beach (which he wasn't too sure of), first time in the pool (which he LOVED), our first trip with my new cousin Jack (his sister Mya has been a few times previously), and of course golf, warm weather, and spending copious amounts of time with family. The bad: my cousin moved to California this year and got a new job so he was unable to come and my Grandma wasn't able to come this year either. We missed them a lot. We had a good time as usual, but I started to notice a trend that I would definitely consider a continuing misadventure.

The problem: my son poops EVERY TIME we get out to dinner. It seems like no sooner than we sit down, he needs his pants changed! I find this far more funny than annoying. Seriously, I'm laughing. Right now. As I type this. He was a very good sport and traveler for the 12 hour ride down and the 12 hour ride back and a good sport about being drug all over to unfamiliar places, but the kid has bad timing. If we stopped at a gas station and changed his diaper, he'd poop 15 miles down the road and we'd have to stop again. If we stopped at Cracker Barrel for lunch, as soon as we got our food, he pooped. I'm not real big on letting him sit in it, so of course he has to be changed right away. Needless to say, I (and many mommies out there), get a lot of cold meals.
From this "problem" comes some very interesting observations. I can tell you with confidence that newly built McDonald's have the nicest baby changing stations. I can also tell you that most gas stations have one (when I decided not to change him in the car). The best, though, are family restrooms! What a wonderful creation! I love that I can go into this unisex bathroom (which ALWAYS has changing stations), take my mom or husband with me to hold the bag or help or whatever, and I don't have to wait for the handicap stall to come available, I don't have to try and hurry up so I'm not taking up the changing station time, etc. It's really a great thing. I used my first one at a nice rest stop somewhere in Florida and my second one at the mall in Panama City Beach (where of course he had pooped during our lunch at Five Guys).

Here's one for you though. It was a first. We were out to Thanksgiving dinner at a very nice place with a traditional dinner buffet. We sit down and before I even get my plate....oops! Time to change the baby's pants. So my mom, bless her heart, goes to the bathroom with me. The handicap stall is taken by a mother and her young son, so we wait, knowing there's a changing station in there. They of course take forever, because that's how it goes when you're in a hurry to get back to family and a warm meal. They finally come out and we step inside. No changing table. Seriously?! No changing station? I guess I was remiss in assuming everyone had one of these. We all know what assuming does...

So anyway, now we need a creative solution. I guess our only option in the counter between the sinks. So we reluctantly put out the changing pad (which we scrubbed clean later, ugh) and proceeded to change him, the whole time in awe that there was no changing station. Well, now I guess we know. Not EVERYONE  has one of these. It's the little things you start to learn (and get annoyed by) being a new parent that you never even once stopped to consider before. I think I was even somtimes annoyed by the changing stations in the bathrooms. Never again will I take one for granted!

But, alas, the trend continued and my son proceeded to potty each and every time we went to dinner. What can you do but laugh? And write a blog about the misadventure this crazy trend created.

Misadventures of the Borrowers

Have you ever heard of the borrowers? You know, the little people that live under the stairs and only "borrow" things from you that they need for their homes, survival, etc.? I think there was a movie made about them some time ago...but anyway, I have two of them living in my house. They come in the form of white, fluffy, Bichon dogs named Teddy and Tobey (moreso Tobey than Teddy). They borrow anything they can get ahold of, but rarely destroy what it is they take. Most recently it's been socks, dryer sheets, burp rags, and...pacifiers.

We generally keep a good eye on most of this stuff, but don't worry too much since they rarely tear anything up. We purchased a special grabber to get things out from under our king-size bed, so we just retrieve them every now and then when we think about it. Well, as of late, we've had to keep a special eye on the pacifiers. It started 6 months ago of course when we brought our son home from the hospital. He received these special organge jelly pacifiers from the hospital that we had yet to find anywhere else (we later learned our local hospital gift shop had them). So, we had two or three of these and made sure to take good care of them. One day we left one sitting on the couch and left the room to change the baby's diaper. When I came back, it was gone. I didn't think much of it, but figured I had probably left it elsewhere. A day or so later, I looked under our bed and saw what looked like clear plastic pieces. I couldn't figure out what they were, so I just chalked it up to something the dogs had gotten like a hanger, or piece of something else.

This same scenario happened again. I was now down two orange pacifiers and this was disconcerting because we only had one left. This time I managed to find one, the nipple chewed off and it was all clear. It clicked. The clear pieces from weeks earlier were also from a pacifier. So, apparently orange pacis turn clear when mercilessly chewed, in case you were curious. These were the only things the dogs were seeming to destroy. After some loud scolding and some subsequent training sessions (setting a paci on the floor and when they approached it, telling them "no!") for several days, we figured we had solved the problem. We also vowed to be more dilligent about where we left pacifiers.

A little while later when we had apparently gotten comfortable with our new rule and forgotten all about it, friends of ours were over. As they were leaving, my friend asks me, "Have you seen Carter's paci?" We look everywhere. It's nowhere to be found. It dawns on me. I bet it's under the bed. BINGO! It was too late. It had been the latest casualty of the Teddy/Tobey destruction factory. After my apologies and more dog scolding, we vowed again to keep an eye on the pacis. Several months actually passed with no lost pacis, but the orange ones had gone by the wayside. Luckily, we were able to track down some soft green ones you can buy at Wal-Mart that he was comfortable with.

Speaking of comfortable, there we were again, forgetting about our rule. We lost a few more, we scolded, we cleaned up pieces with the grabber. Again, we did really well for the next few months, until our most recent casualty. We left a paci on the couch and it was gone in an instant. It's like my dogs are stealthy ninjas. You hear and see nothing and all the sudden the pacis are gone with no evidence. We began to be concerned that Tobey would get sick from all the plastic he was eating. Luckily, after one big exodous of doggy puke on the floor this morning (sorry to be graphic), we were able to count all of the pieces of the latest paci, so at least the dog will be okay. Our pride, however, probably won't!

So the total stands: Teddy/Tobey: 6      Pleasants/Biermans: 0.

Moral of this misadventure, keep an eye on the pacifiers. Because losing them sucks....(sorry for the bad pun).

The Class(ic) Misadventure

For those unaware, I'm a graudate student at Eastern Illinois University. I'm not sure whether I just enjoy punishing myself or if I just really love education, but whatever it is, I'm about to finish my Master of Science in Technology degree. That means I take classes. This semester I have a class on Wendesday nights that happens to meet in Champaign, about 45 minutes away. Lucky for me, several people I have taken classes with in the past were also taking this class, so we decided to carpool together and take turns driving.

This particular week it was the only guy in our car's turn to drive. It's this poor guy and three women. I'm sure he gets more than his share of chatting and girl talk than he cares to have, but he's a good sport. The ride up there started out interesting and it just kept getting better. We all ride together every week and have been for almost 10 weeks now and I've had other classes with these people so we know quite a bit about each other by now. I know this guy is a former EIU football player, he's from Florida, he has a great family, he's very intelligent and loves school; but you learn something new every day.

First, me and this guy have the same taste in music, which is rare because my taste is pretty eclectic. He plays a song on the radio by Jason Derulo. It's something I know and like so I comment aloud to him about how much I enjoy Jason Derulo's music. His response, "I went to school with Jason Derulo." I had to call him out. "Seriously? You mean he went to your school and you know who he is, right?" His reply, "Nah, I really know the guy." So, that blows me away! He tells me all about how Jason Derulo is actually from Haiti like he is and how he went to a performing arts school in New York after leaving Florida and all kinds of interesting facts. I'm in awe, but we discuss it a little more and I let it go. Very cool.

But anyway, we get to class, gather out things up and get ready to head into the building. It's a nasty, rainy night so we're in a hurry. I start to walk up to the building and I hear the guy we rode with yell, "Hey, did you see my keys?" I laugh and think 'him and those keys!' because it always seems he's losing track. They're generally in his backpack or other pocket he didn't look in yet so I go back to help him look. This time...no such luck. They're locked in the trunk. I laugh about this and he's like "What're we going to do!?" So, we head into class and tell our teacher, who has also driven up from EIU about the debacle. He offers to drive us home after class and then drive this gentleman back up with the spare keys. I'm telling him the whole time, "Call the campus police, they'll unlock it for free!" Everyone is naysaying me on this one. "No they won't, they don't do that!" I say, "Ok, but I've had them do it at EIU or at least had friends that had them do it, so surely they'll do it up here (at Parkland)." So, facing the alternative, my teacher decides to call the campus police for our friend and driver. After a while he comes back in with the keys! "See!" I said. "I told you they'd do it!" They all agreed that I was right and couldn't believe that the campus police would actually do that.

Sometimes I'm right. Haha. At any rate, I'm glad we got the keys back and no one had to drive us home. It was a misadventure that had a happy ending.

The Painful (on several levels) Misadventure

Each day as new parents there are new challenges we have to master. One of those we have to do often is trimming finger and toenails. Apparently everything on babies grows like a weed! Sometimes I feel like that's all I get done is trimming nails. But, I digress. My latest misadventure begins with this very task.

On a normal weekend morning I got up with Tyler and got him changed and fed him his morning bottle. He was getting droopy-eyed so we finished the bottle and I let him relax there for a while. He was pretty much asleep so I decided that'd be the best time to cut his nails as I usually do. My first issue is that I couldn't find the nail clippers. I looked in the bathroom, the diaper bag, his bedroom, and finally, I find them in a random box in the kitchen. I remembered later why I'd tossed them in there, but at any rate it took me a while to find them. Luckily Tyler was still lightly dozing so I went ahead and started the nail clipping process. This went as normally as one could hope...at least for 9 fingers.

I finally got to the last finger, one of his thumbs. He's a little awake now, but still dozing so I figure I'll go ahead and finish quickly before he wakes up fully. I slide the clippers over the nail and just as I'm about to clamp down, he startles awake (most babies do this, and it's quite the event if you've ever seen it) and I've already clamped down. The tears and wails start. I've cut his thumb. So, he's all red-faced and screaming now and I'm already feeling bad because I've hurt him (the first time I've actually made him this upset from something I physically did). I finally get ahold of the flailing hand to survey the damage and I see it. I cut the side/top of the skin near the nail. Now blood's trickling everywhere! It's on the baby's pajamas, on me...I'm beginning to get uncomfortable, but not panicking.

My first instinct is to put his finger in my mouth, so I do in hopes of keeping the blood volume down. That's not helping so I grab the burp rag because it's the closest thing I have and wrap up his little hand and hold it. He's still screaming and the mommy guilt is setting in. I'm nearly in tears and his finger is gushing so I take him in the bedroom to my husband, who was sleeping and say, "I need help, I don't know what to do!" He shoots up out of bed and says, "What happened?" I unwrap Tyler's finger and it's still gushing blood. We all head out to the kitchen and run his hand under water. Nothing. Still gushing. We decide that we should elevate his hand and put pressure on it so I get him on the couch and hold his hand up. Luckily at this point, he stops crying. It was almost like magic. I sat there holding his hand up for a long time and I went to look to see how it was doing, and it's still bleeding. Now I'm debating going to the emergency room. But surely baby nail clippers can't do that much damage, right? So we sit a little longer. My husband gets a band-aid; still bleeding. My mind is racing.

How much blood can a baby lose before this gets bad? Do I need to tie it off or something like you see in those movies? Can you even stitch a baby's finger?

Finally, I get it together and still holding the baby's arm up, take another look. Yes! It stopped bleeding! After a few tears of my own, we manage to get some Neosporin on the finger and put one of those newborn cotton mits that you use to keep babies from scratching themselves on it to keep the medicine on. Not a half-hour afte rthe entire incident, Tyler is already laughing and playing and forgetting about what his mommy did to him. Boy, was that a day I'd like to soon forget!

The good news is, just three days later, you can barely tell it happened at all by looking at his finger. Thank goodness babies are so resillient...even when their mommies aren't.

The Adventure That Had a Small Misadventure at the End

I've said it before. My job is pretty cool. I'm a television producer/director for a small PBS station. As part of my job, I co-host a travel show in which we feature interesting people and places on the backroads. I was out doing one of these stories just the other day and it was a pretty big one! I had the opportunity to tape the world's largest privately-owned telescope being installed right here in my home county! It's 50" and had to be lifted into its observatory by heavy machinery. I was thrilled to be able to watch that happen (because I'm somewhat of a "space nut") and even more thrilled to be able to do a story about it that I'll eventually bring to my viewers.

I arrived just in time to watch them load up the first of three pieces of the scope to be lifted into the observatory, which has a cool, motorized retractable roof by the way (nerd alert!)! What was amazing is once they got each piece in there it had to be bolted in, placed and measured so precisely so the mesaurements and astronomical work that will eventually take place there will be as accurate as possible. The gentleman who constructed/owns the scope sends much of his data to NASA and also works with Eastern Illinois University students for research. He's also a former magazine photographer. These are the kinds of interesting people I'm fortunate enough to meet on my job every day. Also notable is that this man chose the darkest spot in the county on purpose to live and put up his observatories. This is for maximum viewing potential far away from any ambient city light.

So, anyway, they get all three pieces in and I am filming a little more footage. I decide to text my husband because it's now 3:50 and we had said we'd keep in touch about who will pick up our son at daycare. Clearly, we hadn't done this. I shoot him a text to ask where he is and he says he's still 90 miles away (he had been at a business/golf outing), putting him at the daycare around 5:30. Well, that won't work because that's when they close. So, it's up to me. I'm still a good 20 minutes from work, then I have to put all of my gear away and get out to the daycare. I text my husband that I will take care of it. I decide that since everyone is sweaty and tired from installing the telescope that I'll probably have to come back another day to do interviews anyway. I tell them that I have to leave and lucky for me, he says, "Oh, that's it anyway! We're finished." So I lucked out on that one! I wasn't going to miss anything! I make my way back to the office and manage to get out to daycare just before 5 pm. Disaster averted! There's always the option to ask our wonderful friends whose son also goes there to pick him up, but luckily we saved everyone the trouble. Sometimes that's how it works out I guess! Life is definitely different (and wonderful) with a little guy in your life!

I'm just glad this was more of an adventure, than misadventure.

The "That Just Happened" Misadventure

We're typical family people and generally like to spend as much time with our families as we can. Lucky for us, they all live in the same town. So, this weekend we went to visit and had a normal, lovely weekend ending with church, visiting and a trip back to our hometown (about an hour's ride). Our son, Tyler, is such a good traveler. He either entertains himself in the car or usually falls right to sleep. On our trip back this time he fell asleep about 15 minutes into the ride. We had a nice, peaceful trip until about 10 minutes from home when he woke up and decided that no amount of singing or Raffi playing over the stereo would calm him down. We managed to make it home and decided he must be hungry, it was approaching his dinnertime anyway.

We get him inside and I warm up some squash (we're finally on to veggies!) and mix in some cereal. He's still in full-on scream mode and is having nothing to do with it. We fight a little and he manages to eat a few bites. Meanwhile, my husband is unloading the car and putting things away so he is in and out. The squash isn't working so I ditch the idea and start making a bottle of formula. Poor Tyler is red-faced and wailing in his highchair at this point. I get him out and take him in the living room in an attempt to administer the bottle. My husband all the while making suggestions about what to do and trying to help me hurry along to get the bottle in his mouth. I'm beginning to get frustrated, my husband is beginning to get frustrated and the baby is past the point of frustration. Tyler takes some of  the bottle and then needs a break as he usually does since he's currently congested. My husband goes back to his unloading the car business and I let Tyler relax a little bit and decide to try some more squash while we wait. He gladly takes a few bites of this since he's calmer now. All of the sudden out of nowhere he starts up again. The red-faced wails come back and the tears are flowing. Now I'm confused. Here, I thought we were all friends again! So, I decide maybe that pesky tooth is bothering him. I'll get him some Tylenol and let it start to work. I give him that and still the crying continues. By this point we're all frustrated.

The checklist begins. Hungry, no, we just ate. Hot, no. In pain? Probably not. Ah, maybe he's dirty! So, I take him to the bedroom with my husband in tow. I get his diaper off and he's barely dirty but maybe that's the problem. I go to switch diapers and here it comes, the rest of the apparent problem (he has just started real food so the digestive system has been working slow...this was a welcomed "problem"). Luckily the diaper was slid in there right in time. We get him all cleaned up and put in his pajamas (we have given up the rest of the eating thing by now). As I'm carrying the baby and his dirty clothes out to the laundry room, BURP! Squash. All over my arm, the baby's clean pajamas and the only clean sleep sack I currently have. With a little laugh (because what else are you going to do at this point) I head back to the bedroom to change him again. New, clean pajamas. While I'm there, I decide to check the diaper one more time. As soon as I open the flap on one side, yep, you guessed it! Pee. On the sheets, on my hand, on himself. Luckily, not on any jammies yet because he didn't have any on at this point.

So, I get him re-jammied once again in the warmest jammies I have because he has no clean sleep sack now and change the sheets on his crib. I finally get him to sleep with a little round of crying, pacifier-in, pacifier-out. It was definitely one of those trying nights! Hopefully he'll sleep all the way through it now after all of that excitement! And don't worry, I'm drying a clean sleep sack now. He'll be warm and cozy in no time.

That's the latest misadventure! Sometimes even normal Sundays get crazy around here.

The Mystery Misadventure

So, by now you're familiar with my son, Tyler. I talk about him, oh, just a little bit! This is another blog about him. The little guy has been doing so well lately. He's had a little congestion from the weather changing, but nothing we couldn't deal with. He finally started sleeping through the night too! Well, Sunday morning proved a whole new beast. It went something like this...

3:30 am Tyler wakes up screaming. Since we are attempting sleep training (not feeding until it's actually time to get up, simply putting the pacifier in), we assumed it must've just been a little wakeful period in his night. I get up and go in there to give him his pacifier. That works for a little while. Then the piercing screaming begins just shy of 5 am. Now the whole house is awake. We're trying everything. Diaper change, rocking, singing, walking the house, everything. Finally, I give in and decide to feed the little buger. That calms him down while he's eating, but as soon as he's done, the wailing starts again. The problem remains a complete mystery.

By this point I've sent my husband back to bed because there's no reason for all of us to be awake. After poking, touching and looking all over for something that could be wrong with this child I decide something must hurt and I give him some Tylenol. This appeases him and he takes a nap (and so do I) until about 7:30 am. As soon as he wakes up, it's on again. At this point I just feel so bad because I have no idea what's wrong and can't do anything for him. After taking his temperature and attempting another feeding (which he would have nothing of until an hour later), we determined that he's running a fever and maybe has some sort of bug. We know now that we have to keep him hydrated after our last ER visit (See the Misadventures in Health for more on that) so we're making sure he is eating and giving him water here and there. After his temp gets up to 101.3, I call the pediatrician (or page one, rather, since it was a Sunday). While waiting for the call back we decide maybe it's teeth. I mean, sure he's only 5 months old, but some babies teeth that early. I wasn't one of those. I didn't get my first tooth until almost 18 months and they had to do xrays to make sure I even had any (they had never seen this before at my dentist and ironically, a few years later his very own daughter had the same thing happen).

So Tony looks more closely in his mouth and there it is! A tiny little white speck poking through his top gum. Amazing that something that little can cause so much anguish! So out come the cold teething rings, vibrating teethers and everything else we've got in our arsenal. We kept up the Tylenol every 4 hours and he seemed to be getting much more congenial by the minute. The pediatrician called back and said that's what it sounded like to her as well and to make sure his temp stays below 102, otherwise we'll have to come in for an office visit. Luckily, so far, so good. The fever is holding below 100.

That's the latest misadventure in mommyhood. And boy it really was a mystery until we got it all figured out! I'm just glad we did!

The Great Birth Misadventure

Tyler Nicholas Pleasant in the NICU

Tyler and Mommy in the NICU

For this post, I'm going back several months, but it's definitely still a story worth telling. Strange as it may seem, the birth of my son was quite the misadventure! I was reminded to tell the story after a recent reunion with all of his hospital buddies from the intensive care unit.

7:50 am: It started like a typical Friday on May 6th, 2011. I got up (34 weeks, 4 days pregnant, so it was a slow process) and got ready for work. As I went to put my jeans on, my water broke. At first I wasn't sure what was happening because we still had 5 weeks until our little guy was supposed to be here! After deciding yes, I was in fact in the beginning stages of labor, I got my husband out of the shower and told him it was time to get going. Of course we had nothing packed and hadn't even installed our carseats! That was all on the list of "Things To Get Done in the Next Week or So." Afterall, it had only been a week after my graduate classes finals, several weeks after my baby shower and only TWO DAYS after my maternity photos had been snapped (Thank you, Jana Johnson for getting those done just in time!)!

8:04 am: A little shaky, but under control, Tony and I both began to walk about the house packing any and everything we could think we might need at the hospital. Strangely enough, this was almost a peaceful, organized process, but I suppose if you know us you know we're generally pretty level-headed. We even had enough wits about us to find the list the doctor gave us of things we'd need to take along. So, we gathered all of that up, spent several agonizing minutes deciding exactly what we should put in our bag for the baby to come home in and got the carseat installed in my car. Phone calls were made to both sets of parents (soon-to-be-grandparents!). Now it was off to the hospital.

8:50 am: But first, we had to make a pitstop to Walgreens because we didn't have everything on the list. Tony ran in while I waited in the car with my beach towel. It had now been a little over an hour since my water had broken. Several minutes later, Tony returned with everything else we needed in hand. He said, "I must've had that 'dad-on-the-way-to-the-hospital' look because the clerk saw me in the aisle and said, 'having a baby?' I told him we were and he said, 'what's on your list?' and proceeded to help me gather it all up." All I can say, is bless that man's heart.

9:18 am: We arrive at the hospital emergency room and are immediately directed up to the birthing center floor. Of course it was Friday and my OB/GYN is out of the office on Fridays. I was sure they'd have to page him, he wouldn't answer and I'd be stuck with someone I'd never met. After the nurses determined, yes my water had broken and it wasn't something else (duh!) they hooked me up to a contraction monitor and told me to wait a few minutes. Low and behold, I hear my doctor's voice. My husband peeps around the corner and there he is! He waved him over and he came to see me. I don't think I'd ever been as happy to see someone at the right moment as I had been to see him then. He checked me out and determined they'd probably try to stop labor and hold me a few more days.

11 am: My parents are now on the way to Charleston with Tony's not too far behind. The doctor had now determined that they were going to need to transfer me to a hospital in a bigger city (Champaign, for those of you who are familiar with our region) because if they couldn't stop my labor, they would prefer that hospital for their neonatal services. So, they'll send an ambulance, I'm told. At this point we're still thinking I'll be on hospital bed rest for a few days, if not weeks.

12 pm: I'm starving, but of course they won't let me eat. Now the ambulance is here to get me and the nurse is getting me ready to transfer onto the stretcher. Of course they send two male ambulance personnel to assist so all I can think about (and say out loud) is, "Please keep my butt covered!" For whatever reason, although you pretty much lose all dignity during the birth process, I became obsessed with no one seeing my back end! I get to the ambulance and tell my husband to make sure he gets something to eat on his way up to the next hospital (it's about a 45-minute ride) since we don't know when we'll get the next meal. As soon as I get in the ambulance I'm talking to the nurse about the hospital bedrest and such and she just looks at me and says with a smirk, "Oh no, honey, we're having this baby today!" WHAT?! That's all I could think. "Today, you mean, like this afternoon?" Yes, it would be this afternoon, well evening. My poor husband in the car behind us has yet to gain this piece of knowledge...

1:15 pm: We arrive at the larger hospital and I'm taken to my room. Contractions are stronger now. They're going to do an ultrasound. The ultrasound is fine, baby's lungs are fine, no steroid shots needed. My husband is now in the room and is about as shocked as I am that we are going to have this baby today (by C-section because the stubborn little guy was breech, just like his momma).

2:30 pm (I think): Both families have arrived and heard the news. Now it's time to wait and bide our time.

5:30 pm: Finally, an operating room is open and Tony and I get suited up to go in. It's cold as ice (yeah, I'm singing that song now too) in the operating room and I'm splayed with arms out on the table like some kind of posable doll. Now I'm shaky because I've had the spinal block to numb my bottom half and the whole thing is getting very real. The nice and very enetertaining anesthesiologist gets me a blanket and they bring Tony in after what feels like forever.

6:34 pm: They wheel over the most precious, perfect little person I've ever seen (5 lbs, 6 oz, 19 in. long) and let Tony take a few pictures before he is whisked away to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). I'm taken to recovery where Tony graciously waits for a while before I tell him to please go talk to the families and go with the baby. I fall asleep.

This is where the timeline gets away from me. I was pretty groggy, but the long and the short of it is I got wheeled to the NICU in my hospital bed, they took a picture of our new little family and then my family and Tony's came to visit me in my hotel room until I got tired and sick from the anesthesia and everyone went home so we could sleep. It was just about the craziest day I've ever had but it was worth it a million times over.

My poor little Tyler had to stay in the NICU for a total of 18 days. Luckily he was never sick, just still developing. He ate mostly through a feeding tube until we could get him used to a bottle. They called him a "grower/feeder" since he didn't have any health issues. He had an IV for one day and oxygen for one day and then he was on his own unless you count heart monitors for the rest of the 18 days. Only me, Tony and both sets of grandparents could visit him (to keep germs to a minimum), so it was hard not to be able to show him off, but it made it that much more exciting when everyone could finally meet him. It was hard to leave him in the NICU (we stayed at a house on the hospital's campus for a few days, it was a free service and wonderful, but after a while we decided to go home and drive back and forth) but he's home now and almost 5 months old doing great! He's definitely my favorite (mis)adventure to date!

We recently had the plesure of attending the NICU reunion and seeing some of the babies that were  with Tyler in the NICU and others that were there while we were. It's nice to see them all healthy, happy and outside the confines of a hospital. It was also wonderful to see the nurses and doctors that provided such wonderful care for our favorite little guy!

Tyler Nicholas Pleasant

4 months old

A Misadventures in Mommyhood Moment

Brought to you by the letter "P" for poop!

As you've probably discovered, I'm a new mom. I definitely don't take that job lightly, but it definitely has it's lighter moments. Here is a recent one.

So, on a recent morning I'm doing my hair in the main bathroom of our home. My husband and I have decided that we need to be better adults and maybe try getting up even before our son is awake as opposed to using him as our alarm. What happens when we do that is we tend to already be behind before our day even gets started, so we're both up getting things done. When my son wakes up we take turns getting ready and then switch so the other person can get ready for work. But, I digress.

I'm in the bathroom doing my hair and the door flys open and my husband is standing there with my son. I thought to myself, "What could possibly get them away from their morning Sports Center session?" Then it hit me. The smell of a little gift my son often makes for us. My husband usually brings my son to me when it's time for the big diaper changes and I don't mind but this became funny really fast. He was holding the baby horizontally and when he lifted him away from his body and pulled away the burp rag hung over my son's behind I could see that there was poo-poo on my husband's shirt and pants and all over my son's leg. After I stopped laughing I took over so my husband could go take a shower.

Now, for anyone who has ever dealt with a blow-out you know it's hard to decide where to start. These are zip-up jammies my son is wearing so in order to get the diaper in the first place I have to remove his feet from the little footies of the pajamas. Oh yeah. Not pleasant. So, I'm covered in it, he's covered in it and now my husband is laughing. But we get that all cleaned up and manged to get all wiped down and smelling good. I dress my son and the day goes on as planned...gather up, load up and head to daycare. On our way out the door we decide we need to soak the jammies and throw them in a sink after discovering our washer doesn't really have a soak cycle per-se. You can only imagine what my house smelled like by lunchtime. Let's just say I'll leave it at that!