MckMelodrama

I've been thinking a lot about integrity in blogging lately ~ it started with the great grabfest that was BlogHer'09 and the tweets flying fast and furious about bloggers who are (essentially) in it for the "stuff". Whether it's swag bags, big corporate freebies, the money or even the adoration of many fans and readers ... bloggers who aren't in it for love but for the stuff.

And then MckMelodrama started on a (rather) large blogger's site

It was revealed through public records that a respected Christian blogger is in dire financial straights with having 2 homes in foreclosure in the last 8 months. She's called the police twice last year on her prince of a husband for domestic violence during her high risk pregnancy (both times he pled guilty with a lesser charge dropped). And her youngest child is in & out of dire medical condition of which she tweets. Constantly.

While I do completely agree with the Mckfollowers in that she does have the right not to discuss parts of her life on her blog (financial crisis, marital crisis, etc) I cannot condone her recent desire to downplay the revelation of her husband's multiple arrests for domestic violence/disturbance. It scares me to see any woman brush allegations of this nature under the rug ~ but especially a woman with so many small children in the home. These small children cannot defend themselves or remove themselves from dangerous situations should that need arise, I would hope that at the very least she's able to be honest with herself about the situation for their sake.

I, personally, would be too crushed to discuss one foreclosure on my open blog, two would be humiliating for me. I think at the very least we have to be thankful that she's not playing a "My child is very ill, my husband's job has suffered & we are loosing our house ~ please help! Send donations!" card. (Although that could come any day now, especially seeing as her local Fox station seems to love doing stories on Mcktrainwreck.)

While I don't agree with other bloggers who are crying "Munchhausen's!" over the situation, her son's health and treatment does give her a certain amount of attention, hand holding and adulation that she wouldn't get just being a mommy to 4 small kids & one (apparently stressed & angry) husband. Maybe that's not healthy ~ but neither is the unparalleled dedication and adoration of the Mcklovers

I've been watching Mckblog and several AntiMckblogs, watching the drama unfold and I have to say that I do feel bad for the girl at the center of this storm. It seems that she's trying to portray the life she wants to have and glossing over the reality of what she lives every day. No blogger is 100% honest about their lives - there are two sides to every story & even your IRL BFF keeps secrets about things that are too painful to look at. I would never want my life dissected the way Mckblogger's has been, but that's why I don't even allude to the idea that my blog is 100% of my life. 60% maybe .... 80% on a really good day. My issue with Mckblog is that this glossy veneer is purported to be her real life. She's alluded to the fact that there were marital problems & they are in counseling ~ what she's glossed over is that this was court ordered counseling on his part.

While I can see why her supporters would be upset to have their friend's troubles revealed openly, all of this information is public record and easily found. When Mckblogger stood up for responsibility and integrity in blogging during the April Rose situation, she opened herself up for the same scrutiny. When she began blogging the minute details of her son's medical care and giving blow by blow tweets, she opened herself up for scrutiny of her parenting & her handling of the situation.

All that being said, the venom found in her supporters defense statements leads me to think that "they doth protest too much". There are more people seeing the holes in Mckblogger's story, they just feel guilty - as if they are betraying a trusted friend to think that she's not worthy of the platform they've placed her on. But in truth, no human is worthy of the platform she was on last week.

Why am I working weekends?

I fully understand that my husband feels his job as a SAHD is a full time gig. Even though I think it's more like a part time job ~ but I'll never say this to him because I would never want it repeated to me should I ever get the chance to stay at home to raise the kids.

Bear with me here ~ I'm not slighting 99.7% of SAHP's, but I think my husband has a pretty sweet deal kicking:

He & the girls don't get up until after 10am.
They do breakfast & then the Princess watches her cartoons in the back of the house while he takes care of the baby & gets himself ready for the day.
They play.
They do lunch around 1:30.
Nap time starts at 2:30 & goes until whoever wakes up. The Princess typically sleeps until 4:30 or so & The Baby ... you know how they sleep! There are days where she'll go down for 30 minutes and then days she'll go down for 3 hours.
I'm home shortly after 5 & the kids are handed off to me.

On a normal day Hubs has both girls awake for 5 hours (25hrs/week). Worst case scenario ~ 7 hours (35hrs/week).

When I get home there are dishes to be done from the day.
Laundry is only ever done on the weekends.
Cleaning is only ever done on the weekends.
Cooking is my department, rarely does Hubs cook dinner in the evenings & never until I get home.

I work (roughly) 8am - 5pm Monday through Friday with a one hour lunch (40hrs/week).

So yes, I get pissy when I get home & he calls out "Mommy's turn!!" and leaves me to handle the girls while he goes to relax.

Yes, I get frustrated when he sleeps in every Saturday and Sunday morning. Every. Until I wake him up sometime between 12 & 1. I don't wake him up before that because it's pointless, he'll just be grumpy & pissy and go back to sleep so I may as well leave him where he is.

Yes, I get ticked off when I have to clean up their dishes - or prepare and clean up dinner when I've barely been home 10 minutes and he's disappeared on me. And then having to hear "I can't cook with them underfoot & crying at me" ... well how the bloody snog do you think I make dinner?! With my magic fairy wand?!

Yes it irks me that weekends are called "Mommy's on Duty" and I am expected to take the children with me wherever I go. I get the guilt trips about "Why don't you take Princess to X, she hasn't left the house all week." Oh don't blame that crap on me - you have the better car at the house all day with car seats loaded up ~ you could leave this place anytime you wanted, but it's too hard for him to take both girls. And yet I'm supposed to be the pro at dealing with them alone outside the home.

It's Friday afternoon and I'm exhausted. I want to go home and lie down with an ice pack and a chilled glass of wine .... and yet I know as soon as I walk in the door he'll be waiting to hand the kids off to me & take his two days off (yes he does pick up the house & do laundry on the weekends and I do not help - this is payback for telling me he can't accomplish sweeping the floors during the week because the girls are in his way.) I know once I get home he will not take charge with the girls unless it's a medical emergency, or I badger him into helping me (for which I get a guilt trip and whining that could beat a 6 year old). I know that he Will. Not. touch a diaper. I know that I am up to bat for 60 hours, until I return to the office to draw a paycheck for our family.

I agree that his gig is full time.

He agrees that my job is full time.

So why am I the one left to work the weekend shift?

And yes, I pointed out the difference in our working hours because I'm jealous. I want to wake up late after snuggling in the bed with The Baby. I want to be able to take the girls to the park and the zoo during the week. I want to be able to be home with my babies ... I want to enjoy nap times too!

29 years after an adoption

Last week I was contacted by an adoption blog who is looking for an adult adoptee to write about their experiences. She'd seen my posts on my open blog and thought I might have some insight that could be useful on her site. After emailing back and forth I don't think I'm what she's looking for; thankfully she sees this too & we can part as friends with an offer to have me guest blog occasionally.


This is a very pro-adoption website, they want to show the good sides, great results and offer support to bio-parents and adoptive parents (especially the waiting-to-adopt 'rents). She is looking for happy, breezy, supportive people to write ... I am more of the dark, twisty and conflicted style of adult adoptee. I don't quite fit the "happily ever after" image they want to portray.


October 28th will be the 29th anniversary of the day I was put up for adoption. You would think after 29 years I could talk about the birth family without a lot of emotion. Maybe I should be able to, maybe healthy adults can ... but that's not my reality.


I am at peace with the fact that I'm adopted ~ believe me ~ I've seen what I came from & I praise God daily that I was not left in that squalor! I think it's the fact that my daughter is approaching that same age that's bringing a new aspect to my experience. Seeing my sweet innocent girl, knowing that I would stab anyone who put her through those experiences ... I thought I had dealt with my anger, but becoming a mother made me see the bio-mother in a new light.


When I first had the Princess I softened toward the bio, I thought of how she must have loved me, wanted the best for me, had such hopes for me, how happy she must have been to have her third child. I thought of how hard it must have been for her to walk away, how I could never walk away from my baby, how I would never forgive myself and I would miss her every day for the rest of my life.


As the Princess reaches the age I was when that world, that family, fell apart the anger is coming back in different ways. How could she do that to her children? How could she place her children in situations where the state wound up mandating "sign over your children or we will take you to court and revoke your parental rights"?

There is no right way to handle these feelings. I've been through enough therapy to know that all I can do is get them out, face them, accept them and then walk away. It just feels so personal this time - to *know* that these things happened to you as a toddler is one thing - to have a toddler of your own & know that you would do anything to keep her from experiencing that ... I can't forgive her for not protecting me.

I can't forgive her but it's not worth hating her.

I'm not the happy "Yeah I met my bio & we are bestest friends now!" story that every adopted kid wants. That's just not my reality, and I can't forgive her for that either.

Open letter to my spouse

Dearest Husband,

If you don't want to call your mother and ask her for financial help ~ then GET A JOB.

I love you. I love that you are staying home with our girls. I love that you are able to keep them at home and that you do the laundry, and try to keep the house clean, and occasionally have meals cooking when I get home.

I appreciate everything you do, and I'm so glad that at least one of us has the opportunity to be at home while our girls are so young.

That being said - we are broke. I know that you know this & there is no huge breaking news in that statement, but we are. I think you know how broke we are, but I'm not sure that you fathom the depth that is that brokedness. When I put off paying the light bill it's because I had to have gas to get back and forth to work, or because our daughter's needed diapers for their cute little tushies. I don't play with the timing of our cable bill for fun ~ I don't want to see what would happen if Sesame Street was unavailable for the month ~ I want to make sure that we have enough money to buy the groceries to keep our daughter fed. When I buy the cheap paper towels, it's not to drive you insane ~ it's so that we have another $3 available to buy more bread or cereal. And yes, I refuse to buy harsh toilet paper. If I have to cut every other luxury out of my life I am at least going to be comfortable when I wipe damnit.

You've told me before that you would get a part time job in the evenings to help us out ~ well it's time to step up & pitch in financially. We don't need much extra a month, just a few hundred for groceries and gas money. I would love to have a bit to buy clothes for the girls (or God forbid - myself) but for right now, I just want to be able to stop juggling bill money around & be able to buy groceries without having to pray that the debit card clears.

Please help me out with this. I know that I ask a lot of you & that you are tired by the end of the day ~ but please, don't make me be the one who has to work a second job. If I have to miss any more time with my girls I think - no - I know that I would wind up resenting you, and that would severely damage our marriage.

Either suck it up & continue to sell your soul & ask your mother for help, or go find a job. No more "looking online" or posting online for jobs, after 3 months with no nibbles it's obviously NOT working. Get out, go to the stores and fill out applications.

I love you & I want to keep loving you. All I'm asking is for 20 or 25 hours a week, for you to leave and help our family financially. I need this. We need this.

Your Loving (and desperately stressed) Wife

The Birth Story (The Middle)

If you haven't seen it yet, you may want to start with The Beginning

After being kicked out of the OB's office we were on our way to the hospital with directions to "Go to the hospital, go directly to the hospital, do not stop at check out and chit chat - go NOW!", we headed off to find breakfast. What? Hubs was hungry & I didn't want to hear him whine about it all day. I figured it would only mean 20 minute delay for him go to Chick-Fil-A, drive through for some food & head on to the hospital. Given the state of my every-4-minute-contractions it would only really amount to about 5 extra contractions and wasn't that worth NOT hearing "I'm hungry, I'm starving, I want food, how long is this going to take I'm hungry all ready" for the next 6 hours before my delivery. 5 contractions or a life conviction for murdering my husband. I picked the lesser of the two evils. Besides, I was in no big hurry to get the IV's started.

By the time we got to the hospital (around 9:30am) to check in I was starting to feel the pain. BTW: VERY different from the first kid. I didn't make it 4cm with her without screaming for an epidural. I was hurting with the Newbie, but nothing I couldn't focus & breathe through. Anyway. Turns out I was Number 12 for check-in that day & there were another 4 scheduled to come behind me. I was number 7 on the c-section list, unless I was bumped by an emergency. They were only on number 2 in surgery at that point. It was going to be a while. We settled in, only to quickly realize that there were no good seating options for Hubs, he was on caffeine withdrawal, and my contractions were starting to ramp up on the pain scale. Quickly. Over the next hour we met several nurses who seemed to be trading off patients as different deliveries began progressing ... we quickly realized that they were short staffed for the large influx of girls who decided to go into labor that day. By the time the anesthesiologist came in I was begging for drugs, sooner rather than later, as these contractions were getting a bit more insistent on working. I could see his eyes darting back and forth to the baby's heart monitor as I was requesting the sweet nectar of a Stadol (morphine, crack, anything would have worked at that point). He left us in peace with a pat on my foot, promising to find something to ease my pain soon.

Twenty minutes later a nurse blew in stating that we were getting this baby out NOW! and throwing a set of scrubs at Hubs' head. He was to change & follow the delivery train quickly. In retrospect I can now see that she thought we were informed as to a major development, while in truth, we were riding blind to the fact that the baby's heart rate was fluctuating wildly with each contraction. The nurse who set up the heart monitor turned the volume down while she was going through her "Welcome to the hospital" procedure, she didn't turn it up again afterward and I never thought to do so. The monitors were sitting behind my head so Hubs and I never gave them a second thought. The nurses on duty at the front desk noted the problem and called my Dr who placed me at the top of the delivery line & sprinted across the street to start my surgery. Just looking back and thinking about those moments causes me chest pains, I can only thank God that we didn't know - and that the nurses did.

I was rushed into surgery and was given my spinal while multiple people ran around prepping the OR suite, Hubs stood outside waiting to be ushered in. I was trying to crack jokes and stay calm, all the while knowing a large needle was being pushed into my spine ... I never question the beauty of an epidural or spinal until THE MOMENT it happens, at which point I almost chicken out, but then the pain reminds me that relief is worth the momentary fear! Within just 3 minutes I was ready to go, Hubs was in the room and the Doctor was flying in with his gown open and flapping behind him. The nurses were rushing to wrap him up as he was testing my spinal and telling me that the baby was ready to go Right. Now. Still, we were in the dark, everyone thinking that someone else had told us she was in trouble. They must have thought we were uncaring pricks for cracking jokes while our daughter was in danger. Hubs and I shared a moment of "I love you's" and "OhmyGod how fast do they do this?!" just before we heard the Doctor saying that he was almost there, he had her in his hand & she was out - I took my first deep breath in 9 months when she let out her first scream, followed by the doctor's words "hold on, she's wrapped in the cord" and the nurse saying the cord was around her neck. I stopped breathing. They rushed her to the isolet to check her and Hubs went to follow, while I obviously had to stay behind.

We were able to see our sweet new daughter for just a few moments and then she was rushed off to the nursery ... again, everyone thought that someone else had told us why.

Birth Story (The Beginning)

Since I got the plus signs on all those pregnancy tests last May, I had this nagging feeling that we just wouldn't be ending the year with a bouncing baby. I couldn't shake the little voice in my head that kept warning me this could end badly. I tried to chalk it up to fear, since we had lost babies before in miscarriage, but even after as we passed 14 weeks and knew that the baby was healthy - I was still scared. As we entered the third trimester I freaked out any time the baby didn't move for more than two hours. Waking up for potty breaks meant that I couldn't go back to sleep until she moved, for fear something had gone wrong during the night.


I changed OB's at 30 weeks to utilize my medicaid coverage (my original OB wouldn't accept it & I couldn't afford the $2000 we had to pay her by Thanksgiving). I had no idea that changing to a new doctor would likely save the life of my baby.


My 1st OB had been relaxed with my blood sugar test since I was So. Incredibly. Sick. Since I couldn't keep the nasty glucose drink down, she told me to watch my sugar levels for one month & then decide if we really needed the blood test. Two weeks later I was in the New OB's office showing him my sugar tests ... and he flipped out. Within the week I had seen the top perinatologist in our state & was put on twice daily insulin injections. The whole "To c-section or not to c-section" was decided for me when they discovered that the amniotic fluid levels were far too high for a safe vaginal delivery (oh that's why I looked like a beached freakin whale at 31 weeks). At 31 weeks I was seeing the OB once a week & the perinatologist every 2 weeks. I had more ultrasounds in those last 6 weeks than most women get in 3 or 4 pregnancies. I was told that they were worried about the baby's health & safety because of the fluid levels & my sugars. They wanted a NICU team on-call for the delivery & I would not be allowed to go into labor on my own, and so my delivery date was scheduled for December 29th at 9:30 am. The Doctors wanted December 23rd but I begged for one last Christmas with my only child & they agreed so long as I called them the moment I started to feel contractions.


Funny thing about those contractions. I never felt them. I felt a few around 35 weeks and told the Peri about them, who said to call the OB as he was not responsible for catching babies. When I told the OB he laughed & said "Wouldn't that just figure?!" By the next Monday, at my 36 week appointment, I was 3 centimeters dialated. The OB called the Peri & there was a long discussion about the safety of allowing me to continue this pregnancy. In the end it was decided that the Peri would see me on Wednesday & give his vote, I was to return to the OB on Friday for another check.

By Wednesday afternoon I knew I did not feel well. The Peri looked around, noted that the baby had flipped position A G A I N (I think we noted this was at least the 10th time in 2 months). I wondered how on earth she could still flip when I could barely breathe. He voted that her lungs looked healthy by u/s, she seemed to be big enough and he would sign off on an early delivery.

Thursday morning I woke up to snow. In a state where there has not been any significant snow accumulation in over 10 years ~ this was a BIG. DEAL. My office was still open as roads were not closed yet, but my boss agreed that given the state of my contractions, my coming in to work was probably not the best idea. I got to spend that day home watching my daughter play in her first real snow fall. Thankfully she got cold quickly and we were able to come inside before too long!

My best friend came that afternoon, planning to stay the night. She was going to keep the Princess while Hubs and I went to the doctors appointment. I wasn't planning on meeting the baby that day - but went along with the "Plan As If We Are" plan as directed by Hubs. The fear was that the snow would ice the roads & shut down the whole area .... which basically happened. Government offices, schools and most private companies closed. Thankfully my OB opened for possibly birthing girls. Our 20 minute drive became an hour long as we were routed past any bridges (never realized there were 4 between points A & B). During that lovely drive we realized I was having contractions every 6 minutes. By the time I got up to reception, they were closer to every 4.

My OB saw me in the hallway and remarked that I looked like hell. Hubs agreed, and their consensus was that today should be our delivery date. In 20 minutes that was confirmed when I was found to be at almost 5 cm dialated and almost 80% effaced.

We were given our choice of hospitals with 2 having openings at that moment. Since there were 3 more laboring mommies in the office, wherever I picked was where we were all going. I picked the one that could get us in fastest & we all planned on a 3pm delivery. The other option would have been almost 6pm for a c-section .... this was barely 9am .... there was no way I could last that long with no food or water, 3pm it was!

Things I Can't Talk About Anywhere Else

I haven't been around here much in the last few weeks because well, I've had a baby hanging off my boob & that kind of deters internet access for me ... but I've also had Hubs hanging off my shoulder & that really impedes my ability to come on this little site and vent. Oye. I swear it's like I birthed him too some days.

So. Things that I will be ranting on around here in the coming days & weeks:

Birth control: 'cause I am NOT having another kid for a while.
Sex after pregnancy: 'cause I need to know I'm not the only one.
Sex and breastfeeding: 'cause I need to know how in the hell that's supposed to work.
Hubs UP MY ASS: 'cause I need to come to terms with this whole "till death" idea some days.
Money: Dude, money. Need it & ain't got it. Why can the government write checks with no money & yet I'm not allowed to. How on earth to save it. College fund is a wha' now?
Exhaustion: 'cause I'm living in the fog of no sleep for 12 weeks & none on the horizon
Happy-all-the-time Mommy Bloggers: 'cause I just don't get them.
In-Laws: 'cause there should be a law about how much shiz they are allowed to create/inflict/wield upon your life.

I do want to apologize for the incredible number of "holy-shiz-I-can't-stand-pregnancy" posts from last year. I wish I could have balanced them with other happier thoughts, but on many days, there were none to be found. I stopped writing on my open blog for several months simply because I had no positives posts floating around in my head. I hate to think that some poor preggy girl/wanting to be preggy girl stumbled upon my diary & thought "Holy crap how evil is she?!?!" But in reality, yes, for the large part - I hated pregnancy. I love my happy & healthy child ~ I would go through it all again in a heartbeat for her; but I'm not convinced I would go through it again for some unknown child. Does that make any kind of sense?

This is the space in my life where I am allowed to truly be open and honest. This is where I get to stop the censoring & admit what I'm really thinking. It's not always pretty, and it won't make everyone happy ~ but I need this space. The things I say here are true within the time they are written & my feelings are subject to change, even within the hour the post is made, so please don't judge me based on one moment. But (to quote the former therapist) I own these feelings & I won't change them to make others feel better.

So ~ to balance the admissions of meanness with prettiness, here you go!