Posts Tagged ‘Holy fuck that hurt’

{Parts One, Two, Three}

Believe it or not, even though I knew I needed an epidural I wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Thankfully after a 10 minute period of one continuous contraction, my midwife brought it up so I wouldn’t have to, and she did it gentle enough so I wouldn’t feel pressure but we all knew my body was wearing out and I hadn’t even begun to progress. At this rate, even if my body figured it out and began progressing at the normal rate of 1cm per hour, there was absolutely no way I would have any energy left to get the baby out. She suggested I get an IV put in so they could administer fluids because I was running on beyond empty and then if I decided on an epidural I’d be ready.

My midwife left the room to order the fluids and I asked Bill what he thought. To his credit, his eyes said Get the freaking epidural already but his mouth said We’ll do whatever you want. If you don’t want it you don’t have to. It took me roughly 4 minutes into the next continuous contraction sent directly from Satan with love, for me to say, fine go tell them to order the epidural NOW, NOW, I WANT IT NOW, WHAT IS EVERYONE WAITING FOR?

My nurse came back in to start the line. In her defense I’m never an easy stick, especially when pregnant, but she spent WAY to long attempting to jab me; the inside of my forearm was bruised from my wrist to almost my elbow for two weeks after the birth. After 20 minutes of being assaulted by contractions and a giant needle digging for a vein, she finally went out and got another nurse who did not look happy to be helping out. You could tell she was their vein ringer and even she had trouble getting the line in, eventually having to settle on a stick that didn’t get the best flow but was finally in.

I was more than ready for the anesthesiologist at this point but they had to drain at least one bag of fluids into me beforehand so during this time I was lost in a haze of pain so great I didn’t even remember what is was like to feel normal. Listen. I know labor isn’t supposed to be easy but from others I’ve talked to and videos I’ve watched, I find it a little unfair the way my body handles getting a baby out. I could see it if I had fast labors, so I had a tremendous amount of pain with progression and had a baby in my arms within 5-7 hours but the way my body does it? FOR THE BIRDS. Seriously. If anyone’s asking, I do not recommend you do it my way.

Sometime around 6:00, the anesthesiologist entered to start the epidural process. I’ve had two epidurals before so my hesitation and concern for the giant needle that would have to go in my back went something like this SHOVE THAT MOTHERFUCKER IN THERE, THE END. It was pretty tricky because you have to sit very still, meaning they like to insert the needle between contractions so he kept asking over and over, “Are you having a contraction right now?” And since the answer was always YES, DUMMY he just had to bite it and administer it and I had to concentrate very hard on NOT DYING FOR ALL THE PAIN. {Good Lord. I’m sorry about all the caps lock but YOU try writing a birth story without it. NOT POSSIBLE.}

The good news: It began to work!

The bad news: It began to work only on the right side of my body jesusshitasswhatthefuck?!

I had heard horror stories about this so I was admittedly very nervous when I realized I was only going numb on one half of my body. The Dr. was very calm and said as long as I was feeling numbness, the medication had made it to the epidural cavity and just needed a little help spreading out. It ended up needing a lot of help and time~ I had to lay on my left side and he kept pumping more and more drugs into me, so much so that I was completely numb from the waist down for 7 hours afterward. I think he was a little nervous that it wouldn’t kick in after 45 minutes, but finally it spread out and my body was able to relax and oooooohhhh boy did I need it.

Roughly 20 minutes after the pain meds started working, my midwife asked if I wanted to be checked. I was pretty pissed at my body at this point but wanted to know where we stood from here on out so I consented. As she was checking me her eyes got wide and she asked how many centimeters I thought I was.







This is where I tell you that, despite how much I absolutely love to swear, I have never done so in labor. I KNOW! I’ll wait for you to get up off your fainting couch……. For whatever reason, something that comes so automatic to me in everyday life, completely disappears during labor~ I don’t get it either. So it was actually a pretty big deal for me to shout, “HOLY SHIT!” when she told me how far I dilated and even though something similar happened with both Rowan and Keaton after I got the epidural, it hadn’t happened that fast. I was beginning to think this baby wasn’t going to come for three more days so to know I was nearly complete meant that he would be in my arms soon. Or so I thought…

To be continued…


JUST KIDDING! Let’s finish this bad boy.

My midwife gave me a foot message to relax me before pushing. This will very seriously go down as one of the best feelings I’ve ever experienced. To be laying in relative comfort, laughing and talking while getting a message after enduring so much pain was surreal. At 7:15pm I was complete and my midwife guessed, based on my experience with Keaton who came out with two and a half pushes after my epidural, that by 7:32pm I would be holding my baby in my arms. I was completely over-joyed at this notion! Also? Delusional! I won’t build suspense here and just flat-out tell you that this guess was off by almost exactly three hours.

At this point, after contracting continually for 7 hours and being relaxed by the epidural, my uterus had thrown in the towel, so I was given Pitocin to kick-start contractions again. I began pushing and immediately knew it wasn’t going to go that fast. With Keaton I was fully numb but I still felt how to push and did so very effectively. In order to get the epidural to take effect the doc had to over-administer so I had no idea what was going on below my belly button. Through this whole first session of pushing, which lasted a little over an hour, I thought this was the problem so I just kept straining and struggling harder. True to form, though, Ezra was still not ready to make his appearance and was not engaging properly. The ultrasound I had that morning showed that he was head down and face down~ just how babies are supposed to be born. Unfortunately, the real reason he wasn’t progressing wasn’t because I wasn’t pushing effectively but because sometime during labor he had flipped sunny side up. AWESOME! When my midwife attempted to turn him, his heart rate plummeted so no dice. Meanwhile, I was still exhausted but working so hard and after an hour of this my own heart rate was dropping and the oxygen they were administering between contractions wasn’t cutting it so my midwife told me I needed a breather which would let the baby labor down, hopefully delivering him to the front door so he’d come much easier when I resumed pushing.

I was disappointed but so tired, I knew she was right. Ezra also was being a stinker and no one could keep him on the monitor for more than a minute so my midwife and nurse took turns holding the monitor in place and chasing him around my uterus. At 9pm I started feeling pressure and really felt this was it. I resumed pushing and sure enough, his head was right there- they could see his hair with each push, but he was not making it around that last bend because he was face up. After an hour more of hard pushing, he began showing signs of distress so my  midwife asked me how I felt about an episiotomy. Uh…generally not great, I said. He had to get out soon though, so she made the first cut, and I pushed… then she made the second cut, and I pushed… then she made the OH SWEET HELL third cut, completing what I now lovingly refer to as my franken-crotch and I’m sorry I told you that, Internet, but I plan on using this post to outline to teenagers across America why unprotected sex is STOOOOOOOPID AND OUCH so it had to be said in all its horrifying glory. And even with being sliced from you-know-where to you-know-where, it still took a half an hour for Ezra to make his grand entrance into the world at 10:29pm.

And when he did? THE RELIEF. I had honestly begun to think that he was never ever coming out and when they all cheered when his head came out I seriously could not believe he was here and I had to be prompted to push the rest of him out because are you sure? Really? I looked at Bill in disbelief, He’s here? I asked. Yes. He’s here. And then in one flash he was lifted up, in the next I heard his sweet {loud!} cries and then he was on my chest and I finally got to wrap my arms around him and touch his perfect cheeks and fingers and nose and elbows and thighs and lips and I just wanted to take all of him in because, Internet? I waited a really long time for this moment and he was here and he was perfect and he was mine and what is with all this blond hair? I am way too impatient to ever wait to find out the sex until birth but I got a little piece of the surprise when I realized he had a full head of blond hair because what? I don’t make babies like that~ at birth my babies have thick, nearly black hair just like both Bill and I had. We’d briefly discussed how weird it would be to have a bald baby but I never pictured a little blondie so it was sort of neat to be surprised.

It took Ezra a little while to calm down~ I imagine being stuck in someone else’s pelvis for three hours sort of sucks~ but once we did skin-to-skin and I breastfed him for the first time, he settled into the world. Then they cleaned him up, weighed and measured him and they wrapped him in swaddles and laid him next to me and we got  to properly snuggle for the first time and Internet? It was everything I’d hoped for. Everything we’d worked and waited for. Times infinity and always.

:::Jazzhand:::THE END:::Jazzhand:::

Also just kidding! Of course we need old man newborn pictures!

First photo! {Get used to it, kid.}

Holding hands.


Snuggled up.

Brannie New Budders


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{Parts One, Two}

Before I pick up where I left off, I should explain the whole wanting to go drug free thing. While still pregnant, I had a whole series of posts planned out about Rowan and Keaton’s births and why this time it was important to me to try something different and I even typed up a massive post on Rowan’s labor and delivery, with one for Keaton in the works but then I was so miserable and tired and busy that the posts never saw the light of day.

Without going into either of those experiences it’s hard to explain why it was important for me to at least attempt a drug-free birth but what you need to know is that with both Rowan and Keaton I had labor dystocia {abnormally slow progress, specifically dilation in my case}. This basically means that I had very close together, very violent, ferocious contractions but my cervix would not dilate past a 3.5 on its own, sorta making that whole “getting the baby out” thing difficult. Both times I needed an epidural to relieve the pain so my body could relax and dilate and both times I dilated to near complete within an hour of receiving the epidural. Had this not worked I would have needed a c-section but thankfully it did and I’m grateful for it.

Only this time I really wanted to try to relax my body on my own. When I experienced a contraction I would clench my body up as a way to deal with the pain, tightening and pulling in on myself. Instead of viewing the contractions as tools that are opening things up to make way for baby’s arrival, I was really trying to turn my body into stone so I couldn’t feel the pain. I was so sure that if I could focus my mind in the right direction I would be able to dilate on my own and so I ordered the Hypnobabies home study program and began the meditations around 26 weeks into my pregnancy. I should say that I probably didn’t use the program as they intended. I had no desire to “hypnotize” myself, only to use the CDs as a meditation guide to get my mindset in the right place and I will say I learned a lot of great relaxation/meditation tools through listening to them but I wasn’t drinking the kool-aid. I did not buy that these would allow me to have a magical, completely pain-free birth. I did, however hope that they would help me to go as long as I could without pain medication so I could be as involved in the birth process as possible.

To give you an idea of the time frame, I had gotten the prostaglandin gel at around 12:15pm and was admitted to the hospital at about 12:25pm. After an hour or so of being monitored, and my contractions already coming 30 seconds to one minute apart and lasting more than a minute, it was time to start trying some pain management techniques to get my body to relax naturally. At around 1:45 I was offered the choice between a hot shower or bath. I did not feel like I could sit down at this point so I chose the shower, where I just let the water pour over me as I gripped the bar on the wall with each contraction. The nurse, Bill and my mid-wife took turns standing guard as I labored in there for almost an hour. The contractions were intense but I definitely feel like the shower helped me cope. My mantra the whole time was “open, open, open, open”. I kept repeating it in my head, and sometimes under my breath through the entire shower and I felt like it helped my body relax.

Unfortunately, because of the bleeding at the start of labor, the nurse needed to monitor me at least 20 minutes for every hour. My first nurse was very lax about this as she had found Ezra’s heartbeat right away and could see I didn’t want to be strapped down so she let me stay in the shower without interruption but I needed to be put back on the monitors when I got out. She set it up so I could rock in the rocking chair while hooked up and after 10 solid minutes she let me off, offering me a birthing ball which I accepted.

Bill set up my hypnobabies tracks on the i-Pod and so I rocked on the ball while listening to the meditations. I was still in an incredible amount of pain, but I found myself drifting off into the meditations, thinking about what my son would look like, when he would get here and how perfect he would feel in the crook of my arm. It’s hard to explain… I was certainly working hard, certainly feeling pain, but I was also at peace, very calm, and I truly felt excited that I was going to get the un-medicated birth I wished for.

Then? Shift change. And it was all over.

Bill had stepped out to make a few calls and while he did my new nurse came in. My eyes had been shut but I had that feeling that I wasn’t alone so I opened them and the new nurse was in my face, looking expectantly and when I paused my meditation she immediately began bossing me around, saying they needed to get me on the monitor right away and I had no choice in the matter. I was confused because I had just been hooked up not even 45 minutes ago and now that my concentration was broken the pain really, really intensified. All the literature on birth told me I could refuse monitoring but she was so matter-of-fact and dead-set on it that I didn’t feel like I was being given any choice in the matter so I did as I was told. She tried to hook me up while I was on the birthing ball but she kept fumbling around and couldn’t find the heartbeat so I moved to the rocking chair where she found his heartbeat but could not keep it on the monitor for more than a minute or so. After struggling with this for over a half hour she told me I needed to lie flat.

When she asked me to get into the bed I knew it was over. The whole time I felt that if I got back into the bed I wouldn’t be able to get out again and I was right. The pain was near constant and so very intense that I could NOT get back into my mindset of staying open. I found myself falling back to how I spent my labors with Keaton and Rowan which was gripping the bar of the bed, pulling into myself as hard as I could and praying that the pain would just be over. I was completely lost in the agony of contractions that would not let me catch my breath.

At 4:45pm the nurse checked me. At this point I was so lost in the pain but I rallied at the thought of knowing how much progress I had to have made over the last almost 5 hours of constant contractions. I had to at least be dilated to a six but I was hoping for a seven or an eight and WHAT WAS THAT?



I had not progressed at all since being checked at my appointment. If I hadn’t been so exhausted I would have broken down sobbing, but as it was, I had no energy left to cry. But I was completely devastated because after all that work I knew what had happened and I knew what had to be done.

And………. yes, I’m totally going to make this four parts. I know. I totally suck.

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So! Back at my mid-wife appointment

Right before she inserted the gel, my midwife decided to strip my membranes one last time. I had heard this was a painful procedure but the first two times I had it done I didn’t even flinch. This time however, OUCH. As she went to insert the gel she asked the nurse to get a towel as there was quite a bit of spotting. I was actually excited to hear this as I had none of the promised spotting or {gross alert!} mucus the other times. As she finished up inserting the gel I began to cramp really bad and I saw the nurse reach for two more pads to soak up the blood. Then she asked me to cough and I could feel that this was way more than spotting.

I was already in the room with the monitor so they had me sit up and when they moved me to the chair…THE HORROR {Read: blood everywhere}. At this point I could tell my midwife was moving fast but she was very calm and reassuring so I wasn’t panicking. She grabbed the monitor to check the baby’s heart rate and kept moving it around in different places, then she had me flip from side to side, as she attempted to find the heartbeat that was so strong and clear 20 minutes before.


At the same time the weird cramping that happened immediately after my membranes were stripped turned into full-blown contractions that hit me every 2 minutes. After frantically trying to find the heartbeat my midwife disappeared and returned with a wheelchair, very quickly but calmly explaining we had to go over to the adjoining hospital NOW.

Of Course this was the one appointment Bill couldn’t be at in the last few weeks so i grabbed my phone and texted him to meet me at the hospital, which he did not respond to. Luckily as I was rushed out to the elevator, he and Keaton were already in the waiting room so they ran along side me, Keaton thinking it was a fun race, Bill probably wondering what the fuck was going on- when he left me an hour before the baby was happy and snug inside of me and now we were in full-blown emergency mode. No one ever said “we can’t find the heartbeat” which I think kept us all calm, but we all knew something was very wrong.

Thankfully within a minute of getting hooked up to the monitor, Ezra’s heartbeat came across loud and clear and it wasn’t until I saw the look of sheer relief on my midwife’s face that I realized how scary the experience actually was. It happened so fast and the contractions were already hitting so close together that I didn’t have time to process what the hell just happened and by the time I did it didn’t matter because there he was, thump-thump-thumping away on the monitor.

After all the excitement, my contractions were a strong and regular 2 minutes apart {so yeah, gradual gel MY ASS}. The L&D nurse, who was so sweet and reassuring, checked me and I was almost a three. My midwife cancelled her appointments to stay with me and said that they would need to monitor me for an hour or so now that the bleeding had stopped but I should be able to go and pack things up if I wanted to try to labor at home for a while, as I didn’t seem to be dilating quickly. Poor Keaton had been sitting through all this, and while we reassured him that mama was just fine and that this is how having a baby starts, I could tell he was a little wigged out. We were waiting for my mom to come and get him but I thought if we could just go home so I could throw together a bag for me and get the kids stuff set, it would be so much easier.

Only by the time the hour was up my contractions were coming 30 seconds to one minute apart, just one on top of the other on top of another, with barely time to catch my breath. The midwife said, nope, no going home for you, so I kissed Keaton goodbye and my mom threw together a few items and brought them when she picked him up. After he was gone I felt like I could finally commit myself to the fact that sometime in the coming hours we would welcome our third child. Now it was time to get down to the business of getting this baby born.

Next up? I get to the actual birth part of this never-ending birth story. Probably…

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It’s nearly a week into the new year and I have yet to utter one single resolution for the betterment of my own life and/or the world at large. As much as I really liked the format of a laundry list of goals both long and short-term, and the monthly shamefest, uh, I mean check-in, it’s just not a possibility for me at this juncture, and that’s not me being lazy, it’s me being truthful. It’s not because I don’t have goals. Actually my goals for this year are so big, so incredibly giant, that one or two of them could very seriously kick the shit out of last year’s whole list.

The problem is? I have zero control over these goals. I can’t work really hard, or pray to baby jebus, or rub a buddha belly, or stay up all night worrying, or practicepracticepractice, or say any magic words {but trust me I will be doing many combinations of all of those things anyway} to achieve these goals. Sure, there are things I can do to improve my chances but in the end, I’ll have to breathe deep, let go and see where the path leads. Did I mention I’m not very good at that sort of thing? Because, really. I’M NOT VERY GOOD AT THAT SORT OF THING. I like to know whenwhywhowhatwherehow many months in advance of anything, but the “when” is my weakest point. I’m a stickler for time, and in being such, I’m a sucker for time and like how most of these things go, it’s one of my greatest strengths and terrible weaknesses. So not having a timeline for many of my goals is…hmm…let’s put it nicely and just say it’s aggravating.

So I’m not going to go in depth about most of the big goals, but since I got all over-sharey last November, you guys already know that we’re working on procuring ourselves another little gunterling so it’s pretty obvious that this is one of the big goals for 2012. Unfortunately, time is not on our side. If it were only as simple as getting pregnant, {which OHRIGHT, has not been simple} but the real complicating factor is that if I do get knocked up I will also be knocked on my ass for a minimum of four months. Hyperemesis doesn’t mean you feel sort of queasy during periods of the day, or that certain foods send you running to the bathroom. It means you feel like you’re in the middle of the worst hangover you’ve ever had with no end in sight and every single thing you even get a whiff of can start the puking. By the second week of this with both kids, I swear I did not even feel like a human being anymore. I am not functional in any normal sort of way.

I cannot be in this state over the summer months, for one, because the kids are home fulltime and while Bill’s job is flexible it’s not THAT flexible, and for two, my younger sister is getting married at the end of July and I sort of think she’d appreciate it if I was upright and didn’t have throw-up on my bridesmaid dress. So. That means the worst of the sickness needs to be over by Mayish and even that’s REALLY pushing it. So that means that if I don’t get and stay {always a plus!} knocked up by mid-late February, then that’s it for Operation Gunterling 2012.

The pressure of it all is sort of making me want to punch myself in my own damn face, which is why I need a smallish outlet that will come in the form of miniature goals, not to be confused with miniature golf which is also fun but completely off topic. At first I thought I could start with a few goals for each month, easily attainable ones that I could give myself a cheap pat on the back for but even that seems like a stretch right now. With so very many unknowns set out before us, I am opting for weekly goals that I’m going to put zero pressure on myself for keeping up with should our circumstances change or maybe even if I get distracted by something bright and shiny.

I’m thinking maybe now would be a good time to quit talking and start listing.

Goals for January, Week One:


Somewhere in the hectic schedules of 4 dance lessons/karate/piano/preschool/kindergarten et all, and the hugely chaotic seasons of fall and winter and the 9,008 holidays stuffed into them, I quit playing with Keaton. And when I did I was most assuredly making a to-do list in my head or worrying about what I should/could be getting done at the moment. I personally think that there’s nothing wrong with a little independent playtime or even to throw a video or PBS on so you can attack that bathroom or the looming laundry pile that threatens to take over the house. But over the last 6 weeks I was leaning on those things far more heavily than I normally like to and I could really see the difference in Keaton. Kid was cranky. Kid was needy. Kid was sort of an asshole.

This is not normally my hilarious, smiley, happy-go-lucky guy, so after I vacuumed up the last of the pine needles on Monday, I sat down and thought about how to help him and the answer came pretty easy. Keaton’s “love language” or whatever new-agey, touchy-feely term you want to stamp on it, is no big mystery…he wants time. Time with me specifically, and that has been seriously lacking since this summer. So this week I made myself prioritize my chores so I could carve out most of my mornings just for him and wow what a difference it made. Yes I was getting the beginnings of a sinus infection, yes we were all trying to reacclimate to the normal week’s routine, but I still made time for a delicious Play-Doh sushi brunch, a paper jams jamming session, multiple tea parties and fun games for numbers and letters practice. And I also reminded myself that this is a kid who can really be happy doing anything as long as he’s with me so I had a laundry buddy, a dishes buddy, a dusting buddy and a exercising buddy. It’s actually been a pretty fun week.


Other than the obvious, the biggest downside of last fall’s miscarriage was that it was very physically painful and lasted weeks, and when it was over I was left smack dab in the middle of Christmas cookie season. Part of the problem is that having the knowledge that I could become horribly ill and go for months without being able to eat barely any food, let alone good food, can really fuck with you. In other words, I really wanted to monopolize on my food intake while I could. This is actually a pretty smart move considering I lost around 20 pounds in my first trimester with Rowan and 16 with Keaton. Natch, this time I never got sick but I was completely inactive during the weeks leading up to and then during the almost four week period it took me to miscarry. Needless to say, my body took a beating and I was in no place to start an exercise regimen. And guess what?! I’m still not. But I can’t live like I’m going to get knocked up when all evidence points to the fact that it might not happen for a while.

Until I know for sure, my goal is to move more, which means less couch time and more activity. For this week my move time involved running my stairs, 16 steps worth, 25 times. I know this sounds like a tiny amount and that’s what I thought during rounds 1{ha!},2{seriously this is it?},3{yawn},4{this is laughable}, 5 {and also for pussies} and then six came and I wanted to chop both of my legs off mid-thigh and my heart rate was telling me that perhaps I better slow down lest it explode right then and there and I still had 19 more rounds to go. I did this three times this week, only skipping Thursday due to the aforementioned sinus infection that threatened to flatten me but was staved off by that day of rest and copious amounts of Emergen*C and zi*cam.

The other thing I did for movement was purchase our very own copy of Just Dance 3 and you laugh now, Internet, but after dancing five of those things in quick succession I dare you not to be a sweaty mess. This was also a huge hit with Keaton who likes to do it with me. I’ll be re-evaluating what will keep me moving from week-to-week, but since this worked really well this week, I plan to keep it up for next. By March I’ll be able to form a more coherent exercise plan if need be, which will definitely include a more regimented schedule of running and strength training, but for now, this works.


Again. I don’t really know what the next few weeks will bring so making a huge diet overhaul would be a waste of time. After the overindulgence of the holidays, my plan for this week was to under-indulge if you will, which included way smaller portions, lots of vegetables, bananas, oranges and nuts, and many many gallons of water. Wine, olives and cheese are going back to weekend-only duty for the most part. So sad.

And that’s really it. I think for now it’s enough to give me focus without frustrating me due to the oh so many unknowns of 2012. I probably won’t punish you with weekly check-ins but if there’s a big shift or new goal or some of the fog clears that will give us some damn insight to what the next 12 months holds, I’ll be sure to fill you in.

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For various reasons we ended up at home a lot this October, which gave us time to relax and appreciate this, the spookiest of months. And while I didn’t exactly appreciate the stomach flu that marooned us at home last weekend, causing us to miss a hayride outing and a big Halloween party with the kids, I did like the extra time we all sat together with the lights turned off and the candles lit, reading out loud Poe’s The Raven, The Tales of Beetle the Bard, and a handful of Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

Since I was thankfully not afflicted with The Sick, I took some time out to document what our house looks like for most of October {not pictured: The one thousandy and eleven tiny and not so tiny random orange and black toys that accumulate in every corner of every room in the house, at least 57 of which I step on/trip over every day causing me to expend my most favorite swear words after doing so.} {Usually some combination of shit, fuck and damn, if you want specifics. What’s that? You didn’t want specifics? Too bad, that goddamn shit fucking hurts.}

Happy Halloween!

P.S.~ Don’t forget the spooky stories…

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So have you all been waiting on the edge of your seat to see the finished product of Project: Bunk Beds? No? WHAT? Seriously, this is scintillating blog fodder people. I don’t know how much more exciting one blog can even get without completely imploding in on itself and creating some sort of Internetarian black hole .

One bed...

Two beds...and wait for it...

Behold! On top of one another. I just blew your mind right there, didn't I? It's a miracle of the universe! And science! Yes definitely don't forget the awe-inducing wonders of bunk bed science!

We searched the wide-scope of the Internet along with a number of furniture stores in our area and I have to tell you, finding a nice, simple gender-neutral bunk bed is kind of hard. There are a ton of cute sets geared toward girls or boys but not so much when you’re dealing with one of each. Our other struggle was that we wanted something on the small side. I know the beds look gigantic in the picture but they are actually the smallest you can get for two twin beds in a wood frame. Obviously we wanted small because I have a feeling neither of my children will break 40 pounds before their 12th birthdays and even with these I just can’t get over how impossibly small they look all snuggled up.

This set was at the last store we went to, we checked online to see if we could get it cheaper but it was already marked way down because of a President’s Day sale. {Screw the Constitution, I got a deal on a bunk bed! Thanks, Founding Fathers!} The beds were still pretty spendy for us but since they’re not traditional bunk beds and really a lofted bed and a completely separate twin that fits underneath, we knew we could keep using them after the kids get separate rooms down the line. I initially wanted dark wood but when all the other furniture in their room is white it just didn’t make sense.

When we ordered, the store said 2-3 weeks for delivery which was fine- I wanted to try to night-train Keaton first which did NOT happen because of the plague. Then we got a call 2 Mondays ago saying “Um, yeah. They’re probably not going to come in until early April”. We were sort of disappointed but they refunded us the delivery and set-up charges so no one here was crying. Then, 5 days after that call, the delivery people called and SURPRISE! They’re here! SO we set up the delivery date for this past Tuesday and they still refunded us the money. Thank you Slumberland!

The delivery and set-up went really well, although this happened:

And I was also a little scared that they would put it together all wrong to get back at me FOR ALL OF THE STAIRS. Do you know how many giant boxes bunk beds come in? A lot. There were 3 guys going up and down 4 sets of stairs for what seemed like eternity. I broke a sweat just watching them while I drank my coffee {for I am an asshole!}. Then they delegated one poor bastard to run all the empty boxes back down. He did NOT look good by the end. I offered him something to drink but in retrospect a shower would have been more appropriate at that point. Despite this they were professional and got the beds up in a little over an hour.

There were a couple of snafus that we have to get worked out. I wasn’t super clear on where I wanted them set up, which was centered between the wall and a bookcase. Instead they put them flush with the wall, right next to the window which, just, no. So Bill and I had a lot of fun moving them over about 18 inches. Internet? Bunk beds are motherfucking heavy. {The more you know~ *shooting rainbow star*} Also the Top bunk’s headboard came cracked and the bottom bed’s foot board has gouges in it- but they will be sending someone out to replace those in the next couple of weeks. Also those pretty pink drawers up there? Are supposed to be white. So we’ll have to get that sorted out {much to Rowan’s chagrin} but over all we’re super happy with the way things turned out.

Now. As I mentioned in my previous post, making the top bunk? Is pretty much an all morning event. Seriously people, it’s probably wise to do stretches and maybe run a few laps before hand. It doesn’t help that Rowan has a stiff, thick-ass Pottery Barn quilt so I can pretty much kiss my knuckles good-bye from trying to shove the sides of the quilt down and around the mattress. How sad is it that I have war wounds from making a goddamn bed? When I finally got that sonofabitch made I very seriously shouted out HA! I DEFEATED YOU BED! I WIN! I WINNNNNNNN!!

Because I’m super mature and stuff.

I’ve already learned a lot in the 3 and a half days of owning a bunk bed and while I could probably write many many appendices to this post I will just leave you with this:

1. Bunk beds not-so vaguely resemble a jungle gym to children.

2. Kids like to dangle objects from the top bunk.

3. Kids like to throw stuff from the top bunk.

4. Kids like to throw hard stuff from the top bunk.

5. At their brother, who drew the short stick in the bed draw, much to his dismay.

6. This brother will at some point lose his temper.

7. And throw his full cup of night-time water up in the general direction of the top bunk.

8. Water is subject to the laws of physics and will not only soak the top bunk and its occupant but the bottom bunk and ITS occupant, kind of voiding the whole retaliation of water throwing in the first place.

9. Keaton needs to think his revenge plots through better. I’m guessing this will happen quickly as there will be AMPLE opportunities while these bunk beds are still standing.

Now here are some really indulgent pictures of my kids NOT being assholes in their beds, as I could already use a reminder…


Did you see that adorable blanket at the end of Keaton’s bed up there? After seeing one she made for her niece, I asked this awesome lady if she would make one for Keaton and it tuned out so great. Thanks, Laylabean!

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Congratulations, Internet! You have made it through 30 days of my obnoxious posting of such important things as: my cat catching a mouse (SCANDAL!), my kids jumping in leaves (ORIGINAL!), snow storms (COLDISH!) and whining about Kindergarten (REPEATEDLY REDUNDANT!). You deserve a cookie wrapped in bacon for putting up with me and I am oh so grateful nobody defriended me on facebook.

{Even if you probably did hide my updates. Jerks.}

Seriously though, thank you for putting up with me, and for supporting me with your clicks through here. Posting every day gets to be a lot, especially when we’re planning for the holidays and Keaton’s birthday~ but again, I’ve found it a remarkably valuable experience, pushing me to remember, in between wiping chins and butts, that once upon a time I loved to write and look at that! I still do.


And now a scene from yesterday morning…

P1: Hi, Kitty! What the… OUCH!

P2: What’s wrong!

P3: Are you OK?!

P1: NO! The cat scratched me really bad with her mean sharp scratchers!

P2: You mean claws? Are you bleeding? Is that blood?

P1: AAHHH! Oh my god that IS blood. HELP!

P3: It’s OK, it’s OK.

P2: Come to the bathroom, quick!

P1: I need a Kleenex or something!

P2: I’ll get you one. Stay put.

P3: You be OK. You be OK.

P2: We’re out of tissues. I got you some toilet paper. Press down hard.

P1: Stupid cat.

P3: Don’t say stupid.

P2: How about you run some water on it?

P1: Oh alright.

P3: It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. You be OK.

P2: Now dry it off. Here’s a band-aid.

P3: All better?

P1: Thanks, guys. All better.


So if you guessed I was Person 1 in that scenario you probably also already guessed that I? Have the best kids in the whole wide world. And a stupid fucking cat. The end.

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