Tag Archives: crosby

happy third birthday, sweet boy.

Happy third birthday, my sweet little boy.

I can’t believe we’re already celebrating one more year of your beautiful life. Looking back on the last year, I truly cannot believe how much you’ve changed. You’re like, a real person now! A silly, stubborn, curious, bold, and oh so very loveable person. A person that I can have conversations with and go on adventures with. A person that makes me laugh so hard without even trying. A person that I grow more in love with every single day.

The past year has been full of adventures for our family. Big adventures…. a new sister, saying goodbye to Portland and all your friends, moving, moving again, and then again. And you’ve handled everything like a champ, just rolling with the punches. You’ve amazed me, kid. To be honest, it’s been a tough year for me with all the changes that we’ve faced. But through it all, you have been the one thing that has kept me grounded. You have been my place of comfort amidst a whole lot of chaos. You have reminded me that no matter where we are in this world, in this life, that our family is my home. And I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.

This past year has also been full of dinosaurs. My god, you love dinosaurs. And animals. And going to the park. And the zoo. And mac and cheese and “special treats”. You love dancing. And playing t-ball in our backyard. You absolutely love reading stories. You love bath time. And swimming. And going for walks. You love watching shows and movies. And the popcorn that goes along with them. (You got that from me, kid. You’re welcome.) You love that you’ve learned to stand up when you pee. (I wish you loved aiming too.) And your stuffed animals. You love bubbles. You love spending time with our families. And meeting new people. (They’re so lucky.)

You completely adore your papa. You have mixed feelings about your sister, but you sure do love making her laugh. And for whatever crazy reason… you seem to love me a whole dang lot. I can’t even tell how much I love you back.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again a million times, I’m so lucky to be your mama. Happy birthday, my guy.

 

birthday letter year 1
birthday letter year 2


february shmebruary.

I don’t know about you guys but I’m going to hold Punxsutawney Phil accountable as hell for his early spring prediction.  I’ve had juuuuuust about all I can handle from this winter.  It’s been a doozy for sure.  Between illnesses and random doctor visits and dental calamities, I think our family alone is keeping the entire healthcare industry afloat.  I’m serious.  At this point, I think we’re owed some branded can koozies or keychains or something.  Or you know, a clean bill of health or whatever.

Okay, enough complaining.  Complaining is for the weak.  Which I am not.  I mean, just the other day I carried 6 bags of groceries + a toddler from my car to my house without dropping a single thing/person!  That’s skillz, my friends.

OMG this gives me an idea… you know what would be so amazing?  Parenting Olympics!  Right?!  Off the top of my head, I’m thinking… a barefoot Lego obstacle course… a child weightlifting challenge… a timed event to see who can find their missing car keys the fastest… and an automatic win to the parent who has the most clever distract-your-kid-while-you-try-to-shower technique.

So, basically these Olympics are just a typical day at my house.


You know what, guys?  Crosby is almost 1 1/2 years old.  Which is so crazy.  Mostly because I thought he was 1 1/2 a while ago, until Casey corrected me.  Whoops.  I swear, when Cros was a baby I knew exactly how many months/weeks/days old he was.  Nowadays I’m like, eh he’s between 1 and 2ish?  If people guess how old he is, I usually just say yes no matter what and then congratulate them on their age-guessing abilities.  It makes them feel good and I get to avoid having to do math in my head = a win-win.

Anyways, (almost) 1 1/2 is the best!  Crosby is so much freaking fun, I tell him everyday that he’s my best friend and I DON’T EVEN CARE if you think that sounds ridiculous.  He’s seriously the coolest.  But with great coolness, comes even greater holy-shit-stop-freaking-the-fuck-out-ness.  And what I mean by that, is that homeboy has straight up mastered the art of the temper tantrum.  I know, I know, it’s only going to get crazier from here… so for now I’m just testing the waters of how to respond and deal when he’s in the throes of a meltdown.  So far, for us, ignoring it makes it worse, every time.  Pacifier works, most of the time.  Talking him through it helps, every once in a while.  Distractions work, sometimes.  And wine helps, every time.  Ba-dum-tshh!

One of Casey’s go-to tantrum techniques is to start singing.  I’ve mentioned this on the blog before but Casey is a chronic song maker-upper.  You never know when he’s going to just bust out with a ridiculous tune that consists of mostly made up words.  It’s pretty wonderful… for the most part.  I mean, in theory, singing is definitely a clever distraction technique. But realistically, it rarely stops Crosby from crying.  And what’s worse, Casey gets so caught up in his song that he doesn’t even notice.  So what actually happens is that I end up with a screaming toddler on the floor, a husband mindlessly belting out a song about hooshkadoos, then the dogs throw in a few barks for good measure, and my brain explodes all over the rug.


Welp. That seems like as good a place to stop as any.

Have a happy Shmebruary Humpday, ya muggles.


summer plans and other tuesday things.

IMG_1302First of all I wanted to say thank you to everyone who entered the Zutano giveaway!  We have a winner (congrats Hillary B!) but don’t ever forget that you’re ALL winners in my book.

Sadly I have nothing to give away in this blog post.  Except my gift of words.

Wait, is anyone still here?  I promise, it’ll get better-ish!

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So!  Here we are in June!  And it’s already scorching hot in Portland.  Like, you step outside to water the plants and you come back in with full-fledged swack and swoobs type of hot.  (Which is code for sweaty back and sweaty boobs, for the record.)  I took Crosby and the pups for a walk to the park yesterday and we all came back feeling a little bit like steamed broccoli.  In the best possible, start of the summer way.  Steamed broccoli in early June is waaaay better than steamed broccoli in August, if you know what I mean.  And anyways, you know how when you wear shorts and there’s a breeze and you can instantly feel the spots on your legs that you missed shaving?  No?  Just me?

Still wondering where this blog post is headed, aren’t you?  Yah, me too.

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So here’s something exciting!  This is the first week of Casey’s 8 week summer vacation.  Well, technically it’s not summer vacation, it’s his “bonding leave”.  Here’s what: when Crosby was born, Casey’s work didn’t offer paid leave for new parents (Can you believe?! Come on already, America!) so he had to use his vacation time to hang out with his brandnewborn.  Ridiculous.  Anyways, a few months ago he found out that his company changed their policy (hoorah!) and now give both new mothers and fathers 8 weeks of paid bonding leave when they have a baby.  Luckily for us, the new policy is retroactive through last June so Casey still gets the opportunity to take those 8 weeks, as long as it’s before Crosby’s first birthday.  So he scheduled it at this time in order to get most of the summer off.   And since I don’t go to a 9-5 job (I do some freelance writing work from home) this basically means we’ve got an old school summer vacation on our hands!

I totally understand if you want to hate me for a little bit.

But get over it already!  Please?

So anyways.  We’re pumped.  It definitely would have been nice to have this policy in place when Crosby was born so that Casey could have been around more.  But I gotta say that this timing is kind of amazing too.   Because now Casey gets to be home when Crosby is happy and interactive and less like a screaming Gumby.  And we’re less stressed than we were as new parents.  Not to mention it’s given me the time to lose all my baby weight!

boys

First order of business on our summer bucket list is fixing our backyard.  We’re doing some pretty big renovations ourselves, which basically means we have our own parking space at Home Depot.  Side story: I overheard two guys talking there the other day and one of them pronounced it “dee-pott”.  Basically like it’s spelled.  I fairly intensely stared at him in an attempt to find out if he was joking or not.  My theory is: he was not.

We’ve been working on the yard for a few weeks now and we’re making decent progress, but we’re really trying to get the bulk of it completed before the weekend because on Sunday we leave for a road trip!   Yes!  We’re taking a family road trip to MN!  It’s supposed to take 24 hours to get there!  Did I mention we have a 9-month old?  He’s coming too!  And the dogs!  Yes, dogs!  Plural!  There are two of them!  They’re also coming on the road trip!  Also!  What were we thinking!

Ok, ok.  I really am excited about the road trip but also a little nervous because that’s a lot of time in the car for me Crosby.   Our plan is to haul ass on the way there, then we’ll spend about a week and a half with the fam and catching up with pals, and then we’ll take our time on the way back to Portland.  Maybe.  Who knows.  Did I mention it’s a 24 hour drive?  Feel free to send us your thoughts and prayers.  And corn nuts.

IMG_4866I’m curious, does anyone have any tips or tricks for taking a long drive with a baby?

Does anyone have any tips or tricks for taking a long drive with two beagles?

Does anyone have any Valium?

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Welp.  That’s all I’ve got.  Thanks for hanging out.

Happy Tuesday, ya goofs!


shit parents say: volume 2.

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Crosby turned 7 months old this past weekend, which is crazy, exciting, bittersweet, etcetera etcetera. I thought 6 months was great, but 7 takes the cake.  It’s so true what everyone keeps telling us, it just keeps getting better and better.  Crosby smiles and giggles more every single day.  He still hasn’t mastered sitting but he is army crawling like a boss.  He babbles adorably and hits Mariah Carey-decibel high notes when he screeches.  He is interacting with the dogs more than ever, though the dogs aren’t really fans of his grabby hands.  They ARE, however, fans of his grubby hands, and of all the food he drops on the floor from the high chair as we explore the world of solids.

I could blubber on and on about how cool my little man is.  But for y’alls sake, I won’t.  Instead, in honor of this milestone, I bring you another edition of “shit parents say”.  These are just a few of the ridiculous things Casey and I have found ourselves saying over the past few months.  No surprise, still lots of talk of poop, boobs and toots.  Basically all the double o’s. (<—- Which could probably be added to the list…. )

So here we go!  shit parents say: volume dos.

“I found a piece of my hair in his dirty diaper, should I be concerned?”

“I just want to eat his face with a spoon!”

“What happened to the Baby Einstein Pandora station?”

“OMG buddy, I could have sworn you pooped but I guess it was just a really bad fart.”  (said by Casey almost every single day while checking Crosby’s diaper.)

“Make sure to wash his hands really well, I’m pretty sure he was carrying around a booger all day.”

“Sometimes I feel like if I let you look at my boobs, then I’m cheating on Crosby.”

“Who cares what I’m wearing… what’s Crosby going to wear??”

“Make sure to wipe under his balls, there is always poop caught up there.”

“There’s a piece of carrot in his ear.  He had carrot 2 days ago.”

(at bedtime) “Ok Cros, time to put on your pjizzles!  ….Wait….that definitely doesn’t sound right.”

“My boobs are exhausted.”
The end.
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Happy 7 months, baby guy.  I love you times a million.  But for your sake, I hope you never read this. xo
And in case you missed it, read shit parents say: volume 1 here.

thank.full.

IMG_8342Today I am thankful for….

  • Grainy iphone selfies with my family. #felfies?
  • My sweet, chubby, serious and curious, baby boy.
  • Good friends, a few of whom will be coming over to celebrate Thanksgiving with us today.
  • My sister-in-law, for her killer cheesecake recipe.
  • My mom, for texting me said cheesecake recipe when I told her I couldn’t find it but really was just too lazy to look very hard.
  • My whole family actually, Casey’s too. We’ve got some good ones.
  • Being a meat-eater again, because last years tofurkey just didn’t hit the spot…. the way a real dead animal does.  <—- Yeesh.  Oh man… having second thoughts…
  • Ok let’s be honest, I’m thankful for all the beige Thanksgiving foods.
  • Coffee. Because coffee.
  • New mom friends, who understand the importance of discussing the color of our baby’s poop.
  • My baby.
  • My bloggity blog readers. High-fives all around.
  • Dry shampoo.
  • Wine. Of all ages and ethnicities.
  • Finally being able to fit into a few of my more forgiving pre-baby jeans.
  • Maternity jeans, because they could actually be rebranded as Thanksgiving pants.
  • The fact that Christmas tree farms open tomorrow.  Yes, we will be first in line.
  • Crosby.
  • Our new car. No, it’s not a minivan. But it does make me feel responsible and mom-ish.  And it does have a steering wheel warmer, which is a game changer for my Nightmare Before Christmas hands.
  • Christmas movies and music, moving into the rotation.
  • My dogs, for still loving me just as much even though I give them about 67% less attention than I used to, pre-baby.
  • My husband, for loving me just as much as much even though I give him about 67% less attention than I used to, pre-baby.
  • My husband for being such a good papa to our baby.
  • Did I mention my baby?

And hey, happy Thanksgiving back!


some thoughts on being a big kid, and other friday stuff.

shawnnathompson_nov21_2Happy Friday friends and loved ones!  I know what you’re thinking.  TWO blog posts in one week?  Who am I even?  Well, when the mood strikes and the baby is occupied and all the stars align – blogs will be blogged.

Let me just fill you in on the current state of affairs as I type this.  I’m curled up on the bed with the baby and both dogs spread out in various spots around me… I’m also pumping, Eddie is licking his bubbles, Gus is trying to climb over me to snag the napkin with leftover crumbs from my peanut butter toast breakfast, and Crosby is happy as a clam, staring at the wall.  We’re a classy bunch, we are.  But it’s nice really, when everyone is calm-ish.  I know it won’t last long… Crosby’s wall stares have a shelf life of about 15 minutes tops before he wants to move on to bigger and better things.  Like staring directly into the light, which is another one of his favorites.  It’s so sweet, how entertained he gets looking at nothing in particular.  Don’t you wish it were that easy for everyone?  Like, hey you’re bored?  Here, look at this piece of lint for the next 10-20 mins.  Problem solved.  Anyways, it’s so nice to see him happy and content, kicking around and make baby noises (some of them coming from his booty area).  One of my favorite things to do lately is to sit right next to him, say his name and then see how long it takes for him to find me.   ……….  So yah, maybe I am just as easily entertained as he is.

It’s a slow going morning and here’s why.  I went out with some pals last night and had two glasses of wine.  Two.  Rookie stuff.  Nevertheless, I woke up this morning with a smashing headache and the desire to lay in bed all day watching reruns of RHOBH (Jacquelyn! Jacquelyn! …It’s Joyce.)  But, guess what?  I don’t really have that option anymore.  I’ve got dogs to feed, a baby to change, boobs that need milking…  Ain’t nobody got time for my laziness.  I need to put my big girl pants on (literally) and take care of business.

It’s funny how adult-y having a baby makes you feel.  Sure, I technically was a grown up before Crosby… but now I just feel different.  Right?  Like, I have responsibilities beyond just myself now.  I’m responsible for another person’s well-being.  Sure, I could still each chips all day and have Bravo on in the background, but now those actions don’t just affect me.  I eat chips, Crosby eats chips.  I watch Bravo, Crosby watches Bravo.  And then his first word is “cougar”.  But you know what I mean?  I need to be responsible, at all times.  And I’m just so aware of that now.  Sometimes when I’m driving around with Crosby in the backseat, or I’m out grocery shopping and wearing him in his wrap, I’ll catch my reflection in a window and it’s shocking how grown up I appear.  I’m someone’s MOM.  People had better take me seriously.

All that said, I’m still just as ridiculously immature and sarcastic as I used to be so you should probably just disregard this entire post.

What else can I bore you with?  We just today realized that we missed Gus’s birthday.  It was on Tuesday.  He’s 3 now.  Considering he used to be our #1 pride and joy (in fact I wrote a whole blog post about him on his 2nd birthday), it’s pretty monumental that we’ve missed his big day.  So he’ll be getting extra belly rubs today.  And maybe I’ll even let him tear into that peanut butter napkin he’s still eyeing…

Now that I’ve no doubt bored you to tears with my terribly exciting stories, I will bid you adieu.  To yer and yer and yer. (Anyone that gets that reference gets 5 points in my book.  Of points.)shawnnathompson_nov21_1But first, indulge me in another picture of this chubby face.  Oh, and Crosby too.


the story of our week. it’s a real page-turner…

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It’s Friday!  Thank the gods… because we’ve had a really bipolar week this week.  Not, like emotionally.  Just, in general.  Here, let me explain it in an absurd amount of detail for you.  Because I know your weekend plans include reading this blog post.  Right?  Right???  Hello?…

Okay here we go.  Crosby and I had a great day on Monday.  He was cute and sweet and did the perfect rotation of eat, burp, sleep, poop, repeat.  His naps were long and chill enough that I was able to get SO much stuff done around the house.  I cleaned, I made tons of calls and answered a bunch of emails.  I finally got my sweaters out of storage and then I attempted to pack up my maternity clothes but let’s be honest I’ll be wearing a lot of that junk for the next few months rest of my life.  I also made a nice dinner and DESSERT.  What?!  We played and I showered him with kisses and the whole day was glorious and I was all, hey I got this mom thing down! Give me three more babies! 

Then Tuesday came along and Crosby was all, I gave you Monday, today is MINE!   And then he proceeded to scream all.day.long.  We had plans to run errands and meet up with some mom/baby friends.  But Crabbysby was not having any of it.  Poor guy screamed nonstop, and I couldn’t figure out why.  He even threw in a blowout and peed all over me, just to top it off.  He cried, I cried, it was probably our hardest day yet.

Luckily I had happy hour plans with friends that night so I was able to pass the babe off to papa Casey and take a little sanity break.  And drown my sorrows in a brewski.  And have adult conversations!  That didn’t revolve around breastmilk!  It was lovely.  Obviously though I’m a little rusty at HH because I didn’t realize until the next day that I had completely forgotten to pay my bill and left my credit card at the bar.  That’s how fried my brain was.  If you’re wondering, the ultimate walk of shame entails walking into a bar the next day, to pay your tab from the night before that only has ONE beer on it, with your baby in tow.  Sheesh.

Moving on to Wednesday!  I had a doctor appointment scheduled for that morning and I was having an anxiety attack, assuming that Crosby was going to be a total cry-fest the whole time.  But he must have popped a Tylenol PM when I wasn’t looking because he slept through my entire appointment, plus a lunch date in the ‘burbs with papa.  I kept thinking he was going to wake up at any moment… but he just kept sleeping. (Don’t worry I neurotically checked to make sure he was breathing every 3 seconds)  So I took advantage and ran a few more errands.  We were finally heading home and the little buddy was still snoozing so I thought I’d push my luck one last time and hit the drive-thru at Starbucks.  Big mistake.  As soon as I placed my order, he started crying.  And of course there were 5 cars ahead of me.  And of course there was no way to just duck out of this drive-thru line other than to wait for everyone in front of me.  At one point I had my car in park and half of my body was in the backseat trying to comfort him.  I think the people ahead of me must have ordered the most difficult and complex coffees ever because we were in that stupid line for what felt like 7 forevers.  It reminded me of one time a bunch of years ago when Casey and I waited in the drive-thru at Taco John’s for 30 solid minutes.  It was ridiculous, but you do what you gotta do for potato oles. ShyaknowhatImean?  Anytaco, we raced home after Starbucks and after I finally calmed him down, the rest of the day was great.  That night we went to the food carts for dinner and Crosby again slept the whole time. Which got me to thinking that maybe we just need to be out and about doing stuff all day in order for him to sleep/be chill.  Cool with me, but could someone please buy us a second car and give me spending money to be able to go and do stuff everyday?  That’d be great thanks.

On Thursday Crosby ate approximately every 10 minutes.  Or so it seemed.  I think our longest stretch between feedings was an hour and a half…. eeps!  I felt like a human keg.  I basically walked around all day without my shirt on, with a baby strapped to my boob.  Remind me to show this post (and this paragraph in particular) to Crosby when he’s old enough to be thoroughly embarrassed by it.  Love you Crosbybooboo!

Cut to today.  Today has been lovely so far!  My sweet little Crosby did crap in the baby tub, but he hasn’t really cried much so I’ll count my blessings.  Or pick my battles.  Whatever.  He’s napping now so I’m furiously typing out this post while trying to eat lunch so please excuse any typos or run on sentences or words that I might have made up… Oh, you’re saying that happens in every post?  Well thne, nevermind and we’ll move on to the next paragraph because blerg.

And that my friends, is our atrociously exciting week, in a nut shell.  Now aren’t you glad you stopped by?

To send you off, here are a few pictures from our trip to the pumpkin patch and corn maze last weekend. (I took my last post about enjoying fall seriously.)  It was so much fun!  Even though I have no actual pictures of Crosby from the day.  I had visions of getting a cute picture with him laying in a pile of pumpkins or whatever.  But he was sleeping so peacefully in his Ergo, I didn’t dare wake him up.  How do all the fancy mom instagrammers do it?

shawnnathompson_pumpkinpatch_8Hey look, a corn maize!…

shawnnathompson_pumpkinpatch_5Please excuse Casey’s look of bewilderment, he was CORNfused.  Heh heh. Heh…. Sorry.

shawnnathompson_pumpkinpatch_9And when the wind blows hard and the sky is black, ducks fly together!  (Name that movie)

shawnnathompson_pumpkinpatch_7Just… bein a stalker.  Get it?  Corn… stalk… stalker? ?? Please don’t leave me.

shawnnathompson_pumpkinpatch_6Isn’t that the cutest little balding head you ever did see?? Heart eyes.

shawnnathompson_pumpkinpatch_2“Hey, how about that orange one over there?” (Casey Thompson, pumpkin patch 2014.)

shawnnathompson_pumpkinpatch_3Just another gourdinary day.  … I promise I’m done.

shawnnathompson_pumpkinpatch1And a family foto to take you out…

Happy weekend!


three weeks in.

shawnnathompson_threeweeks_3So we’re three weeks into our new normal and I’d like to think we have established somewhat of a routine, but mostly we’re still in survival mode.  As in, let’s just figure out how to get through the next 20 minutes and then we’ll go from there.  I’ve been thinking a lot lately… and isn’t it the strangest thing that you get pregnant, have a baby and then you are just supposed to know how to take care of it?  Other than your own experiences growing up and taking baby classes, there is no real training to be a parent.  I mean, you have to have more training to get your driver’s license than you do to have a baby.  Which doesn’t really seem right, right?  And these poor babies, they have no idea that we have no idea what we’re doing.  Maybe it’s a good thing they can’t remember these early years… otherwise their first memories would be their parents looking at each other and saying things like “is it supposed to be that color?” and “will his eyes stay crossed forever?”   But hey, you know what?  Our little man is healthy and cute and getting fatter everyday so I think we’re doing ok so far?

We’ve definitely had our fair share of ups and downs over the past few weeks.  Admittedly I was not prepared for how overwhelming everything would be.  And really, how can you possibly prepare yourself for having your world turn upside down in the blink of an eye?  Or the slice of scalpel.  (Too much?)  The first few weeks were overrun with aches and pains, exhaustion, love, anxiety, and of course, emotions.  DAMN the emotions!  I talked a little bit about that in this post, and will likely talk about it at some point again.  And again.  For today though, we’ll just say that all of the emotions?  I’ve had them.

But hey.  It’s true what they say.  Every day gets a little bit easier.  Every day we get a little more used to our new bedtime routines and 2am wake up calls.  We get a little more accustomed to knowing we may not get a shower today.  Or tomorrow.  (Wait, what’s a shower again?)  We’re getting better at not freaking out every time Crosby cries.  We know we’ll figure it out.  We’re getting really good at peeing while holding a baby.  We’re also getting used to having dishes pile up and being okay with it.  We’ll get to it.  We understand that our time isn’t just ours anymore and that this adorable little creature relies on us to be cool with that.   We know that it will and is getting easier every day.  Can I get an amen?

Lucky for us, Crosby is a pretty good baby.  (Knock on seventeen billion pieces of wood)  I mean, we think he’s a good baby.  We really have nothing to compare this to?  But I’d say that on a scale from 1 to Gary Busey, he’s a 4.  He mostly reserves his crying fits for when he’s got crap in his pants or needs to be fed.  And who can argue with that logic?  We hear ya kid.  But speaking of being fed, one of the biggest shocks to me has been the time and energy it takes to feed a baby.  And the challenges that come along with it.  Again, this is probably something I’ll talk about in more detail in the future, but for today I will just give a word of warning to any pregnant pals out there.  Prepare yourself for spending some long hours feeding your little love.  Buy a comfy rocking chair.  Stock up on magazines.  If you’re planning to or find yourself needing to pump, buy this adorable hands free tube top.  Get your lactation consultant on speed dial.  And most importantly, prepare yourself mentally for when your baby gets milk caught in their throat.  Not in a choking way, just in a gurgly YOU NEED TO CLEAR YOUR THROAT kind of way.  Because you know what?  Babies don’t know how to clear their throats.  So it will be up to you to keep your composure, no matter how much that raspy phlemy breathing squicks you out.

And cue the terrible quality iphone pictures of my cute baby!

shawnnathompson_threeweeks_1 shawnnathompson_threeweeksThese pictures above were taken on Crosby’s actual due date.  Also known as the day I dressed him up like Harry from Home Alone and let that leaf fly into his mouth.  Ya see it stuck in there?

shawnnathompson_threeweeks_7If he wasn’t mine, I’d kidnap him.

shawnnathompson_threeweeks_6“You have a baby!  In a BAR!”  Name that movie….shawnnathompson_threeweeks_5You know, I wouldn’t mind being fed wine this way….

shawnnathompson_threeweeks_4shawnnathompson_threeweeks_9Every morning at 9am we listen to Eminem and work on our white boy street cred.

shawnnathompson_threeweeks_10And then promptly at 10am we put on matching outfits and talk about how he’s never leaving me.

shawnnathompson_threeweeks_11And then my heart explodes.

God bless all the new mamas and papas out there.  You’re doin a great job.

 


crosby’s birth story.

DSC_0361_3[ All photos in this post were taken by my lovely and talented friend, Krista. ]

It was Friday, August 29th and I had just wrapped up my last day of work before going on maternity leave.  I had my 38 week doctor appointment that afternoon, which Casey surprised me at.  He originally didn’t think he could make it to that appointment but thank jeeves he did, considering how it turned out…  My initial blood pressure check was high, which is not cool at that stage in pregnancy, so the nurse took it twice more (both high) before my doctor concluded that she’d like me to go across the street to the labor and delivery wing of the hospital to take a series of BP tests over the course of an hour or two to see if it would stabilize over time.  If not, we would talk about inducing.  Gulp.

At this point I was thinking that maybe my BP was high because I was just a little riled up, given I’d just finished my last day of work and was anticipating a bunch of plans we had over the holiday weekend. (LABOR DAY weekend, how charming!)  So I was sort of expecting to take the few extra tests and be on our merry way.  They put me up in a bed, hooked me up to a bunch of machines and set the BP monitor to go off every 15 minutes in hopes that it would level out once I was able to relax in a more calm setting.  Let me tell you that the setting was not at all calm, however, since my nurse decided to make it her mission in life to try to remove the wedding band that was stuck on my swollen finger.  After many failed (and painful) attempts to remove it, and coincidentally many more high BP readings, we had to cut it off of my finger.  Again, not a calm setting.  At this point my Dr decided that regardless of the stressful situation, my BP was just too high and the baby was better off out than in.  And with that, she explained that I was to be officially checked into the hospital and they would start inducing that night.

Well, damn.  Of course Casey and I knew that at that point the baby could be arriving any day, but we honestly were not at all expecting to be that early.  We were fully preparing for me to go way way past my due date because that’s what everyone had warned us of.  But apparently everyone is a liar.  Luckily, my doctor let us run home and pack our hospital bag (the only thing in our bag so far was a few pairs of Casey’s underwear and my slippers) and get the pups set up with a ride to doggie daycare.  And you know, take a few minutes to wrap our brains around the idea that we were about to become parents.  No big whoop.

We got back to the hospital at about 9pm (with Jimmy John’s, because priorities.) and I was given cervidil to “ripen” my cervix for labor.  Which is quite possibly the squirmiest thing I’ll ever talk about in my life.  But, you know, reality.  Throughout the night I started having little tiny contractions but was mostly just mildly uncomfortable with having the cervidil in place.

The next morning my water broke at about 10am and from there they started administering pitocin to get labor going.  I then started to have REAL contractions which ranged in frequency from 2-8 minutes apart.  Contractions were not at all what I expected.  In fact, once I actually knew I was having one, I realized I’d been having them for a week or two prior.  I was expecting to only feel them in my lower belly but my contractions were actually the most painful up near my ribs and in my lower back.   And by “painful”, I mean holy f*ck that shit hurts.  But I did the damn thing and saddled up on a birth ball and rolled with the punches until mid-afternoon… at which point I threw in the towel and asked for the mother-effing epidural.  Sidenote: no one ever mentioned the fact that you have to breathe through contractions while you’re getting an epidural.  I mean, I guess that’s obvious but I hadn’t really thought about it.  Being slowly murdered from the inside while someone is stabbing you in the spine with a needle the size of a baseball bat is no picnic.  I must say though that when the sweet angel of epidurals kicked in, I was a-ok with errythang.

At that point my mom had arrived from MN (woohoo!) and with my drugs in full effect we all just kinda sat back to wait for more labory things to start happening.  Not long after, the doctor informed us that the baby wasn’t responding very well to my contractions.  Basically every time I had one, the baby’s heart rate would drop.  Over the course of a few hours we tried a few different things to combat this – reducing pitocin, injecting me with fluid, placing an internal monitor on the baby’s head to try to get a better read on the situation, and rotating positions like crazy to see if there was one that the baby might respond to better.  Which, let me tell you, is super difficult to do when half of your body is numb.  We got to the point where nothing was really working and baby’s heart rate got down to a scary enough level that the doctor starting talking about a c-section as worse case scenario. We had found a position that the baby seemed to like, (which was me on my hands and knees. AKA: flattering!) and I was dilated to a 7, so the plan was to sort of wait it out and see if things got better so I could hopefully deliver naturally.  Things did not get better.  After one significantly scary drop in baby’s heart rate, the doctor and a bajillion other people rushed into our room and it was decided that we would be having an emergency c-section.

I cannot even begin to explain how scared I was at this point.  The last drop in baby’s heart rate left me with so much fear that I couldn’t really focus on anything other than getting the baby out safely.  I kept thinking about how I’d do anything, go through anything, to make sure that the baby was ok.  I couldn’t imagine that we’d come that far and something would happen to him. It was the absolute scariest moment of my life.

The doctors and nurses did a dandy job of (attempting to) keep me calm and the mood light while I was wheeled back into the OR.  Casey wasn’t allowed into the room until everything was set up and ready for surgery so I was left on my own while they prepped me for surgery.  The meds were intense, everything was super hazy, and most of what I remember consists of my entire body shaking uncontrollably and trying to form sentences that didn’t sound like molten lava coming out of my mouth.  Casey was finally allowed into the OR to join me behind the scary blue curtain of fear.  And thank god because he somehow was the calmest I’d ever seen him.  And I needed that.  The c-section itself was much more aggressive than I ever imagined.  Though I felt very minimal pain, I can’t really explain the intense amount of pressure and overall uncomfortablness that comes with being sliced open and having a human pulled from your body.  (Apologies if you’re eating lunch while reading this…)

As soon as I heard that the head was out, I asked if it was cute (obvi) and then within 20 seconds the rest of the baby was pulled out.  We found out then that the reason he was in distress during labor was because the umbilical cord was wrapped around his shoulder, and every time I would have a contraction the cord would pinch and his heart rate would drop.  Once he was out and I heard him cry, the relief that washed over me was overwhelming.

Casey’s job was to tell me if we had a boy or girl and I remember staring up at him as he peeked over the sheet and his eyes got huge (I found out later that he got a real good glimpse of the situation that was my wide open stomach) before looking down and telling me that we had ourselves a baby boy.

We named our boy Crosby Earl Thompson.  Crosby because we loved the name, Earl after Casey’s dad, and Thompson because duh.  He was born at 8:23pm, weighing in at 6 pounds 15 oz and 20.5 inches long.  He was also born with the most perfect head of brown hair you ever did see and the most precious button nose that I really hope stays… buttony.

After Crosby was cleaned up a bit and Casey helped cut the cord, the nurse placed him on my chest for a little skin-to-skin action while he screamed bloody murder into my face.  (Crosby that is, not Casey.)  It was the most fun I’ve ever had being yelled at in my life.

Casey’s parents had arrived somewhere between heart rate drops and the c-section and they and my mom were awaiting news of the little one in the waiting room.  One of my favorite memories of the birth (even though I wasn’t even there to witness it) is of Casey walking into the waiting room and telling our family that we had a son.  His parents weren’t originally planning on flying in for the birth, so the fact that Casey could break the news in person to his parents, and to tell his dad that we had named our son after him, is super special.  I really wish I could have seen the looks on all the faces… but I can imagine.  It makes me ugly cry whenever I think about it.

Looking back, I realize a lot of his story is a bit stressful and scary-sounding.  But it is kind of true what they say, you forget about all of the shitty labor stuff as soon as the baby arrives.  Which is then replaced by actual shitty stuff.  Black, sticky, shitty stuff.  That you will find in your sweet little baby’s first 10-15 diapers.

Crosby Earl, your papa and I are so excited that you’re here.  Thanks for coming to hang out with us in life.  We love you so much.

shawnnathompson_crosbybirth_1 DSC_0376_3 DSC_0486_3 DSC_0496_3 DSC_0569_3DSC_0380_3 DSC_0655_3DSC_0647_3

 


he’s here!

shawnnathompson_heshere_crosby7Well hello blogees! It’s me, Mama Thomps. Or as my kid likes to call me, the Milk Man.

Yes it’s true, I have a kid. As most of you know by now, we welcomed Crosby Earl into our little family at 8:23pm on Saturday, August 30th. And it’s safe to say our world has since been rocked. There aren’t really words to explain the feelings so far… but I’ll try to find some because this is a blog and what is a blog without words? Less annoying?

I’ll likely write down his full birth story in the next few days but for now I’ll give you the short version of his arrival into the world. I was induced on Friday night (8/29) due to gestational hypertension and after a few bumps in the road during labor, I ended up having a Cesarean on Saturday night. Overall, our entire birth experience was surprising, exciting and really really scary. But the surgery went as well as it could have and Crosby is healthy which is really all we could ever hope for.

You know what people say about having a baby – that you can’t imagine the overwhelming feeling of love until it actually happens? As eye-rolling as it is – and trust me, I’ve done my fair share of eye-rolling over parentisms over the years – it actually is true. You really can’t prepare yourself for it. I love this little boy more than I ever thought possible. And every time that I think that Casey and I actually made this little person, that he’s all ours, my heart pretty much bursts out my chest. (This might also just be a side effect of one of my pain meds…I should probably look into that.) And speaking of Casey, we should also at some point talk about how heart-warmingly sweet it is to watch your husband become a papa. Dear god.

Since I’m always an advocate for honesty though… I’ll tell you that this past week has not only been the best of my life, it’s also been the most challenging and emotional time of my life as well. That much cuteness and love does not come cheap. The c-section knocked the wind out of me physically. The birth triggered not just the warm and fuzzy emotions, but ALL the emotions. I could probably cry on command right now if you asked me to. (Please don’t.)  Breastfeeding is a beast all its own.  And the lack of sleep, well, it’s just inhuman.

But trust me when I say that all that junk is so worth it. As emotional and ridiculous as everything is right now, I’ve also never been happier. Crosby is pretty much the coolest kid ever. He’s also so damn cute I want to eat his face off. (Don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what I’m talking about.) I also want to make his baby noises my ringtone. And his skin is so soft I could pet him for hours. Also, his limbs have a life of their own. His arms are always flailing or dangling over his head and his long skinny legs are constantly deciding between frog stance or stretching out to their skinniest, wrinkliest capacity. UGH. He’s cute.

So now of course, I bring you pictures. Pictures of my son. Hold on to your ovaries.

shawnnathompson_heshere_crosby6shawnnathompson_heshere_crosby5shawnnathompson_heshere_crosby8shawnnathompson_heshere_crosby3shawnnathompson_heshere_crosby9shawnnathompson_heshere_crosby2shawnnathompson_heshere_crosby4shawnnathompson_heshere_crosby1And just like that, we became a family of 5.  Also, please excuse Eddie who is acting out by going through a slutty phase.