10th Anniversary of 9/11

9/11/2001 was a horrible, scary day. I remember that day very well, and I'm never going to forget the 10 year anniversary.

I woke abruptly that morning at 2 a.m. with a strong contraction. "No, not today," I whined. Not because it was the anniversary of 9/11, but because Larry the Cable Guy was coming to the casino where Adam works.

Lesson 131: not being able to be in labor because of Larry the Cable Guy = white trash

Adam's boss had told him that I was absolutely NOT allowed to have the babies that day. With that one comment, he sealed his fate. You NEVER tell a Johnston baby when they aren't allowed to be born. The first boss Adam had when we moved to Pittsburgh told me I could have Jet anytime but Valentine's Day weekend. Jet was born on that Saturday of Valentine's Day weekend. Adam's boss from the other casino he worked at, told him I couldn't have Jovie on Derby Day. Guess what? Derby Day. So, when I was told what Adam's current boss had said, I knew what was coming. I didn't just have one Johnston in my belly, I had two!!

I laid in bed for four pain filled hours, wishing labor would stop. Jovie came into my room at 6 and asked if she could have some cereal. I thought maybe the contractions would go away if I moved around. Duh, of course they got worse!

It was early Sunday morning, so I had to call the doctor on call. It wasn't a doctor I had ever met before. Our conversation went like this. (By the way, I thought he said his name was Dr. Sparkle. When I finally met him, he told me Dr. Sparkle would do.)

Dr. Sparkle: "So, what's going on this morning?"
Me: "I woke up at 2 with contractions and they are getting worse."
Dr. Sparkle: "How many weeks are you?"
Me: "I'm 36, but I'm having twins. The babies are breech and transverse, so I know I'm supposed to have a c-section. That's why I don't know what to do."
Dr. Sparkle: "Well, you don't sound like you're in too much pain."
Me: "This is what I always sound like. My doctor will tell you this is how I am."
Dr. Sparkle: "Ok, well then why don't you go ahead and come in."
Me: "I do know what contractions feel like. This is my 7th pregnancy."
Dr. Sparkle: "Get your butt in here NOW!"

Ok, so I guess things were a little more urgent than I thought. I went upstairs and woke Adam. "Are you serious?!" he asked. He knew breaking the news to his boss wouldn't go well. We got ready as we tried to get a hold of anyone in my family. No one answered, so I had to call my friend, who had to wake her small children to come watch my crazy bunch.

Lesson 132: not being able to find a sitter, because my brother had a party the night before and ALL my family was hungover and not answering their phones, making my poor friend drag her babies out of bed, just to have her car break down, which resulted in her having to hitch hike with a complete stranger the rest of the way here = white trash

(Thank you Kortney for being such a good friend that day.)

Anyway, I finally got to the hospital, and met Dr. Sparkle for the first time. "Well, you look like you're in a little bit of pain, but you're still cracking jokes," he said to me. I let out a laugh twinged with pain, "I'm telling you, this is how I am."

"Ok, well, let's see what's going on here," he said as he checked me. His eyes widened, "You weren't kidding! Call the anesthesiologist stat," he yelled at the nurse, "She's 9 centimeters, and I have a foot in my hand!"

Lesson 133: babies being so tired of me, they try and stomp their way out = white trash

Before I knew it, I was in the operating room. C-sections suck. I don't know why women love them. I had horrible pains in my shoulders and I felt like I was going to puke the whole time. At one point I said, "I think I'm going to be sick." The doctor's response? "You'll feel better after I put your uterus back in." Blaaaaaaaah! Thanks Dr. Sparkle.

The c-section experience was awful, but I got two beautiful baby boys out of the deal. Rex Anthony weighed in at 6lbs 5oz, and my little Fox Joseph weighed 4lbs 12oz. What little peanuts! (Of course, they were a month early.)

Let me tell you, people love babies, but everyone LOVES twins. I felt like a sideshow everytime we went through the hospital. Everywhere we went, we were greeted by squeals, "Twins!" Adam even got the same reaction when he walked out with two empty car seats.

The one thing I found depressing, was how every nurse or housekeeper that came into my room that day had to comment on how sad it was they were born the day they were. The one nurse even said, "It's so sad that your babies will have to grow up being overshadowed by something so horrible." Wow, thanks for the well wishes lady.

Personally, I find it kind of poetic. Ten years later, and almost at the same time the twin towers fell, I gave birth to twins. They don't have to be overshadowed by something bad. Why can't they be a symbol of how life goes on? Ten years ago, a set of twins were taken down by prejudice and hatred, and now Adam and I have the privilege to raise a new set of twins with tolerance and love.

Welcome Rex and Fox, may you always be a symbol of God's healing and unending love.

Belly Woes

I want my body back! As of my last appointment, I have surpassed the most amount of weight I have ever gained with a baby, and I still have a month to go!

It must be quite bulbous, because the kids constantly remind me of how fat I have become. "Mom, your belly is HUGE!" The other day Jude had to draw a picture of our family for show-and-tell, and there was my stick figure with a huge circle in the middle. He pointed to it proudly and said, "Mom look, it's your whale." My whale?

Of course, I have been using it as an excuse, too. "Can someone please pick this up?"

"Why?" they ask.

I point at my stomach and say, "Because I'm fat!"

Today, Jovie asked me for a piece of paper. I told her she could go ahead and get one, and her response was, "I can't. I'm too fat." Hmmmm....maybe I should stop saying these things before my 3 year old daughter acquires an eating disorder.

The most embarrassing thing that happened to me because of my protruding belly, was when I went to the bank the other day. The bank parking lot is rather small and the spaces are very close together. I parked and opened my door, which touched the car next to me. I started to get out, but quickly realized I wasn't going to fit. I stopped and thought about my options. I decided I would climb back in and go out the passenger side door, hoping there was more room on that side.

I tried to get back in, but couldn't. I was seriously stuck. I started to sweat. There were people all around and there I was stuck in my car door, too embarrassed to ask for help. After helpless thoughts of me spending the rest of my babies gestation stuck in my car door, I finally decided to just push through, no matter how bad it hurt......It hurt, but I was free! How sad.

Lesson 130: being too fat for the bank parking lot = white trash

 

Thankfully, I don't have much longer to go. I'm just a little nervous of how much bigger I can potentionally get! Is the next step having to be lifted out of the top of my house by a crane? We'll see!

The Flood

Friday was a rainy, rainy day. We had heavy rain for three straight hours. After the first hour, I waddled down to the basement to do some laundry. At the foot of the stairs I noticed a small stream of water rolling across the floor. Luckily, I had a handful of dirty towels in my hand. I threw one down and sopped up the water, then I  pulled up the corner of Brett's (our basement dweller) rug that had gotten slightly wet. I was a little upset because our basement had been dry for the most part. We live at the top of a huge hill and Adam did some extra things to the basement when we remodeled it in hopes to keep it completely dry. This was the second time this summer that water got in.

I thought the problem was fixed and was just about to go back to my laundry, when out of the corner of my eye I saw it. A large amount of water rushing out from under Brett's dressers. "What the heck?!" I yelled, as I threw all the towels in my hand on top of the water, in hopes to stop it from touching any of Brett's belongings on the floor.

I knew I had to move the furniture to find the source of the problem, not an easy task for my protruding belly, though you would think a whale would feel quite at home at sea. When I moved the furniture, I discovered more water. It was a pool about an inch deep and 6ft long. It poured in from under the door of the "spider room". I stood there for a minute like a deer in the headlights. The dozen towels I had brought down were now completely soaked and weren't helping at all. I ran to the laundry room and pulled all the clean towels out of the dryer. I threw the towels down then went up to get a mop and bucket.

With the mop, I filled buckets. When the towels were once again soaked, I ran upstairs to get the rest of the towels we owned. As I waddled-ran past the kids in the living room, one of them asked, "What's going on?"

"There's a flood in the basement!" I yelled, trying not to pee my pants from the fast pace at which I was moving.

To my surprise, my kids all screamed, "YEAH!" as they made a beeline for the basement.

"Weird," I thought as I grabbed the towels, "they better not be playing in the water."

When I got to the basement stairs, I saw my boys standing there looking confused. "Where's the flood?" Jagger asked.

"What do you mean? It's all over the floor," I said as I pointed to the obvious pool of water in the basement.

"Ohhh," they all whined as they sadly made their way back upstairs.

As I continued to clean, I wondered what caused my kids odd behavior. Then it hit me.

Here, I'm asking you not to judge me. I allow all my older boys to play the video game Halo. Which is rated M. This also includes Jude, who just turned 5 last week. I know, bad parenting, but I allow this because my boys actually play together and have a good time. Anyway, the game is nothing more than killing aliens, and when there is a massive onslaught it's called a flood.

Lesson 129: you tell your kids there's a flood in the basement, and they think it's a plague of aliens that they need to take care of = white trash

So, the flood in the basement turned out to be a bummer for everyone. 

Hobo Shower

Lesson 128: kids showering via neighbors downspout = white trash

 

But I saved sooooo much water!!

Bounce Dryer Bar

I bought a package of Bounce Dryer Bars a few weeks ago. The thought of not having to remember dryer sheets elated me. Not to mention, they were on sale, and I had a Target coupon AND a manufacturers coupon. Triple score! On the package it said it should last for two whole months. Obviously they didn't mean in my dryer.

Lesson 127: Bounce dryer bar lasting only 2 1/2 weeks = white trash

Cookies

Ok, I'll admit it, I've been lazy lately. In my own defense, I'm a whale. I'm so full of baby that I need a nap after bending over. Seriously.

Adam has been really wonderful this month. He's been doing laundry and cleaning things he wouldn't normally clean. He's cleaning the bathroom tomorrow and I can't recall a time when he has ever cleaned it.

The boys have also been helping out. They've been cleaning their room and the living room. They've even been sweeping for me! I just sit on the couch, like Jabba the Hut, giving orders. It's fabulous.

Today I felt pretty good, so I decided to do some extra cleaning. (Adam and the boys clean, but it's not exactly my standard of clean.) I also decided to bake some cookies for the kids. After all, they deserve it.

When I took the first batch of cookies out of the oven, it became apparent that I have been less nurturing than normal.

Lesson 126: your kids being so deprived, that when you make a batch of cookies, they look like this = white trash

St. Davids Christian Writers Conference

I was one busy bee in June. I've wanted to write about our family's first vacation to the beach, during the second week of June, but the terrors are still too raw, and I haven't been able to laugh about it yet. I'll just tell you, when I first found out the St. David's Christian Writer's Conference was to begin a few days after returning from our vacation, I was hesitant to go, but when the time came, I couldn’t drive there fast enough.

Lesson 119: needing a vacation from your vacation = white trash

The conference ran from June 21-25. I was only able to stay until the 24th, and within that time I utilized not only Adam, but an additional four babysitters. The kids were spread out all over the place.

Lesson 120: leaving for a few days, and needing a whole village to take care of your kids = white trash

I had an awesome time at the conference. It’s been a long, long, long, long, LOOOONG time since I’ve had a moment to concentrate on ME. I barely knew how to act. Luckily, to ease this transition, I was put right to work as golf cart driver.

I got to know a good majority of the conferees as I drove them, and their luggage, from the registration area to the dorm rooms of Grove City College. It truly surprised me that anyone would want to get in a golf cart driven by a slaphappy weirdo drunk on her newly found independence. This speaks volumes about the type of people who attend this conference. Let’s just say, I felt very at home. My mentor for the week, Anne Siegrist (who rocks!), told me, during one of morning workshops, “I never felt like I belonged anywhere until I came to St. David’s.” Everyone, for the most part, was kind and nurturing, with a touch of creative crazy. My kind of peeps.

I learned loads of new information. I think I stuffed my brain a little too full on the first day, because after my classes, during free time, I went down to the dorm, called Adam, and that is the last thing I remember.

Lesson 121: passing out like a kindergartener on their first day of school = one out-of-the-loop white trash lady

When I awoke, I grabbed my phone to check the time. FIVE?! I couldn’t miss dinner and all the free ice cream! I sat up in a daze, and made my way to the bathroom door. I was unsure if I had to pee or not, so I stood in the doorway for a few minutes, looking like one of the undead, trying to decide. Published author, and faculty member, Nancy Skultety, shared a suite with my Aunt Carol and me, which means we shared a bathroom. To my embarrassment, as I stood there looking deranged, Nancy opened her door. With my brain not firing on all cylinders, I said, “I fell asleep. Do I look like crap?” “No, you look fine,” she nicely stated. I didn’t even say goodbye. I just turned and waddled away with visions of sprinkles on my mind.

Lesson 122: scaring someone you look up to, with your zombie-like whale presence = white trash

When I got to dinner, my Aunt Carol lovingly told me there were lines on my face, and my hair didn’t look as nice as it had previously looked. Awesome.

Lesson 123: going to dinner with writing professionals, looking like a child just getting up from her nappy-nap = white trash

I did much better the rest of the week. My brain finally adjusted, and it, along with my soul, reveled in the adult conversations about writing, and the encouraging words that made me feel like I had self worth. No one there saw me as the maid, or the go-to-lady to get a Poptart. People called me by name. I didn’t go by “Mom-I-need.” It was glorious.

One of the highlights of my week was when the children writers got together for a critique group. I brought the first chapter of my mid-grade novel, New Earth and the Self-Proclaimed King. I had taken it to the WPaSCBWI conference in the fall, and had gotten so many critiques I felt like maybe writing wasn’t for me. I quickly got over it and fixed my manuscript.

This time, I got great reviews. It was simply amazing. Not to mention, some of the people in the St. David’s critique group had also been in my SCBWI critique group. When it was over, I walked on clouds for quite some time.

Chapels, classes, coffeehouses, writing, camaraderie, lots of ice cream, and let’s not forget the auction that made me break out in hives, filled my days.

Lesson 124: breaking out in hives because others are spending money = white trash

The all time high and honor came at the very end of the week. I won a book for having the most magazines on the back of my toilet……..just kidding. Well, that did really happen, but it wasn’t the highlight. I’m really talking about winning the Alma K. Weber award, which is an award given to the most promising first-time conferee. I was very surprised, and almost couldn’t get up to get my award.

Lesson 125: not being able to accept an award, because your feet have swollen out of your shoes = white trash

What an honor….and challenge! Now, I actually have to make something of myself. Oh the pressure. Thank you St. David’s for the wonderful week, and believing in me at a point when I didn’t even believe in myself.

So, if anyone out there writes, and is looking for a week to get away and spend it working on your craft with some of the most wonderful people in the world, I highly recommend St. David’s. http://www.stdavidswriters.com/