I am really into natural birth.

By that I mean, I planned a natural birth with my first son but had a pretty damn glorious epidural instead.  My second baby was born in the fastest and most painful 2.5 hours of my life, most of which were spent at home waiting for a sitter, thus allowing me to imagine I would have turned down an epidural had I been offered one.  Ahh, sweet, beautiful, natural birth.

In my plan, my writing, my musings about motherhood would also come about very naturally. I would caress my big pregnant belly and daydream about how I was going to utilize all of that time while my baby was sleeping to share my beautiful new mothering experiences. I would rest my baby on his nursing pillow while simultaneously nourishing his little body with my milk, and quietly, but confidently, hammer at the keys of my laptop. It would be sunshine and rainbows.  It would be sunshine beaming down upon unicorns riding rainbows. Gosh, I was going to be a really, really fantastic mom.

I’ll give you a moment for judgmental snark and laughter here, because no. Just no. From the moment my little man, Kai, arrived on the scene, I knew that I knew absolutely nothing.  As in total and complete idiocy.  As in let’s just cross our fingers and hope we all get out of this alive.  There was NO down time.  My baby didn’t sleep. Never ever.  My body didn’t produce milk. Not a single drop for weeks.  My kid had a very sensitive detection system that could read my every movement, word, or thought and the second he sensed I was thinking about abusing him, you know, in the forms of showering, eating a meal, changing my shirt, well, he let me know how he felt about that.  And I loved him SO DAMN MUCH, that letting him cry was just not an option.  Oh, and in a manic episode of popcorn eating and Freaks and Geeks bingeing in my last days of pregnancy, I closed a kernel in my laptop and majorly cracked its screen. So good-bye blogging, hello sleep deprivation. And poop. So much poop. Writing would have to wait.

That, my friends, sets the stage for these last few years and for the stories you’ll see here on this blog. It’s my life with my boys. My demanding, energetic, fearless, sloppy, hungry, often naked, always amazing boys. There are lots of tears, a few time-outs, many tantrums, screaming, SO much screaming, and more laughter than anyone should deserve. It’s messy and chaotic and I still haven’t slept…but damn, its fun.

And so here I am. After a very prolonged labor (3 years and 1 week to be exact) and some drugs to help me along (Cabernet by Rx only), hello to the (blogging) world.  Hello to you.  Welcome to our little corner of Crazytown.  I think you’ll like it here.  We do.