you don't have to wish for the flu

listen,

i get it.

you have what feels like 432 kids.

it's 2:42 am.

and you are quietly scrubbing throw up out of the carpet.

you are maniacally

praying

over

and

over

and over 

again

"please don't let one of the sleeping kids wake.

please don't let one of the sleeping kids wake.

 please don't let one of the sleeping kids wake"

and if one does wake up,

please don't let them be projectile vomiting."

you are trying your best to silence those prayers thinking,

"what do i have to do to get the flu?"

why can't i call in?
what do i need to do to have a reason to stay in bed?

and not cook breakfast.

or answer questions every 42 seconds.

and not eat at all and lose six pounds in one day.

since when is the flu so horrible?

i'll tell you when.

when you break your ankle.

i left the gym mid june,

stella was on my hip

colton was holding my hand,

and chloe was flitting about the parking lot like she owned the place.

i think.

who really knew where chloe was.

we were so close to my car.

i took a step forward

and i realized i had no where to go because i was holding stella,

and colton was standing where my foot needed to go.

i went forward knowing it wasn't going to be pretty.

however, i would like to take this time,

knowing that my kids will read this,

to state,

i one hundred percent took one for the team.

for you guys.

i didn't want to drop stella,

i didn't want to fall on colton,

and who knows where chloe was.

i went down and immediately felt the pain.

but i gave myself a pep talk, like i do every day of my life.

usually it has something to do with making it to nap time.

sometimes i am cheering myself down the sidelines to actually get breakfast on the table.

this day it was:

you can do this.

after all you have been through with these crazy children,

you can do this.

pick up your leg, hop in the car, and drive home.

but i soon realized i would not be able to do that.

i could not move my leg.

for real.

colton was crying from {inevitably} being pinned between the car and me,

stella was crying from {inevitably} being dropped.

and who knows where chloe was.

it was chaos.

per usual.

i screamed repeatedly for my sweet friend, krista, who was parked what felt like a mile from me.

she eventually came running and saved the day.

i used her phone and called my mom begging for her to be at my house when i got home.

she was.

and as she was hugging me,

unloading my kids,

while simultaneously applying ice to my ankle and asking me what i wanted for dinner at 12:49 pm,

it started to click.....

the flu?

have i really secretly been begging for the flu?

we iced it.

my dad took me to the dr.

we iced it.

we went to get my boot.

we iced it.

i took ibuprofen,

we iced it.

and when i got home, my mom sent me to bed????

is this real life?

my bed?

i haven't been sent to my bed since i pushed a baby out of my body?!

and that was almost two years ago.

so when my mom entered my room with a pain pill,

a chilled glass of pinot grigio,

and parmesan and leek risotto?

it finally hit me......

who the hell wishes for the flu when all you need to do is break your ankle?

as i sipped my wine,

spooning delicious,

cheesy,

leeky

risotto in my mouth.

 

it was ofish.

i was not breaking up any fights.

i was not dishing out in the green bowl when "obviously" i was "supposed" to be dishing out in the pink bowl.

i wasn't trying to come up with a magical story about the green bowl because both girls want the only pink bowl.

i wasn't spooning their cold, regurgitated leftovers hurriedly into my mouth with a toddler spork.

i wasn't cleaning the kitchen, while at the same time trying to get them in the bath.

 

and we all know,

that bath puts me

one

step

closer

to

bedtime.

i was eating hot food and drinking cold wine in my bed.

and it was glorious.

but

as i rested my elevated ankle,

in all of my full reality tv glory,

i started to feel bad.

because i know you all have wished for the flu, too.

or some other virus to put you out for a day or four.

so on my third uninterrupted episode of guiliana and bill, and second glass of wine, i decided i owed you all the truth.

channel your inner nancy kerrigan and hire a tonya.

you're welcome.

don't worry, be happy

i have been flirting with the idea of blogging again.
and,
about three people have told me that they have missed me.

but let's be honest.

i am easy,

so
three people = two hundred and twenty six people in my book.

so, i made a deal with myself,

i said

"if you posted on july 11, 2013 last year, you will blog again immediately."

i checked.
i did.

and it was a special one

i'm kind of psychic so i take these type of deals with myself quite seriously.
so, when i logged into pandora and searched for a grandma wood worthy station and

"don't worry, be happy"

 

came on as the first song, i knew i must proceed.
"don't worry, be happy" was grandma wood's jam.
along with "kokomo."
clearly she loved the cocktail soundtrack, but honestly, who could blame her?

so, obviously my grandma is yelling at me from heaven to blog again, which is fine and all,

but i really do not know how to catch y'all up after a years hiatus??

things are crazier than ever.
i'm on instagram @marissastratton.
that should catch you up.

do that, and holler back.

stella started talking.
and hasn't stopped.
so it is no holds barred

three
against
one.

if you're a betting man?
those aren't great odds, my friends..

i am not at all joking when i tell you that they meet to screw with me.

e-va-ray-dam-day.

i really just don't understand how am i still in charge of these people?
who are expected to be alive all day,
and all night,

honestly?

it's quite silly.

because on most days?

i really can't even guarantee that i will be breathing by the time matty gets home from work.

whomever is in charge of me clearly does not know how to delegate.
these fools are in charge of me.

i typically succumb to the madness around 4:45 pm.

i am usually cooking dinner.

and let me tell you, 4:45 breakdowns are awesome.

cooking with six arms
and six legs
flailing about over boiling pots of water

in a teeny kitchen is awesome.

here they are, one year later.

i know.

they are still so cute.
and so big

and so cute.

dude.
these kids are nuts,

but i'm nuts.

that may be why the kids are nuts.

and my husband is nuts.
it's definitely why the kids are nuts, no?

don't answer.
i know the answer, it just doesn't help me get through the day.

and ps,
i have a broken ankle.

stay with me.
it's been a while, but it won't be a while.

i have so much more to tell you.
and i will.

i love you all.

and it's a true story when i say that i've missed you greatly,

i just didn't realize how much until my grandma started yelling at me from heaven.

****p to the s.
i realize i didn't post this on june 11th, but that's when i wrote it.****

my psychic theory holds true.

how i feel

like every other parent yesterday, all i wanted to do was get my hands on my babies.
they were sleeping when i heard 28 people had been shot in an elementary school in connecticut.
20 of those people were children between the ages of 5 and 10.
i fell on my couch and started sobbing.
it is gut wrenching to think that 27 parents will never again hug their child from such a senseless and incomprehensible act.

i ache for brothers and sisters who got out of the car mad at their sibling.

but mostly, my mind kept going to the parents who were having a bad day.
those parents whose children were getting yelled at for running around the house, instead of eating breakfast.
the parents who wrestled to get their children in their car seats.
the parents who couldn't get to school fast enough.
because they had so much to do.
because they were over the fighting.

the parents who dropped their babies off, relished in the silence and promised a do over once the kids got home from school.
i thought long and hard and tried to convince myself that wouldn't be me.
but i wasn't able to convince myself.
i knew there was a chance.
and that is an extremely tough pill to swallow.

i know there is probably more than one parent that will be trying to fill that silence for the rest of their life.
my body aches for you.

the thought of people arriving to sandy hook elementary, waiting to wrap their body around a child that will never walk out those doors is unimaginable.
it makes me physically ill.

i pray for every one of those parents.
i pray through tears. through a grief i cannot begin to understand.
i pray they feel my love. i pray they feel your love.
i pray they feel my hugs.

i pray they remember every single thing about their children.
i hope they forever remember the smell of their skin.

i hope they can forever hear their laugh.
the big laugh.
the laugh that forces a child to toss their head back and make their mouths fly wide open.

i hope they remember the special way their babies said certain words.

i pray they will forever be able to close their eyes and see how every single hair fell on their child's face.

matt came home early.
we talked about how our twins could have been in in the same class.
we would have lost both of them.

i think they knew we needed them.
we scooped them up and squeezed them so tight.
i traced every outline of their tiny little bodies.
i touched every part of their face thousands of times.
i explained to them how i love them so much it hurts.
i drank them in with long, slow drawn out sips.
i watched every move.

i couldn't answer their questions without crying.
i paid attention to the way they said every single word.
i listened to their different intonations and committed them to memory.

i put them to bed with a heavy heart and a broken spirit.

i woke up at 1 and couldn't sleep.
i was aching for one of my babies to wake up.
to give me a reason to go hold them.

stella cried and my heart lurched. she knew i needed her.
as her limp flour sack of a body molded perfectly in to mine, we rocked.
we rocked to music for what felt like hours.
i know she felt my chest convulsing, i know she could feel my tears, but she didn't make a sound.
she laid there and let me love her.
heart to heart and cheek to cheek.

even though we will never know why, i take comfort knowing this country is crying together.
in times like these we are a family.
differing opinions fall by the wayside and we are united.

all we can do is keep breathing.
keep putting one foot in front of the other.

keep practicing peace on earth, good will to men.

2 more

thankful that this

became this

the bad , the ugly , and finally......the good.

ya know,
being a parent is so hard.


instead of getting thanked for your hard work,
you get screamed at.
because someone wants milk.
and you aren't getting it fast enough. because you are cleaning up pee. on a random surface.
instead of getting a bonus?
you get hit. and thrown up on.

and the worst part?
you don't get a redo.

you can't make a phone call to your boss to fix your wrong doings when your bosses are two and under.
you are raising human sponges.
that watch your every move.
and they soak it up.

you can't have a quick meeting the next morning with three toddlers and explain to them that you reacted poorly because you are just done.
that their screaming all day makes you want to pull your mother loving hair out.
and you flipped out because surely you thought on the 1,347th time, you thought they would realize that you were serious about not reaching up on the freaking counter.

your actions are their example.

the way you react to situations is their model.
that is intense, people.

it is tough going to bed and replaying the day.
slamming your fist on the counter out of frustration? probably not your finest moment.
or cringing remembering the deer in the headlights look your children gave you when you screamed at them like a maniacal psychopath.

i have had way too many of these moments in the past two and a half years.
there has been a lot of cringing.
i wish i could redo a lot.

i can't.
and that is a lot to think about.
for the past two and a half years i have not been the parent that i imagined i would be.

time was lost.
i needed to just make it to breakfast.
then to lunch.
and then in a few short hours, nap would be here.
then please lord let me make it to dinner. will i even make dinner?
bath time
and thank you, bed time, for coming through in the clutch and saving the day.

i am here to tell you, that is no way to live, my friends.
but that's where i was.
just trying to survive.
lost
and just trying to make it through the day.

the good news is, there has been a lightening around here.
those days are far and few between.

i am seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.
the fog is lifting.

i am no longer surviving.

i am living.
with my children.

and it feels so good.
we are laughing and hugging a lot.

so i haven't been around here much because i am making up for lost time.

i may not ever make up for the past couple of years.
but it feels really good trying.

it is amazing experiencing days that i am used to reading about wondering when things would calm down enough around here.
so we could all just be happy.

we are all growing up around here. especially me.

slowly
but surely.

and we are having so much fun while doing it.

ballerina girl.

you are so love.ly.
lionel richie anyone?

it has been a hot minute, huh?

i'll explain more later.
really there is no explanation needed other than i've been real busy.
that's it.
so i guess i won't explain more later.

and as much as i want this post to be heartfelt and deep and meaningful,
it's not.
because i'm too tired and the little girl in the photos is so stinkin' cute that i want to share her with you guys right this very second.

it may not be normal to cry at your child first "dance cwass", but i never claimed to be normal.
and i was chill enough to walk away when the tears were really obvious.


but i was just so ridiculously proud of her.
dancin' out on that floor like she owned the joint.
i think she was the best in the class. wink wink.

she glues herself to my knee when she is uncomfortable and talks to me with her eyes.
so i knew doing something by herself would be good for her.
and she pranced out there and did it.
she didn't need me. she didn't need her brother. she just need her "spwinkle weotawd."


i love this little girl madly.
she's my partner in crime.

and if buying your little baby girl her first pair of tap and ballet shoes doesn't shatter your heart?
well, then i don't know what to tell you.

stella's birth story part one

you were due august 1st, 2011.
i knew that was not going to happen.
i had to kick the twins out and despite everyone telling me the next one always comes earlier,
i knew you were comfy.
and i was ok with that.

i wasn't ok on august 8th when they told me i was still barely 1 cm dilated.
the same exact place i had been a week prior.

i was straight up anxious on august 11th. You were ten days late.
that night, i went to get a manicure.
for the second time.

i also got a manicure on august 1st just in case.
what a waste of money.
although,
i got to spend precious time with nicole.
nicole, one of my sweet friends from high school, also does my nails when i need more than just a manicure.
she did them right before your brother and sister were born, too.
she took me in at the last minute because she knew it was pre-baby ritual.
it was 6:00 p.m.
we chatted away.
she joked about putting me in labor.
we talked long and laughed hard.
i remember watching my belly bounce
and wondering if it would be one of the last times.

i got home around 9:00.
a nearly three hour manicure is good for the soul. especially from someone you love.
your twins had been asleep for hours
and daddy was asleep, too.

i laid down around 10:00 and not long after that, i remember feeling a tightening in my belly.
i was so excited.
you were ten days late and i knew they wouldn't let me go much longer without an induction
i so wanted to go into labor spontaneously.
so terribly bad.
i knew God had a plan.
and i knew you would come.
on your own.
i waited for a while before i woke daddy up but i knew this was it.

around 11:30 p.m. i woke him up and told him we were having a baby.
i was so excited i was laughing.

you see, i kicked him out of our room a long time ago.
he was sleeping in your room.
you made me not sleep.
a lot.

i called the doctor's office to let them know i was in labor.
except the doctor slept through the answering service's call.
three times.
when she called, she said i sounded too calm and not in enough pain to be in labor.
um. ok.
she also told me this was common in a first time labor.
i politely reminded her that i had given birth to twins a year prior.
and that she delivered them.
i think she was still asleep.

nonnie jumped out of bed and flew over.

around two a.m., daddy and i packed up and headed to the hospital.
neither of us had bags packed.
my stomach was in knots realizing i would not get to say goodbye to the twins, but i was over the moon excited to say hello to you.
it is so scary when people tell you that your heart will to divide into another equal piece, but you don't understand how that can happen.
it is so beautiful when you realize, after it happens, that it has.
seamlessly.

on our way, daddy kept asking me how i felt.
i told him i was good.
i said we should stop to eat because i knew once i got there that food was off limits.
but i was explaining to him that even though i knew i should eat, i just wasn't hungry.
before i could finish that sentence, he said "oh no!"
"what! what is wrong" i said through contractions.
and he said "we should go back home and drop my truck off at my parents for louis in the morning."
"huh? why?" i asked.
he stated that it would be easier for louis to pick up his truck at gran and papa's since he would be working for daddy while we were with you.

ummmmmmmmm. hi.
i'm about to push a baby out of my vagina, but whatever makes things easier for louis is obviously what we need to do.

i told daddy "do you realize what you are saying right now? you want me to follow you in my car, to drop off your truck, while i'm in labor, so things are easier for louis?"

he started laughing when he realized how insane he sounded.

he admitted that he, too, did not really think i was in labor because i was calm.
and laughing,
i think he was looking for some oscar worthy labor performance.
but i felt great. and i was excited. and happy.

until i started second guessing myself.
would we be sent home?
was this not it?

we checked in and marveled that we had been in this exact same place a year and a half with no babies.
and here we were a year and a half later, hours away from meeting our third.
a little girl.

we sat.
and waited.
until we were called.
we moseyed through the hallways.
i vowed to take everything i felt in.
every smell.
every color.
every nurse.
every name.
to record it in the "i will never, ever forget this" portion of my brain.
i know how fast it goes.
i wanted pictures of everything.

i sat down in a cold plastic chair.
i was wearing sweat pants and a turquoise tank top.
a man took my blood pressure.
he led me to a triage room where i laid down and laughed with daddy.

i will cherish these times with your father forever.
i get emotional when i go back there mentally.
in the hospital, crawling of the edge of our seats, dying to meet our babies.
we were so in sync. him taking care of me, me taking care of you.
all we wanted to talk about was you.
would you look like chloe?
because you were a girl?
you would have to have blonde hair, right? right?
in between giggly and dreamy conversations where we felt like we were dancing in the clouds, we watched tv.
he had it on espn and a nurse marveled at his audacity to have it on a sports channel while his wife was having contractions every three minutes..

a few minutes later, it was three a.m. and the nurse came in and said today was going to be your birthday.
i couldn't wait.
and i was so excited to be right.
i wished that we would have taken daddy's truck back.
it would have made for a better story.

i couldn't wait to see you.
to hold you.
to see your teeny tiny purple little finger nails
i couldn't wait for the earth to stop when they put you in my arms for the first time.

we called nonnie, who was home with the twins, to let her know she was in for the long haul.
we weren't coming home without our baby girl.