In The Beginning

It's been almost 7 months since I became a mother of two. Two girls. My girls. It's so weird. I often wonder what they're going to say about me when they're grown and talking among themselves about Mom, using phrases like, "you know how she gets," and "I can't deal with her right now." I'll be pining for the days that they needed me in the middle of the night. Maybe that's why I don't mind when she wakes up at the crack of dawn, or fights going down for her nap. Holding her for just a little while longer won't hurt anyone. It's been a wild half a year, but I wouldn't change (most of) it for anything. For any mom with a brand new baby, please know: It gets better.

6 months is the height of cuteness, I feel

The first 6-8 weeks are still the dark ages. I think I was prepared more for it this time, so the darkness felt more like an old friend than an unexpected visitor. While I didn't fantasize about paper cutting my husband's wiener this time, I did seriously contemplate lighting him on fire, ripping the Playstation from the wall, and throwing it over the second floor balcony. I imagined the pleasure that would wash over me as it crashed to the floor; tiny, essential pieces flying off, never to be found again.

Instead of letting this fester, I did the adult thing. I told him about it. I said, "Hey, the other night when you were playing video games, and you put on your headphones and SHUT THE DOOR so you wouldn't be bothered, I was trying to read Trinity a book before bed and then Everly woke up and started screaming so I had to go get her and bounce her to keep her quiet as I also read The Boxcar Children, and all I could think about was you in there with the door shut playing video games with your headphones on, completely unaware of your entire family, and I wanted to light you on fire." I said this very calmly, like a psycho. He just nodded, possibly terrified, and said he understood. Did he really understand? Of course not. But spelling it out got him a lot closer than remaining silent would have.

I think as women we try to be so strong and take care of everything without complaining because anything less could be seen as a weakness, even by us. Everyone gets so used to it that it becomes expected, but then you're left exhausted and bitter. Sometimes just clearly laying out your needs and expectations is all it takes to make a difference, even if it really sucks to do it.

So what does he do? Takes me to Mexico for my birthday. If there's one thing a new mom wants, it's to leave her baby and put on a swimsuit 4 months after giving birth. I really do love him so much.

I thought trying to do it all and have it all was the reason I felt like crap all the time. I thought it was because I'm not 25 anymore, so of course it's going to take longer for things to go back to normal. I finally went to the doctor when I couldn't rationalize it any longer. Turns out my ridiculous bi-lobed placenta was the gift that kept on giving, and left a bit of itself behind for me to remember it by, as if I could forget. My poor body was trying to heal while also thinking it was still pregnant, and it was wreaking all sorts of havoc. Luckily for me (and I use that term loosely), I was able to birth what was left of it with the help of some drugs and it did not have to be surgically removed. If you're interested in seeing what a bi-lobed placenta looks like, here is a picture. It's basically two placentas bound together by weird bodily organ stuff. They thought it all came out at birth, but they were wrong.

You're welcome

Welcoming Everly Pearl

She's here! And she wants everyone to know it. Doctor's offices, grocery stores, restaurants, car dealerships, it doesn't matter where we go, she will let you know that she has arrived and will not be silenced. She is a bit high maintenance and runs on a baseline of mild displeasure, which can turn to pure happiness just as easily as it can turn to fiery rage. Little Everly wants what she wants when she wants it. In other words, she's pretty normal. Her sister quite possibly set us up for some false expectations with her simplicity. That's OK though. I like a challenge, and I respect her for knowing what she wants. No one will mess with this one. She's also so incredibly sweet, and I feel this very fierce protective love for her. It's hard to describe, but I guess that's motherhood in a nutshell.

Her entrance into the world was a rocky one. Starting at 38 weeks I began leaking fluid. A slow, clear leak, just like with Trinity. I figured this was it, so I went in to get it checked and they said it wasn't amniotic fluid. What was it? No one knows. 39 weeks, still leaking. I make them check the fluid around the baby to make sure she's still ok. Everything checks out. 40 weeks, heavier leaking. So I make them test the fluid again. Oh weird, THIS time, it comes back positive as amniotic fluid, and they tell me I should go have this baby. uhhhh ok? At this point it's 5 p.m., and we've both worked all day. I've already been up for 12 hours, and I'm tired. I want her out, but this suddenly seems sudden.

Our last picture together as one

 So we go home and get all of our bags and arrive at the hospital around 6 p.m. We get checked in and they start me on Pitocin right away because at this point no one knows how long my water has been leaking and they just want to get the baby out. I labor through the night, and around 3 a.m., I'm sitting in the bath tub and I can feel the baby make a big, sudden movement.  All the monitors start going off because her heart rate has fallen dangerously low. The midwife and nurse come bustin' in the room and flip me in a million different positions trying to get the heart rate back. They try to act calm but you can tell they are starting to panic a little, so I'm starting to panic a little. After what feels like forever but is probably only about 2 minutes, they get it back. After this, they turn off the Pitocin so as not to stress her out any further. My contractions fade in and out, until they turn it back on around 9 a.m. I've been awake for 27 hours and the baby is nowhere near coming out.

Labor is rough. #DadLife

Even though we tell them it's unnecessary, our families come and spend the night in the waiting room. In the middle of the night, my aunt takes Trinity out to her truck to get some rest, and she curls up on the dog's bed in there. When recounting the night of her sister's birth, Trinity always tells people, "I slept on a dog bed."

Around 2 p.m. a doctor comes in and tells us it's been too long and the baby is still up too high to break my water the rest of the way. They are starting to talk C-Section, and this throws Travis into a bit of a tissy. He's mad at the midwives for bringing in a doctor, and he's mad at the doctor for wanting to cut. Even though his display of anger makes me uncomfortable, he's the perfect advocate for what I want, which is a natural, un-medicated birth, and I'm so thankful he's there.

The doctor gives us an hour to get the baby down far enough so that she can break my water. So we set up what feels like Crossfit exercise stations for my 9-months-pregnant, 7-centimeters-dilated ass to do in order to make the baby move lower. This includes deep squats, lunges, bouncing on an exercise ball, and laying backwards on the bed with my feet dangling off while Travis pulls on them. That last move was especially excruciating and I've now been up for 32 hours. All the hard work paid off, and the baby is a couple stations lower when the doctor comes in to break my water at 3:30.

As soon as my water is completely broken, it's on like Donkey Kong. The contractions are hard and fast and holy shit why does it hurt so bad!? I'm trying to employ all the breathing techniques I learned in prenatal yoga, and be like the women I watched in the hypnobirthing videos, but I am tired, and this hurts more than I remember. I decide I'm just gonna start pushing and get this over with.

Once I start that, I can't stop. It gives me an outlet for all the pain to go. With Trinity, I remember it being intense, but not actual pain. With this baby, I think I left teeth marks on the bed rail. Right when she's almost out, I hear the midwife utter a phrase you do not want to hear when you're giving birth, "well, that's more blood than I should be seeing." I look over at Travis who's standing wide-eyed beside me, and I can tell he's trying not to freak out as I hemorrhage all over everything. He then tells me that I HAVE to get her out NOW. So I push with all my might, to the point that I see stars when I close my eyes, and I feel her head break free. I hear the midwife say, "we have a shoulder." And I assume that means her shoulder has emerged. But it does not mean that. Next thing I know, the nurse jumps up and comes down hard with both hands on my pubic bone. A blood curdling scream comes out of me, both out of intense pain and pure surprise, because if there's one thing you don't expect when giving birth, it's your nurse to punch you in the stomach. It does the trick though. Her shoulder was stuck and the one-two punch dislodged it. They then tell me to reach down and grab my baby. I do as I'm told, and she lets out her first war cry. 24 hours after we arrived at the hospital, and 36 hours after I woke up two mornings ago, she is here. 8 lbs and 5 ounces of strength, beauty, and perfection.

                 

My pain in this picture is at an 11

                         

32 Weeks

"It won't be long now." "You're almost there!" "Trying to walk the baby out?"

These are quotes from random strangers when they see me out in public now. I don't always have the heart to tell them that actually I still have a bit to go, and no I am not trying to induce labor because my baby would be very premature. Instead I just smile and say, "not soon enough!" Because there's still technically two months left. I don't know if two months is physically possible, and given that Trinity came at 36 weeks, I imagine this one will be on the early side too. It's somehow happening so fast and so slow at the same time.

My goal right now is to quit it with the carbs. I've already gained as much weight as I did in the 36 weeks with Trinity, and this baby still needs to double in size before it can safely be born, so I'm basically doomed. Still no stretch marks. Cross your fingers, knock on wood, and pray to the Bio Oil gods that my vain ass can make it through a second time. Don't worry though, I'm pretty sure my belly button is harmed beyond the point of return, so we'll see what kind of drastic measures it will take to get that back in working order. I am stretched to the point that I can feel her body parts at any given time pushing at the top of my stomach. So close, yet so far away.

Just from knowing her in the womb, here are my predictions for her personality:

• She's going to be calmer - more serious - like the type that can sit still and focus on something.
• She'll be an early riser - less of a sleeper than her sister.
• She's going to be more fragile than Trinity, at least physically. 
• She'll be less Travis and more me. 

I'll have to report back on how this pans out. At the moment, all we know is that she looks like Voldemort. 

In probably the most hilarious turn of events this pregnancy, the midwife at my last appointment asked me what birth control I wanted to use after this baby is born. I told her I'd prefer my husband get a vasectomy, because I've altered the way my body should naturally work for way too long. So she kindly gives me a brochure on vasectomies, and then asks what I will actually do if my husband chooses not to take on this responsibility. She was basically saying, well that's a nice dream, now what are you actually going to do since you can't depend on a man for this? So I get home and look at this brochure, and holy shit, it's the most fun birth control brochure I've ever seen. 

First of all, it's in full color, with sports balls all around it, and it's labeled as the OFFICIAL Vasectomy Playbook with a Snip City logo. For any Blazer fans, this is a nice play on Rip City and I applaud it. The inside has paragraphs headlined "1-Hour Fitness," "Deny the Ride," and "Road to Recovery (a 2-day vacation)." More than half of the material focuses on assuring them that their prized package will still perform to full expectation, and they will be just as satisfied. The other half gives them pointers on how awesome recovery is, and also covers that their voice will not get higher. "Get frozen peas, video games, sporting events, or man-movies ready for your arrival home." 

The amount of effort it took to make this seem so great for men really kind of pisses me off, but at the same time I understand the necessity of it. Like, if we don't make this seems super awesome, men will just be like, nah I'm good. Every handout brochure a woman gets about all the horrible medieval practices that could happen to her nether regions are in black and white, and there's just a diagram of what fresh hell lies in store, along with all the ways that it's just going to suck ass. And you basically just have to accept it and be like, yep. Ok. 

For example, the handout for a tubal ligation (what one might consider the female version of a vasectomy) looks like this. 

So from this I just have to assume you cut my fallopian tubes clean off, and somehow seal the ends. Alright sign me up!

In a more unfortunate turn of events, I have to give birth at the hospital again because I have a bi-lobed placenta, which basically means I have two smaller placentas instead of just one big one, and this can cause issues after birth when trying to push it out. I can never just be normal.

In Trinity news, she is going through a new independence phase, where she's decided that she no longer needs me to walk her into her classroom, she can make her own lunch, and also apparently sign herself up for the talent show at school without my knowledge or help. And because she doesn't want me walking into the school with her in the morning, I don't really even know about this talent show. So when she tells me that she signed up to sing a song, and that it's next week, I'm a little caught off guard. She assures me that's she's signed up and she attended a rehearsal, and she's ready to go. So I help her with this song and make sure she knows the lyrics, but when I go in with her on Friday, I see the talent list on the wall and the rehearsal times labeled "required" and none of them have her name on it. This leads me down a path of desperation on a Friday trying to figure out what she has or hasn't done, and if she's in fact signed up. Low and behold, she is not. She signed her name on some practice rehearsal sheet somewhere thinking that made it official, and apparently doesn't understand what the word Required means, so didn't go to any of those rehearsals. I have to agree to volunteer to clean up after the talent show in order to get her squeaked in somewhere after finally getting a hold of the person running this thing. It's a mess that I could have prevented from the beginning if she'd just involved me.

Lesson learned: Never trust a first grader when they assure you they have it handled.

She finished up the soccer season with 1 goal and a lot of assists. I'm so proud of her for playing this year and so happy she had such a good time with the group of girls on the team. Travis and I need to remind ourselves that they are just here to have fun, but we are definitely the aggressive parents. It's even more obnoxious when I'm hugely pregnant shouting CUT HER OFF!! TAKE THE BALL!! from the sidelines. This poor girl. I'm sure she'll be delighted when her sister is born and she no longer gets our full attention.

If nothing else, at least her uniform matches her hairpiece

One More. Party of Four!

Oops, we did it again! Apparently life was getting a little too easy, so we thought we'd shake things up a bit. I wouldn't say it was a conscious decision. I've never understood how people can be so sure that they want to have a baby at this moment and then just go for it. That's not us. It's too big of a life change to just decide, so we left it up the Universe to decide for us. And here we are. 

Let me just say, Toto, we're not 24 anymore. With Trinity, it was easy. I was so happy and felt so good and could pretend like nothing was happening. For a short period of time, I hated chicken and the smell of onions, but otherwise went about my life unscathed. Obviously it got a little rough at the end, with the insane itching that is cholestasis, my aching sciatic, and the premature birth. But BEFORE all that, I was A-OK. This is different. Almost immediately I felt like pure shit. I wasn't put off by certain foods, but I just couldn't stand to think of any food. Not looking in the fridge, not stepping into the kitchen, not preparing anything on the stove. The mere THOUGHT of doing any of that made me gag to the point of losing anything I had left in the tank on a daily basis. The worst part was that I also had to eat constantly to avoid puking, so the trick was to manage it without thinking about it. In addition, it took approximately 1 day for me to look about 6 months pregnant, and my hips are on the verge of needing replacement. When people ask how I feel, I say, "I'm good." But this is what I really mean. 

                

As a result, I have a bowl of mandarin oranges on my nightstand, and a mini fridge in my office full of ready-made snacks. Thank goodness for Travis, who does all this for me so that I can avoid the kitchen. We also went from me preparing dinner nearly every night, to him trying to whip up something that I'm not going to hate the smell of. He's a trooper, but I know he's feeling the struggle. There was a point when I would wake up at 3 a.m. every night, gagging from hunger, and I would open my bag of trusty apple slices and take a crunchy, satisfying bite. The man who could sleep through a tornado, a robbery, and a fire all at the same time is immediately awake and alert and annoyed that I'm crunching apples in bed at 3 a.m. "It's a disease," he says. "I have that disease where I can't stand to hear crunching." He's obviously the one suffering here. 

Does everyone remember when we used to find out the gender of our babies, and then tell our families and friends by calling them up, or texting them and saying, "It's a girl!"? These times are now gone, my friends. Now it's all the rage to torture yourself by NOT finding out, and then let someone random find out your baby's gender before you, and then you have a party to inconvenience everyone by making them attend to find out what you're having. All for a couple of sweet photos of your "clever" reveal that you can now post to social media. I'm guilty of loving these reveals on Facebook, but man, what a pain in the ass. I was not going to partake in this new tradition, because I could not imagine torturing myself by not finding out as soon as I possibly could. But then, our time to find out coincided with the super bowl, and we were going to have a bunch of people over anyway, so we decided to also make it a reveal party for any family and friends who wanted to attend. I always intended on finding out the gender at the appointment, and simply announcing it to everyone at the party. When our "friends" discovered this, they peer pressured me mercilessly into not finding out because apparently that's no fun. So here I am, after the appointment on Thursday, not knowing what's developing inside my body, for the sake of everyone's amusement. Not happy about it. 

What's your vote? 100% of people polled have said #TeamBlue. And I get it, a boy would be nice. One of each is ideal. Plus, I love our boy name and have been dying to use it since Trinity ended up not being a boy. BUT, I'm sorry to say, I'm goin' girl here. My babies have a tendency to be surprises, so I think we'll all be surprised when we learn that more pink is in store. I could be wrong. We shall see.

If you're around on Sunday, come on by before the game for our Tacos or Wieners party, and bring your BB Gun for an old fashioned shoot out reveal. If not, I'll post pictures ;)  

First Grade

It's happening! In two days, Trinity will be starting at a real-life, public, big-kid elementary school. This is both terrifying and exciting for us all. She's somehow worried that since she doesn't know anyone, no one will like her. I understand this feeling, being the introvert that I am, but she is the most outgoing, friendly child I have ever met. It usually takes her less than two minutes to become best friends with random children at the park or one table over at a restaurant. To her, no one is a stranger and everyone is a friend. She is the perfect kidnap victim.

Normal children might be scared of this. She was obsessed. Would have followed him anywhere.

Anyway, she is now #2 on the waiting list for the French immersion school we were hoping to get her into. I'm not sure what that means, or if she'll end up getting in at some point after school starts. She has a pretty solid friend base at the French school, so I'd probably move her over mid-year and not feel too bad about it, but if there's one thing I hate, it's uncertainty. The neighborhood school she's enrolled in has their parent orientation from 2-3 p.m. on Tuesday, because apparently parents at this school don't have jobs. So I need to take an hour off work in the middle of the day to go find her classroom, meet her teacher, learn how drop off and pick up work, and also about the teacher's bathroom policy.

Why would I need to know their bathroom policy, you ask? Well, let me tell you. The first reason is that my child goes pee A LOT. Especially if she is nervous, or scared, or anything like that. The second is much more traumatic. As her kindergarten year was coming to a close, and the teacher was on the eve of her retirement, my mother was met at the door one day as she went to get Trinity from school. The teacher had a bag of Trinity's clothes and tried to tell Mom that "Trinity had an accident," like it was no big deal. My child has not peed her pants since she was 2 years old and potty training. she's not a bed wetter or an accident haver. She's basically a tiny adult. In fact, I can guarantee that I have peed my pants more in the last couple years than she has. Luckily, my mother was astute enough to simply state that Trinity does not have accidents. The teacher, in some moment of poor judgment that I will never be able to understand, told my mother:

 "To be honest, she asked to go. But I said NO because the kids were pissing me off today. They were being snarky."

Let that sink in for a moment. Also keep in mind that at any given time, there were only 8-10 kids in that classroom. So, due to her poor classroom management skills, and ability to control her temper, my kid was forced to hold her bladder for lord knows how long, because the teacher was simply pissed off. The thought of my daughter sitting there trying her best to hold it for a prolonged period of time, until she couldn't anymore, still makes my blood boil and breaks my cold heart.  Oh, and then once it happened, she shamed her in front of the entire class for creating a wet spot on the floor.

Not that there's a good child to treat like shit, but if there's one kid you don't want to fuck with, it's ours. Trav's rage presents itself overtly and strikes with immediacy, whereas mine is a little more patient and passive aggressive. I will work behind the scenes to take you down. It may be years from now, and you may never know it was me, but it will happen. Also, she's our only one. We literally have nothing else to focus our time and energy on. I don't ask for much when it comes to teachers, and generally respect how they choose to run their classrooms, but I expect my daughter's basic needs to be met, especially when I've paid out the ass for the last 3 years.

The way that the school handled this was questionable at best. We made it very clear that they would never see her again. I put the incident in writing and filed a formal complaint to the director and the board of directors. I also demanded my tuition back, which I got, but only after pointing out that they hadn't deposited my most recent check yet. I received several emails begging me to change my mind and telling me I was confusing Trinity by ripping her away from her friends, as well as a poster that the other children made asking Trinity to come back. That part is still a big WTF for me.

In the end, Trinity got to start her summer vacation a little early, and her sweet little self holds no ill will (that's my job) or understands the gravity of the situation. I imagine she will remember this, and in about 10 years she'll be like, that was effed up. She'll probably feel the same way about the fact that I wrote a blog about it. Sorry Love.

The boat has provided us with many hours and days of entertainment this summer. Trav has become quite proficient at wakesurfing, and even Trinity has been able to stand up on it, and kneeboard. I've never been more proud than I was to watch her hold on to that rope and lean back like I taught her as the boat pulled her around the lake. Right before she took off, she turned to me and admitted that she was scared. I told her she was Trinity Fountain and she could do anything, just lean back! As the boat pulled away I could hear her saying to herself, "I'm Trinity Fountain..."

Since Spring soccer was a bit of a dumpster fire this year, Trinity has opted for dance instead, and will continue with jiu jitsu. She's getting quite good and can legit hold me to the floor skillfully as I struggle to get out of her hold.

One positive to this new school is that it's not nut free, so I am excited for ALL the peanut butter.

Goal for this year: For my kid to make friends with kids who have cool parents so they can play while we drink.

Go get 'em Baby Girl!

This is 6

Here we are. One-third of the way done with childhood. Six years old feels like a turning point. She's so much more aware of everything, and how we all fit into the bigger picture, and her role in it all (so now I really have to watch my mouth). But she's still a child, and so innocent to the harsh realities of the world. Although the other day she told me we should really have a compost.

For her birthday, we visited Great Wolf Lodge for the first time. I was expecting to be super traumatized by the whole experience, with everything being so...moist, and kids running around screaming everywhere, but it was actually so much fun! Pro tip: Go mid week. Trinity was a little too short to ride the biggest water slide, but luckily instead of quitters for parents, she's got a modern day Bonnie and Clyde. The Height Nazi put a yellow bracelet on her wrist, to indicate that she can't go down the slides alone and the Howling Tornado was off limits, so I whisper to Travis that we need a green bracelet. I make sure the guy is distracted and facing me, while Trav goes behind him and snags the right color. Once we get out onto the floor, the yellow bracelet comes off and the green one goes on. And guess which slide was her favorite? Of course the biggest most terrifying one that she was supposedly too short for. Before you start judging me for corrupt parenting, rest assured that she was only like half an inch too short and had no idea we were breaking any rules. Ok now you can judge.

A harsh reality I am currently dealing with is the fact that after 3 years of paying for a private French immersion school, she will not be going to the French immersion elementary school because we didn't "win the lottery." She's currently sitting at #19 on the waiting list, so the odds of getting her in are slim. All the hard work, and planning, and money, and it doesn't matter. When I told her that she will most likely be going to our local neighborhood school, she asked what language they spoke. When I told her English, she made a confused face and said, "But I already know English, what will I learn all day?" This could get interesting. I put her on the soccer team for the neighborhood school so when she starts school in the fall she'll already know some of the kids.

Travis and I always said that out of all the sports, we hope our kid doesnt like soccer, because neither of us like it or know anything about it. So of course she likes soccer, and now we get into it too. When your kid is running down the field kicking that soccer ball, it's a surge of adrenaline like no other. I'm usually on the sideline screaming like a fool trying to hold back my obscenities and threats of violence toward other children. If you think I'm bad, you haven't met my mother, who is way louder and more wiley than I am at these things. Poor Trinity is going to become so embarrassed in her older years.

The other day we were talking about how long you're in school for, and how many grades there are. Somehow she knew there were 12 grades, but when I asked what came after that, instead of saying "College" she said, "After that you go to the Husband Store and go shopping for a husband." Uhhhh not quite, but I suppose you can shop for one IN COLLEGE 😐. Please lord, let her seek secondary education and not define her worth by her husband, or lackthereof. Amen.


To follow in our parents' footsteps, we decided that every child should grow up with a boat, to make memories of summers out on the lake with friends and family, so we bought one! Trav thought we'd get an old fixer upper and that he'd somehow become the mechanic he's not, but I had other ideas. If we were doing this, I decided we were doing it right. It didn't take too much arm twisting to convince Travis that this boat was the right choice. Savings be damned! It doesn't have a name yet, but we've taken to calling it the banana hammock. I cannot wait for Summer. But first, it would be nice to see a touch of Spring. I've had about enough of the northwest.

Because we weren't busy enough, we also started Trinity in Jiu Jitsu. Her and Trav like to wrestle, and he really wants her to be good at it, and able to protect herself. This whole thing was his undertaking, so I just sat back and let him roll with it. It's at a weird time in the middle of the day, so it's rare that we are both able to make it, but it's fun to watch her, and she likes doing it. Trav gets super into it and telepathically wills her to do all the right things when she's grappling. Here's a live photo of him watching her.

Life is going by at 100 miles per hour. I blinked and somehow I have a 6 year old, and I have to keep reminding myself, she will remember this. She's old enough now to have memories of what her childhood is like, and I'm hoping that most of them aren't traumatic. If I'm being honest, if you asked her now what Mommy is like, she would probably say that I work a lot, and am always on my phone. I'm trying to do what I can about that, by taking a page out of her book and living in her moment, because I want to remember this too.

Now if only I could find something that makes me as happy as this balloon makes her. 

2016: Wins and Losses

Let me just get this out of the way: 2016, you bitch. You dirty, soulless whore.

The reason I no longer tolerate The Walking Dead

Ok, now I can move on. Most years are filled with wins and losses, and at the end you just hope to have more marks in the Win column, but this year was rough. It was more than just "you win some, you lose some." It was a year of loss, both big and small, with a few wins thrown in to keep hope alive. Most people who know me know of the bigger ones, so I'll focus on some of the smaller wins and losses we encountered this year.

Win: Travis finally got his dream truck that he scoured the earth for
Loss: After having it for only a week, he was T-Boned in an intersection
Win: It wasn't his fault, and he was largely OK
Loss: Both Trav and the truck sustained some body damage, and all the airbags deployed
Possible Win: Someday, I assume we'll get a pretty nice settlement

Loss: Almost every appliance we have went to shit this year. The oven stopped cooking right before we hosted a family dinner. The 6-month-old dryer stopped drying, and it took the repairman 3 return trips and 4 weeks to figure it out. The garage door just completely broke everything attached to it, and my parents had to come pick up Trinity and take her to school one morning because my car was trapped. The fridge stopped dispensing water into our cups and started dispensing it onto the floor underneath. The hot water handle on my soaking tub broke off, and the kitchen sink faucet became a leaky mess.
Win: We have a lot of new appliances
Loss: My hot water handle is still broken on my tub

What a cruel world we live in 

Win: Trinity started kindergarten this year
Loss: She didn't get into the school we were hoping for, so we're still paying for private school
Win: This isn't much of a loss. It's good for her, just bad for our bank account. Fingers crossed for this year!

Trinity and two of her good friends at the Winter Celebration

Win: We took an amazing vacation to Cabo with Trav's side of the family

Loss: I had to jump in the pool to save Trinity from drowning once. We lost her at the resort for about 15 heart-stopping minutes. We left Trav's sister's suitcase on the airport sidewalk and had to rescue what was left in it a day later. Our hotel was overtaken by Spring Breakers. At some point, we all got uncontrollable diarrhea. 

Win: We really had an amazing time with everyone and we came home with our beautiful Panchita kitty

Win: Trinity is, for the most part, an enjoyable child. We like spending time with her, and she's super smart and witty.
Loss: She has become pretty mouthy in her ripe age of 5. She has quick, evil comebacks that would be hilarious if they didn't make you so furious.
Wins: It's hilarious when she uses this on her father. Just today, she was sitting on the wall for her inability to listen, and their conversation went a little something like this:

Trav: Do you know why you were on the wall?

Trinity: Because I didn't listen

Trav: Why weren't you listening?

Trinity: Dad, these are big questions, and I'm just a kid. I don't have all the answers.

Around Christmas time, we had this conversation:

Trinity: I really want that

Me: Well, it's almost Christmas. Maybe you can ask Santa for it. 

Trinity: But Mom, Santa only exists in my heart. 

What do you say to these things?! At least she's cute.

Christmas morning after "Santa" brought her everything she wanted

Loss: My maids. Travis took over our budgeting because he thought he could "save us more money." His cuts included my maids, revealing that he obviously hates me deep down, and our savings is really no better for it. For Christmas I demanded a Roomba. I thought maybe he'd surprise me with bringing the maids back, but no.
Win: I got the Roomba for Christmas
Loss: He apparently bought the same Roomba that every husband bought for their wife, so it won't be here until February sometime.
Loss: As far as I know, the Roomba does not clean the toilet, so it is still an unfortunate situation.

And just because I can't ignore the elephant in the room...

Win: The first ever woman of a major political party was nominated for president
Loss: America elected the first ever unqualified man (among other things) instead. There's a huge question mark hanging over the next 4 years.
Win: We got the Biden memes

Win: 2017 is already looking better. We've got a lot planned to look forward to, and we said goodbye to 2016 with great friends and family at the Mt Hood cabin.

This just goes to show that for every loss, there is a win, even if it's small. My wish for everyone is a happy and healthy 2017. May it be better than last year.