In a fog.

The past week has come and gone so quickly that I find it hard to remember the order in which it all happened. Holidays, especially Christmas, tend to be one big blur regardless of what is going on. Add to that a new baby, add thrush and a double ear infection the week before and you've got yourself a confused mama complete with crying baby.

The thrush I think has been mild since the c-section to be completely honest. My body reacts to antibiotics the same way every time. I had so many other things going on throughout recovery that it took a few weeks to figure out that there were a few ailments sticking around. At one point I thought I had thrush and as soon as I made that conclusion the symptoms disappeared completely. Only to return at full force the minute I went a little crazy with the sugar cookies and gave it enough gas to show its ugly head once more. We've both been treated and hopefully will not have to deal with that again. Yuck!!

The ear infection came two days after I was at the Dr. for thrush. The very same day I started taking diflucan the baby started screaming in the middle of the night. Looking back, all signs led to ear infection, but I was so confused because I thought it may have been an adverse reaction to the new medication. The poor thing had an ear infection in BOTH ears and wasn't even two months old. I felt so horrible, like the worst mother in the world. They had to draw her blood from veins that are barely the size of the needle they are sticking into her little arms (and legs because it took three tries!!!). What a nightmare. Luckily, they finally got enough blood for a culture, otherwise I would have had to drive to the hospital lab to have it drawn there and start the horrific process all over, just to drive back there so they could give her a shot of antibiotic. After the blood came the shot anyway, but at least we didn't have to drive all over town adding stress to an already stressful situation. Needless to say the hubby and I fought that night because I was an irritable bitch and he didn't feel like helping me be nice. (Am I the only one who needs to be talked out of bitchiness?)

All of the craziness gave me a weight loss boost that I was wicked stoked about for about a whole day. I gave myself permission to act like I hadn't eaten in years over the holiday and immediately put all the weight plus a pound or two back on. A week of discipline should put me back where I was before the extra weight loss but it's hard to get back on track after a naughty binge.

Christmas was quiet, relaxing and enjoyable despite all the chaos prior. We all ate Christmas dinner in the clothes we woke up in. A little lazy, but what the hay. S was delighted with all her goodies and E was asleep the entire time we opened gifts. I threw the tree out the house yesterday evening and will be packing up the rest of the holiday decor next week. I love this time of year but am always happy to see it come to a close.

Now, all I want to know is, is it spring yet?

She is kinda cute.....

Today

I'm losing my mind.

Another growth spurt, three other kids to run after and voices shouting Mama, Aropa, Bapa, WAAAAAAAAH and woof woof (effing dog)!!!! ALL at the same time.

Are you sure it's not safe to douse yourself in alcohol while breastfeeding?

Right now there is one pre-toddler fighting a nap in my room because they finally took her bink away, two girls in S's room bickering over who gets to make the rules to whatever house game they are playing this hour and one sleeping baby on the couch.

Deep breath.

It's 3:00 pm and I am finally eating lunch. Light and fit yogurt with a handful of walnuts sprinkled in and a handful of carrots. Not the caloric intake I need but some days there just isn't time to make yourself a sandwich. Today is one of those days. I'll probably end the afternoon with an unhealthy binge because that is what happens when I get too hungry.

I'm sure in 7 minutes the babe will wake up and feed again. Hourly seems to be her gig today. Bless her little wailing heart. She is truly adorable yet stubborn in her own little way. She loves her some mama and will not settle for anything but the woman with the huge babas attached to her front. So cute.....but so frustrating. Mama loves her some baby too, though. I can't imagine what my life would be like without her now and the breastfeeding bonding thing we've got goin' on totally rocks even on the hardest days.

Funny question of the day.

"What will you be using for birth control?" the Dr. asks.

Silence.

Um.....abstinence?

I'm not so sure that's the answer the hubby wants to hear but a girl has to have some recuperation time after growing a live human being for heaven's sake. So maybe I told a little white lie....eventually I'm sure I'll give in to his begging. Just not so sure when.

Maybe by the approaching holiday. I'm going to need a bigger bow this year, though.

I love being the woman.

And the award goes to.....

my man for being the brightest husband EVER.



Thank-you very much for unloading an entire dishwasher full of DIRTY dishes. How thoughtful of you and economical, too. I wish I had only half the great ideas you have in one day.



I never thought I'd be saying this....but next time, I'll put the dishes away. K?

I stole this.....

from another blog but having just had a baby I couldn't help but wonder what her little thoughts are. How does she feel outside of Mother?

In the beginning, I was.
I was for a long time.

Then things began to happen.
Inside me, something was beating fast,and outside, something was beating slower.
For a long time, that was all I knew.

There was something soft and warm beside me.
Food came from it.
My angel was there.But I did not know that.

"Who are you?" I asked my angel.
"You will know," said my angel.
"Eat now."

Then I could hear, and see.
I saw dark, and sometimes less dark.
I heard the beating inside me, and the slow beating outside.I heard other things, but I did not know what they were.

"Where am I?" I asked my angel.
"Mother," said the angel.
Mother was dark and full of water.
There was room to swim.
There were bumps on my hands.
They grew larger and longer.I could move them.
I put one in my mouth.It felt good.I put it there often.

Sometimes it was dark, and sometimes it was less dark.
I liked the less dark better than the dark.
Sounds came from there.

Sometimes something came, pushing.
I touched it with my hand, but it always went away.
"What is it?" I asked my angel.
"That is the other world," said the angel."Someday you will go there."
"What is the other world like?" I asked my angel.
"It is not like this world," said the angel.
"When you go there, you will find out."

Food always came, and I ate it.
I slept with the angel close to me.
The angel was always there, in the dark and warm.

There were sounds I liked and some sounds I did not like as well.
I heard more and more.
I listened more and more.S
ometimes things moved,and sometimes things did not move.
When things did not move, I did.

There was one thing I did not understand.
Mother got smaller and smaller.
There was a time when I could swim,and touch Mother only if I wanted to.
But now Mother was everywhere.
It became harder and harder to move.

"What is happening?" I asked my angel.
"You are growing," said my angel.
But I did not know what 'growing' meant.

I slept and dreamt of swimming.
Then, when I was moving, I suddenly found a bit more room.
Room for my head.It felt odd, but I kept it there.
I did not know why.

"Something is going to happen," I said to my angel.
"That is right," said the angel.
"It is time for you to go soon. There is not enough room for you here."
"When I go to the other world, where will you be?" I asked my angel.
"I will be there," said the angel.
"I will always be with you.You may not see me or hear me.In the other world there are many things to see and hear,but I will always be with you."

I did not want to go to the other world.
But I knew I had to.
For now, I slept.
I waited with my angel
and I looked at the less dark.

"She wants you to come out," the angel said.
"Who?""Mother," said the angel.
"But I thought Mother was a place."
"She is more than a place," the angel said.
"You will find out soon."

It was dark, and then less dark.
I needed room for my head.
I decided to go.

Then everything moved.Things pushed me.
The waters began to leave.
I tried to hold on to them, but they left.
I was sad, but there was no room to swim anyway.
There was a long time, everything moving.
There were sounds - sad sounds, loud sounds.
I did not want to move, but I was moving.
Moving.
Moving.

Then there was light.And nothing else.
No Mother. No angel. Nothing.

Sounds came out of me.Oh! Loud sounds!
Nothing was anywhere!
And then something new was around me, warm and soft.I knew it was Mother, but different.
I was less cold.I saw someone.I was quiet.
It was Mother, but not all around me.

There were sounds that were new and not new.
Then I slept.I woke up.
I was cold.I was alone.
Where was my angel?Oh, where was my angel?

Sounds came out of me.Mother came.
She was all around me, just about.I felt warm.
Things were better.But I missed the waters.I missed my angel.
It was quiet. All was quiet.
I looked and saw my angel.
It was not warm. It was much less dark.But my angel was there.

"I will always be with you," said my angel.
"There are many things in this world to hear.
There are many things to see. You will not always hear me. You will not always see me, but I will always be here."
"How will I know you are here?" I asked.
"When you are quiet, you will know," said my angel.
"But I like to see you and hear you and feel you," I said.
"I don't like this world. It is too cold. It is too big."
"It is very big, but you will grow big. It will feel better and warmer when you are bigger.
But there is another, bigger world outside this one.
Someday I will take you there."

"When?" I asked my angel.
"When it is time," said my angel.
It has now been many days since I left the waters.
There is much to see, and much to learn.
I like many things.

Sometimes when I am in my bath, I remember the waters, and swimming.
And my angel is always there.

Growth spurt?!

It has to be. Either that or I'm the ultimate human pacifier.

I may have a little problem scheduling her, or should I say, a problem with HER schedule. There is no such thing as scheduling a breast fed baby just yet. Or if there is, no one is sharing the secret.

I'm tired. As I should be with a 4 week old baby. Sometimes, when I am alone inside of my head, I am wondering what the HELL I did to myself. A few hours later I look down at my peaceful, sleeping babe and it is all perfectly clear what my plans were when we kinda tried to get pregnant.

Lately she has been doing a nightly awake period from 9 to 12:30 with a constant need to nurse. She also does this from 2:30 - 6:00 pm. There is no point in putting her down when she falls asleep because a few minutes later she will wake up and frantically search for her soft place. That being me and my bare chest full of warm, yummy milky milk, which I have lots of, but after three hours of near constant nursing I barely have anything left to give and she gets frustrated at having to work so hard for few drops of good stuff. Hopefully my supply catches up with her hunger soon. Just when you think you've got it all figured out and your supply is actually doable and the engorgement phase has dwindled they throw a curve ball at you.

Any mother who has nursed their child has gone through all these frustrations, knowing this is what keeps me going, but I have to admit at midnight there may be thoughts of formula racing through my head. I don't do it because I've set a goal for myself and I don't want to give up (at least three months; a little is better than none). I don't want to mess with my milk supply by supplementing during these trying times and most importantly, and I want my daughter to get the very best.

I know bottle fed babies thrive and turn out to be beautiful, smart, healthy strong children. S was a bottle fed baby and is healthy and strong as any breast fed child. Even healthier than some. I always felt as though I missed out by not nursing her and hope for better with this little one.

Anyway, that is the struggle as of late. I'm tired and she's hungry. We're doing the best we can I guess and this too shall pass. Eventually things will be different and I'll long for the days when she needed me the most. :-(

Ten days in

and I'm feeling okay. I've made it through a couple of rough patches, to include this morning. I stood outside waiting for S's school bus and suddenly it hit me. I miss her. I miss the alone time we normally have. The last ten days have been so crammed together as if it were one long day and I've forgotten to breathe and enjoy the few moments I've stolen with her. I cried when I walked through the door and could cry if I tried to talk about it out loud even now.

The baby blues are here and I hope they leave soon. I'm so emotional and cry so easily and I know it's driving the hubby a little insane. Men just don't understand the roller coaster of emotions a woman feels after giving birth to her child. It's an amazing and wonderful experience, giving birth, but often causes us to lose our heads briefly throughout the day for a while. I try to explain the need for him to be sensitive to what I'm going through and how I need comfort when I'm dealing with the emotional upheaval but he doesn't know what to say. Not knowing what to say often ends in him saying something really stupid and only agitates the feelings even further into the black hole. It's getting better, though. I know it will pass once routine sets in and I can juggle this new life that's totally dependant on me. She is too cute to give back and although life will never be the same again, it's a different kind of different. A happy different, a good different.

My milk is overflowing, leaking from the spout as if I had an army to feed. Why are some women blessed with an abundance while others are skimped on supply? Last night I brought out a torture device otherwise known as a hand pump because the little bugger, despite all her efforts could not empty my bosom. I pumped off 9 oz. and by morning they were full. The kid can eat, for sure. She started screaming for food just as I started browning some ground beef for taco night. I broke down and thought I'd give her a taste of what I had pumped. She ate 5 oz. I couldn't believe the appetite on her. I remember S at the newborn stage. She, too, was a large baby and I was lucky to get her to down 3 oz at this age. I guess I don't have to worry much about her weight gain this week. She's getting her fair share. My favorite part.....little hands cupping my breast while she's sucking away as if there weren't a care in the world. The innocence is beautiful and it almost makes me cry to think that one day it will be gone. For now, I'm cherishing her unknown and basking myself in the simplicity of it all (after I have a good cry and dig out the lansinoh cream that is).

All crazy new baby turmoil aside, it's been a wonderful 10 days. I really do feel full of love, and even though it can be difficult at times, and even though I feel undeserving once in a while, I know that somewhere in the cosmos I had one coming to me. I laugh with the hubby (he is a hottie, huh!) about my life now and we both agree that since my childhood was not so childlike I get to have a good time being a grown up and my blessings abound because I survived adolescence. Funny how that works out.

I'm blessed.

I feel full. My love has grown so much and so fast. I am in awe of the blessings bestowed upon me. I often feel I'm not worthy.

And then there were four.....

We are pleased to announce
Miss Emily Grace Hagarman
9 lbs. 4 oz.
19 1/4 in. long

Big Sister looks like she may be in shock...but she's very happy and settling into her new role nicely.





A tad personal but I'm so in love with this picture. It sums up how special our relationship has become already. There is nothing like the bond between a mother and her newborn child.

All are well and happy. Mama and baby are home and settling in quite well. Even the evil dog senses she's special and needs delicate treatment. What a long journey we've had.....but as you can see, so very worth it.

In exactly

two days I'll be walking into the hospital eagerly awaiting the arrival of my newborn baby girl. I have so many emotions tangled up inside of me right now it isn't even funny. Scared as hell, excited beyond belief, nervous about our firt meeting and so many others. Will she be healthy? Will she cry more than I can handle? Will she eat like a champ? Will she like her mama? Oh the scenarios, the possibilities. Motherhood is one tough business. That is all I have to say.

Some people shouldn't be gifted mouths.

Being the wonderful mummy that I am, I crammed my pregnant belly behind the wheel of the car and went to the Halloween Parade at S's school today. I mostly keep to myself since I'm tired and don't have many positive thoughts running through my mind outside of just getting myself to Friday morning.

Finally, after my fingers have begun to swell to gigantic proportions, the fancy mask parade begins and I give my cheeriest smile I have left in me for all the cute little smiling faces. Cute, cute, cute is all I can say. There is this one little boy in kindergarten who is half the size of all his piers but you'd never know it for a minute because his whole face lights up when he smiles and you wouldn't notice his size if it jumped out and bit you. He's meowing his way through the parade with his little kitten mask he made in art class melting my heart with every step. I'm happy, content and eagerly waiting for my first grader to pass me by. I'm excited to see the relief on her face when she spots me; one of the perks of being a stay at home mom. She asks if I even recognize her with her mask on and I pretend I don't see her. Too cute for words.

The parade is coming to a close and all the parents are sauntering near the entrance and suddenly I spot a fellow daisy scout mom and we share a few words. Only hers are stupid and idiotic and I had all I could do not to tell her what a stupid idiot she is.

"Oh, honey, you've grown." Yeah, no shit. "Are you still babysitting?" No, I finished up last Friday since my c-section is scheduled for three days from now. Thought I could use the extra rest. "C-section you say? Honestly, that's the easy way out. I feel like all women should have to push if I had to. I told my sister to go natural and she insisted on a c-section. I told her she needed to earn that baby!" Earn that baby. EARN THAT BABY. Oh I've earned that baby alright. Who in their right mind would tell a woman who's been pregnant for nearly a year that she needs to EARN her baby. What the fuck ever you dumb broad. I didn't even have words for her. If I had spoke the entire school would of heard me and to be honest I'm not sure my colorful language would be accepted as appropriate for a school function.

Honestly, I really don't understand people some days.

You know you're losing your pregnant mind when.....

you suddenly announce to your husband at 3 am that it sucks having to lock yourself in the bathroom for days so you can update your myspace page every 10 minutes....(I have no idea where that came from!?)

or Thursday morning you're diligently baking oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and driving your child to school the next morning, cookies in tow, for a Halloween party that isn't until Tuesday.

With the baby's arrival so close at hand I believe my mind is getting fuzzier and fuzzier. Normally I have my very own built in remember all; birthdays, anniversaries, important dates to remember all written on my internal calendar. I'm afraid someone may have taken a match to it while I wasn't looking.

Perhaps it's the lack of sleep that has driven me mad, or at least partly to blame. Does this continue after the birth of your child I wonder, or am I looking at a good three years of crazy??

Ever feel like the worst

Mother in the entire world. It feels like I'm having more worst moments than best lately. I'm lacking BIG TIME in the patience category. I may start wearing a Halloween mask just so I can blame the craziness on the ugly witch with the green face and large wart on her nose.

Yesterday was just one of those days I guess. Everything coming down on me at one time and I not being able to handle ANY of it without losing my head. I had S in tears while she was doing her homework because she couldn't quite remember which letters were vowels and which were consonants, the twenty month old I watch part-time was running around sticking her fingers in all the uncovered outlets, I was on the phone with Home Depot bitching about the $25 late fee that I was refusing to pay, and my pain in the ass terrier was chasing my wimpy ass cat around the house at full speed. I had all I could do to keep from lying on the floor in a puddle that would of been my tears. The only thing holding me back was the fact that I wasn't so sure that my big pregnant ass could actually get up OFF the floor once down there. After getting the late fee waved, apologizing while wiping tears off a homework paper, finally covering up those last two outlets, and kicking the dogs ass, I started dinner. Shortly there after the hubby made it home and I was free to let a few tears of my own fall. A little release does the body good, but I have to admit that I could have curled up into a ball (again, if I was in fact capable of that action) and cried into the wee hours of the morning.

Truth be told, I've been weeping a lot lately. I'm just plain tired of carrying this baby around. My body is ready for a comeback, or at least some sort of comeback that doesn't require a living human growing inside of it. I'm ready to sleep soundly, even if it is in short increments. I'm ready to wear something other than the one pair of pants that fit me. I could care less if they were orange lounge pants with baby puke and crusty boogers all over them, I just want options dammit. OPTIONS!!!

I'm almost there now. I have less than 10 days left until delivery. SINGLE DIGITS!!!! Thankfully there is a lot going on between now and then and weekends always bring my spirits up. I just need J now more than I normally do. It's comforting to know that he's here in case I need....oh...a punching bag. :-)

23 more days

until I meet my new daughter. November 3rd is the scheduled day of delivery, provided she doesn't decide to arrive a little early and give us all a special surprise.

Only 23 more days. I think I can manage that.

Note to self.

Try and refrain from taking a bath in your 9th month of pregnancy. Unless of course you invest in say.....a hot tub. You might be able to fit in that a little better.

It wasn't THAT bad, it's more of a design flaw for pregnant women and at the same time a perfect design for pregnant women. At the end of my bath tub there is a little seat. The seat bodes well for showering pregnant women since the seat doubles as a sturdy foot rest while shaving legs. I must admit that this is one task I've kept up with regularly throughout my pregnancy. For the most part the legs have been as soft and silky smooth as they have always been. However, when trying to relax in a hot bath, the seat doesn't work quite as well. Not to mention the fact that my tummy is like a huge boulder sticking out in the middle of a peaceful lake. It was cute and lasted all of 5 minutes before I decided that the shower works best for me in my current state. Oh well. It was worth a try AND I even managed to get up out of the tub without any help. Good thing, since there was no help around.

Cravings are funny lately. I can't seem to get enough baby carrots and apples. I'm on my second bag of carrots in three days and have eaten my way through a bushel of apples in the last few weeks it seems. There are a few other cravings.....like devil dogs, ring dings, swiss rolls. Basically anything that includes chocolaty cake with a creamy filling. Can't be good all the time.

I've also made a decision on delivery I think. I'm always back and forth and have been since finding out about the pregnancy, but now that the big day is drawing nearer I've decided to go for the repeat c-section. Why go through hell if you don't have to? Why not take advantage of the planned event? It will make it so much easier for scheduling help with S and the convenience of knowing exactly when this is going to be over. A countdown so to speak. I am hoping to schedule the surgery at my next ob appointment next Tuesday.

Speaking of, I can't believe it's almost over. I'm not kidding myself into thinking it's all down hill from here. There are still a few sleepless nights, discomfort and agony ahead of me, but it seems very real to me now. I'm going to have a BABY!!!!! SOON!!!!!! I can hardly wait to meet her and feel her tiny little fingers wrap around mine. I want to smell her sweet little baby smell and tickle her little baby feet. I am beside myself with joy thinking of the quiet moments I'll steal with her. I know the baby moon isn't always what you've dreamed about for 40 weeks but with the nasty diapers and screaming infant comes all the good stuff I mentioned above.

It's going to be wonderful watching her grow. Being able to stay at home with my children is the greatest gift I've ever been given. It's not all roses but it's not all thorns either.

What was I thinking?

Reading the blog of a grieving mother who just lost her newborn baby back in June? I must be absolutely nuts. I'm not freaking out majorly or anything like that. I'm also not the paranoid type that waits for something bad to happen to me. I would like to think that I'm an optimistic with a dash of complainer. Sometimes more one than the other depending on my day. It's just amazingly sad reading about this woman's pain from losing her child. I can't seem to stop dipping into the past 6 months of her life.

Two weeks before the birth of her baby she was feeling much like I am right now, exhausted, irritated, slightly irrational and a tad sick of being pregnant. One entry ended with the comment "How am I going to manage a pre-schooler AND a baby?" My heart broke for her at that moment because I was peeking into her past; there is no baby to juggle. How sad for her that she went through the entire pregnancy and birth just to have her baby die in an ambulance on the way to the nearest NICU after living a brief 7 hours. She wasn't even with her when she died. There wasn't even a reasonable explanation for her death. Something about the umbilical cord being compressed for too long and the baby suffered severe brain damage due to lack of oxygen.

The mom chose a home birth and is a midwife in training. Most women choosing a home birth end up having the experience they dreamed of. Having their beautiful child placed into their arms, breastfeeding the minute the child finds the sustenance and lying comfortably in bed an hour later with their lover and baby between them connecting the love they share for a lifetime. This home birth did not work out that way. It just doesn't seem fair though I know life isn't fair by any stretch of the imagination. There is a circle to life and sometimes that circle is long and prosperous and sometimes that circle is over soon after it began.

I'm sad for her loss and I hope that someday she and her family find peace with their loss. I can't imagine what a void this has left in their hearts. I'm grateful for reading her story. It puts things in perspective right at this moment. I'm learning to enjoy the last few moments of my baby growing inside of me. I'm doing my best to give into the discomforts and sharp jabs to the ribs that take my breath away. It all signifies a gift that has been given to me. A tiny living wonder that I will cherish and love with all of my heart.

Now, if only I could stop having crazy dreams about my own baby being less that perfect....we'll be okay. I know she'll be fine and the chances of something happening are slim. I've just read too much it seems and have added one more thing to the bag of crazy dreams I'm having in these last few weeks of preggoness. Did I happen to mention that it is OCTOBER!!!!!?????!!!!!

Did you honestly believe

that you could railroad him into a corner and come out on top. Not ALL of our leaders, former and otherwise, are complete idiots.

That interview makes me smile, smile, smile.

Hush little baby

don't say a word. Or just stop with the rolling around in my stomach all hours of the night. One would think that sleep should come easily. ESPECIALY in the last trimester, even more so in the last month give or take a week. I'm going to be a walking zombie for a few months in the very near future. I need to get my sleep NOW.

I know you can't really stock up on sleep. It doesn't work that way. I know that I'm unable to sleep now because I need to be used to getting up and having a chubby little luv bug beckoning its mama for nourishment. But dammit if I don't wish it different.

I want to slap my husband's adorable face clean off because he's breathing too loudly. He's sleeping and I'm lying here wrestling a fetus. I rock my body from side to side in hopes that I can get her fooled into sleep. It's not working. I'm on the verge of tears and there isn't a layette adorable enough to make me feel any better.

The only thing that would make my forget all about all the woes of pregnancy at this moment is a sleeping babe in my arms. However, I would settle for one in my tummy right about now. Please, please, please hush little baby. Mama needs some zzzzzzz's.

The scary part of this.....

is that it could actually happen. Nothing is impossible; our so called freedoms are guaranteed by no one. There could come a day when we are trying to escape the madness of our leaders. We could become the immigrants fighting for a chance at a better life, and willing to die in the process to regain the freedoms that for years have been taken for granted.

http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2006/9/20/174152/072

Will there be brighter days when our fearless leader is no longer in control of our country? What does our future have in store? Funny I use the word our. The contents of the story linked above would lead us to believe that it isn't ours at all and the worst is yet to come.

Just guess what I'm thinking today.

I am in serious need. Serious need of change. Not so much in my daily routine, but more so in the area of say, my body.

I have had small fluctuations in my daily moods ranging from unbearably pissed off to breathing. I say breathing because there hasn't been much that has brought me true, lasting, insurmountable joy. I'm happy because I'm just happy in my life. I'm grateful for what I've been given. I'm even grateful that I can carry a child inside of my own incubator and share part of myself with the person I've chosen to spend my days and nights with for eternity. But seriously, enough is enough.

I NEED this to be over. I NEED to move on with the next phase of motherhood. I NEED to feel normal again, or at least a different version of normal. And last but not least, I NEED a stiff drink among other things.

I am just spent, tired, SICK TO DEATH of this pregnancy. It's consuming me night and day. I've forgotten who I am anymore and feel like the pregnant lady waddling aimlessly along because my memory has lapsed yet again and I have no idea what it is I'm setting out to accomplish. I feel like all sanity is lost, never to return again. Ever.

I can't cuddle my husband comfortably anymore. I have no interest in anything sexual. I can't even see my va-j-j. I'm barely capable of wiping after a bathroom break. Not that it matters because I'm usually pissing myself a couple of seconds later when I bend over to hike up my lovely maternity pants. I could go on and on but there are more than a few mums out there who can relate to each and every one of my complaints and have lived to tell the tale.

I just wish that my mind had other things floating around in it. This here preggo thing has exhausted it's welcome. On the bright side, I have about 6 more weeks to go. That's not SOOOOO bad, I guess. Another happy thought is my up and coming visit this weekend with my sister and her two children. I can't wait to have some time with family. Even if only for a few days. It will take my mind off things briefly and boost my spirits for a wee bit. After that I'll be nesting like crazy and getting ready for the anticipated arrival of my darling child.

A few pics.....

Uncensored version in really ugly grandma pants.....but you gotta do what you gotta do.....there is no such thing as feeling pretty in your 8th month.




The spoiled family pet.



Family photo.



My brand new 1st grader!!!!

How dare she!!

My little baby girl got into trouble for the first time at school yesterday. She hopped off the bus in a fit of despair yesterday afternoon and exclaimed how HORRIBLE her day was. It was her first devastating experience with one of her teachers.

I had the day off in regards to babysitting duties yesterday. I was so excited to have some alone time to bond with her. I even picked up smoothie skittles for an afternoon snack to fit the occasion. Good thing I was prepared for lifting spirits and wiping tears. I was grateful I could pull out something special to make it all better.

The story begins as we're walking up our driveway and I had asked how her day was.

"I got into trouble today, Mom."

"You did, what happened?"

In the best sarcastic voice she could muster to mask the tears approaching, she continued. "Because I didn't read a book!!"

"Why didn't you read a book?"

Tears are now dangerously close to the brim of those luscious eye lashes. "Because I was tired, Mom, and I didn't think she was serious!!"

"Well honey, you should listen to your teacher. Did you cry?"

Large tear slowly crept down her soft kissable cheek. "YES!!!! And she sent me to the HALLWAY!!! She said I was wasting my time!!! All the other kids were being loud and talking and I was just sitting there and I was the one getting into trouble!! Only one other kid asked me if I was sad and everything!!"

The conversation continued with me questioning her, making sure I got the story straight. The whole version of the story, not just S's version. Turns out the teacher had asked her twice to get a book and S being the day dreaming mosey type unknowingly tested the patience that teacher had left at the end of a long drawn out day with 20 6 yo kids.

I know this mosey very well, but I couldn't help but feel a bit defensive thinking that some woman I barely know had made my daughter cry. I secretly wanted to draw blood and make her pay for the pain inflicted upon my sweet darling child. Doesn't she realize how lucky she is to even have her in her classroom?!?!!!!!!! I managed to hold my composure and make the best of a bad day. What kind of role model would I be if I had ranted and raved about how dumb that stupid teacher was and perhaps she should use alternative discipline procedures with sensitive children like mine?

I simmered a while and thought heavily on how I would approach this situation with my little gem. I explained that happens sometimes at school and that listening and following through the first time is always best in any situation with any grown up in charge. Other children's behavior should have nothing to do with her own and to always do what she feels is right. I explained to her that sometimes after a long day the teacher's tolerance of "bad" behavior is not as great as it may have have been that morning and that may have been the reason she was sent into the hall.

We talked, shared skittles and sat at the table together while she worked on her homework. I showed her the fantastic sticker she got on the previous days homework and the "Beautiful Work!!" the teacher wrote up in the corner as well. I hugged her and told her that next time she should pay close attention and make sure she follows the teacher's directions always and if she did so, she wouldn't get into trouble like that again. I let her know that the teacher still likes her and that she just needs her to pay attention and to use her time in the very best learning ways she can at school.

I still hate that she cried, but I know I have one of the most sensitive children on the block. She is a Pisces, after all. A very sensitive, emotional Pisces who can be hurt easier than most. It just broke my sensitive Pisces heart is all.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.........

I think I may make it after all. School is back is session and I am free to rest and rejuvenate myself as needed for the last two months of this pregnancy. Not too mention the fighting is down from ten hrs a day to three and I for one couldn't be happier.

I've been deprived of much needed sleep lately due to churning thoughts and less than comfortable body positions. When I am sleepy enough to fall asleep I wake up a million times to empty my bladder that is incapable of holding more than a teaspoon full it seems. If it's none of the above, I'm battling a squirming baby in my stomach that just happens to find time to party on at 2 am. I actually took a three hour nap today and could of slept another hour. It felt so good to get into bed without anyone in there to crack me in the head with an elbow and since the growing fetus was so tired from partying all.night.long, she was actually tired as well. WOO HOO!!! S actually mentioned how much happier I seemed today and she just knew once I could get some rest that I would be in better spirits. I felt happy and sad at the same time hearing her words. Hopefully, at least for her sake, I'll be able to manage a good mood or two over the next few weeks.

There is something to be said for routine and order I guess. It feels good to run a tighter ship because of schedules and such. I've really missed having my alone time and I know S missed the social interaction with her piers. WaHOO!! Now if I can just make it through eight more weeks of feeling liked a stuffed turkey! Lucky for me I'll have popped my timer already come Thanksgiving.

One.More.Week.

However short that may seem to some, it feels like a lifetime over here in my neck of the woods. Two months ago I couldn't wait for summer to begin and school to be out. Now.....if I don't see a big yellow bus soon I'm going to lose my mind.

I know that there are so many other wonderful Mommies in the world praising the gods of No. 2 pencils that their little angels are slipping on their trusty new back packs for yet another year of arduous learning. I know I sure am. I can hardly keep my eyes open for more than 4 hours at a time. I slip in and out of consciousness all day practically. It's a wonder that we haven't had any accidental fires or hair cutting of any sorts the past month.

I wonder if I would feel differently if I weren't approaching my 8th month of pregnancy. I have a serious lack of motivation as of late and it is killing me physically and emotionally. I have a ton of things I could do but barely find myself capable of the bare minimum. It doesn't help that I have to spread my legs two feet apart just to bend over to pick up a crayon. I lose my cookies regularly and always feel incredibly guilty that I can't seem to deal with the normal everyday noise levels and messes of 6 year olds. By the end of the day I feel like I've burned more brain cells than any smoke fest I've ever attended. And that's saying something.

I am praying that the change in routine does the mind some good (there is no hope for the body for at least another two months). I can nap without worry every morning and do my prenatal yoga without having to pause mid way through to diffuse a fight over who had what barbie first. Not exactly conducive to a peaceful mindstate, as if doing yoga with a belly the size of a large watermelon was easy to begin with.

Daily struggles aside, I finally have an end in sight. I can hardly wait for One.More.Week. to get here and pass me by.

Can I

make it 11 more weeks? Sure. But it ain't gonna be pretty.

How quickly we forget what it feels like to carry a beloved child in our womb for that last home stretch.

I'm rummaging through old photographs to see if I actually made it through this once before. Right about now I'm doubting that. My strength and overwhelming joy are eluding me at the moment.

I feel like a whiny little baby because I'm just barely 7 1/2 months. I wonder if it should feel this uncomfortable already. Are you sure this baby wasn't concieved in December?

Several folks have given me that "holy shit woman, you're ready to have that baby any day huh?" Eat shit people. That's all I have to say to you.

I am not going to be the prettiest girl walking these next two months. Nor the nicest I dare say.

I'm sick

That is my only way to describe myself when it comes to certain things. One thing would be my dog Sadie.

We all know how lonely it is to be a stay-at-home Mom sometimes. Especially when you're isolated from friends and family. You try and meet other Moms and venture out sometimes to playgroups, YMCA, and other kiddie hangouts, but more often than not you never find anyone that clicks. Finding someone who can understand half hick/half whatever the other half of me is can be rather tricky. I don't even understand myself most of the time, how am I to expect complete strangers to.

Having said all that, for Christmas last year, during one particular week moment on my husband's part, he agreed on an indulgence of a brand spanking new puppy. A little buddy that could be all my own when everyone is gone, leaving Mama all alone with nothing to do except laundry. As much grief and angst as this sweet little darling causes me, I love her. I have developed a rather tight bond with her, and she with me. The thing about a dog is, they never cease to show you how much they adore you. If I'm sitting on the couch, Sadie is sitting with me. If I'm trying to catch up on some of my lost zzzzz's, she's snuggling cozily beside my growing belly. If I'm having a tinkle moment in the bathroom, she's looking up at me with big brown eyes waiting for me to finish my business so we can cuddle again. She LOVES her some Mama.

I'm suffering great anxiety today. Anxiety caused from having to leave my puppy at a hospital for two nights to have surgery. Two very long and agonizing nights my baby will be separated from her Mama. This is going to be more traumatic for her than me because I swear the dog suffers from separation anxiety as it is. When she goes out to pee in the morning she freaks out when she comes back in because she was away from her family for an agonizing 15 seconds.

I know it's silly to feel so sad about my dog getting fixed. She is only going in to get spayed. It will probably aide in making her a calmer and more enjoyable dog and keep her healthy for years to come. Dogs can get all kinds of ailments in their reproductive organs if not spayed. I don't want her getting sick and I certainly don't want her having sex with any other dogs either. So we HAVE to do this. She will be in the capable hands of my husbands aunt, the vet, her surgery will be free of charge and we can do all this in one quick trip to the in-laws.

Maybe it's not so much leaving Sadie that is causing me the stress as much as the quick trip to the in-laws. Who knows.

I'll survive, Sadie will survive and all will be well. No more handmade doggie diapers. No more bitchy puppies struggling puberty. It's straight into menopause for my little babe.

I know, I need help. Or a couple of friends. Dogs are easier.

Heartburn sucks

That is about all I have to say about that.

I went to the ob today for my 27 wk appointment. I swear those people want to keep pushing my number back a week every time I go in there.

I'm 27 weeks and there is nothing you can do to change my mind people. I don't care what your wheel is telling you, I'm telling you that I'm 27 weeks. Make a damn note of it.

"Oh my, do you realize that you gained 7 lbs this month dear?!?"

Why no, ma'am. I had no idea I had gained that much weight. What, with all the time I spend on the scale at home I just didn't have time to add up the numbers in my head.

First of all, it was 6 lbs. And yes, I'm well aware the scales are creeping up at a rate faster than what is deemed appropriate for the average pregnant lady. No one is more aware of that that me.

Did it ever occur to you that I may not be average. Or perfect, or as disciplined as some of the other pregnant women you're taking care of. Or maybe I haven't been able to adequately remove waste from my body more than once every 10 days for the last 6 + months. That's got to count for something.

I hate going to the see the Dr. I hate the critical comments. I hate the horrific gasps every time I step onto a scale. I am not a child. I swear to God that I'm doing everything in my power to curb my weight gain. I even manage to feel some pride in the fact that I've only gained 25 lbs so far during this pregnancy. I say only because I gained 60 the first time around. Right now I weigh 40 lbs less than I did when I went in to deliver S. I know most women should only gain 25-35 lbs. but I'm not most women. I'm me. And I just might gain 40 this time around. If that happens I'll be jumping for joy because I have 20 lbs less to lose after this baby is born than I did with my first. To me that feels pretty darn good.

I told my sister what happened today and how much weight I have gained and she busted out laughing at me. "You're going to put on 50 lbs." she said.

I always knew you were the mean one, oh and just for the record, I weigh the same as you do right this minute at 7 months pregnant. I hate to think such mean thoughts but sometimes I feel like she is just waiting for me to do something wrong so she can rub it in my face. Sometimes she can be so cruel.

Anyway. That is another post for another day.

Blame it on the heartburn I guess. I get cranky when I can't sleep, and lately that seems to be ALL the time. I am scared to even think of what the next three months will be like.

Private bathroom

does NOT mean that you're the ONLY one using it. Honestly, who do you think cleans the darn thing? The cleaning fairy from the far away land that also houses the laundry fairy perhaps?? Um, no. I dare say it's your pregnant wife fairy, and she's about to kick your a$$.

I understand that I may not radically change your behavior overnight. I'm not asking for miracles here folks, just one small act of kindness. One brief moment where you remember that your partner, lover, wife, mother to your baby girl(s) gets up in the night at least once to use the latrine. At roughly 2:00 am I roll out of bed, secure myself to a somewhat stable balancing act, waddle to the bathroom and tinkle.

Picture this, Spencer, New York, 2006. The aforementioned waddler manages to get to the bathroom safely. (When you do this as much as I do you eventually memorize each and every part of your journey and forego any possibly lighting.) She readies herself ever so elegantly in front of the porcelain bowl she plans on using to deposit her nightly (sometimes hourly) tinkle. She slowly descends, aiming for the perfect landing and SPLASH!!!!

Yes, you're visualizing correctly. The splash was my not so tiny white bum landing in a bowl full of water (clean, I hope) and nearly creating the tightest vacuum seal known to man. I was literally one afternoon snack shy of ripping the toilet bowl clean off the floor. So there I am, 6 1/2 months pregnant with my rump sitting in three inches of cold (it so better be clean) toilet water at 2:00 am this morning. The rest is history. (Though I must mention that I said NOTHING to the perp when I returned to bed dry and confused.) I've lived to tell the tale this morning and I'm assuming there is no permanent damage done to either myself or the toilet.

So please honey, I'm begging you. If you only remember one time in the course of your day to lower the seat for your lady, do it before you slide into bed. I understand, you leave it up, I leave it down. All I'm asking for, and only during pregnancy if that is all you can afford me, is to kindly leave me a safe landing strip at night. Only because all it takes is a single good splash on the bum to ruin just ONE pregnant lady's day. Don't let it be mine.

A little something

I miss the way my daughter used to singularize clothes. "Mom, can you wash this clo for me?" Now she just says it like everyone else. The bright side is, she still says aminal. I've threatened anyone who tries to get her to say it correctly. It will happen soon enough. Now, if she's 12 and still calling them aminals at the zoo, I may be tempted to correct her. But right now my little 6 year old gets to say it her way.

The belly shot.

I have the pleasure of knowing some wicked good ladies. One has requested a belly shot and I am more than happy to oblige. How can something that causes me so much grief and discomfort be so darned cute? And to think that it's going to nearly double still. Lord help me. Only 15 more weeks to go. Ugh!!!

Can someone just hold my hand for me?

I'd feel a whole lot better.

I'm going to have the conversation with the Mom. I despise being such a wuss. Who would have thought that I would have such huge problems with my voice. I called her about 45 minutes ago, but was relieved to find they weren't home and that a message would have to be left.

I hate the anxiety that cripples me whenever an uncomfortable discussion approaches. While the phone was ringing my heart began to race, the shoulders tightened and I could of sworn I felt a contraction coming on. It is near frightening for me to speak on my own behalf.

Anyway, I'm gonna suck it up and take a chance at being brave. The worst she can say is no. Frankly, if that is what she needs to say then so be it. I'd rather be eating pb&j on moldy bread every day than be taken for an idiot. It reeks havoc on the self esteem and I've got enough problems with that as it is.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Please, allow me to bend over...

before you fuck me up the ass.

As previously mentioned I have a hard time sticking up for myself. It's nearly impossible for me to do this with anyone and everyone minus a few exceptions. Well, one exception...the hubby. For some reason I'm more than capable of voicing my opinions with him, and regularly at that.

I provide daycare for two children in my home while their parents are hard at work. One child is in school with my daughter and I earn $50.00 per week while the little darlings are in school. During summer vacation, I stupidly assumed that I would be getting a considerable raise since I went from watching her 20 hours per week to 50. Not only do I provide care for this child, I provide most snacks and meals with the exception of the baked good her Mommy so kindly includes once or twice a week. By baked good I mean a cookie or two for the kids to have for their morning or afternoon snack or maybe even dessert at lunch. Whoopee, thanks for the contribution.

Back to why I need to bend over.......I got a call from her the last week school was in and she and her husband were talking over coffee and homemade cookies and decided they would give me more money for the summer. Yes, a whopping $10 or $20 more a week. I was stunned and tongue tied. I was overjoyed at their thoughtfulness, however I felt a sharp pain in my big red fucking eye and wondered who the hell could be dry fucking my asshole right here in broad daylight. She mentioned she would be contributing more food for the summer and such and was so damn nice on the phone I couldn't nay say to save my own life. (So far she has brought an apple and 4 no bake cookies. Oh, and she's a Bush supporter.......need I say another fucking word?)

Of course she was nice on the phone. She has two kids, one of which I watch, one which plays down the road. Of course she wants to pay me so little since she has to pay full price at a certified daycare for her son. Of course she is going to try and pay as little as she can and I'm going to fucking let her because I'm a freaking coward. I feel like I'm pushed into a corner because if she leaves I lose our grocery money for the summer. Ever try buying groceries for 3 people on $60-$70 a week? It's a bit difficult, especially with a pregnant lady who regulars the fridge constantly. Not too mention I feed her kid, too.

So maybe there is a slight embellishment on the amount of money we have for groceries. Jamie's meager stipend provides for all of our bills and part of our food/gas money for each week and my babysitting is only a supplement. But I assure you it's not as if my little check is paying for the maternity clothes I so desperately need, or the cut my hair is screaming for. I'm near pulling one of these if I don't get into a hairdresser soon. I cower into a corner when I think of dealing with the issue because I can't handle the anxiety I feel when faced with confrontation.

Today is especially tough because it's payday time. I get my money every Friday morning. I guess this week she decided that $60 instead of $70 was enough since her husband picked the kid up an hour early yesterday. Or maybe it was because I only had her for 7 hours last week and she actually paid me over $2/hour. I don't know what her thinking is I guess. But I know this, my ass friggen hurts. And I need to grow a fucking back bone.

Finally, a bone.

The test results from the last biopsy are in. All negative. Someone finally decided that enough was enough at the present time; no more cutting. Luckily she still has the ability to swallow and eat on her own. Which she'll have to learn all over again starting as a baby would; squishy stuff then solid stuff.

I'm happy for her. I'm happy for all of us. For now we can all breathe a sigh of relief and relax. I will worry about her, though. Nothing is guaranteed. The effects of long term smoking can erupt years after someone has quit. It's especially dangerous for someone who has actually previously beaten cancer. But I'm not going to venture there today. Today I get to smile and say that she's getting better.

Anyway.....I just wanted to write it down. You know, make it real.

I'll bite....

Fours

Four bad habits:

1. Oversensitive
2. Needy
3. I can't say no to anyone, ever
4. Too nice to people who take complete advantage

Four Things To Do Before I Die:

1. Vacation in Italy
2. Vacation in Spain
3. Rv accross the United States
4. Learn to stand up for myself when appropriate

Four Things I Can't Do:

1. Feel adequate in social situations
2. Acknowledge my talents
3. Stop drinking after three.....one, two I can handle. There's a point of no return for me and there is no no such thing as last call until I say so.
4. Juggle

Four Things I Say Most Often:

1. Dude
2. What the f_ck!
3. Whatever
4. I love you

Four Books I Love:

1. All of Harry Potter
2. "The Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd
3. "The Rapture of Canaan" by Sheri Reynolds
4. Any book on gardening

Four Little Things That Make Me Happy:

1. My family
2. A great movie
3. The ocean
4. Listening to Johnny Cash while drinking a beer next to my camp fire.

Four Jobs I've Had In My Life:

1. Sales associate at two retail stores
2. Soldier
3. Customer service rep
4. Receptionist at the juvenile probation office

Four Places I've Lived:

1. Several different barracks rooms. Some nice....some not.
2. Tiny trailer that smelled like sewage.
3. Basement apartment that was so damp it grew mold in the summer.
4. Cute little house near the ocean with the best neighbors ever.

Four Places I Have Been On Vacation:

1. Martha's Vineyard
2. Stone Harbor, NJ
3. Monterey, CA (technically not a vacation.....but it sure felt like one)
4. Big Sur, CA

Four Places I'd Rather Be:

1. Concert
2. Spa getting the full on treatment
3. In a canoe, on a lake, with my fishing pole and a cooler of beer with my husband
4. Holding my new daughter with my other daughter beside me

Four Web sites I Visit Daily:

1. Stupid Grin
2. Verge of 30
3. My Space
4. Pregnancy calendar

Four Embarassing Songs That I Know All The Words To:

1. My Ding A' Ling by Chuck Berry (I know, it's bad, especially since I don't even have a ding a ling)
2. Funky Cold Medina by Ton Loc
3. The Dukes of Hazzard Theme Song by Waylon Jennings
4. Girl You Know It's True by Milli Vanilli....or whoever really sang that damn song

Four Random Ideas:

1. Incubators for babies to grow in
2. Over the counter breast milk
3. Manual for our kids, especially teenage years
4. Living life backwards and ending with an orgasm instead of shitting my pants

Four Things I Hate:

1. The importance of money
2. People who idealize George Bush simply because he disapproves of gay marriage and abortion, there are bigger issues people......stay the hell out of other people's personal lives.
3. Organized religion
4. Cancer

Four Causes I Support:

1. All medical research
2. Make a Wish
3. Recycling
4. Finding and using alternative fuels

Again, I'm a closet blogger and my circle is limited......so no tags here.

She Feels Like a Woman

My newest addition to the family is currently experiencing her first joy in becoming a woman! Awwwwww.....poor, poor little puppy. Not so much fun being a grown up, is it?

Could be worse Sadie.......try sporting giant pendulous tits!!

Special thanks given to smiley for the colorful adjectives describing the beautiful breast enhancement us women are so lucky to attain during those beautiful, glowing months of pregnancy....and beyond.

T n' A

Only the a is for abdomen.....not ass. The t is exactly correct. I'm swelling at a rigorous pace and not slowing down anytime soon. The tummy is anyway, the boobs have been swollen since the minute I had two blue lines....and still growing.

I'm now officially insane.

Why can't I be one of those cute pregnant ladies? My face grows to twice it's normal plumpness, erupts in moutainous zits and feels like a freshly used oil pan. Don't even think of telling me that I'm glowing or I'll drip face grease all over your pretty new sun dress. My boobs take on a mind of their own. I don't just notice a slight swell in the breasts, I get knocked the fuck out the morning after I find out I'm pregnant. That 1-2 lbs of weight gain designated for your lovely ample bosom.....yeah, triple that. And when this kid pops out double the size once more. I need like 4 different size boob harnesses for the same YEAR. My belly at 6 months looks at least like someone else's 7th or 8th month. I'm blessed with the shortest stomach in history so when the baby reaches 12 oz. I'm at full occupancy. Either that or she's fucking huge. A month from now I'll feel like I'm carrying my very own soccer team. My once shapely, muscular legs turn into scrumptious sausage links, complete with a side of cottage cheese. No further comment.

Everyone talks about how beautiful pregnancy is. I have yet to find any humor in that statement.

Creating life is a wonderful blessing saved only for us women. The special experience we all cherish; holding our babies when it's all over. Would I probably feel the same love if I'd sat and waited on the side lines like the men get to? Sure I would. I'm almost positive that would be okay with me. I'll sit back on those hot summer days on the porch and drink my ice cold cervesa and convince HIM why it's so important to breast feed until your baby is at least two years old and drinking any kind of relaxing tonic during that period is off limits. "It's for the baby, honey."

Real life conversation.

Dumb man: "Man, I wish we were having twins, or triplets even. How awesome would that be?"

Angry pregnant wife: "Yeah, and you think I'd manage breast feeding twins, or triplets even."

Dumb man: "Why couldn't you breast feed twins? Or triplets even? I mean, if you're feeding one, why not two?"

Angry pregnant wife: "Go fuck yourself."

I think he's forgotten who he is married to. My sanity is really quite fragile. I'm not sure what straw would be the last. I'm managing it now and will continue to manage it I'm sure. However, twins or triplets alone would send me into the psyche ward, much less if I had to be a milking factory 24/7. How can he wish that upon himself, let alone me. I've known the man for nearly 10 years now. You'd think that experience alone would clue him into the fact that I would lose the few marbles I have left.

Oh sure, pregnancy is a wonder. New life is a miracle and I'm the lucky dog that gets to grow that life inside of my body. I'm happy I get to experience lots of pampering and the first few signs of movement that signifies a real life is beginning; I'm just over it now. I've done that last trimester once already. I don't wanna do it again.

I guess there's no going back now, right? Someone just put me to sleep....wake me when it's over.

Ramblings

Alan Jackson's song Remember When makes me cry like a baby every freaking time I hear it.

Especially this part.....

Remember when thirty seemed so old
Now lookin back It's just a stepping stone
To where we are where we've been
We said we'd do it all again
Remember when

Remember when
We said when we turned gray
When the children grow up and move away
We wont be sad; we'll be glad
For all the life we've had
And we'll remember when

Remember when
Remember when

Marriage and parenting is tough sometimes, but it's songs like this that make it abundantly clear just how much of a reward it actually is.

I have no idea why this song still gets me where it counts. I guess maybe because a couple of years ago my marriage was going through one of it's rocky periods. It was bad enough, and I naive enough, to think that it could have been the end. This song (and a good year of therapy) brought my heart back in line and reminded me what loving someone for richer or for poorer really meant. I hear this song and I see our past, present, and future. I cry tears of sadness for those days I let slip away not realizing how wonderful I have it, or those moments we have yet to live through that I just know will open flood gates. Then tears of happiness for all the moments I am deliriously aware of just how blessed I truly am, along with all the joys I have yet to experience with my best friend.

I know this is a tad mushy. I just can't help but feel extremely grateful for the relationship I have and the family that I've been blessed with. Whether it be the over abundance of hormones surging through me, or just overall stress of life, I've been feeling way too sorry for myself as of late. It's nice to come back to earth and remember how much I have been given. I'm a lucky dog, I know this. I need to believe that more often.

Enough Already

Why is it some people are handed a plate full of trials with, IMHO, less than their fair serving of good stuff? She has to do this again. How many more times is she gonna have to subject herself to poking, prodding and cutting.

She has had a feeding tube attached to her stomach since the last surgery because they only thought she could eat on her own. Thought. They reluctantly let her out of the hospital after adamant demands on her end thinking all would be well. Only to find out a week later that she was swallowing incorrectly and literally every drop of liquid, every morsel of food was going directly into her lungs. She was severely dehydrated, hallucinating dehydrated and choking on what little nourishment she could force down. A two week stint in the hospital and she was slowly recovering.

During a routine, post op check up there was this one spot that just didn't look right. "Let us do a biopsy just to be 100 % sure that it's nothing."

It wasn't nothing.

Another surgery, exploratory at that. They can't really see the cancer, they just know it's cancer because the cells they tested said it was cancer. Their hopes are high. Yeah, you said that the first time along with a lot of other hopeful and over confident statements. They have since admitted post surgery that her tumor was the largest they had worked on to date. They weren't going to tell us that initially, partly to keep us positive, and partly so they would get to do the surgery. They are, afterall, research doctors. Not your normal, run of the mill MD's. They're making headways in research and doing fabulous things with people but it's a crap shoot. They have had great results in the past, but this is the first of this magnitude. Would of been nice knowing that going into the whole thing. Or....it could of just scared the living shit out of all of us.

I've been really optimistic throughout the past 18 months. Mostly because I refuse to believe that I am going to lose her. That just isn't supposed to happen. Our father is already dead......my other mother is not that far from the grave and I just flat out refused to contemplate that my birth mom is going to be snatched away from me at such a young age. That just wouldn't be fair. I need to have a grammy to offer my children. I want them to see where I came from. Even if it was crazy and effed the hell up at times.

Is she going through all of this treatment just to die anyway? Is she fighting a losing battle? Just tell me she's going to be okay. That's all I want to know, it's all she'll need to know to get through this one more thing.

Give her strength, somebody, anybody for that matter. She won't take any from us. She shoulders her feelings and thoughts concerning this by herself. She's lied about it for nearly two years and convinced us all she felt fine. Nothing was wrong.

I hope I have enough common sense to never pick up another cigarette again.

Drum Roll Please.

I'm elated and sad at the same time. I knew that I would have disappointment for whatever baby I wasn't going to have. A girl is wonderful news.....but it's not a boy and that is kind of sad. I know this baby will be loved and having another child is a blessing from above. It doesn't matter if you have an innie or an outie :-)

Welcome to the family little one. Your daddy is going to need to study extra hard and perhaps even shoot for the Nobel Prize as some point in his career if we're going to afford two weddings.

The Big Day.

Tomorrow I get a glimpse inside my expanding abdomen and see a tiny baby floating around. I get to peek and see if it's a little boy, or perhaps another little girl. Either of which I will love more than anything imaginable. I'm just a little apprehensive about finding out the sex. I want to know, really. I guess I'm just not ready to lose the romance behind the possibility of it being one or the other. The day dreaming loss alone is making me a little jittery.

If I have a boy I'll experience the father/son bond first hand between my two loves, AND my husband will get to father a son. This is something I know he thinks about and has always wanted. Regardless of what he says now, I know he'll always want a son and that would fill him to the brim I think.

If I have a girl I know Sydney will experience the bond sisters can have with each other through out their adult life. I will get to see cute little curly hair draping over big blue eyes. The hubby will get cuddles from an adoring little girl that thinks he hung the moon and stars just for her.

Either way we win. I just don't know if I'm ready to know for sure exactly which path has been chosen at this point in time. Either way we will all embrace and love the new addition given to our little family of three. It's amazing to think that we will soon be a family of four. I just can't imagine what it will be like. I look forward to the change. I know once the new baby arrives our lives will be changed for the better and the family of three will be but a distant, though, cherished memory in the scrap book of life.

Well......cya tomorrow.

And Then.

A day spent with the family, even on the rainiest of days, can bring the dullest, saddest of moods into the sunshine.

Come Friday I'm usually so tired of spending seven hours a day alone in this house that I get a little antsy and cabin fevered. I know many stay at home Moms that would kill fuzzy kittens for just two hours alone a day, but seven can be a bit much. I look forward to the days when the baby I watch gets here at 10 am instead of 2 pm. I'm even insane enough to count the days until the kids start summer vacation. Everything seems to fall into place when I have little faces that need drinks and pb&j sandwiches. I even get so brazen as to try and scrub floors while dirty flip flops covered in cut grass are just itching to walk across a freshly sparkled hardwood.

So, all bad days aside, life getting in the way of living in the moment isn't SO bad. Just a bit tedious at times. Soon the house guest will be gone and I'll long for a visit from a friend. Someday I'll be working a full time job again and longing for the days when my only job was to take care of my family. Eventually our money woes will be all but a distant memory and I'll look fondly on the days of penny pinching and planning family dinners according to what's on sale at the time.

So......today was a better day, thankfully. The hubby even got eggs and toast in bed this morning. It's always a good start when you make someone you love smile before you do anything else.

When You Can't Say Anything Nice.

I have been in such a sour state lately. Very little seems to bring me any joy outside of the usual cute kid said something cute and got me to laugh for a brief moment. I am trying, I really am.

I am a huge advocate of bring your own happiness. We are the creators of our own destiny and outlook upon life and WE choose how we want to view it that day. Living in the moment and enjoying it for all it's worth is a start. However, life tends to get in the way.

For about 8 months we've had a house guest. A house guest that does not know what family life is all about and often brings unwanted stress into my life. The little pleasures we take for granted, like running to the kitchen in our underwear, sex in the living room on a late Friday night, quiet dinners at home; just the three of us. All of these things you thought weren't that important suddenly become golden nugget moments that you just wish you could have back. Ungrateful twenty somethings that could of done this on their own no problem, but glad they came here for my sake. If only. I'll leave it at that.

I stay at home with my daughter and currently am carrying our second child. I'm so deliriously content with my family. I am hopelessly in love with my husband and can't begin to thank the Gods smiling on me the day he walked into my life. My daughter is the glimmer in my eye. I truly love them both with all my heart. The tiny one growing inside me is also something I look forward to enjoying and sharing and loving with all I have inside of me. I just can't help but wonder where I am in all of this. What is the special thing set aside just for little old me that I can accomplish. Something to fill up the empty hole where my self esteem used to exist. Something I won't quit because it gets in the way with someone else's goal or it interferes with my inability to see myself doing anything of value outside of being a wife and a mother. I know I'm valuable and I know I'm needed; my home would fall without the support of my shoulders holding it up. It's just lately I can't even seem to muster the desire to do a good job at even the simplest of things. I miss the identity I had before we moved to New York. I'd gladly sacrifice all of it again for the sake of all our futures. I just miss who I was when there was a job and friends and family outside of our little triangle that helped define me.

Money is the root of all evil. I do not wish to be filthy rich. I do not wish to swim in a pool full of money, or to brag and show the world how important I am because I have this, and this, and this. Do I want to reach a place in my life where I am comfortable? HELL YES!!!! I've taken great pride in stretching our dollars and usually see the silver lining. We have always been provided for, ends have always met and we made it through the tough spots. I take great pride in the fact that we are financially responsible and haven't over extended ourselves ridiculously to make appearances. We are just living in the smaller pay scale and neither of us will compromise our debt to income ratio in order to have new flashy clothes and a more than we can afford but oh so very cool vehicle. I have a husband who is a graduate student and if it weren't for the Montgomery GI Bill we'd literally be standing in sinking sand. OR I could get a job and my husband could deal with the stress of his wife working and what little down time he does have taken away with meaningless chores instead of valuable and irreplacable family time. The stress concerning money is usually not a big issue.....HOWEVER, in summer months the GI Bill is not awarded us due to him not taking courses and it screws the hell out of us having a chance at any kind of weekend excursions to Niagara Falls or any other cool and exciting place we haven't, nor will we ever venture to unless we take advantage now while we live in such close proximity. We could possibly splurge just a little on the credit card for the sake of travel and life experience but that damn Murphy's Law states that should we decide to stretch our ethics of financial discipline this one time our water pump will shit the bed and $1500.00 later our weekend will bring us guilt and misery. Which I suppose is only temporary but we can always find something more useful to spend our frivolous money on. Like, say, haircuts for the family. SO....the anticipation of being dirt, can barely buy a cheap yard sale item, poor is taking it's toll on my pregnant, already somewhat neurotic self.

This too shall pass. All of this will be a big blur in a decade and I will look upon these years and smile at myself and all the unwanted....and certainly unwarranted stress I put myself under. These moods will blow away as the summer months progress and I watch my flowers bloom (which I now regret wasting needed money on!!). I guess this is just the way life is and just when you think you're all set and you've prepared for the drought ahead.....BAM.....something happens and you're knocked on your feet yet again. If life were simple, what would it really be worth. Tis the waves that let you know you're alive and the tough currents that make you stronger for the next big storm. I Will Survive. Life is a Highway. All You Need is Love. One More Bottle of Wine.

What Do I Wish For?

Tagged. This lady did me the honors. I get three wishes......three WISHES!!! Whatever will I do with them. Allow me a moment to bend your ear....er should I say eyes.

“Three Things MeMe. The three things are supposed to be things that you would like to see occur in your lifetime--serious or silly or sentimental, leaving out Peace In Our Lifetime, Cure for Cancer, all the standard stuff."

Wish # 1: First let me say this is pretty tough, even though technically they are just wishes, this is an enormous responsibility. I feel I must chose carefully.

I guess my first wish would be to sing at the Grand Ole Opry. Perhaps even duet with Keith Urban. YUM. If I must wish, it's going to be big. Do I get to feel his butt as part of the wish, or does that count as another wish??

Wish # 2: Could someone hurry up and impeach Big Dubya. I can't comment any further, it angers me so.

Wish # 3: To snorkle the Great Barrier Reef. Holy dog shit that would be awesome. Can the hubby come as part of that wish? Or Keith Urban......either one is fine.

Just kidding babe. You know I love you.

Okay, so there it is in a nutshell. My heart's desire. I'd tag someone if I had anyone left to tag, but only three people have read my blog. Two which have already been hit and one that doesn't have a blog. Does that mean I can't get my wishes now?

Damn.

The Story Teller.

The funniest thing happened the other day while I was getting things ready for dinner. S and her little buddy O were drawing/writing a little story. Of course, each of them felt the need to copy the other's ideas while embelishing on them with their own brilliant versions of what should happen. Moments later, S ran into the kitchen and began to narate her creation to me while I swept the floor.

It goes a little like this.

S: Ok, Mom, wanna hear my story?

Me: Of course I do, lay it on me.

S: Ok. Ahem.

(page one) One day I was waiting for my birthday party. (page two) Then I saw that my parents had already made me my birthday cake. I was, um, wait, let me count the candles. Ok, I was nine years old. (page three) When it was time for my birthday O, E and J were waiting in my room to surprise me. They didn't know I had gymnastics, so, they waited a long, long, long time, but then I came back home and went into my room and they jumped out of my closet and surprised me and put a crown on my head. They were wearing hats too, but not a crown one because that is only for the girl having her party. We had lots of fun, and played a lot of games.
(page four) D N.

Me: Oh, S, what a wonderful story.

She skipped off to the living room as proud as any six year old would, having just gotten major approval from her Mother, whom she adores and lives to please. Meanwhile, in the kitchen sat her Mother laughing ever so quietly, yet ever so hard she almost peed herself because her daughter just wrote D N at the end of her story. Obviously, this was meant to be "the end" but I wouldn't chose any other ending than the one she wrote.

I am constantly reminded by my child to cherish the little things. Cherish all the special moments; to never forget what's important in life. I think in the hustle and bustle of everyday life we often forget that it's about the moment. Our only job is to make the most of every single breath that we take. Life is not an entitlement, but a gift.

Thank you S, for reminding me daily of the gifts. I sure have learned a lot from you.

Pickled Beets and Cottage Cheese.

Tastes really, really, really good. And it's healthy to boot. Beats popcorn with extra butter, or salt and vinegar potato chips (my snack of choice three times yesterday). I'm not an "unhealthy" eater per say, I'm just a little mood driven when it comes to food, pregnant or not. It's a good thing I'm the head chef of this household.

A month ago I was struggling to think of any food I thought would be tasty. This month the second trimester is coming on and probably the bulk of my weight gain. Now, I have all I can do to think of a food I don't want to eat. I've been begging the Gods of Pregnant Ladies Appetites to spare me the 60 lbs. that I gained in the first pregnancy. I just don't think my body will be able to recouperate as nicely as it did when I was 24. Even then it took me a VERY long time to shed the last 20 lbs of weight. I know 30 isn't exactly nursing home age; I just hear a lot of women talk about their size and the maintaining of it after 30 and it's not always a positive conversation.

So yes, I'm afraid. More afraid of the weight gain than I am of the juggling that will occur after the birth, or the fear of uterine rupture should I choose to have a VBAC, or the fear of actually succeeding at a VBAC, or the fear of NOT succeeding at the VBAC. Ok, I lied. VBAC is pretty much a big scary acronym that I'm seeing in my nightmares regularly. I guess I'm just down right scared and there aren't many people, well there aren't ANY people in my life that want to listen to my obsession of any of the above topics. Not for another 7 months anyway. A conversation here and there, maybe. But certainly not the main topic for the duration of the gestation period.

I tend to be a one track mind until resolution kind of thinker. If something is bothering me, or worrying me, I have a very hard time thinking, or doing much else. That seems a little on the mentally sick side, but it's true. I really have a very hard time getting past something without lengthy discussions followed by irrational thinking reversals performed by the husband. He's gotten increasingly good at this over the years and never ceases to make me laugh at myself without feeling hurt by his comments. It's an art he's refined over the years that we've been together. Kinda like my ability to argue without raising my voice in the slightest just so I can say "hey, you don't have to yell". Makes me feel more grown up.

I think I'm going crazy. This post now has nothing to do with it's title. I need more therapy.

Nothing Special.

Kind of a blah place right now. Nothing much going on. I just got back from my visit home. Still boring, but still home. Doesn't matter where I'm at in the world, I've always missed that place. Whether it be the potato fields, the blinking light, the stars at night, and perhaps the people there, I have always had a sense of home there. Anyway, it was uneventful, outside of getting obnoxiously exhausted and mentally crazy. However, that isn't so far from the norm anyway. Funny how you travel 13 hours to get there and people that live 15 minutes away still feel the need to make youdrive to them so they can visit you.

NOW, the best thing about that trip was going home. I love my Mum, and I love my family, but damn if I don't feel like I just don't belong there anymore. I guess it's true that you can never go home again. I've been gone so long now it's hard to imagine what life would be like if I were living there, or worse, stayed there. Oh God. I can't even contimplate the disasterous future that would of been waiting for me. Some people get lucky there, and some don't. I just can't see myself getting that lucky.

OK, back to why it was so much fun to come home. I got to see my little baby yesterday. How amazing, how wonderful, how indesribable it is to see your creation floating in it's watery heaven, clueless of the outside world awaiting it. I'm just beside myself thinking about how special this will be for us all this time around. S. will play such an instrumental part in this little child's life. It will truly be a different experience from the beginning and change our lives forever. I'm so anxious. I am so excited about our new adventure. What a wonderful blessing that we've been given. I'm scared, sad, crazy, but obnoxiously giddy all at the same time. Pregnancy really fucks with a woman's sanity, eh?

Second Time Around.

Cancer. What an ugly disease. Cigarettes. What an ugly tool we use to induce such an ugly disease upon ourselves. I'm guilty of using that tool; not for cancerous cell growth, but for other reasons I have yet to figure out.

I started when I was 15 I think. I smoked for half my life. I just turned 30. I just quit smoking. Well, I say just. I quit last year right before my 29th birthday. I read books, I paced floors while chanting victorious verses, I reminded myself regularly why I was quitting. How proud I was. Until I allowed myself a puff here and there. One weekend I vividly remember being left alone to my own demise. The hubby and S. went to visit family. I stayed behind to get some me time. I drank beer, called a bunch of people and smoked cigs. Eventually, I would purchase a pack for Saturday night beer fests by the campfire in the back yard. I had to sneak because I couldn't disappoint the husband with my failed attempt that was so successful (5 months to be exact!!). Anyway, to make a long story short.....I ended up starting again. Why? I don't know, well I do know. It's an addiction. With the new baby on the way, I decided to give it a go again and now have 1 month smoke free and no desire to return.

Getting to my point. Second time around. My bio Mom was diagnosed 1 1/2 years ago with cancer of the larynx. She smoked for at least 30 years. At least. She was lucky that her cancer was located in the one area. She had radiation for 6 weeks after surgery to remove the cancerous tumor. What an ordeal. Negative thirty pounds, a huge burn on her entire neck that has left a permanent scar later and she was thought to be in the clear. She went to her monthly appointments to ensure that she was in fact, cancer free. The thrity pounds quickly returned and doubled due to a new thyroid problem due to the radiation. Her voice still hasn't returned to it's natural state even though she quit smoking over a year ago. This past February, they found cancer again, in the same spot. Believed to have survived the radiation therapy.

Lucky for her, she has what is called a slow moving cancer. She has a great prognosis and hopefully will walk away with minimal damages. Today she is on her way to Halifax (she lives in Canada) and will talk to a new Dr. for the second time. Tomorrow she is sceduled for laser surgery, that hopefully, will remove this cancer for good. They have done this 50 times successfully and his word was this will finish it for her. She will not have cancer there again. There. The thing with cancer is this, once you have it one place, you are more succeptable to having it in other areas. The fact that she smoked for so long makes it more likely that she could develop cancer in other areas of her body. The location that worries me the most. Her lungs. She can survive without a larynx. Would it suck? Yeah, but will she survive? More likely than not. Lungs, we need those.

Anyway. That is what I'm thinking about today. I had a dream last night that she died. This is the first dream I've ever had about her dying. It scared me, a lot. My sisters need her, my brother needs her, our children need her and lately, I've finally begun to believe that I need her.

SO.......I say a little prayer that she is safe, her surgery goes as expected, and we get to keep our Mother/Grammy for a long, long time to come.

I Can't Wait.

I know I have to, I know there really is no speeding the process of growing a human, but I can't help it. I just want to fast forward to November and meet this baby so much it hurts.

In my first pregnancy I was excited, but confused, young and niave about parenthood. I knew that I was having a baby with the absolute love of my life, but I was torn. We had all of two months to spend any time as a married couple before we were pregnant. The first year we were husband and wife he was on the other side of the globe. I missed him terribly and counted the months, days, minutes til' his return. I was rudely awakened when I noticed how different the two of us had become in just 12 months time. So re-aquainting ourselves with one another would take some time. This baby we were UN-expecting really threw a wrench in our plans to re-enlist and try the mid west out for a spell, travel, share our lives together the way we dreamed about the entire first year of our marriage.

I was happy to be carrying our first baby and we talked about this many times before, but as mentioned above, we just weren't prepared. We had no idea how our lives would change. For the better, but some definite changes were in immediate order. I hadn't the awareness of how wonderfully awesome creating life really is. What a miracle we had just been given.

NOW, I know this miracle. I have secretly longed for another baby for quite some time. We just didn't know how we were going to do it. Financially, it just has never been the right time.

It still isn't the right time financially, but who cares. We'll be fine and the joy that comes with new little babies will abound and our family will feel all the more complete for it.

I just don't want to wait is all. I'm so freaking excited to smell my baby's head. I can hardly even think about tiny fingers grasping mine without getting giddy and ridiculously happy. I'm going to be so selfish with my bonding time. I'm going to enjoy so much more of the "moments" than I did the first time around. I'm not so confident to say that I won't totally lose my composure and feel overwhelmed, but I will get through it, just as I did the first time around.

OMG, baby, hurry up. I can't even deal with how cute you're going to be.

I love you.