You get what you get.

I was trying to write something today. Instead I'm just going to post this.


.....because we could all benefit from babies and braids. Right?

Looking for a little change.

Can't control much around here right now and I've been feeling a bit bored. But there is something I can mess with for fun, hence the different look. Nothing exciting, nothing coded by my own hand, no fancy pictures and such, but it's different and I like different.

Something about everything having to run its course that makes me feel aggravated. Winter will be over when it's ready. Baby will come when it's time. Grad school will be over when it's over, no sooner, no later than the amount of time we're just supposed to wait.

Grrrr.....

Anyway...wanna see a cute picture?

I do.

Testing one, two, three.

Testing one, two.

That's what I'm calling it because I am not ready to label her my bad seed. I know, everyone has that child that tests all boundaries laid out for them and rips all confidence you ever could have in parenting to shreds. But I was optimistic that I was just that good of a mother that my children understood from day one such behavior was unacceptable at mommy's house.

I was one of those mothers yesterday. You know, the kind you either look at with empathy or disgust because she isn't doing one of two things you think she should do; handle her kid or get the hell out of their face. E threw a ripe tantrum in the mall yesterday and was utterly out of control. Me being seven months pregnant had not the energy or the emotional where with all to do much of anything except wait it out and ignore her raunchiness the best that I could.

She is cutting molars and the only word I can think of to describe her is cantankerous. Okay...so there are other words but I'm trying to be...well I don't know what I'm trying to be. She is just horrible to be around right now, not all day but a lot of the day and I've had it up to HERE with her mood swings. I try to be caring and nurture her into comfort but there isn't a consoling trick in the book that is working for her. And I'm about to lose it trying.

I read that toddlers throw tantrums because they love you. And you should be thankful that they allow themselves to be in such a vulnerable position and show such trust that they can act like demons seeping out from the fiery depths of hell in your presence.

Right.

Because they looooove you.

I'm not buying it. But what the hell ever. All I can say is if it gets worse from here, how am I supposed to manage it? Is she going to break me in slowly for the real crap that begins when they're three? Or am I getting the worst version right off the bat so I don't worry that she's going from bad to motherfuckingevil?

I don't even know what to guess anymore with her. One thing is for sure, this is going to be a bumpy ride. Eventful and I'm sure exciting at times, but bumpy none the less.

And another thing!

Why does my child poop in the tub? It isn't the occasional oops with this child either. Minimum, two maybe three times per week.

PER WEEK!!

I'm at my wits end with her on so many levels yet hopelessly in love at the same time. She challenges me every single day but still draws me in for more with that delicious little dimple on her left cheek.

And that toothy grin.

How do we discipline these beautiful little devils for squeezing lotion all over our bathroom floors when they're looking at you with the biggest smile on their tiny face and their hands in the air as if they had no idea how that lotion just got there.

"I just walked in here Mom, and poof - lotion was EVERYWHERE!! Not sure how that happened."

Hmm...me neither.

To say she is an intense baby is an understatement. She is nasty, loving, happy, mad, devious and wonderful all at once. She will hit you one moment and kiss your boo boo the next. She is dancing to Elmo's catchy tunes at 8:00 and throwing herself on the floor because the dog ate her toast that she offered to her at 8:02.

In the words of my oldest "that's good quality television right there".

And she still isn't sleeping through the night. At least not consistently. Her teeth are bothering her, her ears hurt, her diaper is too wet, she needs a hug, where's my bink (I know...she's going to be 30 and still toting that thing) are just a few of the many things that I have to choose from every single night. I say choose because she refuses to say a word. The kid could climb a mountain but is talking very little. I chalk it up to the fact that....eeeeeekkkk!! aaaaaahhh!!! and wwwwwwweeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!! seem to be working just fine for her right now thank-you very much.

This is just a piece of the pie I'm chewing right now. I'm a busy woman. A busy woman toting a big old belly and juggling the very best she can. I am pooped most of the time but managing to get to the quiet part of my day every evening where J and I sit on the couch and watch mindless television while he rubs whatever part of me is the puffiest. I will make it to May and my energy will get better. After that my only option is to live in the now and hope that the next two years are gentle on me.

In the meantime....I guess I'll just keep counting my blessings. Even if the blessing keeps crapping in the tub.

All things come to an end.

One thing for sure is this pregnancy will. And I am in my nesting phase. Not that I have any energy to nest around here with a one year old terrorist hot on my heels, but my mind is nesting. We have MUCH to do before the baby arrives in May. MUCH!!

There are three bedrooms in this house and they are all currently in use. I have no choice but to impose upon the people responsible for this new family member and I'm pretty sure that the bar down the road isn't going to take any responsibility and put her up there, so we're forced to put her into the other guilty party's room. Our love shack is going to be converted into a nursery that mom and dad get to sleep in. And to be honest I'm not so sure with two under two there will be a lot of love shacking going on for a while anybleepingway, so what does it even matter?

In order for this to happen we have to do some remodeling/painting/revamping and my favorite ....SHOPPING! We have three windows to replace, a bathroom to remodel, paint, trim, new doors and some furniture to purchase. All this will have to happen in early spring since neither February or early March brings out the balmy weather. So basically the last 6 weekends of my pregnancy.

For those of you who have done this growing a human thing, you know the last six weeks of your pregnancy are spent mostly sleeping, waddling, barking orders and bitching. Not a whole lot of time in there for those pesky remodeling chores. And that leaves it all to my husband, well mostly, I'll cover the bossing around and bitching part. I don't want him talking shit about how he's doing it ALL himself.

The sucky part of having all this work is that my husband normally ends up dissecting god damn mouse embryos, washing his "cells" or concocting some strange DNA mixture every Saturday and Sunday morning. I understand this allows one of his many "oh damn, I need one of these tools" at Home Depot, but still. It shrinks our already thin time slot by a few hours every weekend AND I don't have the energy to follow him in there to do all the bitching needed to get him out of work and Hope Depot in a timely manner which only increases the possible time lost geeking it up at work or praying to the chain saws at the tool store. I'm not sure about any of you, but a windowless bedroom on a chilly April evening is not my idea of fun and certainly will not promote the 15 or so half hour naps I'll be able to take in between pee breaks at night.

So like every pregnant lady I feel hurried during those last few months because there always seems to be mountainous piles of crap to do and you're too busy putting your swollen feet up to do much about it other than think. Then again, having so many things on your to-do list does make the time pass a little faster. Which poses other problems. I'm not sure if I want time passing any faster except only to get my body back. But the work involved in getting that back (and I'm not talking about exercise either) will be daunting. Clingy one year olds and a nursing infant along side a pre-tween feeling a little left out and needing reassurance is going to kick my ass. Plain and simple.

Tell me again how I got myself into this? Oh, right. Dive bar down the road, cheesy seductive lighting in our living room (or maybe it was just the street light outside?) and..uh...ahem, you know.

You and Me

It was 10 years ago that I promised him forever. I can't imagine where all the time has gone.

Romantic dinners together with not a word said between us.

Laughing over stupid television shows.

Getting to know each other as husband and wife and still learning new things today because people grow and change and there is always something new to discover about the other.

Enjoying each other's company while doing things we both love. Hiking, swimming, taking walks by the water.

Making babies ;D

Having babies and nurturing them together, making mistakes and learning along the way.

Moving 7 times.

Fighting.

Making up ;D

Cuddling by a fire and sharing a 6 pack.

Learning to love someone who is nothing like you yet mysteriously the same. Two different worlds, two different hard drives intertwining to make one.

Have I mentioned fighting yet? Because although we love each other deeply we didn't get here on a cloud surrounded in butterflies and cotton candy.

It has been a long and exciting journey together and I'm challenged to be a better person everyday because of him. And he is too. We bring out the best in the other. And the worst. We take the good with the bad, the richer for the poorer, the sickness and the health. We mush it all together and call it our life, our home, our family.

We are...

dedicated,

emotionally invested,

inseparable by choice,

in it to win it so to speak.

Forever.

Always.

Till death do us part.

Un-pleasantly Plump and Pregnant

Things are a bit bumpier at the moment. Near back to back pregnancies have done nothing for my figure. I can't pass a mirror naked without shuddering with disgust.

Those women who gain 8 lbs throughout pregnancy and only in their belly?

I hate them.

I'm can't even think about what my c-section scar is going to look like with its third layer of scar tissue.

My one saving grace is that this baby? Yeah, my last. I will never make a penis and I'm okay with that. After I'm done breast feeding I can attempt getting back into shape and won't be side swiped with yet another pregnancy.

How do I know this? My husband is having me spayed.

And I'm having him neutered. Just like Bob told me to.

I didn't get a sticker.

So I thought I would just let ya'll know.


I VOTED!!!

I don't think you're ready for this belly.

Or maybe you are.


Come closer.....


Satisfied?

By the way!

I'm so over the 500 baby gates I have strategically placed throughout the house to keep the invader at bay. As the belly (photo not yet available) grows larger and larger I'm having a harder time maneuvering these bastards.

For example, the other day I fell right over when I caught my foot on an unsuspecting trash can that remains in the barricaded area because of babies that, like raccoons, will open that sucker when you're not looking and pull out whatever is on the top. If that is a pile of rotten cabbage just discarded from my neglected refrigerator, then so be it. She is not a prejudiced trash picker.
And lately, I'm almost positive she would jump clear to the bottom of it if she thought she'd find herself a bottle to suckle.

Anyway, I thought you should know.

Mean old mama!

That's how I'm feeling because my baby is mad at me. I'm ripping the comfort from her sweet little chubby arms and making her learn to cope through her naps and bed time without her bottle. I'm still letting her have her milkies, but just in another container. Kind of like a segue for the real trauma of no pre-sleep beverage. At least until she's legal to make those decisions for herself, though on several occasions a nice shot of whiskey would have done her some good.

Let's just say she's not real impressed.

I didn't think she was attached to it because she doesn't carry one around all day like some babies her age. Turns out she does cherish her quiet time with her warm bottle of milk. And I'm the devil.

I can't give it back. I've made the decision and in a few days she'll deal with it a little better. She didn't fight too hard today during naps and I think her reluctance for nighty night this particular evening is more about her not being ready for bed yet, though I do think the bottle was always good for prepping her for sleep.

Such is life kid; your first hard knock. I guarantee life gets worse.

My next evil plan is to take her pacifier.

Oh! The HORROR!!

I'm hungry.

Er...yes, hungry. That is why I just ate 47 mini cinnamon powdered donuts. And then a bowl of Eddy's chocolate heaven with a handful half a bag of Wise ruffles potato chips. That was just after the egg salad sandwich, green beans and the other half of the chips.

I always do this right after a dreaded weigh in. I am was very proud of my meager 3 lbs weight gain I had over the holidays. I guess now I'm just doing a little celebrating?

It happens every time I swear. This is the part of my pregnancy where I eat everything I see. It is what it is. I'm trying to curb my junk cravings but I made the mistake of going to the store before I made a small snack for myself and was faint and close to shaking from hunger when I left to come home. The first thing in my mouth? Just 4 of those delicious donuts.

What? They're mini.

Excuse me, I did manage to eat green beans didn't I?

I have to go lie down now.


Did I mention they were "cake-like" donuts?

Break out the tees ladies.

It is officially 60 degrees in my little upstate NY village and it's JANUARY?!? WTF?

The sun is shining in my windows, I'm saving pennies by the hour since my furnace isn't running at warp speed and the wood stove is barely burning, only to keep the chill off. It was 70 degrees in my house at 8 am and I was running around without my feet snuggled in my new LLBean slippers my honey got me for Christmas. Yay!

I'm sure we'll all get whopping head colds with the sudden change in weather during the dead of winter but I will gladly take the bad with the good for a brief hiatus from the winter's chill.

This afternoon I'm taking the kids out to play on the swing set in hoodies and sweaters and there won't be a mitten or wool cap in sight. Woot!!

Mood swings and other things.

Stress and I aren't the best of friends under normal circumstances, throw in a growing fetus and I'm a freaking mess, incapable of handling a hang nail much less anything needing inner strength, patience or whatever you people use for coping mechanisms. I hate to admit it, but I've always been a little jumpy or easily agitated in tough situations. Mostly those of the emotional kind, not so much the get things done kind.

I had a meltdown last Friday at dinner. This was after two solid hours of shrieking baby hanging off from leg. I was in the thick of needy toddler time and I won't lie and tell you how pleasant it is to be needed all day every day because it is not my favorite part of parenting. I like watch from afar while happy children play quietly with books or listening to be sure they aren't shaving the cat or eating rat poisoning kind of parenting.

Needless to say, after those two hours of what felt like having the hair on my toes dug out with a potato peeler, I was a little touchy and I might have freaked out a little bit completely lost all composure and sanity. I would like to add that I am frightfully ashamed of my behavior and mortified that I let myself get so upset rather than just counting to 10 like good mothers do. But to be honest and fair I am not going to sugar coat the severity of my craziness because I know for a fact that I am not alone. Mothers lose it and they lose it bad sometimes. We are always expected to be everything, the shining example of perfection all day every day and to look good while doing it. All so we can be subtly reminded that this isn't a real job.

So I mentioned it was dinner time, right? Dinner at my house isn't always fun unless I'm making tacos or chicken. Neither of which I had that evening because I hadn't done a real grocery shop since our Christmas hiatus at the in-laws. I had fish sticks, or fish sticks. My 7 year old wasn't impressed but she reluctantly agreed since there was the slightest hint of desperation in my voice.

I'm juggling a starving baby, french fries, fish sticks and 5 binks, so when I tell you I was not excited to see her holding her nose while her aforementioned dinner was sizzling in the oven is an understatement. I pleaded with her to please not give me a hard time, I needed her to give mama a break this one time and get over herself just this once. If she ever loved me and wanted to show it, now was the time.

I guess she wasn't feeling the love because I got the eye roll and the play with her food while on the verge of tears until I gave in and let her eat effing Captain Crunch for dinner. Well guess what? We were out of Captain freaking Crunch on Friday and mama wasn't budging.

I guess it is becoming clear when the meltdown began, hmm?

My voice got a teeny bit louder as I exclaimed to her that she was to eat those freaking fish sticks right now and not give me any shit about it or I was going to have to walk out the door. I meant that I was walking out the door to take a brief break, she took it how any 7 year old kid would take their mother freaking out while loudly telling her that I've had it and I can't take it anymore. Of course she started to cry which only made matters worse for me and I continued to ramble on and on about how horrible it was to be me and all kinds of other damaging things that I didn't mean but would certainly trigger counseling later on.

Lucky for us her father arrived right then and alleviated the stress I was showering upon our innocent child, thank GOD! I held my composure for maybe two minutes and started to bawl. I cried for S because she didn't deserve to take the brunt of my pent up annoyance, I cried because I was failing at being a mother, I cried because I was ashamed for allowing myself to fail in such a miserable way and I was crying because I couldn't be what everyone needed all the time. I hated what I was capable of and despised the fact that I couldn't just walk in the other room for a moment and regain control. I threw a tantrum to make any two year old proud except that I am the grown up and supposedly had outgrown such horrific actions.

Of course I apologized and explained and cried and apologized again and reminded her that none of that was her fault, that was not about her and her fish sticks and more about me and my imperfections that I am not proud of. I held her tight in my arms and kissed her perfect forehead and told her that I loved her and no matter what she said or did I would never leave her but damn it all I can't take it back. No matter what I say or how hard I wish and try, it happened. It wasn't fair or right, but it happened. I'm her protector, the person to build her up so outsiders can't tear her down and there I was casting stones at her fragile structure and creating bad memories that I couldn't take away.

I never claimed to be perfect, but I hope that I'm never that ugly again. If I am, I hope and pray that time and love can minimize the damage done. We joke later about how mama freaked out about fish sticks because making light makes it easier to swallow but it still really sucks that she has that in her memory bank.

It is extremely difficult to put this out in black and white for others to read and relate or even judge, but I did it anyway. I did it because I don't want to hide it. I wrote it in hopes that it will remind me when minutes get bad to find a way to deal with my stress in better ways. Maybe instead just get a bowl of Captain Crunch.

Pink?

Good thing I like it. We are being blessed with another girl. We're both okay, I know J really wanted to have a son but I guess that is just not what is meant for our family. Three of a kind......nothing wrong with that.

For those seeking wisdom.

Christmas lights are not that far off from donkey balls.

Before you wonder if I'm alive

Here I am!! I am reading and snooping through everyone else's stuff but I have shamelessly neglected my own world for no good reason. I have no excuse except for blatant laziness. Oh sure, the kids keep me duct taped most days but that shouldn't keep me from my devoted readers.

Truth is my lazy butt has been slumping around the house wearing sweats and eating ice cream sandwiches. I am not a happy pregnant person. I always start out optimistically thinking that I am going to cherish every ligament pain and the enormous swellage of my awesome cleavage, but the real story is I detest the pregnant part. No, that isn't strong enough. I fucking hate it. Pardon my french but I'm am not kidding.

Having said that, I am by no means a hater of cute babies. In fact, the first 20 minutes after birth is sheer bliss. I am in heaven, feeling the abundance of love and bonding with my new child.

Then the little squeeler starts to cry and my life is over.

I'm not ready for another kid right now. Of course I will love this baby and take care of him/her and give her everything I give my other kids and once I see those bright blue eyes looking into mine there will be no turning back. I will be that baby's mother and protect and care for that sweet innocent child until I am rendered dead or they kick me out of their dorm room. But I can't help but feel just a bit of hesitation.

So here I sit in the middle of my 16th week and finally starting to really feel pregnant. My jeans are getting tight, my face is getting puffy, my tummy will reach monstrous proportions in the near future, and I will once again give life to a huge ass baby. I wonder if I will top 10 lbs this time. That is so not funny to me.

I guess there are plenty of reasons I have been absent lately. I'm not feeling the whole anticipation so much so that I want to blog/talk/think about it all the time. I am excited for this to be over and to meet my new darling baby, but I'm really not wishing it were May anytime soon.

On a much more positive note, I have my ultrasound on December 10th and we can finally start labeling the fetus as he or she. Yay! And to top it off I get to have a 3D ultrasound because I am seeing another OB this time and that is the only option they have. Oh poo! Can you hear the genuine disappointment in my words? I may not become blogger of the year up to that point but once get some news I will certainly pass the word on. And eventually, when I am feeling more pregnant and less fat, I'll post a picture of my perfectly round belly. Promise.

Bring on the TIDE

You know what scares me the most about having another baby?

Laundry.

When am I going to find time to be all the things I need to be when I am stuck in the laudry room or in a chair nursing an infant?

It ain't gonna be pretty. I'm never going to change clothes. Ever.

Just a few pics......

just because I'm very lazy right now and having a hard time finding time to write stuff that makes sense....and all these really cute days have come and gone without a single word from the writer and creator of this funny little blog. How dare I neglect my loyal fans...all five of you deserve way more than that. So anyway....to make a long story short...here is a fun day playing in the leaves just before halloween then a fabulous birthday for a fabulous lil' baby girl....I hope you all enjoy. I'll fill in more blanks later. Or I won't.

I'm pregnant, leave me alone.












The end.

I'm here

Just distracted and busy with kids.

The baby isn't at a stage where I can sit and write much right now and night time is bed time for me.

I'm just so danged tired lately. One of the kids I take care of has needed a babysitter more regularly lately and he comes at 6 am. And when he arrives he is 100% on for the day. Usually once he gets here the rest of the house wakes up in spite of my desperate attempts to keep him from running, shouting, singing, or whatever else strikes his fancy at 6 O'CLOCK IN THE EFFIN' MORNING!! Another little girl I take care of doesn't come until 1 pm but stays until 7:30 pm. Those are the long days....I babysit for 13 hours total with 5 kids throughout certain parts of the day for $50.00. It hardly seems worth it when I'm 2 seconds from mental break down for an entire day...but it is what needs to be done to keep us afloat while J is in graduate school, so I do it.

And did I mention I make a lot of babies? Because I do.

I'm 11 weeks now; almost through the first trimester. Everyone swears this is our boy except for one of my smart, intuitive friends. I am leaning towards her feeling because I just know I'm going to have three girls. I have also been dreaming of boys and that has happened with every single pregnancy. I don't know. Maybe I don't have a damn clue what the sex is but my gut is saying girl. I guess we'll all know soon enough. For J, I would love a boy. He would be a great father to a son.

Another distraction has kept me silent because I don't know enough about it. I know that I'm worried and my gut is telling me for good reason. My birth mother is in the hospital in Halifax as we speak with a tracheotomy and a biopsy waiting for results. She's sick again and it doesn't look promising. They are going to take her voice box this time, her vocal chords will remain in tact so her "voice" will sound as close to hers as possible but she will no longer be able to talk in the way that all of us talk. This is the good news.

I don't know what her test results will show. They are going to do biopsies to see if its cancer again (I'm sure it is) and they are going to do some body scans to see if she doesn't have it elsewhere. I'm worried because she has had a lung infection for 8 months or more. Maybe I'm reading into things but the big warning sign of her cancer early on was her voice. She had "laryngitis" for a year before they finally concluded she had cancer.

So this is what I know to be true. In a couple of weeks I'll know if it is worse than that. All I can think is if she doesn't survive this both of my parents will be dead. I am not ready for that reality. But I'm not burying her just yet. She is a tough woman. I know what she is made of, that Tompkins' blood may be tainted with a little wild...but with that comes a will stronger than nails and if anyone can make it through it is her. If this cancer is beatable, she will beat it. I have no question.

So that's my status and I will try to write more when I get a chance. Those are just few and far between right now.