Rambling.

I'm feeling rather lost lately. I am getting a handle on the newborn/three kid juggle but I'm still lost. I get this way when it's time to go home. Or maybe I just am this way. I don't know really. I find it more noticeable when I am ready for the long haul up to Maine because I'm aware of how sensitive I am to the loneliness I am overwhelmed with at times here in NY. I almost dread seeing friends and family because I have to turn around and go home. The visit is never long enough nor is it short enough because let's face it, packing three kids, husband and dog isn't easy. It all falls on my shoulders and I get really tired and stressed by the end of it. Vacation is far more work than I want or need it to be.

Another thing that is really chaffing my ass lately is the in-laws inferring constantly that S has suddenly had to take the hard road at home. Poor S, she probably never gets time blah blah blah blah. Like giving her sisters, friends for life, has somehow damaged her childhood and made life unbearable. It bothers me that we are still having this conversation two years later. It bothers me that my MIL won't spend too much time building bonds with her other two grand-daughters because of what S might think or feel. So of course she feeds off this because the notion hasn't been guarded from her. She knows what they think and feel and plays them all like a quiet melody. They don't even know she's manipulating every single moment of their time, innocently mind you, but manipulating none the less. She's 8. She's a kid. Kids do that. And everyone gasps at her neediness and her reluctance to leave. Like she wasn't the same exact way before all this baby business even began. Give me a break.

Can I just talk about one more thing I have been yearning to address? Call me selfish if you must, but I am drowning. Drowning over in the sidelines by myself and there isn't a hand in sight to pull me out. At least one that I don't have to fight for. I mentioned the loneliness here earlier. Let me just say that it is downright crippling me right now. I am at the bottom of the list of things to take care of, not just my own list but everyone's list. I don't believe that I should be first or even that I mind being last, I just hate that all the gas has run out when my turn comes. I expect a certain amount of neglect with small kids at home and I give my man props all the time for his dedication to family and all that. I just feel that every morsel I get I have to beg the kids for and seize every opportunity to exploit alone time. I'd settle for anything as long as I didn't have to compete with tv or some other distraction.

I know a lot of my issues are exaggerated because I think I'm dealing with some post-partum issues and I know that in time I will feel a little more comfortable in my own skin and more like myself. I just haven't felt that way in a long, looooong time. Over two years. I often wonder how I'm going to make it through these times and I just tell myself one day. One day you will get there and only one day at a time. It's unimaginable what a date might actually feel like. Or going to the movies. Or chewing my food. Or sleeping. Or fitting into my old jeans.

Just so we're clear. I love my babies and my husband and my life. I will get through all this because of that love. But sometimes you lose yourself and it's hard to get it back because demands are many. I'm slowly feeling my way around and will manage to find a happy medium. Eventually I will be able to go for more than one or two days without feeling hopelessly helpless. I'll let you know when that happens.

What I call payback.

When I found out I was pregnant with Baby A I was taken by surprise. Everyone was. I had just had a baby 9 months prior and while that isn't uncommon it wasn't something I thought would happen. There were chuckles shared and "don't worry" said more times than I can count. We all agreed it would be a positive thing and that in 2 or 3 years. YEARS. My life would resume some sort of normalcy.

My big sister, acting the smart ass that she is, asked several times throughout my pregnancy if I had gotten my period yet. Even right down to the last day or two before A's birth she would ask. She found my predicament rather amusing I guess. I told her what goes around comes around and to be careful. There was that one time she made fun of me for having a cold sore on my nose and soon after she had a breakout so bad her whole mouth was covered.

What goes around comes around.

And that it does. So......I'm going to call her like I always do and once or twice a month for the next, oh say, 9 months I'm going to ask her if by any chance she has gotten her period yet.

What goes around comes around.

I held it together.

But it wasn't easy. I'm still dealing with sleep issues and will for a while I imagine. At least in the infant department. It's so tempting to just transition her over to formula and take a huge responsibility off my shoulders. Bf'ing isn't all roses and rainbows all day. But then I would miss out on the special moments and also giving her the best of the best. So I continue because I know it will get easier and because I know six months will have passed and my contribution will start to be less and less as time goes on and all will be right with the world. It has already been nearly two months. What's a few more?

The company did exactly as I thought. They entered through the front door, parked their asses on the couch and just sort of annoyed me for 36 hours or so. The mess was as expected but I buffered that with a big shopping spree for me and Abby on Saturday. I needed new clothes to get through the frumpy stage that I'm in right now. I've lost 30ish lbs of my 35ish I gained during pregnancy but you know how that goes. It's all a little squishier than it was before. I was very kind to myself and it felt good to do that since it happens so rarely.

I didn't kill anyone or even swear at them with a crazed look upon my face. It wasn't easy either. They both sat down at my table Friday night with an empty setting in front of them and I just sort of looked at them both like they had lost their fucking minds. They got the hint to get up and fix their own dinner plates rather quickly.

Bish, plz. I have better things to do.

Seriously.

The woman of their house complains continuously about the lack of appreciation at her house and all I can say to that is.....YOU CREATED YOUR OWN MONSTERS. Woman has three boys and a husband. She isn't doing the world any favors catering to their lazy asses either. I feel for their future slaves wives.

I know I'll survive this phase. I remember it well with Emily. You muddle through, drag your feet, swear at your husband and eat more sweets than little debbie. It's just so hard when you're knee deep. So I vent here because it's better than saying it out loud. Go figure, announcing to the world on the internets is easier than calling my sister and bitching for an hour. All I can say is that once in a while a good world wide declaration is just what a postpartum mum needs to make her feel better.

Even my dreams are crazy.

I am in a nightmarish sleep deprivation phase with both my little girls right now. E is cutting her last couple of teeth and has stayed true to form and woken up at 3 am for the past few days. A is hitting her gassy phase and I've been busy soothing and calming her for hours on end in the evenings and through the night. I have maybe slept 15 or so hours all week long.

Last night I had a dream that E somehow managed to hop on a 10 speed (I know, I'm fucking crazy) and was gliding down a hill fast as hell and about to crash into whatever was at the bottom. I ran so fast to get her but couldn't reach her no matter how hard I tried. Finally someone coming in the opposite direction grabbed her after I pleaded for his help and stopped her just in time. Meanwhile I'm hearing A's cries and I can't remember where I put her. I'm searching and searching and searching to no avail. There are women around me running through the house trying to help me find her. All of them were looking at me disapprovingly for losing my baby. When I do find her she is under a blanket in her crib and her nose has turned black. I remember feeling like she was just that close to death, hence the black nose.

When J arrives it's as if it were any other normal day and I'm retelling the peril that hit our house, yet again, today. His distance is astounding, blank and empty. There is nothing there. No empathy, no concern. Just a blank stare with little conversation. I'm standing next to him in the kitchen hoping that her nose turns pink by morning.

I can only take this dream one way. I feel completely out of control right now and disconnected from J. I know it is temporary and normal for women to feel helpless in the post baby stages, especially when you are going on little to no sleep. It just shook me a bit and was hard to come back from. Probably because I was in bed and midnight and up at 3, 4, and 5 am. After that I dozed on the couch off and on until the day demanded my attention.

J's father and teenage brother are coming for a visit to see the kids and supposedly help out. I anticipate a huge mess, me doing all the work and a major freak out by Sunday. If I don't hit the booze tonight it will be amazing. I'm am not in a good place and he has no business coming here without his wife to help me manage their bull shit.

Can you tell I'm not happy about this?

Anyway, before I get myself into a deeper hole I'll shut up. Thinking about it makes me cry and I can only deal with one minute at a time. Projecting only makes it worse. But I effing swear, if they don't pile that big load of wood on my front lawn I will not let them hold the baby. No fucking way.

Worth celebrating.

It's quite a milestone we've reached here at Hagarman House. I'm proud to say, whilst knocking on wood, that E is sleeping through the night. This past month has been glorious. She has slept so well and I do believe that we have finally gotten over the hurdle.

To say that it has been a difficult 19 months is an understatement when it comes to her sleeping habits. The kid just wouldn't sleep regularly. We would have a few good nights followed by 10 bad and sometimes very, very, very bad. We would trade off and take shifts and slowly roll out of bed to a dreaded two or three hour hiatus at 1 am. There wasn't much choice, it was get up or listen to three hours of crying. Not joking.

So we are happy and still very gingerly knocking on some wood because we're afraid to claim victory in case defeat rears its ugly face at us in protest. Now all we have to do is get Baby A to sleep and we're in business.

We'll see about that one.

Happy Father's Day

To my wonderful guy.

The one who was made to raise daughters.

The one who puts all his girls before himself.

He's just that sweet, he's just that tender, he's just that selfless.

He's just the greatest father I know.

I'm voting REPUBLICAN!!

YESIREE BOB!!

And then there were three....

Three little souls in desperate need of care, guidance, teaching, loving and nurturing. I only have two arms. It wasn't easy before, now I can't even imagine a week or a month from now because everything is moment to moment. A plan is pointless for now and I am finding myself dreaming of 3 years from now because I feel like the next few I'm committed.

The living moment to moment isn't necessarily a horrible thing. I do believe it's something I've needed to work on and still do since I am doing so much of the dreaming. Forget tomorrow, we're dealing with today. Tomorrow, after all, is always tomorrow and I need to focus and make the most of what I have right now. Regret is such a wasteful emotion. Why let it make an appearance in the first place. Coulda, shoulda, woulda sort of thing.

I tell myself all the time that their childhood is such a small part of their lives. Their babyhood even smaller. So enjoy the neediness, constant noise and the invading of every part of my existence. They belong to me. I made them. I need to enjoy them before they don't need me quite so much. Of course by then, it will be me needing them.

One thing's for sure.....

Baby loves to sleep.

And she has tiny little feet.

And have I mentioned that she sleeps a lot?

Because she does. She sleeps practically all day and all night with the exception of a few wakey wake times and a few feeding times and a diaper change here and there. It's apparent that the mere thought of crying tires the poor baby out. So she just sleeps like this instead.

One thing I have noticed is my love for my other baby. Because E is still very much a baby to me. I can't seem to get enough of her toothy grin and her devilish smirks as she peels the skin off all my onions and throws her toys in the garbage. Maybe it is because I feel better every day and not being pregnant is such a blessing. I can fit her on my lap again and snuggle her on the couch and watch Elmo 500 times if that is her heart's desire....I just love this baby so much, and even though Miss Abby is my darling little newborn, Miss Emily has stolen my heart and I don't want to miss out on a single moment of her toddler days. This is the cream of their babyhood, the part where they entertain you for hours and hours by simple things like giggling, spinning in circles and falling down, kicking a ball....all the things that they are capable of and are more than happy to prove. So.....I am relieved that Baby sleeps and sleeps and sleeps because I'm getting to spend some quality days with my other baby, who still needs her mama very much and her mama needs her, too!

So.....

I had this baby...

She's cuddly and cute, squishy and oh so sweet. She weighed 9 lbs at birth and was 20.5 inches long. Her name is Abigail Elizabeth and we love her very much.

Nesting

Anyone who's ever had a baby knows what I mean when I say "nesting". And as I start the last day of my pregnancy with my last child (God willing) I feel like I need to do it ALL. Lots of preparations have been made. All my little socks are folded and all the tiny pajamas are ready to be puked on.....again. But the house feels unready. It isn't even 9:00 am yet and I've gotten S ready for school, stripped bedding and started washing, cleaned breakfast dishes, started the dishwasher, switched E's dresser to a hand me down that S was using (she got a brand new one) and will shortly put baby clothes in E's old one. There are other things I've puttered with I'm sure and have many more chores ahead of me today.

Wanna know a secret? I have no business doing all this because I feel like crap. I have a headache and I'm nauseous. My belly is killing my back and I should pack my bag and get ready for tomorrow and leave the housework for the people who are going to be destroying all my efforts over the weekend anyway. I still have to babysit this afternoon which on a good day wears me out. So yeah, I should be sitting with my feet up watching Barney with E but my nesting urges won't let me. I can't help it that I can sit down. My mind just won't let me.

I will sit down tonight. I will definitely sit down tomorrow and the rest of the weekend I'll be moving pretty darn slow. At least I'll be able to nap knowing that my house is clean for a bit and maybe it will still be half way clean when I get home. J is staying home next week and I will just delegate, delegate, delegate. It's all I should do since I have one week to recover before I'm knee deep in newborn/toddler hell.

Can you say Calgon?

P.S. Concerning those last belly pics to ensure my giant self is in fact, giant, will be posted...maybe tonight, maybe with A's announcement. But I'll show you.....just prepare yourself for amazement. Who knew someone as short as me could hammer out such HUGE babies. The jury is still out on A's size but I can tell you she ain't little. That is for damn sure.

When Hell freezes over.

That's what I thought 1 year ago when my wee toddler was a wee baby about the idea of having more children. Two was it for me and I was not prepared or willing to go through another pregnancy. I had shut the mind ovaries down.

Now if only my real ovaries had listened to the mind ones and my husband didn't need so much hot sex. But not really because now that I'm here. Now that I'm about the give birth to my third child I wouldn't take back the outcome for a million. Or even mega millions. Once they're part of you they're part of you and I feel connected to her in a very real and tangible way. I love her more than anything sans my other two babies and I've yet to lay my baby blues upon her own and touch her silky soft skin. Not too mention who wants to give up all that hot sex?

It's Tuesday. DID YOU HEAR ME? I said IT'S TUESDAY. And she's coming ON FRIDAY!!!! I am overjoyed at the thought of meeting Baby A and I'm scared to death at adding another child to my already busy day. But she's worth it and E will adjust or run away and S will fall in love, even more so with this baby girl but not more than if that makes any sense. She's just that much older now. You know, that touch of time that brings them from child to girl. She's my girl now. My loving, nurturing, protective young lady who will be more help that I could have thought possible. Which is great because for a little while I'm going to need her. Like put her on some sort of pay roll kind of need her.

Well I know this is a rather abrupt cut off and I really would like to stay and chat with ya'll but I have some sleeping to do. E was up for three hours last night and guess who joined her? Yeah....I'm so ready for this baby because basically I haven't slept much in two years anyway. Might as well make it another two. Then I'm sleeping for a decade. And J will just have to deal.

FRIDAY!!!!

It's official.

Single digits, bitches. Single digits.

Now what do I do?

I know, I know....

Only two weeks and a couple of days to go until I will no longer be pregnant. Not just not pregnant but never pregnant again.
It seems so close but I gotta be honest, as easy as this pregnancy has seemed to me...it's still pregnant and I still look like a gigantic sumo wrestler and am peeing every 15 minutes. I am tired of my inflated state and I'm ready to meet my new baby. My butt is large and my cankles are getting tired. Someone please put me to bed and wake me on the 16th. K?

Let the countdown BEGIN BITCHES!!

In 24 days I will deliver via c-section baby girl #3. Make that 23.5 days.

That is less that four weeks away.

It has been confirmed that said baby will be a Taurus, which I am very happy about considering the little spit fire I was last blessed with. Phew, mucho reliefo.

We have also nearly completed all those dreaded renovations I was anticipating and will have a couple weeks left to get our room baby ready. I have a little shopping, a little washing, a little freaking out and a little eating left to do and I'll be a mother of THREE!!!

I'm pretty excited for this to be over. The weeks always seem to slowly creep by but the end result gets here so fast you hardly had time to get used to the idea of another kid. Especially after you've already had one or two. I've been so wrapped up in E's tiny little world that I've hardly had time to mentally prepare for Baby A's grand entrance. Of course I've fantasized and thought longingly about meeting her for the first time and feeling that surge of love burst through every part of me, but to truly grasp the reality of life that is about to change my own as I know it can only come with a severed umbilical cord.

I can hardly wait to meet you, little girl. I'm sure you'll take my breath away just like your two older sisters. I hope I have enough of me to go around but I'm not going to worry. You will feel more love than you could imagine and all will be right with the world when you get here.

See you in 24...excuse me, 23.5 days. WOOT!!!!

Frustrations of another kind

As you know, my mother is battling throat cancer. It's been a long, arduous battle with little to no real break or remission. What a scary scenario you're faced with as you age, the prospect of death and what it means to those you leave behind as well as yourself.

What they say is true. There really are no guarantees in life and everything comes with a price. The years she spent fighting the scale and the pills she took to help her along, the drinking, the all weekend long partying, the smoking. The smoking. When you look at her habits in her 20's, 30's and some of her 40's one has to wonder what took so long for her to fall ill. And yet someone else who lives exactly the same lifestyle would continue doing so well into their adult lives and never suffer as much as a persistent cough. Funny how it all works. The goose is picked and the chase to freedom begins.

She's enduring another round of radiation this month. This will be her 2nd time. A different kind of treatment, a more advanced and current method that helps save other "healthy" parts of her from being damaged without need. This is after she had a permanent hole cut in her throat, her voice box yanked and a two month stay in the hospital. And we're not even counting the surgeries prior to these. She's barely had time to fully recover and yet another attack has been planned. The prognosis looks good since this radiation is "precautionary". Whatever that means. One has to wonder, though, with all the times we've heard "this ought to cover it", if this will really be the last jaunt up victory mountain. Will it be a battle won or has she suffered all this for naught?

She doesn't sound the same, she doesn't look the same and her life will undoubtedly never be the same. Will my children be afraid of her? I'm scared at the thought of the rejections from them because we aren't close enough and they have never been around her enough to know her and build a bond except for S. I would hate to see the look on her face if that happens.

I hate what has happened to her. It isn't fair for us to lose our father at such a young age and now be faced with our mother's mortality as well. I feel like I've been waiting for the wrong mother to die. Just as I come to a place of peace with the end of my grandmother's life (I see her as my mother since she raised me from infancy) I am now living with the fear that my birth mother will be gone as well.

It sounds funny to say "waiting" for your mother to die and I certainly haven't been watching the years go by while the haunting thought plagued my mind. It is just that the mother that raised me was always old and feeble in my mind. She was always in pain with rheumatoid arthritis and just seemed closer to death most of my life than the mothers of my peers. I'm not looking for my birth mother to give up and fade away all that quickly either but one can't help but feel the last straw could be right around the corner. You just can't be too sure or too confident when it comes to cancer. It has fooled many people and ripped the carpet out from underneath the healthiest and youngest alike.

So we wait for her to recover and gain some sort of life back. I sit and listen to her husband's bleeding heart because of the hardships the cancer has caused and it is frustrating because I want so badly to take it away, to push rewind and give her a different deck of cards. Nothing I can say or do takes away the depression that envelopes you as you go through such a life changing event. I have no way of relating on a real level and I can't pull either one of them out of the trenches to safer ground.

I try to stay positive and hope for renewal in their lives. I pray for a flood to come and wash away the last 4 years of their trials and let the sun shine on their faces once again without worry. I pray that my babies know their grandma and aren't frightened by the way she sounds. I pray that we all get more time with our mother, but most of all I pray that she gets more time feeling happy. It has been far too long.

Because you can never be too careful...

I mean, it can be dangerous up here by the window.


The ledge is barely large enough for my own bum.


And the books!! Don't even get me started.

Harder than I thought.

This pregnancy thing with a one year old? I had forgotten how much work small children were. I am constantly drained and in pain from head to toe. I'm having my doubts about the next 7 weeks. I am not sure how I'm going to manage serious pregoness along with hell on robeez.

A big problem I'm having is the baby gate dilemma. I can no longer hurdle these anymore, not really. And I don't have the energy to chase away tiny fingers from the water cooler and doggie food. The food I have since moved but the water is a larger obstacle that I can't really remedy. She will either learn or I will die.

Another problem is the constant work surrounding a house with 4 people, a dog, a cat, and two children who come here 5 days a week for child care. The clutter is never ending. The laundry piles are growing faster than I can wash them. The floors are a constant battle. I know that is every mother's problem and I'm certainly not alone, but DAMN!! I'm tired of dealing with the dirt, the hair, the wood debris from the stove, the spilled juice, the play dough, the crackers, the half eaten baby carrots or what ever else, the dust, the tooth paste in the sink, the dirty tubs and messy rooms. I wanna sit down and bawl some days because I simply can not function in the way this family needs me to right now. My ambition, my energy just aren't at their normal mommy levels. Basic hygiene (on my own part) is neglected because that means I won't get a nap while E is asleep. But I need to take a shower at least twice a week, right?

My hormones are going CARAAAAZY!! I'm in that phase of the pregnancy where everything is a HUGE deal and I can't deal with anything not going according to plan. Chaos sends me over the edge and that is everywhere I look. I am in the thick of dealing with an unruly toddler/baby that won't talk and would rather be set on fire than listen to her mother. I'm convinced I'm incapable of teaching her to obey or sleep.

I know I'll make it through to the end. Is there any other choice? Am I the first person to have a difficult one year old while pregnant? Of course not. I will make it one day at a time, sometimes one nap and sometimes one minute. It just seems, at times, that I'm about to overflow with frustration and collapse in a pile of mush onto the living room carpet.

Hmmm...can't sleep.

I have a lot on my mind I guess. Seems like there is so much to do and a whole lot of hurry up and wait. It can be so difficult to sit back and live each moment as it comes at times. There isn't any one particular thing on my mind per say, just a jumble of the future.

The baby.

The move.

The job.

E growing up too fast.

S getting through her awkward years.

How the hell I'm going to pass that level of Super Mario 2 on S's game boy.

What to make for dinner tomorrow.

Where is this Easter Bunny guy and why isn't he hiding the eggs for me?

You know, all the important things one thinks about when they should be SLEEPING!!

It's anybody's guess what position the pillows need to be in for me to fall fast asleep comfortably. I've also had to pee twice in the past half hour and that doesn't help. Baby A is awake (which isn't normal for her) and we're playing tag. Or she may have a case of hiccups and I have imagined that she is playing with me. Not sure.

Oh...I saw the cutest darned puppy at the mall today. She was one of the Prince Charles Spaniels or whatever the hell you call them. Anyway, she was the cutest little thing and we made best friends quite swiftly through her glass window. I named her Princess. She's not happy they are keeping her from me. I thought you would want to know about that.

Thursday was a tough day. First thing in the morning we had a minor accident in our home with E and a travel mug of coffee. It wasn't mine. I don't travel. But it doesn't matter who's it was, what mattered was that she somehow managed to get her grubby little hands on it in the 4 seconds we weren't in the room with her and she spilled it on her shoulder. I have prayed and thanked God many times since then that it was a travel mug and it had a cover. Otherwise that could have turned out to be a lot worse than what it was. Turned out to be 4 tiny little burns on her left shoulder with blisters and everything. Talk about scary. Walking around a corner and seeing coffee everywhere and your child pulling at her clothes and screaming bloody murder. Needless to say I freaked. J stayed home from work that day and went to the pediatrician's office with me to be sure that she wasn't burned more severely than we had thought. She's fine. Her burns are healing so fast and I'm so happy that she is okay.

I have to add that in the heat of the moment I never once placed blame upon anyone. I am very proud of myself for that because even though I know that I know that I know it wasn't intentional or something that happened due to carelessness I wanted to yell. Loudly. And I didn't.

The rest of the week has gone rather smoothly. I'm moving a little slower and those damned baby gates are winning the battle but I'm hanging in there. This time around doesn't seem as tough but I still have the toughest two months ahead of me. Remind me again what happened? I look at my growing belly in disbelief sometimes and can't quite grasp three kids much less three girls. But whatever will be will be I guess. I'm in it for the long haul with that snoring jerk face that is sleeping in my bed so I guess three girls it is.

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.

To my First Born

You are beautiful and I Love You. I hope you know that you are always going to be special. My first baby. I never truly knew love until the moment I laid eyes upon your beautiful face.

I remember every detail of our first meeting vividly as if it were last night. You were born after an emergency c-section and I didn't get to see you until four hours after your birth. It felt like I had to wait years to hold you in my arms. Then finally a nurse wheeled you into our tiny shared room and I held you for the first time.

You cried.

"She has the cutest little cry I've ever heard." I said.

"Tell me that in a few months." said the nurse.

We laughed.

But I never got tired of listening to you cry. In fact I thought it was so cute sometimes I would scare you on purpose (not real bad...just a little rah) just to hear you cry. Then I would hug you and tell you everything was okay because mama was right here.

I never said I was a healthy 24 year old mother. But I was trying my best. :-)

Your Father and I went through this learning process together as young newly weds. We had been married only two years when you were born and half of that he spent on tour in Korea with the Army. We barely knew each other.

You bonded us forever with our shared love for the most beautiful child we had ever laid eyes on. You rocked our world to the very core and life has been so full and blessed ever since you came to us on your bright, shining star.

So maybe I carved your name in your special pumpkin we grew upside down. No matter, you are the greatest gift ever given and no matter how many babies come our way you are always going to be MY first. No one will ever be able to take your place in my heart.

If I could make just a few requests....

I don't want to seem selfish or ungrateful for my beautiful babe screaming bloody murder in the next room, but would it be horrible if I were to wish for one that was quieter this time 'round. One that didn't wail from morning to...well..morning.

Could this new baby have an easier time with teething perhaps?

And maybe this one won't walk at 10 months. Let's shoot for say, 13 months. Just old enough but not so old that I would worry.

I would also like to put in for a mild, even tempered baby. One that cried or talked even for food, diaper or sleep would be great.

Also one that eats whatever I put in front of him or her without much fuss. Would it be too brazen to ask for one that slept through the night at around 3 months, breastfeeding and all? Lets shoot for a 3 hour feeding schedule by day with little to no puke in the face afterward and 5 solid sleeping hours at night, if you could manage 10 straight hours I wouldn't argue.

Since I'm asking, one that was potty trained, never sick and talking in complete, polite sentences at birth would be fantastic. If they had a job that would be okay, too. Rent money would help cover the cost of booze that I will need to consume once this child is off the boob. A trust funder would be ideal if you could.

Reaching, reaching, reaching for the stars here, I know. But after the last two years, I'm entitled to a few requests. Any or all that can be filled would be much appreciated.

P.S. Please make my husband lactate this time.

Eventually

I will stop making babies.

We are pregnant.

Again.

The Littlest Thief

My baby is trying to steal someone else's lovey. And if you're childless and unsure of what a lovey is then think of your most prized possession and imagine someone stealing it from you every time they saw you with it. That's what E is doing the the girl toddler I care for.

She has her beloved "Ellie", which is a fluffy elephant she was given on her 1st birthday. Since receiving this special stuffed animal she has carried it around without fail and refuses to sleep without it. It's her special thing that brings comfort and joy to her life beyond compare. Never has she loved another toy as much as her elephant.

And my daughter will not stop taking it from her and hugging it with all her might. Every time the girl toddler arrives her little face lights up and shrieks of happiness and delight fill the house. One would think, aww, she likes to see my favorite girl toddler come to visit.

Nope.

She loves her lovey. And that's it.

The minute she walks through the door E immediately walks over with her hands waving in elation and snags that little elephant right from the hands of the unsuspecting girl toddler. Lucky for me, the girl toddler reluctantly hands over her beloved without much fuss.

Not that she has to, either. This is her special toy and I don't make the kids share everything. They are allowed one or two things that are all their own that they can tuck safely away from the sticky, predatorial hands of the other monkeys. Everyone should have a little piece of themselves that is all their own.

I am very proud of her for sharing her lovey. What a big milestone for her to share something so precious to her. For me, it would be like sharing a piece of cheese cake with blueberry topping and the last person who tried lost a finger. I could take lessons from this young person.

My big challenge now is to keep my youngest from becoming a clepto.

Reality

An excerpt from True Mom Confessions. Not as much a confession as it is a plea...and a valid one at that.

"my sister died last saturday in a horrible car accident. she was driving, wearing her seatbelt, and someone crossed the yellow line and hit her head on. that someone was texting while driving.
my sister was 28 years old. she was my best friend. i don't know if i can go on without her. i had just talked to the day before and i didn't say "i love you" before i hung up the phone.

i hate myself.

please don't ever text and drive. my sister would still be alive if that other person hadn't. and my 5 year old nephew would still have his mommy. now he has no one. his dad died in iraq."


The number of accidents caused by driver distraction is greater than even driver intoxication.

Cheat

I caved.


Animal crackers for snack today.



I know, I know.

I'm an idiot.

S thought it was funny.

My grocery cart

was packed full of fruits, veggies, a few new spices and various types of beans.

I'm so excited for this new change. Like I said, I have no idea how I plan to convert my family over to a veggie table but I'm going to give it a try. I'm not going to kill myself if I have chicken parm and I'm not going to expect those around us to comply with our eating habits when cooking a meal to share with us.

And we're having turkey on Thanksgiving. Because traditions are traditions and I guess you could call me a hypocrite but I feel like any change for the better beats staying the same.

Funny, I asked the hubster last night what he thought we should do and we both agreed one turkey isn't going to deplete the ozone, not even a day later S was all...."are we still having turkey on Thanksgiving?" Hahaha.

I'm not saying to the world that I am all high and mighty about making this large sacrifice for animals or for the environment and that we will be bionic healthy homosapeans and the rest of you will rot the flesh off your bones by poisoning your body with the blood of other animals; that's just not the way we roll here . And I will occassionally indulge. We all will. I don't think I could swear off taco's forever and I'm 100% positive that S won't.

But every little thing you do helps.

Every time you slow your car by 5 mph you save gas. Everytime you recyle anything you're helping. Anytime you plant a tree. Anytime you take a brisk walk. Anytime you choose to take just one small step in saving yourself, the environment, or even an animal's life you're improving the world.

Anyway, I'm opening the floor for any ideas to helps us along our journey or even a yummy vegetarian recipe you serve your own family. If I try anything super fantastic that you all just have to try, I will post it.

Vegetarianism, it's not just a good idea.

It's about living a lifestyle that promotes not only healthier living but also protects our planet as well as the lives of innocent animals.

Unthinkingly, I clicked on a video from a random person's myspace account. It was her mini platform for why she didn't eat red meat. I have to admit that I was saddened by the contents of the short documentary-like film. And since that day my husband and I have been discussing the big conversion.

I guess I've never really thought of the process for the animals. The birth, immediate separation from their mothers, and crowded living conditions is heart wrenching without even considering their death or the painful procedures they endure. Chickens have their beaks cut off without painkillers, pigs have tails cut and teeth pulled, cows suffer branding, castration and dehorning. The list goes on and on. The cruelty is unbelievable and regardless of organic or free range conditions, atrocities are still occurring every single day by the meat industry.

Now assuming I could ignore the treatment of animals, there are still other things to consider like health problems arising due to the unhealthy consumption of meat. Research has shown that vegetarians are at lower risk for obesity, heart disease and various forms of cancer.

Hmm...you don't say. Personally, I'm not so concerned about the obesity part or the heart disease, but I do notice the rising occurrence of cancer in our country and can't help but think there's a possible connection. Not that the other two aren't serious concerns we should all consider, but I believe genetics and lifestyle plays an important role in the first two circumstances. That's not to say that cancer, genetics and lifestyle don't interact together in some way, but even someone who manages to bypass obesity or coronary heart disease simply by practicing adequate portion control and consuming less fatty meat could still be at a high risk for cancer.

Why? Because of the antibiotics and chemicals pumped into animals we eat in order to make them grow bigger and faster than ever before. This ensures a quicker and larger profit in the pockets of the assholes running the industry. We all know when it comes to money, morals don't always play an important role in the minds of those lining their pockets.

For me, another valid point is the damage, caused by raising animals for consumption, to our environment. I was shocked to learn that nearly half of the water consumption here in the U.S. is used to raise animals for food. Studies show that a vegetarian diet requires roughly 300 gallons of water per day compared to that of a meat-based diet, which is 4,000 gallons. Staggering numbers really, especially since we are at high risk of a water shortage at some point in our lives, if not our children's. There is also the risk of polluting our rivers and lakes due to the run off from factory farms. Farmed animals will produce 130 times the excrement as the entire human population of the United States.

It is also said that high levels of airborne methane due to the waste produced by animals is one of the culprits for global warming. The Environmental Protection Agency has warned that methane is 20 times more effective at trapping heat in the atmosphere than even carbon dioxide.

I will be honest, I have no idea how I'm going to implement this lifestyle into our home. I have been a meat-eater for 31 years and have never had the desire to change until now. And not because I am turned off by the taste of meat since reading and watching video on this subject. I love me a big ol' bucket of chicken and nothing makes me happier than grilling a juicy steak on a summer's day, but I'm fairly certain Old McDonald didn't plan on the above. In fact, I think he'd be fairly disappointed that his pigs, chickens and cows were treated with such disregard. We are taught to treat animals with respect and love them....all except the one's we like to eat.

How's that for hypocrisy??? I just don't think that after learning about it I can honestly feel good about my food choices if there's a big old slab of ham sitting on my plate.

Eight Weeks.

I remember like it was yesterday, walking through the gate and out onto the runway to board my plane. One of the really small planes that had a lot of turbulence. I sat towards the back and had tears streaming down my face as I watched my home fade into the clouds like an old memory.

I walked into battalion in the middle of the night. There were people from all over the country sitting around me Indian style on old worn out carpet. We were listening to more experienced soldiers scare the living shit out of us. I don't remember much of what was said except that there was an amnesty box in the back of the room and if we had contraband, now was the time to get rid of it or suffer the consequences. What those were I didn't know but I didn't have anything to worry about; the person I was planning on turning into didn't break rules or push the envelope.

Finally the talking ended and we filed into fluorescent rooms with identical double door lockers and rows of metal bunk beds with ancient mattresses that were laden with thin white sheets and green woolen blankets that smelled a little like moth balls. I had arrived at basic training and this was my new reality, the new life I had chosen for myself. A new beginning.

Nothing was familiar. There weren't any comforts of home to be had and any attempt at becoming too cozy was squashed by a DS(drill sergeant)just waiting to drop you on your face.

It wasn't 8 weeks. Basic training was 8 weeks but that did not begin the moment you stepped foot on Uncle Sam's property. I had to be in processed before those 8 weeks started and it killed me. I needed a goal, something tangible to hold onto to comfort me while my footing was no where to be found. Everything was taken from me and stuffed into a bag and vaulted. They literally strip you down to nothing and turn you into a number, and a last name. I was no longer me. I was nothing more than a Private, if I was lucky I was Private Doughty.

The scariest thing to me at the time, scarier than even the possibility of going to war, was the shots. I've got to be kidding, right? I'm not. My heart raced a million miles an hour thinking about it. I asked everyone I dared speak to what it was like. They didn't use needles there, they used guns. Guns that shot liquid into your arm like tiny shards of glass. It was quick and felt like a fire shooting through my arm. I passed out after the first one. Not right away, though. I was standing in line for the second and passed out right in front of a room full of people. I held onto the person ahead of me and started laughing like I was just given a shot of morphine and fell straight to the ground. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one.

A week passed before I climbed aboard the bus that would take us to our new home for the remainder of my stay at Fort Jackson. The place where I would finally begin the 8 week countdown.

Basic from that point on was just that. You're there to learn the basic skills and mentality that you need to survive as best you can if sent to war.

"What makes the green grass grow?"

"Blood, blood makes the green grass grow Drill Sergeant!!!!"

We shouted that response as we did flutter kicks at 3 am. Just for fun.

They teach you about propriety. How to salute, how to stand when in the company of other soldiers with higher rank than you. It is all very political and can be quite degrading. But there was a lot of honor as well. A sense of respect was commanded from higher ranking, at least there anyway.

Some of the soldiers were picked on for being slow or not being able to shoot a gun properly. I was never one of those but I was one of the soldiers who would quietly take pity on the guy in front of everyone doing push up after push up while mail was being passed out. I hated seeing the underdog get singled out.

The food was horrible but we ate it and fast. There was never enough time for chow and they would hold food over our heads as if it were a reward. The DS's would scan the chow hall looking for someone with their hair all jacked up or perhaps someone brave enough to take dessert with their meal just hoping to humiliate them. I never loved cake so much in my life. I could have cared less if I ate sweets before, but the minute someone told me I couldn't have it I craved it like an addict craves his fix. What I would've done for a piece of shitty chocolate cake.

Learning about my M16 was great and I was good with my rifle. Even with a bum eye. I had to use my right eye to find the target then take aim because my left is basically useless. It didn't matter though, I was quick. My DS stood behind and watched one day as the rain poured down upon me. I was flat on my belly, my rifle propped and ready, nailing target after target.

"Now that's the way it's done." he said.

I'd never felt so proud in my life. My self confidence skyrocketed that day; I'll never forget that feeling.

They tell you that DS's are there to break you down to nothing and then build you back up. Their job was half finished with me because I had already been broken. But when I left basic I had a sense of pride within myself that felt better than any high I had ever experienced. I truly felt I was capable of anything.

I'll never forget those 8 weeks. As they came to a close I wished that it would never end. I didn't want this feeling to pass and I certainly didn't want to leave my new found family. But eventually we all left. And gradually, over time, so did the confidence.

A piece of that pride still resides in me, but once your track is laid, you are who you are and it's going to take a lot more than 8 weeks to change that. It sure was great, though, for that small amount of time, to feel invincible.

I don't mean to brag

but my baby is WALKING!! She took her first steps a couple weeks ago at 8 months...but is perfecting at 9 months. This week she has progressed from 2-3 steps to the lenght of the living room.

Next month I expect she'll be repelling down the side of her crib.

111

Because I'm not particularly good at regurgitating what is happening in my crazy world lately, I thought I would post my 100 things. Only I'm doing 111 because that's the way I roll.

111. I say wicked.
110. Usually followed by good.
109. I married a really handsome geek.
108. I like the dark edges of the saltine the best.
107. I like burned popcorn, too.
106. Sometimes I don't take a shower for 2 days.
105. I was in the Army.
104. I gained 25 lbs in basic training.
103. I used to go to church 3 times a week.
102. My feet are gigantic.
101. I'm only 5'2".
100. I don't know if I have 99 more things.
99. I have two daughters, both born by c-section.
98. I felt like a huge failure the first time.
97. The second time I felt lucky.
96. I am not always the best mother in the world.
95. I hate waking up in the morning.
94. I love Johnny Cash.
93. I was born on Johnny Cash's birthday.
92. I do not always walk the line.
91. I'm scared of ruining everything.
90. My mom survived cancer.
89. I have lived longer than my father did.
88. I have a problem believing people like me.
87. I'm paranoid.
86. I cut myself nearly 100 times when I was a teenager.
85. I never did that again.
84. I drank too much when I was in the Army.
83. I regret the time and money I wasted on that.
82. My nickname is Ropie! WTF!
81. At least I married a handsome geek.
80. Okay, that doesn't count again. I'm grasping now, aren't I?
79. I am still friends with some of the people I met on my first day of school.
78. I learned Russian. Zdrasvootye
77. I wish I could remember it better.
76. I like sex and candy.
75. I know all the words to the theme from The Dukes of Hazzard.
74. I have skinny dipped.
73. I've moved 10 times in 10 years.
72. I'm a handful sometimes.
71. I used to be a handful all the time.
70. I am not brave enough to jump out of airplanes.
69. I inhaled.
68. If what they taught me in church is true I'm going to the fiery pits of hell and burning for eternity.
67. I am smarter than our president.
66. I support the troops coming home.
65. I believe in love at first sight.
64. I would rather cuddle most days.
63. My grandmother's name was Bea Good.
62. I still think that is funnier than hell.
61. I take care of other people's children by day.
60. I am a porn queen by night.
59. I mean drama queen.
58. I was a teenage pregnancy.
57. So were my 3 brothers and sisters.
56. I was petrified of demons as a child.
55. I slept with my mother until I was 14.
54. I was a band geek.
53. I don't work as hard as I could.
52. Sometimes I am sad for no reason.
51. I say shit, fuck and damn.
50. I'm over half done this ridiculous task.
49. I started this last night.
48. I like driving fast.
47. I love Harry Potter.
46. I've read all 7 books in the series.
45. I hate sushi.
44. I love to cook.
43. I look forward to traveling when my kids are bigger and money isn't as much an issue.
42. I sing in the car and assume no one is out there laughing their butts off at me.
41. I have a reoccurring dream about buying a big old house that is full of secret rooms and keeps growing and growing.
40. I love when I have that dream.
39. I wear white after labor day.
38. Sometimes I catch my oldest daughter praying. I've never taught her about prayer.
37. I talk waaaaaaaaay too much and sometimes interrupt people unintentionally because I can't stop talking.
36. I was Princess Esmarelda in the 4th grade play and slipped on the remains of a pie I tossed in the face of one of my "court" during a performance. I was mortified.
35. I got boobs first, or so I'm told.
34. In my youth I tried to grow up too fast and now in my 30's I'm trying to stop time.
33. I would get a boob job.
32. I was my maid of honor's maid of honor.
31. Thinking of this many things is tough.
30. I raised money for the French Club my freshman year and gave the money to my best friend for her trip to France.
29. I would have loved to go but there was no way in corn dog hell that I could have.
28. I didn't even ask.
27. I smoked cigs and made out with boys in the woods at bible camp.
26. I picked potatoes and worked on a harvester.
25. Picking potatoes was the hardest work I've done for the smallest amount of money sans mothering my babies and taking care of my husband.
24. I love the smell of a crisp fall breeze.
23. I could talk to my husband for hours and hours and hours.
22. I am approaching 10 years of wedded blisssssters.
21. I am leaving that because I am really corny and find it funny.
20. I love mocha chip ice cream.
19. I wish I could smell gas without killing brain cells.
18. When I was pregnant I had to stay away from gas because I wanted to drink it.
17. I love rock n' roll.
16. I was cross eyed as a small child and had strubismus surgery when I was 3.
15. I think the trailer park boys are funnier than hell.
14. Nethermind about 14.
13. When I go home I immediately start talking like a county hick.
12. Lobster is delicious. But only if it comes from MAINE!!!!!
11. I love building fires.
10. I worked at Sun Glass Hut!!!
9. I love to sing.
8. I am my own worst critic.
7. I wish that I was smarter, prettier and richer.
6. I will be really happy when self acceptance truly takes over my life.
5. I think it comes in your 40's if you work hard.
4. I admire the wisdom of old people.
3. Bea Good would have been 100 years old on her last birthday.
2. I want to RV across America.
1. I am in awe of the universe and all it's complexities...more than my tiny mind could ever even grasp I imagine.

So there's 111 things. I hope it was entertaining.