Dear husbandpants,

You've been gone for a week  2 weeks now.  And even though I can't talk to you or send you pics, I figured I'd post some pics here for you to see when you get your feets on dirts again. BTW, it 'tis a cruel joke to be alone with a 3 year old and a nearly 2 month old while your husband is deployed.  Just says.  But I have found my energy cape and "CAN DO" attitude and I'm livin' the good stuff. Case of the point.



oh the smiles!  these first smiles are getting more social by the day.  he loves when I do the tickles and raspberries on his belly or head or toes.  Ari also enjoys Kathy Griffin.  Kids got great taste.  Gets it from me, i 'spose...



As you know, I only have one set of hands.  So I came up with a genius way to move the laundry AND the baby down 2 flights of stairs. Ari thinks his mama is so creative!  He might be mad because he's laying on top of the bag that houses his dirty cloth diapers. 



Milo plays with his submarine during bathtime.  He says, "Daddy is on a submarine...I want to go on a submarine TOO!"  And then he says, "Daddy's job sucks ASS."
Kidding...(maybe)

   

He's wearing his new jacket that I spent way too much on.  But the hat was only $1.99.  Came with gloves too.  But let's not talk about the money I'm spending since you've been gone.  Isn't he presh?  BTW, you don't have access to our account do you?





Did I mention the smiles?  Melts. your. heart.




I went to a clothing and toy swap with my mom's group.  I was able to snatch scores of new clothes for both the boys.  I also got this fancy peice for Ari, but in the meantime, Milo is loving it.  As you can see he finds alternate uses for the bowl part.  So wicked smaht. Must take after you. ;)



Mom and I took the kids to Halloween in the Woods.  The line to the parking lot was ridic.  The line to get into the park was ridic.  And very soon Milo became redic.

Since patience is not something we were experimenting with this morning, we opted out.  Two hours in lines just to leave.  And go to McD's.  Super Awesome Saturday.  Besides, being with so many Halloween over acheiver moms was making my inner Martha Stewart anxious and my inner rebellious, anti-social teenager scoff and over eye roll. Know what I mean?  SURPRISE!  I'm not spending 2 years designing and making a costume for my toddler who MAY or probably MAY NOT wear the damn thing.  He didn't even wear the Spider man costume I so lovinly paid $17 dollars for at Target.



In fact, he was pretty pissed off about the whole thing....



Come to think of it......maybe he was mad because I *didn't* put any thought into his costume.  Sorry, Carebear, but this mama don't sew....




This might be a daily scene.  Anyone want to come over and hold my baby while I fold some laundry and put on some pants?



We're doing good...but we sure do miss you...

 

 .......As you can see I haven't completely lost my mind. Just my pants.

And this concludes week one two of your absence. 

love you,

L~

A dash of relaxation mixed with equal parts work and volunteering

Life under the big top of baby/toddler parallel raising phenomenon.  It's about balance.  It's about not enough sleep.  It's about too much laundry and not enough wine in the fridge.  And it's about discovering new Apps on the phone to occupy your mind when all you seem to do is breastfeed and change yet ANOTHER DIAPER.

It's about super human powers really...




75 percent (estimated, because TIME?  Hell if I know...) of the time we're doing some version of this.

 


And I just keep on taking pictures.  Lots and Lots of pictures...
Because someday (soon) I'll be looking back on these early days and musing about how tiny he was and how far we've come...and Oh, those were the days...

 



the days when he would sleep anywhere...

 


anytime...

 


and Milo...

 



oh, Milo, my Milo...
(finding alternate uses with the Moby wrap when not in use)

 



He's just a carefree 3 year old.
Oh, those were the days...



"Hi!  I gave birth 19 days ago!"

My husband would argue that we're doing more of this than the other. And when I say "this" I mean cleaning/painting/rearranging furniture.
You know, all the shit the parenting police would be "tsk tsking" over.
Why aren't you  SLEEPING WHEN THE BABY SLEEPS!

 


Husb takes a break from painting our bedroom to change the young darling...on a side note, I had completely forgotten how many diapers a newborn goes through...SHEESH!

p.s. We haven't started the cloth diapering yet...but it's coming!  YesYesYes!

 


We headed out one fine Saturday morning to pick some potatoes with the first annual community havest to end hunger.



Well...the husb and I picked...Milo just wanted to hang out...

 


and hang out some more...

 


It was really rather ridiculous...

 


2 kids.
TWO!
Still a little weird. Awesome, but weird.
It'll be awhile before I get my groove with all of this...

  

38 weeks

Knowing every public restroom in a 50 mile radius from my home has been my privilege

Stats of the week:

Still to go:
14 days  ANY FLIPPIN' DAY NOW PLEASE

Total weight gain:
22.5 lbs

Blood pressure:
100/50

Measuring at:
39 weeks

As of yesterday's appointment I'm holding strong at 3cm and 75% effaced.  Baby is at -2 station.

My doc thinks she'll see me next week at the 39 week appointment but in the same breath says, "But things can change quickly!  Call me if you have 5 strong contractions within one hour or your water breaks."

Dear Water,
You've broken before on your own.  I know you can do this again.  Now be a good bag of water and POP GODDAMIT!  Preferably in the privacy of my home and when I'm standing on hard wood floor.
Very Respectively,
MME

Dear Contractions,
Although I've been feeling you on/off for a weeks now, you're really not giving me all you got.  I know you can do better.  Remember 3 years ago when you had me doubled over the nurse's station in Labor and Delivery and I was punching my husband in the chest/stomach/arms and yelling "This Fucking SUCKS!" and the triage nurse thought I was saying "NO Fucking SEX!" ? Now *those* we're some bad-ass contractions.  Even though I had to numb you down with a big fat needle, you did a great job getting everything ready for the birth of my darling Milo. 

Now let's revisit the good 'ol days, shall we?  And then we can put all this pregnancy business behind us.
V/R,
MME

The baby boy who is enjoying my uterus way too much and ignoring all eviction notices I have posted
is still plenty active.  Fierce kicks are easily and frequently felt in the ribs.  He hiccups daily and it usually begins just as I'm lying down for the night.

It used to be cute, but things have changed.

Labor dust fairies...please sprinkle your magic upon me...

Don't let the "I'm not amused" look fool you...I've got *plenty*of humor left in me.  Sort of.

My little drag queen
"Hey, mama!  Let's turn on some Madonna and VOGUE!"

As I was in the bathroom for the 3,405th time, Milo spontaneously loops one of my bras around himself and says, "Look at me, mama, look at ME!"

Thank you, Milo, for reminding me to not take myself so seriously.  You da bests!

Day 238 (34 weeks)



Day 237:  Are we there yet?

 If this baybee is like Milo, he'll be here in 2 weeks.
If this baybee wants to be labeled "full term," he'll be here in 3 weeks.
If this baybee wants to be in line with my due date, he'll be here in 6 weeks.

If this baybee wants to be an inconsiderate, stubborn punk, he'll be here in 8 weeks.

At my  453 34 week appointment, the doc confirms with me my due date.  I, of course, try to negotiate/compromise/lie/black mail her into changing the date.

Because, you know, that works...

I tell the doc, "I don't think I'm going all the way to 40 weeks.  My hips are incredibly achy, I'm waddling like a drunken duck on the shores of Key West.  The pressure is so HEAVY that my vagina is crumbling under the weight of this child's head, and yesterday I discovered colustrum already leaking from my boobs!!"

She just laughed and said "Girl you are CRAZY!  You know, some women leak colustrum at 10 WEEKS!"

Inotherwords,  she's totally not on board with my birthplan.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to have this baby a moment sooner than full term, or a moment sooner than when he is ready to vacate,  I just...you know... as they say, am in the home stretch...

Statistics for the number crunchers:

Still to go:
6 weeks (dot, dot, dot)

Which is:
42 days

Time passed since the first day of my last menstrual period aka the only definitive number in this countdown game:
34 weeks (238 days)


34 week Doc Appointment revelations:

Blood pressure:
102/58

total weight gain:
19.5 lbs

fundal height:
measuring at 35 weeks



Oy vey



32 weeks (8 months!)



circle in the sand
'round and 'round



The Milo-Cam



Objects in mirror are larger than they appear



8 months pregnant, mid-July, at a kids amusement park.
It's pretty much a magical thing...

time left:
8 weeks (possibly-ish)

weight gained:
15.5 lbs (feels like 30)

measuring:
34 weeks  (still 2 weeks ahead)



I can ridz the painted ponies! Wee!
The only ride that can handle alla this baby!



nesting and a clutch blowout. true story.

It's interesting to me how nesting energy levels can swell and then recoil. I have days where I look at all the toys on the floor and just hope that I don't trip on anything.

Other days, I see the toys on the floor and the skid marks from the tricycle and the nicks on the wall and dust and the dirt and the brown bananas and the shitty-ass caulk work around the kitchen sink. 

And the cluttered bookcase.  And the plant that isn't getting enough light.  And the...

You get it right?

The husb, after 6 years of marriage, has finally taken a step back.  Whether the Mrs. is prego or not, he no longer interferes or comments about my need to clean, rearrange, or organize.  He just lets me roar and burn 'till the fire dims and the everything is "just so."

So, since I already have a natural proclivity to "nesting," imagine how I get when it's "3rd trimester nesting." 

Oh, it's a little bit of the crazy pants time.

And NOTHING is good enough.  Or done enough.

For example, Saturday morning.  It should be a time of pancakes, coffee (tea for me!) and pajamas until noon.  But somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, I take a look around the kitchen and feel a great need, a pure biological urge if you will, to change out -not only all the face plates to the electrical outlets- but the actual electric sockets as well. 

The only thing I'm willing to "make do" with at this time, is just doing the electrical outlets on the main floor.  All 18 of them.  We'll deal with the basement and upstairs later.

(crazy pants)

And when I say "we" I mean the husb.

I also feel it's a good time to get new brakes for the car. 

(crazy pants but also necessary)

So we drop off the car at the car repair shop and then go to the nearest hardware store.

After 3 trips to the hardware store, we finally get all the parts and accessories to ROCK OUT some very necessary "we gotta do it today" socket replacement.  Fuck yeah.

By this time the car is done (yay for new brakes!).  We drive to pick up the car and as we're pulling out, the other car (the one where the tree fell on top of it) suddenly decides it doesn't want to go into first gear.

Guess what car, after 170,000 miles, needs a new clutch?  Of course, Milo and I were all the way home before I checked my phone (I had turned off the blue tooth and the ringer was on low) to hear the exasperated voice messages of my husband telling me to turn around and come get him because he had been stranded by the clutch blowing out.  What's funny is that Milo, during the whole car ride, kept asking, "Where's daddy?  Where daddy go?"  I lied and kept saying, "Daddy is right behind us.  I see him. He's right there."  Of course, I just assumed he was several cars back.  When I had pulled into our driveway and still no daddy, I had assumed he swung by the liquor store for a well-deserved 80 proof.

I know...it's getting hard for me to keep up with all this myself...

The next day?  Sunday?


I'm nesting my ass in some sand.  Rock on with my brand new maternity bathing suit! 



No electrical outlets in sight!  I think I'm safe here (and my poor husband) from any nesting instincts!

 And what am I doing on Monday?  Why restaining the back deck, of course...

31 weeks and then the bathroom mirror shattered at 5am

So I took this picture 7 hours before the mirror crashed out:

the psychotic asshole I'm in a bad mood

I'd love to blame the hormones but seriously, it's not me, IT'S EVERYONE ELSE!

I think, for fun and to keep myself from increasing my stabby atittude, I'm going to start lying.  If I have to answer one more freakin' question about the elephant in the room (MOI) I'm going to start throwing cat feces in faces.

I've got plenty to spare YA'LL!

I'm totally over the whole "if you're pregnant than your body and your life are up for detailed conversations with strangers."

And then, at 5am, this happened:



My 5am alarm clock
HOLY.  SHIT.  That was LOUD!

So, to recap, our tree fell down and now the mirror.  Is someone trying to tell me something?!

And can I just say one thing...for some reason WAY WAY beyond me, my son tends to wake up at about 6am...but only on the weekends. 

This particular morning I HAD to be up early (6:30ish) so I was anticipating Milo being my alarm clock to make sure I was up and about.

And then the mirror happened.  At 5am.  It was some kind of spontaneous, spur-of-the-random-thing that just. happened. 

Yes, the bathroom mirror just FELL OFF THE FUCKING WALL.

Thankfully, the husb was still home to help to clean up the mess.  He was, in fact, 2 floors down shaving when he heard the huge crash and my scream-like-a-girl scream.

And Milo did not wake up.

And then the vacuuming.

And Milo is still sleeping soundly.  In fact, I had to wake him up at 7am to make sure we were getting out the door on time.

Over the weekend I remember thinking, "What does it take to get this kid to sleep IN?!"

Apparently a shattering mirror and a good old fashioned vacuum cleaning does the trick...

go figure...



and goodbye mirror



so does this means I can now tear down that tacky-ass wallpaper, get a cool new mirror from Home Goods AND repaint?!

Woo-HOO! Let the nesting begin NEVER END!



Me: 31 weeks and wondering what next week will bring...



Stats:

Still to go before I'm a rational human being again:
8 weeks 6 days

Which is:
62 days

Time passed since I've lost all contact with reason:
31 weeks and 1 day

Milo's brother is as big as a:
head of lettuce (estimated at 18 in, 3.2 lbs)

Song in my head:
ring around the rosey, pocket full of posey, ashes, ashes, WE ALL FALL DOWN!

Charlie and a pair of rose colored glasses

The calf kink is something that prevailed in the 3rd trimester of my last prego-nancy.  It would typically occur at dawn's early light when there was nothing but peace and tranquility streaming through our water and vinegar'd bedroom windows.

Now, at 30 weeks and 1 day, Charlie has decided to revisit the likes of me.

I've been feeling the sore calves, sore thighs, sore vagina (tmi, sorry) for a few weeks now (thank you Relaxin hormone!) but the Charlie Horsey brings it to a whole new acute level of crazypain.

My life partner, a light sleeper to a fault, thinks this girl is in labor as I bolt up in pain, moaning and groaning while I massage and flex my poor calf for several minutes.

The night before I says to my life partner, "I think I'm officially done with being pregnant."

Life Partner replies, "Well, you were feeling that way alot sooner last time.  You're hips don't
hurt do they?"

"No."

The feeling of my hips spreading/expanding started very shortly before my water broke w/ Milo.  My concern of an early labor is ever-present, especially with the L.P.'s work schedule.  Chances of my husband being at the birth are a good 50/50.  Maybe 10/90.  Hell if I know...but I'm an eternal optimist and, as I've aged and experienced, I've grown to trust in the universe that things will happen, as they happen , as they should be, as they were meant to.

So I haven't spent much energy on worrying about a birth plan or the "what to do with Milo plan." I even wrote a poem about it:

What will be will be.
That is the philosophy for me.
I think I'll go hug a tree.

For all I know Milo could be holding my left leg telling me to, "push MAMA, PUSH!"

Part of EQ (emotional intelligence) is knowing what you can control and knowing what you can't. 

As I emerge deeper into the 3rd trimester, closer to the day where I meet my new little boy, feeling the typical aches and pains and fatigue and the oh-em-gee there is going to be a baby up in this house again, I'm not worrying.

Even when a bolt of lightening splits a tree in our front yard and it'll cost lotso money to cut the tree down.
Even when my car needs new brakes and a tire rotation.  And a new windsheild.
I'm not worrying.
Even when my husband will be on "sea duty" for the next 2 years.
I'm not worrying.
Even when my mom plans on moving out west in less than a year and all that she has helped us with will not be so readily available.

I AIN'T WORRYING!

Because I prefer the fairy and gnome happy happy hippy life...



I gotta love that man...





Just a minute of your time

Yes I've been known to delude myself
So let me put those rose
Colored glasses to the test

Now is this real enough for you
'cause blondes here don't jump out of cakes
If that never impressed you much

Come board this lunatic express

~tori amos
"almost rosey"



30 weeks and signs that suggests the existence of fact, condition, or quality

Signs you are a parent of a toddler:

1. You have no problem deciphering sentences like, "Ova da smah beez! SMAH BEEZ MAMA!"

2.  You find it endearing when he says, "I tooted!  I tooted again!"

3.  You find yourself counting to three several times a day.  "One.  TWO.  THREE!  Get over here, NOW!"

4.  Upon arriving at the grocery store you go straight to the nearest display of chips and ask your toddler to choose one so that you may shop in (relative) peace and timeliness.  And to keep him in the cart.

5.  And then, upon checkout, forget about the empty bag of doritoes in your pocket and -unintentionally- shoplift (whoops!).

6.  You find yourself *giving in* and letting the child have a popsicle at 7:30 in the morning (peace and quiet, yes?).  And then you wonder why he won't eat his cheerios and banana.  And then, the next morning, wonder why you're dealing with a whiny toddler for 20 minutes because he heard the words, "We don't eat popsicles in the morning.  It's breakfast time! Now eat your Cheerios!"

7.  You have increased upper body strength from "airplaning" a tantruming toddler from the car to the house.  Or from the store to the car.  Or from the playground to the car. Or...

8.  After a time out, you approach the toddler to explain to him why he was in time out and he says, "NO, GO AWAY. YOU STAY BACK!"

9.  You ask the toddler if he would like a piece of granola bar.  He says, "NO, WANT IT!"  Then as you turn away, toddler quickly whines, "GIVE IT TO ME!  I want bar!  I want bar!"

10.  You measure your time in how many hours left until naptime, or bedtime.

11.  You measure your worth by the words, "Mommy, come sit down" as toddler pats the space next to him.


photo curt-sy of this biotch



Signs you are pregnant and you have a toddler:

1.  You find toddler to be oh-so-cute and observant when he says, "Mommy toot!  Mommy toot AGAIN!"

2.  "Mommy burped!  Mommy burped again!"

3.  Toddler says, "Mommy tummy big!  OH, BIG TUMMY!"  As he lifts up your dress or shirt and starts smacking and poking your stomach.

4.  The morning ritual of toddler tip toeing into your room and then loudly exclaiming, "Get up mommy!  Wake UP!"

5. And then he says, "Mommy, where's da pants? Oh, put on your pants..."

6.  You're toddler looks more well rested/well fed and overall more put together than you do.

7.  You find yourself saying to your spouse, "Mommy's going to go potty and then it's naptime."

8.  You look down at your shirt and see traces of toothpaste, peanut butter, and juice.  And you could care less because you're down to a select few fitting and stylish shirts.

9.  You watch the show, "I didn't know I was pregnant" and think, "Who are these dumb bitches who were lucky enough not to have ONE symptom of pregnancy AND they already have a child?!"

10.  You think shaving, wearing make-up, and putting on dangling earrings are for skinny, well-rested bitches who get to drink tequila with people over the age of 2. (at least).  And a "night cap" is 2 Tums chased by a shot of Peptobismal.  At the late hour of 9pm.

11.  You measure your time in weeks.

12.  You many have bouts of forgetfulness but you know EXACTLY how many weeks pregnant you are and how many weeks left.

13.  You measure your self worth by the words, "Mommy, I want big tummy, too!"

Stats of the resident prego:

Still to go:
10 weeks

Which is:
70 days

Time passed:
30 weeks

Weight gain:
13.5lbs

Fundal height:
measuring at 32 weeks.  Which means I'm measuring 2 weeks bigger than I should be.  Doc says this is not cause for changing the due date.    Psshhht. She's no fun...

Blood Pressure:
110/50 (cool as a cucumber)

And, starting this week, "do your kick counts!"  Uh...no problem with that one, doc.  Bytheway, is there such a thing as TOO much movement?  And, no, I'm not fueling myself with power-sugar-energy coffee drinks...that's just the way he is rollin' baby!!  And that baybay is kickin' and punchin' and elbowin' and kneein' EV-VER-RY-WHERE!

I'd also like to welcome back my old friend, Shortofbreath.

"You might get winded easily as your uterus expands beneath your diaphragm, the muscle just below your lungs."

NO SHIT.

In related news, stomach acid does not belong in my throat.  Or my mouth.  Yum.

Fun thought o' the day:
"Did my water just break or is this a bad case of the butt sweats?"

Pregnancy in the summer is FUN FUN!

P.S.  I may be 7.5 months pregnant and uh..not 21years old...but that ain't stopping me from shopping at Forever 21...

Forever Twenty-One: it ain't just for skinny non-pregnant free-livin' bitches...