3 months



3 days




3 months



You know that movie Monsters vs. Aliens?  The scene when Reese Witherspoon's character -the big giant "Susan"- is holding up the SF bay bridge and trying to save all the civilians who are in their cars from being destroyed by the big bad alien thing?  And her fellow "monsters" aren't doing jack?  And Seth Rogen's character says something like, "WOW, Susan!  You're doing a GREAT job!"  and then she says, 

"I'M DOING EVERYTHING!"

that.

Sir Husbandpants has been home for a brief hot blink of an eye before he Jetplanes back to the abyss of underwater cruising.  And -oh wow- having both of us here for both of them is like...easy peasy puddin' pie life stuff. 




I can take a 3 month old out to a sushi lunch?!  And he just hangs out?  Without crying?!  WHAT?!


One of us can cook dinner (him) while the other plays on the internet with the kids.
One of us can fold the laundry (him) while the other nurses the baby while playing on the internet trucks with the 3yo.
One of us can take 3yo to the park while the other catches up with HGTV the dusting then nursing, the vacuuming then nursing.
One of us can take both the boys and cook breakfast while the other gets an extra 2 hours of sleep washes cloth diapers.

Bottom line, there's been 2 -TWO!- of us this week.  It's been so simply great.

Tomorrow husbanddaddypants leaves again.  When he comes back this guy will be just short of 6 months.

Me is le Sad.

But Ari?  He is le Fantastic.

He continues to be the best of the best, the cute of the cutes, and the easy of the easy.  It's like he intuitively knows that he needs to be cool if we want to get through this deployment with class and style.  He is smily and gurgly and coo-coo cachoo-man all the day light hours.  He gives me a 4-5 hour reprieve at night and when he does wake up it's smack-smack of his lips and a little wiggle-wiggle of the hips and he has me up to feed him. And then we're back down quickly.  All business and back to sleep.

He's on somewhat of a schedule -thanks to having an older brother.  And, due to his youngness and his gowiththeflow personality, he's flexible with the when and where's and how to's when it comes to sleeping and eatting and who holds him and where we go.  OH -except he won't take a bottle.  Oh -fucking-well, I says...

And,yes, I'm tired and overwhelmed and irritable at times and why-me sometimes and I sometimes want to buy a pack of smokes and a six pack of really expensive wine or buy a ticket to the Seychelles but more powerful than all of that is this GREAT BIG LOVE I have for my family. I know there is a bigger picture beyond The Work that goes into The Choices we make.  Life can be sweet whilst in The Weeds, The Trenches of single parenting deployment hassle I'M DOING EVERYTHING months that I'm staring down at.

YUP, I am exhausted and sad and lonely but mostly I'm just happy.  I'm not giving myself any other choice but to embrace where I am at in this moment and not because I HAVE to or it's EXPECTED of me but because

I
Just
Want
to...



Thanksgiving feast at daycare.



here today...



beauty and the beast

It's safe to say this kid is going to break many a hearts. 
'Specially mines.
It's a curse to breed such good looking children...
le sigh...



Or maybe he won't be voted biggest flirt.  He'll be the class clown.
Most likely to make you laugh milk out of your nose...



for now, the superlative goes to...





most likely to be loved by his mama...
aww...



and on the otherside of the rainbow..
(friday 9/30/11, dusk)



there's a 3 year old who is going through some phases...up, down, twist and shout,
follow the unpredictable and colorful pathways...

 Some say the "terrible twos" others say "terrible threes."  We're on the terrible three team.

It's like "opposite day."  But everyday is opposite day.  And then when you give him what he asks for he cries about it and says he wants the other thing.  It's pretty fun.  Especially when you're up every 2 hours at night to nurse a floppy baby.

"Enjoy this time."

Oh I AM.

For example, it's saturday morning and I decide to take both boys to the library.  Dad stays home to get another hour of sleep.  After an hour at the library I ask Milo,

"Do you want to stay for storytime at the library or go to the playground?"

"I want storytime."

So he sits with a few other toddlers and grabs an egg to shake along with the music.  After a minute, he returns the egg and says to me,

"I want to go to the playground."

So we get in the car, I strap in a sleeping Ari.  I strap in a content Milo. I get in, put the car in reverse...

And guess what happens.

"I WANT STORYTIME!

STOOOOOOOOOOOOORYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY  TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME!!!!!!"

IWANTSTORYTIMEIWANTSTORYTIMEIWANTSTORYTIMEIWANTSTORYTIME!

WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

and then the baby wakes up.

And then there is synchronized crying.  It should be an Olympic event.  (parents of at least 2 children, can you feel me?)

I make the executive decision to NOT go to the playground.  NOT go back to library.  Sad children need to go home.
Fifteen LONG minutes later...we arrive home.  Crying/whining/screaming/end of the world noise is still full on.

The baby is soothed by nursing.  Milo, however, is sent to his room to continue his tantrum without an audience.  Not a time out, just time to vent his frustrations over being wishy washy and beyond reason and completely ridiculous. I suddenly hear banging and kicking on the walls and punching/banging on a window.  Paired with blood-curling screams of anger.

Toddler rage issues are awesome...

I'm starting to remember why I picked up smoking again shortly after I gave birth to Milo.

And I really don't want to start smoking again...

Perhaps a precription for Ativan is in order...

L&D (part 2)

After the doc breaks my water she leaves the room and I continue laboring on...

A short while later the nurse calls the doc...

"You want to come in here and deliver a baby?"

"Wha...?"  I didn't know we were so close.  It was 11:30am-ish.

Throughout my pregnancy, Ari's heart rate stayed in the 150s. This was no exception during active labor.

Until my water broke.

Soon after, with every contraction, his heartrate started dropping.

down
down
down.

You could hear his little heart fading from a strong pound to a weak 60 beats.

Doc comes in and checks my cervix.  I'm still 8cm.  Not enough to start The Great Push, but the baby isn't tolerating my contractions now that his pinata has been popped...

"Let's give her oxygen and flip her to her left side."

For the next several minutes I'm moving to my left -then right- left -then right- side trying to get the baby's heart to come back to baseline.

Doc:  "I can look at this number all day.  But *this* number...I don't like..."

Doc:  "Dad, can you put on these blue scrubs?  Mom, we're going to put on these stockings.  We might need to do a C-section."

With the oxygen masked strapped to my face, a nurse tugging stockings onto my feet and up to my knees, and watching Justin put on his paper blue outfit, I started crying.  My body is shaking and I am scared...

A C-WHAT?!
Why isn't he tolerating the contractions anymore?  What's happening?  What's going to happen?!

I can still hear his heartbeat.  His very. slow. heart. beat.

Another nurse comes into the room and discretely tells the doc she has put the 11:45 c-section on hold.  "In case you need the room."

The room is pretty quiet.  My once jovial, wise-cracking doc is suddenly very focused on the monitors.  My excitement about being able to push soon is replaced by images of a sheet being placed up before me, doc telling me "a little pressure" as they cut me open. 

With every contraction she attempts to dilate my cervix further.

Justin stays by my side, giving me eyes and words of encouragement.  I'm thankful he looks so confident.  As much as I don't want a C-section, I can't stand hearing this slow heartbeat.  I'm on the verge of saying FUCK IT, WHEEL ME OUT NOW!!

But I stay quiet, despite the tears and shaking.  I trust *totally* the team of people around me and I turn when they say turn.  I breathe deeper when they tell me to do so.  Whatever they need me to do, I do.  And I do it immediately and without a word.

At 11:55am, she informs the nurse to go ahead with the scheduled c-section and "Lynsey, pull your knees up, grab behind your knees, roll into a ball...we're going to start pushing..."

And PuSH and PUsH and PusH I did...

"That's it, take a breath....now PUSH PUSH PUSH...he's RIGHT HERE...take a breath...okay PUSH c'mon c'mon c'mon PUSH..."

Seeing as how I was all Epidural'd up, I couldn't really feel much.  At all.  When she said his head was crowning, I reached down and could feel him.  This completely motivated me and I knew that all this effort was going to keep me out of the OR and a baby in my arms in no time.

Another contraction, another 3 pushes and his head was out.  I looked down and was freaked out/amazed at this grey headed creature sticking out of me.  OMG!

Doc suctioned his nose and mouth clear and says, "Yeah, there's the cord wrapped around his neck...one, two, THREE times?!"
She tells me later that she had never vaginally delivered a baby whose cord was wrapped 3 times around its neck.  She also tells me that if it wasn't for me being "such a great pusher" and keeping my cool, she wouldn't have hesitated to wheel me to the OR.  Also, being paired with an experienced -no-nonesense, all business- nurse made this delivery happen the way it did. 

"If you had been freaking out and not able to do what we needed you to do, I would've just wheeled you to the OR.  I'm not going to deal with a patient who can't listen to me and stay calm. Same with the nurse.  If I'm working with a new, inexperienced nurse who is freaking out who, in turn, freaks out the patient, I'll just section the birth.  But you turned when we asked you to turn, you pushed when and how we needed you to push.  But, GIRL, you gave me a few new grey hairs!  You need to pay for my next hair appointment!"

After the baby was delivered (at 12:10pm -only 15 minutes of pushing!) they took him straight to the baby warmer and started in on their exams.

Apgar at 1 minute: 9
Apgar at 5 minutes: 9

August 26, 2011
12:10pm
7 lbs, 12.2 ounces. 
21 inches

And BOY did he cry...big, healthy cries...

And finally he was in my arms
Sigh/Relief/Happy-Surge

the proud pop

Welcome to the World Ari Beckett!!

After some -ahem- repairs they wheel-chaired me up to next floor where I spent the next 2 days bonding/recovering/oooh and ahhing all over my new bundle of lovejoy perfection.

Because just when you think you couldn't love enough...here comes this ray of awesome -shooting straight out of your body and into your life/heart/soul/spirit...

And baby comes with ALOT of paperwork

"I got a cookie!  OH!  And a baby brother..."

Hi, Ari!  I'm your big brother...nice to meet you...

Post-Delivery sushi.  I should think so!
Girl needs her Omega-3s!

With a newborn (again!) But this time it isn't Milo...so weird.  Here he is fresh from his first bath.

12:10pm Saturday: 24 hours old!

The family of four: completed by This Guy!

Woman created Man:  2 TIMES!

Daddy taking his boys for their first walk together...*swoon*

Leaving the hospital with my 2 (TWO!) boys in the backseat...
Let the good times ROLL!

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!

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...



29 weeks (the storm chaser and the incessant questions)

Lately, I find myself answering the same questions.  So I thought I should design a t-shirt that says the following:

Yes, I'm pregnant.
7 months.
Yes, it's very exciting.
It's my second child.
He's almost 3.
We're having another boy.
No I'm not disapointed that we're having another boy.
Yes, it's a great age difference.
Yes, we planned it that way.
No, we are not going to "try for a girl" next time.
Yes, we have a name.
No, we're keeping it to ourselves.
September 8th
Yes, It's going to be a long, hot summer.

This week has been an interesting one.  Life, again, happening.  The husb has a great respect (read: fear) of thunderstorms.  As soon as he hears rumbling or a flash in the sky, he throws me over his shoulder, scoops up Milo and we head down to our bomb shelter where we have a 2 year stash of all things survival.  Including Tums.  Mama got some real nice heartburn/indigestion.

I joke.  But not about the heartburn/indigestion.

So last Friday we're at our neighborhood Farmer's market where I usually admire the asparagus and muse over the squash and then just head over to the ice cream shoppe.  And then by Sunday I usually regret not buying the 6 ears of corn for $3 as we're grilling out steaks or ribs or whathaveyou.

Sidenote: After 7 years of being with my husband I have *finally* found a way he likes zuchini: GRILLED. See honey?  I knew if I was persistent enough you'd like it!  Hehe...

Anyhoos, big beautiful rolling clouds come into our view, seemingly mere feet from our heads.  The wind picks up and I'm laughing.  The husb is not.  He tries to play cool, tries to humor me, "Yeah, Milo look at those dark, black clouds!  Why don't we head over to the beach!"

I, of course, think that's a grand idea.  Thunderstorm on the beach?  Shit yeah!

But then crazy, close lightening shoots, like, crazy-close by, and even *I* the storm chaser, get a little anxious.

The scene had a very "Wizard of Oz" feel has various debris starts flailing around, parents and their children start hustling back to their cars.  The rain decides to join the party and it quickly becomes an all out hurricane-like situation.

Driving home, we could barely see 2 feet in front of us.  With my 2year old son and my husband and my big 'ol belly, I'm respecting the shit out of this storm.  Trust that.

And then we get home and find half of a tree on our (other) car:




What the hell...?  Yes, there is a car underneath that branch.



 This was also Father's Day weekend.  Guess what daddy got to do on Father's Day?  Break out the electric saw and a 6 pack of beer, daddy got work to do!

 Apparently, a bolt of lightening seared right down the center of the tree in our front yard.  It's like mother nature had heard my flippant, shoulder-shrug attitude regarding thunderstorms and wanted to teach me a little lesson on how dangerous and destructive a storm can be.

"You think thunderstorms are awesome?!  I'll show you how awesome I can be!  BAM!  Right in your front yard SUCKA!!"

You win, mother nature, YOU WIN!