That's All She Wrote

I've been thinking for a long time about shutting this blog down.  After all, I don't exactly have a bum uterus anymore.  I started it to help deal with my life as I suffered through infertility issues.  The friends I have met and the stories I have read have truly changed my life.  Becoming a parent again after infertility has made me a better mom by far and has truly given me an appreciation for the gifts that have been given to me.

The fact is, my children are my life, my world, my loves.  But the infertile chapter in my life is over.  My family is complete.  I sincerely hope that everyone I've met in this corner of the blog world will cross over to parenthood in one way or another.  My blog is linked to several infertility sites and blog rolls and I intend to leave it up for anyone that needs to find it.  However, my life is forever changed and I feel the nature of my blogging is better suited for those that are ready to read it.

So, I'm moving on.  I hope that you will follow me and continue reading my rants and musings.  I will discuss my children more as this is what my life revolves around now.  If you're not in a point in your journey that you'd like to continue on with me, I understand and wish you all the best and hope that our bloggy paths cross again someday.

You blog girls have really made a difference in my life.  Thank you.

My new blog can be found at: www.aftertheyhatch.wordpress.com

About Poop

Is it possible for your intestines to get stuck to your uterus and therefore compressed?  I swear this is happening to me.  It's like they're all squished up in there like a pair of pantyhose in a crowded laundry bag.  Well a pair of pantyhose filled with poop.

So anyway, I really really really want to poop.  But this whole mashed up intestine thing is really not working for me.  I keep trying to talk Tiny Dancer into just giving my insides a little massage with her feet to work it all out but she is 1- inside of me and can't hear, 2- a baby so she wouldn't understand anyway and 3- probably not a very great massage therapist yet.  Her poop situation is going to be awesome, she doesn't really care about mine.

Each day as I'm waddling around in pelvic discomfort, I also get the good old gut cramps that accompany a non-poopal situation.  And the sweats.  And the gas.  I'm super dooper attractive right now and my husband can't wait to do it to me.  Last night, he said, in an effort to turn me on, "Hey! Why don't we go upstairs and do it?"  Sarcastically, I replied, "Ohhhh-kay!!" in a most upbeat fashion, feeling that he would get the hint that asking to do it is actually, very UN-sexy.  Apparently, he did not get this as he promptly turned off the tv and headed upstairs.  Once I got there, I did my usual night routine, wash face, brush teeth, whine a little, etc.  After I got done not pooping, I got in bed.  Hubs rubbed my belly a little which caused me to fart a little.  (34 weeks folks, 34 weeks.)  He looked at me in disgust and then rolled over and went to sleep.

Cause You Had a Bad Day...

My last post was horrible.  I realize that.  I appreciate all the love and support everyone sent me.  Depression isn't pretty, but if there's one thing I'm all about, it's not being pretty.  Okay wait, that came out wrong.  I like to be pretty but when it gets ugly, I'm honest about it.

That morning was shit hole glorious.  I chose to write about it because it feels good to get it out.  I chose to post it because I know there are other people who feel that way too sometimes.  Luckily, it's rare for me.  There are some people who live their lives like that every day and I'm fortunate that I am not one of them.  But it does get me sometimes.  It does kick me in the balls and spit in my mouth and throw me for a loop.  And that's what it looks like at it's worst.

But today is a new day.  And in fact, the whole weekend was wonderful.  Most of Friday actually turned out good too.  I got drunk and exercised and went on a roller coaster.  Oh wait, no I didn't.  I'm hugely pregnant so I waddled around trying not to pee my pants.  And also did laundry.

So that sums up my weekend.

So Far

Today has been a rough one. It's only 10:25 am but I just want to tell you what I have done so far. Nothing.

I couldn't sleep last night because my back hurts like a motherfucker. Fall asleep, wake up, roll over, cry out in pain. Repeat.

This morning when the baby starts his little mockingbird call for me "Ma-Ma... Ma-Ma!" I just can't. I physically, mentally and emotionally cannot get out of bed. I do my best not to cry when I ask Hubs if he would please go get him and let me sleep. Just a little longer. Luckily he complies without too much hassle and I don't have to hide from him just how dark I am feeling.

I sleep a little longer but inevitably somebody wants mom to get out of bed. When L finally makes it to my bed he is dialing numbers on my phone and I notice his diaper hasn't been changed yet and now Hubs wants a turn for a nap. And it is all too much. The ugly cry comes out and the whole day feels unreasonable, unmanageable and how the fuck am I going to get out out of bed today? Hubs finally stomps off with L because who is this unreasonable bitch sobbing in his bed over nothing?

After the ugly cry I know it has to be over.  I have a day that can't exist without me.  There's not going to be anyone here to take care of it all.  So I google "how to get out of bed..."  The auto search function automatically fills in "... when you're depressed."  And somehow it makes me feel better that I'm not the only one who has uttered these terrible words to the internet gods.

I read, "get sunshine, take a walk, eat healthy, breathe deeply."  All things I already know but couldn't fathom five minutes ago.  It's too much to take a walk right now, but I convince myself that I CAN, in fact, grab a plate of fruit and a blanket and sit outside in the sun for 15 minutes and breathe deeply.  So I do, and it helps just a little.  I feel a little less ruined and defective and not at all funny but thanks for listening anyway because grabbing my computer and blogging about it makes it feel possible.

Craft Fail

The hospital I am giving birth at does this super duper awesome thing where they have a photographer come to your room and take photos of the bébé. It is cool for a couple of reasons: 1- I'm super fucking lazy and probably wouldn't actually get pics of my already neglected 3rd child until her 5th birthday. And 2- Um hello newborn teeny tinys are squishy wishy chubby wubby little meatballs and who doesn't want to look at a picture of that forever and ever? It is also really uncool for a couple of reasons. 1- If I'm in any of the photos I'm going to have post-giving birth fat face/body/fingers/feet. 2- Talk about pressure to pick the most adorbz outfit ever for a baby you haven't met/seen yet and have no idea what color/size/design to pick.

Of course, normal people probably wouldn't feel the pressure of finding the perfect outfit for their 1 day old baby that isn't even born yet but I am not normal.

So of course I turned to Etsy for the outfit. Naturally it started with an itty bitty crocheted hat. It's yellow and gray and just about the cutest thing ever. After receiving the hat, the search for a diaper cover was on. I found these sweet little bloomers that I felt would meet Victoria Beckham's approval and had them sent as well.

And that's when all hell broke loose. The grays did not match. The bloomers were too light. So what else would I do but consult the Rit Dye website for some advice? If you don't know what Rit Dye is then I am way older than you. The Rit Dye website has a color search section to help you find the exact right color combination to get your shit to match. So I went to 3 different stores to find the combo and hurried home to mix a little color/bloomer cocktail in my sink. Side note: I had zero cocktails in my hand.

The mixture was 4 parts navy blue, 1 part sunrise orange. I'm not sure how anyone in their right mind could think this would make dark gray because it sure as fuck didn't. It turned blue. Denim blue. Now I'm not opposed to denim blue except when I'm trying to dye something gray.

So back to the old Rit site I go to check out some other gray swatches. It is here I discover that if you just use black and dilute it, it makes gray. Now everybody, I want to assure you that I did indeed pass kindergarten and I DO know that light black=gray. But I can also tell you that NOT ONCE in my dying schematics did it occur to me to just buy the fucking black dye.

So next is the decision to just go with the black dye over the denim blue bloomer. They have a dye lightener (aka bleach) that they recommend but I went ahead and skipped that shit.

The bloomers are now purple.

Apparently the genius scientists at Rit motherfucking Dye didn't pass kindergarten either because black does not = purple.

I went back to Etsy to try and pick a new, darker gray bloomer when I discovered a bloomer/head band combo that is not only adorable but it involves absolutely no work on my part.

The One Where I Whine

Wait what? I whine in every post? Inconceivable!

So the hubs has been gone for 3 days. Which like whatever. What is 3 days? Nothing. But this 3 days was unplanned. Unexpected. And super annoying. It's hot as fuck, I'm pregnant as fuck, and my pelvis is falling apart. As fuck.

And if I whine to him I get this song and dance about how stressful his life is and how hard I am making it on him. My response, and I quote, "You're a real fucking prick sometimes." And I don't even feel bad for saying that. Because he is.

So back to my pelvis. I know you've been thinking about it for the past four sentences. It hurts so much. My pubic bone is splitting apart so that even when I'm lying down, it screams when I try to move my legs. I also have what I can only describe as groin pain. I kindof always associated groin with dudes because well, it seems like that means they pulled a ball muscle (do balls have muscles? I don't know.) But anyway when I describe the pain to hubs he insists that is what groin pain is. It's deep. It burns. And as long as I insist on walking, it continues to hurt. So basically it hurts when I walk and hurts when I lie down.

Baby girl is a tiny dancer. She moves constantly. I've never had a baby move this much. It is really cool obviously but some days it contributes to the wall o' pelvic pain and it also makes me have to pee a ridiculous amount of times in an hour.

Still needing to get her room and things set up but with an absent husband, a toddler, an 8 year old, a part time job, AND the inability to walk, I fear that this little gal is going to suffer being the last child and therefore painfully neglected. She won't realize she's neglected until she's like 4 though right? So I have some time to turn it around.

Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw?

Jimmy Buffet anyone?  No, okay well that's a real song.  So is My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink and I Don't Love Jesus.  Know it, love it, live it.

Any-h-way, let's just say that I've been sober a lot the last few years.  Like a lot.  I've been pregnant for basically a year and a half and also breast fed for a year between that.  Not to say I didn't get all CA-RAZY when I was breastfeeding, it was just kindof a huge pain in the ass so most of the time it was NOT worth it.  Pumping and dumping before bed while you're drunk and wanting to talk about the nonsensical night you just had to your sleeping husband is not that fulfilling.  (By the way, by getting CA-RAZY, I mean I had a few glasses of wine and said some things I found witty.  Although once I did make a guy cry.)

So last night we had a little bbq to go to.  This was with some of my husband's co-workers and their employees.  The employees, incidentally are all in their early twenties, single, and still in the party their socks off stage.  (Party their socks off made me sound way old didn't it?)  Well the point is, I was the only pregnant old lady there, and therefore, the only sober person there.  I was actually enjoying myself and managed a few witty comments even without the aid of alcohol.  Did I mention this little shindig happened on a Wednesday night?  Again, I'm old.

Around 1 o'clock a.m. I decided that the intoxication levels had reached a point that any sober person shouldn't be asked to tolerate, pregnant or not.  I'd heard the same story from a person 3 times in a row.  Like literally, she would finish telling it, say how funny it was, and then tell it again.  I know for a fact that I do this when I am drunk too so maybe that's the key to making it ok, but sober BU was rolling her eyes and wanting to go home.  Finally around 2 o'clock I crawled into my bed with my drunk husband and fell asleep immediately.

The thing about babies is that they don't give a shit if you went to bed at 2 am.  L went ahead and woke up this morning like nothing had happened.  He actually did sleep later than normal, which was nice, but 8:30 still came early.  This day has turned into a nappy, grouchy, don't leave the couch kind of day.  You might think the point of this post is to convince myself not to go to anymore Wednesday night drinking fests with 20 somethings, but the real point is OMG I can't wait to have a drink.

OMG

I've started saying, out loud, on a regular basis, "OMG." Literally just the three little letters O-M-G like I am somehow a Weird Science version of my blog self. This is disturbing on several different levels but mainly on the one where this makes me look very, very old. Ok well that's the main level but the upstairs to that level is that I am very, very old but still trying to act like I am young. I assure you that saying OMG does NOT actually make me think that I am younger, it just comes out of my mouth involuntarily when I am annoyed. Which quite frankly, is rather often.
Another fact this new speak spews forth is that perhaps my online life is taking over my real life life. After all, most days you can find me tucked comfortably into my air conditioned house with the doors and blinds closed to keep out the sweltering heat. I am, in fact, 30 weeks pregnant and it is mother fucking hot out. I am also typically skyping with bloggy friends all over the country. But you know, not face to face skyping. Typing skyping. So OMG probably shows up often in my daily adult "conversations." I would also blame this blog but I haven't written a single post in nearly 2 weeks so I guess it is off the hook.
So yeah, 30 weeks. I start seeing the doctor every 2 weeks now. I weigh more than I ever have in my entire life, and I've developed a little problem with my blood sugar crashing. I ended up in a doctors office the other night and my blood sugar was at a 61 which I was told was not scary low but low nonetheless. I was sent home with a glucose monitor and some orange juice. In case you have forgotten, this little baby has a teeny vageeny so we are working out a list of lady names but will wait until she's born to pick one definitively (although I can tell you the front runners are London or Scarlett.) I have not even started her room yet nor bought furniture. Her wardrobe is shaping up nicely due to my sister's impeccable taste and the fact that her daughter is nearly 3 so she is willing to part with her wardrobe. My neighbor has also provided a drawer or two full of little pink clothes. Now all that's left is to face reality that this little girl will probably be here in 6-8 weeks. OMG.

Tidbits

I don't really have a coherent post floating around in my head right now, so I thought I'd make a list of things that have gone on over the past few days and also some things that have come in and out of my head frequently lately.  This might give you an idea of how confusing it is to be me.

- My air conditioner went out on Saturday.  Anyone who knows me IRL or on FB is probably sick to death of hearing about this but I don't give a fuck.  It has been over 100 degrees in my neck of the woods for the past few days, and I am also 7 months pregnant.  7 months pregnant = hot = fat = sweaty.  Like ridiculously hot, fat and sweaty even when the AC is on.  So here I am, at home, trying to figure out how to stay cool and all I can do is just go to my parents' house.  Now my parents are super awesome, but spending several days in a row with them makes them seem less awesome.  Nuff said.  Then when the sun went down, we'd come home and open all doors and windows and turn on fans and hope that we didn't pass out.  The short end to this excruciating story is that it is sortof fixed and my house is now at least decent enough to stay home in.

-  I do like a clean house.  I have daily chore lists and projects.  Bugs has chores too.  Now I'd like to say that my house is spotless all the time, but it sure the fuck isn't.  I've given this a lot of thought because I feel like I clean constantly and don't understand why I always see the mess.  The reality is that there are a fuck load of people that live in this house and I am pretty much the only person concerned with its state of cleanliness.  This is why I have chosen to give up on cleaning bathtubs and dusting.  Well, ok, I clean the one bathtub that my baby actually bathes in, but all the other tubs and showers can go straight to hell.  And the tub that the baby bathes in?  Well it gets cleaned every time he takes a dump in it.  Which realistically is kindof a lot so that thing does get cleaned.  Dusting?  OMG.  I fucking hate it and find it inconvenient and useless.  You can sometimes find me using an old sock to sweep up noticeable dust.  But only when company is coming over.

- I live in BFE, so I don't get company that often = dusty house.

- This morning I was thinking about all the little things I do.  You know, the ones that nobody really notices but if you were gone then someone would go to wash their hands and be like, "Oh we're out of soap in here. How did the soap ever get filled before?"  I swear my husband just thinks we are clean people and doesn't fully understand that I am actually working my ass off daily to look like we are clean people.  Minus the dust and the conditioner stained shower walls.  Anyway, I feel as if I were to run away that my children would never have hair or finger nail trimmings, their clothes would all be too small and non-matchy, nobody would have toilet paper ever, and hand washing, tooth brushing and bedtime wouldn't exist.

- I am 29 weeks pregnant today.  L was born at 36w6d, so if this little gal comes early as well, that means I could very well have a baby soon.  Like soon soon.  This epiphany hit me yesterday like a ton of bricks and now I am in desperation mode trying to figure out some key things, like where the fuck is she going to sleep? And where will I put her numerous outfits?  Obviously some furniture shopping is in order.

- When I am typing a post/letter/email, I fully intend to do spell check when I am finished with the project.  But for some reason, if I spell something incorrectly, I just cannot ignore that stupid red squiggly line and I have to fix the spelling error immediately.

- I am totally off my anti-anxiety meds now and have been for a few weeks.  Most days are really good and I do fine.  But other days that are too hot or stupid overwhelm me and I come up with posts like these where I get annoying things off my chest in a belligerent fashion.  I've also had a good cry or two in the past few days.

- I moved over a year ago and somehow in the move, lost a Dexter netflix disc so we have been unable to cancel netflix since.  Ok, haven't really tried, but in my mind I was going to have to find Dexter and send him back before they'd let me cancel without charging me gazillions of dollars.  Today I came into my office and lo and behold, the disk is just sitting here.  Hubs must have found it and now I can send it back and finally cancel that shit.

- I realize this post is getting long and out of control.  I'll be back tomorrow.  (Spell check time.)

Lessons

Next month, I'll have been married for 11 years.  I was 22 when I got married (note to anyone under 22 out there... 22 is WAY too young to get married.  I know you think you are all mature and awesome and you can't wait to say I Do and have a baby, but trust me, you learn so much about yourself in your 20's and when you are married, you have to consider other people when learning hard lessons.  It's not easy.)  My point, ah yes, my point is that there have been some amazing times and some hard fought battles and lots of learning experiences, some which still bewilder me.
I was talking to my bestie last night and I was telling her about a recent event that happened in which a company took my husband to small claims court.  Now, if it were me, I would be all sorts of prepared with documents, record keeping and a solid argument.  Not to mention a new suit and a sweet up-do.  I'd show up to court 30 minutes early, rebuttals prepared and rehearsed, and a solid plan for winning the case.

My husband?  Well, he forgot all about it.

10 years ago, or even 5 years ago, I would have been nagging him for weeks in advance to prepare his arguments, get his records together, get his suit cleaned, etc. etc.  This would have lead to weeks of us fighting over it and him being mad at me for telling him what to do, and me not understanding why the hell he doesn't take care of important shit.  After many, many trials and errors in this department, I have learned to leave the documentation on the counter, maybe remind him once or twice that it's coming up, cross my fingers and hope for the best.

No fighting.  No nagging.  No hurt feelings.

Of course, this also leads to a judgement against him in court, but I have learned to let this be his problem, not mine.  (Also I still don't understand why the hell he doesn't take care of important shit.)  He's a big picture person, I'm a details person.  I help with details when I can, but I am not his mom, or his assistant.

Another extremely important thing I've learned in the last decade is to NEVER NEVER NEVER video yourself doing it.  Sometimes you think it will be all sexy, like say after a few margaritas, but it is SO NOT.  We are fat, hairy people, and it just doesn't look good.  Fortunately, this only took one lesson to really learn it.

Summers Eve

Do you ever get that not so fresh feeling?  (Now picture a mom and daughter walking along the beach talking about their vaginal smells and dryness.)  This is a skype talk I had to have with fellow bloggy buddies and apparently this happens to everyone.  You are not alone.  If you are less than fruity and fabulous down there, join the rest of us in a couple showers a day to clean it up.  And if you have to wonder if it's your feet or your vag, just go ahead and jump in the the shower regardless.  They both could use a little soap.  It's fucking summer ladies and it is hot out.  Things just won't be right for awhile.

Now on to a more serious topic (don't get me wrong, I take my vagina very seriously.)  What in the fuck do I do with my kids for the rest of the summer?  I realize this is a problem many would like to have but I can only take them swimming so often before I get wrinkles and/or cancer.  Bugs and I made a list of things he'd like to do while he is out of school and some of them are great, but others are 60-100 dollar a day activities. Although I'd like to say that I can just do shit like that whenever, it is just not the case.  I recently realized that I decided to be a stay at home mom so I actually CANNOT spend money whenever I want.  It took me about a year to learn this lesson.

Speaking of spending money, did I mention that I'm about to pop out another kid soon?  I have a decent sized car, but it is still going to be a little bit of a tight situation with 2 carseats and an 8 year old in the backseat.  So we've been looking at SUV's and because of my SAHM status and the realization I cannot spend money, I am looking at 10 year old SUV's with lots of mileage.  Don't get me wrong, I know I can still find a decent older vehicle for less money, but it still scares the shit out of me to buy an older car and have to worry about stuff breaking on it all the time.  That's usually what you try to get rid of when buying a "new" vehicle.  Stand by.  Bugs might just have to squish for a year or two.

FB Fails

My friend Kelly and I were discussing how stupid people are the other day.  Or more specifically, how stupid people are on FB.  Now I know the last thing you want to read is another post about how stupid people are on FB, but just put your big girl panties on and do it anyway.  Kelly was talking about the person who posts update after update about their kid, like..

"Whew, B is finally down for a nap!"
"Up from the nap, on the way to the park!"
"B just LOVES the park!"
"Just got home from the park and B is eating some strawberries!  Here's a pic!"
"Another poopy diaper for B!  This kid never stops!"

Like, holy fucking mother of god are you fucking serious?  I don't need to know your kids sleep/poop schedule and what a great mom you are for documenting every. single. second.  Shut the fuck up.

My personal favorite is a single girl that I used to work with.  She has camera parties with herself, in which she gets all "gussied up" (her words not mine) and sits in front of her web cam and takes hundreds (hundreds!) of photos of herself and posts them.  She always warns us that she's just doing it because she is bored.  Um hmm.  Sure.  Narcissist much?  One time I counted how many photo albums she had and I think there were 57.  I'm not sure why I still look but I am just fascinated by how oblivious this girl is and how her nose is so large and she seems to pose in a way that enhances it.

I am also way over the people who only post inspirational quotes.  You're not the fucking Dalai Lama.  Your quotes are not inspiring my day.  I am not looking at your quote and thinking, "Wow, that Jennifer sure is a smart cookie!  I bet she does yoga and meditates every day.  I sure have something to learn from her!"  Because quite honestly, Jennifer just posted 42 pictures of herself at the bar last night with her shirt over her head.  And honestly, after these people post these quotes, do you think they give them any additional thought throughout the rest of the day?  I'm guessing not.

So there's my current FB rant.  I'm going to start posting every 5 minutes about the status of my armpit hair.  You guys would be surprised how fast this shit grows and I know everyone wants to read about it.  I will also include pictures.

Misc.

Last weekend was family reunion time. Does anyone actually get excited for family reunions? Because I pretty much find myself resenting them before I even arrive. Of course, my family does one every. single. year. So maybe that's why.
Anyway my family was in charge of the cooking/activities this year which basically meant we had to work our asses off while the rest of the fam sat in the shade chat-chitting. It was 100 degrees. My mom and aunts kept fighting/talking shit about each other the whole time. My aunt even complained to me that she set out 2 separate dishes of dog food for her dog that MY dog promptly ate. Well she's a dog so I can't exactly reason with her.
I pointed out to the hubs that I come from a family of complainers. He agreed. Then we talked about how fucking awesome I am compared to them. Ok not really but we did talk about how I grew up in that environment and have made big strides in overcoming being a complainy complainerton. Well you know IRL. Not on this blog. Because obvs.
My college pal is in town this week so all the college ladies have gotten together a few times to hang out and party like rock stars. In your thirties this translates into taking your brood to the park and telling each other how you wish you were drunk right now and also how you should have just left the kids with a babysitter. So, in other words, the parties have changed. And I still wish I was drunk right now. (I'm home in bed elevating my swollen feet.)
My boobs seem to be growing at record speed. I now have the awesome spillover the top of the left cup. I don't really know if I can possibly stand to go buy another size bigger. I think I'm just going to switch to those relaxy cotton bras that just go ahead and show your RT to the world. You'd think in 100 degree weather this wouldn't be a problem for me but apparently my nipples like to stand alert at all times. Now where can I find these nipple baring bralettes long enough for a 5'10 woman and large enough for a 38 DD? Holy fuck. I'm like my own porn.

What's a Smart Girl Like You Doing in a Place Like This?

I was having dinner with my college girlfriends the other night. Now these are some of the smartest ladies I know. For real sauce. They are all wildly successful, great careers, awesome families, and sexy as can be. And somehow these ladies think I'm smart too. Maybe not all the other stuff but smart fer shizzle. (Which makes you wonder when I say things like "fer shizzle.")
Now I think I have plenty to learn in life, but am also pretty proud of my smarty pantsness. My husband is proud of his too. But we are not the same kind of smart. I know where apostrophes go an can ace a test on any day of the week. He can open and run businesses. So we have this ongoing yet silent war on who is the smartest. Obvs it's me.
I asked my genius girlfriends if they have the same debate with their dumb husbands and guess what! They do. In fact we swapped stories of their dumbness. Is this wrong? Probably. Entertaining? Of course.

Relaxi Cab

I can't remember if I've mentioned this or not, but I started a little business. In my previous life before SAHM-dom, I did accounting for several small businesses. It can be a tricky sitch when working for small companies because they don't exactly always have money. There's some money juggling that goes on sometimes and a small business owner is way more vested in the company than say, a CEO of a large company that has plenty of moula to throw around.

But anyway, I just happen to have a connection with a group of small businesses and was able to take on 4 of them to do their books. This basically means I am watching their bank accounts, paying their bills, and preparing financial statements each month. The extra money has been great but the extra stress has NOT. L always wants to be on my lap, banging on the keyboard or throwing the mouse. I feel bad if I have to ignore him and I just haven't been able to get all my work done during his nap times only.

Well just this weekend, 2 more of these little companies asked me if I would start doing their books as well. Of course I want to because this is all work I can do from home, and extra money for my vacation fund. I talked to the hubs and we decided I should hire an assistant to help me.

And then I thought about that some more. So I have an assistant that I have to put a lot of trust into, and pray they don't fuck up. I'm pretty much going to have to double check shit because I'm anal and I want the companies' payrolls to clear and their power to stay on. And I'll be the one answering to these people, not my assistant.

So instead... I decided to hire a part time nanny! How fucking genius am I??? I am working from home so I will still be there to make sure nanny isn't beating/poisoning my children, but I can also lock myself in my office and get some work done. Plus after baby girl is born, I can also be there for feedings, naps, etc. AND AND AND I can run errands or go to the mother fucking GYM if I want to.

I want to be thorough about the nanny search so I am looking for someone to start mid-August so I have lots of time for interviews, background checks, and general stalking. In the meantime, my neighbor has a 13 year old that I thought might like to do it for the rest of the summer. I asked her today and she is way excited and wants to start tomorrow. So she will be coming 4-5 hours a day, twice a week.

I'm so happy I could pee a little.

2 Babies

Today my BIL and his fiancée are having their baby. They asked me if I could watch their almost 2 year old until the baby is born and then bring him to the hospital. I'm happy to do it, but that doesn't mean I was not freaking out about it all day yesterday. I mean, I know pretty soon I'm going to have 2 babies under 2 my own self, but this is quite the crash course.

My house is now littered with toys and goldfish crackers. The babies only seem interested in the toy that the other is playing with. I even let Bugs stay home from school today so he could help me. Education be damned. I've got a serious baby sitch going on here.

I had a brilliant idea of taking them all to a splash park near my house. I thought I could handle it. And I guess I did. The babes did NOT care for the gallons of water raining down on them so we mostly sat on our towels and ate snacks. The older baby kept trying to steal my graham cracker bunnies. I distracted him with raisins for a minute.

So anyway, come on pitocin. Get this baby out of my SIL. Mama needs a nap!

On another note, Teen Mom started again. I'm not sure why I watch this train wreck of a show but I do. And I cringe. And swear at the morons. And text my sister about how crazy those bitches are. It's probably the same sadistic side of me that also watches pageant shows and Dance Moms.

Teen Mom makes me specifically grateful for all those people out there that make a terribly difficult decision to give their babies up for adoption when they are unable to provide for them. There are so many loving, capable and deserving families just waiting for a baby to come into their arms.

Train Wreck

I am an explosive, crazy laughing/crying HOT MESS right now. Let me break it down for you:

- I have some sort of pelvic slash adductor pain situation going on right now. If I am sitting or lying down for a long period of time it takes me approximately two and a half minutes to stand up fully erect and then when I put weight on my right leg the pain begins. Then I laugh, cry and hobble to my destination (usually the bathroom.) I cry because it hurts like a mother fucker and laugh because I walk like a 95 year old hunchback.

- I am an emotional roller coaster. Most recently I sobbed until 3 in the morning because my husband went out drinking with his friends until 1 am. To be fair, he was originally supposed to be home around 9 then we fought and he stayed out because he was mad at me. But realistically him drinking beers with buddies was not that big of a deal. Although you wouldn't know it from the sobbing and carrying on. The next morning brought with it swollen eyes and a huge apology on my part for being one crazy bitch. (For the record he did not apologize for being a meany pie head.)

- After the crazy cry night I had a talk with Natalie about how I can NOT be crazy when things don't go my way. She says I have to relinquish some control which is really not that easy if you think about it. But her words are ringing in my ears and I'm trying to breathe through the situations that I would tend to blow up at.

- Yesterday I didn't do too well when I went to start my car and it didn't turn on because my husband had used up all the gas. I promptly freaked the fuck out while he got the lawnmower gas and put it in my tank.

- Speaking of blowing up... I had to have some dental work done today (2 hours worth) and when I mentioned that my jaw hurt to Oak and Natalie, this obviously lead to a discussion about blow jobs. Apparently all the great wives just love giving their man head. Either I've been married too long or I'm a horrible wife because ladies, it just ain't my thang. After this discussion however, I am convinced that frequent bj's prevent infidelity so I guess I have to buck up and suck some D.

Classy and Fabulous

My pal E, over at Many Many Moons has been through some shit.  I mean this girl has done everything humanly possible to become a mother.  And nobody deserves it more.  She is warm, caring, classy, fabulous and of course, hilarious.  Let's face it, this bitch wouldn't be my friend if she didn't make me snort laugh from time to time.  (Hey I never said I was classy.)

Anyway, recently a very amazing, wonderful and obviously very smart young lady gave birth to a sweet baby girl and decided that E should be her mommy.  I mean really, how could you meet her and NOT want to give your baby to her.  If she lived closer to me, I'd be dropping my kids off at her house all the time. 

The point is that E is finally a mommy.  That means she gets to spend her days and nights awake, getting pooped and peed on, spending exorbitant amounts of money, and probably crying a little herself.  It also means she gets to love, cuddle, adore and spoil her sweet baby girl.  I'm sure there will be many kitchen shows they do together in the privacy of their home.  Am.elia will know how to decorate a gift exquisitely, and I doubt she'll have ever slept on sheets less than a 400 thread count. 

Most importantly, this baby girl is going to be so loved.  She couldn't have found a better mommy and daddy and I just want to congratulate my good friend on the long awaited birth of her precious daughter.

In celebration of this monumental occasion, I am sending Am.elia a very classy and fabulous gift.  Books.  You can't be a classy, fabulous girl if you can't read.  And you certainly can't start out with 50 Shades right out of the gate (gate=vagina.)  So, she will be receiving a couple of my favorites:  The Paper Bag Princess which teaches little ladies that even if a man is an actual prince, it doesn't really matter if he's also a douche bag.  Very important lesson that I had to learn the hard way in my 20's.  Also, Lily's Purple Plastic Purse because it's all about how fabulous Lily feels when she has a shiny new purse.  There's also a surprise book coming too but she'll have to wait and see on that one. 

Congrats again.  I love her already and I've only seen her picture.  (So far.)

Shit Talkin'

The Hubs and I have been reading a book together. It's a new agey, love yourself and the world, hippy style book. It's awesome. And it makes total sense. One of the "assignments" in the book is to be impeccable with your word. This means what you'd think, you know like always be honest and follow through with what you commit to. But it also means more. A lot more. Like not talking shit. About anyone. Including yourself.

Now I consider myself to be pretty forthcoming. I've tried to make it a point not to say anything negative about anyone behind their back that I wouldn't say to their face (like somehow that makes it better right?) Anyway my point is that when I started paying attention to how much shit I talk, I realized I actually talk rather a lot of shit. And sometimes I'm even entertained by it. Ok I'm entertained by it frequently.

Obvs I'm still mulling this over and deciding just what amount of shit talk is ok for me. Of course in a perfect world I'd never do it at all but come on. Let's be honest.

Thought Vomit Thursday

Oh Thought Vomit Thursday, how I have missed you!  Well obviously not enough to actually write a TVT post, well, until today.  So here goes.  Vomit spewing forth...

- The last two face washes that I have bought (and fell in love with) were both discontinued.  WTF?  Don't they know my tender skin needs that shit?  So anyhoo I had to try yet ANOTHER new face wash and it turned out to be an exfoliating type.  Right on the directions it told me to avoid the eye area.  (Pause for effect.)  The eye area.  Um HELLO?  That's where a majority of my makeup goes.  Doesn't this FACE wash understand that I am not one of those ladies that can wear her mascara twice in a row and still look fabulous?  Maybe it should have been called Nose, Cheek and Forehead Wash.

-  I'm still reading the mommy porn.  Yep, I downloaded AND paid for 3 terrible books.  I don't know if it's been mentioned, but these books contain a lot of sex.  Like a lot.  So much that sometimes I get bored reading about it and skip the latest sex scene.  Me.  I skip it.  Anyway my husband is quite intrigued about how I am reading so much porn but not wanting to do it more.  He is convinced that I am just home all day alternating between reading and masturbating.  Not true at all.  Except the other night.  He told me an hour before one of our friend's birthday party that he was going to it.  I was all huffy because I thought it was rude that he wouldn't plan ahead so we could both attend, rather he left me at home (until 2:30 am I might add) by myself with no babysitter and only mommy porn.  So I masturbated.  I masturbated hard.  And the whole time I was thinking about how this was Spiteful Masturbation.  Done on purpose so that I would get some sort of sexual gratification and he wouldn't.  And of course, at 2:30 am, he comes home, wants to get jiggy with it, and I was like, NOPE!  I'm all good thanks.  I didn't tell him.  I just reveled in my secret spite skills.  Side note: Spiteful Masturbation is a great band name.

-  I am not one of those girls that can easily pull off a strapless dress.  I have quite a large bosom and I always end up with that armpit roll just to the sides of my ladies.  What is the deal with the armpit roll?  How does one fix that little sitch?

-  Awhile back I read a post by Elizabeth at Many Many Moons about how she fell down the stairs naked.  (I tried to find it to link but couldn't and/or am just too impatient.)  Anyway, it was hilarious and it was about how she accidentally slept naked one night.  Then about a week or so ago, I was lying in bed and my underoos were really bothering me.  So, I thought about Elizabeth as I stripped my clothes off in bed.  (That sounds kinky but it isn't.)  It felt pretty great to sleep in the nude.  The next night, I thought about it again, but I have this fear that my 8-year-old will come in my room and see my ladies.  So this night I went with a tank top but still nothing on the bottom.  And now I'm hooked.  I literally cannot sleep with underwear on now.  When Hubs finally figured out that I was in the buff from the waist down, he automatically assumed I was coming on to him.  Au contraire!  I'm just a large, sweaty, fat prego and I don't want elastic around my waist at night.

So there you go.  I have discussed all matters inappropriate, which interestingly enough, is the most appropriate thing to do on Thought Vomit Thursday.

The end.

Shit

After neglecting my house for nearly forever, I decided that this week was the week to get caught up. A long ass time ago I made a little weekly list of shit to do each day. So when I get behind, I just make sure and get everything done on my list for that week. This saves me the anxiety of trying to get my house clean in one day. (Also the work.)

So on the list for today is spending 1 minute on each of my bathrooms (although after neglecting them for so long I knew I'd have to invest more time than that.) Also up is laundry (FAIL,) spending 10 minutes picking up, and washing any dishes in the sink.

Because I had to spend a great deal of time on the master bathroom (this is the most used bathroom and the least cleaned) I threw the baby in the tub and got busy scrubbing. He kept playing with his toys and looking up at me smiling. A few minutes later I realized that he was awfully quiet and that he was way more interested in his toys than usual.

I walked over to the tub and to my horror, found that he was not actually playing with his toys but rather his own shit. He had pooped in the tub and was extremely interested in it. I don't know what exactly he was doing with it or for how long. All I know is that I yanked him out of the tub, stripped down and got in the shower with him. (Separate shower. I was NOT standing in the shitty water.)

At this point I started crying. I'd had a tough morning already and this was the shit frosting on the shit cake. After that of course was the cleaning of the shit out of the tub. I decided the rest of the day would be spent eating strawberry short cake and watching Maury.

Back in My Day

I hate to be the whistle blower on the teenagers but I will. (Ok I don't hate it. I find it hilarious.) The teens these days think us old folks are dumm and not tecknologikly savvy. They use the Facebook as their cover for their online activities, but they actually use the Twitter to communicate. AND they don't make any of it private because that is not cool.

So basically if there's a teenager you want to spy on, like say a 15 year old stepson, you can look him up on the twitter and find all the nasty shit he posts about. You can also find out when he has lied to his parents, who his friends are and if he and his girlfriend are currently broken up and/or doing the deed.

Don't tell. We don't want the teenagers to know we are onto them.

So I've Got That Going For Me... Which is Nice

Have you ever just one day stopped in your tracks and realized that you are happy? That's what's happened to me lately. I mean I am still working out all the depression kinks and they do quite kick my ass in some days, but mostly I'm a pretty happy chick! It's pretty fucking sweet!

Hubs has been able to work out his schedule a little better after some pretty hefty come to Jesus talks. So he is pretty much home most evenings now and is mostly able to only work one weekend day which gives us time to get stuff done around our house or even just relax together on the other day. We are getting along really well and even managing to bone a couple times a week.

Everything is going well with the pregnancy. I had the big ultrasound on Monday and everything measured normal. The only thing is that baby girl is measuring about 8 days small. My doc said it's normal and they aren't changing my due date but of course it still worried me. I've never had that happen before. She also pointed out that at my next appointment baby will be viable! It's so crazy.

Besides that I went ahead and downloaded the rest of the mommy porn series. It's ridiculous how much I'm reading it considering how terrible it is, but I guess it's better than watching tv (or real porn for that matter.) Wait, it is better right? Reading porn at least makes me use my brain so that has to be better. I swear next I'll read some Dickens or Austen or something just so you guys will respect me again. Wait, you did respect me right?

Mommy Porn

Have you dudes heard of this 50 Sha.des of Gr.ey book? I kept hearing about it EVERYWHERE. On the news, talk shows, entertainment shows. I even heard they were making a movie about it and I am a sucker for reading the book and seeing the movie.
Surprisingly I had heard of it in so many places but didn't really know what it was about. All I knew was that it's all the sudden a best seller and apparently has some graphic sex scenes. And SOLD! (Also a sucker for graphic sex scenes.)
So I went ahead and spent the ten bucks and downloaded it and I can honestly say it was the WORST BOOK I've ever read in 3 days because I couldn't put it down. Contradiction much? Seriously I read it in 3 days and the whole time I was rolling my eyes and trying not to gag at its cheesiness. It was bad. And the sex scenes didn't even turn me on.
So why did I keep reading it? I'm not sure. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I was intrigued? It's about dominants and submissives, which I'm not into at all but it kept me interested enough apparently.
Anyway just wondering if anyone else suffered through it as well? It's a trilogy and I have not downloaded the 2nd book. Although I have thought about it exactly three times today.

Send Some Love

Hey ladies,

My good friend E is in the midst of adoption hell and I can't even imagine how she is not barfing every 5 minutes. I'm not the praying type but I swear I am praying for her right now and I hope you'll do the same.

http://manymanymoons.blogspot.com

Whoa ah oh Depression

Have you heard enough about depression from me? Well fuck off then. Just kidding. Don't fuck off. Just keep reading.

I've felt so great the last few months and grateful that I am still on meds. My doctor and I decided that toward the end of the 2nd trimester I will start weaning off the meds so baby girl doesn't have any effects at birth. (I guess if the babies have it in their system they are a little more lethargic.) I've been nervous about it but feeling so good that I felt I could cope. Today I woke up with a case of the blues and now I am reminded of what it's like to be in that dark place and I'm pretty much scared to wean now. (I haven't even started yet!)

I'm sure it will be fine and only temporary but I hate this feeling so much. I made an appointment for a massage, have a movie date with friends tonight and am going to go walk in the sun if it decides to come out today. I might need you dudes to remind me to keep doing this stuff.

Especially the massage part.

She-Baby Shenanigans

When I first started blogging, Oak was one of the first people I glommed onto.  She is super witty and funny, and well, she wrote a post about how she has orgasms in her sleep.  I mean, for realsies, who WOULDN'T want to follow her?  At the very least to learn how to have an orgasm in my sleep.  (Still working on that BTW.)

I've met up with her in person twice, and while we agree that beer might just be the best thing ever invented, she's been knocked up both times (and ok, me once) so we have not been drunk together yet.  YET.  It will happen.  And it will be awesome.

But I digress.  Oak is having a baby girl and even though she has iron ducts (this lady does not cry) I know that she is a big ball of mush already for her baby girl.  She told me once that she couldn't imagine not having a daughter because she loves the relationship she has with her own mom so much.  I'm so thrilled for her, her husband and little Mac and cheese.  And I'm happy to have her as my friend too.

So in honor of She-Baby, I am sending Oak the following onesie...

Yeah it's blue but I have a feeling that's not going to matter to She-Baby or Oak.  This shit is funny.  And I'm fairly certain some beer drinking got Oak into the sack that night anyway.  So cheers to Oak and cheers to her little miracles. 

Don't Ignore Infertility

I am one of the lucky ones. I truly am. I am expecting my 3rd child. My other children are healthy and happy. The scars of infertility remain but have now turned into squishy gooey lumps of love, sympathy and support for others who still have empty arms and hearts.

I can't tell you how many times I've come across someone who sees my pregnant belly and tells me they've been trying for 2,4,6 years. I end up giving them websites, books and doctors phone numbers and telling them my story too. I hope it provides hope. I hope it provides love. I hope it provides support. And most importantly, I hope it proves to them that they are not alone. Their problem exists. It is real. And there are lots of people who will NOT ignore it. There are people who won't tell them to relax, take a vacation, or stop thinking about it so much. Infertility is real. It is heartbreaking. And I will not ignore or dismiss it.

Inequality

What it's like for me to leave the house:

- Feed kids
- Feed myself
- Bathe kids
- Get kids dressed
- Change kids' clothes because they are dirty/torn/too small/ugly
- Get kids' teeth brushed
- Hopefully shower myself
- Hopefully brush my own teeth
- Look at clock and swear because I'm already late
- Pack snacks
- Fill bottle
- Restock diaper bag
- Get socks, shoes and coats on 3 people
- Grab toys, drinks, snacks, diaper bag, children
- Pack kids in car
- Get seatbelts on
- Run back in house because I forgot keys/phone/sunglasses/child
- Leave
- Pray I didn't forget anything


What it's like for Hubs to leave the house:
- Shave
- Shower
- Get dressed
- Leave

Love

The first time I got pregnant, I was convinced I was having a girl.  You see, I've wanted to be a mom since I was 12 years old.  And anytime I thought of my children, they were girls.  I just couldn't imagine my life without a daughter in it.  When we found out Bugs was a boy, I was still just as excited because I knew more children would follow.  (I obviously just didn't know how long it would take!)  I'm a pretty intuitive person and when I was pregnant with L, I just knew my daughter was coming.  When they said HE was a boy, I was still happy, but slightly confused.  My intuition didn't seem to be working out and since I had so much trouble conceiving him, I had no idea if I'd have any more children.

Today I went for the ultrasound and this entire pregnancy, I've been convincing myself that I am having a boy because, well, I still wanted a girl, but I needed to put my mind at ease that NOT having a daughter might be in my future and that either way, I am still blessed and beyond ecstatic to be having another boy.  And 3 boys would love their mom so fiercely and protectively.

And then the ultrasound lady said, "It's a girl."  And I almost died of happiness.  I have a daughter. 

Bow Chicka Bow Bow

So I've hit the second trimester stage. You know, the horny one. It's like a porn up in this place. Only like a really bad porn that nobody would want to watch.

I'm still getting sick in the evenings but during the day... Watch out!! I'm likely to hump your leg.

On another note, remember how I said I didn't think my patience would hold out for waiting to find out gender? Well I was right. The appointment is next Monday and as early as today I was begging the hubs to take the day off and go get an ultrasound instead. It went like this:

Me: "Let's get an ultrasound today."
Him: "Don't we have an appointment next week?"
Me: "Yes, but let's do it today instead."
Him: (Eye roll.) "No. Goodbye."

I offered to go without him and just text him after but he was not on board with that idear. So I guess I have to wait 6 more days.

Hair

I am a hairy beast normally. I have peach fuzz pretty much everywhere and the parts that get other types of hair are, well, really hairy. This works to my advantage when it comes to the hair on my head because it is thick and healthy and pretty bionic. I change my hair color about twice a year and it just hangs in there. (Hangs. Get it?)

Anyway something rather extraordinary happens when I'm pregnant. Extraordinary as in unusual, NOT awesome. My hair triples it's growing speed. Other than giving me long head hair, this is not advantageous. I'm forced to get my hair done about every 4 weeks, which gets quite expensive. Right now it has blond highlights so once those fuckers grow out you have to color them. My armpits and legs get a 5 o'clock shadow by about 2:30 and the lady parts? Well they look like this:

I try to keep up on the maintenance, but it is a jungle down there.  I turn my back for one second and it goes rogue.  I have resorted to buying all new razors and keeping scissors in the shower.  I am not fucking kidding.  It's going to be a real joy when I show up at the swimming pool with knee length stray hairs poking out of my swimsuit bottoms.  (I for reals just googled pubic hair in swimsuit for a visual and there was nothing.  Apparently even the Internet thinks my pubal situation is too gross to be seen.  THE INTERNET.)

My belly is already growing steadily, so as it gets bigger the situation will just get worse.  I know I should just go wax the son of a bitch, but I just cannot bring myself to spread eagle for a stranger and smile politely as they rip my pubes out by the root.  And besides, how often do you think I'll have to get that shit done?  Don't you have to go like once a month?  That means I will have to go twice, plus the growing back stage to get it long enough to wax.  That gives me approximately 10 hair free days a month.

I might have to resort to it.  Dear lord, beer me strength.  Amen.

Update

So it turns out when your life is super uneventful, you run out of things to blog about. So here are some of the non-events in my life.

- Well I guess being pregnant IS a big event, but there's just nothing new to report. We are set to have a gender check ultrasound on April 16th. This is an "extra" ultrasound that I have to pay for just because I am too impatient to wait for the regular insurance covered ultrasound 3 weeks later. My husband and I have toyed with the idea of waiting until the birth to find out but me thinks my impatience will win.

- My pal Kelly blogged about how she is obsessed with Dance Moms. It's this wretched show about these crazy moms who subject their children to an even crazier dance teacher. It's like Toddlers & Tiaras on crack. It's the WORST. Yet rest assured Kelly, I DVR it every week and get sad when the hour is up. What is wrong with us?

- Does anyone else check their bank balance and automatically think, " The bank must have made a mistake.". And you think this because you have no money and you have no clue why. This happens to me regularly and let me just tell you. The bank has NEVER made a mistake. Like ever. Never ever. I just somehow spend all the money and don't realize it.

Happy Birthday!

One year ago today I brought my sweet baby into this world. He brings so much love, joy and laughter to my life and I'm so grateful I get to be his mom.

The Weaning Project

Not to be confused with the weenie project you weirdos.

So yeah, I have officially weaned. I wasn't going to be in a hurry but I noticed L was having quite a few less wet diapers and seemed really hungry a lot. So I used my large, insanely smart brain to deduce that he wasn't getting enough breast milk. I started giving him 1 or 2 cows milk bottles a day just to introduce it to his system. He seemed to handle it just fine so I quickly increased him to several bottles a day.

He still dive bombs my boobs and wants to nurse especially when he's tired. It makes me sad to turn him down but the few times I have given in* I can tell nothing is coming out. I don't want him to rely on me as a human pacifier so I'm trying to just give him a bottle every time. His tummy is adjusting but we are definitely having some weird shit going on in the diaper department.

Anyway the bottom line is that it's nice to have my freedom back. Oh yeah and my tits.


* I typed this line wrong on accident and my phone auto corrected to "I have HIV." WTF?

I'm so Zen

I wonder how many blog posts start with "I was watching Dr. Phil today and..."

Anyway, I was watching Dr. Phil today and he said something that really hit me hard. It was basically that when you get angry, physiological changes take place in your body that make you unhealthy. I already know this and truly believe it but it was something I just needed to hear today. I think women especially are at risk for heart disease and cancer because we keep anger inside us and it builds into a bitter ball that eventually leads to disease. Or maybe just I do that. I'm a Scorpio after all.

Of course I can't get any more specific about this nugget of wisdom except to say that I am done with anger and working toward a plan that brings peace to me and ultimately, happiness.

Um Hi

How have I not mentioned that several fucking MONTHS ago I told the hubs about the blog? I seriously keep thinking I need to blog about it but then promptly forget. So yeah. Told him. He was mad. But mostly he was just hurt that I kept a secret for so long. He actually really enjoys my writing and is always telling me I should write a book about pregnancy. I guess he thinks my vagina stories or the fact that I pee myself would make for some good reading material. I offered to send him a link to the blog so he could read it and he didn't want it. So apparently he doesn't need to hear about my pee problems AND read about them too. Hmm weird. I've discussed this at length with several friends and how if the situation were reversed I would, OF COURSE, be poring over every word he wrote. I think E said it best when she claimed she would print each blog entry out and go over it with a highlighter. But alas, he feels it would be an invasion of my privacy to read it so he doesn't. He also asked me not to talk about him on here. Oops.

So next, I am currently weaning L. I've started giving him one or two cow's milk bottles a day just to introduce it to his system. He does pretty well with it but when he's tired, all he wants is the boob. I should really take a video of him when he sees me whip it out. He starts laughing and gets all excited and sometimes even claps. It is adorable and I will miss it but my body is struggling to keep up right now and I feel like he's not getting enough. I might try to hang on to the night feedings because they are so damn convenient, but I'm not sure if the ol' milkers are going to go along with that plan.

And finally, how did my baby get to be almost 1 already?

Back (Already)

So it's like I just needed to complain a little on my blog and the morning sickness gods would listen. The fog seems to be lifting and I'm actually starting to feel GOOD! Yeah!!!!

I still have the sickness some of the day but yesterday I actually said the words, "It's so nice out and I feel so good I actually want to go for a run!" Of course, I DIDN'T actually go for a run but that is beside the point. (For the record, I did go for a walk to pick my son up from school. See exercise.)

Also I'm happy to report that my cravings this pregnancy revolve around fruit. In the last 4 days I've eaten a whole pineapple, kiwis, 3 containers of strawberries, oranges and bananas. Not 1 vegetable has touched my lips but at least I'm not eating an endless supply of macaroni and cheese and pancakes. Of course L is helping me eat all this fruit and it's awesome. I'm glad he loves it as much as I do.

So now that pregnancy update is out of the way. Here's a story about my vagina.

Just kidding. My vagina has no stories to tell.

Absent

I don't have a lot to say. Well that is, I don't have a lot of positive things to say. So I haven't been saying anything.

I feel shitty all day. Every. Day. I know nobody wants to hear about that but it's all I really have going on. Hubs is back to working all day and night and with that plus the sickness, things aren't great there. There are some days I just want to throw my hands in the air and just be roommates because it seems like that would be easier.

I know that's not true but some days just kick me in the balls. Except you know, I don't have balls. Aw fuck, even my analogy doesn't work.

Anyway, now you know why I'm not writing. My life is uneventful and vomity. Will return when my grouchy side subsides again...

I Did It!

Really. I did IT! You know, like it IT.

The past few weeks have been filled with all day nausea, constant grazing, and zero motivation to make myself attractive in any way. This has all culminated in an extreme lack of sex drive, nay, more like a repulsion to sex and/or anyone touching me in general. Sexy time has not existed in my world for about 3 weeks now.

As you can imagine, the Hubs has been very understanding yet very frustrated. I, as you can imagine, haven't given a shit. But there's a teeny tiny part of me that knew this could not go on forever.

So today when I found myself actually full of food, in a good mood, and not nauseous, I started dancing. Not good dancing, but silly head banging, hip grinding, leg humping dancing. It suddenly occurred to me that this may be our only doing it opportunity. I shouted, "I FEEL GOOD! LET'S DO IT!"

Despite my leg humping, Hubs agreed. You know, because beggars can't be choosers. I think this means I'm off the hook for 3 more weeks.

Baby

So the doctor appointment was today. There's a baby. It has a heartbeat. And it's due September 25th.

Everything looks perfect. It feels real now. Telling family today.

Holy fucking shit.

Apparently It's Thought Vomit Time

I told my bestie about laughing at a 2nd grader who peed his pants and she promptly reminded me that karma is a bitch and that in a few months I'm going to be peeing all over myself. I kindof already do pee all over myself but it will definitely be worse. So I have that going for me.

The check engine light came on in my car. This year my car is 10 years old so I guess it was about time. I'm taking it to get checked out tomorrow and while they are at it I am going to have them find out why the following things are not working:

my heater (when I stop at lights)
my radio
the internal lights
the drivers side power window
the wipers on the lowest setting

Can you believe all those mother fuckers are busted? Holy shit I miss my radio! For some reason a bunch of electrical shit just had a chain reaction meltdown over the past few months. Hopefully it's some easy fix but me thinks it is going to be more like thousands of dollars. God damn it! P.S. I don't have thousands of dollars.

Remember when I was doing The X? Well a mean case of all day sickness mixed with all day hunger has forced me to stop working out. The calluses from the pull ups and push up bars are starting to peel off. On the plus side, I found a really awesome couch to 5k app and as soon as I'm feeling up to it I think I'm going to start that instead. I've always been a runner and this program combines a lot of walking with running so I think it will be a good program for me for the next few months. (When I say I'm a "runner" I mostly mean I jog slightly faster than I walk. Runner just sounds sexier. And rugged.)

Remember when Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake dated? I saw an old episode of SNL the other day and they were both on it. Poor Brit. She used to be so hot and un-crazy. I know it's illogical but even while I was watching them I had hope that they'd make it as a couple. Dear lord, please get BS and JT back together. Amen.

Another Reason Why People Don't Like Me

I laugh when I'm uncomfortable.  And at really inappropriate things.  Like when someone does something super embarrassing, I can't help it, uncontrollable laughter.  If someone falls or gets hurt... I'm laughing.  It's ridiculous and it makes me seem like an asshole.  I mean, I am an asshole and all but I'm usually not actually laughing because something is funny, but more like my discomfort has filled up my entire body and it has to spill out of my mouth in the form of laughter.

Anyhoo, I was at a program at Bugs's school today.  They were doing a little play when all the sudden one of the kids dropped his script, grabbed his weiner and ran off stage.  I'm not 100% sure, but I'm 98.3% sure he peed his pants.  I thought I saw the tell-tale dark spot on his pants and he never returned.  A mature, good mom would be mortified for this kid and feel really bad.  I, however, whispered (very loudly) to my husband, "I THINK THAT KID PEED HIS PANTS!!!"  And then proceeded to hide my head and laugh for about 4 minutes.  I could not for the life of me get it together.  Finally my husband said just that, "Come on babe, get it together!"  At that point I had to force myself to stop laughing and face front again.  I was happy to see that none of the other parents were staring horrifyingly at me.  Hopefully they didn't notice, but if they did, then I'm the asshole mom that laughed at a 2nd graders worst day of life. 

Poor kid.  I mean I do feel bad for him.  But the laughter.  It just comes.  I can't help it!

Solution

So I'm out of my weekend funk and had an epiphany of a solution... Stop weighing yourself idiot!

So there it is. I can't worry about the scale right now. I need to worry about my babies and put "Project Bikini" on hold for one more year.

Of course I am going to continue eating as healthy as possible but today, for example, the only thing I can stomach is a Newman's Own Pizza. Um, they are fucking fantastic by the way.

Maybe this seemed like an a obvious solution, and it is. However actually doing it is another story.

Appointment next Friday. Can't wait!!

How I Am Feeling Today

Nauseous and fat.

I met with a midwife earlier this week to discuss home birth. More on that later but I asked her about breastfeeding while pregnant. I told her I was feeling tired and hungry all the time and I was worried about nutrition for bébé, L and myself. She explained to me that my body has a hierarchy for that. First, bébé gets everything it needs, then L, then me. So if I am feeling tired and hungry I need to EAT MORE. If I don't then next my milk will be affected and I need to EAT MORE. Then if it gets bad enough bébé will be affected and I need to EAT MORE.

So I've been trying to eat when I'm hungry and also to eat healthy so we are all actually getting nutrients we need. The problem is I have morning sickness all fucking day. Trying to cram broccoli in my gourd when I want to vomit is like trying to cram broccoli in my gourd when I want to vomit. It's hard to find anything you want to eat when you feel sick. Yet somehow I've still gained more weight.

I was just getting to the point where I was making progress on my body and getting back in shape and now I am gearing up for another year and a half of feeling fat and shitty about myself. And today I feel so sick that it's hard to find the positive spin that I can normally give myself.

I know it will be worth it and that eventually I will get my body back but right now I am feeling sorry for myself.

And ok, eating gummy bears.

On My Mind

You know how a lot of blogs are all sunshine and roses and everyone has great days and their children are perfect and their husbands clean toilets and make enough money and their pets never shit in the house and they are their ideal weight?

Well I realize I'm not one of those blogs but maybe I try to put on an optimistic face about pregnancy and my babies because I realize being anything but grateful for it is insensitive. Also I just really AM grateful for my babies.

That being said... I'm pretty much scared shitless about this pregnancy. I'm already sick and tired and impatient. I am not the best mom or person really when I don't feel well and I find myself yelling at people often. I am also nervous that L and Bugs will suffer and lack real attention when there's another baby around.

So there you go. My real feelings. Scared. Of course the silver lining is that I was on the fence about a 3rd and I'd rather have it happen this way than deciding in a couple of years and then having a hard time conceiving. (Hard time! Snort snort!)

I Love Bloggers

Before I got pregnant with L, I had just barely lost about 8 pounds.  It seemed that the minute I got pregnant my body was like, "I don't think so bitch!"  And promptly packed those 8 pounds right back on.  It appears my body is an asshole like that because with no change in diet or exercise, I have gained 5 pounds in the last week.  Now, I did spend the weekend in New York, and while there were a few treats and delicious meals, I was pretty much walking around all day for 3 days so I think this 5 pounds is, to say the least, unwarranted.

Now about New York....

The city was, of course, amazing.  But I'm not going to talk about that.  I'm going to talk about the women.

This is the second time I have done a girls trip with these ladies.  Luckily they invited me along to Colorado in October and when E's recent adoption fell through, we all decided it was imperative to get on a plane and show her our faces.  If you've never met blogger friends in person, I highly recommend it.  In fact, I WANT TO MEET YOU!!  Seriously.  I really do.  Let's plan it.

It's so amazing to be in a group of ladies that knows exactly how you feel and what you've been through and what your story is.  Sunday, a few of us went to FAO Schwartz for no other reason than it is famous (and okay, to dance on the giant piano.)  Of course it was filled with wide eyed and wondrous children.  It was so fun to see the magic in their eyes.  I said to Amanda, "It's so cute how kids just find joy in everything"  She smiled and said, "I know.  It makes my heart hurt a little."

Obviously I teared up because I am a cry baby, but also because I knew that she couldn't say that to anyone in her regular life and have them understand the yearning and ache that lives in your heart, pit of your stomach and uterus when you want a baby so badly.

This community has saved my life over and over.  I'm so grateful for it.

Now... let's plan a trip.

Getting Infertiles Drunk One State at a Time!

What do you think the caloric needs are for a newly pregnant, still nursing mama are?  Because I am fucking STARVING all the time.  And not just, "hmm, I could use a bite."  It's more like, "HOLY FUCKING SHIT GIVE ME SOMETHING TO EAT BEFORE I PASS OUT AND/OR STOMP ON YOUR STUPID FACE!"  NOM NOM NOM!!!

This doesn't quite tie in with my lazy mom mode because I pretty much haven't been to the store in 2 weeks so all we have to eat is cheese and cheerios.  We are down to the last half gallon of milk too so someone is going to have to take one for the team and hit the store.  (1,2,3 not it!)

But really, I'm not it.  I'm leaving tonight for New York!!  I am so freaking excited I pee a little every time I think of it.  I've never been to NY so I am a little nervous about getting around and have looked up about a gazillion travel sites to figure out transportation.  After all of this research, however, I have decided to wing it.  I get in at the ass crack of dawn and nobody else gets in for about 4 hours after me so I figure I have time to make something work.  Apparently there are shuttles, cabs and buses galore so I am feeling like I will work it out.  As long as I'm not hungry.

I will miss my kiddos like crazy, but MY GOD I am excited to be free for a whole weekend!!  I am, of course, going to have to pump while I'm there, so The Infertility Brigade (a nickname I have given our group) is going to attempt to have at least one person pumping at every famous landmark.  I think it's an important quest. 

Extremes

I am a woman of extremes. Sometimes I can be all about my clean house and other times I drop my pants next to my bed until I can't see the carpet. I work out religiously yet will make lemon bars and pig out all day (today for example.) The biggest discrepancy is between my cheap self and my spend a fortune self.

I enjoy cute clothes yet I will look for the cheapest shirt ever and buy it in 3 colors. I shop online on 5 websites until I find the best sale. I will spend several hours a night shopping for airline tickets to find the sweetest
deal.

Yet it appears that I have zero qualms about spending exorbitant amounts of money on hair care products. We are talking about 50 dollars on shampoo and conditioner, 20 bucks on yummy smelling oils for shininess and luster, however much on delicious hairspray and deep conditioners and straighteners and blow dryers.

To be fair, I have super long hair so I have to invest some money into making it stay nice. Otherwise what is the point? I don't want to have long UGLY hair right?

But I should maybe take it down a notch and spend a little less on something that literally goes down the drain and a little more on clothes that adorn my body on a daily basis.

Or maybe I will just invest in some more cute jammies. I don't really leave my house much anyway. Ooooh jammies and delivered cupcakes.

The Story

As I've said before, I'm going to New York next week.  (Pause for happy dance, peeing my pants a little, and a little jumping up and down.)  I remember getting my period sometime before Christmas and timing it out to see if I'd be on my period in NYC or not because that would suck balls.  I figured out that it would come a couple of weeks before the trip so I would be in the clear.

Monday I was skyping with Oak and Kelly and telling them how I might be done having babies.  I had put some stuff up for sale online but when a girl called about the doppler, I just couldn't sell it!  I gave some thought to calling my doctor for an IUD that day, but didn't.  Later that night, I started thinking, "Hmm, my NY trip is only a week away and I still haven't had a period."  I wasn't really worried because they have been anywhere from 28-35 day cycles.  I had a HPT under my sink obviously because who doesn't?  So I decided to take it, fully expecting a negative.

You know how you can watch the pee-pee spread across the window?  Well I did that and it turned positive AS it was moving across the screen.  I started laughing, pretty much hysterically and my son heard me and asked what I was laughing at.  I walked out of the bathroom with the stick and thrust it in my husband's face while simultaneously laughing, crying, and saying Fuck over and over again. 

The last few days have been mostly shock and awe but I am starting to come around to the idea.  Of course I am ecstatic that my body worked and that I will have another child, but I am also a little nervous about having babies 18 months apart (HFS!)  It just doesn't feel real yet so I haven't really experienced strong emotion about it either way. 

All of the miscarriages I've had were in the 5th week, which I think is now, but again, not totally sure.  So after next week I'm sure it will get real.  I called the doctor and asked about the anti-depressants I am taking.  She said to continue on with them and that we'll most likely wean in the second trimester because the concern comes with the third trimester as I guess some babies born with that in their system are more lethargic and don't respond as well to stimuli.  My first appointment is February 24th and then we will discuss it further and make a plan.

Another baby.  Wow. 

The Making of an Urban Legend, Part 2

Stuff My Shrink Says

Technically, I don't think she's a shrink since she's a LCSW, right?  Don't you have to look and sound like Freud to be called that?  Either way, it sounds funnier to call her my shrink, so there it is.

We had a great talk about what exactly anxiety and depression are.  I thought I knew but during the course of the conversation I got confused so I asked her to explain it to me.  Basically, depression is feeling loss of motivation, not enjoying things that I used to enjoy and just being down.  Anxiety is more like racing thoughts and the inability to calm my mind.  She had me put numbers on my anxiety, 0 being none and 10 being like panic attack level.  She then asked me when I first notice that I am having anxiety.  Usually I get pissed off.  Like if my house is messy and it gets too much for me to handle, I get mad at everyone (i.e. crazy bitch.)  We labeled this point as a 5.  She asked if I ever get to a 10, which I have had panic attacks before, but very rarely thank god.  So we rephrased a 10 as the point where I'm so anxious that I basically have to shut myself down.  This usually resorts in me ordering my husband to take over and then I retreat to my room and watch tv by myself.  I have to do that to shut my mind off and to avoid the messes and stresses of my house.  This usually triggers a day or two of depression.

So basically, if I'm operating between 0-5, I can handle the daily stresses and anxiety.  When I get to a 5, I get mad, somewhat irrational and basically not very pleasant.  She asked me to pay attention to the thoughts that come and go when I get to a 5 because anxiety is pretty much feeling uncomfortable, having irrational thoughts about it and then acting on those thoughts.  So mine go something like this...

"My house is a disaster."  (Messy maybe, disaster?  No.  Anxiety ensues.)
"Nobody in this house appreciates what I do."  (Sometimes true but not always.)
"I have to do everything myself.  Nobody will help me."  (Not true, and usually I haven't even asked for help.)
"If someone comes over right now, I will be so embarrassed."  (At this point she asks me why that concerns me.  If I think people will think I'm lazy or dirty.  Yes.  She says, "Well are you lazy and dirty?"  No.)

So my job is to start asking myself whether all these thoughts are true or not.  And finally to ask "what's the worst that could happen?"  If my neighbor shows up and the sink is full of dishes, is the embarrassment really going to do anything other than make me uncomfortable for a few minutes?  Probably not.

The only problem I see with this is that sometimes I have racing thoughts about bad, bad things.  Like people dying or bad things happening.  So I have to ask myself if it's realistic, which usually it isn't.  The issue arises when I ask myself what is the worst thing that could happen.  Because let me just tell you, I am one creative bastard and I can think of a gazillion worst things.  So my job here is to pay attention to what triggers these insane thoughts and figure out how to interrupt that trigger.  (Still working on that one.)

So to summarize, my goal is to operate at a 0-5.  If I get to a 5, pay attention to my thoughts and figure out which are true or not true.  Talk myself back to below a 5.  And repeat.

After my last post about anxiety and depression, I got a lot of concerned e-mails from you ladies.  I appreciate them SO much, but just want to reiterate that this isn't my life every second of every day.  It comes and goes and 90% of the time, I am so, so happy!  It's just therapeutic to blog about it, and it seems that many of you relate, so I just put it out there.  I promise I'm not a risk to myself or others.  :)

Thought Vomit Thursday

Can you believe it's TVT again?  It seems that every other post I write is a TVT, so either I need to post more, or just get used to thought vomit as the format for all of my posts.  Oh wait, it already is.  So here goes.

- I am not so good at the Photoshop.  I've tried to figure it out but mostly I just screw up the pictures and then close them without saving the ridiculous changes.  Right now I am attempting to make a scrapbook of L's first year of life but I don't really know where to get that sucker printed so I am resorting to the online one you can select in Photoshop.  That is, I'm waiting for my 80 iPhone photos to upload into that program right now.  Perhaps I need a new computer as well.

-  L woke up at 7:30 this morning, which I realize is not that early but I was fucking tired and tried to get the Hubs to get up with him and let me sleep for just 30 more minutes.  He wouldn't do it and I turned into a holy terror on his ass.  Okay, I was being slightly unreasonable, and I probably should have kissed him goodbye when he left for work.  I'm a Scorpio.  It's a curse and a blessing.

-  I'm not sure what is going on with my jugs, but they seem to be trying to wean L on their own.  He seems to be constantly hungry and when I try to pump, I am getting hardly anything.  This normally wouldn't be a problem, but this mama is going to NYC in a couple weeks and leaving the baby at home!  So he needs some milky.  I have a few bags in the freezer and am trying to make myself pump a few times a day to increase my supply, but I am already having self dialogue to reassure my brain that he will be 10 months by that time and I am feeling okay about formula for the weekend if needs be.

-  So YEAH... I'm going to NYC bitches!!!  Woot woot!!  I am on the western half of the United States so New York is not just a place I can go to regularly.  I've never been.  And I'm SO excited!!!  Every time I see it on a show I get all giddy!  I watched "Friends With Benefits" the other day (fucking hilarious!) and there's a whole section of the show where she is showing him around New York.  It made me happy in my pants.  P.S. Eastern half of the US... I have been to Las Vegas a lot though.  You should go there.  I'll meet you.

-  Back to the weight loss sitch.  It's not going very well.

The One Where I Talk About Cleaning Toilets

My Internet decided to quit working. It's super annoying and they can't come to look at it until tomorrow. So today I downloaded the blogger app on my phone and am testing it out. I knew you couldn't possibly go one more day without a post from me so I blindly accepted the terms and conditions and gave the blogger app permission to anal rape me and take pictures of it to share. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice.

Having said that, I have a post all prepared (in my brain) to discuss my counselor's recommendations but my thumbs can't possibly type that much so just wanted to let some of you who asked for that to know it's coming. Oh yeah it is!

I have been working on my goal not to be a crazy bitch and it seems to be going well. I found cleaning schedules on a couple different websites and combined them to make my own. The biggest most awesomest thing I have discovered is to clean my bathrooms every day. Now I know how that sounds (crazy bitch like) but it is NOT!! I bought some Clorox wipes and after I do my business, I just take one and spend about 1 minute wiping down the toilet and countertops. Like literally 1 minute. My bathroom is always clean and since I have 3 bathrooms, I only spend 3 minutes a day cleaning them, which is totally doable in my world. (Also I have to pee constantly so going in 3 different bathrooms works out too.) You see, messes on the toilet and countertop set me off. (I mean honestly, just wipe it up boys!) so wiping down every day = happiness. Oh my god do I need a life.

So, yeah, um I'm obviously boring and I think this blogger app has mind controlled me into writing about cleaning toilets today. So I'm going to sign off now and hope for something more exciting to write about tomorrow.

**This is the Blogger app. We have in no way taken over BU's mind. Any opinions expressed here are solely hers. Especially the part where she doesn't think she's crazy. (Or a bitch.)**

Thought Vomit Thursday

- Why do people say "Shut the front door!"?  Where did that come from?  Why can't they just say "Shut the fuck up?"  Is this the G version of the X rated version?  I don't get it.  I may have said it before though, but I still don't get it.

- There's this time at night that is my favorite.  The kids are in bed, Hubs and I are getting our shit together to go to bed.  Inevitably, I find some reason to go downstairs to our kitchen and then wander in to my kids' rooms to give them one last kiss and stare.  I love it.  My house is so peaceful and you can almost feel the love in the air.  Strike that, you can feel the love in the air.  It's magical.

- I am still in the funk.  I met with my counselor again last night and discussed my mental state.  When I decided to go on meds for depression, they gave me the lowest dose possible because I am still breast feeding.  My counselor let me know that this dose is like crazy low so the fact that I am still having a rough time is pretty understandable.  We discussed increasing the dose, but I am just not willing to do it until I wean L, which won't be for at least a couple of months.  We discussed the differences between my anxiety and depression and how they are ultimately triggering each other.  We also discussed how the Hubs can help me with these problems.  The worst thing is that he just does NOT understand depression or anxiety and so he gets kind of fed up with me being overwhelmed and/or stressed because he thinks my life is pretty awesome.  My life is kind of amazing, but depression and anxiety don't give a flying fuck about that.  They come regardless, kind of like a beer belly (which I also have.)  Anyway, the bottom line is we talked it out and got some ideas on how I can stay in a more manageable state of mind.  We also talked about how this bullshit does not, in fact, make me defective.  Because sometimes I feel that way.  Ironic, no?

- I have some good things coming up though and the weather has been great, so I've been able to be outside and am consistently working out.  So there's that.

- Is this post super depressing?

- Did anyone ever watch Ally McBeal?  There's this one episode where she and John Fish sniff each other's butts when they are kids because that's what dogs do.  I can't remember the deets of that episode but every time I see Calista Flockhart on tv or in a magazine, I picture her sniffing a guys butt.