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.