Thursday, August 9, 2012

The Norm

Well, I hope you realize that I have had the baby.  I mean, 39 weeks was long enough. I can't imagine a 50 week pregnancy.

Tripp was born at 11:45 a.m. on May 22, one week before his due date.  We have all been going non-stop since.

But, we are finding a groove. We are settling in. And, it's about time. I thrive on a routine. Which is pretty crazy considering in college I hated routines.  I was crazy in college. Ok, maybe not crazy by some standards, but I did break curfew... yeah. I realize that the simple fact that I attended a college that had a curfew attests to the truth that I am indeed far from crazy.

I can't exactly explain all the changes that have happened since adding another arrow to the quiver. To be completely honest, I've always had this fear that I would never be able to love a second child with the same amount of love that I have for Ansley.  And it scared me.

The closer I got to having an outside baby, the more the fear grew. Could I handle two? Or, maybe more accurately, would they handle me?

It's good. and I'm looking forward to being "me" again. To having some time where I can sit and vomit my thoughts on paper. I love my kids. But I also understand that if I am going to be the best mother, I need to take time for me.

And, that's what this blog is. It's for me.  If others read it, that's fine. But I'm done trying to be like the others I read. Or, rather, used to read. Trying to be wittier than I am, snarkier than reality.  It's time to just be... me.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Dear, sweet child currently all snuggled in my uterus,
     I love you dearly, though we have yet to meet face to face. We have spent many, many long weeks together, as close as we can be.  It has been a precious time.
     I want you to be good and healthy when you arrive.  Your sister decided to make a stop in the NICU, and we hope to avoid that this time around.  However, consider this your two week notice.
     You have two weeks to vacate the premises. That's 14 days.  I may allow you to stay a little bit longer, however, we must establish some additional requirements should you decide to remain.
    1.) Kicking the ribs must stop.  My ribs are not yours to use for P90X.
    2.) You are not a snake, therefore this slithery, twisty thing you have been doing that makes me feel nauseous? Yeah, that has to end.
    3.) My cervix is not a trampoline.  Along those same lines, my bladder is not to be used as a pillow.
    4.) If you insist on remaining in my uterus, please reconsider the addition of more stretch marks. My stomach is not an interstate highway map of the United States.
    5.) Your weight limit has been reached.

Once again, I don't want to rush you, but should you still be inhabiting your current living quarters in two weeks, you can expect some minor eviction attempts.  Such as pineapple. And a birthing ball. And spicy food.

If you choose to remain an additional two weeks past your departure date, more drastic measures may be taken.

Once again, you are dearly loved, but I am ready for an outside baby, m'kay?


Friday, May 4, 2012

Getting There

So, here we are. It has been a terribly long time since I last posted, and to be quite honest, I thought about just letting it go. Just letting it become another one of those random blogs that is never updated and is taking up space on the interwebs.

But, alas, when I actually make myself sit down and write, I find it is such a great stress relief, and a great way to analyze and repackage my thoughts.  So, here I am, sitting in a quiet house, typing away, while the hubs is out with the kiddo doing some grocery shopping.  Silence is hard to come by these days, and so often missed.

Yes, I'm still pregnant.  But I am getting close.  T-minus three weeks. Technically. I'm shooting for "full term" which is next week, and, I honestly may try to encourage baby along just a little bit.  Or maybe a lotta bit.

Every pregnancy reaches a point where those cute, precious, comforting kicks seem to transform into an alien trying desperately to escape the confines of the womb.  That point happened about, um, 4 weeks ago for me.

I honestly never knew that my belly button could actually hurt. And it does, Because I think that is the way this child has decided to escape...

I'm pretty good during the early part of the day, but I've had enough come about 3 p.m. And the hardest part has been simply that I can't "do" anymore.  I can't get the cleaning done on my own.  I suppose I could, technically. So, rather, I can't comfortably get the cleaning done. I can't really sleep anymore. I can't seem to eat enough to stay full (actually, that part I don't really mind all too much.  Food has been my friend this pregnancy).  I can't even seem to fit in my maternity clothes at this point.

I'm down to weekly appointments, and my last one revealed that baby is currently measuring in at 7lbs11oz, with as many as 4 weeks to go.  I understand that these measurements are frequently off.  However, I also know that Ansley was born with 5 weeks to go and weighed in at 7lbs then.  So the current measurement isn't really that hard to believe.  Either way, the first words out of the tech's mouth during the u/s were "Oh my. This head is huge."

Which seems to fit in nicely with all the comments I've been getting lately, including:
      Wow, you aren't as huge from the back.
      I'm going to tell the school principal that you are trying to steal a basketball.
     Oh. My. Gawd. You are HUGE.

And, my new personal favorite, courtesy of a student this week:
     If my wife gets that big while she is pregnant, I'm going to leave her.

Which, is rather ironic considering my total weight gain remains under 30 pounds thus far. However, there is no disputing where that 30 pounds is currently residing... right in front of me.

Here's the thing. I'm convinced that soon, my body will no longer be able to support the weight of my protruding stomach, and I fear that it will simply begin to rip off. Which, ultimately, I don't think would be all that bad, considering it would take the stretch marks and my new outie belly button along. It may pose some  difficulties on down the road, but I'm sure we can manage.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Up to Date

29 weeks down, 11 to go.

I had been a little concerned about my weight gain this time around. I thought I had gained over 30 pounds so far.

Turns out, I wasn't quite as thin pre-pregnancy as I remembered. Or maybe as I had wanted to be.  I actually have only gained 23.  That includes the 4 (or maybe 5) Reese's Cheesecake Bars...

Which means I passed my glucose test which allowed me to enjoy the aforementioned sweetness.

I'm measuring right on track, despite several comments questioning the number of babies in there, the correctness of my due date.

Yes, there's only one. Yes, I know for sure my due date is accurate, thankyouverymuch.

But, the downside?  Seems I have a kidney infection.  Luckily, it was just in the early stages, so I'm not nearly as uncomfortable as I suppose I could be. But I am taking an antibiotic that makes my voice sound all raspy.

Like Phoebe's sexy voice when she has the cold.  Yeah, that's me.

Except it isn't all sexy. It's just raspy. Scratchy.  Despite the 100+ ounces of water I've had today.

Monday, February 27, 2012

A Private Room...

in which I can scream at the top of my lungs and no one can hear.

That's what I want.

I love my child more every day. I still don't understand how I am capable of such love, and how I will be able to love baby boy as much as I do Ansley.

But that doesn't change the fact that on nights like tonight, I sometimes wish I didn't have kids. She.was.awful.

I know it was primarily because she was so tired, and she doesn't understand that certain things have to happen so she can go to sleep. But, seriously.

How in the world am I going to handle 2?

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

If you aren't invited, go home.

We had an unwanted visitor at our house last week. And some of the week before.

And it was not wanted. And it would NOT leave.

Out of no where last Saturday, the kiddo spiked a fever, fell asleep in my lap, and then stopped eating. Occasionally, when the drugs kicked in, she was her normal self, pleading for Legos and M&Ms and her pea-win jom joms (translation: penguin pajamas).

Then, the liquid hit the diaper. And it didn't stop. For a week.

Ansley kept complaining that her stomach hurt, but in the world of a 2 year old, I couldn't tell if it hurt because she was sick or hurt because she hadn't eaten. Either way, she wasn't very pleasant to be around. Both because she was grumpy, and, well, she smelled pretty bad.

Wednesday I woke up feeling... weird. As I ate my Frosted Mini Wheats, my mouth became void of any moisture. And it was weird. And then I understood what Ansley meant when she was telling me her stomach hurt. It felt like someone was digging in my abdomen with a rusty knife. A rusty dull knife.

Luckily, the inside kid decided to chill out and not batter me from the inside at the same time.

Oh, and then, the, um, poospolsions hit. While I was teaching. And was the only girl that had access to a bathroom in a coach's office. And I'm pretty sure the coach was embarrassed for me. And maybe a little impressed.

So I left work and went home. To bed. I left my kid at the sitters and went home.

And I stayed there Thursday. In bed. And couldn't really eat, which worked in my favor by halting the trips to the bathroom.

And they stayed halted. Until today. I finally felt normal today. Ate every meal. Wanted every meal.

The hubs still seems in the clear. No pain. No unusual, um, movements. Hopefully he has escaped the wrath of the 2012 Stomach Bug.

I wouldn't wish is on anyone. Well, maybe a few people.

But no one I really like.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012


How's about a few pictures to give you a peek into our lives recently.

Baby Boy, set to arrive in May
We are excited about adding another arrow to the quiver. And not that I am disappointed, but I just haven't been impressed with the baby boy clothing options. And I know it is about so much more, but, seriously? It's like you really only have a few options: sports, frogs, trucks and dinos.  All great in their own right, but not nearly as cute as all those little girl options out there.

Christmas, 2011

We celebrated Christmas. It was fun and festive and special.  It was the first Christmas without everyone though.  My grandpa passed in September, and my little sis was hugely pregnant and wisely opted against the 20+ hour drive home.  But, we still had a fun time. Ansley seemed to enjoy it more this year, actually opening presents and wanting to play with her toys immediately.  She didn't get any clothes, which is proving to be a little bit of a problem. Cause she keeps growing. And Growing. And GROWING.  Seriously, since spring, she's gone up two sizes each season.  And now, with about 2 months of cold left, she has outgrown nearly all of her pants and shirts and winter dresses.  So, this is how she spends a lot of her time:

In "jommies"


Sans clothing.

There are some battles I just don't feel like fighting these days. Most mornings, I drop her off with the sitter in her pjs. Well, not the sitter in her pjs, but Ansley in her pjs.  On the weekends, we are both in our pjs until the afternoon. And, sometimes, she doesn't have any clothes on at all. And, I'm ok with that. 

So, that's what we have been up to. Babies and toddlers and holidays and... just, stuff.

It's a good life though, and we're happy to live it.

Monday, January 23, 2012

BIG news

It's not really BIG news, I suppose. Just more of me getting big. Ugh.

I started this blog 2 years ago after Ansley was born. It was a Mommy blog, and I didn't really have much intention of turning it into a pregnancy blog.

But, then again, I do know what the number one cause of pregnancy is, thankyouverymuch.

So, here I sit, 22 weeks pregnant. Not "preggo" or "preggers." I have never been able to get on board with those terms. Knocked up, ehh, could be worse I suppose.  "Preggo" just really makes me want to eat spaghetti. Like, I think I've got the Pavlov Effect going on right now.

Many have asked how this pregnancy has been different from my first. Well, for starters, I have little boy parts in my uterus.  That's a pretty big difference. And, to be completely honest, it totally freaks me out. Sometimes, when he's moving around, and I can't figure out what body part is where... Ok, arms, check. One leg, two legs,  so

I also have seemed to reach the wanting-it-to-be-over phase much quicker.  I know the little guy still has 18 weeks to bake, and I certainly don't want him to come as early as his big sis (as my doc says, wimpy white males have the most trouble if they are born early), but I seriously don't know how I will survive the next 18 weeks. EIGHTEEN WEEKS. THE REST OF JANUARY. ALL OF FEBRUARY. ALL OF MARCH. ALL OF APRIL. NEARLY ALL OF MAY.


I suppose I don't feel all that bad, except at the end of the day. Then those cursed round ligaments start aching, and the waddle comes on full force. And the marital duties (which, to be completely honest, cause contractions that freak me out even more than the little boy parts swimming around inside).

Another huge difference is what I want to eat. Sweets. All.the.time.  Cakes, candy bars, ice cream. With Ansley, I couldn't get enough fresh fruit.  Sweets made me wanna head to el ban-yo to say goodbye to my stomach contents.

Which is another difference. With Ansley, morning sickness made me toss my cookies, regularly. But I felt better afterwards. With this kid, the goldfish-swimming-in-my-stomach feeling was a constant, though the cookie toss wasn't as regular.  Which means I've spent a lot more time sitting in the floor in front of the toilet wishing I had cleaned it better.

Sunday, January 8, 2012


After a long stay in our home, our beautiful, 11 foot frazier fur tree was removed from the home today.  I would like to say that it was bittersweet, but the only thing bitter about it was how I was starting to feel about it still being in my home.

I love the beauty of Christmas. I love the lights and the decorations and the candles and the cookies. I love it after Thanksgiving, not before. And when it is time for it to go, I want it gone.

I treasure the meaning behind the holiday. And I know it is so much more than gifts and goodies and lights and trees. The meaning is always important to me, no matter the time of the year.  But, the tree? It was dead. Beyond dead. We're talking fire hazard dead.

So many needles on my floor. On my porch. Now on my sidewalk. Though the tree is currently in the middle of my yard, I have reclaimed my living room.

I know there are some that still have their beautiful trees still up. And I know that there are mom, who have the tree down and decorations gone on Dec. 26. I like to think I fall some place in the middle.

Last year we put a small, live tree in Ansley's room and decorated it for Christmas. It was cute and festive. And wasn't taken down until, um, May or June?

Ok, so, maybe that was a little long. And very dead. But I took it down.


Happy Undecoration Day!

Monday, January 2, 2012

Back at It

I have had a wonderful break from work. A glorious week, paid, that didn't require the use of any hard earned vacation or sick days. 

I really started to enjoy the stay-at-home-mom role. We fell into a routine, which often involved sleeping until 9am and taking a 2-3 hour afternoon nap. Yes, both of us.

I was able to keep the house clean, cook a few meals, play with a doll house, and stay in my pjs until about 11.  It was awesome.

I know there must be more to this than what I have experienced.  There is the great and lasting debate about which is more difficult: working mom or staying at home mom. So, what am I missing?

Sure, we've had our rough patches. Naps weren't always the easiest, and sometimes I just wanted to skip the laundry and clothes folding for something a little more, fun. Like a Grey's Anatomy marathon.

Perhaps the difference is that this was just a week. It was a week were I was home, but we still had 2 incomes. I suppose true SAHMs do things like pay the bills and balance the checkbooks and clip coupons and stuff. And have play dates in the park, and power walk. And make their children geniuses. All things I seem to have no interest in.

Well, except the child genius part. We're getting there. She almost knows her right and left. Sometimes. By accident.

Ok, so maybe I'm not cut out for this...