The Ladies

After my depressing post yesterday I thought I'd follow it up with updates on the ladies.  Jo is getting bigger and bigger every day!  She's fitting comfortably in Carter's brand size 6 months which is just crazy since Alex was always so behind in her sizing.  I don't know what to do with this chunkster except squeeze her cheeks and love on her constantly.  She eats like a champ and has the body to prove it.  Last night she slept for 7 hours straight which was great.  The not so great part is she's sleeping in our bed so we have to transition her out sooner rather than later.  I'm going to hate that.  She's so adorable to wake-up to every morning and I'm going to miss snuggling up next to her.  We always put her right in the middle of the bed but over the course of the night she wiggles her way closer to me and we end up head to head by the morning.  She's been such a great baby and the few weeks of fusiness we went through seem to be over.  Jo's only real issue is she has a herniated belly button which looks worse than it is.  Other than that she has such excellent head control it surprised the pediatrician and her legs are so strong she can "stand" for a few seconds (while we hold her of course).  Jo even started smiling around 6 weeks and since then has been interactive with us, smiling and cooing and generally just being a happy baby.  Marcus and I both agree that she seems to be slightly more ahead of where Alex was developmentally.

Alex is slowly adjusting to her new role as big sister and no longer numero uno in the Tepaske world.  This is not to say that she's completely adjusted and there are not daily temper tantrums/meltdowns but I attribute that more to her age than anything else.  She also has all four molars popping up plus a few extra teeth in the front to that's certainly not helping her attitude.  Her vocabulary has increased dramatically over the last few months and, for the most part, I can understand what she's saying.  There are a few times I have no clue and just nod and smile.  I'm probably agreeing to her having a car at the age of 2 or something.  Alex is also starting to play more by herself and do make believe.  I'm not sure what's going on in that mind when she's feeding the snowman but he must have looked hungry.  Ever since Jo's arrival she's also really taken to her baby doll and cannot go to sleep without her.

Both girls keep me on my toes and the saying "there's no rest for the weary" is my life right now.  I'm trying very hard to enjoy every second and remind myself of how lucky we are to have two beautiful, healthy girls.  Every day is a trial in patience and unfortunately I'm not very good at it.  Maybe with time it will get easier as the girls get older.  Ahahahahahahahaha!

The ladies at Thanksgiving

Honesty

For those who are not aware we are moving to Jacksonville, North Carolina in just a few short weeks.  Marcus accepted a job with the USMC and so the Tepaske Tribe is uprooting and moving down south.  I always said I never wanted to move north of the Mason-Dixon Line (for no real reason other than it gets progressively colder and colder the farther north you get) and so I guess in that regards this is my wish come true.  Except, it isn't.  Now that we are moving I realize how much I do not want to move.  The whole thought is making me miserable.  It's not the only thing making me miserable but it's certainly at the top of the list.

Almost in line with the move and what's making me miserable is my everyday life.  I'm going to be perfectly honest here:  I have serious doubts on a daily basis that I'm a. cut-out to be a mom and, b. cut-out to be a stay-at-home mom.  Every day I wake-up and blink and it's the end of the day.  I don't know what I've done except both kids are fed and semi-clean.  That's not to say that everyone made it through the day without one or two breakdowns (myself included) but at least we're all safe.  Short of just making it through the day I cannot even begin to fathom trying to fit more than eating, pooping, and sleeping into the day.  As I type this I begin to realize I've fallen into some sort of depression.  Maybe I didn't escape the baby blues with JoJo like I thought I had and maybe it's just now beginning to rear it's ugly head. 

I'm sure there are a lot of things contributing to this feeling of depression and almost constantly feeling like on the verge of tears.  The upcoming move, taking on the role of stay-at-home mom, and having a new baby are just the tip of the icerberg.  As callous as this may sound I realized today that I have an inkling of understanding for women who abandon their families.  As a woman we're expected to change and become different people for our families and everyone else gets to stay the same.  It's an expectation placed on us by others as well as ourselves and unless you're filthy rich and can hire someone to take your place as mother and wife then you're stuck feeling like just a portion of the person you used to be.  I used to be fun and witty and enjoyed actually going out and doing things.  Now, I feel like I struggle to identify with others and the thought of having to actually get dressed to leave the house is daunting.  Maybe I'll feel better as we all settle into our new roles in North Carolina but right now, at this exact moment, I'm not looking forward to the future.

I'm Back!

It's been a while, I know.  I apologize.  I'm sure you all will understand that my time has been consumed by poop, spit-up, and crying.  And then of course there is Alexandra and Josephine to take care of as well.  So, in all there has been little time left for writing blog posts.

Alex has only been out of daycare for less than two weeks and my official start as a stay-at-home has barely begun and I'm pretty sure I'm already an alcoholic.  This is mostly because the minute either Alex or Jo Jo wakes up I wonder when I can start drinking.  Don't be surprised if one day, in the not so distant future, you find me silently weeping on the bathroom floor chugging mouth wash because I've already consumed all of the booze in the house.

I have made a few discoveries over the course of these last few weeks.  First of all, I've noticed that toddlers have an uncanny way of being exactly where you don't want them to be.  For example, Jo Jo can be sleeping in her chair in the middle of the wide open kitchen floor and Alex will undoubtedly knock into her and wake her up, forcing me to restart the grueling process of getting Jo back to sleep.  Similar to this is the toddler's ability to walk through the pile of dirt you just painstakingly swept for the last 15 minutes.  A second toddler oriented observation is the fact that they constantly step on your feet.  No matter how far away I try to move my feet from Alex she finds a way to step on the most delicate part of my foot, right on top of the foot where there's little skin and all bone. I could be sitting cross legged and she would find a way to step on them.

A third observation is a self observation.  I have no energy left in me to fight anything.  For example, at this very moment I'm watching Alex carry around a gift bag which she is using to tote around a 3 hour old apple slice and piece of toast.  Every now and then she reaches in and takes a bite of one or the other and I don't care.  I also don't care that I can currently feel the air on my butt crack because my pants fit so horribly.

Well, that's it for now.  Alex has just spit out chunks of the apple she was eating and the baby has poop up her back and I think I hear that wine bottle calling my name.

She's Here!

So...you know how people will say something then follow it up with "famous last words?"  I should have written "famous last words" at the end of my last post.  It turns out I was going to have a baby it's just that she was waiting for her exact cue to arrive.  She's very punctual this one.  Again, I won't go into the nitty gritty details but just know this is a post about giving birth.  I may say things that make you uncomfortable.  I can guarantee you it won't be nearly as uncomfortable as I found myself at just about this time a week ago.

Marcus and I went to bed on time last Tuesday, about 10:00.  I couldn't fall asleep because the baby was kicking and going nuts and not allowing me any reprieve from the movement.  At about 11:00 I started feeling cramps.  My first thought was I had to use the bathroom.  However, after about 15 minutes passed I had another cramp and I realized it was more of a wave than of a constant crampiness.  So, after about 45 minutes of off and on crampiness I woke Marcus up and told him we should probably call my mom.  He was wide awake although he later confessed he thought it was 6:00 in the morning he was already sleeping that hard.  Lucky.

So, we called my mom and she got to the house and we left for the hospital which this time was a mere 5 minute drive away.  By this time I knew for sure I was experiencing labor pains, I was just hoping it was enough for them to keep me at the hospital.  Famous last words.  We got the hospital at 1 in the morning and went through the ER where they insisted on wheeling me up to Labor and Delivery because not but an hour earlier another pregnant lady had arrived at the ER and never made it to Labor and Delivery before delivering her baby.  We got to L&D and they checked me into triage where they determined I was 5 cm dilated.  Much better from the morning's prognosis of 2.5.  After a while they got me into a room where things quickly progressed.

The contractions were long,  hard, and just about back-to-back; much worse than with Alex.  I opted to go without an epidural figuring I did it last time why couldn't I do it this time?  I'm not saying I would have done anything different this time around but there were definitely moments where I thought "Why the f*** am I not getting an epidural?!"  The nurse checked on me a few times and the last time she walked out of the room she said if my water were to break or if I felt the need to push call her.  I swear it was five minutes later and I felt the need to push. 

So, I'll leave it there but I do want to mention poor Marcus was thrust into the role of holding a leg where he got to witness first-hand the birth of his new baby.  Everyone was very concerned when Marcus suddenly asked for apple juice and he was practically forced to sit down.  He eventually made his way back to my head where he stayed until it was over.

At 3:10 AM, a mere four hours from start to finish, we welcomed our new baby into the world.  Everyone in the room was excited to see who it was (apparently nobody waits to find out the sex these days) and Marcus announced to the room that the baby was a girl!  Both of us were stunned.  For whatever reason we felt certain this baby would be a boy.  Instead, she was a healthy, beautiful girl whom we named Jospehine Margaret.  She weighed 8 pounds 3 ounces and was 19.5" long at birth.  I'm pretty sure she's already doubled in size just a week later based on how much she's eating.  So, there you have it.  My very normal, 40 week long pregnancy followed by a very normal delivery which resulted in a fabulous baby girl.  We're all happy to be home and settling in though some of us are a little crankier than others (*ahem* Alex).  That's another post for another day.

Our new bundle fresh outta the womb

No. The Baby Has Not Been Born. STFU

Tomorrow is my official due date and as of this morning ain't nothing happening.  To everyone who has so helpfully offered advice on how to get this baby out let me first extend a heartfelt "thank you."  As I have only been pregnant one other time before this I was not aware of all the tricks of the trade, if you will, to help the labor process get started.  I would think it doesn't really need to be said but trust me when I say, there is nobody in the world who wants more than I do for this baby to be born.  None of the tricks you are proposing are new to me nor do they interest me because I think they're all a bunch of crap.  First of all, let me state right off the bat that I will not be having sex to induce labor.  Labor is less labor than trying to have sex right now.  So, let's just all agree to drop that suggestion.  Second, other labor inducing old wives solutions such as eating spicy food, eating pineapple, and going for walks are all things that a pregnant woman could be doing at any second when her labor begins.  Statistically speaking, there are so many pregnant women in the world that the odds are very, very high that she may be doing one of the aforementioned things and thus the myth of a new labor inducing method is born (ha, no pun intended).  Therefore, unless there has been a scientific study conducted proving the benefits of those labor inducing methods I refuse to believe they actually work.  Plus, on Saturday I went for the longest walk of my life and the only thing it did was make me feel like I ran a marathon the next day and the only thing I wanted to do was sleep.  So, at this moment in time if everyone could exhibit some modicum of patience that would be great.  Otherwise, I will probably not tell you when the baby is born.  Thank you.

Breaking News

This just in.  We have confirmed that Lauren is going to be pregnant for the rest of her life.  Details at 11.

The Details:

We just got back from our doctor's appointment this morning and as the doctor walked in he said "So, remember how you were worried about premature labor?  I don't think we have to worry about that anymore."  Funny guy, this doc.  Now he gets a personality.  Sheesh.

Anyway, other than another .5 centimeter dilation nothing is going on down yonder.  What is going on is I'm continuing to gain weight though the best nurse in the world tells me it's simply from swelling at this point.  She tells me this over the laughter than can be heard from the exam room as the Peanut Gallery, aka Marcus, sits in his comfy chair being skinny.

Speaking of Marcus I'd like to take a minute to address him (un)privately:  Stop.  I don't know when this baby will get here because it is out of my hands.  And comments about how you could have gone on travel to California are stupid because, despite the fact the baby hasn't been born, the fact is it could be born.  Believe me when I say that nobody, NOBODY, wants this baby here more than I do.

So, anyway.  That's that.  I'm 39 weeks pregnant and there are no signs of imminent labor.  At some point I'll have to accept my fate but until I do I plan on continuing to b*tch and moan.  Although, one good thing has come out of this and that is I finished both of my psychology courses in a record 6 weeks.  It might not have been my greatest work but at least I had time to finish before the baby arrives.

 

A Positive Pregnancy Post

I've realized that I never post anything upbeat about being pregnant.  I'm constantly b*tching about it and in reality there are some positive aspects to it, the end result of the baby actually being born the most positive aspect of them all, of course.  So, I got to thinking about what parts of pregnancy are actually kind of nice.  So, without further ado, here they are:

1. People cater to you. I've had comfy chairs procured for my enjoyment when everyone else has to sit on less comfy chairs and, in general, most everyone seems to be nicer. That or they just steer clear.

2. Free sh*t. I've been offered free bottles of water and tons of free food.

3. I bet you can't balance a bowl of ice cream on your belly while perusing the boob tube. I can.

4. Nobody looks at you funny when you have food all over yourself which, for some reason, happens a lot more frequently during pregnancy. In fact, I just removed an 18 month old hamburger grease stain from a maternity shirt the other day. It had lost it's flavor.

5. Speaking of food all over yourself, you can keep little bits of food stashed away for future consumption in your cleavage provided it isn't melty.

6. Again, on the topic of food, you can eat anything you want without question. I do have a habit of trying to justify why I crave certain things but when it comes down to it, if I want to drink the Chick-fil-A sauce straight from the container then by golly that's exactly what I'm going to do and I dare you to say something about it.

7. I can ask for something to be handed to me that is within a small radius without the other person questioning my laziness.

8. Speaking of laziness I can force my toddler into physical labor without question. Currently, she carries the cat's food dish for me, carries the soon to be not so nicely folded laundry to her room, and follows me around with the dustpan as I sweep. I am working on her bed making skills and ability to properly wash a window without the use of her tongue.

9. I can shop for clothes for myself and not hear one remark about spending money because in this particular case I really do need new clothes.

10. I can complain as loudly and for as long as I want and nobody can say anything about how whiny I am. At least not to my face.

Make It Go Away

Hahahaha, remember that time Marcus thought it would be a good idea to have another baby and I agreed?  Hahahaha, that was funny.  Not really.

How Long Do Elephants Gestate Because I'm Pretty Sure I Have Them Beat

22 months in case you're wondering.  Twenty-frickin'-two months.  If anyone has a right to say "FML" it's a pregnant elephant.

We had our 38 week check-up this morning and I think it's pretty safe to say I am going to be pregnant for the rest of my life.  This baby is not interested in joining the rest of us.  I have to admit, I'm ready for him/her to vacate the premises.  As of this very moment the baby is nuzzling into my bladder and rectum all at the same time.  I picture it using my bladder as a pillow and then draping it's arm over my rectum, pulling it in tighter and snuggling up for a long nap.  If that isn't a feeling every woman yearns to be rid of I don't know what is.

Remember that time I compared my ballet skills to that of an elephant?  I wasn't trying to be literal.  I really do think that without a pregnant belly I float like a butterfly.  In fact, I'd like to take it back because it seems like someone is playing a cruel joke on me and I'm not even half-way through this pregnancy.  It may be time to take matters into my own hands...

It's A Sad State Of Affairs

The current state of my body is such that after every time I sneeze I have to quickly assess the situation:  Have I peed my pants?  Passed gas (audibly anyway)?  Is the baby still where it should be?  Once all three potentially disastrous situations have been averted I can calmly go about my business.

The same can be said for laughing.

And coughing.

FML.

Violated? I Think Not.

I remember shortly after Alexandra was born having a conversation with my girlfriend about the lactation consultants at the hospital.  "Didn't you feel so violated when they came in, grabbed your boob, and shoved it in the baby's mouth?!" she asked.  "Seriously?" I said, "I had a male nurse squirting warm water on my vagina not but 6 hours earlier.  A woman grabbing my breast was the last thing I cared about by that point in time."

Manipulation

I'd like to take a quick moment to note that yesterday marks the very first time Alex manipulated her dada because I wasn't giving her what she wanted.  Who knew it started so young?

Basically, we were all three in the pediatrician's waiting room, Marcus, me in the middle, and Alex sitting in her own chair much to her delight.  She then started sliding off and insisting I put her back in the chair (we're working on our upper body strength).  After a while I grew weary of the game and told her that I wasn't going to put her back in the chair.

She looked at me for a minute or two, I suppose trying to ascertain how serious I was, and when she finally concluded I was indeed, very serious, she walked over to Marcus and indicated to him she wanted to sit in his lap.  He picked her up (having not noticed what was going on next to him) and she proceeded to crawl out of his lap, onto and over me, and into "her" chair which she promptly slid right out of.

The thought process for this took less than a minute which I applaud; it didn't take her long to figure out a solution to her problem.  But the deceit?  Whoa boy.  We are in for it.  She's only 18 months old and she has a lot to learn...this is going to be bad.

Women Are Dumb

As you may or may not be aware I am a glutton for punishment.  I also like to make fun of stupid people.  As such, I occasionally peruse a chat forum designated especially for women who are either trying to get pregnant, are pregnant, or just like to talk about those things.  For the most part I think they're all ridiculous and write about ridiculous things that could easily be addressed if they'd just pick-up the phone and talk to their health care practitioner.  But, then again, if they did that I wouldn't have such great fodder for my blog posts.  Also, I suppose it's a sign of the times.  We can find all of the answers we need/want to hear by simply posing a question to a group of strangers who have no authority on the topic at hand.  I digress.

The most recent "WTF" moment came yesterday when a woman asked who else was regularly checking their own cervix.  What.  The.  F***ity.  F***?!  WHO regularly checks their own cervix and most importantly WHY?  I cannot overemphasize enough the WHY.  Why are they checking their own cervix and for the love of Pete how do they even know what they're feeling for?  That's why people go to medical school and trust me, these women are nowhere near medical school learning.  The responses she received were equally WTF as women gave helpful hints on how to squat and...I can't.  I won't even make you re-live the whole thread because I care.  Just know that it was beyond weird and we'll leave it at that.

This whole thing icks me out to no end.  I do not understand women and I am one but I'll be damned if I'm sticking my fingers up where they don't belong.  That's what I'm paying an OB-GYN to do, to tell me what's going on in there because well, he should know.  So, until next time remember folks:  That pregnant woman you shook hands with may have just checked her own cervix.  

35 Weeks Today

Today we are officially at the 35 week point which, if you actually know me (like, in real life), then you know that Alexandra was born at 35 weeks.  Thus, the importance of today.  As of 1:39 PM EST there are no signs of early labor and the impending arrival of Baby T #2.  Which is kind of disappointing.  Don't get me wrong.  I totally understand the importance of a 40 week gestation and the longer the baby gestates the better but, really?  5 more weeks of this?  Provided the outcome is the same as Alexandra's which was we had a perfectly healthy, albeit small, baby then I'm more than willing to give birth today.  I mean, I'm like really willing.  My belly button is popped so far out it looks like a fifth appendage.  My smooth walking gate is officially more of a waddle because the baby has a habit of pressing on my bladder and backside at the same time which is highly uncomfortable.  I'm also a little nervous about just how big this baby will get if we go to a full 40 weeks.  Birthing a five pounder was nothing.  Birthing an eight pounder might be a whole different story and one I don't really want to have as part of my repertoire.

In general, I'm just over it.  I don't suppose I was really into it to begin with as pregnancy isn't something I enjoy despite how easy it is for me.  Although, with all of that being said I know what lies ahead.  It's a vast span of time when Marcus and I walk around like zombies and I cry a lot because it's overwhelming.  So, on second thought, maybe having the baby isn't such a great idea.  (S)he should probably just stay put for a long, long time.

Marcus Finally Jumps On My Bandwagon

The title sounds highly inappropriate.  I can assure you, it's not.

Last night as I was getting the bassinet put back together Marcus said it was all just beginning to hit him that we were about to go through the newborn stage yet again.  "Oh, really," I said, "You're just now beginning to realize that?"  He replied that Alex's newborn stage was just a distant memory for him.  "Oh, really," I said, "Because that's all I remember and how horrible it was."

I guess what I'm saying is, it's nice that Marcus is finally realizing the severity of our situation. 

Muumuus Is A Fun Word To Say

I think I've made it pretty clear where I stand on maternity clothes.  I pretty much despise them.  Part of the problem lies in that there is all of one or two places that actually sell maternity clothes that can be tried on.  To be honest, they're too expensive and ugly anyway.  The only places that I like to purchase my maternity clothes either sell them online or at their flagship stores which, seeing as how I don't live on 5th Avenue, are hard to get to.

I honestly can't complain too much about the tops mostly because I'm super selective about the style of top I wear.  Please, do not give me a top that puts a bow between my breasts and the top of my belly and then follow that with some flowing material at the bottom.  I really don't want the word "house" used when people describe my current pregnant body state.  Other than that really popular clothing atrocity the tops can sometimes be cute.

But the pants?  The pants are by far the worst.  They never fit in the a$$/thigh region and if they do then that means the hip and above area is insanely uncomfortable because it's too tight.  Not to mention the fact that most pants don't come with an entire Lycra panel for the belly is something I'll never understand.  What woman wants to see her enormous stomach bisected when she looks in the mirror?  I am pretty sure a Ryan Gosling meme of the following will never exist:  "Oh, hey, girl.  Three sexy belly bulges in one.  Keep that up and you'll always be knocked up because you look so damn good, girl."  I digress.

The point is, when I look down I don't want to see three very distinct parts of my belly.  First, I've got some weird FUPA (look it up...I don't want to be the one who teaches you such things) thing going on at the area where the pants fabric and the Lycra panel are joined.  Then, I've got a bulge between there and where the Lycra panel ends just above the midway portion of the belly.  Finally, the top of the Lycra panel creates a bulge where the upper part of the belly continues on, up the ribcage to the breasts.  It's hideous.

After all of these years of women being pregnant (depending on who you ask millions of years or thousands of years but nevertheless a really long flippin' time) you would think someone would get it right when it comes to designing clothing for pregnant women.  Above all else, I should throw in the word "affordable" because that's the other end of the stick.  There probably are really nicely designed maternity clothes that fit well and make the wearer feel less house-ish.  I guess they're for the 1% (side note: the problem with the 1% is a case of first-world problems, yes?).

This is all to say that from here on out I'd like to wear muumuus and flip-flops every day.  I wonder what the dress code policy is for the large, unnamed corporation I work for?

These Are A Few Of Her Favorite Things

I realized last night that I'm totally missing out on a very important aspect of Alexandra's growth and that is documenting her likes (and dislikes).  I'm sad I've missed out on the last few months of keeping track because they change constantly but I'll try and remember what they used to be and then write down what they are now.  So, without further ado, and with many apologies to the wonderful Julie Andrews, here are a few of her favorite things:

1. Sitting.  I'm not kidding.  She loves sitting.  Especially on things that are her height.  So, whether it's a small step-stool or a stair or a chair made just for her size she gets absolute enjoyment out of sitting on things.

2.  Along with that love of sitting comes her love for her small chairs.  This one is strange.  She drags the chairs everywhere behind her, sets them up in various rooms and sits in them, then drags them around some more.  Sometimes, she wants the chairs to join her in another chair as if they're a baby doll or stuffed animal.

3.  Milk.  This should actually be number 1.  Her love of milk knows no bounds.  It is the end all, be all for her.  If she's cranky, milk is the answer.  If she's sleepy, milk is the answer.  If she's in a good mood, milk is the answer.  If she's sitting, milk is the answer.  I cannot even begin to describe how deep her love of milk runs.  It's that deep.

4.  Second only to milk comes her dada.  She is a daddy's girl through and through.  When we pull in the driveway the first word I hear is "dada?"  When she wakes up, she points towards our bedroom and says "dada?"  When dada is there she clings to him like white on rice.  This only annoys me when she gets whiny about it which, recently anyway, is often.

5.  "Dogdogs" and "keehs."  She loves animals.  She doesn't want them to touch her but she loves them all the same.  She has the keenest of eyes and can spot a dog or cat walking down the street from a mile away.  She points and laughs and then subsequently freaks out when they decide to inspect her.

6.  Slides.  I've already covered that fairly extensively in other posts.

7.  Being outside.  She's recently started trying to open doors and crying when we tell her we aren't going outside.  However, once she is outside she loves it.  She loves to walk around or ride in her stroller or play at the playground.  It doesn't really matter as long as we are outside.

8.  Being pushed in her small, Radioflyer wagon.  She dumps everything out of it, climbs in, then whines and cries until someone gives in and pushes her around.  That's usually dada and it's a blast to watch them tear around the house, Alex's blond wispies blowing in the wind.

9.  Shoes.  She loves shoes.  I don't know if it's that she likes to try and put them on but we've caught her standing in Marcus's shoes, my shoes, and one time I tried putting a pair of shoes on her feet that were too small so I stopped and you would have thought I'd taken away her milk.  She was that upset.  Also, she may or may not get this from me.  (Quick update:  We just purchased a pair of snow boots for the winter and that is all she wants to wear right now).

10. Playing on the trampoline.  She doesn't actually jump on it, she bounces a little, but mostly she runs in circles in a very Groucho Marx-esque way.

11.  Playing chase.  We thought playing chase was fun when she first started walking.  Now she's a little faster and decides that it's time to play chase at very inopportune times such as walking to the car, walking out of a store, and other less ideal moments that typically involve traffic and little blond girls running directly for it.

12.  "Ta-da!"  Marcus recently taught Alex how to stick the landing of a back-flip by raising both arms in a gymnast fashion.  Now she does it all of the time.  She'll gingerly climb onto an ottoman, slide off, then slowly raise both arms trying to catch your eye and when she's sure you're watching she finishes the "ta-da" with a flourish.

13.  Dance parties.  We have a Disney theme song CD that begins with a song from Tarzan and the second she hears it she starts bopping up and down.  The only crappy part is she soon insists you pick you her up and dance with her in your arms.  This would be fine if I weren't 8 months pregnant.  She also hasn't figured out the difference between a dance worthy song and one that you can relax to so all music, all the time, is dance party U.S.A. for Alex.

So, I think a dozen or so of Alex's current favorite things are enough.  She clearly keeps us very entertained and I know everyone thinks they're own kid is funny but she's really funny and she knows it.  Again, I'll take credit for that one because we all know I have the better sense of humor. 

Alexandra the Great Conquers The Water Park

There are a few days that I look back and wish I could have lived in that moment forever and the other day was no exception.  Despite the fact I'm practically out of steam at the moment and Marcus wasn't around to help I agreed to take Alexandra to Water Country, U.S.A. with my sister and her family.  I never would have done this alone otherwise because I don't think we would have ever made it back to the car after a sun-filled day of fun.

Alex was a bit trepidatious when we first arrived at one of the three kiddie pools.  Like she usually does when thrust into an unknown situation she sat on my lap and silently observed the action taking place around her.    For about 10 minutes or so the two of us sat in the shallow water and watched as the other kids and their parents splashed and played around.  After a short while Alex began to loosen up and she started venturing out.  She didn't exactly cut the cord but she did move about 6 inches away from me so that was a start.  After she ventured out she discovered the joy of splashing and she would walk, stop, squat, and splash.  She thought that was just the best thing ever.  Soon after she discovered she could actually sit down in the water and propel herself around (ah, the beauty of being weightless in water).  So, she did laps around me, every now and then climbing onto me so that I could dip her backwards and get her hair wet.  I don't think her big semi-toothy grin ever left her face.  After a while my sister and I decided it was time for a break and we all sat under the tent drinking water and eating goldfish (an appropriate water park snack if you ask me).

After snack time my sister said there was another kiddie pool that had slides.  While Alex is a slide fanatic I never would have guessed she would be into it because I imagine it would look scary to a 17 month old.  I was wrong.  The minute she saw the slides she was ready to go.  All it took was one or two times to show her the proper way to go up the little stairs and slide down and she was on a sliding high.  Generally speaking I would get her started then "run" as fast as possible to the other side of the slide where I could coax her to eventually sit down and then catch her at the end.  I think Alex got just as much enjoyment climbing to the top of the slide as she did actually going down the slide.  She was oblivious to all of the other children clamoring behind her or cutting in front of her.  She had her eye on the prize, the top of the stairs, and she was going to make it.  Once she got to the top her expression was priceless as she beamed from ear to ear, all six teeth showing, and she laughed as she sat down.  She was so proud.  Once at the top she would sit down and inch forward until she was sliding down and into the water laughing the whole time.  Even the few drops that had her going underwater completely didn't faze her.  Instead I would lift her up and she would be laughing and pointing at the other slides for another go-round.

One thing I truly appreciated was the help from other parents.  Alex was probably the smallest one playing on the slides and most of the bigger kids either didn't see her in their quest to get down the slide or didn't have the patience for her slowness.  Surprisingly, if one of the bigger kids got a little too pushy with her the parents were quick to jump on them and tell them to back away from the baby.  It was refreshing that the parents were even around and that they said something at all.  I also had help when Alex would get too excited that she had made it to the top and wouldn't sit down to go right away creating a bit of a back-up.  A few times a parent would reach-in and sit her down.  Otherwise, we might still be there, waiting for her to slide.

Unfortunately, Marcus missed out on the action because he was busy working which was a huge bummer.  I wish he could have seen her face every time she got to the top of a slide.  I hope that memory stays with me forever.  It makes me anticipate more of those smiles and the many accomplishments I'm sure she will achieve throughout her lifetime.

Fearless

Jack Sprat And Me

It's official.  I outweigh my 6'2" tall husband.  Despite all of my efforts to fatten him up, such as encouraging nightly ice cream sessions and Carl's milkshake excursions, he has barely gained an ounce.  He also denies he's skinnier than usual but when your wife, mother, and best friend all comment on your lack of meat on the bones then something isn't right.  It's high time he start packing on the sympathy pounds, I say!  Nay, I DEMAND!  From here on out Marcus will eat nothing but McDonald's for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Actually, strike that, I don't want him to die.  From here on out Marcus will eat nothing but candy and ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!  Huzzah!

My Dream

Someone once told me that when you dream of a loved one who has passed on it's their way of telling you they're OK.  Last night I dreamt of my grandmother and she quite literally told me she was OK.  In the dream she was alive but knew she was dying and she was OK with that and she handed me a Hallmark greeting card that basically read as much.  Even in the dream I thought to myself that it's awfully strange Hallmark makes greeting cards that state "I'm dying but I'm OK" but then realized they've probably got the market cornered on just about every greeting card one can imagine.  Anyway, after I read the card she said she had organized all of her affairs (which is true because every now and then a box is found with directions on who to give it to) but that she had one last surprise before she died.  After that, I don't know if I continued dreaming or if I woke up but either way that was the end of what I remember of my grandma dream.

It's nice to know she's OK and happy.  I don't know what might have prompted my dream about her though her birthday is coming up in early September.  The psyche is such a strange being but I'm glad it allowed me more time with her.  I still miss her.

Birth Plans = Waste Of Time

Because I'm a glutton for punishment, and I get a lot of amusement out of it, I've been perusing the chat forum I joined back when I was newly pregnant with Alex.  I stumbled upon a gem of a discussion about birth plans and all of these women are just completely, flippin' insane, nipple stimulation and all.

First of all, I have never once heard a woman say that she had a birth plan and was able to follow it to a "T."  More often than not you hear "I had a birth plan but the birth itself didn't actually go that way..."  Sh*t happens and when the time comes you do what you have to do to deliver that baby and that's all that matters.

Second, there is no planning; you have no control over delivering a baby.  Sorry.  It's Mother Nature at it's finest and, when necessary, medical science intervenes.  You may be able to control certain aspects of it like, being able to hold your baby right away, but other than that there is really little else you can control.

Third, we're talking about babies.  That baby will be born one way or the other and whether you make a plan or not doesn't really matter.

Fourth, ugh.  Just ugh.

I realize three of my four complaints seem rather redundant.  I could probably roll them all into one giant complaint but where's the fun in that?  Besides, I like to repeat what I said in various ways so that I get my point across.  The bottom line is, it's better to go into this whole adventure with an open mind.  I have a girlfriend the other day who recently said she didn't care either way how the baby was born, i.e. she has no expectations for the delivery.  How refreshing.  No wonder she's my friend.

Anyway, I tried to find more posts from the ladies who had posted their birth plans to see if any of them had written about their actual births but with little luck.  Too bad.  I would have been curious to know if the nipple stimulation worked the way one particular mother-to-be had hoped for (whatever that is...I don't really want to know).

Today

Today is a big day.

Today I am 30 weeks pregnant.  That gives us 10 weeks to get everything in order.  Or, if you're going by Alex's premature delivery date, 5 weeks.  I'm still feeling remarkably good despite the fact I'm about as big as I was when 8 months pregnant with Alex.  I suppose it's from my belly already being stretched out from before.  Ask me in about 2 months how I feel and I'll probably murder you on the spot.  No offense.  I've still somehow managed to stay active in ballet and glide across the floor with all of the grace of a hippopotamus (when on land, not in water...they seriously are very graceful when swimming).  The baby is getting stronger by the day and sometimes surprises me with quick jabs to the belly especially since (s)he has been more of a relaxer than a tae kwon do master. 

Today is also Marcus's and my 3 year anniversary.  3 years and almost 2 kids later.  It's amazing how much has changed in such a short span of time.  Unfortunately, Marcus isn't around to celebrate with me and that's a huge bummer.  So far this year he's been absent for Valentine's Day and now our anniversary (I won't even mention the lack of even a card on Mother's Day).  I'm going to assume he'll be around for the birth of our second child (which trumps both Valentine's Day and our anniversary combined) but you know what happens when you assume...

Today I signed-up to take both of my psychology classes at the same time in preparation for this next kiddo.  My thought process went a little something like this:  Hey!  You know what sounds like a great idea and not at all stressful?!  Taking two classes at the same time because they'll end on October 12th.  So, if I do that, and work my a$$ off to finish before October 12th, then I'll have the rest of the year to take-off from school and tend to the baby and Alex.  That makes complete sense doesn't it?  The only way this could fail is if the baby arrives earlier than expected.  Also, this could fail if I end up having a complete break-down which I'm pretty much banking on.

Today I've also realized that I am in a funk.  I don't want to go anywhere, see anyone, or do anything.  I'm quite content to go to work during the day and hang out at home with Alex during the evening.  Anything else is annoying and really, just a burden.  To go anywhere at all takes a lot of effort and planning and I just don't have it in me.  Even a trip to the library (which is coming because I have a research paper due) sounds like a huge pain in the a$$ to me.  Not to mention I have Alex with me all of the time which means chasing after her and constantly making sure she is happy because, despite what most people think, the saying actually goes "If baby ain't happy, ain't nobody happy".  Also, I think by now it goes without saying, I'm 7.5 months pregnant.  I'm tired.  Life can pass me by for all I care just as long as I'm able to sit on the couch and eat my ice cream.

She Is Her Father's Daughter

It stands to reason that Alex contains a little bit of both Marcus and me in her.  While she clearly got my good looks I think she may have gotten her father's uncanny ability to hurt himself in just about everything he does.  How I have not written about this in previous posts is beyond me but if you know Marcus then you know he's infamous for crashing into walls and breaking bones.  Balls to the wall is what I like to call it, and that's apparently how both Marcus and Alex live their lives.  Balls.  To the wall.

The next series of events all happened about a week ago and to be perfectly honest with you it's a miracle we didn't end up in the emergency room at some point.

The morning started off pretty typical with one exception and that was Marcus and I wanted to get to Ikea first thing in the morning to price their closet systems.  So, we all woke up, ate some breakfast, and then headed upstairs to take showers.  I wanted Alex to take a shower with me because she hadn't had a bath the night before and she was a little stinky.  Somehow in the process of turning the shower on a huge puddle formed in the middle of the floor (seriously, I have no idea how it happened) and, I'm sure you can see where this is going, Alex slipped in it and landed smack on her head.  That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the day.

Later, at Ikea, we found the cutest table and chairs perfect for Alex that cost all of $20.  Even Marcus was like, how can we not buy it to which I replied, "are you feeling well?"  Anyway, we bought the set and when we got home Marcus put it together and we all sat around it eating our lunch.  After lunch Alex decided the table and chairs were more worthy of being a jungle gym and she pushed the table around some and fell one of the chairs onto its back.  She then proceeded to climb around in the other chair, despite our warnings not to, giving us her sh*t eating grin that she's become so famous for.  And, again, I'm sure you can see where this is going, she promptly fell out of her chair and went eye first into the leg of the chair she had upended just moments earlier.  Her eyebrow immediately swelled and turned red with a hint of purple and we tried to help by putting ice on it but that's like trying to put ice on a, well, a toddler.  It's just not happening.  Needless to say, it was pretty red and, over the course of the last few days, has turned purple and is currently at the yellowish-greenish stage. 

After the eye incident, we all calmed down and I went upstairs to freshen up for a BBQ and Alex and her Dada went into the office to set-up her table and chairs in there.  At some point during this time I heard a thud and immediate wailing but really, by then, unless Marcus himself was freaking out I wasn't too concerned about what had happened and it wasn't until later that I found out Alex took another head dive off the chair.  I never could have imagined learning how to sit in a chair was such a complicated process.

Finally, to cap the day off, we were at a friend's BBQ and Alex took a nice little slider on their stone patio which left some great scratches up her shins.  I won't even go into detail about how she nearly froze her arm off in a bucket of ice water to the point where she freaked out but that happened, too.  Anyway, I can only imagine what the ladies at her daycare must have thought on Monday morning when they saw the black eye, skinned shins, and possible signs of hypothermia (especially given the 100+ temperatures outside).  God, I hope CPS doesn't come knocking at our door.  If they do, maybe if I show them the picture of Marcus when he broke his eye socket they'll understand what I'm dealing with.

Also, pictures to follow for a comparison shot...I just don't have the capability to upload anything right now because Marcus ran off with all of the USB cables probably in an attempt to not have his broken eye socket debacle relived (which in the end wasn't nearly as bad as the broken shoulder).

Exercise Like A Toddler

Plank, a verb:  The plank...is an isometric core strength exercise that involves maintaining a difficult position for extended periods of time. The most common plank is the front plank which is held in a push-up position with the body's weight borne on forearms, elbows, and toes (Wikipedia).

Before I had Alex I could do planks until the cows came home.  Obviously, I'm not doing any planks, or much of anything, at this exact moment but there is someone in the house who does them on almost a regular basis.  Alexandra.

I don't think she's doing them in an effort to strengthen her core and get a svelte physique but good on her if she is.  Generally speaking, she executes this particular move during times she is in the greatest of distress which is no small feat in itself.  I'm thoroughly amazed at the strength she has as she drops into the perfect plank position, all while crying hysterically, then lifts one arm up in what is typically a difficult move.  She continues crying and lifting her arm as she then extends a leg behind her, up and in the air.  I marvel at how long she's able to hold her position and wonder if I can ever attain such physical greatness.  She truly is an inspiration.  I also wonder if I had more breakdowns like hers if a) I would get more attention and b) I would also have a core of steel.  I'll have to try it the next time something doesn't go my way.

After emulating Alex's plank routine I'll have to practice her squats because she must seriously have Lolo Jones' thighs underneath that baby fat.  She'll hold a squat for minutes as she plays with something near the ground and maybe that's the key.  Maybe keeping your attention averted elsewhere helps take your mind off the searing pain shooting through your thighs the longer you hold the squat.  So, next time I'm squatting I'll be sure to find a distraction like an ant or something shiny or whatever it is that catches Alex's eye and holds her perplexed for what seems like hours.

I never thought I'd say this but I hope to one day have the body of a 16 month old, minus the baby fat.  And taller.  And less babyish.  And maybe more in the boobs and hips department...in fact a lot more.  So, really, nothing at all like a 16 month old although I would appreciate her energy and dedication to her health.

Hey, Unnamed Man I Live With

You want to know one way to really piss off an already frantic wife/mom/employee who is trying her best to get out the door on time?  Leave her with a car that has no gas.  *ahem*  I won't name any names but I think we can all assume it's not Alexandra who is to blame for this one.

Bring On The Cake!

Well, it's official.  This pregnancy trumps my pregnancy with Alexandra.  I took the glucose screening test on Monday and passed so there will not be a three hour Bloody Torture Test (that's the official name) for me.  Huzzah!  Although, the phlebotomist did a real number on my arm and seemed to have popped the vein which is just disgusting to think about.  It gives me the shivers.

Also, this baby trumps Alexandra as a fetus (not that I'm picking favorites...yet).  This baby is more of a roller-arounder than a kicker and puncher.  Whereas Alex was downright vicious at times, this baby just kind of lolls around, occasionally getting spurts of high energy, but very seldom do they kick or punch.  So, provided this baby stays put for just a little bit longer than Alexandra did, this will have been the perfect pregnancy.

My Life

For posterity sake, and so that one day I can look back and think to myself "And I thought I was busy then," because I know that will happen once children are older and more activities are scheduled, I will write down a typical day for myself:

5:00 AM - Marcus's alarm goes off, I contemplate how to murder him and dispose of the body but decide trying to fall back asleep is a better idea

6:15 AM - My own alarm goes off though it's questionable whether I physically get up

6:30 AM - Get up and jump in the shower like an idiot who just wasted 15 precious minutes she didn't have, get dressed and put-on what little make-up is necessary to look somewhat alive, realize that the clock is ticking and my hair is put on the back-burner again (this comes back to bite me in the a$$ when halfway through the day I look in the mirror and realize the Bride of Frankenstein has been walking around), wake-up Alex (if she isn't already), go downstairs to get her milk because she's a frickin' milk junkie and needs her fix ASAP, go back upstairs and change Alex's diaper then get her dressed while chasing her down the hall as she flings her milk around which stains my work clothes but who has time to change at this point?

7:20 AM (if we're lucky) - Go back downstairs, I swallow breakfast whole or make something (i.e. toast) for the road all while trying to get Alex to eat something which generally consists of a banana that she promptly smashes into her clothes, pack Alex's daycare bag, make my lunch, then load about a million bags in the car all while trying to remember Alex is still in her highchair

7:40 AM - Finally leave the house (maybe...that's on a good day)

7:50 AM - Drop Alex off at daycare

8:30(ish) AM - Arrive at work half an hour late as usual, also try to remember how I got there

4:30 PM - Leave work

5:15 PM - Pick-up Alex from daycare, inquire if she had any meltdowns (she did), empathize with the teachers and hope that isn't indicative of how the rest of the evening will proceed (it is)

5:30 PM - Arrive at home and begin making dinner right away, Alex begins her epic meltdown routine at this exact moment which consists of a plank while crying hysterically, I ponder how she doesn't have amazing abs then resume cooking and attempting to discover the source of Alex's displeasure, assume her breakdown is because she needs her milk fix which I procure and which solves the problem up until she somehow dumps the entire cup on herself, strip Alex down and set her loose to continue cooking and keeping an ear out for trouble as the half naked baby wanders the house crying

6:00 PM - Put something on the table (Lord knows what...Alex's pants might be in there somewhere for all I know) and watch as Alex either eats heartily or chews it, spits it out, then throws all of it on the floor in her way of giving dinner her own special "two thumbs up/down" rating

6:30 PM - Bathe Alex and get her ready for bed which may or may not lead to a complete break-down again,  depending on whether break-down occurs or not either sit on the couch staring blankly at the wall as she throws herself around on the floor crying hysterically or get an opportunity to love on her and play with her for the first time all day

7:45 PM - Begin the bedtime routine of brushing Alex's teeth, reading a book, then nite-nite time, again, we're walking on eggshells at this point and this may or may not end well depending on if I can trick her into bed without a milk fix which usually works as long as Dada doesn't gallantly show up from his activities at the exact moment I'm putting her to sleep and pokes his head in the door so he can at least "see" Alex for the first time that day

8:00 PM - If nite-nite time ends well then clean-up the house from where Alex left her carnage, clean-up the kitchen and whatever dinner turned out to be, possibly find dried cat vomit and clean that up, then try and tackle various other chores that can be accomplished in a small amount of time.  If nite-nite time did not end well all cleaning is put aside for figuring out how to pacify Alex which, generally speaking is, you guessed it, milk

9:00 PM - Get myself ready for bed

9:15 PM - Finally sit down on the couch in an attempt to completely zone out and wonder what's on TV which is nothing so, for about an hour, scroll through the channels not ever finding anything worth spending more than five minutes on

10:00 PM - Go to bed to start the day over in 8 hours.  The End.

None of this includes Marcus's 12 hour work days (which are only going to get longer in the next few weeks) or his soccer, volleyball, or flying lessons schedule and nor does it include my weekly ballet lesson.  It also doesn't include the fact that both of us are in school, Marcus for his Doctorate in Engineering and me for my Bachelor of Psychology.  This also doesn't include the standard household chores, home repairs, vehicle maintenance, or lawn maintenance that all need to take place during the weekend (maybe) (and no, there is still not a bathroom, thanks for rubbing it in).

Needless to say, life is busy and needless to say because of that some things may fall to the way-side because I barely have time to scratch my butt.  The other day Marcus remarked that we rarely speak of the new baby to which I almost laughed.  No sh*t, considering the only chance I get to spend time with Marcus is when we're sleeping next to each other let alone hold a conversation.

So, there you have it.  My life, written down in 800 words or less.

When It Rains It Pours

About two weeks ago our area was hit by what is called a "derecho" which, if you're too lazy to click on the link I've provided, I understand to be defined as a land hurricane...whatever that means.  Our house fared well and we never lost power during the 10 minute onslaught of wind and rain but it was the first time I ever considered running down into the basement for safety.  Instead, I found myself nervously hovering around the foyer, holding onto a sleepy Alexandra who I'm sure felt my anxiety, and readying to bolt at any given second.  Once the worst of it seemed to be over I took Alex back upstairs and nervously checked my phone over and over again for signs of another storm all while praying Marcus, who was driving home from Ohio, made it home safely which he did.

This is all to say that the house we dwell in was lucky as were the occupants.  The house we own in Dahlgren was not so lucky.  A giant tree split into three pieces and came crashing down around it, destroying the AC unit which is unfortunate because we just had one whole week of above 100 degree temperatures.  Luckily, nobody was hurt and there was relatively minor damage to the house itself.  Despite how minor the damage was though has resulted in a $12,500 bill.  That's right.  Twelve thousand five hundred dollars.

Who has that kind of money?  I don't know anyone (personally) who has money like that lying around.  So, I've come up with ways to make that money.

First, I've already sold Alexandra into child labor.  Those tiny little fingers have got to be good for something and it's about time she started bringing in her fair share anyway.

Second, I have resigned myself to hooking.  I feel like it's a market previously unexplored in our area and as such could be a really lucrative career choice for me.

Third, given Marcus's previous history in college (think Magic Mike but on a considerably less grander scale) I have decided he will need to seek a second job as a male stripper.  He can't give up his day job because that pays very well and we'll need as much cash flowing as possible.  The problem is he's lost a lot of weight recently due to his job being so busy and his "forgetting" to eat (seriously, I hate men) so he'll have to beef up but other than that I think he'll find a second job isn't all that bad.

That's it.  My three, fail-proof ways to make some extra money and pay for the repairs to the house.  If Marcus had his way he'd do all of the work himself but I've tried to make it known that not having a bathroom or closet is becoming unacceptable...and I think he's finally starting to listen.  Maybe.  Probably not.  Hell, who am I kidding?  He's not listening.

Ouch!

So, Baby T has found a new place to chill, and by chill I mean unexpectedly punch and/or kick repeatedly, and that is directly above my belly button.  The first time I felt it this morning it took me by such surprise that I audibly gasped.  What the heck are you doing in there?!  It's time to calm down.  Nite, nite time. 

You'll Never Believe This One...Then Again, You Probably Will

It should probably not come as a surprise to those of you who follow me on Facebook what this post is about.

Yes, Marcus got a new (to us) jet ski.  A friend was looking to sell his mid-80s jet ski and instead offered to give it to Marcus for free.  Naturally, Marcus, being Marcus, could not refuse this enticing offer despite the fact we have a baby due to be born in early October, Alex's new bedroom needs to be painted and put together, the master bathroom needs to be finished as it currently consists of nothing but tile, and the master closet needs to be finished as it currently consists of all of the tools being used to work on the master bathroom.  Also, might I add that the only person who could possibly even get any enjoyment out of said jet ski is the only person who could possibly even take care of all the aforementioned projects (not including the new baby part...I am all over that one).

Marcus has a propensity to acquire things for the shear sake of acquiring them despite there often being very good reasons not to do so and then they become projects that take the place of more important projects and to be honest, they never really take flight anyway as evidenced here...here...here...and here.  Pretty much all of the linked blog posts are about the other jet ski in our life.  After doing the search for those posts it occurred to me that I never once wrote a blog post about the time, a few weeks after Alexandra was born, when Marcus went out and purchased a new (to us) Jeep Wrangler.  Because that's what a new family of three needed at the time, an old, rusty Jeep Wrangler that only Marcus or I could drive separately but never together because there was no way in hell I'd put my brand new baby in that thing.  Heck, I wouldn't put her in it now.  I digress.

Despite my attempts at being the coolest pregnant woman you'll ever meet and despite my attempts to not throw the pregnancy card out there at every chance I get this pregnant woman is really, really starting to freak the f*** out.  There is a lot of work to be done in a very short amount of time and I'm banking on going to term with this pregnancy despite my previous history.  God help us if this baby comes early, too.  God help Marcus if he goes out, gallivanting around on a jet ski when work on the bathroom and closet could be done.  Oh yeah, that's a threat.

Caution: Wide Load

I have to give Marcus credit.  I haven't heard one remark about "wide loads" or anything that might be deemed inappropriate to say to a 6 month pregnant woman.  He clearly learned his lesson from last time.  With that being said, it should just be assumed at this point that there are certain aspects of my body that are widening.  Some have come as a complete surprise (my feet) and some have not (my a$$), though the most surprising part has been that it all seems to have taken place over-night (my a$$ again).

Take today, for instance.  I woke up, took a shower, and went to put on clothes for the day.  As I did so, I couldn't help but notice that my work pants, a simple pair of black pants with the ultra comfy waist band that comes up and over the navel, were quite snug in the rear end.  Hmm.  They fit pretty well a week ago.  I went through a short list of what I had eaten in the past week or so and admitted to myself that it probably hadn't been the most healthy of diets considering every night ends with a relaxing mug of ice cream with chocolate syrup.  Plus, my sister was married over this past weekend so it was a weekend filled with unhealthy food choices in an attempt to just get something in my stomach.  Plus, I can feel the desire to eat well slowly subsiding as I start to lose sight of my toes.  Plus, I've been wearing mostly skirts and dresses so maybe, just maybe, this widening has been taking place slowly but surely, I just haven't noticed due to the extra girth growth room in my clothing. 

My feet are also getting bigger.  I don't know if it's due to the summer heat or if they truly are widening.  Either way, I'm beginning to wonder what my company's policy is on flip-flops because by the time this baby is born that is the only thing that is going to fit these fat feet.  This is one aspect of pregnancy I missed out on when pregnant with Alex.  It could be because I was pregnant with her during the winter months therefore the heat wasn't affecting my body like it is now.  Either way, I'm not enjoying cramming my feet into work appropriate shoes every day.  Ah, who am I kidding?  Even my cute, strappy, weekend sandals feel tight.  How am I supposed to feel somewhat attractive when I can't even wear cute shoes to make up for the horribleness of the maternity clothes?  Such is the conundrum of my life.

Temper Tantrums

Have you ever seen the Saturday Night Live commercial that parodies the woman's contraceptive Seasonique?  In the parody they call the contraceptive "Annuale" and it's really one of the more hilarious skits I've ever seen.  (I'll put a You Tube link up later)  The best part is when the voice-over in the ad states that when the women do start their period after using Annuale they better "hold on to your f****** hats" and then it cuts to a scene of absolute chaos as the women in the skit start raging and going berserk.

That is all I can think of when my 16 month old is throwing her daily temper tantrums.  Somewhere along the last few weeks temper tantrums have turned into daily events and all we can do is hold on to our f****** hats.  They start with very little warning, they're violent, they can last for what feels like a lifetime, and the second they're over it's as if nothing happened.  I suppose she's always had it in her I've just forgotten over time because for the most part she's been a very happy and easy going baby.

It's all coming back to me now though and I remember as a newborn she would fuss and cry for what felt like hours.  Nighttime was especially hard and I would find myself walking the hallway, cradling her, and singing lullabies to soothe her.  Now that she's bigger and stronger and has no interest in being cradled or sung to it's a lot harder to soothe her.  While I sit there doing my best to hold onto her and help her calm down my heart breaks because I don't know what else to do and I don't know how to prevent it.

I hate to admit this, he'll gloat forever, but I think Marcus is right.  It's just a phase and we have to work through it like we've worked through everything else.  Of course, being that she's a girl I'm sure the temper tantrums will never stop to some extent.  God help us when we hit the teenage years.  We're going to need a lot of wine.  

Rounding The Bend

So, we're rounding the bend of the second trimester and heading into the third and I can't believe how fast this pregnancy is going.  It's no surprise really what with taking care of Alexandra, work, school work, plus whatever social activities we have going on (especially since the summer started and everyone is officially out of hibernation).  During the week we're lucky if we get to veg out by 9:00.

A lot of people have remarked on how "little" I am though I believe that term is relative as I feel like at least the size of a small sedan, not quite a house, yet.  But give it time, I say, because it wasn't until the third trimester when I was pregnant with Alex that I began to really pack on the pounds.  It was at that time that I realized no matter what I did I was going to gain weight and therefore what I ate didn't matter.  It wasn't that I ate a lot I just ate less quality food.  Since my last doctor's appointment I'd gained about 5 pounds so we'll see what the grand total is on Wednesday.

Whoever is in there is quite the mover (and sitting very low hence my suspicion this may very well be a boy).  In fact I've woken up a few times during the night recently and realized that what probably woke me up was the tap dance routine taking place in my belly.  There is a lot of kicking and jabbing and definitely a lot of hiccuping but luckily (s)he is still relatively small and not very strong, yet.

Also, my hormones are INFRICKINGSANE.  I sh*t you not when I say that I cried watching Shaun of the Dead yesterday.  Have you seen it?  The comedy/horror flick about zombies (and admittedly one of my favorite movies).  Words can't even describe how stupid I knew it was for me to be crying.  *rolling eyes at self*

I'm still taking my ballet class every week though we'll be going on a two-week hiatus very soon.  My center of gravity is definitely off and I can barely stand in the center of the room and point my toe forward without falling over.  Last night we watched a documentary about Russian prima ballerinas with the Kirov and Marcus wondered if my ballet classes look like their rehearsals.  In an effort not to shatter his apparently really impressive image of my dance ability I replied "Yes, honey, they do."  That's love if you ask me.  Not many men would see a 100 pound (maybe) ballerina and think their pregnant wife must look like that when dancing.  Ah, amore.

So, I guess that's about it for now.  I can feel my energy being zapped more and more every day and really, there isn't an end in sight because once the new baby arrives energy levels will be at practically zero.  Yay?    

Bobble Head Baby

Alex went to the doctor the other day for her 15 month check-up.  She's right where she should be and really the only thing to note is the following:  She's in the 22% for weight, 26% for height, and a whopping 67% for head circumference.  Baby girl has got a huge noggin.  I guess it's to hold that extra large, extra smart brain of hers.  In short, Marcus and I have produced a real-life bobble head.

She Just Keeps Growing!

Two things that Alex did yesterday that blew me away:  1.  I pointed to my belly and said "baby."  Alex repeated the sound, and in her own way said "baby" then rubbed my tummy.  2.  When asked if she was ready for nite, nite she vehemently shook her head "no."  I'm still suspicious if she really grasps what shaking one's head side-to-side means but regardless it was funny and, as Marcus said, what kid says they want to go to bed?  Point taken.

Alexandra's New "Tricks"

I have a coworker who recently asked me what new "tricks" Alexandra is doing (Side-Yet-Not-Surprising-Note: He does not have children) and I was stumped.  I couldn't come up with anything on the spot but truth-be-told she is doing a lot of new "tricks."  She's discovered that her little legs can carry her just a tad bit faster than a snail's pace.  It's her own version of running.  We aren't aiming for the Olympic 100-meter dash yet, folks, but we have time.  She's also discovering that there is a world outside of a 5 foot radius of mom and dad, much to our delight (yes, that's sarcasm).  Imagine how tempting it must be for a little one who is testing out her new legs to see an empty aisle she can tear up and down.  Now, imagine the horror of her parents because the empty aisle is in church and the only reason it's empty is because church service is currently being held.  It should also be noted that we've created somewhat of a monster in that when Alexandra does start running (typically in the privacy of our own home) we've turned it into a "Catch-me" game and therefore she squeals in delight when captured.  Lucky for us, our church is child friendly though we've begun to question when her cuteness will take a back-burner to her parent's inability to control her.

She's also discovered her belly button and will proudly display it when prompted.  "Alexandra, where's your belly button?" we'll ask and she'll get the biggest grin as she touches her belly button through her shirt.  Then, as if to make sure you really grasp the concept of where her belly button is, the shirt comes up to reveal the portliest belly with the biggest outtie belly button you've ever seen.  This has resulted in a few Girls Gone Wild type flashing's but at the moment it's too cute to stop.  She's also slowly learning her other body parts such as eyes and ears though those have proven to be a bit harder to grasp.  Maybe the fact that the two words sound somewhat similar is throwing her off.  Needless to say, when asked where her eyes are she points to her ears and vice versa.  Clearly, she grasps what we're saying just not completely.

She's also taken to some sort of imaginary game, though we aren't 100% convinced she knows it's imaginary.  She will walk to us, arm extended, grasping something between her fingers and insist we open our hands to take it.  Only, there's nothing there.  I would guess that at 15 months of age imaginary play such as that is too old of a concept so I'm not really sure what's going on in that little head of hers.  It could be she really is picking something up so miniscule that it drops out of her hand almost immediately.  Who knows?  Either way, it's fun and we enjoy the game.

So, there you have it.  Alexandra's new "tricks."  I'm currently working on getting her to balance a treat on her nose and then eat it on command but so far no luck.  She has such a short little nose it's hard to balance anything on it.

Baby Hacker

In a matter of 24 hours Alexandra has managed to rename "My Computer" on my computer to "MR4VNF7" and changed the sound of the button's on Marcus's cell phone to one of a typewriter.  Imagine my confusion when I couldn't find "My Computer" in order to save a document.  Imagine Marcus's confusion when his phone started to sound like a typewriter.  She is China to our America.

20 Weeks

I can't believe we're already half way through this pregnancy.  With everything that is going on I suppose it's no wonder.  Between baby showers for friends, bridal showers, graduations, bachelorette parties (to write a post or not to write a post, that is the question), and upcoming weddings time is flying by.  I'm beginning to feel very anxious about all we need to accomplish and it certainly doesn't help when Marcus says he'd like to fix the jet ski and/or buy one that is new-to-us.  Because we have time for that!

"What could possibly be on your list of to-do's before the arrival of Baby #2," you ask?  Well, one thing I've neglected to write a post about is the current state of our master bedroom which is the major cause of this anxiety.  In December, right before he was to start working full-time again, Marcus decided to begin renovating our master bathroom and closet.  It was in dire need of a renovation as the master bath and closet left much to be desired.  The master bathroom had a pedestal sink, toilet, and stand-up shower.  There wasn't even a cabinet to store things.  The master closet was in the bathroom and could only hold my things and while I may be a shopaholic I also purge often and I don't have that much stuff.  In short, both areas needed to be expanded.  So, Marcus demolished what was our bathroom and closet and that's where we are today.

The bathroom has slowly been coming together but it's a long ways away from being complete.  The closet, well, that's more or less just an idea at this time.  What we do have for the closet is a hole through the master bedroom wall into a smaller bedroom where the closet eventually will be.  I shouldn't complain too much.  For one, it's only been 5 months.  I have a dear, sweet friend whose been without a master bathroom for well over a year now, God bless her.  For two, when all is said and done we will have a very awesome bathroom and closet.  However, it's starting to get old.  My clothes are currently down the hall in an empty bedroom which soon needs to be converted into Alexandra's new bedroom.  The nearest bathroom is across the hall and next to Alexandra's current room and so in the middle of the night when I inevitably have to get up to use the bathroom I have to maneuver the creaky floor boards hoping not to wake anybody.

I have a calendar with important dates noted and a countdown that indicates where we are in the pregnancy.  Slowly but surely our time is dwindling and so far our weekends are packed full with summer activities.  Marcus is the master at over-extending himself so we may need to call in the troops for some help.  So, with that being said I need the following:  A painter, a carpenter, a plumber, and a general contractor.  You will be paid in full with beer and pizza once the bathroom proves to be working and once my shoes are neatly arranged in our new closet.

A Somewhat Old "Update"

I guess I should post this considering I've been sitting on it for the last million weeks (or so it seems).  I started writing this before I wanted to reveal to the world about our pregnancy.  Even now I wish I could keep it to myself because I get so worried about the health of the baby but sadly, the ever expanding belly is making that impossible.
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 I'm going to start writing this knowing it will be at least another 5 weeks before I actually post it.  At this very moment I'm a tentative 6 weeks and 6 days pregnant.  I say tentative because it's been a very strange past few months and the doctor will set an actual due date in the next few weeks when the baby is a little bigger.

To begin with, ever since I stopped breastfeeding my hormones have been insanely out of whack.  I can't tell you how many times I've taken a pregnancy test in the last few months because I was having 40+ day cycles.  All of them came back negative and life carried on.  That is until New Year's Eve when Marcus encouraged me to take a pregnancy test because he just knew I was pregnant (most of his knowledge simply came from the fact I hadn't started yet...he's not that in tune to my body, at least I don't think he is).  However, this test, unlike the others, came back positive.  I immediately freaked out at the prospect of being pregnant again.  "How could this happen?!" I thought (don't answer that).  Marcus, on the other hand, was elated.  He really wanted a second child and the closer in age to Alex the better.  Also, I think it goes without saying that a pregnancy for him is a lot easier than it is for me.  He's not the one who hasn't lost all of the Alexandra baby weight.  He's also not the one who has to carry a baby for 9 months and then physically bring it into this world through some of the most excruciating pain you could ever imagine.  However, after a few days of internally processing what I was gearing up to go through I accepted it and settled in for the ride.

About four days later I began spotting.  My worst fears seemed to be coming true (for some reason I just knew my second pregnancy would end with a miscarriage despite having absolutely no basis for that fear) as I called the doctor's office who saw me that same day.  At the doctor's office I took another pregnancy test only this one came back negative.  The doctor reassured us that what I had experienced was a prolonged cycle and he sent me off for blood work because 40+ day cycles with positive pregnancy tests aren't exactly normal.  (Side note:  To this day I feel like I may have had a chemical pregnancy which is essentially a very early miscarriage that most women don't even realize is happening because it just seems like a longer cycle than usual.  How could I test positive if the pregnancy hormone, HCG, wasn't in my system?  However, without the doctor's admittance that this is what happened I guess I should just accept that my body and hormones were out of control and I was the 1% of home pregnancy tests that come back with a false-positive.)  Needless to say Marcus and I were relieved that I wasn't miscarrying though sad that I wasn't actually pregnant.  We decided to go the "let's just see what happens" route that we took when trying to get pregnant the first time and, much like the first time, that route was a very good route for us.  Two weeks after the initial pregnancy test on New Year's Eve and we were truly pregnant.

In the end, everything happening the way it did worked out for the best because it prepared me for the now.  I'm completely OK with being pregnant and nothing about this scares me:  Not the changes of my body, not the labor, nothing.  My only concern at the moment is for the health and safety of the baby which, as of today, had a teeny heart fluttering away looking as healthy as can be.

I can't really remember much about how I felt when I was pregnant with Alex but I do feel like this pregnancy is almost identical.  I'm tired but not overly tired.  I'm very weepy and feel like crying at just about anything remotely emotional.  At one point I knew I was pregnant because I wanted to murder everyone around me, and I'm not talking about your typical PMS "I hate everybody" feeling but rather a "I will rip your head off" feeling.  Overall, I feel unwell though it's hard to say exactly in what way.  Nausea isn't really an issue and if I can at least drink some juice in the morning before heading out the door I'm OK until I can get something substantial to eat.  With that being said I hate most food and nothing sounds good to me which is definitely something I remember from my first pregnancy.  When I do eat, it's not very much and I do not want it the next day for leftovers.  Hell, for Alex's 1st birthday I didn't even want to try the birthday cake we had made for her!  In retrospect I'm surprised nobody attending caught on to our secret because something is terribly wrong the day I turn down a homemade chocolate cake.

Finally, and something that has bothered me for almost this whole trimester, why does everything smell like onions?!  It's driving me crazy.  Even my freshly bathed, baby beauty smells like onions to me.  Her breath smells like onions and she doesn't even eat them.  The whole house smells like onions and it drives me crazy.  I hope this goes away soon.  I have a small hoarding problem when it comes to candles and air fresheners so I have plenty of scent to mask the atrocious onion smell but Marcus is only going to let me use all of them at the same time for so long.

Deep Thoughts

It's fascinating really that the human body produces a brand new organ, the placenta, each and every time a woman conceives.

Race to the Top With Your OB-GYN

Right around the corner from where we live is this great little restaurant/bar that, pre-Alexandra, we tried to make "our" place but just didn't frequent it often enough to really ingratiate ourselves with the staff.  We still like to go as often as possible though, mostly because it's so close but also because the food is good and it's a small establishment.  Anyway, every first weekend in May they do a race called "Race to the Top" which is a fundraiser for the local SPCA.  It's a silly race that my husband won a few years back not because he can run very fast but because he can down an entire beer in one gulp (that was really what sealed the deal for me back when trying to determine if he was the "one").  What is this race that you speak of where one gets to drink beer, you ask?  Well, basically the runners start at the bottom of a hill, run up and into the bar, chug a beer, run out of the back of the bar, up to the top of the hill, around a fire hydrant, back into the bar, chug a beer, and down to the bottom of the hill.  If you vomit you're automatically disqualified.  It's not a locally sanctioned race, i.e. the cops aren't too thrilled about it but it's for a good cause and it brings together all different types of people.  Including, it would seem, my OB-GYN.  I'm not sure if he recognized us when we said "hello," maybe it was because I was fully clothed, but I also got the distinct feeling that he wasn't interested in conversation whether he recognized us or not.  I suppose it must be awkward as an OB-GYN to encounter your patients anywhere outside of work.  For me, it was awkward knowing that there were two men within a 5 foot radius that have been in close proximity to my nether regions.  Maybe that's how he feels, too.  Strangely enough, throughout the rest of the weekend we saw him everywhere but after the awkward encounter at the race decided not to say anything and went about our business.  Maybe next time I'll flash him my nether regions and see if he recognizes me then.  If I do end up doing that you can probably mail all correspondence to the local jailhouse.

Hormones!

Adam "MCA" Yauch died today at the age of 47.  He had been diagnosed with cancer in 2009.  Holy crap, this is affecting me more than it should.  Frickin' hormones.

17 Weeks

At 17 weeks this is the most awkward stage of pregnancy, in my opinion.  For one thing my stomach is clearly larger but it could be a beer gut or the awesome hamburger I just had for lunch or it could be the tiny person developing in there. Only the people who have been informed outright of this impending arrival know for sure.  If an outsider is really paying attention then they could probably just assume I'm pregnant (NOTE: Never, ever assume out loud. Just assume in your head. It's safer that way) because only my belly has expanded, nothing else, thus indicating maybe this isn't your typical weight gain.

The other part of this stage of pregnancy I don't care for is the not knowing. It's still debatable whether I can feel the baby move.  I think I do but I'm still not sure. When I was pregnant with Alex I knew what I was feeling were baby kicks and punches because at a check-up, as the Doctor listened to her heartbeat there was simultaneously a swooshing sound over the monitor and I felt something move inside. It was then that I was able to conclusively say I was feeling the baby move. I haven't had that luxury this time around as the little guy or gal has been seemingly motionless at my last few check-ups. While I'm not exactly a fan of being kicked and punched from the inside it is a reassurance that everything is OK in there. So, until I'm 100% sure that what I'm feeling is baby movement I just have to wait until the next check-up for confirmation that all is well.

Also, let it be said, I still have a love/hate relationship with maternity clothes. While it's like wearing my PJs, they're so comfortable maternity clothes designers really need to step-up their game. It is so hard to find something that is cute without feeling like a mammoth. I found myself wearing maternity clothes much earlier this time around, like right around week 12. My work pants especially were getting to be too tight in the waist so I decided to bite the bullet and started wearing my maternity work pants. They're too big but so luxuriously comfortable it doesn't matter. I've also resorted to wearing pretty much all maternity tops, despite the fact they're huge, but that's mostly because maternity pants have that gorgeous *sarcasm* expandable belly material that tends to show if you wear shirts that aren't long enough. I think you can call my recent attire "Bag Lady Chic" or "Olsen Twins/Homeless Lady Style."

Update, 8 May 2012:  OK, I guess I can feel the baby moving around.  If I press down really hard I can feel her/him kicking and (s)he is hanging out in the same exact spot Alex liked to hang, the lower right of my tummy.  Sometimes I feel something moving in the upper left of my tummy and then directly after movement in the lower right of my tummy.  I'm hoping this is an indication of either gas or the baby's lightning speed swimming and not a sign of twins which we've been assured is not happening.

Pregnancy Dreams

My dreams have been so out there I can't even begin to describe half of them, plus I barely remember them (I don't even remember how it came to be that I was subduing a naked man in one) and instead wake up feeling like something isn't quite right.  The majority of them though have to do with the new baby.  In one recent dream that creeped me out well into the next day I had given birth to a corpse baby.  It was skinny beyond belief and its skin was black and green and as I gave it a bath, the skin peeled away.  I remember being horrified and wondering why this baby didn't look like Alexandra.  I then remember thinking to myself that no matter what I had to love this baby despite the fact it looked like I had dug it up from a centuries old grave.  Then, in an instant, the baby was rosy skinned and fat and happy and smiling and looked surprisingly a lot like Alexandra but with more hair which was in a bowl cut.  I know.  The most horrifying thing I just said right then was the baby had a bowl cut.

The second dream I had in regards to the baby was a recent dream.  In it, I was going into labor and Marcus was nowhere to be found.  This is a legitimate concern of mine as he has proven on more than one occasion to be impossible to track down during the work day.  So, I find myself at the hospital having the baby by myself.  After the baby is born Marcus is still missing indicating he could care less about the baby and for that matter, nobody else cares either.  Not one family member or friend is excited for this new baby's arrival.  I suppose there is some truth to that.  The second child, poor soul, does seem to be less highly anticipated than the first.  It was a very depressing dream though not nearly as depressing as the next dream.

This third dream I had just the other day.  I was going in for my 20-week ultrasound, the one that for parents means they can find out the gender of the baby but for the doctors it means finding out if there are any abnormalities with the growing baby.  Again, I was by myself (I'm sensing an "absent Marcus" theme here) and as the ultrasound got under way I could see the baby on the monitor.  "Uh," the ultrasound technician said, "hang on just a second.  I'm going to get the doctor."  In my real-life opinion, this is never a good thing and even in my dream I started to panic.  The doctor came in and I asked what was wrong.  "Oh, nothing, everything's just fine.  Not to worry," and then he looks at the image on the monitor, which at this point looks like a 4-week old fetus and nothing like a 20-week old fetus, points at the brain area and says, "Wow, I've never seen anything like that.  Do you mind if I have my students come in?"  By this point I'm beyond hysterical, pleading with the doctor to tell me what is wrong with my baby and when I get no response I run out of the room crying.

All of these dreams signify to me that I am truly concerned for this baby.  I don't know why my psyche just assumes that something is wrong and maybe it's my way of preparing for the worst-case scenario.  I don't remember feeling this anxious or worried about Alexandra's health as she incubated.  I just knew she was fine.  But this time is different.  I'm sure nothing is wrong and this baby will be just as healthy as Alexandra.  So far I've done everything exactly the same except maybe I've been less strict about the foods a pregnant woman should supposedly avoid during pregnancy, like cold cuts.  However, my doctor has yet to provide me with a list of foods I should not eat and therefore, to me, no such thing exists.  In turn I've also avoided reading anything pregnancy related on the Internet because, again, unless my doctor tells me to do or not do something than to me, it's just another "thing" someone has come up with to make expectant mothers paranoid (NOTE: I am avoiding the obvious like alcohol and smoking cigarettes).

So, there you have it.  My dreams as of late.  I'm looking forward to these going away with time because there isn't much more I can take.

Bad Mommy

About a week ago Alex was sent home from daycare with a 102 degree temperature.  By the time we picked her up and got her home she was clearly not feeling well but wasn't registering an abnormally high temperature so I figured she was teething again.  She went to bed and the next morning when she woke up she had a rash all over her face, legs, and arms.  Crap.  She was also clearly miserable and Marcus and I spent the entire weekend tag-teaming her as every 15 minutes (it felt that way) she would start crying and would be rather inconsolable until some solution was found whether it was a sippy cup with milk, a toy to preoccupy her, or Tylenol.  We even took her to the doctor on Sunday because by then we were at a loss as to what was wrong.  Naturally, we spent the $25 copay to only be told it was a virus that had to run its course.  Side Note:  Come to find out someone in her class had Hand, Foot, Mouth disease so I'm thinking she caught a variation of that.  Anyway, long story short for about a week she had the remnants of a nasty looking rash all over her body and face and in an attempt to help clear it up I went out and bought Aveeno baby bath wash and lotion.  Aveeno works wonderfully for me so I figured it would do the same for Alex.  After a few days of lathering her up in the tub with the Aveeno wash and then making sure she had a liberal amount of lotion applied to her body before bed I expected great results.  Only, the rash was getting worse.  It was getting more red and angry looking.  I was perplexed.  That was, until I noticed one night as I was about to lotion her up that what I was actually applying to her skin and sending her to bed in was body wash.  I was generously applying body wash, putting her in her PJs, and kissing her goodnight all like the dumb a$$ I am.  The poor baby took it like a champ and never seemed bothered by it though I suppose if it had gone on much longer she would have started to complain.  I'm just glad I caught it when I did and didn't find myself at the doctor wondering what this unexplainable rash was and why it wouldn't go away.  So, here we are, a week later and Alex's skin is looking marvelous.  I'll chalk that one up to being a blonde because there really is no other explanation.