Content?

Yesterday I got a Facebook message from a high school friend who I've only spoken to sporadically in the past ten years (which reminds me...I really need to be better about keeping in touch with old friends.  Like, seriously).  She asked me how I liked having kids and mentioned that when she told someone she wanted children someday, that person basically told her that she would regret it and to just take care of her husband and dog.  So she wanted my take on things.  And then she said something that I've been thinking about ever since:  "You seem pretty happy and content, so I wanted to hear what it was like from a different perspective".

You seem pretty happy and content.

I can't get those words out of my head.  Is that how I seem to people?  Or just to people I don't see in everyday life?  Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that that is the image I give off, and it made my day to read those words.  But I guess I've always just thought that when people read what I post on Facebook they got a different picture of my life. Kind of like..."frazzled, crazy children, doesn't know what the hell she's doing".  That kind of picture.  But contentment?  That's something I didn't realize I exuded publicly.  And it makes me happy to know that at least one person sees that.

When I first started this blog, it was all unicorns and rainbows and I'm-so-in-love-with-my-baby-and-can't-believe-how-wonderful-everything-is. And, at the time, that's totally how it was.  But there were also those times where everything just seemed to go wrong and I couldn't get my shit together and Bailey had screaming melt-down tantrums and I wanted to just leave her in a basket on the front porch and hope that someone...anyone... took her.  And I don't even have a front porch.  But I didn't write about all those times because this blog was about my baby and I didn't want anyone to see that my baby wasn't always perfect or that *I* wasn't always perfect.

If you've been following this blog from the beginning, you'll see that things are a bit different these days.  I'm "keepin' it real" and writing honestly.  I'm not sugarcoating things these days (although, you can bet your bottom dollar that when one of my kids does something cute or brag-worthy, I'm totally going to write all about it and gush and be all "mom-like" and proud), and I'm not "hiding" the crazy, not-so-perfect parts of our life.  It's all out there, guys, because these are the kinds of things I wanted and needed to read back before I had kids.  These are the kinds of things I want and need to read now.  I don't want to read about how damn perfect someone's life is or how wonderful someone else's kids are.  I don't want to see pictures of a toddler's room that is so pristine and perfect it doesn't even look like the kid lives in it or pictures of the made-from-scratch cookies one mom baked with her kid.  And I definitely don't want to see pictures with the caption "Johnny was a little devil today.  He absolutely destroyed the house!" and there's just the faintest little handprint on the window in an otherwise picture-perfect, spotless home.

Those are the people who I've always considered happy and content.  I've even gone so far as to bitch to my good friend about how perfect the life of one of the girls we went to high school with is, and what a beautiful house she has and how adorable and well-behaved and perfect her kids seem all the time...based on her Facebook photos and statuses. I don't talk to this woman on a regular basis, but maybe if I did she'd tell me that her life isn't all that perfect and that sometimes her kids are little shits and she'd like to lock them in a closet or something (but I bet she'd never use the term "little shits" because she's not one to curse and I, on the other hand, have a mouth like a sailor).  Who wants to post a status on Facebook about what a horrible day their kid is having?  Or post a picture of their kitchen counter that is now covered in permanent marker because they left their 2-year-old alone long enough to sneak to the bathroom in peace for the first time in 2 years and said toddler got into the junk drawer and found all the Sharpies?  (By the way, if any of you know how to remove permanent marker from a countertop, I'd really appreciate you sharing your wisdom with me).

My point is...no one's life is as perfect as it may seem online.  Especially mine.  Hell, I started writing this post six hours ago.  Six hours.  And I'm only now just sitting down to finish it.  In the middle of my third paragraph, Bailey threw the most epic tantrum I've ever seen over God-only-knows-what.  When talking calmly/distracting/ignoring her didn't work I ended up sending her to her room and locking the door so I could regain my sanity.  She spent a half hour screaming "mommy" at the top of her lungs and banging on her bedroom door.  When I went up to talk to her (calmly and rationally and ending with a smile and an "I love you", 'cause that's how I roll) I found her wearing a set of rosary beads as a necklace.  I have no clue where she found them, but I let her keep them because I figured after the way she just behaved the little demon needed God in her life.  And then after that the baby pooped all over himself, the kitchen was still a disaster from lunch, Bailey had another tantrum, the baby threw up all over himself, Bailey had another tantrum, and the baby decided to join in all the tantruming because I wasn't feeding him fast enough...and so I'm just now getting back to this post.  Six hours later.  My life is far from perfect.  But it is pretty damn good.  Tantrums and screaming and all.  And just when I think I can't handle another...damn...screaming fit, Bailey does something so incredibly sweet or so hilariously funny that I completely forget about how angry I was earlier.  And THAT is when I post on Facebook.

For the record, I am content.  Very content.  Most days, I feel like I've got this mom thing down and like I really do know what I'm doing.  On those days, I've had a shower and my hair looks halfway presentable, both kids are bathed, fed, happy and well-mannered, my house is (semi)clean and dinner is on the table. And also, I've gotten both children to bed with no tears and no arguing over "just one more show".  But then there's a day or two (or four) where, at the end of the day, the ONLY thing I've successfully accomplished was to keep my kids alive. And that's okay.  Because even if nothing else gets accomplished and we've had 14,000 things go wrong, these two still make my day a million times better than it would have been otherwise.

Content?  Absolutely!

3 Weeks Old!

Gerry was three weeks old yesterday.  I can't help remembering how differently I felt when Bailey was just three weeks old.  I remember looking at her on the day she turned one month old and thinking how I couldn't believe that just four weeks I had given birth.  It seemed so incredibly surreal at the time, and right up until her first birthday I would randomly think to myself, I gave birth ____ weeks/months ago.  I was in awe of the whole experience, in awe of the fact that I had had a baby, in awe of the fact that she was here and she was mine.

This time around, I don't feel the same kind of wonderment.  Don't get me wrong, I'm still completely in awe of what I did and the fact that I had a baby (and, yes, I will shout to the heavens that I had an 8 lb. baby without an epidural)...but I think I'm just so busy this time around (plus, it wasn't so new to me this time) that I haven't really sat down and processed how awesome it is.  And it IS awesome.  HE is awesome.  The fact that I was blessed to grow another life and then bring that life into this world is awesome.  But I don't have the luxury of hanging out at home and just gazing at my little boy for hours like I did with Bailey.  Despite the busy-ness of our everyday lives, though, I'm still completely smitten with him.

Good Morning!

A little play yard fun

So here's a quick rundown of how our first three weeks have been.  In a word, it's been fantastic.  I mentioned in an earlier post how wonderful Bailey has been with him, and I still stand by that.  She just adores him and it makes me so proud to see her with him, whether it's just sitting next to him with her hand resting on his head, giving him a bink, or consoling him when he cries ("It's okay, Baby Gerry.  I know, I know.  I'm here, it's okay.")...to see her show him such love and empathy makes me happier than I ever thought it would.



  

I woke up the other night and found Bailey laying on the floor (in our bedroom) next to Gerry's bouncy seat.  He sleeps best in there so we've foregone the cradle for now, though we'll try putting him in it again soon.  Anyway, I found her laying on the floor next to him.  They were both wide awake and she was just talking to him about God-knows-what and he was kind of looking at her...like he really knew what she was talking about.  I would have just let them go and let Bailey talk his little ear off...if it hadn't been about 3:15am.And speaking of 3:15am...darling Gerry has not been sleeping as well as he was last week.  I'm chalking it up to (hopefully) a growth spurt and hoping that he goes back to "normal" soon.  The past few nights, he's been waking up every 1 1/2-3 hours and yesterday he would not nap for anything!  God bless him, though, he only really cries if he's super hungry and I'm taking too long to feed him.  He just keeps wanting to eat and eat and eat and would only sleep if I was holding him.  The second I put him down he'd wake right back up and fuss for a bottle.

FEED ME!!!

 Speaking of bottles...I'm no longer breastfeeding.  And I think I'm okay with it.  I mentioned in this post about not being able to nurse Bailey and how I really thought that contributed to my PPD.  Well, I gave it my best shot with Gerry, and he nursed right away after birth.  I was thrilled, and really thought that we'd be good to go.  I saw lactation consultants while in the hospital and spoke to a good family friend to get tips and advice.  I was told that we had a good latch and that I was doing everything right, but by the third day I was in pain all over again.  I was putting nipple cream on around the clock and making sure that I had Gerry latched on properly every time but it was still excruciatingly painful for me.  I was pretty determined, especially since he had nursed right away with no problem in the hospital, but the pain just wouldn't let up.  It got to the point where, just like with Bailey, I dreaded every feeding.  My mom knew how badly I wanted to breastfeed, so she had armed me with everything I could possibly need to have a successful nursing experience.  Thanks to her, I had nipple shields, cooling gel pads, comfort heating pads, nipple cream, nursing bras...basically anything and everything I could possibly need.  And I used the hell out of it all.  But nothing was helping ME.

 
Then Gerry started to get agitated at every feeding.  He'd nurse for a few minutes and then pull away.  I'd put him back on, he'd nurse again for awhile, and then start batting at me and rooting around for more.  He seemed frustrated and I was in pain all throughout the feeding.  He lost weight, and hadn't gone back up to his birth weight by the time we had our weight check at around 2 weeks old.  When he was born, he had blood sugar issues and jaundice that almost kept him in the hospital after I was discharged, so I was constantly worried about these things on top of whether or not he was getting enough to eat.  When he wasn't nursing, I was pumping to keep up my supply and it felt like all I did was either nurse or pump all day and night.  I wasn't spending time with either Gerry or Bailey because of it, and I started to feel stressed and sad.  Luckily, I realized it early and made an appointment with my OB. 

She conferred with another OB in the practice and they came to the conclusion that breastfeeding is a "trigger" for my PPD.  It doesn't come easily to me and I put too much pressure on myself and on my baby to do it.  The doctors made a good point...stressing out over breastfeeding was keeping me from enjoying Bailey and the new baby and was causing unhappiness at a time when I should have been excited and looking forward to spending time with my children.  And a stressed out and unhappy mommy can only lead to stressed out and unhappy kids.  If I'm not enjoying my time with them, what's the point?  So I started giving Gerry formula.  I wasn't thrilled about it, but he took to it right away and I found that I was able to really enjoy him and I looked forward to feeding him instead of dreading it (he looks right into my eyes and squeezes my finger with his little hand, and it's one of my favorite parts of our day).  I was also able to enjoy Bailey more.  The constant dread of feeding time left me with little patience and a lot of irritation, and poor Bailey had to take a back seat during that time.  Now, I could sit and talk to her  or read a book or just generally give her some much-needed attention while I gave Gerry a bottle and I could see that she was happier, too.  I wasn't spending my "downtime" worried about feeding the baby or constantly attached to the breast pump, and it felt good.  I was able to pump and store enough that I can give Gerry some breast milk whenever he gets a bottle (at least until it runs out), and I feel good that I can give him at least a little bit of "the good stuff".  I promised myself that this time around if nursing didn't work out that I wasn't going to beat myself up over it.  I did cry a time or two while I was weighing my options and making my decision but, ultimately, I think I did what was best for all of us.  Gerry is happy and thriving, Bailey is happy and loves to help feed her baby brother, and Scott and I take turns giving him a bottle in the middle of the night.  Do I wish that I could exclusively breastfeed?  Hell yes, I do.  But I'm not beating myself up this time around.  I did the best I could.  And the added bonus is that I'm not suffering with PPD and am on no medications for it...happy mommy, happy family.  

Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of the happy family.  I do, however, have a few pictures of Gerry.  And one of Bailey.  Miss Independent doesn't sit still long enough these days to get a good (read: non-blurry) picture.  So for now, I leave you with these...

Listen up, lady.  Stop taking my picture!

Snuggled up with mommy

Sleepy Smiles

My Happy Girl

                                            

Lost and Found

Scott and I decided to venture out to the mall with both kids last night.  We didn't need anything, but it was nice to get out of the house for a bit and the mall, for whatever reason, is one of Bailey's favorite places to be these days.  So off we went.

We enjoyed a nice dinner at TGIFriday's, grabbed some ice cream and walked around for a bit.  Bailey's in this total independence phase and refuses to ride in the stroller anymore and since we didn't have the double stroller with us I figured it was no big deal to just let her walk "like a big girl".  We had to go through Penney's to get out to our car and Bailey decided to take a little detour...again, no big deal.  Scott was pushing Gerry in the stroller down a different aisle and I was walking with Bailey, so I let her go a few steps ahead of me and just kept reminding her that she had to stay close to me or she'd have to sit in the stroller.  She was doing fine and jogging a bit ahead of me.  She's 2, how fast could really jog, right?  So I stupidly just followed her at my normal pace.

Then all of a sudden she morphed into a Nigerian sprinter at the Olympics and just took off.  

It took me a few second to realize that she was really moving with some speed...and weaving in and out of the bedding and towel aisles.  Thinking I'd be a cool mom, I hauled ass caught up with her and made a game out of "finding" her at the end of each aisle she ran down.  As a mother, there is nothing better than hearing the sound of your child giggling and knowing that you were a part of it.  I was thinking this same thought when I realized that I didn't hear any giggles.  And Bailey wasn't standing at the end of the next aisle.  Or the next one.  Or the next one.

Oh my God, I lost her.

I was trying not to panic but after a few seconds of not seeing her anywhere I started to freak out a little.  I ran up and down the aisles and called her name for what felt like hours.  I tried to be calm and thought, Scott's here.  He'll help me find her.  Until I realized that I couldn't find him, either.  And he had the baby with him.

Good God, I've lost my whole family!

Now I REALLY started to panic.  I always joke around with Bailey that if she doesn't stay close and/or hold my hand when we're walking that she'll end up going home with a stranger and now I was having these horrible pictures in my mind of someone snatching her up and running out the door with her before my dumb ass realized that I was the only one playing our stupid game anymore.  What kind of mother am I?  I lost my kid...in the mall.  The rational part of me just completely broke right there and I started to cry (like any sane woman, right?).  I ran up and down the aisles calling her name again and again...no answer.

I finally hear this little voice a few aisles down.

"'Dis a booby holder, Buzz.  It for you boobies."

Sweeter words had never been spoken...and I knew where she was!  I took off toward the lingerie section and found her trying on bras with her stuffed bear, Buzz Lightyear.

She had no clue that I'd lost her and couldn't understand why I was crying.  I tried to be stern with her and tell her how much she scared me and that it was NOT okay for her to just wander off.  But, technically, it was my fault.  What parent in their right mind makes a game out of wandering down aisles with their 2-year-old?  Lesson learned.  No more games.  And she MUST hold my hand while walking.  For my sake as much as for hers.

I honestly think that I've never been so scared in my life than I was in those few moments it took me to find her.  Truly terrifying.  Days later I'm STILL kicking myself for it.  So if any of you start wondering why I haven't left the house with my children in months...please refer back to this post.

Double the Pleasure, Double the Fun

So now that we've got just about two weeks under our belt, I figure now is just as good a time as any to come here and post a little update on life with 2 kids.  I never thought I'd say this, but...

It's amazing.

Gerry is a dream baby.  Seriously.  Our first 3 nights were rough (two in the hospital and one at my mom and dad's), and he wanted to nurse every hour on the hour from about 11pm until 6am.  THEN he decided that it'd be cool to sleep pretty much all day.  But something magical happened our first night at home.  Gerry fell asleep at 9:30pm...and didn't wake up until 5 the next morning.  Scott and I both bolted out of bed and ran around frantically checking his breathing and making sure that he hadn't somehow smothered overnight.  But he was totally fine, if annoyed that we'd woken him up.

And he's been this way ever since.  We get 5-6 hour stretches of sleep every night and when he's awake he is the calmest, most "chill" baby I've ever met.  He just stares at his surroundings and hangs out.  TOTALLY different baby than Bailey.  I love her to pieces but she was a freakin' nightmare of a baby.  Didn't sleep more than two hours at a time until she was almost a year old and did nothing but cry when she was awake.  She was truly frightening, and I was pretty much expecting a repeat with this one.  But it's like God decided to throw us a bone this time around and I couldn't be happier.  I realize that I'm probably jinxing myself and that there's still plenty of time for Gerry to turn a corner and become a demon-baby...but I'm hoping that doesn't happen.

This is pretty much what he does all day

Now that his umbilical stump fell off, we decided to give Gerry his first bath the other night.  I can't get the video to upload at the moment, but suffice it to say there was a lot of screaming.  He's not a huge fan of being unclothed and definitely prefers to be snuggled up and/or swaddled so getting him naked and submerging him in water was like his worst nightmare.  But he survived!

My sweet little man

Bailey has been so, so amazing with him and she's SUCH a good big sister.  Before Gerry was born, Scott and I had talked about what Bailey was going to be like with him.  Would she hate him?  Would she ignore him?  Would she resent this little person who took away some attention from her?  I can't tell you how many days I spent stressing out over how to make her feel loved and like she was still Mommy and Daddy's "favorite girl".  Turns out all my fears were for nothing because she has been fantastic. 

When Gerry fusses, she stops what she's doing and immediately runs to him, ready to give him a bink.  She'll just randomly walk over to him and give him kisses.  She's always asking to hold "Baby Gerry".  She wants to help give him a bottle, and she looks out for him when the daycare kids are here.  Yesterday, the kids were being kind of loud and she swooped in and said, "Shhhh!  You gotta be quiet, my baby brother is sleeping!"  And she's been really good about things if/when I'm busy with the baby, whether it be feeding or changing him, pumping, giving him a bath, etc.  So, so, sooooo much better than we were expecting.  I fall in love a little bit more every time I see her with him, and I can't believe I spent so much time worrying about how we'd do with another little one in the house.  I need to get more pictures of the two of them together.  In the meantime, though, here are a few pictures of Bailey from the wedding she went to when Gerry was born.  I can't get over how beautiful and "grown up" she looks!

Her flower girl dress was just adorable!

Putting on her perfume

 I need to mention here how awesome Scott has been, too.  When Bailey was born...I'm just gonna put this out there...he was not much help at all.  He had NO idea what to do with a baby and so he just kind of went about his day like she wasn't there.  That's not to say that he didn't do something if I asked him to...it just never occurred to him to take the initiative when it came to feeding, changing, clothing or general baby care.  I was stuck in the haze of PPD for what seemed like forever and it just felt like I was doing it all alone, from the minute I went into labor until she was almost a year old.  This time, though, Scott is a seasoned pro at the dad thing and knew what to do and expect.  And I can say with 100% honestly and sincerity that he has been absolutely wonderful.  He never let go of my hand while I was in labor and while I was pushing and screeching like a madwoman with no epidural (mostly because I had a death grip on his hand and refused to let go), and he's been phenomenal since we got home.  He gets up with the baby and me in the middle of the night (usually, it's closer to 4 or 5am when Gerry wakes up, but still), he changes diapers almost better than I do, and he hangs out with Gerry and Bailey as often as he can between his work and sports schedules.  I feel like he and I are a team this time around, and that's something I didn't have when Bailey was a baby. It's made the transition from one to two kids easier and made us more of a team, and I think we're all happier for it.  Scott is a wonderful dad, and it makes me so happy to see Bailey's eyes light up when he comes home from work or to watch him holding and talking to Gerry.  I am one happy lady these days!

The  transition back to daycare after only a week's maternity leave has been fairly easy (thank God Gerry is such an easygoing baby), although I definitely could have done with a few extra weeks off.  But that's a post for another time.  For now, I leave you with Gerry's very first smile.  Also, it could just be gas...who knows, really?

Happy Birthday, Baby!

You might have noticed that I've been away for a little while.  I have a good excuse...I was having a baby!

Okay, so I didn't have an-almost-month-long labor and delivery, I've just been really busy in the days leading up to the baby's arrival.  But he's finally here!  I'll post the full birth story at the top of the blog, just like I did with Bailey's, so you can get all the lovely details there.  But to keep things short and sweet here, I'd like to welcome...

Gerald Anthony ("Gerry"), born on January 3, 2013 at 5:13am and weighing in at a whopping 8lbs. 11oz.

Happy Birth Day!

He's sweet and perfect, and has been SUCH a good baby since we brought him home.  Once again, I'm in love!

Here are a few more pictures from our first few days with Gerry (minus the million that I can't retrieve from my phone just yet)...

Mommy, Daddy and Gerry...all a bit sleepy!

Bailey meeting her brother for the first time

Time to go home!

Sleepy little guy

Friends of ours got married on Saturday, the day I was supposed to be discharged.  Bailey was their Flower Girl so we couldn't miss the wedding!  Since Gerry and I were stuck in the hospital, Scott and Bailey went together.  Here she is getting ready for the "fancy dance"!

My beautiful girl

More to come later!

Hold Them Tighter

I came on here to write out a lighthearted blog post, pictures included, about what life's been like in the Wanner house since I last posted.  Instead, I had to log off my computer, turn off my tv, and just give in to a breakdown.  For the last hour or so.

This is the latest news headline, compliments of Yahoo!, as of just a few minutes ago:  http://gma.yahoo.com/breaking-conn-school-district-locked-down-shooting-report-151955384--abc-news-topstories.html

More information comes in every few minutes but, in a nutshell, there was a shooting at an elementary school in Connecticut this morning.   

An elementary school.  Kindergarten to fourth grade...ages 5 to 10 years old.

28 people have been killed, 20 of them children, and I cannot...cannot...wrap my head around this.  They've been showing pictures on the news, and they horrify me to the point where I've had to physically cover my mouth because I'm realizing that I'm making these choking, mewling noises and I can't control them.  The pictures show children being led out of the building, frantic parents with tears in their eyes and total fear captured on their faces, and police and other law enforcement agents fanned out in the thick of things.

Because I have to keep turning off the television, I'm getting info in bits and pieces but it seems as if somehow the shooting began in the principal's office.  The shooter is a 20-something male whose mother is a teacher in the school.  I don't know why he was there or what provoked him but he shot and killed the principal and then continued from classroom to classroom...at one point, the newscaster mentioned that he had shot people execution-style, and that officers and first-responders were going to require counseling after the carnage that they witnessed when all was said and done.

I can't handle this.

I keep putting myself in the shoes of the parents, and I just can't handle it.  20 children were shot and killed at school today.  Hundreds of parents rushed to that school when they heard the news, and 20 sets of them were told that their child was dead.  My heart broke into a thousand pieces as I watched this on the news, and I can't even begin to imagine what these parents must be feeling.  I just can't imagine.

How are we supposed to send our children, our elementary-aged children, off to school each day knowing that something like this could happen?   That the place where our children spend the majority of their day learning and playing could, at any point, turn into a nightmare?  Things like this shouldn't happen today, especially not in a school.  And not to innocent children. 

I can't stand the thought of sending Bailey off to school and getting that phone call, of running to that building and finding out that she'd been injured or killed for no apparent reason whatsoever.  I couldn't handle it.  I wouldn't survive it.  I want to put her in a bubble for the rest of her life and never let her leave my sight just so I can be sure that she's safe and okay.  I want to tell her that I love her and that I'm so sorry that I brought her into a world where things like this are even a possibility.

I can't always be right there to protect her and it terrifies me.  And it makes me so sad that the world is turning into this kind of place.  I have no real connection to this shooting, other than the fact that I am a mother.  I don't know any of the families or the victims.  But my heart keeps breaking over and over again for them and I'm having a hard time getting my emotions under control.  Bailey is with my mom and dad right now; she slept over at their house last night.  I know she's safe and having fun, I just talked to my mom a little while ago.  But there's still this huge part of me that wants to drive over there and bring her home with me where I can physically see that she is here and okay and alive.  It sounds a bit irrational, but I'm not a rational person when it comes to my children. These days, we just can't afford to be.

I can't help but wonder what the parents of the children in that school are feeling right now.  I don't know how they'll get past this, or IF they'll get past it.  I'm so, so incredibly heartbroken for them, and for the children and adults who were in that school today. 

I've always made it a point to hug Bailey often and to tell her how much I love her.  I do it multiple times every day and will continue to do it every day for as long as she'll let me.  Today, I'll be holding her a little bit tighter.  And thanking God that she's here and safe, and that I'm lucky enough to be able to hug her until she squirms to get away.    Today there are 20 sets of parents who don't have that luxury anymore.  At the same time that my heart shatters for them, a voice in my head whispers that I am so lucky.  We may drive each other nuts some days, but I couldn't imagine my life without Bailey in it and I'm so, so lucky to be her mom.  I'll be holding her a little bit tighter and a little bit longer from now on.

37 Week Appointment!

Just a heads up...this is a TMI post.  So if any of you are squeamish and/or don't want to read about the ins and outs of the last few weeks of pregnancy, please feel free to skip this post.

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I had my 37 week appointment this morning, and it went well!  As I was leaving the house, Bailey started crying that she wanted to come with me and I thought, what the heck?  She's pretty good when I take her.  About an hour later, I was kicking myself for it.  I'm sitting there with my feet in the stirrups and the doc leans down to start the internal exam and Bailey yells, "Oh!  Watch out for mommy's big butt!"  Thank you, Captain Obvious...

Anyway, I'm finally making some progress!  1cm dilated and soft.  Technically, this doesn't mean much.  Some women walk around dilated at 1cm for months, and some women end up in labor within a few hours.  So, really, it could go any way.  But I don't think he's coming any time soon.  I just keep reminding myself, 3 more weeks, 3 more weeks.  And, honestly, as much as I'm ready for him to be here I know it's much easier having him on the inside for now.  Still got Christmas shopping to do, and all those little last minute details to attend to, like getting the car seat in the car (actually, cleaning out the car is high on my to-do list), washing the cradle bedding since that's where he'll be sleeping when he first comes home, and re-packing my bag for the hospital.  Yes, re-packing.  I packed it two weeks ago, went in there last night to check it and realize that I packed like an idiot.  So I'm starting over tonight and then it'll be ready to go.

I also have a breastfeeding class to go to tonight at the new hospital, and I'm actually really looking forward to it.  I didn't take any classes or anything with Bailey, just read up on some things online and figured I knew what I needed to know.  Turns out, I really didn't know much at all.  So I'm hoping that this class gives me some more knowledge and a few tips on making things easier and smooth for both the baby and myself.

I'll update on things a bit more later!

I Confess...

Those of you who have been following this blog have heard read quite a few complaints from me over the last few months.  I've said it before and I'll say it again-- this pregnancy has kicked my ass.  I have SPD this time around and there are a good number of days where simply moving at all from the waist down is excruciating.  Anyway, so yes, I've been complaining.

(Disclaimer: Regardless of my whininess, I would, and hopefully will, do it all over again because I freakin' love my kids and I cannot imagine my life without a bunch of little ones running around).

The other day I got to thinking about this pregnancy and how different it's been from my pregnancy with Bailey.  As is usually the case, those thoughts took me on a little guided ADD tour and before I knew it I had made a list of all the ridiculous and terrible things I've done throughout the last 9 months.  Some things make me feel really stupid (I cried over THAT?!) and some make me chuckle at myself (I did that?!)...and some make me feel a tremendous amount of guilt (I'm a bad mom!).  I figured this list might be good to look back on down the road.  It might even help some other moms out there to realize that they're not the only ones who suck at parenting sometimes.  At the very least, maybe it'll be a wake-up call for me.  Probably not...but maybe.

So, without further ado and in no particular order, I confess...

• that Bailey has never eaten as unhealthily as she has in the past 3 months.  I won't even try and sugarcoat this-- she's eaten so much crap in the last few weeks it's not even funny.  I'm exhausted and in pain, and the last thing I feel like doing after working an 11 hour day is going all domestic and whipping up a nutritious dinner for my family.  So...the other day, I let Bailey have a few Oreos and some a shit ton of corn for dinner.  That's all she wanted and I didn't feel like arguing with her.  And now, with Christmas and the new baby coming quickly, Scott and I are scrambling to get all our shopping done and everything else ready to go in case baby decides to come early (or even on time).  Because it hurts so bad to move some days, we've been heading to the mall for a little while a few days a week to make as much of a dent in things as we can.  On those nights, Bailey has had ice cream for dinner.  I kid you not...mint chocolate chip ice cream with rainbow sprinkles, per her request.  It's much easier to have her munching on that while we get things done than to make her sit down and eat something that I know is good for her but she'll fight to the death to get out of eating.  I swear, once this baby is born, I'll make sure she eats much healthier.  For now...meh.  She's not starving.

• that I have been a terrible wife.   Only in a moment of severe weakness will I ever admit this to Scott, but it's true.  He's busting his ass for this family: he got a second job to bring in a little extra cash, he's working on his Master's, he gives Bailey her bath at night because I can't bend over the tub anymore, when we do sit down and have a nice meal at home HE is the one who cooked it, he makes sure all our bills are paid on time, he helps clean the house (I haven't touched the vacuum this entire pregnancy), he takes care of the dog, he single-handedly put up all of our Christmas decorations (inside and outside), he does all of the laundry, he helped get the baby's room together, he takes time off work to stay here with the daycare kids when I have doctor's appointments, he moves around furniture whenever I feel the urge to "change" something (yesterday he moved our bedroom furniture around 3 times until I liked it) and he tells me often that, even though *I* hate the way I look right now, he still finds me beautiful.  And how have I repaid him for all his kindness and hard work?  Well...the short answer is that I haven't.  And I honestly can't work up the energy to do more than say a lame thank you.  *sigh*  I have a lot of paying back to do once this baby arrives.

• that typing my last confession made me cry. I suck as a wife right now, I really do.  Some other things that made me cry recently:  (1) stepping on the scale at my last appointment and seeing how ridiculously high that freakin' number went (my God, it was bad...the doctor must think I'm a lunatic); (2) over the weekend when a woman at the mall thought I was having twins and that I was due any day now (just one baby...still have 3 weeks to go);  (3) finding new stretch marks; (4) the fact that my belly button popped out (this one was happy tears and, for the life of me, I don't why I would CARE about my belly button, let alone cry over it);  (5) the other day when I turned on the car radio and caught the last 20 seconds of my favorite Christmas song...I was sad that I didn't get to hear the whole thing.  OMG, I'm pathetic.

• that I am NOT a cute pregnant woman.   Especially not this time around.  I went into this pregnancy already weighing more than I did with Bailey, so I already had at least one strike against me.  I live in sweat pants, with no make-up on most days and the second the last daycare kid gets picked up at night I run waddle upstairs to put on my pajamas.  Every day I find a new stretch mark or fat dimple.  I get out of breath taking a shower these days, and climbing the stairs can take more time than I'd like to admit.  Sexy, right?  Any picture I have posted online, while it IS me, is a fabrication.  I stand in front of the mirror and spend a good 10 minutes finding a pose that hides all the bad spots and highlights the bump in the most flattering way I can manage.  Notice that in all of these pictures, I also have make-up on and my hair is semi-decent looking.  You will not find a picture of me on a normal day.  It's ugly and frightening and will ruin your image of me forever.  Just trust me on this one.

• that I can't remember the last time I took my prenatal vitamin. I'll also add here that I'm a wuss when it comes to swallowing a gigantic horse pill, and so I take chewable gummy vitamins.  Like a child.  The bottle is sitting right there on top of the fridge so there's no way I can miss them, and yet I still forget to take them.  I feel guilty sometimes, but I figure that I never took one with Bailey (they made me so sick my OB said to just not take them at all) and she turned out fine.  Everything looks great with the baby, so it's kind of like a bonus when I do remember to take them, right?  Flame away, folks.  Flame away.

• that I'm worried that I'm not connecting with this baby like I did with Bailey. Life is SO BUSY right now that I can seriously go an entire day without thinking of this pregnancy (until the baby kicks or my SPD sends me into a fit of tears).  When I was pregnant with Bailey, I felt like we had this connection from the very day the test said "positive".  I used to rub my belly and talk to her (when I was alone so people wouldn't think I needed to be committed) and I LOVED being pregnant and feeling her kicks and rolls.  I soaked up every moment of that pregnancy and felt beautiful and was in a 9-month-long state of joy.  This time around, I'm miserable a good chunk of the time. I don't get a break during the day and when I do, I usually end up falling asleep out of sheer exhaustion instead of rubbing and talking to my belly.  I'm so busy dealing with Bailey and the daycare kids that I don't get a minute to sit down and really "connect" with the baby.  When he kicks these days, it really friggin' hurts, and I find that I'm taken by surprise and almost annoyed at the pain instead of relishing the fact that he's got a healthy set of arms and legs to kick the hell out of me with.  I'm terrified that he's going to be born and we'll look at each other and be like, who the hell are you?

• that I'm worried and sad that Bailey isn't getting the best of me. I've hit the point where I have zero tolerance and no patience for anything or anyone.  When Bailey is having a rough moment, it takes everything in me not to totally lose my cool and just start screaming.  Sometimes, I do yell when she starts acting up.  I forget that she's just a kid and that it's my job to talk her through her tantrums and help her to realize why she's so upset in the first place.  In just a few weeks, she'll have a brother that she'll be forced to share my attention with and I feel awful that I haven't made her last few weeks as an only child more special for her.  I've still got time to do this, but I need to DO it and not just talk about it, you know?

• that one of my daycare parents asked me to make sure the baby was born on my due date, even if meant being induced, because then she wouldn't have to take any extra time off work...and it took everything in me not to rip her freakin' head off for saying such an asinine thing.  I also confess that, after she left that night and took her pain in the ass kid home with her, I sat down and wrote a termination letter that I'll be giving her at the end of the week.  I don't normally vent about daycare here, but this one just pushed me over the edge.  I'm only taking a week off after the baby is born...ONE WEEK.  At any other job, I'd be entitled to a minimum of 6 weeks off, but I didn't want to inconvenience any of the daycare families any more than I had to so I stupidly decided to close for just one week.  I told the parents about my pregnancy and my time off decision at 14 weeks along, so they've now had almost 5 months to get a plan together for when I close.  And yet, this family didn't.  But thought it was appropriate, after I'm already making a HUGE sacrifice for them, to ask me to be induced to ensure that she wouldn't have to miss work.  Sure, lady.  I'll plan the birth of my child around what works best for YOUR schedule.  Sure.  And the kicker of it is that her kid is the biggest pain in the ass I have in the daycare right now.  I won't go into specifics (not that it matters after this rant, anyway) but suffice it to say that the days she is here are pure hell and that most of the other kids are affected by it, as well.  So, I won't say anything about how disrespectful her comment was...I'll just say goodbye.  With a big smile on my face.

• that I think Bailey is going to be a PHENOMENAL big sister and I'm so, so, so excited to see her interact with her baby brother. Enough said here.  I've seen the way she is with her cousin Karley and the daycare babies and I just know she'll be an awesome big sister.  I can't wait to see how two little people that I created interact with each other.  :-)

• that I still haven't potty trained Bailey, and I don't have any immediate plans to. Does that make me a slacker mom?  Whenever someone asks (not that it's ANY of their business), I tell them that we're waiting until after the baby is born because we don't want to throw too much at her at once.  And that’s true.  But there’s also the fact that I’m just too damn tired to potty train right now, and I know it’s going to be difficult with her.  She’s really not showing any signs of readiness and she’s not quite 2 ½, so I figure I still have a little bit of time before I start getting weird looks when people see her in a diaper.  Plus, and this is going to make me sound like a total whacko, a little part of me feels like the diapers are the last shred of her babyhood that I can hold onto right now.  And, dumb as it sounds, I’m not sure that I’m ready to give that up yet.  Ohmigod, I didn’t realize how bad that sounded until I just saw it in print.  Good Lord, I’m going to end up on an episode of Dr. Phil.  Anyway, we WILL start potty training her after the baby is born and we’ve gotten into a routine and are adjusting to things.  I promise that I will not send her off to school in diapers.  They won’t allow that. 

• that I can’t remember the last time I ate something truly healthy.  Seriously.  All this baby wants is crap food…chips, cookies, anything you could label as “comfort food”.  I have to force myself to choke down some fruit or a vegetable and even then it takes a few minutes for the nausea to pass.  And I was doing so well before getting pregnant.  I’ll get back on track after delivery (I’ll have no choice but to eat healthy again if I want to get rid of this giant lumpy body) but until then…

And one last confession…

• that I’m jealous of skinny bitches.  To be more specific, not just skinny bitches but skinny bitches who’ve just had a baby.  I did some Facebook stalking the other day and found at least 4 women from my graduating high school class who have given birth within the last 3 months…and they ALL look fantastic.  One of them just had a baby two WEEKS ago, and looks just as great as she did before getting pregnant.  I’m jealous as hell in awe of her.  Would it be creepy to put a picture of her on my fridge for inspiration after this baby gets here?  Just kidding.  I wouldn’t really do that.  Oh, who am I kidding?  I’d totally do it if I didn’t think I’d find myself Scott staring at her picture daily. 

So, there are my confessions.  For now.  I’m sure I’ll have tons more in the coming months, but for now this is it.  

Don’t judge me too harshly.  But, if you do, just remember that these could be your confessions one day.  Scary thought, isn’t it?

35 Weeks

So, I've been having irregular contractions for a little more than a week now and it's driving me crazy.  Not Braxton Hicks but actual, fairly uncomfortable and sort of regular, irregular contractions.  It doesn't happen every day, but when they do decide to make an appearance they can last for a good couple hours and become as close as 5-6 minutes apart.  Then, just when I start to think, Oh okay...maybe I should call the doctor because, woo hoo, it's baby time! the contractions come to a screeching halt.  And then I sit there like an idiot for an hour afterward trying to "become one with my body" and willing something to happen, only to realize that...crap...they're gone.  Over.  Kaput.  Well played, uterus.  Well played.  I never had false labor when I was pregnant with Bailey; never even felt Braxton hicks with her.  The only time I felt a contraction was when I was in actual, honest-to-God labor.  So all these false contractions are throwing me for a loop!

I'm only 35 weeks and a few days along.  So, really, I know better than to expect (or even to hope) that every twinge is the real deal.  I'm the first person to stand up and say that it's best for baby to cook as long as possible, and that I would rather NOT be induced if I can avoid it.  But then the contractions start, and I'm so bummed when they stop.  Eh, it'll happen when he's good and ready.  But, damn it, I hate the not knowing!  And I feel like, with the holidays and Bailey to worry about so close to D-Day, it would be nice to have a concrete idea of when I can expect things to happen.  I should know better, right?

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and I have lots to post about the holiday...and the Black Friday shopping...another day.  For now, here's the 35 week bump.  :-)

Sprinkle Surprise!

It's been forever since I last posted.  I've been a little bit busy, a little bit boring, and a little bit too damn tired to sit down and write a blog post...but here I am!  I'm sure there's a bunch of stuff I haven't posted about in the few weeks since I've been on here, but let me start with my sprinkle.

A sprinkle, you say?

Yep...a sprinkle.  It's like a baby shower (for moms who are working on their second or subsequent baby) where you "sprinkle" mom and baby with love, rather than a shower. I LOVED it!  I went to my mom and dad's house Saturday afternoon expecting to get my hair colored (good God, my grays are getting ridiculous) and when I walked in the door...SURPRISE!  About 35 of our closest friends and family, all gathered to celebrate the baby.  I wish I had pictures, but I don't...yet.  I know there were a bunch of people with cameras, though, so it's only a matter of time before I start harassing them for the photos.  And when I do, I'll load them up here.

We were ridiculously spoiled, and I honestly can't think of anything else that we could possibly need for the baby now.  I can say with certainty that he'll be the best dressed boy in town when he decides to make his appearance.  Now we just have to wash the last of the clothes and bedding, and sanitize all the bottles, binks and pump parts...and we're good to go!  I feel blessed...

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In other news...only 6 weeks left!  Hopefully.  I'm praying that this baby decides to be different than his sister and actually show up on time (though, early would be nice, too).  I'm ready to start feeling like myself again, that's for sure!  Between the pains, the waddling, and the sheer exhaustion I've been dealing with the least few weeks, it'll be nice to start getting back to being ME again.  Although, I'm not looking forward to the middle of the night feedings.  And I'm still trying to figure out how to keep one kid asleep if and when the other one wakes up at night.  Bailey's something of a light sleeper, and her room and the nursery are close to each other.  We'll see how that goes.

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Bailey just finished up yet another no-sleep phase, and THANK GOD for that!  For about 5 weeks, she was waking up at least once (more like twice or three times) in the middle of the night.  Like me, when she's up--she's up.  So she'd come into our room and stand next to the bed, poking my face and quietly whispering  "Mommy...mmmooooommmmmyy.  I awake!"  I'll admit that quite a few times I ignored her in the hopes that she'd get bored and go back to bed.  Or, at the very least, that she'd get bored and go poke Scott instead.  Never happened.  So, without fail, I'd end up dragging my tired butt out of bed and waddling down the hall to her room to sing a sleep-scratchy lullaby to her until she dozed off again.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  Every night.  For WEEKS.  But the last 2 nights *hallelujah* I've gotten a full nights sleep (and by that I mean that the only times I was woken up were when my bladder was threatening to burst and I'd have to roll out of bed and hightail it to the bathroom).

Not too much else to talk about just now.  Bailey has an "observation" class for dance class on Saturday, so expect a lovely post (hopefully with video!) from that...I'm excited to get to watch her!  They've got a recital coming up in June, so it'll be fun to see what, if any, progress she's made since she started.

Stay tuned!