I Don't Know How She Does It

Well, it's certainly been a while since I have had a chance to write.  It is a small miracle that I am even able to sit and type this.  I am going to write as fast as I can because these moments of alone time are few and far between.

My last post was all sunshine and rainbows.  While I can say that this house is still full of happiness and laughter, it is certainly a day to day struggle trying to get my ever living sh*t together.  Two babies under three is a challenge.  And that is putting it mildly.  This is coming from a girl that has always wanted four children.  At this point, my husband told me that he will bring home a puppy if I ever ask for another baby.

Let me preface the following rant by saying that Tommy is the sweetest, cutest baby I could ever hope to have.  

The Sweet & Cute Baby T

He's definitely easy going, mild tempered and completely adorable.  However, he doesn't sleep through the night yet.  His sister gave him big shoes to fill.  She slept through the night almost instantly.  I realize he is only eight weeks old and I may have slightly high expectations for him.  But I'm tired.  I'm run down, dealing with the most horrendous head cold right now.

My Three Loves

B is the most supportive Daddy in the world.  But truth be told, he is no help to me during the week.  He can't get up for that feeding in the middle of the night because he has to be up for work by six in the morning.  So, it leaves me to be up every night.  I never get the chance to catch up during the day.  I imagine I won't sleep soundly until they are married with children of their own.  Well, actually, knowing me I probably won't sleep restfully then either.  I worry too much for that.

I love when people tell me that I should be sleeping when he sleeps.  Or when Rose goes down for a nap, I should lay down too.  Let me ask these people:  Who in the hell does your cooking, cleaning or organizing?  Never mind bathing!  I thank my lucky stars for the blow dry bar up the street.  Once a week I get my hair done.  This gives me the liberty to have fabulous hair even if I cannot count on one hand how many times I have showered in a given week.

Sleeping When He Sleeps.

There are other stay-at-home moms that I associate with that are able to juggle so many things.  I truly don't know how they do it.  Four kids, re-decorating their house, keeping themselves active and finding time to exercise all while looking put together.  On a daily basis, I am lucky if I find the time to floss my teeth or shave my legs.  Thank God I have a husband who likes to have a few cocktails.  If he really had time to inspect me without alcohol infused goggles on, he would probably dry heave at the state of me and the never-ending stench of spit up and poop.  Oh, and let's not forget the stretch marks.  I gained almost fifty pounds with T.  I am down 30 and am pretty much at a standstill.  I don't feel good in my clothes and am still wearing maternity jeans because I am petrified to stand in front of florescent lighting in a dressing room and read a tag that says my new size is a double digit.

Early on, I realized that I was not going to be able to breastfeed Tommy.  This is another thing that I am beating myself up for incessantly.  When he first came home, I gave it my best shot.  I nursed him morning, noon and night.  I always used to pass judgement and say if you don't breastfeed, it is not because you can't, it is because you don't want to.  Well, lesson learned!  I can say that is one hundred percent NOT true.  Never in my life did I try so hard and feel like such a failure.  I took supplements, drank that horrendous tea, drank half my body weight in ounces of water every day.  I pumped every two to three hours only to make 2 ounces of milk and continued to make him suckle on me like a pacifier whenever he was in my arms.  It just didn't happen for us.  Every time he would nurse, he would bleed me dry and then cry and scream for more to eat.  He would cry, I would cry and it was just one big disaster.

He's lucky he's so darn cute!

So one day, I popped a bottle of formula in his mouth.  And you know what happened?  He slept for seven hours straight over night.  Enough said.  So, slowly it became apparent that Tommy was going to be a formula baby.  At first I grieved really hard because of it.  Only if you have breastfed before, would you understand the feelings that I am talking about.  There is nothing like nursing your child.  The bond is very powerful and such a feeling of utter peace comes over your whole body when you are in the midst of doing it.

I am doing better with it now.  I have learned that I need to be kind to myself.  The time that it would have taken me to nurse him and pump for hours on end, I am now able to get on the floor and color with Rose.  We sit on the couch and read books, go to the park, library or music class.  I feel like what I had to sacrifice for Tommy, I was able to give back to Rose.  It gives her the extra time and attention she needs  to feel secure while adjusting to her new baby brother.  For me, that just makes everything all right.  

Rosie Posie at the Playground

I do find myself fibbing about it at times, however.  Every so often someone will ask me if I am nursing and I will say, "A bit."  Why?!?  I don't know.  I need to just own that I don't breastfeed and not feel like such a leper about it.  It amazes me that there isn't support for women who decide NOT to breastfeed.  Every where I look, I see references to it and how important it is.  I was watching "Milo & Otis" with Rose the other day and actually felt envy toward the mama cat feeding her kittens.  Pathetic.

On top of the guilt of that, I've been craving time out in the real world.  Sure, there is wine at the end of the day with the husband.  But that is usually on the couch with a good episode of Homeland.  That really isn't fun after the tenth or eleventh time.  Just being honest.  And when you are drinking at home with two little ones, it isn't like you can really go wild and let yourself go.  It's two glasses of wine and head to bed because a little man is going to be hollering at me for his bottle in a few hours.

On a walk with my two babies.

I finally got myself out and into the city the other night with my sister in law.  We went and had dinner at the Yaffa Cafe and then saw one of my oldest and dearest friends, Michelle Lewis, play a show.  It was so amazingly gratifying to have some time to myself.  At first when leaving the house, I felt incredibly guilty.  Not the kind of guilt I felt when leaving Rose as a newborn.  That was more like being petrified to leave her with anyone.  This time it was more of a feeling of who do I think I am to leave my husband with two babies and have a night out?  After the second glass of red wine these feelings dissipated almost instantly.

Being in the city, riding on the train on my own, it gave me a moment to remember who I am without two little people hanging on me.  I hate to say that, but it is true.  I live and breathe for my children and I am grateful to be home raising them every day.  But I truly believe that every mom needs and deserves time away.  These two are the loves of my life but they are not my identity.  I have to remember that sometimes and not feel guilty when something that interests me pulls me away from them for a small amount of the day.

When I was sitting there listening to Michelle play, so many feelings came rushing back to me.  Days before the babies came along, when we would sit in pubs all afternoon drinking, talking and daydreaming.  I realized I was lacking creativity in my life.  I think I need an outlet.  Something to keep my mind occupied.  Like painting lessons or piano lessons or something.  I really miss reading.  I can't seem to find the time to pick up a book anymore.  Usually, when I have time to myself, it is used to do things around the house, catch up on bad TV or heat up my coffee for the third time in a row.  Even now as I am sitting here, Brian is asking me what I am doing.  Because really, is there enough time in the day for me to be playing on the laptop?

Truth be told, I'm struggling.  Every day is different.  I sometimes feel like I am just faking it until I make it.  I know that as the time goes on it will get easier as they get older.  I don't want to rush this time away because I know I am going to miss this and want this back.  But for now I am just glad that I have this little blog to vent on and get my feelings out there.  If I don't, I will just burst.

Loving Two

I finally have a moment to myself to sit and put some thoughts together.  I can't believe it has already been two weeks since our little gentleman came crashing into our lives.  Time sure does fly.

I have a little boy!  Thomas Godwin arrived on Saturday, February 22nd at 3:32 am.  He was 7 lbs, 7 ounces.  It was an incredibly fast labor and birth.  Compared to what I went through with Rose, this was a piece of cake.  Okay, maybe not that easy... it was intensely painful this time around.  That was with an epidural, mind you.  But it was fast.  I think I would take that over the excrutiatingly slow labor that I had for Rose.

Just like I suspected, all of my fears were totally unwarranted.  Having another baby to love in our household has opened me up in a way that I didn't think I could be.  All of the things you hear are true.  You are awakened to more love.  More love than I ever thought I could hold in my heart.  The love I have for my daughter is still just as deep and powerful.  Nothing has changed there.  But the love I have for my son is so different.  It is warm and slow and just peaceful.  The only way I can put it into words is that we are still getting to know one another.  It is like he knows that there is a family that has been here before him and he is just finding his place in it.  I no longer feel threatened or scared that I can't balance the love between the two of them.  There is no balance or scale because it is impossible to measure.  My heart has just filled up another space that I didn't know was there.  And it all belongs to Tommy.

I went into labor at about 11 on a Friday night.  We were hanging out, catching up on old episodes of Homeland, when I realized that something was different.  I had been experiencing Braxton Hicks for about a month before my due date so I didn't pay much mind to them.  It wasn't until I started tracking them on the clock on the DVD player that I realized they were five minutes apart.  Fast forward a half hour later, and they were four minutes apart and starting to take my breath away.  That was when I started to panic.  I came to the realization that the baby was coming... quickly.  I got myself together, took a quick shower to make myself feel good.  While rinsing off, I found myself in such intense labor that I was startled.  Soon my brother-in-law was plopped on our couch to  stay with Rose until she woke up in the morning.  I got my belongings together and got ready to go.

Right before leaving, I walked into my daughter's room to say goodbye to her.  It was a little after midnight.  I watched her slumber, memorizing all of the little details on her beautiful face.  I listened to her breathing, touched her face and ran my fingers through her curls.   I whispered to her how much I loved her and how she would always be my first love.  The tears streamed down my face.  I was so apprehensive to leave her, knowing that when I saw her again our lives would be completely changed.  It was hard to go.

Once I was in the car with my husband, things started to progress rapidly.  He was flying through town, blowing traffic lights and skidding onto the highway.  Looking back on it now, it was somewhat comical.  Once we hit the highway, my water broke.  I packed every single thing I could think of and somehow forgot to pack towels.  So, there I was ripping pillowcases off of my favorite pillows and stuffing them down my maternity yoga pants.  Fabulous!

By the time we got to the hospital, I couldn't walk.  Brian plopped me in a wheel chair and soon we were running through the halls to the elevator.  I couldn't get upstairs fast enough.  When I arrived and was checked in, I was already six centimeters along.  The Anesteologist took forever to arrive.  By the time he got there, my contractions were so intense I could hardly sit still.  Once the epidural was in, I realized that I was going to have the baby a lot sooner than I thought.  It wasn't long and it was time to push.  And let me tell you, the epidural did absolutely nothing.  Needless to say, it was four hours in total that I was in labor.  It was quick and somewhat enjoyable.  Though there were moments that I didn't know if I would have the stamina to stay so calm and collected.  It took all I had not to scream my ever living head off.

We met our son and once again my life was flip turned upside down.  Brian was crying happy tears and said to me, "You gave me a boy.  It's a boy!"  and I was shocked.  I was so convinced I was having another girl. I didn't know what to do with a little man.  I just looked down at him and it was like he had been in my arms before.  He was so serene and peaceful.  He looked right up at me and followed our voices every time we spoke to him.  He fit in my arms and my heart so instantly that there wasn't a moment to doubt our connection.


The next couple of days were just about the three of us. We spent the time bonding, nursing and getting to know one another.  Brian never left my side.  That time was so quiet and special.  I didn't get to experience that with Rosie's dramatic entrance into the NICU the first time around, so this was something that I will always cherish.

Rose came to meet her little brother for the first time on the day that we were leaving. My Mom was there as well, which was a big help.  When I saw Rose for the first time, my heart leaped out of my chest.  She looked so big.  She looked weary, like she had missed me but she was also her well adjusted happy self.  She came right into the room and gave me a big hug and kiss.  I choked back my tears so she couldn't see how emotional I was.  I was so relieved I was to have her back in my lap.

Tommy had been taken from the room to go and be examined by the Pediatrician in the nursery.  Rose and I cuddled in the bed and watched some television.  We shared some fruit and a snack and chit chatted about her visit with Nana.  When the door opened and Thomas was wheeled in, I was so nervous.  I just wanted her to be okay.  We all got to meet Baby Tommy together, which was a great introduction.  I had Brian place Tommy in my arms and across Rose's lap so we could both see him together.  At first, Rose just looked out the window.  She refused to look down at him.  She was suddenly so quiet and didn't make a sound.  I told her, "Rose, this is your new little brother.  Look at him!  He's so cute.  He wants to talk to you."  And suddenly, he was hers.  She looked down at him and said, "Baby Tommy... E-I-E-I-O?"  And started to sing to him.  

"Baby Tommy, E-I-E-I-O!"

Since we have arrived home, it has certainly been an adjustment.  We go out of our way to make Rose feel incredibly important and special.  She loves to help take care of him.  When he cries, she goes out of her mind with concern for him.  She wants to hold him, feed him and play with him.  She wakes him up when he is sleeping and is constantly asking, "I take him?  I take him?"  I swear she would pick him up and walk him all over this place if she could.

I think the key is to keep it exciting for her.  We keep her involved in everything we are doing with him and never let her feel excluded.  We also have been making a point to spend alone time with her every day.  Whether I take her in my bed and read books with her or Brian takes her to her swim class, we each have time with her every day.  And that seems to be working.

All in all, our new family of four is adjusting well.  We are learning how to make everything fit.  I'm tired, I'm emotional but most of all I am so fulfilled.  I feel like our little family is complete.  Do I want anymore children?  That is really hard to say.  My husband says the shop is closed and the next time I ask him for a little one, he will bring home a teeny tiny puppy for me to love.

But truthfully, the experience of having a family and watching it grow is something that has blown my mind.  It has awakened a person in me that I didn't know existed.  I'm proud of myself and I am proud of our family.   Every day is a blessing.  There are ups and downs but the positives of being surrounded by these little people that evoke so much joy and teach us how not to take ourselves so seriously... are endless.  Loving two is easy.  Because they love us right back in such an enormous way, no matter what.

Waiting...

I've been sitting here trying to think of something to post that wouldn't involve me having a pity party or a rant about how impatient I have become waiting for our new baby to arrive.  But really... what else could I possibly have to say?

My official due date is in two days.  I was secretly hoping that the baby would decide to make an appearance this weekend, seeing as it is a holiday and my Hubby is home for a three day weekend.  I took full advantage of him being here.  How he didn't strangle me with his bare hands, I will never know.  The house is immaculate, the fridge is full of food, car is washed and vaccumed and laundry is done.  I've dusted and wiped every surface of this place and changed all of the sheets.  My OCD Cleaning Problem has gone into super over drive.  I keep thinking about how I don't know who is going to be here when and I need my house to look clean and tidy no matter what.

I even had the opportunity to treat myself to a manicure & pedicure and a fresh blow dry.  I feel like a million bucks.  (Well, minus the double chin and cellulite.)  With my luck, however, the baby won't show up for another week and I will be back to chipped nails, greasy hair and disarray.  But hey, I'm enjoying the moment of feeling put together for the time being.  

I'm starting to feel really good and really excited about the whole impeding birth.  The fear of leaving Rose behind while I head to the hospital for a couple of days has started to subside.  It's not that I don't think she will be taken care of.  She has plenty of people around her to make her happy and spoil her rotten until I come home.  I just have this pit in my stomach thinking about leaving her and going through the birth.  It's just nerve wracking to leave and not know exactly when I will be home and in what form.  It puts a pit in my stomach and a little tear in my eye.

Bottom line, I've got to suck it up and get over it.  There really is no turning back now!  This baby is coming and soon.  My biggest worry now is how we are going to make the transition from the three of us to four.  I get the feeling that I am the one that is going to have the biggest adjustment problem.  I am going to miss the days of just the two of us.  

As far as the two of them meeting for the first time, I've made the decision that I don't want her to come and visit the hospital until is time to come home.  That way we can all visit and leave together and she doesn't have to be too confused as to why I am staying behind and not coming home with her.  I've already got a little gift packed for her from her new brother or sister.  Hopefully, that will lessen the shock!

So... bags are packed, car seat installed by a giant, protective husband, bassinet is dressed, clothes washed, bottles (not yet) sterilized.  I'm ready and waiting.  I just keep picturing a quick, easy birth ending with me, Brian and the baby cuddling and getting to know one another.  Pray it's soon.  Mama can't take another week of this.

One of my very best friends sent me this the other day, and I just have to share it.  It completely sums up how I am feeling.  It is good to know that I am not alone with all of my fears and reservations.  

Loving Two 

I walk along holding your 2-year-old hand, basking in the glow of our magical relationship.  Suddenly I feel a kick from within, to remind me that our time alone is limited.  And I wonder: how could I ever love another child as I love you?

He is born, and I watch you.  I see the pain you feel at having to share me as you’ve never shared me before.  I hear you tell me in your own way, “Please love only me”.  And I hear myself tell you in mine, “I can’t”, knowing, that I never can again.  You cry.  I cry with you.  I almost see our new baby as an intruder on the precious relationship we once shared.  A relationship we can never quite have again.

But then, barely noticing, I find myself attached to that new being, and feeling almost guilty. I’m afraid to let you see me enjoying him, like I am betraying you.  But then I notice your resentment change, first to curiosity, then to protectiveness, finally to genuine affection. The days pass, and we settle into a new routine. The memory of days with just the two of us is fading fast.  But something else is replacing those wonderful times we shared as two.  There are new times–only now, we are three.  I watch the love between you grow, the way you look at each other, touch each other.  I watch how he adores you, as I have for so long.  I see how excited you are by each of his new accomplishments.  And I begin to realize that I haven’t taken something from you, I’ve given something to you.

I notice that I am no longer afraid to share my love openly with both of you.  I find that my love for each of you is as different as you are, but equally strong.  And my question is finally answered, to my amazement.  Yes, I can love another child as much as I love you–only differently.  And although I realize that you may have to share my time, I now know you’ll never share my love.  There’s enough of that for both of you–you each have your own supply.  I love you– both. And I thank you both for blessing my life.

- Author Unknown

Snowed In

These are my favorite kind of days.  There is a blizzard happening all around us.  We are cuddled up on the couch with blankets and books.  Rosie is keeping herself busy making us "Foffee" in her little kitchen, in between pressing her little nose against the window and asking us if "Santa Claus is coming?"  I have homemade chicken soup simmering in the crock pot.  It's really just the best day.

When I was pregnant with Rose, I used to fantasize about having her home with us in a blizzard, all bundled up.  To me, there is something so soothing to me about being stuck inside with blustering, snowy weather outside.  I really am a true New England girl.  I love the fall and winter as much as I love the warm summer months.  It always baffles me to hear of people complain about the snow.  I think it is one of the best things about living in the northeast.  I've always loved this weather ever since I was a little girl.  And I'm really happy that Rose loves the snow as much as I do!  (Not that I haven't forced it upon her, because I totally have.  She really has no choice in the matter.)

Tomorrow, the plan is to make our first family snowman and teach Rose how to make snow angels.  I can't wait!  The three of us have been trying to make the most of our time together until the new baby comes into our lives.  Every day this week, I've found myself stopping what I am doing to just enjoy the little things with her.  When she comes into the kitchen and pulls on my leg to ask me to do something with her, "Come'ere, Mommy!"  I can't help but stop and just go with the flow.

While I know in my heart that the change of bringing a new little person into this family is going to be an incredible and wonderful experience, I can't help but feel a bit like I am losing something too.  For the past two years, Rose has been the exclusive light in my life.  We've spent every day together laughing, talking, learning and getting to know one another.  She is the first love of mine.  My heart is being pulled in so many different directions.  But mostly, I'm starting to feel excited about it all.

I've always been this way.  I get my heart set on something and then right before it happens... I panic.  It is everything I have always wanted, to see our family grow and thrive.  And suddenly, I am feeling so apprehensive about the way this will change our household.  How will Rosie adjust to this?  How will I handle this when Brian goes to work that first day and leaves me with my hands completely full?  And how I am going to balance myself between three people that I love so much, my husband and my two children?

Something tells me I'm going to look back at all of this and laugh.  I had many of the same fears before Rose came and as soon as she came, it was like she was here all along.  I truly don't remember what I did with myself before she was here with us.  Our lives just revolve around her and the happiness and laughter that she brings.  We are about to double that love by bringing another little being into our circle.  I can't wait to see who this little personality will be.

We are officially twelve days before my guess date.  Yesterday was my 38 week appointment.  I wasn't dilated at all but my doctor told me that my cervix is very thin.  Her exact words were, "Don't be surprised if it happens this weekend."  I've been having strong surges and pressure all day today.  Nothing too unbearable, but enough to let me know that this in fact happening soon.  Bags are packed, the bassinet has fresh sheets and blankets and the teeny tiny outfits have been washed and folded.  It's almost time to take another turn in our family adventure.  And I'm starting to really love the idea.

About That Time

I was at the doctor's office yesterday for my pregnancy checkup.  It was totally uneventful, nothing to speak of.  I went through the normal motions:  peeing in a teeny tiny dixie cup (I've gotten so good at it, it's frightening), blood pressure and weight check.  (Let's not go there.  I have surpassed the weight I delivered Rose at.  I don't even flinch anymore when I read the number.)

At the end of the visit, my MD looks at me and says, "So, I will see you in a week."
From there the heart palpitations started.
"Have you thought about packing your hospital bag yet?"
Crickets.
"Do you remember the signs of labor?"
Bewildered expression.
The only thing I could think of to respond, "So, I guess this thing is really happening huh?"
She chuckled, gave me a hug and said see you next week.

Next week.  That means I am down to four more visits and the baby will be here.  Actually, it could be two visits.  It all depends on what this little bugger has in mind.  They could come at any time.  So, sincerely, I have been freaking out for the past twenty-four hours.

What I am most afraid of:

A)  Water breaking and not being in an ideal place
B)  The unexpected during labor and birth
C)  Bringing home a newborn to a toddler that I love and worship
D)  All of the above

Let's go with D.

So, I'm trying to be rational about this.  Let me talk through each one of these insecurities.

A)  If for any reason my water breaks in public, I keep walking, get home and never leave the house again / never shop or go to that particular location again.  In the meantime, I am using positive thinking to help make it happen right here in my lovely home.  However, the anxiety of not knowing when it's going to go down is incredibly frustrating.

B)  The labor and birth thing?  Some of me is looking forward to it.  (I hear the hospital treats you to a lobster dinner with champagne the night before your departure.  So, there's that.)  I remember actually enjoying the labor with Rose.  A small part of me is dreading it.  Being a perfectionist, I have a hard time dealing with the fact that I am not 100% in control of any of the events that transpire.  The last time I did this thing, it was fine.  Until minutes after she was born.  Then things went a little haywire and nothing happened the way it was supposed to.  Let's just say that I am crossing my fingers for this birth to be completely uneventful and boring.  I've even asked our families to stay away from the hospital until the baby actually arrives so that I can completely focus and have a little privacy with my husband, which was a big deal for me to get up the courage to ask of all of them.

C)  To be honest, I am more afraid of Rose being unhappy about this baby than anything else.  I am trying to figure out how I can make this transition with her and help her stay the well adjusted little person that she is.  I am also wondering how in God's name my heart can get any bigger to fit more love in it for another little being.   I am truly and utterly in love with my Daughter and every single day the love gets stronger.  I worry about rocking the boat and her being resentful of a new baby.  At the same time, I'm excited that our family will grow and that she will have a sibling to grow up with.

Then there is also the fear of... holy sh*t, what have I gotten myself into.  The post partum, breast feeding, getting acquainted with a newborn is a wonderful and daunting thing.  On top of it, I will be juggling a demanding and lovable toddler who is used to having my full attention.  That definitely gets me too.  I am not looking to that first day when my Hubby leaves me with two... on my own.

So... in the midst of all of this worry, pity partying and complaining... I'm trying to count my blessings and enjoy all of the time that the two of us girls have left together.  Pretty soon there will be another little person that we will have to include in our kitchen dance parties.  

Who am I kidding... It's all going to be amazing. 

Lil' Miss Chatterbox

Well, it's finally happened.  Rosie is talking up a storm.  I mean full sentences, people.  I remember the days when she was so small and cute and cuddly.  She would fit right in the crook of my arm and I would tell her I couldn't wait to have conversations with her and hear what her voice sounds like.

Oh man, did I get what I asked for.

She talks all the time.  Not like some of the time... but seriously all the time.  Now don't get me wrong, I laugh my ass off throughout the day because I have this little person who can suddenly put her thoughts and feelings into words.  It's an incredible thing!  It's also a somewhat annoying thing.  She's got my personality.  She doesn't take no for an awswer and God help you if you try to convince her otherwise.  I don't want to say the phrase "Terrible Twos" but we are approaching go time on that front.

Flirting with Papa

Now, I'm going to have to brag a little bit here so bear with me.  She can say her ABCs in their entirety.  (Proof is below!)  She can sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and is absolutely obsessed with Old Mac Donald  Had a Farm.  I'd love to make a running list of all of the words that she can say, but it's hard to remember.

Singing the ABCs

Let's just say that we have pretty full conversations throughout the day.  She can tell us how she feels, what she wants to eat, where she wants to go and what she wants to do.  Also, she has manners.  Which I love.  She says her please and thank you's and is very good about saying them when she should. Some of my favorite things that she says:  Beautiful, Awesome, See You Soon, Come on Guys, Look at Me, Dinner is Ready, Oh no, Where Did He Go, Play with Me, Oh there she is!

I think one of the best parts of having a little person in your house, is that nothing is ever dull.  The things that come out of her mouth are usually out of the blue and totally unexpected.  Sometimes she says things that I didn't even know she could say!   


A couple of weekends ago, we went out with some friends of ours for dinner.  Seeing as I am due to have a baby in less than five weeks, I am starting to resemble a large mammal.  Nothing looks or fits quite right.  On this particular day, I had treated myself to a maternity top at the Gap and I was feeling pretty good about myself.  It was a silk navy top with orange hearts on it.  As I walked out to grab my things and say goodbye to Rose and her favorite babysitter, she says to me, "Ohhhh Mummy!   Your pajamas are beautiful!"  Gee, thanks so much Rose!  What do they say?  Out of the mouth of babes?  Yeah.  Exactly.

A typical day goes something like this:  In the morning, she is all bright eyed and bushy tailed and says, "Good Morning, Mommy!  How ahhhh youuu?"  This is an instant cure for waking up on the wrong side of the bed, let me tell you.  Then she asks me if I want coffee.  It's more like, "Foffee Mommy?"  And then she goes to work in her little kitchen making me a cup.  I love that she can tell me what she wants to eat, however, it has gotten pretty challenging as of late.  Instead of me being able to chop up a few things into bite sized pieces and slap it on a Minnie plate and call it a meal, it's turned into a negotiation of sorts.  It usually goes like this...

"Rose!  Your food is ready!"
"Ohhhh!  Wow!  Nummies! Thank you, Mama."
"Yes.  And today I made you spinach nuggets with blueberries on the side."
"Ummm.... no.  Nah uh."
"Well, yes, that's what you are eating."
"No, Mommy.  I will have pancakes."

Now, this may sound pretty adorable.  But when it is accompanied by a full blown freak out, it's not so fun.  It turns into a battle of wills and eventually she will break down and agree on something that entices her.  Usually "yogut" or "onanges" or something that will fit the description of being somewhat healthy and then I give in.

I think my favorite part of being able to communicate with her so well is the fact that she can tell me that she loves me.  It melts my heart every single time and I don't see how it will ever get old.  She looks right at me and says, "I wuv you, Mummy."  My other favorite is when she asks me if I want a hug and then gives me the biggest squeeze.  I can't begin to describe how much this little love has lit up our world and brought so much joy into it.  The laughter never ends and her little mouth... never stops.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

Rotten Resolutions

So, it is 2013.  A new year, a new lease on life.  I am so not the kind of person to make New Year's resolutions.  Try as I may, I find something to focus on and it never comes to fruition.  This time around, I decided I wanted to change all that.  I'm going to make a couple of resolutions and try to stick to them.  I figure if I don't tell anyone about them, then there may actually be a chance of them happening.  (Even though I am about to blurt them out here on this blog.  But really... who's listening?!)

Being 33 weeks pregnant with seven weeks to go, (I'd be thrilled with less) I've arrived at that point in this journey that is just plain uncomfortable.  I am one of those people that jumps on the scale once a week to see how I am doing with the expected weight gain.  If I like what I see, I inevitably sabotage myself by indulging in something that I shouldn't.  Well, because I am nine months pregnant.  Obviously.

Let's talk about the fact that I jumped on the scale two days ago and I am five pounds away from the weight I was the actual day that I delivered Rose.  So basically, I have gained a whopping thirty five pounds with seven weeks left to plunk on more.  They say that you should gain anywhere from 25 to 35 pounds during the duration of your pregnancy.  So, I'm at the heavy end of that spectrum.  Sure, I did have about ten pounds left to lose from my last pregnancy -that I just couldn't manage to drop.  So, technically I have only gained twenty five "new" pounds.

Truth be told, I am starting to obsess a little over it.  I know how vain that sounds.  My Husband looks at me and just shakes his head and tells me I am crazy.  Tells me how beautiful I am, how sexy I am... Blah, blah, blah.  People always compliment me on how great I look and that I am glowing... etc.  It is so hard to take a compliment when you have stood naked in front of a mirror and can see how much your body has changed.  If I am totally honest, this is the worst I have ever felt about myself.  I am trying so hard to just enjoy the time and be grateful for the experience.  But my maternity clothes are getting too small for me.  I have a hard time sitting comfortably if I don't stuff a pillow between my legs to keep my thighs from touching.  And when I walk?  My thighs rub together so badly, I could start a small campfire with the friction I generate there.

It's bad.

Every time I see a Weight Watchers commercial, I find myself counting on my hand how many weeks I have left until I can walk into a meeting.  It is strange to say, but I am so looking forward to the challenge of losing the weight.  There is nothing better than a good weight loss for your self esteem.  It's amazing how your confidence can soar when you know how hard you have worked to do something, and it's right there in front of you.  Do I have to mention that my Dad is getting married six weeks after I am due to have this baby?  Yeah.  I'm petrified about squeezing myself into a bridesmaid dress. Although, at that point I will be able to use alcohol as anesthesia.  So, it may not be so bad...

So, I decided that for the rest of my pregnancy I am going to do the best I can to avoid things that I shouldn't be eating.  This started with an intervention of ridding my kitchen of all of the Christmas sweets and desserts. (I have a severe sweet tooth with this pregnancy.)  It started with getting rid of the homemade Holiday Fudge, Chocolate Peanut Butter bars and Peanut Butter Reindeer Cookies with chocolate pretzel antlers.  Then I dug in and threw out all of the Ghiardelli Peppermint Bark, Hershey Kisses and the leftover M&M's.  Once that was finished, I felt better.

Sure enough, that evening as we were relaxing in front of the tube, I found myself searching high and low for sweets.  I came out into the living room like a raving lunatic and yelled at my Hubby, "Did you throw away the last two pieces of the Chocolate Mousse pie?!"  To which he confirmed.  I began to pace and rummage through the cabinets like a grizzly bear in a honey pot factory.  After destroying the entire pantry, I found a lone box of homemade brownies.  It was like a vision from heaven.  Before I knew it, I was on the couch with two brownies and a giant glass of milk.

So... my first resolution is to cut down on the sweets and eat healthier.  There really isn't anything left in the house for me to break that promise with.  (Trust me, I've looked.)  I think I can handle that.    

I'm only revealing one resolution today.  Seriously... isn't one enough for now?!  We will see how this goes.   Pity party over for now.