That's It. No More Books.

I knew this day was coming, but I wasn't prepared. I knew the time would come that my child would open his mouth and say something embarrassing. In public.

Today, upon meeting a woman with gray, curly hair, he exclaimed "Hi old lady!"

And then, just in case she hadn't heard him the first time, he referred to her as "old lady" for the next twenty minutes.

I tried to brush it off...he thinks everyone over the age of 30 is old, I said. But I knew that he was calling her "old lady" because she had the same hairdo as the Old Lady in Babar.

I won't be telling her that. Cause I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be taken as a compliment.




- Posted from my iPad! I know!

I Left the House With Both Kids...Where's My Medal?

Yesterday, I attempted my first solo two child outing. First to the pediatrician for Baby C's two week checkup, then to the drugstore.

Honestly? I'm still breaking out in the sweats just thinking about it.

I literally tried to plan everything out on Sunday night. I laid out all of our clothes, packed up the diaper bags with snacks and bribes. I got up before the kids and got a shower. Everyone was fed and dressed and out the door on time.

Once we were at the pediatrician? Uh, yeah. G was in full on three year old drama mode. And? We got the evil nurse. We've had her before, and it's clear she's not a fan of children. She's asking me questions about the baby, none of which I'm actually able to hear, let alone answer. She's giving G the stink eye. I'm contemplating kicking her in the shins.

Somehow the pediatrician fails to notice G is being uncooperative and does nothing to speed the visit along. He does, however, give the baby a prescription for antacid since she's seeming to have some screamy, gassy tummy issues.

Which means we have to hit the drugstore on the way home.

Sweet.

The baby is crying inconsolably upon leaving the doctor. Once we made it to Rite Aid, I found the most deserted place in the parking lot and nursed her. She did not fall asleep, but she stopped crying.

Okay. I can do this, I told myself.

I got a shopping cart. But here's the thing...the carts at this store are miniature. As in, not meant for more than one kid, especially not my three year old who is the size of a five year old, and my massive infant car seat.

So the infant seat is perched on top of the cart, by the handle (don't worry, I made sure the seat clicked onto the cart. Safety first.) And G? He's scrunched up in the lower part of the cart, his knees by his ears.

The pharmacist takes the script and our insurance card and tells me 15 minutes. I set a timer. Seriously. I did. They've tricked me into 25 minutes before. Ice got two ticking time bombs and I'm not messing around.

We walk around for about 10 minutes. I'm strategically avoiding any aisle with toys or candy. So we basically hung out with the maxi pads.

At this point I've got a whiny little boy and a newborn whose upper lip is starting to quiver. I am paged to the pharmacy where I'm informed my child is not on my insurance.

Forget the preschooler...mama's going to throw herself on the floor and have a tantrum.

It's game over at this juncture. I haul the kidlets back out to the car and we go home. I eat peanut butter straight out of the jar then call the insurance company, then my husband. Paperwork for baby's insurance? Never submitted. Stab.

(Insurance is all straightened out now, meltdown averted...and I didn't eat the frosting sitting in our fridge...yay me!!)

This morning? I woke up determined to show that drugstore who's boss. While I was at it, I decided to give the grocery store a go.

And I survived. No baby, little boy or mommy meltdowns. Okay, I resorted to animal cracker bribery. Whatever gets you through the shopping, you know?

So I guess my first outing with both the kids was pretty much a fail. But tonight, baby has her tummy meds and we've got milk and bread.

I feel so accomplished.

Little victories.

- Posted from my iPad! Typing with your thumbs is NOT FUN.

Happy Berfday to Me!

Thank God for Facebook because I pretty much entirely forgot today is my birthday.

I've been a wee bit busy.

But I logged on this morning and was floored by all the birthday wishes. Lots and lots of love. And yes, I cried a little. Are you surprised, really? I figure I can't listen to the radio, watch sappy commercials or any episodes of Glee or Extreme Home Makeover until my hormones stabilize.

What am I NOT teary over? Getting older. Today I'm 33. I don't want to be perpetually 29. And my early 20's? Fugeddaboutit. You couldn't pay me to do that again. Except for the sleeping in part. Yeah, that would be okay.

Right now is good. It's where I'm supposed to be, I can't imagine things differently. I don't lead a glamourous life. Things are most definitely not perfect. But I'm content. Content, for me, is way better than over the moon happy. Super happy makes me nervous. I walk around waiting for the other shoe to drop. Am I a pessimist? My preferred term is REALIST.

Today has been nice and mellow. It's sunny and beautiful outside. My husband is home and planting my vegetable garden (awesome gift, no?). Baby C had a newborn photo shoot this morning. G has been helping Daddy outside and is covered head to toe in dirt. I'm thinking we'll barbecue tonight.

To some, this may sound boring. But I think it sounds perfect.

Happy birthday to me, indeed.

blink

Today I woke up and realized that my little girl has been here one week already.

And cue the postpartum tears...

I'm thrilled to report that thus far, many of my fears about going from one to two kids have been unfounded.

Knock wood.

Honestly, the transition has been fairly simple. G has embraced his baby sister and has been so loving and protective. He has his acting out moments...but don't all three year olds?

Baby C has been, in my opinion, and from past experience...ahem...dare I say it...easy.

I may have just totally jinxed myself.

She's a great sleeper, barely fusses and just seems to have a mellow temperament. I have to actually wake her to eat, most of the time.

I'll be honest, I've still had my moments. Don't you just LOVE hormones? Gah. Honestly, I kind of didn't want to leave the hospital last Wednesday when I was discharged. I mean seriously, they have a menu and you can sit and order room service and I got to laze around in bed all day and not worry about dinner and laundry and it was SO quiet. And I had amazing nurses who didn't even piss me off when they woke me up every two hours to take my vitals. Then I realized the hospital was like staying in the most expensive hotel ever. So, I came home, to reality. As soon as I got home, I was happy to be here, to have my entire family intact and under one roof. Plus, my husband has been really amazing and supportive. I feel very lucky this last week that he's home and able to take some paternity leave.

For the most part, I feel calm and like somehow, I have my stuff together.

Then again, I'm still on narcotics. So I'll let you know how I'm REALLY doing in a few days when I totally stop taking them. I know there will be that moment at my one week post surgery check up when the nurse asks how I'm doing, how I'm really doing, and I'll burst into tears. And then they'll offer me the happy pills.

Believe me, if I though I was for reals experiencing PPD, I'd have no problem with the pills. But by and large, I'm a happy tears person at the moment.

Like right now, I'm looking at this picture...


Totally crying. And this one...

Come on.

Then I think about how fast this is going. Already. And that? That kind of makes me sad. But I'm excited. Even a little proud of myself for soldiering through this first week. Having the realization that I might be able to pull this mother of two thing off...for reals.

Mama of Two

We arrived at the hospital at 5:30 am yesterday. After changing into my super sexy hospital gown and answering a battery of questions, I was hooked up to an IV and the fetal monitor.

My in laws arrived at about 6:30 to keep us company. My step mother in law was engrossed with the baby's heartbeat. It was going from about 160 bpm to 120 bpm every few minutes.

Guess what? I was having contractions. Which I think is pretty awesome for two reasons...I could hardly feel them AND whether or not we had chosen the date for the planned C section, yesterday would have been baby's birthday.

At 7:30, I was wrapped in a blanket and shuffled across the hall to the OR. I was sick with apprehension over getting my spinal. I sat on the table, clutching a pillow, tears streaming down my face. B held my hands and the anesthesiologist talked me through the procedure. The worst part? In all honesty, it was the anticipation. My anesthesiologist was a total rock star. I started having major anxiety because I couldn't feel my chest raising when I took a breath, and she showed me that if I placed my hand on my chest while breathing, I could show myself I was, in fact, taking big, full breaths. It was like magic. Seriously.

The surgery began, and at 8 am on the dot, our beautiful daughter took her first breath.

And screamed. Best sound ever.

As I write this, she's snoring softly next to me.

She has a head full of dark wavy hair. Deep, dark inky blue eyes. Long, delicate fingers and toes. Her Daddy's full, heart shaped upper lip.

In a word? Delicious.

I wondered what she'd look like as I carried her around in my belly. Now I look at her and I can't imagine her looking any other way.

Tomorrow, we go home. And begin life as a family of four. We are complete now.

This little angel beside me was our missing puzzle piece.

Just Add Baby

I saw my doctor for the last time yesterday before we meet again in the O.R. on Monday. The appointment went well. Except for when he had a sharp intake of breath when he measured my belly. I am measuring 42 weeks. WHAT? I'm delivering a little shy of a week early.

I've got a big baby in my belly! Doc guessed close to 9 pounds. Feel free to add your guess in the comments. Please DO NOT guess how much weight I've gained. Or I might have to track you down and scratch at your face.

If you're wondering, the nursery is finally (CLOSE to) done. Done enough, I guess. The walls still need a little something. And I could have organized the drawers a little better. But considering the state my house was in last weekend, I'm feeling pretty good about what we've accomplished, and there wasn't too much yelling involved.

Also? G is happily settled in his new room and doesn't seem a bit bothered that he has been displaced by the baby.

We'll see if that continues next week.

So finally, here are some pics of the nursery. I pieced this sucker together on NO budget. Lots of hand me downs, lots of re purposing.

And I'm totally okay with that. In truth, it's more gratifying to pull something together out of almost nothing rather than just order an entire nursery out of a catalog.


The bedding IS from Pottery Barn; my lovely sisters and mother-in-law gifted us with this set at my shower. I adore it. So bright and cheerful.

We re-covered G's glider with watermelon hued minky dot fabric. I really wanted to paint the glider white, but never got around to it. The pieces on the wall were originally corporate art from my old job. They were being thrown out and I rescued them and covered them in quilting fabric.

We ditched the changing table idea and went with a regular dresser. I don't like changing tables much, they seem like such a limited piece of furniture. This dresser is from Ikea. The pad had non-skid material underneath.


Baby shoes. Love.

And the only stuffed animal I bought for the little (warrior) princess. I couldn't resist. The colors were too perfect and I adore the whole owl trend that seems to be everywhere in nursery decor.

Three days till we meet this little babe!

P.S. If anyone has any ideas for wall decor, let me know. I already thought about putting her initials somewhere, but they are C.R.D.

Which is a little too close to crud for my taste.

Missing Pants With Waistbands...

Okay, truthfully, I am missing pants.

We are t-minus six days till delivery and I can no longer deal with waistbands of any variety...regular OR maternity. And lets not even talk about shirts. Nothing is covering the belly at this point in time. I've slipped into the realm of maxi dresses, tunics and leggings.

Folks, I'm huge.

Yes, the water retention I'd staved off for so long has reared it's ugly head. Hello, cankles! I will say I'm thankful they waited until now to show up. I remember sitting in the tub at 7 months during my first pregnancy and screaming out to my poor husband, "Get in here!"

Poor guy came racing in to me pointing tearfully to my legs.

"I have elephant ankles," I sobbed.

And from that day on, it was all about the Crocs for me. That was all I could shove my poor swollen feet into...and was a GREAT look for work where I was required to dress office casual.

So this time, I'm trying to take it in stride. This too shall pass, hopefully at the hospital, in the form of pee or sweat...

I'll tell you what I'm not looking forward to - losing the baby weight. After my son, I didn't even really start losing the weight till a YEAR after he was born. And even then it was a struggle. Honestly, the factors that finally helped me drop the weight were: losing my job, caring for my dying mother in law, quitting breastfeeding after two years and training for a half marathon.

Two of those things I don't care to repeat. Stress as a diet is not a great option, trust.

So on to the ending breastfeeding - you might be like "Well, doesn't breastfeeding help you lose weight?"

In a word (or two) : eff no.

I am in the lucky .05% of women who hang onto pregnancy weight while breastfeeding. At least that's what my doc told me. Maybe he was just trying to soothe my borderline PPD.

Regardless, I will be breastfeeding this baby. I'm hoping against all hope that this time around, I can be one of those bitches who breezily says "I breastfed and the weight just evaporated."

I'm looking at you, Gisele.

Otherwise, running, here I come. Just call me Forrest Gump.

On Blogging

When I try to explain to some of my 'in real life' friends (and family) about the friends I've made through blogging, I get blank stares back. Crickets. Maybe a 'that's nice'.

To be quite honest, before I got into blogging, I probably would have reacted the same. In fact, I KNOW I would have been skeptical.

Over the last two-ish years, I can honestly say I've made some of the greatest friends online. Many of whom I've gone on to meet in real life. I've actually gotten on a plane and flown away to stay with people that I know nothing about, save our email conversations and what I've read on their blogs.

Thankfully, they were not ax murderers.

In my former life - meaning the life I had when I worked out of the home from 9-5 and didn't have time to email, let alone blog - the whole concept of online community was foreign,. and let's face it, WEIRD to me.

But strange things start to happen in your head when you're suddenly laid off and a stay at home mom. You feel isolated. Adult conversations are few and far between. And in real life? I'm a little shy. So meeting other moms, or even women I could relate to at all, was difficult. I'd go to the playground and try to strike up conversation, but that would usually go nowhere. My son and I had fun at playgroups...but playgroups usually consisted of me running around like a madwoman after my child. So there's not a whole lot of opportunity for meaningful conversation.

Online? I'm free to jump around to different sites. Meet people that have common interests. Have long email exchanges that fill a bit of the void I sometimes feel socially. So now, what started out as a way to feel less lonely, has blossomed and grown into some true friendships. Real life friendships.

It's pretty awesome.

This week has been stressful. I've been struggling with being super uncomfortably pregnant, tired, stressed over being prepared for baby. Things were not coming together in a fashion that was making me happy - meaning, perfectly.

On Friday morning, I was running around like a madwoman and I got an email alert on my phone. I opened it up and started crying.

My girlfriends, my online girlfriends, had gotten together and sent me the BEST baby gift ever. A gift certificate to Dream Dinners.

Why was I crying (happy tears of course)? Because these women, some whom I've never laid eyes upon, know me so well that they knew WHAT I needed, even though I had no idea.

I needed something taken off my plate. I needed to be taken care of.

And more than that, I know they put a ton of thought into that gift.

More than the gift itself, can I just say that knowing I'm loved is the best? I needed that too, so much.

I am not discounting my wonderful, long time, real life friends in any way. Because I adore them more than anything. They are my family. My sisters.

But it is so beautiful adding to that family. And I truly believe that in the last few years, the love and the friendship in my life has expanded exponentially. And it's real.

So when I get the skeptical looks over blogging and 'online' friendships, do I get upset? No. Because I know what it means to me and how it's brought so much good to my life.