Confidence

Confidence is something I'm lacking lately.

I hate to admit it, because it sounds completely shallow (and maybe it is), but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with how I'm looking since the birth of my daughter.

I feel heavy. I feel puffy. I feel unkempt. I feel like no matter what I do, I'm not going to look good. I don't want my picture taken (which is going to really stink in a few weeks when we have family pictures)...heck, I honestly don't even want to go out in public.

The way I move? I swear the only way to describe it is 'lumbering'. I am uncoordinated - more so than usual.

I see other moms who look so put together. Their hair is done in some other style than a thrown up ponytail and it isn't doing the nasty postpartum shedding thing. Their clothes are crisp and actually have waistbands that don't result in a muffin top.

They don't sweat profusely doing mundane things like grocery shopping.

They get time in the day to take care of themselves (I bet they even get to go to the BATHROOM by themselves...jerks!).

I know I have a lot to be thankful for, and believe me, I am.

I would give so much to feel good about myself again. I hate how much my physical appearance ties into how I perceive myself.

But it does. That's an unfortunate fact.

I don't remember feeling this poorly after my birth of my son. After he was born, I went back to work. Though I am thankful I have the opportunity to be a stay at home mama, there was something affirming about having a job outside of the home. I dressed up everyday. I got to speak with adults on a daily basis. My brain was used for something other than housework and playing Thomas the Tank Engine OVER AND OVER.

I guess I can't have it both ways. And if I had to choose, I guess I'd choose to be exactly where I am right now. At home with my children. I know raising them is the most important job I'll ever have.

What needs to happen is me finding a way to thrive in my current situation. And when I figure out how I'm going to do that, I'll let you know.

Right now? I'm going to figure out how to get in a LONG shower. You know, maybe I'll shave my legs AND wash my hair.

Extravagant. I know.

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.

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.

Stupid Things People Say #19029379003081209371987

People say the most idiotic things to you while you're pregnant, but I may have the one that takes the cake.

A little background...my son was born via emergency c-section. So this new baby will be delivered via planned c-section. And yes, we do have a date. May 9.

I thought about trying a VBAC (vaginal birth after C, for those not in the know)for about two seconds. Then I remembered how harrowing my first experience was. And I spoke to my doctor, who made me feel good about my decision to deliver via C. I know that some women like to try, but for me, I just feel better about safety, for both me and the babe, going with the C. I'm not too keen on my uterus bursting during a contraction.

So, in short, yay for people who want to give natural a try after C, but it's not for me, and it's my decision.

And with that I'll hop off of my soapbox.

So, back to the asinine things people say...

Back in December during a holiday gathering (and I can't believe I didn't think to write about this until now), I was talking to a family member and they asked when I was due. I told them the estimated date, but also that we'd pick the date for the C. He didn't know I'd had an emergency C with G.

He made some comment about how that sucks (he's REALLY articulate) and I agreed, but jokingly said, 'At least I don't have to go through labor again.' And let me just say, if I could, I would have my children naturally. I've beat myself up over it, and struggled with many feelings of failure after my first attempt.

And he looks at me, dead serious, and says 'Well, that's cheating.'

Most of the time, I'd take that kind of comment as a joke. But if you knew this guy, and that he has no capacity for sarcasm and that he probably thinks facetious has something to do with the temperament of a dog, I knew he was not at all joking.

Yeah, I pretty much wanted to kick him in his ignorant nuts.

Because he is married to someone who has NO tolerance for pain, got an epidural at 2 centimeters dilated and basically sneezed her children out.

Because he's telling me I'M CHEATING BY HAVING MAJOR ABDOMINAL SURGERY.

Seriously.

SERIOUSLY.

You can't make this stuff up.

We're only related by marriage. We're only related by marriage. My children do not have any of his genes.

And that is a huge relief.

Because Gestating is Not Enough...

To Do List Before #2 Arrives:

1) Play Musical Bedrooms. G's room will become the nursery. Our room will become G's room. The front guest bedroom/office will become our room. Did I mention I have to clean out all three rooms and purge all the junk? I've been chipping away at it, but I have no idea how we've accumulated so much crap in five years.

2) Decorate Said Rooms. Paint. I think that's about all I can handle. I've picked out the nursery theme after about two months of agonizing. I wanted something girly but not over the top. Mostly, I didn't want all pastel - and this is what I chose:

[Yes, it's Pottery Barn. I tried to go all indie, but PB kept pulling me back in. Don't judge.]

You see that tiny bit of aqua in the corner of the bumper? That's the wall color. I think. So yes, there's a little pink, but the red kind of toughens it up a bit. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

3) Convert the Garage into a Family Room. I'm actually laughing at myself as I type this, because I think the chances of this happening are comparable to winning the lottery. We need the space so bad. But I'm thinking this will stay firmly on the to do list.

4) Have Some Kind of Garage Sale. Or, in alternative, rent a Uhaul and make a trip to Goodwill. Or have a massive bonfire in the backyard. This last option may become more viable the more stressed and crazy I get.

5) Potty Train G. Just kidding. This is a pipe dream. I've read all the books. I've tried several methods including just putting underwear on him and watching him like a hawk. Inevitably, I turn my back for five seconds and there's an accident. Am I getting judgment? Yes. Mostly from older relatives who are like, JUST FORCE HIM. Yeah. That's a great idea. I love the idea of scarring my child for life so things can be more convenient for me. Plus? I'm guessing even if I got him 'trained' by the time baby arrives, he'll regress. So potty training goes on the back burner. I'll just keep telling myself that he won't go to Kindergarten in diapers.

6) Pick Baby's Middle Name. Okay, I don't usually put my older child's name in this blog, but I'll this one time tell you (or maybe when she's born too) baby girl's name: we're calling her Charlotte. This has been our girl name for long before G was born. So now we need a middle name. I have a few in my head, but usually my ideas are poo-pooed immediately. I'm thinking maybe I won't bring it up at all and just use the one I pick when I fill out her birth certificate info? Cunning, I know. But I'm open to suggestions. I grew up with a super vanilla middle (and, let's face it, first) name, so unusual is good. Just no crazy spellings. That drives me nuts.

7) Stock the Freezer. I did a pretty good job of preparing and freezing meals before G was born and it was a life saver. I need to do the same this time, but I need some ideas. I usually do turkey chili, spaghetti sauce and a bunch of soups. If anybody has any easily freezable recipes, sent them to me...please! I'll love you forever. Not that I don't love you already...

I know there's much more I need to tackle. Those are the biggies.

Oh. I forgot something.

8) Try Not to Lose My Mind. It might be too late...

It's Almost Christmas and I Haven't Kicked Anyone (Yet)

Something very strange is happening to me this year.

I'm enjoying the holidays.

Maybe it's because I actually feel pretty prepared this year. I don't think I am actually more prepared than usual, I just decided to give myself a break this year.

It probably has more to do with my son actually getting excited over Christmas this year. He loves the tree and is showing it by letting it remain upright, rather than pushing it over and removing the ornaments. We read 'The Night Before Christmas' every night, and he has it memorized. He plays constantly with his nativity scene. We went and saw Santa and he was SO excited he actually behaved.

It is so cliche, but so true. Reliving Christmas through your children can somehow smother the Grinch.

Admittedly, I'm still dreading some family functions, but honestly? There are relatives I dread seeing no matter what time of year. Like the one who eyeballs me in horror and wonders out loud how I've gained so much weight (uh, I'm pregnant?). Or the one who compares my son to her grandchild who is three months younger and potty trained and why isn't G potty trained and you really need to get him potty trained before the new baby arrives.

I would like to add that that particular relative will bombard me with this 'advice', then in the same breath add that her daycare potty trained her child because she couldn't handle it.

And then, we have the numerous family members who are obsessed with me having a girl this time round. Not even joking, I think they will be literally angry with me if I have a boy.

I'll see what I can do. Monday is the 'big' ultrasound, so maybe I can wave my magic wand and guarantee a vagina.

If not, I'm seriously considering calling in sick to a few upcoming functions.

Frolic!

My cousin and her family are up this week from California. My grandmother lives right on the 'beach' (mudflats). While a lot of people think mudflats are kind of gross, they are PERFECT kid beaches. Sand forever, not a lot to hurt your feet on, and the water (when you finally reach it) is nice and warm.

We got in some great playtime.






On the way home, G said 'I had a great day today.'

We did. We really did.

For more play, jump on over to I Should Be Folding Laundry for You Capture.

Shelved

For some reason unbeknownst to me, I have been on a organizational tear recently. This is far from normal for me. My house is all sorts or random and cluttered. Let me rephrase that - certain ROOMS of my house are straight out of Hoarders.

So I've been slowly (very slowly) tackling one project after another. I'm gearing up for a garage sale (hopefully soon) and am pretty proud of myself for getting rid of stuff. I come from a long line of collectors and it's hard for us to part with, um, everything. My grandma used to rinse out plastic baggies and foil and reuse them. I suppose you could say she was a pioneer of recycling. Or just that she was super frugal.

The latest room I'm trying to tackle is our office/guest room/scary catchall for the entire house that is like those closets that you open and a bunch of crap topples out - except its an entire room.

Last Fall, that room became my mother-in-law's, when she was undergoing chemo and radiation. Really going through everything, not just tossing things into boxes, like REALLY delving in - I'm not going to lie, it was really sad. Bits of her were still here. The informational booklets about lung cancer and quitting smoking. A binder full of information for caregivers. Tons of hand sanitizer. The flip flops she borrowed from me when putting shoes on became difficult. The flannel sheets my sister in law brought for her.

I got through everything that was for her. I threw out the information on cancer. I know enough about that asshole right now. Her sheets, I folded and put in the back of the closet. I put on the pink flip flops.

And I got back to work.

I dug in even further. Into the things I shoved into storage bins when she came to live with us. Things that I was working on, getting into, when we discovered she would be staying with us.

Everything on that's been on indefinite hold.

I found a packet from Seattle University with application materials for their accelerated teacher certification/master's program. Honestly, I had completely forgotten about looking into going back to school.

Also? All my 'craft' stuff. Not that I'm super crafty, but I have been known to make cards from time to time.

Then I pulled out all the fabric and thread I'd purchased because I was going to start sewing. My sewing machine was shoved underneath a desk.

I pulled all the sewing stuff out. I think it's time to take life off pause.

Last week, I signed up for a Sew Along over at my friend Andrea's blog (check it out!). I'm making the Daphne dress. The precut fabric came in the mail today. No excuses. Not sure who will benefit from my first attempt at sewing clothing (ha ha ha), but I'm thinking my niece will be the lucky recipient.

It's time to start ticking things off the list.

Hot Mess

Today is my birthday - I'm the big 3-2.

Woo. Hoo.

No, I'm not all freaked out about getting older. I just don't get so excited about birthdays anymore. I really can't remember the last time I did anything for my birthday except maybe go out to dinner.

Which is fine.

No, really. I promise.

But sitting here today made me think about where I was ten years ago on my birthday. England. Having way too much fun. WAY TOO MUCH. As in, if you look up pent up, goody two shoes set loose in a foreign land with lots of booze in the dictionary, there's my picture.

See?

That's me on the left. Yes, I am standing on a table (I was wearing a miniskirt standing on a table, cause I totally am classy like that). Yes, I am doing 'rock on horns' with my fingers. I can tell you that I remember that night and it didn't end pretty. Oh no.

Did I mention I drank a lot? Yeah. This drink in my hand? It's called a Snakebite and it is pure evil in a glass. In fact, many pubs over there will not serve this concoction because people end up doing stupid things after drinking a few...YOU DON'T SAY. The bartenders never had a problem serving those bad boys up to us silly exchange students.

Which brings me to this day,exactly ten years ago.

The birthday celebration extraordinaire. My twenty-second birthday fell at the end of the school year. I'd made some great friends and we were ready to cut loose.

I decided that I wanted to cook dinner for all my roommates. Nice gesture, no?

Except for the fact that I started drinking around noon. So, by the time dinner time rolled around, let's just say my knife skills weren't so great. I did not cut myself, but I'm pretty sure I grated some knuckle with the parmesan.

We hit the pub, stayed there till it closed, then hit the local disco. I remember pretty much everything that night, which is amazing, because I counted how many drinks I had and I hit 22 between 5pm and 3am. 22 for my 22nd.

Wow. Maybe I should be proud? Or not.

Here is the sole photo I have from that night. It is blurry. Kind of fitting. (OMG, I'm totally drinking peach schnapps.)


There are times I get nostalgic for that crazy time in my life. Cause I've for the most part lived a pretty down to earth, responsible existence.

But for a year (or two) I was a bit of a (FUN) trainwreck. I made it through, unscathed.

That hot mess? I miss her. Carefree, LOUD, probably obnoxious as hell.

But would I go back to that? Um, no. Not in a million years.

This morning, my husband brought my son in to me to snuggle at 7am. He got right under the covers, rolled over and hugged me and said 'I wuv you mommy'.

I'm pretty sure that no birthday party could EVER top that.

Memoriam

This last week - no make that two weeks - have been really rough.

You may or may not know my mother in law passed away early Wednesday morning. The lead up to her passing was...God...I don't even know how to describe it. Overwhelming. Scary. Unbearably sad.

And now that's she's gone, there is a sense of relief, not because she's not with us, but because she was suffering so horribly. I had never witnessed someone dying from cancer. And it is beyond awful.

But wedged in between the sorrow, there were little glimpses of the woman we love, gifts to us, things we can look back on and smile.

Grief comes in waves. I will forget for a moment that she's gone. Then it hits again.

My mother in law loved to ride on the back of her husband's Harley and today, when I was out on my run, a pack of Harley's roared by me. I stopped, there on the side of the road, sobbing. And then, for the rest of my run, I just talked to her in my head.

Thanking her. Asking her for forgiveness for any way I'd hurt her. Telling her funny things G had said and done in the last few days. Promising her that I would take care of her family.

And I think she could hear me.

Faking It

It's been a while since I've done an angsty post. So brace.

I have a question. It's not rhetorical - you can definitely give me advice.

My question is: if someone tells you news that is so incredibly beyond belief screwed up - but to them it's 'happy' news - how do you react?

Do you say 'I'm so happy for you!' or 'Congratulations!'. Do you bite your tongue and bury all the things you really want to say? Do you simmer inside till you feel like you're going to burst with sheer incredulity?

When I get super duper angry, I have this reaction - maybe you get it too - I think it might be fight or flight...adrenaline. My legs tingle and almost go numb. My energy surges. My stomach aches.

That's how I feel right now. I have spent most of my life biting my tongue when something is not right. It's only been recently that I've spoken up. And mostly to deaf ears.

Ugh. If this 'news' were just affecting the person that is sharing it, well, I wouldn't mind so much. People can do WHATEVER they want - to themselves. But when it starts affecting innocent lives. No. No no NO.

I will go for a run. I will clear my head. I will decide how I should have this - handle myself - handle my feelings.

I wish I didn't care.

Two Years Ago Today: Part I

Two years ago today, I was very pregnant.

I told you. VERY PREGNANT. Ouch. Just looking at that photo makes my lower back hurt and my feet swell up.

That morning, I had a doctor's appointment where I was told I was 1 centimeter and 50% effaced.

'When?' I practically begged.

To which my doctor cheerfully replied 'Could be up to one or two weeks. We will induce you in two weeks if you haven't delivered.'

I have never been so irrationally angry in my life. I had high hopes. I'd had a weird crampy stomachache all morning - the drive to the doctor was particularly uncomfortable. Since I'd had no Braxton Hicks the entire pregnancy, I wasn't sure if that's what I was experiencing.

After getting dressed in my horrid gray velour sweatsuit (the only thing that fit me), I stormed out to my car and proceeded to call my husband, sobbing.

He didn't seem phased. I think he was used to his crazy pregnant wife at this point.

I calmed down, went and got a latte and a scone, and started feeling a little better. And incredibly nesty.

First stop, Lowes. I picked up light bulbs because I remembered we had a bunch of lights that had burned out in the house.

Next, Fred Meyer, where I picked up some totally unnecessary jammies for the baby, and stuff for dinner. I was making tater tot casserole (don't judge!), one for that night and one to freeze.

Once home, I proceeded to act like a total freaking nutjob and, on a ladder, 10 months (YES, 40 weeks is TEN months) pregnant, changed out about 12 can lights. Stupid? Totally. Did I feel like if I didn't change the light bulbs, the world would come to an end? Yes.

My mom dropped by with a glider rocker she'd picked up off of Craigslist, which was the final piece of the nursery. We unpacked a bunch of baby gear, put it away and she took care of the mountain of cardboard for me - cause if she didn't, I would have been outside in the freezing cold breaking down the cardboard with a box knife.

The whole time she was there, I was whining and crying to her. So pleasant!

She left, I cooked dinner, and froze the extra casserole. B was home soon after, and we ate - it was about 8 pm.

I wasn't feeling so hot, so I decided to sit in the tub. I got in at about 8:30. At 10:30, B came in and woke me up. The water was cold. And I felt awful.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the worst, gripping pain I'd ever had in my life. And the casserole? Yeah, that was spewed all over the bathroom.

By midnight, I had called the doctor and confirmed I was in fact, in labor. B did not know how to time contractions (we never took classes, doh!), but we figured the hospital was a good place to be, so he packed up the car, and we were off ...

Scary how vivid that memory is - but then again, I was embarking on the most amazing, rewarding journey.

More tomorrow!

Showered

This is my youngest sister-in-law.

Her name is Rachel. And in six weeks, give or take a few days (or weeks!), she's going to be a mama. She is having a little girl.


She's got the whole 'glow' thing down pat.

Yesterday, my oldest sister-in-law, Julie, and I threw her a shower. Now, Julie and I are old hat at this shower business. We've thrown too many several showers in the (gulp) eight years I've been with her brother. Baby showers, wedding showers, bachelorette parties...you name it. And to be quite honest, we usually end up in a crumpled heap on the floor afterwards. Why? Because we have a problem with doing things for people who have entitlement issues...not thankful, not grateful. No. They think they deserve it. End of story.

So, suffice it to say, we've grown a bit bitter on the whole shower thing as of late.

Until yesterday. This shower yesterday? Lovely. All around. And the very best guest of honor we've had to date.

I don't expect a huge dramatic thank you, or anything over the top. It was just, I guess, the feeling, the warmth Rachel exuded throughout the day. She was just happy. I LOVED IT. EVERY SINGLE MINUTE.

And the food? Yeah, I have to say it was amazing. And, since I wasn't in charge of the camera during the food portion - I only have one shot. The cake, a five layer bad ass of a cake. Julie made it, and it was insane. We literally only had a few crumbs to sample. We ran out of cake just as I served the last guest. Whew!


If you could pan out on the table, we had some pretty fine eats. And somehow, we had JUST the right amount of food.

We had each guest decorate a onesie for the baby. So fun (and messy). We ruined a few tablecloths - whoops.

Love this one:


And these are so sweet:


But my favorite was decorated by a seven year old - we deemed this the one that will NEVER dry what with the five pounds of paint on it. Can you read what it says?

"Littel Miss Messy." I think this may have to go in a frame. It even has strategically placed orange paint in the diaper area.

At the end, we 'sisters' got together to commemorate the day. Me, Rachel and Julie. A few years ago, this whole event may have never happened. If there was a shower, Julie and I may not have been there. But now, we're together, as a family, and we're all better for it.

Yesterday was exhausting, but incredible. My heart is full, Rachel's nursery is stocked, and I can't wait for my new niece to arrive!

Dear 2009, Good Riddance...

This year has blasted by. And thank goodness. I don't know how much more yucky stuff could have happened this year. Okay, I know it COULD have been worse. I don't even want to THINK about that.

2009 - A Crappy Year in Review.

I was laid off (but actually this is kind of a positive too)

• M.I.L. diagnosed with lung cancer.
• High school friend passed away after fighting breast cancer for five years.
• Drama.
• Brother in law laid off.
• Did I mention drama?
  

But, in retrospect, many great things happened this year.

So, as this year (DECADE?!) draws to a close, I'd like to focus on the happy things. Because I anticipate many more happy things in 2010.

My Top Ten Good Things of 2009.

1) My husband. He teases me mercilessly. He stays thin even when he eats, seriously, like the worst, crappiest food in the universe. He makes me watch the Science Channel and MMA. He is physically incapable of putting the laundry in the laundry basket. And I'm still crazy about him. He is an amazing man, and after this year, I am truly amazed that he turned out like he did. He is a testament to the apple falling VERY FAR from the tree.

2) Babies! So many of my girlfriends welcomed little ones this year. A few surprises, many meticulously planned out, all delicious and wonderful!

3) B got a great promotion. He is finally getting recognized for the GENIUS he is - not even sarcastic - he is truly one of the most intelligent people I know.

4) The Sisterhood. What can I say. I love those hookers (and Brian, our, um, pimp). I can't begin to tell you what a huge difference these peeps have made in my life. I can't wait for our new challenge to begin (go check it out!) and for all our crazy adventures this year - including a 1/2 marathon. I AM RUNNING A HALF MARY IN 2010!

5) Kauai. Never has a vacation been more needed. That is all.

6) Reconnecting with B's Dad, Stepmom and Half Sister. The more I get to know them, the more I know what my life was missing. I'm so thankful for them!

7) The Whole Fam Damily. Even though some of them did hurtful things, I must step back and realize that they are human and not as perfect as I. Oh, I kid. Overall, I love my family and my husband's family very much. Some of them don't make the best decisions, but at least they are entertaining.

8) Old friends (you know who you are). I've had a lot of the same girlfriends since junior high (some even earlier - and I've picked up some more along the way). There's a reason they're still in my life. No, not because you have some horrible photographic blackmail material (hello, grunge years), but because you are all amazing women. I have a fabulous collection of girlfriends. Love.

9) Running. I love it, I hate it. But nothing peels off the pounds and keeps me out of therapy/off meds like good old pounding the pavement. Who knew?

10) My G-Rex. Is it sad that my 2 year old is my best bud in the world? I don't think so! He is just amazing. I can't remember (and don't want to) what life was like before him. How can you be in a sour mood when a toddler runs up, grabs your cheeks and kisses you. Impossible!

So, when I think about 2009, there was a lot of heartbreak, a lot of um, yes, DRAMA, and a lot of anger.

But, in so many ways, the bitter makes the sweet SO much sweeter.

Soooo Close. So Close.

I am so terrible at blogging lately. I need a more interesting life, seriously.

We had a truly lovely Christmas. Mellow and cozy, just wonderful. We stayed home, G-Rex opened his presents and played ALL DAY. He was the most enthralled with a fire engine - we picked it out last week on our shopping date. What we failed to realize is that it makes a siren noise. In fact, it sounds very real. So real, that when B was stoking our illegal Christmas fire (burn bans - boo!) and G-Rex set off the siren for the first time, we freaked out.

You know I won't be replacing that battery when it dies.

On Boxing Day (for those of you not familiar, the day after Christmas), we traveled north to my parents house.

I was looking forward to seeing my parents, of course, but kind of dreading seeing one particular family member who has a knack for always saying something completely rude and offensive, usually about my weight.

I dread seeing her so much that I have actually seen her in the grocery store and hidden. I know. I'm awful.

So, we made it through dinner and presents and were saying goodbye. I couldn't believe I'd made it through an entire family gathering without some kind of comment.

But, I wouldn't be telling this story if there was no comment. That would be no fun.

'Have you lost weight?'

'Yes, actually. I've been running.'

'Oh, how much have you lost?'

'About 20 pounds.'

'I'm so happy. Keep it up.'

We're fine to this point. Then it goes very wrong:

'Good, good! You used to be so beautiful when you were thin.'

Sucker punch. How do you respond to that?

'Um, thanks?'

But in my head I was doing a roundhouse kick to the head.

Adventures with Gas (Not the Methane Kind)

This morning started out beautifully. We were all in a good mood. G-Rex had a huge breakfast and was happily drinking milk out of a sippy.

B called and needed me to bring his laptop to work, which is about 35 minutes south of our home. Lucky for him (and me), I was planning on heading down that direction already. I had to pick up my Christmas cards from Costco, plus see if they have any flea medication because darn it all if Carl didn't pick up fleas at the kennel (so of course Sadie and all the cats will get them now too).

I loaded G into the car and immediately noticed the fuel light was on. No worries, quick stop and we'd be off.

The gas station was super crowded, but I got the last pump. Score!

I put about ten bucks in, thinking I'd fill the rest of the way up at Costco. I made faces at G-Rex through the window as I was pumping the gas. He was yelling 'Mommy funny!'

Then it happened.

I went to pull the pump out of my tank and the handle stuck. GAS STARTED SPRAYING EVERYWHERE. All over the side of the car, all over the ground, ALL OVER ME.

Oh yeah. Jeans? Soaked. Sweate? Gassy as hell.

I managed to stop the spraying, and surveyed the damage. I was COVERED. I put the pump back in the holster, fastened my gas cap and said a bunch of bad words before I got back into the car with my little mimic.

I was about halfway to B's work. I didn't want to go home. It would interfere with any possible midday nap. So, I decided to hit the next clothing store I saw and buy some pants. I had a t-shirt on under my sweater, so even though I'd freeze my boobies off, at least I'd be covered.

TJ Maxx was the first place I saw. I got G-Rex out of the car and hoisted him to my hip, where he proceeded to lean backwards and arch.

I ran to the rack with the sweats, knowing full well I wouldn't be able to try anything on. I figured I could deal with small, medium, large and elastic or drawstring waists without too much worry about fit.

I snatched a pair of brown fleece sweatpants. Which actually were not too hideous. Up to the checkout we went, G-Rex hanging precariously from the crook of my arm by his armpits.

And damn it all if they didn't have a bunch of toys right at child level at the checkout. There is a special place in hell for whomever designs these retail displays. For real. Within one millisecond, the trucks were spotted.

'Twuckeeee! Twuckeeeeeee!'

G-Rex turned into a full on eel child, somehow managing to dislodge all his bones and slide out of my grip.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him next to me.

And all hell broke loose. I'm pretty sure the rest of the people in the store thought I was beating my child.

Did I mention I smelled like I bathed in gasoline? Seriously, if anybody had lit a cigarette within 10 feet of me, it would have been all over.

Three people in front of me and one inept cashier later, we were back in the car. G-Rex with huge crocodile tears pouring forth, screaming so shrilly that he's literally going hoarse. Me, with my jeans off, wiggling into my new sweats. Wadding up the petro-jeans and sweater and stuffing them into the TJ Maxx bag which absolutely reeks like some god awful potpourri.

Potpourri, gasoline and a screaming toddler.

Yes, I do have a headache. Why do you ask?

Lunch, coffee and a laptop were delivered to B.

And we did make it through Costco fairly unscathed. No flea medication, but they do sell stamps. No post office for me, whoopee!

But I did have to walk through Costco wearing fleece sweats that were a bit too short, Uggs, and a white, sweaty t-shirt.

My kid, however, looked pristine.

Funny how that happens.

Home Sweet Home

We're back.

We've been back a few days, actually. The dogs are back from the kennel. Load after load of laundry is done. Summer clothes are put away.

Kauai was GORGEOUS. Relaxing? Well, it was our first experience traveling with a toddler. Let's just say I could have used a prescription for Valium. At least for the first flight. Cause seriously? I just about lost it. I spent the entire six hours trying to keep the G-Rex from kicking the back of the seat in front of him. Yes, he is that tall. He could reach. The seat in front was empty, but you know how the whole row is connected. So the whole row feels the kicking.

And let's just say the couple in front of us was not pleased. Okay, I can't blame them, really. But OH! how I tried to keep my child in line. I don't think they understood that it could have been MUCH MUCH worse. As in dog whistle screeching. Crying on takeoff and landing.

Instead, the dude in front of me gave me the stink eye every single chance he had. Looking back, I should have just let the kiddo kick the hell out of the seat. Because either way, the guy was going to be an ass.

So.

There was that. And other than THAT, our vacation was incredible. We didn't do anything terribly special, but we had a few date nights, I got some quality reading time in, got some sun and we had the chance to spend time with my parents, whom we haven't seen a whole lot these past few months.

I had a chance to decompress, and now I feel like our life and our little family is getting back to normal.

Normal is good. I missed it!

Now? I'm in post vacation let down but luckily, I have Christmas preparations to throw myself into. Granted, I'm not a huge Christmas fan, but I'm going to try this year. I PROMISE.

Now I'm Somebody

Today, I reached a milestone - albeit creepy.

I got my first porn spammer comment. I deleted it. Though a badge of honor, I thought I probably didn't want my site linking through hers.

I'm guessing it was either from the title of my blog, or from the expletives in comments from my friends. Or just dumb luck. I mean, how did they know I was into underage Asian girls? I KID, I KID.

Now I'm waiting for hater comments. That will be a grand day. When people care enough about what you're writing to actually get pissed off, well, that's saying something.

On another note, my blood pressure is at normal levels today. As suggested by many, I communicated with that certain person who did me oh so wrong, and SHE TOTALLY DIDN'T GET IT. I wasn't subtle. I said I forgive her, but I also explained why I was upset and that what she did was wrong.

But I guess since I said the word forgive, she thinks everything is fine.

Which, I guess, will have to do. Because sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can't get through to some people.