Tuesday, December 4, 2012


Morgan is a nut, but lately she's been saying some of the craziest things that are too good to not share. 

On a daily basis she tells me I need to settle down.  Especially this morning when I was doing a Jesco White jig to Jingle Bells at 8:30am.  She stood with her hands on her hips and said in a firm voice, 'Mom, you need to settle down.' 

My mom bought her a little purple Christmas tree for her bedroom and the cats are fascinated by it.  They keep pawing at the ornaments.  Last night she was hysterical when she thought one of the cats ate one of the ornaments and kept screaming 'you have to burp him to bring it back up!' until we found the ornament had just been knocked under her bed.

Every single day she begs me to go shopping.  When I tell her we don't have any money she says 'that's okay, you have credit cards.'

Today while trying to do some online Christmas shopping, I hear 'look mommy I have a tail!' and she runs in with her pants down and a 'tail' of toilet paper tucked between her butt cheeks. 

After her gymnastics class this evening I told her she had to wash her hands to get the germs off and she replied 'no thanks, I want to keep my germs, they are my friends.'

Which reminds me...last week she picked a booger that she called her best friend.

I mean seriously, is there a full moon?

I'm totally keeping a list of these things to pass out to any guy she might drag home when she's a teenager. 

why I refuse to be an Elf Mom

I have recently posted on Facebook about how I refuse to do Elf on the Shelf.  I received a lot of feedback from other moms that claim their kids love the Elf, and I believe them!  And I know my kids would love it (well Morgan might...Jack would just want to chew on him).  Some moms are posting all these awesomely creative pictures with random things the Elf has done...and kudos to you Elf moms!  You are a better mom than me, I admit it.

So why won't I participate?

Here's my list:

1.  My brain is surrounded in a fog.  I'm lucky to remember to wear pants when I go out to check the mail, much less come up with creative things for the Elf to do every single night.

2.  The Elf is CREEPY!  I mean seriously, that thing could cause major nightmares that would requires years of therapy to recover from.  Not for my kids, for me.  And my cats.

3.  Although creative, and I am 190% sure kids LOVE it, I do NOT have time to do the tricks that Pinterest suggests.  TP my Christmas tree?  WHAT Christmas tree?  We haven't even had time to purchase and decorate our tree.  Marshmallow fight in the kitchen with Barbie?  Seriously?  After Jack blows raspberries splattering half a jar of baby food peaches across my kitchen, I am lucky to get that mess cleaned up before somebody slips and falls in it, and can't even comprehend the idea of throwing mini marshmallows all over the place and THEN having to clean that up.

4.  I don't understand the purpose of the Elf.  He's supposed to watch my kids and report their behavior to Santa?  Well why is the Elf so bad?  Can't I report HIM to Santa?  Or just throw him outside and wait for my neighbor's dog to drag him off?

5.  Kids aren't supposed to touch the Elf.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!  Have you met my daughter?  She touches EVERYTHING!  ...but fruit and vegetables that is.  And you're supposed to pretend to send the Elf back to the North Pole or something after he's been touched?  Yeah...I would be doing that about once an hour.

6.  Okay I'll admit...we haven't even done Santa for Morgan yet.  We are never home on Christmas because we live away from both sets of grandparents and are on the road the entire holiday.  This is the first year Morgan actually sort of understands the whole Santa concept and honestly it's a big responsibility to keep up with the lie.  I can't keep up with the Elf on top of Santa.  I am a horrible liar.  By the time Morgan is 4 I'm sure I will accidentally forget that she actually CAN hear everything I say and will slip and say something like 'yeah we will probably be up all night playing Santa'....probably while dozing on the couch during Bubble Guppies. 

7.  An Elf in this house would be a raging alcoholic, I just know it.  I would catch him in my freezer going after that bottle of vodka we are saving for a 'special occassion' which in mommyland means 'a night the kids are so bad you wonder why on earth you ever wanted a kid in the first place and then were stupid enough to have another one.'

8.  It's just another thing to store!!  Right now I am drowning in kid stuff...toys, baby gear, crayons, baby bottles...I can't handle one more thing to find a spot for in this house.  Makes my left eye twitch even thinking about it.

So there ya go, call me a party pooper, a bad mom, I don't care.  All of you amazing overachieving moms, please feel free to adopt my deprived children during the holidays so they can enjoy the Elf festivities! 

Friday, November 2, 2012

Campaign what?

So apparently from the amount of campaign mail taking up space in my mailbox and the increase of hateful status updates on Facebook, elections are around the corner.  Confirmation of this is the fact that I had 2 political visits at home today, one from the Romneymobile and the other from...no idea but they gave me a packet of info that Morgan has half eaten by now because she chews on paper like gum.

Like my week hasn't been crazy enough, what with having to take Morgan to gymnastics twice (making up a class we missed a couple of weeks ago), dragging Morgan out of bed early for her school Halloween party (she usually goes to school at noon, not 8:45, and yes I had to drag her out of bed at 8...she likes to sleep in), then doing trick or treat evening with both kids...alone...in the cold rain.  Morgan was Little Red Riding Hood and Jack was the Big Bad Skunk and only screamed for 20 minutes with his costume on until he passed out in a heap of fake fur on the couch.  Luckily one of our neighborhood moms took pity on Morgan and took her up and down our street with her daughter, since I was stuck at home with Jack (no way I was taking him outside to breathe in that cold damp air) then Morgan came back and helped pass out candy.  She was a candy bar Nazi...'hey you only get one!' She inherited some frugal traits from her father.  But one of her first words was 'Visa' so I still think she's on my side.

Well we survived all of that...and I was sooo looking forward to having a day of rest.  Michael is working today and I'm going on about 4 hours of sleep because Jack has been sleeping terrible this week.  Apparently he can't breathe around all those boogers and sounds like an asthmatic Pug through the baby monitor, so I've been up a lot with him this week at night.

The doorbell rang earlier today.  I HATE when the doorbell rings.  I have anxiety about who is on the other side.  If I'm not expecting a pizza or a million dollar check, chances are I won't be answering that door.  I've had a couple of creepy experiences, like the time some random dude was on my porch with a bottle of Tide wanting to come in my house to show me some carpet cleaning vacuum thing and was very persistent...as if a pushy guy with no name tag or business shirt holding a bottle of Tide on my porch wasn't creepy enough, a white van with tinted windows with a faceless driver staring me down was waiting at the end of my sidewalk.  I basically had to slam the door in his face.  Then I called Michael.  Then I called my mom.  Then I loaded Morgan in the car to go shopping until Michael got off work. 

So today the doorbell rang and before I could blink, Morgan was unlocking it to answer.  It was just a harmless looking lady with earmuffs so I opened the storm door to see what she wanted.  She was passing out info on Romney and whoever else.  She took pity on me standing there with blue leggings, a homemade tie dyed shirt, a sloppy half ponytail / half bun on the side of my head with a half naked baby (diaper and socks) slobbering all over my shoulder and a toddler with bed hair and underwear picking her nose standing next to me.  So she gave me the packet and told me to have a nice day.

About an hour later the doorbell rang again.  Once again Morgan was opening the door before I could say anything.  This time it was a college aged looking girl.  She blah blah blahed who she was affiliated with as I was trying to pull half naked Morgan back in the house and she wanted to ask me a couple of survey questions that she said wouldn't take any time at all so I was like whatever go ahead.  She asked me the first question which was something along the lines of 'who will you be voting for president' and as she's asking me, one of our cats darts out the door, which makes Morgan scream and try to run out after him, which makes Jack cry because Morgan screamed.  So as I'm trying to shove half naked Morgan back into the house, grab the cat by his tail with my free hand that isn't holding a snotty screaming baby, I answered something like 'not Bush!' which doesn't even make any sense because Bush isn't even running, and I voted for him in 2004, the first and last time I actually voted.  So the girl said 'um, okay...who are you voting for Senate?' to which I replied 'I don't even know who's running, I will just go in and vote straight party ticket.' and then the stupid cat tried to escape AGAIN so I don't even remember what the last question was but I answered 'I was raised Republican so that's how I will be voting' as I'm carrying in a wiggly screeching cat that is all poofed out like a cartoon cat and Morgan is screaming 'Mean Kitty you're SO BAD!' and Jack sneezes across my glasses.

She left.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

tub of grease

I'm a sucker for home health remedies.  I'm trying to clean up my diet by not eating foods with lots of fake stuff in them (but baked Doritos are SO TASTY), trying to watch my sugar intake (oh my gosh these little pumpkin scones I got at Kroger today are amazing...), and trying to just eat a lot of raw fruits and veggies (and by the way made some veggie dip using plain Greek yogurt instead of sour cream and it wasn't too bad, thank you Pinterest).  I'm 33 year old and I'm borderline diabetic.  I want to be healthy on the inside and outside.  I want to set a good example for my kids.  I don't understand the rationale of 'my kid can eat all this junk because she/he has enough energy to just run off all those calories' ...sure, that might be true.  But your kid is going to slow down sometime, yet keep the same eating habits.  Then you're going to have a fat teenager hiding in his/her bedroom listening to Owl City crying into a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos because he/she can't fit into clothes at Hollister like the cool kids.

But I digress...

A few blogs ago I wrote about the homemade oatmeal mask mess.  Well lately my obsession has been coconut oil.  Once again you can thank Pinterest.  Sometimes I wonder if some random dude is sitting in his basement snorting over some of these posts that have gone viral, laughing to himself because thousands of woman are ravaging the cooking aisle looking for virgin unrefined coconut oil to lather on in the shower.

I don't blame him, it would be pretty darn funny.

A few weeks ago I bought some coconut oil.  A big tub of the stuff.  I got in the shower and felt a little weird about having a container of something I found next to Crisco, ready to crack it open and slather on my skin.  I rubbed in on my arms and legs and it was just WEIRD.  So greasy.  And it doesn't really wash off.  When I got out I was sticking to myself and felt greased up and ready to be served on rice.  And the best part is that Michael took a shower after me and accused me of trying to kill him because the tub was so slick. 

Pfffft like I would kill him.  His life insurance isn't THAT great yet.

So I asked some of my health nut friends what I did wrong?  They all asked 'did you buy organic unrefined coconut oil?'

uhhhh...noooo....a small jar was $9.99 for the organic unrefined and the big tub of refined was 5 bucks.  The ingredients were the same... I thought it would be fine.  Not so much.

So today while Michael was at work and wasn't there to judge me for buying more coconut oil, I dragged my kids to Kroger and bought organic unrefined coconut oil from the healthy market section.  When I got home I opened it up and smelled it...it smells like a freshly cracked coconut (and can be used in pineapple upset down cakes according to the label).  In the shower I rubbed it on my arms and legs and there was no greasy fast food french fry feeling.  It absorbed into my skin and left a nice light coconut smell (there's a slight possibility I might gnaw on my own arm while asleep, I smell that good). 

I found a use for the tub o' oil.  I love to make my own body scrubs, and I was due to make a new batch, so I mixed together sea salt, olive oil, peppermint essential oil, and the coconut grease oil for a foot/leg scrub and it's AWESOME!

Monday, October 1, 2012

the big bad skunk and other lovely tales

Sometimes I feel like I'm a contestant in some reality show about parenthood, testing to see if I can make it through each day.  Every night I sigh with relief and say to myself 'I survived another day' and know that it's not my day to get voted off the show.

My parents came to visit this weekend and Michael and I took advantage of having babysitters and went to a baseball game in Pittsburgh (my husband is more than addicted to baseball...Cincy Reds...it's a severe obsession, he even bought Jack Cincy Reds diapers...personally I think if you're a huge fan you wouldn't want your infant to poop on your favorite team but what do I know).  My parents fell in love with what a good baby Jack is, and the moment they left he cleared out his lungs.  He must have been holding in those screams for the 24 hours my parents were visiting, hoping his good behavior would earn him a pony for Christmas.  And all day today Morgan has been explaining what all Mimi is getting her for Christmas (I'm sure 99% of it is news to my mom...)

Morgan is picking up some awesome habits at preschool, like severe attitude, and asking 9093482302 billion questions about everything.

'where did the sun go?'
'to sleep.'
'behind the clouds.'
'because it was sleepy.'
'I DON'T KNOW!  Because you asked so many questions you made it's brain explode!'

Jack has been secretly injected with some sort of growth hormone and is quickly turning into Baby Hulk.  He's 3 months old wearing 6 month old clothes and his favorite activity is 'standing up' which is pretty hilarious because he looks like a little old man that lost his dentures. 

Morgan is uber excited for Halloween...even though she doesn't really understand what it is.  But after this year she'll understand it's the beginning of what I call 'fat season' (Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day, Easter) where it's candy candy candy for months.  She is going to be Little Red Riding Hood this year.  She picked it herself!  She said it was either that or Rapunzel and personally I'm a little Disney Princessed OUT right now so I have really encouraged the LRRH idea.  She has a really cute little dress and cloak.  She wants Jack to be the Big Bad Wolf, but he's going to wear this adorable (and expensive...) skunk costume Morgan wore for her first Halloween 3 years ago (it's size 6-12 month but Baby Hulk can fit into it) so I'm trying to convince Morgan there's a Big Bad Skunk in the story but she's not really buying it...

Morgan's latest obsession is Play Doh.  It keeps her so busy, like for an hour at a time, which makes Play Doh like squishy gold in my book.  The only problem is that I let her play with it while I'm busy with Jack....and a bit ago I noticed the yellow container is empty...so I need to go on a Play Doh hunt.  If my mission is a failure, I'll know to be expecting yellow poop tomorrow....

Sunday, September 9, 2012

first day of school

So Morgan started preschool last week. 

*happy dance*

Many moms dread sending their little ones off to school; they get teary eyed.  Not me.  I was counting down the days.  And I didn't get misty eyed at all.  The only tears were from Morgan...because she didn't want to LEAVE preschool.  That's why I was so excited to send her.  The kid is a social butterfly.  She needs people.  She gets tired of my face all day every day.  She gets tired of being in our house with a newborn with our big trip to Walmart or Kroger once a week and random trips to the doctor.  It takes the pressure off me to entertain her and get her out of the house.  It makes me feel like a better mommy for letting her have this social and educational experience. 

Last spring we did a little research on local preschools and visited several and then made our final decision to send her to a preschool that is very flexible and not so structured.  She's only 3 years old after all.  There's a school only about a mile from our home that has morning session, afternoon session, or all day session.  We are NOT morning people so we opted for the 12-2 session, and it's only 4 days a week, so it gives her a couple of hours of 'out of the house social experience without mommy and away from baby' time each day.

Morgan was so excited to go to school.  Almost every day during the summer she asked 'can I go to school now?' honesty, it's the only thing that got her potty trained last spring when we threatened she couldn't go to school until she was out of diapers.  I kept telling her 'soon' because she's like a dog, she has no concept of time. 

The big day finally arrived.  I had a special shirt made for her with a matching bow (see photo below) and we had her backpack packed with...air...because honestly what does a 3 year old need to take to school. 

The only catch was the first day was orientation, and it started at 9:30.  I know some of you are like 'wahhhhhh my day starts at 5am!' and I'm glad I can't see you sending me stink eye via internet.  Morgan stays up late and therefore sleeps late.  Horrible habit to start with a kid but it's part of my mommy survival, it works for me, I'm okay with it.  I also don't feed her everything organic if you want to judge me for that too.

I set my alarm for 8.  I have a 2 month old that eats every 3 hours and I'm exhausted, so I didn't trust myself to be up in time.  Jack was up at 7 that morning and we both fell back asleep during the feeding (me holding the bottle and Jack slobbering out the side of his mouth) so it's a good thing I set the alarm.  I had an hour and a half to get myself and 2 little kids ready....to drive a mile.  First I had to get Morgan up.  I turned on her light and she opened one eye and demanded 'what are you doing?' and when I said 'you get to go to school today!' she smiled, but when I left to go do something and then returned to her room she had rolled over and buried her face in her pillow....seriously kid?!  So I dragged her out of bed and rolled her into some clothes.  Then I got myself dressed.  Then I got Jack dressed.  Then I tried to get Jack's diaper bag packed since parents were supposed to stay during orientation and I knew my fat boy would be ravenous 3 hours after his last feeding.  We have been adding a little oatmeal cereal to his bottles and while trying to open the container we store it in, I dropped it...and baby oatmeal went EVERYWHERE.  That stuff is like little tiny flakes of fluff.  It was on the counter.  The floor.  The rug.  My foot.  A cat.  I said a few choice words and then dragged the vacuum in.  While using the hose to suck up the mess, the air blowing out of the top of the vacuum blew the oatmeal around making it snow baby cereal in my kitchen.  The cats ran through to inspect the commotion and ended up wearing a thin layer of oatmeal making look like they had severe dandruff, and then left a train of cereal as they ran out of the kitchen.  In the process of dragging the vacuum around (which was plugged into the wall above the counter) the chord knocked over my beloved morning can of Red Bull spilling it across the counter onto the floor.  *SCREAM*

So I had another mess to clean up.  I thought about licking it up until I saw there were a few sprinkles of oatmeal and cat hair floating in the pool of Red Bull.  I wiped up the last bit of sticky mess from the floor and can hear Jack filling his diaper in the living room.  The boy farts like a fat old man and holds on for dear life whatever his little fists can get ahold of while he grunts out a diaper full.  While I'm changing him he spits up all over his outfit.  So I have to find him a clean outfit.  By then it was 9:20 and we needed to be there at 9:30.  I herded Morgan down the stairs and strapped Jack into his carried only to find the vehicle was LOCKED.  We park in the garage and never lock our cars.  I ran back upstairs to check all of Michael's 'dumping spots' for the keys but ended up having to call him at work to ask him where the keys were.  He told me they were int he front seat of the car.  We always leave our windows down to air the cars out while they are in the garage, but they were just half down this time and the lock button in Land Rovers are in the middle of the car above the CD player, and I couldn't reach the keys in the seat so Michael tells me via phone 'just reach in and open the door'....which I do....and the alarm goes off....so I yell to Michael 'I GOTTA GO!!' while both of my kids scream and cry at the noise which is amplified in the garage until I finally get the key into the ignition and the alarm stops. 

By then I've got sweat rolling down my back and my eye is twitching, but I get the kids into the car and we drove all the way to school...a whole mile away...just in time.  And Morgan left me standing at the door and didn't look back.

The look of 'fear' on Morgan's face is because I threatened her life if she didn't stop messing up the writing on the white board.  I seriously had to fix it 5 times.  But unfortunately the result was Morgan's first day of preschool pictures turning out looking like she was scared to death.  Sigh. 

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

sweatin' n swearin'

I'm sitting here drinking iced tea through a straw on the left side of my mouth because I currently have no feeling in the right side due to having a cavity fixed less than an hour ago so I decided to take a break, let my 3 year old destroy my house, let Jack sleep in his swing, let my husband enjoy some time on his computer without giving him the stink eye, and write a blog.  It's been a while. 

Michael and I have officially dubbed this the 'summer of hell' because seriously if one more thing goes wrong one of us (probably me) is going to lose their sanity.  Our current dramas have been having to replace a wheel bearing on our vehicle...which happens to be a Land Rover...don't hate, we got a great deal on it, and after dumping a lot of money and sending it to the Land Rover dealership for multiple issues we know realize why we got such a great deal...but I still LOVE that car and no matter how many times Michael threatens to buy a minivan if I don't let him trade the Land Rover in for some other SUV, I stomp my foot and insist I must keep it because it makes me happy.  But since we own a British vehicle, repairs are ridiculously expensive.  A wheel bearing would have cost $450...but my thrifty hubby consulted his dad and they decided they could repair it themselves.  I told him if the wheel fell off while I was driving I would personally run him over for being so cheap.  But with the help of his dad and the tire place down the road, they replaced the wheel bearing for about $115.  So far the wheel has not fallen off, and the back of the Land Rover no longer roars like a lost dinosaur.

A week after fixing that problem...our A/C died.  The repairmen were at our house for one other issue earlier in the summer ($280...) but yet here we go again with no air.  After the kids and sweated it out all night (Michael was working night shift) the repairmen showed up, looked for leaks, found none, refilled the freon and recharged the unit, charged $300 and left....12 hours later our air wasn't working...and it was Saturday, meaning it would have cost $120 for the service call or we could wait until Monday for no charge.  So we waited until Monday....only to find out there IS indeed a leak after all and the part has to be ordered....now it's Wednesday...and we are still running fans and sweating like beasts of burden.  I hate being hot.  It makes me sweat and swear.  And there's something about having a hot sticky house that makes it seem even dirtier and smellier than it actually is and my cleaning OCD has been in overdrive...'must...clean...sticky...kitchen...floor...' (with baby wipes under my feet by the way...it works!)

How's baby Jack you ask?  He's doing GREAT!  He had his 2 month checkup this past Monday and the little chunker is 14 pounds and 24 inches long.  He was born tongue tied (meaning the flap of skin under the tongue was tighter than normal) and for some reason they didn't take care of it during his 25 day NICA stay...seriously, as we were signing release papers the doctor was like 'oh and by the way he's tongue tied, might want to get that taken care of...'  REALLY?!!  So on Monday he got his tongue clipped...I had been dreading it for weeks.  Michael took Morgan (our 3 year old) out and the doctor asked if I wanted to stay or step out; I decided to step out....but as soon as the 3 of us stepped out of the room they began the procedure and we could hear Jack screaming and it was like a knife in my heart.  My adrenaline kicked in and I swear I could have lifted a baby whale at that moment (just a baby...nothing bigger...) the doctor and intern that helped her brought Jack out to me....he was a livid shade of red and had tears in his eyes (for those of you that don't know, newborns don't cry tears...) and I got him calmed down just in time for his vaccinations, 3 shots in the leg.  Once again the wailing commenced. 

Jack and I both needed a shot of vodka that day.

But we survived. 

Jack's blood pressure is great, his lungs have healed, it's amazing to think of how quickly his little body has recovered.  Now he's an eating/pooping machine that occasionally gives us a gummy grin and sleeps a lot.  He's been a really good baby compared to Morgan (who cried nonstop, hated everybody and everything, and threw up at least one feeding per day as if to say 'haha!  take that!  I wasted your money!')

Morgan still adores Jack.  I'm amazed at how mothering she is.  His carrier is in the middle of the backseat right next to her car seat and she will tell us 'he's spitting, I need a burpy cloth!' and she will clean him up!  Whaaaa??  Is this the same kid that claims "I'm too tired, my legs are too tiny..." when asked to clean up the mound of Little People mess that I trip over while carrying a loaded laundry basket?  I have been putting both kids in the bath together to save time (it takes 2 hours for bath and bedtime routine!) and the other evening Morgan was playing with something and not even looking at Jack...and he started peeing on her...a constant stream hitting her in side....so as any mother would do, I started laughing so hard I couldn't breathe....so Morgan asked 'what's so funny mommy?' and then looked down and saw that she was getting peed on and said 'OHHH JACK!!' but didn't flip out!  I don't think I could have handled getting peed on as calmly as that.  This morning she wanted to hold him, and as I was putting him on her lap, fat boy lost some of his breakfast on her legs and she didn't even squirm!  She just calmly sat there while I cleaned her up, and then she still wanted to hold him!  This is the same kid that flips out if she gets WATER on her!  If her clothes she wet she ends up nakey.  She's an amazingly weird kid.

Every night after both kids are bathed, in their pajamas, Morgan's teeth are brushed, I get my shower (which is tricky when Michael is working nights...I have to put Jack in his bouncer seat in the bathroom and pray that I can at least wash the shampoo out of my hair before he starts to cry), I get both kids to sleep, I pump one last time, and then I dump both kids in their beds (they usually fall asleep on the couch)....as I collapse in bed for a little reading (I'm currently reading the sequel to Pillars of the Earth...you know, Medieval England...historical fiction...it's what every cool person reads, right?) I realize that the sense of accomplishment I feel for surviving one more day in mommyland...feeding and watering the kids, keeping them entertained (and more importantly...alive), doing loads of laundry (it's amazing how much more laundry I have now with a 24 inch human in the house), keeping my house clean, working on my crochet orders, washing dishes (I don't have a dishwasher), trying to 'workout' (which for now is either a walk around the neighborhood pushing 54 pounds worth of kids in a double stroller until one of them starts to cry, or having a dance party in the living room until Jack covered my shirt in regurgitated breast milk from too much jiggling or Morgan runs head first into the coffee table)...the sense of accomplishment I feel for balancing all of that is more than I ever felt for any college degree...

and now Morgan is rolling in the floor claiming she needs to go to the teeth doctor...time to jump back into mommy duties.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

life with 2

WHEW it's hard to find time to write a blog when you've got a cranky newborn, a bored toddler, crochet orders, a dirty house, oh and the need to eat and shower every so often.

I LOVE having my baby boy home.  The trips to the NICU every day were long and heartbreaking.  Jack spent 25 days there and was such a good baby, I couldn't wait to get him home.  He was on a schedule of eating every 4 hours, slept all the time...what a great baby!

Then we brought him home.  He was up most of the night, bright eyed and bushy tailed.  That whole idea of 'sleep when your baby sleeps' only applies when your baby actually SLEEPS...and when you don't have a toddler up all day.  So that first night was rough and I spent the whole next day with one eye open and a little drool collected in the corner of my mouth.

I think it was just the excitement of being out of the NICU...new things to see and smell and hear at home; because the next night was much better, and the next day Michael made sure I had a large Red Bull waiting in the fridge.

Life with 2 kids is interesting....it's all about balance and multitasking and sharing the load.  I have to balance my time and attention between 2 children now; Jack needs time and attention because...well...he's only 6 weeks old and is terrible at taking care of himself.  Morgan needs attention because it's not fair she's stuck at home watching me take care of Jack all day every day.  Michael is great help...when he's home.  He holds Jack while watching a Reds game or watching the Olympics.  That's a man's version of multitasking.  My multitasking includes giving Jack a bottle while using the breast pump while reading The Hungry Caterpillar to Morgan while yelling at the cat not to stick his head in Morgan's potty that is still in the living room while using my iPhone to catch up on Facebook (a.k.a. life outside of Mommyland).  And I'm learning to share the load with Michael.  I'm a little OCD about how my house is cleaned and how my laundry is done...and I'm having to get over that in order to have help.  I just can't do it all right now.  Yes it makes my eye twitch a bit to watch Michael fold the towels different...but he can't help being left handed (he's seriously not amused when I tell him in the Dark Ages he would have been burned as a witch for being left handed AND for owning 2 black cats)....and those towels will be used and dirty in 2 days anyways.  But I still do most of the cleaning myself.  It's a matter of getting Morgan situated with Play Doh or crayons (with threat of death if she gets any on walls, carpet, clothing, cats, etc), sticking Jack under his 'floor gym' thingy that has music and animals sounds and a light show (it's like a Phish concert for newborns), chasing the cats out of the bathtub (seriously, the lazy jerks have fresh water in the basement to drink but they would rather do otter flips in my bathtub giving it a beard while lapping up whatever water is leftover from the last rinsing of Morgan's potty), busting out my cleaning supplies and getting as much done as possible before Jack starts to cry or Morgan ends up jumping on her bed throwing Play Doh balls.

Speaking of laundry...it's amazing how such a tiny human being can create SO MUCH LAUNDRY!!!  I think it's his personal mission to see how many times I can yell 'JACK!!!' in a day from the amount of poops and spit ups and pees I have to clean up from Jack, me, the couch, etc.  A favorite game of his is to snuggle down in my arms and just let loose with all bowel and bladder functions.  When I feel the warmth on my shirt I just sigh, close my eyes, then check the color of the dampness.  I've been lucky; I've only been peed on so far.  Michael...not so lucky.  Let's just say there's one outfit of Jack's that have been dubbed 'the poopin' pants' because Jack had a major blowout up the front of that cute little outfit...and on Michael.  *snicker*  And Jack is on a mission to be 20 pounds by 2 months.  I've never seen such a hungry baby!  Not that I've ever really paid attention to other newborns other than Morgan....and she hated everybody and everything, including breast milk and all formula which she only took 2 ounces of at a time then vomited up like a scene from a horror movie...but Jack was on 4 ounces by the time he came home at 3 weeks old.  Sometimes he takes 5 ounces.  And he's hungry ALL THE TIME.  He will seriously eat until it spills out the top...and he does, and it does.  He doesn't cut himself off.  We have to do it for him, and it's terrible because he looks around for more as it's running back out of his mouth because his stomach can't hold one more drop.  And once again I yell 'JACK!!' because I worked hard to make that milk (or 'baby sippy' as Morgan calls it) and 9 times out of 10 he's spitting up on my new couch.  I put him on a burp cloth but he somehow ends up wiggling off of it just in time to make a nasty damp milk spot.  Let me just take a moment to give kudos to the Members Mark brand of baby wipes from Sam's Club.  They are better than Mr Clean magic eraser because you can use them on fabric!!!  They get pizza sauce out of carpet, ketchup out of a shirt, and I wipe my couch down daily with one.  But anyways, I go through a lot of laundry.  Dirty burp cloths (I use cloth diapers for that purpose) and soiled clothing and blankets pile up quickly.  So now I pretty much leave Morgan in her pajamas all day and Jack in a diaper and socks to help keep down the amount of laundry...sometimes I put clothes on them when we leave the house. 

Having a baby boy is different.  Morgan is fascinated by the 'boy junk' because she's never seen anything like it.  During Jack's bath time she about trips over herself to get to the bathroom in time to see him pee during his bath.  Most nights he obliges by peeing out of his little tub onto the bathtub wall then stares at us like 'ehh? what do you think of THAT trick?' and Morgan squeals and laughs and I would be a liar if I said I didn't squeal and laugh too... 

Right now Jack is napping and Morgan is lounging in her nightgown with hair sticking straight up, I can't even remember the last time I brushed my own hair much less hers, watching nursery rhymes on her iPod...I hope...

Friday, June 15, 2012

why can't Little C stand for CORNDOG?

Our air conditioner 'crapped itself' this week (Michael's technical term for everything that breaks).  On Monday there was a nice surprise of wet stinky carpet in the basement because something was leaking from the a/c.  Michael did some investigating and found a hole in one of the coils, called the a/c repair dudes and told them what part to order, and then rigged it up so that we could use it short term while waiting on the part. 

I got a call from Michael sometime around 10 and the first thing he said was 'are you dressed?' so I knew right away the a/c repair dudes were on their way.  And yes, I happened to be dressed.  Morgan wasn't.  She was nakey sitting on her potty at that moment.  So I had to encourage her to hurry and finish (plus took a picture of her sitting on the potty to text to my best friend Paul to gross him out...), clean the potty out, get her in some clothes, kick the cats out of the way, and get downstairs just in time to open the door for the repair dudes. 

Sometime during all of this, one of my doctors called and left an urgent message.  The Little C titer is increasing.  The antibody levels are getting 'critical.'  She encouraged me to call back as soon as possible so we could set up an appointment Monday in Pittsburgh for a special ultrasound to check the baby's brain for blood levels to see if he's anemic yet.  I called Michael, freaking out a bit, because that's what I do.  Then in the middle of trying to call my doctor back I hear 'Mrs. McCumbers?' from the basement so I had to hang up and go write a $381 check for a/c repairs (seriously?!  $381?!?  OUCH!!!) and tell them thank you while trying not to inhale the sickening smell of the snuff the repair dude is sucking on. 

I spend the next ten minutes trying to call my doctor.  That office is always ridiculously busy, like they seriously need to hire more people to answer the phone.  During the 5th attempt to call, I had an incoming call.  It was the doctor's office!  They were actually calling me back.

Wow, I felt important.

This time it was a nurse instead of the doctor, which is unfortunate because I would have liked to have asked some questions.  But she told me that my doctor called and talked to the doctor in Pittsburgh and they set up an appointment for Monday at 1 for an ultrasound.

Let me just vent for a moment....

Months ago we met with one of the specialists in Pittsburgh.  Super nice doctor!  And he assured us that the chance of my levels increasing were VERY slim and we wouldn't have anything to worry about.


...that 'very slim chance' is happening. 

Not the doctor's fault, I know that.  But I'm still irritated.  And I'm freaking out a little.  Because that's what I DO.  Have you met my family?  And have you seen my family members in a stressful situation?  It's almost comical honestly.  One time our chimney caught on fire and while my dad was on the roof checking it out, my mom threw my brothers and me out in the snow in our pajamas with the box full of family photos from the closet while she called the fire department and screamed at them 'I don't KNOW where I live!!!!!  Just get here!!'


So I texted all of my friends to give them an update and because I needed their moral support (I really do have some amazing friends) and now I'm on an adrenaline high.  I've got to get my house cleaned!  I've got to get bags packed!  My mom is on red alert.  My local friends are on standby in case we need help with Morgan...what if we find out Monday he's anemic and has to be born right away for a blood transfusion?  Crazy! 

So this weekend I'll be cleaning like crazy.  The doctor said he will probably be born next week since the antibody levels have increased.  The longer he stays in there, the higher the chance of him becoming anemic.  Plus he's already a fatty, he's cooked enough in my opinion.  I'm tired of finding new stretch marks every day.

One of my friends texted me with 'boys are a pain in our butts from the beginning' which made me laugh. 

All I can say is that Jack had better be the easiest baby ever after he's born.

And I really really want a corn dog.  Random, I know.

toddlers are not human.

I'm taking a break from an adrenaline rush induced cleaning spree (thanks to a call from the doctor earlier today, separate blog to come) and distracting myself with a little blog writing.

Last night before 'lights out,' Michael and I were talking about Morgan.

Me:  how is it possible for her to run in circles for 4 hours at the pool in the heat and not be worn out?
Michael:  she's not human.  she's a toddler.
Me:  this is true.  toddlers have superhuman powers. 

Michael is onto something here.  Toddlers fall into a different category and join homo sapiens perhaps by the age of 5?  Or is it just MY toddler? 

I watched her at the pool.  She played in the baby pool, then ran over to the 'splash zone' area where she would run circles through all of the spraying water, then back to the baby pool, then splash zone, then pool, the splash zone...

you get the picture.

Lucky for me, it was not busy at all and I could sit in a chair and watch (and get sunburned).  After 4 hours I had to drag her away.  She cried most of the way home because she didn't want to leave the pool.  Wouldn't most 3 year olds be exhausted after 4 hours in the sun at the pool?  Not mine.  She came home and dragged every toy she owns into the living room while I worked on dinner.  She was awake until about 10:00 after an hour of fussing and being down right bratty (because she was tired but couldn't wind down).

It's like watching a windup toy....she goes and goes....and then gets slower....and slower....then stops.  The only time she's not moving is when she's asleep. 

Superhuman power of extreme energy.  Can't they sell that in pill form?

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Fat Boy!

Five hours at the doctor today.  Five hours!!!

Ultrasound at 9, appointment with doctor at 9:45.  Of course even though it was early in the morning, they were already running behind.  I'm glad I dragged myself out of bed to get there on time, and I was really queasy this morning and had to sip Gaterade on the way there.  While I was waiting I saw both the ultrasound tech and doctor arrive so I knew it was going to be a long morning. 

Oh well. 

Thank goodness my mom happened to be visiting and kept Morgan while I went to the doctor. 

Ultrasound tech squirted the goop on my stomach and started to work her magic and immediately said 'oh wow, he's big!'

What?  I don't have big babies.  That's not mine. 

At 35 weeks pregnant he's already weighing 8lb 5oz!!!

Uhhhh....I'm supposed to last another 4 weeks before the c-section.  So he might be 11 pounds?

Morgan was 6lb 13oz and 19 inches long when she was born.  She wore preemie clothes the first week, then wore newborn clothes for 5 weeks.  Jack is going to be wearing 3 month clothes at birth and size 1 diapers....maybe he'll be big enough to go on to preschool too.

And I thought he was breech like Morgan and I kept rubbing his head, under my left ribs, same position as Morgan.

Turns out that's his big butt.


The doctor told me to try to rest and keep my feet up so I don't go into early labor.  Apparently a fatty baby takes up so much room that my body might try to get rid of it early. 

Rest and keep my feet up....so the 7 hour shopping trip with my mom and Morgan yesterday wasn't a good idea?  Of course it was.  We found Babies R Us, Burlington Baby Depot, and Trader Joe's!  I bought this awesome body pillow called a Snoogle that takes up half of the bed.  Michael has about 5 inches of space to snooze in.  But I can't help it that his son is a fatty and takes up so much room!

So then they wanted to do a nonstress test.  I'm surprised they haven't scheduled any sooner.  I'm diabetic and they usually want to do nonstress tests once a week starting around 32 weeks.  I had to do them when I was pregnant with Morgan.  They put straps around my stomach and hook me up to a monitor to keep track of the baby's heartbeat for 20 minutes and I have to push a button every time the baby moves.  I get to lounge in a recliner and watch tv and play on my phone and listen to the heartbeat.  After the 20 minutes, the nurse looked concerned and came back with orange juice telling me to drink it.  She said the baby wasn't moving enough.  Then the doctor came in and told me to go eat and come back to do it again. 

What?!  It was after 12, I had been there since 9.  I had a babysitter and I'm spending my precious kid-free time stuck at the doctor?!  Yuck.

So I went to get some lunch, and a big iced tea, hoping the caffeine would help.  Then I drove back and waited to be hooked back up.  Everything was fine.  Fat boy was just hungry.  Finally at 2 I was finished and could go home.

At least I got a free glass of orange juice out of all that...

So my son is going to be huge.  Maybe he will be fat and happy and will be an easier baby than Morgan was.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

pool season

I love the pool.  I love the sun.  I love to tan.  No lectures please, I know the hazards of basking in the sun.  Did you know that new research shows you can actually become addicted to tanning?  So there ya go, I can't help it, I'm an addict.

The summer after Morgan was born we went to a pool once and it wasn't a success.  Morgan was cranky.  Big shocker.  She was about 5 months old and lasted maybe 10 minutes in the pool.

The next summer she was 15-18 months old during 'swim season' and she enjoyed the pool much more, but that's a tricky age at a public pool.  There is a nice pool over in Weirton that we go to, and we would go about once a week.  Morgan would stand at the edge of the baby pool, taking it all in.  I could see in her eyes, the wheels churning in her head....'hellooooo babies....all of your toys are now MINE....and I will get away with it because I'm one of the youngest here...mwahahahahaha.'  And that indeed is what I had to deal with; Morgan stealing all of the toys.  She was the pool bully, making other babies cry.  And she knew she could get away with stealing a plastic watering can from a 2 year old because the other mother would always say 'now now, she's just a baby, don't cry, let her play with it...' and I was slightly embarrassed and amused; ashamed my cute little chubby baby in her pink ruffle butt bathing suit was making other babies cry, but couldn't help laughing at the little pool punk.  We usually lasted 2 hours at the most before Morgan was ready to fall asleep after all of the sunshine and thieving.

Last summer Morgan was 2 and it was a little easier to be at the pool with her.  I could actually sit on the side while she played, whereas the previous summer I had to be with her constantly because every time she got knocked over (seriously, why do 3 or 4 year olds try to pick up babies?!) she would fall into the water and flail like she was drowning and then I would have to calm her down so she could go back to stealing toys.  But when she was 2 she was a little bigger, a little more sturdy, and sadly, a little more mean.  Not only was she stealing toys, but she was old enough to know better, and she would fight the other kid for a toy that wasn't even hers.  The battle usually ended up with both toddlers screaming and Morgan trying to beat the other kid over the head with a ball or water gun or plastic shovel.  And yes, I would take toys for Morgan to play with.  She didn't want HER toys, she wanted the other toys.  However; whenever another baby would touch any of her toys she turned into a Chihuahua guarding a food dish, complete with growls and biting.  After 2-3 hours I would gracefully make my exit with my rabid toddler and the other mothers would sigh with relief.

This summer....Morgan is 3.  Since she's turned 3 she has been a much more cooperative human being.  Half of her previous issues can be blamed on her speech delay.  It's hard to rationalize and reason with a human that can't communicate.  Now she understands pretty much everything we say, even if she pretends she doesn't (we had a ten minute ordeal this evening where I tried to get her to pick up a pillow from the floor and put it back on the couch and she tried everything in her power to distract me from it, pretending like she didn't understand what I wanted her to do).  I took her to the pool yesterday for the first time this season (it was also my first time ever wearing a maternity bathing suit....which is uber sexy...it even has a skirt).  What a great day!  Not a cloud in the sky, unusually hot weather for this area (the main pool is heated in the summer if that tells you anything about what sort of summers we usually have), and the pool was packed.  Morgan mostly wanted to stay in the baby pool and the 'splash zone' area, and I realized for the first time I could just sit and watch and she could play and be independent.  She can't swim, but she can play in the baby pool without any problems, and run through the splash zone.  I had to use my 'teacher voice' a few times...I have zero tolerance for splashing, especially when a kid is splashing my kid in the face over and over.  And there were some little pool punks with this huge water gun and they were spraying it everywhere, getting all of the 'mommy bags' wet so I had to say something.  And there were some bigger kids randomly running through the baby pool knocking all of the little ones down.  I don't know where the parents of these children were, I really wanted to congratulate them on raising animals.  I know that Morgan has been a pool bully in the past, but I intervened every single time.  And now she's so different!  Yes she played with abandoned toys, but as soon as the owner came to claim it, Morgan gave it right back.  I was so proud.  And she ran over to every new kid in the pool waving and saying 'hi!'  She had so much fun.  I took her to the 'big pool' a few times and tried to work with her swimming skills but she's the laziest swimmer I've ever seen.  She barely moves.  Some parents just throw their kids in the water and wait for them to swim; if I did this, Morgan would just sink to the bottom.  The big pool has several small slides and Morgan kept asking to go on them, but I kept telling her they were for big kids.  So after a while she would ask 'I'm a big girl?' and I would answer 'yep!' and she trapped me.  'I can go on the slide?  I'm a big girl!'  Dang it Morgan!!  So I let her go on the slide.  I waited at the bottom to catch her since she can't swim.  She climbed up, put her feet down, panicked, backed up, and all of the kids on the ladder had to get out of her way while she climbed back down.  I knew she would chicken out.  She always does that to me when it comes to water slides.  Last summer there was an incident with a water slide in the shape of an elephant.  I had to climb over about 13 little kids to get to my kid blocking the top because she was crying out of fear and refused to go down the slide, but the stairs were packed and nobody would move to let her back down. 

After about 4 hours I noticed Morgan's cheeks were getting really red....and the tops of my legs were stinging.  I had a really hard time getting Morgan to leave.  i finally told her if we stayed too much, the sun would make us sick.  She cooperated and followed me to the car, wailing the entire time.  And then she cried all the way home.  When we got home I realized how sunburned we were.  *high five* to myself for an awesome mommy moment - I forgot to take the sunscreen to the pool so there was no reapplying.  The bottle was still sitting on the kitchen counter when we got home.  Morgan's shoulders and back are so red and painful.  My back and the tops of my legs look like bacon.  We've been lubing up with lots of after sun lotion....and Tylenol.  We have to heal so we can hit the pool again soon!

Here's a picture of my little pool diva...she's learned the 'duck face pose' at an early age....sigh....

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

getting peed on for medicinal purposes

So today Morgan and I woke up and did our morning routine.  She sings in her bed for a few (or 20) minutes while I work up the energy to drag myself out of my bed.  While she drinks her Pediasure Good Starts (or the Kroger equivalent) I make my bed, get dressed, trip over cats, decide between Cheerios or oatmeal, and open my computer for what possibly be the only time all day.  Morgan has been doing fabulous with her potty training.  We are so proud of her.  This morning she woke up with a dry diaper and went straight to the potty, yelling 'mommy I'm on the potty!!' (I'm learning that will be a phrase in my life for a long time) so I abandoned my Cheerios to go help her.  Her potty is located in the living room because that's where she wants it.  Whatever works.  I wiped her and then took her little potty to the bathroom to dump and clean and she followed me crying that I 'wiped her too hard' and I was like 'nuh uh!'

She tends to have a flair for drama.

But she cried for about ten minutes.  And then asked for a 'botsie' which is a pacifier we keep in the fridge for when she is hurt (especially busted lips).  We still also have teething rings in the fridge because...well....who knows.  I just haven't cleaned it out and what's the point now with Jack's eviction date about 7 or 8 weeks away.

She took the teething ring and put it on her naked backside saying 'ahhh that makes my booty feel better.'

What is UP with my kid?!

But she stopped crying. 

Oh and I gave her a dose of ibuprofen, because when she is throwing a fit, chances are some sort of drug will help....ibuprofen, claritin, tylenol, zantac, morphine...

Then she asked for a diaper, which is really strange, because she has been wearing 'potty pants' all day every day and only wears diapers at night. 

Then she got on her potty to pee....and wouldn't get off.

I kept saying 'okay Morgan let me wipe you and clean the potty' and she kept saying 'not done yet'....but she wasn't even doing anything other than sit on the potty and play with whatever Little People were within toe grabbing distance.

She sat there for over and hour and that's when it hit me...

somethin' ain't rite.

I texted my friend that works for a pediatrician and she said yes it sounded like a possible UTI and to call her doctor.  I tried to called Morgan's doctor but they were out to lunch for another half hour.  I paced the living room, called Michael, texted my mom, and finally decided to not wait for her doctor; because honestly they would have to 'work me in' and they are always so busy.  I don't feel like sitting in a waiting room for 2 hours.  I persuaded Morgan to abandon the potty with promises of getting to pee in a cup.

She was uber excited about that.

Plus she loves going to the doctor.

I took her to EZ Care, which is an urgent care sort of emergency place.  I love it there.  It's never busy and the staff is so nice.  I packed sippy cups and bottles of water and explained to Morgan on the way there she needed to drink a lot so she could pee in a cup for the doctor.  She drank and drank.  When it was time to go to the bathroom I took a deep breath and gave myself a pep talk.  I could do this.  I had dressed Morgan in a sundress to make the event easier.  I took off her pullup and she had peed.  A lot. 

Dang it.

She really couldn't help it; she had drank a lot of water and whatever was going on with her made her feel like she constantly needed to go to the bathroom even when she didn't need to. 

But we needed some pee in that cup.

The alternative to the cup is using a catheter to extract some urine.  Or a needle into the bladder.

Yeah, THAT sounds fun for any age.

I explained to her that she needed to try really hard to pee in the cup.  I had her stand with her legs apart and put the cup in place and waited for some action. 

She couldn't do it. 

She wanted to sit on the potty.  So I put her on the potty and had to put my hand holding the cup down under her, but she didn't like the feeling of the cup against her so I have to hover and wait.

She peed.  And I had to play 'catch the pee' before the sprinkles stopped.  I got pee on my hand.  My hand touched the inside of the toilet.


But we got a little pee in the cup!!!  Victory!

Then I had to wash my hands (about 14 times).  And clean Morgan up and wash her hands.  And put the lid on that precious urine in the cup and then wipe it down before handing it to the nurse.

I seriously think I deserve some special mother award for all that.  I got my 3 year old to pee in the cup.  And I touched the inside of a toilet at a doctor's office. 

They tested her sample and there was evidence of some sort of infection.  They are sending it to a lab to find out exactly what's going on.  They went ahead and gave her a prescription for a UTI/bladder infection.  We went to Kroger to fill it and I bought her a new My Little Pony (Applejack) for her cooperation.  And then I looked longingly at the wine and beer aisle. 

But I'm pregnant so I settled for a Snickers bar.  I think I earned it.

And by the way, we have no idea how she got this infection.  Could be the fact that she's naked way too much.  Or that I used something new in her bath last night.  Or that she used toilet paper over the weekend instead of baby wipes.  Or all of the above.  I just hope she feels better soon. 

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

public potties

Yesterday was our 'monthly outing' to Robinson Township, a shopping area near Pittsburgh.  Morgan and I REALLY needed out of the house.  Plus it was time for another round of Little C lab work so we started our day date at Weirton Medical Center where I have enough blood taken to make me a little woozy.  The ladies in the lab are getting used to seeing me, and unfortunately, they might be seeing me even more often since the antibody levels are starting to rise. 

Afterwards, we were all starving.  Poor Morgan was saying 'I need food in my tummy, it would make me happy' because whenever we know we are going out to eat, we pretty much starve her so that she will eat while we are at a restaurant.  She had her breakfast sippy and that holds her over for a while but it was creeping up on 2:00 and that's a long time since breakfast for all of us.  We went to Longhorn Steakhouse (pretty darn tasty!) and she actually tried the bread and ate it!  See...starving her works...it makes her try new stuff.  Then she ate most of her mashed potatoes and even 2 bites of chicken tenders after a LOT of encouragement.  We were happy!  I asked her if she needed to potty and she said yes.

Here we go...public potty training.

I went to the 'family restroom' because it seemed less used.  I lined the side of the potty with about 500 sheets of toilet paper and helped Morgan get situated.  The very first thing she did was put her hands on that dirty nasty toilet and I wanted to scream!!!  I told her to hold on to my pants....which she did...and then I realized that after touching that dirty nasty toilet she was touching my dirty nasty pants. 


But she used the potty!  And then I scrubbed her hands until they were red!  And her face, arms, feet, and all other exposed skin, just in case.

She ran back to our table yelling 'daddy I pee peed in the potty!!!!' and we received a lot of dirty looks from people diving into their steak.  Jeez people, she's THREE years old!  It's not like I encouraged her to run through a restaurant yelling about her potty success....

...or maybe I did.

just kidding...

Then we went to IKEA.  We LOVE IKEA.  It's such a fun place to go browse and find neat stuff you never knew you needed.  Yesterday we bought Morgan a new dresser (white to match her new IKEA bed) and a tall skinny shelf for our bedroom, plus I ran across these awesome washable fruits and vegetables for Morgan to play with.  While at IKEA I asked Morgan twice if she needed to potty...and of course she did.  Sadly, the bathrooms at IKEA were not clean, but that's just how 99% of public restrooms are.  Morgan is too young to learn the 'hover' maneuver.  Thank goodness IKEA offers toilet seat covers.  I pulled about 20 out and formed a protective layer of tissue paper worthy of Princess and the Pea.  Then we took birth baths in the sink to try to rid ourselves of all potty germies.

We survived our first day of public potties!

And we also managed to cram 3 long IKEA furniture boxes into our short Land Rover...I'm still impressed.

Monday, April 30, 2012

potty this and potty that

oh potty training, how I loathe thee.

Yes, this blog is about the woes of potty training.  Click 'exit' now if you are squeamish; otherwise, proceed.

Morgan turned 3 in February and we've been working on potty training for over a year.  Her speech delay has made it difficult; it's hard to potty train when you can't really communicate with your kid.  She's also very stubborn and strong willed.  Her pediatrician basically told us that the 2 things a toddler can control in life are 'what goes in and what comes out.'  So it's been a power struggle to get Morgan to eat new foods (or sometimes just to eat at all) and to want to go on the potty.

This past week all of a sudden Morgan has decided that the potty isn't all that bad!  For a solid week we've basically done no diapers or pullups during the day while at home.  She has spent half of the time running around naked or wearing 'potty pants' (underwear) and her little potty has ended up in the living room...which is where SHE wants it, so I'm not moving it.  I spend most of the day asking her if she needs to potty...and the other half of the day watching her potty.....then cleaning her potty.

And yes, I know they make inserts to fit on a regular toilet so that toddlers can go on the big potty.  We have one.  It's pink and says 'princess' on it.  She rarely uses it.  She prefers this little potty from Toys R Us that is almost too small for her.  Going in the big potty would be too easy of course; she would rather use the little potty and then watch us clean it out.

You would think that after years of changing poop diapers, poop in the potty wouldn't phase me.  I can't stand it.  I dry heave and try to hide the disgusted look on my face as I'm carrying a little plastic bowl full of a toddler poo to the bathroom; I don't want her to think she's done something bad.  As I gasp for air in between dry heaves I try to tell Morgan what a good job she did and how she can have a 'treat' of chocolate chips as soon as mommy cleans up and composes herself.  If Michael is home, I beg him to do the dirty job, but he's not home very often.  And I swear Morgan times her poops for when he's at work.

And she poops ALL THE TIME now.  It's like she feels that whenever she sits on the potty, she has to work on a poo.  So she sits and sits and sits.  So I sit and sit and sit and wait for her to be finished.  No way am I leaving a pooping toddler unsupervised on a potty on my living room carpet.  Then I have to catch her before she tries to pick up her potty to go empty it herself.  I have nightmares about the contents of the potty spilling out onto my clean floors.  Then I have to catch her and get her cleaned up with potty pants back on before she climbs onto my couch.

It's stressful I tell ya.

And she's not completely potty trained yet.  We are still working on 'out of the house training.'  Whenever we go somewhere, we put a diaper on her.  We went to dinner the other evening and every time she peed in her diaper, she loudly announced it...'Mommy, I just pee peed in my diapy again!'
...ummm okay kid, be quiet and eat your mashed potatoes.  Today I decided to try her outside with no diaper.  I took her potty out on the porch and we enjoyed the sunshine for 4 hours while she used the potty on the porch.  I'll just have to remind my neighbors that I'm from WV and don't know any better.

She still wears a diaper at night and usually wakes up with it dry (woo hoo!  she hopefully won't be a bedwetter!) but she doesn't want to take it off and use the potty when she first wakes up.  She usually pees in her diaper and then comes to tell me (or takes it off and throws it away herself...ridiculous, I know).  But we are getting there!

Do I have any advice on potty training?  Yes - wait until they are ready.  Don't force the issue.  They will eventually be ready.  I'm just thrilled that Morgan was ready before she started kindergarten. 

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

baby gear

I remember when Morgan was born, wondering why this little 6lb 13oz creature needed SO MUCH STUFF.  At the time we were renting a 2 bedroom townhouse and half of our place was filled with baby shower gifts.  Swing, bouncer seat, Bumbo seat, highchair, bassinet, crib, diaper changing station, pack n play, carrier, papasan chair, floor gym, bath tub, flat screen TV, Wii.  I remember asking Michael 'seriously?  why does a tiny human need so much big stuff?'

Oh I got my answer.

Because babies are not these cute little happy cuddly creatures that you snuggle with, sing to, feed, and put away.  They are hateful, demanding, greedy little dictators.  Or at least mine was.  Morgan was extremely irritated about being born.  It put her in a bad mood for about 6 months.  During the first week we learned really fast a new game called 'What Makes Morgan Happy' that we had to play for the next year.  Does Morgan want to hang out in the swing listening to classical music?  No.  Does Morgan want to roll around in the floor gym?  No.  Does Morgan want to snuggle down in the papasan seat and watch her mobile?  For about 1 minutes, yes.  Does Morgan want to be held by mommy while the Wiggles are on?  ding ding ding!  We have a winner!  ....for about 10 minutes. 

I read articles about 'container babies' - babies that are always stuck in a swing or pack n play or whatever.  I concluded that I had an 'anti-container baby' that wanted to be held all of the time.  But eventually all of the gear became a blessing.  I could put Morgan in her swing watching Nemo for a 10 minute shower before she started screaming.  We put a lot of miles on her stroller too.  She loved going for walks....as long as they were no longer than 1/2 hour.  That was her limit. 

The jumparoo was our best friend when she was old enough to use it.  Not only did it provide ridiculous entertainment for us (seriously, only a parent will understand why it's hilarious to sit and watch a baby jump up and down in a plastic saucer attached to supports) but it gave us some hands free time to do things like cook dinner, clean house, work on laundry, and play Mario Kart. 

Eventually Morgan outgrew all of her gear, and started to walk, so our days of trying to play What Makes Morgan Happy came to a close and we bagged up all of the gear for storage.

And last week we dragged it all out of our attic.

Oh my gosh.

Why does a little human need so much big gear?

Friday, April 13, 2012

Bump Update

I haven't blogged in a while and I feel the need to feel the world in on my amazingly exciting life....I hate to leave people hanging...

Latest 'bump update' - Deuce is perfectly healthy, and so am I! 

I still feel horrible.  I hate every single moment of being pregnant, day and night.  And then I feel bad for hating being pregnant because so many people would love to be in my shoes and they can't....

....but seriously, I HATE this.

Thank God I don't have to work.  I don't know what I would do if I was teaching high school right now...probably sit at my desk and cry about being so sick and tired while the kids set my classroom on fire.  Kudos to all the pregnant working women. 

But after my last huge round of blood work I found out I'm perfectly healthy.  I'm not even considered borderline diabetic right now because my A1C level is so awesome (pauses to pat self on back) and my cholesterol is awesome and my thyroid is under control and my blood pressure is better than perfect.

I think I'll unwrap this Cadbury egg....

Deuce has a normal and low heart rate.  He's very laid back already.  I hope he takes after Michael and NOT after my family.  Michael is so laid back sometimes I feel like I need to check and make sure he's still breathing when he's on the couch for hours watching golf or bowling or something.  I can't sit still.  Nobody in my family can sit still.  Even when I'm pregnant and hobbling around with aching hip joints and swollen ankles, I can't sit still for too long...even when I'm sitting I'm busy, usually working on a crochet project.

Deuce is also really active, especially at night.  I swear it feels like he's playing a drum set inside me, kicking his legs and pumping his hands.  Sometimes I worry he's having a seizure. 

So maybe my dreams of a laid back baby boy are a little too hopeful....

But we are getting excited.  Me mostly because I can't wait to NOT be pregnant ever again.  Morgan can't wait for 'baby bwotha' and looks outside for him every single day to come running down the street or come in the mail or whatever is going on in that little head of hers.  I've been going through all of Morgan's baby clothes weeding out the neutral items for him to wear.  Michael climbed up in the attic to bring down all of the baby gear (holy cow I forgot how much gear this tiny little human requires...).  My mom is hosting a 'sprinkle' instead of a baby shower, because I was encouraged by so many friends to have a little celebration for baby boy so that we could get clothes and diapers and stock up on other baby items.  On Amazon I found the crib set I really want; it's called Night Owl by Jo Jo Designs.  I love owls.  Deuce will love owls too.  I am planning to get some 'woodland wall decals' to jazz up the beige walls in his room (I really don't want to paint...beige is fine for a boy) and found some with owls and squirrels and hedgehogs....


and owls!!!

that makes me happy.

I have a collection of Boyd's Bear moose that has been sitting in a storage tub since I got married that will work great with the owls and hedgehogs. 

Boys rooms are actually sort of hard.....there are so many 'themes' to pick from.  Sports, dinosaurs, cars, boats, trains, jungle, farm....  for girls there is basically...fairies and flowers.  and butterflies. 

And I think we've decided on a name:

Jack Michael McCumbers

Jack was the name of one of my grandfathers.  Michael is the name of my husband AND my dad. 

As a friend pointed out....my kids are going to be named after liquors....Jack and Morgan.


oh well.

I thought maybe if I named him Red Bull I would get a lifetime supply for free...but no such luck.

mom guilt

I'm a stay at home mom.  Which means I am with my kid 24/7.  She's my little shadow, literally following me EVERYWHERE I go.  I love being able to spend so much time with her while she's little; but I take it granted.  And I feel so guilty about it, like every single day guilty.

But I'm pregnant and feel like a sloth with stomach flu and arthritis most days.  My hip joints hurt so bad I can barely walk by night.  I'm queasy all day and night.  I want to make a nest on the couch and watch marathons of Ancient Aliens.

I also have a crochet business, and I love it.  But each project takes AT LEAST an hour to do.  Honestly most projects take around 5 hours (people love hats with a lot of details).  So I spend several hours a day working on projects because I don't like for people to wait too long for their orders and I'm OCD and can't stand having unfinished projects in my life. 

Speaking of OCD...I like having a clean house.  So I clean.  A LOT.  Like every single day a lot. 

So I clean, then I rest, then I crochet, then I rest...repeat.

But I have a 3 year old....

She usually follows me around when I clean, trying to 'help' with her little duster (heck yes, give your kid a Swiffer duster and put him/her to work!) or I give her baby wipes to clean while I use Pledge or Lysol wipes on my furniture and in my kitchen.  When I clean the bathrooms she sits in the hall and asks "mommy what you doing?" about 1393285 times which is AWESOME when I'm up to my elbows in Scrubbing Bubbles and trying not to breathe in the fumes. 

When I crochet I turn into one of those awesome moms that expects my kid to zombie out to Nick Jr or Disney cartoons.  Hey, she's learning Chinese from Kai-lan and learning Mozart from Little Einsteins and learning shapes from Team Umizoomi!

But I feel guilty for not doing enough awesomely creative crafty projects that will allow my child to go to college by the age of 10.

I blame Facebook and Pinterest for this guilt.

Darn you people that post on Facebook all the awesome stuff you do with your kids.  Homemade play-doh?  Good for you.  I've got some Play-Doh...in a basket....up on my fridge.  We played with it this one time.  Morgan ended up making this phallic statue that made me laugh until I cry and I took a picture and texted it to all my friends of my toddler holding this big wiener shaped Play-Doh creation.

And the statuses...'taking my 6 kids to the zoo with homemade organic snacks for the afternoon!'


I take Morgan with me to Walmart....sometimes I buy her a Belly Washer.  It's 100% juice.  We people watch.  Seriously, what's the difference between Walmart and the zoo?  You have hippos fighting in the frozen food section, baby lions biting each other in the video games, and there's even an aquarium where most of the fish aren't floating at the top if you get to the fish section early enough in the day.

Darn you Pinterest for the '100 things to do with toddlers this summer' posts where I'm supposed to go to Lowe's and buy some sort of tubing to punch holes in and hook up to my water hose and create a little water park in my front yard.  I guess sitting on the front porch spraying my kid until her diaper falls off doesn't count?  What about spraying the neighbor's dog?  What?!  He shouldn't be in my yard....

And my favorite Pinterest post - the Time Out Chair.


You take a little chair, paint it all pretty, and put 'time out chair' on it.  Because a PRETTY chair will totally make your kid understand that they were BAD and that if they sit and reflect in that chair they will learn their lesson and move on to becoming president of the United States someday after learning to be honest and kind and wonderful.

Our version of time out is sending Morgan to her room....where her TV is usually on...and we cross our fingers that she gets distracted by whatever is on TV and won't come back and bother us for a while.

I'm glad that there are some awesome moms out there that put 110% into their kids and I salute you.  Seriously, you're awesome. 

You make me feel guilty though.

Stop it.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

the things kids say....

Morgan has been HILARIOUS lately.  Most of what comes out of her mouth makes us laugh.  And then I have to share it with friends and family via text.  Most of my friends have kids so they understand how funny it is to listen to a toddler talk; but not many people understand how much it means to Michael and me that we are able to have conversations with our kid and understand most of what she says.  Last summer when she was 2 & 1/2 she was barely talking.  We started working with Ohio's program called Help Me Grow where a few teams of specialists came to our home to evaluate Morgan.  They recommended speech therapy and occupational therapy for her texture issues.  Her fine motor skills were rating 6 months ahead, but her verbal skills were 6 months behind.

I always joked that her speech delay didn't bother me; I honestly enjoyed not having a 2 year old chirping in my ear all day long, but I knew it wasn't 'right.'

She did 'talk' ...sort of.  One of my brothers described her as sounding like Adam Sandler when he's doing one of his crazy voices...'shaba-doo?'  The speech specialists asked if her speech delay seemed to bring on tantrums out of frustration.  Nope.  Morgan threw tantrums all right; but not over the fact that she wasn't communicating with us.  She honestly didn't care. 

We decided to skip speech therapy until she turned 3.  We wanted to wait it out and see what happened if we gave her more time.  I also worried that speech therapy would do the opposite for Morgan; whenever she's pushed, you get the opposite results.  We've had major issues over food and potty.  She very stubborn, and as her pediatrician said, at her age the only thing in life that she can control is what goes in and what comes out.

Since last summer, Morgan's speech has improved so much.  Her vocabulary increases every day.  She's still hard to understand sometimes, especially to people that aren't around her very often.  And when you put her on the spot with questions, she freezes and can't answer.  It's not that she's shy (she's not at all) but she has a touch of dysnomia, which is a problem with word retrieval.  Chances are she will probably grow out of it.

Michael and I do work with her constantly.  Her speech delay has been frustrating.  It's almost impossible to potty train a toddler that can't communicate, so we're stuck with a 3 year old that's 3/4 potty trained while we're still sinking money into size 5 and 6 diapers and pullups.  And she can't express her feelings very well.  She can't tell us when she's sick or why she's sad or scared.  She just cries and we get to play the guessing game of what's wrong with our kid.  That is getting a lot better....now she will run crying to her room, then return to tell us 'I crying.  I ran to my room.  I'm sad.'  Ummmm...okay, but WHY?!!!!!  And she loves to go to the doctor so she will lie about her ears and tummy and foot hurting, so we never know if something is actually wrong until she runs a fever.  Some of our friends little ones can not only explain 'my head hurts' but they add 'I need medicine.'


That's cool I guess, but it's not my Morgan.

She might be frustrating.  She might have a speech delay.  But she's our girl.  She's so funny and has so much personality I couldn't imagine her being any different.

On Sunday I was cooking mac n cheese for her lunch and she kept bossing me around, trying to hurry it up, so I said 'Morgan stop being so bossy!' to which she replied 'but mommy, how do I stop?' and I laughed. 

Yesterday (Monday) she was standing on a chair waiting for me to fix her peanut butter on wheat sandwich and she said 'mommy my booty is sticking out' so I said 'why is it sticking out?' to which she replied 'because it's so big!' and I laughed.

She will start preschool in the fall and hopefully being around the other kids will help her speech development (can't wait to see what new words she learns....) and will hopefully make her explore new food options (peer pressure eating....hahaha).  If by 4 she still has a delay, we'll do therapy and get this worked on before she starts Kindergarten.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

pregnancy is so glam

I really feel guilty for complaining about being pregnant.  I have several dear friends that want children so badly but are having a hard time getting pregnant, and I know I am blessed to be on my 2nd pregnancy.

But seriously.

These women that gush about how much they loooooove being pregnant...what are they on?!

Let's go through the list of fun things that happen during pregnancy...or at least the things that happen to me:

1.  Fatigue - I'm not talking about your normal 'I participated in a bar crawl and didn't climb in bed until 5am' exhaustion.  I'm talking about not even having the energy to get off the couch to get a red bull from the fridge.  When I was pregnant with Morgan, Michael would ask 'what did you do today?' and I would answer 'rotate from one side of the couch to the other and change the tv channel.'  I seriously have the energy level of a slug with mono when I'm pregnant, which is horrible because I'm usually pretty high strung / high energy.  During this pregnancy I have had a toddler to keep up with.  It's been hard!  It took a lot of work to train her to get a red bull from the fridge for me while I took up residence on the couch!  She needs lots of activity, and that's hard to find during the winter.  I would drag myself to the gym so she could play in child care while I got on a bike and pedaled at 5mph while playing on my iPhone or take a nap under the bleachers.  Doctors blame my thyroid.  I blame the parasite for sucking the life out of me.

2.  Nausea - so far I've made it through 1 entire pregnancy, c-section, and 26 weeks of this pregnancy without tossing my cookies.  *giving myself a high-five*  I HATE throwing up.  I will fight it to the death.  With this pregnancy I was so much more queasy all day everyday.  For weeks I could only eat certain foods, because just even looking at anything else made my esophagus close off.  Going to the grocery store was torture.  Who know that Krogering could be so miserable?  There were certain parts of the store I would have to close my eyes through (meat department) and pray I wouldn't run over some little elderly lady stopping to check out the price of reduced pork. 

3.  Needles - I hate needles.  That and my disgust for gross people is what kept me from going into the medical field.  Needles are one of my biggest fears (along with snakes, frogs, worms, fish, drowning, getting burned, darkness, aliens, ghosts, lizards, mayonnaise, germs...) As soon as you find out you're pregnant, be prepared for all of the needles over the next few months.  At your first doctor appointment, they give you several bags of information, free magazines, samples, and coupons, and do a huge round of blood work checking for everything from HIV to cupcake addictions.  Then if you have a normal pregnancy (which I never have) around 24-26 weeks you have the glucose test done where you drink this horrible tasting syrup, keep it down for an hour and then have blood drawn to test your glucose and A1C level.  During my first pregnancy, I had too much sugar in my urine (you get to pee in a cup every single time you're at the doctor...you'll eventually become a pro and not pee on your  hand) around 18 weeks so I had to have the glucose testing done early.  And then I had the 3 hour test done which means I got to have my blood drawn, then drink the yummy syrup, then have blood drawn every hour for the next 3 hours WITHOUT EATING OR DRINKING anything other than water.  Who comes up with this medieval torture for pregnant women?!  And those test results came back saying I was borderline diabetic.  They thought it was gestational, but it turns out I've been borderline for years and it's never been diagnosed.  They sent me to a condensing dietitian ('okay, out of these 3 choices, which is the best for breakfast?' I know I'm supposed to point to the oatmeal and scrambled eggs but I can't help myself so I point to the bagel with cream cream and jam.  Sure enough, he closed his eyes and sighed.  Mission accomplished).  Then I had to go to an endocrinologist (whom I still go to; I love the physician assistant there, she's fabulous) where they sent me home with a glucose meter.  They asked if I wanted them to show me how to use it but I figured between 2 master's degrees Michael and I could figure it out.  WRONG!!!  I was stabbing every finger and we could NOT figure out how to get the blood to go onto the test strip so the stupid machine could get a reading.  We finally took it to Michael's common sense country grandma who has diabetes and she showed us how to use it.  So for the rest of that pregnancy I was supposed to check my sugar 3 times a day and keep record to turn in at my appointments.  Sigh.  It hurt!!!!  And then the c-section....IV catheters in both hands, and let's not even talk about the needle in the back.  Worst.  Pain.  Ever.  The combination of the noise I made and the size of the needle made an intern leave the room before he passed out. 

So after all of THAT fun, I decided having another baby was a great idea!  And during THIS pregnancy we've had the Little C issue where I have to get my blood tested every 4 weeks to check the antibody levels.  The ladies at the hospital lab are getting to know me really well. 

4.  Waddling - not because I'm trying to balance this weird new belly growth, but because my hip joints hurt so much!  During pregnancy your ligaments loosen up, and sometimes it's very painful.  For me, of course, it's very painful.  If I spend a day moving around a lot (shopping...cleaning house...chasing the ice cream truck down the street...) then by night I am hunched over like a medieval wench, hobbling and shuffling around.  I'm usually about 5 steps behind Michael whenever we're out running errands.  Between the waddle and the fact that my pregnancy pants keep falling down (turning into MC Hammer pants), I have lost my usual quick stride. 

5.  Food cravings / aversions - People assume that all pregnant women wake up in the middle of the night and go crazy for something weird like Cesar salad with pickles and hot fudge.  Well I've never craved pickles during my pregnancy...at night.  It's more like you see something on tv and you want it.  NOW.  and it's all you can think about until you have it.  And it's entirely possible to have a food meltdown as well.  During my first pregnancy, Michael and I stopped at a KFC for a healthy dinner.  All I wanted was mac-n-cheese.  That's it.  And guess what?  They were out.  So I went to the car and cried.  Over mac-n-cheese.  Forget about all of the suffering in the world.  I couldn't get my mac-n-cheese.  And food aversions....all of a sudden, normal foods that you eat on a regular basis become the enemy.  During my first pregnancy, it was burgers.  This broke Michael's heart; he adores burgers and could eat one every single day.  I couldn't even watch burger commercials without my esophagus closing off.  During this pregnancy I crave fruit and regular soda....which is really weird because I never drink regular soda normally.  I usually drown myself in water all day long, but it's been hard to drink during this pregnancy.  Don't worry, I don't give in to the soda and I still drink water.  But wow...a cherry Coke every so often tastes amazing.

6.  Weird body stuff - your skin and hair go crazy, and not always in good ways.  During my first pregnancy, my skin erupted like a high school boy hitting puberty.  During this pregnancy, my skin is amazing!  ....but it's really dry.  I get these weird reddish dry patches on my face that I have to drown in Aquaphor and then I forget about it and go out in public with a greasy shiny Aquaphor face and people look at me weird like I've just left the plastic surgeon's office for some treatment.  And I get itchy red patches in the bend of my elbows that look and feel quite lovely.  Seriously, what's that all about?  Sometimes I wonder if I'm allergic to needles...I get the rash in the areas where they are inserted after all.  And with this pregnancy...the body hair.  It must be from the boy hormones, but all of a sudden I have fuzz everywhere.  Yesterday I asked Michael if he wanted to compare belly fuzz and he just kept watching TV and ignoring me because he knew there was no 'right' answer to that.

7.  Organ discomfort - yes you read that correctly.  A fetus takes up residence inside you and shoves all of your organs out of their normal habitats.  My stomach is up so high that I have chronic heartburn and every time I bend over I feel like I could throw up.  My bladder is so low (and flat) that any drop of liquid sends me to the bathroom, therefore I'm in the bathroom ALL DAY.  Morgan was breech, and so far Deuce is breech as well.  He's in the exact same position as Morgan, his head over to the left of my upper organs, his feet stomping on my bladder all day and night.  And he's mean!!  When Morgan moved around it felt like flutters for a long time, and then I could feel her stretch and move her head around (and see her move her head around under my left ribs, so weird and gross) but she wasn't as violent as her brother.  I never felt gentle flutters with Deuce, just stomps!!  He kicks and punches like he's playing soccer and the drums at the same time.  Sometimes I shake my belly to try to get him to stop, then I realize that might fall under 'shaken baby syndrome' so I panic and stop.  Both of my children are night owls, during and after pregnancy.  I collapse in bed exhausted at night and Deuce decides it's party time.  I can't roll to my left side, because that smashes his head and he punches me.  I can't roll to my right side, because that's the perfect position for him to run in place.  So I'm stuck on my back with him smashing my organs, until he falls asleep.  Most women love feeling their babies moving around inside them.  I hate it.  It's creepy.  It's like having a parasite growing inside you, making you uncomfortable for 9 months in every way possible.

8.  Maternity clothing - the most unsexy thing you will ever wear in your life...pants with the full belly band.  It comes up over your growing belly and touches the bottom of your bra (which isn't saying much I guess, because your boobs get so big and saggy that your bra hangs lower than usual...) whenever I'm getting dressed and Michael catches me pulling the pants up to my chest, he gets a twinkle in his eye...and it's not because he's thinking to himself  'that's the beautiful mother of my children'...honestly I think he's wondering if he can pull off the full belly pants for tailgating during football season. 

9.  Weight gain - yes I know, we're pregnant, we're going to gain weight.  But I gained 55 pounds with Morgan.  After she was born I lost 25 (I was retaining that much water!) but the other 30 took about 15 months of strict diet and exercise.  During this pregnancy I swore I would exercise and keep my weight under control.  Then the fatigue and nausea and hip pain and bladder stomping set in.  I stay active; I have to.  I have a 3 year old.  And a house to clean.  But my hips are already starting to keep up with my growing belly.  And my arms and face are getting fluffy.  It's stressing me out, but at least I know this is my last pregnancy and after he's born I can work on losing weight and keeping it off.  Diet, exercise, diet pills, voo doo, whatever works.

And that's all I can cover today...Morgan has found something with Disney princess babies in it and she's beating me in the side saying 'I want this one and this one!!!'

I think I covered most of the awesomeness of pregnancy...I just really don't enjoy being pregnant.  At.  All.

I don't know whether to admire Michelle Duggar or wonder what's mentally wrong with her...21 pregnancies....shew.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

skeeter buffet

I have a lot of allergies.  Mosquito bites being one of them.  And they LOVE, I mean totally ADORE my blood.  I need to see if there is some sort of research proving that skeeters prefer type B blood, because I think 'B' stands for buffet.

We've been trying to enjoy this unusual tropical summery weather for March in Ohio.  I swear the other day it was hotter than any day I've ever experienced here in the summer.  I was so hot it was tempting to chunky dunk in the mud puddles on our street. 

My mom came to visit during her spring break (awesome!) and one evening we met up with some of my friends for a play date at a local park.  Morgan had a blast.  And I was so proud of her...out of 4 kids she came home the cleanest.  She was even wearing white shorts.  That's my girl.

During our time at the park, I was a skeeter buffet.  I am not even kidding when I say I had about ten bites on each leg below the knee.  On the drive home, Morgan was crying because she didn't want the fun to be over, and I was driving with one hand, scratching with the other, and giving my mom the stink eye for laughing at my bites.  Skeeter bites on mom = zero.  Skeeter bites on Morgan = zero.  Seriously, what gives?!

Once we were home, I took a long hot shower and used half a tube of Benadryl cream and half a tube of hydrocortisone on my bites.  I had to reapply every 2 hours during the night as well.  The next day, the bites were huge and red and swollen; I looked like I was suffering from some Biblical disease (I seriously need to make sure I'm covered in skeeter bites next time I go to an amusement park...maybe the sea of people will part and I can go to the front of the line)

Oh and I have pregnancy cankles from being on my feet a lot lately.  And from eating pinto beans every day.  mmmmmm

I have tried everything, from medication to home remedies....Benadryl cream, hydrocortisone, Eucerine calming cream with oatmeal, Calamine lotion, baking soda paste, cat spit.  Nothing gives comfort for longer than an hour.  And I don't scratch!!!  But ohhhhh how good it feels.  Now I understand how an itchy dog feels.  It's so tempting to just roll around in the floor digging at my legs.  But my mom has put the fear of impetigo in me since childhood.  "if you scratch those bites they will get infected and you'll end up with impetigo and have to get your leg cut off."

Hey, I understand her method of parenting.  The fear factor works.

After the redness and swelling and misery set in, Michael and my mom felt sorry for me.  Michael even stopped at Kroger on our way to see the Hunger Games (fantastic movie by the way!) so I could get Calamine lotion.  I applied liberally on the way there and was complimented with 'you smell like an old lady.'

Awesome...cankles, pregnancy belly, bug bites, and old lady stench.  It doesn't get much more romantic than that.

So apparently I'm going to have to stay indoors until after Deuce is born and I can drown myself in Off to keep the bugs away. 

And now I'm off to apply another layer of medication.