Obligatory Valentines Day Post

Cake on Valentine's Day

Cake on Valentine’s Day (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve never really understood the big deal about Valentine’s Day. I mean, I get all the love stuff. And I think all that stuff is really great. I do. But I think it is more important to be loving every day. Not just buy candy and flowers once a year and go out to dinner. I mean, come on.

MB and I have never really had a chance to have a proper V Day. The first year we were together, I had gotten my “friend” an interview at the place where I worked and she was coming in from out of town, so, naturally, she showed up on Valentines Night and was supremely obnoxious for the entirety of the night/her visit. (That’s sort of the norm for her…which explains why we aren’t friends anymore. Oh, that and that she called me her “best friend” for 10 years and hasn’t spoken to me since I lost my job. At the place that she now works. BECAUSE OF ME.) Last year was our second V Day together. And I was pregnant. And bitter. And probably vomiting all over the apartment. And, to be honest, I am pretty sure we sat on the couch and watched some idiotic reality show on TV or something. He probably got me flowers. There may have been ice cream.

This year, I wanted to put on a pretty dress and, despite my growing bump, attempt to feel attractive. I wanted to take off the yoga pants, put on some mascara,  slip into some fancy undies and have an adult dinner with adult conversation with my husband. Because it feels sometimes like we don’t do enough of any of that. And what better day that Valentines Day? Right?

Then we started getting on this “renting a house” thing. Which was due, mostly in part, to the fact that I was, on a daily basis, begging him to take this seriously and allow this nesting urge to rage and find us a place to live that does not come fully stocked with a five-year-old. And he did it. And now, a week before we move in, I am spending money left and right for deposits and rent and odds and ends that we will need to accomodate us and Baby L and then finally Baby O. And I looked him straight in the eye three days ago, after having arranged for a sitter for Baby L and planning to take my husband out to dinner, and told him to just forget it. That we just didn’t have the time. Or the money. And I’m out of mascara anyway. And part of my heart broke. Because I DO miss the times when going to dinner wasn’t such an ordeal. And when I wasn’t shelling out SO MUCH MONEY just to live somewhere peaceful. I DO miss wearing dresses and mascara. And I DO want to celebrate this ridiculous holiday. I DO.

But I’m still wearing yoga pants. And I am totally making Sloppy Joes for dinner. Because I haven’t had them in years. And because I need to eat something that makes me feel happy.

I woke up this morning, though, to beautiful flowers, my favorite cashew turtles and a pretty hilarious card telling me that he loved me more and that I was a smokin’ hot wife. So, it isn’t all bad. And I love him so much, that I guess I don’t care about having to wear yoga pants. Maybe I will just wear the fancy new ones I just bought. Or maybe I’ll just jazz them up with some secret fancy panties underneath. Either way, I have a date with my wonderful man, my beautiful little lady, a box of turtles and some Sloppy Joes.

Happy Valentines Day, internet. I hope you stuff your faces with love and chocolate today.

Advertisements

I’m Not Homicidal, You Guys!

Image representing Woot as depicted in CrunchBase

Image via CrunchBase

I know I have been a little distant. It’s not you, it’s me, internet. There has been a return of the snot over here in the Oopsie household. And it afflicted my spawn and then myself. Making things very messy and unbearable. But things are looking up. Both in the snot department and otherwise.

Here’s an update! Hooray!

On Sleep Training:
Okay, so do you guys remember when I was going insane because my kid wouldn’t sleep? And remember when I said that I desperately wanted to get her sleep trained so that I could sleep alone in my bed with my husband? And remember when I was concerned because I am knocked up and expanding (although, not as rapidly as expected) and soon won’t have ROOM to share a bed with my 8 month old? You do? Oh.

Let me first say that I have gotten my kid MUCH better at going to sleep in her crib at night. And she even naps. Most of the time, IN THE CRIB also…But then let me tell you that, over the course of the last (almost) two months of snuggling with my little nugget every night, I have kind of come to enjoy it. In fact, I actually miss her little baby face-slaps when she isn’t lying beside me. Needless to say, sleep training has worked. But it hasn’t worked all the way. On me, at least. I am pretty sure that if I weren’t so sappy and missing her, she would be sleeping alone all night, every night. But I let her go in the crib until about 3-4 in the morning and then I can’t take it anymore and I need a cuddle. It might be the hormones. Or because, and I hate to admit this, with the new baby coming soon, I am sad that I will no longer to devote all of my attention to my baby girl. But, we all seem to be sleeping better now. And Baby L and I wake every morning, warm and toasty and smiling. And that makes my whole day. (You know, unless she is teething…which she is…again…)

On The Living Situation:
We found a house to rent! This is amazing news. And not just because I am steadily nearing the point of homicide, but because, even though we were looking for a two-bedroom for now, to save on expenses, this house is less expensive than I would have expected AND it has three bedrooms and a GIGANTIC back yard. Woot!

And yes, I know I was just talking about BUYING a house. And believe me, MB and I are ON IT. We just can’t do everything as quickly as we need to with such a short amount of time to prepare for Baby O. So, we signed a year-long lease yesterday and we will save and be as frugal as possible until next year…and then we will re-evaluate and try again. I am actually not as upset about this as I thought I would be. Mostly, I think, because I am just happy to be getting out of this house so that I can finally get a few minutes of peace.

On My Mood:
This pregnancy is pretty boring, you guys. I’m not complaining. But you might be if you got all excited that I was going to get all super bitch like I did when I started this blog. Believe me, super bitch is alive and well. But I am not sure she is even worth blogging about. Because she sort of just gets pissed about no one ever doing the dishes. It is less about puking this time. And I know everyone would rather read about puking than lazy people. I mean…AmIRight?

Anyway, I feel strangely calm. I am terrified of the single income situation and adding in the expense of rent. But I am certain things will work out. I am not sure what has happened to me. Or why my anxiety hasn’t kicked in and caused some sort of mental break, but I am serene. I’m not gonna lie and tell you I don’t want to drink an entire bottle of Pinot by myself. But I can wait. I mean, maybe only until 30 seconds after I give birth. But still…that totally counts. I recently called my husband “an accidental master of the Tao” and I sort of feel like he might be rubbing off on me. I feel confident in our situation. Fat, but confident. And I mean, I guess I can deal with the fat thing…because, let’s face it, this is the last time I will ever have an excuse to gain a bunch of weight and eat copious amounts of cupcakes. So there.

Un-resolutions and Zero Goats

Guam beach

Guam beach (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Space Needle at Seattle Center in Seattle,...

The Space Needle at Seattle Center in Seattle, Washington. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

So, I don’t make resolutions. Just, like, as a rule. Because I know myself and I won’t keep them. Because something always happens that gets in the way. Like, when I decided a few years ago to drink less vodka. Then I started drinking way more wine. So…that kind of defeated the purpose. Although, at the time I convinced myself that, you know, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! I was the best resolution keeper EVAH.

Fail.

So, anyway, I don’t do resolutions. But this year, you know, in the wake of all the (more) crazy and the changing situation and everything, (Hello, unexpected baby!) I decided not to make resolutions, but to make some goals. (I just typed goats. I don’t make goats OR resolutions, just to clarify. I am pretty damn good at making babies, though. It would appear.) So I started making this digital vision board. Because MB told me that he made one once and that it actually helped him to stay focused and to make things happen. And being that it is hard to focus on anything other than my ever-expanding waistline, I figured it couldn’t hurt. None of my goals for my new family are terribly unattainable. I mean, some things might be a little more involved than others. But, you know. I think I am up for the challenge. And these are all necessary goals people.

So, here is the list of things that I hope to accomplish this year. And I hope that by my posting them here, I will get my ass in gear and remember that people are watching. You guys will be watching, right? I mean, even if you aren’t, I will pretend that I will really disappoint all of you if I don’t stick to my shit. Anyway, here it is.

1. Finally graduate from college. Okay, okay, this will just be my Associates degree for this year because I honestly only have two classes left and really just need to get the shit done. I am not going to say that this will depend on how my life is after this second baby or if we can afford it financially. Because if I say those things, I will give myself an excuse to never graduate. And then I will hold you all personally responsible because you weren’t keeping me in check. And you don’t really want that, do you?

2. Buy a house. This is the most important one. I mentioned before that MB and I were planning a cross country move for this year but have obviously had a change of plans because of Baby O. But it is IMPERATIVE, at this point, that we find a home. Because I sure as hell cannot live in this house with TWO babies. And honestly, I just feel like I will be better able to concentrate on being a kick-ass parent if I have a kick-ass home to call my own. So, this is a big one for me. I NEED IT.

3. Save some cash. I have a savings account. It is not super cushy. And I have a husband who is notoriously bad with money. Not because he is going out and buying ridiculous gadgets (like the iPad he bought me for my Christmas/birthday present) or anything like that…but because he is just too generous. He “lends” money to friends and family members all the time. People who don’t necessarily seem to think they have to pay him back. And my husband is amazing, but this makes me want to punch him in the throat. (He has gotten better and he knows that this is no longer an option.) He has agreed to let me handle the finances now that we are married. Meaning that money will actually be SAVED. Like in an account. Like for to DO THINGS with. It will be glorious. AND it will help us achieve several of these goals.

4. Have an amazing first birthday party for Baby L. This is going to happen. I don’t think I need to explain. I could be broke as hell and I would beg, borrow and steal to make her first birthday amazing. (Not that she will likely remember. But I will.)

5. Welcome Baby O into the world. Looks like this is happening. It isn’t really a goal, I guess. I guess the goal would be not hurting anyone while impatiently waiting his arrival. Because we all know how much I LOVE BEING PREGNANT. (All lies. B-T-Dubs.)

6. Take a vacation. Just me and MB. Yes, I know. We just went to Vegas and got hitched. But a bunch of people went with us. And we partied. Well, MB partied. I mostly felt guilty about my mom staying in the condo with Baby L and came home early. I want to go somewhere with sun and palm trees. Or maybe cabins in the mountains. Or maybe the Space Needle (I heart Seattle). Or maybe visit my dad in Guam. I mean, who knows? I just want us to have a getaway. And maybe this won’t happen this year while the kids are so small. But it is a good goal. And I’m keeping it.

7. Take more “me time”.  I would like to read more. And, no offense to any of you, but I mean BOOKS. (Taking suggestions…PLEASE!?) I don’t have a lot of time now, but I will have less when Baby O gets here.

8. Be healthier. Before I had Baby L, I was not a health nut, by any means, but I definitely ate better. Healthier. Smarter. And then I got pregnant and gave up wine and cigarettes. HELLO, CUPCAKES! So, I need to get back to that place where I am not stuffing my face full of weird shit like McDoubles and cheese puffs. Seriously. But this will have to wait until after June also. Obviously. Right now, I will eat whatever the eff I want, internet.

That’s all I got for right now. I wanted to post the actual vision board that I am making. But it isn’t done because I can’t find suitable illustration. You know, because my shit has to be PERFECT.

Broken Condoms…Reloaded (Alternately Titled “Holy Shitballs” Which Seems to be the Common Response)

Seriously, I know the title sounds a little gross. And I also know that I might get some serious weirdos starting to hang around…but I will have to deal with it. Because I am too tired to think of a clever title that fits this post. Because, internet, I’m knocked up again.

And yes. You read that right. I, Broken Condoms lady, reluctant mommy blogger, is knocked up AGAIN. And before you all start dropping like flies with the sheer shock of it all, let me go ahead and clear everything up for you. Please feel free to let me know if I leave anything out…

1. Yes. I was taking birth control pills. And yes, we were also using condoms on the rare occasion that I actually let my husband touch me. Because pregnancy was enough to scare me into wearing a titanium suit around him if I had to. None of this worked, evidently. Hence this post. (Grrr…)

2. How do I feel about this whole mess, you ask? Well, internet, I feel a lot of things. I’ve been keeping this under wraps for awhile so a lot of that emotional shit, I have since come to terms with, but let me try and run you through what I have experienced thus far. First there was denial. I think that when your first child is 5.5 months old and you find out that you are, indeed, expecting again, the first thing that happens in your brain (especially if you have been taking any and every means of preventing this from happening) is that you decide that it can’t be true. It has to be some cruel joke that the Universe is playing on you. Wait, is it April Fools’ Day? You got me, Universe, you really, really got me. But then you start to vomit and you think, “Hey, I must have a stomach bug.” Seriously. I convinced myself for 4 days that the positive home pregnancy test was the Universe playing a joke and that the morning sickness was actually just a stomach bug. After I puked a few more times, though, I just started to have a little breakdown. I kept thinking about all the things I was about to have to do (AGAIN) that drove me so crazy the first time. You know, like the not sleeping (which I am, obviously, currently not doing anyway) and the back pain and the intense need for double cheeseburgers from McDonalds. And then I cried a lot. Daily. For a LONG TIME. I considered options. And I discussed everything with MB (who, by the way, was in support of whatever I decided even though he felt that we, as a couple, are strong enough to do this shit all over again. Curses.) I stared at my daughter for hours and contemplated the birth of our second child and what it would mean for us and our family. I reasoned with myself about eventually wanting to have another child in the next couple of years anyway and how having this baby would make me…well…DONE with childbearing. And that thought gave me solace. But then I cried some more. Because, holy crap, internet, the kids will only be a year apart! And how will I chase a child who will inevitably be starting to walk and carry a newborn around and not sleep all while MB is at work all day?! How will I manage?! But then I stared at my daughter some more. And I thought about how hopeless I felt when I found out I was pregnant with her. And how doubtful of my abilities I was before she was born. And I felt a little bit better. Because dammit, I am a fantastic mom. Am I necessarily ready to be the “mother of two”? No. But was I ready to be a “mother of one”? Hells no.

The acceptance part started after I had to go to the Health Center and get a proof of pregnancy again so I could start the medicaid process (because, though, MB and I are now married, my insurance did not start until January 1st) AGAIN. (Which, if you remember, was pretty much the worst thing EVER for me.) A week later, the crying had stopped, for the most part, and shockingly, the Health Department had my Medicaid set up before I showed up for my appointment. (I didn’t have to make a SINGLE PHONE CALL.) I saw that as a good omen. And then I was all set to hear the heartbeat of the baby (as it was estimated that I was about 14 weeks along at this point) and the PA couldn’t find it on the Doppler. And this might sound crazy. Or horrible. Or whatever…but I was actually relieved. I felt like this might be my “out”. She set me up with an Ultrasound (which was more than three weeks away) and sent me on my way. To panic some more. Needless to say, I started the processes all over again, thinking that it might just be a fluke. Hello, denial.

My ultrasound was yesterday afternoon. I told my sister-in-law in the morning what the situation was and she offered to come with me to the appointment in case MB couldn’t get home from work in time. MB made it home at the speed of light and the three of us trekked downtown and, just like that, I’m gonna have a little boy. Due June 6th, 2013.

3. So, yeah, I know I didn’t answer “how do you feel NOW?” in that monster paragraph up there. The truth is. I feel peaceful. Obviously, fat. And sleepy. And a little scared. But also a little relieved that this whole thing is already almost half-way over and no one could tell I was pregnant (SCORE!). I haven’t gained any weight. I haven’t been nearly as sick as last time. Things have been fairly uneventful. So, do I feel good about the whole thing? Ehhh…I don’t know if GOOD is the right adjective. But I feel okay. I am alive, I am healthy. My baby is healthy. And I still have a wonderful partner and a beautiful daughter to remind me that this is not the end of the world. (Because, in some intense moments, I feel like I could lose it.)

4. I haven’t told EVERYONE in the world yet. By that, I just mean that I haven’t announced the news on Facebook. And I probably won’t do a giant, “We’re pregnant!!!” post. Because the people who matter have either already been told or will be soon enough. I don’t need to tell 200 more of my closest friends. Also, I am still sorting out the fact that I feel sort of ashamed that I let this happen so soon after having Baby L. Yes, I know I did all I could to prevent it, internet. But it feels so…irresponsible. Seriously. I mean, come ON, internet. Who DOES this?

(As I type this, THIS is what is happening on my TV. How can I not be optimistic?!)

http://youtu.be/DkLRXMBFtYo

Anyway, so that’s what’s going on over here. And maybe why I have been sort of distant lately. Please don’t break up with me, internet. I can’t do this alone!

Phases

Parenting is tricky. And not just because you have to learn it all from scratch because every book you can read on the topic will tell you something completely different. But because being a baby is probably pretty hard. But they can’t tell you that. Because they are just babies, you guys. They can’t talk.

The minute you get used to that thing he/she is doing that is so annoying that you think you cannot take it for another moment, it stops. But then this other really annoying thing happens.

Take for instance teething. Teething is uber annoying because it causes the baby a lot of discomfort. And it can look like different things are happening, when really, your baby is just preparing for the ability to bite your fingers off. They pull at their ears. Which makes you think that they might have an ear infection. So you bring them to the doctor and their ears are fine. They could run a low fever. Which makes you think that they have a cold. They could stop sleeping. Because…you know…what is the most annoying symptom of ANYTHING? You guessed it. Not sleeping. And when the baby isn’t sleeping, you aren’t sleeping. And when you aren’t sleeping, you walk around like a mom zombie for days or weeks on end wondering if you’ve just left the toothpaste in the refrigerator. (I may or may not have done that. I can neither confirm nor deny.)

But teething isn’t the only reason that babies don’t sleep. They sometimes don’t sleep if they are too hot. Or too cold. Or in an unfamiliar place. Or there is too much noise. Or not enough noise. Or they are too far from you. Or too close to you. Or they napped too much during the day. Or they are overtired because they didn’t nap enough. Or because it is Tuesday. Or really any other day of the week.

This is currently how Baby L rolls.

I feel exhausted. And achy from trying to sleep with my really tall husband and really tiny baby in a Queen-sized bed. I feel cranky and overwhelmed and then ashamed of myself for feeling cranky and overwhelmed. And then I just feel more exhausted from feeling ashamed of myself. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

But it did get me thinking about these “phases” that babies go through. And how when she was first born and Baby L only slept about an hour and a half at a time and only on my chest or in a swing and I lived on the couch for 6 weeks. I remember thinking that I might never sleep again. And I might never know the joy of a bed. Or cuddling with MB. But then it ended. And we were on to the next thing.

And then it was reflux. And Baby L was miserable and crying and colicky and driving me absolutely mad trying to find ways to help her. And I remember having tried everything and one day, in the middle of one of the non-sleeping, crying hysterically days she was having, I sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor and sobbed. Because HOLY GOD, when will it all end?! And then it did. And now it seems like it was so long ago, I can barely remember it.

I have to be strong and tell myself every day that, “Yes. You will eventually sleep again. And no, Baby L will not sleep in between you and your husband until she is 37 years old.” And sometimes I have to tell myself these things at 4am when I wake up with a cramp in my side because I have been sleeping in the most awkward position for the last 3 hours and I cannot move my left leg. And sometimes I have to tell myself when MB is at work and I am trying to get Baby L to nap in her crib and all she wants to do is scream or play. But we all do it. We have to. It is survival.

And, this too, shall pass…

Who Needs Vodka? I Made a Person!

Today, I was looking through a couple of posts I wrote exactly a year ago. Not really for any particular reason, just because someone had recently read them and sometimes, I just like to go back and remember what things were like when my life changed. In one post, I wrote about how frightened I was about becoming “one of those women” who becomes baby-obsessed and who ceases to be an individual once their kid is born, because they become a mommy machine. And I was thinking about how awful this was to me back then. And how my biggest fear was losing myself once I gained a child. The funny thing about it is, there is NO WAY not to be obsessed with your own kid. There is also NO WAY not to be a mommy machine! Especially as a stay-at-home-mom. Because you eat, sleep and breathe mommy-hood. And there really isn’t anything you can do about it. And, to my surprise, I don’t really hate it.

Since having Baby L, I have become “one of those women”. And I am not ashamed to admit that my kid is my whole life. And I am not ashamed of the fact that there is NOTHING in the entire universe I would rather do than spend time with her and MB. I feel a little weird saying that. Because, evidently, a year ago I would have slapped you if you had suggested that I wouldn’t want to go to Happy Hour.

And don’t get me wrong, internet, I desperately want to go to Happy Hour. And don’t think that I haven’t made plans to do so…but at the end of the day, I am exhausted. Or I am snuggling with the little nugget. Or I am on the couch with MB, all cozy in a big blanket, watching “The Walking Dead“. (Because nothing says romance like zombies.) And I feel bad for not being all social butterfly now that Baby L is 6 months old. And it isn’t that I don’t love and miss seeing my friends and drinking too much vodka. I do. But I also just feel so much peace when I’m with my little family. I feel whole and content and so much LOVE, people! It is difficult for me to leave that for vodka. (And if you know me, you may think that I must currently be drinking to have said something so ludacris…but I promise, I’m sober. For the time being at least…)

And I may have become obsessed with my kid. And I may be a diaper-changing machine. But I didn’t lose myself. I evolved. And I am pretty proud of this lady. And most days, I don’t stress about missing Happy Hour. Or singing karaoke. Or vodka. Because those things will be there when I’m ready for them again. Right now, I just want to spend every minute I can appreciating this family.

I really just can’t bear to miss a thing.

 

You Get What You Need…

You might remember, internet, that a year ago on the day after Thanksgiving, I announced my pregnancy to the masses on Facebook and was promptly fired from my job two days later, without any warning or reason and after just having received a merit raise. If you weren’t around then, you can read about it here. I’ve been thinking a lot about that time this week because I remember how scared I was and how lost I felt having worked for this company for 3.5 years and having done so much for those assholes, just to be treated like I was disposable. And right after they found out I was pregnant, no less. There is still NO DOUBT in my mind that this was a case of pregnancy discrimination. And I’m honestly not bitter about it because I know that Karma is a bitch. But mostly, I have more to be thankful for than I did when I was working in that horrible place, busting my ass for a bunch of fucktards. (Pardon the language. But if you knew all of these people, you would totally agree…there are really very few words that fit them…and the other ones are worse than fucktard.)

I am so grateful this year. For the first time in a long time, I feel genuinely lucky. Yes, things have been a whirlwind of insanity for the past year. And yes, sometimes I want to stick my head in the oven. But that is pretty natural for people, I think. Sometimes shit just sucks. But it doesn’t last forever. And overall, I feel like I have more to be grateful for than I ever have before.

First, I am so grateful to be a stay at home mom. It sucks that I lost a job that I was really good at (albeit unappreciated) and it really isn’t cool that I was left high and dry without insurance and a baby on the way. But that worked out. And, in return, I got to (finally) get rid of two people who have been sucking the life out of me for over ten years. And I got rid of a place that was doing the same thing. And now, a year later, I get to spend my days playing with, teaching, laughing with and loving my dearest creation. Baby L. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Second, I got to marry my best friend. I can’t imagine anything better than that. I am eternally grateful to him for being ever-the-optimist and showing me that, despite my catastrophe fantasies, things do work out. And sometimes, they work out better than if you had stuck with your original plan. He’s lightened me so much (even though it may not always seem like it) and made me a happier, more optimistic person. Despite the crazy.

Third, I am so, so, so grateful for my family. I have had so many trials this year. SO many things that have not gone the way that I wanted them to go, but every single time, there was someone there to help me through it. Monetarily, emotionally, whatever. And I never even knew they cared that much. This has been a giant eye-opener to me. And I am humbled.

Last…but DEFINITELY not least, I am so grateful for my daughter. The love of my life. My everything. Without her, I think some of the trials of this past year would have gotten the best of me. But when I look at her and know that I am not living for myself anymore, that I am doing the most important job there is by being her mother, everything is not only all right, but it is totally worth it. I am grateful for being given this gift, even if she is a gift I didn’t know I wanted. Because “you get what you need”. And I am so grateful for this love that I never understood before she showed up.

So, thank you, universe. You have changed me. And you have made me better. And life is good.

Happy Thanksgiving, Universe.