Tag Archives: Family

Sleep or the Lack Thereof

So, Baby O is eight weeks old now. Yeah. I KNOW! I can’t believe he is 8 weeks old either! But its all true, you guys. All true.

So, he’s 8 weeks old and things are moving right along. He has stopped looking like an alien/old man like he did when he was born and now he looks like a little person. He has chubby cheeks and those little creases in his thighs to accentuate all that new chunk! He sleeps well at night. And I don’t have to be holding him which means that I can concentrate on getting Baby L sleeping in her crib and off of my head. Which hasn’t really happened ALL that much lately anyway, because I have been sleeping on the couch for the most part, to be close to Baby O without interrupting the rest of the family. But OMG, you guys, the chaos.

It is no secret that Baby L as been a hot mess in the sleep department since she was born. From birth, she has been difficult. She wants to be ON YOU.  Which was tolerable at 6 weeks. Or three months. Hell, I even could deal with it at 8 months. But it got a little bit out of control. She went, at 7 months, from sleeping all night in her crib (but having a little bit of a problem napping when she needed to), to needing to be in bed with me and MB. (I blame a trip to North Carolina to visit my Father-in-Law for this because he had us sleeping in a room that I am pretty sure had absolutely no insulation at all. In the middle of winter. With a baby. So, naturally, I had to cuddle up with her on our freezing cold air mattress for those three nights to avoid anyone freezing to death. It worked. But sleeping has never been the same.) I got pretty used to our nightly routine of MB bathing her and then putting her down in her room and then, a few hours later, having to try and put her back down after she wakes up, screaming her head off and standing in her crib. Usually, this occurred at about 1 or 2 in the morning, so in my very pregnant and exhausted state, I would usually just give up and bring her into our bedroom where she would sleep on my face for the remainder of the night. I grew used to it. And I sort of liked it. But with a newborn on the way, you guys, there was no effing way I was going to miss out on sleep because of all that newborn stuff and then have to deal with a toddler kicking me in the kidneys during the 4 minutes per night I am actually able to try and get some rest. No.

I had tried to let Baby L “Cry it Out” a few times. But I was terrible at it. Every time I tried to stomach the sound of her maniacal cries at naptime, I would break. I couldn’t stand it. And she would cry FOREVER. (Read: 10 minutes. Because that was all I could take.) But then, just weeks before my due date, I knew I would have to suck it up. And shockingly, it worked. I stood my ground and, within just a few very painful days, Baby L had accepted that she was powerless. Sleep was happening. And it was happening when and BECAUSE I said so. (Yes, I am officially the “because I said so” mom now.) And, by the time I was home from the hospital, Baby L was napping like an angel. But still waking up in the middle of the night and pleading for the return to her spot in the middle of our bed. (Which you know, if you have ever shared a bed with a toddler, means THE WHOLE BED, no matter the size of said bed. Toddlers are like cats in their innate ability to take up entire beds despite their size, for those of you who share a bed with a cat and not a toddler.)

Honestly, I was prepared to just leave well enough alone with the middle of the night stuff. If I weren’t too tired to deal with crying while I was pregnant, I was definitely too tired with a newborn. But two things happened: 1. I began having no choice but to sleep in the living room because Baby O being in our room meant that he would be waking Baby L several times throughout the night and getting HER back to sleep was much more difficult than getting HIM back to sleep and 2. She fell out of the bed one morning when I was feeding Baby O in the living room. We have a tall bed and hardwood floors. She was fine. I was not. (MB was sleeping beside her and had made a fort around her, as always, to prevent this sort of thing, but she is a walker now. So she sometimes stands up in bed and tries to walk around. I always wake up at her slightest movement. Because I am her mom. But dads can’t be trusted to do the same. No offense, dads, you just don’t have “that thing”.) So, needless to say, if I can’t be in two places at once, something was gonna have to give, you guys.

So three nights ago, I started to try to let her CIO at night. And OH. MY. GOD. I hate it. But, she has slept in her crib for three straight nights. And I have slept in bed with my husband and Baby O next to me in his sleeper. And things are starting to look up. You know, I still have to change 400 diapers per day. And the babies like to time their sleep/wake times perfectly so that the only time I actually get a second of peace is around 5 in the morning (which is when I started writing this post…) but Baby O is a good sleeper. And he doesn’t need me to hold him 24 hours per day. Which gives me time to give Baby L the attention she demands. Because that baby DEMANDS it.

And yes, I know I have been a bad blogger. But you might see why, after reading this post. Because everything I write is about sleep or the lack thereof. Because…well…that’s what happens. I promise to write something better. And soon. I think I’m gonna take up drunk blogging.

So,

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Hateful

Family is weird. And when you have one of your own, and your primary focus is your kids, some of the family dynamics with “outside the home” members of the family change. This is important to note because, this week, my Father-in-Law has been visiting.  He called, a couple of weeks ago, to wish MB a happy birthday and then informed him that he would be coming to our house for a week. No dates set-in-stone. Just a generic, “after the 19th” kind of notice.

I was not thrilled.

When you first have a baby, as many of you know, things change a lot. Your sleep changes. WHERE you sleep might change. Your meal times change. Even WHAT you eat changes because, if you are in a similar situation to mine, you don’t really have so much time to think about feeding your own face when you are spending so much of your time concerned about feeding tiny faces. Things are chaotic. They are unscheduled and they are completely unpredictable. And if you are anything like me, being in a situation like this would be enough to leave you bald and hiding under your bed in the fetal position by the end of a regular day. Because the anxiety. Oh, the anxiety. Its a heinous bitch. And it can turn ME into a heinous bitch too.

It takes any mother (parents, really) a minute to adjust to a newborn. And their neediness. And the lack of normacly. Because. Well. Welcome to your new normal, new parents. Gone are the days of free time. For us, gone are the days of dinners before 8pm or watching a television show uninterrupted. Or sleeping together in the same bed. Gone. At least for now. Because we’re still figuring this “parents of two” thing out. And we are doing damn well if you ask me.

But then, when you get an uninvited houseguest who sleeps on the couch in the middle of the day and cuts watermelon (and you HATE the smell/taste/idea of watermelon)  in your kitchen and leaves it sitting there for hours while you nearly vomit because of the smell (which you can do nothing about, because you are busy wrangling a 14 month old and feeding a newborn and cooking dinner and washing dishes and sweeping up today’s lunch from under the high chair…you get the point), you might tend to spin a little (more) out of control. You know, if you have control issues/a hefty anxiety problem. And that, my internet friends, has been this week for me. I’m tired and stressed and ready for a serious break. But I’m a parent. And breaks don’t exist.

My FIL isn’t a bad person, if you ask me, although, I know some people who would disagree. He has done some things that he regrets to the people that he loves and spends most of his time with them trying to make them understand that he loves them. But also making them feel guilty that HE lives several states away from them. Yes, you read that right. Because he moved away after being a not-so-great person to them and now wants all of them to feel guilty that they aren’t where he is. Sometimes, there is even crying. And I used to feel bad. But then I started getting to know him. And hearing stories about the kinds of things that happened when he was “not-so-good” and I don’t feel bad anymore. In fact, I am annoyed. But I bite my tongue because I love my husband. I have bitten my tongue so much this week that it is currently hanging by a little muscly tongue thread.

Last night, I was talking to my sister-in-law about being a parent. And I told her that, before I had Baby O, I was genuinely worried that I wouldn’t be able to love him as much as I love Baby L. This, I have heard from other moms with more than one child, is a very real fear. And very common. I mean, you give birth to someone, right? And they are your everything. They give you the motivation to be BETTER. And they expand your capacity for love and they fill up your WHOLE heart. Because that’s what happens when you have a child. And then you are faced with having another one. One that you haven’t met yet. And you wonder, “how will my heart expand enough for this new little one to fit in there with the first one?” Because it seems impossible to love ANOTHER person the way you love your first. But then you do. You just DO.

Anyway, I was talking to my SIL about this and FIL says with a snide roll of his eyes, “Well, that’s hateful.”

And, in my head, I said: “Well, I didn’t try and smother either of my kids with a pillow, did I? So, I guess you would know better than me about hateful.”

In real life, I said, “Well, I guess YOU wouldn’t understand, seeing as you’ve never carried a person in your BODY for months and months…”

“Well, I never had a problem loving my kids”, he says to me.

And in my head, I said, “Sure, if by loving your kids, you mean locking them outside and making them pick weeds in the hundred degree heat for hours on end.”

In real life, I said, “You couldn’t possibly understand any of it anyway.” And I walked out of the room.

MB and my SIL did back me up, because they GET it. It is a process. But I could have gone to prison last night, internet. PRISON.

I can show him hateful. I really can. I am REALLY good at hateful. I did it for years as a teenager. I got this. But I’m biting my tongue. Because he is leaving today. And after he is gone, my life can go back to a degree of chaos that doesn’t make it necessary for my husband to hide all the knives.

(Just FYI, I don’t know that the above things actually happened. I mean, I can only imagine that they did, because they were told to me BY his kids. But…I wasn’t there. I just thought I should say that.)

I’m awake…I swear…

You guys, I am so tired.

That’s about all I have the energy to post. But IMMA PRESS ON, you guys. Because I love y’all.

So, having two kids is like…well it is like having that one kid and not sleeping and eating and breathing for that kid and then adding on some other, tinier, more defenseless human being into your already hectic world. You know, where no one pays you. And you cry a lot. Because, internet, I cry a LOT. And not because I am not enjoying these little “chirren” but because I have no time to enjoy coffee. Or the intertron (a term stolen from one of my amazing bloggy friends, Jells). Or my husband. Or reality TV. And this is all very sad. VERY SAD. I really like those things. And I like seeing people. You know, who are taller than three feet. Weird. I know.

Baby L is adjusting to having a baby in the house. By adjusting, I mean, she is throwing temper tantrums about…well…everything. And they are improving. A couple of days ago, the tantrums were happening about every 3.5 minutes and were at some octave that I was not even sure was humanly possible. Today, it only happened once. And no mirrors shattered in its wake. So, that was a definite bonus. And because of that, I didn’t feel like playing in traffic.

Baby O is a pretty good baby. He is currently, and has been for the last several hours, fussing like a maniac. But this is pretty much the norm for him at this time of night. Which is rad, considering that if he would SHUT HIS FACE, I could possibly sleep in my own bed and not worry about waking MB. But, I mean, seriously, what mom sleeps? Like, ever?

So…yeah. I am tired and pissed about the Trayvon Martin verdict and ranting in my head about a lot of the news. But I am too tired to tell you guys about it. Because two kids…well two kids is insane.

Now, if you will kindly excuse me, someone is crying somewhere in this house and I am sure it has something to do with poop.

An Open Letter to Baby O: One Whole Month

Dear Oliver,

So, you’re a month old and everyone is alive! I say that because, as you are aware, you and your sister are very close in age and she is sort of a monster. A monster who has just learned to walk. And then there is you. You are adorable and squishy as can be. And you need me. YOU NEED ME ALL THE TIME. I ain’t mad atcha, little guy, all newborns are this needy. In fact, possibly less so than you. You are generally a really content baby. But you need to eat really often. And you pee constantly. And you despise pee. And you haven’t yet figured out that when your sister goes to bed, it is time for Mommy and Daddy to watch True Blood or Dexter without interruption. Because this is the only adult time we get. You seem to want to wake up as soon as you can have us to yourself. And then you demand things. For several hours. And by the time you are done, your dad is in bed and Mom is ready for a bottle glass of wine. I am hoping you will get it together soon. Because I gave up drinking for a long time to make you. And I deserve some Mommy time.

 

Baby O at 13 days old.

Baby O at 13 days old.

Needless to say, little man, you and your sister are definitely keeping us busy. You, with your constant peeing and your sister with her running around the house, screaming with glee about the discovery of a stray grape under the kitchen table.  You and I spend a lot of time chasing your sister around so that she doesn’t eat all of the paper products in the house. (Don’t ask me why she likes to eat paper. I suspect she just likes to eat everything and there is so much paper to choose from. Tissues, toilet paper, the electricity bill…You know. Maybe you will stick to actual food. We don’t have any Legos. So…) I am insanely tired and have, just like with your sister, been sleeping on the couch so that we don’t wake everyone else up when we have your snack time at 2 AM. I don’t really mind because you actually sleep. Like, for several hours at a time. And I don’t have to hold you the whole time. You do it (Gasp!) on your OWN. For that, I appreciate you more than you will ever know.

You are still a little meatloaf and only smile when you are about to let out some heinous gas. But it is really cute and almost makes the smell worth it. (I am not sure if ALL babies are as stinky as you and your sister, but sweet baby Jesus, you kids smell!) You look just like a tiny version of your father, which is sort of awesome because everyone says your sister is a tiny version of me. You even have your father’s fingers and toes. Namely the toes. You know, freakishly long and weird-looking. And sort of look like fingers. (I call them finger-toes because your dad’s toes are literally almost as long as my actual fingers. But…I do have freakishly SMALL hands…so…)

You have gained almost three pounds in the 5 weeks since you were born. At your last appointment, which was 5 days ago, you already weighed 9 lbs and 1 oz, which blows my mind. Because I don’t remember your sister growing this fast. It makes me excited to see you grow and become less and less like a meatloaf and more and more like a little dude. But, man, it is pretty surreal to think “he will never be this small again!” (and I DO think that. Every. Single. Day.) Luckily, this realization does NOT inspire me to give you guys a little brother or sister. So…that’s a sign that your mother hasn’t COMPLETELY lost it from all the sleep deprivation.

So, that’s about how things have been going during your first month of life. Your father and I love you very much. I would love to tell you that your sister loves you very much too. But really, at this point, she just loves hummus. And she really just wants your pacifier. Don’t worry, you guys will be besties some day.

We are so, so, SO glad that you’re here and have completed our little family. You and your sister are truly blessings in our lives. Even more so than I could have imagined. I am so excited to be your mom and to watch you grow.

All of my love,

Mom

Open Letter to Baby L: Brother Arrives!

Dear Lilah,

Today, you are 13.5 months old. I am probably going to be a little more lax (hard to believe, eh?) on writing your letters now for a couple of reasons: First, you’re a big girl now, and probably don’t need monthly updates anymore. You know, because I plan to do this until you are an adult. And can you imagine the crazy volume of letters? Yeah. I doubt you will even want to read through the first year. And second, we recently brought home your baby brother. And he needs something constantly and you are a maniac. So…I scarcely have time to pee. And really, let me just tell you that I have to pee right now and I have been holding it and trying to make sure you don’t bust your head open for the last hour. At least. But writing is important. And your brother is sleeping. So I may never have another opportunity.

Anyway, yeah. You are 13.5 months old. Since you turned one, a lot of stuff has happened. Right before your first birthday, you took your first unassisted steps. But then you sat on that skill until I was sufficiently stressed and unable to tend to you 24 hours per day and then broke out into a run. Honestly, you started walking on the same day that your brother’s nasty belly button grossness fell off and he was having his newborn photos taken, so I think that you were just trying to show him up. Like, “Oh yeah?! Photos and belly button grossness, eh?! Well, look what I CAN DO!” And then you went for a jog. The end.

Now you get into everything. And you say, “Oh shit!” on a consistent basis. And I am not sure where this came from because I don’t think that either me nor your father says that…like…ever (I suspect your Grandma J and Grandpa M, because that is pretty commonplace around their house.). I would have been less surprised if you started calling people “fucktard” out of the window of my car when I take you to see your grandma. Because, THAT would be JUST like your mother. True story.

You are just now, three weeks later, starting to be a little interested in Oliver. I repeat his name to you SO MANY times per day and tell him that he is your brother. You like to stroke his head like he is your little pet kitten or something. It is super cute but you are showing, at times, that all this attention he is getting is starting to piss you off, so I am a little worried that sometimes this nice stroking of the head you are doing will eventually turn into you trying to flush him down the toilet. I’m gonna have to watch you pretty close, I think. You really like to be the center of attention. And the way you dance, little lady, it is no wonder that you almost always are.

You eat ALL THE TIME. And some days, you love turkey hot dogs and mac and cheese and other days, if I try to put those things in front of you, they promptly end up on the floor underneath your high chair. And some days you like peaches. And other days, you fling tiny pieces of them at my head while I attempt to clean up the giant disaster that you have created in every other area of the house. You like liquids. To drink. To spill. To splash in. You are a hot mess.

You are definitely and officially a toddler. And you definitely keep us on our toes.

But you are hilarious and so much fun. And sometimes so defiant that I can’t help but laugh my face off at you when I tell you no and you shake your head “no”, indicating to me that you understand, and then you continue, with a ferocious will, to do whatever it was you were doing in the first place. And it makes me insane but it makes me so happy that you are such a little person. I look at your brother, the meatloaf, and I can barely remember you being that small and helpless. It is so crazy to think that just a year ago, you weren’t dancing around the living room to any tune that happened to be playing on TV or my iPod or, like, if I am humming. You are just so much fun and even when I am trying to do 87  things and you are emptying the entire contents of the DVD stand onto the floor and I know that I am going to have to pick everything up (along with the Cheerios which are constantly littered EVERYWHERE), I am just so happy to have you. You bring out the best in me. Even when I want to pull all of my hair out. Because I would be bald. But I would be bald and happy. And SO SO SO proud that you are my beautiful, hilarious, brilliant little girl.

As always, you’re freaking amazing and I love you to pieces. Sometimes, I still look at you and tear up and the thought that I didn’t think that I wanted to have kids. And then there was you. And I can’t imagine a life without you. A world without you would not be worth living in. There would be far fewer Cheerios on the floor, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Besides, every floor needs a little crunch. And ours is totally crunchtastic. Thank you, my little love.

 

SO MUCH love,

Mom

A box of Cheerios breakfast cereal.

A box of Cheerios breakfast cereal. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

A Couple of Things (While My House is Peaceful…)

I know I have been really slacking on Baby O’s birth story. And, to be honest, I have written that post in my head about 70 times but I can’t seem to find the time to sit down and blog. I know! Imagine THAT, right?!  But it is forthcoming. I swear.

First, though, I would like to give you a little peek into how things have been going over here in Oopsieville.

1. Having two babies is interesting. Because the minute you deal with one and make them all calm and serene, the other one sprays pee across the room and completely blows your mind. And then, once you have dealt with Pee Fountain, you will then find your toddler digging through the trash.  Coffee grounds, you guys. For reals.

2. I sweep the floor no less that 36 times per day.

3. Baby L has had mercy on me since we brought Baby O home and she has been VERY cooperative when she is being put down for her naps and for bed. It is amazing. But I can’t help but think that she is plotting against me and that this is all just a ploy to catch me off guard. She’s an evil genius.

4. MB returned to work yesterday after almost two whole glorious weeks of being home and helping chase Baby L around while simultaneously feeding a newborn. I miss him terribly because I sometimes wonder if I will be able to handle so much at the same time. And because Baby L likes to tug on my pants when my hands are occupied, I am also wondering if I can manage to do all of this sans pants. Because she is now pulling them all the way down when she knows I can’t do anything about it. Good times.

5. Baby L has officially learned to walk. It happened yesterday and it was so amazing. And I cried. Like a little bitch. (You know, like I do when she does ANYTHING AT ALL…)

All in all, things are moving right along. I don’t feel quite as scared as I originally did. Partially because Baby O has been a completely different baby than Baby L right from conception and has proven that not all babies will require that you sleep on the couch for 5.5 weeks because you have to hold them 24 hours per day. I remember feeling, with Baby L, more inept than I had ever felt at anything in my entire life. And now, well, I am more experienced. And I only feel painfully inept about 50% of the time. Not too shabby, I guess.

We’re a work in progress!

Is This Thing On?

Are you guys sending this baby-having juju? Because I am starting to doubt your commitment. I mean, come on, you guys. You can do better than this. I need you to REALLY concentrate.

 

Okay….

 

GO!

An Open Letter to Baby L: ONE YEAR

Dearest Lilah,

Two days ago, you turned one year old.

Firsts are a really big deal for parents. When you got your first tooth, I cried like a baby and wondered how long it would be before you bit the hell out of me. When you ate solid food for the first time, I cried like a baby and thought about how, soon, you would be feeding yourself. When you took your first steps (which happened just a few days before your birthday on May 14th), I cried like a baby and thought about the definite end to those days when you depended on me to travel. And to explore. And while these are all really beautiful things you are doing, they make me feel a little lost. Up until now, my lovely, you have needed me for everything. And now, here you are, one year old and starting to walk.

I wanted to make sure that, since your brother will be born in just a few short weeks, that this first birthday would be for you, a true celebration of how much you mean to your father and me. I know you won’t remember it. And I know that first birthday parties are more for the parents of the children than for the children themselves. But, the important thing was, to me, that the people who love you the most got to share in your day. And they did.

You were a beautiful birthday girl, Lilah. But I don’t want to talk about your party. Because that’s not what this letter is about.

This letter is to let you know, and make sure that it is spelled out here so you don’t forget it, what an amazing addition you have been to my life for the last year. Before I had you, I had known love, but I could have never known a love like the one that you brought to me when I saw you for the first time. I am not sure that a mother can ever fully express the love that she has for her child. I am not sure that I will ever be able to make you understand how much you have enriched me and every minute of my life so far just by being with me. The thought of my life before you is a faint memory. One that I don’t care to revisit. I was unaware, before I met you, how much I was missing out on. And I am so thankful that you have shown me. I hope that someday you will have children of your own, so that you can understand the kind of joy that you have brought to me. (Just for your information, when I say “someday”, I mean, when you are 30. Not 14. Okay?)

Your smile is the reason that I wake up each morning and it is the last thing I think about before I fall asleep at night. You are truly, the love of my life. You and your mama

I hope that I can be the kind of mother to you that I have promised to myself that I will be. I hope that I can teach you all of the things that a girl’s mother should teach her. About respecting herself. And finding beauty in herself, even in her flaws. About what confidence is and why it is important that other people not be able to tear you down. I hope that I can lead you down a path to be a respectful, compassionate person. I promise you, my dearest, I will do my best. I want nothing but the best of everything for you.

Now that I have sufficiently soaked the keyboard with the tears of a year with you, I will just end here by saying that I love you.

 

I love you to the moon and back.

Mom

Milestones are Stupid Bastards

Since Baby L has discovered that, not only does she not hate her walker, but that she can move freely about the house without anyone chasing her and removing her from dangerous spots, she has become a fiend.  But not just for the walker. For standing and cruising and being mobile every way that she possibly can. Like, all the time. Even while sleeping.

I’ve read that it is normal for babies, while going through developmental changes, to have sleep disturbances. And that sometimes, with all the new stuff they are learning, it is difficult for their little minds and bodies to slow down enough to sleep like they had been used to doing. And man, internet, are we learning this or WHAT.

Baby L is a giant asshole when it comes to sleeping troubled sleeper.  She always has been. She wants to be on me. Or near me. And sometimes, she even manages to be curled up AROUND me. And she hates being put to bed. Generally, with a bottle and darkness and nature sounds, she will fall asleep in Daddy’s arms and stay asleep while he puts her, ever so gently, into her crib. Where she will stay for just a few hours before we start the “putting the baby to bed” process all over again. (We, decidedly, meaning me.)

But now, getting her to stop moving and go to sleep, even after the bath and the bottle and the quiet time with Daddy, is more and more like wrestling a tiny alligator. Or possibly even a regular sized alligator. I don’t know, you guys, but it is effing HARD. She fights and screams and can’t seem to stop her legs from just GOING. And really, she is just doing a bunch of kung fu all up on your ass. And it is TOTALLY FUN. And not at ALL uncomfortable with this giant pregnant belly I am currently sporting. And then, once you think the kung fu has finally stopped and she is finally in that place where the squirming has gotten to the point where you think that you might be able to put her into her crib, you attempt the transplantation from arms to bed. And then her giant, blue eyes pop open, looking offended and the kicking starts again. And this time, it might be accompanied by screaming.

So, you have no choice but to start again.

Don’t worry. Even though this process seems like it is very time consuming, the whole process takes about five minutes. But, because you repeat it several times and have to wear protective gear, it can seem like an eternity. But eventually, she will fall asleep. And she will stay that way while you put her little ass into the crib. Where she will stay for an hour or so. And then she will start to grunt. And you will be able to ignore the grunting because you are watching “Hannibal” with your husband and eating ice cream. But then the grunt turns into a whimper. And the whimper into a cry. And, if you wait too long, a full blown scream that will wake the dead. But, if you let it get that far, you have waited too long. And you are starting from the beginning. If you catch her at the grunt, you can place her pacifier into her little mouth and she will roll to her side and start to snore. I mean, usually. But now, she isn’t lying down anymore, guys. She is half-asleep, standing in her crib. Eyes closed. And when you pick her up, she will look surprised that you are even there. And confused about why she has been standing. And she will be, surprisingly easy to settle this time. She will go back to sleep. She will stay in the crib for 3-4 hours until she wakes up, stands in the crib and is ready for play time. PLAY TIME, you guys! At 3 in the morning! What in holy hell is going on?

I have tried to explain to Baby L that, while I know that she is super excited about her budding skillz, this walking thing she is trying to do can ABSOLUTELY wait until the sun comes up. Because, I say, this is when normal people walk around. And, I tell her, I will have no problem chasing her around the living room all morning if she just goes back to sleep now. I bribe her with the coziness of Mommy and Daddy’s bed where she gets all nestled in between the two of us and gets to cuddle with me and pull my hair freely. But it doesn’t work. She tries to stand on my face. And then I eventually bring her into the living room. Because now she will cruise for around for the next 2-3 hours before I try one last bottle and bedtime routine and finally succeed.

This is not a good gift for my first Mother’s Day, Baby L. Not at all. I am trying to be patient with you. But I am going to tell you right now that, if you think that this shit is going to fly in a month when your brother is here, you are sorely mistaken. You need to learn to walk RIGHT NOW and get all this crazy, kung fu ridiculousness out of your system. Thank you.

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35 Weeks and a Reminder of Things to Come

Last night, I decided to stay up a little later than usual to get some “me time” and watch a little “SVU” and play Candy Crush Saga (you might be familiar and if you are, you know that playing this game might as well be a full time job and that it will take over your whole life if you let it) so that I didn’t go completely insane from all the baby-chasing I’ve been doing. So, I took an hour. I relaxed. I watched some good TV drama and I headed to bed. And then, as I was lying down next to my snoring hubby, it hit me.

I have to deliver a fucking baby again. In, like, FIVE weeks. And I don’t want to deliver a baby, you guys. I know, I know. I have done this before. And I rocked it. But I also REMEMBER it. So, that whole, having experienced it thing? Not such a comfort. I am not necessarily scared. But I am not necessarily NOT scared either. I don’t want to vomit into that weird green container again. And I don’t want to spend 22 hours sleeping in 4 minute increments between contractions. And I don’t want to eat nothing but ice chips (which will make me vomit MORE).

I started having these horrible flashbacks of gushing water and hospital beds. And pitocin. And nurses who made me want to break things. (Namely, their faces.) And I guess this has all started to set in now because I usually am so preoccupied with trying to lasso Baby L into standing still for 45 seconds so that I can hoist my fat ass off of the floor that I forget that I am actually going to have to DO THIS THING. The fact that I have to hoist my fat ass off of the floor in the first place is somewhat of a reminder, but it is fleeting. Because I have a 25 pound outside-the-body baby to attend to.

But, I have definitely entered crunch time. I have also definitely realized, despite having just done this less than a year ago and knowing what to expect, I am totally not ready for this new meatloaf. I don’t have my bag packed. I don’t have a plan on what to do with Baby L when I am in the hospital (besides, you know, freaking out that she won’t be with me for SEVERAL DAYS! What the hell will I do?!). I haven’t toured this hospital that I have to deliver in. I don’t even know where the maternity unit IS. I need to get ON this, internet. I need a big slap in the face and a “GET IT TOGETHER, WOMAN!”

First, I’m going to have a cup of coffee.

Until I return, if you need a refresher on my first birthing experience, you can read it all here, here and here.