so i was fairly certain there was a tornado outside knocking on our door when i woke butch up last night. all of a sudden, the wind was blowing like hell and i could hear shit flying off of the house and around the neighborhood. i felt like dorothy from the wizard of oz, except instead of ruby slippers...i was wearing a t shirt and nursing bra. i was legitimately scared when i leaned over and loud whispered "butch? butch? BUUUUUTTTCHHHHH???" he sat up like he had been shot in the ass, "WHAT!? OH MY GOD WHAT?!" before i could get one word out he was up out of bed, man parts grotesquely flying around...and he was ready for battle. (did you ever wake your dad up as a kid in the same manner and have him fly out of bed like this (though, hopefully he was wearing underwear)? one time i thought someone was in the house in the middle of the night and my pop flew out of bed, down the steps and had a baseball bat in his hand before i could utter, "burglar". must be a guy thing...) anyway, he was in a chuck norris stance and said, "WHAT'S WRONG!?" i said, "i think there is a tornado outside. listen!" so we got quiet and sure enough there was something scary brewing outside. he looked out the window and said, (now awake and annoyed i woke him up)..."well what the hell do you want me to do about it?!" (let's start by putting some pants on.)
i grabbed carrie out of the bassinet and we went downstairs to turn on the tv. the weather man stated severe thunderstorms, but no tornado, apparently. i was still scared, but here's the thing...as stated before, parenthood will make you bat shit crazy. i'm telling you that if this happened pre-children and it was a normal friday night at midnight...i'd probably be passed out in bed with half a load on. the near tornado wind wouldn't have made me bat an eye, because i'd be blissfully unaware in my coors light slumber. in that moment last night, i truly wasn't concerned for my own safety (or the safety of bedroom bruce lee)...i was concerned for the well being of the two helpless children also living in my house. i was ready to hunker down in the shower with them, in fear of a our roof blowing off. so to be clear...if i didn't have kids i'd be in bed with a beer buzz, scratching my ass through the storm...but with children, i was ready to hide out in a shower stall so that one or both of them wouldn't be sucked up in the funnel of a tornado. even though there was no tornado. (bat. shit. crazy.)
eventually, the storm passed and thankfully we didn't lose power. the mighty oak in our backyard didn't fall through the house like i had anticipated. ella didn't wake up during the storm, either...so that was a good thing. she has been pulling scams since we brought carrie home...and by scams i mean not wanting to go to bed, being incredibly clingy with one or both of us, acting like a looney bird, driving us nuts, etc. i don't blame her though...this new little person is on the scene and she was the one and only for 2 years. i think i'd be pulling scams too. (actually, i did pull scams when my parents brought my brother home in my second year of life...i decided i wasn't going to use the bathroom facilities and it was much cooler to shit on the floor, like a dog. christ, at least ella isn't doing that...) so she didn't wake up during the storm, but around 3:30am she decided to wake up and scream her brains out. (for no apparent reason) even though we have a monitor in our bedroom, butch never, ever hears her. so i started the loud whisper again (because i was in the middle of feeding carrie).."BUTCHHHHHHH???" he jumps up out of bed like a lunatic again, ready for action..."FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHAT NOW?!" (stifling laughter) 'ella is awake.' so needless to say, she ended up in our bedroom...in our bed, did not go back to sleep, and is currently watching her 37th episode of curious george for the day. (more scams.)
my inlaws are coming to town today for a week, so it only seems appropriate that she not sleep and be in full overtired toddler tantrum mode when they arrive. (joy.) kung fu ken is currently outside cleaning up the backyard. about 4 days ago, he started about 14 "projects" that include but are not limited to: painting our deck, weeding and planting things in the front and back gardens, putting together a crib, painting our shed, and cleaning the siding on the house. the kid is severely ADHD when it comes to home projects...he starts them all, finishes none. yesterday i tried to light a fire under his ass so that at least 3 of his 34 projects got done before his parents got here...and he said, "i'll get them done in my own time." i almost replied, "pretty sure you should take some ritalin and get them done now, slugger." the storm did blow our tiki bar (and a drill and a box of screws) into the baby pool on the back deck. that pretty much is the extent of the damage at our house. so this morning i packed away my ruby slippers and hung up bruce lee's black belt...just another "normal" day of parenting. and although there will be no funnel clouds blowing through our house, i fully expect a toddler tantrum tornado out of ella at approximately 3pm...just in time for the arrival of my in laws. you'll be able to find me quietly hunkered down hiding in a shower stall at that point...alone.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
unicorn
i thought newborns like carrie were mythical creatures...like unicorns, or sasquatch. the kid is just. so. good. she eats every 2-3 hours, sleeps a lot, and is pleasant when she is awake. my most favorite thing about her is that she only wakes up once or twice in the middle of the night to eat and then goes back to sleep. when i went to her first doctor appointment i actually asked the doctor if there was something wrong with her. "what do you mean?" said the doctor. "well, my first daughter was an absolute nightmare as a newborn...so much so that i try to block that part of my life out of my memory." she laughed. "well, all babies are different...and yes, i'm sure carrie is fine." (thanks, doc.) she is the definition of an easy baby...and before you start judging me and give me the "good for you, pal!" (dripping with sarasm), read below.
now that we have carrie to compare to ella, it seems as though ella was possessed (by something) in her early months. the kid cried all the time, was never satisfied with feedings, never slept...and i'm not exaggerating. we were afraid to go anywhere or do anything because we didn't know if sybil was going to lose her mind and cause a scene. sleep at nighttime was nonexistent. i felt like i was going to snap and lose my mind at any moment due to lack of sleep. when people would say, "just sleep when the baby sleeps" i would reply, "that would be fabulous, if she ever slept more than 20 minutes at a time." even their cries are completely different. carrie sounds like a goat or a sheep when she cries. ella's cry was much more demanding (and nothing like livestock), more like "one of you mother f'ers better pick me up, feed me, or look at me or shit's going to get crazy." (sounded just like that.) i just thought that's how it was supposed to be. it was not fun. i also think that i was a bit postpartum with ella...i definitely took a brief ride on the crazy train after she was born, but didn't realize it until i started feeling normal again. maybe some of you had babies like carrie, or babies like ella...but either way, you don't love one any less than the other, it just means one was more of a pain in the ass than the other. (and i'm sure they will take turns being a pain in my ass for the rest of my life...just part of parenthood.)
breastfeeding is also totally different than the first time. apparently, ella was part barracuda. (yes, the fish with teeth) what a painful endeavor that was. (that only lasted 4 weeks) this time, it's easy breezy and i've had no issues. (however, you will not see me on Time magazine when carrie is 5 and has a full set of teeth, bragging about how great it is...) yesterday we were sitting on the couch and butch said, "you know what i like most about breastfeeding?" (i had no idea where he was going with this..i thought his answers could've included, "i don't have to feed her, she is getting vital nutrients, no bottles...??") nope. "IT'S FREE!" (i should've guessed) "it's totally free...and we don't even need coupons to get the free milk." (dear lord) he went on, "you have liquid gold coming right out of your chest...maybe we could just sell some of it...." i put my hand up. alright, i've heard enough coupon man. he stopped talking. moreover, we have also started what i call the 'summer spats'. basically, it's caused by wayyyy too much time together during the summer months. i think when you spend all day, everyday, with your spouse...you want to kill them. (or maybe that's just me) don't get me wrong, we do have fun together..and stuff, but summertime allows us to have all day, everyday time...and yikes, that's not good for anyone involved. one of us better get a hobby...or it's going to be an awfully long summer.
as for my body...breastfeeding makes you feel sort of like a farm animal, but other than that i feel pretty good. although i won't be sporting a bikini anytime soon, stuff is starting to go back in the right places. i still look like jenna jameson in the chest area, but not so much a homeless person anymore. i'm chomping at the bit to start running again, but don't want to push it. i guess i need to start by just walking and work myself up to it...i hope one of my double D's doesn't wack me in the eyeball when i do start galloping around again, that would not be fun. i know our poor dog penelope has been patiently (ok, not patiently..she's been bat shit crazy wound up) waiting the last 9 months for me to get back in gear. we were doing 4-5 miles a day just before i got knocked up, and then she was attacked by 3 pitbulls who hopped their fence (in the early months of my pregnancy)...so we just stopped. (i'll be running with pepper spray attached to my shorts.) so for now, i'm enjoying my time hanging out with ella and unicorn baby, enjoying a cold beer when the clock hits 5pm and this summer weather...and also actively trying to stop my husband from selling my breast milk on the black market. fun times.
now that we have carrie to compare to ella, it seems as though ella was possessed (by something) in her early months. the kid cried all the time, was never satisfied with feedings, never slept...and i'm not exaggerating. we were afraid to go anywhere or do anything because we didn't know if sybil was going to lose her mind and cause a scene. sleep at nighttime was nonexistent. i felt like i was going to snap and lose my mind at any moment due to lack of sleep. when people would say, "just sleep when the baby sleeps" i would reply, "that would be fabulous, if she ever slept more than 20 minutes at a time." even their cries are completely different. carrie sounds like a goat or a sheep when she cries. ella's cry was much more demanding (and nothing like livestock), more like "one of you mother f'ers better pick me up, feed me, or look at me or shit's going to get crazy." (sounded just like that.) i just thought that's how it was supposed to be. it was not fun. i also think that i was a bit postpartum with ella...i definitely took a brief ride on the crazy train after she was born, but didn't realize it until i started feeling normal again. maybe some of you had babies like carrie, or babies like ella...but either way, you don't love one any less than the other, it just means one was more of a pain in the ass than the other. (and i'm sure they will take turns being a pain in my ass for the rest of my life...just part of parenthood.)
breastfeeding is also totally different than the first time. apparently, ella was part barracuda. (yes, the fish with teeth) what a painful endeavor that was. (that only lasted 4 weeks) this time, it's easy breezy and i've had no issues. (however, you will not see me on Time magazine when carrie is 5 and has a full set of teeth, bragging about how great it is...) yesterday we were sitting on the couch and butch said, "you know what i like most about breastfeeding?" (i had no idea where he was going with this..i thought his answers could've included, "i don't have to feed her, she is getting vital nutrients, no bottles...??") nope. "IT'S FREE!" (i should've guessed) "it's totally free...and we don't even need coupons to get the free milk." (dear lord) he went on, "you have liquid gold coming right out of your chest...maybe we could just sell some of it...." i put my hand up. alright, i've heard enough coupon man. he stopped talking. moreover, we have also started what i call the 'summer spats'. basically, it's caused by wayyyy too much time together during the summer months. i think when you spend all day, everyday, with your spouse...you want to kill them. (or maybe that's just me) don't get me wrong, we do have fun together..and stuff, but summertime allows us to have all day, everyday time...and yikes, that's not good for anyone involved. one of us better get a hobby...or it's going to be an awfully long summer.
as for my body...breastfeeding makes you feel sort of like a farm animal, but other than that i feel pretty good. although i won't be sporting a bikini anytime soon, stuff is starting to go back in the right places. i still look like jenna jameson in the chest area, but not so much a homeless person anymore. i'm chomping at the bit to start running again, but don't want to push it. i guess i need to start by just walking and work myself up to it...i hope one of my double D's doesn't wack me in the eyeball when i do start galloping around again, that would not be fun. i know our poor dog penelope has been patiently (ok, not patiently..she's been bat shit crazy wound up) waiting the last 9 months for me to get back in gear. we were doing 4-5 miles a day just before i got knocked up, and then she was attacked by 3 pitbulls who hopped their fence (in the early months of my pregnancy)...so we just stopped. (i'll be running with pepper spray attached to my shorts.) so for now, i'm enjoying my time hanging out with ella and unicorn baby, enjoying a cold beer when the clock hits 5pm and this summer weather...and also actively trying to stop my husband from selling my breast milk on the black market. fun times.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
shots
so i had to take carrie to the doctor today just to get weighed (or so i thought). little did i know that not only were they going to weigh her, but also examine her and then the nurse let me in on a little "surprise" that she needed her first shot. (she had shots in the hospital, but i didn't have to witness them.) i cannot say how very sick i am of the shot charade, and i've only been in the parenting game for 2 years. (i don’t know one mother that goes…”ooooo shots! I can’t wait!” upon walking into the doctors office with their kid.) it starts when they are just out of the womb (ala carrie) and doesn’t stop until…well ever. (it seems.) what boggles my mind is how in the hundreds of years they’ve been giving shots to children, they haven’t come up with some less torturous way to administer vaccines. i mean, when they are really little you tell yourself they don’t know what’s going on and it’s just a pinch. (yeah, okay…) then, when they are able to understand (like ella) you explain it the best you can. (“the nice nurse is going to physically assault you with a sharp needle and it’s going to hurt, but i don’t want you to cry.”) ugh.
even as a young adult preparing for college, i went to get my mandated shots and i passed the hell out...never been a fan of needles. (not during the actual shots, but after.) my mom was writing the check for the copay at the end of the visit and i slithered down the wall in the lobby like i’d been hit on the head with a billy club. the last thing i remember is my mother (who doesn’t deal with crisis well..) yelling, “HELP! HELP!” when i came to, she was standing over me with several nurses blinking back tears. i'm pretty sure i laughed. (eighteen years old and passing out from shots…winning!) anyway, in a weird ironic twist of events...3 months later (with my new found college freedom) i proceeded to get my tongue pierced. with a large needle. (i know, doesn’t make any sense to me either…) when i came home for the weekend, i stuck my tongue out to show my mom (who had no idea i’d done this) and this time she was the one that looked like she’d been assaulted with a billy club. she dropped the laundry basket she was carrying. and screamed. parenting is just so awesome.
this all being said, for the sake of all children (and mothers everywhere) who can’t handle the prick of a sharp needle into delicate skin….someone (future doctor friends...kaney? morty? anyone?) please think of another way to administer vaccines. and please try to do this before i lose my mind or before my children go to college...and one of them inevitably comes home with her tongue pierced.
even as a young adult preparing for college, i went to get my mandated shots and i passed the hell out...never been a fan of needles. (not during the actual shots, but after.) my mom was writing the check for the copay at the end of the visit and i slithered down the wall in the lobby like i’d been hit on the head with a billy club. the last thing i remember is my mother (who doesn’t deal with crisis well..) yelling, “HELP! HELP!” when i came to, she was standing over me with several nurses blinking back tears. i'm pretty sure i laughed. (eighteen years old and passing out from shots…winning!) anyway, in a weird ironic twist of events...3 months later (with my new found college freedom) i proceeded to get my tongue pierced. with a large needle. (i know, doesn’t make any sense to me either…) when i came home for the weekend, i stuck my tongue out to show my mom (who had no idea i’d done this) and this time she was the one that looked like she’d been assaulted with a billy club. she dropped the laundry basket she was carrying. and screamed. parenting is just so awesome.
this all being said, for the sake of all children (and mothers everywhere) who can’t handle the prick of a sharp needle into delicate skin….someone (future doctor friends...kaney? morty? anyone?) please think of another way to administer vaccines. and please try to do this before i lose my mind or before my children go to college...and one of them inevitably comes home with her tongue pierced.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
two
i know some are probably wondering what my labor experience was this time..and i'd be happy to fill you in. to put it simply, it was pretty painful and i'm pretty sure at one point i saw jesus. (the big guy himself.) i had been having contractions all day on tuesday and finally decided to go to the hospital after dinner time that night. i went in and the doctor informed me that although i was having contractions...i was still closed up like fort knox. therefore, their solution was to do laps around the hospital ward for one hour, and they would check me again. now at this point, i was in pretty much pain...probably about a 6 on a scale of 10 and they had me adorned 2 hospital gowns; one facing forward, and one facing backward. (so that my ass wouldn't hang out) they also put orthopedic treaded socks on my feet for my marathon walk around the hospital. needless to say, i looked hot. i told the nurse (with a dead straight face) that i thought i looked really hot and asked her, "what did she think?" she and butch both bust out laughing. i also informed her that if i had to wear that getup any longer than an hour...i'm pretty sure they would never see me in the hospital again pregnant, because my husband would be moving on to greener pastures.
anyway, we started walking. at this point, walking was a chore. hell, anything was a chore...even sitting. (even breathing!) i felt terrible. butch and i were trying to make conversation (i need to also mention that he was wearing my (pink) purse over his shoulder..because i didn't have anywhere to leave it.) so there i am, big as a house dressed in a ridiculous outfit, and there he is gayer than a 2 dollar bill adorned with my purse...and we are doing laps. everytime we passed the nurses station, i felt like flipping one of them off. i gave them icy hot glares instead. (i'm pretty sure they are used to it.) so an hour passed, i go to get checked...still fort knox. they tell me to go home. you can imagine how i felt at this point. (enter pistol and gun show in the maternity ward in my head...i felt like calling ahead to c-span and letting them know in advance that i'd be back soon, and a real shit show as going to start.) anyway, we reluctantly went home. i climbed into bed and that's when the real fun began. i started having body racking contractions. what do they feel like, you ask? it's kind of like a combination of you are going to die and you are going to shit your pants at the same time. after about an hour of this, we go back to the hospital. i was moo'ing and moaning the whole way...and butch was chalk white. i think there were expletives flying out of my mouth and threats to punch him in the penis. i don't quite remember all of it, and it's probably better that way.
when i arrived back at the hospital, i couldn't walk. so, movie style, he (the sperm donor no longer recognized as my husband) gets a wheelchair and wheels me in. as we passed the nurses station one nurse (that i'm pretty sure i glared at several times) exclaimed very loudly, "they'rrrrreeee baaaaaaackkkk!" (very funny lady, screw you.) another nurse checked me and hallelujah! i'm dialated...and half way to having a baby. (holy shit.) this was about 11pm. at this point, all i could think about was getting an epidural. (ie/numbed from the waist down) i do not have ANY idea how women endure labor without drugs...and although i'm not usually one to judge, if someone tells me that they have done labor "naturally" i seriously think they are absolutely bat shit f'ing crazy. the way i see it...you are going to walk out of there with a baby, regardless if you have the drugs or not. i'm not going to roll out of there rocky style with a medal around my neck and arms over my head if i don't get an epidural. no shame in my game. give. me. the. drugs. now. so i had to wait maybe another 40 minutes until the medicine man came in and injected me. that is the point that i thought i saw jesus. (holy pain.) from the time i had the epidural to the time i had a baby in my arms was 1 hour. i pushed three times and there she was. i was never so happy to see someone in my life. having a baby truly is a miracle...words cannot describe what it feels like to see that little face for the first time. it's epic.
so here we are three days later. my milk came in today. therefore, at three days postpartum...i look like a cross between a homeless person and a porn star. however, i do feel so much better than i did after having ella. after i had her, i seriously felt like an axe murder. i don't know if it was the transition of going from zero babies to one baby...but rainbows and unicorns it was not. this time, i guess we kinda knew what we were getting ourselves into, so it was just figuring how this newborn was going to fit into the picture. i'm happy to say she fits just fine. plus, i don't know if second children are just easier or if you aren't as anal, or maybe you just don't give a shit (as much)...probably all of the above. we are both more relaxed, which i think makes the whole experience more relaxed. praise jesus.
my mom has also been here since i had our second bundle of joy. adding her into the mix is such a help, and a bit of comedy relief. we often say that my mother sees the world with rose colored glasses...and it's true. (her and my husband are a lot alike in that way.) last night we decided to rent an on demand movie and butch lost his shit on her because "he's not spending $4.99 on a movie that he can get for .99 cents at redbox..GODDAMNIT!" then, my mom wanted him to run in the minimart where he was going to get the movie for a bag of popcorn (that was also .99 cents). he said, "i was JUST at the dollar store today, deb! just there! this is poor planning...we could've had THREE bags for the price of ONE!" this is a real argument in my house at 9pm last night. when he got back at with his .99 cent movie and .99 cent bag of popcorn he was fit to be tied. (apparently 2 dollars is two dollars too much) he came in the door and asked my mom if she wanted to go out back and burn $20 bills in the chimena for fun. (she was trying not to laugh...but couldn't help it.) i just was sitting back and enjoying the show.
today is also ella's second birthday. i cannot believe she is two already. she is adjusting well to having a new baby on the scene. (thank god.) time is flying and i really wish it would slow the hell down. kids really are the best...even though they can make you see jesus and turn you into a homeless looking porn star in 3 days flat. thanks again for all the well wishes. i believe the fun has only just begun in this house and i'll try to remember to keep laughing along the way.
anyway, we started walking. at this point, walking was a chore. hell, anything was a chore...even sitting. (even breathing!) i felt terrible. butch and i were trying to make conversation (i need to also mention that he was wearing my (pink) purse over his shoulder..because i didn't have anywhere to leave it.) so there i am, big as a house dressed in a ridiculous outfit, and there he is gayer than a 2 dollar bill adorned with my purse...and we are doing laps. everytime we passed the nurses station, i felt like flipping one of them off. i gave them icy hot glares instead. (i'm pretty sure they are used to it.) so an hour passed, i go to get checked...still fort knox. they tell me to go home. you can imagine how i felt at this point. (enter pistol and gun show in the maternity ward in my head...i felt like calling ahead to c-span and letting them know in advance that i'd be back soon, and a real shit show as going to start.) anyway, we reluctantly went home. i climbed into bed and that's when the real fun began. i started having body racking contractions. what do they feel like, you ask? it's kind of like a combination of you are going to die and you are going to shit your pants at the same time. after about an hour of this, we go back to the hospital. i was moo'ing and moaning the whole way...and butch was chalk white. i think there were expletives flying out of my mouth and threats to punch him in the penis. i don't quite remember all of it, and it's probably better that way.
when i arrived back at the hospital, i couldn't walk. so, movie style, he (the sperm donor no longer recognized as my husband) gets a wheelchair and wheels me in. as we passed the nurses station one nurse (that i'm pretty sure i glared at several times) exclaimed very loudly, "they'rrrrreeee baaaaaaackkkk!" (very funny lady, screw you.) another nurse checked me and hallelujah! i'm dialated...and half way to having a baby. (holy shit.) this was about 11pm. at this point, all i could think about was getting an epidural. (ie/numbed from the waist down) i do not have ANY idea how women endure labor without drugs...and although i'm not usually one to judge, if someone tells me that they have done labor "naturally" i seriously think they are absolutely bat shit f'ing crazy. the way i see it...you are going to walk out of there with a baby, regardless if you have the drugs or not. i'm not going to roll out of there rocky style with a medal around my neck and arms over my head if i don't get an epidural. no shame in my game. give. me. the. drugs. now. so i had to wait maybe another 40 minutes until the medicine man came in and injected me. that is the point that i thought i saw jesus. (holy pain.) from the time i had the epidural to the time i had a baby in my arms was 1 hour. i pushed three times and there she was. i was never so happy to see someone in my life. having a baby truly is a miracle...words cannot describe what it feels like to see that little face for the first time. it's epic.
so here we are three days later. my milk came in today. therefore, at three days postpartum...i look like a cross between a homeless person and a porn star. however, i do feel so much better than i did after having ella. after i had her, i seriously felt like an axe murder. i don't know if it was the transition of going from zero babies to one baby...but rainbows and unicorns it was not. this time, i guess we kinda knew what we were getting ourselves into, so it was just figuring how this newborn was going to fit into the picture. i'm happy to say she fits just fine. plus, i don't know if second children are just easier or if you aren't as anal, or maybe you just don't give a shit (as much)...probably all of the above. we are both more relaxed, which i think makes the whole experience more relaxed. praise jesus.
my mom has also been here since i had our second bundle of joy. adding her into the mix is such a help, and a bit of comedy relief. we often say that my mother sees the world with rose colored glasses...and it's true. (her and my husband are a lot alike in that way.) last night we decided to rent an on demand movie and butch lost his shit on her because "he's not spending $4.99 on a movie that he can get for .99 cents at redbox..GODDAMNIT!" then, my mom wanted him to run in the minimart where he was going to get the movie for a bag of popcorn (that was also .99 cents). he said, "i was JUST at the dollar store today, deb! just there! this is poor planning...we could've had THREE bags for the price of ONE!" this is a real argument in my house at 9pm last night. when he got back at with his .99 cent movie and .99 cent bag of popcorn he was fit to be tied. (apparently 2 dollars is two dollars too much) he came in the door and asked my mom if she wanted to go out back and burn $20 bills in the chimena for fun. (she was trying not to laugh...but couldn't help it.) i just was sitting back and enjoying the show.
today is also ella's second birthday. i cannot believe she is two already. she is adjusting well to having a new baby on the scene. (thank god.) time is flying and i really wish it would slow the hell down. kids really are the best...even though they can make you see jesus and turn you into a homeless looking porn star in 3 days flat. thanks again for all the well wishes. i believe the fun has only just begun in this house and i'll try to remember to keep laughing along the way.
*thinking about our dear friend Jon today...gone but not forgotten & forever in our hearts.*
(2/28/82-6/16/99)
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
due
so today is my actual due date. i can't speak for every pregnant woman, but i think we all hit a wall in our pregnancy at some point. (i have hit the wall, spun around a couple times and exploded into flames.) i have had fake contractions so long now that i'm contemplating naming the baby Braxton Hicks Scheib. my back and joints are killing me and butch said to me the other day, "but you only gained 25 pounds with this one..that's not bad." i replied, "25 pounds that is hanging off the front of me like a bowling ball...let's strap ella (who is a 25 pounder) around your waist with duck tape and see how long you last!!" he just stared and then said, "oh, i never thought of it that way." and that's the thing with these men...they don't think. can you even imagine if a man had to do this!? my favorite part is when he tells people, "yeah...this is it, this the last time we are getting pregnant..." we?! we!? do you have a mouse in your pocket, pal? because i'm pretty sure you got to partake in the fun part of the pregnancy (the actual making of the baby) and i'm the one that had to endure the rest. he better cover his testicles and run at this point...and make sure he stays quiet. very, very quiet.
last week i took off of work, because dealing with a gaggle of 5 year olds was at the bottom of my list...and quite honestly, i just didn't have the energy or patience needed to not hang a child from the ceiling by his toes. i was looking forward to a nice, relaxing couple of days...finishing up the last of my nesting endeavors and hanging out with ella. the week was going well until thursday, when i was cutting up a banana for her lunch and she was sitting (not riding) on the tricycle that was in the house. i heard a thud...and then a scream. when i went around the corner, she was face planted on the hardwood floor and the tricycle was toppled over. i picked her up to assess the damage and i kid you not...it looked like muhammad ali himself (during his heyday...not parkinsons pappy) took a blow to her mouth. there was blood spewing everywhere. of course, i was wigging out...this was her first major injury and i was home by myself, pregnant as hell. so i went through the normal questions...do i call 911? the pediatrician?....social services and report myself?
i tried to remain calm, but as i took in the situation; she was covered in blood, i was covered in blood...and the dog was licking it up off the floor. (cripes) i then started crying with her. (holy shit, get yourself together.) so long story short, i called butch (who rushed home from work), the pediatrician (who told me to call a dentist), and took her there immediately to check her two front teeth. friday i ended up having to take her to a pediatric dentist to get a second opinion...the good news is, she will not have to have her front two chompers pulled. (a fear i had, as they both looked in bad shape...and all i could think about was having her to go through the next 3 years without her 2 front teeth, hillbilly deluxe style.) so, in conclusion, she spent approximately 172 days with the sitter...not one injury. 6 days with me and almost loses her two front teeth in an in house tricycle accident. fail.
this morning she was walking around the living room like this:
as i laughed, i was thinking that quite honestly, she is probably safer this way. maybe she is trying to tell me something: "last week i almost lost my teeth mother, i'm not taking any more chances." (she was laughing her head off under that bucket.)
and so, i sit and wait for this second child to make an appearance. i am anxious and annoyed...and ready, oh so ready. everyone that has the pleasure (i'm using that term loosely) of crossing my path the next couple of days just better tread lightly...or they may end up with a protective bucket over their head like my almost 2 year old or running for the hills covering their genitals like my husband.
last week i took off of work, because dealing with a gaggle of 5 year olds was at the bottom of my list...and quite honestly, i just didn't have the energy or patience needed to not hang a child from the ceiling by his toes. i was looking forward to a nice, relaxing couple of days...finishing up the last of my nesting endeavors and hanging out with ella. the week was going well until thursday, when i was cutting up a banana for her lunch and she was sitting (not riding) on the tricycle that was in the house. i heard a thud...and then a scream. when i went around the corner, she was face planted on the hardwood floor and the tricycle was toppled over. i picked her up to assess the damage and i kid you not...it looked like muhammad ali himself (during his heyday...not parkinsons pappy) took a blow to her mouth. there was blood spewing everywhere. of course, i was wigging out...this was her first major injury and i was home by myself, pregnant as hell. so i went through the normal questions...do i call 911? the pediatrician?....social services and report myself?
i tried to remain calm, but as i took in the situation; she was covered in blood, i was covered in blood...and the dog was licking it up off the floor. (cripes) i then started crying with her. (holy shit, get yourself together.) so long story short, i called butch (who rushed home from work), the pediatrician (who told me to call a dentist), and took her there immediately to check her two front teeth. friday i ended up having to take her to a pediatric dentist to get a second opinion...the good news is, she will not have to have her front two chompers pulled. (a fear i had, as they both looked in bad shape...and all i could think about was having her to go through the next 3 years without her 2 front teeth, hillbilly deluxe style.) so, in conclusion, she spent approximately 172 days with the sitter...not one injury. 6 days with me and almost loses her two front teeth in an in house tricycle accident. fail.
this morning she was walking around the living room like this:
as i laughed, i was thinking that quite honestly, she is probably safer this way. maybe she is trying to tell me something: "last week i almost lost my teeth mother, i'm not taking any more chances." (she was laughing her head off under that bucket.)
and so, i sit and wait for this second child to make an appearance. i am anxious and annoyed...and ready, oh so ready. everyone that has the pleasure (i'm using that term loosely) of crossing my path the next couple of days just better tread lightly...or they may end up with a protective bucket over their head like my almost 2 year old or running for the hills covering their genitals like my husband.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
target
so i haven't written much lately about the couponing phenomenon that goes on in my house, and it seems that my husband has dropped the ball a bit with it the past couple of weeks. well, he's back baby. (back. in. action.) almost every sunday morning the charade is usually the same...we wake up and he double leg kicks out of the bed, bends over oh so graciously, sliding on his holey boxer shorts (why do men hold on to these things for so long? they look like rags that i use to clean with and there are pieces and parts hanging out that no human being should have to see in isolation..it's like train wreck, except there is a ball sack involved.) he then states,"i'm going to get the papers, get the papers." (this is a line from the movie goodfellas...from a guy named jimmy two times) this was a college movie favorite and every single sunday morning that he says it...he cracks up after it comes out of his mouth. (i, on the other hand, stopped laughing months ago.) after his movie quote and a chuckle to himself, he puts on some clown outfit that i'm sure he's not going to leave the house in (but always does)... and out the door he goes. (to get the papers, get the papers.) he comes back about 15 minutes later with a stack of sunday papers, loaded with coupons. (we also get a paper delivered to the house) and let me tell you...it's like christmas morning. the kid is pumped. ecstatic really. (it doesn't take much with him...believe me.)
while he is out getting the papers, i usually get out of bed and go to see if the little chipper chicken we call our daughter is awake in her room. (i am more like a disgruntled hen in the morning, so i try to muster as much enthusiasm as i can for this little girl...) i'm usually greeted by, "ohhhh hiiiiii mommmmy!!!" in her loud squawky voice and i mimic back, "ohhhhh hiiii elllaaaa!!!" i get her out of her crib, change her diaper (praying for no poop..that's too much to bear that early in the morning), and downstairs we head for breakfast and cartoons. butch usually saunters in with his prized possessions made of newsprint and plops down in the middle of the living room floor (sitting cross legged)...armed with scissors and a thirst for saving money. i usually brew myself a strong cup of coffee and settle in for the show. (i'm not talking about the cartoons, either.) he gets demanding at this point, and very serious. i usually get the "make me a list" dictation so that he can coordinate my weekly list with his couponing adventure for the day. now, with the exception of dinner, we usually eat the same stuff for breakfast and lunch every week...he should know at least part of the list by heart. when i state this, he gets really irritated and says, "can you please just write it down!?" aye aye captain...i'm on it. after he has my list in hand he is off and running trying to pinch every penny he can. let me just state again that he gets VERY serious. deadly serious. if we distract him in anyway...he usually takes his beloved binder and heads upstairs.
today was that sort of day...ella was saying "daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy..." over and over again, the dog ran through his coupon pile at least twice, and i kept asking him asinine questions to get under his skin. (i know, i'm horrible, but sometimes it's more fun that way...) he got exasperated and went upstairs to the bedroom to do his "work." he was up there about an hour and a half and i walked up, coffee in hand and said..."so do you think ella and i could go to target with you today?...i kinda wanna get out of the house." he got all shifty. last week he told me that ella and i "weigh him down" when we come along (i told him to watch the weight reference, as i'm huge in my 9th month of pregnancy). today i wanted to push the envelope...get him out of his comfort zone. he stared at me..."well, i guess so...but only to target. i'll do the 'other stores' myself." (he usually has 5 or more stores on the docket...including, but not limited to: food lion, giant, cvs, walgreens, and target.) i breezily said, "ok, well i'll get in the shower and get ella dressed and then we can go." his scissors stopped. (ominously) "i'm not ready, trish...i'm not even close to ready." (at this point i didn't want him to pull a scott peterson on me...so i said 'okay, you just let me know when you are ready.' even though i'm thinking..come the hell on, already sally...it's been hourssss.)
finally, at about 10am we get to target. he gets out of the car equipped with a legal sized writing pad, 3 different stacks of coupons, several printouts from 'couponmom.com'...and a pen behind his ear. the whole trip started off pretty uneventful...until he couldn't find the hand soap. apparently hand soap was on sale and he had a coupon, making each bottle .50 cents. he was armed with 4 of these coupons...but we could not find the hand soap aisle anywhere. he was pissed. finally, he flagged down a gentleman in a red shirt and asked him (very irritated) where the hand soap was. there was a palpable sense of relief when he finally found it. meanwhile, i was pushing ella in the cart down the main aisle...trying not to laugh at him. after the soap, we kept going to the food section and i started grabbing things i knew we needed. for example, eggs, bananas....milk. he came up behind me and said, "um, what are you doing?" i said, "shopping." he said, "milk is a whole dollar cheaper at giant. we are not getting that here." (sheesh. alright, coupon nazi...sorrrrryyyyyy!) i put it back. i could see at this point he was starting to sweat...and i'm not using this as a metaphor, he was physically starting to sweat. beads pouring down his forehead. he had a scared look on his face and i could tell something was wrong. i stopped the cart and said, "are you okay?" he looked me dead in the eyeballs and said, "this is not normal protocol, trish, this is not how i do things...we are not going to save any money...this is terrible." it took everything in my being not to burst out laughing. i nodded gravely and said, "well, i'm very relaxed right now, ella is eating goldfish in the cart...you just 'do your thing'." (and i'll write about it later...)
about 20 minutes later, the cart was half full, and he was still looking panic stricken. i was making faces at ella, playing with her...trying to ignore the fact that my husband was on the brink of a coupon meltdown. we then got into the line and ella wanted out of the cart. this sent coupon mom into a tailspin. (i guess the "check out" part is one of the most important in his adventure, because he has to see that everything rings up right and that when the lady in red scans the coupon, the right amount comes off of the total.) ella was ripping m & m's, gummy bears, doritos, nail clippers (anything she could reach, really) off of the display that they have in the check out lane...a 2 year old tornado. this was making. him. nuts. i paused and took it all in. (loving every minute of it.) when we finally got out into the parking garage, he said, "never again. i never want you to go with again...you mess up my couponing flow, and i don't even think we saved any money, and this was a wasted trip." (again, everything in my being to hold it together.) i went to the driver side door and muffled my laughter, while he loaded the car.
on a positive note, during this target trip he decided that it was time to replace the holey boxers i discussed at the beginning of this tale. he came over to the cart and held out a pack of fruit of the looms (5 in the pack) for $15..."do you think this is a good deal?" i said yes. he then thought about it very seriously, but didn't end up buying them...because he didn't have a coupon. looks like it's ball sack train wreck again next weekend...when jimmy two times gets ready to go out and get the papers, get the papers. however, ella and i will not be along on his actual voyage...because god forbid i mess up someone's couponing flow.
while he is out getting the papers, i usually get out of bed and go to see if the little chipper chicken we call our daughter is awake in her room. (i am more like a disgruntled hen in the morning, so i try to muster as much enthusiasm as i can for this little girl...) i'm usually greeted by, "ohhhh hiiiiii mommmmy!!!" in her loud squawky voice and i mimic back, "ohhhhh hiiii elllaaaa!!!" i get her out of her crib, change her diaper (praying for no poop..that's too much to bear that early in the morning), and downstairs we head for breakfast and cartoons. butch usually saunters in with his prized possessions made of newsprint and plops down in the middle of the living room floor (sitting cross legged)...armed with scissors and a thirst for saving money. i usually brew myself a strong cup of coffee and settle in for the show. (i'm not talking about the cartoons, either.) he gets demanding at this point, and very serious. i usually get the "make me a list" dictation so that he can coordinate my weekly list with his couponing adventure for the day. now, with the exception of dinner, we usually eat the same stuff for breakfast and lunch every week...he should know at least part of the list by heart. when i state this, he gets really irritated and says, "can you please just write it down!?" aye aye captain...i'm on it. after he has my list in hand he is off and running trying to pinch every penny he can. let me just state again that he gets VERY serious. deadly serious. if we distract him in anyway...he usually takes his beloved binder and heads upstairs.
today was that sort of day...ella was saying "daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy..." over and over again, the dog ran through his coupon pile at least twice, and i kept asking him asinine questions to get under his skin. (i know, i'm horrible, but sometimes it's more fun that way...) he got exasperated and went upstairs to the bedroom to do his "work." he was up there about an hour and a half and i walked up, coffee in hand and said..."so do you think ella and i could go to target with you today?...i kinda wanna get out of the house." he got all shifty. last week he told me that ella and i "weigh him down" when we come along (i told him to watch the weight reference, as i'm huge in my 9th month of pregnancy). today i wanted to push the envelope...get him out of his comfort zone. he stared at me..."well, i guess so...but only to target. i'll do the 'other stores' myself." (he usually has 5 or more stores on the docket...including, but not limited to: food lion, giant, cvs, walgreens, and target.) i breezily said, "ok, well i'll get in the shower and get ella dressed and then we can go." his scissors stopped. (ominously) "i'm not ready, trish...i'm not even close to ready." (at this point i didn't want him to pull a scott peterson on me...so i said 'okay, you just let me know when you are ready.' even though i'm thinking..come the hell on, already sally...it's been hourssss.)
finally, at about 10am we get to target. he gets out of the car equipped with a legal sized writing pad, 3 different stacks of coupons, several printouts from 'couponmom.com'...and a pen behind his ear. the whole trip started off pretty uneventful...until he couldn't find the hand soap. apparently hand soap was on sale and he had a coupon, making each bottle .50 cents. he was armed with 4 of these coupons...but we could not find the hand soap aisle anywhere. he was pissed. finally, he flagged down a gentleman in a red shirt and asked him (very irritated) where the hand soap was. there was a palpable sense of relief when he finally found it. meanwhile, i was pushing ella in the cart down the main aisle...trying not to laugh at him. after the soap, we kept going to the food section and i started grabbing things i knew we needed. for example, eggs, bananas....milk. he came up behind me and said, "um, what are you doing?" i said, "shopping." he said, "milk is a whole dollar cheaper at giant. we are not getting that here." (sheesh. alright, coupon nazi...sorrrrryyyyyy!) i put it back. i could see at this point he was starting to sweat...and i'm not using this as a metaphor, he was physically starting to sweat. beads pouring down his forehead. he had a scared look on his face and i could tell something was wrong. i stopped the cart and said, "are you okay?" he looked me dead in the eyeballs and said, "this is not normal protocol, trish, this is not how i do things...we are not going to save any money...this is terrible." it took everything in my being not to burst out laughing. i nodded gravely and said, "well, i'm very relaxed right now, ella is eating goldfish in the cart...you just 'do your thing'." (and i'll write about it later...)
about 20 minutes later, the cart was half full, and he was still looking panic stricken. i was making faces at ella, playing with her...trying to ignore the fact that my husband was on the brink of a coupon meltdown. we then got into the line and ella wanted out of the cart. this sent coupon mom into a tailspin. (i guess the "check out" part is one of the most important in his adventure, because he has to see that everything rings up right and that when the lady in red scans the coupon, the right amount comes off of the total.) ella was ripping m & m's, gummy bears, doritos, nail clippers (anything she could reach, really) off of the display that they have in the check out lane...a 2 year old tornado. this was making. him. nuts. i paused and took it all in. (loving every minute of it.) when we finally got out into the parking garage, he said, "never again. i never want you to go with again...you mess up my couponing flow, and i don't even think we saved any money, and this was a wasted trip." (again, everything in my being to hold it together.) i went to the driver side door and muffled my laughter, while he loaded the car.
on a positive note, during this target trip he decided that it was time to replace the holey boxers i discussed at the beginning of this tale. he came over to the cart and held out a pack of fruit of the looms (5 in the pack) for $15..."do you think this is a good deal?" i said yes. he then thought about it very seriously, but didn't end up buying them...because he didn't have a coupon. looks like it's ball sack train wreck again next weekend...when jimmy two times gets ready to go out and get the papers, get the papers. however, ella and i will not be along on his actual voyage...because god forbid i mess up someone's couponing flow.
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