Team Blue

Today was the sonogram!

I didn't sleep well last night because it occurred to me to start worrying about whether or not my kid would have all the right parts in the right places and then I got frantic about what I'd do if they gave me bad news and then I started questioning whether I should even let Silas go to the appointment.  I must have panicked myself right off to dream land because 5:45 rolled around quick.

The doc went ahead and put my mind at ease and looked at all the important stuff first.  

I'm proud to report that I saw baby's brain, kidney's, hands, feet, heart, nose - and they all looked great.

When doc was measuring the femur bone, I was pretty certain I could see, um, IT.  I kept thinking "that looks an awful lot like boy parts to me."

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd I was right.  It's a boy!

Full disclosure?  There was not an exclamation point behind that statement for me at first.  I got a little teary about it even though I've thought he was a boy all along.  (And this is the first time I've successfully predicted one of my children's gender - good sign for me and this one being close, right? RIGHT?!)

Now, let me clarify before you go all "you just need to be grateful he looks healthy" judgy on me.

It had less to do with this baby being a boy and more to do with the fact that as long as there is no divine intervention, I'm not having anymore babies.  Not just "I don't plan to" but "I'm surgically increasing the odds of not".  

Obviously, that means I'm never going to have another daughter, and, well, ouch.  It hurt to watch my dreams of pigtails and pedicures dissolve before my eyes.  The only miniature version of me I'll ever have is already in Heaven, and I won't be helping her pick out a wedding dress, ya know?  So, I was sad about that.

However, I do so adore being a momma to a little boy.   Even if he does insist on being all independent and refuses to be the momma's boy he is supposed to be. 

Now he has a little brother on the way!  (As predicted, he's pissed about that - "I don't want a little brother!")  But I'm going to work on talking him into letting us keep the brother because he will love having a brother some day.

Candice asked Silas if he was going to teach Gavin (the baby's name is Gavin) how to play soccer, and he said, "Yeah, I'm going to teach Gabba Gabba how to play soccer."  Ha!  Gabba Gabba.

Besides all that, Mommy gets a second chance at her momma's boy!

Seriously, what are the odds that I'll have two sons who don't think I'm the bees knees?

(If the odds are high - keep your mouth shut - because I already cry enough.)

More stuff

 The part where I didn't humiliate myself

In the days leading up to this work event where I had to walk (up to) three miles, I was fairly certain my team would have to call 911 a fourth of the way through.  However, I'm proud to report that I completed the whole challenge and didn't faint or fall out even once.

I know, I was shocked too.

 The baby

I'm finally starting to feel movement from Weebs.  It's pretty sporadic, but it's a fun surprise when it happens.  I'll be curled up in bed drooling over Michael Weston (Burn Notice) when all of a sudden "bump!" a little hello from baby.

Monday is my next sonogram, and I will not leave that doctor's office until someone tells me the gender of this child.  

I'll try to find a fun way to tell you guys, but I'm usually too excited and just post "It's a _____!" on Facebook all lame-like.

Silas

Speaking of baby's gender, Silas is going to try to make me send this baby back if it's not a girl.  He's not on board with having a baby at all, but a little brother is completely out of the question.  He makes sure to tell me that every time someone reminds him that there's a baby in mommy's belly.

Other than demanding I not have another boy (as if I have any control over it), Silas is still awesome.  A new fun thing he's started doing is regurgitating books.  Yesterday, while I was driving home, I heard him spouting the last several pages of the book I'd read him at bedtime the night before.  Kind of blew my mind and made me grin from ear to ear.

Also, he has rocked the transition to the toddler bed.  We have our little routine, and as long as we stick to it (and he's not sick and the power hasn't gone out), he's happy to climb into his big boy bed and stay put till morning.  I'm considering it my reward for the fact that he's still not potty trained.  (But he's finally getting interested, so maybe I won't be changing two butts come November...?  Please, God.  I beg of You!)

Friends

After I put Silas to bed last night, I threw myself a little tantrum.  I was exhausted and lonely and scared and really, really pissed off. 

Desperate to be comforted, I reached out to a friend who has been in and out of my life for many, many years.  The response was three short sentences that reminded me this person believes in me and has my back.  It gave me all the encouragement I needed to get through a bad night and feel like I could keep going.

The list of people who I can honestly say are that caliber of friend is very short.  They are the friends who don't quit on me no matter what our friendship endures.  They don't judge me - not even behind closed doors or quietly to themselves.  They love me despite my flaws and my baggage.

They are my courage and strength on those days when I cannot be strong for one more minute.  They are the place I can always go to let down my guard and be vulnerable and know that I'm safe in doing so.

If you're reading this, you know who you are.  One day I hope I can find a way to show you just how much you mean to me and how grateful I am that you've never given up on me. 

If I Only Had a Brain

Pregnancy brain?  It's a real thing. 

Last night I left my driver's license at a car dealership (no, we're not talking about why I was at a car dealership right now).  I'm not the kind of woman who loses driver's licenses and credit cards.  Keys, yes.  Important pieces of identification, no.

Now I get to spend my lunch break fighting traffic to get the damn thing back.

Then this morning I got in the shower and couldn't remember what I was doing.  In my defense, I was a little distracted.  I got in and started scrubbing bathtub crayon off the walls.  Bathtub crayon is a pain in the ass to get off, so it was kind of an involved process. 

By the time I was finally done removing Silas' masterpiece, I had to have an internal conversation that went like this: Where am I, and what the hell am I supposed to be doing?  I looked around for clues.  Oh, right, shampoo.  This is the shower.  Just bathe and get out before you drown, Michelle.

If all that didn't make me feel dumb enough, arriving at work to look down and see flip flops on my feet certainly sealed the deal.  Not "dressy" flip flops that you could make a case for wearing to the office.  These flip flops:

They're really comfortable, but now I have to hide in my office all day because flip flops are not exactly dress code appropriate footwear.  I put them on to take my dogs out and never once thought to change into work shoes after that.  One day soon, I'll probably show up barefoot.  Hope my tetanus shot is current.

Other than losing my mind, pregnancy doesn't seem to be doing much else besides giving me never ending heartburn and making me fat(ter).

Four Month Baby Belly

I've gained a total of eight pounds.  I'm not sure how many pounds I'm supposed to have gained at this point.  Eight seems like a lot.  But with Anabel and Silas, I gained 42 pounds each time.  I guess I can consider anything less than that a victory.  

The Glass Castle

My childhood was not ideal.  Things happened to me that shouldn't happen to little kids.  But they did happen, and I've always tried very hard not to use all the pain from those ugly things as a crutch.

I recently read the book The Glass Castle (have you read it?  So good, right?!) and realized I hadn't been doing as good a job as I thought I had.

After stewing on the story for a week, I've realized that while what I endured as a child was nothing compared to what the Walls children endured, I've spent the last twenty years using my pain to anchor myself in fear.  That way I had an excuse to hide from life and settle for less than what I really wanted. 

Reading Jeannette Walls' story woke me up.  For so long, I've just accepted that there are always going to be nightmares and that I am always going to be terrible at interpersonal relationships and that I am not good enough to be a success.

But why have I accepted that?  Why haven't I done something to change my attitude and perception of myself?  Why haven't I gotten real help?

It's time to stop allowing my childhood and the mistakes I've made since then dictate who I am and where I'm going.

What I wanted to say to you is: never be afraid or ashamed to tell your story.  Someone needs to hear it. 

If you need a book that will motivate you and make you so very grateful for what you have, read The Glass Castle.

Some stuff in my head

SHOES

Yesterday afternoon was the commute home from hell.  Traffic and ATMs shorting me money and dragging Silas in and out of different establishments trying to get my errands run and grocery shopping done.  

It was awful, and I accidentally taught Silas the word idiot when I got cut off in traffic.

To make matters worse, Silas takes his shoes off every time we get in the car.  Even if we get in and out of the car 30 times in a day, he takes his shoes off every. furking. time.  So, then I have to put shoes on him 30 different times, but only after I've hunted them down first.  

Jailyn did it too, but she listened better than Silas, so if you told her, "hey, we're getting out in two seconds, please don't take your shoes off", she complied.  

Silas just throws them at my head if I try that with him.

Why with the shoes?  

And scale of 1-10, how trashy am I if I just say "f- it!" and duct tape them to his feet?

CRAVINGS

You know what I craved when I was pregnant with Silas?  Jack in the box tacos (for breakfast) and Eatzi's salads and anyone's guacamole.  All readily available and inexpensive, right?

You want to know what I crave with this baby?  Steak and seafood.

Um, high maintenance little child in there, how do you propose I make room in the budget for steak three times a week?

And seafood?  I'm not even supposed to eat much in that family while you're in there.  However, YOU seem hell bent on making me want lobster and shrimp every other day.

So, amazingly enough, both of my children are making me a tiny bit crazy lately.

THIRTY

I turned 30.

Friday night I cried about it.  By Sunday, I was fine.  By Monday, I was downright thrilled to have left my twenties behind.

They sucked.  Good riddance. 

BIG BOY BED

It's time for Silas to give up the crib (because I don't want to buy another...because I'm cheap).

This week started the transition process to the (free to me) toddler bed.

Monday night at bedtime, he did perfect.  He was excited, and he didn't get up once.  

Around 3:30 a.m., I heard "mommy!" and lots of crying coming from his general direction.  So, I stumbled to the living room and found him roaming around in the dark looking for me.  He'd had a nightmare about a spider.  I had to check his bed for spiders (there were none) and tuck him back in.  He stayed and drifted back off to sleep.

Last night, he was not getting back in that spider-infested bed.  So, I had to check it for spiders again and read an extra story and leave the hall light on.  And then I had to listen to him cry for 13 solid minutes.  "Mommy, something's wrong!  Mommy!  Read me another story!  Mommy!  Mommy!  Mommy!  Mommy!", etc.

It. was. excruciating. 

He got up twice, but I returned him to bed and tucked him back under the covers.  

It must be done at some point, so we'll see what tonight holds.

Welcome to the second trimester

Hello second trimester!  Hi!  Welcome!  Soooooooooo happy you're here, and thank you so much for returning my will to live.

Fine, I admit I've had it pretty easy considering I did not have any nausea or vomiting in my first trimester (do we all remember when it hit with Silas? That's right - third trimester - don't call me a lucky bitch just yet).

Okay, but have you seen my skin lately?

My complexion is usually near perfect.  My BMI may be depressing, and I may have stretch marks, and my eyebrows may be constantly out of control, but my skin is amazing, dammit.

UNTIL THIS BABY.  My skin is gross now.  I become simultaneously exasperated and disgusted every time I see my forehead in the mirror.  I assure you that you do not want to witness the fit I will throw if it doesn't return to normal promptly upon this baby's arrival.

The second trimester has not fixed my skin.  It's still repulsive. 

However, I did manage to hang out with people for, like, an hour last night.  Then we stopped by Wal-Mart before I went home, fed Silas, bathed him, put him to bed, read part of a book, and did a load of laundry.  Wha?!  That's right, I did alllllll that after work.  Holla!

I was beginning to think a mountain of dirty laundry was part of our lives now.  We were just going to have to embrace it and pray that clean underwear wondrously materialized in the mornings.

The entire first trimester, it took a mental whipping for me to get one load of laundry done a week - usually at 7:30 Sunday night because the guilt and shame of  putting my child in dirty clothes the next morning finally beat me down enough to cave and throw a few outfits in the machine.  Then the washing machine would ding, and it would take another mental lashing to drag my ass down the hall to transfer them to the dryer (where they remained until worn).  

Tackling anything after work outside the bare minimum it took to feed us and get us to bed required more effort than I could muster. 

And the weekends?  My mom thinks I've entered a witness protection program.  It's been all I can do to keep my eyes open and keep us alive for two days.  Take a shower?  Take off my sweats?  Leave the house?  You have clearly overestimated my abilities, mom.

Suffice it to say, I've been tired.  

In the midst of the first trimester, I always wonder if I'll ever be able to propel myself off the couch again.  So, obviously, I was relieved when I found myself being able to stay awake past 8:45 this week.

So, now I'm all "maybe I'll do two loads of laundry this weekend just to prove that I can."

Other than that, it's business as usual.  I can't stop crying and feeling fat and being pissed that my jeans don't fit anymore.  Oh you didn't start showing and/or wearing maternity clothes till your fifth month?  I don't like you, and I don't want to be friends.  Please stop talking.  

Here's a visual of me at three months (which was taken two weeks ago - so, I'm probably even bigger now)  Shameful.  (And it will get so. much. worse.)  But maybe this time I'll make an effort to lose weight after I have the baby.  We'll see.  It's a lot of work, ya know?

Yes, yes I do look six months pregnant already

Although I at least have evidence of how freaking cute the end result will be.  It helps me be less bitter about not being one of those super cute pregnant gals with nothing but a basketball belly.

I make really, really cute kids - that's him with his "happy" (i.e. donut holes if we aren't Facebook friends)

Big brother

In my looooooooooooooooong absence from you guys, my son turned into a total angel.  We were in the land of constant compliments for his manners and good behavior (and I didn't even roll my eyes and grunt because I was actually in agreement!).  There had not been a single f-bomb in months.  Dare I say it?  He had even turned into a mama's boy!!!

Well, now I've decided it's you guys.  Almost the minute I returned to the blog, his I-really-like-to-make-my-mommy's-head-spin attitude returned.  (just kidding - mostly)

When I went to pick him up yesterday, he screamed "no, I don't want to go home with you!!!" over and over and over for a full five minutes after I put him in the car, which is totally what you want to hear after missing your baby all. day. long.  He's back to the kicking me and bandying about of profanity and refusing to eat dinner and falling out in the floor when he doesn't get his way.

And my hormones are so not helping this situation.  Because his outbursts just  make me cry and contemplate taking up permanent residence on the couch with my sweat pants and a bag of chips and a pint of chocolate ice cream and ear plugs.

And then he gave me a clue to WTF happened to my angelic child.  

He spied some gear for the new baby sitting on the floor in the living room yesterday and began inspecting it. 

Si: What is this?

Me: It's a bouncer for the new baby.

Si: Why are we getting a new baby?

Me: (literally stare at him for 30 seconds trying to figure that out myself).  We're getting a new baby so that you'll have someone to play with all the time!

Si: But why did you do that?

Methinks he isn't too keen about all this new baby business.  

I know in the long run it will be a good thing for him to have a little sibling.  He's got this huge heart and flat out loves people (kids, grown-ups, you name it).  At the same time, I also get how this is hard for him to wrap his brain around and how it could make him feel a little put out. 

All I know to do is to be as patient as I can with him and to pepper in some really special days to remind him how much he's adored, but your suggestions for how you handled a similar situation are most definitely welcome!