Friday, June 29, 2012

A Preggo Update.

I'm "supposed" to be doing this right??? Do you like baby updates? Do you care? Would you hate me if I said I don't. I don't care. Once you have a few babies, its just not as mushy squishy. In fact, yesterday when the midwife said, "See ya in two weeks!" (instead of one month) I asked her why??! Well, it seems I'm just THAT far along. Oh. Good to know. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I do wish it was mushy-squishy-er... its just that life gets in the way and before you know it, you've got a full-on kid and you're wondering where the time went.  So for nostalgia's sake Ima fill out this survey thing that floats amongst the blogs and then add my very artistic picture of the 'bump' as the others do.

How far along?: 28 weeks and 2 days

Total weight gain/loss: 11 pounds gained, bitches. (This is an unfair question. I gained 60 damn pounds with Cooper. I simply don't need to gain a bunch of weight because so much of Cooper IS STILL THERE. Plus, I lived in complete luxury when I was pregnant with Coop... I'd sleep when I wanted, ate whatever and whenever I wanted. Now I'm chasing 5 kids (Lola should count for 3 though, honestly) in 100 degree weather. Damn, I am worn out.

Sleep: Well, I am blogging at 4:30am... so... you make your own conclusions. I'm telling myself I'll get a nap during "Quiet Hour" somewhere around 2pm. That should sufficiently eff up my sleep schedule. I'll catch my boyfriend, Jimmy Kimmel, tonight and then keep the cycle going.

Best moment this week: My mind is clouded with the fact that my thermostat, couch and washing machine "situation" (it is a situation. A rigged eff-ed up situation we inherited with the house... I won't go further) all shit the bed on the same day. So... my most interesting baby moment had to happen yesterday when the nurse at the midwives' office decided to cram in nearly every detail of her life in 10 minutes. She began the appointment thinking it would be hilarious to yell, "Come on down!" in the waiting room. She then babbled on about how clumsy she was as a child and all her various childhood injuries. She finished her long winded story by adding, "yeah, I can't walk and chew gum at the same time!" snicker. snicker. I did not give much thought to her saying this until I was standing alone in the next room, ass bared to the world, waiting on her to get someone to help her with the rhogam needle she had just fucked up. I hate shots like anyone else, but when the nurse declares something like this and then abandons you, its a little unsettling. I just don't know how people like this always find me...

Movement: my babies don't kick in a way that makes me say, "hardy-har-har! This one is a soccer player!" Nope, they SQUIRM. Its relatively reminiscent of the Alien movies. I say this with love. Every so often I hear one of my ribs click because of it.

Symptoms: I don't get this question. Of pregnancy? Well, I do look as though I am smuggling a bowling ball... I'm not nauseous, but I am just ridiculously tired. Mentally and physically. Other than that, I'm chugging along.

Focused on: a damn name. No, no, make that TWO names. What an ingenious idea to not find out the gender! Its been hard enough to decide on names otherwise. Now we need two... one for either! After having Coop, and nearly right before going home from the hospital, the nurse came in to remind us we needed to fill out the birth certificate info before we left. We procrastinated til the bitter end. It's only gotten harder since. I have parameters: must be a decent CEO name, must not have a weird and trendy spelling, yet must be unique, cannot be within the top 50 baby names of the year, must not remind me of someone that sucks. It's hard being me.

Food cravings: yes, please.

Food aversions: nope! Feed me, Seymour.

Nesting: I do not believe with a family my size, I am allowed to 'nest'. There's always shit that needs to get done. I HATE the term 'nesting'. Anytime a pregnant gal gets up to straighten something, some asshat needs to smile and say, "awwwwww, she must be nesting!" Mayhaps we like to keep a clean and organized home too?! ...stepping off the soapbox.

Gender: I've gone over this one. EVERYONE asks me what I think 'it' is though. I usually say 'human' so as to move the conversation along. I will say our family has a history of a bunch of boys. Lola came out of no where. ...But I am carrying a lot like I did with Lola. I truly don't mull it over very often. We will just see.

Labor signs: The more kids you have... the sooner, more often and more ridiculous the little fake-y contractions. Joy of joys!

Belly button in or out: always in. Due to a gall bladder removal, I do not believe I am capable of 'out'... did this question enlighten you? That's what I'm here for.

What I miss: running up and down the stairs without having to stop in the middle. Getting up and down off the floor without looking like an over-turned turtle. Seeing my toes.

What I am looking forward to: seeing the Little One for the first time. I thought I knew so well that Lola was the last... this little person is such a mystery to me!

Well, as promised. An artistic picture of 'the bump':

I'm sorry. I didn't say MY bump... did I? That's not a pretty picture at this point... for I do not have Photo Shop to make it so...

Happy Weekend!

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

How NOT To Tell If Homeschool Is Working...

Since forever my Cooper has not given me the satisfaction of telling me what he wants to be when he grows up.  Never.  Even Zander has said here and there that he would like to be Spiderman.  Coop has never uttered a single opinion on the matter.  Except...

For quite awhile now he has had his mind made up that my brother has THE life.  Being a young bachelor, he has his own quiet apartment, plays lots of video games and loves to sit with his shirt off.  (You can do that when you have your own place, apparently.  Hell... with these temps, I shit you not, I would be wearing nothing if it weren't so... well... gross...  certainly isn't attractive... at.  all....)  So to a then five year old, now six year old THIS WAS THE LIFE.  And I can't say that I don't agree... that is, until I factor in all the adult crap that suddenly occurs to me the longer I dwell on it... you know, rent, bills, food and car and all... But anyway, Cooper had decided he'd move right on in with his Uncle as soon as he was old enough.  Yes, the dream life... two bachelors.  video games.  no shirts necessary.  (and a lot of pizza apparently, says Coop.) 

Cooper's young mind was stunned yesterday when I sat down to pick his brain.  He's quite the conversationalist (I think) and I enjoy throwing random weird questions at him.  "Ya know,"  I started, "[Uncle Bro] has a girlfriend now."  Blank stare.  "What if this girlfriend moves in with him one day??"  Blank stare.  "It may be a little weird what with you sittin' around on his couch all day playing video games with no shirt on."

His eyes became as big as saucers.  You could almost see the trickles of thoughts as they soaked through to his brain.  "[Uncle Bro] might have a family of his own one day,"  he said.

"Yep.  Will you ever have a family of your own?  You might want to rethink your living situation after you leave this house," I said.

He thought quietly for only a second and then started and I knew it would be quite the scheme.  "I'm not going to have a family of my own.  I'm going to live in my own apartment."  And this was the moment I had been waiting for...  I knew he was going to tell me what he wanted to be when he grew up.  Some inkling of an idea, a small rabbit hole into the brain of an intelligent six year old.  Wait for it... oh the anticipation!  What could it be!!?

"I'm going to work at a GAS STATION.  That way I can GET PAID AND BUY CANDY BARS from the same place."

My shoulders slumped.

"Then I'll go home and play video games for three hours.  After that I'll go to bed and then wake up and do it all over again."

Oh, the inspiration.  The motivation.  The...  whatever.

I can tell this homeschool stuff is really working.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Loose End, Loose End. Cut! Cut!

Oh, Monday.  Hello.  There are some days that are just so full, I don't know where to start.  There's just so much crap going on lately and so much to be accomplished that I just almost can't see the forest for the trees.  It's like my big messy garage... there's so much shit in there, I throw up my arms and say, "Eh.  Later."

I thought I'd tie up some loose ends for you.  I mean, because I know you are on the edge of your seat about some things. 

The Damn Weighted Blanket:  not complete.  Well, not started.  Oops.  Could we still use one?  Mayhaps.  Max still wakes up in the middle of the night.  I wouldn't say as often though.  ...and I got such weird advice from everyone.  It's hard to decide where to start... like, SEVERAL people suggested I use BEANS for the weight.  As in, yum-yum-these-beans-are-tasty beans.  Wha???  What happens when he pees the bed?  Can't wash beans.  The Hubs stands by his idea to have my mom crochet washers into a blanket.  Chain-mail?  Sounds painful.  The little booger seems to be doing okay lately.  Back in MAY the school system said THEY would call ME for more specific testing.  Have I heard from them?  Hell-to-the-no.  Thank you for confirming my suspicions, school system.  On a lighter note... due to the sensory issues (I believe), Maximus never wanted to use a cup.  It seemed to cause anxiety over potential spills.  Over the weekend he just decided, "Ima do this."

Now this doesn't mean when it spills he doesn't go ape-shit-crazy.  Screaming, crying and asking one million times (no, for serious), "water-spill???  clean up???" in his Cookie Monster voice.  But at least he tries again and that is an improvement.

Panties?:  I continue to get multiple hits everyday because I have uttered the word 'panties' on this blog.  It was pretty hilarious at first and now slightly annoying.  Here's a non-traditional blogging tip:  use the words fucking, boobs or panties to up your stats, if you're into that sort of thing.  The world is a dirty, dirty place.

Eddie Vedder:  still hasn't called.  What is WRONG with that guy??  sigh.

Rosacea:  it's back bitches.  Two months (?!) ago the dermatologist put me on antibiotics.  Do you know what long-term antibiotics do to a gal?  A pregnant gal???  We won't go there, but I'm done.  If stress is my trigger, it ain't going anywhere.  I'll smear on the cream, think happy thoughts and invest in some plaster-like makeup.  (PS... I hate you, rosacea.)

Anyhoo... we had a pretty shiz-nit weekend.  Here's the pics.


 Well, Ima go kick this Monday's ass.

 Here's to you and me having one great get-it-done week.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Whisper in My Panties?

I am a stat freak when it comes to my blog.  Shame on me, right???  I like to stroke the ol' ego... a lot.  My favorite stat to check is exactly how people have found me... say, via Google.  Muahahaha.

The list always leaves me wondering why the hell my blog came up and if they really got the information they were looking for.  My guess is no... but without further ado...

I would like to officially welcome the following readers who Googled some pretty intelligent things:

"eddie vedder babies mamma"

"funny can't wait to get a vacation"

"woman snatches child and tries 'toeat' it"

"fat person rolling down hill"  - I totally take offense with this one, by the way.

and the winner of the week has just got to be:

"whisper in my panties"

I truly hope you thought this blog was everything you had hoped it would be...  and then some.

***  edited  to say, I can also see Yahoo.  And now you are just messing with my mind.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Pandemonium Ensued.

There is a woman I put on a pedestal.  Well... an upside down pedestal.  What's the opposite of a pedestal?  A hole?  no.  How to put this.  I thought she was just great, but made her my example of what NOT to be.  The Hubs and I would say, "Well at least we're not the Smiths*!" 

A few years back...  Mayhaps Caleb was around, maybe a Coop...  I was teaching kindergarten at church.  The Smiths were one of THOSE large Catholic families who seemed to have a kid in every class available at church.  I hadn't put much deep thought into their family until my youth minister leaned over one morning and said something about the fact that the family's hair was always just a mess.  (For reals.  A mess.)  It was then that I really noticed the mom.  She.  looked.  tired.  Tired.  Her hair was the same, unkempt.  I would tell the Hubs every Sunday, "Man!  I should just offer her a free massage.  She just radiates that she needs one!!"  It had come to my attention that she homeschooled ALL her kids as well.  Freak. 

She became to me my epitome of the tired, worn out mother.  She obviously lacked any time to herself...  no time to shop for modern clothes or even brush her hair, really.  I formed cruel opinions of her.  Decided I was sooo much cooler than that.  No matter what, I would never end up like Mrs. Smith.  Never throw my hair up in a disgusting pony tail.  Never obviously neglect the appearance of my children.  I was certainly not going to have as many kids as her.  I could never get an accurate count, but thought she had seven, SEVEN children.

It was later in that kindergarten year, after the kids had dominated the Sign of the Cross, that my ever over-indulgent ego thought I would teach the class the Our Father.  "Children"  I said, "Has anyone ever heard of the Our Father?"  It was then that one of the Smith kids raised his hand and said he did.  "Of course you do."  I thought to myself.  ugh.  "Go ahead Bob*,"  I said in front of the class.  "Recite the Our Father for us." 

And so he said, "Okay....  but do you mind if I say it in LATIN?"

Mmm.  Hmmm.  In my mind I was freaking out a little.  Wheels began cranking.  I rubbed an imaginary chin.  Re-thought everything I thunk in two seconds time.  "duuuh... go ahead."

Twas then that I began to think homeschooling may just be... the shit.

When I decided to homeschool Coop, Mrs. Smith was the first person I asked, "Uh... what the hell??"  Looking back, the decision to homeschool is simple.  Being a newbie... it's ridiculous.  She was insanely helpful.  My earlier opinions slowly fell away.  I didn't see the tired mom, instead I saw a mom that didn't care about appearance.  Her priorities are just totally different. 

Hold the phone though.  She's still the church joke.  Or she was.  All those kids.  Homeschooling.  Freakazoid. 

I mozied into church with the Hubs yesterday to pick up three of the minions from vacation bible school.  I was looking pretty amazingly hot.  Unbrushed pony tail.  Thrift store yoga pants.  Kawasaki tee shirt.  (Cause I ride motorcycles, like, constantly.)  We had the two little ones with us.  Quickly the church lobby busted out into fitful roars of laughter.  (Not really, I think a few people were tee-hee-heeing in the corner).  We walked up on a group of gabby ladies.  The short annoying one, who always, always asks about my mother (I've never mentioned her... have I... there's reasons for that...) giggles and says, "There you are!  Someone just told me you were expecting!"  Always the smart ass, I said, "yep.  here I am.  There it is." pointing to my belly.  Mrs. Smith strolls over.  The short one says, "Well we were just saying that you're really giving them a run for their money!" pointing to Mrs. Smith.  Mrs. Smith then laughs (mayhaps evil-ly?) and says, "Yep.  I have six kids.  I bet you're going to surpass me!"

This is where I fainted.  Ambulances were called.  Pandemonium ensued. 

Not really.  I giggled and said, "we'll see."  In my brain I said, "Fuck."

Meet the new Mrs. Smith.

*Names changed to protect the innocent and so that I may continue to bitch, bitch, bitch about people (almost) anonymously...

Friday, June 08, 2012

I Still Haven't Graduated.

I sat down the other night to open emails and generally let my brain go, "blaghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."  (If you happen to notice me on Facebook every two hours it is because I am reaching melt down and must simply close my bedroom door for five minutes.  There's nothing more therapeutic than reading someone's latest opinion on Glee or how much someone's life sucks or just how it rocks so. damn. hard. know the ones I'm talking about... I digress.)  Anyway. 

I opened my email to find that my Best Buy credit card was about to be closed due to... inactivity??  We're a pretty frugal lot.  I am sure you have assumed this by the shear amount of children I have.  We were pretty dumb with credit a few years back.  Back before 5 kids and a mortgage.  I was dumber before I got married.  I DESERVED certain things, ya know??  People die everyday in third world countries, but I NEED Clinique make-up!  (Damn it.)  I had a come-to-Jesus meeting with myself (the meeting lasted years, actually) and I've learned the finer things in life.  Baby giggles.  Holding hands.  Sunshine on my face.  All free.  I've come out stronger and smarter. 

On to my email. 

Because we've gone rather "Dave Ramsey" with the whole thing, we don't have any credit cards...  except the one lonely Best Buy card.  Taken out when my dryer decided to roll down my drive way in our move to this house.  Used for a washing machine and dryer and never to see the light of day again.  Paid off, done and done.  But wait.  I explained to the Hubs, "Hey.  We need ink." (Do we ever not need ink??  I wish I owned a freaking ink company.) "Why don't I buy it on the card, pay it off and then we can keep a card just for credit score purposes or what not?"  Seemed innocent enough.

The thoughts aren't even completely thought out.  They come in waves.  Like little angels and devils on my shoulders.  I looked at the website.  Wait...?  I get a percentage off because this is a rewards card?  Free shipping.  FREE shipping??  My brain went into slight overload.  The big kids wanted book lights.  Father's Day is coming up.  Mmmm...  lets look at laptops.  What?  WHAT?! 

Shut up!  Shut up!  Shut the hell up.

I quickly ordered the ink and closed the whole damn computer down.

Clearly, I have not graduated.

It's easy to plead frugal-ness until "opportunity" whether real or hazardous presents itself.  Baby just doesn't REALLY need a new pair of shoes until it looks like you may just be able to get them.

It's a process. 

Friday, June 01, 2012

Time to Sharpen Your Weapons.

Well, it's here folks.  Time to load up your bunker, sharpen your Gerber weapons and review your zombie killing skills.


I find this to be completely disturbing.

Here's a few more articles I've dabbled in this week:

Police stunned by child dismemberment

Maryland man charged with killing, eating man's brain, heart

Police:  Homeless Woman Snatches Baby From Stroller, Tries to Eat Its Arm

Man Accused of Eating Wife's Lips

...sooo, I'm not sayin'... I'm just sayin'...

Don't you worry... at least if the Zombie Apocalypse is nigh, you won't have to contemplate giving birth in the woods.

But hey, I got my sassy pants on... everything's gonna be alright.

Happy... Weekend...?

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