The Kiddles

Oy. This morning I woke up to dreary skies and a sniffly, snotty Alaina. Poor munchkin caught the plague from an unknown source, and is now sneezing/coughing all over the place. I don’t have very much faith that the rest of us won’t follow suit, and man, is this going to be rough. Julianna has never had a cold before, and sick babies are NOT happy campers. Neither are sick husbands, and while I’m taking care of sick babes, I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to baby Andrew like every man craves.

What is it with men, anyway? I had some sort of AWFUL virus a while back, puking all over the place and doubled over with horrific, gut-wrenching stomach cramps. I got treated somewhat like I was exaggerating. A man gets the sniffles and it’s all over. They are going to DIE, they lay on the couch moaning piteously about being toooo haaaaawt and then they are freeeeezing, and then before you know it, they’re hungry and can’t find the remote and need a tissue and a dose of Dayquil and wah wah wahhhhh. If you’re not available to wait on them hand on foot, you clearly do not love them and my GAWD, how DARE you be in the bathroom, he needs VAPOR RUB, you selfish whore. Ahem. I don’t have issues with sick husbands, I swear!  I think I’m just in need of a little TLC now and then to combat this (slight) bitterness.

Moving on… I ordered an exersaucer from Amazon, and it’s not here yet. It says it should be here tomorrow, but I am of little faith. The tracking info says it was shipped on the 29th, but nothing else. As far as I know, my exersaucer is still in Kentucky. Which, no… bad… NOT OKAY. I need that thing! My sanity! It is at stake here! Please, please deliver my exersaucer tomorrow, FedEx people. A sick toddler and a baby who could be getting sick and a mom who could very well lose the three effing marbles she is so desperately clinging to would really appreciate it.

P.S., it looks like it may just rain around these parts in the near future. Andrew broke my windshield wipers mid-summer, and hasn’t found the time (too busy playing with his boat) to fix them yet. If you don’t hear from me soon, it may be because I have killed him.


So on Monday when I said that I would post the results of Julianna’s well check on Tuesday, that was a big fat LIE. Sorry, life got a little bit hectic, as it sometimes does with children in tow. I really can’t blame my kids this time, because my mother was here Sunday night through Thursday night. No time for blogging, no time for photo editing. Now that mom went home, I have more time for stuffing my face with Wheatables and playing in Lightroom while the kidlets nap.

Lia is now tipping the scales at 16 pounds, and she’s a whopping 26 inches tall. While she is only in the 50th percentile for her weight and height, she is in 6-9 month clothes, already having outgrown her newborn, 0-3, and 3-6 month sized outfits. She’s already getting so big, so independent. She’s eating solids (I use the term “solids” loosely), and even some rudimentary crackers and cookies. She’s sitting up. She’s rolling and scooting all over the dang place. She’s even getting up on her sweet little hands and pudgy little knees, giving her belly full ground clearance. She rocks back and forth and gurgles and coos until she inevitably falls, only to get right back up again. That’s my girl.

I look my chubby little Lia and how big she’s already gotten, and I feel so robbed. I feel stupid for lamenting for a single moment, much less months, that she was a girl baby and so we may be done having children (for hubby’s fear of a third girl) (not the end of the effing WORLD, in my opinion). I had a hard time truly bonding with her because of that, until I really took some time to examine my feelings and realize how selfish I was being. She is a beautiful, healthy little girl, and to wish for anything besides her was wrong from day one. I’m so thrilled that I’ve kicked those ill-placed feelings of resentment and fallen so completely in love with my second little princess, my Squish, my Lia Bee. This is the way it’s supposed to be, and I’m finally 100% there.

Getting Big

So, after yesterday’s touch of insanity, I’m feeling a bit better today. I no longer have the violent urge to throw one of my children like a lawn dart, nor the urge to beat my husband beyond recognition. Yay! It’s much nicer to NOT feel like at any moment, I could combust. I think my uterus is a little angrier today, though. Cramps galore! Fun! The kids have been WAY less screechy and whiny today, which makes for a much happier mama. Much less likely to throw one of them, lawn dart style.

(What? I would NEVER throw one of my kids. Maybe.)

Julianna has started solids, full speed ahead. She started waking up during the night again for a little midnight snack, so I assumed she wasn’t getting enough anymore to keep her satisfied through the night. The pediatrician said at her four month visit that her body was READY for cereal, but to hold out as long as I could (for allergy reasons). Well, this whole “holding out” thing I was doing was beginning to cut into my precious sleep time, so rice cereal was introduced. At first she made a lot of “yuck” faces, and even did The Full-Body Shiver of Disgust. She had a few more feedings, and got to the point where she couldn’t get enough. So I gave her some bananas, and life was good. She loved it, no reactions, just a happy, well-fed chub, who slept through the night, praise jeebus. Until the next day, when she unleashed that banana/rice cereal combo from the other end. Her purple butterfly outfit will never be the same.

First Smackrel First Smackrel

I don’t know why I have a headache, but I do. I woke up with it and it’s just sort of continued to set in and be a bother. It’s one of those foggy, I feel weird, I may be getting sick sort of headaches. Oh my GOD, I can’t handle being sick again. I am still getting over being sick from 3 weeks ago when Andrew brought the plague home. I’m too pregnant for this. Don’t the germs recognize this?! Psh, it’s really quite inconsiderate. I’m bringing a whole new person into this world for germs to crawl all over.

Dear Germs,

Give me a break while I gestate your new playground, will you?

XO, Jennie

Maybe I shouldn’t have started scouring the whole house yesterday. I went to Target, bought a bunch of cleaning supplies and a shiny new bucket, and went to work cleaning the baseboards, the doors, the stair railings, the blinds, the windows… I need the house to be dirt free for the new baby. Apparently, I have lost my damn mind. I mean, having the house super-fantastically clean will be nice, but the fact that I have to do it all might end up hurting more than it’s worth. If I get sick right now, I have nothing and no one to blame except my cleaning panic, and maybe Shannon. I saw her for five whole minutes the other day, and she was getting sick. That would be just my luck. Gah.

For now, I’m going to go upstairs, put Alaina down for her nap, then take a shower and hope that burns off some of the yuck that I’m feeling right now. Then my sister and I are going to lunch, and maybe she’ll hang around and make Valentines with Alaina and I. Yesterday I thought I would clean the whole house AND make Valentines with a toddler and glitter glue, because why? Because I am apparently super Jennie these days. Hahaha, aren’t I funny? Now all I REALLY want to do is sleep.

As in, I am totally not one. Alaina just locked herself in her bedroom, and it took me an embarrassingly extended amount of time to get her out. I finally resorted to googling ‘how to unlock an interior door’, and after reading a four sentence paragraph, it was easy. I’m just glad she was locked in her bedroom, which is totally toddler-proof. It also helps to know that she sat in her room, on her bed the whole time, telling me that 1) no, she would not open the door, and 2) she wanted some ice cream. I think the emotional scarring is minimal (for her, at least).

You know you are a bored housewife when you *think* you hear someone touch your screen door, you mute the TV to listen closely, then decide you better go sneak a peek out the blinds in the front room. Just to make sure, you know, no one is coming to get you or anything. Then you go back to write a blog about how pathetically pathetic you are. And then you realize that you are still speaking (or writing, whatever) in third-person, and you’d better do something to redeem yourself.

Look at my way cute kid!
December 2007 030

Yes, that’s probably me. Worst pregnant person to ever live. I’m basing this on the fact that instead of cradling my belly and reading it Shakespeare and sitting around glowing with joy and whatnot, I’m annoyed. I will be overjoyed once this little girl is out and born and here and adorable. Right now though, she is kicking, stretching, poking, and generally and making my existence difficult. Sometimes I just want to SLEEP, but then I can’t, because Miss Fetus is kicking and asking for juice. Or my legs won’t accept that it is BEDTIME, and I feel the insane need to kick my legs wildly or I will definitely explode into a firey, gooey mess (and that would just be inconvenient). Or maybe it’s the Heartburn, the Heartburn that laughs in the face of Tums and Rolaids and can be caused by anything from apple juice to chocolate (and really, how cruel is that?) to pasta sauces. When I was pregnant the first time, everything was cute and magical and I cried all over the place because, like, oh my GAWD, my adorable little baby just kicked the crap out of me! This time? Can I just have the baby? Please? Pretty please with sprinkles?

Of course, there is also the fact that we have a toddler this time around. Last time, I laid in bed and ate cookies and slept as much as I wanted to. Not so much this time with Alaina running around, who of course doesn’t have any real clue what is going on and doesn’t understand why I don’t want to chase her around the front yard as much these days. When I ask her, “Where’s baby?”, she does point to my burgeoning belly and respond with an emphatic, “TUMMY!” Buuuut that’s about as far as it has gone. I’ve tried to tell her many, many times that a new baby will be coming to live with us soon, and when we see new babies at the store I point them out to her. It’s probably really just too much for her not-quite-two year old brain to understand at this point. Regardless of my (somewhat lackluster, I will admit) New Baby Invasion Education Program (which we can just call NBIEP to keep things simple), she is probably going to be really surprised when mommy and daddy go away for a few days, then come home with a real, live, screaming, attention-stealing newborn.

Andrew’s talking about only taking a couple days off when the new baby is born. A COUPLE. As in, I’m out of the hospital, he stays home for maybe a day after, and then BOOM. I’m a single mother of two. I’m a little panicked. What if I have to have a c-section this time around? Granted, everything went really well with Alaina, there is no reason to think there will be any problems this go-around… but then again, every pregnancy is different, every baby has a different sized head, etc. I can’t imagine being in early recovery from a c-section and my husband has up and left me to go back to WORK, the selfish dog. His mom works full time now, so she couldn’t come help out, and he doesn’t want my mom staying with us because he thinks it may actually kill him this time around. Realistically though… someone has to be here to keep me sane. Alaina by herself, after a vaginal birth with no complications, was easy to adjust to and I didn’t really need much help. But with two? TWO?! And all the what-ifs? Guh.

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