Some things I know since becoming a Grown-up 'N Shit.

-You will always want another brownie.

-You will always want your mommy when you're sick, whether you're 2, 12, or 30.

-Moms know your family recipes by heart and when they recite them to you, they include words like "a handful," "a smidgen," "a wee bit," and "fuck if I know."

-Dads fix things.

-Your babies can make you smile even when you feel like crying, and vice versa.

-Only another parent will understand you when you say to your spouse, "Ohmygod, why won't she just SHUTTHEFUCKUP," about your child, while childless people gasp in horror.

-Your infant's green poop could be bottled and used to kill terrorists as a WMD.

-Martinis make the world a better place.

-The smell of Johnson & Johnson's baby lotion has crystal meth in it; that's the only reason why it's so addictive.

-Some of your friends will disappear when you have kids. You won't resent them; you'll just miss them.

-You will make new friends whose ties transcend the borders of age and distance and will bind you just as close.

-You will think you are failing.

-Your husband can make you feel beautiful, even though all you see is saggy skin and stretch marks in the mirror.

-Your toddler will get into your makeup.

-Your grandmother will get sick and you will know the rest of her life will be spent in a nursing home.

-Your mother and sister will become your friends.

-Slagathor is a funny fucking nickname.

-After delivering two children, you will pee yourself often.

-3 a.m. is 4 a.m.'s bitch.

-Your cats will puke on the only piece of rug in a whole room of tile.

-Your fridge has some weird sticky shit at the bottom, behind the produce drawer.

-You think King Triton was a bad-ass parent.

-The Hoff is the man.

-PIVOT!

If you do not get this reference, please refer to this clip:

Quick reminder

Maggie2 was the winner of the Jillian Michael's 30-Day Shred DVD and she's yet to claim her prize. Originally, I was going to re-pick on Wednesday if I didn't hear anything, but I felt guilty so I have it through today.

Maggie2, I don't have your email and you didn't have a blog, so please email me with your address for your prize by the end of the weekend.

Otherwise, to be fair, I'll pick another winner and announce it on Monday morning.

Up and Dirty

(Up and Dirty is the way I like my martinis. Get your heads out of the gutter.)

Last night, I went for sushi and drinks with a couple of girlfriends and the feeling of being able to eat my food without snarfing it down because dude, the baby needs to eat again, why can't we, like, give him a bag of grain and tape it to his head or something, was so nice. I forgot what it was like to eat at a pace like a normal human and not that bizarre tiny Asian woman Sonia who wins all the hot dog eating competitions.

Even though my meals are always healthy these days, I still feel like I inhale each bite and have to clear my plate in record time so that I can tend to whatever screaming child needs something ridiculous like food. Charlotte is fairly self-sufficient and eats dinner at the table with us or can fend for herself in the pantry (we keep her healthy snacks within her reach) if she's hungry and we're busy. Sawyer, however, has this uncanny ability to HAVE A MASSIVE STROKE every damn time I'm about to put the fork of hot food to my mouth. Or sit down and read or catch up on emails. Or shower. He's a good, quiet, happy baby 94% of the time. The other 6% I'm trying to do something.

He starts going to their dayhome next week with Charlotte to get him used to it before I go back to work in a week and a half. It's such a relief to be able to take him somewhere I feel safe with, somewhere his sister will be with him, and somewhere I know he's loved like family. That kind of childcare situation is hard to come by and I know how lucky I am and don't take it for granted.

It's going to be weird not having to care for someone during the day again, and for myself to be my main priority. In a couple of weeks, any "alone" time I will have will very quickly be filled with editing and deadlines and such, but next week when both kids are there for those two days, I have nothing to do. No one to take care of, no diapers to change, no bottles to make. For 8 hours. And can I tell you a secret?

I'm so excited I could pee.

In the middle of the night...

His warm head feels heavy in the bend of my arm, though I know it is not. The heat of his skin on mine causes little beads of sweat to form on the inside of my elbow. I reach for a blanket to put a barrier between his fuzzy scalp and my arm, so I don't make him uncomfortable.

He takes deep, thirsty pulls on his bottle making hmmmff pfffffffff noises through his nose. His arms are still wrapped in his swaddling blanket, prone at his sides, like a soldier at attention in my arms. His feet are out because he's gotten a little tall for the blanket and they kick at the air, bicylcing somewhere in his dreams. He stays asleep during these night feedings.

I hear his grunts and rousings before he's fully awake, and whisk him out of the room in the darkness. I change his diaper without unwrapping him, in the dark and still house, the moonlight often as bright as dawn through the windows. I can see the backyard fully in the milky white light and wonder if there's a raccoon on my deck, looking for a meal for her babies. I don't talk to him or even smile at him so that he stays asleep, so that I can get back to my warm bed as quickly as possible.

I sit in the silence and the darkness, the music of the cat batting around a toy and the whir of the central air the only soundtrack as he finishes his bottle within minutes. I prop him on my shoulder and feel his face find that spot in the corner of my neck where it seems to fit like a puzzle piece. I inhale his smell and trace the velvety outline of his hairline with my lips as I rhythmically pat-pat-pat on his tiny back. He lets out a whooooooooof of air and sometimes gets the hiccups.

I return him to the crook of my arm, wipe his mouth, and carry him wordlessly up the stairs. I put him back in his bed and he sucks happily on his pacifier without ever opening his eyes.

I creak open her door and peek in. She's come uncovered, so I go to her and pull her her fuzzy blanket to her chin. I brush the hair off her forehead and kiss her cool skin. She often rouses, looks at me, and says "hi momma" before clutching her doll, replacing her pacifier, and falling back into her dream world.

I close the door as silently as I can behind me and slip under my covers next to my warm husband. Sometimes, I lie awake and listen to the breathing of the three people whose life I'd give mine for. In and out. In and out.

Often, so often, in tune together.

The symphony of my family.

I'm featured

My post on BPA has been featured over at BlogNosh Magazine. Go check it out; the whole magazine is pretty awesome.

And the winner is...

Ok, here's what went down. There were 56 comments, but one was a double comment, one was by me, and one was someone who didn't want it but echoed how awesome it was. That left 53.

I went to the Random Number Generator.



Clicked Go. And....



Maggie2 is the winner! Sorry to everyone else. I really wish I had enough to send to all of you because it is really awesome and you all deserve it. You should go buy it anyway; they just dropped the price on Amazon and it's only $9.99. Well worth it.

Maggie, send me an email by clicking here with your address and I'll get this out most likely tomorrow or Wednesday! If I don't hear anything by Wednesday morning, I'll re-pick the winner.

A first

Smile!


(Okay, so it's more like an evil sneer, but it WAS a smile and this is what the camera caught.)

Don't forget about my DVD giveaway here. I'm closing comments at 7 pm tonight and will use a random number generator to pick the winner. I've done this DVD three times and it's still kicking my ass and I'm not bored!

And I talk more about the road to getting back in shape and healthy over at Life After with some other awesome women. Today, I discuss my dysfunctional relationship with my scale.

While I'm pimping myself, I also have an awesome sugar free, very low fat Pumpkin Pie recipe up at my cooking blog Chop. Stir. Mix. It's only 2 Points a slice for those of you on Weight Watchers. It tastes like real pumpkin pie and doesn't suck. Promise.

A Milestone

In November, we are giving Charlotte her own room. Originally, because we have a small house and because I saw no real reason why not to, the kids were going to share a room. We only have two bedrooms upstairs and I wanted them to be near me. We have another bedroom on the first floor but had made it into a dining room since we have a small eat-in kitchen that's not big enough for dinner parties.

After two years in this house, we've used that dining room maybe three times. Apparently, dinner parties are not something that people with small children have as often as they think they will. So, we're going to turn that room into a big girl bedroom for Charlotte. I have my old bedroom furniture from when I lived at home and since it's oak, it's still in good shape. It's also bunk beds (that can be separated), which I think she'll really like in a few years. For now, we'll make the top bunk The Place Where Stuffed Animals Go To Die.

I'm excited to make this room for her and of course it will end up being a Dora or Mermaid Room. which is okay thanks to the invention of those removable wall stickers. I can paint the walls a neutral color and she can change the theme of her room as often as she likes with those stickers.

Sawyer will move into her room and the crib once he outgrows his hammock which is one reason we chose November - he'll be just about four months and ready to make the transition. Another reason is that Kellie, Cass, and Kristin (and hopefully Kelly) are coming to visit in November and Charlotte's room will be a cat-hair free place for Kellie to sleep. It gives me a deadline to get her room finished and we'll move her in after that weekend of female debauchery.

Because my child doesn't like a change in her routine, we decided to make her crib into her toddler bed so she could get used to "a big girl bed" since she'll be going into a twin-size in November. We didn't want to overwhelm her with a new bed AND a new room. So we decided to let her get used to a real bed before we moved her downstairs.

All afternoon, we talked it up and let her play in it. She seemed excited to go to bed at night, repeating that "I go in my big girl bed!" But when we got up there, it was a different story. It took some convincing to even get her in it, and she kept opening the closet door, where Mike had put the crib side and crying "Daddy come fix it!" I eventually got her in the bed and sat on the floor next to her crib. I didn't want to stay until she fell asleep because I didn't want her to get used to that. So I sat and rubbed her head for a few minutes, got up, kissed her goodnight, and walked out. She cried but she stayed in her bed. She hit her mobile (one of her comfort items; it plays music and projects stars on the ceiling) a few times, but after about 30 minutes, she fell asleep.

And stayed in her bed ALL NIGHT. I fully expected to wake up to a toddler face within inches of mine or have her freak out in the middle of the night, but there was none of that. I don't let my kids sleep in my bed so I expected a night of getting up 30 times to put her back in her own bed. But, nothing! I hear her up around 7:30 and when I went to get her she was proud of herself, "I sleep in my big girl bed Momma!"

I was so proud of her. I made a big deal out of it and made her blueberry pancakes to celebrate.

She's becoming such a little person, no longer my baby. I'm thrilled at what a wonderful little girl she's becoming and at the same time, totally and utterly heartbroken.

Slow down just a little, okay baby?

My Loss, Your Gain

We all know I have a toddler, a newborn, and a brain full of the same mush that is on the table next to the comb and brush in Goodnight Moon.

So it should come as no surprise that when I ordered Jillian Michael's 30-Day Shred DVD from Amazon, that my dumb ass would do this:

Yep, I ordered two. No idea how, but I did. Everything else in the order was fine, but it's just as well since I've decided to give one to YOU. I know, I know. I'm such a philanthropist.

I ordered it after I heard a bunch of buzz about it on Twitter and from Linda at All and Sundry. For those of you that don't know her, Jillian Michael's is one of the trainers on The Biggest Loser, known for her aggresive and no-nonsense no-crap style and I always liked her the best. Normally, I hate workout videos and had tried a bunch on our cable On Demand. They all sucked and I stopped all of them within minutes, thereby significantly reducing the effectiveness of said workout. I felt corny, even alone in my own house, and couldn't get the coordination down. They said left, but it was MY left and they were going right which was supposed to confuse me less since I'd be moving the same way as them on TV but it actually confused me MORE. I suppose from marching in my stint in the ROTC while in high school and from my years of step aerobics that I'm used to listening for the command rather than watching it on TV. They'd say left, but go right, and I'd go right, but they meant left, and in a small living room with a blond, it was a disaster. I'm surprised there was nothing broken, in my house or body.

This video was nothing like that at all. No weird moves, no left or right, just 20 minutes of ass-kicking. And she's not corny at all: "If you're looking for the modified version of the jumping jack, look elsewhere. I have 400-pound people doing jumping jacks, you can do it too." She was motivating and stern while being supportive and encouraging.

I prefer the gym but there are some days that I just won't be able to go if I want to like, sleep, or something crazy, so to have this in the house to be able to pop in and be done in 20 minutes is great.

And now, you can have one in your house too! Just leave a comment by Monday night and I'll use a Random Number Generator to chose the winner.

If you need something to say, tell me what your favorite workout song is. What gets your ass moving?

I'm back

Phew, that was addictive. Good thing I read fast or my family may have ended up dirty and hungry.

I finished Twilight in just about 8 hours and I have to admit I liked it. Often, when so many people tell me - nay, INSIST - that I do something, I have a gut reaction to punch them in the nards (Wolfman has nards?!? Bonus to whomever gets that movie) and do the exact opposite. I resisted the little man named Potter and yet got sucked in anyway. So when this hubbub started to boil, I figured I better get on the bandwagon before I went back to work and had little (read: absolutely ZERO) time to myself to read for pleasure.

It was good. Very addicitive. Kind of like teenage crack. I fully intend to read the rest of the series, but I have some things around the house to get done and know if I start, I won't be able to stop. Then Mike will come home and find Charlotte eating Fluff out of the container while watching Dora Mermaid Kingdom for the 86th time and Sawyer will be being fed his bottle by the cats. Better to wait until I have the other small projects under control.

I knew they were making a movie about it, but I didn't want to check until I was done. After I finished reading it, I went online to check out the cast. I wasn't thrilled. They didn't look like they did in my head, especially Edward. But I guess that's what happens when you make a book a movie. So far, the worst casting I think that's ever been done for a book-made-movie has been Tom Hanks as Robert Langdon in The DaVinci Code. I damn near cried when I heard that. It made me not to want to see the movie, though I eventually did, just like I'm sure I'll cave and see this one.

What about you? What's the worst casting for a book-made-movie? Or do you have an example where you think the casting people got it spot on?

Beep

Hi.

You've reached AndreAnna's blog. She's not here right now because when she's not taking care of her family, home, and self, she's mind-numbingly engrossed in a god-forsaken book about a teenage vampire. Oh, woe.

She purchased it yesterday around 3 pm and is almost finished. Somehow, her children are clothed and fed. Though, due to the fact that there are three more books in this series to read, you may want to send help in a few days to ensure this. Please leave a message at the beep.

Beep.

Pimping

Don't know if you guys have been following Foodie on ChapterBytes, but I just wrote Chapter 13 and it's up!

It's a fiction blog where each person writes a new chapter of the story and I decided to give it a try. If you need some time to kill, start at Chapter One. There's been some great writers and cool twists and it's fun!

Twilight?

Usually I'm on the foreground of knowing what's going on with books and such. However, since I squirted out a kid six weeks ago and have another one who just turned two, my days go a little something like this:

IOFHRE9UVNU9IREHGV9U4H5YU23409UIOJshitFDVOIDSOICHOIE
HVOUDFOVIHNSOdamnitDHVCODUFBVOIUDcrapFSHVOIUDHFVOHFVOD
HVODFIHfrickVODFHVODHLCSJXCOjeebusLISJDOIFEOIHVLKSJDJVODIJJ

Not only have I not been on the up and up, but the last book I read was over three months ago. For this, I am shamed. I kept hearing people being unable to put this Twilight series down, much like the Harry Potter books, and I eschewed the idea just as I did Harry Potter. Until I got sucked in.

Now, how many of you have read this series? Is it worth my precious little time? My booksfree.com is out of stock so I'd have to buy them - worth the money?

Finish Me

I usually don't do these, not for any reason in particular, but today my brain is fried from too much newborn screaming and toddler's MOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMYMOMMYIDIDPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPS that I can't think straight enough to form coherent words into sentences of my own.

So I took this from Sunshine over at ...and the pursuit of happiness.

Finish the sentence.

Maybe I should get the baby's bottle ready so he doesn't go from fussing to FREAKINGTHEFRICKOUT before I can shove the nipple in his mouth.
I love the smell of coconut lotion. Reminds me of Hawaii.
People would say that I am funny.
I don’t understand why the Map's voice makes me want to punch puppies.
I lost my friggin' Elph and I still can't find it. I swear the toddler has it hidden somwhere.
Life is hard but worth it.
My past involves copious amounts of booze and men. Yee-haw. (I mean, I love you honey. You're the only man I've been with.)
I get annoyed with close-minded people.
My idea of a good time is going out for dinner and drinks.
I wish I had more money.
Twins are wonderful but I'd run out into traffic.
Dust bunnies are my arch nemesis, especially with two cats and wool rugs. I vacuum every single day. I shall win!
Tomorrow I’m going to go to the gym while my poor mother watches my kids. Then, we're going to hit the boardwalk in the evening.
I have low tolerance for people driving slow in the left lane.
I’m totally terrified of moths. I know, I know. I'm a pussy.
I wonder why our country elected a man who says "nuke-u-lar" to office TWICE.
Never in my life have I hated the word "mine" as much as I do now that I live with a two-year old dictator.
High school was a private military marine science school. Yes, I am a nerd. Huge one.
When I’m nervous I talk too fast and get sweaty.
One time at a family gathering my 73-year old grandmother and I got drunk on amaretto. Worst. Hangover. Ever.
Take my advice: chill the hell out. Life is short.
Taking a good picture isn't hard if you have a good camera.
I’m almost always running around like a beheaded chicken doing 50 million things at once. It's how I like my life.
I’m addicted to my laptop, COFFEE, Ugly Betty, blogging, Bones, good books, smelling my baby, laughing at my toddler, shoes, coffee, shoes, coffee, shoes. Wow, I think I have a problem.
I want someone to superclean my house from top to bottom and hide money while doing it, preferably this person is David Boreanz and he is nekkid. Just saying.

Gonna tag:
Kristin from Kristin's Four Kids
Kellie from My Little Corner of Life
Cass from Cass. Just Curious.

And anyone else whose brain is mush.

I'm an Olympic....Nothing

Watching the Olympics has a dual effect on me. On one hand, I am blown away by the condition of the human spirit and the strength and speed of our (I use the term "our" loosely) bodies. On the other hand, I am depressed because I don't think I'll ever be that good at anything.

There are some people competing in two events, e.g., triathlon and swimming. So that means they're not just phenomenally good at one thing; they're the best in their field at TWO things. The. Best. As in no one is better than them at that particular thing.

And here I sit, just showered at 11 am, spit up on my shoulder, fifty extra pounds around my middle, muscles sore from the gym, bleach smell on my hands from scrubbing the tub, and wonder: What am I that good at? Will I ever make my mark at being the best in anything? I'm good at lots of things. I'm great at some things.

I'm a good cook and baker.

I'm a good editor and hard worker.

I'm a good housekeeper and organizer.

I'm a great friend and wife and mother.

But I'll never win the equivalent of Olympic Keeping My Shit Together or Olympic Diaper Changer or Olympic Swaddler. Because there is no such thing.

I'm not the best at anything. And I never will be. And I'm mostly okay with that.

And still, a little sad.

Overheard while watching the Olympics

Me: Oh, damnit. How come everytime I turn on the Olympics, boxing is on? What's on the other channel?

Mike: Badminton. You should watch it. Those guys are insane. I can barely even see that thingie fly.

Announcer: Lin Dan is ranked as the 8th most popular celebrity in China.

Me: Did he just say a badminton player is a celebrity?

Mike: Maybe he's badass. Where are the American badminton players?

Me: I don't know but I bet they get less ass than this guy.

Mike: You don't know that. There could be badminton groupies all over his shit.

Charlotte: I WATCH DORA?!?!

Me: No, I'm watching a Chinese badass badminton player.

Charlotte: BADASS!

----

Me: How come the girls in beach volleyball have their bathing suit bottoms up their butt? Wouldn't shorts be more comfortable than a permanent wedgie?

Mike: Huh? What? I just saw ass and didn't hear you.

---

Me: Oh. My. God. How is ping pong an Olympic sport?

Mike: It's table tennis. They're intense.

Me: I'm not saying it doesn't take skill. I just don't think it's a sport.

Mike: Who's winning?

Me: Chi -- OH NO they di'int just stop for a time out IN PING PONG. With Gatorade?!!?

Mike: It's hard work. They need replenishing.

Me: I just did the laundry. GET ME SOME GODDAMNED ELECTROLYTES!!

---

Ah, the Olympics. Bringing families together.

Like sister, Like brother

Charlotte, 6 weeks old



Sawyer, 6 weeks old

I already know I'm weird

Ok, since I already know what a nutball full of nutty nutlicious goodness I am, I'm going to just go for it.

Do you give your animals voices? And create their internal monologues for them in your head?

Like my one cat, Cronus, is English to me. He has a very thick British accent and is very aloof and sanctimonious. Can't you see it? I shall not, ever, lick my bum. Not ever.


And my old cat Bacchus reminded me of a dictator. He was sinister and cunning, so in my head, he was German. See? Valkommen to Hell, Bitches!

Our new kitty, Leonardo DiCatrio, is a stoner. Total beach bum playing hackey sack and probably would smell like patchouli. Duuuuuuuuuude.

Dear Deep End,

I am here.

Love,
AndreAnna

Need to smile?

Here's my kid dancing to Chromeo (love them as I love them- they just make me wanna shake my tush)

(also a cameo by Sawyer)

Bald is Beautiful, Right?

Both of my kids are/were bald. Charlotte, at 28 months only has hair to her mid-neck and as only had one trim her whole life. Any hair Charlotte was born with was completely gone by 6 months, replaced by peach fuzz.


And even by her first birthday, she only had wisps but I was going to put those wisps in a bow, damnit.

It seems the same is en route for my son. However, instead of losing is gracefully (although I remember that the bald spot from the crib/bassinet on the back of the skull was never very cute), he is losing in typical male pattern form. Starting at his temples, and almost all the way back to the center of his skull is bald - fuzzy, baby bald. But right in the middle of his head, above his forehead, he has this little tuft of hair. See? It's just so sad. He looks like a little old man:


Poor kid.

I hope something sprouts up soon. But if he's going to be blond like his momma, he may have to wait. Patrick Stewart, Andre Agassi, Bruce Willis, Sean Connery, Jason Statham, Chris Daughtery Vin Diesel, Mr. Clean - they all pull it off right? Bald can be sexy! Did I leave any other hot bald me out? I had fun thinking about it though!!

And for fun, Houston, we have Reaching!!

Setting the Record Straight

Yesterday was rough. Everyone has those days and for me to only have one or two of them a month with a newborn and toddler is pretty damn good. Even on the broken sleep I get.

Something didn't come across in my post yesterday that I feel needs to be addressed. Yes I was tired and run-down. (Head on over to my post at Life After Baby where I explore the reasons for this more.) But what I felt I left out was that the reason for this was in no means reflective of my husband's help or involvement.

The reason I get up in the middle of the night right now is because he gets up for at 5 am everyday and since I'm not back to work yet, I feel it's a fair tradeoff. He gets up and feeds him on the weekends and lets me nap whenever I need to without question.

When I am at work, we almost work in parental shifts. On the days I am home, I'm with the kids while he is working a 6-2 shift, and when he gets home, I retreat to the basement office where I put in my office hours and he is the primary care giver.

I married a man who is my complete partner, no less. We are not in this 50/50. We are in this 100% each. We both do housework. We both cook. We both take care of the kids - nighttime feedings, sick babies, dirty diapers, errands, dayhome pickups.

He was at almost every OB appointment and every ultrasound. He held my hand and my leg while I delivered both of our babies. Charlotte's first diaper was not changed by me - he did it. When I was nursing Sawyer, he would get up and change him 2-3 times a night and then bring him to me, so my effort was minimal. He also took on extra care of Charlotte, giving her more attention when I had to be more focused on the newborn.

The fact that I gave birth to these children does not make me any more of a parent or him any less of one.

Yesterday, after reading a couple of comments on my blog, he was disheartened. He felt that people thought he was slacking and that was the reason I was tired. He felt that people assumed he wasn't doing his fair share.It started a conversation about husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, men and women. Then it turned towards a little anger. He asked me: Why do people always assume that the husbands are doing less? That they aren't EQUAL partners in marriage and life and parenting? That it isn't 1940? That men are just as capable of being active parents and spouses?

And he's right.

Too many men get a bad rap.

I'm here to set the record straight on mine. He is a wonderful father, husband, and human being. He is just as involved in this house and with our children as I am.

It is not 1940 anymore. We need to stop treating men like they don't belong in the kitchen, in an apron, scrubbing toilets, food shopping, or changing diapers. Being a good father and a good husband means more than showing up for dinner, reading a bedtime story, and putting his socks in the hamper. It means being an equal in a partnership and marriage, even if the duties are a little different if one parent stays home and one parent spends more time at work.

I think it's sad that to be this kind of man is often looked at as emasculate and "wifely."

I call bullshit.

I think it's sexy.

But if that's the case, I'm proud of my "wife" and I hope he is proud of his "husband."

End of Rope: My current location

Today is one of those days that I just feel frayed. Charlotte is extra tantrumy (yes, it's a goddamned word), Sawyer keeps almost falling asleep and then being jolted awake by one of Charlotte's said tantrums, and I am exhausted. My eyes actually hurt from being tired. I spent five minutes in the mirror this morning with make-up remover trying to get the remnants of my eye makeup off. Yeah, it wasn't makeup. That actually is the color under my eyes. Anyone have any good concealer recommendations?

I am usually only up once a night feeding the baby but right after Mike's alarm goes off at 5 am, he is stirred awake, not hungry, but has had enough of his bed and wants mine. With him cradled in the crook of my arm, I slip in and out of sleep being awoken (waked? awaken? wtf?) by his every grunt and the pins and needles in my extremities from contorting myself in a way that he is comfortable. I suppose after a month of this, it begins to take its toll.

Today, I put salt in the fridge and despite a two-hour nap when Mike got home, I still feel like I'm teetering on the edge of sanity. One more fricken meltdown over the fact that I won't give my toddler marshmallows for a meal and I feel like I'm going to walk into the woods, cover myself in honey, tie myself to a tree, and let the ants eat my eardrums, because surely that has to be more pleasurable than the pitch a two-year old can reach when FLIPPING HER SHIT.

To make matters worse, it has been a gorgeous day out and I never got my stuff together to get the kids out. I kept trying to but the day kept shitting in my hat. My only escape was into sleep where I kept dreaming I found my lost camera.

Oh, I didn't mention that? Yeah I lost my Elph. I guess that's the thing with a tiny camera and a post-partum brain the size of a walnut: I. Lose. Everything.

I'm sure it will turn up but I checked everywhere and though I still have "the" camera, I miss the convenience of the little one.

Good thing I have at least one so I can get my newborn-50-picture-a-day fix. Especially considering that after a recommendation from Jennifer at Playgroups are No Place for Children, I am a Picnick* whore. It's the best photo-editing software for bungholes like myself. Now, I have Photoshop CS3 and though I keep meaning to teach myself how to use it properly (I even bought a book! With a DVD!), I kind of fumble around the internet for tutorials and slowly teach myself here and there. Picnick cuts out the middle man and does what you want to do to your pictures without making you want to kill yourself for an hour trying. Granted, it helps if the photo you're working with is from a good camera and isn't total crap, but it's still awesome.

Check it:







*Again, not paid for this. Though I should seriously start whoring myself for cash if I'm gonna keep pimping products.

My little porker

Sawyer had his one-month well visit today and since his birth, he has gained over 2 1/2 pounds. He's now almost 10 pounds and 23 inches.

He still hasn't had any shots and I'm lucky that the pediatricians we go to are very understanding and accommodating. We plan to vaccinate but we have decided to follow Dr. Sears' alternate schedule. He'll get no more than two shots at once and only one of those shots will contain aluminum. We are also going to split the MMR shots up as well as doing titers to check for immunity before giving boosters. We're both happy with this decision and feel that vaccinating is important, but were not comfortable with the CDCs recommended schedule.

More importantly, he actually is starting to interact with us and be a real little person. He plays on his mat and even tries to reach for the toys, batting them with his fist. He makes eye contact and turns at the sound of my voice. He's also starting to make those little baby sounds, adding the ahhhs and oohs to his grunts and grumbles.

I'm really enjoying him and part of me feels so guilty for this because I did NOT enjoy Charlotte as a newborn at all. I loved her - more than air - but I didn't enjoy her for the first couple of months. It wasn't really her fault; she had GERD and was in pain quitre often and as a result screamed her bloody head off all day long cried a lot. Add in my breastfeeding woes, and I felt like I was failing completely. I couldn't make her happy. She was put on Prevacid which helped but until she grew a bit she wasn't fun to be around. When she wasn't sleeping, she was crying or puking. When we weren't sleeping, we were trying to get her to stop crying or cleaning up puke.

Of course, time passed and life moved on. She got better and lit up.

But Sawyer is a different baby. As he was lying on the exam table, arms and legs splayed, looking around quitely aaaahing, even the doctor made note what a calm, relaxed baby he was. He didn't even cry while she poked and prodded.

I'm so enjoying this stage and his little newbornness, whereas last time I kept wishing it would hurry up and end. And I feel like such a shit for feeling that way.

Tell me I'm not alone. Did you enjoy one of your children more as newborn than the other?

The weight loss journey continues

I don't want to post the same stuff twice, so jump over to my other blog Life After Baby and read about my weight loss journey. (Bonus: fat pics of me from college).

You asked for it

After I posted this awesome picture:

of my toddler playing dress-up in a flowergirl dress from the early 80s, many of you asked for a picture of me in the dress. I called my mom and had her send over my baby albums.

And it turns out I wore this dress as a flower girl in not one but TWO weddings.


How cute was I?


Nothing like a 1984 buffet wedding in Brooklyn


OMG the hair!

---

While going through the albums I found my newborn pictures as well and confirmed what my family has been telling me since Sawyer was born. He looks just like me.

Here's my little guy from this weekend:





And here's me approximately 28 years ago:


I came out a little dramatic, huh?


Me at 7 weeks old

But then as I was going through them I kept seeing snippets of Charlotte in me, even though when I look at her all I see is her father. It seems, however, that she has my goofy grin:


Charlotte, 17 months


Me, 17 months

And apparently I had the cooking/baking bug early on too:



just like my little girl:



And for shits and giggles, by a show of hands, how many people had this couch in their house growing up?



Of course the couch is not the weirdest thing: my father looks like a Manson follower, no? Scary thing is that he is only 26 in this picture. Gotta love 1984.

Back on the horse

Today marked the end of the doctor-enforced four weeks of healing and no exercise. I've felt physically fine since the day after I gave birth and have waited and waited for this day. After dinner, I changed and got my bike out of the garage. Mike helped me put air in the tires (it was sitting for almost a year) and load it onto the bike rack of the Nitro.

I blasted Duran Duran on the way to the reservoir - a big lake with a five-mile nature trail around it - with the windows and sunroof open, wind through my spit-up caked hair. I was excited. I was going to have a whole hour to myself that did not include spending money or napping, both of which I did already today. I loaded my Zune up, put on my awesomely awesome helmet (hey, I'm not stupid. I'd rather look dorky and have a skull intact), and started to pedal.

And wouldn't ya know it? Riding a bike is just like, well, riding a bike. The first few minutes I was proud of myself. I was all like HELLS YEAH WHO'S YOUR MOMMA NOW BIKE?? as I was pedaling faster and faster. Soon, however, my bike made me its bitch.

Here are my low-lights from my foray back to exercise:
1) Almost running into a horse. No I'm not kidding. Horses are fucking big. And scary. AND BIG.
2) Being passed by the following people:

• a guy with too much body hair wearing a T-shirt that had a picture of a cartoon rooster on the back that said "Chicks Dig Big Cocks." I shit you not.
• a septuagenarian with socks to his knees running. Yes, a geezer passed me on my bike while he was running. Orthotic shoes and all. I alternated emotions between feeling proud of him and wanting to throw up on myself.
  
• the same group of young tan women with huge chi-chics stuffed in tiny sports bras TWICE. Which if you can do your math means they went around the track in DOUBLE the time I did.

3) Hearing the word "left" approximately 8,968 times. LEFT! LEFT! OMGSTFU! LEFT!
4) Getting off my bike and having my jello legs almost go out from under me.
5) Peeing a little. I did just have a baby!

Here are the highlights:
1) I did not actually hit the horse.
2) I did not drown myself in the lake like I wanted to. Figured it was an easy way to end my misery.
3) I did not lie down in the grass when I saw the Park Rangers coming in hopes they would think I suffered a heart attack and put me and my bike in their pickup and take me to the hospital where they have drugs.
4) I had 45 minutes of relative peace (save for my panting and grunting) on a beautiful trail complete with the smell of lilacs and seeing a few deer.
5) I DID IT.

Now, please excuse me while I go hork up my spleen.

28 Days

Today Sawyer is four weeks old. It seems like he's always been here and at the same time, I can't believe he's just about a month old already.

When you become a parent, it's like you enter a time warp where days seem to drag but the months and years fly by. I can hardly believe my baby girl is two and tells me "Momma, I am princess perfect. But you need lipstick." (Touche) I want to savor every moment with my tiny baby boy but part of me can't wait for him to smile at me or grab at my nose. And I look forward to him sitting up, giggling, trying new foods. Yet I'm sure when I get there, I'll reminisce about the tiny newborn who I could snuggle in the crook of my neck and feel his soft velvety hair on my cheek.

I want to watch my children grow up but want them to be my tiny babies forever. This is the dichotomy of parenthood.

He's such a good easy baby that having two kids really isn't much harder than having one. Sure, it's way easier to grab a sippy cup and a diaper and head out the door with Charlotte rather than having to pack up stuff for 20 minutes to take a newborn out of the house. But he really isn't much trouble at all and I can hardly remember life without him.

He is on a great schedule and goes down for the night after a bath and bottle around 7 pm. He gets another feeding around 10-11 and then sleeps till 3-4, where he gets another bottle and then sleeps till 630-7 and I get up and feed him before Charlotte wakes around 730 and I change and feed her. I've also got them both down for afternoon naps around 1-3, which lets me get some personal time (read: nap). The routine helps everyone in the house, myself included, feel secure and happy knowing what's coming.

I realize that for some, especially new babies who are breastfed or babies with some health issues, a schedule is not an option. I never enforced a strict schedule with either of my kids but found their own routines and worked with them to maintain it. But schedules and routine are my friends, especially as a working parent. My toddler is so stuck on a schedule that when I leave the instructions with a sitter, I'm afraid they think I'm nuts. (She has to watch Dora before her bedtime. Then you have to change her diaper and get her a sippy cup of water. Then you have to take her upstairs and read 1-2 books to her and put her in her crib. Then you have to cover her, give her a sip of her water and put the cup in the lower right corner. Make sure her bippies are in the upper left corner. Turn on her mobile and put her turtle nightlight on the green stars. She doesn't like the blue.) I mean, it's RIDICULOUS, right? But she has developed her own nighttime routine and will scream if one of these things is done wrong and will tell you PROMPTLY how to fix it. Maybe it's because I am so big on schedules and routines that Charlotte has become a bit obsessive about her own. But it makes her feel safe and happy and she has gone to sleep on her own since she was 8 months old, sleeping 12 hours at night and 2-3 during the day. So I am not going to complain.

What about you? Are you big on schedules or do you follow your kids'? Are your kids happier on a schedule and get out of sorts (like mine) when naptime is late or bedtimes are screwed up?

Bringing 1984 back

This was a flower girl dress my grandmother made that I wore to a relative's wedding about 25 years ago. My mother brought it over last night thinking Charlotte would like to play dress up with it.

She hasn't taken it off except to sleep and shower.

She even put that headband on herself - how did she KNOW?

The Witching Hour

When was your childrens' witching hour?

If you tell me that they didn't have one, consider yourself on the List of People Who Owe Me a Drink.

For both kids, it seems to be between 5-7. With Charlotte, she also had GERD so she was screaming all day anyway but at twilight, she was worse (read: STROKING OUT). It took me a few weeks but I learned how to get through it - swaddling, swinging, and white noise. Thank you Dr. Harvey Karp.

So this time when it became apparent that Sawyer was going to have the same time of day to be a royal pain in my still-jiggling ass, I knew what to do. But I forgot how a baby screaming for what seems to be hours (in reality, he only cries a few minutes) can make you want to find the nearest intersection and play chicken with traffic.

The worst part as a parent is not knowing what's wrong or how to fix it. You feel helpless and frayed. At first you think they're hungry even though they just ate an hour or so before, so you try and feed them and then they proceed to hork it all up. Then you have to change their clothes which, you guessed it, pisses them off even more. Sometimes you think they have gas or a burp and often they do, but this doesn't solve the problem. Gas drops can help but our kids got them at every feeding and only freak out at night.

What it boils down to is that he is just overstimulated from the day. It's hard work being outside the womb where it was always warm, swooshy and fulled with comforting noises of my heartbeat and fluid. And by the end of the day they've had it. Hell, by the end of most days I've had it. So we do our best by recreating the womb and it's the only thing that soothes him. (That swing we bought has the best white noise/heartbeat sounds I've ever heard and the swing is so smooth, it does the work for me. See Graco, I'm still pimping you. Where is my check?)

I had almost forgotten this part of the early months and most likely had blocked it out of my mind because OH GOD MY EARS. But at least this time we're better prepared to deal with it and feel a little more confident that what we're doing is the right thing. And he quiets much quicker and calms down easier than his - ahem - high-maintenance sister. More importantly, we know it will pass.

What did you do to get through the witching hour, other than booze?

TV sitcom families*

Since I've been out of work and home with the kids (SEND HELP. ALSO: VODKA) I've gotten my fair share of television in, especially the late night kind. Did you know that TV Land plays repeats of Roseanne and Fresh Prince at 3 am? Rockthefrickon.

And after Ali did this post about television families, it got me thinking about how warped some of these shows are and how I don't feel there's not a very good representation of the average working family with two involved parents. It seems that there were better images twenty years ago. There was the working mom and active father in Family Ties and Growing Pains or the gooberifically sweet working parents in The Cosby Show. They even had the non-traditional families in Full House, Family Matters, and My Two Dads.

Now, you have the Everybody Loves Raymond or According to Jim variety where the mother takes care of the house and kids and the father is a satellite who occasionally has a fatherly moment in between playing golf. Or they have the Malcolm in the Middle mom who is incredibly frazzled all the time, and what's sad is she is the television mother I can relate to the most.

Friends was one of the first shows that I remember to have two Mommies but there also seems to be a distinct lack of same-sex parents on television.

We're going backwards instead of forward and I think that the shows from 20 years ago were more progressive than they are now. Where are the shows with the two working parents who may work from home a few days and juggle all of that? Where are the Dads that are just as active in raising their families and taking care of the house as their wives? Where are the parents dropping kids off at a daycare that they LOVE rather then seeing them screaming and crying and illuminating it in a bad light? Where are the gay couples or stay-at-home dads?

What television family do you most relate to?

*This post brought to you by nighttime feedings, no deadlines to meet, and the inability to keep my eyes open long enough to read a book.

Bippy Addict

Is there a law somewhere that says as soon as I sit down to write a blog post, eat a meal, or shower, my normally very even-tempered newborn son needs TO FREAK THE HELL OUT BECAUSE DEAR GAWD MOMMA, I DROPPED MY BIPPY!

The pacifier is like an off switch for him. He's apparently very orally fixated and all he needs is his Super Swing and a pacifier and he's a happy boy. This is great because as much as I love to, I cannot carry him all day. Sure, my left arm is getting beefy but that's not really the look I'm going for. We must have bought literally 10 different kinds of pacifiers in the hopes that he would take one. And he is finally getting used to it and takes one like a champ. And like I mentioned yesterday, as luck would have it (yeah, notsomuch) he likes the same kind Charlotte has. This induced a Toddler Stroke of Epic Proportions until Genius Momma swooped in and saved the day with a Sharpee. Charlotte loves stars so I drew stars all over her bippies and since I had no creative ability left in my overtired brain, I simply wrote Sawyer's name on his. And IT WORKED! She can now look at the pacifier and know whose is whose and life is good again.

Now, how in the hell am I ever going to be able to get her to give up a pacifier if her little brother has one? I'm already dreading the day we have to take them away since she is addicited to them like Britney is to frappuccinos and bad weaves. How do you rationalize it to a 2-3 year old?

I know I am creating another bippy addict by making him take one but he kept getting his thumb and I always said I'd rather have a kid addicted to a pacifier than a finger because you can't (in good conscience) remove the kid's finger. But it makes him happy and content, which makes me happy and content.

An investment

I have found it: The Most Expensive Baby Swing Ever.

And you know what? It's worth every damn penny.



It's the Graco Sweetpeace.*

I keep waiting for Brad Pitt to materialize from it naked and offer to make me a cup of coffee. Naked. Did I say naked already? Yeah, it's that awesome.

The seat can be taken out of the holder thing and moved it to face whichever way it wants - side-to-side, front to back, and can be made to face any direction. It doesn't take up much space, has seven speeds, is very quiet, and has a sound thing with womb sounds, music, or a place to hook up your MP3 player. The best part: it is a adapter so you can plug it in. No more polluting the earth with our batteries (Side note: we do use rechargeables but those bastards need to be replaced so often it's more annoying than Giada De Laurentis eating pasta pie and still wearing a size 0). AND it comes with a swaddling thingie where you can swaddle him AND strap him in at the same time so Charlotte doesn't try and pull him out.

I had no intention of buying any new contraption for Sawyer since we had so much from Charlotte, especially a big swing since we have the smaller portable ones and they work just as well and can be moved and taken places easily. However, the glider we had him in that he loved died this weekend. So, I went in search of something similar. I couldn't find anything that wasn't a vibrating bouncer seat (which we have), a portable swing (which we have two of), or a giant space-sucking swing. But then I saw this swing and instantly wished I was 2 feet tall so I could take a nap in it. I mean, it's soft and cuddly and SWINGY.

Not only did I not want to buy a swing but I had no intention of buying an expensive swing. And yet I did.

Damn Graco and their fuzzy velvetty cushioning. Look how happy he is.


(Yes, that his is name on his bippy. Charlotte has the same ones and we're having "sharing" issues. So I put stars on hers and his name on his and it seems to have quelled the problem. For now.)

*Did not get paid for this. Though I should be. Graco, can you hear me?

Blanketing FAIL

This is what happens:



when this:



tries to help cover up "baby brudder cause he wooks cold...brrrr."