Shame and a sick tummy are all that I am left with at this point. I made the mistake of buying stocking stuffer sweets for Hubby and Firstborn over a week ago. Mini reece's cups and chocolate Santas have been calling my name from the bottom of my closet ever since. I thought I was showing considerable self control by only indulging one or two here and there. Obviously, I was only fooling myself. I realized this yesterday as I was adding more non-food goodies to the bag of stocking stuffers that almost all of the candy was gone.
I have two options for blame. I can accept sole responsibility as it's a widely known fact that pregnant women cannot be trusted wherever chocolate and peanut butter is of concern. Or I can try and lay blame on my husband who was alone in our house for the past five days. I'm not sure which path I'll take. I'll figure that our later. Right now I have to run out and buy more candy and some Tums.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Excuses, Excuses
It's been brought to my attention by several of my "dearly devoted" readers that I've been neglecting my duties in maintaining this blog. For that I apologize, but I have excellent excuses. Wanna hear 'em?
I'm pregnant. Maybe I should have punctuated that with an exclamation mark but I'm afraid to use my allotment. When I was in college Dr. Cross told us that at birth we are each given three exclamation points to be used throughout the course of our lifetime. We should use great care in when we make use of them. Yes, I know he was being dramatic about the overuse of this punctuation but it made quite the impression on me and I always think of it. I digress.
I'm almost nine weeks along. The morning sickness seems to have diminished greatly and I'm beginning to get some of my energy back. Those of you who know me personally know that I'm not a person who sits still often. I'm wound a bit more tightly than most people it seems. I enjoy keeping busy. So when I was spending most of the day lying as still as I possibly could on the couch watching Firstborn try to get me to play with him it made me feel all that much worse. It's not his fault that mommy and daddy wanted a fourth family member. It's not his fault that mommy was ready to yurp at any given moment. It certainly wasn't his fault that mommy didn't want to fix his favorite foods because she couldn't stand the smell of food. It was hard not being able to do the mommy things I treasure doing for my son. I'm still not back to my normal self, but I'm closer. And I can work with that.
The other excuses I have to offer up are company for Thanksgiving and Firstborn sick for over a week. Hubby's parents came out to visit us from Arkansas. We had a wonderful visit with them. I know I could have found the time to post then, but I was still lying as still as could be on the couch most of the time.
The night before they left Firstborn woke up with a case of exploding diaper and a slight fever. By the next afternoon the fever was up to 102.6. That night it went even higher. I had him at our pediatrician's office for the first available appointment the next morning. It was declared that he had a virus and to continue treating as we already had been. That night the fever was up to 104. The fever continued on for several days and didn't appear to have any interest in returning to normal so I made another appointment. This time I asked for a strep throat culture. Diagnosis: Positive. Usually kids don't get this until they're about four years or older but Firstborn has never been what you would call your usual kid. He's been on antibiotics for several days now and seems to be in a much better mood. He's slept the past three nights all through the night and that has made me extremely happy.
I hope this explains and excuses my absence and I pledge to be more punctual in my posting in the future. I go for my first ultrasound tomorrow afternoon so I hope to be able to post a few scans for you. Please pray for good health and development of our little chick.
I'm pregnant. Maybe I should have punctuated that with an exclamation mark but I'm afraid to use my allotment. When I was in college Dr. Cross told us that at birth we are each given three exclamation points to be used throughout the course of our lifetime. We should use great care in when we make use of them. Yes, I know he was being dramatic about the overuse of this punctuation but it made quite the impression on me and I always think of it. I digress.
I'm almost nine weeks along. The morning sickness seems to have diminished greatly and I'm beginning to get some of my energy back. Those of you who know me personally know that I'm not a person who sits still often. I'm wound a bit more tightly than most people it seems. I enjoy keeping busy. So when I was spending most of the day lying as still as I possibly could on the couch watching Firstborn try to get me to play with him it made me feel all that much worse. It's not his fault that mommy and daddy wanted a fourth family member. It's not his fault that mommy was ready to yurp at any given moment. It certainly wasn't his fault that mommy didn't want to fix his favorite foods because she couldn't stand the smell of food. It was hard not being able to do the mommy things I treasure doing for my son. I'm still not back to my normal self, but I'm closer. And I can work with that.
The other excuses I have to offer up are company for Thanksgiving and Firstborn sick for over a week. Hubby's parents came out to visit us from Arkansas. We had a wonderful visit with them. I know I could have found the time to post then, but I was still lying as still as could be on the couch most of the time.
The night before they left Firstborn woke up with a case of exploding diaper and a slight fever. By the next afternoon the fever was up to 102.6. That night it went even higher. I had him at our pediatrician's office for the first available appointment the next morning. It was declared that he had a virus and to continue treating as we already had been. That night the fever was up to 104. The fever continued on for several days and didn't appear to have any interest in returning to normal so I made another appointment. This time I asked for a strep throat culture. Diagnosis: Positive. Usually kids don't get this until they're about four years or older but Firstborn has never been what you would call your usual kid. He's been on antibiotics for several days now and seems to be in a much better mood. He's slept the past three nights all through the night and that has made me extremely happy.
I hope this explains and excuses my absence and I pledge to be more punctual in my posting in the future. I go for my first ultrasound tomorrow afternoon so I hope to be able to post a few scans for you. Please pray for good health and development of our little chick.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
So, You Come Here Often?
This morning I took Firstborn to the local playground. You know the kind. The community builds them and they resemble castles and forts. He was having much more fun playing in the mulch than with any actual equipment, but that's the way it goes. After we'd been there 20 minutes or so we ran into another little boy and his mommy. Turns out both boys were 18 months old.
Immediately the mommy and I began chatting. We had so much in common. We went through all the usual warm up topics: clothing, potty training, likes, dislikes. So far, so good. My mind was racing ahead with all kinds of questions and antidotes.
This was too good to be true. This was not just another seesaw set up. This felt real. I was certain I was getting a good vibe. I hadn't had such good luck in the past. If the kids clicked, then mommy and I wouldn't or vice versa. Totally not the case here. All four of us were having a great time.
I began to turn my thoughts to future trysts. Trips to the children's museum, craft time at the art store, and best of all - visiting the inflatable gyms. This relationship could work. I just knew it.
I took a deep breath and dared to ask the big question. Were they seeing anybody else? They were. A little girl on Tuesdays followed by dinner. And while she never said if it was exclusive or not I just didn't have the heart to go any further. Once again I'd let my enthusiasm get the best of me.
How long was it going to take to find the right fit? How did other mommies do it? Do I need to place an ad? "Mommy and tot son looking for a good time. Likes it dirty. Open to group dates."
I didn't want to end up one of those playground groupies. I didn't want to be the mommy always giving out her digits to any and everyone. I had standards, by golly.
As is often the case it got a little crowded when another mom and her three daughters joined us. Though they were nice and played well, it just seemed as if a damper had been put on the mood. Lucky for us it was closing in on nap time giving us a solid exit line. "It's not you. It's us. It's nap time."
Immediately the mommy and I began chatting. We had so much in common. We went through all the usual warm up topics: clothing, potty training, likes, dislikes. So far, so good. My mind was racing ahead with all kinds of questions and antidotes.
This was too good to be true. This was not just another seesaw set up. This felt real. I was certain I was getting a good vibe. I hadn't had such good luck in the past. If the kids clicked, then mommy and I wouldn't or vice versa. Totally not the case here. All four of us were having a great time.
I began to turn my thoughts to future trysts. Trips to the children's museum, craft time at the art store, and best of all - visiting the inflatable gyms. This relationship could work. I just knew it.
I took a deep breath and dared to ask the big question. Were they seeing anybody else? They were. A little girl on Tuesdays followed by dinner. And while she never said if it was exclusive or not I just didn't have the heart to go any further. Once again I'd let my enthusiasm get the best of me.
How long was it going to take to find the right fit? How did other mommies do it? Do I need to place an ad? "Mommy and tot son looking for a good time. Likes it dirty. Open to group dates."
I didn't want to end up one of those playground groupies. I didn't want to be the mommy always giving out her digits to any and everyone. I had standards, by golly.
As is often the case it got a little crowded when another mom and her three daughters joined us. Though they were nice and played well, it just seemed as if a damper had been put on the mood. Lucky for us it was closing in on nap time giving us a solid exit line. "It's not you. It's us. It's nap time."
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Mayor Of Sloppy Town
Lately I've been feeling under dressed and out of touch. The only things I've added to my wardrobe over the past three years have been maternity clothing, tee-shirts of the long and short sleeve variety, a couple of pairs of ill fitting blue jeans, and a wedding dress. Before I became pregnant my wardrobe was still somewhat stylish. Many of the pieces were several years old but still stylish. I've always taken good care of my clothing by use of Woolite and minimal use of the dryer. My past purchases have been of classic cuts and good quality. Sure, I would snag some trendy stuff here and there but only at discount prices which usually meant poorer quality.
My maternity clothing was mostly purchased from Target or J.C. Pennies. I had some really cute pieces, but let's face it, by the time the eighth month rolled around I felt like everything I put on looked like dirt. The last month of the pregnancy i retained so much water I may as well have just invested in a couple of tents at the local camping store. However, I resisted as my condition was after all, temporary. But finally the blessed occasion arrived and I excitedly awaited to return to my former petite self.
After 16 months I was able to fit back into my old jeans, even the super skinny ones. At last most of my wardrobe was once again accessible. The more outfits I tried on the more it became apparent, however that I had been a hoochie in my former life. Maybe not a full time hoochie, but a hoochie all the same.
This was not good. I was a mommy and proud to be one. A mommy did not push a stroller wearing a sheer Bebe blouse while wearing a skirt that wasn't much longer. Besides, pushing that stroller was going to be much harder while wearing those stacked stilettos that I had once been so fond of.
I begrudgingly began packing several garbage bags with the clothing I had once loved wearing out to late, late dinners and cocktail parties. I surveyed what was left on the hangers in my closet and realized that I had officially become mayor of sloppy town. My love for lounge wear had left me with years of Tee-shirts that were super soft and faded to seven times past that of original purchase. My beloved yoga pants and gym clothing were still there to comfort me, no matter that they, nor I had seen the inside of a gym since my first trimester. Where had my style gone? Was it off somewhere hanging out with my boobs? 'Cause I hadn't seen them in a while either. At least not since I weened Firstborn.
I felt completely intimidated at the thought of rebuilding an entire wardrobe. I hadn't properly maintained the one I had and now I was starting from square one. Not only would this be costly but time consuming. I once enjoyed shopping but it now seemed that i had lost that spark.
I wish I had my sister's enthusiasm for the great retail hunt. She is a trained and avid hunter and darned good at it. Never have I ever seen her wear anything that wouldn't be spread across the pages of a magazine. Her hair and makeup always looking fresh and "just right". Me, I do good to get my face washed and moisturized. I even remember days when Firstborn still had that new car smell, that washing my face merely consisted of dragging a baby wipe across cheek to cheek.
Fortunately, my sis has made the offer of taking me shopping once I have a little cash tucked away. Until then I'll be rocking out in one of my high school cross country Tee-shirts from 1993 and an ever popular pair of black yoga pants watching "What Not To Wear". Feel free to nominate me for the show.
My maternity clothing was mostly purchased from Target or J.C. Pennies. I had some really cute pieces, but let's face it, by the time the eighth month rolled around I felt like everything I put on looked like dirt. The last month of the pregnancy i retained so much water I may as well have just invested in a couple of tents at the local camping store. However, I resisted as my condition was after all, temporary. But finally the blessed occasion arrived and I excitedly awaited to return to my former petite self.
After 16 months I was able to fit back into my old jeans, even the super skinny ones. At last most of my wardrobe was once again accessible. The more outfits I tried on the more it became apparent, however that I had been a hoochie in my former life. Maybe not a full time hoochie, but a hoochie all the same.
This was not good. I was a mommy and proud to be one. A mommy did not push a stroller wearing a sheer Bebe blouse while wearing a skirt that wasn't much longer. Besides, pushing that stroller was going to be much harder while wearing those stacked stilettos that I had once been so fond of.
I begrudgingly began packing several garbage bags with the clothing I had once loved wearing out to late, late dinners and cocktail parties. I surveyed what was left on the hangers in my closet and realized that I had officially become mayor of sloppy town. My love for lounge wear had left me with years of Tee-shirts that were super soft and faded to seven times past that of original purchase. My beloved yoga pants and gym clothing were still there to comfort me, no matter that they, nor I had seen the inside of a gym since my first trimester. Where had my style gone? Was it off somewhere hanging out with my boobs? 'Cause I hadn't seen them in a while either. At least not since I weened Firstborn.
I felt completely intimidated at the thought of rebuilding an entire wardrobe. I hadn't properly maintained the one I had and now I was starting from square one. Not only would this be costly but time consuming. I once enjoyed shopping but it now seemed that i had lost that spark.
I wish I had my sister's enthusiasm for the great retail hunt. She is a trained and avid hunter and darned good at it. Never have I ever seen her wear anything that wouldn't be spread across the pages of a magazine. Her hair and makeup always looking fresh and "just right". Me, I do good to get my face washed and moisturized. I even remember days when Firstborn still had that new car smell, that washing my face merely consisted of dragging a baby wipe across cheek to cheek.
Fortunately, my sis has made the offer of taking me shopping once I have a little cash tucked away. Until then I'll be rocking out in one of my high school cross country Tee-shirts from 1993 and an ever popular pair of black yoga pants watching "What Not To Wear". Feel free to nominate me for the show.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Pooping In Private
I remember a time in the not so far past that i was able to enjoy pooping in private. That was before potty training began with our son. I've never been that girlfriend who missed her man so much that it was necessary to prop the door open during "business hours" to continue chatting. Now that I'm a married woman I'm thankful my husband and I are on the same page about our potty privacy. Not only does he like the door closed but I often hear the click of the lock to ensure no accidental invasions. I'm okay with that.
However, it's a different story with Firstborn. Before I go any further I should admit that I'm partly if not all to blame for this. Since he's been able to walk he's followed me to the bathroom. Rather than shut the door in his face I viewed this as pre-potty training. That and I wanted to be able to keep a close eye on him in order to avoid mishaps. I would inform him that mommy was "going pee pee or poopy." I thought by talking about potty in simplified terms when the time came to potty train he'd be much more comfortable with the lingo.
In fact he's very comfortable with the lingo and all that goes with potty. We got him a potty a month ago and have let him play with it and become well acquainted. I never guessed it would become his confidant. For a few weeks he was dragging it from room to room. Now when I suggest we go potty he runs to the bathroom.
The downside of this is when I inform him I'm going to potty he runs to the bathroom. It's come to the point where I check to see if he's watching before I slip off "to see a man about a horse" as my dad used to say. It never fails though. I've barely warmed the seat before I hear pounding on the door demanding entrance.
I pray that his interest in joint potty trips will end once he's mastered this necessary life skill. Then I will once again be able to poop with privacy.
However, it's a different story with Firstborn. Before I go any further I should admit that I'm partly if not all to blame for this. Since he's been able to walk he's followed me to the bathroom. Rather than shut the door in his face I viewed this as pre-potty training. That and I wanted to be able to keep a close eye on him in order to avoid mishaps. I would inform him that mommy was "going pee pee or poopy." I thought by talking about potty in simplified terms when the time came to potty train he'd be much more comfortable with the lingo.
In fact he's very comfortable with the lingo and all that goes with potty. We got him a potty a month ago and have let him play with it and become well acquainted. I never guessed it would become his confidant. For a few weeks he was dragging it from room to room. Now when I suggest we go potty he runs to the bathroom.
The downside of this is when I inform him I'm going to potty he runs to the bathroom. It's come to the point where I check to see if he's watching before I slip off "to see a man about a horse" as my dad used to say. It never fails though. I've barely warmed the seat before I hear pounding on the door demanding entrance.
I pray that his interest in joint potty trips will end once he's mastered this necessary life skill. Then I will once again be able to poop with privacy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
