Sad

I don't know if you can tell, but someone is really sick in our house.

Sick and sad.

With a virus.

A virus called Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease.

Uh, WHAT NOW?!  

**cue me freaking out for a few seconds before the doctor can explain to me it's not the same as Hoof and Mouth disease which affects cattle**It's a good thing he stopped me because I was about to further freak out because I don't know what Hoof and Mouth is either but was fairly sure it was akin to Mad Cow Disease or AIDS**

All it means is she has a horrible rash all over her body, and a shitty fever.  And since it's a virus there's nothing to treat it, and I'm all, "Can we have some antibiotics anyway?  And perhaps some other prescription so I can feel good about leaving here?" Because seriously, your daughter has a crazy rash and feels like she's about to burst into flames and your doctor prescribes juice and A LOLLIPOP?  A lollipop?  What are you, Willy Wonka?! GIVE ME SOME DRUGS MAN!!!

But he didn't.  And he also told me to calm down.  So, that happened.

So, I'm too tired to write more about it, but basically a sick kid is the saddest thing ever.  

Sad on day one.

Sadder on day two.

(I look the saddest here because on top of being six months pregnant and having a horribly sick child, we also canceled our cable.  Goodbye fun!)

Three Nine

About three years ago now I packed up my things and moved to Montana of all places.  Before I first came out here all I knew of it was that Andie MacDowell lived here and that she once got a tick stuck in her head.  That was enough to make me never ever want to get near the state.  Like, I didn't even want to visit a state that bordered it in case I'd be attacked my a tick, or Andie MacDowell for that matter.  I like them just about the same.

But I visited, and I fell in love (double entendre!), and I moved here.

Not so much for the state, though it is gorgeous, but more for a particular person.  A person who makes me laugh, and makes me happy, and makes me take walks in horrible weather, and makes me really good chicken, and makes me hope, and makes me watch way too much Pardon the Interruption, and makes me feel good about myself, and makes me laugh some more, and has changed my life forever with the most amazing daughter I could have ever imagined.

And today is his birthday.

So, I just wanted to take a moment to say Happy Birthday, Love.

I will not ask you to turn the TV down today.

You're welcome.

You Know You're Pregnant When...

... you're sitting in front of your computer watching a Christmas episode of Ellen on crazed repeat, even though it's February, where Blake Shelton and Christina Aguilera are singing a song together, and sobbing your eyes out while trying to draw a new wall hanging for your baby, but you can't see because you're crying too hard so the trunk of the elephant you're drawing keeps looking like very inappropriate baby art involving a very curvy dildo attached to a hippo.  Then you start crying more because you do not want to put bad porn-art on your baby's wall, you want cute baby art, but then the song ends and you have to replay it to fill your soul, and suddenly you're crying again, and AGAIN the elephant does not look like an elephant, so you stick a bunch of chocolate Dove caramels in your mouth and repeat the whole process, lip syncing along with with Christina and Blake with a mouth full of chocolate and tears.

*sigh*

What's that?

You want to see the video?  Well, I certainly am not going to deprive you of the joy/heartbreak!







You know how else you know you're pregnant?

When you look like this:

27 Weeks!

Oh yeah, I cut my hair.  Because that's what I do when I'm pregnant.  I cut off all of my hair and then I feel awkward for a year until it grows out.  I don't know what I do that.  It's like self-medicating with  a haircut to ensure I won't feel sexy for a long time, and thus will wait before having another child for a while.  Hair control.

Also, my mom or Josh (I get them confused) thinks it's very weird/possibly unhealthy that I listen to so many sad songs while I'm pregnant.  With Adeline I had Adele and Mumford and Sons on repeat.  With this one I have Adele and Mumford and Sons and Christina Aguilera on repeat.  So at least she's getting a little more variety.

Adeline came out extremely happy, so I am not worried.  Plus happy songs make me feel enraged, whereas melancholy songs make me feel good.  There are some synapses off up on here.

Oh yeah, did I mention it's another girl!!!  I don't think I did!  I've been too busy crying at Youtube!  Baby Girl #2!  

Oh the hormones this house will have!

CAR!

So, I don't know if other moms have this problem, but now that Adeline can walk and thinks she's Miss Independent she REFUSES to ride in the cart at the grocery store.  Like screaming, kicking, makes her body go stiff then limp refuses.  So, basically I end up letting her run around the grocery store yelling "Mama!" and "COOKIE!" until someone brings her back to me.

That's not true, though she does yell those things and people do bring her to me even though I'm always five feet away.  But it makes shopping a reeeeeeally slow process, because while I just wanna get my butter and get out of there, Adeline would like to inspect each and every item, take it off the shelf and then go back a few minutes later to make sure it's still there.

Until I discovered these:

Girlfriend is so in love with the shopping cart car she asks for it all day and all night, and when we pull up to the grocery store her yell of "CAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!" is so deafening I'm pretty sure the baby in my belly is covering her ears.

Same goes for the quarter operated car things at the mall.

And any seat that is different and forward facing, but attached to a cart.

 Real car rides?  Not as thrilling.

Getting her out of the car on the other hand?  That's back to kicking, screaming, I-hate-life kind of tantrums, but at least she's happy during the shopping trip.  I'm tempted to steal one and use it as her stroller because she's starting to put the kibosh on that thing too.  Can you picture it?  Hugely preggo me pushing a clanking, noisy grocery cart down icy roads, collecting things in my cart just because I can?

Well, I can.  I think that might be something for my next post.

Grump

Do you ever just hate everything?

No?

Well, then clearly you've never been a six and a half month pregnant lady with a toddler, a demanding dog, and a claw-y cat.  CLEARLY.

I'm trying to post every day now but I can't do a real one today because today, along with hating everything, I hate posts.  They're really shitty.

(Sidenote: I have to start watching what I say because little Miss Talky Talk repeats everything and the other day I said, "Well, that's shitty", to myself and she said, "Kitty? Kitty.  KITTY!"  Luckily she misheard me.  Good thing it wasn't "Well, f*** me in the a**"  which is what I really wanted to say.)

(Other sidenote: I'm not sure why that's become my go-to phrase for when I mess something up.  I do not even realize I'm saying it half the time and the other half I'm like, "What? The a**?  Why would I just say that?"  It's like I'm possessed people. The same thing happened to my mom a while back out of the blue, she never cussed and suddenly it was like she had to be bleeped every other word.  She's since stopped, but still.  It's a weird phenomena.  For me especially because my baby daddy doesn't curse at all.  So it's like extra bad that I do it.  Maybe it's the hormones?)

Anyway, just when I think I hate everything, I look at this little chubby chubs face and I just melt.  How can you hate anything when there's really something so joyful and bright and loving in the world.

She is beyond sunshine.

Backpack time for a snow walk.

In love with the bear her cousin MJ got her.

Be Afraid, But Please Don't Be Because Then I Might Get Scared of Your Scaredness

This is the main reason I never, ever want to go diving.  

Nooooooooooooo!

Not to mention, I'll probably never snorkel again.  Why? Because as soon as my face is in the water a giant shark-made-out-of-fish is going to form and . . . and then. . . . my fears never really progress past the actual terror part, so I'm not sure what it would do, but it would scare me.  And I do not like to be scared.  I can't even watch the previews for scary movies because they give me nightmares.  Nightmares about being scared.  My brain shuts off before the actual harm is done, because that's never the really scary part is it?  I mean sure, you don't want to be stabbed by a school of fish, but also once you're stabbed there's nothing you can do about it is there?  The buildup to the fish stabbing - that's where the terror really lies.  Because you could stop it, but you can't because you're not part mermaid, and OH MY GOSH THEY'RE GOING TO GET Y  ***stab you're dead***

So, last night, while the whole house was deep in sleep I'm suddenly awoken by a low beeping, which cautiously turns into a terrifying children's melody, you know the kind, they are in every single movie with a clown ever made.  It gets louder and louder, and suddenly I'm wondering how I can escape through the cat door in our bedroom and break into Adeline's room to save her without tipping off the clown monster that I'm awake and moving around.

And then it hits me.  Her dang toys are setting each other off.  Normally this would continue to scare me even more, but since I've spent the last few weeks hearing those ding dang toys all playing at once, I wasn't scared so much as feeling murderous.  Like, suddenly the toys should be scared.  No, they should be terrified.  Because I was about to go ape shit on some inanimate objects waking up the house be damned!

I was just about to grab the blow torch when my baby daddy woke up and I told him to go kill the toys or I would.

And all at once I felt at peace.  Like I'd turned some sort of scaredy cat corner.  The student has because the master.  I would never be afraid again!

Until my house creaks weirdly again.

Then it's pee my pants time.

But lets be honest, when you're pregnant, it's always pee your pants time.

I will save you mama.

Thank you little tiny love of my life.

25 Weeks!

I'm 25 weeks pregnant now, which means the baby is about the size of a rutabaga!  I have no idea what a rutabaga looks like, but I'm guessing it's about this big:

This pregnancy is making me way sleepy.  I was tired with Adeline, but not like this.  Of course back then I had the luxury of sleeping in and napping whenever I wanted and I didn't appreciate it.  Oh, Hindsight!  You fickle beast!

Mama don't fall asleep while I"m in the bath!  I'm about to do something really cute like poop in here!

Anyone who says children don't suck the life out of you are lying liars telling lies.  If they took a lie detector test the thing would start to smoke and then it would explode and those poor people would be dead in the explosion, all because they lie.

It's not that I don't love Adeline and Baby X more than anything in the world.  Because I do.  I would kill for them, I would honestly stab someone if I had to, and that's a lot coming from someone who has a hard time cutting paper because she's afraid it's hurting it.

Yes, I'm in therapy why do you ask?

Anyway, my point is it doesn't matter if they're inside growing organs and stuff, or outside being one and a half and running me from room to room to show me different spots on the wall she finds fascinating, these babies are making me So Dang Tired I actually, and seriously, just asked their father if he drugged me.  It's noon and I feel like I could go to bed for the night.

However, it's totally ok, because she does something cute like try to walk around the house in her dad's boots and suddenly I have a burst of energy.  (For about five seconds and then I fall asleep in my dinner again)

Adeline tries on boots, Boris tries witchcraft.