Brilliant Idea #3,578

I remember how special I felt when my mom and grandma would let me sit up on the counter and help them mix cookies. It's a tradition I couldn't wait to pass on to my own children. I love to bake and have always had this image of my child and I laughing over a bowl of dough, sneaking bites and having fun.

Um, apparently either my mother has wayyyyy more patience than me or she only let me help her with baking that one time and she happened to take a photo...

I decided Friday to mix up some M&M cookies. I was hormonal and craving them and thought it would be a fun activity for Lawrence and me. Ha!

He, being the grandson of a mechanic and the son of a construction engineer, found himself much more interested in how the hand mixer worked than with the notion of combining ingredients "gently" in a bowl. He also just HAD to see what was in each of the canisters, test out what eggs feel like and, of course, taste his first M&Ms.

The whole ordeal was a bit ironic since I find baking to be therapeutic...it was the most stressful experience I've had in awhile.

I'm glad we did it, though. I'll probably wait until he's closer to 2 until I let him "help" me again, but it was a fun time while it lasted (now if he would just stop wanting to sit on the counter every time I go in the kitchen).

I'm a slacker. I know this.

I suck. I haven't written in a loooooong time. Partly, it's because I'm lame-o and have nothing to discuss. But, mostly it's because I'm a lazy ass.

Since it's been so long since I posted, let me give you all a quick rundown of my life of late:

-I got busted at work for nesting too much. Damn.

-Speaking of the nest, it's been a total piece of shit lately.

-I've been really gassy.

-Lawrence finally cut a few more freaking teeth (I was really starting to worry he'd never get any on top)

-I haven't cooked dinner in over a week.

-I threw out my back and had to walk like an old woman for three days.

-I ate an entire bag of Nestle Caramel Eggs during the three days my back was out.

-Amanda Overmeyer is GONE! Praise Jesus!!

-My son learned to "pound it."

-Our wood floors are in and I've probably swept them more in the past couple weeks than I swept the tile since we've lived here.

-Our taxes are completely done, but I still haven't e-filed them.

-I committed to being fat and bought some new clothes. They were desperately needed.

-My mom helped me freeze off my warts and I screamed like a little bitch.

-I desperately need a haircut...I'm starting to get a mullet.

That's about it.

If there are people actually reading this and were anticipating new entries over the past few days, my apologies.






I was gone most of the weekend while my lovely husband (and his generous twin brother) installed hardwood flooring in our kitchen and dining rooms.

dining room before:

dining room after:

kitchen before:

kitchen after:

So, that's where I've been.

I will admit that I typed up a huge long post yesterday and decided to forgo publishing it. Because it was about pooping. At work. 'Nuf said.

In other news, this morning in the shower, I was thinking about something...I *love* the smell of "Clean Linen." I have candles in that scent, potpourri in that flavor, it's the kind of air freshener I always buy. However, I realized yesterday that my laundry -- MY clean linens -- never smell like that. Why, oh, WHY isn't there a laundry detergent/fabric softener that smells like my candles? It annoys me.

Other things that annoyed me today:

• My neighbors yelling incessantly at their children from inside their house...with their windows open. Uh, thanks. We're ALL trying to enjoy the nice weather here, folks. You're not the only ones with your windows open so STFU.
• People driving like bats out of hell. COME THE FRICK ON, PEOPLE. I've had to deal with your shitty driving all winter long -- you drove like it was the Indy 500 when the roads were a death trap and like my grandpa on sedatives when there was one snowflake on the ground. Suddenly there's a burst of spring weather and you all decide that you want to try and reenact "The Fast and the Furious" all the way down Sorensen on onto 90th? I hate you all.
• Morons who are completely uneducated and call into the radio to spread their idiocy to others...and completely trash talk Omaha. You don't like it here? Get the eff out. Omaha's been making great strides of late and people who poke fun and have ZERO clue about what's actually going on piss me off. Big time. And I'm not even one of those fundamental "OMG!! I LOVVVVVE the Big O!" type of people. I just happen to know what the eff is going on in my community and people who don't and complain piss me off.
• Daylight Savings Time. OYYYYYYYY. And as a function, my frozen Diet Coke. How do they relate? Easy. I couldn't fall asleep last night because my body wasn't ready yet. I finally dozed off around 12 (and it's normally around 11). So, Mike gets me up at 6am. Normal time. Except that it still feels like 5am to me. Which is God's hour, as far as I'm concerned. So, I was extra tired all day and needed a bit of an afternoon caffeine fix. But my pop was warm. So, I threw it in the work freezer for awhile. Apparently, that thing is a subzero phenomenon because it froze my Diet Coke solid in record time. And I NEEDED it. I allowed it to thaw, but I'm sure you all know that when you open a once-frozen can of pop, an explosion ensues...in my case, it was all over a bunch of forms that I really need. Ugh.
• American Idol. It sucks this year. Every other season, I've had a favorite from the auditions. This time, not so much. I have a couple that I sort-of like, but I don't get in a tizzy over any of them. Maybe if dreads cut his hair off... Also, WTF, David Archilta? Um, dude. Remember the words. And you looked like a goon. What's with the lip-licking? I like you. I really do. But, I was really embarrassed for you tonight and I really don't like feeling that uncomfortable about things that aren't my own doing, mmkay?
• Amanda Obermeyer. I know she's part of American Idol, but she deserves her own bullet point on my annoyances list. Girl, you look like Cruella DeVille. Every week. Your wardrobe NEED NOT match your skunky-ass hair do. Black and white patterned pants are a fashion NO, no matter what the circumstance. And what is WITH the scarves? Yikes. I hope you get kicked off very, very soon because as soon as you do, I'm making a personal plea to Stacy and Clinton.

Now that all THAT's off my chest, I think I'll hit the sack.

Penne Rig-uh-oh

Lawrence is a sneaky little stinker. For real.

There we were, hanging out in the kitchen. I was cleaning his high chair trays and had the water running full blast. Somehow, during the brief time I was rinsing the trays, Law managed to get his hand inside a cabinet, pull out a package of pasta and dump the ENTIRE thing on the carpet without me noticing a thing. He's hell on wheels, I tell you. Good thing he's freaking cute.

I will say he was quite the little charmer after the fact. I couldn't even tell him 'no' sternly because it was pretty hilarious and he was being so sweet. He even helped me pick up all the noodles (in between tasting every other one, anyway).

Speaking of how freaking cute my son is, here are a few photos from today:

Not to be a horn-tooter (okay, maybe a little), but can we focus for a second on my baby's big blues? Look at 'em! They're gorgeous. I call him "pretty boy" and it pisses Mike off (all the reason to keep calling him that as far as I'm concerned...besides, I know Law is confident in his masculinity)

"Hey, y'all! Wanna come chill in my crib?"

Okay, so this was actually taken on Monday, but I just love it. I think it's quickly becoming one of my favorite pictures ever.

What a Wonderful Wednesday (and HOLLER for alliteration!)

Recipe for a Happy Hump Day:

-One 15-minute chair massage by a talented masseuse
-One Slim 2 from Jimmy John's
-One shocking observation from husband
-One child eating new foods

To quote the most articulate woman EVER, Paula Abdul:

"Two words: Phe. Nominal."



I've had this kink in my neck and right shoulder since Sunday. It's bad enough that I've almost gotten in a car accident because I can't properly turn my head and that I've taken several more Advil than the bottle recommends consuming in a 24-hour period. So, when our HR director said the masseuse would be in the office today, I signed the hell UP. **Bonus! Didn't cost me a penny! My lovely boss had given me a gift certificate!!**

You may be wondering how I developed such a heinous kink. Well, I was, too. Until I had an epiphany last night just before bed. I had a flashback to Sunday afternoon when I had Law on my shoulders. And then I got him down. And his foot got caught in my turtleneck. And. I dropped him. Aha! The pain is from me instinctively trying to twist and grab my poor son...at least it's well-earned pain...and not just some random, "oops-I-slept-on-my-neck-wrong" ailment.

Anyway, Becki (our fabulous masseuse...who, by the way, just had an ELEVEN POUND, TEN OUNCE baby...talk about PAIN), did an amaaaaaazing job. This was only my second professional massage ever and I didn't have very high hopes considering the last one left me bruised for days and caused internal trauma to my kidneys.

But I digress.

Relaxed and relatively pain-free, I returned to my desk and checked my email. One from Mike, saying he was hungry and could go for some Jimmy's. So what if I had it yesterday? So what if I had a Lean Cuisine in the freezer? I was DOWN with that.

He met me at my office and we walked to Jimmy's. On the way, the strangest thing happened. Mike was looking at me a bit oddly. I, of course, demanded to know WHY.

"Your eyeshadow," he said. "It looks good. You don't normally wear a color...it looks really nice."

UMMMMMMM. Wait a second. We've been together nearly 8 years. At no point in our relationship would I ever have described Mike to be observant when it comes to things related to the female appearance. Observant about pointless construction projects along the highway? Absolutely. Observant of our neighbors and exactly who does what when? Yep. Observant of which hamburger is larger on the grill so he can make sure he puts cheddar on the other one, ensuring he gets the bigger one? Every.single.time. But observant about my appearance? Not so much.

I was a bit dumbfounded. And then self-conscious. He was absolutely right. I had decided to step outside my little neutral-colored box this morning. Instead of going with my usual dark silver, I adventured over to the tin immediately next to it in my compact and swept on some purple. Then I decided it was too much and feared I'd look "80s," so I tried to neutralize it by applying a bit of my old standby, gray, on top. I can't believe he noticed. And liked it. Amazing.

This is getting really long-winded, so let me just say that I'm stoked as hell that Lawrence is eating the meals Mike and I eat instead of his standard rotation of bananas, mac & cheese, fruit cups, pancakes and mixed veggies. The child gobbled up ham, au gratin potatoes, carrot slices and grapes. These are all new foods for him. HOLLER. Millie said he's eating like a fiend at daycare, too...maybe he's having a growth spurt and is just so hungry he doesn't care. Maybe it's because he's distracted by the novelty of his food being on a plate and being given a fork to eat with. I don't really give a crap WHY he's eating so many new things and so much of them. I'm just going to keep shoveling new foods in while he's receptive and hope a few of them stick!

(by the way...I realize this was probably the longest, most annoying post EVER. I hereby vow to always include a photo of something...anything...to break up my ramblings from now on).

You have to be SHITTING me.

I'm a marketer's dream. Seriously. I see a new product and I.must.have.it. So, I've had the itch to go buy myself one of these:

I saw the commercial for these little numbers the other day. First of all, I'm a big fan of the regular Magic Eraser. So, if you give me suds AND the scent of Febreze in an already fab product, I'm sold.

I've been meaning to scrub my tub/shower for quite some time. It's embarrassing how much soap scum there is. But good ol' soap and water just won't cut through it. Even with a scrub brush. And if I clean it and it still looks scummy, I just feel like my work's unfinished. So, I just don't do it at all. Because why go through the work of "cleaning" a surface that's just going to look dirty when you're done? I see no point either.

I realize there are products out there that will cut the scum with just a few squirts, but I'm actually quite partial to my nose hairs and would rather not burn them out with the noxious mix of chemicals those products pack. Plus, my little boy's precious little bottom touches those surfaces and I just feel bad using such harsh chemicals with him in the house now (which is why I now buy Seventh Generation...or, of course, the newly marketed Clorox Greenworks products...I just *had* to try them, you know?!)

Anyway, I stopped at Target to get a few things, including the new sudsing Magic Eraser. I brought home my prize and immediately went to work on the shower. Whaddya know...it works wonders! Sure, it takes a bit more elbow grease than, say, The Works...but it definitely did the job. The soap scum was GONE...and in its place was the fresh scent of Febreze. Woot!

I stood and admired my gleaming tub for a minute before rescuing my high chair-bound son. I'll admit, I was a bit annoyed at how much spaghetti he was wearing and how my spotless tub would be tainted with Ragu, but I undressed him and plopped him in the water anyway. I washed him and then let him play (he adores bath time) while I read my book. I was just getting to the end of the chapter and about to dog-ear the page so I could get him out when I heard this strange noise, coupled with utter silence from my son -- no splashing, no jabbering -- he was still. It was just like he gets when he's playing with his toys in the living room and stops to...

POOP

My son is 14 months old and he's NEVER pooped in the tub before. Ever. (There was that one time when I accidently put him in the tub when he had a turd I didn't see stuck between his cheeks, but that's another story...) But there he was, one cheek out of the water, in utter concentration, dropping a fat deuce in my freshly scrubbed bathtub. Crap. Literally.

I'll admit, I froze up for a second. I mean, I didn't want poo in my clean tub, but I wanted poo on ME even less. Then, I shrieked "not in the tub!!" He started crying. I scared the shit out of him (well, a bit more shit anyway).

I scooped him up and stuck him on the toilet. Yes, seriously. I put my poor, cold, shaking, scared just-turned-14-month-old on the toilet in the hopes that he'd finish his business there. Sometimes, I'm just dumb. I think it goes without saying that he didn't go.

God bless Mike for fishing the turds out of the tub. I'm going to go bleach it out in a bit. I just can't believe the irony.

Take THAT, Kohl's!

Success is mine. After a long day, which ended with my son not taking his 2.5 hour afternoon nap at all, I've not only solved the Great Search for a Nantucket Style Frame but also the Great Shoe Hunt of 2008!

Lawrence, as always, was a trooper. We started at the photo frames and found two of the three that I needed. I added them to the cart and headed to the shoes. I quickly found the pair I'd been eyeing for Mike and located his size -- SCORE! They had them. I then made my way to the children's shoes. They had a bunch of different styles!! Some that were even included in the "Buy One, Get One Free" sale. ::choir sings:: Just for kicks (get it! "kicks!" As in, a slang term for shoes! Bwahahahaha!), I thought I'd look at the Adidas Superstar 2Gs I'd been coveting just yesterday. I couldn't believe my eyes! Perched neatly on the little display shelf was the shoe I wanted...with a tag attached to it proclaiming it as part of the sale!!! I threw the lame brown shoes I had settled on back on the shelf and found Law's size. Ba-da-bing! They were MINE.

Until I got to the check out. When, again, a teenaged checker tried to deprive me of adorable FREE footwear. I laid down the law -- there was a sign! Attached to the very shoe! Amazingly, she didn't believe me. An eternity later, someone from the shoe department called. I'd been convinced that they were hunting down a scissor to remove the aforementioned tag from the shoe so they wouldn't have to give it to me for free. But, the girl reluctantly overrode the price on her computer, warning me that if I wanted to return them, it would be a 'nightmare.' Uh, free shoes is a nightmare I'm willing to have. Mmkay?

(a photo of Law's new shoes...I just realized I may need a new hobby if I'm seriously googling my 1-year-old's new footwear so I can post it in my blog...)

Poor Lawrence was fading FAST, but I had to head just 5 miles South to the other Kohl's and pick up the third frame my aunt had requested (by the way...does asking your niece to run around town after some elusive frames and then shelling out $40 apiece seem a bit over-the-top to anyone else?) I lugged Lawrence around the store on my hip because he was NOT having the cart anymore. It was naptime and he just wanted to be done with the shopping scene. After digging around and only toppling a few frames off their shelves (with one hitting my son in the head on the way...he's fine), I finally found the blasted thing. Then, I was faced with the problem of buying only one frame during a "Buy One, Get One Free" sale. My aunt had said I could pick out a free one for myself. I didn't take nearly as long as I would have liked, but I finally found one that would do and was on my way.

A shout out to Nana, by the way, for picking up Lawrence's shoes for Easter today. My son didn't just get one pair of shoes...he got THREE. And Mike got one. Guess how many mama got. None. 'Tis the life of a mother, I suppose...

I'm exhausted. I was more productive today than I've been in weeks...months even.

And because he's SO damn cute (and because this is my current favorite outfit of his...and it's true, he has better shoes AND clothes than his mother), here's some pics of my little man from today:

Happy Monday!

Today, I am thankful for Mondays. I'm about to sound like a braggart, so if you're not in the mood, I suggest you close this browser window now...

I LOVE that I don't have to work on Mondays. I lie in bed on Monday mornings while Mike gets ready for work and feel a bit sorry for all the poor souls who have to drag themselves out of bed and go into the office. I can't even begin to tell you how wonderful it is to have off from Friday at 1pm until Tuesday morning every.single.week.

This particular Monday, my son decided that he'd sleep until 8:30am. WOOT! He's been waking me up at 7:15 (or even earlier), so even though I was already up, it was nice to be able to loaf around and ease into the day instead of having to be "on" the second I dragged my butt out of bed.

I feel so productive today, too! I've already vacuumed, dusted and done a load of laundry. Now if I can score some effing shoes, I'll be SET.

Speaking of shoes...CURSE YOU, YOU BLASTED KOHL'S! A-holes.

Yesterday, I stopped into Kohl's to look at photo frames for my aunt (long story short, her podunk town didn't have enough of what she was looking for, so she added the Great Nantucket Style Frame Hunt duties to my already daunting Great Shoe Hunt of 2008). I decided to swing past the shoe department just to see what they had.

SCORE!

They had shoes buy one, get one FREE. Yes, FREE! Since Mike is in desperate need of new black dress shoes (his, uh, "talk" when he walks...not pretty), I thought I'd pick up a pair for both daddy and son. Holler!

They had one pair of Mike's favorite brand of shoes in his size and they were on sale for a mere $39.99. I couldn't believe my luck! Then, I found little Adidas All Stars for Lawrence -- they met all my criteria. My mood was soaring higher than it had in weeks.

I took my prized footwear to the checkout lane and the lady rings them up. My total was something around $80. I questioned the "buy one, get one" sale and the valley girl checker says:

"uh, yeahhhh. Like, athletic shoes aren't, like, included....you know, even baby ones."

ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME?

There AREN'T any options OTHER than "athletic shoes" for boys!

I decided I'd go back and look again to see if there was an alternative. Mike's shoes were a great deal anyway and I wasn't about to pass up FREE! shoes. Whaddya know? Nadda. I looked at the big, ol' sign posted directly above all the "athletic shoes" and re-read the disclaimer (I had noticed that Vera Wang shoes were excluded, but not athletic). UNDER the Vera Wang disclaimer, in even smaller, italicized print was "athletic shoes excluded." Bastards.

So, unless I want to buy my child some lovely Mary Jane's, his footwear is exempt from the Kohl's sale. Ugh.

Good thing Nana said she'd order those cute Chucks I posted the other day from gap.com...

First of all, how is it after 5pm? I can't believe that the entire day is gone already. I will say that it has been quite a productive day for both myself and Mr. Mamarazzi.

Mike decided that he just *had* to get the new floor in this weekend. What can I say? The man loves a project. As soon as he mentioned words like "tearing out tile" and "sanding" and "nail gun," I began plotting my escape. I want to be NOWHERE near when that man starts messing with tools! Not that he's not handy -- he totally is (thank God). He's actually really awesome around the house. But, he gets frustrated easily. And starts talking to himself. The homeplace becomes a very uncomfortable setting when Mike and his tools are on the loose.

Mike started breaking tiles at 9 this morning. Lawrence didn't seem bothered at all by the incessant pounding, but I felt my eardrums were going to begin bleeding soon, so I got a plan! Which Lawrence foiled. Of COURSE he'd want to nap as soon as I was ready to leave! Of COURSE he'd want in his crib and would whine and fuss until I was completely ready to head out the door and would then pass out with his little booty in the air! Ugh. And Mike didn't stop working just because our dear son was slumbering. Nope. The man was on a mission. So, Law slept a grand total of 20 minutes (instead of his normal 2 hours). But, I didn't care! I quickly changed my cranky toddler into some public-worthy clothes (I looked like crap, but I always figure if my kid looks painfully cute, no one will pay attention to me anyway) and headed out.

I met my BFF Tracy at the mall. I'm on the hunt for new shoes for Lawrence. The poor kid probably thinks I'm performing some sort of Chinese foot-binding ritual on him with as tight as his current shoes are. It's not that I haven't been looking, but a) it's really hard to find cute toddler shoes, b) I want leather or canvas because anything with a "man made upper" creates a stinky foot situation (who KNEW a 14 month old's hooves could get so RANK? I mean, dang! That child's dogs bark about as loudly as his father's!) and c) I am not spending over $30 on a pair of shoes that my son will wear for a millisecond. Apparently, there's not a whole lot on the market in the way of affordable, attractive, leather/cotton toddler shoes.

After scouring the mall, we came up short. I did find these at the Gap:

They looked sooooo cute on him, but they, of course, didn't have his size. I may run out later and see if I can score a pair elsewhere.

What I DID get him was his Easter outfit. Ladies, lock up your daughters...because Lawrence Axel will be rockin' a TIE! (tee hee!!)

I.can't.wait.

Oh dear God. Junior just got up...and Mike is back at it with the saw. Someone save me! Seriously, though, the floor looks awesome. I'll have to post a pic later.

So *some people* suggested I had writing skills worthy of blogging. So, I decided to end my little pity party and get back on the horse named Blogger.


I thought about starting all over -- I even went so far as setting up an entirely new account. But, then I came back and read my posts and decided oh, what the hell. (...okay, if I'm completely honest, it's that I'm REALLY lazy and I just didn't want to have to re-download my photos).

Since my last few posts were a bit

I decided that I should discuss a few things that make me happy today.

#1: My sweet little boy's cuddles. He was just fussing in his crib, so I went to lay him down and make sure he had his paci. He gave me his first ever, arms-around-my-neck, big solid hug. THAT was awesome.

#2: The weather. Thank you JESUS for this beautiful day. The sun is shining, I didn't require my mittens and I'm *almost* warm enough inside my house to not be wrapped up in my blanket-cape.

I am a bit disappointed that my freshly washed car with its shiny new bumper is now disgusting again (waaah WAHHH).

#3:

Mmmm. And you know that ever since I read the article that "diet pop makes you fatter" I've been livin' it up with my little full-sugar friend!

#4:

aka, my BFF (we have matching rings and everything). I can tell her anything and everything. Plus, she totally sees the humor in the most ridiculous things. For example, speaking to one another as though we're in the SNL "Teaaar-get" skit. We have regular conversations with that accent daily. It's freaking hilarious. You should try it.

#5

I kid you not. I have eaten a box and a half in a week. And it's not that I'm a huge pig...I've just been eating me Lucky Charms for every meal I can get away with.

It's a good thing Lawrence gives me #1 or I wouldn't share my marshmallows with him at all.

I do feel that the marshamallow to cereal ratio has increased since I was a kid and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I mean, I love me horseshoes, rainbows and pots o' gold as much as the next lass, but there is definitely a point where it becomes overload. But hell, maybe the added charms will bring me some luck!

And, that folks, is all I've got for today. But, I've committed to writing daily. We'll see if that happens...I'm lucky if I can make myself get DRESSED every day. SO, if you see me slacking, tell me to get on it (and to put on some "real" clothes...'cause Lord knows I'm probably just in yoga pants and an old pitted out t-shirt).

So, I decided that I need to quit being such a downer. At least on my blog. I'm not sure anyone really reads it anyway, but on the off chance that someone does take the time to puruse it, I think I should probably -- as Hannah Montana would say -- build a bridge and get over it. If I still need to whine and vent about how unfair my life is, I can't write about it in a journal (or at the very least, a word doc saved on my hard drive...typing is a lot easier, you know?)

Yesterday I went to see "27 Dresses." I didn't have very high expectations. I was dying to see it, but totally figured it would have a plot so predictable my 13-month-old could have written it. I was very pleasantly surprised with it, though. It was totally cute and had a deeper story line than I would have guessed. Probably the funniest part of the movie wasn't even on the screen, though. I went with my sister and we were 2 minutes late (which, if you know us, is actually pretty good!). The previews were alread playing and we took some seats next to a guy. He looked like he was saving the seat to his right, so we sat on his left. I was way into the movie, but when the lights came up I noticed the coat was still piled in the seat next to him. This late 20s/early 30s guy totally came to see "27 Dresses" by.him.self. My sister and I couldn't stop cracking up about it on the way out. I mean, really?! What?! I hope he didn't run into anyone he knew because that's just embarrassing. It's hard to get Mike to go to a girly movie WITH me. He would never go WITHOUT.

It's been a few days and I still can't make any sort of sense out of it. I don't like me right now -- I'm angry and bitter. And that's just not who I am. Sarcastic and crass? Yes. Anal retentive and over-anaytical? You got it. But I don't know who this pissed off, jealous, raging, mean-spirited person is.

I keep telling myself that so many other people have it worse. I read on a siggy on a chat board that said she'd lost her baby at 20 weeks. That's horrific. Unimaginable. Devastating. And yet I want to use those same words to describe how I'm feeling about the baby I lost...the pregnancy that probably never even formed into an embryo.

I know there are worse things. Far worse things. But I can't stop dwelling on it. Thinking about it. Thinking about how my body totally screwed me -- not just out of this baby, but having a baby in November, too. It's like I'm grieving for two lost children.

I'm trying to find the message in this. I feel like there's got to be a reason. Maybe it's that I need to learn to let go and not try to plan my life...to list out every event and when it should happen. Maybe it's to appreciate what I have. It just seems like such an unecessary way to teach a lesson...

I think I'm probably being a little overdramatic. And that frustrates me, too, because I'm not meaning to be. But, had I just waited -- probably even a day -- to take a pregnancy test, I would have never known. The $Tree tests were so, so light. I should have just left it. There was obviously a reason for that. But, my period was late and I just *had* to know. If I'd waited, I would have never even known what I lost. I wouldn't have been told to wait another cycle to try again. I would have just thought my period was late. But I didn't. I saw "Pregnant" and even if it was only for a few days, I was the mother of two. I'd seen my kids together in my head. I vividly imagined our family of three turning into one of four.

We're going to try again, but I'm scared out of my mind. If nothing else, this pregnancy has confirmed that we're absolutely ready for another baby. I just pray that God forgives me for being so angry with him about this and blesses us with another healthy child...and soon.

And I thought I liked roller coasters...

So yesterday sucked. Flat-out blew. Fat chunks. By bedtime, I was absolutely convinced that this pregnancy was over. DH and I tried to discuss the "positive" in the situation (not easy, let me tell you). We went to bed really early because I could feel a migraine coming on and I just was DONE with Monday, January 28th.

It's funny because the number "9" has always been my favorite number. If anyone ever has me "pick a number between 1 & 10" I invariably choose 9 (even though I NEVER win). My birth month is 9. Age 9 was my favorite year. The due date of this baby was to be in month 9. But, last night, I couldn't stop thinking about what a dirty bastard "9" was. That's a REALLY crappy number when it comes to hCG levels. My good friend "9" suddenly seemed to be turning on me.

I woke up this morning to find I hadn't bled *too* much overnight. It was pretty heavy this morning, though. I called the nurse at my OB's office because I couldn't stand not knowing if my level was actually only 9 or if it was short for something...like, say 9 HUNDRED. I told her about my bleeding (which I'll spare you the details of) and my slightly increased cramping and told her that I knew when we would have had to conceive and that I just didn't think "9" was indicative of anything good at this point. I asked if I should even waste my time with the bloodwork tomorrow. She didn't sound very hopeful at all. She said she'd call me back. (by the way -- is it a requirement to have social skills in the negative to work in an OB's office?)

FINALLY, she called me back and said that my doctor absolutely thought that a 9 could be a level reflective of where I should be with this pregnancy and that she didn't give much value to hCG charts vs. weeks pregnant -- she only cared about the numbers going up. So, my hope sparked a bit.

And now, the bleeding's all but stopped. Very slight spotting, but much, much less than in the past 36 or so hours. So, my hope's sparked a bit more. I'm still trying to remain realistic, but I'm praying and crossing everything I can cross that I hear good news tomorrow.

Lawrence is feeling better today, too. After his traumatizing breathing treatment that did nothing and a steroid shot that seemed pointless, he finally seems to be turning the corner. He still sounds like Darth Vader, but he's not coughing nearly as much.

Ugh. I'll be so glad when tomorrow's over. If someone could just fast-forward until the part where I know what the EFF is going on with my body, I'd really appreciate it. I'm sick of this stupid roller coaster ride.

Seriously, what ELSE?

So, yesterday morning, Lawrence developed croup. I thought his labored breathing, wheezing and horrible cough was the scariest thing ever.

And then I woke up this morning. With bright pink blood when I used the restroom.

I know some spotting can be okay in the first trimester. Shoot, I had it with Lawrence. But this was much more and much earlier and I just don't feel optimistic. As the day's gone on, it hasn't let up at all and it's gotten to be a brighter red. I don't really feel crampy, but I still don't think it's a good sign.

I sit here, listening to my poor baby wheezing through the monitor as he naps, thinking about the other baby inside of me that I may never know and not-so-patiently awaiting the call from the OB's office and the stress is unbearable. I can't explain it and someone that had never been through it wouldn't understand, but I already love this child. I haven't known about its existence for very long at all, but the thought of it being over before it ever really began is devastating. I can't help but wonder if I'd been less stressed about being pregnant and not worried so much if maybe it would have turned out okay. I know consciously that I can't blame myself, but I can't help but ask the "what ifs..." What if I hadn't drank caffeine? What if I hadn't been so stressed? What if I'd gotten more rest? Or eaten more? Or been thrilled from minute one?

I worried about my second pregnancy before it even happened. I'm surrounded by friends and family who've had healthy pregnancies and children. With the rates for miscarriage as they are, I just *knew* the odds were stacked against me.

I seem to run out of tears. I'm trying to be positive and remind myself that some people have bleeding and everything turns out fine, but I don't want to set myself up for an even farther plunge if the reality is that this pregnancy is over. It's been four hours now since the lab technicians stabbed me and poked around in my arms (yes, armS. I knew I wouldn't escape without at least one poke in each arm. Good thing I'm not an addict. My veins are autrocious) and I still haven't heard anything. I hate to be *that* patient -- the one that calls, what would that be? FIVE times in one day. I just need a plan. I need to know what the next step is. I need to know if it's okay to hope.

Sometimes you just need a good, ol' mental breakdown

So, I had a meltdown today. Thank God for mothers!

After nearly two entire days home alone, I'd just had it with Lawrence. My patience had run out and being nauseous, exhausted and stressed this morning + needed to get ready to go somewhere + Lawrence refusing his morning nap = basket case mommy. I yelled at him. And then felt like a total ass. And like the worst mother in the world. Which made me ponder, if I can't handle ONE, how in the world will I manage with TWO? I hugged my sweet baby and told him I was sorry and that it wasn't his fault and managed to pull it together. Until I saw my mom. At which point, I began sobbing. My mom's really great in that I know I can say anything...can just have uncontrolled, un-restrained verbal diarrhea...and she won't judge me (I pray that I can develop that amazing trait for my children). I let it all out and she listened and then said all the right things.

I have to say that now that I've expressed all my fears and anxieties -- now that they're "out there" -- I feel like I can really be excited about this little baby I'm growing inside of me. Strangely, I'm eleventy-billion times more nervous about this pregnancy. I'm so afraid that something's going to go wrong...like, my luck's run out or something. And even though we weren't expecting to be expecting quite so soon, I want this child SO BAD. I can't wait to hear his or her heartbeat and see him or her on the ultrasound, just so I know (s)he's okay in there. And I'd forgotten just how much I love being pregnant. I feel like I was made for this job! I'm already queasy and so tired, but I love it anyway. I love knowing that my body's not just mine (okay, that sounds kind-of creepy...but you know what I mean). I can't wait to get a big ol' giant belly that I can rest my hands (and plate) on. And hey! I already have stretch marks, so I don't even have to stress about that this time around!

I do wish that food sounded good, though. I hated that with Lawrence and I'm already feeling the guilt with this pregnancy. I just have an icky taste in my mouth and my stomach feels sour and I can't figure out what to eat, so I end up eating nothing (or something completely random like the chocolate chip cookies I just HAD to bake and eat the other day!) I know I should be eating nutritious meals to help nourish this baby, but yuck! Nothing sounds good and I'm afraid I'll barf if I make myself eat something. Last time, I lost 10lbs in the first trimester...and I didn't feel so sick so early...I hope that I'm able to figure something out to manage it with this pregnancy. Not only do I need to nourish this baby, but I need the energy to chase after my son!

Well, slap me silly and call me Fertile Myrtle!

Um, whoa! Apparently, Mike and I are the most fertile people on the planet. With Lawrence, we got pregnant with one "let's just see what happens..." And now this! We were avoiding (though, obviously not very well...)

Of course, we knew it was a possibility...we just never imagined that it would happen when I a) wasn't supposed to be fertile and b) from ONE time. And, sure, there have been little signs and symptoms the past couple weeks...and my period IS 5 days late...but I nearly passed out when I saw the "Pregnant" pop up!

So, going by my cycle, my due date's around 09.28.08. Going by conception date, it would be 10.02.08. We'll see what the doc says, I suppose. But, if everything goes well, Mike and I will joining the "two under two" club early fall (when Lawrence is just under 21 months old -- holyshit!)

Here's a list of my "clues" (some made me think I was pregnant and some just make sense in retrospect):

• Really bad bloating, starting 4-5 days after conception. (really painful -- couldn't even get a deep breath in!)
• Increased tiredness
• Lawrence started adamantly, damn-near-violently refusing his bedtime nursing session (his only nursing session)
• "Tingly" boobs
• "Heavy feeling" in lower abdomen
• Menstrual cramping for the past 1.5 weeks (With my period I only have cramping once it starts)
• Missed period
• Bitchiness
• Increased peeing
• Chapped lips (had the same thing with Law)
• THIRSTINESS!
• Acne on my chin (had that with Law, too)

I took several tests leading up to my digital BFP with completely unclear results. I don't know what's up with that...either $Tree just doesn't like me or it was too early even though I'd missed my period. I got some suuuuuuuuper faint lines, but they came up really late -- like around the 10 minute mark or more. I knew I wasn't supposed to give any credibility to anything seen after 10 minutes, so I didn't know WHAT to think. I finally broke down today and got a digital.

My mind's already reeling with bedroom arrangements, double strollers, MONEY and daycare...and I haven't even really wrapped my head around the fact that there's a little life growing inside of me as we speak. It's totally different the second time around...with my first pregnancy, it was like the world STOPPED spinning the minute we found out we were going to be parents. In that one instant, everything changed. Don't get me wrong -- it's still completely exciting and exhilarating...but the world hasn't exactly stopped spinning...or even slowed down. We have Lawrence to worry about and we've already been through it once, so some of the element of "OMG! What's next?!" just isn't there.

I can't wait to tell people. I really thought I'd want to keep it a secret this time. But, I find myself wanting to call every person I know -- hell! every person I've met in passing -- and tell them the news!

Wow. I just still don't believe it. And every time I look at the pee stick, I'm shocked all over again. I literally get chills.

So, I'm new to this blog thing...

I love reading other peoples' blogs and admire their wittiness and devotion to writing regularly. I probably won't be very witty or write very regularly, but I thought I'd give it a shot anyway...I can't imagine anyone even caring enough to take the time to read about my mundane life, but who knows? Maybe someone's days are even more boring than mine!



For those of you poor souls who somehow found your way to my page and thought you might find some entertainment, let me introduce myself:



My name's Jess and I'm 25. I'm married to my high school sweetheart, Mike, and we have an amazing little boy named Lawrence. I work part-time as an event coordinator and have a side business doing invitations/announcements/etc.



My son absolutely amazes me every day. No, he's not some sort of genius...speaking in full sentences at 12.5 months or something...I'm just completely blown away that this little mini version of my husband and me managed to get all our good qualities and none of our bad. Thank GOD, by the way! I was definitely expecting a little hybrid of our bad features (definitely thought he was destined to bad ears and a bad nose) and a combination of my rudeness and inability to compromise and my husband's moodiness and temper. Sure, there's definitely still time for those lovely personality traits (and ears and nose) to develop, but my son is the sweetest, funniest, most laid-back little guy.



My best friend just reminded me tonight that when I was pregnant I obsessed over whether or not my kid would be "unfortunate looking." I made her promise to tell me the honest truth about my child's looks because I wanted to be able to compensate with cute clothing if he was a dog (and let's face it -- some kids just aren't cute...) I didn't think I'd be able to tell and I wanted her to let me know so that I didn't take some homely kid out in public in just a plain ol' white onesie and knit pants. Not that I would have cared -- I'd have loved my kid to the moon if he looked like Clay Aiken (which some people have said he does. Pshaw, I say!). I just didn't want to put people in the awkward predicament of not knowing what to say. I mean, for whatever reason, people are just compelled to make a fuss over babies in the grocery store or Target or the mall. And I didn't want to force people to have to a) lie to my face and tell me my kid was cute or b) struggle with not telling a lie and give me some sort of "awwww...what a cute...er, pair of socks?" kind of line. Thankfully, Lawrence outgrew the initial cone-headedness/yellowness and turned into a rather dashing little baby, if I don't say so myself (and if you don't think so, that's fine...just tell me you like his socks at least).



Here's a few photos of me/my little family:

Here's us at Christmastime
Lawrence around 10.5 months

A recent one (12 months)

Unbelievable that this was over a YEAR ago!

Not the best picture of my kid, but I look reasonably okay, which, let's face it -- it's pretty damn hard to find an acceptable photo of myself even a year postpartum.

I'm really rather boring. But, hey -- maybe blogging will help me document of some of Lawrence's milestones, since Lord knows they don't make it into his baby book until I've forgotten the actual dates and I have to just make stuff up...