There is this little trick I like to play...

It is becoming obvious that I might be having twins. Well, okay, it is becoming obvious that I am pregnant. Some people brave the chance that I am and ask, and some just assume that if I keep growing at this phenomenal rate, I'll get really fat, really quick. I don't know, people can be nutty.

Anyway, when someone comes across me as a pregnant lady, the conversation goes something like this:

"So, when are you due?"

"January, well, the end of, so maybe February"

"No, what is your due date?"

"The end of January"

"*sigh*Do you know what you are having"

"A baby I hope...ha ha, I don't know."

"Are you going to find out?"

"No"

"Aren't you curious"

"Sure, you seem to be too. We are going to let it be a surprise"

"That sounds great. Pause "Who is your Dr?"

"Ummm, I don't really have one."

"I know a couple that are really good."

"Well I mean, I don't have an OB, I have a midwife."

"Like a nurse midwife... Or like a scary non schooled, barefoot old lady midwife? Ha ha"

"yeah, exactly. She is a certified midwife, and has been practicing for over 30 years. "

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm having my second homebirth"

"on purpose?"

"yup"

"no drugs when you do it at home, right?"

"I don't think so. I never really asked"

"huh. I think you are crazy."

"yeah."


The fun part of this conversation is the look on peoples faces when they realize that I am not kidding, that I am going to give birth in my bedroom. Most people can catch themselves pretty quick and put on a smile, but some just stare at me open mouthed with a look of horror on their faces.

I find it funny.

I'm really not a negative person...Honest

But for some reason, all these posts seem to have that type of seasoning. I really am a happy well adjusted person...Right?

Well maybe not well adjusted, I mean, I am a mom of 2.3 kids. My days can vary from extremely mundane and boring, to frantic and overwheming. Try adjusting to that for very often. Can we say "split personalities"?

I read everyday about women experiencing post partum depression, women dealing with loss of parents or children. Women who are dealing with failed marriages or cheating spouses, and I think to myself, "my life is pretty great". Yeah there are occasional dips in the road. Sometimes it feels like you are at the bottom of the grand canyon, but with a little bit of work, you can always get back on top. Or a lot a bit of work. I read mostly about women who don't make informed choices about their options in life, and not only do I get sad, I also get angry. Just ask big D.

So I was wondering why I felt so inclined to make my life seem so shallow and desperate in my posts. Do I think this is entertaining drivel? I probably would be board, and I guess I am. I mean, what in the world is potty training a 3 year old going to change? My life could change but I don't think it would be all that much....Really. I don't really think I need to uplift my readers, since I am really not the uplifting type of girl. I mean, I am friendly, sort of silly kind of girl, but in a way, spiritually shy. I don't read great novels (although I used to), I don't get involved politically, or even with the PTA. But I do have lots of opinions, and I guess, I've been told, I am pretty vocal about them. Why oh why hasn't my dear readers benefited from this! I'm not sure, maybe I am worried that I would offend some, or maybe I am just to tired when I blog to not get on my lactavist soap box.

So I'm not promising anything, I could be just as boring in the future, but maybe, just maybe I might have something controversial to say. Stay tuned...

To whom it may concern

Dear persons managing the multi level marketing products that I have been tricked into buying for the last 5 freaking years:

let me out! Please don't send me any more soaps, laundry detergent, or lotions. I really do love your products, but I cannot afford to keep the hundreds of your telephone marketers in luxury cars anymore. Yes I know that I will be missing out on great benefits, such as credit card offers, and the possibility of winning an all expense paid trip to the next convention. However I am not interested in such things, nor is my family. Actually, we cannot continue spending my children's college savings just to do our laundry in a purely bio-degradable laundry detergent, nor washing my dishes with completely safe dish soap. Yes, I realize I can come back at any time, only it will cost me a sweet $50 sign up fee, and my first born's liver. Then you will be able to up my monthly point count to outrageously high limits, therefore taxing me and my family back to the stone age.

Let me go. I have been a valued customer for over 5 years, yet I am tired of counting points, stocking up on sensitive skin lotion, placing orders before the 10th of every month. And I didn't appreciate last months reserve order of useless crap that we will never use. Yes you broke the camels back with that one, especially since it will cost my income challenged family almost as much as it would to fill up the van with gas! Enough is enough. Let me out. Let me go. I have no desire to see your new products or read your new testimonials. I have no neighbors who would like to order anything, in fact, it is a total secret that I myself am involved in this Satan spawned program. How will I ever look my husband in the eye when he tallies up the total cost of said products for the last year! It is disgraceful! I could have bought my own dollar store by that time.

Take comfort though, mlm company, there are plenty more suckers out there. Plenty more moms who realize the potential poison of store bought cleaners. Millions of others who are allergic to laundry soaps, and several people who understand the benefit of a sugarless chewing gum with xylitol (not a low calorie food).

Nevermind the countless emails, nor phone calls. The hours spent on hold with overly charming telephone marketers. Here is my final letter, addressed to you, hopefully sent to the correct address. Here you have it. I am done, please quite sending me emails, catalogs, and samples.

thank you

More

So not only is Chilly peeing on the carpet, but Harry ends up peeing all over his bed last night. AAGH!
At least my I-tunes plays loud enough so I can do the laundry and listen to Harry Potter and POA.

pee on the carpet = ?

So in the ever entertaining quest to potty train my now 3 year old *gasp* I've decided to take the wonderful advice I've received from my faithful and true readers. I'm packing it in. I'm folding the laundry. I'm shutting the bathroom door.

Yes it is because I am a lazy mother. But just so I look like I am defending myself in this harsh world of judgmental mothers, I'd like to add that nothing good can be accomplished whilst I vomit cleaning up urine. Out of carpet. That is two messes I really don't want. I don't have a carpet cleaner (well I do, it is called a sponge) so I really want to wait until Chilly
1. Has better aim
2. Can clean up his own spills
3. Can do the poopy laundry himself
4. Works full time to pay for his own "treats"
5. A better understanding of why it is wrong to actually pee on the carpet

so call me lazy, call me irresponsible, I don't care. Well I care a little bit. My kid is okay, and he's going to be okay. He just doesn't get it yet. If he is still in diapers when he goes to kindergarten, then maybe I'll start to listen.

great

So now big D fixed the toilet. Hooray! oh, but does that mean I have to get serious now? Can I say that I'll seriously try to potty train Chilly when I don't vomit every morning? I know, I know, excuses, excuses.

*sigh*

Here I go. No more last minute run to the store, no more unplanned outtings. time to pack an extra pair of undies and clothes. Time to load up on "prizes" and assorted items. I can't get frustrated or mad, because it is hard work, learning to use the potty.

Just think, I could be diaper free for 4 months!!

School's OUT!! And other assorted rambles

Well sort of. I know, I know, another gripe about year round school...Well, not really. I mean, I enjoyed sleeping in until 8:00 this morning, having a lazy breakfast, and planning on playing with my boys today. But I know that, eventually, Harry is going to get board at home. AND now the rest of the world has finally started school, so there aren't a lot of playmates out there anymore. At least we'll have the park to ourselves.

Big d is shedding his skin like a snake. Well almost. But it is coming off in sheets. It really is wild, and kind of gross. But that also means he's as itchy as me. I blame mine on pregnancy hormones, and a mild sunburn, but that is because I am itchy everywhere. Poor big D, not only does he itch like crazy, but he has to constantly scratch me

We officially created a new geek for our family. There was hope for Harry to not get involved in everything science fiction. But alas, as we watched our beloved star trek last night, he got quite into it. And he turned on reading rainbow this morning, and was upset that "geordi" was not on the enterprise. *sigh* There is no hope for this boy.

Chilly is potty training himself! He totally disappeared yesterday while I was making dinner. I could hear him grunting and I asked him if he was pooping. "Yeah" he yelled back at me. And sure enough, as big D ran up to see what he was doing, he was sitting on the toilet pooping. Cool huh? Well, you all know I'm lazy as can be, but maybe this is a sign that I really ought to put some effort into the whole thing, and get him out of the pullups. Just as soon as big d fixes our downstairs toilet.

I've got a cute son

Big D woke up this morning with a wild idea. Why not take Chilly to work with him today! I reminded him that Chilly is oft times a difficult and hyper child, but no matter, big D decided that would be fun for both of them. So after packing up the essential toys, off when Chilly and big d to catch the bus, and go to work.

Harry got ready for school, and after Chilly left, quite concerned, asked me if I was going to be okay being by myself today. He really looked worried. I tried not to laugh, and I started to tell him that I would be okay, he butted in and said...

"oh yeah, you're not alone, you have a baby in your tummy. That should keep you company."

mental note...you catch more flies with honey

This past week we have been hopelessly trying to help Harry have a better attitude about things. To not be negative or grumpy. I talked in bed with him for about an hour the other night about catching flies with honey. I then related it to mom and dad, and catching them with a sweet harry, not a sour one. I think he got it, and he has been trying really hard to make the adjustment. I'm crossing my fingers, but I figure it is going to be a lesson repeated. I mean he's six right?

And then there is me, I have felt very sleep deprived as Chilly, the 3 year old, has not been sleeping well. We subscribe to the whole "family" bed thing. So you know, in the middle of the night, during a nightmare or whatever ,the boys are welcome to join the big bed, cuddle and get some reassurance. I know what you are thinking, and you couldn't be more right...lazy parents. So while Chilly has something that has yet to be diagnosed, that seems to prevent him from actually sleeping for an hour at a time in his own bed. Thus I find him nightly with his feet in my face, or something much worse, and woken up from my peaceless sleep. already having been interrupted by The Third Installment's constant need for me to deflate my bladder. I know, you get it, I'm tired.

Here is where the story takes an interesting turn. How is it that I CAN actually sleep with a 3 year old who peed all over me, flayling his arms to and fro, a dog doing aerobics and needs to go outside at the crack of dawn, the husband who is loudly emitting bodily noises preparing to get ino the shower, the 6 year old who has decided that it is time to get up and play space ships or blow up the house or something equally as loud, a pbs kids nonsensical cartoon, and the garbage truck. But one stinking fly buzzing around will wake me? One little fly that was let into the house by the screen door needing to be fixed? One annoying little fly that will sleep peacefull during the day, when I am fully awake to hunt and destroy, but at 7:00am when I have had a horrible night of bathroom trips and restless toddler syndrome, insists on crawling on my face and waking me up? It is not fair I tell you.

AND this fly that currently resides in my bedroom, has been there for at least a week, which has me questioning my high school biology class, or whatever pbs documentary, that told me that insects don' t have very long life spans. If this dang fly keeps up the morning routine, he isn't going to have a life anymore.

But the cute part in all of this was Harry. He told me that he could go get the honey out of the cupboard and catch that fly for me. I can't even begin to imagine the mess that would make. I think that was the sweetest thing he could have said.

Star Trek, the next Generation, or how I met my husband.

May 1994. Graduation day for the senior class during my sophomore year at high school. My best friend and I cried. Not only because we were truly going to miss all of our senior friends (who honestly were the best of the best) but because we had found out that there would be no more new episodes of Star trek the next generation. We moaned and complained for days, and if I remember correctly, my friend wrote a stirring song about our agony.

Okay, let me back track here for a bit. I grew up in a house with a TV controlling dad. I learned early that monster movies or western were par for the course, and if I didn't like it, I could leave. I watched everything science fiction or John Wayne, and mostly ignored them, resented them, or whatever. Saturday afternoons I remember watching battlestar galactica, and buck Rogers. And of course star trek. With captain Kirk. So it made sense that in the year 1987, when "the next generation" came into being, my dad started watching, and thus I started watching. Sunday dinners with everyone over always revolved around the kitchen TV, and the adventures of the Enterprise. However I was too ashamed of my actual enjoyment of these programs to ever mention outside of my family, anything to do with star trek.

until my best friend and I admitted one day, that we both enjoyed it. She really was cool, so it would be okay if I liked something previously thought to be geeky! So we talked about Jean Luc, Deanna, and Riker. We enjoyed going to conventions and meeting a few actors, buying star trek t shirts and making fun of people who bought more toys than us. We got our own communicator badges, and my friend, got herself a uniform. Then came the life size cutout of captain picard. He was a cameo in several movies that we made, including the one that lost me the Student Body President election (wonder why??).

So when they announced that "next generation" was ending, our hearts were broken. Yes we still had the reruns, and there was supposed to be movies, but nothing new in the area of fine TV, great storylines, and a running commentary on the world we live in.

Eventually we overcame our sadness and recognized that at least the world was a better place for having HAD STTNG!

November 1996, college. I was in the theatre department and working at the local library. I was doing shows, going to work, and back for rehearsals. I was lucky to be home in time for the late night reruns of TNG. I was cast into a scene that I hadn't auditioned for, the directing class' scenes. I remember NOT auditioning for the simple reason that I felt I was too busy, and my work schedule looked down on the fact that I couldn't work nights much. But to turn down a part is to commit suicide for a thespian in college. So I went to the second rehearsal, having missed the first. Not only was I cast in a show that I knew nothing about, directed by the biggest nerd I hadn't met, I was also cast as a 50 year old black woman. Was 18. I could probably pass for Hispanic, maybe Asian in dim lighting. I met this guy that had cast me into this roll, and the only thing that lifted my spirits was a star trek TNG communicator pin on his backpack. Okay, he must be alright.

Well the scene was over, and we were sitting watching the other scenes and we started a conversation about star trek. And that was it, the rest I guess is history.

So now, almost 10 years after that first meeting, here we are. We stay up late watching old episodes of star trek. Don't get me wrong, we are poor and cheap, so we don't have cable, we get our star trek fix on TV that big d taped in the year 1995. You got it, we watch old tapes. I'm hoping that some day we will come into some money so I can buy him seasons 1-7 on DVD.

Sunburned Saturday.

"So what do you wanna do today?"

"I dunno, what do you wanna do?"

If you are like us, Saturday after chores, we have a conversation similar to this one. Not every Saturday, most Saturdays during regular summer hours are filled to the brim with other obligations, family reunions, yard sales, that kind of thing.

But we had nothing PLANNED for today. Big D had mowed the lawn, the boys had breakfast and sufficient "let me get some energy out so mom doesn't kill us" time, and I had made my soon to be weekly trip to the local farmers market for some fresh produce. What to do? What to do? A hike? A trip to a cave?? The zoo? SOMEthing please! I made a suggestion to big d, and he took the bait. The local lake, or dam, or whatever you call it.

So in a matter of minutes the boys were scrambling for the swimming suits, I had packed a picnic lunch, and we were off. In the van. On the road. On our way. It was a beautiful day, the sky was blue, the clouds were white, and the water, well... It was wet. We paid our obligatory fee (8$ are you kidding me??) and we set up "base". A spray with the sunscreen for the boys and into the water they went. I sat on the beach for some time, soaking up the sun, Big D made sand castles. All in all, a relaxing day at the beach.

4 hours passed, and we figured we were tired and hungry enough to make the trip home. With sandy cheeks, grumpy kids, and sunburned faces, we reluctantly came home. That is probably when I first noticed it. Well I have to admit, I probably first noticed it when I started shivering on the beach. Not a good sign. All mommy instinct said..It's time to go! So we did. And by the time we got home, I had sunburned more of me than usual. And big D is a lobster.

Honestly, I usually don't burn much. I have nice olive skin that can take the most dangerous sun rays without a blush. If I do end up with a bit of red, it is gone almost the next morning, replaced by a nice tan. Jealous? Most people are. I tan naturally, I almost crave having sunlight on my face. My boys are turning out to be a lot like me (thankfully!). Big D isn't so fortunate. I am pretty anal about smearing the boys up with spf 50000, but big d, well he's a big boy, and he really should know better. I should too. 4 hours in water is bound to create a tad of color to anyone. But here we are, Saturday night, sitting around in our underwear with Aloe Vera smeared all over us. Dumb? Yeah, but we had a blast!

To the Kind Person in Charge of My Fashion Future...

I recieved a package today. A big box chucked full of maternity clothes. I don't know who sent them to me (I have a few suspicions). Whoever sent them must know the lack of funds right now, and the serious belly issues I've been having.

So thanks. I'm a bit overwhelmed. I'm a little teary. I hope someday I find out who you are and repay you. I'm not one who enjoys recieving charity, but at this point, I'll take what I can get.

thanks again.

Pregnancy woes

So just in case you missed it, I'm expecting. What am I expecting? To someday be feeling normal again. HA! I've been feeling miserable, with the only thing that makes me feel better is taking a nap. (could be physiological I suppose). Anyway, since my oldest is in school now, and the soon to be middle child is a very sweet three year old monster. I've had a bit of time on my hands to think about this impending arrival.

I love newborns. I love everything about them, except the fact that they don't sleep at night. I keep my hopes up that this one will, from day one. I have serious doubt that he/she will, but you are supposed to keep a positive attitude right? So here I am planning out my days when I again have two at home. All will be wonderful! The baby will nap, nurse and only poop on demand. The older brother will play quietly and respect his younger sibling, and I will get my 8 hours of sleep, and be down to a size 8 by the time the baby is two weeks old. How's that for positive thinking!

So other than the highly imaginative plans I have for my future as mother of three, I also am dreading the thought of becoming noticeably pregnant. Right now, I could be just fat, or I could be pregnant. Depends on the clothes, and how grumpy I am, or how much makeup I am wearing. See, really grumpy fat people like me, don't usually put on mascara, or cover up those dang baby making hormone zits with conceiler. So some days, I'll take fat on, and others, I actually shower and put on cute clothes from my shopoholic sister in law (thanks again) and look relatively pregnant. Whew! That is a lot to get out. But here is the point. I get big. When I am pregnant I stick out about 2 feet, and I'm as wide as a small childing sleeping in the bed with me. I generally need the assistance of support buttresses to hold up my stomach. This is not news to me. People think it is.
"wow, you're really big"
at this point in my pregnancy, it is not wise to point out the obvious to a hormonal and huge woman, unless you either want a fit of tears and a blow to the head.

"are you sure there is only one in there?"
What kind of mean spirited person would say that? And I've had plenty. No there is just one, and thank you for lifting my spirits and making me feel like the daughter of God that I deserve to feel when I am only bringing a solo person into this world.

"you must be having a boy/girl!"
C'mon people. I do not carry any infant like your sister's cousin's ex friends mother. Sorry. Maybe my body is different than yours. And NO I don't know what I am having because my sweet husband wants it to be a surprise. But thank you for your old wives tales, they are entertaining in the least. The lottery for guessing the baby's gender is down the hall and to the left.

"you must be due any minute!"
not a smart thing to say, at any point in any pregnancy. Because if you are "due" at any minute, it does not mean that you will thus spurt forth an infant. In fact, it takes a lot of work, and some of that work is uncomfortable. Reminding a pregnant woman of her immanent doom probably won't make her feel any better. AND if she isn't due at any minute, well, then you have just made her question all things internal. Shame on you. I will be rushing to my next appointment questioning whether or not my ob is "off his rocker because he is letting me get so big" or punching him in the nose because he isn't.

yes my friends I have had all these comments and more. Some from well meaning people who have never multiplied and replenished, and some from stupid people who have. Some from family members who were trying to be hurtful, and some from strangers who I probably should have hurt.

So I dread this. Pregnancy is a beautiful time of growing, glowing and feeling amazed at the wonder that life is giving you, yet I am dragging my feet, wondering when that first comment will come, and wondering how I will take it. I know I should just smile and walk away, but sometimes, I really would like a nice fist fight. I mean, wouldn't it be something to get into a brawl with a hugely pregnant woman? The terrible gravitational pull of my belly would suck you in and life would cease to be yours. Just like a black hole.