Friday, March 19, 2010


I am in one of those moods that makes me feel like I don't even want to be around myself. I feel like my mother when I was growing up if she was trying to clean the house or make dinner and she didn't want to be doing it. If she was pissed about doing these tasks there were slamming cabinets and speaking shortly about lack of help or how hard things were for her. I hated those moments. I didn't want to be that. If making dinner sucked so much, don't make it. (I understand a little now why it wasn't quite that simple, but really I am healthy enough to know that it kind of is that easy.) I promised myself I would be a diligent example of a grateful spirit. Uh-oh.

Here we are...I am pissed at everyone that lives with me, including the dog, and I can not get my head around talking myself out of it...which is definitely what I should be doing. I should be taking a moment and going for a walk or locking myself in my room (if I didn't have a see through door which reads "Silver Saddle Hotel and Bath House." Why did we buy this house again?) and I should be praying and centering myself back to calm. I truly believe you can choose to be happy or choose to be sad but when I feel this annoyed at everything I honestly don't know why I ever say that crap.

My current frustrations are with two members of my family. For right now, I would like to find fault with them in an effort to make myself feel better. I am super mature.


Cole's sleep is jacked up. I feel like this has been a problem for about 2 years (yes, he is 2 years old.) I don't understand why he can't just go to bed at bedtime, sleep all night and then wake up when he feels good in the morning. Doesn't that just seem reasonable? Instead he usually goes to bed without too much trouble, wakes up a few times at night and then wakes up crazy early and overtired with a list of demands...juice, tv shows, daddy, whatever. He also refuses to nap lately which just amplifies his problems. He is overtired all day and the slightest refusal of his wish, despite how unreasonable it is (popsicles for lunch) he melts into screams which can last anywhere from 10 minutes-2 hours. (Please do not send me emails of suggestions of how to solve this problem. It might make me cry.)

He keep handing me his dried boogers. Normal, yes. Still annoying.

Ask him to pick up his mess? Oh boy, brace yourself. He spent two hours crying next to a pile of puzzle pieces a few weeks ago, missing out on treats and trips to play with neighbor children while I waited for him to pick them up. He would have nothing to do with it. If only I were less inclined to teach my kids lessons about not getting their way or cleaning up after themselves, we would have a lot less tears and I would get stuff done so much faster. Why I am I cursed by being such a good Mom?

This week he has started a very annoying obsession with Daddy that manifests itself anytime he wakes up or is being reprimanded for something. Yesterday he actually tried to engage me in a fight about whether or not Daddy said he had to stay in his room at rest time. Yes, I realize I shouldn't have even said, "no, Daddy didn't say that." But come on! I spanked Cole for riding into the street while I wasn't there yesterday (oh yes, a car was right there and thankfully stopped) and he immediately told me Daddy didn't want me to do that. He also later told Daddy that I spanked him for not getting into the bath and something about a donkey but that's another story. He is just all about Daddy. Which leads us to.....

My husband

I love my husband and anyone related to him can skip this if you feel he is undeserving of any negative commentary...

A few weeks ago we agreed that Alex would try to come home for at least one meal a day, even if it means having breakfast together before he leaves for work, on the majority of the days in the week. 90% of the time he isn't home in time for bedtime unless he comes in for a quick kiss while being tucked in, much less a family meal together. This leaves me with two boys desperate for time with their Dad and me feeling exhausted from a day of "doing it all." For the sake of this argument in my head we are going to say that Daddy is out enjoying time with other adults and lunching with people instead of reality which I know is more like annoying sales situations and a crazy homeowner that hasn't unpacked the moving boxes in her house for over a year now and calls Alex to yell all sorts of expletives about things like discolored carpet and someone nicking her paint. (She really is disturbing but really entertaining. Some of her voicemail messages to Alex are so passionately full of anger about all things related to her house I feel she should be studied. I should thank her for making me look slightly less crazy in Alex's eyes.) Still, just come home periodically for a meal with your kids, fake some balance in our life and get off your cell phone! Wow, I am feeling a little better.

Alex also has a very bad habit of always being a good guy to the kids. I try to only honor semi-resonable requests in an effort to make them more enjoyable to be around someday. Again, the curse of the good Mom. Daddy often swoops in and immediately agrees to all sorts of unreasonable things.

"Sure, we can play catch for a while even though bedtime was 30 minutes ago."
"Oh, you don't like this Lightning McQueen cup full of juice? Let me pour it into a more suitable Cars cup selection for you."
"You're ready to get out of bed? Well, I slept all night and don't have to deal with you all day so I'll get you a little juice (poured by Mommy the night before) and turn on any show you request, no problem."

Good Lord. Why isn't he this nice to me? I have a few unreasonable requests I would like to make too.

There has also been a resurgence of the, "you are so lucky to have Alex," comments that have haunted me since we were married 7 years ago. This doesn't sound like a bad thing, and I realize it is through no fault of his own, but because I am annoyed it has become his fault today. An irrational number of people have a tendency to say this comment to me followed by a list of how hard working he is (agreed,) how sweet he is (pretty much agreed,) and the attractive he is (totally agree, he's hot, no question and I do appreciate this.) All of these are great but when said to me frequently they have the tendency to be phrased more like, "how in the hell did you ever get him to marry you? You don't seem nearly worthy of him." My own mother has her own way to hinting around to this same conclusion. (Alex has a particular magical power over any woman over 50 and most gay men.)

I usually laugh off these comments but 30 weeks pregnant and feeling overworked (I have been sitting at my kichen table for the last 2 hours feeling sorry for myself so clearly this is true) makes my reaction to these types of comments very negative. I want to run inside and make a list of his faults. I want to start a petition of people that actual find me attractive too so that I can prove I'm in demand also. (This might be tough with the pregnancy thing but I'm sure someone out there thinks chicks with huge bellies are hot?) I want to start dropping random white lies that imply his appearance of perfection as a husband and father might actually be tainted with something negative, like an obsession to online poker or Internet porn. I do not actually say any of these things and Alex actually is pretty awesome so I would have to make stuff up to shock his followers, but come on! Just brace yourself for my reaction if you ever tell me I'm "lucky" to be married to him.

As for Aiden and the dog.....well, both have just their normal level of annoyance but I'll complain about them quickly just to keep things fair amongst everyone in the family. Aiden is relentless in his effort to direct everything his brother does, which creates all sorts of problems. He has also developed a teenager type response to several requests lately which is either, "I KNOW!" or "FINE!" It's awesome. Soon I expect he will emerge from his room showing me his tatoo, smoking and neglecting to introduce me to the unsavory girl with him.

The dog, well Indiana smells and barks too loudly. That's the best I can do for Indiana. He is pretty amazing and he never complains about the food I give him or my plans for the day. All he wants is a little love periodically and to go outside and poop, he doesn't even yell at me to come take care of things when he finishes which makes him extra amazing.

For true balance I should probably list some of my current annoyances with myself, but I think the fact that I am writing about how annoying my family is could be evidence of how annoying I am right now. Also, let's all keep in mind how annoying it is that I'm such an great Mom.

Ok, I feel better just for getting this out. I hate this funk I feel when things are not going well for a few days. I hate acting like I have it so badly when I know I have an amazing situation. I never want my kids to think it's ok to pout and be unkind to your loved ones (or anyone else) because you are in a bad mood, but I'm just going to have to keep on working on it because on a day like today that is exactly the example I have been giving them. Seriously though, it takes some serious work to be nice to someone complaining to you because you put their ketchup in the wrong spot on the plate, right?

Ugh....where is my copy of "Eat, Pray, Love?" I need some healing.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Breastmilk Cheese? Seriously...

So, a friend of mine sent me a message the other day to let me know that she had read about a man making cheese from his nursing wife's breast milk. (I really appreciate that people think of me when reading strange commentary on things parents do.) First thing I did was google this man to be sure that I do not know him. I mean, the last thing I want is to have a friend that thinks this is ok and be served his maternal creation. (I suggest you do the same by the way, it wouldn't be a fun surprise.)

Ok, I don't even know where to start with how strange this is, but really should it surprise us? People are really crazy about all things related to their children and people's opinions on breast milk and nursing are no different. I don't personally know anyone that takes breast milk so far as to create food for adults with it (turns out the guy was some chef in NY that I had never heard of, thank goodness) but I do know that nursing is something that ignites a lot of fire in people.

A friend of mine is completely disgusted by the entire idea. She did not nurse her own babies and knew from the beginning that it just wasn't something she could handle. She wasn't going to do it and she didn't. I think this is fantastic.

Now, don't freak out breastfeeding fanatics (Mom). I completely, 100%, support breastfeeding if it is the right thing for you to do. I nursed both my children and plan to nurse the next one too, but it isn't the right thing for everyone and I wish that each new mom felt as confident in her personal choice as my friend that is nauseated by the idea of her baby using her boob for a bottle. I had zero confidence in anything other than nursing and went to great extremes to make myself extra miserable to be sure that my child had breast milk. I was so stupid.

In the long run I guess I am happy I nursed Aiden, but when I think back to what a wreck I was for the first week and a half of his life, I think I could have given myself a little break. I couldn't let go of the feeling that anything other than nursing wasn't the "best" for my baby and what kind of a mom would I be if I didn't give him the "best?" This is the root of much torture for Moms and I think new Moms are particularly prone to this evil and unhealthy line of thought. I know a lot of new Moms, like myself, that were willing to go to great lengths to make themselves miserable just so that they could say that they didn't give their baby the bottle.

Now on the flip side, I did have a woman tell me it was disgusting that I was nursing my child and that she hadn't nursed her kids and they were fine. Oh lady....shut up. You can't tell a Mom that. First, it isn't disgusting if I don't think it is disgusting. (Still stand by my friend being able to think that using her own personal boobs this way is gross is ok, it's her choice and she's never said it is gross for someone else to do it.) Second, using the, "I did or didn't do something with my children and they turned out fine," excuse is the most idiotic, unproductive and frankly usually insecurity displaying explanation to use on a new Mom. Finally, shut up lady.

I admit fully to not being excited to nurse my third child. (I was elated when my milk production stopped around 3 months with my second so I could quit without guilt and have my body back to myself.) I do want to nurse though and I will try...but I won't be putting myself through hell to do it.

No matter what your vote is in the breastfeeding thing, keep it to yourself and support the new Mom's choice. Maybe even go so far as to make her feel like she can change her mind...and that it will be ok. And never, ever, ever make cheese, ice cream, yogurt or any other dairy product from breast milk. It's just gross.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

A Really Good Morning

This morning Aiden tapped me on the shoulder while I was still in bed to ask me if he could go get his juice. (I pour juice in two straw cups the night before so that in the morning Aiden can get his and his brother's juice without me having to worry about it because I am so efficient and such a good Mom.) I told him I had poured one apple, one requested the night before while they watched me getting the juice ready. Off he runs to get the juice. Moments later he returns to my bedside in tears worthy of someone whom had just lost their dog, holding a cup and trying to explain to me in between sobs that he didn't ask for orange juice and he wants his cup to be the same as Cole's. Why didn't I make them the same? He can't drink this juice because it is different than Cole's. Tragedy stuck early today.

After a quick prayer which went something like this....Good Lord, please make his plain oj turn into a screwdriver that I could quickly chug, without any harm coming to my unborn child (so as to not add to the already difficult nature of raising perfectly healthy children and send me further over the edge...oh and her quality of life too) and allow this drink to take away the rising annoyance I already feel at 6:30 am, and give me the strength and patience to make it through the day without dumping that oj on Aiden's head and refusing to ever give him juice or fruit of any kind for the rest of his life because I find his complaint so freaking annoying that it is deserving of this drastic measure. Amen.

Thankfully, Alex drank too much last night (I swear we are not alcoholics, no need to call CPS)and reached over, took the cup, chugged it because he was so thirsty and got up to get Aiden apple juice. I rolled over and began to dread my day of a visit to the doctor which included a breakfast feast out to test my blood sugar levels....which could be fantastic except for the fact that my children would be coming along and I don't really believe in going to a restaurant that doesn't hand out free toys with my children alone. Sometimes it is rough to recover from the start of a day like that. But....then my husband, who works a lot and doesn't usually have the opportunity to take the kids for me while I do things like go to the doctor, saved the day. He offered to stay home for the morning so I could go ALONE! I have never loved him more.

So right now I am sitting in a delicious and very hip little restaurant in central Austin, by myself. I was just poked with a few needles at the doctor's office and I will have to return in a few hours to be poked again, but that's ok. It is a gorgeous Thursday morning and I have been told to come eat mass quantities of pancakes and eggs in order to test my blood sugar. Ummm....this is amazing. I am over the moon.

I have always liked being by myself. I enjoy sitting somewhere without the need to chat to anyone and the freedom to do whatever I like. Other than sleep it is the number one thing I miss since having kids. I can't even use the restroom without at least one of my kids appearing to lodge a complaint, inquire about my lack of penis or make a request. I swear that if I really want my kids to come talk to me, I should just sit down the toilet and they will sense that and come running. It is a gift they have, I am super proud. I crave moments of only being responsible for me. It is sheer joy to do almost anything alone, even have blood drawn. So this morning is pretty awesome, phenomenal in fact.

This morning's joy has also been amplified by one of those little reminders sent to me by the universe that I am really fortunate. These are moments I love and hate. I love the feeling of truly experiencing how damn good my life is, but my sarcastic and sometimes cynical humour is usually momentarily squashed, which just sucks. It is just momentarily squashed though, I'm sure later today I'll have all sorts of smart-ass comments about the annoying things my children do. Do not be concerned.

A woman at the table next to mine just interrupted me to ask when I am due and say sweet things about my enormous belly. After a few moments of chatting she told me she has been trying to have a baby for six years. She'll be 40 next year and is desperate for the opportunity to have a child of her own. (In case you are wondering, strangers always tell me way too much about their life. I love it.) Oh boy, I want to cry for her desperation and years of wanting something out of her control. This is something I will not ever be able to adequately relate to or understand. I have opinions and feelings on how I think I would handle it but the truth is that those are irrelevant because I've had three pregnancies without any effort. I won't ever feel what she is feeling. I'm grateful for me, so sad for her.

I am also reminded that I should stop bitching about the strain of my kids so much....well, not really.... regardless of how they got here it is freaking hard to have them, and I still had someone screaming in my ear at 6:30 am because I poured the wrong kind of juice. But, I am pretty happy he's there to scream at me. (I still stand by my vote to never give him juice or fruit again though. You just can't yell at someone in their bed about your juice order.)

Oh.....and that lady also told me she's six days late and hasn't ever been late...please Lord, give this lady a baby that will yell at her too. Oh, and a really attractive husband that will take that child away from her so she can eat pancakes and have a fantastic morning like this.

Friday, March 5, 2010

The Nasty Side of My Pregnant Body

Just a friendly warning....if you are easily grossed out by "women's things" then I suggest you skip past this blog entry.

I am ready for this pregnancy to be over. I know it is only week 28 but this third round of baby growing is just full of uncomfortable moments that I either didn't notice, didn't have, or have forgotten since the prior two pregnancies. I think I have a pretty "easy" time being pregnant overall, but each pregnancy seems to be wearing everything down on me, literally.

I can't complain too much about the look of things (at least not with clothing and supportive under-garments on,) but the functionality has all gone to shit this round. First, the initial 12 weeks were rough with nausea. I basically had to have something in my mouth at all times to create some sort of soothing coating in my stomach. I consumed a lot of candy, bread products and water in an effort to ease my discomfort (which I bet has helped how much larger my ass currently looks,) but the sick feeling pretty much stuck around the whole time. Vegetables made me want to barf and any type of meat was off limits....except for the periodic, desperate need for a hamburger from a fast food restaurant which I could probably consume in less than 4 minutes. It was really attractive.

Weeks 1-20 also were accompanied by a monthly yeast infection. Now this was a super good time. If you haven't ever had the treat of one of these, or 5 in a row, you are missing out. A general feeling of itchy nastiness is the only thing I can say to help with some idea of how this affects someone. I have the particular pleasure of actually being one of those people that has a pretty high pain tolerance, so by the time I got around to going to the doctor each time he would make me feel super great by commenting on how he didn't understand how I was walking around. He actually told me to explain to my husband that I had "crotch rot" and nothing would be happening for a if sex were number one on my mind when I felt like my need to itch down there was so overwhelming I actually contemplated rubbing against the furniture or a backyard tree to get just a moment of relief. As if my husband were interested when this was going on anyway.

Treating a yeast infection is no fun either. Some people can take a quick prescription pill and all is better within 24 hours, but not me. I did try the pill but it unfortunately made zero impact on my "crotch rot" and managed to give me a fun 36 hours of diarrhea that should only result after eating rotten food. The next alternative, shooting a thick cream up you, only to have it ooze out slowly over the course of the next 24 hours is just plain disgusting though too. It does ease the discomfort after day 2 or 3 of treatment, but wow, could this process be more humiliating? After my third infection I was convinced that my daughter would be born covered in Monistat 7 rather than all the usual birthing goo.

When I was 7 months pregnant with Cole I managed to actually pee my pants in a Starbucks parking lot after picking up Aiden. That was fun. This time around, though no full-blown accidents have occurred (it's still early I realize,) I was forced to start using a pantyliner around week 8. Any random sneeze, cough or giggle could result in a very uncomfortable amount of urine to leak out without any previous knowledge that I even had to use the restroom. Now at week 28 I not only wear the pantyliner at all times, but I also have mastered the stop and clinch move if any laugh, sneeze or cough creeps up on me. My need to pee is usually not accompanied by a lot of warning. My two year old is probably better at holding it than I currently am. I am pretty positive that by week 34 or so I will be wearing some form of the Depends garment. And if one more person suggests I do more kegels I might freak out. I understand that they help, but I just don't think about clinching my vagina that often, I'm lucky to be thinking at all these days.

At my last ob appointment I mentioned that my stomach has been having shooting pains at the end of the day. I assumed he would have some good advice about some strange thing that must be afflicting my pregnant body, or perhaps a helpful stretch I could start doing to help things out, but no. I was told that I have no more abdominal muscle left and being the third pregnancy, this is just how it was going to be. My body is apparently too old and worn out to feel good at this point in the pregnancy. Thanks doc, now I feel better. Soon I will be wearing one of those ugly support belts in order to just walk around my house, or I will just look into getting a wheel chair for my old body.

I mentioned that I do like the fact that my boobs are bigger. It is sort of fun to fill out a bra or a shirt and have some cleavage. I have so rarely felt at all voluptuous in life, it is sort of nice to have some curves. I did ask my doctor what the odds were of them staying around and he said not good. This experience has actually made me think that breast enhancement, lift, filling or whatever you want to call it might be in my future. This probably is the one thing my husband would invest in without question, but really God....5 yeast infections, three babies, and I can't keep a little of the boob fat?

I assume surgery would be required anyway however, I mean even my larger breasts sag to the top of my pregnant belly when I don't wear a bra now, what a great feeling. I hate to imagine where my deflated, barely As will rest after nursing a third baby...and I thought it was horrifying when my left breast was noticeably larger than the right after nursing Aiden. At least my boobs were still staying only in the boob area.

While complaining about all this to my doctor recently he mentioned that earlier that morning he had delivered a baby to a 32 year old woman having her 8th...that's right EIGHTH baby. He said she looked 60 from being so worn out from bearing so many children. He also mentioned that her husband looked about 25....probably because he just gets to have sex and then escapes the war torn area of this woman's body. I don't even know where to begin to comment on everything to be said about that, but it did make me grateful to be on my last pregnancy. If I ever look 30 years older than I should due to having babies, while people are commenting on how youthful my husband looks, send a prayer or a gun my way.