Saturday, May 30, 2009

It's a.....


We went for an ultrasound this morning with Micah's mother Leslie, Kylie and Lizzie in tow and discovered that we have a healthy, active little BOY inside of me.

Micah is over the moon. I'm happy with either although I was admittedly expecting them to say "girl". Guess the surprise is on me!

No, we don't have an official name for this little boy yet. When we do I'll let you all know because I like to share those things.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Naming Baby

I love having a large extended family. I have fond memories of all of my cousins and enjoy seeing them whenever we can.

It can, however, make naming baby, a tough thing.

Micah and I agree on some principals of selecting this child's name. It must be classic, spelled in the "normal" format and not in the top 10 list for baby names. Seems easy right?

Just a few weeks ago though, as we were going through names I had to start elminiating ones he would throw out because they've 1)been used already by children in my family or 2)are my cousins names.

When you consider that my Aunts and Uncles must have had the same guidelines as Micah and I do for naming children and they have far more children than my mother did, well, it can get interesting.

Names that I can't use for boys: Ethan, Justin, Nathan, John, Mark, Ryan, Eric, Michael, Jonathan, Aaron, Gregory, Larry, Clint, Luke, Malachi, Justus, Joshua, Isaiah, Elijah and Timothy.

Names that I can't use for girls: Jennifer, Jody (Jodi), Megan, Sofia, Mariella, Michelle, Elisa, Heidi, Janene, Nadene, and Serephina.

Now that's ONLY on from my mothers family. Add to that names from my fathers family and from Micah's family and our list is becoming a very short list without any additional input from us.

Other names for boys we can't use: Phillip, Clayton, Christopher, Michael (again), Andrew, Matthew, Myles and Harvey.

For girls: Rebecca, Jasmine, Michaela, Heather, Susan, Amy, Sara, Nancy, Leslie, Leslie, Karen, Paloma, Melanie, Donna and Judy.

Don't even get me started on names of friends of their children because then we're completely out of names essentially.

The naming of a child is one of the greatest gifts we as parents can give a child and it has to be meaningful. A name can shape a future and give impressions without that child ever opening it's mouth. It is something that (hopefully) the child will carry with them the rest of their lives. We want it to be special. We want it to have meaning. And we don't want everyone else to have it too.

We have what we think are some tentative names. I'm not up to sharing them JUST yet. But I will, hopefully once we find out what we are having.

Going Green

As mentioned before on this blog, my oldest child decided on green hair for herself. It was a reward for her good job at the end of the year. Interestingly enough, she also chose neon green rubber bands for her braces that were changed yesterday. I'm not sure what the significance of neon green is right now but honestly, as long as it's not black I'm a happy girl.

Note the genuine smile, the green hair and clean clothes.

There are certainly days where I completely understand my mother's jokes about teenagers, more that I care to admit. I have days where I catch myself sounding just like my mother but more often than not I catch myself sounding like an 80 year old angry grandma shaking her cane and yelling about "kids these days with their green hair and piercings all over". (For the record Kylie has no piercings)

Lizzie asked, once she saw her sisters hair, if she could have green hair too. I told her when she was 13 she could. Inside I'm praying that she forgets the whole thing before she ever gets there.

Now, maybe I should consider dying my own hair again. Maybe violet would be a lovely shade for summer.....

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Where I went wrong

I think people who know me well will tell you that I obviously didn't have a fantastic set of role models for marriage. My mother and father divorced when I was 5 and my mother never remarried. She had a few boyfriends but gave that up entirely when I was about 9 or 10. My father remarried shortly after he and my mothers divorce was final (3 months? 2 maybe.) and he married his 5th wife. Granted he's been with her ever since but I think I can be the judge on this one and declare that whole union one giant FAIL.

So I really didn't know what I was getting into when I got married at 18. I was ready to feel grown up. I felt a lot of pressure to "do the right thing" and try to legitimize my daughter, even if Brian wasn't her father. I wanted The Family. I wanted to achieve the white picket fence.

I feel like I tried within my powers to make that happen. I cooked. I raised. I attempted to get pregnant. For 5 years. I gave birth to a second child. I led girl scouts, worked full time and took my daughter to weekly religious meetings. I kept the home fires burning when my husband was deployed and balanced the checkbook. I submitted to his will, as I had read I should, and allowed him freedom to explore who he was and what he wanted to do. He had hobbies and I encouraged him to be out in those. He had friends and I allowed myself to get wrapped up in his job, putting my career and my needs in second place. I believed I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. I believed I was being a good wife.

I am not a housekeeper. I, for some reason, lack the ability to keep a house clean. I'm lazy. I don't like to waste energy doing the same task repeatedly. I don't mind clutter. My husband found a lot of fault in me for this. When I stayed home this was his chief complaint. He had not allowed me to stay home to raise the children. On the contrary, he had allowed me to stay home to keep the house clean. Spotless. Eat off the floor.

Except that was not something I was able to do. I was too busy hauling kids to appointments and taking them to gymnastics and swimming and napping and homework to worry about the floor. It was my failure. I kept the house CLEAN. I didn't keep it uncluttered and I didn't spend 8 hours a day cleaning it like he wanted. That was what truly drove him over the edge I think. Except it was a long time coming before that. When 4pm would hit every day I would run around the house trying to pick up, trying to start dinner, turning the TV off, setting off music and often mopping the floor since the scent of Pinesol seemed to sooth him. I would anxious and nervous because I knew he was going to come home and be mad. I knew he was going to berate me, yell at me, tell me I had failed yet again.

I'm still recovering from my marriage some days. It's a process. I'm learning to have an opinion. When Brian left I realized I didn't have a single hobby. There was NOTHING I enjoyed doing. I wanted to make a decision but found myself frozen since I hadn't made a decision on my own for longer than I cared to admit. Picking out my first piece of furniture after Brian left was daunting and I felt like crying more often than not. My self esteem was literally at the lowest it had ever been but I knew that I couldn't stay married anymore. I could not live that life anymore.

Recently, like Monday, Kylie and I were at therapy. Often her therapy involves her being mad at me, Micah, the world etc. Kylie is incredibly good at pulling out Woe Is Me items when she doesn't actually want to talk about what is bothering her. On this day though, she told the therapist that we were getting along. She liked me this week. It was nice. We talked a little about her spending the next weekend with her dad's girlfriend and that bridged to a discussion about her dad. Brian.

Kylie got upset and started crying. She was afraid to tell him about her green hair (i'm working on pictures still). She knew when he got home he wouldn't let her wear all black, as I have been doing. She was upset that he goes through her personal items and reads her emails. I tried to talk to her about different parenting styles and that her Dad and I were still trying to work on some items. Kylie was beginning to come to the edge of the freak out cliff and I was desperate to pull her back. Her Dad isn't a bad guy, he just does it different.

The therapist asked what his style was like exactly and without missing a beat she said "It's his way or no way." That pretty much summed it up. Except then she talked about feeling anxious when she knew his week was coming up for custody, nervous and scared. She was afraid he was going to yell at her, be mean to her and tell her she had failed at being the perfect daughter. Again.

This is where I went wrong. I let him treat me like this. He got used to it. He treats Kylie like this now because he's used to being so Alpha that nothing else makes sense. I stayed in a marriage for a long time and allowed myself to feel like I was less. Like my opinion didn't matter, that my will was only his will. That's not how it's supposed to be for her or for me.

I'm working on him, me and her. Because no one, especially my daughter, should feel like she's less than something because of another human being. Even if it is her dad.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

An open letter to my mom

Dear Mom,

What a crazy year it's been. Last year when I wrote you I will just in the process of a divorce. In fact, I hadn't even filed yet. There was still a thought that maybe it wouldn't end that way. But it did and I believe, and I think you would agree, for the best. He's still the man you remember, still a good man. Just a man that wasn't meant for me.

As you may already be aware, depending on your view from heaven, I have a new man in my life. A man that never knew you and despite my best efforts and stories and meeting of my family, never will. Not truly. That makes me sad because it feels as though that connection is so lost now. I don't have another adult who automatically understands my quirky words (sockses anyone?) or why a Godiva Starfish and Oyster are the best Christmas gifts ever.

I learned a lot about myself this year mom. I remember after your divorce and all that self discovery that you went through and I think about that. I went through the same thing. Finding myself amid the ashes of who I was. Realizing that in the process of my marriage I had lost so much of who I was and what I believed that I didn't know if I would ever truly find my way back. I'm getting there. There are still days where it's easier to revert. To look down at the ground when a man walks in the room. To apologize a million times for things I have no control over. But I no longer worry about walking on eggshells around my man and I found my voice and my opinion, hidden in the corner on my mind. They are easier to take out and practice now than they were before. That change that has made for my children has been remarkable.

Speaking of children, I hope you've been keeping track of your progeny. In case you haven't, well when you left there were only 2 granddaughters to add to your branch of the family tree. There will soon be a 3 grandchild although whether it's a girl or a boy is still unknown. Micah hopes for a boy. I dream of another little girl. We'll find out soon enough because I'm not a surprise person but you probably already know your sweet little grandchild. I believe it anyways. I believe because you both are in heaven you've both been introduced. If not you should totally seek them out. I don't know a lot about this newest addition yet but I suspect s/he likes to dance. Perhaps a cheerleader like it's Grandma?

Kylie has gone through a lot of change this year. She's finding herself and who she is. The divorce I believe was hard on her but also good. Sure, it's hard to see your parents separate and live in a different place. But it's also nice that she gets so much more one on one time with her dad than she used to. It's screwed her up a little bit and if you've been paying attention in therapy I think the lack of a family group for most of her life has been weird. She isn't used to Micah hanging around all the time and constantly says that I spend all the time with him. I have tried to show her time and again that I'm not spending all of my time with him. That we spend our time doing things with Lulu as a family and that she is always welcomed and invited. But she isn't used to this "family time" and it's hard for her. I hope as time goes on she'll get more used to it. Honestly, I suspect that a lot of her therapy has more to do with Brian than with me. But it's always easier to blame the parent that's around than the parent who is absent.

Lizzie continues to be herself. She's become a little whiny as of late and clingy. I suspect it's due to my exhaustion and lack of feeling well that she feels a little left out. I can't carry her as much as I used to and I often push off bedtime to Micah when I feel nauseous or exhausted. She is excited about the upcoming baby, mostly because she has no idea what she's in for. But you may remember, she's always been a fan of the baby, always been a little mother. She believes that I have a baby in my belly and she has a fish in hers. Her fish eats all of her food like my baby eats all of mine, at least according to her. Which would explain 4 plates of rice and chicken last night. That or a tape worm. I can't believe she's going into Kindergarten this fall. I am amazed and awed by how much she has changed since you left. When you left she wasn't even crawling and now, here she is, ready to be a Darth Mouth kid.

Micah. Mom, you'd love Micah. I was always confused when you would lament that you just wanted someone who would cherish me, even long after I was married. I didn't truly understand what you meant but then, I didn't really understand marriage either then. Micah cherishes me. Micah believes I'm special. He is the man you wanted for me. He's my yang to my ying. He gets me in a way that I don't know I've been "got" before. He makes me laugh until I cry and is always there to take care of me. He is getting a crash course in Step Parenting 101 and is about to graduate to the Daddy 201 course in the next few months. He loves the kids and gets them too and they like him. Well, Lizzie loves him. Kylie is getting there. I suspect she likes him a lot more than she lets on but honestly she's a teenager and is a little slower about change than Lizzie is.

As for me? Well I continue to work and often say to myself, if no one else, WWJD? Only, as you know, more often than not the phrase is really What Would Julie Do. That gets me through so many tough situations I can not even begin to tell you. But then, you already know I suppose. I don't love my current job but I love the potential behind it. I'm so glad to be in HR and I often wish I had someone to share it all with. You were so knowledgeable, more than I realized at the time. I hope to test for my PHR next year and I hope you'll sit on my shoulder then. Not exactly to tell me the answers but to be my cheerleader.

I gotta go Mom. I hope you're out there and that you read this. I miss you every minute of every day. I'm glad my grief is different now than it used to be but it's still there. Reminding me that I'm not completely okay with your loss just yet.


Friday, May 22, 2009

The Worlds Laziest Mom

About a month ago now my ex-husband and I got into an email disagreement. He hated the way our oldest is wearing her make-up (caked on foundation and clumpy mascara) and frankly, that she was wearing any make-up at all and told me he was disappointed in me. I told him that we (She and I) were working on this but in the grand scheme of things if her wearing mascara kept a little peace in my house, well, I had better find a good brand.

For me, it had been a rough month. I had taken her to be evaluated TWICE by 2 different psychiatric hospitals for outbursts and anger that just wasn't NORMAL. There was no reason that a simple comment about washing her face should disintegrate into a 3 hour melt down with her hysterically screaming and crying. No reason that some removal of eye make-up should lead her to scream "I fucking hate you!" followed by my favorite "You are such a bitch".

I had hauled her to the Children's Hospital for treatment in their day program. They told me the usual stay was 10 days. Kylie was in there for 14. I had to fight an entire day with my insurance company to even get them to say she needed treatment and for them to authorize it. I still have to some how come up with the 10% co pay for all that treatment (to the tune of $1400 when it's all said and done) and had to have lengthy therapy sessions while she was there. I had to take a ridiculous amount of time off of work to accomplish all of this and had to beg and plead with friends and family to pick her up and drop her off every day to help me. I had to pick up a prescription for antidepresents/anti-anxiety medication and had to rush to find an "outside" psychiatrist who would see her within 10 days to monitor her medication. I believe I will have shelled out, in total, over $1700 between co-pays, my portion and medications for the month of April.

I was also fighting with her middle school to get her away from an egotistical bitch of a teacher and have her stop being suspended because this ONE teacher had an issue with her. That was a blooming nightmare that led to a LENGTHY conversation with the principal of the middle school. Kylie had a 3 day/1 class suspension followed by an entire day of in-school suspension.

Mascara was the LEAST of my concerns.

There was more between him and I that lead to him calling me a selfish bitch, telling me I was lazy, telling me I only thought of myself. I believe I told him to back off and to come home and raise his children if he had a problem with what I was doing. It was unfair since he isn't exactly choosing to be deployed right now. Oh wait. He actually BEGGED to be deployed. I forgot. (Not really, that's sarcasm. It helps me feel right.)

I found out the next day that I was pregnant. I didn't know how far along at that time although when I did find out I was shocked. I had missed the entire first trimester. People have asked me how that is possible, how do you not NOTICE you don't feel well or feel tired.

The honest answer is that I was too worried and too busy to think about it. I was going 100 miles an hour with Ky and Lulu and Micah and just straight didn't notice.

School ended for Kylie last Wednesday. She completed 7th grade alive and in one piece which doesn't seem like much of a goal, unless you have an "alternative" middle schooler and then you'll know what I mean.

Brian was very proud to send an email out yesterday to friends and family alike praising Ky for her amazing job. She received 4 A's, 1 B, and 1 C. (The C was in gym. She can't do push ups.) I'll be honest here and tell you that I wrote him after he announced that this final quarter was actually the BEST quarter she had the entire year. I made a VERY snarky comment about how I must really be screwing up as a parent for her to have her best quarter ever.

Best. EVER. Since he LEFT.

It wasn't nice. It wasn't even necessary. But I would be wrong to tell you that his words didn't sting when he said them and don't still sting now. They hurt. A lot. I haven't forgiven him for them yet. I know I should.

I guess maybe though, after some reflection, his parenting style and mine are just very, very different. He believes that I am a lazy parent because I don't sit over her every night with her homework. He believes that I am selfish because I chose my fights with her over the criteria of whether it's worth it, not whether or not it's going to make her afraid of me. He believes that I am a generally bad parent when it comes to Ky because I allow her make some of her own decisions in regards to dress/make-up/hair style.

He might be right.

I realize though, I'm not a lazy mom. Not in the traditional sense anyways. I'm just doing it differently than he would. I don't ride her every night to complete her homework. But I do check with her and her teachers weekly to make sure her assignments are getting turned in. I know the Principal's direct number at her school because I've had to fight so long and so hard for her there. I know, by heart, the number of her therapist, her psychiatrist and the staff at the Children's Hospital Psychiatric Ward. I give her space to have responsiblity instead of constantly nagging and forcing.

I don't care if she's learning who she is and isn't by wearing her make-up badly or dying her hair green (Pictures to follow). Heck, I'm paying for all that make-up and hair care. I'm reminding her about her pills, her showers and her dishes. I'm doling out black clothing as she earns it and even occasionally taking her to a movie/dinner/show. I'm still taking her to Dr's appointments weekly and refilling her prescription monthly.

Guess that's just the lazy in me.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

A list of things that don't sound good at all together

.....but that my tape worm parasite fetus commands me to eat. RIGHT NOW! BEFORE I WITHER AND DIE YOU HEARTLESS WOMAN! Oh, don't cry mommy. Let me rub you with my head/butt/back/face/knee/hand so you'll feel better. Ahem

1. Pasta salad swimming in mayo & Tropical fruit starburst + Dr. Pepper
2. Turkey lunch meat dipped in mustard & skittles + Dr. Pepper
3. Tomato soup & dill pickle + Fanta
4. Rasinbran ceral, milk & processed american cheese
5. More pasta sald in mayo + skittles

You can see what I'm dealing with here, right? No wonder nothing really sounds good to me. When something does sound good mentally, I'm replused by myself.

PS. I have a UTI. I love pregnancy.

A post about the older child

I realize I don't post a lot about my older child and for that I apologize in advance. She just doesn't do as many cute things as the younger one and Nacho. Her daily antics involve me reminding her to take her pill and making sure she's still breathing when she's in bed at 6pm at night. Neither of those things are very funny.

But this post is about her, none the less.

May 20th was the last day of school for our kids. Why it ended on a Monday baffles me but still, it did and she is done. Despite a rocky start to the year and an especially rocky start to her fourth quarter she managed to pull out some pretty amazing grades.

4 A's, 1 B, 1 C.

The A's were in Language Arts, Social Studies, Science and Teachers Aid. The B is in Math and the C is in Gym.

She was marked down every week for not wearing gym shoes and whenever I offered to buy her gym shoes she declined and told me she would just wear my shoes. But never did. Probably because my gym shoes stink. Literally.

I'm proud of her. I know this year wasn't her favorite and she really pulled it out at the end. When it really mattered.

Now we wait. 2.5 weeks until she leaves for a 2 week camping trip. Until then I anticipate a lot of "Crack of Noon" wakeup calls.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

We be rolling

When I was pregnant with Ky I think I felt her move when I was somewhere between 20-22 weeks pregnant. I don't actually remember with Lulu but I remember it being slightly earlier than that. Maybe 18 weeks? So I assumed that with this pregnancy it would be the same thing. I'd probably feel the baby around week 18 or so.

But last weekend (Sunday maybe?) I felt a poke on my left lower "area". It happened twice and it was very distinct. I slow, deliberate poke out and then in. Like someone testing the waters at the pool with their toe. That was pretty cool considering we believe me to be only about 14 weeks pregnant at that point. After not getting anything else for a few days I assumed that the alien in my belly (okay, I call it Nacho) was done with the "expermental phase" it was going through when it attempted the poke.

Micah's mom called me last night and one of her questions was if I could feel the baby moving anymore. I said no. Truthfully I hadn't.

But last night I was laying on the couch watching some DVR'd National Geographic Channel special about some crazy messiah who likes to touch young girls an I felt my belly wiggle. I held still and felt it again. Like someone was doing a body wiggle. It went on for about 10 minutes and it was truly magical because a)I'm not yet 15 weeks pregnant and b)it wasn't gas.

If you have gas that makes you think something in your body is dancing to an bad '70's disco era classic via internal AM radio, well, that's some bad gas. Make plans for the bathroom for the rest of the night.

Monday, May 18, 2009

The Dad

I remember when Micah and I were first dating and he met my kids that he just wasn't dad material. I didn't see it in him. He took their sides and couldn't really consider the bigger picture sometimes, mostly because he didn't have the history or experience that I did with each of my daughters.

I also had this fantasy that he would instantly embrace my daughters as his own. As patient and as gentle as he was with them, he occasionally made comments that showed me, he didn't consider them HIS children. They were MINE and he was hanging out. Because he loved me, he loved them, but he didn't consider them to be HIS children. This stung for me because in my last relationship my now ex-husband actually married me because of my daughter. He loved her so much he put up with me. I didn't know how to react when presented with such a different view on a relationship and on step-children that honestly, I was a little disappointed. I knew he LOVED my kids, even when they sucked, but for some reason that he didn't want to claim them as his own really struck me as odd. Yes, I know, the whole idea that he WOULD is odd.

This weekend we were out to dinner at Fudruckers (because we're classy like that) and Lulu pretty much consumed most of Micah's Dreamsicle Milk Shake. So I went to get her her own kids version so she would leave his alone. When they came to deliver the shakes the waitress set it down in front of Lulu she said "You got one just like Dads" or something to that affect. Ky was pretty stunned by the idea but Lulu and Micah just went on like nothing was weird.

The best part of this story came that night though. She was in front of the house playing with the neighbor kids (Apparently the little boy learned some English) and they were going back and forth between the two front yards. Micah offered Lulu a chance for her and her friends to have some freezer pops (Popsicles) but they had to ask their mom first. Lulu walked out of the door and because the window was open I could hear this:

Lulu: My dad wants to know if you want a Popsicle. But you need to ask your mom first.

I wanted to cry. Not because I'm sad that she's referring to Micah as her dad (she doesn't actually call him Dad, that's still saved for Brian) but rather I'm crying because it feels more "complete" somehow. That Lulu is able to transcend names and titles and give Micah a title, at least to other kids, that is appropriate and works for her.

I promised Brian I would never let the kids call another man "daddy". She isn't. But she might. And I know that might really hurt. About as bad as it will hurt if/when they call his girlfriend "mommy". I guess that's the thing with divorce. Some things are just going to happen, whether we like it or not.

So Micah is dad for now. At least for all anyone else knows.

Maternity Shopping

So this weekend I finally decided to take the bull by the horns and get some maternity clothes. I still have a few from my last pregnancy but I sold quite a bit and honestly, I was sick of my stuff then, I'm still sick of it now. I had 3 pairs of pants that sorta fit and 5 shirts.

So Saturday evening I wandered down to the small with Lulu and went to the Motherhood Maternity store.

My first question would be, why are those maternity stores the size of a cubicle? They are ridiculous in their tininess and thankfully I don't have a stroller to try and navigate but if I did I would never set foot in there. It's so filled with racks and shelves that there is no way a reasonable pregnant person with any kind of belly could make it through there.

My second question is - why do they have racks and racks of X-small maternity clothes and apparently don't carry the plus size maternity clothes in the actual store? Last time I checked something like 60% of America qualifies as obese. If have of those are women and let's be generous and say another half of are child bearing age you STILL have a really profitable reason to keep plus sized items in your store. Having 1 XL per item in there doesn't cut it either because that XL isn't going to get this obese person THROUGH a pregnancy, shoot, it barely fits now.

I was able to find 3 outfits that weren't going to cost $40 each (a price I refuse to pay for something I'm only going to get 6 months of wear out of) and walk out of there MOSTLY with my dignity intact (and a grumpy 4 year old).

I hate shopping.

Friday, May 15, 2009

It's offical

I'm really having a baby. Or I should say, WE are really having a baby.

My first Dr.'s appointment was yesterday and Micah came with me. My estimate was that I was due on November 29th and that I was 11 weeks pregnant. After having a chat with my nurse and my Dr the big moment came. She decided to try an internal ultrasound first. According to her if I am less than 10 weeks pregnant internal ultrasound is the way to go. If I'm more than 10 weeks pregnant I'll get the external ultrasound.

Now, an internal ultrasound doens't bother me. I've had them before. When I was trying to get pregnant with Lizzie I had them twice a month sometimes. So yeah, that isn't scary.

The moment she put it up there she said something along the lines of "Oh yeah. That's a big kiddo." and pulled the probe out. Thankfully.

She put the external ultrasound on my belly and within moments we could see our mover and shaker doing what appeared to be the Mexican Hat Dance on the screen. We got a wave as well but mostly we saw the body wiggle that baby was doing. After a little bit of time the Dr was able to get a measurement on the head and apparently I'm 14 weeks pregnant. Due date is November 12th. According to my Dr. though, you aren't considered overdue until week 43. I have no desire to go 43 weeks pregnant. Do you KNOW how bad being that pregnant is? No? It blows. Seriously. All you want to do is rest and you can't and you feel like you're the size of a house. It's not fun. But I have a long time before I have to worry about it so we'll cross that bridge then I suppose.
In the meantime enjoy that horrible ultrasound photo via my iPhone. It's the best I can do under the conditions.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Dora the Explorer indeed

My youngest spawn, Lulu, loves to watch Dora the Explorer. She often pretends she IS Dora and likes to pretend I or Micah are Boots. (Ky or Sissy as she is known is often an unwitting and non-participating Swiper the Fox)

We also speak a lot of Gringo Spanish in my house. I was raised with a Latina and my mother and she would speak Spanish to each other all the time. So a lot of my speech is peppered with random Spanish words as that was how I grew up and honestly, it's what I've been doing to my children for years. So Lizzie is used to hearing Spanish from both me, her Nana, her Sissy, Micah, her Dad and of course our hero Dora. She, more than Ky, uses Spanish words randomly.

But lately, thanks to Dora, she has begun to believe that she speaks fluent Spanish. Like the Spanish kids next door, who speak NO English. I've tried to tell her that what she is saying is just made up but she refuses to believe me and continues to prattle and sing her made up Spanish words.

So the other night she was playing outside in the backyard and Micah caught her talking to the neighbor kids next door. Except she was standing in the middle of yard SCREAMING her made up Spanish to them, attempting to talk to them. It went something like this:

Other Kids: *looking at her like she's nuts*
OK: *go inside to tell their Mom about the weird kid outside*

Yes, I admit she used ONE Spanish word. I can't tell you want context she used it in or if it was correct because, frankly, I think she lucked onto that word rather than actually KNOWING it meant 5.

Thanks Dora. If that Mom gives me one more funny look I swear I am going to rip Backpack to shreds and send Boots to the great banana tree in the sky.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

The Monster that ate, well, everything

So this the first of many posts detailing the ways that this pregnancy is "different" for me. I'm hungry. All.the.time. I am hungry in my sleep. My dreams now revolve around eating SOMETHING and birds chirping. I am hungry immediately after I've eaten. I'm hungry at 9am, 10am, 10:30am, 11:45am etc.

I swear the dogs are afraid to sleep with me because the danger of my appetite. My own children are looking at me trying to size up whether I have that look of hunger in my eyes and if they want to take the chance of me gobbling them whole.

It's not a hunger that is something along of the lines of "oh maybe I could eat". It's a sudden overwhelming feeling that if I don't consume 1500 calories RIGHT NOW, the world will come to an end. Surely, if I don't consume the baby will starve to death. Which, if you know me, know that this is HIGHLY unlikely given the reserves I already have on hand for this baby.

Poor Micah, tries to assist me, tries to keep me stable and fed in a timely manner. It has got to be tough though when he asks what I want and I look at him and say "Nothing sounds good. But I'm hungry. Feed me." Talk about no help.

Maybe I should request some kind of IV for feeding so I can just walk around all day with my bag of nutrients. Think that would tip everyone off that something was "wrong" with me?

Monday, May 11, 2009

Am I excited?

At least once a day I get asked if I am excited about this pregnancy. Or baby. My response is generally "not yet". I know that people don't understand this and I feel sort of bad myself about saying it but I'm about being honest.

I'm getting there. But I'm not there yet.

With Ky, I was too stupid to know any better than to be excited. I was 15 and didn't have a clue as to what I was signing up for.

I tried for 5 years to get pregnant with Lulu. It took drugs and tests and surgery. My then-husband had to use a "cup" for his testing. In a stinky bathroom. With 25 year old soft-core porn. While people knocked on the door.

To say I was excited when I got pregnant with Lulu would be an understatement. We had been married for 6+ years. We had been trying forever. We had just about given up. We were stable and secure.

This baby is a straight up surprise. We were careful. We used birth control. I used NFP on top of that. I have PCOS. I was told it takes a miracle for me to get pregnant.

Apparently I just have to be unmarried.

I have stress right now. I'm not exactly the most stable and secure of people right now. I'm living paycheck to paycheck. My boyfriend is paying off debt that is double what I owe on my house. I have a teenager that JUST got out of the day treatment center at the hospital for "issues". I'm not married. My family is not excited. I don't have a lot of spare space in my house. I have two dogs that seem to enjoy knocking down my littlest Lulu.

I also don't feel well. Ever. At least not this pregnancy.

Micah is ridiculously excited. More than I have ever seen a man. He never thought he would be a father. Now he gets to have two step-daughters and a new baby all his own. His life is soaring. His family is thrilled, a new grand baby is exciting. Kicking and screaming they tend to drag me along too. I get moments where I can feel excitement. It'll come soon enough, I'm sure.

In the meantime, we finally told the girls this weekend. Ky's response was "Ewww, gross" and she's poking me a lot. I'm sure when you're almost 14 the thought of your mom doing what it takes to make a baby is gross. Lizzie is a little more interested in the "really?" She has poked me and prodded me. She finally announced that if I had a baby in my belly then she had a fish in hers.

Both seem as equally probable to her.