I miss blogging.

And I also know nothing lasts forever, so I’m trying to remember that my new baby is only 6 weeks old and the fact that I can’t nail down tons of time each day to blog is really ok.  But I do miss it.  I miss being able to put my thoughts down, to work out what’s on my mind.  Honestly though, there really hasn’t been any new developments as of late, but I’ve got some great pictures I need to share!

Baby C continues to be a generally happy and easy baby.  I can now see why people think babies are adorable, tiny little packages of squishy fun.  She sleeps pretty well, and has lately been stretching her feedings out to around 4 hour stretches.  When she does eat, it’s usually for about 15-20 minutes.  We’ll have the occasional 45 minute nursing session, but they’re so rare I don’t complain.  She’s SOOOOO different from  A.  I was still a wreck at this point with A and right now I’m sitting in bed on Hubs’ laptop while Baby C kicks around happily talking to herself and me in the pack-n-play next to me.  She makes it seem so easy.  Seriously.

A is taking a very rare after preschool nap right now.  She fell asleep on the way home and I just stuck her in bed; I try not to let her nap this late in the day but she’s staying the night with her grandparents so I don’t have to put her to bed tonight.  Hehe.

My 6 week post-partum check-up is tomorrow which means I’ll (almost) be officially done with this pregnancy.  Aside from an appt. to have my IUD put in and a follow-up from that, I should be in the clear for at least another year.  I’m thrilled.  I’ve had enough of my OB’s office for a while.  Not that I don’t love her and her staff, but between the twins and trying to get C here safely, I’ve spent a crazy amount of time in her office.  It will feel great to be “free” so to speak.  6 weeks post-partum also means I’ll be cleared for exercise, so, I suppose I should come up with something along those lines.  I assume I’ll run.  It’s free, and can fit into my schedule whenever.  We canceled our gym membership long ago since neither of us really used it and now isn’t the time to be taking on additional expenses.  Pregnancy is nice to me…I don’t gain much weight.  Breastfeeding is even nicer to me, as I drop a lot of weight quickly.  In order to keep it off though I either have to give up the booze (NOT HAPPENING) or exercise.  So, exercise it will be.  Eventually.  Maybe.  Probably.  The Hubs is thrilled for my 6 week check-up for, er, other reasons.  Because we have all this spare, alone time these days…

The Hubs celebrated his 31st birthday this weekend.  He wanted to spend the day in College Station as the football team was having their annual, open-to-the-public scrimmage.  I thought it sounded crazy, but agreed and we had a great time.  Both girls were great, A had a wonderful time at the game and running on the field afterwards and C was a super baby.  We also decided, for sure, that Hubs is quitting his job to try his side business on a full-time basis.  Right now, for insurance purposes, we’re planning for him to turn in his resignation on June 1, which also happens to be our 10 year anniversary.  Happy anniversary to us.  This whole decision is a huge step of faith (think the Indiana Jones movie where he steps out over the cliff only to set foot on a bridge that wasn’t visible) but I think think it’s the right one.  Please, oh please, let there be a bridge.  Just having him home, not traveling, will be awesome.  And I’m so proud of him and so glad that we have the opportunity for him to try this.  I’m really hoping we’re headed down the road we’re supposed to be on.  In order to stretch our savings as far as it will go, it will mean a change in life style (not that we currently live a super glamorous life or anything) for a temporary period, which has me a little wigged out, but oh well.  I’m really hoping it proves to be worth the sacrifice.

I promise to try to blog more regularly.  And I promise to be back soon with some new pictures to share!


On having 2 kids…

Here’s what I’ve learned, in my first month, of having 2 kids:

  • When mentally preparing for whatever task is at hand (getting ready for church, running an errand, getting A to preschool or dance class, fixing dinner, etc.) it seems downright impossible.  The truth is, on paper, it never works.  But somehow, when the time comes, you just do it and it all works out fine.
  • Accomplishing any task at this stage makes me feel like a superhero.  I took both girls to the zoo yesterday, no the baby didn’t sleep the whole time, and we did just fine.
  • Nursing in public is a must-do.  It really doesn’t bother me as long as I can find a somewhat discreet place to do it.  And if I can’t find a discreet place, well, too bad.  Frankly, I’m not that modest and I’m only willing to do so much.
  • Breastfeeding is so much easier this time around.
  • If I’d had only an ounce of the confidence I do now, as a mother, the first time around with A wouldn’t have been nearly as difficult.
  • Babies cry, in public.  And it’s ok.  Preschoolers cry too, sometimes in public.  And it’s also ok.  I just tend to their needs and move on.  I’m much less concerned about crying in public this time around.  When A was little, I was terrified to leave the house for fear that she’d cry in the car or in public.
  • My needs have taken a serious backseat.  That’s not necessarily a good thing and I need to work on it.
  • I’m pretty sure I’m on the AAP hit list.  I’m breaking all the rules.  C spends a good chunk of the night in my bed.  Surrounded by pillows and covered with my sheets and comforter.  This morning I found her passed out on her belly…gasp!
  • I feel the need to repeat the word confidence.  It’s made such a HUGE difference.  Unfortunately, that confidence only comes with experience.
  • I’m shocked with how much C adores her big sister.  At only a month old she looks for A when she hears her voice and is perfectly content to lay on the floor beside A while she plays.  C talks the most to A.
  • A is just as smitten with C.  For now.  I suspect that will change when C becomes mobile.
  • I can’t imagine doing this with a 2 year old.  A 3 year old is so much more independent and makes it much easier.
  • I’ll choose sleep over a shower almost every time.
  • No 2 babies are alike.
  • I can almost always pinpoint exactly what C needs and calm her down.  The only thing I can’t seem to fix are her gas issues.
  • My house is a disaster.  I’m pretty sure I don’t really care.
  • I miss my husband like crazy.  Both from a relational stand point and also as my partner, an extra set of hands and someone to talk with.
  • I’m amazed by the number of things I can do with one hand.
  • The emotions I feel about the well-being and the life I want these 2 girls to have is almost over-whelming.  Especially since we’re getting ready to take a HUGE step of faith in the work/income department.  It stresses me out a little…I want them to have a great childhood and want to be able to provide a really great life for them.  I know that doesn’t always mean you need lots of money, but it helps.
  • There really is plenty of love to go around.  Lap space, not so much.
  • I can manage on a lot less sleep than I ever dreamed possible.
  • The time goes by too fast.  Baby C is already 5 weeks old and weighs almost 12 pounds.  She wears 3 month clothes and I think we’re going to need size 2 diapers next.
  • I wish someone would have told me to really SEE A before C was born.  A still seemed small.  Her nose was small, her fingernails were small.  Now all those things, and so many other things seem huge because my perspective has changed.  I can’t seem to get back to the place where anything about A seems small and it makes me sad.
  • I’m kind of loving having 2 kids…especially when I walk into the room and see this:


I’m braving a bikini wax today.

I’m no waxing virgin.  I’ve done everything from eyebrows to bikini to brazilian for years now and frankly, I don’t find it to be that bad.  The lady I go to came highly recommended by a few people and she’s great…which makes a big difference.  Not only is she skilled and quick, but we chit-chat the whole time I’m laying there in a slightly compromising position while she spreads hot wax on my nether-regions and rips my pubic hair out.  While not at the top of my list of fun things to do, waxing doesn’t normally scare me.  It does today though.  You see, I’ve apparently been doing SUCH a good job practicing my Hypnobirthing relaxation techniques that some intruder came into my bedroom, acquired a pair of steel-toed boots and kicked me, repeatedly, in the crotch.  I had no idea this was happening (since I was so relaxed and all) and wasn’t aware of the damage that had been done until the next morning when I could barely get out of bed and hobble to the bathroom.  It was the kind of pain where you expect blood, bruising and swelling, only upon closer inspection (not that close, really, I’m 35 weeks pregnant after all), everything looked fine.  Obviously a more likely scenario is that my body is like, “Oh, yeah, I remember this.  Let me go ahead and stretch those ligaments and open up that pelvis ahead of time for ya.”  More likely, yes, but not NEAR as much fun to tell people.  Or perhaps there’s a head sitting in my pelvis and pressing down on my cervix.  A girl can dream.   So while the pain is a little better than it was a few days ago, I fear the pain that is still there might make this upcoming bikini wax a little nightmarish.  It really doesn’t matter though, because I’m apparently growing a rainforest down under and I can’t accept it any longer.

I went out this past weekend and spent what I consider to be a ridiculous amount of money on nursing attire.  I needed nursing bras, a few nursing tanks and wanted some nursing pajamas for the hospital, around the house and basically the next year of my life.  This stuff, rarely, if ever, goes on sale so I was forced to pay full-price, except for the pj’s, which were buy 1 get 1 free.  For some reason, the last time around, I decided I didn’t need nursing bras or breast pads or any of that fancy-schmancy nursing attire.  And I didn’t for a few days.  Until my milk came in.  I was perfectly fine in the hospital fighting the cups of my bra down so I could feed A.  Once I got home I pretty much went braless and it took me days, DAYS, to discover that when A nursed on one side I was, quite literally, spewing milk from the other side.  I could not for the life of me figure out why my shirt and boppy were wet…and why my child’s clothes were wet.  The story I love to tell is my 20-something sister sitting on the couch with me while I’m nursing…I have no shirt on and no bra (I lack some of the basic ins and outs of modesty people…especially around my family) and I’m squirting milk out of one boob.  My poor sister…I’m pretty sure I scarred her for life.  (She also sanitized the pieces of my breast pump for me.  The hilarious images of her boiling my breast pump parts in the kitchen and removing them from the water with tongs still makes me smile.)  Thankfully she had enough decency to say, “Um, can I get you a towel or something?”  I was too busy laughing to answer her.  I found it incredibly funny at the time, and still do.  I had tears rolling down my face I thought it was so funny.  I still didn’t get it though.  I remember looking down as the photographer was leaving after A’s newborn portraits and seeing a wet spot about the size of a nickel on my shirt.  I was like, “What the hell is that?”  She was 2 weeks old at this point and I STILL hadn’t figured out my boobs were leaking.  I wasn’t totally ignorant either.  I took a class and read several books specific to breastfeeding.  For some reason though, I figured the rules didn’t apply to me.  I don’t remember when I finally decided I needed some nursing bras and breast pads, but it took waaaaaay too long for me to come to that conclusion.  I’m set this time around though.  Except for one thing…

The Hubs got onto me last night because all my new, ‘spensive nursing attire is still sitting in the shopping bags.  I can’t bring myself to take the tags off, wash it and toss a few things into a bag for the hospital.  I don’t mean to be difficult, I just have this mental block and every time I think about doing something like packing a freaking hospital bag, I convince myself I still have plenty of time.  It’s a defense mechanism and the real reason is that I’m afraid to pack a bag with nursing clothes, a baby blanket, a stuffed animal for Baby C and her coming home outfit; all this stuff that indicates I ACTUALLY EXPECT to bring home a living, breathing baby.  It’s so weird, but I’ve promised him I would at least wash the new clothes today so we’ll see if I make any progress.  A and I spent several hours yesterday afternoon with my mom.  Both my parents and my in-laws wanted to purchase something substantial for Baby C.  My in-laws bought the new glider (wonder when it’s going to be ready?) so that left a new breast pump or a new diaper bag for my parents to purchase.  I don’t need a new diaper bag.  I have an INSANELY expensive one that I adore but I WANTED a new one for this baby.  I found a gorgeous new one yesterday that my mom happily purchased for me.  I’m excited about it but it’s still sitting in my bedroom.  Haven’t even taken it out of its beautiful bag and dust cover.  I just can’t.  Not yet.  The pricey diaper bags have ALWAYS been my thing.  I used to joke with the Hubs that if I ever decided I wanted to have kids, he was going to have to agree to a $1500 diaper bag.  He thought I was joking.  No he didn’t, he knew I was serious.  I didn’t spend quite that much the first time around, and my mom only spent a fraction of that, but there’s something about making such a large, luxurious,  intentional for Baby C purchase that has me a little freaked out.  Hubs told me last night he doesn’t think I’ve actually wrapped my head around the idea that we’re HAVING ANOTHER BABY.  I think he’s right, but I’m not sure how to fix it.  I’m going through all the motions, I’m excited about meeting her, preparing for labor and delivery and finishing up her nursery, yet, I’m not sure I’ve actually grasped that we’re leaving our home with 1 little girl and coming home with 2 little girls.  And my latest irrational, pregnancy-induced, hormonal fear?  That Baby C will be born a “he” instead of a “she”.  Pretty sure the Hubs wants out at this point.  He can’t take the crazy much longer.

So, if you hear screaming from deep within the heart of Texas in the next hour…no worries, it’s just a much too vain pregnant lady getting her lady bits waxed in an attempt not to appear as a freak show for all the nurses and doctors that will see her most treasured body parts over the coming weeks.  And blah, blah, blah, they’re professionals that see it everyday, they don’t care…yeah, I know.  I’ve heard it all.  But I like to think they too can at least appreciate the effort.

What’s buggin me.

I’m a little hot-headed.  I feel like it’s been greatly subdued over the past 3 years or so; quitting my job, becoming a mom, experiencing the loss of the twins and the general understanding that most things in life just aren’t worth wasting the energy being upset about.  However.  There are a few things that have crossed my path recently that have me flustered.  I blame the pregnancy hormones.

The Mommy Wars

I’m a stay at home mom.  I chose to be a stay at home mom.  Not because I made next to nothing while working.  Not because day care costs would have eaten my entire paycheck and then some.  All that is true, but my husband and I desired for our children to be raised with a parent at home.  We thought it was best for OUR family.  We decided that’s what WE wanted for OUR children.  What you do is your business.  We put off having children because I just wasn’t ready to be a stay at home mom for several years.  I don’t run around spouting off research that supports our decision.  Nor do I get into regular debates about what makes a better parent; stay at home mom vs. working mom.  Like I said, WE made OUR decisions based on OUR desires for OUR family and OUR children.  Your decision may be different and I respect that.  With all that said, the next person to post a link on facebook about why working moms are happier or why working moms are better, they’re getting de-friended.  Keep your judgmental thoughts to yourself.  Along the same lines: Just because I’m a stay at home mom doesn’t mean we’re loaded financially.  Yes, my husband makes a nice living, so do a lot of people.  We still have to make sacrifices for me to be at home.  And we live on a budget.  Every.single.month.  Our income is budgeted to almost $0 by the time I get done directing our money to the places I want it to go.  And if my husband didn’t make the living he currently does (which I’m sure we’ll be faced with sooner rather than later given our goals) we’ll make even more sacrifices to keep me at home.

The Breastfeeding Wars

Ok.  I’m a breastfeeding advocate.  And I’m seriously lacking in the modesty department which is an important detail in this rant.  I had a really rough start with A, but stuck with it and nursed successfully for just over 12 months.  I truly enjoyed it and I will encourage anyone that asks my opinion to at least attempt to breastfeed.  However.  If you can’t, fine.  If you don’t want to, fine, that’s your choice much like my decision to breastfeed is my choice.  There has recently been a lot of attention given to women nursing in public.  This was never a huge issue with A because the few times I tried it was a disaster.  One in particular on an airplane where anyone who wanted to look had a very nice view of my left bewb.  She wasn’t inclined to eat anywhere but the rocker in her nursery.  That’s not to say the need to nurse in public didn’t occasionally arise.  It did, and I had no problem attempting it.  I also nursed a lot in my car.  I expect to be nursing in public a lot more with Baby C.  It’s just not realistic to expect to be home enough to feed her in the privacy of my home; especially with a 3 year old in tow.  Here’s the thing; if you need to feed your baby in public, great!  But please be aware that every time you nurse in public it doesn’t need to be a platform for women’s rights.  If your baby won’t stay under a nursing cover, or you choose not to use one, it’s not going against your God-given right to at least attempt to be discreet.  I don’t make it a habit of seeking out moms nursing in public but even I, a pro-breastfeeder, was slightly offended at dinner one Friday night when a lady lifted her shirt, removed her bra cup and nursed her baby on the patio of a very busy downtown restaurant.  It’s not the breastfeeding I took issue with, it’s the complete lack of tact while breastfeeding.  No attempt AT ALL to cover herself (not really an issue) or to BE DISCREET (this is my issue).  I just don’t understand the need to make such a point; not everyone is comfortable with a mom breastfeeding her baby.  You forcing it upon them isn’t going to change their mind, it will only enforce their current feelings on the subject.  So, no, I will not be participating in your nurse-in.  And no, I will not sit in the most public place I can find and nurse my baby just to make a point.  Also, I will not get into an argument about our “rights” as women to breastfeed wherever we want.  I’ll feed my baby when the need arises, nothing more, nothing less.  It’s not a battle I’m interested in fighting.  I just want to feed my kid.  I will attempt to cover myself when in public and if that doesn’t work I will at least try to be discreet.  And unless someone asks for very, very intimate details, can we all agree that stating you breastfeed is enough?  For example, posting on facebook about your husband squirting your own breastmilk into your own eye to clear up a case of pink eye is just too much information.  Nobody needs to know that.  And it gives the rest of us a bad reputation.  And it will get you blocked from my news feed.