Wednesday, October 22, 2014

She believed she could, so she did.

Tomorrow will be 39 weeks of being pregnant. I have been dealing with a roller coaster of emotions in the past few months, ranging from crazy extreme to "seriously, calm your tits, this is ridiculous", which in my book is a weird and broad range.

And then last week, they just stopped. Which should have caused a whole new kind of anxiety, but didn't. So here we are. Zen Kate is doing just fine, and has been pretty mellow. Sure, I still have the basic stresses that come with life, but I feel cradled in some kind of peace that I didn't have before. Who knew?

So now we wait. Leif came just a few days before his due date, and so I sorta expect that I will be having beginning labor pains any minute. I blew off my midwife appointment today because I just simply didn't feel like going. Who wants to drive 2 hrs for 15 minutes of blood pressure readings and peeing in a cup?? Not this mama. Meh. Not too worried. The midwife was trying to warn me about possible blood pressure spikes, and I told her that I simply don't get high blood pressure, that I might be the opposite altogether and have low blood pressure. I could hear her look through my chart for a second, and then agree with me. We mutually agreed that at the first sign of anything, I would call.

So today, during Leif's nap time, I will be decorating my room. I am making myself birth affirmations, which is fun. I'm also relaxing. I can feel some things building up in me, and I know that pushing them, right now, would probably get me further along, but would wear me out, so I'm using this time to rest. I can feel some flu-like symptoms in the background. I have been feeling period cramps a bit. I have a low grade headache, and a mild back ache. I am starting to leak a bit of colostrum, and my boobs hurt. Luckily, I seem to be skipping the swollen hands and feet, and I don't have raging diarrhea like some people, yay! Birth is so weird.

I DO have the urge to lean into the pain, which is new. Last time, I tried my best to avoid it, but not this time. There is something satisfying to bear down on the cramping, letting it flow over me. I sorta love it. I cant say I have had any really strong pains, but the cramps and intermittent contractions I have had have left me feeling good, which has me feeling very optimistic. A little bit of my body/mind saying, "Bring it on. I embrace it!!!"

I believed I could, so I did.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Saying Goodbye to Scarlett

Today my husband and I did something together that taught us a lot about being a couple and standing together. We had to put down one of our flock, a sweet chicken named Scarlett. She had developed a condition that put her in lots of pain, and there was no remedy for her. She was unable to eat properly, and was lethargic. We decided that for her own peace, that it was best to end her suffering. It would have been a long, painful death of starvation to let her die without assistance. We did all we could for her medically, but had run out of care options. We chose today, a sunny fall day, because it was peaceful and quiet and without fear for her.

We chose to separate her vertebrae, which was recommended to us as the most pain-free and rapid way to humanely kill a chicken. We both held her gently, and talked to her and thanked her for her kindness. She never panicked or was scared. We very quickly performed the kill, and held her while she twitched for a few moments, and then was still. Adam did the actual neck breaking, being strong and swift, making it an instantaneous death. You could see the life there before, and then it was gone.

We both felt deep sadness, but also enormous relief. Our poor girl had suffered enough, and it was peaceful to see her leave that body that held her tied to this world. She was a very kind chicken, and we loved her. We had spent much time making sure we chose the best method to help her out of this body. We both discussed the different methods, made sure we were together on all steps, and prepared well. We made sure we were in complete agreement on all parts, and that we understood each other perfectly. We wanted to avoid botching anything, we wanted seamless and perfect harmony. We created it, and we felt that our decision was right on all sides.

We both sat together afterwards, and watched the leaves drifting off our cottonwood trees in the front yard. We talked about the fragility of life, and the finality of death. We talked about that life essence that is there, and then it's not. How you feel the tear between the body and the soul for such a brief moment, and the universe fills it in, abhorring a vacuum. The body remains, and will become other things, but the soul...who knows? Scarlett had a life essence. She had a personality. She had funny moments, and hard moments, and they made up who she was. That something is no longer here, but I, for one, cannot believe it was for nothing. I will never be able to say where it goes, but for me, I know that no matter how brief, each essence means something. I have a feeling I won't know where it goes till I go there myself, but I am content in the feeling that my essence is not nothing. We are all something.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Today was an asshole.

Today has been rough. Wait, hang on, today isn't even over yet! FUCK. Well, tough patooties. I'm writing about it now, because I highly doubt that I will be capable of compiling my thoughts later.

Leif is dealing with something. And by something, I mean he's not really sick, but he's not 100% either. He has always been a really healthy kid, so when he gets a curve ball, like diarrhea, he gets more emotional than anything. He becomes a little bit of a hypochondriac, and loves remedies. But he also stalls out on EVERYTHING. He puts the kibosh on naps, refuses normal food, whines constantly and basically makes my life a living hell from the moment he wakes up.

Today is one of those days. He threw a breakfast fit. He threw a potty fit. He hated the clothes I picked out. He didn't like that I wanted a shower. He tormented me with 2,347 "why?" all while I tried to clean the house. He stuck to me like a tick. He cried. I cried. We couldn't find his Oatmeal Bear, and I actually got so worked up that I hugged that damn bear half to death when he was finally located.

He has been trying to be a "big boy" and poop on the potty, which has turned into a blessing and a curse. It's awesome that he is telling me he feels poop and wants to sit on the potty....the problem is when you have the runs, you feel like that every 3 1/2 minutes all damn day. And he refuses to poop alone, because he needs someone to talk to, so I spent all morning racing up the stairs (making my pelvic condition scream for mercy) to get a boy to the potty in time...and make sure he was updated on current events. Because he asks me, "What's in the news, mama?" Somebody needs to record these moments. Today I blathered on Ebola, 4 yr olds bringing drugs to school, gay marriage bans, holiday economic forecasts, basketball drafts, the blood moon and the Nobel Prize. It was an odd mix, I can tell ya.

When nap time came, I thought, "Thank Zeus, I will finally be able to eat lunch, take a break, maybe get some painkillers in my gullet, etc." I was so wrong. Apparently, you cannot go to bed when you are sick(ish) because you will need to poop 5 times, complain about the wind, complain about your clothes, complain about the ceiling fan, dispute mama's claims that you must have lost your mind, tell mama that sleep is impossible, need water, a snack, different socks.....the list goes on. This charade went on for an hour and a half, until my (wonderful/amazing/incredible) husband came home on his lunch break to snuggle, read a book to and rock insane sickypoo to sleep while mama sobbed in a corner.

It's good that I have a very loving and intuitive husband. He knew exactly what needed to happen, which included him doing a bit of laundry, giving me a great big hug, telling me to go watch a movie, and bringing home dinner. Leif had a little nap, but it was enough to revive me, kinda. He did try to claw me to death when he woke up because he wanted cereal and I refused, (BRAT diet only for crazy poopers, in my opinion!) so I spoon fed him applesauce while I distracted him with Wild Kratts. Thank God for somewhat informative nature shows for kids. I almost never let him watch TV, but when I pull it out, you know I'm desperate.

So, here we are. Leif's had some toast and has been happily watching things about wild turkeys and spiders while I type this, I've drank copious amounts of chamomile tea, and my husband is coming home with dinner. Has today been truly awful? Yes. Have I survived? Absolutely. Should my kiddo beware pushing my buttons tomorrow? OH GOD YES. But in the end, I feel better. I know that I can make it through a day where I think I accomplished less than nothing, but still have silver linings. Hubby loves me half to death. Leif is trying to potty train on his own terms. I can let some stuff go, and do nothing but watch The Borgias on Netflix. The world will keep turning. Whew.

Monday, September 29, 2014

Things and whatnot

Things I'm thinking about to distract myself from the grinding pain currently throbbing in my lady parts:

  • Insanely weird highback chairs. I mean, the kind of chair that only slightly off-their-rockers kind of people sit and read Poe in, the kind of chair you take very seriously because it's not meant for's meant for pondering things. Deep things. I need that kind of chair. Preferably in a deep purple velvet, almost black. Well, actually, Hubby and I need a cool pair of them, so we can sit and ponder things together. Couches just don't have the same effect, ya know?

  • Fabric for my the comforter cover for baby's tiny comforter. I am trying so hard to come up with a selection before she actually arrives, and I seem to be stalling because I simply can't make up my mind. I want something soft, but not too hot. Something timeless, since I hate patterns that age out quickly. I want to choose a soft linen, since I love the way linen feels, but I can't make up my mind about where to get it, so I'm stalling. Ugh. I'm the worst. 

  • Disney is ridiculous. Seriously, people? Really? Also, more funny things here.

OK, that's all, people. The crotch pain is taking over. Time for some husband massage, painkillers, and sleep.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Still Explosion

Today is one of those days where I throw up my hands and surrender to the fact that things are just not going to be comfortable. Pelvic "instability", my ass. (My physical therapist is an idiot.) I'm calling this, "My bones are floating apart in a strained and crunching fashion." Oh, and I love people telling me that I'm just being a wussy, that pregnancy isn't always comfortable, but that I could totally have more kids without any issues. Well, sure, if I can be suspended in warm water for 9 months, in a coma, fed through a tube. That sounds nice. I can do that. Anything else....NO. I'm done. I hurt. There is NO SOLUTION for my pain. I'm gonna pass on doing this again. I like walking, thank you very much.

I did too much this weekend. (Seems to be the story lately.) And doing too much means by normal standards, I did less than nothing. Really. So, not only am I stir-crazy, bored and in pain, but I also did nothing all weekend, and still get to pay the price for it.

I used to care for a horse that some rich girl left behind when she went to college. He was a big, beautiful and passionate animal, and was confined to a 10x10 stall all day, every day, because he was too aggressive to be turned out with other horses. So I took to exercising him before work every day, turning him loose in a huge arena to scream and run and kick and smash whatever he wanted. It was magical to see his energy explode every day. I feel like that horse, only I have no way of exploding, except through writing. I have found that talking about it is just too "aggressive" for others right now. Talking about it feels worse. So I don't. I wait.

I think that my pelvic problems are based on a lot of things, but one thing stands out the most. A horse fell on me when I was 14. I was dragged, kicked and smashed by a 1000 lb animal, and I never went to the hospital. I never used ice on my bruises. I never made a peep. I was scared my parents would sell my horse, my most precious acquisition, and so I never told anyone about it until years later, well after any damage that I had endured could be healed properly. I can still remember lying in the rain, feeling the raindrops hit my eyes as I stared up, wondering when I would start breathing again. I know that I have a fracture in my leg. I know that I twisted my right hip badly. But what happened to my pelvis? What happened to the connective tissue that hold what should be the strongest connections in your entire body together? Who knows? I suppose I could eventually get my pelvis bolted together someday. Why does that sound worse than letting it be?

I'm feeling sorry for myself. Gonna let it go for now. It's a moment in a series of moments that make up my lifeline. Move forward. I am as strong as I choose to be.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Getting ready for birth and stuff.

I have been feeling the urge to get ready for birth lately. Not the average stuff, like buying baby clothes or cleaning the house, but more the weird stuff that only I need accomplished. Like having my husband build me a new fence for my chickens. Like trimming all of the trees before winter. Like staining the gate. Stuff only I think about because I know that doing these things when baby is a newborn gets exponentially more difficult, and I would just like them done. NOW.

So the house is being overhauled. I'm *supposed* to be taking it easy, as I have developed a minor hernia from being a supermom and doing "too much" and I'm supposed to sit down and crochet something, but that's too boring. So I've been out with Hubby, chopping down trees that got overgrown and digging fence post holes. I'm insane, I know.

I have been doing other thing as well, in my defense. I have a rough draft of my birth plan drawn up, but not yet typed. I have been scouring the area for cloth diapers, and scored 40 free diapers the other day, out of the blue. WOOT. I have been making blankets, wipes, a cars eat cover, and more with my nifty sewing machine and serger. I have been cleaning out old and broken toys from Leif's room so it wont be so cluttered. I have been organizing things, getting rid of junk and generally streamlining my house.

I've also been looking at postpartum health supplements, and stocking up on things I needed last time. Like pads. The kind that aren't all junky with chemicals and whatnot. Extra towels, because I swear, co-sleeper babies love to pee the bed at 2 am. Red raspberry leaf tea. Primrose and hemp oil. Arnica for pain relief. Witch hazel for the lady parts. And so on and so forth. The list is weird. It's my list, not anyone elses, because it works for my needs. I'm not ever going to spell it all out, because too many people have told me that I needed so many other things that I simply don't need or want in my life. (And some people have really shit ideas floating around their heads that they really feel the urge to talk about. NO, you should NOT use tampons after pushing out a baby. WTF, crazy person??) So I stick to what works for me.

I am feeling the urge to be highly private here soon, though. I admit that I want to birth this baby alone in the privacy of my closet, to be perfectly honest. (And this is NOT a roomy closet, people!) I don't know why, but I want to be left alone with my thoughts for this one. I want people to fuck off. I don't want hands, eyes, people. We'll see. I might change my mind, but for now, that's where I am.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

I am le tired.

I am so tired. My sleep is punctuated with a constant need to pee, thanks to my night drinking problem, my tiny bladder, my wee daughter thumping around all night, pelvic pain, muscle cramps, pregnancy dreams, etc.

Last night was especially difficult though, because of:
-a full moon
-a torrential rainstorm
-a puking 3 yr old
-a hubby who has taken up recreational sleep tossing.

I will admit to hating full moon nights. Beautiful, sure. For about 15 minutes. And then its like, "Turn off the big fucking light in the sky! I want to sleep!". I also hate rainstorms. I always spend all night wondering who is drowning outside, the rabbits, or the cats, or a hobo, maybe? Somebody is going to succumb to the water falling from the sky, and that bothers me. Then you add a kiddo who doesn't have a fever, doesn't have any other symptoms besides being a butt head, and then give him a puking problem. Ugh. At least he has the decency to warn me right before he hurls. So we spent all night cleaning up spatter, which gave us both a sleeping problem. When morning rolled around, we both just groaned at each other, drank strong coffee and smooshed our faces together before saying goodbye.

Today has been about laying low. I have no energy. I'm actually looking forward to nursing a baby all night, because that sounds easier than last night. Blurgh.

Also, I feel like this:
Too bad my kiddo doesn't have adorable rolls like this, though. He's just covered in bony elbows and knees.

Friday, September 5, 2014

Gearing up for mass murder

I don't like unannounced visitors. I always loved the Victorian-era habit of sending calling cards ahead of visiting someone. That way they knew when and why and who was coming, and could send back a lovely little card that said, "Sorry, I'll be away that day, call again another day!" while really just staying home eating bon-bons and playing with their pugs. (I have a vivid imagination, on top of being anti-social.)

So when random people come onto my porch and ring my doorbell, creating a cascading chaos effect due to protective dogs, I get a little pissed off. OK, more than pissed off. I get enraged. BUT only because assholes always choose nap time to come over. Every single damn time.

I live next door to my brother, and we share a large driveway. He owns a construction business, and has a tiny home parked in said driveway, which is currently under construction. It's hard to miss this thing, and it's very cute, and people love it, and people wanna know more. So they come to my house. And they knock/ring the doorbell, and then I get super grumpy..... But seriously, I'm not trying to be a pain. It's not my tiny home. It's not my company. I have no idea what the plans are like, what it costs, why he chose that paint color, who is buying it, etc. THIS IS A PRIVATE RESIDENCE! Please take his number and go away! But no. People don't like that. They want immediate results. And so I am going to have to resort to murdering people when I have this baby, because I will be sleepless, leaking, grumpy, un-showered and so hangry. I just know it.

My solution is to post a sign on my walkway that says, "Unannounced visitors who touch my porch, wake my babies/dogs/me and make me come to the door have very slim chances for survival." (Well, actually, it originally was going to say, "Come near my house and I CUT YOU." but Hubby said that sounded really bad, and then we would never have anyone over anymore, and that wasn't nice.) So now I need to make that sign, because I really can't keep trying to smile at people who aren't catching on to the steam pouring from my nostrils. Someone's gonna get killed, and I just don't have time to deal with a body.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

6 Ways to Prevent Preterm Labor (By someone who is failing at all of these, badly.)

1. Don't have sex.

Well, shit. I'm doing badly already. Apparently, sex isn't good for people trying to keep baby inside because semen has all sorts of glowy chemical properties that "ripen" your cervix, which is great for those 41w+3d people, but for us 32w+4d people, not so good. So I need to stop being a preggo hottie and go all nunnish on my poor Hubby. Ugh.

2. Stop lifting things.

Crapola. I have a 3 yr old. A dog that wont jump in the back of the XTerra. Feed bags that aren't going to pour themselves in the bins. Water buckets that need hauling. I am alive, so yes, I am going to lift things. I love it when doctors/midwives are like, "Don't lift anything over 25 lbs!" I can't think of anything under 25 lbs around here. Maybe a burrito? One chicken? A pillow?

3. Rest 30 minutes between activities. 

Do you know how long of a day I'm gonna need if I follow this rule?? I'm gonna need a 72 hr day. Seriously! That's impossible. I'm not even going to bother with this one. Sheesh.

4. Empty your bladder often.

Well, I get contractions from going upstairs to go to the bathroom, so by that last rule, I would have to ooze upstairs, pee, lie down on the bathroom floor for 30 minutes to recuperate, ooze back downstairs, and resume whatever I was doing......well, crap, now I have to pee again. Great. Start all over.

5. Drink LOTS of water. 


6. Others- Dont: smoke, eat too much, eat too little, gain too much weight, gain too little weight, do drugs (especially cocaine??), get infections, have too many babies in your oven, have a crooked vagina, have a short cervix, have surgery, ride horses/4 wheelers/roller coasters, have placenta previa, be younger than 17 or older than 35, be unaware of being pregnant at all, be of a low socioeconomic status, develop anemia, laugh too hard, be constipated or have stress, among others.

Right. I'll get right on ALL that. Thanks for nothin, interwebz.

So, to sum all this weirdness up: I am going to sit here, laugh at suggestions given to me by both the medical professional and non-medical professional worlds, and try my darndest to keep baby growing where she is. Some days I might be winning. Some days, not so much. Like yesterday: had too much fun, paid the price with 4 hrs of erratic contractions. Required several hours of 30 Rock and SO MUCH water to calm me back down. But today, I plan on doing noting but eating peanut butter and blogging. So I'm winning today, people. I'm winning today.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

It's ok.

Sometimes you feel a bit lost in this enormous Universe. And then sometimes the Universe whispers, "Yeah, I see you. Here, have a little moment that reminds you that you are just as important as all of the other kajillion little moving parts that make up our entirety. It's ok, you're doing great. Enjoy that moment, it's on me."  And so you do, and you realize that a little trust, a little release does a lot. I'm enjoying my moment.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Ok, let's do this!

The header of this post would be great for a person preparing for a weight loss journey, or prepping for a marathon, or getting ready for a big interview for the job of your dreams. For me, its a bit less fun, but no less in need of enthusiasm. Tomorrow is 30 weeks pregnant for me, and today I found out that my pelvic condition can improve somewhat with the help of chiropractic or acupuncture care, but my insurance covers neither of these, and I am simply not in a financial state to be able to afford them. So, instead of getting down or depressed about this, I am choosing to move forward with what I know I need to do: be gentle with myself.

My condition is excessive loosening of the connective tissue in the pelvis. For those of you who were passing notes in Human Anatomy during high school and don't know where your own crotch is, here's a diagram:

See that symphysis pubis right there? That's a nice tough fibrocartilaginous disk, which is supposed to stay put through a normal pregnancy, with some give for labor and pressure of baby. Mine, on the other hand, is choosing to part ways and be moody, and is creating a nice big gap. A gap that makes the Sacroilliac joint (in the back, on either side of the sacrum) say, "WTF, ya'll?? You do realize you are making this difficult for us to hold our shit together, right?" Because obviously all of my pelvic joints are in committed relationships....

Anyways, this "pelvic instability" makes things interesting. And I don't mean interesting like I play 6 rounds of tennis and I'm a sore the next day. I mean I can't walk down the stairs in my own house without wanting to cry about halfway down. I can't sit without my knees glued together, because the pain catches up with me in about 10 seconds: a lightening bolt of sharp pain directly to the crotch. 

Sitting cross-legged is completely impossible. Driving is a pain (literally), because you don't realize that your feet are uneven when you are pressing the gas pedal until you try to get out of the car, and can't move for 5 minutes, waiting for the pain to subside. Putting on pants or socks becomes a nightmare. My husband just puts my socks on for me now. I have given up shaving my legs like a normal person, it now involves jackknifing my body in the shower so that my legs are both evenly propped up on the wall of the shower and I can very quickly skim them and get back up before I get stuck there forever. All of these little things have become part of my daily life. Getting out of bed is different. Sitting down is different. Standing too long is different. 

So in the light of my physical therapist telling me that I need to have a baby to feel better, I am choosing to try to find the good in all of this. I have 10 weeks to go. I want to have a healthy baby. I want to NOT kill/maim/irritate to death all the people around me with my problems. I am unable to do certain activities, but I can find other ones that are fun, too. Hiking is out, but crocheting is in. Yes, I will have cabin fever in the fall, my favorite season. But maybe I can find nice overlooks to visit within driving distance and enjoy the outdoors that way. I recently made a great winter hat for my son, maybe I can make some for my whole family. I'm not into TV too much, but reading is always good. I need to use my new serger to make more cloth diapers, so that will be good. (Although I have found that pressing the pedal has to be balanced with time standing to reduce the pain.) So yeah! Let's do this! Lets get through the next 10 weeks! I will try to write more, because I know that it will help my frustration. I can do this.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Protect your consciousness.

This week brought the news that Robin Williams has left this plane of existence, apparently by his own hand. While I was terribly sad at the loss, I was also hurt. Not mad at him for deciding that suicide is the way to end his pain, but sad because I felt such a connection with him through the movie What Dreams May Come, and because of that, I felt pain because of my belief about suicide.

I could spend days explaining the ins and outs of the book, What Dreams May Come, and why it impacts my beliefs, but I feel that if you want to know, you can read it for yourself. The movie is beautiful, but the book is perfect. The quote from it that catches in my throat is this:

“…They think of suicide as a quick route to oblivion, an escape. Far from it. It merely alters a person from one form to another. Nothing can destroy the spirit. Suicide only precipitates a darker continuation of the same conditions from which escape was sought. A condition under circumstances so much more painful.” 

While I do know that some people would consider this highly offensive, because it does seem to place blame on someone for killing themselves, I think simply ache for that person. I don't believe we are just gone, I don't believe in the immediate end of our existence. Matter cannot be destroyed, so why should our consciousness just go "poof!"? 

At the same time, know this: I am in NO way trying to convince others. I am simply saying that I mourn the loss of Robin William's existence on this plane, and hope that in the next, he finds more peace. He was brilliant in the sea of faces, and I know that sometimes brilliance can come with great weight. I don't blame him for trying to find relief. I just wish that relief on him, somewhere in time and space. 

I struggle with my own depressions, and I have been at depths that have felt impossible. I have always felt, though, that my consciousness is bigger than my emotions, something precious that is always, always worth protecting and nourishing, no matter what. 

Friday, July 25, 2014

The whole bloody second trimester.

Hey. Its been the whole second trimester. I took advantage of more energy, less gagging, less miserable headcolds, etc, and got outside. I moved into a new house. I planted some flowers. I absorbed the sunshine. I loved on myself. And here I am on the threshold of the third trimester, and I dont want to leave. I cant believe its about to be August. I cant believe my baby is about to turn 3 in a month. I cant believe that fall is coming, and I'm going to have another baby, and all that. Its a whole lot of wishing to slow down the time. But such is life. I could try to list all of the wonderful things that have come with this summer, but instead, I'm just going to finish out this sunshine. I'm going to love this time. I'm going to be that glowing pregnant mama for a little while longer. And then WINTER IS COMING. Lol.


Friday, May 9, 2014

15 weeks

Well, its been a while, again. Meh. When you have my life, you seriously start to care very little about being a blogger super mom with perfect hair, and start to hope you can find clean pants on a daily basis. And mostly you don't, and have to wear yoga pants (which you never actually do yoga in) until you clean some pants, because you stupidly packed up all the other warm clothes you had for spring, and then it started snowing again, just for the hell of it. (Just a note: I love awesome run-on sentences. They rock.)

So here I am, in (seriously comfortable) yoga pants, stalling on laundry because damn it, kids go through so many pairs of clothes. And its PJ Day at school tomorrow, and Ella wants ALL of her PJ's cleaned because she needs choices. Well, tough. You get one pair cleaned today, because I am also washing my pants today. 

My son is also generating enough clothing to outfit a small country in underwear, because he is potty training, and he keeps saying, "In minute, mama!" when I ask him to go. He is perfectly capable of going by himself, but he thinks he has more important battles with his Lego guys, and so he stalls too long, and then comes to tell me he was wet his Ironman/Thor/Superman/Green Lantern/Spiderman/Batman underwear, and needs new ones. When he does actually get around to breaking up his epic battles and going to the bathroom, he usually falls off the stool and screams that he needs me to come pick him up and set him right again. Reminds me of that episode in The Office when Michael grills his foot in a George Foreman grill and falls off the toilet. I laugh so much around here. 

I have hit 15 weeks pregnant, which means the baby is the size of a Hass Avocado, only not as green. I have also gained a total of -2 lb. Yep. I've lost weight. I think it might be that I cant seem to consume dinner any more. Not my fault. It's just that dinner, unless consisting of incredibly fatty garlic mashed potatoes (a no-no in our house) is completely unappetizing. So I make them anyways. I also have taken to making enormous smoothies with handfuls of fruit, whole fat plain yogurt, and almond milk. (And also my prenatals dumped in, because I can't swallow pills at all right now.) It's the first time in my life when I have actively been trying to gain weight, and its a weird feeling. I eat all day long, and still feel like I have an empty pit in my stomach. Its a little defeating, actually. I wish I could feel full once in a while, preferably at 2 am when I really don't want to go down to the frigid kitchen and make a snack. 

In other developments, I now have a bladder the size of a thimble. It doesn't discriminate, it has to go all the damn time, day or night. I am also extremely thirsty and have a few Nalgenes floating around me at all times, which makes the bathroom the most visited place in my home. I really wish I had a more comfortable toilet. Why don't they design them with comfort in mind???

I am also the proud mama to 17 baby chicks that are living in my dining room. They need to be inside for a month or so, and they are adorable, poop a lot, and are trying to eat each other's toes off. Lots of indignant peeping going on all the damn time. I love them. I did lose 3 in the first 24 hrs, but that's a good loss rate, honestly. Two died in transit, and one just really wasn't doing well when they arrived, despite my best efforts.The rest look amazing. We have a few named: Peckles, Cocoa Puff, the Gabor sisters, and Sunshine. The rest are probably going to acquire names eventually, since my hubby (deep down) really loves chickens and will probably end up coddling them half to death. 

Anyways, life is chasing me down, telling me I have things to do. See ya!

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Milk Busy

It has been an interesting week. All I can really say is that allergies are kicking my ass, hubby and I have decided to go sugar free to help our health, kids are exhausting, and baby bunnies are a lot of work. Here are a few pics to show you what's up:

If I was supposed to call you, email you or do something I completely forgot about, this is why. I am not myself right now. I am very, very tired.