Life at the G to the Ma's

As told by Alex:


I crawl. And I stand. That's right. Stand up. And crawl. Very quickly.


I learn what snow is for the first time. And even though I can't move that much in my gigantic warm thing, I seem to enjoy it.


I play with mommy... in stationary positions of course.

I eat lots of yummy solid food (including, most recently, finger food... big steps for my little mouth... with SEVEN teeth)

And after I am done, if I am still hungry, Grandma lets me eat the bowl.

I think that's silly.

Hang with mommy. While sitting still. She's a blast, let me tell you.

Hang with big cousins... who used to push me around, but then I figured out that if I scream when they take toys away from me, I usually get them back.

Then we end the day with a nice warm bath. ...To be an infant.

Thanks for listening. Now listen to this.

Week (almost) 13. Ok, 12.5.

I would like virtual high-fives from all of you for finishing the first tri-mester without ONCE calling my unborn child a nasty name. True, I flicked it on more than one occassion, but I don't constitute that as child abuse because I am ballooning and all of that padding has to prevent any type of movement from reaching the baby.

That being said. I look like I did when I was six months pregnant last time. What. The. Heck. It's certainly not because I am eating too much. Perhaps it's the combination of the baby and the week's worth of stockpiled poo that I have been holding on to. Awesome. But, hey, it's nice to see a little accomplishment I suppose. All this throwing up and whatnot can really dampen that 'growing new life' silliness that is going on inside me.

But, there is a horizon out there. I see it. It's way far away still, but I see it. There are more breaks in the day where I feel semi-human again, and I cherish those times. But then I eat something, or smell something, or see something on a commercial, and it all goes down the drain. But there is a light, people. There is a light.

On that note, I must go visit the toilet. I have some semi-digested cookies that are just aching to see the light of day again.

Dear fetus,

Stop making me throw up.

Love,

Mommy.

A Little Update.

Things are the same here.

Just thought I would update how far along I am, because I just realized that I never did on here. I went to the doc and had an ultrasound and at that point we were seven weeks along. So tomorrow, I will be ten weeks. Or nine. How long has it been? I am not even sure. I am having a bit of a brain fart. Let me call my brains (read: Paul).

Ok. We agreed on ten.

Ten weeks along.

Who knows.

Last time I was sick until week 16. So... almost done? Eh.

Spoke to soon.

Things spiraling downward quickly. Starting to panic just a bit because in my euphoric new mother stage I forgot just how awful it was... and now I am being reminded. I sound like a dying cow about twice a day now. Water makes me nauseous. Noooooot gooooood.

I love being pregnant. I love being pregnant. I love being pregnant. I love being pregnant. I love being pregnant.

I really hate being pregnant.

Trick or Treat, smell my feet....

...and if they smell anything like chicken, I just may vomit.

I don't know what it is about chicken and pregnancy for me. They just don't mix. Perhaps it was, upon hearing of my queasy reactions at the sight of raw chicken, my husband chasing me around last pregnancy holding fresh-out-of-the-bloody package chicken while clucking? Nah. Couldn't be. (Love you, dear.)

Last pregnancy it was untoasted bagels and puppy chow that got me through the nausea. This time it's been fruit-by-the-foot fruit snacks and toast with spinach dip on it. Yum. That's a well-rounded diet, me thinks. But, this time is really not comparable with my last pregnancy. Instead of throwing up 3 times a day, I am only losing my fight about once every other day, which is a vast improvement. I feel like I am going to vomit twenty-four-seven, but not actually throwing up gives me hope.

I know. You like hearing about this stuff. I can tell.

Must go lay down. Computer making me dizzy.....

Pregnancy is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Don't go to the doctor if you don't want to find out what's wrong.

Well.

I have some news.

I had been having some troubles for quite some time now, three months to be exact. I finally gave in and went to the doctor, because the symptoms I was having were definitely not normal. Well, the prognosis may surprise you (probably not though, because you probably already know). It surprised me.

And it definitely surprised Paul.









Yep. Number two is on the way. Doc thinks I am about 4 weeks along (which would put me in June), but it's hard to tell at this point. And let me tell you that I had taken no less than FIVE pregnancy tests in the last 2 months, and they were ALL negative. So I was definitely not expecting this. But we are EXCITED. We won't be finding out the gender with this one either, so don't get your hopes up.

Alex's reaction? She was speechless.







It was really fun for a day, then the morning sickness began to set in, and then I remembered why I would rather push 12 children our rather than be pregnant for nine months again. Does anyone know any women that think being pregnant is the best time of their lives? Please give me their address. I would like to hit them.

Because I am rapidly descending into the land of vomit, I will be going up to Michigan to take a huge leap backwards in my independent life and bunk up with my parents for a while. I need the help with Alex desperately, and this seemed like the best option. I am excited for her to get some quality face time with her family in Michigan... so... all of it.

Not sure when I am going to have the stomach to post again. This one has been in the works since last Wednesday, soo.... it may be a while.

Cheers to you and to my (apparently very fertile) womb.

"Your job, as journalists, is to tell the truth. That's what you claim you do, when you accept people's money to buy or subscribe to your paper.

But right now, you are consenting to or actively promoting a big fat lie -- that the housing crisis should somehow be blamed on Bush, McCain, and the Republicans. You have trained the American people to blame everything bad -- even bad weather -- on Bush, and they are responding as you have taught them to.

If you had any personal honor, each reporter and editor would be insisting on telling the truth -- even if it hurts the election chances of your favorite candidate.

Because that's what honorable people do. Honest people tell the truth even when they don't like the probable consequences. That's what honesty means. That's how trust is earned.

Barack Obama is just another politician, and not a very wise one. He has revealed his ignorance and naivete time after time -- and you have swept it under the rug, treated it as nothing.

Meanwhile, you have participated in the borking of Sarah Palin, reporting savage attacks on her for the pregnancy of her unmarried daughter -- while you ignored the story of John Edwards's own adultery for many months."

Read the rest.

Obama scares me. He really does. And the fact that people will go so out of their way to get this man into office scares me more. People's credit cards are being charged without their consent for thousands of dollars for OBAMA FOR AMERICA. Lies are being told and fostered by those who we are supposed to be able to trust to get to the heart of the matter. Poor Joe the plumber is being torn apart because he asked Obama a tough question. Because Obama said what he did, the "spread the wealth" comment, Joe is being ripped apart. I just don't understand how people are so quick to accept that Obama will not continue to be the man that he's been in the past. He wouldn't have gotten as far as he has in this race if he kept his old associations, but can you really believe that Rev. Wright was a Amecia-lovin' holy man for the last 25 years and all of a sudden has these awful things to say when Obama gets the nomination? If that was the case, you would think that more people would have left that church besides Obama, but it seems that others were well aware of Rev. Wright's positions.

Obama wants to look to the past to discredit McCain, but he gets affronted when anyone uses his past against him. Just makes you think, what's he hiding? Well, not much, it's just that people choose to not see what's in front of them.

I promise I am really trying to keep politics out of this blog, but it's hard. This is a big election, and either way we go, it's going to have a huge impact on our futures. I can only hope that if Obama gets elected, that I am wrong about him.

I promise the next post will be MUCH more exciting.

Mmmm... maybe think of something else to say...

When I am wandering around the mall near my house, I usually tend to stop in Things Remembered to say hello to the gals I worked with while I was pregnant. It's usually a pleasant visit, filled with updates on the current gossip as well as the unavoidable gushing over Alex, who is usually with me.

One of the girls, however, upon seeing me... EVERY SINGLE TIME... only has one thing to say,

"You look tired."

I could be bouncing off the walls, feeling better and more awake and put together than I have since the day I first got sick with Alex, and it's always,

"You look tired."

And I can tell her that I feel great, but she just responds with,

"Oh. Well, you look tired."

So now I just tell her it's my thing. You know, like short hair. Short hair and big bags. It's my thing. Thanks for noticing.

Continuation: The Most Perfect of Perfect Nights

Last night: Sucked.

We were up from before 2 until after 4. Alex was crying. Screaming in obvious pain. We thought it might be her throat, because it would erupt after she would burp or yawn or anything of the sort. We called the on-call pediatrician, and they said to give her some tylenol (which we already had), and just try and calm her down. If it didn't stop, they said we should take her to the ER. I was not composed, I assure you. Thank God that by the time the doctor called back, Paul had managed to get her to sleep. We stayed up and held her for a little bit to make sure she was out (this was an HOUR after we gave her the tylenol), and managed to get her into her swing without waking her up. She got up a few times, whimpering. The saddest whimper I've ever heard. Her voice is shot from being sick and crying so hard. We went to the doctor first thing this morning, and during the ear exam, she starts screaming. There, that's what it was. She's got an ear infection. I officially HATE ear infections.

Today, she's been happy for the most part. Every once in a while, she'll start whimpering, but it passes quickly. The doctor warned us that this could get worse before it gets better, so we are preparing ourselves for another hard night. And it's not even 10 in the morning. Ack.

Stupid Daycare.

The Most Perfect of Perfect Days

The joy of motherhood. Sometimes it's overwhelming.

Recently I have started working out 3 mornings a weeks. I do this, yes, to get healthy, but also because I work out at the YMCA where they have FREE DAYCARE. I was a little hesitant to drop Alex off the first time, giving her up to what looked like a 15 year old girl with 5 toddler boys running circles around her. But I got her back in one piece, happy as a clam. Since then, it's been pretty easy to give her up and enjoy an hour of working out and not having to worry if Alex is chewing on the power chords again. (Kids.) (And no, that's never happened.) (She's much more interested in dog toys and shoes.) Anyway, I had a pretty stable relationship with daycare. I give, I take. Then daycare gave something back. A big fat cold for Alex's face. Boo.

The past few days have been filled with not alot of sleep, alot of snot, alot of crying, and not a whole lot of eating (on Alex's part... I, on the other hand, have been stuffing my face... you know... to cope with all the CRYING). Yesterday was the peak of snottiness, I believe. The night before, we got no sleep, up every 2 hours. Each time, I was forced to clean out her nose with a few drops of saline solution and a good suction, which she loathes, I assure you. She was having trouble eating because of it, as well. And the pacifier. THE PACIFIER. SHE CAN'T SLEEP WITHOUT THE PACIFIER. AND SHE CAN'T SUCK WITH A NOSE FULL OF SNOT. That was a long night. The next day, Paul left for work, and we got up just after 6. Lots of suctioning, lots of crying. She didn't go down for a nap until 2. (To put that in perspective, usually her first nap is before 9.) And 20 minutes into it, I hear her GASPING FOR AIR over the monitor. I go in, and she's balling because she can't breathe with the pacifier in. So I gathered her up, and rocked her back to sleep, with her sitting up because that helped the snot settle into a more desirable position. I spent the next hour and half in that chair. Finally, last night, at 10 (again... bedtime is usually between 7 and 8), we had the stroke of genius and put her to bed in her swing. So the swing went in her room, the humidifier got put on full blast, and the poor thing slept till 5:30 this morning. I fed her, she promptly went back to sleep, and slept till 9:15. I actually did something right!! Yay! Today, she's still a bit snotty, but she's been an absolute angel. She took a good long nap in her swing, and has been playing wonderfully the rest of the time. It was a much better day today.

I am being a good patron of day care and not taking her back until she is over this. Mostly because I am hoping karma is on my side and when this circles back around because SOMEONE IS NOT AS GOOD OF A DAY CARE PATRON AS I AM, it might skip us because we tried to stop the cycle. Hopefully.

Sorry to get political...

...But this is a great article. (The link of this site is and has been on the left side of this page, but I figured I would bring your attention to this article in particular.) Written by someone who used to support Obama. Here's a clip:

"Obama is the typical cynical politician, putting negative spin on everything his opponent does and denying his own past statements and actions. If Obama were a Republican, he would quickly learn that any such hypocrisy would be nailed by the media and harped on endlessly.

But because the mainstream media are relentlessly partisan on Obama's behalf, he is always surprised and shocked when his deceptions and stupidities are exposed. How dare those nasty conservative talk radio hosts and bloggers interfere with his coronation! Can't they see that Obama is the one anointed by the leftist media establishment?

Here's the problem, Mr. Obama. Back when you were still saying nothing, you looked very promising to people like me, who thought of you as what you claimed to be -- a great conciliator.

But since Hillary took the gloves off and bloodied you at the end of the primary season, you have been forced to take firm positions on issues and to defend yourself against criticism -- you have been forced to let us see who you are.

And who are you?"

It's here.

Recipes for you!

You will also find the link on the left side of this page from now on. Enjoy!

Who IS this child??

Alex's new thing:



Not sure where she picked that one up from...

Make sense? Sure.

So, we have a minivan. It's pretty great. There have, however, been a few snags in our almost perfect relationship. When we went to bring the van home, one of the lights came up. We didn't even make it out of the parking lot before we had to turn it back around. Thankfully, they fixed that right away. Yesterday another light came on. Boo. We had just dropped off Paul's car (formerly my HHR) at his dealership to get the oil changed. So we talked with them, explained that it's pretty ridiculous that these lights keep coming on when the car is not even a week old. They ended up giving us a free rental car for the day to placate us (Paul... let's face it.. I am not confrontational enough to do these types of things). Now, to paint the picture, imagine me, Paul, and Alex waiting. She is in her carseat, which is in her stroller. And what do we see pull up for us?

This.

Not that I don't enjoy a good gas-guzzler (which we had to pay for). And not that I don't enjoy lugging the car seat into the back seat of this. And not that I don't enjoy feeling like I am one step away from being at the top of Mt. Everest by the time I get into the driver's seat. Well, what am I saying? This car is perfect.

In other news, our deck was apparently the place to be if you were a bug yesterday.

Well, I was going to write more, but I have 6 kids running circles around my house right now because their dog is jumping all of the fences in the neighborhood.... So I should go take care of that....

And this is when I lose my mind.

I am not sure what is going on. During my time as a mother, I have realized that there are two types of days. One type leaves you feeling like you are on top of the world. Everything went smoothly. Baby went down for naps and bed without a fuss. Ate like a champ. Played so well with the dog- didn't pull her lip off once. Cooed and laughed at perfectly strange strangers, melting their hearts as well as my own.
Then there are the days when you are running around, unaware of the spit-up dripping down your back, your hair in a ponytail, held back by only the grease that has been building for a week, chasing a child that cannot be the same one that you nurtured and sang to for nine months, all the while leaving bits of your brain in the dusty corners of your house, never to be seen again.

Today (and yesterday) has been from door number two. My child is the devil. She no longer cries; she WAILS. MAMAMAMABABABABABAMAMAMAMABABABABABABAAAAAAAAA!!! And she does that every single time I set her in her crib. This leads to sleepless mornings, afternoons, and evenings. I'm very tired.

But look how cute! I must be exaggerating. How could a little doll this precious cause any KIND of trouble?

She seems to be taking leaps and bounds towards 'toddler-ville'. Everyday she moves more quickly. Everyday she seems closer to crawling (up on all fours now!). Everyday she seems a bit more verbal. Everyday. Every single stinken day. She will be seven months old on the fourth. Where has the time gone?

Oh, there it is. Right next to that bit of my brain that used to control the ability to speak to adults without mentioning the words 'diapers', 'poop', or 'boobs'. Gosh I miss that bit.

Housewife Extraordinaire

The transformation is nearly complete.


I got myself a new ride. It's spacious. I can fit my kid, my dog, the stroller, various diaper bags, and like 80 people in it. Plus, it's got a little video camera thing on the back, which helps me aim better for those little random mutt-dogs that run wild in our subdivision. It's lovely. Paul says we lost a lot of cool points by getting this... but I say that we gained a whole hell of a lot of AWESOME points because of it, so it doesn't matter. And I am the woman, so I am right.

Not only that, but because you guys are awful at keeping me accountable about my weight (remember this?), I've gone and joined a weight-watchers group. I really just need help making better choices when I eat. It's so easy to just graze during the day, and usually whatever is easiest is the most unhealthy. So... now I will have some face-to-face accountability, and an irritating way to figure out how much of what I should eat. The whole process works on a point system, with everything having it's own worth in points. You get a personal daily allowance of points based on your height, weight, gender, so on and so forth. But... it's pretty awesome because I'm nursing and that gives me a buttload of extra points. I actually get more than Paul is allowed... (Paul isn't doing this... he will just be eating healthy with me, but we figured we would figure out how many points he would be allowed if he tagged along... and ha! less than me).

I will try and give updates on how things are going on here, not that anyone would really care. I am not ashamed to yell my weight out on the megaphone that is the internet, because, hey, I had a baby, and if I am allowed to be overweight at any point in my life, it's the here and now. So bring on the donuts!! I mean... no... the apples. Bring on the apples.

So, last night, I weighed in at 179.6. I am not expecting anything spectactular until I get used to eating better. They said a healthy loss for me, because I am nursing, would be one pound a week... So here it goes.

***

And, a video. THIS ONE'S FOR YOU, MOM!!

To be a child again...

It was a good weekend. I missed my boy, but it was nice to just hang and watch girlie movies and not worry about cooking for two and so on and so forth. Yesterday, we took a break from our laziness and headed up to the park. I did not, however, take Violet with me. I was planning on taking Alex to the swings, and I didn't want to have to worry about my dog running and jumping in the lake that is currently a very thick green color. Normally, whenever Violet senses that we are leaving, she will head straight to her box and lay down. But yesterday, it was like she knew I was leaving her home while Alex and I went to THE FUNNEST PLACE ON EARTH. She was going downstairs, two steps at a time, stopping and looking back with a forlorn look in her eyes. I finally herded her all the way to her box, and as I was locking it up, she started barking. It's like she was trying to convince me that whatever grudge I was obviously holding was not worth leaving her. And I was all, You remember that one time you went to the bathroom on my floor five times in one night?!?! THIS IS FOR THAT. Then I locked her up and kicked the kennel a few times, laughing and rubbing my hands together.

But we did eventually make it to the swings (yay! hubby just got home!). Alex was incredibly at ease. She absolutely loved them. Although she did try to lift herself out of the swing on more than one occasion, and I am pretty sure that she would have succeeded had I not foiled her attempts. Strong girl.

i HATE cooties.

We are having a girl's weekend. I kicked Paul out (or... he went up north with some buddies to go to a football game, golf, and drink beer... poor thing). And now, I am relaxing (or... trying to figure out how I can manage to take a shower with the door closed today or enjoy a cup of coffee that is at the very least lukewarm). I've already enjoyed a breakfast of champions (leftover chicken parmesan from Olive Garden), and I am planning on hitting up a Blockbuster store sometime later today to acquire a ridiculously girlie movie that would never be allowed in the house when the testosterone is home. And I plan to grab a pizza from my buddy Papa John for dinner. Not to bad.

In other news, I am about to make the big plunge into 'soccer mom' territory. On Monday, if all goes according to plan, Paul and I could be driving around in a..... MiNiVaN. Awesome. I took a spin in it last night, and I kept laughing to myself because, as I told the salesman, I would have never thought that I would be driving a minivan before the age of 25. But I am totally cool with it. I am excited to have room to put things without having to pile it in the backseat and hope I don't take a turn to quickly and send it all onto Alex's lap. And this way, on our trips to Michigan, we can bring everything we need for the kid AND the dog and still have room to stretch out in. The one we are looking at has a dvd thing in the back, which does no good for me because I have a tendancy to spontaneously vomit when I attempt to do anything in the car aside from staring straight ahead with my hands on my lap, but can you say BABY EINSTIEN?? Lovely.
We were actually looking at two different vans, and we drove both of them last night. The first one, however, was kind of a bust. First, the car was dead when we went to turn it on. Then, one of the doors refused to open. And finally, the car started smoking not a mile from the dealership. Made the decision easy.

So, long story short, you should all come to St. Louis because now we could all ride in one car.

Big Steps.

Tonight was a big night. I got the ok from baby doc earlier today to go ahead and supplement a little formula at night. Alex has gone back to not sleeping through the night, and seemed to be very irritable after her last meal, which was not normal. So, with hesitant (and kind of undecided, to be honest) hands, I prepared a bottle for her after her last meal. I poured some water in, dumped some powder on top of it, and... there it was! Milk! It seems so unreal that the milk I have to work so hard to make (I am barely getting 2 ounces when I pump now...boo) just APPEARS so quickly. Honestly. Formula is a magical thing.

As wonderful as it seemed in the bottle, I wasn't sure if it was going to be serving its purpose or not. Alex flat out refuses to eat any food that's been mixed with formula instead of mama's homegrown recipe, so I didn't have too high of hopes. I had Paul give it to her so she didn't see the milk trucks staring her in the face and wonder why she wasn't getting the real stuff. I went upstairs, shaking my head, bracing myself for another long night. But... what's that sound? No, not Violet trying to bury her bone in her plastic kennel... That other sound. That... silence. SHE DRANK... NAY, CHUGGED... THE WHOLE BOTTLE. It was beautiful. I'm - so - proud!

So, we'll see how we go tonight. I could be eating my words. Her stomach could reject the formula, making for a much longer, and messier, night than normal. But I have high hopes.

Even if this works, she will still be nursing for the rest of her feedings. I am still feeding her every two hours (the doc asked me if she was eating every five hours. FIVE. What a luxury to be able to be out in public for 5 hours in a row without having to whip a boob out). But doc said that that's fine. Worse for me, but fine for her, as long as she is getting enough. So, nursing it is, with a little help at night. Works for me.

She's just getting so big so quickly, I am afraid what extra milk will do. Do I see a growth spurt on the horizon? Perhaps.

Look at those ears...

***

Violet is warming up to Alex now, which is really cute. Well, warming up is perhaps too strong of a phrase. She no longer avoids her at all costs. And I got it on camera. I am sure Violet will deny the fact that she is obviously infatuated with this little person at all costs... but we know the truth.

...

Well, since I forgot to hit 'publish post' last night, I guess I could update you on how our night was...

SHE SLEPT THE WHOLE NIGHT.

Didn't get up once. Barely moved.

So happy. :)

Dear Mr. Ike, Are you lost?

Please get out of my backyard.



And stop trying to infiltrate my laundry room with your little leaks of water and your nightcrawler spies.

Yours truly,

Laura.

Ow, ow, and uhhh... ow.

Today I got my hand stuck in between a cookie sheet filled with hot oil and an oven rack that had been sitting in 375 degree heat for 20 minutes. It was pleasant. I calmly, and of course politely, asked Paul if he would place the pan back in the oven for me so I could go and give my fingers a nice cold bath in the sink.

After being lucky enough to enjoy the gentle tingle that can accompany burns for about 20 minutes, I decided I would give in to my selfish needs and go get some burn ointment. I flashed up to Walgreens, leaving Paul, a crying baby, and a burning dinner behind in my wake. I promise you, it could not wait. I was tempted to actually rip open the box in the store because the lady that was in front of me in line thought that it would be best to talk to the cashier for ten minutes before swiping her card. I would have swiped my card for her just to get her moving but she seemed to be stocking up on absolutely anything a human could ever want... ever. I didn't think I could justify that expense to Paul when I got home. But I eventually made it through the line and back home, got the ointment on, and now I am left with one big shiny blistery finger with only remnants of pain here and there (it looks way more impressive in person, I assure you).

I had forgotten how badly burns hurt, it had been so long since I've had one. For being so little, they sure pack a punch.

Other than that exciting adventure, today has been good. My cold is progressing to the 'cough' stage, so it's more annoying than debilitating at this point. What I would give for some Nyquil.

Paul and I got some shopping done. New garbage can with a lid on it, because I MAY or MAY HAVE NOT found Alex pulling all of the trash out of the bin the other day. MAY or MAY HAVE NOT. And we got a bin WITH A LID for our recycling, because a plastic bag hanging on the handle of our pantry door is just not cutting it anymore. We also made a stop at the grocery store because Paul wanted to pick up some pumpkin beer he spotted the other day. We were in a store we don't normally shop at, so we were both a bit lost (this was the more expensive, uppity grocery store of the two in our vacinity... that is, if a grocery store can be uppity). At one point, we were in the back taking our time walking around, Alex in her carseat in the shopping cart, and Paul grabbed my arm and said in a very loud, demanding voice, "Go down the BEER AISLE!!" Several people stopped to stare, and I am pretty sure that I heard at least one audible gasp. As we were walking away (down the beer aisle), I told Paul that he should have followed up with a "wench" and we probably could have gotten kicked out... which would have been awesome.

Because Karma is a Witch

Hello Universe.
It's me, your own personal burp-rag, quite literally right now.

I know that posting a video of my unknowing daughter unable to keep her eyes open could be construed as cruel. But I promise you that was not the intent.

But still you come back at us like this.

Not an hour after putting Alex down for the night, I heard her coughing and gagging on the monitor (which actually happens quite a lot because of her reflux... usually not a sign of real trouble). I ran up the stairs and peeked in her room, and she was still coughing, so I went in and picked her up, intending on patting her back to help clear things up. But she is SOAKED. I'm talking hair, face, clothes... everything. And I am immediately struck in the face with the smell of vomit (and let it be known that just a few weeks ago I was asking my mother-in-law what the difference between vomit and spit-up are... and all she said was, "Trust me; you'll know." ... and now I do). I put her up on my shoulder and felt down on her bed (and, obviously, I had just changed all of her bedding this afternoon), and it was soaked as well. Then she started vomiting again. So now I am soaked. And the floor is soaked. And the little organizational boxes on her changing table are soaked (can you say... projectile?).

We got her changed (twice... she threw up again as soon as we got her in clean clothes) and bathed and back to sleep. She was a little shaken up, didn't want to be put down for a while (understandably so), but otherwise seems ok now. I'm at a loss as to what brought this on. She's had the sniffles for the past couple of days, but seemed to be on the mend. I suppose we will just see what happens tonight, perhaps give the doc a call in the morning if we have another episode.

I'm not a bad parent. I promise.

I just take advantage of humorous situations.

***

Bedtime? I think so.

This is why I love my husband.

This morning I walked in on Paul singing 'Everybody loves kung-fu fighting' while making himself a sandwich.

This probably isn't funny if you don't know Paul, but to me, this is hilarious. I laughed until I had tears in my eyes.

It's the little things, right? Right.

Inevitablility just punched me in the face.

I suppose I should have expected this at some point. It was bound to happen.

I am sick for the first time since I had Alex. Not only that, Alex is sick for the first time EVER. I was waiting for one or the other to happen, because they are bound to. But at the same time? Come on. All I want to do is lay down and watch America's Next Top Model marathons and drink tea, but I can't. Although it hasn't been as bad as it could be. Since Alex is not feeling so hot, all she has been wanted to do is cuddle with me... which... never happens. So I welcome it. I just wish it was under better circumstances. We've been watching alot of baby einstein. Going through ALOT of kleenex. Have been on the phone with multiple doctors (begging them to give me a name of at least ONE medicine I can take while nursing...). Violet is helping out as well. Today was the first time that there had been any willing interaction between the two of them on Violet's part. I had Alex on my lap playing with some of her toys, and Violet came over and brought one of her toys for the kid. So sweet. Then I used my mommy magic to captivate them both for a whole ten minutes by turning Alex's vibrating chair on and off. Awesome.

I hope we get better soon. Being sick sucks. Watching your little baby get sick sucks more.

Finally.

Is that you, fall?? Oh, it's been too long.

We had a good day today. It was so gorgeous outside, how could we not? Whenever I can open a window in my house and not start to sweat immediately, it's a good day.

We started with breakfast, which Alex has absolutely no interest in.

She would much rather eat her highchair. Which is ok, I guess.

Then we took advantage of the GREAT weather and headed to the river. The Missouri River, that is. Nothing like Old Town St. Charles. It's probably one of my favorite places in St. Louis. (Fact: St. Charles was the first permanent settlement on the Missouri River. I figure it was settled by people like myself... "Yay! We made it to the Mississippi! There's the arch! Gateway to the West! To the beyond!" ...walk a few miles... "Ya, this is far enough.")

We saw the statue of Lewis and Clark... and their dog. Which Violet barked at the whole time we were next to it.

I'm not exactly sure what this sign is referring to. I think Violet was confused as well.

And this is what happens when you are the only one who understands, "Now everyone look at the camera!"

It was a great day. I was able to find a secluded bench and feed Alex so we could stay there a bit longer. I promptly slammed my elbow into the table, which didn't feel nice. I never thought of nursing in public as an extreme sport, but hey, I drew blood. You try getting a wiggling kid (with teeth) attached to your chest while not exposing bare skin (gasp!) to the public. It takes practice, that's for sure. And for the most part, people tend to give you your space if they realize what you are doing. I've only had one awkward moment so far, which was in the Zoo not too long ago. Alex needed to be fed, and we were there on a weekday, so I grabbed a table in one of the eating areas. There were about 25 tables in the section, and not one of them was occupied when I sat down. As soon as we got started, this young kid who was apparently on his lunch break came and sat DIRECTLY ACROSS FROM ME. He proceeded to eat his lunch and feed the birds and not meet my eyes (which was probably for his own sake, because I'm guessing he would have burned alive if he saw the look I was giving him). Probably... no.... Absolutely one of the most awkward moments in my life.

***

no words.

Tonight, I got a firsthand (ok, well secondhand) glimpse into how awful this world can be. I made a horrible dinner (no, that's not the awful part- that's pretty normal actually), so horrible that we decided to pitch it all and get chinese. Paul was going to pick it up, as Alex was in a foul mood and in no state to travel, no matter how short the drive. When he got back, he came straight down stairs, and the look on his face, I swear I will never forget.
What happened was while he was on his way to get the food, while he was STILL IN OUR SUBDIVISION, in fact- just one street over from our house, he saw two small children walking in the street (no sidewalks here). Paul guessed that they were brother and sister, about 4-5 years old. As he was passing them, he noticed a black truck with an older guy in it slow to stop near them and initiate a conversation with said children. Paul, thinking this was a little sketchy, decided to turn around and ask the man what he was doing. (Which just goes to show, listen to that little inner voice, people) When the man saw Paul turning his car around, he took off. Yep, definitely sketchy. Paul then pulled up to the kids to ask if they knew that man, to which they both replied to the negative. When asked what the man was talking to them about, they said that he wanted to show them something, and something about a 'peepee' and 'butt'. Paul called the police, gave them a full report, and they were at our door in about 5 minutes. Impressive. They will be sweeping the subdivision for the next couple of days. Paul gave them a pretty good description of the guy, plus the first 3 letters of his liscence plate. And since then, he's been on the internet looking up the registered sex offenders in the area. Bless him.

This scares the shit out of me. When I was younger, I could go around the block, down to the store, really anywhere I could get to on a bike without causing too much worry. But even then, it was the worry of me falling off my bike, or getting lost. But now, kids can't even go down their own street without their parents having anxiety attacks because some pervert might pick them up. Scares. The. SHIT. out of me. What sick, sick people.

REALLY?? Did you just DO that??

Recently, I had a salesman come to my house. He was trying to sell a cleaner that supposedly took off anything from anything else. He sprayed the apparent mold I had on my cement (uhhh... I think that's called... dirt). But look! It's clean now! He sprayed my door handle, and oooh, it's pretty now.
Then he said something about how it was safe for the environment.
He sprayed his fingers, and PUT THEM DIRECTLY INTO HIS MOUTH.

Really? You just powerwashed my driveway with that stuff, and now you are eating it??

Should I mention that he did not have his upper four front teeth? Just a minor, unrelated detail I am sure.

my hand is RAW from putting on the SMACKDOWN

I know it's been a few days, but I figured that I would let you know how the wrestling match went.

It was, as promised, awesome. Not only was it officially a date night for Paul and I, which is a rare thing, but it was a date night in a big stadium with lots of pretty lights and things happening. Awesome.

We started the night with a great dinner at a pub downtown. I was able to sample the beer without worrying about it passing on to the little one.


We even got dessert.... which I swear was good. And very pretty. But my stomach acted more quickly than my camera did in this instance...

After dinner, we went straight to the stadium. I was ELATED upon arrival, seeing how many people I was about to 'people watch' allll niiiight looong. Some interesting men and women at these things. I was not disappointed. I was excited to get to my seat so I could just sit back and stare... When we got there, I went in first and immediately struck in the face by a wave of ... 'not-good-smellingness'. As I searched for the source of the smell under and behind my seat, I heard a very loud... what do you call it when someone sucks back a loogey? That noise. I heard that. Right next to my ear. I jumped, turned, and there, sitting in the seat next to me was one of my 'people-watchees'. Classic WWE fan. Not saying that they are all... eccentric. But this guy could have fit in here, a Star Trek convention, and a Dungeon and Dragons marathon so so easily. More power to him for embracing it. But, dude, embrace a shower once in a while.
Sorry. That was harsh.
Anyway, I turned and stared at Paul, who was still searching for the moldy nachos or the decomposing body that was obviously stashed someone near our seats. He caught the look in my eyes, glanced over my shoulder, then grabbed my hand. I was led up the stairs to the standing area, listening to the loogey sound the entire way. We decided that, until the event actually started, we would hang out up here.

After about 20 minutes, the lights started flashing, so we grudgingly made our way back towards our section. We were stopped by an usher who asked if we needed help finding our seats. We said no, and Paul very nicely explained that we had just been waiting to go down because the man we were sitting next to had a 'hygene issue'. Bless his heart for putting it so nicely. Well, this usher, who became our best friend that night, gave a look of... was that pity?!?! He turned, made a motion that we should follow him, and he lead us straight to the little handicapped section on the top... the one that sits right at the top and has the two folding chairs. PERFECT. He said we could hang out there until someone else needed it. We were able to stay there for the whole first show (it ended up being a double show... almost too much for us old fogeys!!). After that, someone who needed the seating area that provided came, so we headed back to our section... low and behold! Our friend stopped us AGAIN! and ushered (he was very good at his job) us to 2 empty CLUB SEATS for the rest of the show. Big old leather club seats. It was awesome.

So the show was great. Very entertaining. The seating was awesome. Multiple viewpoints! The company was tremendous. I would do it again. I guess I can officially call myself a WWE fan. ;)


And... is anyone else an MTV marathon junkie? You know Mike from the Real World (and all of the subsiquient challenges)? Mike. Mike and Coral Mike. The MIZ Mike. Wonder where he went? Yep. He made it to the WWE. Good for him.

6 months old today.

Half a year.

HALF of a YEAR.

HALF OF A FRICKIN YEAR, PEOPLE.

I'm stunned at how quickly these past 6 months have gone. But also stunned because it seems like she's been with us for much more than 6 months. A few lifetimes might be a more appropriate time frame.

People ask if having a child is anything like I had expected it to be. I usually tell them that I didn't know what to expect, so in that respect, no, it's nothing like what was in my head. It's so much better. Yes, I have permanent bags under my eyes. I am usually covered in some type of bodily fluid. I get excited about different things, like Alex having a bowel movement, which she is doing right now (tmi?). Things are different. But this is my normal now. And I love it.

Stats: 13 lbs 11 ounces
25 inches long

If you tick me off, I will throw a chair at your head.

And as of tomorrow, I will know how to do that effectively... although I am not sure that a chair thrown at a persons head can be ineffective. Let's just say that I will know how to do it with some pizazz, and with a show of brute strength. Just a show though. No brute strength here. Just the strength of picking up a ten pound baby all day. Baby strength.
Tomorrow night, my husband and I will be leaving the little one with grandma and taking our awesome selves to the WWE match that will be downtown. I know. I said awesome. Paul has been following these things since he was little, sort of a family past-time, and since we have been married, I've picked up a few things while reading books when the tv is on. I will not hide the fact that I have gone from rolling my eyes with every stupid thing any of them did to yelling at the tv when certain guys come out and actually caring about who wins what matches. I still think it's ridiculous, but I've come to find that that is what makes it so fun. I am not ashamed. A little surprised with myself, perhaps... but not ashamed. And with all of the forms of entertainment out there, I suppose that this is not one of the worst you can come across.
Tonight, because they are in town, one of the wrestlers was down at the mall I used to work at signing autographs. We went to check it out, thinking there would be a few people there, but not many... the line went through the entire mall. He came out at one point to wave to those stuck at back (giving them hope that he may stay around to sign their full-size cutouts of him? perhaps.), and there were girls behind us, "OMG, who is that? I don't know, but he's hot. I'll let him sign anything he wants." Lovely. Unfortunately, we didn't have Alex with us, so we couldn't get him to sign her forehead or anything. In fact, we were not hardcore enough to stay. We left after about 2 minutes, just enough time to actually see how long the line went on for. Who knew. I had no idea that WWE was so huge still. It's like hardcore Harry Potter. Harry 'I'm gonna pound your face in' Potter.

Wish me luck.

and on a side note...

I got a haircut... with bangs. A little hesitant to jump on the bang-wagon (get it?) again, since last time I successfully shaved 10 years off my life, which put me in squarely in the pre-teen area... too young to look younger right now! But I think, with the short hair, I was able to keep my feet planted in the 20-something's. We'll see.

congratulations...

...and many blessings to Amanda and John and their newest addition!
(who, I might add, was just born yesterday and already weighs more than Alex... well done, Amanda!)

Life as you knew it has flown out the window, but I assure you it will be beautiful and wonderful in the most tiring, smelly, crazy way from here on out!

someone get me a really big pillow...

Since Sunday, my husband has been out of town on business. This could have been an awful awful time. Alex is teething right now (she already has her bottom two teeth... the ones right next to them on either side are coming in now), which makes her so very grumpy (understandably so). But, my mother-in-law came in town to rescue me. And not only that, I was lucky enough to get a visit from an old friend. So great. We've been busy the past couple of days, from strolling down the streets of historic St. Charles (think Lewis and Clarke), to visiting the Arch, to just bouncing from craft store to craft store and doing said crafts here at the homestead. The company has been so great and I am so thankful that I was not left alone with Miss Crabby Pants all week. It might have been bearable if she were sleeping through the night... but no such luck. We are still getting up at least once to eat, and usually 2-3 times other than that. I would kill for a completed REM cycle. Another luxury that I miss? Showering with the door closed. I was not prepared to give that up. But unless I wait for Paul to get home (which... let's be honest, I do quite regularly), it's open door for me.

Well, I was planning to write more, but I just started watching the Democratic National Convention, and it's getting me all fired up (in a not so positive way), and if I keep writing, I will start talking politics, and I don't want to do that. So I will stop here.

Until next time...

in other news...

my husband, who is sleeping next to me on the couch, just sat up, hit me with his pillow, and said 'that's for the richard,' then promptly began snoring again.
yes, i have crazy dreams, but his are much more fun.

i prefer silver. goes better with my skin tone.

...first, let me excuse my lack of capital letters and anything else that requires a shift key on a keyboard. along with my screen, which is completely black - we had to resort to lugging our big old dusty desktop monitor out of the back room in order to see anything we were actually doing on the computer, which, you know, can help - and my battery, which refuses to hold any charge whatsoever - and is unfortunately not under the recent 'my laptop just burst into flames' category of free replaceable batteries- my shift key has been working on and off, and well, right now it's off. so no capital letters for you. or parentheses, you may have noticed.

so, my husband and i are usually flipping through the channels at night, going back and forth with many 'what do you want to watch's and 'i don't care, whatever you want is fine's. but since the olympics started, we have pretty steadily been watching various sports at night, rooting or booing or wowing or asking each other if that would really qualify as a sport. two names have obviously stuck out - michael phelps from the good old usa, and usain bolt of jamaica. although i am sure that most of you either don't care about the olympics and therefore aren't interested in what i have to say about these men - which isn't much- or have been watching the olympics as steadily as we have been and therefore have heard way too much about both men, i am going to dish my opinions anyway. so read on if you feel like hearing more about both.

phelps- amazing. both in the pool and out. not only did he win 8 gold medals, but he broke multiple world/olympic records in doing so. i don't care if he is getting most of the news. he deserves it. i suppose he would be the babe ruth of swimming, calling his victories before actually achieving them. and once he did win, he was such a great sport about it. yes there was alot of hooting an hollering and what not - which is to be expected- , but during the race itself as well as in the interviews after, he was all about passing the credit on to other people and being very humble about it. i respect that.

bolt- amazing. i don't think any of the three records that he broke - one with the help of 3 of his teammates- will be broken anytime soon. he is, by far, one of, if not the, fastest men in the world. unlike phelps, however, in his first run for gold, which i am sure that most of you saw, when he was about half way through and well ahead of the rest of the pack, he started slowing down, beating his chest and enjoying his victory well before he actually crossed the line. i understand the excitement. you've got the whole crowd behind you, roaring their approval of your outstanding performance. but i consider it a disrespect to the rest of the men running as well as those watching to give up, for any reason, before you are done. the olympics are supposed to be the picture of sportsmanship, where men and women go and do their very best until the end - i'm thinking of the 4-women relay from the usa, who dropped the baton but picked it up and ran her heart out to the line even though they were already d-qed-. yes, his time was amazing, but what would it have been if he had run until the he crossed that line... to be fair, he ran his heart out for his other two races, and that redeemed him a bit in my eyes...

i myself have never been a child to dream about being the olympics. i am not competitive enough for that. i am on a softball team that did not win one game this season, and i am perfectly content about that. sometimes i wish i had a more of a drive when it came to sports... i feel like i would have done better in highschool if i had. but the time is past for that. i am interested, however, on how i will react when my children start playing sports... perhaps i will go all soccer-mom on them... we shall see...

I can't help but drool...

My daughter is watching a Baby Einstein movie right now, and try as I may, I cannot help but get sucked in. The lava lamps, the giraffe puppet bouncing maniacally to Beethoven's fifth symphony, the floating hand opening the little puzzle doors, and of course the toy dog that walks across the screen, flipping over every third step. Captivating. I catch myself with what I am sure is the same look that my daughter has on her face when she watches this stuff. Mouth wide open, a tiny bit of droll escaping unnoticed. I understand that these videos are supposed to promote learning in infants, but I cannot help but feel like I am slowly allowing my own and my daughter's brain cells to.... drift off to nowhereland one by one. But they allow us to have a half hour of quiet time in the afternoon... and if I have to sacrifice a few brain cells in order to get that, then so be it. Brains cells are overrated. A peaceful half hour, however, is not. Let the big colorful caterpillar continue to inch across my tv screen. I'll go make the popcorn.

The ZOO, Harry! The ZOO!

Finally, after living in this city for over a year (already!), we made it to the Zoo. I love zoos. They just bring out the happy like nothing else. And it was Alex's first time. I'm sure it has impacted her life in the greatest of great ways. I'm sure.


She was able to actually touch various animals, including guinea pigs. Which I hate. I think of them as oversized, tailless rats. And I would prefer to never have one set foot in this house. But, hey, I'm all about them being in the Zoo.

By the end of the day, she was spent. Too spent to be even semi-interested in all of the winged creatures attempting to land on her head.

Tired girl.

It was a great day, though. The weather was perfect, slightly overcast. Perhaps all the fresh air will be enough to help her sleep more than 2 hours in a row tonight... One can hope. I am starting to run into walls and answer questions that I swear my dog has asked me. And the little dreams that I do have nowadays are reaching into bits of strangeness that I had not reached yet. Did my nephew really have two heads when he was born? And if that was the case, why was it such a non-issue? "Oooooo... I forgot Logan had two heads... Silly me." I swear that is a direct quote. If only I could hook my head up to my computer and show you all what I see when I sleep... you would understand why I wake up more exhausted than when I go to sleep sometimes. ...To dream a dream... Just give me dreamless nights for a while. Dreamless, tearless nights. Ahhh... what a luxury.