Let me set the scene...

Child gets up much earlier than normal. Mother curses incoming molars.

Child cries and cries while Mother, still very drowsy, ambles around the kitchen gathering a simple breakfast for Child.

Child chugs back a bottle of milk while waiting for Tired Mother.

Tired Mother finally has breakfast, toast with jelly and sliced up oranges, ready for Impatient Child.

Impatient Child shovels food in mouth at an extraordinary rate. Tired Mother nearly misses her mouth with a spoonful of cereal.

Impatient Child appears to be done eating, but Tired Mother notices bits of orange still in Impatient Child's mouth.

Impatient Child With A Gag Reflex begins gagging on said oranges.

Impatient Child With A Gag Reflex vomits oranges, toast, and clumpy milk all over self and highchair.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex stares.

Impatient Child With A Gag Reflex begins to play with own vomit.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex jumps into action, stripping Impatient Child With A Gag Reflex down in highchair, throwing clothes on floor.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex begins to gag.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex threatens to vomit directly on Impatient Child With A Gag Reflex.

Impatient Child With A Gag Reflex continues to play with own vomit.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex attempts to wipe vomit out of Impatient Child With A Gag Reflex's reach.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex continues to gag.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex curses Dutiful Father for being at work.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex finally gets Impatient Child With A Gag Reflex out of seat.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex throws up in mouth. Swallows hard.

Impatient Child With A Gag Reflex begins to play with clothes that are covered in vomit.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex throws highchair table in sink and turns on faucet, all the while singing loudly to distract herself and not under any circumstances breathing through her nose.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex tears clothes away from Impatient Child With A Gag Reflex, throwing them over the banister to be put in laundry.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex realizes she just threw vomit-covered clothes onto carpeted flooring.

Tired, Pregnant Mother From Whom The Child Got The Gag Reflex curses various inanimate objects.


Hope your morning was better.

Children make me tired.

Because I am obviously pregnant now, with a huge belly and all, people have decided that it's ok to assume that I am with child. This is fine with me, because... I am... but along with that assumption always comes the same advice. Upon seeing my belly, and seeing Alex strapped in the stroller or waddling along next to me (yes, we waddle together), most everybody always feels the need to point out just how tired I will be when number two arrives. As if I should reserve all of my energy that is flowing out of my eyeballs now so I am ready to tackle two children instead of just the one. But, the problem is, I am already tapped out on energy. So you telling me that things will be so much harder and oh my gosh you are going to have your hands full and oh you poor thing what did you do to yourself?! doesn't help. I understand that life is about to get so much more chaotic... but I am (perhaps falsely) holding out hope that at least when I don't have feet digging up into my rib cage and little hands bruising my bladder that I will feel more motivated then I do now to really tackle these children head on. I just want (the lower half of) my body back! I am excited for the chaos- excited for the noise- excited for the growing family... I will just be more excited for it come June.

I feel like I had more to say on the subject, but honestly, this post has been a few days in the making (believe it or not), and I just want to finish it so it's not hanging over my head.

So... it is finished. For now.

Large and not so in charge.

I've heard that you get bigger quicker with your second pregnancy. And that has been the norm for me this time around. I am now officially at the weight I was when I gave birth to Alex... and I have over 2 months to go. Instead of feeling incredibly self-conscience all the time, I've decided to look at this as something I can check off of my 'things to do before I die' list. #567-Get incredibly large. Check. To be honest, aside from none of my clothes fitting, I probably wouldn't have noticed (except, of course, at each doctor's appointment where I am forced to weigh in and endure the eyebrow raise from my teeny-tiny nurse). But then things like the 'breakfast incident of '09' happen. It's not every day where you walk into a restaurant, choose a large booth for your party of four to sit, allow you husband (who is not a small man), another pregnant woman and your child to take their seats before sitting yourself, only to find out that, oops, you don't fit in the booth. Oh dear Lord. We had to pack up and move to a table so I could pull my chair out the apparent 6 feet that I needed in order to include my belly in the breakfast. #568-Get so incredibly large that you no longer fit into restaurant booths. Check.

But, again, I am choosing not to fret about it. Mostly because, from what I hear, this is supposed to happen, and my doctor has assured me that I am actually only halfway to gaining to the average weight that accompanies growing a human. So, usually at this point, I would tell you that I am working on getting a proper 'second-time-around' belly shot up for you, but this will not be happening any time soon. My camera went to digital heaven, and finances are too tight to get anything good to replace it with. I don't want to get one that we would be able to afford because then I would be stuck with something I don't want for the next 5-6 years. So... I'm holding out... flashing my best puppy-dog eyes at my husband every now and again while hinting that being able to record this beautiful pregnancy and our child's second year of life would really be great. But then I get things like bills and checkbooks and maxed-out credit cards chucked at my head, and because, as I just noticed today, I've hit the 'waddle' stage of this pregnancy, I'm no longer able to outrun them, I'm forced to shut my mouth, er, eyes, and wait in silence until the next moment presents itself. [Although I am not really saying this, I think it would be funny if Paul recieved multiple letters in the mail urging him that the right thing to do is to go buy his fat wife a camera for... whatever holiday is next. Heck, it's mother's day in the UK today- and we lived there for a while. That will do.]

In other news, my (fully developed) child is a psycho. I feel like I have a two-year-old running around my house. She has full out tempertantrums now, and we've found out that she is definitely a foot-stomper. When I am mean and don't allow her to do things like play with the garbage can or drown herself in the toilet, she will take a step back, inhale, and let this loud scream rip, stomping her feet and balling her little fists. Honestly, I think it's kind of cute. Which, I am pretty sure, ticks her off. I just stand and wait, ask her if this is life or death. Is there blood? Do you still have two hands? Has our roof caved in on us? No? Then we will get through this. I don't know how, but we will. Then we go take a ride and get told by multiple strangers what a sweet little angel she is. Aww. Those big blue eyes can be decieving.

I wish I could put a picture of those big blue eyes on here... but... alas... woe is me... I am camera-less. Whiiiiiiiine.

Shamrock Shakes and Nasty Needles.

There are a few moments in every person's life where they are struck with some kind of light bulb-worthy idea. Or maybe 'idea' isn't what I'm going for. Just some kind of mental hurdle they have finally overcome. Sometimes is getting over some kind of racism, or sexism, or any other kind of bigotry that you've been holding on to for years and years. Sometimes it's finally patching up things with a long-lost relative who you've been on the outs with for some time. Or perhaps, like me, it was when finally decided to throw your hatred of the Shamrock Shake to the wind and begin to ingest them at alarming (and perhaps unhealthy) rates. But, I'm pregnant, and being pregnant sucks for me, so I allow myself these indulgences. Yes, I have to vomit for 3 months, but then I get to suck back dozens of shamrock shakes! Yes, I have to constantly assure myself that my esophagus is not going anywhere despite the wild-fire that seems to be raging in there, but... cool it with some shamrock shakes! It makes me so sad to think that I've missed out on years and years of these delicious things.... But why, may I ask those shamrock veterans, do they take it away so dang quickly!!!! I was on the verge of weeping today when no less than 3 Mcdonalds told me they were out (yep, Paul went through all of those without even an eyeroll in my direction. Me being pregnant sucks for him too). It's not even 24 hours after St. Patrick's Day, and they are all gone. I'm so sad.

Well, today's shake was supposed to be my reward for (being pregnant) going to the doctor's office this morning. I had to chug a disgustingly thick orange 'thing' this morning, then get pricked and poked and have blood stolen from me and, not only that, they stole my pee too, then to top it all off, they shot me in the butt on my way out. Nothing like assuming the position with a very large and in charge nurse coming at me, telling me to drop my drawers and bend over. "Don't worry, darling, this won't hurt a bit," she cooed in my ear as she shot a few ounces of what must have been peanut butter into my derriere. And no, the pretty pink bandage did not make it feel better. That was what the SHAKE was supposed to do! Whine.

We also had Alex's one year appointment today. Paul and I were hoping that she finally had hit the 20 pound stage because then we could run out and get her a new carseat that faced forward. But, no luck. She's still at 17 and a little. Which places her firmly in the 5th percentile... and what is her head circumfrance at? 44th percentile. Atta girl. Mommy's smart girl. So, we'll wait on the carseat, and get a college fund going instead. She also got poked today. Twice in the leg. Now, she hasn't started speaking yet, but I think she made herself pretty clear. The nurses left with downcast eyes and hunched shoulders.

All in all, it's been a busy day. I finally grabbed my camera out of the car, so we should get some pictures pretty soon.

Home.

We are home. This will be a short post because I want to turn my brain off for a while while the kid is still sleeping.

Last night was the best night's sleep I have had in what seems like a very long time. Our bed is stupidly large and incredibly soft (it was an investment. shoes and beds-two things I am not afraid to spend some money on--they are the two things that have a huge impact on how your entire body feels everyday!), and it's always so nice to come back to it after being gone. And as an added bonus, I have a hankering that Alex feels the same way about her bed. She went down about 7:30 last night--slept till NINE. THIS MORNING. Not one peep. And this is after me having to get up with her on an average two times a night for the past 3 weeks. Aye. It was a good night's sleep. I can only hope for this to continue.

The last few weeks have seemed like we were stuck on some awful tv show where crappy things just kept happening. Because they needed new plot lines. And we had some guys behind it all scratching their heads and asking each other, 'Where do we go from here? Oh! Kidney stones! That's a great idea!' But it's done now (I hope), and we are back home. And it feels right.

Aaand... we have new neighbors, and they look our age, and the woman looks pregnant (although I should probably not assume that the first time we talk... which we will talk... because I will force them to be our friends). I am totally considering making them brownies. Oooo with peanut butter chips. Those sound so good. Maybe I will make myself a batch first to make sure they are ok. :)

Well anyway- sorry this one is just rambling. I'm tired despite having slept great last night. Exhaustion is hard to overcome.

I will have pictures soon. I am hoping to throw Alex a "One-And-Then-Some" party... Her birthday fell on an unfortunate day this year (see: last post).

Time to go be a veggie.... aw crap- she's up.

RIP Grandpa Cobb
March 4, 2008.

It's going to be another long week.

Prayers would be welcomed with open arms and tired eyes.

Prayers.

-for a grieving family that's not able to come up for a breath quite yet.

-for strength to endure what's ahead.

-for patience for the poor kids who don't quite know what's going on, just that they have to be quiet for way too long and have to sit still for much longer than their little bodies allow.


Paul's grandmother passed away last Friday, and after recieving the news at nearly midnight, we packed and left early the next morning. After 14 hours in the car (wouldn't you know a snow storm was ripping through the states we needed to drive thru that day), we were here and with his family. There were two long but neccessary days at the funeral home, a trip to the hospital for myself (never good when a urine sample looks like cherry koolaid- everything is fine, just a few kidney stones [yay for great timing!]), a beautiful service on Friday, a trip to the vet for Violet who somehow smashed her tail into pathetic limpness (that's fine too- a day later it was back to Alex-whapping capacity [timing is everything!]), and a 101.5 degree fever and four teeth for Alex (timing is my friend!).

His grandmother was a wonderful woman- strong, joyful, and loved by so many. I actually remember her from when I was younger. She suffered a stroke many years ago and has not been quite whole since. Her family is a strong one though- they rallied and stuck by her side. Her husband and children took care of her for 12 long years. A few weeks ago, Paul's grandpa became ill and was admitted to the hospital. It was then that his grandma's body finally had had enough, and she went to join her Savior. Now, grandpa is facing terminal cancer, and it could be quite soon when he joins his wife, whole and new, in heaven. The situation is, as I have put it several times, shitty at best. It seems like alot of blows all at once, and the family needs strength. So please, prayers, prayers, prayers. Strength for them, strength for those of us trying to offer them some of our own strength.

Paul had to return to St. Louis for work and for class, but Alex and I stayed behind to avoid two twelve hour road trips for the little girl back to back.

We are tired. We are both stretched really thin. And in need of a very long vacation. On some secluded beach somewhere.