Loophole

Most of the time I feel like I am completely spinning my wheels and might as well be trying to teach a cow how to vacuum. I swear I have said the same things five thousand times and it just goes in one of Connors ears and out the other. I had a momentary validation today.

We were leaving Target this morning and I told Connor to get in his seat while I loaded Charlie and the bags into the car. I got everything into the car and cranked it up. "Wait mom! I need my seat belt!". Woops...bad mommy forgot to buckle the kid in. After I had buckled him in and was driving back to the house I was feeling pretty cocky about my parenting skills. My almost three year old would not let me drive without putting his seat belt on! He listened! He remembered! I am AWESOME!!!!

We got home and he walked into the house, saw his toy disaster in the living room and said, "Look at all this mess!!" Then he picked up some cars and threw them into a bucket. Now, I know that is not much but for him it is huge. Again I am thinking I was an awesome parent. My child recognized a mess and decided to clean it up (somewhat).

With my chest puffed out with pride I started to get lunch ready. Peanut butter sandwich with strawberries. And there comes the attitude I know so well. "I don't WAAAAAAANT these strawberries!!!!!!" "Well Connor, if you eat all of your strawberries you can have some chocolate goldfish." Chocolate goldfish are his crack. He started at the strawberries then looked at me with his signature mischievous smirk. Then my wonderfully behaved, always following directions little boy proceeded to grab three sliced strawberries and shove them all into his mouth at one time. "No sir! One bite at a time!" I started yelling. One stray slice slipped out of his mouth and he quickly snatched it back up and shoved it back in. Apparently that slice was just a little more than his mouth could hold and he started gagging. Somehow this child managed to throw up and let the barf fall out of his mouth without letting one single strawberry slice fall out of his mouth. Red vomit all over the clothes and table...and of course on the one day he is wearing nice clothes instead of a t shirt. By the time my shock wore off he was swallowing the last of the giant bite and coughing. "Chocolate goldfish mommy!" he says with a giant smile. I hag to give them to him...after all he did eat all the strawberries like I told him to.

"Mommy, this pants needs some oxyclean." That's my boy!

I Just Want To Eat My Lunch and Pee!!!

Things have been a little crazy around here for the past month (one month exactly today). I feel like I am constantly cleaning, feeding, dressing, washing or changing a child. It has truthfully not been as bad as I expected...possibly because I expected the absolute worst. It has been busy, exciting, stressful and tiring for sure and we are all still adjusting to our new family. I am trying to make a point of leaving the house every single day and to take Connor to do something active so he doesn't drive my insane running laps around the house. It takes me about 30 minutes to actually pull out of the garage once I start getting ready to leave. It seems like no matter what, one of the boys poops right before we get in the car. Everything is doable, it just takes a little planning.

With as much as I am running around and going up and down the stairs I was expecting to be shedding the pounds like mad. Not so much...and I just figured out why. I don't have time to eat proper, balanced meals. I start out the day with a diet coke, a kashi protein bar and a cocktail of vitamins to try to get me going. Most of the time I start to make myself something for lunch and can't finish getting it ready so I shove a giant handful of Cheez-Its in my mouth on the way to the laundry room for the tenth time that day.

I get out two slices of whole wheat bread, Connor starts whining that his milk is in the Buzz Lightyear cup and not the Lightning McQueen cup.

Change the cup.

Take the lean sliced turkey out of the refrigerator to put on my sandwich. Charlie wakes up from his morning nap and has exploded poop out of the side of his diaper.

Change the diaper, clothes and sheet. Dispose of stinky mess. Start a new load of poo-stained laundry. Lay Charlie in the swing.

Wash sprouts and lettuce to put on the sandwich. Hear a loud crashing sound and a scream. Connor has crashed his push car into the swing and woken the baby up again.

Pick up Charlie to make sure he is still in one piece while simultaneously trying to discipline Connor without just straight out yelling at him. Baby is fine but still screaming. Chase Connor while holding baby to try to catch him for a time out. Pull out the ole one arm toddler tackle move, taking Connor down on the carpet while still holding a screaming Charlie. Drag a now screaming Connor to the stairs by one arm for time out. Spend the next five minutes trying to calm the baby down. Baby is quietly sucking on his paci sitting in his bouncy chair and Connor has forgotten why he was in timeout and has stopped crying too but still no sandwich because my bladder is about to burst from all the diet coke I had that morning.

Two more steps until I reach the bathroom door. "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!" Connor has crashed into the corner of the wall.

So by 1 pm I have an injured child, stale bread, rotten turkey, wilted greens and a little pee in my own pants. There is always tomorrow...

Oh my achin back aka Oh my leakin boobies

We survived our first day without any grandparents to help. Luckily Charlie slept two three and a half hour stretches last night so I got decent sleep. I think Chris got less but he can fall asleep within two minutes so I don't feel too sorry for him ;) I can definitely feel the difference between bringing home our first child and bringing home our second. I am WAY less afraid of this kid! He is nine days old. When Connor was nine days old I was nervous all the times, had not slept in 40 hours and had already called the pediatrician a dozen times to make sure he was not dying. This time...not so much. I am hoping my new found calm continues this coming week when Chris goes back to work!

My biggest issue is my back and boobs hurting like crazy! I am so bad about lifting with my legs instead of my back. I better learn quickly though because I am already sore from lifting a 40 pounder AND holding a little guy.

Since I had so much difficulty with breastfeeding Connor and he ended up on formula anyway, we decided that I would skip it completely this time. Charlie is doing well and is a much better sleeper as a result but my boobs are KILLING me! I have not been without a skin tight sports bra since he was born. I've been using ice packs and advil to help the pain but every time that child (or Connor) cries I get shooting pains from my armpit to my nipple and then have a lovely gush of breastmilk. Why is it that when you are desperate for the milk to come it will not but when you are trying to keep it away it is free flowing?

I even had a leak through my shirt the other night in front of my father in law. I didn't go running into my room embarrassed. Again, there is the difference between the first and second child.

Charles Michael Bass

I think I have already forgotten some of the details of the big day but I am going to try to remember the best that I can. Something about pushing a baby out makes you forget a few things.

Chris and I got to the hospital at 6 am for my induction. They had me fill out all my paperwork and got me hooked up to all the machines and then it was time for the nurses shift change so we got a little delayed. Our nurse, Anita, arrived and a resident inserted a prostaglandin gel called prepadyl to start dilation. It burned like icy hot and started some contractions immediately. I was in a little pain but nothing unbearable. Lea Ann. Mom and Dad got to the hospital around 7:30 and prepared for the day of waiting. One of the residents checked my cervix and it was only a 3 but Dr. Martin asked them to go ahead and try to break my water. Two residents tried and decided that it was still too high and they were not comfortable breaking the water. Dr. Martin came to the hospital and did it herself. Boy, was that a strange feeling. When Connor was born I had already had an epidural at that point and didn't feel it so this was a new experience for me. Nurse Anita started the pitocin and Dr. Martin told me I was free to get an epidural at any time.

In comes the anesthesiologist. Woohoo! Except there was on spot on my right hip/ovarian area that was not numb. I was feeling the contractions on that area fairly strongly so they came back and gave me a little top off. Gone was the pain but on came the pressure. The nurse checked my cervix again and it was still only a 5. Boo! About that time, Charlie's heart rate began to drop and they made me turn on my side and take oxygen. The same thing happened with Connor but it still freaked me out. The pressure was getting very intense so I asked to be checked again. Only a 7. This made me cry because I didn't think I could take the pressure while I waited to get fully dilated. I was crying and complaining so Nurse Anita called Dr. Martin to come check things out. When she arrived she said I was ready to go. I went from 7 cm to 10cm in about 15 minutes. I could feel Charlie's head come down with every contraction and raise back up when it was over.

The nurses got the room ready for delivery and I started pushing. Chris decided to watch this time and was very excited as things were going along. I pushed 6 times and on the 7th push Dr. Martin was able to get her finger under Charlie's armpit. He was out on the 8th push. 8 pounds 9 ounces and 21 inches long. He was perfect!

Unconditional Love Redefined

Well, still no Charles. I thought it was going to happen today but no such luck. I started having slight contractions this morning and they have lasted all day. They would get closer together and give me high hopes then BOOM! Completely stopped. Needless to say I was in a pretty pissy mood today. I was trying to hold it together the best that I could because Connor gets a little freaked out when I get irritated. He is like a dog...can definitely sense fear.

Since I was not feeling well he OF COURSE had to put up a fight for everything this afternoon. It was time to get ready for swimming lessons and little man decided he needed to poo. Potty training has really given me a new definition of unconditional love. There is no other person in the world (I mean NO person) for whom I would sit on the floor in front of the toilet and let them rest their head on my shoulder while they pooped. Success! M&M's distributed, swim attire in place and sunscreen applied we headed off to swimming lessons. The teacher was running late and the other kids were playing on the step of the pool so I let Connor get in too while we waited. He decided he was going to hold on to the side and inch his way off the step. Then the little fearless man pushed off the side with his feet and started sinking about four feet away from the side. When he started flapping his arms up and down my instinct kicked in and I jumped into the pool to pool him out. Yes, I jumped into the pool 39 weeks pregnant wearing a sundress, flip flops and sunglasses. Surprisingly Connor was not scared and started yelling, "Thank you mommy for saving me!"

I sat in the sun to try to dry off but since the teacher arrived late all of the kids and parents for the next class arrived wondering why I was dripping wet in street clothes. Then I hear the Spanish accent from the teacher say, "Connor, did you poop?" Sure enough...poo in the pool. That was the last straw for me. Double embarrassment plus too much adrenaline and hormones equals the end of swimming lessons for the day.

I am still trying to figure out what kind of test God is giving me with this mess. I mean, I hope he has decided that I am worthy of another child because it's a little late for that now!

Tonight's Pregnancy Menu

Tonight's menu of aches and pains:

Sciatica served on a bed of dislocated hip

Pinched neck nerve served with a side of shooting pain down the arm finished with a clenched hand

Fresh lower abdominal stretch mark with a cherry red glaze

Hmm...I think I'll have the pinched neck nerve. No...why not try all three.

Why don't you just stick a knife in my heart?

Children can make you melt with pride and feel like you have been given the biggest gift in the world. They can also crush you and make you feel like the worst person who ever lived.

As we all know, I don't always have the cleanest mouth. I have really been trying to watch the things that I say and to limit my cussing to extreme situations only (ex. someone cutting me off on the highway or dropping a glass on the kitchen floor etc.) The problem is that my little man picks up EVERYTHING I say.

Chris got home from work today and told Connor that he had gotten a new Thomas DVD in the mail. Connor responded with an emphatic, "Oh My God!" This is certainly not the worst thing for him to say, I mean he didn't say "You are shitting me!" or anything like that but nonetheless this is not something that we want him to say. Chris got mad at him and told him not to say that anymore. Then he asked him where he learned those words and Connor stuck out his bottom lip and said as clear as day, "I learned it from mommy's words." Crush. Stab. Smack. It was one of the saddest moments I have had as a parent. We are talking up there with the time he fell off the couch when he was two months old and when I accidentally let him choke.

Let's see if it was enough to make me stop the bad language all together.

Proudest Moment

It was a big day at the Bass house! It was the first day of REAL swimming lessons. I was very nervous about Connor freaking out about it but did wonderfully! He did not cry one single tear. He got right in the pool and kept his cool while two of the other kids were losing their minds. He followed all the directions and put his face under water without hesitating. When the class was over he did not want to get out of the pool and asked when he could come back. Despite his successful swimming lessons, my most proud moment of the day was when Connor pooped in the big boy potty!! Woohoo!

Mommy Dents

A few weeks ago I had a minor car accident and got a few scratches on the front passenger side of my car. Ever since, I have noticed little dents and dings on other cars. As I was leaving Connor's school yesterday I noticed that almost every car in the parking lot had some kind of mark...a mommy dent. It is one of the unknown hazards of parenthood. Between passing food to the backseat, picking up dropped toys off the floor and turning movies on the DVD player it is amazing that I don't crash my car every day. I used to think driving while eating was an accomplishment. Hahaha! I can practically change a diaper while driving now!

My mommy dent is from turning into a parking spot a little too wide while pulling into the hospital to care for my screaming child with a broken leg. Jackson's mom got that crack in the bumper when she backed into the fence across the alley while she was opening a bag of cheerios. Old lady Schmitt accidentally side swiped a car and dented the passenger side when little Logan started throwing up all over the carseat. Mrs. Crane knocked her mirror off on a telephone pole trying to write down directions to Tanner's birthday party while wrapping his gift on the center console and holding her cell phone in the crook of her neck. It is attempted multitasking at a whole new level! As much as we try, we mommies are going to tap another car every once in a while. Occupational hazard. Now come on dads!! Suck it up and let us get our cars fixed!!!

Enough Pregnancy Grossies Already

This one is going to be gross so shut the window if you are squeamish.

I am not one of those women who loves being pregnant. I don't feel beautiful. I don't feel sexy. I don't feel alive. I feel like a giant, leaking tub of lard. I went through all of these icky things with my first pregnancy but I must have blocked them out. I think it is a natural defense that God created so that people will continue to reproduce and the world will continue. My newest complaint: the leaks. Everything leaks. It is SO gross. I haven't even had the baby yet and I need to walk around with breast pads and a diaper. Colostrum and mucous plugs with a little urine mixed in. How does ANYONE feel sexy?! I don't want to touch my own boobs much less let my husband have a go. Eew, eew, eew. It definitely says something about a man's sex drive versus a woman. There is no WAY I could overlook some of these pregnancy grossies. Pimples all over the face, weird hairs growing on the neck, saggy boobs, a huge belly that has so many stretch marks that it looks like a roadmap, flabby ass and jiggly thighs. Um, no thank you!! I guess I should feel lucky that my ankles and feet haven't swollen...yet. So I guess I am not disgusting head to toe. Only head to knee.

NOW, I quit!

In the past two weeks:

1. Connor broke his leg and got a cast
2. I was so frazzled pulling into the doctor's office that I hit a parked car.
3. Connor got a sinus infection complete with a fever and stinky attitude.
4. I got the same sinus infection with an even stinkier attitude.
5. My car died and the gas station while Chris was out of town. $135 for a new battery.
6. I threw my back out while giving Connor a bath...Chris still out of town.
7. My car overheated on the way to the doctor's office but luckily Chris was in town. $900 repair.
8. Someone stole my debit card information and we had to cancel my card.

Time to hide under a mattress in the bathtub.

I QUIT!!!!

I think God is trying to prepare me for having two sons. He wants to scare the crap out of me so that when Charles gets here and my life is one big meltdown I will be thinking, "At least it is not as bad as those last few weeks with Connor alone." That is the only explanation for the string of events that have taken place over the past week and a half.

Last Saturday Connor was invited to a birthday party at Jump Zone. Jump Zone is basically a giant room full of bounce houses, bounce slides, bounce castles etc. He was super pumped because his best buddy was going to be there and he knew he was going to get cake. You could get the kid to go to jail if you promised him cake. As soon as he ran in the door he sees is little buddy and they take of to the inflatable pirate ship/slide. About a minute later he comes down the slide laughing and climbs back up. Chris and I are standing at the bottom of the slide waiting for the boys to come down. I hear a shriek and then Connor comes down the slide on his stomach head first screaming in pain.

At first I thought he had gotten a rug burn on his face because the side of his nose was bleeding. No wait, that was from the park the day before when he busted his lip, cut his nose and got a giant goose egg on his forehead...wrong injury. So Chris tried to make him walk to the next bounce house and he refused to put his right foot on the floor. He touched his toes to the floor and started screaming even louder. I finally decided to take his sock off to make sure his ankle was all right. Red swollen ankle, puffy toes and a purplish tint from toes to ankle is what I saw. I immediately assumed he had broken his ankle and told Chris we needed to take him to the emergency room. Sorry honey, no cake.

We jumped in the car to head to the ER at Las Colinas Medical Center, the hospital near our house, and got stuck in traffic on the fabulous highway 114 in Southlake. I am kind of a road rager to begin with so when you add a screaming child and potential broken ankle to the mix, I was not very pleasant. We FINALLY get to the ER and Connor is by far the least serious injury in the room. There is a little boy who has cut most of his pointer finger off, a girl who has a concussion and is throwing up all over the waiting room and a teenage girl whose big toe is touching the side of her calf. I figured it would take us forever to get in so I started calling the urgent care centers to see if I could find one that had an x-ray machine. We pack back up and head to Care Now in Grapevine.

Two hours later they take us back to talk to the PA. The PA, not the doctor. I should have known. She tried to move Connors foot around and asked him to walk on it. When he started screaming in pain she decided to order x-rays. I can't be near the radiation because of the huge pregnant belly so Chris takes him back alone. "Well, the x-rays of your foot and ankle are clear so it must just be a sprain. You should be walking normally again in two days."

Whew, cast avoided. Hallelujah! Two days later he was still limping pretty badly and I thought about taking him to his pediatrician to get it checked out one more time. I once again went against my gut feeling and thought he was walking a little better. Friday rolled around and he was STILL limping. Then he jumped off my bed and started screaming bloody murder again refusing to put his foot down. I freaked out, called Chris and then called the pediatrician. Chris came home from work and I ran to Care Now to pick up a copy of the original x-rays to take to his doc.

His doctor immediately said that she wanted new x-rays because when a child under five have a foot or leg injury they should be x-rayed all the way up to the hip. Sure enough...no sprained ankle. Broken tibia right under his knee. After a trip to the pediatric orthopedist, little man has a bright red cast up to his groin. Poor guy.

One broken leg plus a sinus infection plus a stomach bug complete with explosive diarrhea plus staying home from MDO plus an eight month pregnant mom with a bad back equals a pretty bad week!

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. Remind me again why I am having another baby...

Convenience my ass!

Chris's company got a new flexible spending account service last month. The old one was wonderful. You just swipe the little debit card and thats it. This one is horrible. We have had it for about a month now and keep getting these "Request for substantiation documentation" notices in the mail. So then I have to call the doctor's office and ask for a copy of the itemized receipt, they mail it to me and then I have to mail it to the FSA provider. Failure to do so within 60 days results in suspension of your account. This is a PITA so I decided to call the company, Discovery Benefits, to find out why all these claims are getting flagged and what I can do to prevent it. I thought I was being so efficient and proactive.

The customer service lady said that doctors offices, dentists, hospitals etc are not set up to instantly provide the information that proves that your claim meets the IRS requirements to be FSA eligible. Most pharmacies and over the counter medications have this information built into their barcodes. So every time we swipe the card at the doctor, dentist or hospital we will get one of these fabulous documentation requests in the mail. Um, hello! What the hell do they think I am buying at the Fetal Care Center? Unfortunately they don't sell shoes or handbags there so I am obviously paying for someone to measure my uterus size and check to make sure my cervix is still closed!!! I mean, come on!!!!! So much for convenience.

Taking a Chill Pill

I have been so wired and stressed lately with all the craziness going on in our house. We have had construction workers here for three weeks and of course I have been nauseated again, so SORE I can hardly walk and our days have been a blur of grouchiness since little man has a hard time napping while there is construction going on. So after a day of trying to keep an angry two year old contained to the two rooms in our house that do not have tools and tarps on the ground, Chris comes home to a pissy kid and an even pissier wife. Poor guy. He can't win for losing. I complain for months about wanting to get the bathroom remodeled and when he finally lets me do it I complain about the mess and the noise and the inconvenience. Sorry to say this, but women really are impossible to please.

Chris went to a baseball game with a couple of friends on Friday night and I blew up at him. After talking it out (and lots of tears on my part) I finally realized that I have been being a total psycho. I have GOT to relax. The anger is not good for me, not good for my marriage and not good for my child. So for the last three days I have been trying to let things roll off my back more. And you now what? I am all right. I need to remember this the next time I start going insane. Chill is a lot more fun than stressed.

Side note: the house is ALMOST finished. All the tile is laid upstairs and we are only missing two pieces of baseboard, one toilet needs to be set and I am still waiting for the mirrors for the master bathroom. After that...don't let me do any major home projects unless I can go on vacation the whole time they are working.

Two Kids...Attempt #1

Chris and I are keeping McKenzie this weekend so Kelli can go to a bachelorette party in New Orleans. This is the first time she has gotten to do anything alone since the baby was born. Kelli left at 6 this morning and Chris left the house at 5:15 to catch a flight to Oklahoma City for work. Of course Connor woke up at 5:15 when he heard his dad walking around and refused to go to sleep. And so began my first day taking care of two children.

For the most part we did fine. About 4:30 everyone hit their limit and started breaking down. Connor was whining about wanting another snack and wanting to watch a show. McKenzie was inconsolable. I have no idea why. That is one thing about infants I forgot. And I was tired from taking care of a two year old, a two month old and an 8 month in utero.

I used today as a trial run to see what my daily life is going to be like in two months. Here are the things I learned:

1. Connor does not know how to entertain himself very well. This is mostly my fault because I have always let him dictate what we do most of the day. I didnt realize this until today. He plays with something for two minutes and then wants me to come play with him. IMPOSSIBLE with a baby. His lack of self entertainment led me to allow him to watch way more television than usual. That leads me to number two.

2. I need to accept the fact that when I have two children they will watch more than the recommended allowable one hour that all the pediatric experts recommend and I need to come to terms with this. It is just not going to be possible for me to devote my complete attention to two kids at once and that is all right.

3. This is going to be harder than I thought. I always imagined that it would be twice as much work to have two children as it is having one. WRONG! It is ten times harder! I am going to attribute some of this to the fact that this was my first day. Just like a first day at a new job, it takes some getting used to and figuring out how things work.

4. I am going to have a lot of guilt about not spending as much time with each child as I would like to. I felt so bad all day when Connor was acting jealous. I wish I had extra arms. I am still having a hard time figuring out how you can love two babies equally. I guess I will find out soon.

I think I am worth at least $300 grand!

My cousin posted a comment on his facebook page today that said he read a study that said that if stay at home moms were paid for their work they would make about $170,000 per year. I started thinking about it and I think I am worth WAY more than that!! Breakdown:
Full time childcare for a two year old (this is about to double with Charlie): $15/hr 24 hours a day, 7 days a week $2520/week
Live In Housekeeper (I admit that I suck at this one so I might make less): $1000/week
Sending out Laundry: $1.50/pound and 20 pounds per week $30/week
Personal assistant/grocery shopper/errand runner: $500/week
Driver (airport trips/car drop off etc): $30/trip about $100/week
Personal Chef: $1000/week (seriously! I looked it up!)
Handyman/homerepair: $100/hr at 2 hours per week $200/week

By my calculations that comes out to $5350/week and a grand total of $278,200/year. And that is not even including one of the most expensive line items...Prostitute! Now, I am not a cheapie-pick-me-up-on-the-street-corner kind of girl.
Hooker: $1000 a pop and 3/week (ok, not right now but I am pregnant so give me a break! But in THEORY) $3000/week

So that's an extra $156,000/year.

According to my calculations I should earn about $434,200. Where's my check?! ;)

Why I Should Not Hire Cheap Labor

I have been begging and begging my husband to let me get our master bathroom remodeled. It was built in the mid 90s and is loaded with brass fixtures and white ceramic tile. Plus, the grout in the shower continually molds and falls out. It looks nasty and I am pretty sure that is not healthy to stand on every day while bathing. For my Valentine's day gift this year he finally gave in and told me that I could get it redone! Wahoo!! That is when the troubles began. I called two general contractors to get estimates for the work. I didn't think it would be too expensive since I was going to keep the cabinets, countertops and bathtub. WRONG. One bid was around $13,000 and one was almost $15,000. OK, plan B. I thought I could fix some of the eye sore issues myself. I shopped around on ebay and bought all new doorknobs, cabinet pulls and light fixtures. A monkey could install new doorknobs and cabinet pulls so I finished those quickly. I summoned the electrician within and installed the lights. Three ceiling lights and three vanity lights...easy enough, right? On the last light I tightened a screw a little too much and ended up cracking the mirror from top to bottom. So much for the cheap fixes. Hiring a contractor to handle everything was out of the question so I started subbing things out myself. Demolition work, tile layer, new faucets, plumber, electrician, paint etc. Being the bargain shopper that I am, I hired our old pal Manuel the handyman to do the demo, paint and replace the faucets. Some of Manuel's employees are, shall we say, less than legal in this country. When he took down the mirrors we discovered several holes in the drywall and large chunks missing from glue. So he calls his brother in law Alvino. When Alvino and his "helper" arrived to the neighborhood I got a call from the guard gate saying I needed to drive to identify them because they had no identification. What a pain but fine, whatever. I dragged my pregnant self to the car, loaded the kid and made my way to Gate 2. When I got there the guard told me that they had taken off. It turns out that Alvino's "helper" was afraid he was going to get arrested and deported. So I am driving around the neighborhood entry gates looking for these guys to tell them I am not going to call INS. Meanwhile Manuel is not answering his phone to help me out because he knows I am mad about the dent he put in my wood floor (yet another reason not to hire cheap labor). I gave up looking and headed back to my house. As I pulled up I saw Alvino's van parked in front and a man climbing out of the back. I am pretty sure that when the gate guard called me to come identify them, that Alvino left, went to a parking lot and had his "helper" lay down in the back of the van and cover up with a tarp or a piece of drywall or something. Lord...the things I do to save a buck!

Happy Birthday...How About I Burn The House Down?

Yesterday was my sweet husband's 31st birthday. I got back from a 24 hour trip to San Antonio late the night before and was exhausted! My back hurt so badly that I could barely walk. Add, sciatica, loss of abdominal muscle control and random pregnancy crotch pain and I was not the most pleasant party thrower.

I tried to cook breakfast in bed for the birthday boy but I ended up leaving a waffle on the waffle iron for about 30 minutes and Chris had to put out a miniature fire. Happy Birthday...how about I burn down the house for you?! Sorry sweetie.

We went to dinner with some friends but due to my fantastic physical state the poor guy didn't even get to go out for a dinner drink. His waddling wife had to drag him home at 9:30. My how times have changed. A birthday 10 years ago...shoot, even five years ago...would have involved a little more fun than last night. Sorry hon. I'll make it up to you the next time I am not pregnant, raising a small child or in pain :)

Poop Day and No Pants

Friday was another fabulous adventure in mothering. Little man was severely constipated and was refusing to bend his knees to help the process along. After several hours of the crying and pain I couldn't take it anymore and finally managed to force him onto the toilet seat. Well of course, he got a little out but it was on the toilet seat. In the process of trying to re-diaper a screaming, wiggling, flailing child, he managed to pick up the poop that was on the toilet seat and took off running out of the bathroom. It takes me a few seconds to get up off the floor (big belly, soreness etc.) so by the time I caught up to him he had somehow gotten it on his foot and tracked it all over the living room floor, kitchen floor and kitchen table. Eeew, eeew, eww. So I get to clean that up.

Fast forward to bath time that night. Of COURSE the warm bath water loosened things up for the munchkin. Chris was bathing Connor while I was cleaning toothpaste from the sink and counter (apparently all males develop the habit of leaving globs of toothpaste everywhere at an early age) when I got a whiff of stink.
"Chris did he poop in the bathtub?"
"No."
"Are you sure because I smell it?"
Chris starts fishing around under the bubbles and sure enough...

Eeeeewww! Instead of taking Connor out of the bath like I think would be the typical first reaction he starts frantically fishing turds out of the water.
"Chris! Take him out! He can't just continue to soak in a pool of shit!"

So Chris took him to the other bathroom because he still had soap in his hair. Great! Now I am cleaning up poop for the second time in one day...and we are not even potty training. And when there is poop in the bathtub there is a lot of cleaning involved. You have to clean the tub, all the toys that were in the water, the washcloths, sponges etc. PAIN IN THE A!

Now onto the no pants. Not that I can really blame the stress of Friday for my brain farts on Sunday but there is no other explanation. I just walked out in my front yard to get the newspaper wearing nothing but a t-shirt and granny panties. Woops. I really have lost my mind.

Why aren't we born knowing that running in the street is not funny?

There are some things that seem impossible to teach. We are born with the natural ability to breathe, blink, cry etc. so why do children not know that it hurts when you stick things in your eye and that it is not funny to run into the street? We are having the hardest time with the latter. Today I took Connor to my parent's house who live in the country so their house is set back about two acres from the street. There is a circular driveway that I have to admit begs for foot races. As we were leaving today, Connor bolted out of the garage straight to the edge of the driveway where it meets the road. My mom and I both yelled at him to stop but I always hesitate to chase him because that only seems to add fuel l to the fire and make him run faster. He stopped, turned around and started at my mom for a few seconds then took off down the street cracking up.

Have you ever seen a barefoot 60-year-old woman and a pregnant chick in flip flops running as fast as they can? Not pretty. Luckily there were no cars coming and my mom got to Connor before he made it too far but the whole incident scared the poo out of me. How do I deal with this? It is not like other behavioral problems where I warn him not to do it, he does it anyway and then he gets spanked and put in time out. If I let him do this he could get run over by a car?! I mean, we are all about spanking but potential emergency room visit or worse...not happening!!

To make things even more difficult, I am at the fat point in my pregnancy where I can't pick him up anymore and by the time I get these tree trunks moving he is 20 feet ahead of me. Is it time for a kid leash? Am I going to be one of THOSE moms?

My ugly phase the sequel

My sister and I have always had this theory that every kid goes thru an ugly phase usually starting around age 7 lasting until 13 or so. You know what I am talking about...the giant front teeth either with a huge gap or braces. Glasses, pimples crazy hair that is somehow frizzy and greasy at the same time. We all go thru it and hopefully, with any luck, outgrow it by junior high. Well I am here to tell you ladies and gentleman that I am having a recurrence. And it is really icky.

At first I thought it was just the pregnancy but then I saw a picture from last year and noticed the same things. This time I don't even have the excuse that I am going thru puberty. I have the frizzy/greasy hair, the acne, the discolored teeth (ok, lay off the cokes and no red wine after the baby is born). But worse, my eyes are saggy and dark. Please tell me this is a phase and I will not have basset hound eyes for the rest of my life. I am too young for an eye lift and I refuse to look depressed while I wait to turn 40 so I won't feel too guilty about plastic surgery. How unfair is this?! My whole life I thought I was fat and ugly and now I would pay a million bucks to look like I did 10 years ago. Ain't life a bitch

Do you have any kids vato? Yeah, didn't think so

Be forewarned: do not read this if you are sensitive to displays of anger, rude comments, bad language or derrogatory names. We just got back from Florida and I had an encounter with a less than kind TSA agent.

SO, let me preface this by saying that I do not travel well. I never have. Even before Connor was in the picture, I have always been a pretty big bitch when driving or flying long distances. My poor husband...

After a long weekend visiting Chris's brother and parents in Orlando we began our long trip back yesterday afternoon. Of course I was already a little on edge from being out of town, the check in lines were long, we had a ton of crap to haul (two suitcases, two backpacks, a bag of toys, a carseat, a stroller and a two year old) and the security line was long and hectic. I know, I know, this is to be expected in the Orlando airport with all the families leaving Disney World. I have never had a problem before bring babyfood, milk and juice for Connor. I just tell the person scanning bags that I am carrying these things for my child. Fabullous Orlando International Airport decided to ruin my streak.

The first smartass 20-year-old Hispanic TSA "agent" (I use this word loosely because I don't actually respect that these morons have any authority whatsoever) grabs my bag and tells me he has to search it and I need to follow him to the examination area. Fine jackass, but first I have to collect my purse, toy bag, stroller, baggie of less than 3 oz items, shoes, child's shoes and then I can proceed to your very official examination cubby. Chris was detained to prove that his laptop wasnt an explosive device so I was on my own. Apparently Jackass #1 was annoyed that he had to wait so long for me to step into his office.

He pulled everything out of my bag, groups my unapproved items together, points and them and says, "what is this?" Um, that is the baby food and milk that I already told you was in my backpack genius.
"Maam, you are not allowed to carry liquids over 3 oz into the airport."
"Yes, but I was under the impression that there was an expemtion for baby food and milk." "How old is that kid?"
"He is two."
"So is he an infant?"
"I just said he is two-years old."
"Ma'am it is a courtesy if I let you bring ANY of this thru. Which items do you need?"
"All of them. That is why I am bringing them into the airport."
"Where are you going?"
"Dallas"
"How long is that flight?:
"Two and a half hours."
"Miss, there is no way that kid can consume this much in a two hour flight." Keep in mind I had three squeeze packs of baby food, one bottle of juice and two milk boxes. About this time Chris walked up and asked what the problem was. Jackass #1 gave Chris his version of the recap and Jackass #2 walks up with another juice box that Chris had in his bag. Jackass #2 "They had this one too. There is no way that kid is going to drink all that on one flight"

Sidebar, who the hell are you two turds to say how much my son is or is not going to eat and drink on a flight. First off, it is dinner time. Second, food and drink is used as a distraction. Third, he has to have something to drink to keep his ears from popping. Fourth, I hate you and want to initiate my pregnant gag reflex and barf all over your greasy face.

Jackass #1:
"I can't let you take this."
"Do you have any children?"
"It is a courtesy for me to let you take ANYTHING!"
"I said, do you have any children?!" (my attitude is beyond rude at this point)
"No I don't have any children."
"I didn't think so. You have no idea how much crap it takes to entertain a child on a two and a half hour flight!"

Jackass #1 pulls out a juice box and two baby food packs and throws the rest in the trash. He scans or pretends to scan them with an explosive detecting stick. He put them back in my backpack and says, "Have a nice flight." I grabbed bag, stormed off and called him fucker as I walked away. Very mature, I know.

For some reason this whole episode really, really made me mad. My blood pressure was off the chart and as soon as I stepped on the tram I burst into tears. If he can't have a little sympathy for a pregnant chick with a two year old then he must not feel anything.

Just because you are bitter because you are not smart enough to be a real police officer or even a mall cop and had to settle for a job as a TSA "agent" does not give you the right to be such a bitch ass! And since all of your children live with their respective mothers or are in state custody don't pretend like you know how much food a child will eat at any given time or how they will act on a plane.

Well I feel better. Watch out Jackass #1 and #2...next time that baby food will become hair gel for you!

Lesson Learned: Pregnant Asses Should Not Paint Bathrooms

I have been procrastinating like crazy finishing painting the walls in Charlie's room. I had big plans for stripes in the beginning but since the navy wall took me three coats I kind of lost momentum. I finally worked up the oomph tonight to paint the vanity area. Warning: if you are pregnant and/or have a big ass, you should not paint a room that is only two feet wide. I ruined one of my only pair of fitting workout pants in the process. Every time I turned around to get more paint on the roller I dipped my butt on the wall behind me. Not a pretty picture.

One day I will convince Chris to let me get someone else to do these home improvement things. I mean, you would think that husband makes enough money that I could hire Manuel for $300 to come paint the baby's room!! Not so. If I want anything updated in this house I have to do it myself. Maybe if I break enough things he will change his mind. Hmm...something to think about.

McKenzie Is Here!!!

McKenzie Lauren made her appearance today at 1:14. She weighed 6lbs 13oz and was 19.75 inches long. Kelli was awesome and popped that nugget out in only 15 minutes! It was quite an eventful past 36 hours.

Kelli woke up Friday morning having contractions about 15 minutes apart but they did not hurt too much. Mom couldn't stand to be away so she came to my house about 10 am. Kelli had them all day long and finally called the doctor about 9 pm. Her doctor, Dr. Martin, was not on call so she spoke to Dr. Carter. He told her to go into the hospital so they could check her and see if she needed to be admitted. About that time I started vomiting horribly. FABULOUS! Of all nights for me to get food poisoning... Mom took Kelli to the hospital about 11 (I stayed home since I was still tossing my cookies). They measured her at only two centimeters and told her they would check again in an hour and if she had progressed they would admit her. Much to her dismay, she was still only two centimeters an hour later. She and mom came traipsing back to my house about 3 am. Meanwhile, I am still losing much lunch repeatedly.

Around 6 am, Kelli decided she could not take the pain any longer so she and mom went back to the hospital. She was now at three centimeters so they admitted her. Dad came to my house about 8:30 am and we headed off to the hospital together. On the way there Mom called and said that she was five centimeters and the doctor had broken her water. McKenzie was going to arrive TODAY!

Dad and I got to the hospital right after Kelli had gotten an epidural...thank Heaven! She was feeling good now. At 10:30 she had progressed a little more but her contractions were spreading out a bit so Dr. Carter decided to give her pitocin to speed things along. He told her he would check her again at 12:30.

Everyone tried to relax and Kelli attempted a nap to no avail. At 12:30 we heard the words we had all been waiting for, "Kelli, you are ready to push!" I think a little panic came over her when she realized it was go time. The nurse came into the room and prepared all the instruments while mom and I waited anxiously. The nurse and mom surrounded her while I stood in the back with the camera. I had been instructed to only take pictures from the north end.

The first contraction came and Kelli pushed like a champ. Dr. Carter told her that he could already see McKenzie's hair and that he didn't think she would have to push very long. Sure enough, about four contractions later the little angel was out! The umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck but the doctor quickly clamped it off and cut it free. She laid on Kelli's chest and took in the view. She was as quiet as a mouse and the nurse had to jiggle her a little to get her to cry.

Although the initial contractions took forever, she was out in a hurry. She is beautiful and sweet and we are so happy she is here!

I figured out why it is called the terrible two's

It's not because they all of the sudden start acting so much worse. It is not because they refuse to cooperate. It is not because they are headstrong. It is all of the above and because not one thing gets resolved before another one starts. THAT is why it feels like things are so much worse. I feel like before now we would have one problem (behavior issue, refusing to eat, not sleeping etc.) and would focus solely on that issue until it was resolved. Now, the problems are coming so fast that I cannot bat them all away. He refuses to eat anything except sandwiches and goldfish. He pushes other kids. He climbs on everything and then jumps off of it. He refuses to respond to punishment of any kind. One after another after another without resolution to ANYTHING. I need a bigger bat.

Snow Day

Today was Connor's first official snow day where his school was cancelled. We had a good old fashioned family slacking day (minus Chris working upstairs). I ran out of activities about 3 pm. Before that we all went outside...for 5 minutes.

Weenie or no weenie and psycho child

I haven't posted anything on here in ages. Mostly because I am pregnant, tired and felt like crap for a few months. Things are FINALLY going better. This whole nausea all day thing is for the birds.

We find out tomorrow (hopefully) if we are having another boy or a girl. I really, really think it is a boy and I am happy with that. I already have all boy things and I think Connor would have a great time playing with a little brother. I had always told Chris that if we had two boys we could adopt a girl. Connor has been a bit of a handful lately to say the least so I am starting to doubt if I could handle three children. Heck! I can hardly handle one.

Today was the meltdown of all meltdowns. I swear a demon overtook my child and was controlling his actions. He was at his friend Brooks's house having a grand ole time and I had to come pick him up and ruin the fun. When I told him it was time to go he took off running up the stairs. I chased him, tackled him (that's right...picture a pregnant lady wrestling with a two year old) and carried him over the shoulder style to the car. Mission accomplished, right? Wrong! Trying to get the child strapped into his car seat took the next ten minutes. I don't understand how such a small person has enough strength to fight off a grown woman, but he does. He flung himself out of the seat and started running around the car. Once I tackled him again I shoved him into the seat but he would not relax his hips so I could fasten the buckle. I tried karate chopping him in the waist. I tried lifting his feet and forcing him to sit. I even tried jamming my knee into his stomach. No dice. I finally had to loosen the straps as much as I could, fastened the buckle then tightened them as much as I could. All the way home we had screaming, flailing, hyperventalating even slapping himself in the face. It took ten minutes at home kicking the door and a Thomas video on the iphone to finally calm him down. What the heck is wrong with this kid?! And I have another one coming. Ay yay yay!