The State of Me, post partum take 2.

After giving birth to Mia, it took me over a year to start caring about myself again. Caring about my body, my appearance, my hair, clothes, everything. I'm not sure I realized it while I was in that post-partum funk. I wouldn't necessary escalate it to PPD, but having a baby, becoming a mother and coming to terms with your new identity was difficult for me. Adding a second baby does add a lot of work, but it doesn't change who you are quite as much. Yes, there is a new person and that is certainly a big deal, but I'm already a Mom, so the adjustment was just that much easier.

Of course, I'm still nursing. That is what my body is doing right now, that is what my body is for. I decide what to eat based on that, skip my allergy medicine despite feeling congested, choose my clothing, choosing beer over wine. I suppose this will continue until she's a year old and we start to wean, but for now, it's still a huge part of me, and my life. 

I am, and have been for a while, watching what I eat. Immediately after having Lucy, I dropped all the baby weight within 4 weeks of giving birth. I was back in pre-pregnancy jeans, despite a flabbier midsection. I don't know how to explain it, but it may have been a combination of the difficult recovery decreasing my appetite, plus the round the clock nursing that did it. But, as soon as my supply regulated but my appetite did not, I gained everything back. I didn't realize it until my pants started feeling tight again, but I started low-carbing and got some very quick results. Of course, my milk supply totally tanked, and I realized that my usual method of cutting carbs out completely was not going to work out this time around.

It's probably for the best, actually. Instead of being very strict with my eating for a shorter period of time, I have to be sensible for a long period of time. It's been just over 6 weeks now, but B and I are still eating well. We've eliminated white starches (but I have to eat a starch at every meal). I've lost 12 lbs, which puts me at about 8 lbs until pre-pregnancy weight. The scale hasn't budged in a couple of weeks, but I'm hoping that Lucy will start sleeping semi-regularly again soon, and I can actually wake up with enough energy to do a little bit of yoga once in a while. The belly flab is pretty serious this time, though. It felt like it was pretty flabby after giving birth to Mia, but stretching that skin for a second time seems to have pushed its limits -- it's not bouncing back. 

Another lovely post-partum side effect that has really shown up this time around: hair loss. For a little while there, I was shedding multiple handfuls of hair during each shampoo. I had a lot of hair, and it's pretty thick, so it doesn't look bad, or thinning at all, but it is significant. I can go around my ponytail 4 times with a hair tie now, when it used to be 3. I'd easily estimate that I've at least lost 1/3 of my hair. It'll come back, and when it does, I'll have a lovely head of chia hair.

Toddler Sleep Habits, Volume Umpteen.

A few weeks before turning 3, Mia became a total rebel. 2 was a super fun age for us, and while she threw her fair share of tantrums, she wouldn't push her boundaries the way she does now. During the day, she'll be incredibly opinionated, mostly in demanding yet charming ways. Her opinions are strongest when it comes to food choices, cutlery choices (BIG FORK!), plate color, and clothing. It's not been completely easy to deal with, but as long as you give her a semblance of a choice, things go over relatively well (Mia, would you like to wear a skirt or shorts today?).

But at bedtime, the charm is gone. It became most apparent to us when my parents were around, and she would scream (oh yes, SCREAM) requests at us from the door of her room (blocked by a baby gate). "I NEED ANOTHER BOOK!" or "I NEED SOME WATER!" or "I NEED ANOTHER [STUFFED] ANIMAL!". Nothing earth shattering, but certainly a great delay tactic. At this point in the day, B and I just wants some G-D peace and quiet, so whatever she was requesting, within reason, she would get. My parents pointed out that during their visit last year (at this exact time of year), she went to bed with absolutely no complaints, and they were always so impressed with that. Not too many circumstances have changed in her bedtime routine -- she had free reign of the room though she was sleeping in a toddler bed, she got the same nighttime routine of bath, toothbrush, and book. She's still napping at daycare, but rarely does on the weekends, but that doesn't affect her nighttime transformation into a tazmanian devil.

Reenter sleep training. While she was a baby/toddler still in her crib, we used a simple method recommended to us by her pediatrician. Put her to bed, leave. If she cried, go back to her immediately, soothe, and exit. If she didn't calm down, return 10 minutes later, soothe, exit. If she didn't calm down then, return 20 minutes later, soothe, exit. So on and on with 10 minute increments added on. This worked for us, and by 2 she was going to bed without protest or delay.

This time, things are a bit different since she's not actually crying, and I assume, doesn't need the reassurance from us any more. She just doesn't want to go to bed yet. On Monday, we started the method recommended by AlphaMom, of walking her silently and without emotion  back to bed every time she gets up, without acknowledging any requests and with 100% consistency. We've done three nights, and while I'll admit the time between initially putting her to bed and her actually falling asleep (or at least, no longer protesting) has shortened considerably, her reaction to us following this method has taken us entirely by surprise.

My sweet girl turns into a bit of a devilish monster when her parents do not acknowledge her. The first night, she screamed. Not scream-cried, but screamed in anger. But, we did as we were instructed. No emotions, no acknowledgment. We are permitted to repeat a single phrase of our choosing (We went with "Stay in your bed"), and that is the only thing we'll say to hear when bringing her back to her bed.  She screamed, demanded a book, demanded water, kicked her blankets off. I mean, she was seriously awful and I was so glad nobody else was in the house to see this transformation. We must have gone up a total of 8 times and returned her to bed, and things were finally quiet upstairs about an hour after initial bedtime.

The second night, she got angry before we even said goodnight for the first time. She lost her story privileges, and was seriously mad about it right away. She hit me, several times. Nothing painful or violent, but clearly testing limits. The AlphaMom article didn't address what to do in this kind of situation, but I powered through and simply told her to stay in her bed. This time, we went up about 5 times, but it only took about 20 minutes for her to settle down. The next morning, she was seriously cheerful when she woke up, and I was secretly doing a victory dance -- I could at least tell myself that we were doing the right thing by forcing her to sleep, despite her obviously hating us for it.

Last night, night 3, she got mad, Mad, MAD as soon as I pulled out her pajamas. So, I figured we should stop showing emotion right away, and go to "Stay in your bed". She demanded another pair of pajamas, she demanded a different overnight pull up design, and she hit me again. Repeatedly. At first, without any kind of violence, but then, she hit me in the face, SO HARD that my glasses actually flew off my face. I nearly lost my ever loving mind. I grabbed her by the shoulders, put her in bed, told her she was NOT a sweet girl, and left. [PARENT FAIL] It was a seriously heartbreaking scene, and I think I will remember this night for a long time. She was so irrationally angry, and I was so angry and shaken up by her violent reaction that I didn't know what to do. She screamed, kicked her blankets off, continued demand different pajamas, etc. There was, at least, a small victory. She did not get out of bed. She may have been writhing around in anger, but at least she was doing it in her bed. About 10 minutes later, after I had calmed down, I heard her calm herself down. She had gotten out of bed, but she told us from the door of her room that she was ready to be a sweet girl now. So, I went up, wordlessly walked her back to bed. She repeated that she was sorry, and ready to be a sweet girl. I broke our own rules and told her that I was sorry, gave her a kiss and a hug, and she rolled over and let me tuck her in.

The time frames are certainly shortening, but the training has certainly intensified. If things don't go well tonight, I'm not sure I can keep this up much longer. I've never seen this side of her, it's so raw and disturbing to see your sweet little child flip a switch so drastically. I'm hoping we get things a bit more under control tonight and tomorrow. And if we don't, then I'm going to pull the plug on this method.

Facebook Moms

Facebook, with all of its faults and criticisms, is a great source of entertainment. Generally, when I share something on Facebook, I think about it first. Something fun, exciting, Mia in her "better moments", etc. I think that most people think about their audience before they post something. The majority of us share cute pictures, funny stories, milestones. All of that is perfectly acceptable Facebook Mom behavior. Of course, you only share what you want to share. This will often create a certain kind of persona -- but some honesty will have no choice but to creep in. In my Facebook feed in particular, I have very specific personas who stand out above the rest.

1. The Stay at Home Mom who Overshares Parenting Tips:  She is a constant sharer. Articles on car seat safety, sales on items she likes at Zulily, Groupon deals for kid-centric activities, articles on potty training philosophies, pictures of her homemade baby food. It is constant. It is daily. But! She is also the Mom I messaged when looking for a new carseat - what did she find she liked best??

2. The First time Pregnant friend who has been trying to have a baby forever. I'm thrilled they finally got pregnant. Really, I'm very happy for her. But, her former Facebook persona as someone who shares inspirational quotes (via so and so fertility center) about overcoming hardships has turned into the weekly belly picture update, progress on the nursery, babymoon pictures, and of course, the countdown to her due date. She's incredibly excited, and probably doesn't think about much else. Of course, she should be, but I hope she doesn't turn into #4.

3. Smug New Mom. She posts asking for cloth diaper suggestions. She posts pictures of her and her husband in the swimming pool for their 5 month old daughter's swimming class. She posts about how great her nanny is. She asks for advice on pumping at work, and about her new gluten free/wheat free/dairy free/nut free/food free diet because of her daughter's allergies. She posts asking for opinions between the Acura and the Audi SUV. She posts photos of her baby-led weaning. And of course, the constant photo caption: So in love with my little one! I certainly hope so, lady. She and #1 Oversharing Mom would get along great, but they would never listen to each other's advice.

4. New Mom who is having a hard time. She's the opposite of Smug New Mom. She posts photos of her child (often cuter than Smug New Mom's child), captioned: "It's a good thing she's cute, because I haven't slept in 5 months". She posts apologies to her own Mom for the pain she inflicted on her 30 years ago. She posts about how she's looking forward to having an outpatient procedure done just for the recuperating time she gets. This Mom makes my heart hurt, because you can just feel how hard of a time she's having. You try to comment on her photos, remind her that she's doing a good job, and that this difficult time will pass. But, when it's confined to Facebook, it's often the best you can do.

5. The Only Posts Bad News Mom. Things seem to always be going wrong in that household, but it can't be all bad, all the time. She posts that her new baby is so sick! Going to the ER! And then... nothing. Did you move into the ER and stay forever? No, you have to send a message to find out the follow up. "Oh, it turned out fine. We're home!" Gee, thanks for keeping us all in the loop, lady.

I'm just kidding around here, OK? Don't take me (or yourself) too seriously.

On adding a second to the mix

It's the eternal question. Once you get married, everyone asks themselves, when do we have a kid? You think of a million things. Finances, living situation, job situation, whether you have the time, the energy, the stability. When B and I first got married, we started trying 4 months later, and got pregnant immediately. We didn't think about it much, we threw caution to the wind and decided that there was never a good time to have a baby, so now was as good a time as any. Never, not a single moment of my life, have I ever regretted it. Not for a single moment do I wish we had postponed our decision, even while my closest friends have yet to do any baby making of their own.

Now that Mia is 2 1/2, my body is starting to physically feel ready to become pregnant again. Not that I'm back in tip top shape or anything, but I feel normal. Normal at my new, pudgy size, and comfortable. I'm healthy, I'm physically well, flexible, strong. I've been keeping up with a yoga DVD 2-3 times a week. Nothing complicated, nothing terribly challenging, but my body is feeling good. 

The rest of me is starting to come around to the idea of adding this mythical second child into the mix. B and I are ready to love someone else, to take care of someone else. We're probably not ready for the lack of sleep, constant attention, and general high maintenanceness of a baby, but honestly, nobody every is. What we are ready for, though, is for that mythical non-existing second child to grow into a toddler, a child, a generally awesome member of the family. And that's what you're really getting, isn't it? Once you're out of the baby phase, the cute, cuddly, exhausting baby phase, you're getting an energetic, wonderful child. 

That part, I do feel ready for. I do. But the part that requires a larger car, a second daycare payment, and dividing my attention away from my very real, very clingy two year old? That, I am not ready for. The former two reasons, practical considerations... it's just money. It can be worked out, with time, it will be just fine. But the latter, 3rd reason? This part is what I still struggle with.

Of course, I know what the benefits are of having a sibling. A playmate for life, another family member, someone to team up with against your parents, someone to share Christmas morning with, and everything else that comes along with that. But I am so scared that adding another kid would take away so much of what Mia gets now. Undivided attention, no competition for lap space, time, patience, praise, everything. I feel so guilty for taking some of that away from her. She won't understand, and I'm terrified of how she'll react. In reality, and in my heart, I know she'll be fine. She's a sweet, sweet girl, who tucks her dolls in and shows empathy. She may have a wicked temper, but she always wants everyone to be happy.

In reality, it's not her I'm worried about, it's me. A big part of me wants to give all my time, attention, love to her and only her. But another, equally large part of me wants another sweet, loving, sassy, happy human being to join our happy little family. Someone for all three of us to love. 

One sick day, two tales.

Over the weekend, Mia had a fever on and off ranging from 100-102 degrees. We considered taking her to the drug-store clinic on Sunday, but decided it was best to wait until we could see her pediatrician on Monday morning. 

I called first time on Monday morning, and quickly got an appointment for 9:30am. We loaded up in my car and drove across town. Despite having moved clear across Vegas, I haven't switched Pediatricians. A 20 minute drive is worth it to me, I really like her. But, this does mean a lot of driving. So, we headed back towards our neck of the woods after a quick diagnosis for an ear infection, and an antiobiotics prescription in hand. As soon as we got back to our neighborhood, I drove through and dropped off the prescription at the pharmacy window. It would be ready in an hour. 

I decided that it was better for Mia to get her medication earlier in the day, rather than waiting until after 5 for B to pick it up on his way home from work. So, I headed to Target to pick up some kid-groceries. We did our thing, picked up a bonus pair of shoes for Mia that were on sale for $10 and desperately needed since Mia now only has 1 pair of school shoes that fit. After a quick potty stop, we headed back towards the pharmacy.

I headed back into the drive through aisle to pick up the prescription, which I had already been notified was ready. I got everything I needed, and proceeded to navigate through the busy lunchtime parking lot, where I was stopped behind a car waiting to turn right, into the aisle that led back onto the road.* At that point, a woman in a red chevy impala (a rental) was backing out of her parking spot, directly to my left. I honked, HOOOOOOONKED because I couldn't move forward, but alas, she did not stop and she ran into my car door.

She was going very slowly, so the impact was fine and nobody was hurt. I'm not sure Mia noticed anything strange had happened. The damage looks pretty minimal, but my car door is jammed. I can open it about 6 inches and force my way through it, which I did. We exchanged contact information, she gave me her insurance and admitted liability. I squeezed back into my car, snapped a couple of pictures of her license plate and driver's license, and headed back home. The car is a bit rattly as I drove it home, but hopefully there is nothing seriously wrong with it. 

I set Mia up with her medication, put her in front of a movie with a blanket and her Bunny, and got to the phone to make my claim. We've been in contact and hopefully, I'll be able to make arrangements to drop my car off and pick up a rental by tomorrow. Luckily, B is off work today, so I'm driving his car while mine ails in the driveway. So far, everything's fine and there's not a lot to be too upset about, except having to deal with dropping my car off and making several phone calls to insurance companies. Hopefully everything concludes itself drama-free.

That is how the story goes if you ask me what happened to me yesterday.

But, if you'll go back to the asterisk (*), you'll  need to insert this portion:

After I left the drive through to pick up Mia's prescription at the pharmacy, I remembered that the last time Mia got this prescription, she vomited after I gave her the first dose (a double). Since she's been sick, she hasn't been eating a lot. And I don't know about the other parents out there, but I know of one other drive thru that will guarantee my kid has a full stomach - McDonald's. So, I admit it. That's what I was really exiting when the rest of the story took place, the McDonald's drive through. [Yes, I am ashamed to say it] And no, I didn't only pick up a Happy Meal for Mia, I also got myself my favorite - a cheeseburger and fries. Hey - at least I skipped the Sundae. So, that's what I get for going to McDonald's, that's what I get for picking up a lunch that likely contained my entire daily value of fat for the day. BLARG.

Plus, my fries were cold by the time I got home to eat them. Though Mia's belly was predictably full within 20 minutes of being home, and she tolerated the 1st dose of antibiotics very well.

Conversations parents have

Me: B, Mia needs some pants now that the weather's getting cool.
B: Ok, how many pairs does she have?
Me: Maybe 5 that fit her.
B: That sounds like it should be enough!
Me: For a normal person, yes. But for a person who pees and craps herself at school? It's not.

Potty training still continues to go pretty well, actually. But apparently, once the 2 year old teacher leaves, all the kids who are simultaneously potty training forget to tell someone when they have to go, so the longer Mia stays at daycare after 3 pm, the higher the odds of her coming home with one of those dreaded plastic bags tied to her backpack. Yesterday, she came home with 3, and the 2 feet surrounding her bag smelled like a homeless person. They explained that Miss Sue left at noon today.

Mostly, this was meant as a quick updated so that the last post was no longer my tagline on anyone else's feed. I feel much better now, thanks for letting me bitch a bit!

Surrogacy and Adoption

I know it's been a LONG, LIKE SUPER DE DUPER LONG time since I've authored a post here.  I hope Frenchie can forgive me.  But tonight I have something on my mind and lately with how cutthroat Facebook has become, it doesn't seem the place for it.  I know we have a small but friendly and powerful audience here, but I also welcome, in fact REQUEST that if this blog post hits your heart, that you share it in any way possible: your blog, another mommy blog, tell a friend, etc.  Tim and I are at a junction where we are trying to decide if, when, and how to grow our family.  And I have been told that in situtations like this, even though one's first instinct might be to clam up and stay low until everything blows over, the exact opposite is what you should, or in fact NEED to do.  When looking for help growing your family in a non-traditional way, miracles are possible and at times more likely when more people hear your story.

Because of the heart trouble that happened when I gave birth to Tybalt, I have been HIGHLY discouraged from getting pregnant ever again.  Some womens' doctors (ob/gyns as well as cardiologists) differ in their opinion, but because of the severity of my post partum cardiomyopathy compared to some other cases, both of my doctors say no.  Or, in more clearer terms, "HELL NO."

This makes me sad.  It makes me depressed.  It makes me want to raise my arms to the heavens and say, "THANK YOU GOD FOR MY WONDERFUL AND HANDSOME MIRACLE BABY.  I LOVE HIM MORE THAN WORDS CAN EXPRESS,  AND I LOVE YOU FOR GIVING HIM TO ME.  DON'T GET ME WRONG THROUGHOUT ALL THIS--I HAVE FAITH, BELIEVE, AND AM VERY THANKFUL.  ALL THAT SAID...WTH?  YOU KNOW I DIDN'T WANT AN ONLY CHILD!  YOU KNOW MY HEART AND 'WOMB' ARE ACHING AND THAT I CRY DAILY!  I MAY ONLY BE ONE OF YOUR DAUGHTERS IN THIS WORLD OF BILLIONS, BUT PLEASE, REALLY, COULD YOU DO ME A 'SOLID' AND PUT ME UPWARDS ON THE LIST A BIT?  I SWEAR ONCE YOU GET ME A KID YOU CAN TAKE ME AND PUT ME RIGHT BACK DOWN WITH THE REST AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PRAYER LIST.  HELP ME HAVE ANOTHER CHILD!  PLEASE, I BEG!  SOMEHOW, SOMEWAY (THOUGH SAFELY FOR ME, SO NATURAL PREGNANCY IS PRETTY MUCH OUT, UNLESS YOU KNOW SOMETHING I DON'T.  I NEED THIS GOD, I REALLY, REALLY NEED THIS.  (And here's where I humbly admit that I'm a tiny bit pissed you haven't already just left one on my doorstep at this point, seeing I've been praying so long, and even when I'm not you're supposed to know the desires of my heart.  Right?)"

So, Tim and I are planning on either adopting or trying to use a surrogate.  I don't know much about the surrogacy process.  I'm wondering if any of you out there know anything.  Perhaps you've done it yourself or have a family member of friend who has?  And when I say "done it" that could mean being involved on either end--using a surrogate to have a baby, or even being a surrogate for a couple.  If this applies to you or someone you intimately know, could you possibly work on connecting us for an online conversation?  I have SO many questions about it.  My brain is just swimming.

As for adoption, it is obviously more widely practiced.  And I visit many blogs of adoptive mothers to read their stories and get a peek into their lives.  However, again, if one of you have been through adoption or know someone who has--either adopted or given a child "up" for adoption, I would really apprecaite the opportunity to connect with you/them online.  Most of the bloggers seem too busy to really talk.  Either that or they haven't really opened up for the chance to talk because they don't have contact information like an email address on their blogs, oddly enough.

Anyway, this post isn't meant to be a sob story.  If someone is waiting for that kind of post in order to help Romeo and I, I guarantee if they wait long enough it will come.  At this point, I'm really just kind of hoping that by putting this ponderance out into the universe and asking any of you readers who are willing to spread it further--as far as possible, that someone somewhere will see I am a loving and hopeful mother and woman, who is just fervently praying for the chance to have another child or two (twins!  why not?) and that they find it in their heart to help me in my next step.  Whatever that is!

Pillow Talk

My husband, who normally, is the person who keeps everything together, sighed heavily that he was stressed, just as we were turning out the lights. He hides his stress, and he usually hides it well. He handles our money, and our bank account was low and waiting desperately for my paycheck to clear (spoiler alert, it cleared and we are no longer low... until next time). Nearly 6 months ago, he was told that he would very soon be considered for this promotion, and just last week, he was finally given the go-ahead to officially apply. So he did, and now a week and a half later, he feels like he's back to the position he was 6 months ago... just waiting without much encouragement.

At times like this, the only way a couple can function is if the other party is the strong one - everyone gets their turn to reassure the other, everything will be just fine. But with the day I had yesterday, with one financial blow (at work) after the next, I wasn't feeling like the strong one. I had a day of planning out contingencies in case my Company shuts down: I'd get unemployment, we'd have to ask for forbearance on our loans, we'd keep my small car, we'd cancel daycare, etc. But, I did my best as the strong one. Reminding him that it had been less than 10 days since he put his application in, and they wouldn't have asked you to apply if they weren't considering you, there must be something bigger going on right now that they have to deal with, etc.

And then, I reminded him that none of it is real. If the society shut down (Walking Dead , or Lost style!), job promotions and credit ratings and car payments, all of that disappears because it just... isn't real. Remember what's important - moments like Mia running around our hallway in her diaper before her bath, taking turns roaring at us, and us taking turns pretending to be scared. The Giggles (capitalized, because they were GIGGLES) and Joy and Fun. As long as the three of us are together, under one roof, warm, healthy and together. That's what happiness is, and if we lost that, then you should be stressed.

As, as if on cue, Mia, in all her toddler glory, started crying from her bedroom and asking to come "In dair, bed", we let our sleep training guard down and plobbed her tiny warm body between us and went to sleep smelling her clean baby hair.

And then... of course at 3 am, when she yanked on my earring, deeply regretted our decision.

Happy just Being

Our little family of three is getting comfortable in our little life. We're getting settled into the new house. A couch is on its way and should be delivered next Saturday. My parents bought us a dining table as an early birthday/christmas/every gift they may want to give us in 2013, so that is also on its way. We've got paint samples on the walls, and we are waiting for the time to undertake that kind of project to present itself. We're ready to stay put for at least five years; we're not interested in buying ourselves and having my parents as landlords is basically the same thing anyway.

Mia's transition to the two year old room has gone smoothly, especially since they spent about 80% of the day outside with the rest of the school, so she still sees her younger friends regularly. She is piecing together sentences. "Cheese!" has turned into "I want cheese... Please?". Now that she's a couple of months away from two, it seems like we're inching our way out of babydom, which is both relieving and tragic. She needs less from us, on a basic level, but more at the same time. More mindfulness about what we say, how we say it, and act how we generally want her to act. Her decided move towards childhood has made me realize 100% that our family would benefit from an addition. I've always said that I wouldn't consider a second baby until my first was no longer one herself, and it seems that I'm quite true to my word. She's not quite out of the baby stage yet, so I'm not quite in the "trying" stage yet either. We'll save that one for 2014 and just... stay comfortable (and by that I mean nausea-free) until the end of 2013. Though obviously, there is a blog post brewing in my head with an endless list of reasons I worry about bringing a second child into the fold.

We're on the brink of other new things for 2013. I've got the Bar Exam coming up, but it hasn't interfered with our lives yet (aka I'm not stuck to an outline and note cards, but will be in 30 days or so). Professionally, my goal would be not to close out the year in my current position. I'm looking at all possible Las Vegas options - hopefully being licensed opens up the possibility of working in a law office, firm, or in the legal department somewhere, or even not in the legal department somewhere. Either way, turning in my bar application is a more proactive step then I've taken in the past (because, let's face it... complaining about it is not a proactive step). But for now, I'm doing what needs to be done at my current job. Work is steady without being demanding, and paychecks are coming though still delayed. B is supposed to be transitioning into a management training program. We haven't heard anything official, but all signs point to "soon", but either way, knowing that he is moving towards a management position is enough to make his work satisfying.

Doesn't everyone in Vegas celebrate with some Cosmic Bowling?

It seems like the first time in ages that I am willing to consider adding anything to our plates. Though Motherhood in itself came to me easily, shifting the rest of my life around it has not. A task as short-term as painting the walls would never have been on my list - my instinct would have been to envision Mia demanding to be picked up as I was covered in paint, and my second instinct would have been to picture Mia covered in said paint. The same is true for B - any challenges he may have had in the beginning of fatherhood have adjusted themselves. We're both parents, and we're both comfortable as parents. I no longer count down until bedtime - relaxing while Mia is awake is finally possible. I think this has more to do with my progress as a Mom than with Mia's progress.

Now, let's finish up with a birthday shout-out, shall we? Happy Birthday, Juliet!

I Should Be Bald

I swear that with all the stress lately, I should be completely, 100% bald.  So much, there's just so much.  Sorry for my much extended absence.  This is obviously Frenchie's blog now and I'm a guest writer occasionally.  But, lucky you, lucky lucky you, my goal for lent is to write twice a week here at least.  May be long, may be short.  But it should be good, at least for me, because I have things to get off my shoulders.  NOT that I want every entry to be heavy, you wonderful women don't deserve that.  (Though on the absolute worst days some might be more serious than joking.)  But part of this is writing as an escape.  Writing about random happenings and off-the-top of my head thoughts so that I can dull the volume of the rest of the world around me if only for 30-60 minutes.

Just a [not so] brief listing to give you an idea of that loud world around me:

• Tybalt is 2.5 and not talking yet.  We have started seeing a speech therapist and developmental specialists.  All say he is very smart, quick, and either on par or advanced in ever other aspect.  But speech is a problem that needs to be dealt with.  1) I worry about my little boy.  2) I feel like the worst mom in the world.  Only Frenchie and B, and our fellow best friends J&D (see "host" and "host's wife" in entries such as when Terror almost sets the house on fire) who are Tybalt's Godparents are aware of this.  A friend posted something on Facebook the other day that made me think:  She basically said, "Why is it when you child can't/won't do the one thing they should and every other kid around them their age and developmental level can, the biggest dose of mother guilt sets in and you feel like the worst mother ever?"  I know I love my son and give him practically every opportunity we can.  I know he's very smart in general.  So why the frick is he not speaking?  And why can't I shake the feeling that it is somehow my fault?

• My lawsuit against the medical facility we are claiming was allegedly negligent in my care, resulting in a Stage IV bedsore and permanent damage, is coming along.  (I don't actually know how much I can say.)  I don't know how much progress, that's like OZ behind the curtain, but I did my deposition last July and am waiting to probably be called in again, and Romeo and his mom were deposed this week.  I know that this blog is a member of a MILP line-up.  You are all probably thinking that depositions and trials (if no settlement is reached first, my tentative first day of court is in November) should be the least of my worries.  Well, what can I say?  I don't deal with any of this regularly on a daily basis.  And while I knew in deciding to pursue this case it would get difficult, as the plaintiff I had NO real, actual, serious idea of the nerves, the jump my heart makes from chest to stomach every time my lawyer's phone number appears on my caller ID with a new update or question.

• We are buying a house.  Fantastic!  Great!  It's about time!  And we got pre-approved for like $50 grand more than we want to spend because we know how we prefer to budget our money.  So that put us in a particular bracket of housing, that in Las Vegas, is low on inventory because cash investors are buying them all up.  Doesn't matter if a good, hard working family like ours will ever get to live in one.  The investors just want them for business.  So shopping and finding something we wanted was more rough than we thought it would be.  But we couldn't wait any longer.  Home prices in Las Vegas have gone up something like 20% since January 2012, and continue to rise.  That, plus the reduced inventory means you have to view houses in the morning and make bids by the afternoon.  We finally got a bid accepted.  We are OVERJOYED!  I should correct that--Romeo is.  I am oh, let's just say "cautiously optimistic "  For once, I sincerely want to be overjoyed!  I want to be throwing items in boxes willy nilly and doing my own silly version of some victory end-zone touchdown dance.  Finally, I will be living in a place that doesn't have an apartment, suite, or dorm number!  For me, a 28 year-old coming straight off of that, it is huge and a dream come true.  Even if it sounds odd or petty to anyone else.  Guess I should throw out an apology just in case.  We are currently in escrow.  I know very few close friends who have bought a house, so I don't know if it's urban legend or what, but I've heard of multiple cases where people enter escrow and then never close escrow and get the house.  If any of you readers know why, can you help?  My only gut feelings would be that these stories are before the big economical crash, so people were being pre-approved quickly for mortgages and entering escrow just to find out that the lender didn't approve them properly or at all and thus the money is not there.  Or, that the families never bothered going through the pre-approval process, started to shop for houses, found one they fell in love with, tried to secure approval on a mortgage then, and didn't qualify.  Am I right on any of these situations?  What are some other reasons escrows fail and never close?  Anybody know?  At least in our situation, none of that should be the case.  We have hit at least one major road block (keep reading) but we are completely pre-approved for our mortgage loan by a woman who has such a positive reputation in town that both realtors we have worked with have individually told us that in this day and age they don't take on "just any old clients. But if Mrs. _____ _______ has pre-approved you, you're good to go.  In my 20+ years (or 30+ years for realtor #1) she has never given me a couple/family pre-approved who wasn't good for it.  If she pre-approves you, you're gold to work with.  You are basically approved already."  This should all comfort me, right?  Yeah, hello Ms. Pessimistic  My Name is Juliet.  Welcome back, I hear you'll be checking in and staying for a while.

• On the house front--close of escrow was predicted by February 28th.  We are purchasing a foreclosed home which means Fannie Mae (Government) is the owner.  And they contract with a local Title Company to do their "bidding" here in town.  Well, after over a week with no updates from our realtor or our lender, we found out the title company was dragging their feet because they were hoping no one would find out a clerical mistake had occurred and the title was TECHNICALLY not in Fannie Mae's name yet.  Please cover the eyes and ears of any children nearby--WHAT THE FFFFFFFFFFFFF? You're selling us a home (you've been sending your own hired maintenance crew for raking and mowing, etc that I already met out there one day, so you think you own it as much as we do) but anyway  you're selling us a home, that TECHNICALLY you don't own yet?  Knock me unconscious people, just do it, I can't take the stress.  But at least that was supposed to be done by Monday the 11th.  Putting us only about 2 weeks behind and making a February 28 closing date (or at least real close to it) still completely possible.  Tuesday the 12th comes and our realtor (lovely man, seriously, but by now his Irish blood is boiling and I think he's resisting the urge to tip some cows, lol) still hasn't heard back and now must call and ream someone out to get an answer.  The answer?  They never could have had it resolved by the 11th, they were blowing smoke up his angry butt to get him off their backs.  Apparently there is a trash lien on the house.  Yes, either the former owner, or Fannie Mae as they have been tending it, hasn't paid so many trash fees that the City WILL NOT release the title to Fannie Mae until it is paid in full.  More government interference, which means more time.  Which means forget getting out of here and moving by Feb/March.

• Two Huge Fears on top of all these others: First) if this trash lien has been out there for so long and the Title Company dropped the ball in paying it to clear the title and get it fair and square in Fannie Mae's name in order to sell this house (which has been on market since mid 2012--quite long for this Las Vegas Market)  and has just been sitting back playing computer games all day and hoping no one got the wiser, what else have they screwed up on, overlooked, etc., and are just waiting to see that they can't cover their own asses over anymore?  How many more things will arise? Secondly) What was their ultimate plan?  They couldn't keep quiet regarding a trash lien (or anything else that might come up, AND PLEASE I BEG YOU ALL TO PRAY NOTHING ELSE DOES) forever.  Like I said, the house is a foreclosure   It is the Title Company's job to be Fannie Mae's local eyes and ears.  And if it wasn't us showing interest, putting down earnest money, getting our offer accepted, and signing a contract, it would have been some other family a week or two later.  Did they really think things such as this would never get discovered?  Come on now, it just doesn't even make sense.

• Oh, and on top of that, seeing we have to be in our apartment longer, the management is charging us $400 extra for March and then prorated based on that exorbitant rate for April 1-14.  But we signed a 60 day notice, so as far as getting through escrow without anymore bumps, bruises, and scrapes, and for hopefully convincing the apartment management to stop trying to milk an already dry cow (the extra money is just not there) prayers, chants, meditations and crossed fingers--WOULD ALL BE GREATLY HELPFUL LADIES!  Thanks.

• And my relocating parents, Lady C and Lord C?  They spent 4 days here in sunny, chilly, but definitely not frigid (70 here compared to 10 degrees when boarding in Chi-town) to look at apartments two weeks ago.  After Las Vegas they were on to Salt Lake City, which is 45 minutes from my sister and brother-in-law.  My gut had been saying they were going to choose UT.  I was actually fine with it.  A little sting feeling like it meant choosing her over me, but I forced past that juvenile thinking.  And focused on how UT means more family time, more bonding time for them and Tybalt, yet no doorbell rings and *poof!* there they are on my front stoop, no "The car broke down, can you come jump me 45 minutes away?" no "What do you MEAN you're spending this Sunday with Romeo's mom.  We want you here!"  Well, guess what, they are now apparently 99.9% sure they have chosen Las Vegas.  That unreliable gut of mine.

Sigh, its 3:41, and you know me, re-reading and editing my own work will take me until 4am. *Note, yep, it's 5:19am now, oh how off I was on that one, lol.*

Oh, one thing I forgot is an answer to my anniversary conundrum back in October.  Our solution is in the final comment I left.  Not bad, but still room for improvement, which I feel should be the soundtrack to my life right now.  Hmm, I wonder who I'd get to sing it--I do like Kelly Clarkson. ;)

• Oh, and Harold, F-I-L, returns for three months either February 27 or March 6.  "Insert haunting "Law and Order Theme Hear."  And I'm done.

Silence

There are no words. I worked from home on Friday, so I had the television on and learned about the shooting in Sandy Hook very early in the day. Alone in my house, with my daughter in a bright happy daycare, I watched and listened. I cried in the shower, thinking of my storage closet with the gifts from Santa waiting to be wrapped and put under the tree. Realizing that those poor parents probably had the same stash.

I can't and won't write more on it. Whatever I start to write sounds trite. But this morning, as my healthy and happy daughter sat in my warm lap, on my bed for 10 minutes watching morning cartoons, I didn't want to interrupt these few minutes of peace to go about with the rest of our morning routine. Her sweet smelling hair, the feel of her chubby belly under my arm, the softness of her cheek against my neck. I appreciate these more than ever, and I promise that I will remember to appreciate her, always.

18 months!

Yesterday, we took Mia in for her 18 month well check. My pediatrician was a bit shocked to see us both in the room. It was amazing that we both happened to be able to take our week day off in time for the well-visit. Mia is tiny, as usual, but healthy.

18 Month Stats:

Weight: 21 lbs, 7 oz.  10th percentile

Height: 31 Inches  25th percentile

Head circumference: 45.5cm  25th percentile

Milestones: Runs; Climbs; Can take stairs while holding hand; 20+ word vocabulary; Mimics what we say and do; Eats with a fork and spoon; Points at body parts.

Mia, at 18 months,

You are a bundle of energy and sass. You are constantly on the move, and any silence in the house just means trouble. You have gotten so fiesty, and we are really starting to catch a glimpse of what your terrible twos are going to look like. It is your way, or the meltdown face on the floor way. You want to eat on your own, on your own plate and with your own fork or spoon. If the food falls off the spoon, you may ask for help, but want to put it in your own mouth. That's fine with me, Mama finally gets to have dinner while everyone else does!

You are so playful and sweet, most of the time. You want to read books, watch Yo Gabba Gabba, and do everything to make us laugh. You have so many words, but you still get pretty frustrated when you can't communicate. All in good time. You'll be speaking in sentences in no time! 

Speaking of Bunnies, a couple of weeks ago while packing up the apartment, we found a stuffed bunny of mine that you have totally fallen in love with. You sleep with "Buttee" every night, and ask for him as soon as you're in your jammies. We love that she plays with Bunny, because it was a special purchase for us. The day B and I got sworn in to the Illinois Bar, the ceremony was at Navy Pier. On our way out, we walked the entire length of the Pier, and in the front was a Build A Bear workshop. We were both in such a good mood, we went in to build a stuffed animal to commemorate the day... and now, just three short years later, here you are enjoying our special little bunny. 

Our favorite little quirk of yours is that at random moments during your play, you'll go "Oh, Chloe!" As I've mentioned on here many a time, our beloved Beagle is now 14 years old and basically deaf. B and I have to YELL her name in order to get her attention. Mia, I think that you may have misinterpreted our meaning and think that "Oh Chloe" is some kind of curse word. Something will fall off the table, and you'll say "Oh, no! Chloe!" (What the Chloe did you just say to me?). Toddlers, you guys are hilarious. But, you continue to love your doggies more than any other toy, and you're finally learning to say Swarley ("Swaley"), and your previous "Tatty" for "Doggie" has evolved into "Cocky". (Also, socks=cock, walk=cocka) Do you sense a theme?

Our biggest hurdle continues to be sleep. I feel like I've been complaining about this since you were born, but Mama and Papa are very cranky when they don't get consistent sleep. We spoke to your Pediatrician about this, and she reminded us that we did some sleep training a few months ago which worked well before Lola (My Mom) came to visit. So, last night was night #1 of sleep training, which consists of going to you as soon as you cry, reassuring you without picking you up, and leaving the room. 10 minutes later, if you're still crying, repeat. Then, 20 minutes later. Then, 30, etc. Last night, we had to go all the way up to 40 before you quieted down and slept through the night from midnight to 6:30am. Not enough sleep for sure, but more consecutive hours than we've had in a while. We'll see how night #2 goes.

We love you more and more everyday, and last night, B summed it up perfectly. I'm so glad we made the baby we got, she's so awesome. That you are, Bunny. 

Love,

Mama and Papa

Annoyed ... and Halloween!

Sleep has been a constant battle in our house for... the past 17 months. Lately, and I fear, until several weeks after we have moved into the new house (Nov 18th will be the first night we sleep there), we will continue to lose.

Mia has a "touch of strep", pediatrician's words, and a huge case of molars coming in. So, she's still unhappy and clingy. Tuesday night, she wouldn't even go down in her own crib and stayed up until Midnight. I already knew I was keeping her home on Wednesday, so, I graciously told B to go to bed, and I would sleep in Mia's room with her. I quickly followed this up with "Since you are off on Thursday, you can do the same for me tomorrow night."

Well, after a glorious night of trick of treating fairyness, Mia woke up and I nudged B to get her. I went back to sleep. What do you know, but I get woken up to Mia being thrust into my sleeping arms. B and I discussed it the night before. Mia is a Mama's girl, so if she wouldn't calm down with B, he'd bring her in our room. I assumed this is what happened. The next morning, after a fitful night of Mia repositioning herself on various parts of my body, I asked B very sympathetically how long he had tried to calm her down before giving up. "Oh. I forgot that I was supposed to do that."

Oh, how convenient. 

But, on the bright side, this:

She was great! She walked up to the houses very firmly holding on to our hands. She held out her pumpkin and was very excited to see all the doggies and pumpkins around. She walked around, stopped briefly to survey her loot, refused to let us carry her pumpkin when it got heavy ("MINE!") and kept her wings and flower crown on the whole time. We had a lot of fun going around with Juliet's family.

Tidbits

I can't seem to get myself together enough to compose an actual topic for this post, but I want to write something, so we'll go with the classic bullet points.

• Sleep. There has been little of it since my Mom came to town... nearly 4 weeks ago. Mia's been in a pack n play in our room, since you know, we are still in our 2 bedroom apartment. She wakes up at the sound of a pin dropping, and since she finds that I am RIGHT NEXT TO HER, she gets is MAD. So yeah. Last night being a totally run of the mill night of being up from 12:30-3 am, repeatedly asking to go "Outside", because, you know, that's what all babies should do at 3am. 
• Yesterday was my reduced hours day. Normally, I hate to take a Monday because it is nicer to have a mid-week break, but I had my annual exam at the OB in the morning and hate coming to work after my legs have been up in the stirrups. TMI? This morning and all last night while dealing with my child, I was totally psyching myself out about catching up on work this morning. I had this very strong feeling of dread for this one phone call I had to make that I had put off on Friday afternoon. Then, I made myself pick up the phone first thing after walking in, and of course it was totally undramatic and fine. All that hand/steering wheel wringing for nothing. I both hate and love when that happens.

Mia both loved and hated this turtle at Springs Preserve.

• Also, coming into the office after dealing with a cranky toddler, I thought that I was at least home free from baby sounds, smells and... liquids for a good 8 hours. But no, my boss' 8 month old grand kid is here and also cranky. Also, I managed not to escape baby urine and spit up, because he got both things on my top about 45 minutes ago when I volunteered to give my boss a break and walk him around the office.
• My Mom went to Chicago for the weekend to visit my Brother, and we had a nice little family weekend. Mia and I went to the playground on our own on Saturday because she was bouncing off the walls. It's gotten cooler 'round these parts, so it'll be a pleasure to be outside for the next couple of weeks.

Fall in Vegas. With leaves!!

• Crafts. Juliet and I are going to be teaming up for a craft fair this weekend, so my apartment is covered in stray beads and scraps of leather. It's been fun, but I have been consumed with having a good selection for the fair. If we have any local readers, come to Christ the King Catholic Community on Torrey Pines and Tropicana between 9am-6pm and look for Frilly Kreations for a selection of fleece blankets and leather wrap bracelets. Of course, I probably won't even sell half of my inventory, so leftovers will all go up on Etsy in the following couple of days.
• I can't seem to think of anything to close on, so rather than just abruptly ending this post, I'll warn you that I'm abruptly ending this post.

Embarassing thing #749264

In my everlasting attempts at trimming down my baby pooch, I've been searching for a way to work out without defending myself from constant dog and toddler assaults. My previous inclination was to join a gym, but many a thing happened immediately after I decided to do it, with the #1 strike against a gym membership was having to put Mia in daycare. I didn't want to commit to the two year membership, and I didn't want to have to spend MORE time away from my child than work was already making me.

I don't have many friends that have children. I do, however, have quite a few far away facebook friends who do have children though, and although it might be considered borderline cyber stalking, I try to keep watch on their profiles for Mommy-related tips. I noticed one of my facebook Mom-friends was frequently posting about Stroller Strides, which intrigued me, so I did a web-search. No stroller strides in Las Vegas, but please give us your email address if you'd like us to e-mail you if someone opens a franchise.

Well, several weeks ago, I got an email that Stroller Strides was starting a Las Vegas location, and click here if you'd like to view a schedule of classes. As almost everything else in this city, Stroller Strides Las Vegas seemed to be geared toward the Stay at Home Mom whose husbands make enough money for them to afford the pretty high monthly membership fee. But, after exchanging a few emails with the very nice and enthusiastic owner, she decided that people had expressed enough interest in a Saturday morning class, and if I was only going to be attending one class per week, there was an option for a 10 class pass for a not ungodly amount per class. Excellent. I signed up and this past Saturday was my first class.

As soon as Mia and I showed up, we did our introductions and I promptly gave my "I haven't worked out in 15 months" disclaimer, and everyone assured me that I'd be just fine. I lined up next to the other Moms in their BOB strollers with my thankfully appropriate enough City Mini (I have a serious case of stroller inferiority complex, despite LOVING my City Mini and recommending it to everyone who doesn't want to spend more than $250 on a stroller) and got to my jogging in place.

The Stroller Strides exercises are pretty basic, where we did a circuit through a local park. We do brisk stroller walking on the paths and stop every 500 feet or so to do some strength training. The music was perfectly synched where it played pop music during the walking, and kids music during the strength exercises. During the stops, the Moms interact with the babies in their strollers. For example, we did something they call "Peekaboo Squats", where you basically play peekaboo with your baby as you squat in front of them. There was some other things, like doing "If you're happy and you know it" while doing a chair squat against the wall. It was good, and it was mostly just really fun to be with other Moms acting ridiculous in front of their children, and having the babies love it.

Until the 45 minute mark of the 60 minute class, when I realized that the half a nectarine and the one bottle of water was insufficient for an outdoor Las Vegas workout. During the follow-the-leader drill, I had to pull over and actually sit on the ground. It was so sudden. I was totally fine one minute, and the next my head was spinning, and I grabbed Mia's pack of Teddy Grahams from her hand and shoved a fistful in my mouth, grabbed one of the instructors water bottles (she had very kindly offered and sprinkled some on the back of my neck) and chugged it down. Five minutes later, everything except my ego was fine, and I was able to join in for the last 10 minutes of abs and stretching.

Everyone was very nice and assured me that I was neither the first nor the last that this would happen to, saying that if you've never worked out outside in Las Vegas, this is bound to happen to you, and next time, make sure you at least have a bowl of cereal with that nectarine! Being highly skilled in the self-deprecating humor department, was able to recover relatively well. I also [loudly] informed the instructor that I would be out of town next Saturday, so not to think that I was wimping out. I'd be back the week after that to punch the first class on my 10 class pass.

15 months!

Indulge me as I continue to use this blog as a baby book...

Mia,

You are 15 months old! We had your 15 month well visit at the pediatrician's office yesterday, and here are your stats:

Weight: 20 lbs, 2 oz   10th percentile (yikes!)

Height: 30"  25-50th percentile

Head circumference: 45 1/2 cm  25-50th percentile

 

You are still a squirt, but the pediatrician assures me that you are growing just fine. You fit in almost all of your 12 month clothes, but are starting to grow into 18 month ones. You wear a size 4 diaper, and are still firmly in size 4 shoes.

 

According to this handy dandy sheet that somehow the pediatrician's office thinks should capture the amazing person that is you, you are supposed to be hitting the following milestones:

 

 

Walks well alone/Tries to run

You are dynamite on this one! When we take you out of the car, you wiggle around and say "walka walka walka", and will walk from the car to the steps on your own, usually accompanied by vigorous arm pumping and "Whoooaaaaa".

 

Uses a cup/uses a spoon

Well, we're almost completely free of bottles. You use a sippy for all of your beverages now, which continues to exclude juice. Thankfully, you're starting to accept water, so I'm a bit less worried about you turning into a serious milk monster. You still use a bottle as part of your bedtime routine, and as we learned last night, are not yet ready to give it up. I'm fine with it though, just one bottle at bedtime seems reasonable to me. On the spoon front... we can blame Mama for you failing on that one. I'm sorry about this, bunny, but I got into the habit of putting all of your food directly onto your high chair tray, skipping both plates and utensils. We have plenty of spoons, but I'm about 100% sure that if I gave you one, you'd just fling all your food onto the floor! Will do better soon, I promise.

 

Clearly says Mama/Dada with 3-6 jargon words

You use Papa very generously, but are extremely sparing with the Mama, which makes me very sad. When Dr. Kalili asked how many words you had, I told her that you had about 5 or 6 (Hi! Bye! Doggie = pronounced Tattie; Mine! Up! Night Night!). But, it turns out that I underestimated you! Yesterday, I picked you up from daycare a bit early because you had a slight fever from your shots and brought you back to my office. You hung out at one of my co-worker's desk for about 20 minutes, and I overheard you saying so many words that you have been holding out on Mama! I heard you clearly say "shoes", "car", "baby", and "Elmo!" (she was playing her sesame street on her iPad).

 

Learning Body Parts

You are starting to do this. You've mastered showing us where your nose and belly are, but you struggle with eyes, ears, and mouth. We'll keep working on it! You have a couple of other excellent tricks that you do though. One that is called "Scrunchy face", and you pucker your eyes, nose and mouth. You also bring your hands up to your cheeks when we say "Oh no! I'm Home Alone!" (you know, like Macaulay Culkin).

 



 



Looks at Books and Pictures

Yes. You definitely like books, and you have your favorites. You have starting to become extremely impatient with them, though. If there are too many words that go along with the pictures, you just want to skip ahead. I get it, sometimes there's just too much dialogue. Your current favorite is "Jamberry", especially since I hid "Go dog go".

 

Enjoys giving hugs and kisses

Yes! You got to this one just under the wire, too. Well, you've been giving hugs for ages. You give Swarley hugs just abut every time he lets you, but you save some great ones for Mama. You say "Aww" everytime you give one, too. You did just start giving kisses, though. You aren't smacking your lips, but you do put your wet mouth on my cheeck (and sometimes mouth, let's admit it) and go "mmmMuah!". You prefer doing it to your stuffed animals, and of course, Swarley.

 

 

 

Everytime you hit a milestone age, it's better than the last. At 15 months, I can't imagine a better you. You are so fun, and playful, and interactive, that there's never a dull moment in our little life. Mia, we love you so much.

 

Love,

 

Mama



Daycare drop off

This has been a tough couple of days. I actually can't believe that it's only Wednesday, it already feels like the weekend should be coming up. I've been very busy at work, writing an appeal to a Government Agency Determination that I don't believe the Company should be filing. The cost and effort involved in appealing the determination far outweighs the penalty, but hey, I just give out the advice, right? My boss took his sweet time deciding, too. I laid out all the options for him on Monday of last week, and told him to take a couple of days to make his decision. Of course, when he strolled in at 11am on Monday, he gave me the answer I was hoping against. Anyway, I've had two days to finish this before it had to be overnighted to the Government Agency. Now, it's done, it's at the post office and we paid for overnight delivery, so let's hope for the best. Mailbox rule....? Whatever.

But, that's not the real reason it's been a tough couple of days. Even if I didn't necessarily agree with what I was doing, I was happy to be doing it. Writing a real legal argument, for a Government Agency, it's thrilling for someone whose job as a lawyer mainly consists of writing collection demand letters and subsequent collection complaints. These past few days, I've really felt the effects of the working mom. Mia has been... awesome. She's been mostly sleeping through the night, waking up at 6am and then lounging in our bed for about 15 minutes before we have to start our daycare routine. She's discovering new things, learning new words, and being generally fun. She makes faces and tries to make you laugh, she chases her doggies around, and seems to genuinely enjoy her days. And I want to be right there with her, enjoying what she enjoys. B's schedule this week has made it so I had to do daycare drop off. This is only my second time ever doing it, and it did not go well. I don't really know what the etiquette is, or where I'm supposed to go, or what. It did not go well. I came in, put her stuff on her hook, and stood in her classroom while her teacher got herself situated. It felt strange to just walk out while she was obviously busy setting something up to better care for my child, so I just stood there for a minute or two while Mia screamed and clung to my leg. A second teacher came into the classroom and I was just like... "I should just go, right?" She nodded and I walked out, still hearing Mia wailing in the background. She was fine, and she always seems to be enjoying herself at pickup, but that was tough. All I wanted to do in that moment was pick her up and turn the car right back around to head home. I think the only thing (other than being a rationa adult) that kept me from doing it was that I had my appeal to finish by the end of the day. Ah, the classic and dramatic scenario where the working mother is pulled in one direction by her screaming child, and by her pending deadline in the other direction.

I generally never feel that way. I generally don't have something to do that feels like it's so important that I can't spend time with my child. My motivation to work is 90% based on need. And since B always does the drop off, I never see or feel the emotion involvd in physically giving my child to someone else. My last image of Mia is her happily waving and saying "Bye!" as they walk out to the car together. She doesn't cry when B drops her off in the morning - because that's what she's used to. And I never realized how grateful I was for that.

I like daycare. I like our daycare, I really do. For Mia, and while I still have to continue working, it's the best thing for her. She blossomed when she started, and we think her development continues to advance thanks to her time with older kids, the stimulation they provide, etc. It's great, and she does well. But sometimes, I really wish it was an option for us to stay home together.

Mia's new game is to tuck herself into our bed in the middle of the day.

The Following Is Selfish (aka MUST I Be Happy For You and Your Baby?)

I don't even know if I can pretend it's not selfish.  When he comes home from work my husband, Romeo, will hold me and cuddle me and rock me over it and know that I had a bad day.  But that doesn't mean he'll understand *exactly* why I'm so upset.  And he won't be even a smidgen upset himself.  I called my mother in tears, thinking maybe of all people, I could get a free pass with her.  Nope.  It was her firm reaction that made me go from thinking, "It's illogical, but it's still a big deal to me personally," to now thinking, "Wake the f^@% up, Juliet.  You are the only one in the world that would even care about this, much less give it a second thought."  She told me I was being ridiculous, overly dramatic, absurd, and ungrateful, and those were just the put-downs (or reality checks depending on which way you are looking at this) that I can actually remember from our brief phone call.

What's going on?  Many readers of this blog know that my delivery of Tybalt was not an easy one.  I had heart complications and have been told I am no longer able to have any more children.  For some people one child is their goal.  I say more power to them.  As long as they are happy and feel accomplished, life is good.  However, for me personally, I am not happy nor do I feel accomplished.  I love children (every job I've had has revolved around children) and I have daydreamed about my perfect 3-4 children since I was 3 feet tall; so being told at age 26 that child bearing was over for me was a hard blow.  No, make that a suffocating grasp by one who holds the Star Wars Force.  I don't know the movies past some iconic clips and references, but I know Darth Vader has the power to strangle someone out just by practically pantomiming it from afar.  That's what it felt like when the strange doctor hovered over my bed and gave me the news. (Against express wishes from Romeo who knew I'd be devastated and wanted to break the news to me himself, in private, once I was released from all the hospitals, but was at work that morning, so I was alone with a doctor who wasn't my normal one; and, gee, thanks "Dr. I Have No Bedside Manners and Didn't Read the Notes On the Report Before Coming In To A Room I Was Simply Doing Rounds For And It Really Wasn't Any of My Business Anyway"...)

Romeo and I have considered adoption, but for now at least, it isn't in the cards.  Adoption is expensive, and we don't have a savings to even put towards it.  And with all my medical bills, it will be awhile before we could even start to save. I love my son.  DO NOT MISTAKE ANYTHING I EVER TYPE WHEN FRUSTRATED OR ANGRY OR SAD OR HURT.  He is "practically perfect in every way" (thank you Mary Poppins).  But I want another child.  I won't rest until I get another.  I personally feel, that as for me, as for our family, we are not complete.  There is a spirit waiting in heaven that is supposed to join our family.  I don't know how, and I don't know when, but I feel it.  Maybe adoption, maybe surrogacy (new idea we've been bouncing around, but only during those "If we ever won the lottery..." kinds of conversations because of the price tag), or maybe I oops get pregnant even though we are on 3 types of birth control, God protects the baby and me through it, and I have my tubes tied after.  Who knows?  I don't.  But until then, I'm mad that without either science, a miracle, or the aforementioned lottery winnings, Tybalt is an only child.  And as friends and family get pregnant and then use social media to post ultrasound copies, update the world regarding how many weeks along they are, and then of course come the pictures of smiling Mommy and baby in hospital bed, captioned with date, time, weight, and length stats by a sleep deprived father, well...I go from mad for my own situation to Queen of Jealousy and an Angry Bitch.

There are some people I would be overjoyed to see have a baby.  Frenchie is one. My dear friend "D" and her husband "J" (Tybalt's Godparents) have been trying for years and can't conceive--they are another example.  Perhaps it's because these women are my best friends so their happiness is mine.  Perhaps it's because, while entirely and definitely not necessary, they love me and would think about my feelings when announcing their pregnancy.  But it's women my age that are on their sometimes second, but even more so third or fourth baby that drive me a little nutty.

**INSERT NOTE HERE: I KNOW MANY OF OUR READERS HAVE MULTIPLE CHILDREN AND/OR ARE PREGNANT CURRENTLY.  I BEG YOU NOT TO TAKE OFFENSE.  ALL OF YOU ARE DIFFERENT TO ME THAN THE WOMEN AND SITUATIONS I AM TRYING RELAX ABOUT AND GET A GRIP.  THROUGH THIS BLOGOSPHERE WE HAVE COME TO SHARE OUR JOYS AND OUR HEARTACHES.  I AM SIMPLY SHARING SOMETHING THAT IS IN THE HEARTACHE CATEGORY.  AND I'M THANKFUL FOR YOUR LISTENING EARS.  IT IS THE FORMER CO-WORKERS, FORMER FRIENDS, CURRENT FRIENDS, FORMER CLASSMATES, ETC., THAT I KNOW I WILL BE FORCED TO SMILE FOR, LEAVE EXCLAMATION MARKS AFTER A WRITTEN CONGRATS ON FACEBOOK WHEN I WISH I DIDN'T HAVE TO CONGRATULATE THEM AT ALL, ETC, THAT GETS MY BLOOD BOILING.  PERHAPS BECAUSE THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT'S IT'S LIKE TO HURT, THEY DON'T HAVE THE SUPPORT SYSTEM WE DO WHERE WE HELP EACH OTHER AND REALLY SEEM TO CARE.  MAYBE IT'S MY FAULT, MAYBE IF I TOLD THEM IT'S HARD FOR ME, THEY'D THINK TWICE.  BUT I KNOW I WON'T.  BECAUSE I SHOULDN'T.  IT'S NOT MY PLACE TO PUT A DAMPER ON THEIR GOOD TIMES.  ANYWAY, I'M JUST TRYING TO SAY NONE OF YOU DEPRESS ME, BECAUSE WE ARE ALL CANDID HERE AND KNOW NONE OF US ARE PERFECT.  IT IS THOSE I HAVE TO PRETEND IN FRONT OF THAT MAKES ME WANT TO GORGE MY EYES OUT WITH A FORK WHEN YET ANOTHER NEWBORN PHOTO IS UPLOADED TO THEIR FACEBOOK WALL.**  (If you are still offended, I apologize that I can't clarify further or enough apparently, but invite you to private message me so we can have a heart to heart.)

Anyway, where was I?  Oh yeah, the part where I explain what prompted this Tuesday morning rant.  Today  is August 21st and it is Tybalt's 2nd birthday!  We are celebrating with a small party on Saturday, but today is the big day.  Every birthday is hard on me, as I found last year's was as well.  It should be noted that amongst other things, I have the usual birthday anxieties--I am simply bummed that my little baby is growing up so fast and already turning 2 years old!  And I do think most moms experience those sorts of feeling at some point.  So in that regard I'm not crazy or highly unusual.  But where the rare (and perhaps crazy) kicks in, is that at his birthday I am reminded of while pregnant my high hopes for an easy scheduled c-section, cuddling him in the hospital for a couple of days, then taking him home and making him mine all mine (oh, and Romeo's too, lol) as we became a tiny but perfect family.  Instead I have flashbacks of glaring lights in hospital "bulletin board material" ceilings, hallucinations from IV drugs, not being able to talk due to a tracheotomy, only seeing my son to feed him a bottle when my MIL brought him by, and even then being forced to wear a mask and scaring myself that I was scaring him because all he could see was my eyes.  Then being released when he was 3 months old but in rehab in the basement for bedsore complications and not being able to help my MIL with his care, even for the few hours I could stay awake due to meds, until he was 4-5 months old.  Not exactly the birth story you want to celebrate yearly.  *SO* many people (aka practically everyone I know) tell me I just have the wrong attitude about it.  That I truly should be celebrating--being alive.  And not just "alive."  But "alive!!!!!!!!!!!" as in with as much jubilation and as many imaginary exclamation points as possible.  I'm not knocking being alive.  But what the world doesn't seem to understand is, in celebrating being alive, even just knowing and recognizing that I am, I still have to see the memories.  It doesn't make the pain go away.  Flashbacks are flashbacks.  I don't choose to dwell.  They pop up whether I like it or not.  A smell, or a word will do it while I'm awake.  Other times they resurface as nightmares during the little sleep I do get.  And for a few weeks around Tybalt's birthday both years now (and Thanksgiving which is the week I was finally released from the last hospital, but that's a separate side note)  it just seems to happen more often.  So even recognizing I'm alive and thanking God for it doesn't make it any easier to grin at Tybalt's birthday party.  And it definitely doesn't make those eternal optimists that keep popping out babies, like I wanted to, like I dreamed I'd be doing, any easier to stomach.

So, I DO want to enjoy today, I want to make it all about my wonderful little Tybalt, yet I can't push the storm clouds away.  So, I've simply been doing my best to ignore them.  Realize they are there, but not focus on them.  It hasn't been easy, but I'm trying.  Honest to God, I'm trying....I WAS trying...

.....Then IT happened.  The 365 to 1 chance I prayed wouldn't.  (I even said out loud to Romeo and Tybalt last night, "Everybody pray that 'it' won't happen for the next like 24 hours.  Just 26 hours to be exact!  Then I'll be fine.")  See, last March I found out Romeo's cousin, "CD" was pregnant with her second child.  CD and I have been passively aggressively competing since I met Romeo.  CD and her husband "ND" started dating right around the time Romeo and I did.  The big Hispanic family's attention steered off of us and on to them.  CD and ND got married 3 months before we did.  Family members low on cash went to the first wedding (theirs) and not the second (ours).  I announced I was pregnant the following February.  Guess who announced she was pregnant in April?  There went any pomp and circumstance I had coming.  Beyond that, "LD," CD and ND's precious baby boy, has been achieving developmental milestones weeks if not months ahead of Tybalt.  I am not concerned about my son, as all children develop differently, but try explaining that when ND's accomplishments are practically blown-up billboard size on social media sites like Facebook for all the extended family to see!  If I have one more "Aunt" ask me whether Tybalt can do what LD is doing in his latest video, and then give me a concerned look when I admit he can't yet-----I'm going to lose my already bat s#!% crazy mind!  So, since the big announcement that CD was expecting, and due sometime in August, I've been praying, hoping, and just sending as much positive energy into the universe as I could muster...but...as I'm sure you already guessed it--guess who gave birth to her beautiful bouncing 2nd baby boy today, August 21st, and what dad already has pictures plastered all over both of their Facebook walls?

So not only am I jealous of all healthy women who have healthy babies, not only is today hard because a) I don't want my baby to grow up, and b) it also throws me into a panicky tailspin of awful hospital and rehab memories, not only am I already in a personal funk because her 1st kid is so much more advanced than mine, but now...oh, now...she had her baby on my baby's birthday.

Okay, I'm done now.  Done ranting.  Done possibly annoying some of you with my pessimistic views.  Probably not done with, but trying to forgive, my mother and the rest of the world for not understanding what I'm going through and calling me selfish, illogical, and a weirdo. But on the other hand, how *can* anyone understand?  Show me someone who's gone through the *EXACT* same things I have the last two years with my health and my disappointments.  I mean exact to a "T" and I'll show you someone who might possibly relate.  Moral of the story?  Maybe I am being selfish, but walk a mile...

Mommy Car

B and I bought my car in a big big hurry. I graduated from law school, we had a car, but B drove it to work every single day. I had fully intended on getting a job in downtown Chicago, and to take the CTA to work every day, just as I had done for law school. I never anticipated that I would end up working in the suburbs, and my perfectly placed condo, 5 minutes away from both the Red Line and the 145 express bus would be basically useless. B's cousin was the finance manager at a Honda dealership, so we rushed out there after my first day of work to pick one out. We fully intended on buying a used Accord or Civic, but on an new paycheck and emotional high, I wanted a Hybrid. His cousin pointed us in the direction of their new hybrid car, the Insight. He promised us that we wouldn't pay a penny more than he would if he bought one. I recognized it as Leslie Knope's car from Parks and Recreation, asked if they had one like hers, in white. They pulled it around, and I signed and drove off.

As a 26 year old who was buying her first car after her first day of work as a real lawyer, I clearly did not look at my five year plan. I can't believe I never even considered that I might have a child before my car payments were up.

But, I loved my car. I could fit it in the tighest of spots, which was number one on my list of car-needs. My street in Chicago was one way, narrow, and crowded. Past 7 pm, you would be lucky to get a spot within a 3 block radius. I get 45 mpg, which was amazing for my over an hour commute from my city condo to my suburban office. It' so narrow, that I could drive speedily down any tiny Chicagoan two way street without worrying about side-swiping the parked cars. It's a cute utilitarian hybrid that I was just head over heels for. The only time I ever questioned my car's awesomeness was on a trip back from the airport for my Bachelorette weekend, when I had three people in the very small backseat, and 4 people's weekend luggage in the hatch. I swear, it was the only time.

Until I was 7 months pregnant, with backpain, shopping for carseats and living in a city with ample parking dominated by SUVs and luxury sedans. My little car stands out like a sore thumb in this place.

With the carseat installed, the front passenger seat has to be pulled all the way up. Like, all the way, knees hitting the dashboard for anyone over 5 feet. So yeah, that's not awesome. Luckily, it's mostly just me and Mia in my car. If my Mom is in town, B and I will switch so that we can enjoy the luxurious and spaciousness of his Honda Civic. (Yeah, it's a problem when your big car is a Honda Civic)

I've been complaining that my car is too small for this city, for this family. Wanting a new car seems so silly and indulgent, considering that my car is three years old and was purchased brand new. But with Mia's stroller, carseat and one other person, this car is just too small for us. We decided that we'd wait until at least one of our cars was paid off before we could consider another car. Having only one car payment would make such a difference in our budget. A couple of weeks ago, he announced that his payments would be over by the spring of 2013. I got so excited! 6 more months and I could get a real car! Since bigger cars cost so much more, I started looking at used car listings. I fantasized about a Mazda CX-9, or really anything that would allow for two carseats and still fit a passenger in the back. B and I started having very serious discussions about gas mileage v. a third passenger row. Serious, serious, serious.

But, he double checked, and it's the spring of 2014. BLARG.

It's not a big deal of course. Nothing in our lives has changed. We have one child, one car seat, and  small dogs. We want Mia to be at least three years old when she gets a sibling, so we're not even in the realm of trying for a second. But, for those couple of weeks, I was really looking forward to some leg room.

Airports, Haircuts, Weddings

We are back!

Although I am thrilled to be back in my comfy bed, to have Mia back in her crib, and to have a full-time co-parent, this morning was a tough rise out of bed. Not literally, since I am still on Central Standard Time and was wide awake when B's alarm went off, but getting out of bed to knowingly resume our everyday routine was... not fun.

Also not fun, realizing that my 13 day vacation from My Fitness Pal brought the 5 pounds back, so I am back to square one on the whole weightloss business.

BUT! Let's be positive!

In pictures, the Mia and Mama summer vacation:

At the Las Vegas airport. We got there three hours before our flight because we are cheap and did not want to take a cab, so B had to drop us off on the way to work. It all ended up evening out, since we had to take the tram all the way back to security, since this frazzled Mama left her watch at TSA while they were checking Mia's soymilk for explosive residue. We still made it back in time to spend 30 minutes getting energy out at the children's play area, which consisted of a fake airtraffic control tower, and some viewfinders which Mia thought were fun to climb.

On the flight from Las Vegas to Denver, we were seated in Economy Plus thanks to a "cousin" who works at the United check in counter -- Mia had room to play at my feet since she refused to sleep.

Mia and I enjoyed a meal at one of the "real restaurants" in the Denver airport, since our flight was delayed by two hours. Mia ate an quarter of my club sandwich!!

Evidence that travelling through three timezones is NOT recommended with a child. Mia did not go down until nearly midnight when we first got to Stamford, CT to stay with my college roommate. She also refused to go back into her pack n play once she realized that we were sharing a room.

Breakfast. Tired baby. Awesome travel high chair/cooler.

Mia was obssessed with L's dog, a Bernese Mountain dog. Mia's first new word from the trip: Abby. (pronounced: "Babby")

We had dinner in Stamford, which is where Mia started refusing to be carried.

Our first night in New Jersey, where we went next to stay with my aunt and her family. Mia kept on asking for "Babby", so my cousin went and found this giant stuffed dog that Mia carried around with her.

Fun with my cousin, who was the first person she warmed up to in New Jersey. She *may* have called him Papa a few times.

At the Jersey Shore -- no fist pumping for this little one.

Once in Chicago, Mia bonded very well with her Great Grandpa, and was basically obsessed with his shoes.

On our second day in Chicago, we went back to our old neighborhood. My brother, who just moved back to Chicago in May lives near our old apartment. Unfortunately, my parents have tennats, so we couldn't visit the actual apartment, but here we are in front of the courtyard.

After having lunch at one of my fave restaurants near my old place, we headed down to Lincoln Park Zoo with my brother and his girlfriend. Mia pointed to all the animals and said: "Hi Babby!"

More evidence of time-zone side effects. Picking her nose on the airmattress that I was sleeping on, which evidently seemed more comfortable to her than her pack n play. Also, a good shot of the state of Mia's hair without a hairclip. 

Within hours of B joining us in Chicago, we went down to the basement, where B's grandpa keeps a barber chair from his old shop. It's a long standing C-- tradition that B really wanted to keep, having his Grandpa give Mia her first haircut. Although I had previously trimmed the back of her neck to keep her from getting a mullet, this will count as her first official haircut.

She did not like the robe, nor did she like the haircut. There was a lot of screaming, but that did not seem to bother her Great Grandpa one bit. We wanted to keep her hair mostly long anyway, so it took all of 4 minutes.

After!

After, wth pigtails!

After dropping Mia off with my brother and his girlfriend, B and I headed out to Wheaton for his cousin's wedding. We got all dressed up, stayed in a hotel (Holiday Inn -- what's up), and had a the best time.

The beautiful and happy couple, still smiling despite their outdoor ceremony being rained out.

And finally, back home for our day of rest before getting back into the swing of things.

And, there you have it. We are back. It was super awesome not to have to share Mia with daycare, and not to have to share myself with work for the past two weeks. Just to make sure our summer doesn't turn too quickly into winter and fall, B and I are going to try to squeeze a weekend in LA for September before my Mom comes for a month-long visit.