Day in the Life

Laura over at Navigating the Mothership does this Day in the Life project quarterly, and I LOVE reading her posts.  There's just something about the completely mundane details of another person's life that gets my engines going.  I find it FASCINATING, and a fun way to relate to another's experiences.

So when she announced last week that she would be doing it this week, I decided to jump aboard and attempt to participate.

May I say, whoa.  This was way more time consuming to put together than I anticipated.  Not the actual taking of pictures throughout the day and writing down little notes to help me remember, that stuff was fun.  But the consolidating of all the pictures and the timeline and all that, and then actually typing up completely mundane details about my life, has proven to be the difficult part.  More like, exhausting.  And sort of awkward, because when you really put it all together, it's impossible for me to not get a little self conscious that this is SO BORING and no one wants to hear about my morning routine, or lack there of.

But maybe they do?  I like reading about your morning routine.

So this is dedicated to weirdos like me who get there jollies from this stuff.  Do not even read ahead if you are not a weirdo like me.

Without further ado...

Tuesday, October 4, 2011


6:00 AM (ish):  I'm still laying in bed half asleep as Dan kisses me goodbye and gives the dog some snuggles (guess which one of us is a morning person?).  I continue to lay there a few minutes until I am jarred awake by my toddler screaming into the monitor, "Mommy!  WET!  Mommy, WET!  WET!  WET!"  Ugh.  I know that means his diaper sprung a leak overnight, and he is definitely up for the day.  (Also, I will be doing laundry before I leave for work.)  He had a rough night, multiple wake-ups almost as if he was a newborn again, lots of tossing & turning, maybe he's finally getting some of those two year molars that we usually blame crankiness and poor sleeping habits on?  Poor little guy.  Poor me.

So I trudge upstairs.  Normally if he wakes up as early as 6:00, I can grab him a sippy of milk and climb into bed with him for fifteen minutes.  That usually gets him back down for at least another hour, sometimes more.

But he's definitely not going back to sleep when both he and his sheets are drenched in urine.  Gross.

As I'm changing the sheets and getting Gus dressed and changed, I yell into the monitor something to the affect of, "Dan, if you're still here, would you PLEASE come up here and get these sheets down to the laundry."

(We both often use the baby monitor as a one-way walkie-talkie.  So does Gus when he wakes up in the middle of the night and demands, "Daddy milk, daddy milk!")

Thankfully, he hasn't left the house yet, and he can do the damn laundry.  I bring a bleary-eyed and slightly crabby Gus all the way downstairs to the basement, and set him up with a netflix episode of Thomas & Friends, his blanket, a piece of pumpkin banana bread, and of course his milk.

I contemplate grabbing my own breakfast and blanket, and doing the same, but instead kiss the little guy on his forehead, say goodbye again to Dan, and head to the shower.

6:15 AM:  (That was an exhausting 15 minutes.)  In the shower.

6:20 AM:  Stupid freaking alarm is going off, just as I'm starting to shave my legs.  Ahhhhhhhh!

6:21 AM:  Jump out of the shower, wet and cold, and run over and shut off the alarm. Swear a few obscenities.

6:32 AM:  Out of the shower and dried off, rocking the towel turban.  Take a picture of the offensive alarm, whose blaring ten minutes earlier was just a reminder of the fact that I normally would have gotten another twenty minutes more of sleep than I did today.  (At least 20 minutes.  Probably another 10 minute snooze.)

Wet hair, in Dan's old robe, feeling super motivated to start the day.  Yup.  Also, yes, there are bras sitting on my dresser.  This is real life after all.  For some reason there are always bras sitting on my dreser.   

Hair - mousse applied and scrunched, left to air dry.  I never thought I would become a wash and go kinda lady, but that is pretty much what has happened over the last two years of motherhood.

Makeup - a little foundation, bronzer, blush, and mascara.  Done.

Clothing/accessories - I am feeling on the ball today because I actually picked something out last night.  No outfit crisis today!  Woot!  Non-maternity empire waist dress from Kohl's (stay classy Daisy Fuentes), non-maternity pink cardigan, about 7 years old, pearl earings, gold flats.

I try to take a picture of myself in the bathroom mirror, but Thomas must be over, because all of a sudden Gus is pulling on the hem of my dress, carrying around one of his favorite books, whining, "Monkeys nothing to do!  Mama read it!"  Picture is blurry, and Gus smells like poop.  So yeah.  Later with the outfit pictures.

I change Gus's diaper, read him the blasted book (that I read at least twice every day), then I read another one about those darn monkeys (this time baking their mama a birthday cake), and finally have to put my foot down when he requests a third, telling him that we have to get going to grandma's house because mommy has to go to work today.

Out the door, purse, daycare bag, and toddler all in my arms.  Bye Bella!  (She is not so happy when we leave, I really wish she would just get with the program on that.  We always come home.)

And we're off.  Today's commute has officially begun.

Cute new handbag's first day!

Clock is 10 minutes fast.  We are actually on the road by 7:14 AM.

We arrive at my in-law's home and it is a bit of a ruckus as usual.  Dogs barking.  My 7 month old niece is looking adorable in her little purple sweater, hanging out in the exersaucer.  We chit chat for a bit, I always linger too long I think but my mother-in-law doesn't seem to mind.  Gus is extra needy this morning though, so that stresses me out.  Is he starting to sense something about the impending second child?  I don't know, but he's all about me, all the time these days, and he holds onto my neck tight and doesn't want me to leave.

Eventually I just have to hand him off and he is crying and flailing in her arms as I wave goodbye to them at the door.  Boo.  I don't get it.  I know he loves it at Grandma's, but sometimes he does this, particularly over the last month or so, and I don't get it.

(Later my mother-in-law tells me that he stopped crying as soon as I drove away, and then looked at her point blank, "Waffle?".  Ridiculous.)

Onward with the commute.  After stopping at Starbucks for a venti 1/2 caff drip (that sounded soooooo pretentious, it's just a large coffee, 1/2 decaf 1/2 light roast) and a donut (yeah, yeah, yeah) I am finally on my way.  Throughout the rest of my drive, baby boy starts getting all thumpety thump in my womb as a result of the caffeine and sugar.  I still get all ooh and ahhh about baby kicks, because truly, it is just so awesome and amazing and such a miracle. 
 

I finally arrive at work at 8:20 AM.  That's not too bad, just a tiny bit over an hour today.  (My in-laws house is 100% out of my way.  Dropping Gus off in the morning adds about a half hour when all is said and done, partly because I always linger and chat too long.)

Work is stressful because it's Q3 and September month-end close.  And month-end close never seems to go smoothly at the end of a quarter.  My boss is in my office telling me about the latest EBIT emergency that demaneds my immediate attention before my computer has even booted up.

11:00 AM (ish):  I am starving and don't think I can hold out until lunch.  Pregnant Alicia eats every two to three hours, or there is hell to pay.  So I grab the yogurt that I had left in the refrigerator last Thursday.   

Post-yogurt, I am not so super motivated since it's almost lunch, and I remember that I need to take an outfit picture.  So I go upstairs to the bathroom that is not used by very many people to do a creepy bathroom mirror shot.

By the way, 26 weeks pregnant today. Hey there little guy! 

11:56 AM:  Lunch with Ben (brother/coworker/office neighbor).  It's Jimmy Johns today, because Ben ALWAYS wants Jimmy Johns.  (Yes, I eat deli meat while pregnant.)  We eat outside because it is so incredibly gorgeous out. 

While dining on our sandwiches (#4, no mayo, add cucumbers) I get a cute picture of Gus via text from my mother-in-law, playing with trucks in their backyard.  I do so love these little updates she sends.

1:00 PM:  We have been back in the office for maybe ten minutes when there's a fire drill.  Sweet!  So we all file out and hang out for about five minutes in the glorious fall weather.

2:45 PM:  Drive over to the other building (about 10 minutes away) for a weekly 3:00 staff meeting.  Exciting stuff.  Wow.  Day in the life at the office is boooooooring.

4:30 PM:  Out of the meeting, setting up shop here in cube land for the rest of the afternoon.

5:20 PM:  Leave work and head towards the in-laws house.  Dan usually does pick-up in the afternoons, because he only works until 3:30, but tonight we're all meeting there for dinner to celebrate his sister Maria's 17th birthday. 

Happy Birthday Maria!

With the hustle and bustle of my commute home, having to pee like an insane pregnant fool immediately upon arrival, and then catching up with my little guy, and the rest of the family, I forget for about two or so hours about this whole "Day in the Life" project.  Woops!

A quick summary of those forgotten two hours:  Push Gus on the swing in the backyard, eat a bunch of Dan's grandma's amazing bars, coo over my adorable niece and nephews, catch up with sister-in-law Kirsten, reel in horror a little when Dan tells me how many little Halloween-sized candy bars Gus had before I got there, make the child a plate, try not to be annoyed that he eats only the canteloupe and green beans (won't even touch the ham or cheesy potatoes, fickle toddlers I tell you), make my own plate of delicious ham, cheesy potatoes, and salad, eat it all up and go back for just a tiny bit more cheesy potatoes, remember about the "Day in the Life" project just as we're getting Gus cleaned up after dinner, snap this picture of him being a maniac with the place mat.

Whew.

After dinner Gus goes back to playing and causing mischief with his cousins/aunts and uncles, while Dan and I relax and talk with family.  It is so nice that he finally seems to have gotten to this point where he kind of just blends in with the rest of the family, hangs out with the kids, follows them upstairs, plays by himself outside on the back patio.  I don't know when it happened, but it's like he's growing up or something.  There is so much less parental hovering required these days.  He is a happy little independent kid, and also just one of the gang.  I really noticed this tonight, but I realize it's been happening slowly and will probably continue to happen without my noticing.  It's kind of awesome.

Baby girl cheeks.  Delicious.  This lady is already crawling and pulling herself up at 7 months old!  Craziness. 

Dan's littlest sister, seven years old, and her (our) nephew.  I love that this little guy will stop whatever he's doing, smile big, and say cheese for a picture.  He then asks for you show it to him.  He is such a sweetheart.  Gus could learn a thing or two from his cousin. 

Maria opens her presents while Gus assists.  I picked her out some clothes and this adorable little canvas cross wrap purse with fringe from American Eagle.  I don't quite have a guague as to whether or not my gifts for teenagers these days are lame or cool.  It's so hard to know what's cool these days, I am so removed from all things high school. Oh well, I try.  I do sort of wish my high school self would have had better fashion sense, and more self confidence, and a straightening iron.  I feel like if I got a second chance at being a teenager, 17 Again style, I would be much cooler and more attractive.

Anyway....  Back to the party.

Following presents and cake, the party sort of wraps up.  It was fun and lively, lots of kids and dogs, laughter, chaos, this family is great and I am lucky to be a part of it. 

We decide it REALLY is time to get home after an incident during which the young kids were playing some sort of hide and seek/tag game in the bedrooms and the hall off of the living room with all the lights off.  I unwittingly sneak by the craziness to go to the bathroom, noting that Gus is in the dark room with all the kids, and when I come back out, all hell has seemingly broken loose, my 2 year old nephew is screaming that someone had stepped on his hand, my 5 year old nephew runs out of the room and plows me and the little guy down as I am inspecting said hand, and then Dan's 27 year old sister Heidi, having heard absolutely enough of the ruckus and commotion, tears into the bedroom, turns on all the lights, and scolds the children in an authoritative and no-nonsense way I swear only Heidi can pull off.  "That is ENOUGH! What is going on in here?!"...

And then I notice that Gus is no longer a part of the commotion.  "Where's Gus?" I ask, tearing through the room, looking in the closet, under the bed.  "Julia is Gus in here?  He was just here!"

No one seems to know where he is, and Dan's mom and I start tearing around the house looking for him.  Finally I notice that the door to the basement is open a crack, but the light in the stairwell is off.  He wouldn't have gone down there in the dark?

Of course he would!

It's a basement, typical.  Cold, dark, cement floors, laundry, an extra refrigerator, my father-in-law's big desk full of paperwork and clutter.

But Gus is hanging out down there all by himself, had climbed up on the rolling office chair and is jabbering about some of the model cars and other trinkets his grandpa has displayed around the desk.  Playing with an economy size bottle of Asprin.  Jeez.

About 5 minutes later Dan and I find him down there again, and this time he has just discovered a little metal motorcycle.  And a pair of scissors underneath a pile of paperwork.

Alright, it's really time to go home.
 

It's 8:53 PM.  A very long, but lovely day, and we're finally headed home.

Gus's eyes tell me he's ready for bed.

It's a race to bedtime as soon as we walk in that door.  No bath tonight.  Jammies, books, let's do this.  Gus gets a little bit of last minute playing in, hanging out in baby brother's nursery, what used to be Gus's nursery.  That hasn't really totally been converted back to baby nursery because it's still full of Gus's stuff.  A project for another day... 

Since Gus soaked through his sheets this morning (seems like so long ago) they are still in the dryer.  But they're dry, cause Dan has the forsight to run it this afternoon when he came home to pick up the dog for the party.  Dan = Awesome.  But ugh.  The fun never stops...

Bedtime stories.  We have been reading these three books at bedtime for about the last month or so.  Puff the Magic Dragon (he makes one of us, preferably mom, sing it), Day is Done, and Little Bear's Bedtime.  That last one is really starting to grate on me, so we may have to switch things up again soon.

 
His lovey is my hair.  He falls asleep clutching it.  (Amazing that I'm still wearing what I wore to work today.  Normally I would totally be in sweatpants by now, probably for the last three hours.)

After stories, we say prayers, kiss daddy goodnight (tonight is my night to lay with him), and Gus and I snuggle until he falls asleep.  It was a very very long day today, and the little guy passes out within about 10 minutes.  And I sneak out...

I come downstairs, Dan has packed Gus's bag for tomorrow, and is in the shower.  I grab the tupperware container of cut pinneapple from the refrigerator, a fork, and my water, and go downstairs to relax, finally.  I watch the end of the DVR'd episode of Pan Am that I started last night, and when it's over, decide I'm too tired to relax any longer.  My pillow is calling me.  10:30 PM.

Today

So there is something wrong with me. There HAS to be. Because I just can’t stay home on my days off, I can’t relax with Gus and get something done around the house. Instead I run around and make all these plans and come home at nap time feeling SO EXHAUSTED that I’m close to keeling over. Gus fell asleep within 5 minutes of me lying down with him, so I’m doing it to him too.

I think deep down I’m trying to compensate for the fact that I may be somewhat housebound in a few months, with a newborn and a 2 year old. But this can’t be good for me, running myself ragged all day long in the name of “fun”, different experiences for Gus, taking advantage of the beautiful weather before the dreaded first snow.

Today was just, in a word, hectic. And it didn’t have to be!

And I don’t necessarily think it’s the best thing for Gus either, to be run around all over the world, shuffled from one place to another.

Our morning did not start out awesome. It’s nothing new that I was running late to ECFE, because my gosh, it’s at 9:00 AM and it’s actually quite difficult to get out of the house, with everything I need (including my dressed and fed child) before that time. Of course, I could actually get up before him, which would make things quite a bit less stressful and rushed, but heck if I’m going to do that on my day off!

So we run in 10 minutes late, I’m rushing around to help Gus do the damn fall leaves painting craft that they’re working on, before circle time. Then circle time is over in no time and we’re supposed to say goodbye and leave the kids there to go do mom discussion stuff. But of course Gus is feeling super shuffled and rushed and probably picking up on my stress, not to mention a bunch of the other boys were crying and sad, so for the first time he is really emotional about me leaving. Hugging me, “Mommy no!” sobbing and flailing when I finally just have to hand him off to one of his teachers.

Ugh. Parenting fail. Because that is not even Gus. This was all my doing.

And I’m pretty sure the teachers were judging me a bit. They are normally so good about soothing the crying kids, helping those of them that are going through a little bit of separation anxiety, but they saw me rushing in all late and frazzled, and they gave me the “look”. That first 30 minutes of class is supposed to be Mommy and toddler time, a time for us to be in-the-moment, engaged, one-on-one, helping them with a fun craft, showing them how to take their little picture and stick it on the wall that says “Who’s here today?”, and I totally did not do my part. I mean I was sweating and panting people.

Ha. Whatever. We ALL have those mornings, just feeling sort of bad about it, and I will try to do better next week. I guess that’s all I can do.

Of course, after class, Gus and I ran off to my mom’s to hang out with her and my brother. We decided to go pick up some salads to-go and then come back home, get the dog, get the stroller, and take a walk to the park for a little picnic. All fine and dandy, and it was just fine, but also of course hectic. More shuffling. More yelling at the psycho hyper dog. And holy mother, it is warmer out there today than I thought it would be, so lots more sweating and panting after the 3 mile walk from this pregnant lady.

I’m tired.

But Gus did get a huge kick out of seeing the guy with the dump truck come to the park and dump a big pile of fresh woodchips. And then he got even more of a kick out of climbing up on the pile and swimming in them.

Worth it for that smile?

Yeah, probably.

Family Pictures

Here they are!  Courtesy of the super talented toddler-whisperer that is Jill Berry Photography.  I love how they turned out, though of course there are about a million things about my own appearance that I can't stop critiquing in my head.  I am not going to allow myself to list my insecurities here though, no need to draw attention to them.  Let's just say, I'm relieved that I have the perspective of someone who has been pregnant before and then not pregnant afterwards.  It doesn't last forever, someday I'll look and feel normal again.

I'll be repeating that little mantra throughout the remaining 14+ weeks of my pregnancy.  Ugh.  It does sort of freak me out that I look and feel this pregnant already.  There is just so much time left for me to keep getting bigger and bigger.

I'll shut up.  These pictures are just so great, my boys could not be any more handsome.  I'm just amazed Jill was able to get so many smiling/happy Gus is looking at the camera shots.  Yay!  Sorry for the picture overload, I just had such a hard time choosing my favorites. 

Weekend in Wisconsin

You know those weekends that are jam packed and pretty much fantastic, but leave you feeling so exhausted that you almost crave getting home and back into your boring old routine?

Totally had one of those weekends.

It’s Wednesday and I’m just now finally starting to feel like a normal functioning person.

Friday night we met up with a friend of a friend of a friend for a little family photo shoot, in honor of Gus turning two and me being pregnant and holiday card season coming up. How on the ball am I this year right? Total fluke I tell you, normally I think of these things approximately five months after Gus’s birthday, or two weeks before Christmas, that sort of thing. But this time? I am channeling the tiny shrapnel of type A-ness that does, I swear, exist somewhere within the depths of my being. Somewhere, deep down, I am that chick who has everything together. Sure.

The session went really well (aside from my hair), but holy mother I felt like I was going to keel over from exhaustion at the end of it. Our photographer Jill was such a patient and energetic person, full of amazing ideas and seemingly boundless energy. Here’s the sneak peak she sent us, these were from the beginning of the session, after which we drove to the Lake Harriet rose gardens. I can’t wait to see the rest, and will surely post a handful of my favorites as soon as I have them.

Gus was mostly uncooperative, but honestly that came as no surprise to his parents. We were as mentally prepared as we could have been. I even sent Jill an email a few days before to warn her of what she might have gotten herself into. The thing is, she has her own two year old, and we all know how two year olds are, so I didn’t want to come across as that a-hole mom that thinks her kid is so much more unique and different and difficult than anyone else’s kid. I swear I am not that mom. It’s just that I have met other calm, sweet, angelic two year olds, and I’ve also met two year olds who are more apt to cry and pout and hang on their mom when in this type of situation, and I know neither of those are Gus.

He takes the typical craziness of a two year old and ramps it up about 2,000 notches. Case in point, Friday night’s photo session. He arches his back and screams, “Mommy RUN!” when you try to get him to sit still and smile for a picture. He tears off down the street laughing maniacally the second he is given an ounce of freedom. He drags his feet and goes limp when you try to make him hold your hand and walk somewhere he doesn’t want to walk. Towards the end of the two hours, I think we finally kind of figured out little tricks to make him smile and sit still longer than .3 seconds, but yeah, I definitely could have used a bubble bath and a long massage after that experience.

I got neither of the two, I’d like to point out, however after grabbing a bite to eat in Uptown we did go home and immediately got Gus down for the night, and by 9:00 we were both fast asleep having nightmares about future family photo sessions with two little boys. Maybe that was just me. But you get the idea. 9:00 PM Friday night bedtime. Woot! Living the life.

Gus slept until almost 7:45 Saturday morning, which was gloooorious, and I felt like a new woman. We immediately tackled the tasks at hand, which were (1. ) Breakfast, (2.) Scramble to quickly pack our bags and the car for an overnight at the cabin, and (3.) Hit the road towards Wisconsin.

On the way out of town, we stopped for coffee, of course, at the place down the street, and I had to also grab a pumpkin muffin for the three of us to share. Yes, I’m pregnant, and I often eat two breakfasts.

Two hours later we pulled into Dan’s grandparents hobby farm where we spent the rest of the day visiting with family, lounging on the hammock, giving Gus “tractor” rides, and stuffing our faces with cookies and candy corn and delicious tater tot hot dish.

(Val, I’ve swiped a few of your pictures, hope you don’t mind.)

Because we didn’t decide to try to get Gus a nap until super late, he slept for two hours all cozy on the guest bed until 6:30 PM. This is ok, we go with the flow, we cool like that, he wasn’t going to make it without a nap and this meant we were in no hurry to get out of there.

We left the farm at 8:30 to drive the hour through rural Wisconsin to Dan’s parents' lake cabin, where we planned to spend the night. The drive felt more treacherous than it really was, Dan just drives way too fast down those windy little roads, and the GPS had us taking all these crazy dirt roads through the middle of dark nowhere, and I kept waiting for a deer to jump out in front of the car. And then our car would be wrecked, and we’d be stranded in the middle of nowhere, where we would eventually meet our doom via an ax-wielding toothless serial killer in overalls.

We made it to the cabin of course, and I should say I became much more reasonable after 30 minutes when we were on an actual County road that wasn’t named “something and ¼ street”.

Of course, Gus was off-the-wall hyper at the cabin and didn’t go to sleep until after 11:00 PM, due to the late nap and all the driving and the excitement of being at the cabin. And then he woke at 6:00 the next day, raring to go, hearing his little cousins awake and running around out in the living room, and after an hour of trying to force him to go back to sleep, I gave up. And was of course all doom and gloom, “The end is near, 7 hours of sleep?! He will never make it through the day, we are surely in for it!”

Because Sunday afternoon was the big 89th birthday celebration for Dan’s Great Grandmother at another Wisconsin family farm in the area. Blerrrrgh.

Funny how everything is always SO MUCH WORSE in your mind. He was FINE. He slept for an hour on the way to the party, and then seriously just lived it up, running all over the property, pulling wagons, riding trikes, climbing on motorcycles and lawn mowers, going for a walk in the field to see the cows, climbing the fence to feed them grass. Adorables. I was kicking myself for forgetting my camera. The property and views were breathtaking, and the day was just, without a doubt, one of those perfect autumn days. And Gus wore a new sweater that could not have been cuter. Ahh, well.

And the food! Holy delicious, we dined on a huge smorgasbord of hotdishes and homemade bars. (You really can’t get much more Midwestern/Minnesotan than that sentence eh?)

Amazingly, the child did not sleep the whole drive home that evening, which was actually good, because we were able to get him to bed at a reasonable toddler bedtime rather than his usual 9:00-9:30. (He is on a very annoying schedule these days, a product of continually pushing back/fighting his nap to the point that he goes down so late in the afternoon, and then ends up taking monster 2-3 hour naps, so he’s up until almost 10:00 PM every night, and Mommy and Daddy get NO EVENING DOWNTIME. Bugger. We are a bit at a loss as to what to do, because every time we’ve tried to adjust or control his sleep patterns it ends up backfiring on us. Instead I choose to believe/hope that it’s a phase. It’s a phase… It’s a phase…)

So yes the weekend. It was a good one. It was exhausting, lots of driving, traveling, chasing, redirecting, eating, and not sleeping. And I was so happy to be home. Back to things like bills, work emails, a dentist appointment, grocery shopping. Boring. Routine. But home. And I love our home, even when I come back from a weekend to the complete disaster we left as we were racing out the door. I can even appreciate the mess, because I can putz around and tidy up on my own time, in sweat pants, from the sanctity of my own familiar, blessed home.

A few pictures of my youngest son...

I feel a little bit terrible about this, but our ultrasound was about 4 weeks ago and the CD with all the images has just been sitting unopened on our dining room table since the appointment.  I haven't once popped it in the computer to check them out, I haven't shown anyone else the first pictures of our little baby.  No upload to Facebook.

Goodness, this pregnancy is just so so different.  It's so much more just a part of life, like time keeps chugging away, life keeps on, and yeah, I'm pregnant, and yeah, our lives will change drastically in less than four months when this baby boy is born, but I just don't have as much time or energy to put into thinking about all that, worrying, hoping, wishing, wondering.  There's a lot less of all of that this time around, and I don't think it has anything to do with us being less excited about this new baby, it all just feels so much more natural, more of just this lovely little existence. 

This is us, this is now.  Expecting our second son, the belly getting bigger every day, but no time to dwell on that too much because Gus is demanding that we play Thomas trains again.  To heck with the developmental milestones and what fruit my fetus resembles this week, I'm going to go for a walk around the neighborhood with my little guy on his new bike, breath in this glorious crisp fall air.  Or it's bedtime, so we all lay in Gus's bed and, by the dim light of the cute little green lamp, we read sweet stories about dragons and little bears and their mamas, and all the while baby boy kicks and bumps and moves all over inside me and makes those moments all the more special.

Sometimes I have guilt, like I need to be making a bigger deal about things.

I should take more belly pictures.

I should know what's going on with my baby's development now at 24 weeks, but I totally don't, because I haven't logged into Babycenter since about week 7.

Am I totally setting this child up to have the stereotypical "middle child" feelings of inadequacy or of being less loved?

But usually, no.  No guilt.  Because I know how happy and blessed I feel to be pregnant with our second son, things are just different now.  I'm not the same person I was when I was pregnant with Gus.  Older?  Wiser?  Not really.  Just different priorities.  I don't have any problem with other people doing those things, not at all, I just can't seem to muster the energy it takes to get all obsessed.  I don't know why it's so different, but it is.  And for some reason, this time I want to keep things a little closer to my heart.  I feel like this is my family's story I'm living now, this baby, this pregnancy, he's not just mine, he's Dan's second son and he's Gus's little brother and it all just feels so much more special, and private.  I know, it's sort of strange and hard to explain, but it's how I feel.

Anyway, I am excited.  And I do want to share my excitement and get all proud mama and show off my littlest guy.  I'm so glad I finally took a look at these pictures again, because my heart is all a flutter this morning looking at them and thinking about him.  Wondering if he'll have that little fuzz that Gus had when he was born, thinking about what it will be like to look into his eyes and kiss his delicious little dome of a head.  I'm already just so happy to be his mama.

So here he is.  And no, we are nowhere near deciding on his name...

How cute is this chubby/muscly little arm?  Reminds me so much of Gus's little muscles when he was born. 

Specifically, of Gus in this picture.  That's him and me taking a lovely (much needed) nap when he was less than a week old.  I mean right?  They are totally brothers.  (Also, I fear these are the naps I will be pining for come January when in addition to a newborn, I've also got my loud, truck-obsessed little toddler to entertain/care for.  Goodness.  That is an exhausting thought.)    

Long and lean legs, like his dad's.

Classic profile shot.  He was moving around a ton during the ultrasound, thus the reason why he's laying completely the opposite way from the first picture.   

There you have it.  The first pictures of my youngest boy.  I'm happy I finally shared them.  

School

Just because most of the pictures I take with my phone never see the light of day, here are a few recent ones, mostly from last night at our neighborhood’s annual “meet and greet”. It was a lovely evening.










So fall is here and school has started, for Gus and I that means Early Childhood Family Education (ECFE) classes have commenced, and we went to our first “toddler” class yesterday. I’m bummed that it seems none of the ladies I got to know last year in class have stuck with Mondays. Actually it surprises me (and annoys me a little) that a few of them have contacted me to ask if they’ll be seeing us again on Wednesday, and others have left me nice Facebook comments being all, “See you Wednesday!” Nice gesture, thanks for thinking about us, but no. We’re in Monday’s class. I work Tuesday through Thursday. I have always made this clear. That’s why we were in Monday class, WITH YOU, last year.

It shouldn’t bother me, but I just don’t get where the confusion comes from. I sat with these ladies in a circle talking about mom stuff and the elusive work/life/childrearing balance every Monday morning for about 9 months last year. We aren’t best friends, we don’t talk about everything, but jeez, my only days home are Mondays and Fridays, THIS people know. Just like I know the one chick’s husband is a podiatrist and she has become obsessed with running over the past six months, and the blonde perky lady with an Australian accent is from New Zealand and she has two daughters and a son, and that other lady’s little girl was a preemie born at 30 weeks, and that one girl talks loudly and rudely to her neighbor while other people are speaking, and that girl’s kids are always sick and believe it or not, suck at sleeping even more than Gus.

Whatever, it just feels like that classic high school “thing” where I pay attention to other people, I know who they are, I remember the things they say. I know them, but they don’t know me, you know? I always felt that way about the popular kids in high school. Though mommy-hood and parenting groups and all that can be a bit like high school, if you haven’t noticed, so whatever. It really shouldn’t bother me, but I guess I’m admitting it does.

Anyway… this means we know no one in our new class, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else really knows each other either, so this could be good. Clean slate. It really is a new school year, new teacher, new classmates, starting fresh.

Did I mention it’s all boys? Nine two year old boys. Goodness. As you might expect, I was exhausted after our hour and a half class yesterday, because that’s a lot of two year olds all up in one room for the first time scoping out a bunch of new-to-them toys.

Gus and I are both so far removed from all things “school” and routine, it will be an interesting experience. Circle time. Singing songs. Crafts. Sharing. Sitting at a table for more than 45 seconds to eat a snack.

I am hopeful for a fun little adventure each week. And I am getting pumped about the fact that for an hour every Monday I get to go sit in a quiet room and talk to other moms of toddlers and drink coffee while someone else helps to teach my son things like shapes and colors and days of the week, and maybe even to be a little civilized. Though I dare say that last one would probably be asking too much of my little guy. ;)

I am hoping none of the moms are a-holes, but again, that is probably me asking too much of the program. Every moms group needs at least one or two of them, I suppose, keeps things interesting.

TWO

Dear Gus,

You are two. TWO. Can you believe it? Yeah, me neither. Two whole years with you and I just don’t know if I can find the words that convey how wonderful they have been. What did we even do before you? I vaguely remember those mystical days, lots of studying, working, television, happy hours, softball games, wild weekends with friends up north… and beer, lots and lots of beer. Yeah, your mom and dad had fun before you were born, but something was definitely missing, whether we realized it or not.

Guess what buddy, it was you. YOU were missing. And now that we have had you for two life-altering, exciting, exhausting, joyful, overwhelming, perfectly chaotic years, we get it. We get what we were missing.

We are so lucky to have been blessed with you, not just anyone, but YOU buddy. And as you have gotten older and we’ve started to see what kind of person you are becoming, well life just keeps getting better and better.

You are so talkative, chattering constantly about trains and bulldozers, back-hoes, dump trucks, police cars, ambulances, fire trucks, motorcycles. Yeah, you most definitely are into vehicles, and you point them out to us on the streets, you read about them in your books, and you tell us all about the noises they make. You spend your days vroom-ing them around the living room, pulling out Thomas trains for daddy to play with you, getting angry and frustrated when you inadvertently mess up the track or have trouble pushing your trains.

Buddy, two-years-old is all about the frustration and the fury, because you so badly want to be able to do all these things that you just can’t quite do. You think you’re much more grown up than you are, and we have to remind you that it’s ok to mess things up, big kids and grown-ups a-like mess things up all the time! Sometimes we just have to say, “Train time is over for now”, and pull you away, when exclamations of “Oh no! Oh no!” turns into throwing and kicking and screaming and attacking the dog even though it’s really not her fault that Toby flew off the track when he went down the hill.

There’s just so much going on in that little blonde head of yours, I often find myself thinking about what you might be thinking, your tiny awesome brain is fascinating to your mama, kiddo. All of a sudden, it seems, you know your ABC’s and can count to ten and beyond. When did that happen? I don’t know, it just did, and no doubt about it you make your mother and father beam with pride over these new skills.

Of course we think you are just the smartest, funniest, kindest little two-year-old there is. We realize, there are a lot of really fantastic two-year-olds out there, but you’re definitely our favorite. Without a doubt, you are rough-and-tumble, you have one speed and it is very fast, you love to jump on the bed singing “Train is coming! Train is coming! Train is coming, to our town!” and sometimes at bedtime it is very difficult to calm you down. We know we’re in for it when after your bath you take to racing around your bedroom in circles, or doing little toddler killers, sprinting from one end of the house to the other. Wow. Those nights we make sure to read lots of very calming bedtime stories, we lay in bed all four of us (yes your doggy too) drinking milk and saying goodnight to the moon and stars, and noises everywhere.

So yes, rough-and-tumble, but there is also so much sweetness in you. You have such a tender heart. Almost as often as you attack her and pull her tail, you give your doggy as many kisses and snuggles, and you go crazy asking us to get down her bag of treats. You’ve started to say, “Lub you too!” when we tell you we love you, and I almost can’t stand it. Gotta admit, you’re pretty stingy with your kisses for most people, but not with mama. Some days after a long day of being apart, the kisses I get from you are a little overwhelming, the sloppy, open-mouthed, teeth smashing, chubby hands pulling in my cheeks kinds of kisses that you really have to see to believe. Ridiculous and hilarious little make-out sessions that you reserve just for mommy.

Oh my goodness, you have so much love for your grandparents and all your aunts and uncles. The other day on one of my Fridays off, you and I got in the car to run a few errands, and we drove past the place we would normally turn to go get grandma, and you started crying little guy! You pouted and yelled “Gwamma!” as we drove past, clearly confused as to why she wasn’t coming along on whatever adventure we were off to, as she so often does. That was very sweet, and I should tell grandma that story because I think it would make her very happy to know that a trip to Costco is just not the same without her.

I think you have a bit of an infatuation for your uncle James, you talk about him with me a lot, and you seem to just gravitate to him or his exciting bedroom when you are at your Grandma and Grandpa’s house. I don’t really get what it is about him particularly, but there’s probably not much to get. He’s very cool, great hair, funny but super easy going, gives you lots of attention, I guess it makes sense.

Anyway, yesterday was your birthday my sweet Gus. And we had a very quiet, laid-back day, just you, me, and your dad. We had a busy weekend, and had spent Sunday up at the cabin, so your routine was a little messed up. But in a good way. When we were at the lake on Sunday you got very sleepy from all your hard playing, and you ended up taking a very late nap until 7:00 PM, so that meant you were a ball of energy late into the night when we got home. So we snuggled downstairs eating a delicious pear and watching a movie until after 10:00 when you ventured into the basement bathroom and found your birthday present hidden in the shower! Darn it! We almost made it to your birthday, but you are just too curious, and you happened upon our hiding spot for your new wagon! (We’ll find a better spot for Christmas presents I suppose.)

Well, you loved it. You spent the next half hour climbing in and out of it, dragging it around the basement, jabbering away telling us all about how wonderful it is. We’re so glad you like your present buddy.

The next day, on your birthday, while dad made cupcakes and mom made a big batch of soup for dinner, you sat in your wagon and watched cartoons for much longer than should have been allowed. But that’s okay, it was your birthday. After all the cooking and baking was finished we went for a long walk in your new wagon, and picked up a Happy Meal along the way for lunch at the park. Another great birthday indulgence. After the park, we sang Happy Birthday to you, and you blew out the candles on your cupcake, which may have been the most adorable thing I have ever seen, and then we listened to a message from your cousins Marcella, William, and Lucas singing you Happy Birthday. You exclaimed for the rest of the day, “Appy burtday Gus!” and just generally seemed quite pleased with all the celebration.

And the rest of the day was pretty much like any day, ending with a bath and stories and mama snuggling with you until we were both fast asleep. A good day. A good life.

We love you buddy, two is going to be a BIG year for you, because you’re going to have a baby brother! I know it will be an adjustment, but I really think you’re going to love it. So thank you for being our guinea pig these two wonderful years, we don’t always know what we’re doing, but we must be doing something right because you are you, and you are perfect. And we are so lucky to be your parents.

7 Posts

A blog meme!  How very, 2005 of me!

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What this is about:

To unite bloggers (from all sectors) in a joint endeavor to share lessons learned and create a bank of long but not forgotten blog posts that deserve to see the light of day again.

Rules:
1) Blogger is nominated to take part
2) Blogger publishes his/her 7 links on his/her blog – 1 link for each category.
- Your most beautiful post
– Your most popular post
– Your most controversial post
– Your most helpful post
– A post whose success surprised you
– A post you feel didn’t get the attention it deserved
– The post that you are most proud of

3) Blogger nominates up to 5 more bloggers to take part.

4) These bloggers publish their 7 links and nominate another 5 more bloggers

5) And so it goes on!

6) The site Trip Base is sharing the best posts from participating bloggers on their blog and everyday on Facebook and Twitter at #My7Links

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Alright, so Erin tagged me in this meme a few days ago and I felt quite honored, like I’m a real blogger or something.

But then I started to try to do it, and now am cursing Erin’s name (not really), because man, this was not an easy task. I’ve been reading through a lot of my old posts and having quite the trip down memory lane, but really most of what has been documented on this blog is so haphazard and nonsensical, not to mention the fact that my posting has been so sporadic over the course of, like 7 years. I mean, I talked A LOT about TV back in the day, it’s truly amazing to have such tangible evidence of how drastically my life changed when we had a child. Crazy. Like this post that I wrote when I was starting my MBA studies, in which I complain incessantly about how busy I was and how terrible it was that grad school was going to have such a drastic affect on my social life and television-watching habits. HA! Oh lady, you have no idea what’s in store for you in just a few short years! It’s honestly like reading something someone else wrote. Who is that crazy girl? She sure complained a lot about really ridiculous things like… static cling, tampons, her seemingly constant 9-5 funk, and hanging Christmas tree lights. I was just a barrel of joy. Jeez.

So now that I’ve sent you back to a lot of old things I wrote that actually make me cringe, I’ll try to complete this meme. I may have to make some modifications and break the rules a little, because I had a really hard time finding things that fit some of these categories. I clearly am NOT a real blogger, like I let myself believe for a few seconds there.

Most beautiful post

I should probably link to Gus’s birth story here, but I’m not going to. Because while lovely, it’s full of a lot of the gory details that I just can’t classify as “beautiful”.

Instead, I really like this one that I wrote last summer, in which I come across very… zen. It brings back such wonderful memories of our first year with baby Gus, it was a glorious summer, and, my goodness he was a delicious 10-month old. It’s short and sweet, but I love it.

 
Most popular post

At first I thought my method for choosing my “Most popular post” would be to find the one with the most comments from people that I don’t know in real life. So that would be this little ditty with lots of cute pictures of my 1 year old in a snowsuit at the tree farm, for which I received FOUR whole comments from “strangers”. Look at me, I am so popular!

But then I thought I would check my blog stats and see which post has the most page views of all time, and it is this ridiculousness that I wrote last winter, all about my search for the elusive, non-frumpy clog.  Clearly there are others out there like me, constantly on the lookout for sensible mom footwear that does not make you feel like a complete fashion “don’t”.  

A very close second in page views is this doozy in which I wallow about the poor start we got to 2011, via “The Sickness”.  Ahh man, those were some rough months.  But seriously, I wonder what brought so many random people to that specific post, is it because I mention Sister Wives?  Or do people just like to hear about others vomiting all over each other?  Very interesting…

Most controversial post

I am admittedly not very controversial on this here blog, I write what I feel, say what I think, but I am not out there preaching my opinions on things like politics, religion, or parenting. Even though yeah, like most people, I have some strong opinions.

Thus, I’m going to say my most controversial post is about the stealth pooper in my office a few years back. I’m saying this is controversial because I was being kind of snotty and judgy, especially about her white high tops, and I think talking about pooping at your workplace is somewhat uncouth and always going to be a little controversial.

Most helpful post

No idea. Literally none. I am not helpful, and don’t post anything informative for anyone else. I am totally selfish like that.

So instead, I’ll link you to my least interesting, most unhelpful post, in which I ramble about Lost. Yes, the TV show. I told you, I wrote a lot about TV back in the day. Oh those were the days…

A post whose success surprised me


I think this post triggered a lot of good discussion amongst people I’m close to, and I still stand by it. I think every new mother should embrace her instincts and disregard any unwanted piece of advice from other people that just doesn’t sit well with her. You are the mom, OWN IT. You know your kid best, you know your family best, and you need to stand up for what you believe in. And then… be flexible, throw out any preconceived notions about motherhood that you had. Because your former twenty-something self was probably an ass hole. (No offense.)

A post I feel didn’t get the attention it deserved


I don’t know how to judge this at all. Clearly I do not have a popular blog with a plethora of readers that is updated frequently, so this is really just impossible to answer. Plus, back in the early days of blogging I used Haloscan for commenting, which, I have no idea what happened to it, but I swear it was the thing back then. When I got rid of it, I lost all those lovely comments, so it looks like basically I had no one reading back then. But I swear I did. My friends mostly, but still.

Instead, let’s break the rules again, and I will give you this post I wrote about one of the most wonderful people in the whole world. I was missing her like crazy back then because she went and moved to Costa Rica for three years, and she was making a trip back for the holidays and I just couldn’t wait to see her. So, because I love her, and I love that I happened upon this when I was reading through my archives, here is my little ode to Lisa, the best friend a girl could ask for.

The post I am most proud of


Of course I’m talking about my poor sleeper of a son, and the years of sleep deprivation he has already brought us, because really that has been probably the toughest part of parenting so far. But it’s not insurmountable, because he is my child. I brought him here, I am the grown up and he relies on me for safety, stability, love. And I will do everything I can to provide him with those things, just as any parent would.

Edited to add............

Oops!  I forgot to tag people.  I don't think I'm going to actually, because I'm a rule breaker.  If you feel like doing it friends, go for it, I would love to read it! 

Thinking, worrying...

So lots on my mind lately, but the most prominent has to do with work. My career. If you can really call it that.

The future of my company, or my division really, the locally-based part of my company, is not really certain. Right now it’s just rumors, and foreboding “what-if’s”, but it’s highly possible that 9-18 months from now, we might not exist. Or what is currently here might exist on a much smaller scale. Who knows, I’m being vague because that’s what you do when you talk about work on the internet, but also because I have no idea. There have been no official decisions, it’s just water cooler talk at this point, but it’s scary, and I don’t like feeling like my family’s future is so up-in-the-air.

When I came back to work after my maternity leave I was lucky enough to go part-time. Half-way through my leave, after much soul-searching and crying over not being able to leave my baby, I made a proposal to my boss in which I stated that I felt I could come back to work just three days a week and do my same job. To my delight, he and those above him went for it, and my work-life balance ever since has been, well, AWESOME.

There have been bumps in the road, some having to do with finding part-time childcare (so much more complicated!), and some having to do with finding myself having hard-core landed on the mommy-track in the eyes of pretty much everyone here. You can’t really progress in a company as a part-timer, that is clear. There’s no such thing as a part-time manager, so any aspirations for that have been shelved. My “5-year plan” is currently an awkward little one-sentence blurb that basically amounts to staying where I’m at, plugging away, doing my best while doing the same thing I’ve been doing for SEVEN YEARS.

And that’s ok, I expected that to happen when I made the decision to cut back my hours, because in the corporate world, to be considered a top-tier employee, to be thought of as “going somewhere”, you have to at least have the illusion that you are always available, that you will take on extra work, jump when asked to jump, all that. Even if no one is asking for “extra”, it’s just assumed that when you aren’t there every day, you aren’t able to go that extra mile.

The funny thing is, I never worked an hour of overtime before I went-part time, because I didn’t need to. But now? I’ve definitely had my share of those weeks where I’ve had to work from home for a few hours on my day off, or had to go in on a Saturday when Dan could watch Gus in order to meet a deadline. I HATE having to leave early for appointments, or having to call in because the little guy is sick, because I feel like I need to constantly prove that I am available, I am reliable, I am HERE. It’s not as if my dedication to the company or my job has changed because on average I work 10-12 less hours per week than my colleagues. Still. Mommy-track. No way around it. That’s where I am.

I’ve completely gone off on a tangent here. The point is this, if I have to find another job this whole work-life balance thing I’ve got going on will be totally thrown for a loop. Corporations are not looking to hire someone for my position part-time, that’s the kind of thing you do once you’ve been well established within an organization, obviously. No, the part-time options for me are very limited. Starbucks Barista? Bookkeeping? Ha! No. Every part-time job posting I have seen would involve a massive pay-cut, and not only that, I’d be extremely over-qualified and not likely to be hired for that reason alone.

So I’m just sort of at a loss. I don’t want to go back to work full-time. Really really really I do not. Not to mention, I’m pregnant, if you didn’t know. Another wrench thrown in there just for fun. So it’s not like I can really even do anything at this point, I don’t plan on bringing this belly with me on any job interviews. If I did decide to find a new full-time job, then we’d likely be in the position of having to completely change our plans for childcare.

I have started looking into what it would take to become a CPA, so that maybe down the road I could be a part-time consultant for small companies, sort of make my own schedule, be my own boss. It sounds someone appealing, though the whole process, which would include additional schooling (I don’t think it would be much) and lots of studying for this massive test does not sound super fun. And to be certified you have to actually work under the guidance of a CPA for a year after doing all that and passing the test. That could be… complicated.

Anyway, I think for now I just have to hunker down, hope for the best, and realize that I can’t plan for every different possible scenario. Things change, things evolve, and you roll with the punches and figure things out when life throws you for a loop. Right now I have to plan for this new baby, I have to assume I’m going back to work sometime in early April and will need childcare for my two children just three days a week. Yes, that is the future I have to plan for at this point, and all that other stuff may keep me up at night, but there’s really nothing I can do about it right now. Ugh. I hate that.  Need to just let go, and trust that future Alicia will take care of this stuff if she has to. ;)

Tidbits & a Little TMI

I can’t seem to fully empty my bladder. Don’t know what’s going on in there, but baby/uterus/etc. must just be taking up too much room, or my tiny little bell pepper sized baby is situated in a bladder-constricting position, but yeah. I would like to pee like a normal person one of these days, please.

I spent about $50 on a ton of clearance clothes for Gus at the Carter’s store during my lunch hour. I am preeeeeetty sure this little shopping spree was me compensating for the fact that it is DRIVING ME CRAZY that I can’t buy my child in-utero anything gender-specific. I don’t know, not finding out the gender last time was such a no-brainer for us, and I didn’t feel really all that constricted by remaining in the dark throughout the pregnancy. With your first baby, you still have all the other fun stuff to put your nervous energy into, like choosing crib sheets, purchasing a pack-n-play, deciding between the Sleep Sheep or the Twilight Turtle, or even picking out cute little gender-neutral swaddling blankets.

But now?

We have all that stuff, we don’t really need any more baby trinkets, and we certainly don’t need any more blankets. But of course this baby deserves a few of his or her own things, we will want to have a few baby blankets that don’t already have lots of Gus memories attached to them. And of course, there is PLENTY of time for this baby to accumulate STUFF and there’s a whole lifetime to acquire things that will eventually have sentimental meaning. It’s not about the things, the stuff. I realize this. I don’t know, I guess just more than last time I’m itching to give this little one his or her own identity before he or she is on the outside. I am impatient. I want to know who he or she is right now! I want to see his or her face, I want to know what my baby’s cry sounds like, I want to look into his or her eyes, I want to smell that smell of my little one, that smell that you can just taste, it is so delicate and perfect and his or her own, no one else’s. Like my mother and sister-in-law always say, “Who is that in there?!” The frustration with not really needing to buy stuff but feeling like I really really want to is just a symptom of my excitement and wonder over this whole amazing gestating and mothering process. I clearly am in love with this baby already, there is no question of that.

On the other hand, in no way do I want it to be January tomorrow. I want to really soak in the second half of this pregnancy, and I hope that in the coming months, Gus will start to understand that he’s going to be a big brother and that we will be bringing a new baby into our home. And I want right now to be right now. This is life, what’s happening now is where I want to be.









Speaking of getting Gus familiar with bringing a new baby into our home, I bought some books to read with him, of course, since books (and trucks) are pretty much Gus’s whole world. I think I bought four of them, and they were definitely hit or miss. I hate buying children’s books online, it’s so hard to know what you’re getting (thank God for Amazon reviews). It was important to me that the books be (1) a little crunchy (no thank you to lots of pictures of hospitals and bottles and jarred baby food) and (2) not focus too much on the whole sibling jealousy thing, or Gus having to be a “big boy” now that he’ll have a little brother or sister. I don’t know, of course we’ll have to deal with the jealousy thing, I’m not naïve enough to think that this will be a totally smooth transition for him, but I certainly don’t need to put ideas into his head or tell him all the things he shouldn’t do with the new baby, like push or hit, pull hair, feed him or her pennies, that sort of thing. We will cross those bridges when/if we get there. And then the whole “big boy” thing bothers me. He is, of course, constantly growing and learning and becoming more independent, we don’t need to push him. He can do his growing up at his own pace, and he certainly doesn’t need that kind of pressure from a stupid book. There will be no deadline coming from me for how long it is he stays my baby. (Forever kiddo.)

Anyway, this is my favorite book, by far, by Rachel Fuller.

Picture from Amazon

It is wonderful. Sweet, simple, great illustrations. Multiple pictures of mommy breastfeeding baby, and even a picture of baby being worn in an Ergo–like carrier! Perfection. We just need to figure out how we’re going to refer to breastfeeding with Gus, because we certainly didn’t really think that through before reading the book, which in the past month has become part of our bedtime routine. On a few occasions, Dan has ad-libbed something to the affect of, “Baby is drinking milk from mommy’s boob and Gus is eating a sandwich and an apple!” So now sometimes Gus will proudly exclaim when we get to that page, “Baby! Mommy! Milk! BOOB! Apple!” Errrrr… Is boob the appropriate word for him to use? I’m guessing not, but I honestly don’t know what else I would teach him. The idea of Gus saying “breast” makes me break into a giggle fit. I’m doing it right now! Really, how old am I? That is just ridiculous. It is a breast. It’s called breastfeeding. Period. I mean, get over it Alicia.

Finally, I’ll quit rambling and leave you with one more bit of pregnancy TMI. Undergarments. I officially can no longer stand wearing thongs, maybe it’s the warm weather, the pregnancy, I don’t know, but it is just so uncomfortable and sweaty and especially under skirts and dresses, chub-rub inducing. Ugh. Gross, I know. So last night during a trip to target I swung into the ladies unmentionables department and picked out two packages of hard core, yeah you betcha, granny panties. Yes, I purchased undergarments that come in packages of three. And in nude/white/black color assortments, so that means there aren’t even any cute pink polka dots or lace or anything to make them feminine. Just big, huge, suuuuper comfortable but relatively inconspicuous under clothing UNDERWEAR. I will also admit to have bought a size up from what I normally would wear, just because I figured I’m pregnant, and this should guarantee added comfort. However, once home last night, and taking them out of their packages, I became seriously disturbed. Because they are just MASSIVE. They look like something that should be hung on a flag pole. And yeah. I guess that’s all I wanted to say about that. Felt like sharing, I suppose? Maybe I’m hoping someone will reassure me that I’m not alone in loving some big ole granny panties. Because I do. I love them. So comfortable. (What’s it to you 21 year old Alicia? Shut it, go bong a beer or something.)