Take a drink everytime the estimate is over $10k
Take a drink everytime the estimate is $25 or less
Take a drink everytime someone cries at hearing the estimate
Take a drink everytime the item is a fake
Take a drink everytime they show an expert wearing a bowtie
Pose for a picture? You bet!
Did you get the shot? Am I done now?
Ok, I don't want to have my picture taken anymore.
Seriously! I'm done!
I'm not kidding! TURN THAT CAMERA OFF WOMAN!
John: "That guy is hot"
Me: "What did you just say?"
John: "That guy down there, he's really hot"
I'm a little confused and, frankly feeling a little sick to my stomach, my first marraige ended because my ex husband thought a guy was hot after all, but I follow John's gaze toward the man he was talking about. he's a big guy, maybe in his 50's wearing a grey shirt that's soaked in sweat all down his chest and as he turns around, I see that the sweat is also soaking his shirt back. He's hot, as in temperature hot. Not sexy hot. I turn back to my husband and tell him that yes, I agree, that guy is really hot.
John took me and the boys to a soccer game last night. It was the first time we've attended a sporting event with both kids, and it actually went great. The only problem was that I'm still a terrible public breast feeder. With Alex I'd hide away in the restroom to nurse, but I vowed I wouldn't do that with Max. Well, I actually did do it once with Max and I hated it. You wouldn't eat your lunch in a public restroom, why should the baby?
I don't know if the problem is that I'm too busty or if I'm just not coordinated enough. I try draping a blanket over the baby and myself, but breastfeeding without the cover up requires two or more hands. Trying to aim a squirmy baby at a large leaky boob blindly under a blanket is apparently too hard for me. I wish I were the kind of woman to just say, screw it, the baby needs to eat and if I have to expose an entire stadium of soccer fans to my nipple, so be it. But alas, I'm way too shy for that kind of thing. I nursed Alex for nine months, and I'm going on six weeks now with Max, but to watch me try to breastfeed in public, you'd think it was my first time trying such a thing.
I was more or less successful last night though. I managed to feed the baby, with relatively no nipple exposure to neighboring spectators. The problem was, once I was done feeding him, I couldn't figure out a way to nonchalantly replace my breast pad. I ended up stuffing the pad in my pocket, which would have been fine, except Max had to nurse on the other side later and those of you who have breastfed, you know that once one boob gets a flowin', the other follows suit. I spent the last half hour of the game with a big wet milk spot on my shirt about three and a half inches in diameter squarely over my right breast. Apparently I've learned that replacing the breast pad is not optional.
Well, depending on how you look at it, Project Hot Mom is either going well or is so far a miserable failure. The good news is I've stuck to my plan, we're hardly eating any fast food anymore, I'm drinking a lot more water, I'm getting out to walk at least a mile and a half every day (that's all the boys will let me do), I don't snack in the evenings anymore and overall, I'm eating healthier.
The bad news you ask? Well, in the two and a half weeks since I've started PHM, I've lost only four pounds. Given that I'm 70 pounds overweight, breastfeeding and have been following a healthy diet and exercise program, I'd have hoped to loose more than that in the first two weeks. I suppose four pounds is better than nothing, it's just, well, disappointing. You hear of women who's fat literally just melts right off when they are nursing. Well, not me. This happened with Alex too. It's like the fat clung to me for dear life. I lost weight better after I weaned him than while I was nursing and pumping full time.
So, I guess this means I need to step up my game. I hesitate to drastically change my eating as I really do feel that I'm eating healthier, and I don't think it's a good idea to go on a restricted calorie program while 100% of Max's nutrition is coming from me. That leaves one option. Exercise. Right now all I'm doing is a half hour walk in the mornings. I'm going to try to go to the gym a couple of days a week in addition to the morning walks, maybe hop on the elliptical for 30-45 minutes, maybe do a little bit of weight training. I thought about going to a spinning class, but I'm just not ready for that yet. Maybe when I'm in a bit better shape and I don't feel like an athsmatic hippo. If more exercise doesn't help me shed some poundage, I don't know what to do. I suppose the good news is it can't hurt right? I mean, the worst case scenario is I stay fat but get healthier and have more energy and stamina to chase after my boys. Goodness knows I need that!
Here is how the first hour or so of my morning went. Lets hope it isn't a sign of how the rest of the day will go.
I finish nursing Max for the FIFTH time (He'd recently cut back to waking up only twice a night. Last night FIVE times. Ugh) and he snuggles up next to me and falls asleep. Seconds later I hear a cry of "MOMMY!" from Alex's room. I ignore it at first, sometimes he talks in his sleep. No such luck, he's awake and wants me. I move the baby into his cradle, which wakes him up, and I go get Alex.
Alex's Pull up is soggy, so I change him, not wanting him to leak all over my bed, which gives the baby enough time to fall asleep before I bring Alex to bed with John and me. We snuggle up together when Alex says to me "I want some juice". I tell him that it's too early for juice and to go to sleep. "I JUST WANT SOME JUICE!" He yells, which, of course, wakes both the baby and John up. John offers to get up and get the juice while I tend to the baby. Alex proceeds to cry that he wanted to cuddle. I tell him, we could have been cuddling had he not yelled and woke up the baby.
John comes back with the juice and I hand the baby to him and try to snuggle with Alex, but the baby won't calm down. I have to force a clingy and crying Alex across the bed toward John so I can take the baby and nurse him. Alex cries that he wants baby brother in his own bed, not in Mommy's bed. I'm nursing while laying down so I stretch out my arm and tell Alex he can lay his head on my arm which he does and seems satisfied enough.
Soon the baby is asleep again and I tell Alex that I am going to put Baby Brother in his bed and to be very quiet so he doesn't wake up. "OK" Alex says. I pick the baby up and feel something warm and sticky on his back and on the bed. He'd pooped while I was nursing him and his diaper leaked all over the bed. I have to take him to his room and change his clothes, which wakes him up.
After the baby is cleaned up and changed I swaddle him and give him to John, determined to cuddle with my firstborn this morning, even if it means I have to lay in baby poop to do it. Just as I lay down Max starts fussing, then all out crying. Alex has already snuggled up next to me, as close as he could get, and it breaks my heart that I am going to have to get up again. I can't just let the baby cry because I can't relax and cuddle Alex with Max crying like that, not to mention it's too early for John to have to be awake, he has to work this morning and needs to sleep. I decide to give up. Alex starts crying that he wants Mommy, I take the baby and start feeling a little weepy that I want Alex too but there's nothing I can do about it. I take the baby into the kitchen and he proceeds to spit up what appears to be all of the breast milk he ingested over the course of the night. He's covered in regurgitated breast milk, I'm covered in regurgitated breast milk (and a little poo from the bed). Now it's bath time (for him, not me).
By the time the baby was bathed and changed again, he was hungry, of course. I fed him (though not sure I had anything left in my boobs after his marathon eating frenzy last night) and went to check on Alex. He was asleep. I didn't want to turn on the lights or start rifling through my dresser blind looking for a change of clothes and risk waking John and Alex up and it was starting to get light outside, so I packed the baby into the stroller and went for a walk. Still smelling like the inside of the baby's stomach and diaper.
It's mornings like this that I wonder how people handle more than two kids. I completely let Alex down this morning. Now the baby is asleep in his swing and I could go snuggle with Alex in our baby poop smelling bed, but Alex is asleep too and I know the second I get all comfy with Alex, the baby will wake up, I'll have to get out of bed, possibly waking Alex up and he'll have to watch me leave him for the baby for the third time this morning. I decided to make blueberry pancakes (his new favorite breakfast) instead, so when he gets up, there they are waiting for him with apple juice in his favorite sippy (Yellow Man juice). I'm also planning a trip to the dinosaur museum this afternoon. I need a big win with Alex today. Hopefully pancakes and dinosaurs can make up, just a little bit, for a ruined morning cuddle.
Max is now smiling! For real! No, seriously, it's not gas. In this picture, he's smiling at his daddy who is off camera saying silly baby talk things to him.
Sadly, this picture also captures Max's first eczema breakout on his chest. Alex didn't break out until he was close to three months old, so Max is early. Though, Max is also lucky because this breakout is only on his chest, whereas Alex's was a full body event that required an emergency visit to the doctor. I've put a little 1% hydrocortisone on it and it's already clearing up.
I've had relatives in town visiting from California for the last few days. From my mom's side, my grandma, two aunts, my cousin and her five year old daughter. Alex, Max and I have been trying to spend as much time as possible with them while they're here. Sadly, with all the baby and child paraphernalia I have to pack around like a mule, I've forgotten to bring along my camera. Luckily, they all have cameras and will hopefully share their snapshots with me.
Most of my family lives in California, while I've always lived here in Utah. My whole life, I've always missed having relatives around, so having them visit has really been a treat for me. Alex has fallen in love with my cousin's daughter Elise, and can hardly stand being separated from her. He calls her "my girl" (it sounds a bit more like "my go well"). It's been fairly easy to go out and about with the kids in tow because between a grandma, two aunts and a cousin, there's always been a spare hand or three to wrangle Alex or hold the baby.
I'm going to miss them when they leave on Wedesday, but our family is headed their way in September, so I am hoping to be able to see them again soon. Now that I have a family of my own, I feel it is even more important to try to maintain a closer relationship with my relatives. Alex and Max have a big wonderful family here with the Dillier's and Bennett's (John's family), but I want my kids to know a bit more of my side of the family as well. Despite the distance and rising gas prices, I am going to make much more of an effort to connect to them. Even if it's just through emails and phone calls. I have such a great family out there, it's just up to me to cultivate relationships with them.
I realized recently that my entire life now revolves almost exclusively around penises (peni?). It occurs to me that I probably spend more time dealing with male equipment of the infant, toddler and adult variety than anyone else I know. I think it's safe to say that I am well on my way to becoming a penis expert.
John is going to the midnight showing of The Dark Knight tonight with a friend. I am trying as best I can not to hate him. It's not working. John bought the tickets about two weeks ago and I had first dibs, and if I didn't have a chubby little baby attached to my boobs all day and night, I would have gone in a heartbeat. I even considered taking the baby with me, then decided against it because I would hate it if someone brought a baby to a movie I was looking forward to seeing.
X Files comes out on the 25th and I plan on going to that baby or no baby. No one, I mean NO ONE is keeping me away from my long awaited Scully and Mulder fix.
Can I just say that I LOVE being a mom of two? I have to admit, I worried (well, to be perfectly honest, I fretted and obsessed and worked myself up into a near anxiety attack) about what it would be like to have two kids. You see, I was raised as an only child. I don't know how a family works with more than one kid. I don't understand the sibling relationship. A family of four is an utter mystery to me.
I worried I wouldn't love the new baby the same as I loved Alex. I worried Alex would feel like he'd been replaced. I worried Alex wouldn't like the new baby. I worried I couldn't handle two kids. I worried we were making a mistake, pushing our luck, by daring to have another baby.
Well, the love thing took care of itself, just as everyone had assured me it would. The second I laid eyes on our newest son, I was crazy, madly in love with him. Not more than I loved Alex, not less than I loved Alex, but that same, intense, all consuming, I'd do anything to make sure he's happy, kind of feeling. It's an amazing thing, this mother love. The way it just effortlessly grows to include a whole other person. Everyone said it would, but during my entire pregnancy, I couldn't imagine how I could love another person the way I loved Alex. Well, I do. I don't know how it works, but I do.
Alex is completely smitten with his baby brother. He likes to touch him (gently), and talk to him and he's become the official diapers and wipes fetcher when baby brother poops. I foresee a wonderful relationship in their future. However, I can tell Alex is starting to feel the pain of not being the one and only anymore. He doesn't get snuggled as often, and when I put him down for his nap, lately he's been saying "Mommy, don't go, lay down with me, I want to cuddle" Which just breaks my heart if baby brother is crying and I can't lay down right then. Of course, if Max happens to be napping I hop into bed next to him and snuggle away. In the evenings Alex will perch on the arm of the recliner and lean on me while I'm feeding or holding the baby. John is doing a great job of giving Alex lots of Daddy attention when he's home from work, but I guess nothing can replace the Mommy-cuddle because I can tell he still craves my full attention. As the baby gets bigger, hopefully he won't need me as much and I can give Alex even more one on one time. Until then, I'm doing my best to make sure he doesn't feel left out.
As for being able to handle two kids, well, right now, it's not too hard. Newborns are easy. This feels strange to say because when Alex was a newborn I thought newborns were the most difficult thing on the planet to deal with. Maybe it's a second child thing, or maybe I was just a wimp the first time around, but little babies, they do four things 1) cry, 2) eat, 3) sleep, 4) eliminate (either by poop or puke) and they do all of these things without making too big of a mess (newborn poop is about 1000 times easier to deal with than toddler turds, same with newborn spitup vs toddler hork) or running off or saying hurtful things or punching me in the nose and kicking my shins. Also, and perhaps the best part, they stay where you put them. If I lay Max down on the sofa and walk away to help Alex do something, Max is still on the sofa when I get back. The only real problem is that away from home, things are a bit more difficult. It's harder to chase after Alex when I've got a baby in my arms. It takes twice as long to pack the kids into the van and take them out. We're getting a good system down though and I'm getting braver and braver about going out into the world with them.
Did we make a mistake by having another child? No. Absolutely, unequivocally NO. Max is an important, irreplaceable member of our family. Already we couldn't imagine life without him. This is our family; me, John, Alex and Max. Our family is complete, whole and happy.
Must start watching Sesame Street more often. Alex LOVES this
I was laying in bed, it's late, maybe 2am. I had just fed Max and got him to sleep in his cradle. John was snoring in bed next to me. He farts. Then I heard a loud fart coming from the cradle on the other side of me. Max farted. Then next to me John farts again. Then a loud rumble from the cradle again! I'm caught in the crossfire of a Dillier sleeping fart war! I'm sure if Alex had been in the room I'd have heard his butt chime in as well.
We like to take one day a week and declare it "Family Day". The only rules for family day are that it happens at least one day a week (usually Saturday) and we have to actually LEAVE THE HOUSE and do something fun together. Since Max's birth, we haven't done family day, John and I had enough excitement during Max's first week up at Primary Children's. For the last couple of weeks, we've opted to stay home. But yesterday was the triumphant return of family day. We went out to lunch, visited the dinosaur museum Alex got to get a smooshed penny out of a penny smooshing machine, and then went out for ice cream (Alex was actually very excited about the ice cream, ate maybe two licks of it, then proceeded to get it all over himself and me. Soon afterwards he threw up right there in the ice cream parlor). After several hours out in the world with the kids, John and I were very ready to go home and take a nap.
Later that evening we attended a BBQ for John's sister's 30th birthday. All four of us had a wonderful time. Alex played with the other kids that were there, I got to sit down and actualy eat a meal and have full length conversations, John re-discovered the joys of Crowne Royal and Max spent the evening snoozing on various sets of breasts.
By 10:00, I decided I needed to be the party pooper and take my family home. Alex had been so good the entire night (with the exception of a single biting incident that he got punished for and later apologized to the kid) and I felt that we had to leave while on a high note. A tired toddler can go bad at any second, and our day had been so awesome, I really felt like we should quit while we were ahead and not push our luck.
All in all, a perfect day I think. We had a good time together, had a good evening with family and friends...If only every day could be family day.
I keep sitting down with the intention to write about what happened to Max the day after he was born in detail, but I find I can't do it. Perhaps not surprisingly, the experience has left me kind of traumatized. Even just thinking about the events of that day makes me nauseous. There are moments that relive themselves in my memory all the time.
Once we got to Primary Children's Hospital, talked to his new doctors and were allowed to see him, though I was still scared, I felt that he was in good hands and he'd make it. He had to. I tried to spend as much time as I could at his bedside touching him, trying to let him know somehow that I was there and I loved him. I only left his side to pump. I wanted to make sure that when he was ready to eat, I'd have a good supply for him. In fact, I'd been such a diligent pumper, my supply was too good by the time he was able to nurse.
In the end, there's a lot to be grateful for. I'm grateful that both John and I were able to be by Max's side during the entire ordeal. I'm grateful for our family, friends and neighbors who supported us and sent good thoughts our way constantly. I'm grateful for the amazing doctors and nurses who saved my son's life. I'm grateful for my husband, who kept me sane and optimistic and held me and let me cry into his shoulder when I'd loose it in the middle of the night. I'm grateful for my mother who took wonderful care of Alex and even brought him up almost every day to see me. I'm grateful for Alex, just thinking about him made me happy and gave me strength. I'm grateful that my Max is strong enough to make it through such a thing. I'm grateful that it's over.
Have you ever tried to take a portrait of a newborn? I've been trying for days with no success. Here's what we've got so far:
Hey! What's that over there?
Are you sure you know what you're doing?
If you haven't noticed, I'm not enjoying myself
Maybe if I channel Popeye
Or I could act surprised
Oh hell, I give up
Oh, we've got neck control over here! This weekend Max discovered that he now has the strength to hold up his big ole noggin, and he'll show off this new skill to anyone who wants to see it. No longer do I have a baby that I can drape haphazardly over my shoulder and walk around the house. Oh no, now I have a baby who, when held upright, insists on doing an impersonation of a bobble head doll. It's actually quite cute. Though, in certain situations, he conveniently forgets all about his neck muscles, like when we're shopping and I have him in the front carrier, he buries his face in my cleavage and refuses to turn his head, instead just snuffles around my boobs. Just like his father this one.
Now that we're past the scary stuff, home from the hospital, and have had Max living with us at home for almost two weeks, life is settling down to normal and I have time to focus on other things. Things like what appears to be a large fleshy deflated beach ball attached to my midsection. WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!
I gained 35 pounds during this pregnancy, which is great for me, because I believe I've mentioned before I'd gained 60 with Alex. Sadly, I started this pregnancy 30 pounds heavier than I was when I got pregnant with Alex, so I pretty much ended up the same. I lost 15 pounds just by giving birth, so to get back to pre-Max weight I still need to loose 20 pounds. Then, to get to pre-Alex shape, I need to loose that pesky 30 pounds I couldn't seem to shake for two years. Ugh. I have to loose 50 pounds to just be less fat. Because once I'm at pre-Alex weight, I have at least another 20 pounds to loose to get to where I'll be mildly satisfied with myself. Are you keeping track? That's 70 pounds I have to loose. And you know what? I'll still be fat, just less so. Ugh. It's a good thing John likes 'em curvy!
To be honest, I didn't really try very hard to loose the weight after I had Alex because I knew I'd get pregnant again and just gain it all back, and really, what's the point? Now that I'm done having kids, I can't use that excuse anymore. You know what that means? Project Hot Mom. Since I'm still trying to get a good milk supply, I'm planning on easing into it. For July, I plan to just eat reasonably, nurse on demand and go for a mile to mile and a half (depending on how long the kids let me) walk every day. In August I'll really kick it up a notch. Maybe join a gym and get on a more structured eating plan. My goal is to have lost that 70 pounds by Max's first birthday. Doable I think. I hope!
After Max's five o'clock feeding, I handed him over to John, said "there's boob juice in the fridge, don't wake me up" and proceeded to sleep until 9:30. That's four and a half, FOUR AND A HALF!!! Hours of uninterupted sleep. I woke up feeling like a new woman. Of course, the downside to sleeping through a feeding is that my boobs were full of milk up to my armpits, but thankfully I've got a good breast pump that took care of the problem in under 10 minutes.
I dare say we're getting the hang of being a family of four. At least on weekends if we don't leave the house. With John home we've developed a great tag team parenting style. We each take a boy for a few hours then switch off as needed. Everyone is getting attention, everyone is getting fed, everyone is able to go to the bathroom alone and / or have their diapers changed in a timely manner. Weekends are awesome! I'm still trying to get the hang of being outnumbered during the work week though. Aside from a trip to the grocery store, I have yet to venture out of the house with both the kids on my own. I'm getting braver though. Hopefully before summer's over I'll be ready to attempt some kind of outing with both the boys in tow.
I left Max with John and I took Alex out to get a haircut. After his trim we went to Walmart to pick out some "haircut toys". He had his heart set on getting a car and a robot, but after searching the toy aisle's thoroughly, he couldn't find exactly what he wanted. He settled for a Speed Racer car, a Sudoku block (like a Rubik's cube but with numbers) and a bag of plain M&M's. He still wasn't happy though. He REALLY, REALLY wanted a robot. So I took him into the little kid's arcade area. He went on a ride on Dumbo and then I gave him a quarter and let him buy a gum ball. He immediately popped the entire gum ball into his mouth and ran off. I chased after him, worried he was going to choke to death on the gum ball. I wrestled him down, pried open his jaws and took the now very wet gum ball out of his mouth. He, naturally, began freaking out in the middle of Walmart that I stole his gum ball, complete with flailing limbs and writhing around on the ground. Hoping to remedy the situation as quickly as possible, I stuck the slimy gum ball in my mouth and bit down with the intention of breaking it in half so he could have it back without my having to remember the crash course in infant Heimlich we took at the hospital. I heard a crack, I took the gum ball out of my mouth and was confused to only see two little dents left by my front teeth. There was something in my mouth, so I spit it into my hand. The corner of my tooth! The gum ball cracked my tooth! And on the first day of a long weekend! There's no way I'll be able to get it fixed until next week, if I'm lucky! In the meantime I look like a crazy toothless hillbilly.
Yesterday I find out I've got mastitis in my right boob and this morning I wake up and the damn thing is engorged. Why? I don't know. I'm not pumping anymore. I'm feeding Max from both boobs equally. Why o why would it be overproducing now after a week of exclusive nursing? And why does it need to be all lumpy and engorged AND have mastitis? Stupid boob. I hate you righty. I really hate you.
Breastfeeding Alex was awful. I think I had maybe two or three moments during the nine months I nursed him that were good memories, but the rest of the time it was painful and frustrating. For something that was supposed to be so natural, it sure did suck. Max, however, has been a completely different story. 20 minutes out of the womb he latched right on and went to town. Even though he had a forced four day eating hiatus, he went right back to it like he was born to breastfeed. I began to relax about breastfeeding. I started to believe that maybe it was going to be easy this time.
Two nights ago I found myself shivering uncontrollably under several layers of blankets. I felt as though someone had thrown me out of the house naked into a snowdrift. All night John complained that it was hot in the house, meanwhile I chattered away inside my blanket cocoon. I woke up in the morning drenched in sweat. Since then my right boob has felt like someone has been stabbing knives deep into it. Every time Max latches on, I cry in pain. My mom told me something must be wrong. John told me something must be wrong. Today I called the doctor. I have mastitis. GAH!
I'm on antibiotics (which the nurse told me will likely give me a yeast infection. Nice. I'll be looking forward to yet another thing to deal with involving my still tender undercarriage) and I have a special nipple cream to use, so hopefully I'm on the mend and in a week or so we'll be back to pain-free nursing.
Me: "Have you noticed that when Max cries he looks exactly like Wilfred Brimley?"
John: "No, no I have not"
Me: "I'm serious, put a fluffy mustache on him, and he could be Wilfred Brimley's twin"
John: "My son does not look like Wilfred Brimley"
Me; "Ok, maybe he looks more like a really pissed off Ziggy"
Max is fussy. The all night, won't let you put him down, "I don't want a damn pacifier!", purple faced, can't find a reason for him to be fussy, fussy. He was up most of the night crying. He's been up all day crying. I finally got him to pass out and he's actually sleeping in his cradle while Alex and I are whispering and tiptoeing around trying not to wake him up.
Alex was trying to help me calm the baby down last night, I had put the baby in his cradle crying while I went to the bathroom. When I came out, Alex was leaning over the side of the cradle saying "Don't cry baby budder. I'll give you haircut toys!" (When Alex gets his hair cut, we take him to pick out new toys at the store. These are haircut toys). Then this morning, clearly having had enough of the baby crying already, Alex came up to me while I was holding a wailing Max on the sofa and said "turn it off. I want it off!" Yea Buddy, I wish I could turn it off.
