Gettin' It Done

We were super busy over here at Casa de Bug this weekend. Blame it on Lovebug's upcoming 2nd birthday party... or, my pre-mature nesting. Whatever it is, our To Do List is long, and the deadline is fast approaching.

We are so lucky to have such wonderful and amazing friends who helped us out this weekend. From rolling our shed across the yard on PVC pipes, to attempting the massive headache that is a hand me down swing set, to painting our shed... we owe favors all over the place.

Check out just a few of the things we got done / started this Memorial Day Weekend. Oh yeh, no worries, I played "Taps," for my Husband the veteran while he worked his tail off... it was an even trade.

The rails getting their white on. Side Note: I bartered with a painter to get this job done FO FREE

Hung our new flag just in time for Memorial Day!
Oh yeh, and for those of you considering getting a hand me down swing set.... Don't. Get a tire and some rope, hang it in a tree and call it a day. Seriously.

As grateful and appreciative as we are to have the set, putting it together has been a nightmare. For real.

And no, it's still not done.


Two, Part One...

It is 2:30 in the morning on May 30, and I cant sleep. My body is aching and I cant stop peeing.

Why does this feel like deja vu to me??

Oh, because it is. Except last time, two years ago, at this same exact time of night, on the same exact date...  I was in labor with our baby boy.

We didn't know he was a boy at the time; but we did know I was 9 days overdue, I had eaten Cold Stone the night before, and it had put me into serious labor... in my ass. Who knew that you could have contractions in your ass?? Not me for one.

((Side note: Hey Cold Stone, if you're out there: I have been telling pregnant women everywhere to forget the hot wings and Mexican food, and instead go right for the most to-die for goodness you can offer to go into labor. No big deal, but if you want to send me a gift card, you can put me into labor again any time after the next 9 weeks pass.... please and thank you.))

I remember waking up Husband and saying, "I keep having terrible, uncomfortable gas pain in my butt..." and he said, "Go back to bed." Awesome. Super helpful. Thanks.

By the time I called the Doctor two hours later, and they told me I was indeed in labor, the gas/contractions were coming every 3 minutes.

I will spare you the 'every last disgusting details', details. Some people are into them, I am not.

The long and short of it is (the less detailed details):

We walked around the Maternity Ward for an hour and a half trying to get me to dilate. I remember begging Husband to let me stop at the end of the hallways, leaning onto the walls, and silently whispering every four letter word in the book.

I was a very quiet little lamb when I was in labor. I swore like a freaking sailor, not the mouth of a mother-to-be for sure, but it helped keep me calm. I am not sure where the whispering came from, but it, along with yoga breathing (in through the nose, out through the mouth) was super helpful in keeping me focused.

Eventually they admitted me, for no good reason except I was due for an induction the next day, and already 9 days overdue. They gave me pitocin a few hours later, which did nothing but give me terrible, horrible, wooden bat to my kidneys, type back labor. I never dilated. Not even to a two.
It was a long and frustrating day.

Somewhere around 8 pm, I was on oxygen, and Lovebug was in distress if I turned to my right side. So, they came in, beat around the bush a bit, and finally said, "How do you feel about a C-Section?"

If I could have booty danced down the hallway I would have. I did not give a SHIT about having the natural birth yada, yada experience. I did my part; 18 hours of back labor, and a baby with a dropping heart rate is where I give up. I wanted a healthy delivery; not pushing a watermelon through the Playdough Factory to get one, was a bonus as far as I was concerned!! C-Section? Yes, Please!

At 8:56 pm they pulled Lovebug out of my big ol' belly, and announced, "It's a BOY!"

I was a delirious, over-medicated mess. I passed out every few minutes for a little while, but I remember this:

The sound of Lovebug screaming was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard in my life. I didn't realize that I had been holding my breath for nine (ten) months, waiting to hear that very sound. The sound of life.

Husband was crying. He didn't even cry at our wedding, but the alligator tears were flowing big time for our first born.

When Husband held Lovebug in his arms and showed him to me for the first time, the very first words I said were, "He looks like a bull dog, not like an alien," before promptly passing out cold.

I missed it, since I was in la-la land, but Husband says the anesthesiologist (who called himself "The Bartender") laughed and said, "That's just because he's yours, hunny."

They tell me I was a friggin' riot on the operating table; ball busting the nurses and asking the Doctor 17 times if he was really, really sure he had taken my placenta out. They also tell me I gave Skinny Sis exact directions as to where I was, my room, the hallway, what to say. They say I called one of my oldest friends and gave her a quick update on all there is to know about having a C-Section.

I remember none of this.

I know Hunny and Pop-Pop, and Grandma and Grandpa came because there are pictures. I know Skinny Sis cried when she saw her Godson for the first time, and I know I looked like I was beaten with bats, while fighting a war alone, and drinking all the water in the ocean at the same time.

I know for sure that Husband was amazing.

Our roles switched for those few days; he was the caretaker, and I was, the... man? Maybe "patient" is a better term. Husband essentially taught me how to breast feed, because he listened to every detail the nurse said, and I didn't. He helped me up and down the stairs, through back labor, and many sleepless nights. I didn't know he had the nurturing gene in him until I couldn't take care of myself, and I still to this day, am in awe of how well he handled everything. (He in turn, wishes he hadn't done such a good job, so I wouldn't know he is fully capable).

The next few days were a whirl wind. Lovebug and I had 30 visitors in the Hospital his first full day of life. This time around Husband and I plan to make some rules for Visitors, with no exceptions. We didn't know then that if you say, "Sure, come to the hospital,"... they will come... every last one of them, and they will each stay for an hour.

Two years later, on that very same night, and here I am again with gas pains (pregnancy is a lot of things, but 'glamorous' is not one of them, people). This time though, I am 28 weeks pregnant, not 41, and it is because I ate pizza for dinner, and baby Number Two (Little Bug)  much prefers fruits and veggies to junk food (damn).

I am also a sentimental, sad Mommy, that my little Lovebug is already two, and getting bigger and more independent everyday. It is true what they say. Those little, tiny balls of flesh come into this world and immediately steal your heart and soul, and never, ever give it back . The love and joy that Lovebug has brought to our lives is more than I ever imagined possible. I didn't know I could love so hard, so much.

I am so proud of who he is, and so scared of the day when he wont need me anymore.

For now, I am waiting until 8 am, when I can wake him up to see the balloons in his room (just like my mom did for us) and take him to a parade for his Happy Day Day. Of course, he doesn't even know what it means to have a birthday; but the pit in my stomach and my heavy heart let me know that I sure as hell know my Baby is growing up, and I dont like it one bit.

Either that, or that pizza is really getting to me and I am in labor again. Oh God.



Hunny and Pop Pop broke my golden rule of, "Do not buy my child a toy with 9 fafillion parts," when they gave Lovebug this farm toy for his Happy Day Day (cant believe he is almost 2!!!)

I have other rules too... no puzzles until 5, no stuffed animals, no guns.

I think puzzles before age 5 is just asking for pieces to be lost, and kids to cry.

Stuffed animals gather dust, and don't really do much of anything. Once you have two or three, you have enough.

Guns are a personal preference. I am not a fan of little kids running around with fake machine guns. I am also not a fan of the whole "baby mohawk," thing that people do now, but that's a whole other story.

Anyway, now that you all think I am a tight ass, looney tunes mother... back to my initial point.

The farm toy comes with approximately 30 pieces. Yay. That is 30 pieces that are going to go under my couch, in the bottom of the toy box, and if I am lucky; not UP someone's nose or DOWN someone's diaper.

However, despite my hatred for too many parts and pieces, I have to give credit where credit is due.

My house has been silent for a full hour as Lovebug sits quietly playing; loading the cows in and out of the tractor, raising the tiny elevator, putting the farmer to bed for a nap. And so, I am forced to ask myself, what is more important, having lots of large toys with no pieces but a lot of loud noise, or, a toy with tons of pieces, and silence??

I cant really make an educated guess at the answer because this is honestly the first time my house has been quiet in months.

So, maybe just this one time, Hunny and Pop Pop will get a pass. I wont kill them for buying a toy that has nine million parts (especially because, if for some reason we lose a piece, the toy will still work. It is not a toy that needs a specific cow to work, any cow will do!). Lovebug is not screaming, or even paying attention to me at all. He is using his imagination. Quietly. It is amazing to watch his little brain learning, on his own, without Mommy's help.

I love you farm toy. All billion pieces of you. I love you.


Swing Sets

Oh swing sets, how I hate you. I want to give you the middle finger and tell you to take a long walk off a short cliff.

Swing sets are the devil, well, the people that make, install, and sell them are, anyway. Have you ever priced out a swing set? Like a legit, nice, sturdy swing set? Yeh... they are like buying a used Honda.

We are fortunate enough to have very generous family members who gave us their old swing set for free.

The downside to this free business, is that the set is 13 years old, all of the accessories need to be replaced, and, oh yeh, they dont have any pictures of what it looked like when it was assembled. Ooof.

It is however, a super high quality, sturdy, heavy, strong set. The manufacturer actually guarentees all of their accessories for 10 years. Damn those last 3 years... so close.

We are grateful to have even the free base of a swing set, because we know that buying accessories is a helluva lot cheaper than buying a set. There is nothing our new power washer and a can of stain cant make beautiful, but the building of the whole she-bang? That we are dreading. Especially when you factor in no instructions, no pictures.... yikes.

They should do something like this on Reality TV... build a swing set with no picture, take all these boards and make them into something safe and awesome.

I know what you're thinking. Call the company, ask them to come install it and figure it out themselves, that's their job.

Wrong. The company wants 500 big ones to install it, and that is before I buy a new slide, glider, tarp...

So, I am basically hoping that Husband and some gym buddies are feeling extra smart this weekend; because they will hopefully be making this mess, into something amazing, and safe for Lovebug and friends.

Here's hoping.

Wordless Wednesday

Husband's post wisdom teeth puffy face and a sleepy Bug

Mommy & Lovebug's special date for Sunday brunch

Scored a great deal on a power washer, now we are putting the pressure on everything in sight!
Messy, beautiful boy

Toga party?


The Last Puddle

We ran out the door so fast this morning to watch the garbage man, that I didn't even put shoes on Lovebug.

Which would be fine; except it has been raining here for two weeks straight, so the Bug went straight for the last lonely, teeny, tiny puddle left in the driveway and.... see for yourself.

Annnd.... he's over it.

Big Boy Room... More Progress

Are you sick of the progress reports?? 'Cause I could stop.

I mean, not that I could skip to the grand finale or anything, because, um, it's not done yet. But, you know what they say, big boy rooms weren't built in a day. That's what they say right??

We are real life folks around here at Casa de Bug, which means we travel too much on the weekends, and Husband gets his wisdom teeth out, and well, shit happens.

Okay, okay, enough excuses, on to the progress.

Curtains are up! Yay!

The navy blue ones are energy efficient, room darkening curtains from Walmart.com that I scored for $10 a panel. Lord knows we couldn't live without blackout curtains for the Bug. The valance is actually the bed skirt from the bedding set we ordered. Since we bought the Bug a bed with storage under it, the bed skirt was un-useable. Thanks to some crafty sewing from Short Sis, we now have custom valances!

She also used the left over fabric to make the matching pillow you see on Lovebug's chair, which we scored on Craigslist. It's kind of hard to tell, but the lamp is bright orange, from Tar-Jay, and the little stool/table was a hand me down (ie... I asked nicely for it) from my parent's house.

We are all super excited with the way the room is coming together and l-o-v-e the way all the colors are working together for a super high energy (just what Lovebug needs) place to be.


Poppin' The Question...

My Husband proposed to me like this.

I know. He is good.

This was the first time I had seen him in 6 months and 8 days.

As I waited anxiously on the Pier, his friends watched for their signal.

When Husband and I reunited, they held up their sign.

Husband whispered in my ear to look up, and then he dropped to one knee.

That's all I remember.

He hand colored each and every letter all by himself.

There are funny, perfectly straight lines done in magic marker inside each and every bubble letter, that he also drew himself. It took him 2 days to complete.

I love that.

He likes that I remember how wonderful and romantic he was that day... because he says that he will never be that romantic ever again as long as he lives.

He insists that men have a romantic quota, and he made his that day.

Typical guy.

Big Boy Room.. Progress

Okay, this is your sneak peek.

We I decided the room needed a stripe. Seeing as Husband refused to paint the entire room (we painted it a soft blue/gray when we moved in, and then closed the door for 2 years. There has never been anything but a filing cabinet in there), I figured pushing, and prodding ,and begging for a stripe to add some interest was a good compromise.

Husband tried to convince me to do a blue stripe, but I wanted red, and I won.
I am the one carrying the baby, what I say goes... right??

So, blue painter's tape goes up, stripe goes on.. all is well.

Then we take a closer look and notice that it isn't "perfect".

Husband is, if nothing else, anal as hell about his painting. I blame the Navy, and all those years painting everything, "Battleship Gray". Anyway, I guess it's better that he wants it to look good, as opposed to being happy with a shitty job, so he decides to get some trim, and do this.

Not bad huh? It matches the Bug's new bed, and gives it a little something extra.

Next we put these super macho man decals up.

Lovebug was FREEEEEAKKKING OUT screaming, "Excavator! Cement Mixer! Bulldozer!"
I am not sure how much sleeping is going to go on in this room after all...


You Must...

Fellow Mommy bloggers and readers... you MUST check out my new, all time favorite Mommy blogger. She is hysterical, and a little rough around the edges. She tells it like it's Happy Hour with the girls, no holds barred. She is also, about to pop with her third baby, so she is so fresh and bitchy right now in her posts, it is hysterical, like Chelsea Lately, or Tina Fey, blogger style.

Love Her

You must also... pay attention the next time you see the Dear Sophie Lee (Google Chrome) commercials. They get me every. time. Warning: May make you get that squinty, I am going to cry, face.

Love, Dad

Lastly, you must leave me comments full of baby names that are unique... really unique, not like Aiden, Braden, Jayden (great names, but not for me... no offense ladies). Like, the name that you heard and said, "Wow, I have never heard that before."
That's what I want.

Something inside me forces me to only look at girl names.

However,  my mother told me you cant tell I'm pregnant from the back, that I am carrying the same as I did with Lovebug; Which to her, means boy. And my mother in law, who tells it like she sees it, said, "Your ass isn't fat, I think it's a boy."

Sooo... I will take the compliments (?), and start searching out boy names. Please, you must help name our baby. Less than 13 weeks to go!



What you need to know before you read this quickie.

Husband got his wisdom teeth out. Lovebug went to spend the night at Hunny and Pop Pop's so I could take care of Husband and his swollen face.

Okay, on with the show.

A nurse calls me in to get the run down on how to care for my patient. I say, "Okay, okay, got it..." and leave Husband drugged up and giggling in the chair, while I sign for the GINORMOUS deposit.

I am making an appointment at the front desk when I hear someone say, "You have such cute dimples."

I am not used to being alone, we know this. I have had Lovebug by my side nearly every single minute/hour/day since he was born. I am used to hearing people tell him he is adorable, his eyes are so blue, his dimples so cute.

So, I hear these words and automatically look down, to where Lovebug would normally be standing, nine out of ten times.

"Lovebug... say thank you."

But he isn't there. I look to my other side, and then behind me. He isn't there either. I panic for 2 seconds, and then... Oh yeh, he is at Hunny and Pop Pop's.

I look up, in the direction of the compliment, surprised.

The nurse is staring at me like I am bat shit crazy.

"I am talking to you," she says, and then, "Are you okay to drive your Husband home??"

I couldn't help but laugh, I must have looked like a damn lunatic, ignoring her, talking to my feet, searching for an invisible Lovebug.

Oh well, Moms pretty much throw all shame and dignity out the window after labor, and breast feeding anyway.

The nurse laughed too... "Let me guess, you were looking for your child. People dont even acknowledge you most times, just go right for the baby."

"You're a mother?" I asked.

She laughed again, "Takes one to know one!"


Calling the Easter Bunny...

...Okay, so this post is way overdue, oh well.

First, let me tell you this story that has really not too much to do with anything, but somehow seems relevant.

When I was in college, I was driving off Campus when I noticed something kind of strange, so I did what I always do, I called my mom to tell her about it.

"Mom, guess what I just saw? A dead flattened squirrel in the middle of the road with it's tail sticking straight up in the air!!!"

To my surprise, she replied, "I know."

I'm all, "What do you mean? How could you know? I live an hour and twenty minutes away from you..."

To which she replied, "Your brother just called and told me five minutes ago."

What are the freaking chances, that my brother, who lived off campus, would see the same stupid squirrel tail standing straight in the air and call my mom and tell her, five minutes before I did??

If you know my family, pretty damn good.

So, keeping that in mind, the night before Easter, Lovebug is having a heart attack about wanting to call the Easter Bunny. I am thinking, who the heck can I call right now, right this very freaking second, that will answer, and play along.


I dial.

He answers, thank God.


"Hello, Easter Bunny?" I say, hoping to Hell he gets the point as Lovebug is doing a love dance at my feet jumping up and down, begging to talk to the damn bunny.

Without missing a beat, Brother jumps into character. He changes his voice, and starts acting all hoppity. Lovebug is peeling out of his skin with excitement, he seriously cant contain himself.

The Easter Bunny sounds very similar to God somehow. A looming, deep voice, not squeaky like I thought he would.

The Easter Bunny is booming through the speaker phone, and tells Lovebug, "If I bring you any candy or money, make sure you save it for your favorite Uncle. Don't eat it. Give it all to your Uncle."

I was not surprised Easter morning when Lovebug told me he had to give everything in his basket to his Uncle because the Easter Bunny told him to.

Later that day, I called my mom to tell her about the Easter Bunny escapades...and wouldnt you know it? She already knew.

Wordless Wednesday

Good Boy

I'm just gonna go and ahead and throw this out there. Little kids suck. There, I said it.

Not all kids suck (not mine, at least, not right this very second any way), and the kids that do suck, nine times out of ten, it's not their fault.

Today at the library Lovebug got strong armed and bullied by two big boys. I'd guess they were four years old, they banned together and blocked his path so he couldn't play in the house. They put their hands on him, and pushed him hard, as Lovebug tried to no avail to squeak by them. I don't think he even realized they were being mean. It isn't in his nature to be tough, so he just thought they were in the way, he was even saying, "Excuse me," while they put their hands on his chest and defiantly pushed him out.

And their mothers?? Where, oh where were their mothers? Sitting on their butts chatting away like it was social hour. Their children not in their direct line of vision, nowhere near it. In fact, one of them was sitting with her back completely turned to the little house.

Call me crazy, but I think you shouldn't bring your kids to a public place unless you plan on watching them... at least glance at them every once in awhile for the love of God.

Sometimes I think I am not mature enough to be a mother. My heart was breaking for Lovebug, to see him pushed around like that, and everything inside me said, "Handle this calmly," when really... I wanted to bug the eff out on the bad boy's mothers.

My brain was screaming, "Hey, your four year old is pushing around my not-even-two-year-old. How about you get off your fat ass and handle the situation? Real classy men you broads are raising, or not raising for that matter." (Sorry, I was MAD.)

But, instead, I pulled Lovebug out of their reach. Took him to the back of the library and whispered in his ear that we don't play with bad boys (who were now trying as hard as they could to get my attention, get me to laugh, and look at them. Funny, if their MOTHERS were paying attention to them, maybe this wouldn't have happened), we are nice, we share, we say please, thank you, and excuse me.

And he said, "Okay Mommy, I'm sorry."

Not because he did something wrong, but because that's who he is. He is educated. I work with him, he knows to be nice, and polite. He isn't perfect, he has his moments, and when he does, you can be sure I am right there to teach right from wrong.

Those boys are each probably one of four or five kids in their families. Their moms take them to the library for the "free babysitting," as opposed to wanting to spend time with them, teach them something new. It is sad, and in the end, it is not the kid at fault, but the parent.

I know parenting is hard. I know that Moms dont get time to socialize, and relax. But have a playdate if you need that in your life. Or, maybe try talking to your child. Explain to your "big kid" that the littler kids are not strong, can not defend themselves, do not put your hands on them. I don't need your lack of parenting affecting my son, my day, my life.

I know I am not going to be able to stop all the bullies and bad parents that will come our way. I am not going to be there to protect him in middle school and high school. But I can teach him to be polite, and accepting, and hope that others will do the same with their children.

Not more than ten minutes before the house incident, a different little (big) boy had grabbed a toy from Lovebug, ripped it right out of his little paws. His mother was by his side instantly. I felt for her because situations like that are embarassing, you never want your kid to be the one stealing toys, but like a good parent, she was right there to intervene. She held her son tight, looked him in the eyes and said, "Give it back, share, say sorry."

Lovebug did not miss a beat. He looked right at her and said, "I'm sorry, I'll share."

That's who he is, he is a good kid, and wants everyone to smile, and play together.

And that is what I told myself two minutes after we walked in the door from the library and he broke this cabinet, right. off. the. hinge.

He is a good boy, he is a good boy, he is a good boy.


Car Rides

If I could go back, and change one thing about the way I have raised Lovebug thus far, it would be our car ride routine.

I created a car diva.

Most people say they put their kids in the car for some peace and quiet.

Not me.

Lovebug talks non-stop, blabbing away, yada, yada, yada.

"Mommy this, Mommy that, Mommy look, Mommy why, Mommy up, Mommy down, Mommy over, Mommy stop, Mommy go..."

It's endless.

Plus, I give him snacks and drinks in the car (anything for a second of silence, he cant talk with his mouth full... yet).

So, more often than not this badgering is going on while I am trying not to puke from the smell of old milk.

No matter how diligent I am about cleaning out my car, that stank nasty smell is impossible to get rid of.

I empty my car just about every other day, and still, the Milk Mobile stinks on.

We have tried the DVD player, books, toys, coloring... you name it.

Nothing works.

Husband flat out ignores him, but I am a softee and just cant bring myself to ignore him.

We don't go for short rides either, almost everywhere we go is a 20 minute plus ride, so Lovebug gets himself comfortable, and blabs away, not wasting a second on silence.

I have friends who do all sorts of things on car rides, none that jump through hoops like me.

If I could do it all again in the car, I would.

I don't actually have any advice on what I would do exactly, but I know I wouldn't act like a damn fool, being that Mom that has to entertain her kid everyfreakingsecond of his life... I would make car rides the exception.

Anyway, this past weekend, we got a break.

We were headed home from a trip to Maine where Lovebug rode a tractor, hit up a petting barn, rode in a golf cart, played in the woods...

The kid was fried... and didn't stand a chance against soft rain on his window, and James Taylor singing Sweet Baby James on the I-Pod.

Look how sweet and silent he is...


That cute little arm-pillow gets me every time...


I Don't Have a Daughter....

I have a son (most of this pertains to him anyway, but that's not the point).

But if/when I do have a daughter, I am vowing now, not to let her alone in a car with a boy until she is 16, no earrings until she is 10, no pants with any absurd words on the ass until she is 13, no ridiculous eye shadow before 12 (mascara and lip gloss will be just fine), no phone after 9 pm, no booty shorts at age 8.

Husband trumps my rules and says simply, "No sex until she is 45."

One day, I am hopeful, God will give us a daughter (maybe in August??!), and when he does, I am sure this little number by Tina Fey will ring true in every sense of the word.

And until then, I will pass it on to all of you... enjoy.

A Prayer for My Daughter
By: Tina Fey

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

 When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

 Guide her, protect her: When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

 Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

 What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

 May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

 Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

 O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

 And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

 And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

 ”My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Did You Know??

 For all my non-Mommy and Daddy readers out there... you may just want to bypass this post altogether. You will find it extremely un-exciting, unless you buy baby shower gifts on the regular, or are planning to get knocked up anytime soon.

When Lovebug was 18 months old I started using the Pampers Rewards Program (see, told you this would be boring, Brother). The Program is similar to a credit card point system, it is free, and gives you "Rewards," for every Pampers product you buy. Inside every package of Pampers, whether it be diapers, wipes, whatever, is a code. You simply go to Pampers.com, register, and start adding in your codes. The more codes you enter, the more points you earn.

Hey Pampers, I will talk you up all day and night if you want to send a few diapers or coupons my way fo' free! Just sayin'....

I wish someone had told me about this fantastic program before Lovebug was born, because I would probably be a bajillion-aire. The points rack up quick (since the Bug burns thru the dipes, and is still not potty trained), and are good for all kinds of things... bath toys, birth announcements, coupons, you name it.

Last night I cashed in my Rewards for the first time. I used 1,000 points and got a coupon for $10 off http://www.diapers.com/, another site I was new to, but had heard a lot about.

I headed over to http://www.diapers.com/ with my coupon code ready. I ordered a large package of size 4 diapers (Lovebug has been a size 4 since last June!!), 160 of them, priced at $44.99. I also bought 384 wipes, for $16.99, because shipping was free once you passed $49. Grand total, $61.98. Ooofff, diapers are NOT cheap.

Wait, it gets better. I had my $10 off coupon from Pampers Rewards, putting me down to $51.98. Then I googled around and found a coupon for 20% off, putting me down to 49 bucks or so. Finally, after a little more googling, I found a coupon for $10 off for first time customers. I couldn't get it to work so I made a quick call to http://www.diapers.com/, and they gladly honored the coupon; taking the $10 off manually, no questions asked!

You know what that means? Yup, I got 61 dollars worth of diapers and wipes for 39 bananas, plus free delivery right to my door. Booo-yah.

Not a bad little deal. Moral of the story?? Register at Pampers.com, shop the sales on diapers.com... it will save you money, money that you can then spend on yourself!!! Yay!

I wish someone had told me sooner about diapers.com and their always google-able (my blog, my word) coupons, making them cheaper than driving to the store (which we all know is expensive as HELL these days), and picking them up myself.

Now if only I could get Lovebug potty trained, then I wouldn't have to bore you with diaper/coupon/rewards boring ass posts. Oh well, if you'd like the annoying potty training posts to stop, please come teach my son not to shit on the floor. In return, I'll write about something more interesting.


Home Alone

The other night I was home alone for the second time since Lovebug was born.

What? Did you read that right? Could that be possible??

Yes. And because I just like to say it, I will say it again. The other night I was HOME ALONE for the second time since Lovebug was born.

It was amazing, peaceful, silent... oh it was so silent.

Even when Husband travels, and Lovebug goes to bed at 7:30, it is never so silent. I could hear the fridge humming, the clock ticking, the oil on the stove popping. I could also hear my thoughts, which were so effing loud.

If blogger hadn't been down for 2 days (sorry for the lack of posts, it's blogger's fault not mine, promise) I would have written a blog at that exact moment.... entitled, "What The EFF Do I Do Now?"

Alas, blogger was down, and so... I used up every last second of those 60 minutes on my own.

I made sure not a single breathe was wasted relaxing. I know, I know... I'm pregnant, I am never alone... I should relax, or sleep, or sit and do nothing, if I get the chance. But I couldn't. I just couldn't imagine wasting all those precious minutes when I could be getting. shit. done.

After texting two friends, ("Eeeeek! I am home alone!") I got busy.

In 60 minutes I....

  • Made this dinner, plus two baked sweet potatoes, a salad, and Rice Krispie Treats for our roadtrip to Maine.
  • Switched the loads and started a new load of laundry
  • Cleaned my kitchen, eating area, and TV/family room
  • Lit some yummy smelling honeysuckle candles... a gift to myself
  • Cleaned every mirror of fingerprints (they probably stayed clean until the Bug returned)
  • Wiped down all counters, coffee tables, hall table....
  • Swept the kitchen
  • Cleaned the downstairs bathroom
  • Took the garbage and recycling out
  • Put away all toys
  • Emptied and loaded the dishwasher
I know. I was busy, and I am not sure if I remembered to breathe, but I got shit done, and that's what matters right??

Plus it was doubly hard because between every two chicken patties I made I had to wash my hands, so I wouldn't get chicken gunk and guts all over my house. The bulk of my work was done while the patties were frying, so I would drop the patties in, wash my hands, and then run and do as much as I could, as fast as I could... not breathing.

I also turned the handle on the frying pan in while I was cooking, just in case someone wanted to come pull it down off the stove. I emptied the knives from the dishwasher first, and pushed the candles to the back of the countertops, just in case. Being a mother is in my blood now, it is natural, whether Lovebug is around or not.

My time alone was so necassary... it has been too long. It was amazing, I loved it.

And the very best part?? Was when the door opened 61 minutes later, and Lovebug came flying down the hall, screaming, "Mommy, Mommy!!! I saw tractors with Daddy!!" And my happy little Bug threw himself into my arms, happy to see me, excited to tell me stories of adventures with Daddy.

It was a successful trip to Lowe's for my boys, and an amazingly silent 60 minutes for me. Knowing the Husband drove the 3 miles to Lowe's alone with Lovebug, let him sit on some tractors ("with no horns!!!"), and both of my men came home smiling... was a huge victory for us all.

And me?? I am still basking in my "home alone" glow, three days later. Silently waiting, wishing, and hoping for another day soon.....



An almost two year old boy can get into more trouble than you would ever imagine. They have energy for days, and a healthy curiosity to match. Which means, getting into just about everything in sight.

Don't believe me?

Try taking your eyes off them for .3 seconds to answer the door when the mailman comes, or leaving the room to throw out a dirty diaper.

Good thing I always get there a minute too late... with my camera in hand.

Look who found the yummy pop stash in my purse while I signed for a package at the front door, yup, that's 3 at once

Look who got into my makeup while I cleaned out the trunk of my car and he played in the front seat

Look who opened the grille tools to help clean while I threw out the remains of our picnic lunch

Who really cares if he makes a mess anyway, that's what he is supposed to do right??

Kinda Wordless Wednesday

Lovebug took a break from running around like a maniac to sit quietly and play with the trucks at the park. I think he is still over-tired from Mudder's Day, that is the only explanation I can come up with because we all know he isn't much for sitting still!

He was so well behaved and such a doll. He wanted me to play on the ground with him, and even left without a tear or a fight (I miighhht have bribed him with a lollipop, but it worked so who cares). He shared with everyone who asked, said, "excuse me," waited his turn, and held my hand in the parking lot.

Love, love, love "easy" days.


My Mudder's Day

Facebook is a buzz with Mom's boasting about all of their Mother's Day bliss. Me?? I was on a Mountain, watching our family from the Gym compete in Tough Mudder, a 10 mile race with 28 obstacles, through snow, sleet, mud, and rain.

Oh yeh, I also had a baby on my back (not to mention the one in my tummy) for about 5 hours. No big deal. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now my legs are SCREAMING and I am hobbling around, cursing all those extra cookies I have been giving him.

Ten members of our gym ran the race; 8 finished. Two women dropped out on account of injury, hypothermia (not really, but close) and exhaustion. Someone else sprained his ankle stopping short somewhere on the Mountain, but finished anyway. Husband lost his shoe at Mile 2 in a huge mud pit, so he completed the last 8 miles with one shoe on. I know.

I couldn't believe it when I saw them at Mile 7, and they ran towards me asking for shoes. I was all, "What the hell are you talking about? I was supposed to bring extra shoes?"

Husband explained he found a nice woman who let him use her phone, and had left me a voicemail asking for shoes. Ohhhh... I did have a missed call from Providence, RI... and I never listen to my voicemails. Woops.

And you know what, Husband laughed, he didn't care. He was smiling. I was shocked and so proud. Husband did awesome in that race, with one freaking shoe on. And he bonded with our friends over something so few people can say they've completed, and actually done really well at.

I will say that the smile I saw on Husband's face at Mile 7, was one of the only smiles I saw all day. It was cold as hell, and windy, and snowy. The obstacles had ice cubes in them, and were in pools of freezing cold water, literally. Husband and friends said they may have enjoyed it more in August or September, so they could have warmed up a bit in the process.

Tough Mudder put on a hell of an event, and from a spectator's side, everything ran smoothly, everyone was super nice, and everything was clearly marked and done well. They obviously cant control the weather, and I think the brisk air, combined with the freezing obstacles put a downer on it for some folks. I did see one woman run smiling to her had to be less than one year old child, pick him up and give him a pick ol' muddy kiss. She was in fantastic shape, and ahead of the masses through all the challenges. She made everyone else look bad, and was totally enjoying her Mother's Day.

At the end of the day, my own "Mudder's" Day wasn't a "Facebook status perfect" kind of day. I didn't get breakfast in bed, or to relax in a bubble bath, or have a home made dinner from my Husband. But, I spent it with my family, and I was so freaking proud of Husband. My Lovebug took a cuddly snooze on my back, and woo-ed race goers with his sweet personality. I spent my day being proud of my boys, getting big muddy hugs and kisses, and feeling special in my own, kind of quirky, super messy way.

random Mudder's... doin' their thang

Lovebug's first bus ride, to the other side of the Mountain

There's our crew!

There is a lunatic!

Too much mud for this guy

Muddy and happy (?)

Three of our guys looking strong!

Husband killing it on the monkey bars

And this guy... happy as can be, as always!

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