Hell Week and Temper Tantrums

During our lunch break, right before we got out of the car to go back inside the building, my husband did the most delicious thing ever. He ran his fingers through my hair on the back of my head, gripped and tugged gently. Over and over again. For about four minutes. I've always loved it when he did that, and it's been a while. Wow. Just thinking about how good that felt relaxes me. Felt like he was pulling out all my tension. Better than a back rub, and I think that after we were married, in those two precious months before Ben started growing in my belly, my dear husband did that to my hair every night... most likely leading to the baby in the belly.

This has been a week from hell. That whole pregnancy thing has hit me like a sledgehammer with fatigue, nausea, irritability, etc. Every hour has been a struggle. And now it's almost over, and I'm so grateful.

I'm also grateful that my boss is coming back from vacation on Monday. Besides being one of my best friends, she also makes my job a lot easier at work. It's amazing how much she shields from me that I had to deal with this week.

Husband and I had a discussion yesterday about whether or not Ben has had a temper tantrum yet, and what that would look like, and what we would do. We decided that although he's had what we call meltdowns, it's not the true temper tantrums that I remember. But maybe it's because we usually give in. Let me clarify. He'll have meltdowns if we don't give him something that he wants Right That Moment. He wants a bottle NOW, but he has to wait sixty seconds for it to finish heating in the microwave. He wants to play with the saw that daddy left out, but we say no and redirect him to something else. He screams and hollers and cries big tears, but only for about a minute.

And that's not what I remember about temper tantrums. I remember the TTs as a period of time when the child is inconsolable, unable to be reasoned with, for minutes at a time. I think of a toddler throwing himself down on the ground, kicking and screaming, using his whole body to illustrate just how darn mad he is. Am I wrong? Or can meltdowns count as a TT? I don't know why the semantics matter to me. Maybe I'm just trying to prepare myself for something to come, the day when Ben finally has an actual temper tantrum in a horribly public, inconvenient place.

Cute Ben Things:

My parents are stealing Ben away from us Sunday morning to take him to Oshkosh for the day. My niece had a birthday, and she's having a party at the YMCA. And we were all invited. I declined, stating health reasons, but then my sister suggested that Ben come anyway. I bet he'll have a lot of fun playing in the water with all of his cousins, but geez. I'm going to miss the little tyke. This will be his first time in the water since he was six months old, which barely counts.

Ben does this new "spinning" thing. I think it goes in conjunction with a song they sing at daycare, but he does it silently at home. He'll raise his arms out to the side or up high, and he'll spin slowly in circles with this silly, sly smile on his face.

Clapping. We watched American Idol on Tuesday, and Ben was still awake and playing for the first half. He would stand there, enrapt by the singing, and then clap when he saw the audience clapping. It was so precious how he would clap and then look over at us with a smile of achievement.

He still panics a little bit when I go into the bathroom and close the door. After the Trauma That Was Sunday, he's come to associate mommy being in the bathroom alone with mommy feeling sick, and consequently, no more playing with mommy. He's had a few meltdowns this week because of it. When I leave the bathroom, he's usually waiting or comes running with arms outstretched for a hug. Seriously. How cute is that.

Oh Bed, I miss you so.

It was around this point in my first pregnancy that people at work started to comment to my friends that I didn't look so hot.

"What's wrong with Cheryl? Should she be in the hospital?"
"She looks like she got beat up."
"She's pregnant, isn't she?"

Yes, this intense fatigue is due to the pregnancy. This queasiness is because I have a baby in my belly.

Let me talk for a moment about fatigue. I am fatigued because my body is in overdrive, trying to produce a placenta that will support this little runt in my uterus. I am fatigued because of that magical hormone called progesterone that I have coursing through my body.

When I look in the mirror, I see myself as half-baked. Totally. I can't keep my eyes fully open, and it takes a lot of energy to form an expression on my face. Ha. And they expect me to perform at 100% here at work, doing my job as well as that of my vacationing boss (bless her heart). Like that's going to happen.

So, since I can't do a half-assed job here, I have to pick what part of my life I'll let slide. And, ladies and gentlemen, that would be my home life. Our house is a disaster area. Not that it's ever picked up and clean for more than 24 hours at a time, but seriously, that place is getting scary. And I can't really ask Chester to clean up since he's doing way more than his fair share of the parenting lately. I just won't let anyone come inside.

Oh, the nausea!

Is it so terribly wrong that on more than one occasion in the last two days, I've wanted to not be pregnant anymore?

This nausea thing has flattened me like a steamroller. I couldn't get out of bed for anything other than vomiting yesterday. And today? I'm so very queasy and light-headed since I hadn't really eaten anything in 36 hours.

Around noon yesterday, I finally called the on-call doctor and he called in a prescription for Zyrtec. And around five last night, I was finally able to swallow enough liquid to take the pill. I felt a tiny bit better a few hours after that. At least well enough to kiss my son goodnight.

Poor kiddo. So many times yesterday, he'd get so excited to see me come out of the bedroom, only to have the bathroom door shut in his face because Mamma was busy vomiting. He had several meltdowns, but Chester brought him into the bedroom to visit me a couple of times.

And today? Didn't really have a choice. Had to come to work. Both my boss and I were gone last Friday, and that means a proofreading black hole. Turns out even my boss's boss was out sick on Friday, so the other girl in our department was totally freaking out with all the extra, advanced stuff she had to do. They needed me here, and I couldn't really afford to use any of the rest of my 18 hours of sick time that I have for the remainder of the year. Everything at work is in a flurry because they finally announced the restructuring in our departments last Thursday. So many people in an uproar. The transitions will take a couple of months for some people, and my position isn't really affected. But it's drama, and cubicle environments thrive on that stuff.

At lunch, after I ate a half-cup of chicken soup broth and four french fries, I sat out in the car and cried on Chester. I feel so miserable. He reminded me that I was really sick with Ben, too. And I just took it minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day. That's nice, but I don't feel the same stamina I had with Ben.

A new pregnancy symptom that I didn't have with Ben? Feeling out of breath. I thought that was just a third trimester symptom. We almost went to the emergency room Thursday night because I couldn't easily catch my breath, but I went online to check, and it turns out it's normal. It's the progesterone surge. So it's normal, but it's still a lousy symptom.

Sorry this post sucks, but my head isn't on right. We have our first OB appointment this afternoon, and if I learn something special, I'll post about it tonight.

Update: No special news from the doctor. Basically just talking and a very uncomfortable pelvic exam. I learned a new word! Friable cervix. The reason for my spotting after the appointment. Further update: I'm getting my appetite back today. I've been snacking all day long on various things like pretzels, cornflakes, mints, french fries, pineapple, etc. Man, the fatigue is hitting me hard. I took a ten-minute nap in the car this morning, a fifteen-minute nap during lunch, and I may or may not do another 10-minute snooze this afternoon.

Real Moms Don't Get Colds. Yeah Right. + Meme

This week is supposed to be a breeze. Chester and I are off on Thursday and Friday to work on our bathroom renovation. I got a cold yesterday, and I'm so very stuffed up. And, since I'm pregnant, I can't take anything but Benadryl. Not a good idea to take while at work.

We had some surprise guests yesterday. My mom, my dad, both of my brothers, one sister-in-law, one niece, and two nephews. Ben was appropriately perky and affectionate for everybody, even if he desperately wanted a nap and passed out right after they left.

Cute Ben Thing:

We had about twenty minutes warning for the surprise guests. Chester ran out to buy us lunch, and I stayed home with Ben to clean. I was making some home-made potpourri on the stove, and I saw Ben come into the kitchen with a baby wipe box that only had a couple left. He pulled one out, squatted, and started to wipe the floor with it. Of course I found that adorable. Little Ben is helping Mamma clean. After about two minutes, he was still at it, so I went to praise his behavior. That's when I noticed there was actually something on the floor that he was trying to wipe up.

Slight back story: about an hour earlier, Ben had found a bottle of milk from the night before. He got a few chugs from it before I took it away and replaced it with a fresh sippy cup.

So Ben had vomited the spoiled milk on the kitchen floor, and he got his baby wipes, and he was cleaning up the mess himself.

How precious is that?

--Last night I made the decision that I need to go back on Zoloft. Chester and I had fought, but instead of getting over it and moving on, I got really depressed and nearly suicidal. So it's probably best if I go back on the pretty blue pills. Oh well. It's been 3 weeks since I went off of them. BTW, I'm feeling better emotionally this morning. Still a little blue, but nothing like last night. Could barely speak around bedtime last night. Just laid there and cried. --

Another Cute Ben Thing:

With the pending arrival of a new bundle of joy, we've been talking about moving Ben into a big boy bed at the tender age of 14.5 months. The time for the transition came naturally. We had brought down the twin bed that was in Ben's room and put it in the dining room for my mother's overnight last week. (She is getting a full knee replacement in April and is in a lot of pain until then). Now that her visit is over, the bed needs to leave the dining room. We decided to just haul up the mattress, and put the boxspring and frame into storage in the basement.

So we did. Immediately, Ben started climbing all over it. He'd lay his head on the pillow and pretend to sleep. Absolutely went crazy over it. So at bedtime, Chester cuddled near him, and Ben actually fell asleep on the big boy bed. Chester put him in his crib for the night, though. We need to buy a side rail to help keep Ben from rolling off in the middle of the night.

It was a victory for a war we didn't even have to wage.

A Quick Meme (tagged by Dana)

Real Moms...

Real moms are able to find impromptu toys for toddlers in unlikely places. Be it restaurants, doctor's offices, post offices. I think it's something that gets wired into our brains when we're in our third trimester. We have to do so many odd things to get comfortable, to find some relief, we start to think outside the box. We know that even though the nice waitress offers crayons and coloring books, we're better off with spoons and straws.

Real moms think that baby hugs are better than heroin or other illicit drugs. Don't get me wrong, I've never been a hard drug user. But getting a good, hard cuddle from my baby boy is better than any therapy or pleasure-giving drug I could get my pudgy hands on. I'll even allow cuddles when he first gets up in the morning and his pants are soaked. Sure, I end up walking downstairs in my underwear with him (because I couldn't stand my jammies being wet), but my husband understands.

Real moms know that sometimes, the kid will not look spotless. Yes, I try to make sure that my son doesn't have an upper lip and nostrils caked in dried snot. But when it comes to my son having a meltdown OR just leaving his nose alone for a trip to the grocery store, I might just let it go.

Real moms truly appreciate the assistance of a good daddy (when there's one in the family picture). Yes, I have aspirations of being Super Mom, but I'm not. And I don't really have to be, because I've got a great partner by my side to step in when I just can't take it anymore. I don't brag about how well I deal with my son without giving my husband his due. I can be Super Mom when I want, but I also get to take naps on Saturday mornings after breakfast. It makes me a better Mamma.

Happy Two-Year Anniversary To Me

Today is our 2-year wedding anniversary, so I figured I'd expound on the wonders of our marriage.

I still think it was pretty much an arranged marriage, courtesy of eharmony. Seriously. He lived in Tucson, and besides talking on the phone daily, we only saw each other twice before I flew myself down there to marry the guy. It's crazy to think about.

We went into the relationship with our cards (and baggage) on the table. We both wanted security, commitment, marriage and a family. I wasn't willing to move, but he wanted a colder climate. I've done some awful things in my past, but so has he. I have a fear of abandonment, and so does he. Etc. The cards. The baggage. Out there.

I hated his hair when I first met him. He had a greasy, long blonde ponytail that went down his back. Pulled tight. Shaved up the sides. And he was balding a bit. Totally hated his hair. I didn't ask him to cut it, but the gods smiled on me, and about four months into our long-distance relationship, he decided that as a symbol of moving on to the next phase of his life, he'd chop it off. And I think he's handsome now. Sigh of relief.

He also had a BO problem that was part of his baggage. I wasn't willing to accept this as a way of life, though. And I seriously think it was something in the atmosphere or something that he ate down there, because once he was moved up here to Wisconsin, he wasn't very stinky. Of course I made sure that he showered every day AND wore deodorant.

I'm a crazy, neurotic person who usually has to be medicated to function in normal society. I was also a smoker. I'm not sure I'm any less neurotic (although now I don't always need medication), but I did quit smoking for him. I still miss it, and it's been more than two years. But I don't miss a lot of things about smoking. The money, the smell, the need to stand outside in the bitter cold WI winters.

So we brought two slighty disfunctional people together and made a marriage. We quickly developed routines, and we prefer each other's company to that of others most of the time. We like the same things, and we don't argue a lot. And we both love our son, and we both are looking forward to meeting this new little baby.

The man treats me like a princess. He loves going out of his way to do nice things for me, and every single evening, he scratches my back for at least five to ten minutes. And since I like back scratches better than back massages, it's a good match.

He's very affectionate and gets all giddy when I hold hands with him in public. He likes cuddling almost more than I do, and he lets me have five pillows on my side of the bed.

He loves his job, and doesn't mind putting in overtime. He loves doing projects around the house, and even finishes them sometimes.

He's wonderful. And he's very different from my father.

Don't get me wrong, I love my dad, but he makes a lousy husband. When I was a little girl, I kept hoping my parents would get a divorce so the fighting would stop. My dad is a workaholic, and he has very traditional views of a man's role and a woman's role in the house. So my mom stayed at home, and her number one job was catering to his every whim. Coffee on time, dinner in front of the tv, chocolate milk, keeping the kids as quiet as possible while he was around, not talking about her faith, etc. When my mom wouldn't do something right, he'd call her a dipshit, and say that she's worthless. Every day of my life growing up. It sucked. Sure, he didn't hit her or us, but the verbal abuse still rings in my ears today.

Once he was older and found a company he enjoyed working for, he mellowed out a little bit, but his incapability to be a loving and supportive husband (let alone father) continued. The fighting wouldn't be every day, but at least once a week.

A couple years ago, mom took him to the emergency room because of a cold that wasn't getting any better. He was admitted to the ICU and needed 8 pints of blood. Why? Congestive heart failure and colon cancer. After the surgeries and the chemotherapy, he is actually much better to be around, and my mom is happier. He's more relaxed and more easy going. And he gets coffee for my mom every day, and he seems to delight in his grandchildren. At Thanksgiving, they announced that they will not get divorced now. After forty years of marriage, they figure it'd be easier to just stay together.

And Chester is nothing like him. My husband will do his share of the chores when I remind him to, and he loves making my life easier. He doesn't ever call me names, and he doesn't avoid spending time with our son. He cherishes us like we are his treasures, and he is very much a family man. We are his number one priority. And I love him for it.

I'm the one who has to be careful not to turn into my father. I try to adjust the way I work with Chester so that I'm nothing like my dad. It's tough. I catch myself being very irritated and short tempered with him. Sometimes I get so frustrated, I want to call him a bad name and put a pound of scorn behind it. I love being treated like a princess, and I have to remind myself that I can't make Chester do everything.

So our marriage has become a constant competition to be sweeter, more loving, more generous and kinder every day. It's not a bad way to live.

Hair Changes... and Nana's Coming to Town!

Got my hair chopped off last night. Feels better. Looks something like the following:



If I could find my digital camera battery recharger, I'd consider posting an actual picture of myself, it's that cute. But I can't. So pffbbbttt. :P

Although Chester was crazy busy at work all weekend because of the stupid time change, Ben and I had a wonderful time. He's such a goofball. I love him.

Instance of goofball-ness was actually from this morning:
I was making myself breakfast in the kitchen, and hubby was getting dressed. Ben, in the meantime, had taken a couple of paint-stirrer-sticks and was seeing what mischief he could get in. Enter the coffee. Chester had put his coffee/thermos/tall cup thing of coffee at the back of the end table against the wall where Ben can't reach it. Ben couldn't reach it with his own hands, but he discovered that if he used the sticks like tongs and pulled the coffee towards him, he could get at it. And of course it spilled everywhere. We didn't notice until Ben came to see me in the kitchen and I noticed his clothes were soaked.

So five minutes before we left for work, Ben needed a change of clothes and Chester had to take a towel to the spill in the living room. In reality, Ben needed a bath because he was sticky, but I figured they could wipe him down with a baby wipe at daycare. And they did.

Really, it's a cute story. Ben, at 14-months-old, figuring out how to use tools to get into mischief.

I'm excited I'm still pregnant. Even bought a couple maternity shirts at Kohls.

My mom is coming into town tomorrow for an overnight. She'll be picking up Ben from daycare in the morning and will stay with him at our house all day. She hasn't really gotten a chance to spend a chunk of time with him since he became so mobile. After work, she's treating us to our anniversary dinner (our 2-year is on Thursday). What a sweeatheart.

Tonight, we'll be cleaning like mad. Anything that we don't clean, she will, and I'd rather she just enjoyed herself with Ben instead of being The World's Biggest Blessing and mopping our floors or something. We're also hauling down our twin-size bed to put in the dining room. She has her own bed at our house, but it's upstairs. And since she's having full knee replacement surgery in April, she's not allowed to walk up and down stairs.

The Doctor Said Congratulations

I was so depressed this morning. Took another HPT test, and it was still really faint. I was totally discouraged and almost canceled my appointment this morning.

But I went anyway. I peed in a little cup and went back in the waiting room to watch a Judge show. Fifteen minutes later, I was called back. Did the whole weigh-in thing (lost 15 pounds, wooohoo), blood pressure, etc. Then I sat there waiting for my Dr. She came in and said, "Congratulations."

Me: "Really?"
Dr: "Yes, really. It was positive."
Me: "Oh, thank God."

I'm three weeks pregnant. I have another appointment in two weeks to have the pelvic exam done. I stayed late this morning to do the OB blood labs.

Feels so surreal. I'm still terrified of losing this little one since it's so very early, but I do have a twinkle in my eye.

Exuberant Joy Over a Little Pink Line

According to Fertility Friend, I might be getting my period today. I've taken two negative pregnancy tests over the last few days. Today, I took another one. The little line didn't pop out from the slightly pink background (that fades in a few minutes), so I just hopped in the shower as usual.

I glanced down at the test again when I got out of the shower... and, wouldn't you know it, there was a very faint pink line where I really wanted it to be. Very faint. But, dammit, it's a positive. A weak positive, but it's there.

I would have just implanted yesterday, so it'll be a few days (at least) until the pregnancy is a bit more established.

Can't focus on that, though. All I know is that right now, I'm pregnant. And I've been crying for the last hour. Called my mom so she could start praying already. My due date will be around November 17th. I was five weeks early with Ben, so I'm thinking sometime in October.

Update: I couldn't wait, so I called my doctor's office this morning. I'm going in tomorrow morning for a urine test and a 15-minute appointment with my doctor.

The TTC Struggle of February/March

So this last cycle, I was blindsided by trying to be all aware of my body, but totally missing ovulation. I was doing the saliva ferning thing, but found out I was drawing the saliva from the top of my tongue instead of sublingual, or under the tongue. Maybe I would have been able to notice the ferning if I was doing it right. Maybe not. I thought my temperature spike was just because I was sick, but it's been 10 days, and my temp has stayed high, just like it would if I had ovulated.

Yesterday, I had full ferning, and since it was day 21, and that was the day I ovulated last cycle, I was so excited that I would have a change to try to conceive still this month. So, Chester and I "got it on" a few times this last weekend. Have to tell you, TTC sex isn't nearly as good as just making love when we feel like it (which is usually only once a week).

Today, though, I'm all depressed. What if the ferning was just the common estrogen surge at the end of my cycle? According to my chart, if I'm not pregnant, I'll be getting my period this week. My coverline for basal body temps was 97.6 this month, and I'm still testing at 98.0. If I'm ovulating right now, how high is my temp going to actually go? My ferning was back to "transitional" already this morning.

Anyway. Of course we'll just have to wait and see. And keep trying.

If I didn't conceive this cycle, I'm going to invest a little bit more in my fertility by buying some of that pre-seed lubricant. The stuff that supposedly makes it easier for the spermies to get where they want to go. Also might start doing the Creighton method/charting cervical mucus stuff. I can't check my cervix. Tried. Can't reach it. I'm too fat, and my arms are too short. I asked Chester if he would do it, and he refused. Spoilsport.

That was all very TMI. Sorry about that.

In other news. Hell. There isn't much else going on. We're starting to get our tax refunds back, so I've been on a bill-paying spree. Feels good. When I've gotten up-to-date on the basics like electricity and phones, then we can start picking up things for our bathroom renovation which is still scheduled for March 22-23. I was so excited that I was finally able to schedule a cancellation for our Sprint phones. Our contract finally expires on the 21st of this month. That's eighty bucks I'm not going to miss paying out, especially since Chester has a phone through work. I'd rather get a landline and use a phone card for long distance.

Ben's Latest Cute Things

He'll reach for our hands and then press it flat... and then give us "fives". Over and over again. If we don't let him have our hands, he'll give us "fives" on our chests. And then we had to teach him about the difference between hitting and giving fives.

Also, I was folding laundry last night, and he wanted up on my lap. So I held him... and put a sock on my hand and started doing the sock puppet thing. "Hi Mr. Ben. I'm Mr. Sock. I'm going to tickle you now." He kept smiling and looking back and forth from my mouth (where the sound was coming from) and the sock, which was moving like it had a mouth. And of course he'd giggle when Mr. Sock would tickle him. Then I put one of his socks on his hand, and he moved it like it was talking, and then he tickled Mr. Sock, but not me. I didn't mind. It was still cute.

Can I Just Leave Him In The Room Alone?

For a little bit this afternoon, I was so overwhelmed with my son, I wanted to leave him in the little exam room and take a walk. I didn't, because, well, that would be illegal and scary for Ben. Here's the backstory.

Daycare calls around 2:30 to tell me that Ben is running a fever, and he's just laying there, watching everyone and whimpering. So, I leave. Mamma to the rescue.

One look at my little guy, and I knew that we were taking a trip to the walk-in clinic. He was lethargic and barely reacted when I came in. His eyes were glazed over, and he started crying. So sad.

I had to make a decision. Where to take him? The Aspirus Urgent Care or the Clinic Walk-In. We were going to be changing pediatricians because we weren't happy with the clinic, but all of his medical records are at the clinic. So, I went there because I didn't want to have to try to recall his medical history all of a sudden.

We saw a doctor who diagnosed a major double ear infection (which is the reason he's been crying all week. oops). Because of Ben's wheezing, he also ordered a nebulizer treatment, a chest xray, and an RSV test.

I'll skip past the boring clinical crap and say this: It is very hard to try to entertain a sick toddler in a small exam room without any toys, books or bottles.

I pulled out all the stops. I made balloons with the gloves. We played drums with the tongue depressers. We built castles with the dixie cups. I played Near-Far with the mirror. I put the dixie cup on my nose and pretended to be a piggy. I sang songs. It was tough work.

After an hour, he didn't want to play. He just wanted to lay on Mamma and whimper. About 30 minutes into that part... me, holding a half-dressed toddler on an uncomfortable plastic chair, trying to find a comfortable position for myself while trying to find a comfortable position for him. And he was running a fever, so he was very warm against my body.

I started to have hot flashes and hyperventilate, so I'd alternate between putting him on the exam table and letting him scream and pacing back and forth, fanning myself. That's when I wanted to escape. I know it wasn't fun for Ben either, but hell, this isn't his blog.

Eventually, the hell ended. The nurse had Ben heave his chest just to get ox-sats above 92. I tried telling her that it wasn't acceptable to me to have them fudge my son's test results just so you wouldn't have to admit him. She said it didn't matter. Whatever.

The doctor came in and said his RSV test was negative and his x-ray looked fine. Therefore it is just a virus, and there's nothing they can do. He was about to leave when I reminded him to give me a prescription for the ear infections.

We left. Now my husband gets to take care of him, and I get to take a mommy break. Oh look. Here it is. That's why I'm blogging. So thank you, dear friends, for listening to my woes.

I've Never Liked Rollercoasters

So my Fertility Friend chart is convinced that I ovulated last Friday. Hmmm. I'm not so sure, but I haven't been very good at the ovulation test strips. They say to use them during the day, but only when you haven't had anything to drink for two hours. Seriously. I'm drinking water all day. It's not healthy otherwise. I get thirsty after thirty minutes.

Today, I've been on an emotional rollercoaster. I was crying before lunch time. Really. It's disgusting. It was work stuff. I was really frustrated with someone, and I had to take a twenty minute walk to calm down. It's all over stuff that has happened before. So Chester and I went to a diner for lunch, and I gorged myself on Eggs Benedict (sauce on the side, eggs scrambled). Felt better.

Monday morning, I woke up at five with the urge to use the bathroom, but being a dutiful TTC person, I stuck a thermometer in my mouth to get my basal body temperature. I didn't make it to the bathroom in time. Thus starts my awful day of having the stomach flu. Thirty minutes before Chester was going to leave and take Ben to school, Ben threw up all over our recliner and hardwood floors. Again. So we all stayed home. I needed to sleep, so Chester stayed home to care for the Benz. Five beautiful hours of sleep.

Since Ben had a third hearing test Tuesday around noon, I had already requested Tuesday afternoon off as vacation time. So after he passed his test (finally), I had the afternoon to myself. I relaxed in bed with a chunk of Hersheys with Almonds and US Weekly. Eventually, I napped.

No wonder today sucked. Even having my butt explode all day on Monday was better than being here. This back-to-work angst should end soon, I hope. The only thing making life tolerable today: Listening to Damien Rice's "9" album on my cd player. Even if I'm only allowed one ear bud, it's still nice to listen to ultra depressing, ultra emotional music while I'm furiously proofreading. Favorite lines: "Waking up without you is like drinking from an empty cup." and "Does he drive you wild, or just mildly free?"

Ben is feeling better, although he's not quite back to normal. Still not eating that much, and he's very, very whiny and irritable.

Cute Ben Thing:

Last night, I picked up my shirt off the floor and walked into the bathroom. I put it down the laundry chute and went about other business. Ben came in shortly after me, carrying his own shirt from the daytime. He stood at the laundry chute, trying to reach the knob to open the door.

I started crying and laughing, it was so cute. I called Chester into the room, and helped Ben open the door. He stretched up on his tippy-toes to put his shirt down the chute... and wasn't quite tall enough to push it all the way in. We helped with that too.

We hadn't gotten around to teaching him that yet, but he learned it on his own.

Remodeling Update:

I decided that instead of trying to hang pictures in Ben's room, since the ceiling slants so much, I'm going to paint and write poems on his walls. Shel Silverstein's "Picture Puzzle Piece," William Wordsworth's "Daffodils," Carl Sandburg's "Fog," Robert Frost's "Dust of Snow," and Walt Whitman's "A Noiseless, Patient Spider."

In my last apartment in Stevens Point, I had written out passages from my favorite books and some of my favorite poems all over my living room walls. It was a wonderful room to sit in. Felt like I was being embraced by long-loved words. I think it'll be interesting to see how Ben and his new sibling react over the years to living in a space like that. By choosing poems a little deeper than nursery rhymes, I hope that they'll learn to appreciate classic literature and the magic of vocabulary.

Saturday With My Boys

It all started out pretty well. We stayed in bed a lot later than usual. I didn't get up until six, and Chester didn't get up until six-thirty. While I was cooking breakfast, Chester woke up the boy. I should have known something was wrong since he slept in so late.

Around seven-thirty, I plopped Ben down in his high chair for breakfast. Chester was in the shower; he had to be at work by eight for some overtime project with his boss. As I started to put on Ben's bib, he coughed... and then gagged... and then vomited. It kept coming and coming. I think it was even lunch from yesterday. It was awful and smelly and chunky. Nasty. I went into the bathroom and told Chester to help.

After the deluge was over, Ben needed a bath. He was pretty listless, but still in a generally good mood. I gave him a bottle of milk after his bath. Ten minutes later, it was all over our floors and a stack of blankets on the floor. Ick. Ick. Ick.

When Chester got back from work at noon, and after our three hour nap, he also came down with a stomach bug.

This has been a really long day. I even had to shovel our sidewalk. And since we have a winter storm warning, I have a feeling I'll be out there at least another two times this weekend.

Really, I'm not that pissy of a person. It's just been a few bad days. My life is still really good. I have a lovely marriage, an adorable son, a warm house. We're getting a good chunk of money back from the IRS, so we'll even be able to pay off some of our bills. Life is good. Great. I just wish it didn't have to contain chunky, stinky vomit.

Friday "Everything's Pissing Me Off Today" Meme

MOST HATED...

FRUIT: Papaya
CANDY: Carmellos
BEVERAGE: Tomato Juice
COLOR: (How can somebody hate a color?) Hmmm. Cotton Candy Pink. As a side note, in college, I painted my bedroom Cotton Candy Pink and Bright Red. It was an interesting year.
TV SHOW: I run screaming from Wife Swap or similar-themed shows.
MOVIE: Dawn of the Dead
ANIMAL: Not a big fan of pit bulls. I live across the street from a breeder.
INSECT: Mosquitos.
BIRD: Who hates birds? I mean, really? Come on. Let's say Pelicans. Don't ask why.
SEASON: Summer. I can't tolerate hot, steamy weather.
AGE OF KIDS: I've met some really bratty six year olds.

...WHAT ANNOYS YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING WHEN...

DRIVING?: Definitely not using turn signals. My husband slows down to turn into a parking lot, but waits until the last moment to turn on his blinker. It drives me batty.

TALKING ON THE PHONE?: Can this be about other people talking on the phone? 1. Too-loud ringers. 2. Someone talking on the cell phone while in the public bathroom. I start flushing non-stop just to piss them off.

WATCHING TV OR MOVIES: Commercials. Gawd, they suck hard.

EATING IN RESTAURANTS: People who glare at my son because he's making a lot of noise. Why can't some people just relax and enjoy the innocent laughter and frivolity of toddlers? No one else gets that excited from stacking jelly packets.

GOING THROUGH DRIVE-THRUS: Mixing up my order. Taco Bell gave us the totally wrong bag yesterday... And since their stuff isn't tightly wrapped, I was really annoyed that I looked through a bag of tacos and was touching food intended for someone else. Where the hell was my quesadilla? Then they had to remake our order which took another five minutes. It was revolting. And did they give us a free cinnamon twists to assuage our anguish? No. They just said "Sorry." I have it on good authority (husband) that cinnamon twists are ridiculously cheap and easy to make. Take spiral macaroni pasta, uncooked, throw it in a deep fat fryer. Watch it sizzle and then expand. Shake it dry. Dust it with cinnamon and sugar. Done. Would that have been too painful to let us have a free pouch?

YOU'RE AT THE MALL: Um. I don't go to the mall because they piss me off so much. Is it wrong that I only shop at places with stuff on clearance? Seriously. The last time I was at the mall was for a Coworker Group playdate. If I was at a mall, I would be annoyed by people who eat while shopping. I once saw a lady munching on doritos and then using that same hand to paw through stacks of clothes. Everything was covered in cheese dust. Ick.

SLEEPING (OR TRYING TO SLEEP): As much as I appreciate my husband doing the dishes, we have a small house, and when he does the dishes after I get into bed, it sounds like he's banging glasses and pots together just to make noise. Kind of like the time I had Ben start playing with the pots and pans when Chester was sleeping in too late one Saturday. It sucks.

SHOWERING: I like hot showers. That is why I've insisted that my dear husband take his showers in the evenings so I can all of our hot water to myself. This was never a problem in our old apartment, but we have an electric water heater now, and it's true... those take forever to heat.

YOU'RE AT THE BEACH: Teenagers making out in the water when I'm trying to have wholesome playtime with my son, just yards away from the shallow end. Get a room, and keep your fluids inside, please.

YOU'RE AT THE GROCERY STORE: People who are in a huge hurry and cut me off, or just have a really pissy look on their faces. They suck. I smile at them while showing as many teeth as possible.

YOU'RE ON A DATE: The other person just sits there like a freaking lump on a really boring log. Won't give anything but one or two word answers to my questions. I get it that they're shy and I can have a really BIG personality sometimes, but come on. You're on a date to meet new people, start a relationship. Open up a little, damn it.

COOKING OR BAKING: Getting midway through preparations and cooking before I realize I'm missing a vital ingredient like eggs, milk, meat or wondra flour.

WHAT HOUSEHOLD CHORE DO YOU HATE THE MOST?: Kitty litter box. Hands down. The winner.

WHAT DO YOU THINK WOULD BE THE ABSOLUTE WORST WAY TO DIE? Lung cancer. It's too slow and painful and distressing.

WHAT'S THE MOST ANNOYING HABIT IN OTHERS?: Whining. Life is what you make of it, and that includes work. I get disgruntled fairly often, but I still am able to find things I like about my job.

WHAT IS YOUR WORST HABIT?: Nose picking. Not in public. That's just gross. But even the private habits are worth a bit of shame.

WHAT FASHION TREND (PAST OR PRESENT)? Odd colors and applications of eye shadow. Bright blue or green eye liner. Leggings on girls who aren't built for them. Brown lip liner. But most of all, those damn curling-iron bangs. I was guilty of this in the nineties, but my sister was one of the major offenders. She did the curling iron bangs WITH hairspray that made them stand straight up and curl back. My sister-in-law still wears her hair like that. She also still gets perms.

WHAT POPULAR SONG (PAST OR PRESENT)? Pretty much anything from the seventies and eighties. That whole Retro Lunch thing on our local pop station? Yeah. Not for me. I'd rather listen to Rush Limbaugh.

WORST THING ABOUT HIGH SCHOOL: Hormones. Holy crap those things got me into a bunch of trouble. School would be much easier to deal with if there wasn't this whole DRAMA thing going on in your head.

MOST IRRITATING THING ABOUT YOUR CAR: I decided this morning that there are two kinds of people. Those who keep their cars clean like it's a rental and those who treat it like their bedroom closets. Sure, you have to have a place to put things, but crap tends to gather up in the corners. We are the latter. And it upsets me sometimes that I seem unable to keep our car neat and tidy.

TO BE COMPLETELY STEREOTYPICAL, WHAT DO YOU THINK IS THE MOST ANNOYING THING ABOUT FEMALES? Oh, that's easy. Women who feel the need to bash guys all the time. I'm not a man-hater and I don't blame them for all the problems that women have. Take some responsibility for your own moods and actions, ladies.

TO BE COMPLETELY STEREOTYPICAL, WHAT DO YOU THINK IS THE MOST ANNOYING THING ABOUT MALES? My husband feels that he knows everything about home improvement. His cockiness has caused a lot of broken things in our home. So something, like a faucet, doesn't get fixed... it now needs to be replaced. It's a Tim-the-tool-man-Taylor thing. Growl.

One of These Days... + Meme

One of these days, I'll get around to having a perfectly picked up house. The dishes won't stay in the sink more than two days. Laundry will be folded and put away the same day that it is washed and dried. I will scrub out the toilet more than twice a month. One of these days.

I grew up in a very cluttered house. Other than being Super SAHM, my mother didn't have an organization bone in her body. Piles of clutter. Baskets of clutter. All drawers were junk drawers. Since the kids moved away, her house has become pretty clean. She still has her areas (like kitchen counters), but for the most part, her house is fine. You'd think I'd revolt against my childhood by becoming the opposite. A neat freak. Well, I go through spurts of that, but for the most part, I'm somewhere in the middle. What's nice is that the clutter I let gather around is just daily stuff, not stuff that should be in storage. So if I need to have a presentable house in 15 minutes, no problem. I can do that. I'm the queen of the 15-minute pickup.

For now, I'll keep being me, and keep spending time with my darling toddler boy. I keep blinking, and he keeps growing up.

Five Things You Didn't Know About Me

1. My right knee is all banged up with scars from when I flew off of our moped when I was nine. I was driving on gravel, and I lost control, and I ended up about five feet in front of the moped. My knee was gushing blood, but I refused to get stitches, so my mother had a friend talk her through how to do a butterfly bandage. The resulting scar is unsightly, but really. I had getting stitches. I think they're barbaric.

2. I have a little bitty scar on my second toe on my left foot. When I was a toddler (about 20 months) I got my leg caught up in the spokes of my mom's bike when I was riding on the back. Miracle, the only thing that got hurt was my toe, which was split open.

3. When I yawn, it usually involves a lot of arm flailing and loud squeals. Like my expressive sneezes (which are anything but ladylike), my yawns are intense. While my body gapes open at the mouth to draw in extra oxygen, I end up pounding on a nearby surface with my fists and shaking my head from side to side. And the sound? It varies. Usually some time of squeal. And I always have to explain afterwards that it was only a yawn. Wish I could fix that.

4. I like doing the dishes. I think this started when Ben was a baby and we were having to wash bottles every day. It was a little break from tending to the screaming newborn. Now, I enjoy it because I get to listen to whatever book on tape is currently in my stereo... and I like the suds. And the warm water is soothing in the winter. I don't take baths (I'm a shower girl), but I still like immersing my hands in very warm water. It's relaxing.

5. I don't have very good sense when it comes to certain math issues. You know those mathematical problems that start "A train left Boston at 2:24 pm and traveled an average of 42 mph, and a donkey left Santa Fe at 1 am, and had oats for breakfast. What time did Elvis go potty?" I can't do them. I can understand each half of the problem, but I can't join them together to see how the two halves affect each other. I always aced my math classes in high school and college, but never got one of those questions correct.

Newborn Sleep Deprivation, Memory Lane

Coworker Mo got back from maternity leave this week after six long weeks at home with Baby Brody.

This morning she came by my cubicle and asked me, "Is there anything I can do to get Brody to fall back asleep during the night? I'm so tired." Little boy is up three or four times a night, and he wants to stay up, looking around, preferrably while perched on Mom's shoulder as she walks back and forth. You know the drill.

I told her there wasn't a magic trick, and it's really hard coming back to work when your baby is so little... mostly because you miss him, but also because you're sleep deprived because you have a newborn. I told her to try everything and don't give up trying new things or old things over again. Eventually, something will work... even if it's a bouncy chair in front of the tv while you sleep a foot away on the couch. Any shut-eye is good.

I also advised her to insist on taking turns with her husband since Brody takes a bottle. Both of them have full-time jobs, and one person isn't more entitled to sleep at this point.

Believe me, I feel for her. There are a half dozen other ladies around here who are recently new moms, and we all remember those first four or five months. We joked this morning about taking an egg timer out to the car to close your eyes for twenty minutes in the car... or falling asleep in the lactation room here at work while you're pumping.

Remembering that newborn ordeal makes me very relieved that after I have the next baby, I won't be going back to work. My SAHM life will be harder in so many ways, but hopefully I can sneak in a 15-minute nap while my little ones sleep.

Homemade Play-Doh recipe

courtesy of my mother, SAHM extraordinaire

Mix the dry ingredients together in the saucepan before adding the liquids, which have also been mixed together before adding to the dry.

1 C. flour
1/2 C. salt
2 tsp. cream of tartar
1 C. water
1 Tbs. cooking oil
fragrance and food coloring

Pour the liquid mixture into the dry and heat, stirring til mashed potato consistency.
Knead immediately. Keeps well in a sealed container.
The fragrance is preferably "oil of wintergreen".
Enjoy!

Another Day, Another Cycle

I'm a VIP member at Fertility Friend. It's an online charting and calendar tool for those trying to conceive. I've been charting for a few weeks, but they do a cruel, cruel thing when you get your period. They erase your chart and make you start over. It was psychologically disturbing for me to see my chart start over. Sure, it's a new cycle with all new information, but finding out I'm not pregnant was tough enough. I don't know why it bothered me.

I started my period yesterday morning. It was a sad day, so I went on a TTC (trying to conceive) shopping spree. I bought a pack of ovulation test strips, more pregnancy test strips and one of those saliva microscope/ovulation predictor things. Dang it. I want to have another baby before 2008. I better get cooking. Chester is amused by my enthusiasm and determination. I don't think he realizes how tired he will be.

Since last night was a Walmart night, we went to Wendy's beforehand for dinner. We do that so Ben can eat dinner at a normal time, and we aren't out so late. We were enjoying a meal of chicken nuggets, salads and french fries, when a family of six children and two parents came in. The kids were all age 6 months to about 8 years old. Without the parents even having to direct traffic, the kids picked out a seat at a table, took off their coats and sat down. Then, while the parents were getting the food, they sat quietly and talked. When the little baby started babbling and flailing, one of the older children went over to sit by him and entertain him. None of the children was acting up, running around, bouncing off the walls, etc. Just very polite, well-behaved kids. I was rather intrigued as to why they all had the same haircut, even the girls. It's hard to speculate as to the reason for the across-the-board boy cuts. They were all in hand-me-downs, and they seemed to really appreciate each other's company.

The whole scene made me and Chester smile. It was neat to see the kids interact with each other. The family at the table behind us, two kids and an extra friend, were well-behaved, but more vocal. We heard a little brother ask an older sister a stupid question, and she told him to shut up already. Even that made us smile.

Siblings can be fun. I am seven years younger than the next oldest kid in my family, so I felt like an only child for most of my life. I didn't have a built-in playmate. I remember my older brother would dangle me over the stairs by my ankles, and my sister would help hold me down while they all experimented with pressure points (but they pinched, not pressed). Despite my own experiences, I know that having a brother or sister close to your age can be amusing and worthwhile. I know this because I see how my brothers and my sister interact as adults.

My sister and my older brother especially. I'm very jealous of their close friendship. They are both intensely loyal towards each other and have even bailed each other out of jail in the past. They like doing stuff together. They're friends, even though they are very different. It's the shared bond of blood and a past that bring them together.

I'm sure Ben will make a lot of friends throughout his life, but I'd like to give him more of a family, too. And I think I'll be quite happy with more than one kid. I like a little crazy chaos, and I think kids are a lot of fun. The more the merrier, right? Chester pales when I talk about this, and he clears his throat... "Uh... How many are you talking about?"

*Smile* We'll see, dear. Let's start with two and see how much fun that is.

In other news, Daycare has started to transition my baby boy into the toddler room. Now he'll be eating at a table with a tray and flatware. He'll take a single nap on a cot. He'll brush his teeth after lunch. He'll drink from a sippy cup and not a bottle. I'm sad about this, too. He's growing up way too fast.

This morning we had a hug-fest on his bedroom floor. I was getting him dressed, and he was squirming, so I'd take little breaks to squeeze him rock from side to side while grunting (that sounds a lot weirder than it actually is). He encouraged it by wrapping his arms around my neck and laying his head on my shoulder. Kept coming back for more hugs. Then, Daddy came up and joined the little party. Double the hugs. Double the giggles. Double the love. I wish I could freeze time on that scene and go back to it when I need a break from the hectic times at work or when Chester and I have stupid fights.

Update: Happy 100th Post!

I'm a Party Girl

Those who know me and love me, know that I'm not fond of parties. I avoid them actually. Even if I accept an invitation, it's a pretty good bet that I'll cancel within four days of the event.

Why? Well, about four years ago while I was in college, I got into a little trouble with friendships and relationships. My life was spiraling out of control because of bad decisions and the people I was hanging around. I also did something really stupid while really drunk.

The remedy? I put myself into seclusion. I cut almost everybody out of my life, became a nanny, and learned to enjoy my own company again. I ended up dropping out of college with only ten credits to go, but that's just a side effect.

The result? Everything eventually became very quiet in my head. That's the best way I can describe it. That feeling is addictive. It really is. This inner peace and centeredness. I started a couple hobbies. Cross stitching and crossword puzzles. I started listening to countless books on tape. For a couple years, I didn't even have cable.

Over the last couple years, I've let myself make friends again. (This is not related to the boyfriends, fiances, and now husband. I never cut myself off from having a romantic relationship. I just became far more selective). My first friend, Mary, chose me. I had just started the job that I currently have, and within a month, she started coming by my cube and talking to me. Sometimes for an hour at a time. Couldn't help a real friendship from developing, and now she's my best friend, even though she's left the company.

Then, I started sharing personal current life details with my boss. We both have baby boys -- I found out I was pregnant the week before she went on maternity leave -- and we both enjoy reading actual books and reading celebrity gossip blogs. Now, there isn't much we don't share with each other. But it's mostly a work-based friendship.

I know a lot of people, and I'm friendly with almost everybody. People have just learned that even though you have to invite Cheryl to parties, she will probably graciously decline, but will inevitably buy a present to compensate.

Here's the deal on why I don't like parties now. One, I don't drink. Most of that is fear that I'll do another Really Stupid Thing. The other is that I take Zoloft, and mixing that with alcohol is dumb. But if I commit another RST, I can't run away from this life that I now have. I have my own roots now... a baby... a husband. Unless I could convince hubby to run away with me, I'd be stuck.

Two, I don't have a huge amount of patience for making small talk with people I don't really like. This happened when I realized that I could live a happy life without being surrounded by people. It also happened when I realized I could tell people to leave me alone. "You've been in my apartment for ten minutes now. That's enough. This visit is over. Please leave." Oh sure, if I wanted to, I could talk with strangers for hours. I finished the journalist training of my degree, and I'm really good at interviewing and asking interesting questions to create interesting conversation. I just don't care enough.

Three, I don't like being around other people who are drinking. People always tell me that it's okay that I don't drink, I can just watch other people make asses of themselves. Um. Okay. But there have been times in my life where people who are drunk have done their own RST. I don't want to be involved in that. I like sobriety. I like knowing that the person I'm talking to will remember it the next day, and I like knowing that the person I'm talking to is genuine and not filtered through a boozy haze. I don't have any time for people who get all cuddly and friendly when they're tipsy, but don't have the time of day for me when they're sober.

I make exceptions. One time in particular is holidays with my family. One of my sisters usually manages to sneak in some wine, and will surreptiously serve it in paper cups to the rest of the sisters. My mother is very anti-alcohol, but my family is full of very strong personalities, and sometimes, a little loopiness is necessary to relax. And I limit myself to an ounce or two.

So, two weeks ago, my husband's department announced its annual Christmas party. And Chester arranged for Mary (above-mentioned best friend) to come and babysit. And of course I spent the last week trying to get out of it. No luck.

I like a lot of the people in my husband's department. They're a bunch of sarcastic, witty, computer geeks. They can handle my "zingers" and can dish it out just as well. But when it comes to get-togethers, I'd rather be at home folding laundry or playing with Ben.

The upside is, the parties are held at the homes of executives or upper management. Their homes are usually new construction with a rec area in the basement. That means a big screen tv, comfy couches and a pool table. So, last night, while most people were upstairs around the food, Chester and I hung out downstairs and pretended to know how to play pool. We really can't play well. I made small talk while watching tv with my husband's boss's wife (I still don't know her name). We stayed for an hour.

And guess what. Now, I get to start planning my housewarming party. Because even though the people in my department know I don't do parties, they're insisting that I have a housewarming party to show off my new house. Bastards. Maybe I'll serve booze and get nice and toasted along with my coworkers. Yeah, right.

Maybe Baby? This Time With A Breakdown

Geez, my cycles are screwed up. My past three cycles since I went off the pill have been 25, 23, and 29. I started doing the basal body temperature charting thing a few weeks ago, and according to that, it'll be day 36 of my cycle before I'm expected to get my period again. Today is day 29.

We still have a good chance that we conceived (because we're frisky little buggers), but it sucks since I have to wait so long to find out. This "wondering" part of the month is tough. Here's the breakdown of clues, either way.

Maybe Baby?
--My skin is kind of flushed and pink.
--I have crazy mood swings.
--My appetite is huge.
--I'm craving Mexican food (which isn't normal for me).
--My mind seems to think I'm pregnant, because I keep talking about my "babies" and when we have the new little baby in the fall. I also am more prone to talking to my belly when I'm bored. "Hi there, little baby. Welcome to the family. We hope you have fun."

Probably No Baby
--Life was very busy this cycle and we didn't "um, you know" as often as we had planned. Mostly my fault. When the boy goes to sleep between 7:30 and 8, I usually head to bed too. If I'm really tired, I might not feel like making the effort.
--My cycles are so erratic, and I'm not even sure I'm ovulating.
--I don't want to think about this part of the list. I want to be preggers.

Anyway. We'll just have to wait and see. My mom thinks it's weird that her daughters "plan" their babies. When she was getting pregnant, they didn't do charting or testing. If you missed two periods in a row, you were probably pregnant. Instead, I'm charting my temps and buying PG tests in bulk.

In other news: Rooster Boy (who isn't so rooster-ish anymore... he got his haircut last night) is at the doctor's office right now with Chester. Ben woke up this morning with an awful cough. He goes on these coughing jags that usually include wretching and gagging. Not a good sign. And he's wheezing during the day now, rather than just at night. Since he was a preemie, our doctors are very careful about respiratory infections and viruses with him.

Update: The doctor said Ben has another ear infection and a bad cold. He's now on augmentin.

Dream a Little Dream of Cabinets

Before: This picture was taken on the day we but in an offer on the house. That's all the previous homeowner's stuff. We don't have a big table in the room... and the picture doesn't show the big window above the sink to the right of the frame. We have a nice new stove, too.

My plans for my kitchen continue to evolve. I'm still sold on the blue and the lace, but I've picked out a treatment for our cabinets. Beadboard. We're going to buy inexpensive beadboard paneling and attach that to the cabinet doors, and then frame it out with simple strips of wood. I will paint it cream and then antique it by rubbing some dark brown oil paint into the grooves and then wipe it out.

It will be beautiful. It's also tricky. We'll have to replace all the hinges on the doors at the same time, and since the cabinet doors are bigger than the "holes" they cover, we need to be careful about how thick the facing on the cabinet is, or we won't be able to completely open the door.

Also... there's a blank space of wall above the cabinets. Instead of installing cabinets up there, I want to leave it, but find a beautiful wallpaper and apply it to that "crown" of wall above the cabinets. I think it'll be a nice, interesting touch since the other walls will be solid blue.

We still need to price out the materials... but our time frame for this project is summertime. This month, our money will go to buying a new bathroom sink and faucet.