Martha Stewart has nothing on me

Ok, Martha has a lot on me....but this nesting thing is sending my craftyness into high gear. Between scrapblog.com and Mod Podge - I am going to have some cool projects coming into the house.





I mean seriously - if I had known about digital scrap booking a few years ago I would have saved a ton of money from going to the scrap book store. Although the baby's first year I will do old school scrap style I can't wait to make some more books.......here is my first page I ever made on scrapblog.com:

Moving right along....now I will Mod Podge the hell out of everything I own.....my first project is going to be the switch plate covers in Lil B's room. I took the arm rest covers on the chair in her room, will color copy them, then MP them on the switch plates - beats spending 18 bucks each on fancy ones at Anthropologie.

The largest project I really want to MP will be the single closet door in her room and my dresser. I have lofty goals but I cant wait - I'm just stoked that I have found solutions for my decorating drama!!!!

I'm such a Martha.

Fading

Im soooooo tired today - I had about ten different things I wanted to write about. But all I can think about is sleeping. This third trimester has taken the wind out of my sails.

I think it has something to do with all this snoring, which is a result of my membranes in my nose getting puffy from the baby. I thought they were joking when I heard this was a side effect - guess not! It has gotten so bad Monkey is sleeping in the other room and last night I woke myself up from the snoring.....only to find Chena with her paws in my head, snoring just as loudly.

The back is also hurting and so are the feet. I mean - OMG - my feet are killing me. Usually after a day of running around they are sore - but yesterday? I wanted to cry they hurt so bad.....

All I can say is this baby better be cute!

The first of three....

Saturday night, after my baby shower I was snuggled into bed and snoring away with Mr Pooh at my feet. Momma Beans was in the baby's room sleeping with my husband. Yes, this is our new living arrangement until the pregnancy snores go away in a few weeks. I swear we have turned into some old couple from the 60's with this shit.

Anyhow, around 1 am the dogs go nuts, Beans comes running out of the bedroom in a frenzy barking at the neighbors pulling into the driveway. My husband and I meet in the middle and I see that it is not my neighbors cars. And it hits me - neighbor #1 is having her baby! (three of us are all pregnant and due within weeks of each other)

I was filled in on all the details by her friends: hard labor for a few hours, epidural at 4 pm, baby at 1045 pm - everyone was happy and healthy. I started to envision myself at that place in a few more weeks and had a mild panic attack. I almost wanted to say, "Whew glad she went first on the ride!"

Then, yesterday right before they all got home the Monkey comes into the house in a panic - no one has put up a welcome home sign or anything for neighbor......so him and I got crafty. I did a big banner and he got out the crayons and started coloring. Who knew my husband was a Martha at heart?

Sign was hung, people came home and we chatted with grand mom for a bit out front. As we were driving away to meet up with friends for dinner it hit me: That is going to be my house in about 70 days. Grand moms and friends, signs and balloons, BBQ and beer, well wishers and sore nipples, poppy diapers and cries......and finally meeting Lil B.

It is hitting home faster than a Jonathan Papelbon fastball at Fenway.....and I'm ready to swing

Things on the mind

1 - today the California Supreme Court rules on gay marriage - I'm crossing my fingers that gays get to enjoy the right to get married, pay more taxes and get divorced like the rest of us. All kidding aside this issue steams me that people just can't let other people enjoy a basic right - like marriage. I don't get the big deal, I mean I get it but why does it have to be such a big deal. All of these conservatives thinking this is going to warp young children by seeing two people of the same sex getting married. Um hellllloooo, they walk around hand in hand already. Seriously.

2 - slight case of the "I'm pregnant and don't get to do the same frivolous things like I used to" moment all weekend. Marcy went to see Noelle in Newport for the holiday weekend. Two of my husbands friends also met up with them for a spur of the moment thing. I saw the pics, I read the FB updates and I got sad. Sad that I was not there, drinking and enjoying the sun. Sad that weekends like this in the future were really going to have to be pre planned. Sad that I felt like I was missing out on a great time. Sad knowing that from now on I was going to be some sort of responsible adult with a child and my days of being a drunken sloth are coming to an end. I'm really looking forward to 2027, when Brooke will be 18.

3 - my car, my house, my bills, my job - you know the usual worries for everyone. Only I am tired of worrying about these things. I just want to wake up one day and find that I have a better car sitting in the driveway (you know one with 4 doors and working windows) I want to roll over in bed and know that a bathroom floor without screwed up grout (seriously everytime I sit on the pot all I see is that shitastic grout job around the tub), a new bathtub and a kitchen with an oven that does not predate the civil war is waiting for me. I would like for my bills to pay themselves off. (although I will pat myself on the back that I am whittling them down) Oh and I would like to know that in ten years I will not be feeling the mundane outlook on my job that I feel I may have in two years when I go back on patrol. A lot of I wants, but it doesn't hurt to dream right

I bitched, I feel better. I like this blogging thing.

Fred Flinstone is my friend

I noticed it a few weeks ago - my ankles turning into cankles. Not that they were ever a fabulous skinny pair of ankles, but at least they had form.

When my husband saw them he laughed, my mom freaked out and told me to put my feet up, my coworker convinced me I had diabetes, another coworker swore I had a heart condition. When I asked the doctor she said the only condition I had was being pregnant.

A few weeks later and now at 28 weeks - it is ridiculous. It was so bad yesterday that while I was out running around my coworker looked at my feet and gasped. There they were - full blown white skin encased sausages, stuck into a pair of Born Mary Jane shoes. The shoes were no longer comfortable and I was contemplating if my feet were going to stay in that shape when I took my shoes off - better yet how was I going to get them back in. I was fresh out of shoe horns.

We had to make en emergency stop at TJ Maxx for anything that my foot would fit into - in a half size bigger. I walked out with some seriously comfortable yet highly unattractive loafer type of shoes. Something someone walking out of Brooks Brothers would be seen in. But I care none - I'm at the point of no return when it comes to my snausage feet.

Seriously, I think my dogs are going to start nibbling at my feet thinking they are some sort of big fat chew toy.....that would so be my luck.

Irony is cruel

God's creatures are bound to taunt me from time to time - take for instance the squirrel.

I hate them. I do. They are not like little happy Chip n' Dale Chipmunks. They are scroungy, scrawny little disease spreading rats with fluffy tails.

The little bastards sit on the fence outside of my bedroom window sending my one dog into a frenzy. For awhile I had to stop walking my dogs during the day because Buddy will hone in on one and start climbing a tree to try to get them, ugh. They also like to bury their beloved friggin peanuts in my newly plantes beds or pots. Don't get me started on my mission to find out which fucktard in my neighborhood is feeding these rats full in the shell peanuts anyhow. When I do find that bastard Im going to thank them for making me so paranoid about my backyard turning into a peanut plantation I swore off peanut butter for six months.

It really got so bad my husband and I couldn't even call them squirrels because Buddy knew what that meant....so we called them S.Q.'s....or the S posse...really it got that lame.

Anyhow, the irony. So I hate them. This morning I was driving into work and had only made it a block from my house when running across the street were two squirrels. The homeless black one was chasing the equally transient brown one across the street in an obvious game of frogger on Pine Ave. Well, ol blacky was a little slower than I thought.....thud. Well, more like a little whap from my tire.

I cringed, squirrel guts on the Honda? yuck. I peered in the rearview mirror - there he was in the road his head fell to the ground.....and then down went his tail. Symbolic like of course, falling slowly as if he was lowering the surrender flag. I really hoped the death was quick, even that lil asshat needed a quick death.

As I drove to the light I started to wonder - hmmm black squirrel....is it an omen like a crossing paths with a black cat? I hoped not.

Proceeding on with my day I came back from lunch and who should greet me when I hopped out of the car - a random little brown squirrel...running up the hill away from the car.

Word travels fast in the ol squirrel community - Killer Kitty is on the loose........Im really waiting to get home tonight to see a peanut plantation and every damn fluffy tailed rat in the neighborhood ready to pull a "Birds" on me.....if you dont hear from me let my husband know will you.

Heidi Klum

Heidi Klum kills me - you know why? Cause when she is 8 months pregnant and about to burst with Seals lovechild she is still going to be able to look fabulous without the help of Spanx. She is one of those beautiful freaks of nature that can spit out babies and then whip herself back into shape just in time to do another runway show in a thong. Yeah I know - she is 6 feet tall and has a personal trainer to help her out....but still. I know 6 ft tall women with trainers who still are not as genetically blessed.

With that said, I wished I was Heidi or at least had a tenth of that gene pool when I was standing in the Old Navy dressing room yesterday. I was looking not so bad in some maternity get up when I decided to try on a dress. I need a dress for a few events coming up and have been half thinking that a tent would be more apropos. Anyhow, I put on this purple soft cotton number with a low neckline and wrap tie at the back. Oh and it hit at my knees, my little hobbit knees. Barf!

I looked like hell. I mean seriously, who am I trying to kid - my ankles looked like they were holding their breath, my sticks are pale white and my ass? Don't get me started. I mean even with Spanx for the rear, I am still 5'2" and now looked like a grape with a pillow stuffed in the front.

No dress for me. I'm going to go with option #2. And yes, I wish I had Heidi's 8 month pregnant ass at this point. Well, that still would not have helped.....but wishful thinking.

Here is the grape ape:

Barf!

How it came to be.....

Well, I'm really pregnant now.
No B.S.
It is here, I'm at 6 months.

Before we found out the sex and picked a name I was pretty ambivalent to this whole thing. I really could have cared less. Then I went for an amniocentesis at, um what was it, 16 weeks?
There I sat in the room and there it was on the screen. A baby. Baby started out looking like an alien then they changed the profile and it looked like a baby. Whew. I mean don't all pregnant women feel like there is an alien in them anyhow. I did not need confirmation that I was carrying one.

At the time, someone kept their legs closed. Spinning and punching but not kicking, ugh. I did get a cool pic of the babies arm. It was doing a closed fisted rocker thing - my husband keeps it in his locker at work. It was cool. And although I got choked up when I saw the heart beating, I was still removed from this whole thing.

So, I paced around for two weeks waiting for my amnio results and the gender of the baby. Then I got the call, all was good and it was a GIRL! Yeah! I was so happy. I mean I really didn't care about the sex but to be honest, I didn't need two Monkeys in my house.

In anxious anticipation for my husband to agree with me like he always does. *rolling eyes* I picked out several names and had my heart set on Allison Noelle. Man I loved that name. OK I had a bunch but that was one of my standouts. So, while I was watching him wash down a whisky on the rocks and I was having my 100th glass of OJ for the day I brought up the names. He scoffed and said "Brooklyn" I scoffed and said, "Too trendy" Back and forth we went and then I said fine, she can go by Brooke. Still bickering over a middle name we went round and round again. You see if it was a boy his name would have been Jeremy Thomas. Thomas after my dad. So, dad was bummed that a girl was not going to get his name......we changed our minds. Why not give her my dad's name? I thought it sounded cool.

So, Brooklyn Thomas it is, it was, she will be. You get the point. And I get this now. Jeremy talks to her all the time now, saying good morning and good night. The dogs don't know who this Brooklyn is but they like sniffing out the room. And I'm realizing that the name rolls off my tongue when I try screaming it at the top of my lungs.

Can't wait to meet you in August lil Brook Trout!

Moment of Truth Part 2

Truth be told, I actually like kids.

Of course I don't like the crazy ones on that nanny show - but who does. 90% of the time kids are cool. They are dirty and slimy sometimes but that comes with the territory. I mean come on, I think I ate dirt for a living as a child.

Kids are fun tho - you can dress them up, put their hair in little pony tails, watch them create a masterpeice out of finger paints and generally make you relive your childhood again. I just didn't know reliving my childhood was going to come whipping around the corner as fast as I thought.

After that conversation with my mom, I was relieved and for some reason it was like a fog had cleared in my mind. I could do it. I would be a good mom. I mean after all I have dealt with some serious a*hole juveniles at work. I have spent numerous hours counseling parents on their poor parenting skills and in turn lectured many a child that I thought should have been drowned years ago.

And every now and then I get to meet some truly great kids who I love to rap with and just enjoy. I was pretty convinved that I could use my lecturing skills on my unborn....I am quite the talker.

So, off the pill I went.

Almost everyday Jeremy asked me if I was pregnant yet. Aimee suggested I use some sort of ovulation calendar. And I heard that I should take my tempurature, Im sure it was not to see when I was in heat. I figured out what days I was most likely to get preganant and in the back of my head hoped for a headache those three days.

Come on....a few more months wouldn't kill me. I have a hankering for good beer and vodka every so often. Okay everyday but who is counting. August, September and October rolled by. I started to think I was not one of those get pregnant easy types.

So Jeremy and I decided to go back on the pill for one more year - maybe travel and see Europe or Jeff in Hong Kong. Now let me tell you that every month I took a pregnancy test just to be sure.

Everytime I looked at myself in the shower I swore I was pregnant. On November 19, Jeremy said two things to me: 1. your boobs look big are you pregnant? 2. you have a glow about you are you pregnant?......um no! I would know if I was pregnant, right? I ran out at work the next day and got some tests at Walgreens, negative.

So I went back on the pill for a few weeks.

Little did I know that I was four weeks pregnant and my husband had better women's intuition than me.

Fast forward to December.....we had a weekend of libations and good times at our Christmas parties. I was whooping it up with my vodka cocktails but kept noticing that everytime I ate, I was full. And I mean a few bites full. Like one slice of pizza full. So I got a hair up my ass and bought some tests while I was at work that week.

There I was in the womens locker room 5 minutes later - staring at two pink lines. I ran back to my desk and shoved it in the drawer. Every few minutes I was opening the drawer to check and see what it said. I mean really, was I hoping that the good doctors at the stick plant were wrong? yes. They were not. But to be safe I took one more. Then stopped at Kaiser on the way home. Then bought two more expensive tests on the way home that night. Four sticks and a professional test dont lie.

I was pregnant.

I was not worried like I thought I would be. I didn't cry or have a melt down. It was odd. I just accepted it. I knew no matter what happened I would deal with it. I have always been one to roll with the punches and come out smiling. I was ready.

A few weeks later one of the retired guys at work lost his son to an IED in Iraq. I loved his son TJ. I watched him grow up over the ten years I worked here. He was one of those kids that is always polite, kind hearted and just an all around great kid. I recalled a conversation I had with his dad once - I told him that if I could have a kid as good as TJ, I would have one....maybe two. I sure hope I am blessed to have a child as wonderful as TJ, as brave and as kind hearted. I hope I do a great job parenting my kid like Tony did to TJ and my parents did to me.

Cause in 9 months I am going to find out.....and that will be a moment of truth.

The Moment of Truth part 1

Truth be told, I don't like kids.

Im sure yours are great but Im not a big fan. Ok, what I mean is you - the random lady in Safeway with your stupid kid throwing a tantrum because you never instilled the fact that "no means no" So know you are stuck with a blathering idiot of a 3 year old that runs your life...and who should not run mine. Yeah, your kids are the ones that I hate.

My friends kids, I like. They are great because you get to give them back at the end of the day - you guys have to pay for food, medical and college - I just get to be there to cheer them on at sporting events, enjoy their pictures on my fridge and buy them cute stuff.

I grew up an only child - I babysat once or twice and it was a disaster. I can still remember being with the Lunsford clan at grandmom Kellett's house watching then baby Taylor. Taylor pooped in her diapers and I about barfed all over myself. At 10 I pretty much convinced myself that if I ever had sex, I was never going to have one of those.

As I grew older I likened myself to a baby now and then. They sure are cute and soft and they smell clean. But they get older and turn into....well, us.

I really did not have much to worry about well with the rate my dating life was going in my 20's, I was pretty much not getting married until my uterus was dried and in a wheelchair. Obviously that changed when I moved into Todd's house in 2001. (I guess that is for another note some other time) I met my future husband Jeremy. I guess kids never really crept into the conversation. After all, we were young and busy and really enjoyed our careers. And then we got engaged.

Who knows when the conversation came up but I remember hearing him mention something about wanting kids. I sort of brushed it off that he was drunk at the time. But it kept coming up. Then it kept coming up at inopportune times - like in the afterglow, while we were drunk at a bar, while I was cleaning the house. And it usually ended with - "Well you don't have to marry me, you know I want kids blah blah blah." With that I figured I was going to have to like kids if I was going to marry this guy.

Well, one wedding ceremony later I was in it to win it. I just made a promise to Jeremy that I would wait a year after the wedding to go off the pill. After all, it had been over 10 glorious years that I was cheating pregnancy with those little yellow pills - give me one more year!

One year later I was still not ready and we fought and fought about it - usually I was the one crying in my room over it. I just could not imagine my life, MY LIFE, being turned upside down by some midget.

So I talked it over with my mom. Mom's have a sixth sense about things that are wrong with their kids and mom knew something was going on with me and the monkey. I told her that although I was sure I was going to be a damn good mom, I was just not into kids...nor birthing one. Although the thought of cute maternity clothes was peaking my interest.

Then she said it, "I was not into kids either - your father is the one who wanted a baby. And you ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me."

Can't argue with that now can you. It was the moment of truth.......