I am at the point in this pregnancy where I just about can't stand it anymore. As a friend of mine said, "It's time for someone else to hold the baby for a while." I know I wrote a similar post around this time when I was pregnant with Chickie, but I am too lazy/tired to go back through the archives and read it.
Because I will NEVER be pregnant again (that's a promise!) I figure I should list everything here so I can share it with my girls when they think they want children.
My belly button hurts and I keep hitting it on things.
My pelvis is probably broken into several pieces.
I have a sore spot on my abdomen that I think is a torn muscle.
My elephant ankles are almost as big as my calves.
I am puffy and swollen everywhere- including my nose and lips, and believe me, the lips are not swollen in a "bee stung" Angelina Jolie way.
My hands go completely numb when I sleep on one side for too long. Completely, not just a little.
I have a horrible taste in my mouth that I can't seem to get rid of.
I waddle. A lot.
I am exhausted but can't ever get to sleep at night.
Those are just the aches, pains, and irritants I am feeling at this moment.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Nesting?
Today I scrubbed the top of the fridge.
A week or so ago I deep cleaned the laundry room, complete with mopping the concrete floor-- it now looks like a clean version of the dungeon it's always been.
The laundry room quickly led to cleaning out and organizing the downstairs bathroom that is in a permanent state of remodel.
The bathroom then led to rearranging the winter gear in the downstairs hall which naturally meant I had to reorganize some shelves in the garage.
It had to be done. Because you know, babies are really sensitive to the dust on the top of the fridge. Just like they are feng shui experts, which of course dictates the mandatory rearrangement of the downstairs playroom.
If only the baby would make me feel like cleaning the parts of the house we actually use...
A week or so ago I deep cleaned the laundry room, complete with mopping the concrete floor-- it now looks like a clean version of the dungeon it's always been.
The laundry room quickly led to cleaning out and organizing the downstairs bathroom that is in a permanent state of remodel.
The bathroom then led to rearranging the winter gear in the downstairs hall which naturally meant I had to reorganize some shelves in the garage.
It had to be done. Because you know, babies are really sensitive to the dust on the top of the fridge. Just like they are feng shui experts, which of course dictates the mandatory rearrangement of the downstairs playroom.
If only the baby would make me feel like cleaning the parts of the house we actually use...
Friday, August 30, 2013
Tales of a high school nothing
So the Heritage High School Class of '93 celebrated 20 years a few weeks ago. For me, high school reunions are weird. I mean, you know me and my Facebooking skills. If I'm curious about anyone, I can usually draw my own conclusions based on what I can glean from Facebook. And let's face it, my conclusions are probably way more interesting than reality, and I like it that way. So I never really planned on attending the exorbitantly priced shindig at a downtown bar, but I did find myself thinking about what it would be like if I actually went. My conclusion: it would have been an awkward evening of small talk.
The pictures of the evening were posted to Facebook a few days ago, and of course, I clicked through to see who actually paid the price and showed up. The surprising thing? I barely recognized anyone. I thought I knew everyone from high school, but guess what? I didn't know anyone. I would see photos of people I could kind of recognize, but I couldn't remember their names or who they really were. Then the thought occurred to me-- How many of them would know who I was?
In high school everyone is pretty self-centered and I was no different. I thought people cared about what I was wearing, how I looked, and who I hung out with more than they actually did. The reality is that I would probably be one of the people at the reunion that looked kind of familiar but no one would be able to put their finger on who I was. To my high school self it would have been devastating to realize I was a nobody. To my adult self being a high school nobody is just fine-- it kept me out of trouble and actually means I had more of a life after high school than during. I like it better that way.
The pictures of the evening were posted to Facebook a few days ago, and of course, I clicked through to see who actually paid the price and showed up. The surprising thing? I barely recognized anyone. I thought I knew everyone from high school, but guess what? I didn't know anyone. I would see photos of people I could kind of recognize, but I couldn't remember their names or who they really were. Then the thought occurred to me-- How many of them would know who I was?
In high school everyone is pretty self-centered and I was no different. I thought people cared about what I was wearing, how I looked, and who I hung out with more than they actually did. The reality is that I would probably be one of the people at the reunion that looked kind of familiar but no one would be able to put their finger on who I was. To my high school self it would have been devastating to realize I was a nobody. To my adult self being a high school nobody is just fine-- it kept me out of trouble and actually means I had more of a life after high school than during. I like it better that way.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Oh what do you do in the summertime?
It's kind of sad that I have neglected the blog for so long. There are many reasons for this that I may or may not get into right now. The biggest is that it is easiest to update from our PC, which no one uses anymore.
Anyway, in order to get back into the swing of things I thought I would do a major catch-up with photos and a few captions from our summer.
Anyway, in order to get back into the swing of things I thought I would do a major catch-up with photos and a few captions from our summer.
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| Chickie's smile |
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| We love having Great Grammie and Bompa so close now. |
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| Swimming with Meri |
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| Mother's Day |
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| Father's Day |
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| Mini cow at the Renaissance Fair |
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| Kitty was afraid of the cow touching her, but that didn't stop her from trying to pose |
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| The Renaissance Fair was a waste of time and money! |
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| Kitty came in 2nd and Sophie got 3rd |
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| Chickie turned two but the photo refused to load, so the cake will have to suffice |
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| John turned 10 |
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| Having fun in the morning |
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| Chickie didn't want to miss out on the rock climbing action at Cheyenne Mtn Zoo |
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| At the Will Rogers Memorial Sun tower |
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| Our Garden of the Gods album cover |
Friday, June 21, 2013
I really hate the pop-in
My house was clean two days ago. No one decided to stop by two days ago. My house has returned to its natural state of chaos and disarray. I entertained five drop-in visitors this afternoon.
Why does it always happen this way? There were at least 12 pairs of shoes at the bottom of the stairs, a huge pile of laundry within eyesight, clean laundry draped over the railing, and a pile of odds and ends I was trying to go through but from which I apparently got distracted. And that was just what you could see from the door, heaven forbid I invite anyone in to see the real mess.
The best was when Kitty's friend's dad came to pick up his daughter. Here comes Chickie with her dirty chocolate face, her pool cover-up unzipped all the way revealing a soggy diaper, and her hair greased and tangled from sunscreen. On her way down the stairs she stepped on the pile of mail I left there a few minutes prior and proceeded to make a slow slip to the bottom. In my jaded mother-of-soon-to-be-four way I just kind of watched it happen, while I saw panic flash across the dad's face. She was fine and I laughed it off like "dumb baby, she's gotta learn to watch out for the mail, duh".
Or how about when the super clean, organized, whatever neighbor decided to stop by looking for Jared? He has an uncanny knack of popping in at the least opportune time. There was one time I pulled into the driveway while sternly telling the kids something important and when I turned to get out of the car, there he was, just standing there. Weird. Anyway, tonight he stopped in after John and Kitty had each enjoyed a can of cream soda on the porch. Naturally, I've trained my kids to leave empty soda cans anywhere but the trash, so when this neighbor came by he had to step over the empty cans, awesome.
If you're going to drop by, please do so every third day, thanks.
Why does it always happen this way? There were at least 12 pairs of shoes at the bottom of the stairs, a huge pile of laundry within eyesight, clean laundry draped over the railing, and a pile of odds and ends I was trying to go through but from which I apparently got distracted. And that was just what you could see from the door, heaven forbid I invite anyone in to see the real mess.
The best was when Kitty's friend's dad came to pick up his daughter. Here comes Chickie with her dirty chocolate face, her pool cover-up unzipped all the way revealing a soggy diaper, and her hair greased and tangled from sunscreen. On her way down the stairs she stepped on the pile of mail I left there a few minutes prior and proceeded to make a slow slip to the bottom. In my jaded mother-of-soon-to-be-four way I just kind of watched it happen, while I saw panic flash across the dad's face. She was fine and I laughed it off like "dumb baby, she's gotta learn to watch out for the mail, duh".
Or how about when the super clean, organized, whatever neighbor decided to stop by looking for Jared? He has an uncanny knack of popping in at the least opportune time. There was one time I pulled into the driveway while sternly telling the kids something important and when I turned to get out of the car, there he was, just standing there. Weird. Anyway, tonight he stopped in after John and Kitty had each enjoyed a can of cream soda on the porch. Naturally, I've trained my kids to leave empty soda cans anywhere but the trash, so when this neighbor came by he had to step over the empty cans, awesome.
If you're going to drop by, please do so every third day, thanks.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
I opened a can of peaches that said "No sugar added", took a bite and gagged. A closer inspection revealed "sweetened with Splenda" on the bottom of the label. What a waste. Not only did I inadvertently buy the no sugar added peaches, but I hate the taste of artificial sweeteners (with the big exception being diet Dr. Pepper, whatever). Are peaches in their natural state of sweetness that bitter? Why can't there be unsweetened peaches? Would I buy them?
And while I'm thinking about sugar, here's the thing- when I'm pregnant it makes me feel yucky. It leaves a taste in my mouth that I can't get rid of unless I counteract it with a savory option. Sugar makes me feel more nauseated within about ten minutes. For some reason though, I still find myself trying to enjoy all the prevalent sugary snacks that surround me. You would think if it made me feel bad I wouldn't want it, but I still eat it.
And while I'm thinking about sugar, here's the thing- when I'm pregnant it makes me feel yucky. It leaves a taste in my mouth that I can't get rid of unless I counteract it with a savory option. Sugar makes me feel more nauseated within about ten minutes. For some reason though, I still find myself trying to enjoy all the prevalent sugary snacks that surround me. You would think if it made me feel bad I wouldn't want it, but I still eat it.
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| Chickie finishing off the jar of peanut butter, no allergy here! |
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Squelch their confidence-- my parenting style
A few weeks ago Kitty brought home a permission slip to audition for the school variety show. I tried to put off filling it out for days, but she persisted.
"What are you going to do anyway?" I asked with a real lack of enthusiasm.
"Hula hoop!"
"By yourself?"
She was so excited. I was so apprehensive.
"I wish you would discourage her from doing this," Jared said on more than one occasion and I wholeheartedly agreed.
"You're right," I should have said, "We really need to squelch this unfounded confidence before it gets out of hand."
That's the kind of parents we are-- realists who don't believe our children amount to much.
Kitty loves to play goalie on her soccer team. I end up sitting on the sidelines cringing every time the ball comes her way. I am not kidding, I'm wincing and flinching the whole time. The thing is, Kitty is a pretty good little goalie.
We just got back from the hula hoop audition. She did better than I expected and we find out on Monday if she made the cut.
As a side note, however, the music she hooped it up to was her favorite song: "Gone Daddy Gone" by the Violent Femmes. Call me crazy but I don't think it's a very obscure song, but when the CD didn't play one of the teachers found a version on You Tube and when the song was finished everyone in the room was like, "I liked that song, who sings it?" and the guy says, "Gnarls Barkley" and I say "The Violent Femmes" at the same time. And everyone else was like, "Oh, the Violent Femmes did a version?" What? Am I really the only one who knew that song even existed?
"What are you going to do anyway?" I asked with a real lack of enthusiasm.
"Hula hoop!"
"By yourself?"
She was so excited. I was so apprehensive.
"I wish you would discourage her from doing this," Jared said on more than one occasion and I wholeheartedly agreed.
"You're right," I should have said, "We really need to squelch this unfounded confidence before it gets out of hand."
That's the kind of parents we are-- realists who don't believe our children amount to much.
Kitty loves to play goalie on her soccer team. I end up sitting on the sidelines cringing every time the ball comes her way. I am not kidding, I'm wincing and flinching the whole time. The thing is, Kitty is a pretty good little goalie.
We just got back from the hula hoop audition. She did better than I expected and we find out on Monday if she made the cut.
As a side note, however, the music she hooped it up to was her favorite song: "Gone Daddy Gone" by the Violent Femmes. Call me crazy but I don't think it's a very obscure song, but when the CD didn't play one of the teachers found a version on You Tube and when the song was finished everyone in the room was like, "I liked that song, who sings it?" and the guy says, "Gnarls Barkley" and I say "The Violent Femmes" at the same time. And everyone else was like, "Oh, the Violent Femmes did a version?" What? Am I really the only one who knew that song even existed?
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