Nauseating Bliss..

It does go on…
At my doctor’s appointment they are VERY nice (as in more so than usual). I feel like they are expecting something to be wrong again just like I am…

But nothing is (at least not yet..it’s very EARLY).

The black and white blob is there, just like last time though…very visible…

But this time (weeks before) there is a heartbeat (but I know that doesn’t mean that we are safe yet, definitely NOT, at the next appointment there might not be a heartbeat at all).

But there IS…

The summer is awful. This sounds bad, I know. BUT; there is just no other way to explain it. I KNOW this is just plain wrong to say and admit out loud (especially after what just happened) but I have never felt this bad (read:sick) in my whole entire life. I am so beyond grateful that baby is continuing to grow-I really truly am (and growing it does by the time I am eight week, I look like at least 18… which also make this harder to hide)…

During my latest pregnancy I unfortunately packed on the pounds and continued to eat a lot more (and a lot more unhealthy-let’s be honest) after I lost the baby, which is not an ideal start for another pregnancy.

I have never been this big or felt so sick. I’m dissatisfied and disappointed in myself and then I’m disgusted by the way I’m feeling, realizing I should be happy that I’m growing, a so far, healthy baby inside!

Everything we do is interrupted by to completely gross- vomiting!

I put my oldest kids in swim school where I frequent the ladies room emptying my insides with a variation of my offspring watching me do so!

I once throw up in the diaper bag (yup!) while my little crazy “walker” runs in between the huge pools like a toddler on a suicide mission!

It’s hard to forget the extreme nausea and vomiting no matter how happy I am (we really, really wanted a second chance for a fourth didn’t we…?). I can seriously barely function. This debilitating state has never been the case in previous pregnancies (yes I threw up on occasion and felt sick in the first trimester but never like this). It’s difficult to ignore the little voice whispering “ha ha, you got what you wanted” – mocking me. AND “You are still never ever safe”…

But the louder voice wins more and more as every doctor’s appointment (every single week), seem more and more routine and everything continues to look good.

Except of course the giant blood filled cyst on my left ovary (that I don’t even want to discuss) complicating things…

In September we travel to my sister and I am huge. I love seeing my sister and spending quality time with her! BUT: our youngest is going through some subtle (not so subtle) changes from sweet little baby boy to evil monster villain (I swear), complete with the loudest screaming fits, scheming plots, flailing arms and legs, scary (mean really) laughs, head banging, some serious biting, hitting and scratching. He brings his bag of tricks on the plane.

People feel seriously bad for us (me) but some change their mind as they see my big tummy. I can literally “hear them think” it our own damn fault and “really?? One more?”

Experiencing this trip where our youngest forget that sleep is essential-not only for himself-but others, and especially the flights (filled with fun layovers, missed flights and delayed ones because of storms) we seriously second guess our decision to have another baby.
Especially since we now know it’s another BOY!!!

The nurse asks if I wanted a daughter…well…
She laughs and says-“that is something we as moms don’t get to admit right!?”
“I bet you already have a boy?”

“Well, I have…TWO”!!

But of course you can’t regret a thing, it’s a life, a wish, a blessing-all we want is healthy OF COURSE  and we really don’t regret a thing…but just saying, (and nobody has ever said it is-I know) it’s NOT easy!

 

No life guard on “doodie”

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So my son has started swim lessons (“swim” is a very relative word if describing what he is learning). We have signed up for four Fridays with his little girlfriend (at least that is how he thinks of her, their relationship is very up and down, if it would be on Facebook it would be deemed “complicated”)

Even if our boy actually did great in his first lessons (blowing bubbles, got his hair wet, his hands turned into big “ice cream scopes”) he has (dare I say it) gone down hill from there.

Their first lesson, his friend announced when being asked to do something (nothing unreasonable mind you but all related to “fun in the water”) that “I don’t do that” while my son announced that “I have poop in my pants”. Oh, the joy of teaching four year olds how to swim!

The swim coach, miss J is a very fit (major body envy) late teen/early twenties girl with long blond hair and a ton of patience (must be a prerequisite). Her patience is tested over and over (let me tell you) and seems to be a requirement with my son especially (“lots and lots of poopy”)

After their lesson (when all adults involved feel slightly frustrated and very tired) we get to have some “relaxed” pool time. Please don’t ever confuse this with the relaxed pool time you had pre-kids (maybe this is what miss Jen now gets to enjoy, hence her patience with our kids), you know the laying by the pool for hours with your magazine or your summery romance novel, cell phone and water bottle (or maybe even a “real” drink), your only worries being “when do I have to flip over/re-apply sun tan lotion/take a dip in the pool/go for a leisurely stroll to look for hotties or flirt with the life guard and maybe when is lunch?”

Gossiping with your bestie while inhaling the latest drama waiting for the random clouds to pass is nothing in comparison to trying to get a word of conversation in to your fellow mama while  your simultaneously try to keep your children from killing each other, or themselves by drowning/keeping your baby from flashing your mom boobs (btw not sexy) to the life guard, the teenage boys in the big pool and your elderly neighbor “well, hello there”.

Relaxed pool time post kids means keeping them alive at all costs (no, you don’t just continue walking straight into the deep hot tub without floaters on, run like a maniac by the big pool or push your friend off the pool stairs). There are also snacks involved, and water and juice and breast milk (limited) and pool toys and pool rules and ice cream (“may I have some pleeeeaaase!) and sticky, thick suntan lotion (reapply every hour or after being in the water…), paying attention to sun and shade and hats and floaters and “don”t fall”, “don’t splash”, “don’t run”, and “don’t pee in the pool”.
And the dos “do be nice to your friend, sister, friend’s mom, walk, share your toys, practice swimming and shower after pool”.
And the constant reminders of everything above in a never ending cycle like a broken record featuring “b*tich mom” or your most annoying CD set on repeat, adding “you CANNOT swim….yet”

When us moms do get a word in to each other, sweat dripping down our foreheads (not just from the sun mind you) and our minds in constant “hyper alert fight/flight mode” we talk about our kids (especially mine) and their fondness for potty words. I mean at a time in their life where they are being so good for finally learning how to go potty “good job” (hold the fireworks) and they are being praised endlessly for “doing” the words we then frown upon, does that even make sense? “Do you need to poop or pee?” “Good job peeing/pooping”, “wow lots of poo, great job, high five”, “you went poop at the mall, yaaaay!!” But then we turn around saying “do not say “potty words”, poop is bad, very bad and not funny, bad bad. Hmm, isn’t that slightly confusing?

Today was our last day together at the pool, we celebrated (like always) with ice cream, the kids were mostly friends and “in love” with their “bestest girl/boy” (ganging up against some “outside threats” instead) my boy did better than last time “swimming” and no law suits were being discussed over the swim coach “hickey”. All kids running around in the grass pretending to “turn their mothers into ice, fire and rocks” and only minor melt downs over the low milk supply provided (baby not boy) and not getting to have lunch with his bestest girl (definitely boy).

A great day over all and tomorrow is the 4th of July, and there is still lots of summer left! Can life be better!?

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Babytude…

So this week we witnessed a huge moment- such monumental milestone! Our princess started walking!!! Slowly and hesitantly at first but now she is already off running.

Our sweet little baby girl has developed something else lately other than walking skills, (more and more of) a personality  (read: attitude). She is quite demanding and I’m not sure we can blame her “being just a baby anymore”. She screams loudly and throws her head back dramatically every time she doesn’t get her way…right away. It usually has to do with food, that or big brother’s toys. Everything we eat, she wants (even if it’s very “adult” food which is hard to explain to a one year old, or the dreaded “chocking hazards”). Let me rephrase that, everything, EVERYONE eats, she wants, (quite a challenge on play dates, the food court at the mall or at restaurants). She also wants all brother’s toys AND her own, that’s right, not much of a sharer yet.

Except when she wants to be! A sharer that is. Oh, then it’s a very “pleasant, getting old very fast” game, where she hands you something and you are supposed to thank her, in a very specific voice or she’ll get upset, and then hand it back to her, over and over and over again!
If big bro actually gives her the toy he was playing with and picks another, she’ll just wants his new toy, over and over, well, you get my point…

This is why it’s hard to have our little sweethearts playing together at the moment. I have to secretly admit, that my perfect, adorable, angel is at times, hmm how do I put this…annoying! Yet, it’s her brother I yell at. Well, you know he is four…and she is one.
And it’s like a switch went off in him saying “you don’t have be gentle, sister is not a fragile little baby anymore”, which might be a little true but she is still a baby and much younger than him and he can’t be rough!

Well, the thing is his roughness is not (only sometimes) mean or aggressive, we are mostly talking hugs and kisses her. Rough hugs and kisses. Running and tackling hugs and kisses. I feel like I yell all the time – NOT a nice feeling. Baby is stealing from him (food and toys-and we need this guy to eat- her not as much), pulling his hair, scratching him, biting him (oh yea, another new fun habit- can’t wait for her to bite other people’s kids!) and poking his eyes. The other day she tried poking the dog’s eye out, poor innocent retriever-she just layed there. Then I had to yell at the baby, which was quite apparent that she didn’t get or learn from (or maybe she understood me perfectly, standing there giggling).

Anther thing she is p*ssed about (sorry no other word would really explain her pretty obvious feeling) is my slowly (or pretty “fastly” actually) disappearing milk supply. She now asks for “nam nam”, which might be a clear sign she is too old for nursing anyways (hold your horses “breastfeeding fanatics! Only kidding!!..sort of) and points to a boob (what did I say, demanding!). She sucks angrily for about a minute, making grunting noises and mad facial expressions. She looks up at me accusingly for a second before she points to the other one. Then we go through the same ritual and straight into screaming, crying and hang on, here comes the biting. She hits me with her little fists, tears in her eyes and I feel quite defeated. What can I do for her? It seems my body has stopped producing milk, taken the decision to continue nursing or stop away from both of us…

I feel like I want to give this to her. It’s our special cozy bonding time. Why would I be in a rush to give it up so fast, she is growing up so quickly anyways…

I’ve tried everything these last couple of weeks from teas, to herbs, to pills to (you heard me) essential oils (rubbing, drinking, swallowing).

She is clearly not ready to give it up, she still wants the comfort and closeness, several times a day (actually she demands it), as well as before naps and “night time”.

Of course I feel like I’m not enough for her and I feel really bad as the tears come but at the same time we made well over the 1 year mark and I’m proud of that. I’m just not sure how to explain to her that mama’s milk is “running out”. She still seems to want and need it as much as ever which naturally makes me sad. There will be plenty of time for me to have my evenings to myself and maybe have date or girls night every once in a while (I’m quite eager to be honest) in the future but sadly this seems to be out of my hands.

As we struggle along worse than ever this week, big brother is taking full advantage of his summer break, camp, play dates and swim lessons…how will my mommy survive it all…?

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