4 Weeks and 6 Days!!!!

The countdown ensues...

In four weeks and six days from now, I will be a new mommy, again. So far my first, Emma (17 months old) has made it this far with me as her mom, so I'm kinda thinking I may just be okay at this thing. Granted, she's had her fair share of visits to the doctor's office, I've had my fair share of tears and freak out moments, but she's still alive, right?

Of course, we've had our fair share of freak out moments with this new little girly, and she hasn't even made her debut yet. From finding a cyst on the umbilical cord next to the placenta insertion area to large ventrical tubes (they drain the spinal fluid to the spine) we've been put thru the ringer. They were worried about the cyst at first because it is usually a precursor to congenital defects (think Downs Syndrome) but was found to have no blood flow in it, therefore it's most likely harmless. They tell us this after worrying for 3 friggin weeks... sigh.

Then there's her ventrical tubes. They are still technically in the 'normal' range, but on the large end of it. Which could mean she might have hydrocephalus (water on the brain). Again, freak out. We won't officially know until she's born, but either way, she'll be loved just as much as her sissy.

 Oy.

Then there's the lovely cesarean section I get to look forward to. I thank my first for being a stubborn turkey and sitting in a 'Frank Breech' position the. whole. pregnancy.

That's right.

And to boot, my OB didn't catch it, since she was straight up and down he assumed her ass was her head. Go figure.

Then 35 hours of labor.

THEN they figure it out.

Asses.

The only thing that's going to really bother me is my weight limitation. I won't be able to pick up Emma at any given moment for a couple weeks. *pout*.

I am VERY grateful my MIL will be here to help out tho!

Oh, and did I mention the stretch marks?

Yeah, they're friggin super too.

I had TWO with Emma.

TWO.

And they were on my SIDE.

This one? Yeah, last count I was at 15.

Thanks princess. Not only will I have 'pancake belly' for the first 3 weeks after I deliver you, but I'll have a road map of Rhode Island to boot.

Thanks.

You're so thoughtful.

Again, you better be a rockstar or I'm returning you for another model.

Hooterific

Hubbs calls me yesterday afternoon to inform me he's partaking in a visit to Hooters Restaurant for his first time, with a co-worker... I giggle.
He's being devirginized... Even I've been to a Hooters.
I laugh and say he can look at other gals' "num nums" (inside joke I MAY let you in on at a later date). He agrees and I can tell his anticipation at forging thru a new frontier is rising with every moment.
I also remind him that if he touches said num nums, he's going to be promptly kicked out. I meant restaurant, he immediately thought home. *Whip crack* ya? I further explain that the Hooters gals are more protected than strippers from men's groping hands and they tolerate zippo harassment. "Oh, gotcha."
A couple hours trickle by.
I forget about Hooters.
He calls me to let me in on his escapade.
He's baffled that they let small num-num women work there. Apparently, in his mind, only D's and above pass. I immediately defend said small num-num waitress. "She HAS to have great people skills hun, and it's not ALWAYS about the tatas."
"Well, the food was okay."
"Thats good dear."
"The tatas were even better, but I wasn't that interested in it...*cricket, cricket*... but I don't think I'll go back there because of it."
I bark with laughter, almost peeing my pants. It's like saying you buy a Playboy to just read the articles... yeah, right.
"Oh, so you're not going back because the boobies didn't live up to expectation??"
"No, no, no!!! I'm not going back because the food was mediocre... and it's not my kinda restaurant."
Uh huh. Okay dear.

The Year is Coming to an End! (Finally)

Christmas came and went... With Emma too petrified to open her presents. Apparently she knows ripping paper is bad, therefore wrapping paper is off limits too. The Christmas tree will be coming down tonight, thank God. I love Christmas, but I really love putting it all back in boxes too. The decor is too cluttered for me.
Plus we get to start packing for our move back to Washington. State, not DC. That is our Christmas present to ourselves this year :) Ahhh... real people, not this "I don't care" crap Oklahoma has offered. Of course, this will all be occurring AFTER DD#2 is born.
Speaking of which, I really haven't even started "nesting". I mean, beyond pulling out clothes saved from DD#1. Not even washed, or folded for that matter. Can we say, "apprehensive"? Come on everybody, "APPREHENSIVE!!!". I'm really not looking forward to having 2 under 2. I'm an only child and my husband's sister was born when he was 7, sooooo... I really have no experience to base anything off of. Thank goodness we will be back near friends whom will be having 3 under 4... yes, that's right. 3 under the age of 4!
I'm just excited to meet my little fox-trotter living in my belly. She better be worth it, or I'm sending her back for a different model.

Night Three Has Come and Gone

E will be 17 months on the 27th. And we are FINALLY training her to sleep thru the night. Well, we think so anyways... Last night was the third night of this "adventure" and I slept like a log, kinda.
E has been refusing to eat what we give her for dinner, drink her sippy cup of milk, screaming, throwing a fit, oh the joy. So we stopped giving in to her "wants" of just crackers and raisins. If she doesn't eat what we give her, then tough nubbins, go to bed hungry. And no more finishing your sippy of milk in bed either. Or getting a sippy cup of milk at 3, 4, or 5 am. Done.
Night One was hell.  Absolute hell.
Night Two was better. Still hellish, but better.
Night Three we didn't even hear her wake up, if she did, alas the monitor was off too tho.
This morning E woke up at 6 am and was unable to fall back asleep, so I gave in and got her up at 6:45 finally. I've been up since 4 am... I love sinus infections, braxton hicks contractions, and an all-around inability to breath out of my nose. So far it's 8:36 am and she still has yet to throw a mood swing in my direction. Knock on wood.
Night Four, you better rock my world.

Secret Santa

Today I checked my email and was brought to tears. Jenny, AKA The Bloggess (@thebloggess on Twitter) has officially earned the status of Saint. If you are unfamiliar with the happenings, in a nutshell here's the scoop: Jenny had $30 gift cards for the first 20 people to comment, people that were having a hard time making ends meet, folks, like me, that would love to give their child(ren)/husband/wife/significant other at least one real gift for Christmas. Those first 20 cards went like a breath of air. Quickly. Then donors started pouring in, to be met with more of those in need. This spread like wildfire. I was one of the fortunate that was paired with a Secret Santa. Nelda, AKA Secret Santa, I am eternally grateful to you. You are giving me an opportunity that would have most likely been near impossible. With bills piling up, the thought of Christmas literally around the corner, plus the knowledge I couldn't really do anything for my daughter, let alone my husband for gifts was killing me. Granted my husband is a saint and doesn't want anything, and my daughter is 16 months with grandparents that send gifts, I still felt it was my motherly/wifely duty to have something for them. And a dollar box of crayons with printer paper just wasn't going to cut it for me.
So, Jenny, Nelda, all you Secret Santas out there, a very big God bless you and thank you! Although, to me, this just doesn't feel like enough it is all I can do at the moment. But come next Christmas, please, please, please do get a hold of me, I want to pay my good fortune forward. By then, we should be back on our feet and stable.

Why? Do you ask?

I informed my husband I would be starting a blog. "Why in the hell would you do that??" was the response I received. Great.
Honestly, I have multiple reasons for pouring my heart, soul and airing my "dirty" laundry on the wonderful world wide web.
Mainly, I'm pretty much well-holed-up in my house with a one-year-old, 7.5 months pregnant with our second. This offers me very little time to be the social butterfly I once was... leaving the house in under 30 minutes is a freaking miracle anymore! Add the facts we are new to the area, have only one friend 45 minutes away and hubby's extended family doesn't acknowledge we live 4 blocks away into the stewing mix and you get the idea. Yes, I've tried making friends thru CafeMom to no avail. Also been to our WIC office parties, etc. The so-called "Southern Hospitality" concept sure as hell doesn't exist in Oklahoma. No offense really, I'm just accustomed to being greeted with more than a half-assed "what do you want?" when I enter a business.
So, when I need to pour my heart out, vent, bitch, and all around gather womanly support, you, my dear readers, get to hear/read/experience it. Feel loved yet?

The screaming must stop. I mean, really. It must.

For the past couple of weeks we (meaning my husband and I) have dealt with teething. It's not pleasant. Not even close. Our DD didn't really start out teething the "normal" way, bottom two, top two... etc. Oh heavens no. That would be easy. Instead she started with the bottom two, then stopped for about 3 months, then they started coming in all hap-hazard and crap. We are just now getting in her top two. She had MOLARS before her top two fronters... Anyone who has kids can agree with me on this, molar teething is HELL. I am in Dante's 7th level of Hell. I swear. The fussiness, irritability, the plain bitchiness in general is enough to drive a usually calm person mad over a couple months time. I must be a saint. I've just now hit it. Seven months later. That's a record, right?
Now, I know the advice will come... "try Tylenol! It's MAGICAL!", "I prefer to use homeopathic teething tablets, they're MAGICAL!", "You should give her some Benedryl,  it's MAGICAL!"... apparently all this crap is MAGICAL. Nope. It's not. It really doesn't even work. We've done everything next to rubbing whiskey on her gums (yes, I've thought about it).
So, for the next 9 months (I really hope it's shorter, please be shorter!?) I will continue my saintly duties and attempt to stave off my resentment and absolute knowledge this is all payback for me doing this to MY parents...