Mama.

It's what I heard this morning at 5 am.

Mama.  Mama.  Mama, I cold.

Nothing can stir me awake faster than a call for "mama."  Like, awake awake.  It's such a blessing (and tiring) to be "mama."

I went and covered him back up and held his hand, but he wouldn't let me go.  So up he went and this big ol' preggie carried him downstairs to get in bed with us.  He carried one lambie and told me to get the rest of his "a lot of lambies."  It's always the wrong and right decision.  I never get him far enough into our bed.  So I morph my body to his and attempt to not fall off the side.  He tosses and turns.  And snuggles his head up under mine.  It's the most uncomfortable sleep--ever.  I lay there in fear of moving for he will be AWAKE at 5 am.  And by "sleep" I mean... I'm fully awake.  My mind racing with all the things I need to do, and wondering how many  more times I have to snuggle like this.

He asked if we could have a snack on the way down the stairs.  Which made me laugh.

Then began the "snuggling."

Mama.  It's the best.  

Left behind.

I hope that it isn't the end of the world.  I still need to meet this baby.  Then again, maybe I'll get "left behind" and meet him anyway.  In that case I hope that there are some anesthesiologists and nurses left behind too, and that they still give epidurals and deliver babies.

I also hope that I'm one of the first people to Target so that I can get the good stuff.  Which means, I need to be strategic on which Target I go to... I mean, there is a lot to think about when loitering.

Or... do I go somewhere like jcrew?  Or a running store.  I mean, I have a lot of stops to make.  I want a lot of things.  I also hate traffic. 

So maybe everything will be free on amazon instead.

Yesterdeee. That's how we say it down hur.

So I was all amped to write the super complainy version of my morning.  READY.  Primed.  It included an elderly dog who needed me… and food… and water in the middle of the night.  A husband who got up at 5:30 to go to the bathroom and didn’t close the door so I light shining on my face.  And a growing baby who is startled by ALL of these events and is a bladder puncher.  Tied with my stupid brain that once it wakes up thinks of EVERYTHING THAT NEEDS TO BE DONE.  Because that's what Christmas is about.

Then I just got up and showered and got to work. Granted, I do find something peaceful about being the only person awake in my house… so there’s that.  

We have a cookie party tonight (what, everybody get loud get stupid).  I made a couple of batches of cookies.  I vacuumed the floor.  Steam moped.  Dusted.  Showered and got dressed.  I was tired by 8 am.  So starbucks treat for me and my 85 million other friends in the drive thru.

Then I get to work and read my email… and GUESS WHAT???? I won something! I forgot, but a blog I read a few weeks ago had a giveaway for a Kindle Fire and I WON.  I almost deleted the email because I didn’t know the person.  That would have been sad.   Because I WON something.   Now, if only santa surprised me with a clean house… I’d totally believe he were real.

This was yesterdee.  I didn't make it to cookiepalooza.  Cookies 24/7 up in this bitch.

Wish list.

Starstruck Tieks.  I waannnnnnnnnnnnnnt them.  Size 8.  Get on my feet.  Now.

Suri's burn book.

DYING at this one.

Help a sister out.

I need someone committed.  I need someone with an h & m.  I need someone with a paypal account and the ability to ship me a package.

There is a peter pan type collar they have (silver and black sequins) that I've been lusting after.  However, our h&m just opened so when we went there were 85 thousand people and a 2 year old who was in no mood to stand in line.  So I left it there.

The one on the left... but in silver and black.

Then, when I went last night.  They were gone. 

I NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED it.  Now.  Please.  Thank you?

Seriously Babycenter? She bangs.

Cauliflower.  That is the size of my baby.  A 2 lb cauliflower?  Doubtful.

And at 27 weeks their advice for me is to start thinking about family planning.  What we're going to do in a few months when this baby is born I need to know about contraceptives.

Have these people ever had babies?

That. Just. Happened.

This email was sent to all employees this morning.

I whip my hair. 

Good Morning,


I received a really neat white elephant gift on Friday that would be great to use on a day like today. It’s a ceramic snowman with packets of Swiss Miss cocoa mix inside. When I got home with it on Friday I noticed two hairline cracks inside the snowman. If you were the person who donated that item, could you tell me which store you bought it in so that I can see if they’ll exchange it for me, please? I’d appreciate it – thanks!

Do you ever think...

If I weren't pregnant, these amazing orange pants would totally fit.

Then you think of the amazing ways you could wear them.

Happened to me today.

I heart a preggo belly.  I also heart clothes.  A lot.

I also had a 2 year old wake up from his nap and say, "MOMMY!!!  I missed you!  You're back!"

And then I forgot about the pants.  For a minute.

No room at the inn.

This is the story of a baby.

An 85 lb baby.

Who takes up a lot of space.

Hopkins Meyer Black. If we want to get specific. And I know you do. We’ll call him Meyer. Because we strive to be southern after a short lived (5 year) stint in the south. My southern friends tell me Texas isn’t southern, it’s just Texas. I’ll have to say I agree. There are differences.

Meyer was one of the top names when G was born. And Graham. Which I still love. Along with a few other discards. Like Elizabeth Jane.

With both boys I knew their names asap. With Meyer, I love it, but I think its “ring” comes as a middle name.

Maybe because of Oscar.

Griffin. 865 days old.

So you know... he's 2.  2 years old.  That's what I say when people ask.  Not 2 years and 4 months.  Or 27 months.  Or almost 2.5.  I just say 2.  Anyway, stepping down now...

Who says jazz hands aren't masculine?

Here are some things that Griffin is into saying and doing

Ben and Griffin were playing outside last night while I came inside to remove my bra and lay on the couch a minute in silence and when it was time to come in G, per daily schedule, threw a massive screaming fit.  Came in, saw me, and said calmly, "I just crying a wittle, Mommy."  The "I just..." is funny to me.  I go into his room in the AM's (after the light turns green obvi) and say, "GOOD MORNING!"  I usually get a laugh or something.  This morning it was, "Good morning.  Mommy, I just sitting a little."  Last night he fell down on our walk--ensue drama.  He NEEDED a bandaid but then couldn't walk with it on and told me, "I walk weelwy swowy, mommy" and walked like an old man.

He's big into calling me "mom" when he's ready to get up.  Mom.  Mom.  Mommy.  MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM.

He's ready for potty training.  We still have lots of travels before Christmas so we're waiting.  Parents of the year, say HELL YES.  Anyawy, he also will poop himself and out of the blue say, "I not poopy.  I just tootie a little."  Liar.

watching dinosaur train.

He likes to point out peoples different color of eyes.  Mommy has brown eyes.  Daddy has green eyes.  Eyyiott has blue eyes wike Gwiffin.  Thankfully, he also told me that my teeth are white.  If he told me I had butters I would have been sent into a tailspin of crazy. 

He's discovered nipples.  We'll leave it at that.

He's a pretty good sharer. 

He catches on to logic and uses it against me.

He only wants daddy to swing him. 

He only wants mommy to put him to bed.  Asks me to hold his hand while he lays there. 

He knows which lambie he thinks smells the best.  OG lambie.

He LOVES other kids.  Loves suckers. 

Less admirable are the massive fits.  Some that have included hitting at me or Ben.  But the big fits where he screams that he NEEEEEEEDS BOOTY PIRATES (pirates booty) are the best. 

He says a lot of things correctly now.  It makes me sad. 

I guess he is 865 days old, though.

boring Santa picture.  I kind of hoped for screaming.

Advice needed

Nerd advice.  I need a good book.  Like, can't put it down book.

I'm in a rut.  Help.

Brown bear Brown bear

I rarely catch anything on video.  As soon as I start it is innate in G to stop doing whatever he's doing and stare at me.

I randomly caught this at the very end.  Precious.  Clearly dehydrating.

My Friday night is not cooler than yours.

Yah.  You read that right.

It's not.  Muffin.  Work.  Muffin.  Laundry.  Cleaning.  Oil Change.  Car Wash.  Muffin.  Whining child. Child screaming for booty pirates.  (pirates booty.  It's hilarious.)  1/2 muffin.  Art project.  Cooking.  Laundry.  Sitting while Dr. Hubs gives bath.  Remembering that I have to put sheets on the bed.  Mac N Cheese for dinner.  Shower.  shave legs (takes longer than expected.)  Look at watch, damn, it's only 8:20.

The thing is... it's ok with me.  Because I'm a pregnant hermit.  I'm also catching up with the dvr.

Bring.  it.  on.

Neck Punchy

So last night I was perusing babble.com and ran across this article about muffins of the season. Rawr. Sounds scandalous, no? It wasn’t. I made Oatmeal Apple (blueberry) Muffins. And I’m on a muffin making kick currently. This baby has made me a domestic muffin making goddess… or something like that. Anyway, they turned out awesomely. I have a couple of more to try from there. Super easy. G$ loved them and I had flax seed in them. Though this am I woke up to him on the monitor saying, “MOMMY. I HAVE POOPY!!! POOPY MOMMY. I have poopy.” So maybe X the flax out of your recipe. I also added some blueberries (frozen) and I think everything else is pretty typical to have on hand which is also part of my money saving/using all groceries/homemade/pretend hippy/saving money so I can continue my starbucks Friday morning high routine. I did “make buttermilk” which I do not usually have on hand. Because ew.
And, then, while I was on that website I started looking around and found this article. That made me want to punch this lady in the neck. Repeatedly.

So if you wrote it… continue to not make comments on my blog. I don’t think we have a future friendship anyway.

85 pound baby

I’m not complaining so much as saying WTH?

Somedays… I look clearly pregnant.  Somedays I look spare tire/chunk-ish.  I mean, I’m guessing my truffle shuffle is amazing, but I will not check as my bazooms are bigger thank Chunks and I don’t want to damage anything.    

But, how is that possible?  Where does this baby hide?  Answer… he hides on my bladder.  He literally is going to fall out when it’s go time.  I’m going to be on a tv show for having my baby in the toilet.  Which isn’t good because I use Clorox in there and that’s really drying on your skin, but my goodness a good bleach job works wonders.  And it makes me feel all chemically clean like no germs (or even twinkies) could ever survive.  It’s a sickness.  I get it.  I also put in a tiny bit of bleach in my steam mop.

Anyway, this isn’t about bleach.  It’s about how the hell I’ve gained 8 lbs in FOUR WEEKS?  I did NOT experience this with G.  Slow and steady won the race.  The tiny baby race at which my vag rejoiced.  My doctor wasn’t at all concerned and I was proud of myself for not telling her she could shave off about 2lbs from constipation (I’m usually not so good at the non-disclosure.)  EIGHT pounds.  That is the size of a human baby.  I have like… 15? (I can’t keep up this time) weeks left… what if I gain 120 more pounds?  On top of the 14 I’ve already gained… and it remains all in my ass/thighs?  I think that’s a completely different type of TLC show. 

And, why does this baby make my ass look big?  That’s another question for you.  Why does my 2 year old think that rolling around on the kitchen floor throwing a fit is going to let him have a sucker?  When I’ve obviously stated that it will not? 

I did pass my glucose test (thank you jeebus) which means I can continue my massive weight gain. 

25 weeks.  Huge ass.

Thanksgiving.

I kid.  I took not one picture of Thanksgiving.  Not one.  I made cookies, icing, lemon pie, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green beans, rolls, other things I can't remember, cleaned like a mo fo etc etc.

So lets move into Christmas.  The holiday I've actually already decorated and photographed.  Nesting is full force.  Massive.  I maybe packed up a shiz ton of G's toys last night.  He won't notice, right?  Ps. He has.  Mostly because I didn't finish nesting.  I packed up his toys and moved them upstairs outside of his room last night and so perps they are still there.

We also took G to look at big boy beds at which he told me, "But mama, I already have a bed."  touche g$, touche.

SOoooooooooooooooo here you go.  for now.  There are more coming.  G has a santa shirt...and Christmas tree pants.  I'm just sayin'.

And then we attempted Christmas card pictures.  That mostly involved G running around and saying, "look mama, a peacock.  Look mama, a time tunnel.  Look mama, I put my hands in the water."

6 months pregnant.

Self portraits.  Who is checking the sun on that?

Sitting ='s not attractive.

Ben told me that standing on a super ledge wasn't safe.  I said... meh?

White men.

Trying to talk G into a cute picture.

Majority of the time he spent running around.

Did you catch all that?  

Christmas cards ordered.

Florida.

Along with all of Michigan, and other frozen tundras, we set out for Florida.  It was cold as hell.  Oxymoron?  It was a nice get away (with ben's parents.)  Sadly, I didn't get any shots of G in his baby thong swimsuit.  It just didn't get that warm.  And his tanning in the bed was a waste.  Like mine in high school.  No action.

He was great (except for the flight home.)  And he loved the beach (that wasn't close to the water.)  He ate 3 lbs of hummus and carrots (which he won't eat at home.)  He fed a giraffe.  He got novelty coffee cups from Ron Jons (just kidding, that was us.)  Now... 800 pictures (but fewer than fb.)

Walking down to the beach.

First feet in the sand.

seashells.  the highlight of the trip.

mandatory jump shot.

lovin' my baby.  He needed to jump, too.

our backyard.

shitting himself at dinner.  And I didn't have a diaper.  Check please?

a little night time view.

morning walk.

sweetness.

looks sweet.  he's heavy.

I like a hammock.

Pointed toes.  Those 12 years of gymnastics paid off.

5.5 months.

ev.er.y.wh.ere.

my one nap time lounge.

is that a birthing position?

sweet sweet turkey sleep.

mama and g

feeding the giraffe!  (mil hovering)

he picked these glasses out.

my boys.

I forgot to tell the random on the beach to make me look thin.

trying to coerce g into the water.

I like it!

I jump.

carry me, mama.

amazeballs dinner with free babysitting.  And I had wine.  OUT.

pre-screaming on the airplane.