Fupa.

With my weekend of single parenting I won't like that on Sunday we watched some tv.

It included yo gabba gabba.  (guys choice.)

And, that there is a character named Fupa.  Who has a FUPA.  I was all... surely not?

Yah... I was wrong.  Not fupa.  Apparently it's Foofa.  Umm... sure.  Right.  I bet it is...

This last one is a google image.  It isn't me or Britney spears.

Single parenting.

The D.B. took a man-cation this weekend.  His yearly trip to his families E.TX tree farm with his men.  They do manly things—aka, drink beer and whiskey, drive recklessly in 4 wheel drive vehicles, fish, drink beer and whiskey, cook, shower less often than they need to, and drink whiskey and beer.  No specific order…except the whiskey and beer are intermixed into all of those activities.  I think they also work in screw-mosas (mimosas in which you also include a little bit of vodka.)  Pour one out for your knocked up homies, my friends.  Don’t really pour it out though, because that’s wasteful. 

So me and G$ had a mama/son weekend extravaganza.  We made pizza together (he is very intent on “helping” me cook.)  He ate mozzarella cheese and basil.  No pizza.  I ate my entire pizza.  Good job, mama. 

I want dat cheese in my mouth.

He SLEPT UNTIL 7:10 on Saturday morning without fussing when he went to bed on Friday.  Hellsyeahallujah.  We didn’t have many melt downs.  He did force me to chase him down the street while he rode manically fast on his tricycle.  Hello 8 month pregnant lady jogging in flip flops for her crazy ass 2 year old.  Lets never do that again.  It involved tears and screaming on our way back to our house in which one of my neighbors stopped us to make sure G was ok (make sure that I was not mistreating him.)  ummm.. right.  Cue friend taking pity on me and inviting us to dinner and me shamelessly accepting. 

creepstar picture... clearly didn't know my settings were off

Did you know Ramen restaurants are the new thing?  I apparently had everything figured out my freshman year in college.  I’m a child before her time, obvi.

Saturday night he woke up in the middle of the night screaming he needed to potty (EFF ME potty training) and then he had to go “nigh nigh in mama’s bed… with all my things.” 

“All my things” =’s 2 blankets, bunny, 3 lambies.  He is all of a sudden attached to ALL of them, when it was just lambie.  What is up with that?  How do I phase him away?

Feed the ducks/eat bread

I thought, sure.. maybe we’ll sleep in.  AND the 2 of us in a king sized bed is probably pretty spacious.  Wrong.  Did you know that your child will STILL want to sleep on your pillow.  With you.  While touching.  Holding hands.  Kicking you in your baby maker.  Rolling.  Flopping.  Sitting up.  Hitting head on headboard.  Sleeping nose to nose.  Still pushing you to the edge of the bed?  Did you know that?  Said child will also wake up early.

I also let him watch a lot of tv on Sunday morning.  Parenting tiredness.  I closed my eyes during one show and G said, “Pwease wake up, mama.”  Ug… I’m trying fool. 

So we went to feed the ducks.  G went to eat bread.  We played on the play ground.  I had a lady stalk me about where G goes to daycare because he talks so well (read, non-stop), and because he can play on the jungle gym.  I wanted to tell her that her child could also play on the jungle gym if she’d let her, but I didn’t.  Then I let him take STRAWBERRIES FROM A STRANGER because it was awkward and I didn’t know what to do.  What do you say? 

Ready.  set.  go.

Honestly, it was a pretty fantastic weekend.  We miss dad and his swinging abilities (that sounds awkward, no?)  He gets home tonight sometime.  Pretty sure that will involve a place on the couch for me with my feet up and a glass of vino during bath time. 

dats a crazy slide.

Also will plague me with questions of can Meyer be this sweet?  Will I love him the way I love G$?  What WILL his gangsta name be?  And other sorts of life challenging questions.

mama, hold my hand.

Out of retirement.

So we've had some of our older employess retire lately which has left me with a lack of super awkward comments regarding my baby bump/lady lumps/breastfeeding/anything else that shouldn't be appropriate.

Yesterday, I got an out of the blue "So... how are you doing on your weight gain this time?"

"umm... it's pretty steady."

What does one say to that?  We weren't talking about pregnancy.  This person actually just walked up to my desk and that's how the conversation started.

People here are so awkward sometmes.

Labor and Delivery

L&D.  I am registered (maybe twice?).  I'm kind of scared of getting there and them telling me to fill out some forms.  And I'd be all, "I'll cut a bitch."

I've also decided one of my final appointments needs to be fake eye lashes.  Let me tell you, that showering, blow drying your hair and putting on mascara between contractions is not as fun as it sounds.  Especially when your hair ends up in a sweatyband and you've cried off all of that water proof mascara by the time you give birth anyway.  I mean, give me the lashes.  Then maybe I won't get the "bad batch" of epidural. If I decide to have one.  Or maybe the anesthesiologist won't be all, "ok now scoot to the right, now to the left, now sit still.  oh wait a little more to the right.  Oh damn, the girl down the hall had a bad batch, too."  And if he/she IS like that I'm going to use profanity this time.  Note to self.  use profanity.  Break out the big guns.   Drop the F bomb.  Probably more than once.  I'm also adding that to the birth plan.

Eyelashes.
bikini wax.
hair.
F bomb.
Eat waffles.

I'm not really sure what else I need?

I did just read these two posts and they made me laugh out loud and read them out loud to Ben.  Mostly because it all seemed so familiar.  Only instead of asking for coffee he watched me writhing in bed and stoically asked, "Do you think you're having contractions."  I should have dropped the F bomb then.  I think G's birthday was F bomb free.

That's something that's going to be special for you, Meyer.  You get hand me down everything else, but this one... this one is for you, buddy.

Ben is headed on his man trip this weekend.  Wondering if I can get a mini-epidural so I can get some shiz finished up around here--like painting and dealing with the devil, and going to Little Gym.  My parents had plans, umm... hello?  No one asked me.

Also, I want a little push button on the epi.

Devil.

3 days is too long.

It's all awesome when you OCD your freezer and fridge and your husband steam cleans the big boy room and stairs and couches, and other awesome things.

It's less awesome when you send away your sweet sweet toddler and he comes back like this.

Potty training?  How about shitting your pants and peeing on the floor.  Screaming MINE?  Now?  doing whatever the hell you want?

I hope this second baby loves wine.  I'm kind of peer pressuring him into it.

apparently this kid is happening

Like... for reals.

After my paranoia about G staying with the grands, I actually suggested that instead of him coming home today that he come home tomorrow.  I know.  I've lost my mind.  however, we have gotten lots of shiz done.  I've also slept in.  And only woken up a few times thinking I can't hear the monitor.

We went to a party.  We ran errands.  We went to the movies.  I got G a new big boy duvet.  I attempted to find him sheets that are more than 200 tc (seriously, who makes those that aren't 300 million dollars for kids full sized sheets?)

I also made new baby a name sign.  Which means he's real.

Coping mechanism.

I need one.

That isn't a bottle of wine. 

G heads to his grand parents (ben's parents) for the first time by himself this weekend.  We head on an "adventure" this afternoon to meet Ben's mom for the exchange.

Tell me it's ok.  He will be fine.  He will not break every antique in their house.  They will make him wear a coat when it's 30 degrees outside.  He won't forget about me.  He won't climb out of his bed and lose his mind and then use his tiny toddler hands to escape captivity and get lost.

Goal... get the big boy room ready.  Goal, see a movie (on my bucket list), eat dinner, sleep in, nest and organize without chaos and disorganization.

Who wants the dogs?

Where is Jcrew again?

Life without Thomas--sounds fascinating. 

But he'll be ok... right?

A large jicama. Mature content.

That's what size babycenter says my baby is right now. 

Mature content.  Not safe for work.  Woman bares all.

Now go to the store and feel up some jicamas.  Find the largest one.  Now imagine that jicama with jazz hands and in a musical theater way, not in a Richard Simmons way.  There is totally a difference.  But the jicama will only do jazz hands when you forget about him and are going about your business trying to sit up at your desk.  And pizow, jazzy hands.  Only in my right ribs.  Simultaneously punching me in my bladder.  Actually, maybe I have a Michael Phelps in there with the wing span of a giant?  It's unclear.

Getting panicky about how unprepared we are for this kid.  Also panicky that he'll come like 8 weeks early.  Which would be now. 

Also starting to think we should mention the baby to Griffin more.  Maybe everytime I ask him if he needs to potty I'll also be like, "mama's having a baby"... so 3587x per day.  Overkill?

I want you to want me.

My couches and I have a hate/despise relationship.  I both hate and despise them and feel the urge to mention this like every five minutes. 

When we moved to Austin 5.5 years ago I REFUSED to let our old couch enter into our new space.  The house that was going to be perfect.  I mean, that perfect set up where all the guest rooms/office are upstairs and just OUR GIGANTIC bedroom is downstairs?  PERFECT.  I mean... I was young and unknowning and didn't have a newborn who had to live in my bathroom for 6 months because I refused to go up and down those perfect stairs 5x a night.  I was young and unknowning and without a toddler to wreak havoc on our tiny downstairs with massive bedroom.  Who the hell needs a massive bedroom?  not me. 

Just the me who could drink like a horse (is that a saying?) and go run 18 miles the next day. 

She was dumb.

So now that you mention it... I'm over the house, too. 

I'm on a mission to rid myself of these couches before baby Meyer--the 40lb donut child--makes his entrance.  Now, we can't afford exactly what I want right now (yay 2nd kids) but I'm down with getting a Craiglist find for a few years as long as it means I NEVER HAVE TO SEE THESE AGAIN.  Ever.

You'll be surprised to know that there are a few things that I'm not good at--like doing the robot and estimating measurements. 

I found THE COUCH AND LOVE SEAT.  Wanted.  Needed.  We all three loaded up and went to see and I loved it.  Loved the girl.  Then Ben said... I don't think those are going to fit.  And I begged.  And pleaded to find a way.  And I kept asking (I'm helpful like that) if we could buy them anyway and figure it out.  Good sport Ben said we could do that, but it wasn't a good choice.  I sighed.  Admitted defeat (the next day) and was then told I couldn't mention how "he wouldn't let me have those couches." 

You don't knowwwwwwwww me.  (he does.  I totally say things like that.) 

So back to the CL grind.  I'm sure I'll be a statistic before long. 

Grossies.

Next up, how my baby is the size of a large jicama.  Who does jazz hands.

It was an accident... really.

I just purchased this.  By accident.  Like, I went to zulily and then I clicked on it and then I clicked purchase.  

I blame the baby.  And the sugar high.

Who leaves a pregnant woman home alone with home made chocolate chip cookies and the internet?

A few things I don't trust.

There are things I don’t trust.

Capri pants.

High waisted camel inducing jeans.

My love for Ke$ha and Nikki Minaj.

People who you see running in normal clothes.

That Mr. Noodle isn’t a creepster.

Any diet that tells you that you can’t have alcohol. Aka. Paleo.

Paleo madness. It’s everywhere. It’s all I hear about. Paleocrosffitcrazysunshineymusclebs.

Yesterday I made some paleo cookies (meh?) and some "spaghetti" which was actually really good. I paired it with a glass of wine.

Man. I thought I was going to lose 300 lbs by eating 25 paleo snickerdoodles and my "spaghetti" (which my child LOVED, btw. And so did the hubsters—once he confirmed that it was, indeed, real meat in there.) General basic recipe for my normal sauce only with tons of greens added and you couldn’t even tell. On top of a bed of zucchini "noodles." G did ask me… Mama, where the spaghetti? Whatever, I feed him lies all the time. Like when he said, "mama, are you crazy?" the other day and I told him "no." He caught on though because he replied back, "mama, you’re crazy." Crazy is his new word. Not my new demeanor. (right?... maybe.)

Now I’m down for eating clean and healthy and all that jazz. Not that I do all of that, but you know, I’m down with it. However, once you take away alcohol? I’m going to have to say no deal. I mean, I am already in bed by 10:30 and up by at least 7 what else do you want from me, life? I’m not giving you Ke$ha or Nikki either. I’m keeping them. And Britney. And Kanye when I run. You can own your Capri pants and high waisted jeans—but I’m going to look at you with squinty eyes.  Especially, if you are paleo.

Can’t you feel that boom ba doom doom boom da doom dom bass.

nest nest nest

This time around not only do I want to organize the crap out of my house BUT I’ve been a cooking fool.  For a long time after G was born Ben did the majority of our dinner making.  Lately, I’ve been baking like crazy AND making dinner.  I know.  I’m awesome. 

I realize I’m not.  I was kidding. 

This week I made 2 delish and EASY things.  I mean, delicious if you like the things in them… if not, then I made 2 very disgusting things and you should stop reading now.

One—Thai chicken chopped salad

Two—Orange Chicken Stirfry

Thai Chicken Salad

Iceberg lettuce

Zucchini

Edamame

Carrots

Celery

Peanuts

Peanut butter

Basil

Chicken tenders cut up

So I cut thinly some iceburg lettuce.  Then thin carrots, I grated a zucchini, and put in edamame, thinly cut basil, some peanuts and green onions.  I should have put in some celery, maybe?

Then in a skillet I heated up olive oil with some red pepper flakes to spice it.  Then I sprayed in some peanut oil.  I had cut up chicken tenders to bite size and then added garlic after cooking for a little bit in the oil.

For the salad dressing I did about 3 spoons of peanut butter, some vegetable oil (maybe 1-2 tbsp), soy sauce (1-2 tbsp), rice wine vinegar (2 tbsp), sugar (1 tsp), red pepper flakes and sirracha sauce for spice.  I didn't really measure any of that.

Then I mixed it all together with my hands.  Yums.

Orange Chicken Stirfry

Ingredients  (I didn’t measure so these are estimates)

Sauce:
1/2 cup orange juice
2 tablespoons soy sauce ?
2 tablespoons rice vinegar ?
1 tablespoon orange zest
2 large cloves garlic
1 teaspoon minced ginger
honey

Sirracha  (which I should have measured… and didn’t.  And it was SPICY.  Until I cooked it and it was fine.)

Stir-fry:
chicken tender cut into cubes
salt and pepper
2 tablespoons corn starch
Chopped veggies (carrots, green beans, zucc, corn, edamame etc…whatever you like)
olive oil
1/2 cup medium yellow onion, chopped

Directions

Blend all of the “sauce” into a food processor

Heat a skillet with olive oil and red pepper flakes.  Cook onions in oil.

Toss in the chicken (that has been tossed in salt and pepper and the corn starch) and cook until mostly cooked.  Then start spooning in the sauce and finish cooking the chicken in that.

I also did some 10 min brown rice (deluxe rawr) and actually used a frozen veggie medley (I was starving, yo.)  And after the rice was cooked just put the frozen veggies in to thaw with the hot rice and then mixed in the chicken/sauce.  Word up.  Immediate stirfry. 

8 years.

8 years of marriage and 14 years together.  That’s what we celebrated last night.  By “celebrated” I mean that we cooked dinner at home and my child didn’t get up 45 mins after going to bed and watching his stars to say “I need to go potty.  It dark in here.  I can’t see.” 

We had steaks, potatoes, brussel sprouts, and my fave—blue cheese stuffed dates wrapped in prosciutto and grilled.  I die.  Also, a much better meal than we had on our wedding night… which I can’t remember what we ate at the reception, but I do know that we ordered room service asap in our hotel room.  I.  Was.  Starving.  I also had 495 bobby pins in my hair (hello, 2005).

We had a daytime wedding—which I didn’t want.  However, when you leave 5 states away from the one you are planning a wedding in, and you’re in grad school you kind of take the date and time available.  So 2 pm it was.  By 9:30 we were watching Back to the Future and passing out.  It was a long week of entertaining.  Lots of parties.  Lots of drinks.  Lots of friends and family.  Lots of smiling.  Lots of laughter.

Before that—we met on Ben’s 17^th birthday.  I was a much wiser 18 year old sporting a multitude of overalls.  We were on a youth retreat.  His best friend was one of my good friends.  Our weekend was “magical” and he held my hand.  And aol chatted me when we got home.  Swoon. 

First date was Feb. 14, 1999.  I brought him a red heart shaped sucker (because love is a battlefield?).  We met at the movies and then got starbucks.  His curfew was massive early so I’m sure I left there and went and hung out with friends.  Remember, I was much wiser and older.

We dated all through college burning up the roads between Dallas and Houston or flying for $30 each way on Southwest.  I moved to the ATL and he followed a year later.  We KEPT DATING.  I not so casually mentioned that if we dated for 10 years I was calling it quits.  We lived in a big and massive house (in sin) together with other people.  We had our own rooms.  Ask my mom.  She would tell everyone once the detail came up.  Funny, though, we kept completely different hours and so we really had our separate rooms.  He proposed one night after we had driven home over Christmas break.  For 13 hours.  I felt disgusting for eating 13 hours of gas station food and didn’t want to go.  My parents made me.  It was a shock.  I was surprised.  I said all of the wrong things.  Ben forgot his drivers license so bought wine using his hunting license (wtf?).  He told me he loved me.  I told him I loved him too.  He got down on one knee and I was like WHAT ARE YOU DOING?  I said yes.  The ring fit.  I still felt nasty and refused dessert (who was I back then?) and they told us to come back some other time.  We’ve never been back.  December 17, 2004.  He whisked me away to a bar in Dallas where friends and fam were waiting to celebrate our VERY LONG journey. 

The fun thing about a long journey are all of the shared stories.  Most of our friends are “our” friends not really knowing one of us without the other. 

I still learn things about him… like that in 5^th grade he told some girl his favorite band was Barbara Streisand. 

So our night wasn’t very exciting last night.  We didn’t split a bottle of wine.  We didn’t go out to a fancy restaurant.  We may have watched some tv and gotten in bed to read at 10.  But he is my husband.  And I am his wife.  Yesterday we celebrated 8 years of marriage.  We celebrated quietly that we’ve moved on from holding hands (for months… leading me to ask if he was going to kiss me or what—I was shy back then?), overalls, calculator watches, distances, arguments, families uniting, lots of firsts, lots of silliness, lots of random nights we can’t remember, lots of stories, lots of growing up, lots of knowing what the other is going to say, lots of surprises, lots of love.  Ok… maybe we haven’t moved on from all of that, maybe just the overalls.  I’ve done a lot of growing.

I love him.  Even if it gets lost in the tiredsness of 1.5 kids and busy schedules.  It’s once in a life time love and I wouldn’t have changed the evening in any other way.

Daily questions.

Number one.  How do I have so many eye brows?  Seriously.  I tweeze them EVERYDAY.  How are there that many more the next day.  Maybe I'm Madonna's other child?  Also, why are they black.  Why do they get so long?  What would happen if I did nothing?  I dont' really wonder that... I just have to look back at pictures of me before 10th grade.  When my mom would tell me I was "pretty".  Liar.

2.  When are the brothers from Property Brothers going to come find and take over a house for me?  Also, I need them to fund the 75k renovation.

3.  How have I been married for 8 years TOMORROW?  Not a daily question... just one today.  Secondary, when am I going to buy a card?  How long can I leave the house with my seemingly potty trained toddler who's bladder is about the size of mine aka... if he sneezed on his walk to starbucks he'd probably pee a little bit too.

4.  When can I quit work and organize the wasteland of my pantry and freezer?  Pinterest is ruining my lazy.

5.  When am I going to get some newborn stuff ready? crickets.  crickets.

October 6, 2013.

Portland 1/2? 

Considering it. 

We had planned on taking a baby moon this time, but it isn't working out miles wise.  So then we thought a post baby trip.  Then I thought about my post baby body.  And that I have to have something I'm training for to be in any sort of shape.  Then I saw the phrase "fast course" and "direct flights from Austin" and my mind was churning. 

Surely the weather will not be 90 million degrees.  Babykins will be almost 8 months.  It comes with TWO finishers shirts and some sort of coin?  Um thanks?

Will I be able or ready to leave him?  My boobs will still be leaky.  And the race will suck because lets be honest... I'll still be tired.  And summer is HOT for training.  Like.. hot hot.

I need advice.  The race closes this month so I'll have to committ asap.  I'm struggling.  Realistic mama's out there... what is your advice?  Do we just plan a normal old trip without any running involved?  Or do I lock it up?

I'm so excited. i'm so scared.

Referencing Jessie Spano NEVER gets old.  Ever.

I have this arriving on Friday.

And I'm pretty excited.  Potty training day 2 down.

845 remaining.

Christmas 2012.

We decorated.  We baked.  We iced.  We had 80 degree weather.  We saw santa...  a few times.  We had a LOT of suckers.

Then we loaded up the car and headed to Haslet for the fam Christmas.  And it snowed.  Below be prepared for an onslaught of pictures.  I didn't get one of the 4 kids that was amazing.  Or a family one.  Or even one of the three.5 of us.  I blame sobriety.

I got sick the minute we left Austin and am finally mostly better.  We also left G with my parents for a few days and painted our kitchen and our bathroom twice.  (damn you grey paint.)  We also went to dinner at a normal time and came home at 9 PM.  HOLY BALLS.  This is what it's like to be young and free (only I'm sore from painting and knocked up so.... there's that.)  It was a lot of fun.  SO fun to see G be excited.  This is what Christmas magic is made of.

For reals.  A LOT of pictures below.

I hold baby Kellen.  He's so tiny. 

She is so easy going... and has a mind of her own... which also apparently causes a big head. that won't fit in her christmas jammies.

Griffin trying to steal Kellen.  Brooklyn being forced to sit.

The best one?

How precious is she?

Super sober sister.

Sister and Kobie.

Moomsy

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

3rd breakfast from Christmas morning.

Presents.

Fireman hat!

Garbage truck.  Garbage truck come on Mondays.

Holy Thomas Toothbrush.

Santa.  is.  amazing.

Had to super encourage him to move from one present to the other.

800th breakfast.

First whipped cream beater.

Ell monster.  A present lover.

Brooklyn

Cranky

A whistle!

Beginning of the white out conditions.

SNOW

In.  love.

Had to wear brooklyn's hat.

Big boy books.