Freezer

So before my freezer reverts to a milk emporium (I mean, fingers crossed) I want to actually do some make ahead meals this time.

Soooooooo what are your favorites?  How do you freeze them?  Please send your recipes my way.  Consider it your gift to me.

huge. huge and slow.

So I got my fitpregnancy email update today in which it states the below

"The volume of your uterus is five hundred to one thousand times larger than before you got pregnant, so it's safe to say you're feeling huge and slow."

Touche, fit pregnancy.  Touche. 

I don't actually feel that huge--until I try to put on my elastic pants that have clearly shrunk after my months of wearing them to the size of normal pants.  I mean, when did they get so small?  Why do I carry my children in my ass region?  I also feel huge when I wear a bra for more than 3 hours.  I mentioned this to the Dr.B and he said, "but aren't they just going to get bigger."  I also tend to feel huge when I lower myself to the ground to play with G$.  Then maybe huger and slower and a little bit more whale like when I try to stand up without my uterus falling out.  I look kind of like Will Ferrell in Old School when he gets shot with the tranquilizer only with less euphoria.  I also feel kind of huge and slow when I put on Dr. B's pj pants and think they must have also shrunk.  Wtf, people.  Make good clothes that will last a lifetime (9 months.)

I did have a dream last night where I started running (in normal clothes--fyi, those people confuse me) when I ran into a friend out on the trail.  And I was instantly in shape and awesome.  That's exactly what it feels like after giving birth to a whale and then "re-starting to work out."  Only less like that and more like someone is dangling air out in front of me and I cannot reach it.  Oh, and throw in some mom guilt for leaving the house and your babies and your husband behind and bringing leaky boobs.

All of that to say that I have my final FOUR appointments scheduled.  Four.  The final four.  I feel like people should start making brackets and shiz. 

I feel like I should maybe buy some diapers and some pads with wings?  Or something...

**also note I want this baby to stay in.  Not complaining.  Acutally love it.  Sleep way better with him inside.

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.