If Found, Please Return

I have lost myself. I don't know where I left me. I don't know when I saw me last. I don't know who I was last with. If found, please return me to me...

What Not To Say To The Woman Carrying Your Child.

I have been keeping an ongoing list of things Marcus has said or done to me over the past couple of months that refers to me getting more and more pregnant.*** There have been so many that I am losing track and have to write these down before I forget them.

I think my face is getting fat.
No, your face and chins look fine to me.

You know your butt is just going to get wider, right?

Walking past me in the closet: You have really let yourself go.

Did the kids get any of the after school snacks we bought?

After eating in a restaurant (a very nice, expensive restaurant where I ate A LOT): You are trying to tell me that's all baby?

And my all time favorite--
So I stepped on the scale this morning...
Did it scream?!

***Marcus did not mean a single word of anything he said. I actually laughed at every one of those after he said them. The scale one left me speechless for a minute, but then I thought it was hilarious. He has been very supportive and great during the past seven months. We have the kind of relationship where we can give each other never ending crap and be okay with it. Lucky for Marcus, I haven't yet turned into an emotional, hormonal, basket case that I could be, and I haven't taken anything he has said seriously. He even sat there for an hour while I showed him all the baby clothes that came with me from Virginia and pretended to be interested. I know that I am the only one that can talk about Baby G 24 hours a day and not get bored or annoyed. So there are times that I feel like I am going through a lot of this alone, but that is just me; there are plenty of people who I could talk to but I choose not to. As the days seem to be going by faster and faster, Baby G will be here before we know it and I know before I am ready. (Is anyone ever completely ready for this kind of life changing event?) I am going to start to write down all the loving things my wonderful husband says so I can be sure to quote him correctly next time. (I can guarantee there will be "What Not To Say To The Woman Carrying Your Child Part 2" before June.)

Introducing Baby G

Melt Down Over Play Dough? Seriously?!

I can not deal with the emotional outbursts of a 10 year old. Call it hormones, call it moodiness, call it whatever you want. Mom, if I was ever this bad at this age--I am SOOOO sorry. Holy moly. I know all children need a way to express anger, frustration, and not getting their way, but how do you help teach them the right way vs the way that ends up with them slamming their door at least once a night? Jessi and I are more friends then child/parental figure, which makes it even worse when I am the one that has to deal with a lot of the drama when she is at our house. And the fact that I am so exhausted and have no patience after a day dealing with Christian's outbursts doesn't really help. I don't think just blaming the fact that kids (girls, especially) get this way at this age is appropriate. I am just beginning to teach Christian how to deal with disappointment and he is two. It seems that there are two stages in life when you have to teach this lesson. I don't know if it's the instability of the two houses, the fact that she hasn't been going to sleep until later than she should, or just a "phase", but goodness child...CHILL THE FREAK OUT!!! Okay, enough ranting. When Jessi does get upset, it doesn't last very long. (Thank goodness.) I guess this is just another bump in the road we all have to deal with. I need to find myself a good shrink. Know of anyone???

89 Days

89 days to go. 89 days until my world is turned upside down. 89 days to get everything ready. 89 days to finish projects that if I don't get done before 89 days are over, will never get done. 89 days to continue to stress out and freak out about the thought of actually giving birth. 89 days until I meet my little girl. 89 days until I become a mommy again. 89 more days of hoping and praying everything turns out all right. 89 more days of breakfast in bed. 89 days of rotating four pairs of pants because I am too cheap to buy more. 89 days of craving raw potatoes and Lime Rickeys. Have I mentioned I only have 89 more days until Baby G is born? (I stole that name from my sister. It's cuter then hey you.) 89 days....assuming I don't pull a Kim/Madeleine and Baby G is born early; 89 days to worry about that.....

Where is Mary Poppins When You Need Her?

I leave for Virginia tomorrow afternoon. I am viewing it as my last "me time" before life gets even crazier. I'll get to spend time with my sister, her adorable baby and her WONDERFUL husband. We'll do lots of baby shopping and just hanging out. I am looking very forward to a break from reality. But, unlike everything else the past few months, I am running into problems. Can nothing be simple anymore? We have found coverage for Christian for the whole time that I am gone except for four hours Monday morning. I trust very few people to watch Christian and of those few, no one is available. I worry that Marcus and I are too paranoid and need to relax a little bit. Then I watch Christian run around the house like a madman and know that I have to picky about who watches him. There are plenty of people that I am sure would love to watch him, but I just don't feel comfortable leaving him with. Where is Mary Poppins when you need her? So maybe instead of complaining about not knowing where he is going to go, I should maybe be making phone calls, ya think?!

One Year Ago...and Poop

It was one year ago today that we brought our beautiful baby boy home. I would love to go on and on about how wonderful he is and what an incredible blessing he has been to our family. I would love to be able to put into words how he has touched all four of our lives and made us a more caring and loving family. I would love to be able to put all this on the web, but I know that no matter how hard I tried it would never sound right or be enough, so instead I will just say to Christian: "Thank you. You will never know how much you have taught us all. Thank you my beautiful baby boy."

On a lighter note, he decided to mark the occasion by pooping in the potty for the first time. I guess we all celebrate in our own way.

I Am NOT Monica

So this past week Christian has started to call me Monica. I am NOT Monica...I am mommy. It is really cute the way he says it. He draws it out and adds his own special way of saying it. He giggles when I freak out after he says Monica. He used to say, "Thank you, Mommy" when I would give him something or do something for him; now it is "Thank you, Monica". GRRRR!!!

Blah Blah Blah

So after I kicked Marcus' butt at a game of Scrabble earlier today, we decided to play another game. I was feeling rather confident considering his defeat earlier; he quickly brought me back to reality. I realized that I need to read a dictionary. I have a very limited vocabulary and like to make up my own words. A lot of the real words I do know, I can't say correctly. (I would like to thank my husband and brother-in-law for always making sure they point this out to me.) Sure it's easy to point out my flaws, but it's a lot harder to shut up! (Thanks Homer!) After the game, I was bored so I was just skimming other blogs, some I have read before and others I have not. I came to another realization; my life is pretty boring. I like keeping family and friends up to date on what's going on, but when there is nothing going on, there is nothing to write about. There isn't much to update on this time either. If I were to blog about what's going on it would consist of this:

I wake up every morning feeling sick. I have to eat before I get out of bed or I get even sicker. Marcus brings me breakfast in bed almost every morning. (The only perk of being sick.) Then I have to lay in bed for at least another 20 minutes. (Have I mention I get sick in the morning?) Then I get up and 9 times out of ten, I am still sick...but it's the kind of sick that I can at least deal with..usually. I am tired and usually cranky most of the day. Then come 10:30 at night, I am ready to clean and do laundry instead of going to bed, like a normal person. Contrary to popular belief, I do have a "real" job. I am just lucky enough to be able to do most of it from home. I honestly don't believe I could have a 9-5 job while being pregnant. I know there are millions of women who do this while they are pregnant, but as sick and miserable as I have been these past 5 months, I am not one of those women. My belly is growing and I am gaining weight. If one more person comments on how small I am for being 5 and half months pregnant, I am going to scream. The baby is healthy and growing right on schedule. She kicks me from the inside and Christian kicks me from the outside.
Marcus has been working on getting the basement finished so I can have an office and hopefully in the first 20 years of the baby's life, she can have a room. He says he has no clue what he is doing, but it looks good to me.
We are working on getting Christian interested in potty training. He seems to be getting more interested and likes to sit on his Elmo potty. He usually sits there and does nothing...until you put his diaper back on and then he will go potty. (He did go in his potty tonight though!!) I have put Project Take Away Cup on hold for the time being. He doesn't get it as much as he used to. I am making him a blanket and I want to get it done before I take away his cup at nap time. I am not looking forward to taking away his cup when he goes down for his nap or bedtime. I think my sleep is going to be dramatically decreased as well. But I do want to have this whole process done before the baby gets here.

But since I am not blogging about how sick I am or what I don't do everyday, none of that matters.
Enough rambling for now. We have a busy week ahead of us, so maybe it'll give me something to write about later.

Someday...

Someday I am going to write a book and have all the answers to life's greatest questions. For example:

What is the best way to get mushy cornflakes out of an afro?

How did I ever get suckered into operating a dog farm?

Why am I so hard on myself?

When did I start to not care about things I used to care about?

When did kids become so spoiled, disrespectful and ungrateful?

Why can I not stand up for myself even when I KNOW I am right?

Why do men think I know nothing when it comes to business?

How do I add an extra few hours onto my day so I can accomplish all the things I would like to before "Hey you" arrives?

If anybody would like to contribute answers to my book, feel free. I sure as @#$% don't have them.