Making Good on a Saga - Part 1

Ok so I'm gonna try and make good a few blog-promises I've made.  That means I need to stop watching Jimmy Fallon youtube clips.  Or the sacrifice of over sharing my life with complete strangers. 

So the daycare saga......

When The Boy first started going to a daycare it was an in-home daycare with Schmacey's sister in law.  It was somewhat on the way to the office (back when I worked in Hell).  There were also a bunch of ancillary friend's kids there too so it was a great little community.  I loved having that for him, but as he got older we wanted more for him even though we were reluctant to change his world.  Well then there was the job changes and the new job (my current employer) who happened to be about 45 minutes away from our house and the daycare which had moved multiple times over the two years was not 20 minutes in the opposite direction making my morning commute....  Difficult. And making me.... Difficult.  So when we factored in how much we were spending on gas we figured we could search for a new place.  When we started looking around us we realized that we didn't want to just drop him off at just anyone's house and we wanted standards and accountability for the place that would be basically co-parenting The Boy.  Mind you he was smack dab in the middle of being two years old, be made the change anyways in October (a hey a year ago!). 

After some research we went with a facility that was closer to our house.  They were welcoming and offered structure and education and even though the grandma that ran the place has a mustache we felt she was warm and loving. The transition was hard.  He was sick so often which we just chalked up to new daycare, lots of germs to get immune to and then the holidays and then a relapse, maybe.  Then his sleep pattern was all sorts of jacked up.  He turned three.  Juanito was traveling a lot around that time.  We had a hundred and one different reasons for why our sweet little boy was slowly morphing into a demon child.  He finally got pee potty-trained (thank heaven for Ms. Miriam) and then moved into the Three Year Old class room.  He still had poo accidents on a daily basis.  I call him poo-potty reluctant. But in that change things just got progressively worse.  We kept saying its because he is three.   Everyone says that terrible threes are way worse than terrible twos, right? 

By early spring Juanito and I  were always trying to figure which teacher he had that day.  Who did I drop off to? Who did he pick up from?  Who was with The Boy all day long.  It was never consistent.  It was never the same room.  It was never the same.  Period.  We were getting frustrated and started talking about moving but again didn't want to change his world.  Especially when he was so difficult already, what would happen with yet another change?  We both dreaded the what-ifs.  Then we started asking The Boy if he liked his school.
No
Do you like your teachers?
No
Do you like your friends?
No.
Huh....

So how much weight do you put into what a three year old says?  A three year old who confuses hot and cold and is convinced that Cassidy is a boy.  So we started looking putting feelers out.  No commitment just window shopping. 

Then when we found out about Tiny I started looking at this facility through the eyes of dropping off my newborn.  The teachers were often outside smoking or were walking around in a smoke-cloud that never really registered until you start thinking, I'm gonna drop off my infant with this ladies?  During RSV and flu season?  Um... 

So we started looking more aggressively.  I researched the Internet and then sent Juanito out on reconnaissance.  I made up a spreadsheet (I know shocking right?).  It became a daily conversation.  DAYCARE.  We came to the conclusion that we blindly jumped the first time and now we know more and asked better questions, but we were still bound by finances that didn't allow us to pay a mortgage payment in daycare.  So we finally narrowed it down.  I sent Juanito with a list of questions.  We took The Boy to visit to get an idea of the teachers and if he liked the place. We gave notice to the old place and I go to drop off the registration for the new place.  This is when it falls apart and I cried.  The owner (a wide-eyed-no blinking-passive-aggressive-rude-bitch) informs me in the poorest manner that until The Boy is out of pull-ups completely he can't be in the Three Year class room at her facility and must be in the Twos.  Which there was a wait list for.  I was shocked that after all the visiting and conversations and questions and dialogue that this NEVER came up.  She said, "well you never asked."  I was shocked and she treated me like a hostile parent when I was really a parent out of options.  This was the place that we had carefully selected and thought was the best choice for our boys.  This was going to be the last change until The Boy started school.  THIS WAS THE ONE!

I left the facility before there was more scene then there was.  I called Juanito driving home and by the time I made it home I was a bawling mess.  What the fuck were we going to do?  Luckily it was a day I was home early from work and The Boy was still at daycare.  Juanito and I got in the car and started driving to all of the places we could think of.  We got recommendations from places and went to more places.  We OD'd on daycare interviews and show and tells.  We then had to go to a doctor's appointment where we confused asking about discipline policy and cord blood banking. 

While on our way to pick up The Boy I talked to another friend to get recommendations on one of the places we looked at and liked where her son goes to.  That's when she mentioned another place.  So while Juanito went in to get The Boy she gave me the run down on what she knew about this other place.  When they got back to the car I said hey feel like checking out one more? 

And I'm glad we were all up for it.  The daycare is also a preschool connected to a charter school that is connected to a church.  And since it was the Friday before school started when we got there they were painting and cleaning carpets, getting ready for the next school year.  When we walked in the door I was immediately hit with a smell of old building and reminded of my old church in Nebraska.  It wasn't a fake smell or an overwhelming chemical smells to make it seem clean.  It smelled like a part of my childhood.  Would it be a part of my boys too?  We spoke with the director who was in shorts and a tee shirt from cleaning all day. She was really nice and walked us around to the different classrooms.  We talked about the Three Year Old class and the Four Year Old class and the infant room (that only allows three babies at a time and luckily there is an opening coming up).  It was really good, but was it the place?

We went home and I started plugging in all of the places we looked at into my lovely spreadsheet.  That narrowed it down to the great factor which is cost.  We made the decision to start at the new daycare the following week after getting all of our registration information to the school - without incident.  How do you think it went?

I swear....

OK, yes it has been established over the course of this summer that I suck at juggling all the balls of employee, wife, mother, friend and blogger.  Let's move past that.  I'm working on some stuff.  I swear.

I have officially five weeks left of this pregnancy and I aim to bring you all up to date before Tiny makes his grand enterance. 

Pew-pew-pew-pew

So after many attempts to not introduce gun play into The Boy’s world, I have accepted that it is a natural part of his DNA to be fascinated by fire arms.  It might be genetic because Juanito has a substantial fascination with things that go boom and gun collection.  Well, I’m sure it’s not substantial, not by his means at least.  But having been raised in a house where there were hunting rifles and shot guns in my dad’s closet, we were raised with what I call a healthy fear of guns, so any guns are bad guns.  Don’t touch don’t handle kinda policy does that to you.  Juanito’s biological dad, who was actually present until he was seven years old, was not only a state trooper, but also retired army and marines.  Guns were a daily part of his childhood and he was raised with a healthy respect AND proper handling.  I don’t have the ease with guns around like Juanito has so we’ve agreed that no guns until The Boy (soon to be Boys) are older and understand the ramifications of handling a gun.  The specific age is still being discussed and more importantly will be determined by the maturity level of The Boy(s).  THAT we agree on. 

Therefore we did not encourage water guns or toy gun or any toy that had an aim/fire aspect to it.  But still food was aimed and freakishly accurate shooting sounds were made with forks and toys and cars and green beans.  Eventually, the term “shoot gun” came into his budding vocabulary well before other more appropriate words.  Like please, thank you, dog, Mom…..  We have enacted the point and shoot rules that you do not point and/or shoot a person or an animal.  You can shoot the house, you can shoot the bushes, the trees, but do not shoot Mom.  Or Cass.  Or Alfie.  We’ve had to pass this rule on to Grandma’s house as well. 

Last night before dinner, The Boy was outside while Juanito grilled some chicken, and came to the dinner table with a broken water gun that has spent the better portion of the Arizona summer laying in the rocks in the blaring sun.  The mere fact that this plastic thing is still together is a miracle, let alone still working.  Well, it’s not working since half of the parts are somewhere else.  But yet, The Boy was glued to the gun.  It was at the dinner table and it was next to him while he was curled up watching Disney Channel before bed.  It was a bone of contention when it was time to go to sleep and the rule “don’t sleep with your gun” was in forced.  Sometime between going to sleep and waking up the gun went missing.  Thankfully.  Because when The Boy woke up his first question was “where’s my gun?” 

I’ve read articles about the pros and cons of gun play.  I accept that this is apparently a very innate part of my son being a boy.  I know that we are teaching him good manners about gun play.  And when the time comes that Juanito gets to take him shooting for the first time he will be taught the right and wrong way to handle a gun and himself around a gun.  Until then I am sorry if my child shoots you with his green bean, fork, sun-eaten pieces of a water gun or even just his hand. 

Suckage

So I've really sucked at this whole blogging thing lately haven't I?  Well my apologies to the pygmies.  I would say that life has been busy these days between raising a three year old and growing a baby, but damn it, I know other bloggers who are doing it and taking super cute belly photos in their maxi dresses.

I for one will not be rocking a maxi dress.  Its August in Phoenix where the 120 degrees has been replaced with 70% humidity and 107 degrees and the idea of a maxi dress screams swamp ass and diaper rash.  Lo siento friends for that visual instead. 

My other reason for not claiming that I've been too busy is because we're about to get a whole lot busier.  I was emailing a friend the other day and it all came tumbling out that between the upcoming nuptials of a friend and all that goes along with that and other planned events we have about 5 weeks left to get ready for Tiny's arrival.  You see The Boy was four weeks early.  I had my damn shower a week before he showed up.  Poor planning on my part maybe, but totally unexpected.  Regardless of what my mother thinks. 

So my goal this time is to have everything done before I turn 36 weeks.  This means I've got to get my expanding ass in gear. Oh, and this time I have this stupid ass idea to make the crib bedding.  Because I'm a slave to Pinterest I guess.  Hell, I even made an idea board.  Like this is some fashion line I'm creating.  But Tiny's room, if you go by the idea board, is gonna be awesome.  Now, my iffy execution will be a completely different story.  So we need to paint and sew and put the crib back together.  We need to wash clothes and see what we need this time around.  We need to buy a few items.  We didn't find out until the end of bottles with The Boy that Dr. Brown's bottles worked well for his reflux so we only have two.  We're gonna need a few more.  Lots to do and time is dwindling down.  Have I mentioned the daycare saga?  Oy.  That is its own post within its self.  I think I'll save that little morsel until there is a happy ending.  Right now, not yet.  But fingers crossed!

To add insult to injury, I guess, I am super tired these days.  Tiny is sucking the life out of me.  For example, I swear to all that is holy that I made the bed on Sunday and sorted laundry and fell asleep for and hour and a half.  Its ridic.  We had a window installer at the house a couple of weekends ago replacing the upstairs windows and I fell asleep on the couch.  All white trash with my pregnant belly handing out.  I didn't have the common courtesy to at least snore my head off in the privacy of my own room.  Juantio apologized and explained that pregnancy takes a lot out of me.  How kind. 

So yes, lots to do, little energy to do it and not a lot of time.  For some this is when they shine.  For me this is when I get canker sores from stress.  Oh, and the list making is in full swing.

Here and we're all kicking

So I kinda went a little MIA there for a while didn't I?  Well, its hard to explain.  So I won't. Just suffice it to say that this pregnancy has been leaps and bounds different from The Boy's time in the womb. 

I am very grateful for the small handful of people who i have shared this with and have helped me through these tough times.  Their understanding and compassion has made it easier.  I am also blown away by my husband.  He has sat with me through things that are way beyond either of our skill levels and seen us both through to the other side.   You never think that you will be the living embodiment of your vows, but in these good times and the bad and through sickness and in health, Juanito has been by my side. 

He has really stepped up and taken on more than I ever thought I would be comfortable with.  I hate feeling like I am incapable and he has somehow found a way to take on without making me feel incapable.  He even has started making some dinners.  I will just gloss over the pan of burnt refried beans I found in the sink after I came home and said the house smelled like burnt beans and you tried to say it was the new a/c filter.... 

I love you beyond words Juanito. 



FB Post:  Levi is going to be a ........

Since it hasn't been all rainbows and kittens lately, I will focus on the good stuff.  We announced our pregnancy on Facebook which makes it more official than any test results, countless ultrasounds and board certified doctors.  We got 65 likes.  Because those things matter. 

Of course always the marketing person, I had to take a poll of friends, family, and people I once knew, to see what the general consensus was for gender,  It was like 85% girl.  So we went a few days later for the big ultrasound.  Baby was all stretched out with arms up around the head and ankles crossed, like my uterus is a hammock.  The u/s tech wasn't sure if she would be able to see the gender or not.  Baby eventually moved and before the tech could say any thing I gasped.  She said, "do you see it" and Juanito said, "Is that a turtle?"  That's when we get to post to FB that we're having a ....

Photo taken on our trip to California just in case you
thought there were beaches in Phoenix.

So when Levi was baking we called him Senor.  In fact we called him Senor even after we came home from the hospital with him.  So I said we need to find a nickname for this little one (the actual name has been a struggle!).  We didn't like Junior or anything like that. So while giving The Boy a bath, Juanito asked him what we should call the baby.  The Boy said Tiny, but he said it in a really small squeaky voice and hunched his shoulders up to his ears and pinched his thumb and fore finger together.  He doesn't really understand whats going on yet.  Or what is going to happen to his world in a few months.  He is convinced that he has the baby in HIS stomach.  Boy, is he sadly mistaken.

So here is Tiny.  He wasn't cooperative for the complete ultrasound so we get to go back.  I swear this kid has had so many photos taken of him so far.  He will probably be a camera hog when he comes out too!  Oh he is a movin' and a grovin' and he is measuring 4 days bigger than expected so they moved my due date up.  Fine by me!

Tiny Reynolds



Not A Father's Day Post about my Dad

See this guy?

Dad drinking his first and probably last martini at my cousin's wedding.

This is my dad and I would have to say that I adorn this picture of him.  He isn't a silly kind of person. He is very pragmatic and has a cut-to-the-chase way of talking.  Even if he goes about it in a meandering kind of way. 

For example, I called my dad last week to plan to do something for Father's Day.  There is a steak house down town that has a pretty damn good steak and is vetted in history of Phoenix, which is hard to come byin a valley that is only 100 years old.  Ever since I went there I have wanted to take my dad.  So when I called him and asked if he wanted to go out to eat on Saturday night his response was slow but eventually to the point. 

"Well you know a week before I went to Nebraska I lost the bridge on the top teeth."  Mind you his trip was at the beginning of June. "I went to the dentist and they glued in back in.  Then the day I left for Nebraska the bottom bridge fell out. I figured I would have them glue it while I was in Nebraska.  But you know that dentist there wanted to take xrays and everything so I just said forget it."  Shocking that the dentist would want to see your teeth before just gluing back in a piece that might have fallen out for a reason.  "So when I got back in town I went to the dentist over here and he said that before they could fix that I needed a root canal.  On two teeth.  So I'm going to the dentist on Friday to have both root canals done and then go back on the 26th for them to put the bridge back in." 

"Holy cow Dad, are you going to be able to eat steak?"

"Well" But mind you Dad's "wells" have always sounded more like an exhale than a word, "I don't know."

"Have you ever heard of The Stockyard?  That's where I want to take you."

"You know when I was in Nebraska at the reunion" His 50th high school reunion, "there was this guy who was in the class above me. We started talking.  He married this girl who was in my class.  They have a daughter.  He was saying how their daughter lives in Peoria and asked if I knew where 91st Avenue and Deer Valley was.  I said well that's about a mile away from me.  Well her and her husband manage the Texas steak house or what ever" Texas Roadhouse, "over at I17 and Dunlap."

"So do you want to go to Texas Roadhouse then instead of The Stockyards?" The historical, expensive renowned prime choice cuts of beef Stockyard?  You want to go to a chain???

"Well, what ever works."

We went to The Stockyard and Dad ate a huge medium rare prime rib steak.  He said it was good but nothing like what you could get in Nebraska.  Ok love you Dad.

I'm going somewhere with this and I hope to get something free at the end

So the Internet and the conspiracy theorists are up in arms about the PRISM project.  Well this is what Google Analytics is all about, people.  Why are you so mad?  If the government paid someone else to do it, thus pushing capitalism further, then would it be ok?  Oh, wait they did pay someone since he was a contractor.

Anywho, a few weeks ago I was googling wainscoting because I have big plans for our upstairs bathroom.  (I might have made a pretty big topic leap there but I'm going somewhere with this, hold on.)

I am envisioning (on my mental vision board) bright turquoise and gold fish orange and bright white wainscoting in the bathroom no one uses.  And some shade over that damn window above the bath that makes that room a sauna every summer.  This is not the reason that we no longer use this bathroom. Oh, no.  The Boy has decided that our bath tub is infinitely more fun.  Why?  I don't know.  He gets these ideas in his head and there is no shaking it.  Perhaps when the baby comes he'll change his oh so stubborn (yet familiar) mind.  God I hope its for the better. 

 Anyways, like I said I've got plans for that room.  They also involve doing something with this random closet in the bathroom.  I think we would be better served with a cabinet of some sort but not sure how to turn it into a closet.  I'm sure Juanito could MacGyver his way to see it done, but I need him on other projects.  Namely the storage under the stairs.  We had this great idea to open up the closet down stair, that people in my family would call the hall closet, into the space under the stairs to allow for more storage.  Living in Phoenix the attic is not an ideal storage area for things you don't want to melt. 

So a while ago Juanito employed my dad to come over and the punched through the wall into the long forgotten area.  But apparently our great idea was not a common vision.  Now we have a little hobbit door that one has to belly crawl through in order to get to the secret lair, I mean the storage area. Not exactly how I would have done it.  I know that Juanito has visions of prepping for the end of the world or the zombie apocalypse, but really I just want a place to store my wedding dress and family heirlooms and holiday decorations without fear that they will melt into one festive jumble, instead of stockpiling canned peaches and air-tight drums of rice. I need the stuff from the "put it in the spare room" room to be transferred somewhere else so that we can make it "the baby's room."

Point being, I think we have jumped past nesting and landed feet first in demolition and reconstruction phase of the pregnancy.  Also the latent food aversion has subsided to I want to eat everything.  And right now it must be fried and saddled with chocolate of the cold, frozen kind. 

So what does any of this have to do with PRISM?  Well, I was watching something enriching and educational on YouTube the other day (I think it was all of the songs from Pitch Perfect) and every video I clicked on had a five second commercial about wainscoting...coincidentally it was the company that I was reading about a few weeks ago.  This is marketing in the digital age.  This is Google taking what you search, selling this data to companies so that they can better target their advertising.  This isn't THE MAN watching your every move.  This isn't Big Brother coming for you Orson Welles and Ayn Rand.  This is capitalism at its finest. 

Now if only I could get some free wainscoting out of this post.....

My apologies to the blogoshpere

So...  lately I've had writer's block of some sort I guess.  I start off with something to say, but when I sit down to type the sentences don't come.  When I get paper and pen the words evade me and my thoughts wander to Facebook and yet another game of Solitaire.  It is obnoxious how much Solitaire I play.  Seriously.

I don't know why this is happening.  Its not like I lack for things going on in my life. I guess I'm just having a hard time with finding the words for it all.  And honestly do you want to hear a less than entertaining story about The Boy?  Again? 

Before when I would get all jumbled in all the thoughts I would stop and start writing it like I was telling a friend.  Unfortunately these days the thoughts are a jumble of pictures, random references that would take too long to explain why the hell my brain when that way and songs and movie lines.  So I apologize for the lack of witty post or insightful thoughts.  Perhaps its the uterine shunting and perhaps its my give a fuck that is on vacation.  Hard to tell.

And a statue will be erected in your honor....

I was thinking this weekend about a conversation I had with my mother in law when The Boy was just born.  I was recounting a story that involved Juanito helping with some aspect and she made a comment about how his father never helped with any of that.  “That” being taking care of his children.  I wanted to say well that should have been your first indicator that he was not a spectacular father but I held my tongue.  I do that every now and then, but rarely.  Sadly I was told this by many women in my family.  I have never really been sure what to make of it. Was I supposed to feel bad for them and how bad they had it with their lame husbands?  Was I supposed to feel thankful for having a husband who gave a shit about being a father?  Was I less of a mother because I’m not doing it all on my own? 

So this conversation and the questions it brings always bubble to the surface when I feel conflict with Juanito.  It’s a struggle to balance the house and careers and children and pets and car maintenance and home maintenance and laundry and cleaning and social lives and personal time oh and sleep.  I know that just like there are times that I feel like I carry more weight than Juanito there are times that he feels that too.  But I found myself having this internal dialogue while I was unloading and reloading the dishwasher for the third time in a weekend (a weekend that we ate out more often than ate in it mind you) and I thought, am I just supposed to accept this role and be thankful that he will change poopy Pull-ups (or worse poopy underwear)?  Am I asking too much that he do both?  And this is no reflection on Juanito and his side of load. (So don’t read into this Juanito.)  I’m asking more for all the working moms.  Is it too much of us to ask that the workload of maintaining house, home and family be evenly split?  Are we spoiled when our husbands share the workload?  Am I less of a mother and wife because he does? 

Then seriously this is the thought that comes into my head.  What about gay and lesbian couples?  They must have to struggle with sharing workload but do they grapple with the traditional roles?  How can I assume that mowing the yard is “his thing” when lesbian couples I know fight over who has to do yard work.  And then what about those couples that have children?  Do they have to talk it out and say “this is what I want to do and you can do this?”  Do they reexamine their plan to make sure everything is covered before implementing?  Because we do. 

When we started this relationship so long ago I know that everything was split.  Rent, closet space, cleaning, everything.  I know that if it hadn’t been this way I would have bailed on the relationship a long time ago.  We both went into it with this even-stevens mentality.  So why should I be grateful for a husband who would get up in the middle of the night with a newborn because my MIL didn’t have that?  I shouldn’t feel guilty that I can chat with friends or family while Juanito corrals The Boy.  And he sure as hell doesn’t deserve a parade for washing poopy underwear. 

Sometimes this adult thing sucks and the figuring it out part is exhausting. 

**Side note:  not sure how I’ve made the gay and lesbian population my litmus test for all things, but I find myself doing more and more these days.

Rule Follower

Driving home the other night from work I called Norma Rae.  Between the time difference and our kids this is typically the best time to talk.  Or a little at noon on Sundays because this is the beginning of our nap time and the end of hers.  But our calls happen so infrequently that when they do it never seems to be long enough to talk about everything, like we need to. The planets aligned and we were able to chat.  And we did for the rest of my 45 minute commute home.  Its a good time to catch up and it makes my drive so much better. 

During this phone call I needed to stop at the library and pick up a book that was on hold.  As I parked I told Norma Rae that I needed to run into the library but it was going to be real quick no need to hang up just that she needed to keep talking.  This is no problem for Norma Rae.  She is a story teller as well and can easily monopolize a conversation.  So has she launched into a story about a piano purchase I walked into the library.

In order to pick up books on hold at my local library, I walk in and make an immediate left walk probably 5 yards to where my request is on the hold shelf.  I walk back to the entrance, go up to computer kiosk, which is unmanned mind you, scan my card and my books, press the button to have the receipt emailed to me and walk out.  Its literally a 20 second transaction and I never once interact with a person.  I've done it many times in the past. *Gasp* I have been on the phone at the same time too! 

This time though the gentleman who is, and I use this term loosely, security asked me to finish my call before coming into the library.  I totally get it because there are rules and people don't follow but I hadn't said a word other than hello to him.  I would not have been saying a word during my 20 seconds while there.  I would have been less intrusive than the guy that is taking shelter from the heat in the library and apparently has something against personal hygiene, deodorant and is supportive of our natural pheromones.  Or the people who sound like they are one step from an iron lung coughing and hacking and making me imagine bathing in hand sanitizer. 

I was so incensed by this request.  the gall of this "security guard" to tell me to get off my call and if I a bluetooth he wouldn't have batted an eye but these calls happen so infrequently that how dare he make me follow the library rules.  believe I understand that I sound like an over privileged child have a major first world problem temper tantrum.  But I thought you know if I had been talking I would understand but I wasn't.  I was totally following the rules with a phone against my ear that is all. 

but because I am a rule follower, I stepped outside and, in a haughty tone, told Norma Rae that I would call her back in literally a minute because this guy won't let me walk in the library with a phone against my ear.  Believe you me, I glared at him when I left.  I'm sure he felt the rath of my anger in those blistering seconds. 

Where have I been and what have I been doing?

So I haven't posted in a while and I have no good excuse.  I mean I've started posts but haven't finished them. So let's try and finish those up and give you an idea of where I've been and what I've been doing. 

Memorial Weekend....

Memorial Weekend is a time to remember those who have bravely served our country and community.  Be it military, army reserves, police, or fire; this weekend is about honoring any person who puts on a uniform and puts their life on the line for others.

What did I do?  Well I Nair'd my cooter's sideburns in preparation of being in a swimsuit in front of people.  I also went to Schnepf's Farms, which was on the edge of the Earth, and picked peaches.  Twenty pounds of peaches later we came home.  Armed with ginormous clam shells of strawberries and blueberries from Costco we proceeded to gorged ourselves on fruit all weekend long.  On Saturday we went to Schmacey's for swimming and a BBQ.  I debuted my new maternity swim suit which I've never had before and thoroughly enjoyed our friends, even if they don't believe that we landed on the moon.  Then on Memorial Day itself we went out to my parent's house for an outstandingly awkward afternoon with my family and all of their idiosyncrasies. Nothing salutes our armed services like fruit and dysfunction!

The Pregnancy

Have I mentioned that this pregnancy is nothing like The Boy?  I might have mentioned it a time or ten.  Because it isn't.  I don't think that I have glowed once.  Well my aunt said I was but I think she was lying to make me feel better. I have pretty much a constant headache that ranges in a variety of intensities.  Sometimes I can't open my eyes and other times the throbbing only happens when I bend over.  I have consulted my doctor about this and first I need to make sure that its not my eyes and/or contacts before they worry.  Apparently the actual eyeball can change shapes and my contacts might be causing problems. We shall see but in the mean time Tylenol has become my new favorite friend.

Oh, and the crying....  the uncontrollable tears!  We were driving back from the edge of the Earth (Schnepft's Farm) and I fell apart crying because my grandpa died.  Nine years ago people. The man died nine years ago and I'm bawling because The Boy won't ride his tractor like I did.   I mean seriously get it together Sara! 

Loss

A very good friend lost his father a few weeks ago to cancer.  I had so many mixed emotions about it.  It seemed that our friends, Yennifer and her husband (it was his dad who passed), had been living their lives in limbo with the ups and downs of battling cancer.  I know that as the child you want the limbo rather than loose one of your parents.  But I know that there has to be some level of relief that there is no more fighting and that he is at peace.  But good Lord I am not prepared for us to start losing our parents.  I mean grandparents is sad to deal with but our parents?  We are not old enough to deal with that type of loss.  But, yet, here we are.  Oh and like I mentioned above, this did not bode well with the uncontrollable crying either.  I'm at the memorial service trying hard not to do one of those gasping inhales while bawling things when my friend was talking about his dad.  I was just a mess and it turned into a headache that lasted for two days. 

So that's where I've been and a little bit of what I've been doing.  Its all very exciting.  The temperatures have crept up here in the Valley an summer has officially started while other areas are barely seeing spring.  I envy your time in the sun "warming up" while we claim shady parking spots and avoid the outdoors for large chunk of time. 

Oklahoma and Flashbacks

Bombarding my eyes and ears and heart with coverage of the Oklahoma tornadoes. What am I thinking? Natural human curiosity gives way to a crying pregnant woman at work. Awesome. 

Irrational Fears

They say with your first baby mom is super paranoid of all things.  Don't eat hot dogs. Don't eat lunch meat.  Don't sit for too long.  Don't stand for too long.  Don't breath or drink unless it's been filtered.  Don't look at a snake because your baby will be cross-eyed.  Well I wasn't.  I was so freaking excited to be pregnant that I think I thought I was untouchable.  Immune to the possibilities that something bad would happen after all the time and effort it took to get here. 

They also say that with any subsequent children you worry less and less. Hence why they say the youngest child could swing from the rafters and parents don't worry.  Makes me wonder about about Michelle Duggar..... 

Anyways, that is  not true for me.  With Lucky #2 I am worried about everything.  We had the nuchal translucency test the other week that tests for chromosomal abnormalities,  such as Down's Syndrome.  I was so nervous about this test.  Since becoming a mom I have met a handful of people who have children with Down's that they didn't know about until the baby was born.  HOLY COW.  And even though my blood work and ultrasound are fine I still worry.  And will worry until my little pink, squishy bundle shows up.  

Other things I worry about to the point of anxiety for no good Goddamn reason:

1. Squishing the baby.  I'm afraid that I will sit hunched over at my desk for too long and the baby won't be able to grow because my fatness has taken up all the room my abdomen allows.  Like a gold fish that grows to the size of its container what if my fat rolls inhibit my baby's development and I end up with a baby the size of a doll?  This fear is only fueled by the stories my mother in law tells that my sister in law was so small when she was born she had to make clothes for her out of baby doll dress patterns.  And not to imply that my MIL is fat by any means.  It just goes to show that super small babies are in the chromosomal mix.

2.  Someone breaking in to the house.  Juanito has been out of town off and on recently and I battle the "What If" game.  What if someone broke into the house while I'm in the shower?  Or upstairs with The Boy?  Or in the backyard?  My cell phone is somewhere else and we don't have a land line.  What would I do?  I agonize over each step thinking that formulating a plan will ease the anxiety but its only really just fuels it.  I might have an escape route drafted in my head, but I also have a racing heart rate and sweaty palms.  This has caused me to start looking at getting a land line as well as where to strategically put the phones in case of an intruder. 

3. The baby moving.  This ties into item number 1.  I've started feeling the baby move and when I do it freaks me out because I'm afraid of squishing the baby.  Last night this happened so I stretched out on the couch until I didn't feel it anymore. This curbed the beginnings of an anxiety attack. It occurred to me that in the near future I won't have this luxury because the baby will be bigger and will be felt regardless of what position I am.  So will I just have to have the meltdown?  How will I function if I am always two steps away from a complete meltdown?

4. Wearing too tight of clothes.  I bought the belly band when I was like 8 weeks along because I didn't want to wear tight clothes.  Because of issue number 1.  Also it was uncomfortable.  But really it goes back to being afraid of squishing the baby.  If I could wear yoga pants to work I would. 

5. Getting in an accident.  I worry about getting into a car accident, or even any accident that might land me in the hospital.  I worry about how we will juggle The Boy.  Which hospital will I be at and will it be convenient to our house?  Will The Boy still be able to go to daycare?

I know that ALL of this is ludicrous to worry about but I do.  Dear Lord I do.  I wonder about it when I'm driving to work.  Or taking a shower.  Or trying to fall asleep.  I worry about everything under the sun happening and try and figure a solution of every possible scenario.  Its exhausting. 

Coming Out

So this Juanito and The Boy took a road trip to go visit some family.  I had all weekend to myself.  It was glorious.  It was gluttonous.  It was productive.  It was lonely.  I was so happy when they arrived safely home.  The Boy greeted me with a bundle of fake red roses that had faded in the sun.  Apparently he stole them from a family member's flower pot and she, loving The Boy to dangerously spoiling levels, said he could have them.  Thanks to Ana I now have faded red fake roses in my house because they are for my "burtday. "

Lucky

So when we went to the Women's Expo the other weekend Yennifer and I had our palms read, because we're into that stuff.  Not that we base our life decisions on it or anything but its interesting.  Also, I think since we're both obsessives and this gives us something new to obsess about.  

Illusions of Age

This past weekend I went to a women's expo with three other friends.  Its funny because I was going to say three other girls, but then I look at us; Schmacey is a mother of three and doer of all things; Yennifer is a mother to one and a half (she's pregnant too) and a medical provider capable of prescribing drugs, and Schmaren is a local teacher of the year as well as in a committed relationship we're all ready to plan a wedding for (just need a question asked,that's all.) 

Me time

So the other day I saw that a "friend" on FB (and I use th "" because if its someone who is from high school and you haven't seen since perhaps graduation is it really a friend?)  posted how she joined a gym because she needs more "me-time."  I also have friends (real-life ones) who do little things now and then for themselves as a way to reinforce this mental state. 

Shunting? Is that what this? Where am I?

So I haven't written in a while.  Things have been, well, you, happening.  And by "in a while" I guess I mean like 5 days ago.  Anyways.  I know I should jump on the bandwagon and say something about the tragedy at the Boston Marathon.  Well, I don't have words for it.  I can't understand what makes people do such things.  It also doesn't help that we don't know who did it or why they would do such a thing.  Was it to see if they could? 

Finding our way and our faith

Schmacey's daughter will receive her First Holy Communion this Sunday.  Being that I'm not Catholic nor have I been confirmed, the whole experience is lost on me.  Instead I'm hung up on if the word "first" should be capitalized.  Schmacey has asked that those around her daughter write letters to her about this accomplishment.  I asked for help on the letter.  I love the idea of her parents reading the letters to her before her confirmation and I totally want to write a letter.  I asked for help and Schmacey said that it didn't matter if I was Methodist or Catholic but just to write a letter. 

The problem is I don't understand it all.

The Long Story

So back in January we started the break after finishing our last cycle of Clomid without success.  At the time my doctor wanted me to start taking progesterone in order to maintain the appearance of a cycle.  Essentially I was supposed to take progesterone during the days of my "cycle" when a normal woman's body would produce it on its own.  This would promote a period and would be safe if I got pregnant. 

Its a long story...

So its a long story and if you've been reading here for a while you know that I love to tell a story.  And that they can be pretty long and drawn out and really have no purpose whatsoever. 

Spectacular! Spectacular failure?

Team sports.  What are your thoughts on three year olds playing team sports?  Cute huh?  I thought so!  I thought that it was a great idea.  Get him out!  Get him playing with kids his own age.  

Holy Thursday Batman!

So today is Maudy Thursday, or Holy Thursday, Covenant Thursday, Great and Holy Thursday, Sheer Thursday and Thursday of Mysteries.  Its basically commemorates the Last Supper of Jesus.  For those who gave up ice cream and soda for Lent, this is also count down to Root Beer Floats on Easter.  Its a high holy day.

Set Backs and Theories

There is a good chance I jinxed the potty-training when I so wantonly bragged about The Boy's progress in that area.  This past Sunday morning we went through 3 pairs of super hero underwear and the last remaining clean pants and/or shorts in the house.  This was before noon. 

Spew forth from my loins

When I was younger, foolish and filled with anger and opinions, I was adamant that I did not want someone calling me baby. 

End of a hiatus puncuated by poop

So where have I been?  Well, you know that thing that we all struggle to get through?  Life?  Well it reared its ugly head and demanded attention.  But now I’m backed and armed with great stories! 

Playing catch up

I know its been a while and I am very sorry about that.  Things have just, well, gotten busy and crazy and stressful and good and bad and all the other stuff.  But here are some highlights that have been going on.

1. Big Boy Bed - that's right we got The Boy in a big boy bed.  We went the route where we left his crib bed (without the side so its not really a crib nor a bed) in the room set up as normal in case he wasn't ready for the new bed.  But from the moment we put bedding (that he picked out) on it he has been sleeping in his bed.  This weekend we will probably break down the crib (sniff and wipe tear) and set up his room.  I will then post pictures and everything. 

2. Potty-training - My baby who could careless about the underwear or the potty or anything like that a few weeks ago now stands up to pee and requests "panties".  Granted he needs a step stool and some times its easier to sit, but my baby is becoming a big boy and its happening so quickly.  Luckily, he still shits his pants like an infant so there's that. 

3. Work - holy hell its been rough few weeks.  When I'm done with this deadline I will reflect and hopefully have some lessons-learned, but until then I keep taking hits like a champ and counting down the days. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

4. Family - My cousin and his family were in town recently.  It was kind of an unexpected visit and it was good.  Really Good.  It makes me wish we had more family around.  But like my cousin said in response to the begging to extend their stay and be with family, it makes the time together that much more special when we don't spend that much time together.  Touche.

5. We had an anniversary.  Juanito and me.  Seven years as man and wife and like 10 or something living together.  We are both looking forward to our seven year itch and trading up.

6. Crazy-ass weather.  I know I don't really have a fine appreciation for winter weather living in Arizona and all but seriously the whole climate-change thing is real and taking place here in the Valley of the Sun.  We had snow and rain and freezing temperatures and 90 degree weather all in like 3 weeks.  Anyways, just thought I would point that out.

Warning: Bodily Functions Ahead

When will I learn my lesson?  Leftovers are a vicious circle in our house.  I've tried tobe better but I always end up making too much food.  We enevitably have leftovers.  We store them in plastic bowls and whatnots with the intention of eating it later.  But later never happens. 

Jinxed and shitty

So I jinxed us.  We were on a streak of healthy bodies and gainful employment and something that actually resembled a normal routine and then The Boy started complaining about his mouth hurting. 

Awards and lists

I love award season.  There is something about all these people who are dedicated to their profession who get together and honor one another for a job well done.  I think that if it was a high fa-lutin’ it with the millions of dollars in jewelry and gowns that make poor Jennifer Lawrence fall down, it wouldn’t be so special. 

Final Thoughts on Friday

Finally its here.   We made it.  I had my doubts but finally, after all this time, Friday is here.  I don't want to jinx anything or anything, but The Boy has been healthy for like four weeks straight, which means I have been working four weeks straight.

Scabs and Scars

Lets talk a bit about being vulnerable.  Based on its constant recurrence in my life it is apparently a theme I need to explore.

Books, books, and more books

There is an organization called the VNSA who have a annual book sale out at the county fair grounds.  Thankfully it is not the livestock building because that's where the Tattoo Expo was, obviously.  

Final Thoughts on Friday

1.  Looking forward to my vacation from motherhood tomorrow.  Juanito has plans for him and The Boy starting tomorrow morning which will take him through to the end of his nap.  I'm very excited just to be able to run errands without thinking about how will he do in that store or how much driving around in the car can I subject a three-year old to before he falls asleep and I completely ruin nap.  So look out dry cleaning, Target, and thrift stores!  I'm coming for ya.

2. The Gallon challenge I started for Lent is killing my productivity at work.  I'm thinking of just taking my laptop into the bath and setting up shop in there.  On the plus side my ring move freely on my fingers these days so score one for flushing out the system.

3. Mares eat oats and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy.  Ewes eat ivy too, wouldn't you.  For how many who just read that is that little diddy stuck in your head?  You're welcome.

4. Spring is coming!  Spring is coming!  The sun is setting later and rising earlier.  The temperatures are rising too.  I want to update my wardrobe for the coming season but know that its a little to spendy.  But soon grasshopper.  Soon we will be better financially, sturdier?  Is that a concept?  If not I'm making it one.  I have mentally bought so many thing I can stand it!  I'm looking forward to really purchasing things and bringing them home.  Into my house!!

Love Stories

One of my favorite questions to ask people who have been with their partner for a long time is, “do you remember the moment when you knew you loved them?”  It’s not the grand story of how they met or even how they fell in love.  Those stories could go on and on and on.  Believe me, as a story teller I’m a wordy bitch who can take FOR.EVER to tell a story.  But this question is just a snap shot of the love story.  I love the randomness of different stories. 

Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Happy Mardi Gras everyone so let the good times roll! 

Final Thoughts on Friday

I have struggled this week with what to write about since I'm not focusing on the TTCing.  hence the slow-down in the posting.

There is always a plan

Oi. (Or Oy if you prefer)

I'm doing a little online shopping.

Family Tree

I think that I have mentioned in the past that my dad comes from a large family.  He is the youngest of seven; six boys and one girl. 

Final Thoughts on Friday

This is my 200th post!  Isn't that kinda exciting?

It takes the Internet....

I'm looking for some advice from the other parents out there.  Here's the issue....

We were on a break!

So I read through my post for the past few months and I realized that my posts have been heavy on the fertility and the doom and gloom.  Since we've decided to take a break from the medication, I will give you all a break from my bemoaning every little aspect of TTCing.  Its been a lonely trek and I appreciate this outlet.  Thank you! 

Commence the fun posts!

No Thoughts, Just Feelings

So I guess I need to write a follow up to this post.  As you can tell from my lack of enthusiasm, a cute little photo-reveal and general poopy attitude towards everything baby,

Thar Be Pirates Ahead!

This is total a Gangsta birthday pose.

So I know that you all are on pins and needles waiting to hear how the Pirate Party went. 

Lessons

Three years ago today my life changed forever with the Birth of The Boy.

The Big 0 3

Levi My Love,

My baby

You are turning three this week.  Three years old. Sigh.  It seems like just yesterday you were turning two and we were scared!   I wanted to be able to write some endearing letter to you that would

Space-Time Continuum

For this post I'm gonna go all Marty McFly on you and set your flux compacitator to 1997.  That's right 16 years ago on this date,

Still here

Oy, its Monday.  Again.  Its also colder than a witch's tit (as my Grandpa would have said) outside.  Its currently 3:30 in the afternoon

Final Thoughts on Friday

Its been a week from hell.  If this is any indication of how the rest of 2013 is gonna go, I would like to request a pass to the nurse. 

There's a Lesson Here Somewhere

Some things have happened lately that have been jumbling around my head and I know if it percolates long enough I will find the connection.

First I have made it a mission since I started therapy to really take to mind the Golden Rule. 

Naming conventions and distance

So the Christmas decorations are down and packed away. Alice, our Elf on the Shelf, is hibernating comfortably in her box until next year. The Christmas tree is drying out even further in the back yard ready to be cut into fireplace logs soon. 

Final Thoughts on Friday

1. my armpits hurt...strange but true.
2. I hate people who bash people based on political affiliations.
3. I hate Facebook for this reason but love Facebook for other reason.
4. Dreading going to dinner with the family at large since Juanito is out of town and we're dining at a restaurant.  With The Boy.  Please pray for me.

Clomid Chronicles vol 4

I typically blog in a post mortem style after each cycle.  This time I'm going to shake it up a bit and post before we know how it all plays out.  After successfully ovulating but not getting pregnant the last cycle, we did the same dosage of Clomid hoping for the same result but a better outcome.  This round was a strategic nightmare.  We were hesitant about doing it because the holidays are already insane we weren't so sure we were ready to throw in timed intercourse.  But we both agreed that we were closer than we have ever been so eff it.  Game On! 

When I started my temping chart it predicts when I could possibly ovulate based on my past charts.  Imagine my surprise when I realized that I could potentially ovulate on Christmas.  While we laughed about giving me the best Christmas gift ever, logistically it was a potential disaster.  You see Christmas Eve is spent at my parents' house where all my sisters and their families spend the night so that we all share Christmas morning together.  I love that, but I was not interested in getting it on in my parents' house with The Boy sleeping in the same room.  The potential for disaster increased when a week before Christmas The Boy got sick and then I did too which was all very dejavu-y.  Last cycle I got sick and the ibuprofen I was taking for the aches and fever masked the ovulation so we missed the first part of the window.  But this time I powered through - SANS DRUGS!  Then a few days later Juanito gets notice at work that there is a major job that needs to be completed before the first of the year and its out of town.  Awesome.

We agreed to take it in stride and do what we needed to do.  I continued to temp like a hawk waiting for that elusive temperature spike or EWCM.  I was a little all over the charts because of being sick and then we had a cold snap and we turned on the heater which changes up the temps.  But we were covering the chart, every other day, like rabbits.  But not at Mom and Dad's house.  Eww..

Then after Christmas Juanito had to leave again.  I had a feeling that I was going to spike while he was out of town.  Luckily the job was only a hour away.  So one night he made a secret tryst back home.  To have sex.  Like we're 16.  Assuming I was having sex when I was 16, which I wasn't!  Because I am me, I giggled a lot about the whole thing because it felt naughty and fun.  My hunch ended up being right and I ovulated around that time.  We had good coverage and we were waiting. But waiting means I'm thinking.  Over thinking.

I started thinking if we don't get pregnant this time we are inching our way closer to the 2013 holidays for a due date Do we want to have a baby then?  Juanito and I talked about.  We both weighed in our pros and cons.  Then I went to my doctor.  I told him our thoughts.  He completely, 100% supports our decision to wait 4-6 months. I love him.  He is an amazing doctor.

So there is it.  If we're pregnant than YAY!  If we're not, then we're taking a break.  Hellva New Years Resolution, huh?

I go back and forth between how I feel about it all.  I mean I don't want to have a baby around the holidays.  One of the benefits (and before Scorpio or Sagittarius gets all bent out of shape I need to find the benefits of TTCing because its not like we get to have a birth control whoops or anything so let me have this).  Anyways, the benefit of TTCing is that I can pick and chose, to an extent.  Because if I could have really picked I would be pregnant right now.  I digress. The other benefit of waiting is that I will take the time and lose some weight.  It has shown that it could increase our chances of ovulating on our own.  Depending on how much I lose I might be able to use less Clomid which is healthier for me.  It will mean that when I do get pregnant, it should be a healthier pregnancy.  All good reasons to wait.  But all I can think of "Too Fat to Function."  That some how this is all my fault.  If I was thinner it would work.  If I could handle The Boy being two better then I would be able to get pregnant.  But now I am on edge so often with him and its like a sign.  If I was better equipped as a mom to handle him then I could have another baby. 

All thoughts that I will share with Dr. Curmudgeon.  When is my appointment with him again....