What the what?!

Have I lost my damn mind?! Who would have thought that I would breathe life to this next thought?

I may actually be getting along better as solo mom when Big is traveling than as a co-parent when Big is in town.

I cannot believe I just typed that. But what's crazier than that...I truly feel this way.

Back in the old days, (before we were enagaged or married or had one little guy...let alone the two little fellas we've got now) Big worked in a traveling position with his company. He traveled 4-5 days a week for 3 weeks each month and then was around town for one week a month. I hated it. The travel, that is. At first. It was such misery to see him leave each Sunday. Accompanied by tears and a nagging loneliness that lingered until he got back on Friday.

But then something strange happened...I got used to it. I didn't look forward to the days that he left but I did look forward to having 'me time' for an entire week and then having 'we time' on 'we'-ekends. (That 'we'-ekend shit was totally ridonkulous but I had to do it.) I was able to connect with my girlfriends as a single chick and have my boyfriend around on the weekends for all that couple-y stuff. I didn't so much mind the solo nights during the week since I watched whatever shows I wanted without consideration for anyone else and the whole bed was such a treat to sprawl into. This love of bed space branched us into a king size bed couple...I couldn't function in a queen now if I tried.

He left that role in 2004 and has been an in town husband since. That is until January 2010. I was freaking the fuck out to put it mildly when faced with the possibility of being a solo mom to a newborn and a 3-year-old while Big traveled for work. I get it that I should simply be thrilled he has a job in this tough economy. Especially one that affords me the luxury of staying home with my two kids. But as anyone who has been through the early days with a newborn can understand...doing it alone can seem intimidating at best. Add a boisterous 3-year-old to that recipe and 'freaking the fuck out' should adequately sum it up.

Fast forward to...I am used to it. I slip into an odd lull when he is home. And there are times when he cramps my style with the boys. I don't crave being a solo mom full time but I don't panic or fret at all before he heads off on a trip. I do sometimes prefer the routine when it is just me and the boys. Things have a flow. A flow that becomes a bit more bumpy when we add another person to the mix. It is the same when we try to get ready to leave the house...we get out on time when Big is away. He attempts to help and that always leads to something being out of place and us being late when he is in town. And I get better sleep when he travels. Bub sleeps with me when he is gone and he sleeps better with me than in his little co-sleeping hammock. Big would roll right onto my little Bub in the middle of the night and that just won't work so I struggle with shit sleep when he's home. Still, we adjust whether we are 3 or 4.

And don't get me wrong- I love having an extra hand at bath time. Bath time..was my only tricky spot when he travels and I can navigate that fairly easily by now. But it is nice to focus on one kid at bath and enjoy that special time just before bed with less chaos and more sleep-inducing peace. Pool time is also a total no-go without Big. Even with Bub in the water sling, I can't risk Bug getting himself into a situation that I couldn't get to him in time. SO for now, we bathe and swim best as a family of four. Beyond that...we get along fine with a solo mom and two boys.

I am fiercely independent and that makes me happy. I can deal!

It pays to be a hostile bitch

This was done 4 hours after Big got home last week...

Whoever said you will catch more flies with honey than with vinegar just hasn't tasted my vinegar. Besides, who wants to catch flies anyway?! I wanted access to a DVD player and decided that honey wouldn't cut it.

Rants in my Pants!

It's my chance to spread bitterness and bad words.

Yesterday I went to JC Penney...not by choice so much but to exchange some gift shirts for ones that fit Bug. We got a super thoughtful gift from my aunt for the boys and Bug's shirts were too small. She told me she got everything at JCP in case we needed to change sizes.

Allow the bitching to commence:

• Why, when we live in the fattest country in the entire world, are the aisles at JCP too small to accomodate me? I weigh about 114 in my 8 week post-pregnancy state. That's fucking ridiculous! I was bumping into racks and getting jostled about. And I wasn't drunk...explained by the fact that I am breastfeeding, it was 10 am and I didn't have a designated driver to the store.
• If I am allowed to exchange shirts for other shirts, why in the name of all that is good and holy do they need so damn much personally identifying information?
• Dear JCP cashier, Can't you just make up some of this information when you see that I have a newborn completely losing his shit and a 3 year old who is sytematically dismantling your gift card display while I attempt to calm my baby and answer your litany of meaningless questions?! (All I wanted was to give my kid a Spiderman shirt that fit for pete's sake)
• Couldn't it be just half as hard as this to get a gun?! Surely a few loose cannon people would be derailed by the effort involved in purchasing a gun.
• What gene is it that causes a baby to scream uncontrollably for the entire time he is in a store strapped into his carseat and stop to smile the very second we hit fresh air?! I don't deal well with the intense throat chafing screams...it just works my nerves (and my leaking boobs---See 'leaky boob' post) and makes me wish that I was indeed drunk at 10am.
• The JCP cashiers could easily be swapped in as airport security checkers without anyone noticing. These bitches need badges, I tell you. They take their positions that seriously. They evidently missed the chance to be hall monitors or safety patrol kids while in elementary school and now they have seized upon their imaginary power and are running with it.

Enough about that delightful trip to hell...I would also like to vent my frustrations about Big's inability to listen to me. I am soon going to follow up everything I say with..."Do you hear my words? Please listen to my words." It will be like I am ALWAYS talking to Bug.

We recently got a DVD player for our bedroom...last week. I asked Big to put the DVD player on top of our armoire since there is no room for one inside with the flat screen sitting so close to the shelf. Nevertheless, Big was thrilled when he found that it would fit (just barely) under the TV. I thought..."Fine, I was wrong. It does fit."

Hmmmm....I wasn't wrong. Yes, it does fit under the TV. No, you cannot open the fucking thing because it is 7 inches behind the screen and pitch black inside the armoire. I conducted a 15 minute profanity laced struggle to get Lightning Mc.Queen's hit movie shoved into the damn thing. It was an angel's hair short of impossible to open as I couldn't find a button anywhere on the thing. Thank goodness So.ny likes to streamline their electronics...I couldn't even feel an indentation where any of the buttons are located.

In case you missed it somewhere along the way...I am a BITCH when I am pissed. Needless to say, Big received a hostile phone call while he's on a trip. I instructed him that before he was going to use the bathroom upon getting home, he would be upstairs moving that thing to a new place on TOP of the armoire.

Ah, now I can get on with my day. Thankyouverymuch!

FW: I am a fucking idiot with nothing better to do than pass unverified shit and superstitious email across the internet

Is anyone else as sick as I am of receiving a boatload of forwards from certain people you know?!

Kinda wishing that life had a "de-friend" capability as simple as Facebook.
I would be using it on friends but mostly family.

What the hell kind of time do they think I have with a 3-year old and a 6-week old? Do they realize or even care that I flatly delete EVERY email from them b/c I am afraid to open it and find I wasted even a split second on another ghastly forward without the jazzy "FW" in the subject line?

I want to politely tell them to drop me off their damn contacts list but don't have the polite gene right now. Or the inclination to be polite to someone who is that fucking stupid.

Leaky boobs SOOOOO don't rock

Hello, fourth shirt of the day! Nice to see you by 1:30pm.


I appreciate having a great milk supply but this is certainly the other edge of that sword.
I leak through breast pads and multi layered shirts with surprising frequency.

My girls are showcasing the lactation celebration!

Got the blues...but not the baby blues

Yep, I've got the blues.
And not the cool kind that include a smoky bar with a deep raspy-voiced guy who may have gargled pea gravel 20 minutes before setting foot onstage and performing a kickass guitar solo.

No. I am sad because today was the last day of Bug's first year of preschool. His teachers love him almost as much as I do and you can never feel good leaving your child with someone until they love him. They are great teachers and great women. He was lucky to have them...and vice versa. We will both miss those ladies.

Also, Bug made his very first best friend. His name is Dylan and they became two peas in a pod the last half of this school year. His highlight of the day would be when they got to sit beside each other at lunch. This normally happened as long as they promised not to tell any knock-knock jokes during lunch. Their knock-knock jokes are terrible to be frank. I can't blame the teachers for setting this condition. I frequently impose the 'no knock-knock jokes at meal time rule' myself. Yes, we will have playdates with Dylan and his brothers...but it won't be the same as them being together at school sans parents. Playdates mean that we moms will be there and that makes them just slightly different little boys than when we aren't around.

So, I have the blues. I can only imagine how much harder this gets each year.

Sniffle. Sob.

Living the dream...one year later

Today is the anniversary of one of the hardest days of my life.

Last year, today, we found that Erin had no heartbeat at our 15 week appointment with Super OB. It was a trying day and in some ways harder than the actual delivery two days later. The delivery came almost as a relief and the end of the dream. It is a hard thing to know that you are carrying a dead baby and all those dreams in your body. When I finally delivered her, it was closure. Plus, I knew that I no longer needed to fear the process of delivering a dead baby. I had done it and survived.

I made it through that challenge and recognized this morning while nursing Bub just how far we have come in one year. It was rather surreal to look down at him and put myself back in that place I experienced when I came home from that heart wrenching appointment. It also allowed me the recognition of having made it through a strangely unreal pregnancy. Because as any late loss mother can tell you...there is no sigh of relief or belief in a baby that hasn't breathed a breath outside the womb. This is the actualization of all that I had hoped for with my second pregnancy. Of course, not the same baby but the dream remained the same. We achieved our family of four with our sweet Bub. We treasure our girl in heaven and thank her today and all days for watching over us.

We have been so blessed to get here and so blessed to have had the experience we did with Erin. I am much more connected to happiness and appreciation this time around. It is quite something to know that this is the last baby I will welcome into the world and our family. I had my tubes done with my c-section and it has sweetened everything...in that it is all for the last time. That outlook and perspective is surely not something I would have been capable of in the past. Clearly , Erin is at work in many ways in my life. She is casting light in all kinds of corners for me.

I suppose it is no coincidence that today on the way to swim class, Bug and I sang "Jesus Loves Me" almost the entire 30 minutes drive. Bub even calmed his cries while we sang. The soft cushion of faith and our angel has helped our struggles to seem so necessary and worthy of appreciation. We certainly wouldn't be in 'this place' without the things we went through and I so love 'this place' and all it represents.