Sport Recognition

I've said it before, but it warrants repeating:  shaving while pregnant should earn you an Olympic medal.  If you're right handed; bronze for the right leg, silver for the left, and fucking gold for any sort of bikini line bullshit.

New Office Mascot

Every once in a while, Alex wants me to take a piece of his artwork to the office to show my coworker.  I present our newest piece added to our collection:

Apparently, the dark blob next to the bottom face is some sort of fire situation happening...I was having a hard time understanding the in-depth explanation of this piece from the artist.  I just don't have the same art-savvy mind

Ever Increasing

The difference 4 weeks makes:

Don't let the smile fool you.  It's Monday.  I'm huge.  I'm wearing maternity pants with the giant panel thing tucked up under my bra in a feeble attempt to keep the pants up.  Fake half smiles are a requirement for today.  Based on the pulling of the stripes, this may be one of the last hurrahs for this shirt.

Just shy of 30 weeks people.  Here's to hopin' the next 10 fly by!

Sunday Nap

It was so nice on Sunday.  Windy, but sunny and almost 60 degrees.  Around 1:30, Alex asked if he could take some blankets outside to "relax in the sun."  He's got a rough life and definitely needed some well earned Me Time in the sun.  I sent him out with a couple blankets to the front sidewalk where the sun was shining brightly and it was a bit protected from the wind.

Shortly after I snapped this picture, my presence was requested to help him hold down the base blanket.  And I maybe fell asleep with him for an hour or so...maybe.  But how was I supposed to resist snuggling with this?

Travis coming home woke me up, but not the boy.  He stayed splayed out on the sidewalk for all the neighbors to see.

Travis requested that next time we nap outside we make sure we are on the back deck...apparently being covered in blankets outside the front stoop gave us a hobo-esque look.  What better way to meet the new neighbors?!

Sensitive Pants

I need some new pants.  And I'm not even talking about finally giving in to maternity pants.  But since the thought train has stopped at this depot, let's give maternity pants a little looki-loo for a hot second.  I hate them.  I hate the panel.  I hate that they don't stay up.  I just want my regular jeans.

Anywho, the pants I'm talking about today are sensitive pants.  I can't seem to get them off of me.  It's getting rather annoying...I'm sure not just to me.  Little things bug me more than they should.  I feel like people are judging decisions I make, even though there is not a single shred of evidence to support such a thought.  My patience is at an all time low.  Fun stuff all around.

Here's to hopin' once this beast makes his grand entrance my brains either get back on an even keel or the stopmybrainsfrombeingcrazy pills do their magic again.

I feel pretty! Oh so pretty!

Pretty sure that when the waistband of your sweatpants gets stuck between your giant belly and your leg when you're bending down to go pee, it's a sign the baby has grown enough and we can just be done with this whole pregnancy thing.  Right?

Related note:  All pants not made of sweats material, and all functions requiring pants not made of sweats material, should be banned.

Mom Is Never Right

After a long debate about the reality of zombies:

Alex:  Mom, what do you get when you have 100 and you add another 100?

Me:  When you add 100 plus 100, you get 200.

Alex:  No.  When you add 100 and 100, you get one hundred fifty million.  So...yeah...that's what you get.

Glitter the World

It was beautiful last night so we slapped the leash on the mutt, the bike helmet on the boy, and set off for a walk.  You'd think we would have a hard time keeping up with Alex since he was on his bike...but you'd be forgetting how many times he stops as quickly as possible to see how big of a skid mark he can leave on the sidewalk.

He also was stopping frequently to pick up any bits of trash he saw.  Since we are finally but recently without snow, there was a fair amount of the odds and ends of previously snow covered wrappers or straws or random bits of paper on either side of the sidewalk.  Alex stopped and picked up every. single. thing. he saw.  And sweetly handed it to me like I was a walking garbage bag.  Travis wasn't in a super duper mood and he was kinda annoyed/grossed out and told Alex to stop picking up trash.  And it was then that one of my favorite Alex-isms came out:

"But Dad.  Glitter is bad for the whole planet."

Parent/Teacher Conferences

Last week we had a parent/teacher conferences for the first time.  Alex's 4K teacher is really great and she thinks Alex is pretty great too, so it was a good conference.  But when it got really good was when she showed us a worksheet they had the kids do.  They were talking about what they wanted to be when they grow up.  Alex's read:

"When I grow up I want to be     a daddy    because    I love my dad   ." 

Travis was thiiiiiis close to crying.

Making up for sass

This kid.  He is so good at pushing every single Make Mom Crazy button 'til they bust, but then effortlessly melts my heart on a whim other times.  Oh, that's how 4 years olds operate?  Awesomesauce.

I was slightly irritated after he tried to blame the small backpack situation on me on Monday morning, and not shockingly, I told him so.  He giggled a little acknowledgement of the fact that it was his ability to be randomly finicky that caused the delay of a proper backpack and we went on our way.

We got to daycare and he was setting off for his day when I asked for a hug and a kiss.  He obliged, went to take off, paused, and came back to give my ever expanding belly a kiss while saying, "See you later little brother."

Heart?  Melted.

Backpack! Backpack!

The arguing is still a daily battle in our house.  One source of contention since the beginning of 4K is the backpack Alex uses.  He has had this cute little Lightning McQueen backpack for about a year and he was dead set on using it for 4K.  The emphasis on the description of this backpack is "little."  It is a challenge to get a folder in there and have it lay flat.  It's possible, but it's a challenge.  And then you add boots and snow pants and anything else the boy has decided absolutely has to come with him that day...that thing is jam packed!  Packed to the point his first folder was destroyed in less than a month, so I had to get a plastic one.

Why wouldn't I buy him a new, bigger backpack you ask?  I did!  Multiple actually.  And he didn't like any of them.

After some planted backpack adoration from his cousin, he was convinced to use the first one I bought as a replacement for Lightning.  It's huge on him and has way more than enough room, but it fits his stuff and he can get his folder in there by himself which is a nice change of pace from the other one.

Monday was the first day we used the new backpack.  I put his stuff in and he asked if he could take a toy to keep in there for the day.  Sure!  You could take 73% of your toys in this bad boy!  He threw his toy in and then had the stones to look up at me and say, "Mom!  This backpack is huge!  You shoulda bought this one first!"

Late again...

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I would have had this posted yesterday morning, but I couldn't because I didn't have the picture because my darling son refused to wear the awesome shirt I bought for him.  Well, he refused to wear it until his way-cooler-than-Mom teachers and friends were wearing green and then it was ok to give in to holiday tradition.

It's all coming back to me

I clearly remember not enjoying being pregnant the first time.  But the mind is a tricky thing and there are a fair amount of things I don't remember.

I don't remember the baby moving making me nauseated.
I don't remember the searing pain of sciatica being this bad.
I definitely do not remember the night sweats.  Good gravy.  At least every other night, I wake up completely soaked with sweat.  Like to the point my shirt is drenched and my sheets are damp.

Nausea, sharp pain, and sweating.  Aren't those common symptoms for some kind of lethal poisoning?  C'mon June.

Close call

No gestational diabetes for meeeee!

Bring on the cookies.

I almost had to redo the test because I am not smart.  For this test, you have drink a bottle of super sweet orange stuff and then have your blood drawn exactly an hour later.  You are supposed to get to the lab 45 minutes after drinking the nasty orange stuff to make sure you have time for paperwork and all that jazz.  I had everything all planned out...I drank the stuff at 1:40, was going to leave my office at 2:10, get there at 2:25, writey writey on the paperwork, get my blood drawn and go to my 2:50 check up.

Well, somewhere in there I got my brains all turned around and got myself thinking that I didn't have leave my office until 2:25.  Whoopsiedoodle.  I got to the lab juuuuust in time and after a small amount of shaming from the check in nurse, they took me right away to get my blood drawn.  Yay!  No more nasty orange crap to drink.

Awesome.

If we could revisit my recent MS Paint masterpiece for a moment, I will tell you about this morning.

Around 6am, the same situation occurred, but this time the dog was laying the other way so her little Frito smelling feet were toward me.  So I was all kittywampus between the dog and the boy.  Travis started snoring.  Alex started telling him to stop snoring.  Aiden's scratchy little feet started scraping against my bare leg.  Alex stretched and elbowed me in the face.  The baby starting square dancing in my uterus.  And about 7 minutes after I got everyone to calm the hell down, my alarm went off.

I quit.

RE-PORT!

We received Alex's first legit report card.  I cannot believe he is old enough to get report cards.

His teachers ending comments were:

"Alex is a wonderful addition to our classroom and he is a joy to teach!  He is intelligent, kind, funny, and he is a great friend to others!  Alex has a good grasp of his numbers 0-10, colors, letter recognition, and his shapes.  We will continue to work with him on rhyming skills and letter sounds."

I think he drugs her.

Warmth!

Not sure he was excited enough for it to be just warm enough to not get frost bite from being outside for more than .67 seconds...

Responsibilities

I turned the TV on for Alex last night so he could watch a show.  When the show was over and dinner was done, I told him to turn the TV off.  And that is when he said, "But you're the one that turned it on!"  And when Travis immediately told him that was a bad idea, he said, "But the person that turned it on is responsible for turning it off!"

Now, I get where he's coming from here, but this child needs to learn the correct time and situation to apply his knowledge...before he gets himself in some big trouble.

Damn.

Welp, for someone who was just complaining this morning about being large as a barge, that ENTIRE SLEEVE of Thin Mint cookies sure was easy for me to mindlessly devour.

Smart without the ass

There was a helicopter flying kinda low over the road yesterday, and I pointed it out to Alex since he loves anything car, truck, plane, helicopter, construction vehicle.  He watched it disappear into the distance and quietly said, "Man his rotors sure are workin' hard today!"  Once again his little brain amazes me.

Dolla Dolla Bills Y'All

As I mentioned before, Alex is having a little bit of a bumpy week this week.  Yesterday I got a call from day care asking if he had said anything about not feeling good before I dropped him off.  He hadn't, but I knew what was going on.  He has started claiming he's not feeling well and needs to stay home.  I'm pretty sure the novelty of moving and 4K and all the changes along with those things has worn off, and he's a little off kilter.  He is also Star of the Week this week at day care and he just does not do well with that.  I guess he can't handle the pressure.  Wimp.

This morning we added big ol' pile of soggy straw the anxiety camel's back when we said good-bye to Bert.  Today's the day.  Bert and Harley are moving back to California.  This is not a happy turn of events.  I mean, I  suppose it's good for Bert...what with getting a promotion, getting out of the Polar Vortex that has become the Midwest, and getting back to Carlo.  Blah, blah, positive life changes, blah.  Whatever.

Bert and Harley spent the night at our house last night and were with this morning when I dropped Alex off.  Alex said good-bye, started climbing out of the truck, and then asked if he could say good-bye again while climbing back in.  When he got out, he looked up at me almost in shock and said, "But Mom, I'm really going to miss them!  I'm going to miss them because we aren't going to see them for a REALLY LONG TIME."  Soooo, the reality that we won't be seeing them almost every day has finally hit my little man.

Not long after I got to work, I got another call from day care.  The director, who has been part of Alex's life since he was 8 weeks old, called to let me know she had a talk with Alex because he seemed off and she asked him what was going on this week.  He told her he was very sad because Bert was leaving.  She explained that we could always talk to him whenever we wanted and that we will be able to talk to him on the computer.  That seemed to help, but she just wanted to let me know about their little chat.

I know he's going to be fine.  I know it's ok for him to be sad, and it is good for him to learn how to deal with and process his emotions and all that junk.  But all I want to do is quit my job and go scoop him up and snuggle him forever so nothing can hurt his little feelers EVER.

So, I sent his 4K teacher an email checking on his behavior there this week, and giving her a heads up about us having to say good-bye to Bert and Harley.  She replied thanking me for letting her know and passed on a little nugget that made her smile.  Apparently Alex had money in his pocket on Tuesday.  And when she asked him where he got said money, he let her know he got it from working and proceeded to list four jobs he did that he got paid for.  I have no clue where that money came from, but I can guarantee it most definitely did not come from anything resembling work.

Rested.

Are you wondering what exactly it is that you are looking at?  Well, you can join me in contemplation while I determine if this is honestly the reality I signed up for.

The evening took a turn down Total Shit Avenue as soon as I picked Alex up from day care.  He had a bit of a rough day, which would have been fine, except instead of talking to his teacher and me about it for 90 seconds, he went into full-on toddler meltdown mode.  This resulted in me carrying him to the car while he was screaming at me.  That resulted in me yelling at him and then carrying him to his room immediately upon arrival home.  All of that carrying of a screaming 50lb child resulted in my already sore sciatic nerve kicking into overdrive in the pain department.  Fun!

I'm getting to the drawing; I swear.

Alex managed to turn it around and have a good rest of the night.  At bed time, he asked if he could try sleeping without an UnderJam.  We have been trying no UnderJam nights every once in a while with the same pee soaked result, but I don't want to discourage him if he wants to try, so I obliged.  Before falling asleep, Travis and I bet on what time Alex would be in our room telling me he peed in his bed.  I said 3am.

I fell asleep around 10ish.  And between 10pm and 2am, the lovely, favorite-animal-I've-ever-encountered dog, got up, walked around the house, and then pawed at me until I held up the covers for her to jump back up and snuggle in, FOUR TIMES.  Because, why wouldn't she need to patrol the house every hour?  I also had a keen awareness of the clock because I could not get into a position that would ease the sciatic nerve pain in my butt cheek.  Except for laying flat on my back, which I'm not supposed to do whilst growing a baby because it puts pressure on some important blood vessel or something all sciency.

The reason I know this little safety patrol ended at 2 is because that is when Mr. Alex came into our room, completely naked, to tell me that he peed in his bed.  I was an hour over.  So, I let him in bed, went and got an UnderJam because we are not trying any sort of nighttime potty training on my memory foam mattress topper, climbed in bed next to him, held the comforter up so the dog could climb in, and laid down.  Ipso facto, the diagram above.  THAT is how I was trying to sleep.

I was willing to put up with the contorted position and the snoring from BOTH boys, but one big stretch by Alex ending with his elbow saying goodnight to my nose quickly made the couch a much more appealing option.

Ummmm...

25 weeks.  Yes, that is an expression of shock and concern.  I was going to take a bare belly picture, but I almost fell over from shock upon peering into the looking glass, and figured nobody needs to fall out of their chair today.  I feel things aren't going to be pretty in 15 weeks.

Try, try again

After tasting golden cantaloupe:

Mom! Turns out I love cantaloaf!