• In what circumstance is it warranted for a man to go for a drive with no shirt on? I mean where is he going? Also, gross! These aren’t attractive men to begin with. And isn’t their skin sticking to the fake leather seats in their 1983 Chevy Caprice Classic?
• Can we just cut out all of the drive-thru banter at Starbucks? It is so old. When the chick tells me to pull around and see Brandon for my total, in sets the dread. In the course of 3 minutes while he swipes my card, we talk about how cute I am, my sunglasses, my sparkly credit card, girls who are pregnant at the salon where he also works, MY due date, what I do for a living, and the weather. I am in the drive-thru because I have not yet consumed caffeine and I’ve just had more conversation than I’d like to have in an entire day. Step off, Brandon!
• Things I may have said at work yesterday: “She is, like stealth! I’m sitting here and all of the sudden she is behind me talking! I mean what if I was looking at porn??” (don’t worry, pornography is blocked at my workplace……) Also, “The shit is VOID. That’s all there is to it.” Also, “Do you know how crazy you are making me? I need one of those ‘bang head here’ signs!!” And because, clearly, I am boss of the year, after being asked how to solve a problem “I don’t have the answer and I don’t know what to tell you here. I would just suggest that you find a way to get it done without involving me!”
• My children spent the better part of an hour fake burping at bedtime last night, and found it hysterically funny. They also can’t wait to go to the library, which is one of several (community pool, park, bounce house, nature trails) places I promised to take them while I am off and before Olivia comes. (weighing my hands, on one, fake burping intellectuals on the other, fake burping dorks)
• I hadn’t heard about this until this morning, but Celebrity Family Feud starts tonight. I am so watching that. I also want Joey Fattone and Mel B. to show up in my office. Preferably after I come back to work. Do you guys remember Circus of the Stars? I loved that show back in the day. They need a revival.

I really should have just stayed home today, but my obligation to my job is too strong. Actually, those 18 reviews are still hanging over my head and 9 of them were scheduled for yesterday, so here I am. Cold, clammy and still sick but sipping on tea and nibbling a bagel and trying not to die. I do thank you all for your comments yesterday, and I concur, that the barfing flu while 8-months pregnant is not something that I would wish on my worst enemy. The worst part? Peeing my pants while vomiting. Oh yes, it was glamorous.

Let’s keep this short, shall we, and get to those photos? Then I’ll get back to dying and hopefully not infecting my staff.

After her bath on haircut day. I love the nightgown!

Posing for me

A Better shot of the whole cut

Our toes–please ignore my fat feet and the flip-flop indentations. It’s gross.

Bud wearing the hat I purchased for Olivia to come home in. (I am returning it because it is full of holes—and now very stretched out)

Did I mention that Bud had a dance recital at school?

He is very handsome. 🙂

Finally, here is Lucy resting her chin, not on a red rubber ball, but on my bulbous belly @ 33 weeks.

The experience is totally enhanced by being eight months pregnant.
Really. You should try it! Throwing up with a belly full of baby is
awesome! (I am in HELL)

Hub had been bugging me for a while to have Lucy’s hair cut. It was constantly in her mouth and eyes and full of food. I was being stubborn though, basically forcing her to have long hair because, well, isn’t that the best part of having a little girl? Lucy began to be more insistent of a haircut after Bud’s most recent venture, insisting that it should be short just like his. I gave in and took her this weekend but only after telling Hub that as her mother I was in charge of her hair, at least while she can’t tell me what she wants, and that we were just trimming the ends.

My daughter though, well you know, she’s tenacious.

She wanted a “real” hair cut. She didn’t want any more barrettes or pony tails. She likes short hair!

We compromised on a chin length bob that is angled on the sides to keep the hair from her mouth. She did not want her bangs cut which was a relief to me because I’ve been working on growing them out since Christmas.

Ok, so it’s the perfect haircut for her.

Her bangs are in her eyes, but can easily be pushed aside. She refused a barrette this morning and tucked her hair behind her ears.

Just like me.

She is my daughter. I have no idea how to do anything with my hair, and quite honestly, I have no desire to do anything other than “wash and go”.

I hate it when Hub is right.

We rounded out our Saturday with a trip to the nail salon, where she picked out a royal purple polish with subtle sparkles for my toes, declaring “This is my FAVORITE color Mommy!!! PURPLE!!!”. She sat patiently on my lap while I had my pedi, and then had her toenails painted the same color afterward.

All of us went to the Drive-In to see Kung Fu Panda on Saturday night. Bud loved the movie while Lucy was enamored with having pillows and blankets spilled out all over the back of our van. I rather enjoyed the onion rings… We didn’t get home until after 11:30, but the kids slept until 9:00 Sunday morning, so it worked out ok for me.

I took the kids to the grocery store yesterday morning where we picked out Father’s Day cards and the ingredients to make waffles for breakfast. While in the self-checkout, a coupon for tampons printed out, and it had a dancer on the front of it. Bud pointed out that I had a coupon and I said that I didn’t need that one. He asked “Why? Because you’re not a ballerina??” Yes, exactly.

I think that Hub had a good day, even though he was the one to cook dinner. We had steak, potatoes and corn on the cob, all on the grill, and it was delicious. I had made a chocolate pie for dessert which we enjoyed after the kids were bathed, and we went to bed early.

Finally, I tested my mobile posting skillz last night to find out if I could give you up to the minute detail from the hospital. That sounds a bit extreme, right? But at least I know I can tell you all that she is here and not worry about not logging on to my computer for a week or 2. YAY!

While looking at Father's Day cards and after reminding Lucy to stay
with me several times, she picked up a card & Pretended to read.
'This card says I don't love my mommy anymore because she is mad at
me.' KIDS!!!

I woke to hear pounding feet, whimpering and then raucous vomiting in the bathroom. Even after I got to the bathroom it took my half-asleep brain a few seconds to register what was going on. There was Lucy, bent over the toilet, throwing up what seemed to be everything she’d eaten in the past month. I pulled her hair away from her face while she finished and dampened a washcloth to wipe her face. I asked whether she had thrown up in her bed (she hadn’t) and if her belly still hurt (it did) and I brought her out to the couch with me.

This was midnight and she proceeded to barf or dry heave every 10 minutes for the next three hours.

To her credit, Lucy is a champ when it comes to vomiting. She knows when it’s coming and gets herself to the toilet and does not make a mess. It’s no coincidence though; she spent all of last summer throwing up as she popped molars. She is home with Hub now, happily chattering away about how she “throwed up” and nibbling on some toast.

Needless to say, I am exhausted, but I dragged my butt in to work because I need to have 18 Performance and Development discussions completed before the end of the month. And since I only intend to be here through 6/23, I need to get cracking.

I am unsure how to handle Bud and the attitude he has developed recently. Everything is an argument. He is constantly telling me “I am so mad at you right now!!”. Yeah, he’s 4. Last night, when I told him it was time for bed, he argued. When I spoke to him about arguing with me, he whipped me in the face with Lucy’s blanket, in sheer anger. What does one do in that situation? My only urge was to burst in to tears because my baby boy wanted to physically hurt me. I kept it together and marched him in to bed and told him that I didn’t even know what to do with him. I told him he’d better go to sleep with no problems or there would be no Tae Kwon Do for 2 weeks. Hub disagrees with using Tae Kwon Do against him and says I should have taken away toys or TV. I still don’t know what to do. He was a pisser again this morning, demanding orange juice when I’d already poured him apple and I ignored him. He refused to drink and I refused to switch out the juice. I ended up buying him milk and 2 donut holes on the way to daycare and I felt like a schlub. What kind of lesson am I teaching him? And also, hello Saly, choose your battles. I totally could have poured him orange juice. I’m feeling helpless because clearly I don’t know what he needs.

I know, I’ve been Debbie Downer lately, all wah wah, woe is me, I’m pregnant and whiny and annoying. Sorry guys, I know. When I complained last week, about how 30 weeks sucks, Swistle pointed out that if you look at it in percentages, it might seem better. (It didn’t) I tried it out on Hub though because he’s probably more ready for this to be over than I am, and said “Hey, if you look at it another way, I am over 75% of the way there!” He didn’t buy it. Why? Because the last 25% is hell and outweighs the 1st 75% by at least half. Touché!

I am however, in love with the shape of my belly. It is round and perfect. I’d show you, but the stretch marks would be burned in to your retinas forever—so you’ll have to take my word for it. That’s the one thing I love about the end—there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that there is a baby in there. Despite my recent attitude, I actually feel, well, beautiful. This is what my body was meant to do and it is the greatest feeling in the world.

I have been home alone with the kids each night this week and it isn’t going well. They’re starting to realize that I can’t move as fast as I used to, and that I’ll put up with a little bit more because I’m exhausted. I’m trying so hard to be kind, and not let the pregnancy interfere with being a good mommy, but man it is hard. Last night ended with me picking all 43lbs of Bud up and placing him in his bed because when I told him to get going, he looked me dead in the eye and said “NO!”. When he screamed to get out, I shut the door. I could not take it for another second. BUT! I didn’t scream at him—I removed him (and myself) from the situation. We ended up talking about it after 15 minutes or so and he went to bed quick and easy for me.

Lucy though, was in some pit of despair and was weepy and whiny all evening. This carried on to bed time, and she ended up being awake until close to 11, lying on top of me as I slept on the couch. Finally, she told me she was going to bed, and got up and went herself. She was actually pleasant this morning—waking up and immediately asking “What if I was a toaster? Could I make my own pop tart??” [ARGH!!!], so I am not sure what the deal was.

And oh, I found out that Bud told all of the kids in his class that I do not like his friend Mia. He has been speaking in this high pitched whiny voice at home lately and when asked about it said that it was how his friend Mia spoke. I told him that I did not like his voice, but to him this means that I hate Mia, and to all of the 4-year-olds, I’m the mommy who hates other kids. OY.

Hub will be gone to work before I get home tonight. With the 90-degree weather we are expecting today and tomorrow, my only wish is that he gets the air conditioners in and working before I get home.

Or else I’ll be sleeping outside in the kiddie pool.

-I wonder how well a request to have my family sit around nude for a few hours so that I could say with 100% certainty ALL–every.last.piece of the laundry is washed, dried and put away would be received.
-I feel bad that I don’t love my cats the way I did before the kids arrived.
-Or a lot of the time, I feel like Hub just doesn’t get it.
-Seeing the glorious new cupboards, counters and sink in my kitchen gives me a panic attack, because in some weird way, these things, more than anything else, have made me feel like a real adult.
-I feel like maybe I’m the only mother who (sometimes) can not stand to be around her own children.
-I cry after the kids have gone to bed because I haven’t used the kindest word or tones throughout the day.
-I get words stuck in my head, much like someone would get a song stuck in their head. Example: “Mandlebaum”
-But not too often, it bothers me that people mistake my quiet personality for bitchiness.
-I get major nervous tummy before doing something completely benign, like ordering a pizza
-Sitting and staring off in to space for 30 minutes or more calms and centers me, though Hub sees it as me being lazy.
-I wonder if my laid back, no regrets, I don’t care what anyone else thinks about me attitude is more of a sham than I lead people to believe.
-I worry that when my kids grow up they will dislike me, or not call.
-I worry about “what if they are not good people?”
-I make really downer-type lists (apparently)

Here in blog land, we all share our knowledge on certain subjects, give feedback and support each other on a daily basis. I am always taken aback when I am able to do the same thing in real life and in this situation, I really just feel so good about it.

My friend (and employee) Kel was scheduled to come back from her maternity leave last week. I got a frantic phone call 2 days before because she was trying to wean her baby girl and just could not do it. She was hysterical over it, could not stop crying, and the baby, while taking a bottle ok from others, would not even think about taking it from her.

She was adamant about not pumping at work; she just didn’t want to go through it. She thought that weaning was the best option—just get it done with overall. We talked for a long time about it; she knew that I had nursed both kids even after coming back to work and wondered if there was any way she could still do it without using a breast pump. She thought that she was going to hate breast-feeding and that it would be no big deal to stop, but the bond just took here completely by surprise.

I felt like, so pro-lactation in that moment, it was amazing. In short, this is what I told her:

Breastfeeding is different for everybody. I was able to nurse Bud until he was 8-months old, but by the 6-month mark was having a hard time pumping enough to keep him going. I gradually began to stop pumping at work, but still nursed him at home before and after work, as well as all weekend long. Nursing all weekend always boosted my milk supply and I was able to maintain long enough. By the 8-month mark, we were both ready to be done with it, and the transition to all bottle (he was on a lot of solids by then anyway) went very well (I got pregnant the next month, and my boobs never completely emptied, but I left that part out.) Lucy was different from birth. First, because of the NICU, I was unable to nurse her right away, and due to her hypoglycemia, they had to give her formula right off the bat. She came home with strict instructions for supplemental feeding for the first week or 2. She took the breast easily, but definitely preferred the bottle. Once I had gone back to work, and she to daycare, it became harder and harder to nurse her. She weaned herself at 4-months. I was ok with it because I knew I had done my best.

Bottom line is that this proves how different it can be from child to child and for sure from mom to mom. If you don’t want to fully wean her, you don’t have to. If you nurse her before you leave in the morning, and when you get home at night, your body will adjust your milk supply. You can more than likely easily do both. The decision is yours though; try not to feel like you are depriving your baby. Most importantly, the bond you have shared while nursing doesn’t go away just because you stop. You are the baby’s momma for life.

In the end, Kel used her stimulus money to take 2 more weeks off of work to see if she could work out some sort of routine. I’m hoping that everything works out the way she wants it to. And I’m glad she felt better after talking with me, the same way that I feel better after hearing from all of you all the time.

We all do it, right? Personally, I love to compare any number of related things and then spend hours pondering what it all means.

Do you compare your kids though? If you don’t have kids, do you compare yourself to your siblings? I don’t mean in the sense of “Why can’t you be more like your sister?!”, but rather, traits—how they got them, and again, what does it mean?? I found myself doing it even with one child. Here was Bud, looking exactly like his daddy, but with my temperament. Similarly, there is Lucy, who resembles my family (but not me), but has the exact stubborn mentality of her father.

I love trying to make sense of it all; and think about what kind of people these kids will grow up to be.

Here are some of my favorite comparisons of my children:

• Bud’s hair is thick and dirty blonde. Lucy’s is super-fine and dark, dark brown.
• Bud’s eyebrows are so blonde they are almost white. Lucy’s are as dark as her hair, and she actually has a borderline uni-brow.
• Bud’s eyes are steely blue, except for when he is mischievous, at which point they are a bright, twinkly green. Lucy’s are hazel, gravitating toward brown when she is upset, green with yellow flecks when happy, and blue/green when she wears those types of colors.
• Bud eats nothing that is good for him. If you asked him his favorite foods, you would hear items along the lines of chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, sugar cereal, pop tarts and goldfish crackers. Lucy is the best eating child I have ever met. Her favorite foods? Broccoli, apples, salad (with green olives, cheese, croutons and ranch—and she will tell you if something is missing), cheerios and bananas in milk, and of course, fruit snacks.
• As he did in the womb, Bud sleeps stretched out on his back, hands above his head and toes pointed out. Lucy remained curled up for my entire pregnancy and sleeps the same today.
• Lucy can crack a t-ball like you would not believe. Bud would prefer to dance.

There are aspects in which the children are similar as well:

• Both are extremely well spoken and verbal for their ages. Both spoke full sentences before their first birthday.
• Both have the same speech sound delays in that “r” sounds like “w” and they have a slight lisp.
• They have the exact same (my) nose.
• They have the exact same (Hub’s) sticking out ears.
• They both have supreme antagonistic abilities and know exactly how to push our and the other’s buttons.

I think it’s going to be fun when Olivia comes, to see whether or not she will be a completely different person. Will she resemble one child over the other? Will Bud and Lucy’s similarities carry through to her? What traits will she have that are 100% different from each of the children?

I can’t wait to find out!