beanski

nine months

The little monster turned nine months old yesterday. To be quite frank I'm a day late because she is TIRING ME OUT. Five to eight months where sheer bliss in hindsight. The Ninth month, let's just say I'm glad there isn't another Ninth month coming up. The Tenth month just HAS to be better. It HAS to. I couldn't work on the Nine months post during the day because she won't let me put her down and I can't do it after she goes to bed because I'm too freaking exhausted to do anything except sleep. Most of the things I read about the Ninth month mention separation anxiety and I think we have a pretty advanced case of it going on. Someone told me this month that she didn't know what she was doing when she was whining and I COULD NOT DISAGREE MORE. Others might see her as a helpless little baby that doesn't know what is going on around her but her Mommy knows better. She doesn't miss a thing. She knows how to whine and she's the master of using it to get her way. She whines when I stand up to go to the bathroom or when I'm busy trying to throw dinner together in the kitchen and I'm not holding her for all of 15 seconds. She whines when I don't get the food on to her plate fast enough or when I lay her down to change her diaper. She whines if she sees something across the room that she wants and doesn't have in her hands immediately or if I take something that poses as a choking hazard away from her. HOW DARE YOU, LADY? Don't you know by now that I run this freaking show? I will say when and how much, THANK-YOU VERY MUCH. The good part about all of this: Boy oh boy do I feel LOVED. I think Renee loves me more than anyone has ever loved anyone in the history of the world. She loves me so much she would prefer to be attached to my boob indefinitely. I think if there was a surgery to make that happen Renee would be the first in line. It doesn't matter how much or how many varieties of various solid food choices I offer she's eating those and then nursing too. Absolutely NOT will she consider going down from six feedings a day to five. NO WAY, don't you know I'm STARVING to DEATH? I was hoping I would have one those of kids that just weaned herself at 10 months but it is not looking good. It is going to be a battle and I fear that I may end up being one of those moms nursing a four-year-old. I MUST NOT LET THAT HAPPEN.

I'm watching you.

She's overly frustrated with her inability to move right now. She pushes herself up on her hands and sort of rocks back and forth but when she ends up going backwards because she hasn't figured out how to use her legs she gets PISSED...purposefully pound your face and hands on the floor and cry pissed. She prefers to spend all of her waking hours standing and playing with something that is not hers. Her toys are downright boring and she wants nothing to do with them. The remote control, a phone of any variety and especially magazines and newspapers are all the rage. She tears them to shreds. She can't quite stand on her own without flopping over eventually though so one of us gets the pleasure of sitting there next to her for hours on end. I won't be surprised if she walks before she crawls.

The girl will eat ANYTHING. I have not put a food on her plate that she hasn't eaten. She looked at me funny when I gave her yogurt but that didn't stop her from eating it. I gave her some of my pot roast on Friday night and she loved it. Mmmm, mmmm, mmmmm. She still moans when she eats whether she's nursing or munching on real food. Her hands start shaking with excitement when I go to open the box of Cheerios (she LOVES them). She loves carrots, peas, pears, bananas, kiwis and graham crackers. She eats chicken and sweet potatoes. Don't ask her to eat the pureed food though...that is SO last month. She's starting to figure out the sippy cup and will actually suck out a few drinks of water. She's so proud of herself when she does it.

She's a blubbering fool when she's upset about something and uses the 'B' sound quite liberally. Bu-ubbb baaa bu-ubb has prompted her Daddy to start calling her Boo Boo. If we're still calling her Boo Boo when she's 18 I can look back on this blog and remember that it all started with the blubbering. She can say kitty, mama and dada too, I think. She will look at me if Ski says Where's Mommy? so I think she's even starting to know that I have a name. If I say Hey Renee from across the room she'll jerk her head to look at me. She has a name too. R-A-D.

We did Water Babies at the Y this month and while it took her a while to warm up to it, she loves it now. She is a master of kicking her legs and splashing and last week she even slid off the side to me. It is so funny to watch her as she is very calculating. It takes her until at least 10 minutes in to have properly analyzed all aspects of this swimming thing before she can start splashing and having a good time. She's so serious. She does the same thing to strangers. You know how some babies smile immediately if someone, anyone talks to them? Not my girl. She gives them the stink eye which pretty much says, I do not remember giving you permission to look at me.

I'm working on the pictures for the month and will update this post when I find the time to upload them. For now, just the text will have to do. I've come this far on documenting her month-to-month milestones that I didn't want to miss this one. I sure do love her and feel so lucky and blessed that she is a part of our lives.
**Post updated with pictures.

We did an extended photo shoot on mom & dad's bed this month. I have about 1,000 pictures that I like from that but I think these are my favorites.

I think this is probably my favorite for the month. I'll like it even more when I figure out how to make it look 'vintagey' in Photoshop.

      

the little stink is 3

Well not technically. Because Charlie's birthday is really on April 9th. I love that kid. He is feisty as hell but that is what makes him Charlie. Jen always says 'I love his enthusiasm' which some days is code for 'I want to slap him silly' and somedays code for 'he is such a sweet little boy.'

We celebrated this past weekend because we were getting together for Easter anyways and it is easier for my very pregnant sister Annie and her almost two-year-old to travel SIXTEEN HOURS in a car when she has long weekend from school. The sheer number of young children/babies in this family is staggering and it is about to go up at the end of May. I remember when Charlie was a baby and we all fought over who got to hold him next. Now we're thinking 'if I could just have one hand free for five seconds maybe I could wipe my ass.' I'm about to post about 700 pictures because I am too lazy to make a gallery.

My mom asked Charlie what kind of cake he wanted and his reply was a 'turkey cake.' So turkey cupcakes and a big turkey cake it was. Kids are so weird.

Brother and sister going for the demolition of the turkey's head at precisely the same moment. Sarah-cita is going to give her brother a run for his money. She is quite enthusiastic herself.

Not bad, Rama. The cake, that is.

Griff agrees. Pretty tasty.

A big boy bike and a helmet. Thank God for helmets.

Mickey Blue Eyes in the pool. Did you know the characters in the movie Mickey Blue Eyes with Hugh Grant are named Gina and Michael? It's too bad my dad isn't in the maffia.

Annie, Taber & Griff in what might be the last picture I take of them before the three of them become four.

My boys

Renee & Daddy splish splash. Thank God for Water Babies. She loves the water.

This is what Charlie looks like when he's eating all of the candy in his Easter basket even though his mom told him not to. Very sneaky. If you go in your room where no one can see you doing it you won't get in trouble. Or so a particular 3-year-old thinks. THE LITTLE STINK.

Renee in my best (only) attempt at a picture of her in her Easter dress. Bad mommy.

Sarah and her infamous look. She's crawling like a mad lady and screeches about everything. She is a funny baby.

And Sarah sitting still which I can hardly believe I captured because she doesn't stop. Ever. It's a good thing my kid is the laziest baby on the planet because I get tired just watching Sarah.

Finally, the Easter egg hunt. Can you tell I was tired by then?

         

in the off chance you care

We have been crazy busy. Most of the busy-ness is related to the fact that I am having SIXTEEN women over to my house to play Bunco in two short weeks. For some reason I feel the need to clean and organize and get something up on the walls in the bathroom that have been bare since 2004. I do not know why I feel compelled to do it but I do know that I lay in bed at night thinking of where I can shove things like my computer desk for a night so I have somewhere for SIXTEEN women to sit. I will admit to the fact that it has crossed my mind to rent a storage unit for a month. The problem with this is that I'm certain that it will push Ski over the edge and he may just file for divorce. And even though I HATE to admit it, I need him. We have a 3-level house and each floor is a mere 800 square feet. Do you think 800 square feet is enough room for SIXTEEN women, an Exersaucer, a Jumperoo, a Leapfrog Learning table, computer desk, general living room furniture and no fewer than four hundred toys to entertain an easily bored nine-month-old? Because I don't. And don't get me started on what in the hell kind of food and drinks I'm going to make because I've been too busy obsessing about the clutter to be bothered with food. Can you say Subway Party Sub? Because I've got a feeling I'll be saying it loud and clear in two weeks. The only item I have on my menu so far is Harvest Popcorn courtesy of my (newly engaged) friend Gretchen. CONGRATS Gretch! Do any of the rest of you Internets have any ideas for easy finger food or easy drinks?

Other bits of randomness:

I was totally unmotivated to take pictures of Renee's First Easter and I feel like a bad, bad mom because of it. I have this urge to go to Target and buy some of those plastic eggs to take her picture with them just so I'm no longer bogged down in guilt.

My brain has decided to prohibit my body from sleeping at night. And I don't like it. I am a walking zombie.

The winter-will-never-end posts started two months ago and it is STILL snowing. I NEED spring. I need flowers and evening walks outside. I NEED OUTSIDE! I NEED OUTSIDE! LET ME OUT!

We had Charlie's 3rd birthday party over the weekend and I so desparately want to find the time to upload the pictures but by the end of the day I can't talk my overly exhausted body to do it. His real birthday isn't until April 9th so I still have time, right?

Renee loses her mind if her little eyes can't see me at all moments of her life. I am no longer permitted to take a pee in private. In addition the little monster refuses to take a bottle from anyone other than Becky at daycare. Not from Daddy, not from Mommy, not from Rama, not from some stranger on the street (I tried it). You get that sucker within a three-foot radius of her and she goes into whine mode and flails her head back and forth refusing to let it get even close to her mouth. Will I EVER get my boobs back? It is not looking good.

the difference between #1 and #2

When I was pregnant with Renee I quit everything even on the 'has the potential to maybe be somewhat slightly harmful to a fetus' list from my life cold turkey. I was a maryr. I ate salad with chicken for lunch every day. I shunned caffeine. I went to bed early, exercised every day that my hips permitted me to walk and I made sure I was drinking AT LEAST double the recommended daily requirement of water. I was THAT girl. The pregnant girl no one likes. This time around I find myself eating turkey sandwiches without a second thought. Or bleu cheese. Or 14 thin mint cookies. I'm a mere five weeks pregnant and I've already had a diet coke. Only one but I went 10 months without one last time. Why is it that I am not obsessive this time? I feel sort of bad, like Renee got the golden treatment and this kid will be lucky if it gets spinach or chickpeas or asparagus at all.

just plain scared

I have been walking around in a fog for a week now. Now that I've adjusted to the shock of finding out I'm pregnant again, I am getting attached to the idea of having this baby. Which means I am now living in fear. I'm terrified because every study I read regarding uterine septums mentions miscarriage, pre-term labor and brain damage. Every. single. one. Today I feel like I should get a second opinion about everything. The doctor that did my c-section mentioned 'high-risk pregnancy' and 'never carrying a baby to full-term' but then I talked to my doctor about it and she was totally nonchalant about it. She said plenty of women have plenty of normal babies with septums and that we don't worry about them unless there are multiple miscarriages. She was saying what I wanted to hear at the time so I just believed her. But now I feel guilty. Like I should have asked more questions and demanded more answers. Like sometime before I brought a bunch of cells that have the potential of becoming a whole new being in to existence. Because now there is nothing I can do but to wait and see. I'm not any good at waiting and seeing. I have an appointment on April 14th that seems like an eternity away. I will feel so much better after I see the heartbeat and they can tell me the little bugger implanted on my uterus and not on the stupid abnormality that runs through it.

to wean or not to wean

I spent most of yesterday crying because the nurse practitioner at my clinic was really cold regarding this pregnancy and the questions and concerns I have. I called to ask a few questions regarding breastfeeding while pregnant and about my half of a uterus. First, the receptionist was rude. She told me I couldn't talk to anyone until I had the pregnancy confirmed. So I went in and peed on their magical stick and SURPRISE, I'm pregnant. Yeah, I think I mentioned that. She went through her canned speech about how they want to see me at eight or nine weeks pretty much like she hadn't heard a word I said when I called initially. I then asked (again) to speak to a doctor about nursing while pregnant and about the septum in my uterus because the doctor that did my c-section told me that my future pregnancies would be high risk. Apparently the bimbo receptionist didn't care. Anyways, the nurse practitioner called me back, basically said 'go ahead and wean her' and goodbye. She didn't give a rip about my concerns. I don't think Renee is ready to be weaned. I don't think Renee is even CLOSE to being ready to be weaned. I don't think her mom is ready to wean her yet either. So I did some internet research. The internet says that it is OK to nurse while pregnant. I was sort of satisfied with that (La Leche was my source and I trust them for the most part) and figured I'd talk to my doctor in a few weeks when I go in for my first OB appointment. Then I laid awake all night last night worrying that I am now hurting both of my kids at the same time. I don't know what to do. This morning I called the hospital where I had Renee and asked to speak to one of their lactation consultants. She laughed and said 'you absolutely don't need to wean her.' Especially if she's growing and gaining weight and eating solids. I'm really irritated that my clinic just throws out opinions without checking with people who know more about it than they do. It seems OK to trust the La Leche League along with the lactation consultant whose job it is to work with breastfeeding mothers over some stupid nurse practitioner who really just wants to get me off the phone as soon as possible so she can go home, right?

I hope I don't regret this. I'm planning on GRADUALLY weaning Renee. My goal is to be done nursing her when she is one year. I will be about 16 weeks pregnant then. It's too bad I'm not telling anyone about this baby. The only people I can ask for advice are strangers.

mixed emotions

I have totally mixed emotions. On one hand, after Renee was born and I found out about my not-so-perfect uterus I was so depressed that I might never have another baby that the prospect of getting to have another one is over-the-top exciting to me. I never wanted Renee to be an only child and the whole trying-to-get-pregnant thing was not ANY fun the first time around. I'm a control freak and it was too much stress for me. I'm so thankful that we don't have to got through that again. I know deep down, somewhere in my subconscious, I was hoping for this to happen. I've gone in to get a prescription for birth control twice. Actually filled the prescription once. Didn't take a single pill either time. I couldn't do it. I would try to pump myself up and when it came down to it, I just couldn't bring myself to prevent something that I knew I wanted SO BAD. This is the good part. This baby is wanted. In every conceivable sense of the word want. Did I want to have him/her to show up a mere seventeen months after my first miracle? Ummm, not quite. I keep thinking if this one comes a month early like Renee did it is only sixteen months. Whoa dude. What was I thinking? My baby can't even crawl. She doesn't have teeth. She's not even nine months old and here I am starting all over again. I feel a lot of guilt like I'm robbing Renee of her first couple of years of my undivided attention. I'm terrified that she is going to be too little to understand us bringing a new baby into our house and I fear that she will feel abandoned. I feel sad that I'm going to be fat and pregnant and probably miserable when she starts walking and talking and doing all of the fun stuff that toddlers do. I'm terrified that I'm going to be having this baby at a bad stage for Renee. I'm still nursing her and am scared for both of us that my milk supply is going to go down so far that I won't be able to do it anymore. I'm worried about what weaning her might do to her emotionally because she's too little to understand. I'm worried that not weaning her will cause a miscarriage. I'm in a wedding in July and have no idea if the dress I already bought will fit. All of my maternity clothes are for summer. Who wants to be on maternity leave in December, January and February? NOT ME. Who wants to have a baby pretty much on Thanksgiving? Aren't the holidays stressful enough? I feel elated, sad and terrified all at the same time.

this is all i've got today

But it makes me smile. And I needed to smile.

oops i did it again

Alternate title for this post: 'oh crap!'

I'm pregnant. There I said it out loud. Let me check, nope, it is still not real to me. Surprised? I can't freaking believe it either. It doesn't matter how many different brands of those nasty little sticks I pee on, they still say PREGNANT in about two seconds flat. I don't even know what made me take the first test. Yesterday on my way to work I started thinking about what a crazy bitch I've been lately and about how my milk supply has been so low that the little monster wants to nurse ALL OF THE TIME and I got to wondering if something truly frightening happened to me the night of the gas leak. Freaking laughing gas can make you do things you NEVER do. I mean NEVER. This might qualify as TMI but SERIOUSLY I can count the number of times since she was born on one hand. OK two hands. But I don't need more than two, I can tell you that much. And I only need one finger to count the number of times in the last two months. I find it extremely commical that I was actually worried about fertility problems.

My conversation with Ski on Sunday night went something like this:
Me: "I think something is wrong with me. I feel like I can't control my emotions and I'm SO CRABBY that I don't even like myself. I think I need a shrink."
Ski: "Is it possible to have reoccurrences of the hormone problems after you have a baby? Like another round of the Baby Blues?"
Me: "I don't know. I guess I should google it."
Ski: "Yeah, I haven't seen you like this since right after she was born. It has to be hormones."

Thank-you, Doctor Ski. Hormonal is freaking right but not those pesky POST-pregnancy hormones...real, live pregnancy hormones. Great job. Thanks for single-handedly causing AND diagnosing my illness.

Ski was outside shoveling the four inches of snow we got in the MIDDLE OF MARCH (grrrrr) when the test came back positive. I stood in the bathroom with tears streaming down my face wondering IF I should tell him. It actually went through my head not to tell him because I HONESTLY didn't know how he would react. Like, maybe he won't notice when I get as big as a house. Or maybe he won't notice that my patience level is in the negative digits. Or that I can't walk because my hips hurt so bad. Just two weeks ago we booked a flight and a hotel to go WINE COUNTRY for our anniversary in September. To Wine Country where you get drunk all day and eat and sleep a lot. The master plan was to start trying for baby #2 then. I walked out in to the driveway, snow pouring down with no coat on, grasping the stick in my hand that I had just peed on and blurted out with no warning, "You are never going to believe this. I'm pregnant." My wonderful husband dropped the shovel, rushed over and gave me a big hug, spun me around and said, "I'm so happy." He didn't even hesitate. He didn't get the deer in the headlights look of terror that I was half-expecting. Calm as a cucumber he went on to say, "I will always be happy if you tell me you're pregnant. Babies are a good thing." And I cried and cried and cried. And then I cried a lot more. Mostly because I was happy and because I was so happy that he was so happy. And a little bit because I was completely and utterly terrified.

you look tired

It all started last Friday when this little bi-otch that I've never met before looked at me while I was ordering big fat cake for my girl Lindsey's 26th birthday and said three simple little words that have been tormenting me for almost a week now:

"You look tired."

Total strangers are now telling me I look tired. GREAT. Just the look I was going for today, lady. Thanks for making my day. I hate your stupid little shirt and your outdated scrunchie but you don't see me feeling compelled to mention it, do you? I walked out of there and burst in to tears. Since then I've blown up at Ski no fewer than 30 times, gotten irritated with Renee more than I ever have, went on a shopping spree and bought NOTHING but black all the while subconsiously mourning the old me that didn't look tired all of the time. Ski bought me flowers in an effort, I think, to say without saying "Wife, you need an attitude adjustment." Nope, I'm still a total SNAG. S-N-A-G.

What gets you out of a funk? Because I'm right on the verge of packing up and moving to Siberia. Do you think Siberian women look tired? They can't, I mean, there's not a lot to do in Siberia, right? Other than SLEEP, I hope.