First Halloween

When I was pregnant with Charlie, I had a blast going on Pinterest and pinning awesome kid Halloween costumes.  I had decided that for his first Halloween, he'd be a snail.  Perfect!  He'd be at crawling age, and it'd basically be like the cutest thing that ever happened.

Except that the snail costume was like $40, which is approximately $38 more than I was willing to spend on something that I would put on a kid who wasn't even going trick-or-treating, who would wear it for 5 minutes while I took pictures so that in 20 years I could tell him that he was a snail for his first Halloween.  And just forget about me trying to learn how to use the sewing machine again to make the costume.  

So I decided to borrow a costume.  Except that I never actually got around to picking it up.

So I decided that costumes were stupid for babies who weren't doing anything to celebrate Halloween and who weren't even old enough to eat candy.

And then this morning I started to feel like a real asshole of a parent for not having a costume for my kid.  So I emailed Shecky and asked her if I was a bad mother for not dressing up the boy and she said that yes, yes I was, and she also suggested that I throw on his awesome orange vest, make him Marty McFly, and call it a day.

So that's what we did.  Except that it was even better because Marty McFly wears a jean jacket under his orange puffy vest and Charlie just so happens to have a jean jacket himself (because he's really stylish and loves jean jackets).  Had this not been such a half-assed operation from the start, I'd have constructed a Delorean out of cardboard and affixed it to his jumper or walker or something.  Oh well.

Okay, now look at a bunch of pictures of my kid on Halloween.  Note that you are not seeing a picture of him next to a pumpkin or in a parking lot full of pumpkins because I f'ing refuse*.  Thank Facebook and mommy blogs for that.**

How was your Halloween?  Can I have some of your candy?

*But I am totes on board with the babies in front of Christmas trees and wrapped up in Christmas lights and every other obnoxious Christmas pose out there.

**Also, later, remind me to tell you how Matt reads mommy blogs and forums now and it's basically the funniest and most unexpected thing ever.

Weekend Fun

At the top of my October calendar in my planner I've written in all caps, "Just need to get through October."  Back in September, it said, "Just need to get through September and October."  I hate the idea of being one of those people who wishes away life, always looking to something better, but at the same time, this beginning stretch of the school year has been hellish, and November promises a little bit of relief and a little more fun, as do the months after.  Every day I get to mark a big X across the previous day in the calendar (because I'm old school like that), I get a little rush, like I'm that much closer to the finish line, even though the finish line isn't really a finish line at all.  This last weekend of October, though, I was quite chipper.  Maybe it was because I know I can bid the month adieu soon*, or maybe it's because the weather has been amazing and there are few things I enjoy more than open window days around the house.  Whatever the reason, I tried to stop being that dissatisfied old curmudgeon this weekend, to enjoy life and savor all of the awesomeness around us.

Enjoying life included going to Mexican for dinner on Friday (Charlie needed to see his uncles--sorry, tios-- after all!), cleaning the house so much on Saturday that my body hurt all day today (but in a good way), hanging out with my fuzzy firstborn and favorite baby caveman, ice creaming, watching Love Actually (if it's on, I watch it--always), going to an awesome food festival with friends at the park by our house (yes, I would like a spicy sausage on a stick!), doing yardwork (Matt, not me--too much poison ivy and I can't take 'roids while I'm with child), and just enjoying the company of each other (people are so much more enjoyable when the weather is amazing and the windows are open, aren't they?).

Here's what it looked like.

 Some things never change.  I like that.

Living room is overtaken with plastic shit.  Oh, so much plastic shit.  But I will be happy.  I will be happy because by having kids this close together it puts me that much closer to the time when I can give this plastic shit away.  Do you want it?

Plants I haven't quite killed yet.   

 Pears. 

 I did 234 loads of laundry yesterday.

 Chaz likes to grab anything that hangs.  I figure there's no point in fighting him on this one.  So he can just grab a toy to take with him.

Take back what I said before.

 Are you tired of pictures of my two sons on the couch next to each other?  Well, I'm not, and probably never will be, so deal.  We can just pretend that I've slapped a month sticker on Charlie and set him next to his favorite stuffed animal.  

Banana puddin' ice cream.  SO F'ING GOOD. 

Get outta here.

To all of our friends in the path of Sandy (who seems to be much more like the sassy leather jacket-wearing broad from the end of Grease than the sweet delicate princess from the beginning--wait, did I steal that from a Facebook picture?), stay safe and warm.  I envy the days off you have all been announcing on the book, but soon you might be envying my electricity, so we can call it even.  Careful out there!  And if you want, you can always drive down to the SAV to visit.

*And don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.  Same goes for you, September!

7 Months!

Little Baby Bug is another month older, another month wiser.  He's savoring these last months as the only human child, chowing down on barbecue sauce*, becoming more mobile by the second, and lunging his little body toward anything that could hurt him.  

We really need to get on baby-proofing the house.  (Kid has like one bajillion toys, but would much rather chew on the computer cord, put his head in a plastic bag, or play in a pool of his own vomit than play with them.  This month I learned that babies are much more like puppies than I had expected.)  Charlie's little personality is starting to really shine these days, too.  At times, he seems like a sweet, sensitive little boy.  At others, he's a caveman.  I guess those aren't mutually exclusive, right?

He's fun and crazy and still obsessed with his furry brother.  He loves the jumper, sucking on wet washcloths, naked time, and any toy that lights up and plays obnoxious sounds.  He's a sleeping champion (how could he not be given his bloodline?) but can't seem to figure out how to drink from a sippy cup.  Can't win 'em all, I suppose.  

But he no longer likes bananas.  Case in point:

Love this kid.  New baby has a pretty high bar to clear.


*Okay, fine.  Prunes.

Our Craziest Plan Yet

When back when, in, oh, April, when I was deep in the throes of newborn baby hell and recovery and post-partum depression, I had a conversation with Shecky during which I insisted that I was NEVER doing this again and I hated it and it was the worst and if I ever even so much as floated the idea of having another baby she was to drive down to Georgia to murder me.*

On the day I took this picture, I ugly cried for approximately 75 hours.  The only thing that kept the boy from screaming was lying on the washer during the spin cycle.  And the only thing that brought me any relief was the dozen doughnuts I got from Krispy Kreme, when I scared the bejeezus out of the very nice cashier boy with my ugly tears.

That newborn period was not my favorite, to put it mildly.  After spending [basically] a year being pregnant and having my body not be my own, and then birthing a human (which hurt really badly, by the way) and then having my little screaming tapeworm attached to my body for 10 hours a day nursing, I was done.  The thought that I would have to do it all again, that I would have to spend another 2 years (I exaggerate a little bit in my head) sacrificing my body and sanity to grow and feed another one of these creatures, was enough to send me into a hysterical crying fit.  But then I had a crazy-but-maybe-not-as-crazy-as-it-seemed-at-first idea.  Multitasking.  What if I just got myself knocked up again right away?

I mean, shoot.  My body already didn't belong to me while nursing, so what if I just got pregnant during that time so that I could cut down on the number of years that my body wasn't mine?  A little nuts, sure, but would it maybe just maybe cut down on the months of misery and still end up with us having the two kids we'd always planned for?  But instead of them being two years apart they'd be one?  Could that work?

So then one day I mentioned my silly thought to Matt, who thought it made sense.  And then we talked about it and talked about it and talked about it and decided that for our family this was actually the best decision.  We fell in love with the idea of Charlie having a sibling just a year younger than him, and we both agreed that we were more of the "get it all over with" types than the "drag that shit out" types.  Like, when I waited tables and would work double shifts, I always preferred to work straight through rather than to have a 2 or 3 hour break between shifts (that basically just became 2 or 3 hours of me sitting around dreading to return to work).  Perhaps pregnancy and having a tiny baby might be the same kind of thing?  Hell, given more time to think about (dread) being pregnant again and then having a newborn again, I might decide that Charlie would indeed be an only child, and then he could end up self-centered and weird (sorry to all of the only children I just offended).  So, after many hours of discussion and weighing of the pros and cons of our loony plan, we decided to jump off a cliff.

We know that it's going to be hard, and we figure that there are going to be two periods that are especially difficult for us.  The first is pretty much over, which was the exhausting first trimester compounded with having a 5 or 6-month old at home at the beginning of the [most awful yet] school year.  Talk about tired and stressful!  I've pretty much weathered and come through that first trimester insane exhaustion at this point (but not without a handful of tired 6-year old meltdown tantrums) and it feels like we're in an upswing right now.  The second very hard part will be longer and harder, and will probably extend from about March until this time next year.  It's going to be hella hard.  We know.  But we're a little more baby savvy now and have a little more perspective, and we'll probably take people up more often on their offers to help.  But then!  Then that very hardest part will be past us, and every morning after April I will enjoy a breakfast of a cold turkey sandwich, a raw egg, and a margarita.



*I reminded her the other day that she's a disobedient friend.  Shecky said she's just waiting until it'll be a surprise.  Oh, crap.  

Oops! I Did It Again.

Knocked up again.

Due April 20.

Pretty sure it's a girl (if only because I want it to be a boy).

Yes, it was planned.

Yes, we are crazy.

More later.

Avoiding Facebook during the Vice Presidential Debate

Well, I'm sitting here watching my very handsome and awesome vice president debate someone who is decidedly less handsome (though I hear he's buff?), and trying to avoid my Facebook feed.  Full of crazies!  So, I think it's high time I put a bunch of pictures on here.  Mostly just sandwiches the size of your head, baked goods, the baby, and the dog, but still.  Is there anything else worth looking at, anyway?

Gigantic cinnamon sugar doughnut muffin cake for a friend's birthday.

 That orange vest is my favorite article of clothing that anyone has ever owned, ever.  Baby McFly.

Little visitor.  I let him stay as long as he promised not to try to kill me. 

"Get out of my spot, towels." 

Pork meatball banh mi.  Get in mah belly, sandwich!

Oh, and the boy scoots!  It's not quite crawling, but he's getting there.

What have you been up to lately?  I miss you!

Get It Together, Woman!

I never expected to like the newborn state of parenting, and I never really expected to like the tiny infant stage of parenting, either.  I didn't expect to like those parts because I don't really like babies.  Yeah, sure, babies are fascinating in theory, what with all of the crazy amounts of learning and tremendous growth and all, but man are they BORING.  I think the first four or five months that Charlie was here were simultaneously the most boring and the most difficult of my life.  There were bright moments and highlights, of course, like when he'd smile or laugh or learn to roll over, but for the most part it was dullsville and I did not like it.  And it wasn't a surprise to me that I didn't find that period enjoyable because I don't like hanging out with tiny babies.

But now Charlie's six months old, and things have changed.  This is the first stage that I can honestly be like, I LOVE this stage!"  He's just absolutely delightful these days.  He's almost always smiling or laughing or figuring out how to do new stuff in that way that we can almost see the little wheels turning in his head.  In the morning when he wakes up, he often just hangs out in his crib (or as Mitch calls it, his crate) squealing with delight.  He gets cuter by the minute and I'm finally starting to experience the joy that people talk about when they talk about having children.  (Don't get me wrong, though--I would be even more filled with joy if the boy would allow me to take a coma nap now and again.)

And the cuter and sweeter that Charlie gets, the more anxious and freaked out I become about the fact that he will grow up and one day leave us to go off and be a grown-up.  It's the worst when we're watching TV.  Did anyone see the season premiere of Parenthood when Haddie left for college?  I sobbed through most of the episode, and it got worse when I realized that Charlie is half of a year old and that's 1/36 of the time we have to raise him before he leaves.  There were big, heaving, snotty sobs.  I'm about to cry just thinking about it.  And don't even get me started on the worst, most cruel Google ad of all time.  Matt saw it on the other night and told me not to watch it.  But I was a dolt and watched it anyway and then was finished for the night.  And when I was trying to teach my students about allusions the other day and pulled up the wrong clip of Toy Story 3 and ended up seeing the home movies of Andy as he grew up and prepared to leave, I had to do everything in my power to keep from becoming reduced to a sobbing sniveling mess in front of my class.

Don't watch this unless you want to cry your eyes out.

Is it just going to stay like this forever?  I really didn't expect to be like this.  I'm not one of those people who wants their baby to stay a baby forever (shoot, if I could have  had little bud start off as a precocious, well-adjusted 3-year old I'd have done it), but the thought of him leaving makes me a total mess.  I imagine that the time will come (perhaps age 13 or so?) when Charlie will be a mouthy little shit and I'll fantasize about the time he'll leave us.  But for now, while he remains this cute and sweet, I'm just going to have to deal with being the weeping crazy lady several times a week.  Oh well.