New Moms: How to Drink More Water


With the combination of having baby #2 and being 35 years old, I’m finding it harder to lose the baby weight this time around. Everywhere you look there are weight loss scams and pills, but I don’t want to lose the weight in an unhealthy way. There has always been one thing the health nuts have tried to beat into our brains, though, and that is to drink more water.

While I find the recommended 64-ounces of water to be a little impossible (seriously, I’m pretty sure I would float away), I do accept that I need to drink more than 2 glasses (on a good day). Being a mom usually means forgetting your own needs. Over and over again. How many times have you made it to 2pm and realized that you haven’t eaten all day? Or had anything to drink? Especially when our little ones are infants, we’re just trying to get them through the day and fit a little sleep in there for ourselves. Brushing our teeth and showering means it was a successful day. Am I right?

So, I thought about a simple solution to get myself to drink more water and I think it could help for the other new moms as well. If you’re not a new mom, I still think you could use this trick, however you’ll have to find another trigger. I have a possible example at the end of this post.

Here’s my idea:

Every time the baby has his/her bottle, pour an 8-ounce glass of water for yourself. Make your goal to have it finished before the baby’s next bottle. If you’re breastfeeding, a) you need more water to begin with, and b) make it a 6-ounce glass because your baby is probably feeding every 2 hours instead of every 3.

My son usually drinks 6-7 bottles per day. This adds up to between 48 and 56 ounces of water. BF moms, you should get about the same amount if your little one is feeding every 2 hours throughout the day and can go for a 4-hour stretch at night.

No, it’s not the recommended 64-ounces, but it’s pretty darn close. And if it helps me to lose a couple of those pesky pounds that are hanging on for dear life, it’s definitely worth a shot.

For those 9-5ers out there, what about drinking a glass:

-when you wake up (6am?)

-before you leave the house (8:30am)

-before lunch (11:30am)

-in the middle of the afternoon blahs (2:30pm)

-when you get home from work (5:30pm)

-after you get the kids in bed (8:30pm).

There’s your 6 glasses. If you can fit in one or two more, great. If you can’t, at least you did that much.

I can’t guarantee this is going to help me lose the weight, but I’m willing to give it a shot. I have one month before I go back to work. And it’s going to fly by. I’d like to be back in shape before I go back. It’s a lofty goal, I know, but not unattainable. And if I can get in the habit of drinking more water before then, I can figure out a way to continue the habit after.

Good luck to you and let me know if this plan works for you.

Getting Back to Me


Tuesday will mark 6 weeks since Little E officially joined our family. And I can honestly can these past few weeks have flown by. Maybe that’s because each day is a blur of bottles, diapers, and a lack of sleep. Maybe it’s because I’m still on leave from work and Peanut is out of school so there’s really no reason to keep track of the days. Either way, in regards to losing the baby weight, what started out as “Mother Nature really blessed me” has quickly turned into, “Nope, I’m the same as everyone else; I’m gonna have to work for it.”

After I became a mom initially, my body was different. I went back to my pre-baby weight, I looked roughly the same, but my jeans didn’t fit anymore. Something had shifted and I couldn’t quite place what. Also, the weight at which I felt I looked healthy changed. What used to be my normal now made me look emaciated. I found I felt better 10lbs heavier than what had been my target weight. Maybe that had to do with being a mom, maybe it was just from being older and my comfort zone changing. I’m not sure. This time around, I don’t expect to be happier 10lbs heavier, but I’m not going to focus on a number.

See, I say baby weight, but honestly, I could care less what the scale says. I just want to get toned and feel better when I look in the mirror. I’m not going to starve myself in the process, and I’m not going to beat myself up to get there. But I’ve always been in pretty good shape and this flabby feeling is not something I enjoy. After my first baby, I bounced back fairly quickly, but I was also alone and no one saw me naked so there was no pressure to look any certain way. Also, it was fall and sweater weather is perfect for hiding that leftover baby pooch. This time, it’s summer. Bathing suit season. And while I have no misgivings about getting back the 6-pack I had in my 20s, I would eventually like to look good when my husband sees me naked and not have this flabby mid-30s mom body.

Conveniently enough, I had an invite to do a 30-day workout challenge on my Facebook feed. So, I’m going for it. I bought fresh fruit and an Oster MyBlend personal blender yesterday (the Cartwheel app had a 30% off offer), I signed up for the 30-day challenge, and my plan is to look and feel better about myself by my birthday next month. Also, my sister-in-law (and fellow new mom) is going to start walking with me so we can lose our baby weight together.

So, here’s to trying to present the best me possible, to hopefully getting to a better place mentally about my body, and to turning 35 – because no matter what shape my body is in, I’m pretty impressed with all it’s done for me so far.


Delusions of Productivity


(He’s mocking me with that grin. I know he is.)

It’s true that you forget the first few months of parenthood. I’m a second-time mom but there’s 6 1/2 years between my kids. Honestly, I forgot pretty much all of it.

I forgot that even though the baby eats every 3 hours that doesn’t mean you have 3 hours to be productive until the next feeding. It takes at least 30-45 (2:30-2:15 hours left) minutes for the feeding and to change the baby. Then you have to get him back to sleep. There goes another 20-30 (2-1:45 left) minutes of your 3-hour span. We’re down to

Did I mention making the bottle, cleaning all the dirty bottles hanging out next to your sink, doing/folding laundry, showering, going to the bathroom, etc? Those things all cut into your 3 hours as well. Not to mention trying to fit whatever broken sleep you can in there somewhere.

But again, I forgot about all of that. Somewhere in my delusional mind I thought I was going to have all this time to write this blog, find and execute a job working from home to supplement my income, and still go have lunch with real adult people. And this time I’m supposed to do it all while entertaining a 6-year old on her summer vacation. Hahahahahaha!

Over the past month I have found time to have lunch with friends a couple of times. I’ve even managed to get on a schedule where my house does not look like a disaster zone. I’ve gone on Pinterest a couple times to look through my “extra income” board for a side job, but as soon as I start reading an article or making any headway I am jolted back into reality either by the cries of my infant or the never ceasing, “Hey, Mom!”

I keep telling myself that once the baby is sleeping through the night I will be productive again. I’ll be a good mom, start writing in this blog more, get a side job and do well at it, go back to work at the casino, and still maintain my somewhat presentable home. Part of me believes it. The realistic part looks at my 3-month old nephew who is sleeping through the night but only takes one nap per day and laughs hysterically at that other part of me.

Only time will tell, but I’m pretty sure the realistic side is gonna be saying, “I told ya so” about a month from now.

Sleep Is Worth Fighting For


Before I had Little E, just about a month ago, I would have killed for a full night’s sleep. My back hurt, I couldn’t sleep on my stomach, I was waking up every few hours… I would look at my peacefully sleeping husband and think horrible, horrible thoughts in my sleep-deprived jealousy. I couldn’t wait to give birth and be able to sleep again.

I know what you’re thinking: “How did she think she was going to sleep with a newborn?” This is not my first rodeo, folks. I knew what I was getting myself into. But the first time around, I did it alone. My daughter’s father was not in the picture. I woke up for every feeding and diaper change. I was there for everything. I dealt with sleep deprivation like a champ. But this time around, I had my loving husband by my side. Surely I would be able to alternate middle of the night feedings with him. Together we would get through this without a hitch.

Sure, I remembered how hard it was. Sure, I had read about women who wanted to strangle their husbands in their sleep. But my husband and I are a team! We were going to beat those odds.

The two days after I had Little E, while we were still in the hospital, confirmed everything I believed. My husband was the epitome of what new dads should be. I couldn’t get out of bed so he changed every diaper and was hands on with all of the feedings. It was a beautiful thing to watch… this transformation that he made. Before, he was the man who wouldn’t hold anyone else’s baby – ever. But here he was, so involved in our own fragile little newborn. It’s still beautiful to watch them together. But I digress.

We came home from the hospital and things stayed roughly the same. I would wake up for the midnight and 3am feedings, then T would take the 6am and 9am shift. Or vice versa. I would get up with the baby for an entire night so that he could catch up on sleep, then he would do the same for me. His nights became increasingly more difficult, as the baby wouldn’t seem to go back to sleep for him, so I tried to take a couple nights in a row to his one night.

Then I told him that I was mostly recovered from my c-section and he went back to work. The babymoon was officially over.

Please let me preface this by saying that my husband is still very involved with the baby. It is not me against the world, even when I’m so tired that I feel like it is.

Depending upon his work schedule, he still tries to help out in the middle of the night, which I am eternally grateful for. Then there are the nights that he can’t help and even though these nights are not his fault, I look at him peacefully sleeping and I wish harm on him. Not death or dismemberment, but at the very least the same excruciating calf cramps that would wake me up from a deep slumber while I was pregnant. I’m sure he’s wished the same upon me those nights when the baby gives him a hard time and I’m fast asleep. I’ve snapped at him over the stupidest things… something I was hoping would end after the surge of pregnancy hormones had escaped my scarred, shriveling body. We often go to bed barely speaking now, not because we’re angry with each other (as far as I know) but more out of sheer exhaustion. There’s a good chance that at any given moment in our house either someone is sleeping (the baby) or someone needs a nap (either one of us).

To the teenagers out there thinking, “I want a baby so that I have someone who loves me forever,” or the early 20-somethings thinking you’re ready, I say this: This is how you know if you’ve found true love or not. When you are so tired that you want to physically harm the person you love, but you stop yourself because you would miss them and your life would be infinitely worse without them in it, that is true love. I have found that with the man of my dreams… even on the days when I’m fighting for 5 more minutes of sleep.

Fearing the Unknown


Here we are, almost 2 weeks before the due date that the doctors set for me (I still think my actual due date is May 7th) and I know less now than I did the first time around. Trust me, I was no expert then either. This post may get slightly graffic in places (I’m talking to you, Dad), so anyone squeamish or who doesn’t want to hear about my lady parts, I understand if you don’t read this post. I promise, no pictures. Lol.

At my April 7th appointment, I had my first vaginal exam in months and found out that I was already 3cm dilated and the baby was in position. This was a month before my due date and well before I had hit my financial freedom goal for taking the summer off. It was also a week and a half before my baby shower. I was NOT prepared for this baby. Not even a little bit. I was terrified. The following Monday, I went to the hospital for an ultrasound to check on the baby’s size because he/she was measuring a little larger than he/she should have been. At that appointment, they told me the baby was approximately 7lbs 3oz and that he/she was breech. For those of you that don’t know what that means, the baby’s head was up by my rib cage instead of head-down like it was supposed to be. While there are methods that can be tried to coax the baby into the proper head-down position, my doctor does not practice any of these methods. According to her, a breech baby means having a planned c-section.

Just for a little back story here, I am a very small woman. I’m 5’1″, 115-120lbs when I’m not pregnant. I’m built very much like my mother, who had 3 children, all via c-section. When I was pregnant with my daughter, I was convinced she would also come out by way of a c-section. It just made sense to me. When she was born naturally, I was amazed and very proud that my body was able to deliver her without surgery. This time around, just as naively, I didn’t even consider a c-section because everything went so smoothly last time around. So, this news caught me off guard. I’ve gone a wonderful 34 years without any kind of surgery. I’d like to not start now, if possible.

I didn’t find out about the c-section until the appointment with my regular OB-GYN on April 13th. We talked over the possibilities, scheduled another ultrasound for the end of the month, and set a tentative c-section date of May 4th if the baby still hadn’t turned by the next ultrasound. I’ve been stressing about it all since. Having a c-section means a longer recovery time, not being able to drive for up to 6 weeks, needing to be more careful picking my baby up and putting him/her down. It means a longer time of not being able to run around outside with my daughter, who is already so starved for Mommy’s attention because I’m so tired all of the time. It means my guts will be outside my body and I have to trust that the doctors will put everything back where it is supposed to go. I know that thought doesn’t show much faith in my practitioners, and that’s not how I mean it. I’m just terrified of doctors in general. The idea of surgery is not relieving that fear.

Last Wednesday, I went back for my weekly appointment. This time I saw the male doctor in our group. I brought up my concerns about the baby being breech. He pressed down on my lower abdomen, in the exact location where 2 weeks before the other doctor in the group had told me the head was down, and tried to convince me that the baby had turned and was, in fact, in position. I tried to hide my doubt. He still wants me to go for the ultrasound this Wednesday, but not because he thinks the baby is breech. Apparently, my monster baby is in the 92nd percentile and he’s worried about the baby getting too large. Not so large, however, that they will induce me early and let this pregnancy come to an end. No. They plan to wait until May 18th, one week after their approximated due date. Most babies gain 1/2 a pound per week in the last month of pregnancy. That means 2 1/2 more pounds. On top of the 7lbs 3oz they were calling on April 11th. That’s almost a 10 pound baby. Again, I am a very small woman.

So, damned if you do and damned if you don’t. While I’m scared to death of having surgery, even if it is scheduled and routine, I’m also terrified of giving birth to a toddler. And yes, I know that I’m exaggerating. I also know that this is all going to happen exactly how it is supposed to happen. I’m still allowed to be nervous. And if the c-section is going to happen either way, whether it’s because the baby is breech or because it is far too large for my body, I’d rather have the May 4th baby. I’m over being pregnant. I’m over being unable to sleep at night because of the heartburn and the body aches. I’m ready for my wonderful husband to share the joy of the last few months and wake up in the middle of the night instead of me. “Your turn, babe,” sounds like music to my ears at this point. And, funny as it sounds, my inner geek would like my equally geeky husband to have his Star Wars baby. “May the 4th be with you!” 🙂

Nesting and Prepping


Well, folks, I can officially say that I’ve entered into the nesting phase of this pregnancy. Maybe it’s the fact that my due date is less than 4 weeks away. Maybe it has something to do with trying to get my Spring cleaning done (even though we’ve had more days with snow this “spring” than we did through all of winter). Maybe it has to do with the fact that I went to the doctor last week and I’m already dilated 3cm. But time is definitely running out and I still have a long To Do list before I’m ready for this baby.

My seeds have all sprouted and are ready for the garden. Mother Nature, however, has other plans. Hopefully the weather breaks soon and I can plant them. Especially since it’s looking like I’ll be out of commission sooner rather than later. I planted a lot of different types of seeds this year because I wasn’t sure how the pod planter that I bought would work out, but so far it seems to be a very good investment for this year’s produce. There are carrots, Brussels sprouts, lemon balm, dill, parsley, chives, spearmint, basil, oregano, 3 types of tomatoes, radishes, cucumbers, cauliflower, etc. If the garden yields anything like what it did the past couple of summers we will be all set this year. I’m looking forward to making homemade baby food this fall. If only it would stop snowing at night so I could actually plant everything. Which reminds me, I also have to build a vertical apparatus for the cucumbers this year to save space in the garden. More on that in a future post.

I’ve set up the bassinet and washed the gender neutral, hand me down baby clothes that I have. There’s a tiny little sock monkey baby outfit that I think will be perfect for the hospital pictures. I’m still hunting for the right dresser/changing table, though. I don’t know about you, but I get a picture in my head of how something should look and I cannot be stopped until I find that exact thing. I’m willing to compromise a little, but not nearly as much as I should. The hospital bag is packed and ready to go. I’m going to research hospital bag checklists, however, so I can make sure I’ve really packed everything we’ll need. I know there has to be something that I’m forgetting.

Friday night I was on a mission to clean up the clutter counter we have in our kitchen. That got done, I replenished the cabinets from the downstairs stock shelves, and I wrote out my list of what I’ll need to buy to replenish the backup stock. I also need to plan out some more freezer meals so that we’re ready to go for the next month or so. I’ve been focusing mostly on dinners, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to look up some good breakfast recipes as well so we’re not living off of cereal. Yesterday was a day of very little sleep and lots of running around, so I didn’t get anything done around the house, but T started on the laundry so that was a big help. Today, I attacked the bathroom with full force. Didn’t get to the tub, but I organized the closet in there, took inventory of what bathroom essentials I need to stock up on, and scrubbed everything else. Like, Clorox wiped the baseboards and scrubbed the tile walls and floors kind of cleaned. No one else will notice, but I’m happy with the end results and that’s all that matters right now.

Tomorrow, we have an ultrasound at 7:30am (yuck- at the time and the fact that T can’t make it. I’m excited to see how much the baby has grown, though) and then I plan on heading to the store for all the items on my list. I hope to replenish all of that so we are prepared for another 30 Day No Spend Challenge in May. With me being out of work it would help to save as much as possible and will make up for some of what I couldn’t save for my maternity leave. I’m also going to pick up the necessities to start my freezer meals, order the 1/4 cow that we’ve been waiting for, drop off some clothes and other items for donation, and tackle another room in the house. I should probably go with our bedroom since we’re going to be adding a roommate shortly.

I figure if I go room by room I will be set by the time the little one arrives. Maybe. Probably not. But here’s to wishful thinking!


“Push” Presents and Why I’m Not a Fan


Recently I’ve heard a lot of talk about these so called “push” presents. In case you’re not aware (because I sure wasn’t), this is when your husband/boyfriend/significant other gets you a gift for pushing out a baby. From the articles I’ve read so far, these gifts range anywhere from a $30 Pandora charm to a vacation in Jamaica when your baby is 6 months old so you can take advantage of their babysitting services. Oh, and don’t forget the $1000 rocker that EVERY home in America needs. Or hire a night nurse. Because no new mom has irrational fears of some stranger taking her baby while she sleeps. In fact, the only gift I saw on there that was even remotely practical was a bouquet of flowers.

That’s right, ladies. Know that thing your body was made to do? Now you get a reward for that. To me it fits into that “everybody gets a trophy” mentality. I’m sorry. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t be appreciated for what our bodies go through. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have a husband/boyfriend/significant other that absolutely adores the ground you walk on and would do anything for you. You should. It is an absolute miracle that the exact right chain of events takes place in order for procreation to happen. However, this is the exact chain of events your body was made for. I don’t understand the mentality of expecting a prize for that.

You get your child. Hopefully healthy, with ten fingers and ten toes, and enough hair to justify the 8 containers of antacids you’ve gone through in the past 9 months. You get that little miracle who is his/her own unique compilation of you and your significant other. Isn’t that enough?

On top of the sheer greed of the gift itself, babies are expensive. Diapers and formula, clothes and breast pumps… This stuff adds up. Do I really want my husband spending $1000 on a rocker instead of stocking up on diapers and formula? Hell no! Stock up! Let’s be prepared and ride out the next few months not worrying about being on the last pack of diapers or not having enough Dreft in the laundry room. I’ll take my Boy Scout over the gift-giving husband any day.

Honestly, at this point in my pregnancy, I think I owe my husband a gift for putting up with me. That poor man had no idea what he was getting himself into. To be honest, neither did I. I was no where near this emotional when I was pregnant with my peanut. Not even close. T has dealt with my emotional breakdowns once a week for the past few months. He’s been understanding on the days that I just want to sleep all day long and do nothing. He’s taken over cooking responsibilities when I just couldn’t be bothered to do it. Not to say that he didn’t cook before or that “as the man of the house he’s above these things” because he’s not. One of the many reasons that I married him is because he is 100% my partner in life. We share chores around the house. There really aren’t any specifically T jobs and C jobs. If something needs to be done and either one of us notices it, we do it. Except the cat litter. I’ve gotta admit I’m okay with that being his job for the past 7 1/2 months. It will be a sad day when I’m expected to take that on again.

In short, I honestly feel like the baby is enough of a gift. You now have a family. Or, if this isn’t your first child, your family is that much closer to being complete. How does a piece of jewelry compare to that? How can you expect some random material object to overshadow that? And to the ladies out there that do expect these gifts and their husbands that are more than willing to buy them, good for you. It’s just not my cup of tea. I’m looking forward to seeing my husband hold our baby for the first time, to see the sparkle in my daughter’s eyes as she meets her new brother or sister. I sincerely hope someone is there to capture our first few moments as a complete family. There isn’t anything in the world you could give me that’s better than that.

That Feeling of Utter Uselessness While Pregnant


So, here I am… 7 1/2 months pregnant, out of breath at every turn I take, and getting only 3-4 consecutive hours of sleep at a pop. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to make it through the next 7 weeks. My skin feels like it’s been stretched to the max, I’m not waddling yet, but I can see it in my not too distant future, and I’m exhausted and cranky all the time.

My sleep cycle has been off for months, but never has it been as bad as it has been lately. Last weekend was a mess of running around and not sleeping. Friday we drove to meet Peanut’s dad at our halfway point so she could spend the weekend in NJ with him. That consists of me getting a whopping 4.5 hours of sleep before I get up, pick her up from school, load up the car, and drive 6 hours, only to head straight to work and work my 10 hour shift. Saturday we had a friend’s birthday party to go to, and I desperately wanted to see my new nephew, so that was another 4 hours of sleep day. Sunday I was supposed to go to a baby shower, but I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed early for the life of me. So I slept until the last possible second and then drove the 6 hours again to get my little girl back.

Also, T has been working midnights, which gives me no incentive to go to bed at a reasonable hour. It’s been a joyous week of falling asleep on the couch, waking up around 2-3am, and then being up until right before it’s time to get Peanut up and off to school – which results in both of us being cranky and arguing. Then I try to fall back asleep after she gets on the bus – except yesterday I worked my extra shift and today I helped out in the school cafeteria. Last night and this morning I finally made myself useful. With a somewhat empty house and a child that would sleep through a tornado in her room, I got the dishes done and started on the laundry. I was up from about 3am until well after she got on the bus, so I also swept and vacuumed the whole house and straightened up a little. Then I napped for a little while before volunteering at school.

It felt good to be productive. But at the same time, it was exhausting. I’ve always been one to have a clean house. Even with pets, even with a child, people could stop by unannounced and my house was never really in a terrible condition. Lately, I just don’t care. Let the dishes pile up. Let the laundry pile up. Oh, look at that dust bunny of animal fur glide across the living room floor. I’m equally disgusted and indifferent of it all. I just want to sleep. I just want to sit in the corner of the couch (which I’m pretty sure at this point has my butt imprinted into it) and either watch Netflix or play some mindless game on my phone. I run downstairs to get meat out of the freezer or to let the dog out and by the time I come back up I am completely winded. I can barely tie my own shoes anymore, but haven’t had a pedicure since our wedding so I refuse to wear flip flops. I’m just over this whole pregnancy thing.

There is a strong internal conflict between the Candice I’ve been my entire life, and giant pregnant Candice. Giant pregnant Candice is winning, btw. I work 4 days per week right now, approximately 32 hours, and it’s all customer service. I clock in, I put on the smile, and I’m good to go until I clock out again. I’m warm and engaging, I try to be as quick as I can, and I can still carry a tray so full that it would make you cringe. I do my job and I do it pretty well because my income depends upon it. But once I clock out, there goes my motivation to be warm and bubbly, productive, etc. I just want to sit around and do nothing. Part of me just wants to play the pregnancy card for all it’s worth, the other part is too lazy to even make an excuse.

In the end, I’m almost there. The past 33 weeks have flown by and the next 7 will too – if I even make it until the end. I’m lucky that I have an incredibly understanding husband who has not harassed me on a daily basis about everything that’s not getting done around the house lately. He’s picked up some more of the cooking because he knows at a glance whether I’m just over it for the day or not. He rubs my calves and ankles when they get swollen and he makes just the right amount of jokes about my belly. My daughter has been understanding for the most part of my terrible mood swings and she’s still just as excited for the baby to get here as she was 6 months or so ago when we told her we were pregnant. Things could definitely be worse.

So, for now, I keep going back and forth between “get this baby out of me” and “please stay in until your due date, little one, so I can have my first summer off of work in 20 years.” It’s a strong internal debate, but ultimately one I have no control over. He/she will get here when they get here. Until then, I’ll try to have the house presentable in case someone stops by, but I’m not promising anything.


Crunch Time

We are officially under the two month mark in the wait for Baby #2. While it’s very exciting a) to finally meet him/her and b) to get my body back to myself, there’s also a ton of things we need to do in order to prepare. T had a 4-day weekend from work, which never happens, and decided to strip apart the shower doors and re-caulk the tub. Is that the male form of nesting? Either way, it’s a beautiful thing and I’m glad it’s done. We’ve also completed our registry, which means baby shower invites can go out, and we’ve FINALLY agreed on both a boy and a girl name!!!! That’s the most exciting part because it literally took 7 months for us to agree on anything. I was partially convinced we would still be arguing over names in the delivery room.

I also went through the closet and got rid of a TON of clothes that I will never wear again. I’m not even sure why I held onto them for this long. Especially since most of them were dressy blouses and things of that nature. Let’s face it, I’m not a corporate girl. I tried my hand at real estate. While it was very intriguing, that life is not for me. And it won’t be for me after the baby comes either. I’m too paranoid about those demented people that lure you to an empty house for a showing and then knock you out and harvest your kidneys. Or worse yet, steal your baby right out of the womb. No thanks.

Last night I planted all of my seeds in that $6 pod thing that I bought a few weeks ago. They are hopefully germinating and growing as we speak. I also kept extra seeds in case I have a problem transplanting them into the actual garden this year. It’s been hard for me to do in the past. Hence trying out the pods this year. 73 pods planted. Roughly 30 different types of veggies, herbs, and flowers. We should have a nice variety. Plus, I’ll save a ton of money on plants if this actually works. Keep your fingers crossed for me, folks.

Today I bought a bassinet for $30, which I thought was an amazing price. And I’m officially on the hunt for a rocking chair and an affordable dresser/changing table. One of my coworkers found a rocking chair at the local flea market. I just hope I get there before they sell it. It needs to be reupholstered, but hey! That’s just another thing I’ll get to learn how to do before the baby gets here, right?

All of that on top of the usual cleaning and cooking, plus, my nephew arrived 3 weeks early!!!! Little Connor is here!! He’s such a cute little munchkin and my brother is absolutely in love. It’s amazing to watch the transformation that he’s made over the past year and a half. It’s even more adorable to watch the man that swore he’d never have kids, would never change a poopy diaper, and would never hold a newborn take complete joy in all of the above. Maybe not joy about the poop, but you know what I mean. He’s going to be an incredible father and I feel lucky that we live close enough that I get to witness it all. It actually makes me want our baby to be a boy even more so that the two of them can grow up and get into mischief together. I say that now… Please don’t quote me on that later in life.

As you can see, we’re only a little over a week into March and things have already been hectic. I can’t wait to see what the next 2 months have in store for us.

Pregnancy Makes Me Crazy


I am a pretty fair-tempered person. I swear. For most of my post-pubescent years I have been the sane one, the laid back one, the easy to get along one. Even with my first pregnancy, I rarely had mood swings, I was always smiling and quick to laugh, and I worked right up until the end of my pregnancy without complaint. Fast forward to now… Not so much.

I’ve literally become a crazy person. While I’m secretly hoping this is due to an ungodly amount of testosterone flowing through my veins (PLEASE, PLEASE PLEASE… LET THIS ONE BE A BOY!!!! lol) I’m not exactly sure if that’s the reason or not. But lately, I am so quick to lose my temper, I am so quick to lose my patience with customers at work (discreetly in the wait station where the flow of insults and curse words that come out of my mouth would make a sailor blush), and I am so quick to get upset with my husband over the stupidest things. That’s the worst part. I know these things that I’m flipping out over are stupid. I know I’m acting completely irrationally. But there is nothing I can do about it!!! It’s like Invasion of the Body Snatchers over here.

Case in point, a couple of weeks ago we had an especially exhausting week over here. Him with work, me with work and Peanut, Peanut with school, and so on. On Sunday night, my only day off from both jobs, I went to pick up my little one from my moms, came home, and we all passed out on the couch for a while. After dinner, I passed out again. I was completely useless that night. On Tuesday night, he did the same thing. I wasn’t mad. It had just happened to me. We’re good. But, when it happened again on Wednesday, I was livid. Thursday, as I was trying to clean the house and he decided to rearrange the living room, I lost it on him for no good reason. None. I was sobbing and irrational, I cried off and on for hours after, and nothing good came from the situation. I think we’ve argued more since I’ve been pregnant than we have our entire relationship. And it’s almost always because of something that I’m blowing completely out of proportion.

Now, I’m not trying to be sexist here. I’m all about feminism and women’s rights. But, if anything, I would have thought this would have happened with my first pregnancy with double the estrogen. I mean, scientifically, estrogen is linked to us being more emotional and more in touch with our feelings, isn’t it? Now double that. I would have thought that carrying a girl would make me far more susceptible to these emotional outbursts. And it’s not like I gave birth to a tomboy. She’s 100% girly girl diva. So what is going on with me???? Again, “we” want to be surprised, so I’m not sure what baby #2 is, but either way, he/she is making me lose my marbles a little bit.

I’m also cranky at work, which is not a good thing when you work in the customer service industry. An already thankless, under-appreciated job is now amplified by my pregnancy hormones and my lack of ability to control them. Things I used to be able to brush off I now spaz out about. The same customer that’s been coming in for 2 1/2 years and never tips… I hate that guy now. Before I could tolerate him. Now, I totally avoid him because screw that guy. The same customers that come in on the same days and ask for the same things over and over again… I used to find some solace in their continuity and routine. Now I’m annoyed by them. It’s out of control.

I’m definitely earning this little “vacation” from work. Hopefully by the time I go back I will be so happy to be out of the house and talking to adults again that I will have refreshed myself for both the industry and my wallet’s sakes. At the very least, I hope it gives me the opportunity to enjoy my job and appreciate my husband again. Those are kind of essential for a happy life.

Well, after a refreshing lunch with my sister-in-law and nephew, I feel a little recharged. I’m going to relax, order a pizza for tonight, and head into work optimistic for a change. We’ll see how that goes.

Until next time, have a good day!