I have got PMS something fierce.
Words have been yelled. Tears have been shed. Hair bows have been thrown against bathroom walls and intentionally broken. Threats of head-shaving have been uttered.
I don't know what the deal is, either. I used to NEVER get PMS. No mood swings, no cravings, no cramping. The past few months, though, have been getting steadily more ridiculous. It started with late-night chip and sweet-eating escapades, and it seems a new symptom is getting added each time it comes around.
Today it all started with me trying to get ready and Livers turning on EVERY (and I mean EVERY) electronic device in my bedroom, and I just lost it. I need to do some fierce apologizing. I then tried to tame the rat's nest that is my hair today, and that's when it ALL came out. I usually don't wash my hair at night, but I did yesterday and my nerves are paying for it. I couldn't get it to look half-way decent to save my life. I threw away numerous elastics and seriously took a hair clip and repeatedly threw it against the wall. It did make me feel better, but then I started to cry. I am NOT someone who curses, either, and I let three too many f-bombs fly. Good thing I was locked in the privacy of my way-too-tiny bathroom so little angel ears couldn't hear it.
I'm glad for J not being here, either, because with my hormones being what they are someone would've been ripped a new one. (Probably me, because no one wants to be railed into during their lunch break.) I have to go to the grocery store soon, but unfortunately I don't think they sell a bona fide Chill Pill. I've calmed down for now, but I'm sitting here waiting for something else to set me off. Let's hope that no living thing is within shouting distance when it happens.
P.S. I need to invest in some cute hats a la Dirty Socks and Pizza pronto. I think that could've prevented this morning's mini-meltdown.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Sweet Smiles and Potty Seats
For the record, it is about impossible for a person with writer's block to attempt to write on their blog (or anything else) while watching The Pineapple Express....
Last night we ate a very colorful meal, to say the least. We made some wonderful pesto (and will be eating off of it for days and days), had leftover super sweet mashed potatoes (thank you loads of marshmallows and brown sugar), and a whole carton of strawberries with whipped cream. You might wonder where this comes into play with the picture. Well, we put Livers in the bathroom so she could get a shower and J wanted to show her her major whipped cream mustache. She got really amused looking at herself, and then she noticed she had a little bit of strawberry left on her chin. She thought she had a boo boo and kept touching it and laughing.
Yesterday was also a very big day for Livers.
Why?
She went potty in the toilet like a big girl for the first time!!!
We were so excited and she got really excited, too. Probably because we were praising her so much, but she did nevertheless. We had noticed that her diaper had been dry the past few mornings after waking, and while I know relatively little about potty training I do know that it's a good sign that readiness is on its way. I told J to put her on the potty and see what happens. He sat her down, and she felt very proud of herself to be on the big girl seat, but she wasn't doing anything so he turned on the water in the bathtub. While it was running he noticed that she was actually going, so he turned it off and she looked down and said, "Water!", noticing that it was coming from her.
I know that she's really not there yet. This morning, for example, she was soaked when she woke up, and she doesn't seem to understand the urge to pee at all (we're getting there with poop), but it's a beautiful step in the right direction. As long as she's (hopefully) ready by three...or whenever a sibling is born in the future...then I think we'll be happy.
It seems so strange that I'm excited and a little sad at the same time. I'm happy that the road to a diaper-free life is being traveled, but I'm teary-eyed that my baby is not really a baby anymore.
Last night we ate a very colorful meal, to say the least. We made some wonderful pesto (and will be eating off of it for days and days), had leftover super sweet mashed potatoes (thank you loads of marshmallows and brown sugar), and a whole carton of strawberries with whipped cream. You might wonder where this comes into play with the picture. Well, we put Livers in the bathroom so she could get a shower and J wanted to show her her major whipped cream mustache. She got really amused looking at herself, and then she noticed she had a little bit of strawberry left on her chin. She thought she had a boo boo and kept touching it and laughing.
Yesterday was also a very big day for Livers.
Why?
She went potty in the toilet like a big girl for the first time!!!
We were so excited and she got really excited, too. Probably because we were praising her so much, but she did nevertheless. We had noticed that her diaper had been dry the past few mornings after waking, and while I know relatively little about potty training I do know that it's a good sign that readiness is on its way. I told J to put her on the potty and see what happens. He sat her down, and she felt very proud of herself to be on the big girl seat, but she wasn't doing anything so he turned on the water in the bathtub. While it was running he noticed that she was actually going, so he turned it off and she looked down and said, "Water!", noticing that it was coming from her.
I know that she's really not there yet. This morning, for example, she was soaked when she woke up, and she doesn't seem to understand the urge to pee at all (we're getting there with poop), but it's a beautiful step in the right direction. As long as she's (hopefully) ready by three...or whenever a sibling is born in the future...then I think we'll be happy.
It seems so strange that I'm excited and a little sad at the same time. I'm happy that the road to a diaper-free life is being traveled, but I'm teary-eyed that my baby is not really a baby anymore.
Monday, January 12, 2009
How to Give Me a Heart Attack First Thing in the Morning
If you're wondering, it's leave the gate to our backyard open so that when I go to let the dogs out in the morning they have free access to the whole wide world, as far as their little paws can carry them.
Livers and I went to take the trash out this morning, and when I opened the garage door there was Molly in the driveway, looking slightly confused by all of her freedom. Lacey was nowhere to be found. I felt my heart drop to my knees and first put Molly's jail-break butt back into the yard and started frantically calling for Lacey. Luckily she hadn't ventured that far (but she DID come in the direction of a very busy road) and she happily and obediently tottered down the driveway to be promptly put back in the yard.
I'm glad this had a happy ending, but just the mere thought of what could've been makes me positively sick.
So how is your morning going???
* * * * *
P.S. Sorry for the lack of decent writing these days.... :( I'm having a serious case of writer's block/nothing of interest going on.
Livers and I went to take the trash out this morning, and when I opened the garage door there was Molly in the driveway, looking slightly confused by all of her freedom. Lacey was nowhere to be found. I felt my heart drop to my knees and first put Molly's jail-break butt back into the yard and started frantically calling for Lacey. Luckily she hadn't ventured that far (but she DID come in the direction of a very busy road) and she happily and obediently tottered down the driveway to be promptly put back in the yard.
I'm glad this had a happy ending, but just the mere thought of what could've been makes me positively sick.
So how is your morning going???
* * * * *
P.S. Sorry for the lack of decent writing these days.... :( I'm having a serious case of writer's block/nothing of interest going on.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Misty Water-Colored Memories...
Everyone has moments in their history that stick out in their mind forever. Whenever that date comes around again, they can't help but think back to that time, replaying it in their heads. One such time for me happened two years ago this night. It's not a particularly special story, but it's one that was a turning point for me.
It was a Sunday evening/night. We'd had Livers home from the hospital for two days, and we thought we had it EASY. She was eating good, sleeping good, not fussy at all. We both had been able to sleep some, and we thought we had such a handle on it that we told my mom that she didn't need to stay that night to help. We'd be able to take care of things ourselves.
Things took a turn for the worse at approximately 10:30, give or take a few minutes. Livers wasn't the best nurser to start with. She only would use a shield, and we only had two. Around this time J and I decided that we'd both pack it in early. He had his first day back to work from paternity leave, and he needed to get some sleep. I didn't know when the next feeding would come, and I wanted to be ready. We get things a little straight in the den, and as I'm heading back to the bedroom I casually ask J, "Don't forget the nipple shield."
"Umm, where is it?"
"It should be--"
But it wasn't.
Thus began the worst night ever. We tore the house up for a good thirty minutes trying to find that shield. It wasn't so much that it was lost, because we had a spare, but more so where it might be. You see, our darling dogs, particularly Lacey, had quite the penchant for eating things they shouldn't. We were really worried about them eating the nipple shield, because it was large and we were afraid that their bowels would get obstructed and they'd die. We took it so far as to call an emergency vet to get their advice. They said we could bring them in or wait it out, and we decided to take the latter, because we knew that dogs were known to eat some pretty funky stuff and be just fine.
We went to bed almost an hour later, upset and afraid that just as soon as our little baby was born one of our fur ones would be leaving us. Not so cool.
I'd finally managed to fall asleep around midnight or so, and wouldn't you know it that a mere hour (at most) later sweet little Livers was up and hungry. That's fine, I said. She's my sweetie and she's hungry. We'll be OK. She nursed happily, and when she finished I took her back to her room to rock her back to sleep. However, she had much different plans. She was absolutely wide awake and mad as a hornet. I rocked and rocked, sang and sang, walked and walked, jiggled and jiggled her seven pound butt up and down the hallway for two solid hours. The sound of her angry cries were about to drive me insane.
I finally had had enough and went to rouse J for some help, and he was not.happy.at.all. He had work the next day and needed his sleep badly, so he was in no mood to walk the floors and let me know it. He gave up after five minutes and that was that. I went back to rocking and singing and dancing and jiggling the **cute little angel** for another thirty minute and finally had some success.
Two hours and thirty minutes after she woke she finally fell back asleep at 3:30 in the morning.
* * * * *
I know this is an old story. It's just one of those things that sticks out in my mind so blazingly that I had to write it down for posterity's sake. (It doesn't help that I'm starting digital scrapbooking--I think I'm in love :)--and need to write this stuff down.)
That night was truly a turning point for me as a parent, because it let me know in a bad way how difficult the road of parenthood could truly be. It taught me to surrender myself to the job of mother and to start learning to expect--and embrace--it's curve balls, because if I didn't I'd be down on my @ss so fast it'd make my head spin. And from that point on there have been very few "I want to hit the door" moments for me that stick out in my mind. Yes, there have most CERTAINLY been difficulties, but I've been left with the knowledge that they are there for a brief moment in time, and I always remember during those hardships the phrase that "this, too, shall pass."
It was a Sunday evening/night. We'd had Livers home from the hospital for two days, and we thought we had it EASY. She was eating good, sleeping good, not fussy at all. We both had been able to sleep some, and we thought we had such a handle on it that we told my mom that she didn't need to stay that night to help. We'd be able to take care of things ourselves.
Things took a turn for the worse at approximately 10:30, give or take a few minutes. Livers wasn't the best nurser to start with. She only would use a shield, and we only had two. Around this time J and I decided that we'd both pack it in early. He had his first day back to work from paternity leave, and he needed to get some sleep. I didn't know when the next feeding would come, and I wanted to be ready. We get things a little straight in the den, and as I'm heading back to the bedroom I casually ask J, "Don't forget the nipple shield."
"Umm, where is it?"
"It should be--"
But it wasn't.
Thus began the worst night ever. We tore the house up for a good thirty minutes trying to find that shield. It wasn't so much that it was lost, because we had a spare, but more so where it might be. You see, our darling dogs, particularly Lacey, had quite the penchant for eating things they shouldn't. We were really worried about them eating the nipple shield, because it was large and we were afraid that their bowels would get obstructed and they'd die. We took it so far as to call an emergency vet to get their advice. They said we could bring them in or wait it out, and we decided to take the latter, because we knew that dogs were known to eat some pretty funky stuff and be just fine.
We went to bed almost an hour later, upset and afraid that just as soon as our little baby was born one of our fur ones would be leaving us. Not so cool.
I'd finally managed to fall asleep around midnight or so, and wouldn't you know it that a mere hour (at most) later sweet little Livers was up and hungry. That's fine, I said. She's my sweetie and she's hungry. We'll be OK. She nursed happily, and when she finished I took her back to her room to rock her back to sleep. However, she had much different plans. She was absolutely wide awake and mad as a hornet. I rocked and rocked, sang and sang, walked and walked, jiggled and jiggled her seven pound butt up and down the hallway for two solid hours. The sound of her angry cries were about to drive me insane.
Looks can be very deceiving when they are peacefully sleeping.
I finally had had enough and went to rouse J for some help, and he was not.happy.at.all. He had work the next day and needed his sleep badly, so he was in no mood to walk the floors and let me know it. He gave up after five minutes and that was that. I went back to rocking and singing and dancing and jiggling the **cute little angel** for another thirty minute and finally had some success.
Two hours and thirty minutes after she woke she finally fell back asleep at 3:30 in the morning.
* * * * *
I know this is an old story. It's just one of those things that sticks out in my mind so blazingly that I had to write it down for posterity's sake. (It doesn't help that I'm starting digital scrapbooking--I think I'm in love :)--and need to write this stuff down.)
That night was truly a turning point for me as a parent, because it let me know in a bad way how difficult the road of parenthood could truly be. It taught me to surrender myself to the job of mother and to start learning to expect--and embrace--it's curve balls, because if I didn't I'd be down on my @ss so fast it'd make my head spin. And from that point on there have been very few "I want to hit the door" moments for me that stick out in my mind. Yes, there have most CERTAINLY been difficulties, but I've been left with the knowledge that they are there for a brief moment in time, and I always remember during those hardships the phrase that "this, too, shall pass."
I Like Cake!
Who doesn't, really? Especially delicious store bought ones. Yummy in my tummy!!!....
These are from Livers' 2nd birthday party. Feel free to send truckloads of OxyClean our way.
* * * * *
Happy Wordful Wednesday!
These are from Livers' 2nd birthday party. Feel free to send truckloads of OxyClean our way.
* * * * *
Happy Wordful Wednesday!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Happy 2nd Birthday, Little Livers!
Dear Livers,
As I'm sitting here, with you snuggled cozily in your bed, I can't believe that it has really been two years since you've been born. Two years ago at this moment your Nana was intervening on my behalf for a C-section, as you were quite content to stay nestled in my womb for as long as absolutely possible. I was so tired and in pain, but all I wanted was to look down on the face of the angel I'd been dreaming about for nine months...and really, for my entire life.
I don't know if you burst on the scene quietly or with gusto, as I was knocked out with anesthesia, but you have let us know of your joyful presence ever since. You're not a fussy child (except when you're throwing a tantrum or two), but you most certainly inherited your mother's big mouth. Not that there's anything wrong with that. :) You are quite the verbal little child and you are talking in sentences just like a big girl now. You never cease to amaze me with what might come out of your mouth next, and that daily adventure is what makes the coming morning worth it every day. I love to hear your voice singing throughout the house, especially now that you are making up songs of your own. I never know what I'll hear next sung to the tune of "Jingle Bells"!
You are quite the busy little bee, just like when you were in Mommy's belly. I ache at times to feel your little pokes, prods, and rolls from inside my stomach, and it makes me sad sometimes not to be able to feel you so close, but all I have to do is look up and I'll catch you running swiftly up and down the halls, often with something you're probably not supposed to have. Those moments when you slow down, just for a bit, and run into my arms and tell me, "I love you, Mama!" make my day, and I could live a lifetime on the memory of these sweet little moments between us. I hope that as you get older that we will get closer and closer and have the kind of relationship your Nana and my Nanny had.
Every time I look at you I see your wonderful Daddy. You have his same eyes, and when you're not giggling and shouting, his same serious stare. For what you lack in my looks, though, you make up for with my inherited personality. You're not a girly girl, just like me. You loved stuffed animals, but only one bald-headed little baby doll you've named "Carla" catches your heart. You love to play with blocks, read books, pretend to clean, and move things from place to place in your own particular manner. Sesame Street has captured your heart, and you already have a love of rainbows. You love to hug on Molly and Lacey, even if they don't want to. You love to play with (and occasionally eat) crayons and to paint. You could listen to music all day long if I let you, and your passion for the Beatles (and a budding one of Coldplay) gets me very tickled. You are very loud and outgoing, just like I was as a child, and you talk up a storm.
Though it has only been two short years, I truly cannot imagine my life without you. I look forward to all of the adventures you, your Daddy, and I will be having together next year, from (hopefully) potty training to possibly moving to a big girl bed and so much more. I love you more than you'll ever know and my heart bursts with pride and love for you every second of my life.
Always your love, your comfort, and your friend,
Mama.
January 4, 2007
January 5, 2008
January 2, 2009
your actual birthday, right after you woke up this morning
As I'm sitting here, with you snuggled cozily in your bed, I can't believe that it has really been two years since you've been born. Two years ago at this moment your Nana was intervening on my behalf for a C-section, as you were quite content to stay nestled in my womb for as long as absolutely possible. I was so tired and in pain, but all I wanted was to look down on the face of the angel I'd been dreaming about for nine months...and really, for my entire life.
I don't know if you burst on the scene quietly or with gusto, as I was knocked out with anesthesia, but you have let us know of your joyful presence ever since. You're not a fussy child (except when you're throwing a tantrum or two), but you most certainly inherited your mother's big mouth. Not that there's anything wrong with that. :) You are quite the verbal little child and you are talking in sentences just like a big girl now. You never cease to amaze me with what might come out of your mouth next, and that daily adventure is what makes the coming morning worth it every day. I love to hear your voice singing throughout the house, especially now that you are making up songs of your own. I never know what I'll hear next sung to the tune of "Jingle Bells"!
You are quite the busy little bee, just like when you were in Mommy's belly. I ache at times to feel your little pokes, prods, and rolls from inside my stomach, and it makes me sad sometimes not to be able to feel you so close, but all I have to do is look up and I'll catch you running swiftly up and down the halls, often with something you're probably not supposed to have. Those moments when you slow down, just for a bit, and run into my arms and tell me, "I love you, Mama!" make my day, and I could live a lifetime on the memory of these sweet little moments between us. I hope that as you get older that we will get closer and closer and have the kind of relationship your Nana and my Nanny had.
Every time I look at you I see your wonderful Daddy. You have his same eyes, and when you're not giggling and shouting, his same serious stare. For what you lack in my looks, though, you make up for with my inherited personality. You're not a girly girl, just like me. You loved stuffed animals, but only one bald-headed little baby doll you've named "Carla" catches your heart. You love to play with blocks, read books, pretend to clean, and move things from place to place in your own particular manner. Sesame Street has captured your heart, and you already have a love of rainbows. You love to hug on Molly and Lacey, even if they don't want to. You love to play with (and occasionally eat) crayons and to paint. You could listen to music all day long if I let you, and your passion for the Beatles (and a budding one of Coldplay) gets me very tickled. You are very loud and outgoing, just like I was as a child, and you talk up a storm.
Though it has only been two short years, I truly cannot imagine my life without you. I look forward to all of the adventures you, your Daddy, and I will be having together next year, from (hopefully) potty training to possibly moving to a big girl bed and so much more. I love you more than you'll ever know and my heart bursts with pride and love for you every second of my life.
Always your love, your comfort, and your friend,
Mama.
January 4, 2007
January 5, 2008
January 2, 2009
your actual birthday, right after you woke up this morning
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Happy 2009!
I want to wish everyone a very happy 2009! I hope that everyone had a wonderful holiday season and that the upcoming year is spectacular!
It's been a very busy past week and a half. Between Christmas and New Years we've gone to/had four parties and have driven over 1100 miles to visit our Ohio family, so it's been a little hectic! I'll be returning to blogging again very soon. Until then I'll keep lurking and thinking of things to write!
Happy New Years!
It's been a very busy past week and a half. Between Christmas and New Years we've gone to/had four parties and have driven over 1100 miles to visit our Ohio family, so it's been a little hectic! I'll be returning to blogging again very soon. Until then I'll keep lurking and thinking of things to write!
Happy New Years!
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