The End is Near (Thank God)

I just saw myself in the mirror. REALLY saw myself. Holy shit. No wonder people pretty much daily ask if I'm carrying twins.

Could I possibly be carrying a 10+ pound baby? What the hell happened to me? Why do I look like an alien?

At my last doctor's appointment, she was even parading me around the office like a freak sideshow attraction, pointing to my stomach and saying, "Look at that!"

I'm thinking to myself, in two weeks or so things will be back to normal. I'll be able to fit into t-shirts and normal-size pants. The reality is it'll be awhile but at least I'll be able to fit in my "normal" maternity clothes - the maternity clothes that got me through the 9 months with Dally but stopped short at 6 months with Juan Pancho.

I just ate a really big burrito and now I feel sick.

Fall On Me (The Future Version)

I was looking up pumpkin pie recipes this morning. I can't wait until we get to that point where I have to make cupcakes and other assorted baked goods for the little dudes. I love this time of year and it's going to be THAT much better when the little hooligans are in school and they have all the classroom parties and holiday shows. I'm going to join the PTA just so I can hijack the Winter Show. Under my command, we'll rival Radio City.

I got big plans for the next 10 years.

Fall On Me

We're getting into the spirit of the fall. I think it's because we found the summer heat really aggravating. Today, we took Dally to a pumpkin patch and it was totally awesome - until Dally wanted to play on the ridiculously unsafe old tractor and John removed him from the insidious vehicle. During this endeavor, John received a solid size 6 Vans to the face. I saw it. I heard it. Sounded painful.

This morning, John suggested we dress Dally as Max from Where the Wild Things Are for Halloween. We already have a costume for Dally. He was going to be a giraffe. I was going to be Mother of Giraffe. But, suckered into the hipster hype of the upcoming movie, I now want to dress Dally as Max. And I'd be the Mother of Max who sends him to his room without dinner (not unlike Dally's real life).

John researched where we could get a Max costume and just found patterns and how-to instructions. Given last year's fiasco with the Yoda ears, this is not something I am remotely considering.

I went on eBay and saw costumes anywere from $70 to $250. I did find a pajama sleeper for $50. But A) Maybe there will be no Halloween this year (maybe I'll go into labor and deliver a pumpkin) and, more to the point, B) I'm a freakin cheapskate. I want the $15 version of Max, so it looks like I'll be Mother of Giraffe afterall.

Night Glee

I woke up at 2am today and decided to do some work. In the midddle of my efforts, it seems that the company servers went down so I decided to research a toddler behavior that has been causing me to scratch my head at 3am at least once a week.

My office is right next to Dally's room and I just heard him wake up. This isn't an isolated incident - like I said. It probably happens once a week. He'll wake up around 3am and start laughing and chatting. Sometimes he'll jump on the bed or do sprints back and forth. (One of the many joys of a big boy bed is a longer track.)

I googled "Toddler wakes up laughing" and I got all these hits for night terrors, so I started looking into night terrors. This is my recommendation for new moms: look this up because when you wake up one night to the terrifying screams of your little beloved you'll know what the hell is going on when they don't seem to recognize you or cannot be soothed. Apparently, it's some weird-ass dream state akin to sleep walking, but clearly a lot freakier.

Seriously, LOOK THIS UP.

The general (Internet) consensus is that you should make sure the little dude can't hurt himself but don't try to talk to him or comfort him. At best, he won't recognize you and at worst, you'll scare him even more. These episodes can last from a few minutes to a half hour or more.

Dally has definitely experienced this. When I'd rush in to rescue him, he was like a zombie and nothing I did would make him feel better until he was totally awake and I was exhausted. Fortunately, that hasn't happened in a while and now I know to just let him work it out on his own.

I couldn't find anything about laughing. I think he's currently in a phase enjoying the opposite of night terrors - night glee.

Research period is over and servers are still down. I'm going to bed now.

AKA Juan Pancho

Juan Pancho, who will be referred to as such for the remainder of this pregancy, and probably the rest of his life, will now have a proper name! And the way we got the name is kind of weird and hopefully it won't jinx anything but it was inspired from an episode of one of my favorite parenting shows (as in how NOT to parent) Intervention. Remind me to tell you this story once we've gone public with the name, which, as with the spawn before him, won't be until he makes it out of the tunnel and into this gritty, messy, thankless world.

Yippee! We have a name!

Pregnancy Breeds Forgetfulness

Not that this is news to anyone who has ever been pregnant.

I just realized that I don't really remember much about having babies and it's kind of sending me in a panic mode, along with the fact that Juan Pancho still does not have a proper name and that Dally will be moving to a big boy bed this week (more on that later).

So I have to whip out all the books I read before Dally was born ("all the books" - like it was that many. I believe I read two and a half). Gotta read Babywise to remember how to train Juan Pancho to sleep through the night in a reasonable amount of time. Gotta read Hypnobirthing to remember how to relax and push and "enjoy the experience." The .5 book is What to Expect When You're Expecting. This is more of a reference manual that I look to when I have gastrointestinal issues. It's got a very nice section on home remedies.

This may be a bit premature but one thing I do know is that my birthing plan this time around will once again include back-to-back screenings of The Karate Kid - best movie ever.

Weekend Nanny Anxiety

It's the eve before the 6-hour trial of our potential weekend nanny.

Since I'm really good at delegating responsibility, I've decided to delegate the responsibility of being the boss of the house to Weekday Nanny. Whatever she says goes. Ultimately, she's the pillar of this household anyway.

The problem with having a really really good nanny is that alternate nannies are at a disadvantage before they even begin. I already am looking for reasons to not hire her, even though I don't really know her. But I'm having difficulty imagining Dally having as much fun with her. What if she doesn't blow bubbles or play monster arm eater or take him to the park?

Do I REALLY need a weekend nanny? Here's why it seems like a good idea on paper. Weekend Nanny would come on Friday afternoon and stay over until Sunday. That means John and I could go to a movie. At night.

Here's why it's a sucky idea in reality. She doesn't drive, which means I'd have to get my lazy butt off the couch on a Friday afternoon to go get her. Plus what if she's not fun or doesn't get my sense of humor or the quirky way in which we run our household. Weekday Nanny gets all of that. And she has a car.

Then there are the usual safety issues. CPR, 911, what to do in the event that a giant tarantula breaches the security of our GO AWAY doormat. Does she know not to EVER open the door for anyone? Does she cook and if so, is it gross? Dally's been hitting lately. Will she hit back? There's SO MUCH to stress about.

I'm picking her up at the Jack in the Box in 8 hours. Stay tuned for the post mortem...