Status Update

ball, bowl, help, hat, hand, monkey, apple, cool, bubble, cake, cupcake, sit, walk, go, mine, fall, shoe, nose, mouth, eyes, TV, eat, food, out, up, down, bath, hot, cold, mama, daddy, dude, moon, goat, panda, dog, cat, bed, water, cookie, please, yes, no, fish, head, open, poop, car, milk, pop, one, two...

Dally has over fifty words now and can identify the letters of the alphabet. His teacher thinks he's going to be a really good reader because he sounds out letters when he sees them. She's also convinced that he's brilliant - something we already knew but nobody else did because he didn't talk.

Whaddup now, bitches.

The Five-Year Protection Plan

Gas to go to the doctor's office = $20
Co-pay = $15
The possibility of not having a period for five years = priceless

Since dudes can write about their intimate experiences at strip clubs, I'm going to write about my intimate experience at the gyno's office. TMI my ass - this is a public service announcement.

A friend of mine who is also totally done with being pregnant had told me about how completely awesome the Mirena is. Mirena is an IUD. I didn't know exactly what an IUD was other than that its failure was the reason yours truly is alive today. (Shout out to my mom for being in the 1%.)

But my friend said, "It's like I don't even have periods anymore!" My ears perked up. No more periods, you say? Now that's a cause I can get behind. So I was all on board to get it.

Then my other friend got the Mirena. Concurring with the first friend, she said it was a painful insertion process. But hers was also followed by tremendous cramping that had her taking some serious muscle relaxer/vicodin/ibuprofen cocktails. She ultimately had to get it removed. Turns out, you really should think long and hard about getting it if you've never pumped out a kid - apparently that can make all the difference.

Not taking that into consideration, I chickened out. I don't like pain, and I especially don't like feminine pain (read: menstrual-type). After I had #2 I had the most painful cramps I've ever had in my life and I had no intention of revisiting that so soon again.

Then I got my period.

Goddamn, getting your period sucks. I forgot how much it sucks, having been pregnant and all. That's like the only good thing about being pregnant, that and the baby that you eventually get, but only if it's not a little butthole (as #2 is not).

So I phoned my health care provider. I asked for an appointment to get the Mirena put in and they told me there was nothing available for the next month; someone would call me back. Cool, I thought. This would give me plenty of time to change my mind. Not more than 15 minutes later, they called back and said my CNM could see me tomorrow at 1:15pm. Shit.

Fortunately, it was an otherwise busy and stressful day so I didn't spend the morning fixated on how sucky an evening I might have, how it might affect my P90X performance, and how I might be super cranky or high on painkillers that night.

I went in and unknowingly took a pregnancy test. Damn right it was negative. Then the nurse took out what looked like a tie box. It was like 20 inches long.

"This is the Mirena."

So I'm thinking to myself at this point, "Holy shit, how's that supposed to fit inside??!?!!?"

She smiled and said the CNM would be in shortly.

Now my CNM is the coolest chick ever. Aside from the fact that she rocks, she also happens to think I'm funny - which means a lot to me because John thinks I am not at all funny. And everyone thinks he's super funny. So as we're having this conversation about how I should be a stand-up comedian - her idea, not mine - she says, "That's it. It's done."

Which makes me think she scammed me. She probably doesn't even think I'm funny. She just knows me really well. (Excuse me if my idea of a good time doesn't involve latex gloves and a speculum.)

So whatever. I'm not funny; John's the funniest guy ever. But the bottom line is I've got no cramps, no spotting, no nothing! I may not have a period for five years and for that, let us rejoice.

Muffin Anyone?

The good news is that I can get into *some* of my pre-pregnancy jeans. The bad news is that it usually involves a disgusting muffin top - which, ladies, if you didn't know, really means just because they zip up, it doesn't mean they FIT you.

During the latter portion of this last pregnancy, my insomnia drove me towards several interesting infommercials. The best one? That's a toss up between the Magic Bullet and P90X. Since I already owned the Magic Bullet, I became fixated on P90X - an extreme workout regimen that lasts 90 days. It's easy to talk a big game when you look like a minke whale but have the excuse of impending childbirth to keep you from doing significant exercise. So I was talking all kinds of smack.

"2010 is the year of great weight loss."

"I'm gonna bring it."

"As God as my witness, I will never be fat again!"

Then the baby was born. I was all excited at first because the pounds seemed to be dropping like prom dresses after midnight. I was thinking, "Dang, if this keeps up, I'll be back to normal in like three weeks." I thought it was all baby weight. Overgrown uterus and shit.

So #2 will be eleven weeks old in two days. Things have slowed DRAMATICALLY. And by dramatically I think the word STAGNANT is in order. This leads me to believe that I can no longer blame this mess on the baby. Nope, this is all me now. And a thousand slices of pizza, about five hundred gallons of ice cream, and fifty pounds of Snickers bars.

For awhile I felt like shit. But then, one day, as I was shopping with my sister, it dawned on me that I don't have to be thin to feel good. I just have to buy bigger clothes. And so I did. I bought bigger jeans and bigger slacks and assorted bigger tops and accessories because those, thankfully, are One Size Fits All.

Here's where this story gets interesting. Remember when I was all pregnant and talking smack about P90X? I just started week three of P90X and the jeans are fitting a little looser.

Things are looking up.

Evolution of a Blog...

As a metaphor for one's expanding family

The URL for this blog used to be knockedupmabel.blogspot.com. Then it became thedallyfiles.blogspot.com. Now, we rest at ialmostfailed.blogspot.com. In case you're new to this rag and you don't want to read the very first post ever, it's based on an episode in my life when I almost failed Human Reproduction - rumored to be the EASIEST class in the NYU catalog. (Gross fallacy.) I have no idea how I passed.

Luckily, I did not fail at actual human reproduction as I managed to squeeze out two unapologetically dashing little monsters. This journey into motherhood has so far yielded a crapload of harsh opinions, strange observations, and plain old smack-talking.

So if you're new, welcome. If you're old, I promise to update this thing more frequently. Maybe.

In a Nutshell

So let's catch up. Since the last publication, I popped out #2. The delivery was fine. I pushed for six minutes. There were about ten hours between when I got to the hospital and when they actually handed me my baby. I was mostly bored and hungry during that period. When they handed him to me, he was peeing AT ME. But the good news is that I was back home 25 hours later.

The dude's name is Braulio and since he's now in the picture, this blog won't be called the Dally Files for very much longer, lest we give #2 a complex.

Since we have this habit of referring to each child as THE DUDE, I now feel it necessary to refer to them as #1 and #2. (Hopefully THAT won't give them a complex.) I know I can refer to them by their actual name but I have had difficulty calling people by their proper names ever since high school when I thought it would be funny to call this one kid Emerson Peabody (real name: Mark). It's been downhill ever since. My sister suffers from this handicap as well.

Everything has been pretty smooth so far. #1 took well to #2. No jealousy or otherwise a-hole behavior. #1 remains super awesome. He is a mexcellent role model for #2. #2 ain't too shabby either. I can already tell he will be brilliant. He's got a good look about him. His birthday is the day of the enthusiastic overachiever. Great things will come. For both #1 and #2.

No more weekend nanny. It just didn't work out.

I have to lose about 35 pounds and have reverted to drinking Diet Coke - neither of which I am too happy about.

But I am happy that I will never be pregnant ever again.

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.