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.

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!