Phew!

So I had my nuchal screening ultrasound today and I have to say, even for my cranky self, I found myself almost teary at how cute my little bundle is.  It looked great and it looked like a little baby.  It had all its fingers and toes and was wiggling around and looking cute.  We got some great shots of the profile and its hands and feet.  We did try and get a crotch shot, but it wasn't very cooperative and there really didn't seem to be much at this point to see.  Here is a picture...

The technician was really nice and she tried to get all angles for us.  She showed us the two different parts of the brain and pointed out almost everything she was measuring.  Apparently the little bundle is measuring right on for its age and it all looked good.  They pricked my finger and took some blood and will give me the actual number/odds of downs and trisonomy 13 and 18 in about a week.  But the doctor did come in at the end and told us that they like to see the fluid behind the neck measure less than 2.5mm and my baby measured 1.9mm, so I will take that as a good sign.  They gave me a DVD of the whole ultrasound which I plan on watching regularly...  It was a good day.  I will leave you with another shot of the little cutie.

Politics

So I almost made it completely through the election without posting anything political. I tried. I really did. Those of you who know me know that I am not someone who usually gets up on my soapbox and tries to convince people to support my beliefs and my politics. I follow the "live and let live" policy. Although you may believe something completely different than I do, I respect your right to that belief. I will not try and convince you that my belief is somehow better and you should change your moral system or politics to mirror mine. That being said, I expect the same in return. I want respect and freedom to live my life the way I choose. I want to be able to raise my family in the manner with which I decide to raise them. And I want to do that without discrimination. I want my children to have the same rights as yours. And I want my children growing up to know that their Mommy is as good as their friends' Mommy's. I don't think that is too much to ask. Live and let live.


Well Prop 8 here in California is making me break my silence on all things politics. This weekend I drove around my town here and was FLOORED by the amount of "Yes on 8" people standing on the street corners and waving their yellow signs. Now I should probably preface this by saying that I am pregnant and at the time was pretty hungry so therefore I could have been a little more on edge than usual...BUT! I was seriously enraged. These people standing their with their signs saying, "Protect our children; protect our families" made me sick. A couple of the women had babies strapped to them in a baby bjorn for full effect. I honestly wanted to stop my car in the middle of the road, roll down my window so that they could see MY precious son in the backseat and ask how my having the same rights as them somehow hurt THEIR children. As if by discriminating against me they are somehow protecting their precious children from my evil ways? How is that? Seriously? I don't understand it. Here is a picture of my beautiful child...


And I would like it noted that in this picture he is laying in the closet of my bedroom. He is doing what a lot of almost three year olds do, and that is playing pretend. He is pretending it is nap time and he thought that my closet was a great place for that to happen. I put this picture here as an illustration. The irony of my child playing "in the closet" is that he is just like all other three year olds. And the fact that his Mommy and his Mom are gay? Well I don't think that makes him any different from any of those other children that were strapped to those "Yes on 8" people this weekend. Yet maybe they would like me to leave him in the closet. Or better yet, maybe I should climb in there with him and never get out. Because somehow my exposing him to my life is ruining the fabric of their marriages and families.
Like I said, normally I don't get all up in arms about politics. People have a right to believe in what they choose. That is what makes this country great. I honestly believe that. But I just can't wrap my head around this one. I have tried to see the "other" point of view and I can't understand it. By far the biggest "argument" that is going on in the televised ads is that if prop 8 does NOT pass then the teachers will have to teach about gay marriage in schools. First of all that is a complete LIE. However, let's suppose for a minute that it was true. Good lord the HORROR! Is it so sinister to say in classes that families are made up of all different types? Granted the "ideal" is to have a Mother and a Father living in the house with the 2.3 children. However is that always the case? What about the situations where a child is raised by Mommy and Grandma? Or a single Daddy? Or just a single Mommy? Or (GASP!!) in a household with two Mommies and/or two Daddies? Families are made up of all sorts of people these days. It is my strong belief that as long as whoever is raising those children are raising them with love and compassion and honesty then they will be just fine.


And please, for the love of God, please explain to me the argument that my having the same rights as others somehow devalues your heterosexual marriage. Really. I don't get it. If my having the same rights as you somehow makes your marriage of less value, then really, there was something wrong with your marriage in the first place. Are you afraid that you will have to see more "gay" public displays of affection? Is that it? Because let me tell you something. I am no more likely to make out with my partner in public if you somehow grant me these rights than I am if you don't. In fact, right now, if I had a partner, I might just march up to all those houses with the "Yes on 8" signs in their lawn and wait for you to come outside and just start making out just because!


This is a case of simple discrimination. It wasn't too long ago that people of color weren't allowed to marry "white" people. Same same same. Doesn't that seem ridiculous now? This is the exact same thing. It is discrimination plain and simple. It is telling me and telling my son that somehow "we" aren't as good as "you." I am a good person. I pay my taxes, I work hard, I own my home and I live my life with honesty and integrity. I teach my son about compassion and about truths and I have to teach him that there are people out there who don't like Mommy simply because of who she falls in love with. And I have to tell him that even though his Mommy and his Mom were very much in love when he was made, we weren't allowed to get married. Our relationship will never be what his friends' parents relationship is or was. And I will have to answer the "why Mommy?" question. The good people of the California Supreme Court finally decided that this was discrimination. And that is exactly what it is. So get off my street corners and stop trying to tell me that I am somehow ruining the sanctity of your marriage and your families because really? You are ruining mine.

His World? All Better!

Those who know me in real life probably know that my mom was out of town for 10 long days recently. They most likely know this because they heard the crying of "Mommy!! I miss my Mommy..." coming from my house.

Man, that was tough. Not only was it tough on me, but it was tough on The Boy as well. I guess I had taken for granted how ingrained into his routine he was. But every single day that I tried to pick him up from school (my Mom usually gets him from school), I was met with a boy that screamed "NO MOMMY!" at me and then proceeded to run over to the corner, put his shirt over his head and cry. I thought this might get better over the time she was gone, but NOPE! Every. Single. Time. Never varied once. He then took this one step further by continuing said sadness once we finally arrived at home. Again, my Mom picks him up from school and brings him back to my house on a daily basis. She usually stays with us/him until dinner time during which time she gives him a bath, sits in his crib with him and reads books, and/or basically does whatever his little heart desires. (I know...how rad is my Mom?) So once I would finally get him convinced to come home with me, which was NOT easy, he would arrive at home and go and sit in a corner. Poor little dude. It wasn't as if he was acting out, or as if he was being difficult, but he was so clearly upset that his Gigi wasn't around that he would just retreat. He wouldn't want a snack, didn't want me (or anyone for that matter...several tried) to touch him or comfort him. He wanted to sit in the corner and pout. Right around dinner time (and coincidentally the time my Mom usually leaves), he would become a human being again. So sad.

My Mom went on a 10 day cruise to Mexico. Damn her for taking a vacation. I kid, I kid, I am very happy my mom was able to take some time off. Not only from her life, but from MY life as well. She is such a help to me and I pictured her sitting on the deck, with nothing to do but read a book and smiled at how much she deserved it. And then I cried a little for myself.

But now his Gigi is back. And my smiling child, full of happiness at the end of his days has returned. Yesterday his Gigi even kept him home from school because she missed him so much. What? Did you think it was one sided? :) They stayed at her house all day long and he could not have been happier. I missed my cute little happy dude. Man, I know my mom needed and deserved that vacation, but can we not do that again for a very long time? Please?

Always a surprise...

So I had my OB appointment yesterday to deal with my...umm...other issues. We will skip right over that because they are NASTY but she said she could do my 12 week appointment then so I could cancel today's appointment. Since we weren't in an ultrasound room I asked her if I was getting a nuchal screening test, and didn't that need an ultrasound? I was told that they contract those tests out to another OB place and that I should have been contacted to make an appointment. Yeah, I haven't been. So she promised me she would fax over the paperwork and they would contact me soon to schedule that appointment. I know the test needs to be done between 12 weeks and 13 weeks, 6 days so there isn't ALL that much time, but whatever.

So since she told me there wouldn't be an ultrasound (how bad does that suck? All pregnant women love the ultrasounds) she would just be checking for the heart beat on the doppler. So she went to town and searched...and searched...and searched some more. I don't think it is necessary to insert that I was getting a little more and more panicky as time ticked by... After 20 minutes she wasn't able to find the heart beat so we ended up going to the next room for an ultrasound after all. The little "cutie" (as she called it...I really need to come up with a nick name for this little one soon...) popped right up on the screen. It wasn't moving but she said it was fine, it was probably resting. I saw the heart beat going and she said it looked great. That was it. No measuring, no nothing. I was able to see two arms, two legs and a spine so I guess that's a good thing. But I can't say as though I left there with any warm fuzzies that my little one is perfect. Although I am sure if she saw anything funky she would have said something. And since I wasn't supposed to have an ultrasound at all, she couldn't spend all sorts of time doing measuring things and giving me that extra love that I was looking for.

On my way home later in the evening I did get a call from the OB office to schedule my nuchal screening test. It is scheduled for Wednesday the 29th of October. I will be 13 weeks, 1 day at that point. So hopefully after that test I will get the reassurance that all is well in baby land. Plus, I have been told that sometimes during that test you can try and get a little sneak peak at the sex of the baby. I am going to try for that but not hold my breath. As cheesy as it sounds, I just want the little bugger to be healthy. :)

Pregnancy Update

You may be wondering why I haven't done more of these updates so far in my pregnancy. Truth be told, this has been a really rough pregnancy so far. I tend to want to put happy, shiny, flowery posts on my blog, and my pregnancy hasn't really given me much content where that has been concerned. I guess some of it is that I don't want to seem ungrateful that I was able to get pregnant so easily this time around, or that I am taking a (seemingly) healthy pregnancy for granted. That is not the case. But what has been the case is that this has been tough. It has been tough for a lot of reasons. One reason: the sickness. It is so hard (at least for me) to look past feeling like I am going to die most of the day to realize the beauty of what that really means (hopefully a healthy baby with healthy hormones trying to kill me). Plus, when I started this process I was pretty gung ho about "going it alone" and being able to be a single mom to this second child. My pregnancy has challenged that. Don't get me wrong, I still think I can handle this and I know that I will bring this child into the world with more love than it knows what to do with, but I think I have realized that pregnancy is not meant to be handled alone. There is a reason why people usually do this in some sort of couple. It is even harder to do alone when you are raising an almost three year old at the same time. There have been times over the last couple of months when I would have literally given my left leg to have someone else be there. Someone else to just please make The Boy a bath and fix him some dinner because, dear God, I just need to lay down for a few minutes!!! But this doesn't happen. There isn't someone else there. I have to get up and take care of that beautiful little dude and also somehow make it through the night. Most nights, once I get him in bed at 8:00, I am following shortly after to my own bed by about 8:15.

So like I said, I haven't posted much because it hasn't all been rosy. Tomorrow I hit the 12 week mark. Hopefully that means that I am nearing the end of the evil first trimester and all that goes with it. With The Boy I was sick through about week 14, so hopefully we are nearing the end. Other than that, I have an appointment with my OB tomorrow and I believe I get an ultrasound. I think it is the nuchal screening where they measure the space behind the back of the neck to test for abnormalities. So once that is done I will post to let you know if the baby is doing well and growing well etc...

I had a really tough weekend...like one of my toughest yet. It is embarrassing and humiliating to talk about here so I won't really get into it. But let's just say that sometimes one of the side effects of pregnancy has to do with the butt area. And let's just say that I have perhaps had a history with that arena and problems that go along with it. Well things got screwed up this weekend and it resulted in, seriously, the most pain I think I have ever felt in my entire life. When I was in the hospital having The Boy (c-section) they kept asking me to rate my pain on a scale of 1 to 10. I don't think I ever went above a 6. If someone had been asking me to rate things this weekend, at certain points, I would have give it a 9. I almost passed out from the pain. Horrific, terrible and all the other horrendous words that I can think of. Even this morning, I can literally barely walk. I finally called the doctor (I had been trying to hold out for my appointment tomorrow to talk to them about these issues) and burst into tears and was immediately told that I needed to be seen today. So I cancelled my afternoon client and have an appointment this afternoon at 2:20pm.

Like I said, unfortunately this pregnancy hasn't been all flowers and roses. Thanks for listening.

My Little Pumpkin

So here is The Boy after we arrived at the first Pumpkin Patch.  It was insanely crowded.  I mean like there were literally like thousands of people there.  Crazy.  And they only had a little area of pumpkins.  Most of the place was filled with hay rides, pony rides, face painting, a haunted house...that kind of thing.  My boy doesn't care about any of those things, and seriously, you could barely even walk around there were so many people, so we headed out to lunch and then braved another Pumpkin Patch after lunch.  Lo and behold, at the second pumpkin patch there was...
A TRACTOR!!!  Can you even believe his good fortune?  He was so excited he might die.  So we have a couple of pictures of him standing next to it.  All the other kids (we went with The Boy's cousins) went running directly to the pumpkins.  But not him.  No way, no how.  We had to check this thing out!  As in, we had to walk around all sides, touch certain parts, talk about the tires and the fork lift...we spent a good deal of time with this here tractor.  But he loved it.  Look at the look on his little face.  So damn sweet.  After that, we headed out to the pumpkins to find the perfect one...
He had a great time here as well.  He ran around for a good hour.  He pointed them out and when I asked him if he wanted to pick a particular one, his standard answer was, "No tank you.  Too big.  Too heavy."  Eventually he found little ones and when I asked him if he wanted to pick one of those he laughed at me and told me, "No Mommy!  Too little."  And we don't even read about the three bears.

I needed a day like this to see pure joy in my little boy's face.  He had such a good time and was such a good boy all day long.  Made my heart smile.  It is always a good thing to remind the heart how to smile again.  My little pumpkin!

Who Knew?

Lately we have been having a HELL of a time getting out of the house in the morning. For that matter we have been having trouble making The Boy do ANYTHING that doesn't suit his fancy at that particular moment. It could be putting on jammies, or eating dinner, or brushing teeth. Basically anything that interferes with his playing had become a battle lately. But by far the worst one was getting out of the house in the morning. Like many other people out there, I work. So whether we like it or not, there is a time schedule in the morning. We HAVE to leave by a certain time for me to get The Boy to school and make it to work on time. Plus, three days a week we have either speech therapy or his gym class first thing in the morning so we have to be there at a designated time. My point being that we HAVE to go. Just that simple.


So what was happening lately was something along these lines. About 15 minutes before we needed to leave I told The Boy it was almost time to go and put on his shoes and jacket or sweatshirt. He would scream at me, "NO! I paying! Five minutes!" and would argue and struggle while I forced him to sit down to put on his shoes and sweatshirt. I would calmly explain that it was almost time and he needed to start thinking about what toy he wanted to take in the car. That was usually answered by a similar, "NO! I paying. Go away!" (Charming, isn't he?) So I would then go about finishing getting my lunch packed up and closing up the house etc. About 5 minutes before we had to leave I would stick my head into his playroom again and tell him that it was time to go. I would turn off the TV to illustrate my point and instruct him that now was the time to pick out his toy for the car. I would tell him that I was going to load the car up and when I got back we were leaving. He usually ignored this and most often got inside his little red car to drive (mostly because he knows I have a hard time pulling him out of that thing). I would say to him, "If you don't pick out a toy now, you don't get to bring one in the car" and then head out to load the car. When I came back in he would undoubtedly be sitting in that damn car not having moved an inch. So at that point (when we are literally supposed to be walking out the door by time standards), I would pull him out of the car and start to drag him to the front door. He would then yell, "NO! I pick a toy, I pick a toy!" You should have done that when I told you to five minutes ago. Some days I would tell him that and make him get into the car without a toy. But really, that doesn't help me at all. Then the entire car ride is MISERABLE. So other times I would then say, "Fine. Go pick one NOW. We are late. We have to go!" So he would saunter over to his toy box and think about it while I am standing there saying, "Fire engine?" "NO!" "Buzz lightyear?" "NO!" You get the point... By the time he picked one we were already late. Then we would head out the door and, since we are late at this point already, I would pick him up and put him into his car seat. MAJOR tantrum ensues. "I DO IT!" "MY TURN!" He would arch his back and kick his feet and basically get himself out of the car seat and onto the floor so he could climb into the seat himself (which takes a couple of minutes). Once buckled into the seat and one the road, and at least 10 minutes late, he would be pissed and kicking the back of my seat and/or crying and I would be in the front of the car wondering how this happened AGAIN and what it is that I need to do to avoid starting off everyday like this. And most days, almost in tears myself.


Now let me say that I know he is doing exactly what he is supposed to be doing. He is two. He is learning that sometimes he gets to make choices based on what he wants and what he doesn't want. And he doesn't yet get the concept that there are times when he HAS to do things that he doesn't want to do. It is my job as a parent to teach him this in a calm and loving way. The above explanation doesn't seem so calm and loving, does it? I had read that it helped to give them warnings rather than just pop in and tell him time to go, so I tried that. I had read that it helped to make him feel like he "won" some of the battles so that is why I would allow him to take a toy. I was trying. Albeit unsuccessfully, but I was doing my best.


Who knew that a simple kitchen timer could save my life? On a whim, I had my mom pick one up at the local grocery store. The Boy loves clocks and knows his numbers so I thought maybe this would help. Plus, lately he has been saying, "Five more minutes" whenever we tell him it's time to do something. So my mom and I thought that maybe if we actually set a timer to "5 more minutes," it would help him understand the concept. It was worth a try.


Best $13 she ever spent. Seriously. I tried it first at night. "[Boy], see this? See these numbers? Hear it ticking? See how the red arrow is pointing at the number 5? When it gets to the number zero it is going to buzz like a bell. When it does that, it is time for us to go and put jammies on." He took it in his hands and pointed to it and talked about the number 5 and getting down to zero. He liked it. It was fancy. A new toy. So while he played, every 30 seconds or so he would come back over to the timer and look at it and tell me that it was almost to zero, or that he had 5 minutes left. And after 5 minutes, the bells rang. He heard it and ran over to it. "BELLS Mommy! Bells go off!" "Yup," I said, "What does that mean?" And I swear to you he said, "JAMMIES!" and ran off in the direction of his bedroom. Holy shit. "Did you just see that?" I asked to my empty living room.


About an hour later I tried it again for bedtime. It worked the same way. No f-ing way! I couldn't believe it. But the true test came the next morning. About 10 minutes before we were supposed to leave I turned the timer on and told him to watch it and that when it went off it meant it was time to go to speech. I was actually loading my car when the bells went off but when I got back in the house, there he was. "Mommy! Bells! Time to go!" He stood there with toy in hand for the car ready to walk out the door.


That was 4 mornings ago. It has worked like that every morning since. In fact one of the mornings I wasn't completely ready to walk out when the timer went off and he was like, "Moommmyyy!!! Time to goooo!" Our mornings are lovely again. He sings happily in the car and plays with his toy, we haven't been late to anything all week long, and most importantly, I am not in tears before 9:00am. Who knew?!?!

Wordless Wednesday

This is what happens when you schedule a haircut in the middle of The Boy's nap time.  He falls asleep while waiting for his turn and then continues to sleep in the chair while he gets his hair cut.  (Pic taken with my iphone).

Going for the Title

Worst Mom in the world...that's the title I'm talking about.  So it was a little after 6:00pm and I was getting The Boy's dinner ready when I had a little 'bout of "morning" sickness.  I excused myself to the bathroom for a few moments.  While I was in the potty, The Boy came in and showed me that he had found a pretzel that he was snacking on.  I laughed at the concept that my poor boy was so hungry that he had to scrounge somewhere like under his train table to find one sad little pretzel amongst the cat hair and dust balls.  I finished up in the potty and headed back out to the kitchen to finish his dinner so that he didn't have to eat such a sad excuse for nourishment.  When I went out to the living room to put his dinner on the table I found him sitting in the middle of the floor.  He was watching a show on my iphone (not sure where he found that but he knows how to turn it on and get to one of his shows by himself), sitting cross legged with a full bag of pretzels next to him.  He looked up at me and said, "Yook Mommy!  Dinner!"  The poor boy had gone into the snack cupboard by himself, selected a bag of pretzels, managed to get the "chip clip" off the bag, and sat himself down for a snack and a TV show.  It was as if he was saying, "Don't worry about me Mommy!  I can handle dinner myself."  Worst mother in the world.  That's all.

As Promised...

Here is The Boy in one of his new fire fighter costumes for Halloween.  I will confess...I saw a very authentic looking costume at a fancy toy store that didn't have his size.  Of course I came home and looked it up on the internet and found it for him in his size.  I paid a ridiculous amount of money for it and immediately felt like an asshole when I saw how cute he looks in this (free) costume.  But a little boy can never have too many fire fighter uniforms, can he?

PS--I also have a picture of him NAKED in only his fire boots, but I didn't feel that was appropriate for the internet.  Trust me...ADORABLE!!!

The Monday Blues

No, I am not talking about myself today. I am talking about The Boy. Does anyone else out there have a problem when dropping off their kids at daycare/school on Monday mornings? I mean it is totally understandable. I have The Boy with me all day Friday, Saturday and Sunday, so it is no surprise that he isn't exactly thrilled to be dropped off at school on Monday morning. But man, it's a tough way to start a week.

The Boy and I had a wonderful weekend. He was well behaved so we didn't have any discipline issues and he was happy and great all weekend long. Last night his Grammie and Gramps came over and brought him a fire fighter suit to wear for Halloween (my sister is loaning it to me) and he couldn't have been happier if you bought him a car. I have a picture of him playing in it, but I am not at home so I will upload later. I believe I have talked about this but The Boy's new obsession is fire fighters. Specifically Fireman Sam, but really anything to do with fire trucks to fire fighting in general will work. He wore his boots ALL night and cried when I wouldn't let him wear them to bed. First thing this morning he put those boots right back on and wore them until I made him get dressed for school. It is supposed to be almost 80 degrees today so no boots allowed at school. That was the start of his meltdown. He had to get dressed. I know, I am SUCH a mean Mommy. Then I made him get out of his car to get in my car to go to school. Again, horrific Mommy. Then while getting in said car, he threw a fit because he wanted to do it! "It" being getting into his car seat himself. Of course I have an SUV so he can't really do it without some help. Finally we got into the seat and headed to school. He was okay about 5 minutes into the drive when he started singing his music and pointing out all the garbage trucks and school buses he saw on the way.

Once we get to school though, it was a different story. He cried when I tried to undo his buckles on his car seat. He refused to walk and wanted me to hold him. Also there are 3 different teachers at his school. On Monday mornings his least favorite teacher is the only one there. This doesn't help. She is a lovely lady and a very good teacher, but she's just not very nurturing. And The Boy clearly doesn't like her as much as he liked the other two ladies. So that always starts things off rough. He literally clings to my legs and asks me like five times to give him "big hugs" and then attaches himself to my neck. Also, he is one of the first kids there in the mornings on Mondays so there usually aren't other kids there to distract him. So I end up walking out with the last vision of my boy crying and holding his arms out to me yelling, "Moooommmmyyyy!!!" and as I walk down the driveway to my car I can hear him crying and yelling for me. SO sad. Such a tough way to start the week. I know for a fact that he is fine within 10 minutes of me leaving, but man, it's a tough way to start out the week. Does this happen to anyone else?

A Glimpse Into the Future

Most of the time when I am looking at The Boy, I can only see the little boy he is now.  Sometimes I have a shot when I can see him as he was as a baby, or when he was smaller.  But very rarely do I see a shot of him that looks like the little boy that he will become.  I am not sure why, but when I look at the picture above, I see a little grade schooler, and if I squint my eyes, I can see the teenager and eventually the man that he will become.  Some pictures just have that effect on me I guess.  When I have been down lately, I just need to look into the eyes of this little boy and remember who I am and what my purpose here is.  Sometimes I need that.