Amnesia, anyone?

Here is a more lighthearted post than the last one. I didn't mean to bum everyone out, and I really appreciate the outpouring of support. You guys make my life a happy place to be. Now, onward!

The last time I was pregnant I vaguely remember swearing that under no circumstances would I ever get pregnant again. As two years ticked by, all of the discomfort and (let's be honest) agony of pregnancy were slowly erased by the trials, tribulations, and joys of parenting. And now that I have made it through the first 11 weeks I am here to report to you things that ought not to have been forgotten:

unbelievably sore breasts As in, don't breathe too close to me because I find the air currents you are creating to be nearly unbearable in their force. And then take that level of sensitivity and pair it with a two year old who really enjoys employing a full body tackle whenever he can slide one in.
the gas And I'm not sure how I forgot this one, but I did. Everything gives you gas. And not just mild intestinal discomfort (no, no that would be too easy), but you fart like a middle aged man after nacho-and-beer night. I have discovered that Adrian thinks farts are at the height of humor, making me a one-woman comedy show. And when you happen to pass one in public, you get horrified looks from passers-by because they don't know that you're pregnant. They just think that you need to lay off the beans and learn some manners....mmmm...I could go for a taco bell bean burrito about now.
the cravings Sandwiches. And more sandwiches. I feel like I could live off of sandwiches. I go though a one pound loaf of sandwich bread in about 6 days. And it's always the same sandwich: miracle whip, meat, lettuce, tomato, cheese, mustard. Also, I've really taken a shining to grits. Made with milk (not water) with a little cheese swirled in. Although if you're really looking to get in good with me, pick me up a veggie roll from your nearest sushi stand.
the nausea And I've talked about it with people, so I know that I had it with Adrian--all day every day for four months-- but it still managed to come a a surprise when I woke up one afternoon and said: ugh. the idea of food makes me want to puke. This time around I only suffer nausea in the evenings, which isn't so bad except that it squishes any desire I have to actually cook dinner.
the irritability I don't think I'm as bad as I was last time but Aaron says that it's just because I have more people to be cranky at. Which I don't think is true, because Iwas pretty damn cranky at Jim last time. It's just--do what I ask you to do THE FIRST TIME. That's all I want. Adrian can't seem to comply because he has the attention span of a gnat. Aaron can't seem to comply because half the time he "can't hear me" (call me Mumbles!) and the other half the time he has the attention span of a gnat. A word of advice: don't criticize a pregnant lady. It doesn't matter if she was in the wrong. It's not going to end pretty.

Irritable? Me? No!
Okay, more often than not, but I try to keep a lid on it. I'm surging with hormones, people. There's only so much I can deal with on a daily basis.

Distracted

I was going to be funny and witty, but I am distracted because my little brother is really sick--like in the hospital really sick and I hate that I'm so far away and pretty much useless. Since I haven't talked to him I'm going to assume that he'd want me to keep the details of his illness off of the internet so I'll leave you with this thought:
Illness sucks. It's arbitrary and unfair and it sucks. And while I am aware that this world wasn't designed with fairness as it's main objective, it just seems wrong that good people can get sick and people who really deserve a kick in the ass can walk around healthy-as-you-please until their timely demise.
So that's what's got my knickers in a twist these days.

5 things about Me.

As per Sarah's request, here are 5 things that the readership general may not know about me.

1. I am a Francophile. I love nearly all things French. I love French food--although it would have to be a frosty day in Hades before you'd catch me eating tete de veau. I have studied the French language off and on since I was 7...and I speak it like an eight year old with a mild stutter. I have been to Paris only once, but rank it among my top 5 favorite places. My favorite book? Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik.

2. I enjoy bad jokes. Not bad as in in poor taste, bad as in: What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhino? Elephino! (pronunciaton guide: Hell if I know!) The worse they are, the more they amuse me.

3. My dream is to travel to India, preferably on one of those Smithsonian journeys. Of course they cost around $6,000 USD, so it'll be a while before I've saved enough to do it. But one day!

4. If I won the lottery, I'd use the winnings to set up an arts center for underpriviledged kids. Art is one of the things that has been a mainstay in my life and a key element to coping with some really awful events. I believe in the theraputic effects of art and I think that every child should have the opportunity to express themselves, regardless of how much their school board budgets towards the art program.

5. I'm pregnant. And due in June. Surprise!

so, this is what 2 is like...

Terrible, indeed.

Example one:
Adrian: Dada, A.D. needs crackers.

Aaron: it's too close to dinner.

Adrian: Dadaaaa, A.D. neeeeds tasty wheat thins!

Aaron: no.

Adrian: (bangs head on floor)

Example two:
Adrian: Mama, go outside.

Me: Not right now.

Adrian: Go! Outside!

Me: It's 6:30 in the morning. How about we eat breakfast and wait for the sun to come up?

Adrian: GO! OUTSIDE!

Me: No.

Adrian: (bangs head on floor)


delightful.

Adrian's anatomy

Toddlers are supremely curious about the world around them and their place in it; Adrian has started to notice that there are in fact two genders*.
He explained it to me thusly:

Dada has penis.
Mama has sunglasses.

Your guess is as good as mine on that one, as I wear my sunglasses on my face like everybody else.

* Well, mostly two genders. We don't happen to hang out with Adrian in places where a third gender is readily presentable as a lifestyle option.

Halloween and the morning after

I made the executive decision not to take Adrian out trick-or-treating, as most of the stuff he would receive he wouldn't be able to eat (choking hazards and all that). Instead he helped me hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters, an activity he declared "exciting!" at one point in the evening. I was dissapointed in the lack of costumed youth, however. I expect it from high schoolers--a group of which told me there were dressed up as high school students, but when a gaggle of elementary school kids shows up at your door wearing the same clothes they wore home from school it's a little disheartening. I love Halloween--when I was little I wore my costumes for months of dress-up, when I was in highschool I used to spend weeks planning and making my own elaborate costumes. Now that I have no where to wear a costume, I throw on some bunny ears and call it a night. I can't wait until Adrian is old enough to get into the spirit of costumes and candy.

This morning, I was on the couch reading and Adrian was enjoying a snack of raisins--or so I thought. I looked up when he declared"uh-oh".
"What? Uh-oh what, A.D.?"
He looks at me with a perplexed face and sticks his finger into his right nostril, "raisin" he tells me.
"Raisin? Are you telling me you have a raisin in your nose?"
Finger still inserted in nostril, "Yes. Raisin nose"
(Gah! Panic! No, no. Wait, remain calm.)
"How about we take that finger out of your nose, then?" I grab a flashlight, convince him to tilt his head back, and sure enough, there in the mucusy confines of his nose a raisin waves back at me. "Blow", I tell him.
He does, nothing happens.
I press the empty nostril closed.
"Blow"
He does, and again, nothing.
"Blow hard"
And voila--a snot covered raisin rocket lands in my lap.

Than he wants me to clean it off so he can eat it.
I don't think so, pal.

one more thing

(for those of you who know us well, i'm sure you're surprised it's taken so long for this to come back around to a discussion of bodily functions)

Yar.
When you're raising a child, you spend an inordinate ammount of time face-to-face with a variety of bodily functions. And our take on it is that if you have to deal with it, you might as well make it funny. Like when Adrian was a wee bairn and refused too poop for 11 days--we took to singing "hey, big pooper!" to the tune of "hey, big spender".
And now that we are in the full throes of toddler language acquisition, we are daily greeted with the mangling of common phrases.

Our new favorite is: drop a goose, instead of drop a deuce.

So there's your potty humor for the day.

Enjoy.

And then it was Wednesday

The party Sunday was a big hit, although D was sick and couldnt come. Adrian exhibited some fairly embarassing behavior telling us: AD no share!
I guess we have to admit that a two year old really will be harder than a one year old.

Other highlights from the past few days:

AD has decided that his calling in life is to be an Apache Helicopter pilot. This comes after he and Aaron spent an hour watching helicopter footage on youtube. (Thanks, big guy) I dont know how this will mesh with his current obsession with play-doh--every day he asks for "clay-doh" and then spends an hour or more smooshing it, rolling it, cutting it, putting it away, taking it back out. If there is an opening at the play doh factory for quality control, I think AD would be a shoe-in.

It"s pretty amazing to watch his little toddler brain in action as he dismantles and reassembles his surroundings. You can tell that he has a method and a purpose to every action, even if it seems as though that purpose is just to make me crazy. And we have those days, too. He will be the most onery obnoxious little shit and when I"m about 3 steps away from putting him on the train to join the Foreign Legion he will wrap his chubby little arms around my neck and declare: love you, mama!

And it works EVERY TIME.

Party time--take one.

Adrian, being the lucky boy he is, will be having 2 birthday parties this year. One for friends and one for family. This Sunday, it's going to be 2 of his friends from Gymboree and another kid who's mom & I are friends. So it's going to be 3 two-year olds and a 4 year old for 2 hours of morning mayhem. Whee!

I have planned that they will paint pumpkins with tempera paint, run around, and have lunch. Then everybody can go home and Adrian will take a nap. To that end, today Adrian and I purchased pumpkins, drop cloths, and a whole mess of cheapo towels for the sake of cleaning paint-smeared toddlers. Now my main concern is what to feed these kids for lunch. Adrian can't have dairy, his friend D is a picky eater, and the idea of feeding everyone spaghetti seems like more mess than I want to deal with.

In the grand scheme of things, I've got it fairly easy.

Too slow!

I was going to post photos but blogger is running too slow and I am in desparate need of a nap. For photos, go to the flickr page--click the link in the sidebar, I am also too lazy to embed links today.

Funny, ha-ha:
Adrian has a little doctors kit, which comes with a fakey syringe that squeaks when you depress the plunger(which is weird in itself). I told him it's for shots. He now call the thing "sharps".

didja miss me?

Egad!
Blogger is slow today.

Well, my fine friends I had planned to show you pictures of our lovely trip to the "beach", but you'll just have to check back later.

I haven't talked to y'all since the first, so a lot has transpired. In a random, as I remember it order:

Wednesday, October 4: Adrian and I drove to Rock Island, to stay with Grandparents Flecker. Adrian slept most of the way there, and was mostly well behaved when we got there. He discovered that he's tall enough to reach the water dispenser in the fridge door and gave himself quite the dousing. His words: Wet! Messy! Cold! Wet! That night Nina, Adrian & I went to Ducky's Lagoon for dinner. It was supposed to be Hot Rod night, but it was rained out. Adrian wasted no time in flirting with our waitress, and was rewarded with duck stamps, a tiny rubber duck, and a plastic duck call.

Saturday, October 7: Adrian goes to an Iowa Hawkeyes game with Gary & Nina and I drive back home. That afternoon, Aaron & I drive to Michigan City, IN to stay at Beachwalk. We got ourselves settled in, went for a walk on the beach: Sand! Water! Yay!
Then we went grocery shopping and out to dinner. At Red Lobster (thanks, Tootsie!) where my non-fish-eating husband ate: fried calamari, crab's legs, fried walleye, and grilled trout. I was very proud of him for trying new foods, and he didn't once turn green or throw up. Also, he experienced the magical cheddar biscuits.

Sunday: reading on the beach, lunch at the house, big nap, dinner, walk on the beach in the moonlight.

Monday: Breakfast, reading, lunch, outlet shopping (there was a creuset outlet! I got a 5 qt buffet caserole! I have been lusting after this particular piece of cookware for 2 years now), nap, walk on the beach, dinner.

Tuesday: Breakfast, Shopping at Attic Accents Antique Mall (which was good, but not as good as Coal Valley), Lunch at Eat at Moe's, where we met Moe himself. He was really friendly and the food was excellent. We ate so much that we didn't need dinner. If you're going to Michigan City, eat there.

Wednesday: we drove home. We tried to take I-94/I-80, but the traffic was horrendous and I made Aaron get off the highway so I could use the bathroom (which is no suprise to anyone who's taken a road trip with me before). We wound up taking back roads the rest of the way, and our 54 mile journey took us 2 hours.

Today is Thursday and I have many things to accomplish in the studio.
Tah, darlings!

i'm contagious

I had always suspected that my hormonal surges were contagious, but now I have proof! Adrian has been unreasonably moody today--screaming when I put him down for a nap; coping an attititude when it's time to go inside--maybe it's that Aaron's out of town and he feels unbalanced in a single parent home, or maybe it's because I am suffering from a severe case of hormone-related empathy.

This morning we were watching Sesame Street and Ernie was singing the "don't want to live on the moon" song and I cried. Real tears. And later we were watching Narnia, and I had to turn it off because it was making me erupt into tears every 5 minutes or so. And I've seen it before, I've read the book, I know what happens. But apparently in my hormone-addled state, the fact that Santa returns after 100 years of banishment was too much for me to bear.

ssh!

Adrian;

There is one thing I will never be able to figure out. Please explain as best you can how it is that you enjoy construction equipment, airplanes, motorcycles, and lawnmowers yet the coffee grinder is too loud?

Yours,
Mama

Chicken stop.

Watching Food Network, and the chef says that she's going to put some chicken stock in the pot.

Adrian: Chicken stop. Chicken! Stop!

Me: No, it's chicken stock, with a "ck" at the end.

Adrian: Chicken stuck. Chicken--Stuck---hnnnnnngh!

Pumpkins!

Today we went to Garden Patch Orchard and had us some fun on the farm! Or as much fun on the farm as I could handle. I really prefer to leave that sort of thing to the experts, and by leave I mean get in the car and drive away. Adrian fed some chickens...

Saw some bunnies with funny siamese coloring...
Rode in a wagon full of pumpkins...

Found the biggest pumpkin on the lawn...And we brought it home with us. At 40 cents a pound, I'm loath to tell you what that mamma jamma cost us--let's just say it was a third of the days expenditures.

For more pictures, check out the Flickr page.

Rock star in training.

In the mornings, Aaron likes to watch music videos on VH1 or MTV--and because I can be so very persuasive (read: bossy), we skip the "baby-inappropriate" videos (Sorry, Luda). But Adrian has come to be a fan of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers--as he proved to us this morning by putting on a crown, grabbing his guitar and jamming out to Dani California. It was the highlight of the week, really.

Aaron was asking Adrian if he would like a brother and Adrian firmly responded "NO!". So then we explained that Uncle Austin was Aaron's brother and Uncle Jono was my brother--but he still said he wasn't interested. Inquiring after his feelings regarding a sister, we were met with silence and his attempts to ignore us while he ate his breakfast of cinnamon toast and sausages. I guess he's not ready to be a big brother. Not that he'll have to worry about it anytime in the forseeable future as I am NOT currently a baby incubator.

We spent this morning at the pet store--it's closer and less expensive than going to the zoo. His favorites today were the birds; which he asked repeatedly to "hold it", and the dogs in doggie day care; all of whom were equally interested in the pint-sized human on the other side of the plate glass. Which brings us to the current dilemma: dog or no dog? baby or no baby? dog and baby seem like an overkill--but you know that I have never been one for half-measure (Move half way across the country where I know no one with in a 4 hour drive? Sure! Oklahoma here I come!) And when you get right down to it: 2 babies and a dog isn't that big of a deal, considering that my next door neighbor is a single mother of 4 who owns her own business, and sends all 4 kids to private schools. I am daily in awe of her.

So that's my fakey dilemma. And really, anything to take my mind off of the fact that winter here is going to kick my teeth out.

Baby baby baby

As I'm sure you're all tired of listening to me complain, I thought I'd share some Adrian stories--because that's really why you're all here, right?

The bad news: I don't know if it's teeth or a virus but baby's got the runs and a nasty diaper rash to boot. It hasn't dampened his spirits much, although he did tell me that he was skeerd (scared) today when I laid him down for a diaper change. It was fairly pitiful.

The good news: Baby's got manners! We recently invested in a booster seat so he could sit at the big table with MamaanDada. Previously at the end of a meal he would announce "all done", and if you didn't get there fast enough, he'd start dropping food on the floor. Now that he's moved up in the world, we told him the proper way to get out was to say "All done, excuse me please" Which has been shortened to "all done. 'scuse me". Next step: getting him to keep his napkin on his lap. He knows that the purpose of the napkin is to "catch crummies" but frankly, he doesn't care.

He's also gotten really in to going to the grocery store. So much so that he asked to go 4 times last week. I figured twice a week was enough, so we went to the pet store, fabric store, and the book store. At the book store we shared tea and a cookie. I have plans to do that again.

Adrian also has a best friend, who we shall call D. The two met in music class, and we go over to D's house about once a week. D's mom and I get along really well, so it's fun for everybody. Adrian keeps asking to go back there, but if he's got a virus I want to hold off for a few more days. D's mom, A is pregnant and I don't want to get her sick. The boys are so stinking cute together--they chase each other, play hide and seek, and share snacks. If they grow up together I know already that they are going to get into tons of mischief.

Lately when Adrian was getting into things he shouldn't I'd ask him if he was looking for trouble. He now tells me he's "looking for troubles"

It's hard to be mad for long when they're so darn cute.

You want to sit where?

Okay, my fine friends!
We have the nearly finalized guest list. Now I just have to figure out where everyone is going to sit.
There's the healthy tradition of minding politics, religion, and the subject of procreation. And with our very diverse group of family and friends we have the full spectrum covered. From the very liberal to the very conservative, from Sir Abstains-a-lot to Drinky Drinkerson. I have to find a place for everyone to sit and eat where I can be assured that cutlery will remain cutlery and not evolve into implements of deadly force.

There has also been the suggestion of letting everyone sit where they want to, but then how to avoid the table of people who sat over there because they were unsure of where to sit and now are akwardly silent because no one wants to be the first to start a conversation? I assure you that akward silence is not what I have in mind to accompany this fine meal of hot dogs and tater tots* we will be enjoying.

So if you notice that I have taken to muttering under my breath, staring off in the distance and twitching, don't mind me. I'm just trying to figure out how to herd cats.

*There was supposed to be a food tasting today but the caterer cancelled because she was sick.

Party like it's 2003

As many of you know, Aaron and I eloped in 2003--thus avoiding all of the stress/politics/hassle/financial ruin of your typical white dress/ big hair churchy nuptuals.

Or so I thought.
I was trying to think of a way to get Aaron to the East Coast so that all of my friends who hadn't met him could do so, and preferably all at once, as those of you who know me know that my schedule is usually packed from the time I hit the ground in DC until the time we take off again. Well, this brain child morphed into the party that is shrinking me. It's really become a belated wedding reception (and I do believe we hold the world title for longest time elapsed between wedding and reception), which means that I had to send invites to all kinds of people from all over the country--you know the ones I'm talking about: so and so who was a dear pal of your grandmother's back in the sixties who attended your baptism, but no, you haven't seen her since. Which is fine. I like a good party and I figure the more the merrier, right? But is it too much to ask that you RSVP?

I'm fairly certain that Miss Manners would not consider failing to respond the same as a phone call saying "sorry, we can't come". I understand that many people are working/can't afford to travel/don't want to travel with kids/don't want to come. That's cool. I have turned down invitations to weddings/graduations/christenings and I know that there are many and varied reasons for doing so. My feelings will not be hurt.
But I shouldn't have to call you and email you and call you and email you to have you tell me what I already know: you're not coming.

All of that is to say: come September 1 if I haven't heard from you I shall file a missing persons report on your behalf. And I will be eating your slice of pie.

Looking for someone to love

Hey-dee-hey!

Anyone in the Chicagoland area looking for a dog/cat/guinea pig?

http://www.furryfriendsfoundation.com/

These folks are a no kill shelter what has to close and need to adopt out all of their animals.

Check them out.