Tri-Color Lament

The only thing I miss about working in an office this time of year is access to one of these bad boys:

 

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At my last job I sat dangerously close to the break room (like 2 feet), so I had my choice of any holiday fatness my heart desired.  Now if I want a special treat I have to actually walk my 8+ month pregnant behind into the store and buy it.  It's all just too cliché and sad to do.  So I mostly don't.  Which is good.

 

And it's also so hard to justify buying 5 pounds of popcorn for yourself, no matter the time of year.

 

But it doesn't mean I can't still dream of taking a little hand bath in a caramel, cheddar, original menage trois.  Can I get an AMEN!?

 

And Happy Holidays!

Alcohol 3.0

I have decided that in direct parallel to the 3 traditional trimesters of pregnancy, there are 3 phases of mentality towards drinking.

In the first stage/trimester, you are so excited that you're pregnant and so intent on keeping it a secret that you make it your personal mission to look nonchalant while drinking an O'Douls from a frosted glass or pretending to drink a glass of wine at a wedding while your husband actually drinks it and begins his own personal pregnancy journey of drinking for 2.

 

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Sure, it's a little hard to go cold turkey but you have much bigger things to think about so it's not that big of a deal.

In the second phase of not drinking/2nd trimester, you are starting to show, still feeling pretty ill and tired, and have developed some sort of bodily 6th sense that tells you to hate the smell and taste of alcohol.  You actually start thinking about giving up alcohol altogether because watching people get drunk is pretty unattractive and you love waking up feeling refreshed and clear headed.  This is known as the easy, holier than thou phase.

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Then comes the 3rd phase/trimester.  You can no longer remember a social function in which you were actually drinking.  Your body's ability to ward off all desires of alcohol has vanished along with your waste line.  You hate all drunk and think they all have serious drinking problems.  And you want go into hibernation until a time in which you can come out and pop some mother f*cking bottles. Not a sip.  Not some bullshit 3 ounce pour that the Today show swears is good for your heart.  You want bottles and bottles of alcohol.  Actually, you want one of those cascading champagne fountains that you see at parties in Vegas on Keeping Up With the Kardashians.  But you want it only for you.  Sorry Scott Disick.  Get your own damn bottle service.  Mama needs her bubbles!

 

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I am currently in the trenches of Phase 3 and it is getting rough.  However, I am beyond excited to only have 2 months left and to be able bid adieu to all my restrictions soon.  But the next few holiday months will likely involve a lot of alcohol spectator sports for me and I'm not sure I'm emotionally prepared to handle it.

It's funny because last time I was pregnant I was the last of all my friends to get pregnant and deliver.  This time I'm the leader of the pack and some of my friends aren't even  pregnant with their second yet.  So after all this time I've been watching everyone drink their luscious glasses of red wine this Fall while I lurk around looking like this:

 

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Just wait for summer ladies.  This is going to be me while everyone else is still just hiding their little Zygote secret:

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But really I will have a 2 year old and an infant so I'll probably look just like I have the last 2 summers:

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Either way you best believe there will be a drank in my hand on the beach!

 

Too Much Potassium

I think I mainly want Jack to start talking so that I can stop eating so many bananas.  

That probably sounds strange but we are at a really awkward stage in which he points at things like a champ, but doesn't actually verbalize most of what he wants.  So whenever he points at a banana and says "nana", I excitedly grab a banana and ask him if he wants me to open it.  He always nods yes.  And clearly I am not going to deny my child a fruit if he's getting excited about it.  But recently once it's open the thrill is gone. 

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Apparently he never wanted to actually eat the banana.  He just wanted to watch me open it.  So I either end up adding it to our massive collection of frozen bananas for smoothies, or eating it myself.  As a person who is in a major weight gain stage of life, I really don't need to be force feeding myself any unnecessary food.  So Jack really needs to start talking so I can stop guilt-eating bananas.

Just one of the many things in life you never thought you'd have to struggle with before having a child, like getting to banks before they are even open and wanting to eat lunch at 9am because your child woke you up at the ass crack of dawn.

   

Rain, Rain I'm a Mom

There are a lot of moments as a mom where you realize that your needs are dead last in line, if they even made the list.  Like when you have to pee so bad that it makes you feel almost physically ill but you are out with your child and can't stop to go to the bathroom without leaving him in a precarious situation.  Like last week at the library when I decided to treat myself to a rare bathroom break and I had to bring Jack in the stall with me.  It was during this time that he learned rather quickly how to crawl under the stall and run away.  It was also during this time that I had to stop mid-wee wee, flush the toilet, and run out of the bathroom with my pants halfway up my butt.

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But it is during this hurricane/rain dump known as Joaquin that I am truly reminded of the SNL Mom Jeans quote, "Because you're not a woman anymore...You're a mom!"  Every time I have to run Jack out to the car he screams with delight at the little raindrops on his face.  Then he positively giggles as he watches me buckle his dry little ass in and set up his Elmo screening room in the car, as I stand just outside the car getting absolutely soaked.  So then everywhere we go from then on I look a drowned rat, who always has to pee.  And he is dry, happy as a clam, as free to pee in his diaper.

Motherhood: No one said it was glamorous.  No one said it was fair.  And no one ever said that you are ever going to look remotely presentable again.

Caress Me Down

Today I got a prenatal massage.

You know what is awkward?  Getting a prenatal massage when you are 23 weeks pregnant from a woman who is 32 weeks pregnant...with twins.

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It felt so great.  But as always, my mind started to wonder...

Does she think I'm a bitch because I'm making her rub my back even though she is two months more pregnant than me, with twice as many babies?

I wonder where in Wilmington has the best Cookies n' Cream ice cream.

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I wonder if she noticed that I only shaved 3/4 of my legs before I came here.

Why is it that when you are pregnant you fart by accident all the time, but go poop on purpose basically never?

I wonder if that hard candy I saw at the front desk is any good?  I need to pick some up on the way out.

Why can't hours between your kid's nap and your husband's arrival from work pass as fast as hours spent getting a massage?  That would probably save moms so much money on wine.

Wine.  I miss wine.  And by wine I mean bourbon.

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I wonder if anyone will ever be as excited to see me as I am to see my husband come home each day. 

If my husband could just take a day off of work each week to give me a massage and play with our child while I sleep I would promise never to get mad about him using my soap.

But mostly I was thinking about how not hype the recording sessions are when they make wind chime soundtracks they play during massages and yoga.

I want more rubs. 

J'Adore Preschool

There are a lot of moments when something happens and I'm like, "Woah, I'm a mom."

Nothing has given me a more profound sense of that woahness then when I put a sign in my windshield for carpool pick up at preschool for Jack.  There's really no turning back now.

Also, preschool is magical.  

Even though I barely had time to go to the gym and grocery store before I had to turn back around to get Jack, I still did those things.  By myself.  For the first time in a year and a half.

By the time he got home he was so exhausted that he ate two bites of lunch and almost fell asleep in his high chair.

Now he's taking a 2+ hour nap.  I feel like I'm cheating the whole parenting system.  I barely have to actively parent at all today.

The future is so bright!