Mommy belly

I love being a mom. It feels more "right" than anything I've ever done in my life. It also feels exhausting, never-ending, frustrating and challenging at times. But it always feels right. Despite all that koom-bah-ya-ness, I would like to lodge a complaint about the whole mom thing.

Last night my pregnant ass was lounged out on the couch watching TV, wishing I had some ice cream to eat from the carton, when I made the mistake of looking down at my belly..... which was exposed because my tank top had managed to ooch up and over the belly shelf like a roller shade. Attractive, right? I saw stretch marks ABOVE my already-an-outtie belly button. I'm effin' 18 weeks pregnant. Normal people aren't even showing yet, and I look like the turkey is already done.

I had the realization that TRULY.... my body will never be the same.

I'm amazed and appreciative of what my body has been able to create, but does it really have to look like shit in the end? Don't I suffer enough with diapers and throw up and sleep deprivation and the life long sentence of having to feed these people every damn day?

I've never had some killer body or anything. Like most women, I've always looked in a mirror and started detailing my list of what needed improvement. But I look back on bikini-clad pictures of the past and see now what I didn't see then.... I looked good.... really good. And sadly, I don't know if I'll ever be able to get back there. Even with a tummy tuck, these high centered stretch marks will still be there and I'll likely be in a tankini for the rest of my life. I feel flabby and gross and unattractive and I cringe at the thought of being naked for anyone to see. I know, whoa is me, right? But I really had a vision of myself as the super hot mom with her adorable, well-behaved children romping at the beach with an umbrella drink in hand. That's not quite how it's playing out.

I wouldn't trade my children or my healthy pregnancies for the world, but if you offered me a flat belly and tight ass for 'em, I might consider the deal.

Cockroaches and other flying objects

Some people read the news every morning. Not me. I check out my reader and start my day off with a chuckle or two. I ignore the news completely and intentionally. I like it better that way. Ignorance truly is bliss. Those news-readers.... they always seem a little mad. But I digress...

I read this this morning and actually laughed out loud at my desk cube.

It reminds me of a story....

In high school, in Texas, I had a little run in with a cockroach. The big scary they-can-only-grow-this-big-in-texas type. I think this guy had teased and sprayed his leg hairs to true Texas heights, just for effect (is it affect, or effect?).

At any rate... I was in my house with my older brother, and we discovered the beastly thing in the dining room (which was really just a corner of the living room, it wasn't a big house). I saw it eyeing my treasured blanket that was near by. With heart racing, I tried to grab the blanket and get it out of crawling distance from this nasty creature (it is a very wonderful blanket, despite what my friends and husband would have to say about it, and I can't imagine anyone, cockroach included, NOT wanting to cuddle with it.) As I took a step closer to the blanket to grab it away from the danger zone, the nasty bug looked me dead in the eye and then LAUNCHED HIMSELF INTO FLIGHT ..... TOWARDS MY FACE. It had wings. I screamed. loudly, and high pitched. By the grace of god, I managed to grab my blanket and the funky devil-inspired cockroach fell to the ground, probably out of sheer shock of hearing the scream that can only be heard from a teenaged girl.

You know how time can stand still sometimes... like right before you get into a car accident, or right as your red wine is midair and headed for your carpet? Well, it also happens when you have a fucking monster flying cockroach headed towards your face. That was probably 15 years ago now, and I still get the heeby jeebies.

My brother even still talks about it. (but he laughs)

Ick

So I didn't have to cook

There's a long standing joke around our house about taking me out to dinner so I 'don't have to cook'. The first time I heard this, you can imagine a hand in the face with some serious ghetto head bobbin' and a "I know you di-unt. Whaddya mean HAVE to cook?". The drama went on for a little while at the time, but now, it's said in good fun. No drama, no head shake.

So last night, since it was my birthday.... we all went out to dinner so I wouldn't have to cook. We even had a gift card from Christmas, so there wasn't even any guilt about spending the money (We had indulged a bit the night before with a kid-free martini-laden birthday dinner).

So it was two adults, two kids, and believe it or not, NO disasters. The adults didn't fight, Skippy slept (god bless those baby buckets, and man am I going to miss it when he doesn't fit in there anymore), and Monkey Man actually behaved himself... no screaming or food throwing AND he actually ate a decent amount.

It was a wonderful gift from the birthday gods and my menfolk. Thanks, dudes.

No, I don't want your help

I hate have begun to detest the phrase 'do you need help?'. I do not need HELP. Help implies that I'm still involved. I wish to ... occasionally... NOT be involved. If you are 'helping' me, I still have to plan, schedule and manage all of the details, but now I also have a staffing issue to deal with. I now have to think through what makes the most sense for ME to do and what makes sense for YOU to do. Then, when I tell you what to do, I'll have to justify my reasoning behind my chosen division of labor. So, to avoid an argument about who should do what, I've learned that I also have to take into consideration YOUR preferences around the whole thing.

I just want you to come in, take over, and let me leave.... just for a little while, of course, but sometimes I just need to walk the fuck away and not THINK about what needs to be taken care of. I need to let my mind rest a little. take a break. veg out. not be on call 24 damn hours a day. not look at my watch and rush to get home to assess the damage, pick up the toys, and clean up the kitchen and avoid the squirrelly look that says 'what took you so long'.

I'm a control freak. I like things my way. I realize that over the years, you've learned that there is a price to pay for not following my not-always-obvious way of doing things, so now... you ask a lot of questions. I've loosened up a little. Try me. Just make sure you do it right.

love ya to pieces, sweetie.... seriously.

Character expansion

Well, a mere eight months later, I gots another post for you guys.

Skippy has arrived. I was induced a week ahead of time because Monkey Man was a large baby and I hemorrhaged (mildly, as hemorrhages go), so we were trying to avoid a repeat blood letting. As it turned out, Skippy was tiny - 6 lbs 14 oz, so it was probably not necessary, but hindsight and all that. The delivery was fine, baby is healthy, and we call that a victory here at the TT household.




I forgot how unrelenting the first couple of months are. Man, newborns are some demanding little shits. All the feeding, the rocking, the walking around the house.... and walking and walking and walking around the house. The no sleep, the bitterness at the husband for not having boobs. It's brutal. But we made it, and are on to the next stage now.

That would be the "cute, chubby, mostly happy, we understand this schedule thing, usually sleeping through the night" stage. Oh, and the "he's finally off the boob" stage. Hallefreakinlujah.


Couldn't ya just eat him up?
I'm already forgetting the pain of the endless walking of the baby.

Skippy has made miraculous progress in the coordination arena.... he can hold his head up, can sit up for brief moments before imitating a drunk man and falling over. He can grab things... namely hair and facial features, the later of which is only interesting when his fingernails haven't been appropriately trimmed, so as to leave actual marks on Mom's face. Life is grand.

He's been a decent baby, but not an easy baby. Feeding was a pain ... he wouldn't take a bottle so I was on call 24-freakin-7. Got called home from social outings every time more than once for this reason. Now we are on to introducing solids. I hate it. It's messy, it's mostly futile, and I end up feeling like a total failure of a mother. What's wrong with this child, doesn't he have a survival instinct that tells him 'eating is a good thing'. And doesn't that same survival instinct tell him that if he doesn't start opening his mouth soon, his mother is going to go absolutely fucking ballistic over a damn bowl of rice cereal? Deep breath... let it go.

I'm also back at work now. I took 6 months off and had intentions of coming back part time. They made me come back full time, but given the current economy, the flexibility that I have with this job and all that other responsible adult mumbo jumbo, I guess this is good.

So that's the latest. I've got some rants and judgments to pass along soon, so hopefully it won't take me another 8 months to get to it.

Tootles,
TT

Oh, and a few gratuitous Monkey pics.....

Word of Mouth Monday (WOMM) - The Bitch in the House

So my friend Kelly does a cool thing called Word of Mouth Monday where you recommend a product that you can honestly recommend to others, for any reason OTHER than profit. Here's mine for today (no promises on a weekly commitment on this, but I am feeling like sharing the love today):

The Bitch in the House is the best book that I've read in a while. A friend recommended it to me a while back, but I avoided reading it because I thought it would just be a collection of bitter rants about society and husbands' evil plots against women and all woe-is-me-ish. I didn't think that would help my hormonal attitude or my marriage or my general perception in the least. However, after finally reading some of the reviews, and finding that it was available at my local library, I figured why not.

Contrary to what the title initially lead me to believe, it's not about how you need to be the bitch in the house.... it's about how you hate being the bitch in the house. There's not a whole lot of 'how to fix it', so if you are looking for a self help book, this ain't it. It's just good woman talk.

After reading it, I felt more understood, more relaxed and more hopeful about this job of mommy, wife, and general taker-carer-of-everyone-else. I also laughed my ass off more than once through the read. It's worth your time.

FYI.... there's a "sequel" that I haven't read yet, but plan to... and hope that it gives me some more insight to the male perspective: The Bastard on the Couch

One more thing on the Olympics

OK, so I know that the Olympics are over and all, but I never claimed that I'd be timely with these posts of mine. This one is just a quick little gripe.

I sat through the women's beach volleyball games (and was actually quite entertained and impressed by these women), suffering through having to stare at their flat stomachs, toned arms, and non-gelatinous butts jumping all around (really and truly... does the camera need to zoom in ON their bent over butts?). This was ok with me, and I was fine with having my husband act like he really cared about the score. I didn't mind these bikini-clad beefettes being on my television because I knew that MY turn would come around. The men would surely have to play, too. I eagerly anticipated six-pack abs, broad shoulders, and sweaty dives into the sand. Ooo-la-la.

Then the men's matches started. Did you see what they were wearing? WAY TOO MUCH. For some reason, apparently, the women need to be mostly naked without a stitch of extra fabric about their bodies to play volleyball. But the men must perform better with a big loose tank top and some nice long shorts on. Take it off Why, oh why, I cried. Isn't there a risk of their arms getting caught up in those tank tops? Isn't that wind resistance unbearable? I'm wasn't looking for a speedo or anything (eww), I just wanted a little eye candy. Is that so much to ask? Think of your audience and LOSE THE SHIRTS, fools!

I guess my sexuality isn’t totally dead…. There’s hope.

Evidence that Motherhood drains your sexuality

I hope that this is just a temporary state - brought on by extreme surges of hormones and general bad body image of a 36 weeks pregnant chic - but it's distressing nonetheless.

I've been watching the Olympics this year.... more than I ever have in the past. And I'm in awe of Michael Phelps.... but not the kind of awe I might have reveled in in the past. Here's the scenario.... I'm sitting on my couch with a slice of hot apple pie and some ice cream (shut up, I'm pregnant... the baby needs it's fruit and dairy.... and YES, the bowl is sitting ON my belly-shelf ... got the visual?).

OK... back to Michael.... I'm amazed that a human body can perform like that over and over and over again. How he's dedicated such an enormous portion of his life to this physical performance. What he must have given up in the category of 'normal life stuff' to be where he is. I wonder for a moment if he'll regret any of that. I'm happy for him, I'm amazed by him, that's all nice. Good for him.

The image that's almost burned into our TV is Michael Phelps and his half naked, 2% body fat, driven, enthusiastic, RICH, conglomeration of maleness. He appears to even be a nice, well liked, respectable kind of guy. And do you know what goes through my mind when I see him on our big ass TV?

Not... "dude, he's my next fantasy"
Not... "gotta put him on my list"
Not even "he's so freakin' hot"

Nope... not even for a second do I put him on any kind of list of the sexually desirable. All I can think of is this:

Damn, his mother must be proud.

Seriously.... I'm all proud of the athletes and stuff... but I only tear up with pride when the camera pans to the parents. Nobody warned me that having a baby would do THIS to me. Jeez.

A little bit about me

OK.. so being new to this and all.... and not seeing an obvious way to add a some background info about myself.... I'll just do so here.

Despite my blog name (a tribute to a song that I love as well as my desperate attempt to hold on to my "heritage"), I actually live in Colorado. I moved here with my then-boyfriend / now-husband in 2000, and we are pretty well entrenched at this point. We have been married for closing in on 5 years now, have two dogs, a fabulous chubby-cheeked little boy, and another little testosterone machine on the way (4 weeks left - hot damn).

The boys will be not-quite 14 months apart, so I may not be sane able to post too much over the next couple of months, but I'll try. Who knows... the computer might be my only outlet for adult conversation.

Cast of Characters:

Fly Guy: My hard-headed, hard-working, loyal, loving, seemingly-tough-but-softy-on-the-inside husband. He also happens to be a fabulous father.



Monkey Man: My smiley, giggly, thinking-about-walking one year old little boy. I was pretty sure that I'd like being the mommy, but man .... who knew it'd be like this. Don't get me wrong, there are times I want to pull my hair out and resign the position, but I have a whole new perspective on unconditional love these days.

Skippy: Good thing I like being a mommy, because I'm about to dive right in to round 2. We knew we wanted more kiddos, but we didn't exactly plan for it to happen quite this quickly. Skippy's eviction date is less than 4 weeks away and I am excited and nervous. Newborns need to eat EIGHT TO TEN TIMES A DAY. That's way more action than my boobs have ever asked for. I keep telling myself that dumber other people manage to do this, surely I'll figure it out.

So that's the "current" status of us. As a tidbit of history.... I grew up in small towns in East Texas, which is where most of my family still resides. I went to college, graduated, got a job in Houston, then met my husband. We moved to Colorado to see if we still liked each other when we got to spend more than 48 hours a week together, and it turns out that we did. We spent our first couple of years here doing all of the outdoorsy stuff - hiking, skiing, camping and playing house. We even got a dog to see how we'd fare at the parenting thing.

Then we had a beautiful wedding in Aspen (at least that's how we remember it, and please don't tell us anything different), finished remodeling a house (and sold it, thank god), bought a new house, got another dog, and now we are venturing in to actual human parenting, as you can tell.

We've gone from flying to & fro every weekend and spending small fortunes on fancy dinners to spending Friday nights at home playing peek-a-boo and "tickle the baby" (and no, that's not some kinky code word .... we really do tickle Monkey Man until we are all gasping for air). That may sound like a complaint, but it's not. I do think back to good times and wish for a little more of the jet set life from time to time, but all in all, I'm really enjoying this stage of life. I know that I'll miss it, so I'm trying to savor the somewhat predictable lunacy that we have created.

I'm fairly close to my family, thanks to good cell phone plans, and wish we could see each other more often. I've got a handful of close friends.... you know... the ones that know the real me.... and count myself pretty lucky.

OK, so that's the scoop. What's funny is that anybody that's reading this blog at this point, probably already knows all of that stuff, but maybe.... one day..... in my distant and optimistic dreams.... other people will read my blog and want to know all this crap. If not, it was a nice little stroll down happy avenue for me.

New to this

OK, after being in a technology-oriented career for over 10 years (holy cow, I'm older than I'd like to think), I'm just now getting on the blog bandwagon. I can't quite decide if want this to be my public diary.... in which case I won't be telling my friends and family about it because I wouldn't want them to know all of my unsensored judgements private thoughts..... or, do I want it to be my own little showcase of humor and family updates. Stay tuned... only time will tell.