16 weeks and Thoughts from My Bathroom Floor

I have been getting ROCKED by this baby girl lately. I’m sixteen weeks now, and on a max dosage of nausea medication, so I’m not sure why I’ve recently had my most sick week. Maybe I’d been in the eye of the storm for a while, and now I’m hitting the fury of the eye wall and outer band.

Maybe I’ve watched wayyyy too much Hurricane Irma coverage while I’ve been sick.

Here’s a quick, what-we’ve-been-up-to rundown (low quality iPhone pics included) and thoughts from my bathroom while I sip Diet Coke on the floor:

I became OBSESSED with Hurricane Irma. I tracked Irma’s every move for no apparent reason.

When I wasn’t checking out Irma (she was just so slow for the frequency of my stalking), I found new myself wide-eyed reading the feed of my most diabolical social media outlet, Facebook. Although it’s not in response to anything I post, people get CRAY on Facebook. SO OFFENDED. ALL THE TIME. Your daughter wore a romper? OFFENDED. “God bless America” as your status? OFFENDED. A little boy drinking water out of a Starbucks cup? HORRIBLE. CPS ALERTED. A funny meme about parents not wanting their kids to have school projects? THE NERVE.

Are these people my friends? Aren’t the busy at jobs or something, or are they just licking Saltines while scrolling, too?

I’m equally parts entertained + whatever that feeling is I had about my neighbor’s three outdoor chihuahuas. (I did pray for coyotes, I will say that.)

We already flaunt marijuana dispensaries in Las Vegas, but judging by my Facebook feed, this nation would most benefit from Xanax dispensaries. Xanax brownies and gummy bears for all!

There it is. I figured out world peace before my Tums dissolved.

OMG, don’t tell Facebook I said this.

I’m still taking crackers with me everywhere. I alternate between Saltines and Ritz, which is proven by the 3″ of crumbs padding the bottom of my purse.

I also am constantly sipping Coke, preferably Pepsi, but sometimes preferably Diet Coke because I don’t even know my own preferences anymore. We frantically hauled ourselves to the library for story time last week , only to find it had been cancelled. The quick pace forced us to take a “too much sudden movement” restroom lounge while I sipped whatever I was drinking and put cold water on my face, while Gus suggested ditching the library for “Tacoooo Rioooo” (Café Rio) with gusto.

Before my sickness took a hard turn (the eyewall…can I call it that? I’m going to start mixing obstetrical and meteorologist terms), I beat my PR at Chuck E Cheese skeeball with a 10,000 point ball. I got, like, 4 tickets and I’d like to dispute the ticket allotment with someone at corporate as skeeball actually takes more talent than the higher payout games.

The price of snow cone and lemonade stands has increased substantially since I was selling on the streets. Inflation, I guess…and the financial offset of the generator needed for their actual ice machine. Elementary entrepreneurs don’t understand the struggle of we early 90s snow cone shavers.

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Baby GIRL!

There are a dozen or so milestone moments in your lifetime that are completely surreal. They elicit so many overwhelming emotions competing for the spotlight, there truly are no words to describe them.

Getting a long awaited positive pregnancy test and learning gender of EACH of my babies was incredible.

Discovering our baby is a GIRL yesterday added to these once-in-a-lifetime, total Cloud 9 moments.

We waited an extra couple of hours to do a gender reveal. I’m too antsy…I never could handle the wait with my other two pregnancies! Even though I love my friends and a party, I loved having just my little family gathered (with my photog friend Chelsea). I didn’t think of entertaining, food, or anything else. We were totally undistracted and absorbed the moment!

(Brian had previously joked that he only makes boys because of his Mountain Dew and fried chicken intake, and I was totally THRILLED with the three boy family I’d half anticipated…but me closing my eyes as I opened the box suggests that deep down, a girl tipped my hope’s scales.)

Don’t ask how much I’ve already spent on her wardrobe! We CANNOT wait for February.

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It’s Really Happening! New Baby in February!

After lots of prayers and a bumpy year of hoping for a baby, we absolutely could not be more over the moon to welcome a new addition to our family in late February!!

We are THRILLED and are eagerly awaiting this baby’s arrival!

(I am also eagerly awaiting the day I am no longer sick, although I’m always relieved by my new close friendship with the bathroom because it’s a sign that things are progressing. 🙂 )

Now that I’m 14 weeks and past the scary first trimester, and the baby has a strong heartbeat, I am ecstatic to share this pregnancy! It makes it real!

(It has to be said: I am also getting myself in check for the inevitable, “Ohhh, what if it’s a boy? Would you be so sad?” “You must be dying for a girl.” “Are you going to keep trying if it’s a boy?” Am I just hormonal, or would those comments make you legitimately angry?

Do you know how badly we want a baby? Do you know how much we (and any mothers) are continually keeping this baby’s good health and safe delivery in our prayers?

Did you know I’ll punch your face?

Gender is secondary, and although a girl would be so, so fun, I sure adore my boys! I am truly just grateful to tears that I’m pregnant!)

My boys have opinions, though!

Gus says he already has a baby. “No thanks, I already have this Roscoe Bear one.” Gus is usually hoping for a brother, sometimes a sister.
Roscoe is hoping for a kitty.

Gus also thinks we’re having three babies: one in my tummy, two on my chest. “Wow, all those babies are getting bigger now!” Hahaha

And me? I’ve been super not fun, and even though I’m on nausea medication, I’m sick almost every. every. every. evening. (It’s kind of reassuring, though!) I loathe my favorite foods, with a special hatred for tomatoes, avocados, and meat in general. I’ve never been a big soda drinker, but now I drink Coke everyday, and I prefer the species of Coke I used to “Eww,” Diet Coke. The only things I enjoy eating are Coke, cucumbers, celery…lobster. Talk about high maintenance!

We are giddy to share our news with you and cannot wait to have a brand new baby in our home again!

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Nothing Gold Can Stay

I can feel change approaching. Preschool is starting…and it’s just preschool. I know. Still, with my boys being back to back in school, I know this year kicks off a new life of schedules and time apart. (Time apart means less control of my kids’ environments, exposing my babies to outside influences, and…missing them!)

Cue flipping through baby pictures at night.

That’s where I’ve been this week. The impending threat of real-life scheduling has sent me into a panicked fun overdrive. I’ve completely worn us all out with daily excursions to multiple pools (slides! fountains! beach entries! hotels!), parks, Chuck E Cheese, trampoline parks, indoor play areas, and car washes.

(Car wash + Pop cookies/popcorn is how we do.)

This is all because my knee jerk emotion to change is sadness, but when I think about it…I don’t know if I should be completely sad about the “babies at home” chapter closing. In fact, when I really think back to the past few years, I think of the most tender, precious, quiet moments of my life mixed with some growing pains. They were a couple years of loneliness (happy loneliness, but loneliness nonetheless) as life at home with young, not-yet-talking children feels a little secluded. There were long nights, and anxiety as I learned how to care for sick babies, squinting at infant Tylenol directions at 3 AM. There were long days that were a mixture of laughter, love, walks, play dates with friends, and total bliss watching “firsts”, but also failed naps and multiple baths, just to fill the time.

Not joking on the baths. There were a LOT of baths in the winter. What else were we going to do?

It’s been a beautiful time of life. One of my favorite Robert Frost lines pops into my head often, “Nothing gold can stay.” Even though I’m concerned about a setting sun and a new chapter of motherhood, I am certain I’m just now approaching the gold.

And though I know nothing gold can stay, I will hold on to and admire that gold for every second it lasts.

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Things Parents Fib About: Enjoying the Tantrum Thrower

My parents lied to me.

My siblings and I would often lure my parents with, “Who is your favorite child?” They’d both respond, “We don’t have a favorite! We like you all the same!”

Really?

(Maybe that was code for, “Not you.”)

I loooove my kids both equally, and it’s a smothering, obsessive, endless, completely unconditional love; however, as a mother of a two and three year old, my level of fondness per child correlates with the level/volume of whining per child.

Of course, I’m not TELLING them that, but I hope they can read between the lines. Like, I’ll ALWAYS be obsessed with you, kids, but he who whines the least will get away with the most, you get me? I’m tired. I’ll pick my battles. I’ll overlook you sneaking a few bites of ice cream before 9am.

Shoot, I’ll even just Instagram story my child that drew on the bathtub with my only Chanel lipstick if he’s been nice.

The other one, though? The one who has been kicking on the floor all morning? The one who unloaded his dresser during the one minute he was sent to his room?

You’re going to make me break my Botox, sweetheart.

This whole concept was reiterated this morning. I was lying in bed with a headache, and Roscoe woke up earlier than normal. He plowed through the morning in full I AM TWO fashion: he yelled at me for juice, yelled at me for cereal, and then he yelled at me because I poured the wrong cereal. I also turned on the wrong episode of his favorite cartoon…I faced the music for that. His shrill whining continued when I tried to sneak back in bed instead of watch Blaze with him (which I’ve made very clear is NOT my favorite show of his), and when I left anyway, he spent the next hour (literally, bad headache) sitting on my head, manually opening my eyes, crying, and occasionally throwing himself down on Brian’s pillow in an unrelenting rage only a two year old can muster.

So this is it, huh? Second child, but first stamp on my Terrible Twos passport.

My other little guy, Gus, slept in until 8:30, was happy to eat the stale Costco muffin left on the counter from the night before, and played with his cars. He came in to say good morning, grabbed my phone to pull up his playlist, and spent the rest of the morning dancing his little heart out in another room, pretending to surf to Beach Boys.

At that moment, I was guilty of having a favorite. It was the child not poking my pupils.

In that moment, I also realized that my mom probably didn’t like me from 2001-20…now?

Suddenly, mercifully, Roscoe flipped his two-year-old switch from sour to sweet. We snuggled at nap time. He fell asleep in my arms for the first time in over a year, and all his offenses of the morning faded away. I fell in love with that perfect little face and fluttery eyelashes all over again, and held my baby boy for much longer than necessary.

I can’t help but wonder if my children gravitate toward a parent they’re most partial to in the same, unsaid-but-can’t-blame-them way. Brian is way more fun than I am, so after his sports knowledge is factored in…ugh. I better work on my patience, or apply for a Target Redcard to buy their love with 5% off.

Rough day with this two-year-old little dude. I’m always grateful for the tomorrows of life.

(And just for the record, it was decided amongst my siblings years ago that my parents’ favorite child is Colby. We aren’t mad.)

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Family Vacation: The Ultimate Involuntary Workout

The ultimate summer workout doesn’t involve much gym time, but I can promise this: you will be sore, and you will be tired.

It is called “family vacation.”

Total body workout includes:

1. CARDIO. Your cardio routine will begin as soon as your car is put in reverse backing out of the driveway. Run back into the house at least five times for forgotten items. Did you adjust the thermostat? Did you remember the iPad charger? Are you sure you locked the front door? Really sure? Way to go the extra mile and hurdle over the garage door sensor on your way back out the third time. I am convinced that traveling with a large family is how Bruce Jenner stayed in decathlon shape, back when his family was young, and back when he was a he.

2. UPPER BODY. When you’ve got ninos in the backseat, upper body is what your car’s co-pilot seat is all about. You’ll have the opportunity to stretch unused muscles and contort yourself while fishing for dropped items. It would be unfathomable to wait another 20 minutes until you stop at Jack in the Box to rescue that Paw Patrol figurine wedged in the seat crack between Graham crackers. It’s just like having Jillian Michaels yelling at you…for free!

You may have a seat belt rash on your neck from being nearly decapitated, but did I not promise you soreness?

3. LOWER BODY. Unloading the car will provide you with ample squatting/ bending/lifting opportunities. If you’ve got a great workout support team like I do, they’ll hide necessities all over the car and keep you running back to get them, individually. Oh, wait. The wipes. Oh, and where’s his other shoe? Oh…the stinky diaper. Did we leave that in the trunk? Good looking out, team. At least when you arrive up the elevator for the third time, your family will switch up the USA chant for, “M-O-M! D-A-D!”

Just kidding, they won’t care, but they will point out that you dropped the iPhone charger in the parking lot, and they’re wondering when it’s time to eat.

4. Upper body, again. If there is a pool, and you have little kids, it will be assumed that you are a shot-put Olympian. You will launch all of your posterity, one at a time, “one mo’ time,” over and over. And one more time for a picture. It was blurry, though, so one more. Your arms may be on fire, but when it comes down to it, you’ll toss your kids a million times over for those laughs.

5. CARB LOAD. I don’t know, but it’s vacation, so it just seems right.

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Baby Showers: The Ghost Expense in my Wallet

I love babies, and am kind of obsessed with watching my friends become parents. Truly. Witnessing my best friends experience parenthood is, unexpectedly, one of the biggest joys in my life. I get emotional thinking of the new love that reroutes their lives, the parenting inspiration they are to me, and…

I am wiping tears right now, so I’ll just stop there.

Consequently, I enjoy celebrating with them at baby showers.

Modern times (and Pinterest) also call for baby “sprinkles,” which are usually thrown for second, third babies, etc.

This is all great, unless you’re Mormon, like I am.

THAT’S A LOT OF BABIES.

Showers and showers mean we LDS women make it rain more than Lil Wayne.

Weddings and babies, man. I don’t know if I can afford this religion. I definitely can’t be forking out money for everyone’s Dock a Tot registry dreams for five people a month without signing up to be an Uber driver. How about a nice box of breast pads?

(If you’ve seen me at a shower lately, don’t worry. Now you know that I REALLY wanted to be there. 🙂 )

If you haven’t been to a baby shower or baby sprinkle recently, let me lay it out for you:

The expectant mother’s mom squad is always there, talking in high voices about baby names they love, that, in my humble, I-named-my-child-Gus opinion, are not names. If there are multiple X and Y and silent Zs and stuff, that’s just not a name, or even a word, but I’ll be by the brownies.

There are not brownies at showers these days, only mini donuts. I wish they were full size donuts. I know cronuts are too much to hope for, so I won’t even address that.

Expectant mothers love flower crowns, which I also like! Flower crowns are pretty, until someone gets carried away with foliage…in which case, I am reminded of Jesus. Don’t be offended. Overzealous flower crowns remind me of Jesus’ crown of thorns, but maybe that’s just because I’m just super holy all the time. Who am I to say? I feel guilty about my thoughts being borderline sac religious, so I look for brownies again, just in case I missed them.

My next baby, I am throwing a party called the “Fat Ash Bash,” and there will be brownies. In lieu of gifts, there will be a donation for postpartum mom reconstruction, because, what the.

Hold me to it.

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From the Fluent in Blonde Archives: Mom Swimwear for the Community Pool

Even thought this was originally posted in 2014, right before my first postpartum swim season, I still haven’t quite figured it out. I’ve stopped caring, I guess, but maybe I should still seek out the “community pool swimsuits” runways this upcoming Fall Fashion Week.

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Ahh yes, pool season…brings so many nicks to my legs, and new hurdles to motherhood.

Lathering a baby in sunscreen is kind of like greasing a pig (I would imagine). The other babies in the pool probably assume Gus has some sort of skin discoloration disease because his mom can’t figure out how to completely rub in the sunscreen before he slips away to lick the chair. They are just dots of impenetrable sun protection.

And, question: how do you know when there is something other than water in a swim diaper?

Another question: what do moms wear to the pool? The Victoria’s Secret 2010 swimwear is left in some unseen corner of the dresser, and maternity swimsuits are not applicable here…so. Do moms wear Speedo brand for Michael Phelps speed in catching a pooping kid across the pool? Do moms wear goggles if they need to rescue a sunken Sophie? Do they wear the swimsuits with skirts attached? Do moms even wear swimsuits? I know they aren’t actually swimming, and I know for a fact they don’t lay out, so maybe just some kind of moisture wicking active wear is best for the pool.

I kept asking Gus, but he was busy emptying his diaper bag for 20 minutes.

A favorite activity.

Gus gave me his insight on motherly swimwear choices after we got home. While I was rocking him to sleep after the pool, he broke it down for me.

He said, “Mommy, if you wear a:

wet suit, that would be ideal. I’m sure you can find one on eBay!”

bikini, you will remind me that I’m hungry all the time. It’s like a self serve ice cream machine on a cruise. ”

tankini, I will assume that the glaring white skin around your waist is a floaty and try and grab on when the water at the steps gets choppy.”

one-piece, you will have a perma-wedgie, because one-piece suits are not one size fits all. I don’t mind that, though, because you won’t be standing still long enough for anyone to notice…unless you stop chasing me and just let me eat those dead bugs I always find.”

We really bonded over our swimwear heart to heart. I like to think that, and not the afternoon of wading, was why he was extra cuddly all evening. I love that little head resting on my shoulder.

If there is a seasoned mother that has any suggestions other than wetsuits, that would be great. At least no one will pay much attention to me with this cute face nearby.

(Maybe my next post will be a 2017 “seasoned mom” answer.)

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Where Did My Baby Go?

I’ve had a lot of feelings this week, and it makes me feel like that girl pouring her heart out on Mean Girls. (“She doesn’t even go here!” “I just have a lot of feelings.”)

This month has proved to be another with no promise of a baby. Does that sound pathetic for someone who already has two beautiful, healthy children? I am so blessed! The feeling of deeply wanting a baby is overwhelming, and weirdly isolating, because I don’t believe husbands ever drown in that emotion like women do.

Disappointment is a frustrating feeling. Sadness with an undertone of anger.

Waking up the day after a miscarriage or negative pregnancy test is the worst.

Kind of like when you get dumped, if you can’t relate. Has that happened to you? Did anyone ever break up with you? You wake up the next day, and there are just a few glorious seconds of amnesia, and then the previous day’s events come flooding back to your mind like an aftershock.

It’s kind of like that, only with less Beyonce break up playlists from your best friends.

The inside of me feels a little wilted, and I let myself experience those feelings for a few hours, but I can never be upset long with Gus and Roscoe keeping me busy. My sons are my best buddies, and without a doubt, angels sent to my home.

Oh, were you looking for a blog that posts about gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free brownies? I’m sorry.

My current baby turns two at the end of the week! Can you believe that? I am always emotional about birthdays, but this suddenly talking dude is getting to be SO fun that it emphasizes the sweet in bittersweet. I’m soaking in the last few moments of having a 23-month-old while I can still refer to his age in months. Just look at this face!

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Has Anyone Started Dreaming in Boomerangs Yet?

It’s been said that once you truly comprehend a new language, you start dreaming in it.

It makes me wonder if every person active on social media has suddenly experienced endless dreams (nightmares?) of Boomerang videos over and over and over and over and over and over and over and three new views and over and over.

Just curious.

(I haven’t yet, but I have yet to master that Boomerang wiggle, and I am positive that’s a prerequisite.)

Although I mainly use this blog as a reference website for writing samples, can I incorporate other stuff? Like, I don’t know…crappy iPhone photos? My favorite blogs have always been those that show me a glimpse of a person’s (slash total stranger I’m convinced I’m friends with) real life, and you can really get to know someone through their low-quality, quickly snapped pictures. A screenshot of the 72 open browser tabs on their phones, too, perhaps? I’ll save that for next time.

Maybe I’ll do that weekly and make a “My Life Monday,” or “More Than You Want to Know Monday!”
“TMI Tuesday?”
How about, “What the Hell’s Happening Wednesday”?

Yes. I like that one, but my mom would probably thin smile and that’s scary.

Also, it’s not Wednesday.

Also, my kids aren’t allowed to say “butt,” sooo I won’t say PG-13 words like hell. I definitely won’t say heck. I sure as hell won’t say heck. (JK, Mom!)

Anyway, here’s the past week:

I went to a friend’s baby sprinkle. You know that group of friends that you just kind of elbow your way into because they’re fun? Or do you not do that? Here are mine. I really like them and I’m way happy they were forced into the shackles of my love.

After Destiny’s shower, I made the most of my thirty minutes in the mall before the stores closed. I bought my son shoes, had an item to return, and I bought several pairs of sunglasses, because I will break and/or lose them all before July. I had to text a best friend to ask for her opinion while simultaneously doing the same with the Nordstrom girl helping me. (Like I said, forced friends. “Do these look okay? Do I look like I think I’m 17? Do you want to go to spin?”)

I ran into a girl at the airport wearing these shoes, and I had five minutes left to casually run to the other side of the mall to decide if I was pulling the trigger on copying her. The run! The color decision! It was all very thrilling. I’m saying I bought these shoes for Mother’s Day, but I am still holding out hope for a will. Shoes just sound appropriately less morbid for Mother’s Day.

We went swimming with a few friends at our friend Dylan’s house, went through the carwash at least six times, celebrated our friend Trey at his birthday party, celebrated the opening of a friend’s soda store, celebrated my friend Jackie’s birthday at a Backstreet Boys concert.

Wow. I guess I know why my boys napped so well.

Every week, I’m more and more in love with these little guys. Even with a bunch of fun events, my favorite moments are at home. Seen here: playing In n Out Drive Thru in Halloween jammies. They even ask, “You want animal style?” #proudmom

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