Tuesday, September 27, 2005


That's what I'm calling it.

Baby X makes this face fairly often now. He scrunches up his little face and puckers his lips. He likes to throw in some rapid breathing because, well, I think it's supposed to be scary that way. It's funny really. We all do it now. We were at the movies on Sunday and standing in line Baby X started Monsterfying the people behind us. Out of habit, we all started Monstering. We looked like a bunch of idiots but Baby X was amused.
I had physical therapy today and as I sat talking to K and doing my hand exercises, she paused and asked what was wrong with Baby X.
"Oh, nothing. He's just Monstering you because we're not letting him be the Ladies Man he is."

No really.

He did it when we were at Target too. He's recently started waving 'hi' and 'bye' to people. Sometimes before they walk away. We were at checkout when the couple next to us started talking to Baby X. I began to encourage him to wave 'hi'. He ignored me. He smiled a little at them. I tried to get him to wave again.
Apparently this was all too much for him and he Monstered them.
They thought this was just hysterical. They began to Monster back at him. He laughed and started Monstering to everyone who dared to look at him. I think now he does it just to see who will do it back.

Somewhere out there is a young couple happily Monstering their friends.
They, in turn, will Monster their families and friends, and so on.

Baby X: Trendsetter Extraordinaire.

Monday, September 26, 2005

We are cruel parents

Ok, really it's just me. Mr X just shakes his head, sighs and goes along with it. Someday our kids are going to look through their scrapbooks and wonder what we, er, I was smoking.
I found Baby X's halloween costume. I knew it was the one the moment I saw it. I couldn't stop laughing. Even Mr X laughed before shaking his head. I'm waiting anxiously for UPS to deliver it. Every now and then I sneak a peek back at the website and giggle maniacally. Girl X tells her friends "Don't worry, she's not dangerous crazy. Just weird crazy." Little does she know that she once wore a lady bug costume I made myself, I still have the shell and sparkly antenna in my hope chest.
I know this borders on child abuse, but I'm the same person that merrily dressed Baby X in a little blue bunny suit for Easter. It had ears and a fuzzy little tail. I giggled all day.
So, here it is..........

And when that day comes that Baby X is no longer a baby and can demand an answer for my cruelty I will smile and tell him "It was Humpty Dumpty or this:"

I can't tell which is the lesser of two evils. He's just lucky I saw Humpty Dumpty first.

Friday, September 23, 2005

My hero, the Drama Queen

Mr X and I took the kidlets to do some mindless shopping. I scored on summer clothes for Baby x for next year. I love clearance. I live for sales. I rarely pay full price for anything because I know eventually it will go on sale. I buy clothes for the kids ahead of season. Yes, I'm one of those people.
We packed up the van with all the goodies and I tossed Mr X the keys. I hate driving when he's in the van. He's a back seat driver. It's hard to resist the urge to smack him with something heavy and handy when he's in the passenger seat.
As he was getting in, I heard a girly gasp. I looked at Girl X but she just shrugged. Baby X was happily munching on his seat belt strap.
Mr X looked sick.
"There's a scratch!"
I got in the van feeling mildly ill. This van is only 6 months old. My first really nice brand new vehicle.
We started to head home. Mr X continued to describe it.
"It's huge, long. There's a big dent too. I wonder how they did that!"
I told him I wasn't going to be able to look at it. I felt really sick now. I wanted to cry picturing the gash in my van he was describing.
We pulled into the driveway and I knew I had to see it.

It took me a few minutes to see what he was talking about. There is a scratch, it's long but thin and not deep. I had to look for it. There are no dents.

Mr X will forever be known now as the Supreme Drama Queen.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Denial, denial, denial

Mr X and I have a little game we play. Some would call it passing the buck, although in this case I think it's more like passing the poo. We're generally clean people, but both of us hate cleaning up after Cat X or Dog X leave a biscuit on the carpet, or puke up the sour twizzlers Mr X keeps sneaking the dog. Yes dear, I know that Dog X is not just eating his kibble. Kibble isn't bright blue. Kibble doesn't make him fart the Star Spangled Banner at 3 am.
Mr X has to clean the litter box. I claim reproductive health. Once we're done reproducing, I'll claim it's always been his job and there's no sense changing it. I am a heartless wench.
Cat X is the main culprit. He usually pukes from eating too much dog food or he gets pissed because well..... He's a cat. Does he really need a reason to get pissy? He just is.
The rule here is that whoever spots it first cleans it.
But, you have to basically catch the person finding it to get them to clean it. We've both become very adept at pretending we didn't see it.
"There was a pile of poo the size of Baby X at the bottom of the stairs? Wow! Cat X must have just done it. Tough break."
It becomes a matter of who can't stand it more first.

I know. We're childish. It's disgusting to leave it laying around. It would be a simple matter to clean it up and get over it. But we still play this game. Every. Time.

When I get stuck cleaning it up, I require an entire roll of paper towels, elbow length rubber gloves, tongs, a handkerchief to tie around my nose and mouth, plastic bag, carpet cleaner, rag to scrub the cleaner in and one to dry. As soon as I have that mess knotted up a plastic bag it gets carried to the outdoor trash followed by the gloves, tongs and rags,

Mr X, grabs whatever scrap paper he can find and throws it in whatever trash can is nearby.

I must immediately scrub my hands in hot water with antibacterial soap because that shit is nasty.

Mr X goes back to eating his tacos.

As strange as my little animal poo disposal routine is, I have no issue with Baby X's diapers. We're talking about poo that could double as military grade adhesive. Toxic. The unholiest of all things great and small. Even worse because you know that this smiling little toothy monster created that Weapon of Mass Destruction. Yet, it doesn't bother me. Mr X looks at Baby X's diapers as Olympic achievement. I can hear him in Baby X's room changing said stinky diaper.
"That's my son!" with such pride I think Baby x must have just cured cancer.
He just grunted out what looks like dog food (which is entirely possible since I caught Baby X in the dog's food bowl today).

Monday, September 19, 2005

That wascally wabbit.................

Remember when I mentioned that we weren't the nicest kids in the neighborhood? Well, we weren't always the smartest either.
We preferred to confine our moments of stupidity to the times we were left alone with our grandmother. She was a sweet woman but she would freak out over the slightest cough with such superb skill that it became a contest to see who could make her screech first, loudest, or longest. We knew who won by who ended up in the emergency room.
My favorite was the day she gave us mini bean bags. Brother X told Sister X that he saw a guy on tv stick something in his ear and it came out the other side. Sister X said that was impossible. Brother X called her a wuss and bet her that he could shove a bean in his ear and make it come out the other side. Sister X told him to go ahead and just to prove how stupid he was, she'd do it too.
My brother managed to get his in pretty far. My sister was less enthusiastic but still required the skill of our favorite ER Dr.
As my grandmother dragged us out of the ER, muttering about palpatations, my sister asked my brother who he saw on tv pull such a stunt.
"Bugs Bunny"

My sister probably would have beat him to death had my grandmother not threatened to have the Dr stitch her hands to her head.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Did you hear that?

That was the sound of Mr X dropping a pile of joint compound on the radio and sharing a few new curse words.

Mr X is a pretty handy guy. Right now he's trying to finish off our downstairs. He did the living room and guest room almost 2 years ago. All that's left is the bathroom and the laundry room.

I love a guy that can build and fix and create like that. I love it even more because with Mr X I know something will happen that will cause him to yell and then scramble to try to recover.
Example- Mr X decided we needed another storage closet. There was all this unused space under the stairs but it was blocked off by pesky walls. Mr X decides it would be very simple to just cut into it, build a small door and voila..... A closet.
5 minutes into the project Girl X, being 4 and a tattle tale at the time, came running upstairs panting, eyes wild and flailing her little arms excitedly.
"Mom! Daddy, broke the wall!"

Mr X hadn't been paying attention and cut into the wrong spot. He did fix it and we do have a nice little storage closet, but it's moments like that that get me giggly for his next home improvement project.

This one involves water. Pipes. So much potential for fun.

Too bad I wasn't home when it happened.

The first night he started working I had to take Girl X to cheerleading practice. When we came home there were towels all over my front porch. I asked Girl X to carry some of them into the laundry room while I got Baby X out. She came running back out to tell me that the house smelled 'funny'.
I had her wait with Baby X while I went in to check it out.
Mr X wasn't home but the kid was fooling. It smelled like someone had dumped rubbing alcohol, rubber cement and paint thinner all over my house. I started walking upstairs and noticed more wet towels.
The only note in the house was very simple:


Oh, how I wish I had been there with my camera for this one.

Mr X had decided that to continue working without further disruption to our ability to bathe, he would extend the water pipes and create his own shut off. Too bad he didn't turn the water off before he cut into the pipe.

Is it so wrong that I still giggle when I think of it?

Since he can only work on this during nights and weekends when we aren't dragging him all over the place, progress is slow. He has been hanging some drywall but can't do much more until he has someone to help him carry in the jacuzzi tub.

I should have months of fun with this.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

By the way..........

If anyone could tell me how to add links to other sites, I'd really appreciate it! I tried to follow Blogger's instructions, but it didn't work!

Moments I wish I could clone myself

Any day this week (and last week for that matter) would have been a good day to have more than one of me. Far too much to do! Between physical therapy (me), Girl X's urology appt, her cheerleading pictures and practice, Dr's (Baby x), Dr's (me this time), Girl X's football game, and day to day errands, I haven't been able to get anything done at home. I know there is a post somewhere in my head, but I can't think clearly enough to get it out.

Baby X is cutting molars. I miss sleep. I guess sleep is the price we pay for his cheerfulness during the day.

Monday, September 05, 2005

Rehashing a Black Year

We had a barbecue this weekend for friends and family. Towards the end of the night I was sitting with my neighbor, SIL, and a friend just talking about random things when the conversation got turned to what I now refer to as my Black Year. I'm not big on sharing something so personal when I'm face to face with people but I've been trying to get better about it. I've come to realize that I need to speak up when these things happen or I end up where I was during my Black Year. Plus, I think that the more I talk about it, the easier it gets for me to deal with it and to handle the guilt I now feel. So now you, and by you I mean those random people reading this blog, are going to be a sounding board for me.
It started when Mr X and I decided to expand our happy little family. I was excited at the thought of 2 more little feet running through the house. As luck would have it, I got pregnant on the first try. We were so excited we couldn't contain ourselves and called everyone we ever met. I was due in early January. We happily began planning and even went so far as to buy the crib and dresser/ changing table. Then the unthinkable happened. I was 7 weeks along when I lost our baby. I was crushed, but I am (90%) of the time an optimist. I cried but I decided to brush it off.
I did feel a bit more desperate to get pregnant again. I could just feel that little baby, just out of my reach and I had no patience to wait.
This time it took 2 tries. We told our parents and I told a few friends, but no one else. I did not want to have to go back and tell everyone if something went wrong like last time. At the same time I was confident that it would be ok because lightening doesn't strike twice. Right?
I was 12 weeks when we went to hear the baby's heartbeat. There was nothing there. I'll never forget the sound of that Doppler echoing so emptily in the exam room. The baby had died 3 weeks before. I miscarried at 13 weeks.
I was destroyed.
I put on a happy face during the day for Mr X, Girl X, and everyone else. But at night, I let go. Everyone else would be asleep and I'd be in the nursery crying my heart out on the floor. Or if it was too much during the day, in the bathroom.
During the time that I was miscarrying, my bil and sil came over. They didn't know what we were going through as they didn't know that I had been pregnant again. I like to think if they had they wouldn't have chosen that weekend to tell us that she was pregnant again. I remember getting out a weak 'congratulations'. In my head all I could think was that she had my baby. God was punishing me by taking my baby and giving it to someone I could barely tolerate. I avoided her a lot for the next 8 months. I avoided a lot of things during that time.
This time getting pregnant was taking longer and I was falling apart every month. Looking back, I know I should have been seeing a therapist. At the time, I just functioned as well as I could.
Mr X went to get a physical. We were preparing to have fertility testing as we knew that would be the next step. Instead we got bitch-slapped.
We found out that Mr X had Hepatitis B. He got it as a child and never knew. If I was on shaky ground before, now I was working in a constant earthquake. Mr X had to get a biopsy and medication. We had a lot to work out.
I got pregnant again a few months later. The day after I took the test, lightening struck a 3rd time.
When Girl X would go to the school in the morning, I would have a good cry and scream, then go on about my day. I started to feel numb.
I think Mr X started to get an idea that all was not well in my world. We went on vacation. I was not entirely myself, but as the trip wore on, I let myself forget.
We had always said that we wouldn't want a Christmas baby. By this time though, I couldn't have gone a month without trying. Now, that baby just out of my reach was my tormenter. I could smell that sweet baby scent in my sleep.
When I took a pregnancy test the next month, I thought it would be negative. When it came back positive I started crying. I was terrified. I took a deep breath and went on.
I was in a constant state of panic during that first trimester. I ran to the bathroom every time I felt the slightest pain. My Dr let me have an ultrasound early and seeing the heartbeat helped immensely. 2 days later, I was back to panicking. At 12 weeks, we went to hear the heartbeat.
Silence. I sucked in my breath.

And then there it was. Steady and sweet.

I can't say that the rest of my pregnancy was easy. It was text book perfect, but my anxiety made it difficult to enjoy. I had spotting off and on during the early part of my 2nd trimester and that sent me into a bit of a tailspin. I worried between every Dr's visit. I worried when I couldn't feel the baby move. I worried during labor. I worried when he was finally here, but he wasn't crying. In fact, he never really cried. Turns out, he's just not much of a crier. He's the happiest baby I've ever seen.

Those 'what if's' followed me every day. Every minute. I blamed myself and my body for what had happened. I had convinced myself that I had done something horrible to deserve it. I wondered if I could continue trying without going insane. Sometimes they are still there.

Remember when I said we hadn't wanted a Christmas baby?

My due date was 12/25/05.

How's that for fate?

Friday, September 02, 2005

We lost power Sunday and it killed the computer. So much for surge protection.
It did make me realize how much I depend on my computer for adult contact during the day.

Don't get me wrong, I love being a stay at home mom, but there are only so many hours in the day an adult with more thana few working brian cells can sing along to the wiggles, play polly pockets and baby babble before going more than slightly mad. It doesn't help that Mr X worked late every night this past week. I realized I was in trouble when I started calling my sister every day just to hear an adult voice. Writing 'Help Me' in large purple chalk letters on the sidewalk was probably a little strange for my neighbors, but this is me. They should be used to ' a little strange' by now.
Mr X asked me why I was tapping out 'sos' on the counter the other night.

And now I'm going to be braver than I normally am and post my new favorite picture. I'm not sure how long it will stay up though.......... I don't know why it posted up there but oh well.........