Not much time on my hands these days for mindless rambling online. I could go on and on about how wonderful my new daughter is. I could go on and on about what a fantastic experience it is to watch Turner learn about being a big brother. I bet I'll even write a few blogs about what kind of man my husband is when he is around his baby girl. There'll be lots of time for that in the future.
What is on my mind tonight is the creepy old man Walmart greeter. Yes, the supposed to be cheerful person who says "Welcome to Walmart", that's who I am talking about. Why is he on my mind? Because he's a clueless perv.
I ventured out this week with just me and Tate. Tunia and Booyah had Turner occupied so I thought I'd make a very quick trip to old Wally World as a maiden voyage. All went well. Tate and I got all five items on our list and proceeded to the checkout. While paying for our things Tate started to stir and I knew it was almost time to feed her. No biggie. I pushed our cart over to the Subway, which happens to be right in the view of perv greeter man.
It was ten thirty so there wasn't a soul in the Subway seeking a tasty alternative to fried fast food. Perfect. I went to a booth in the far corner and sat down. I got out my Snickers and my bottle of water and proceeded to get myself covered and ready to feed baby girl. Before unleashing my left concrete cantaloupe I looked around to make sure no one was staring and that the coast was clear. Well there he was staring intently. Usually if caught glancing a person will politely avert their eyes and act as if they weren't staring at you. Not you Mr I can't wait to catch a glimpse of your boobs. No you sat there and looked directly at me.
Well I of all people hate to shit on your parade. Unfortunately for you I have a nursing cover just for this purpose. Also this ain't my first rodeo. I can handle a roley poley infant under a sheet with out ever flashing an inch of flesh. Poor mister too cheap to buy porn, no boobs for you.
I have no hang ups about nursing. I'll do it where ever, but always in a discreet and tasteful manner. But geez people, don't stare. Now that I have that out of my system I am much more inclined to shout from the roof tops about having a newborn. The little soft hair and snugly head on my chest melts me. She smells like heaven and is almost edible she is so sweet.
Recovery from the second child is wonderful and so much faster than with Turner. She's only one week old and I feel pretty dang good. Turner tires me out but my paretns are here to run after him for another week. I am taking advantage and sleeping in while I can.
My daughter is already her own person. She has clear likes and dislikes. It is going to be an interesting life getting to see the differences between boys and girls. I have the best of both worlds and feel so very blessed. Now I have to go and get my behind in bed. I'll be up a couple times tonight enjoying my quiet time with the world's best girl, just like I did two years ago with the world's best boy. Good night--
Monday, June 25, 2007
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Just two more days...
I have been slacking on writing. So as an update: My waist(or what used to be my waist) is about seven feet around. I'm due next week. We are going in on Monday to be induced. My doctor wants to go ahead and get the weight and pressure off my pelvis, fine by me.
My Mom is here with me now. I have slept so good at night because I'm not hurting nearly as bad since she's here doing all of my chores. Did I ever mention how great grandparents are? Well Turner's are fabulous!
I am excited. The idea of getting to meet my daughter in just a couple days is really strange. Of course I have all kinds of things to think about. Will this labor be quicker than Turner's? Will Tate be as easy to nurse? How long will it take me to get back to my version of normal? All things we'll be finding out after Monday.
Maybe my mind will be working a little better and I will get back in the habit of emptying it out again. Maybe I'll be too sleep deprived to even get to the computer. I know the first few months will be rough, but we'll get it figured out. Hopefully I'll be able to get some new pics put up of my new little girl. I can't wait to have pictures of Turner holding his baby sister. I will share them as soon as I can.
Now I am going to go enjoy my last couple days of feeling my baby kick and move. I 'll enjoy the last couple days of my son being an only child. I'll maybe get to enjoy one last date with my husband and get to see a grown up movie. Then it'll be off to the races- nursing, burping, diapers, baby poop explosions, pacifiers, snuggles, sleepless nights, days spent in a daze, and the constant silly grin that comes along with the joys of a new baby.
My Mom is here with me now. I have slept so good at night because I'm not hurting nearly as bad since she's here doing all of my chores. Did I ever mention how great grandparents are? Well Turner's are fabulous!
I am excited. The idea of getting to meet my daughter in just a couple days is really strange. Of course I have all kinds of things to think about. Will this labor be quicker than Turner's? Will Tate be as easy to nurse? How long will it take me to get back to my version of normal? All things we'll be finding out after Monday.
Maybe my mind will be working a little better and I will get back in the habit of emptying it out again. Maybe I'll be too sleep deprived to even get to the computer. I know the first few months will be rough, but we'll get it figured out. Hopefully I'll be able to get some new pics put up of my new little girl. I can't wait to have pictures of Turner holding his baby sister. I will share them as soon as I can.
Now I am going to go enjoy my last couple days of feeling my baby kick and move. I 'll enjoy the last couple days of my son being an only child. I'll maybe get to enjoy one last date with my husband and get to see a grown up movie. Then it'll be off to the races- nursing, burping, diapers, baby poop explosions, pacifiers, snuggles, sleepless nights, days spent in a daze, and the constant silly grin that comes along with the joys of a new baby.
Monday, June 4, 2007
The first step is admitting you have a problem.
Hi, My name is Tiffany and I am a clean-a-holic. I stand here today and admit I am powerless to fight the compulsion. Once I smell Mr Clean or Clorox I am no longer myself and shouldn't be held accountable for my actions.
Yesterday I realized that I might have a problem. This startling revelation came to me as I was on my hands and knees inside my fireplace scrubbing away soot. What would possess a nine month pregnant woman to climb in a fireplace to clean it? I have no idea. It was like an alien abduction, I just blinked and realized where I was and what I was doing. But should Tate or any of my upcoming house guests want to curl up in the fireplace, it is as clean as a whistle.
The madness didn't stop there. My friend Leann informed me that vacuuming a vacuum is over the line a bit. Why? My theory is that you cannot clean with a dirty cleaning appliance. I cleaned yesterday and went to empty the canister on my beloved vacuum. After emptying it I was cleaning the filters like always and I got that itchy feeling. You know, that one that strikes when you know there is more dirt out there, you just have to find a way to get to it. So I did the sensible thing, I hauled the vacuum outside and scrubbed the inside of it with a toothbrush for thirty minutes. When I was satisfied that I had dislodged any dirt that may have been hiding I came in and got the Dirt Devil Cone out of it's cradle and vacuumed the inside of my big Bissell. This is a sad and never ending cycle. Once you vacuum one vacuum with another then one vacuum is clean while the other one is now full of the first ones dirt. But I had to stop short of vacuuming the inside of the cone with the Bissell, even an addict has standards.
My poor fish got caught up in the madness. Both the big tank and the small bowl are clean and sparkly this morning. After cleaning the fish abodes I was washing my hands and noticed that the soap dispensers were a little lack-luster. So I went through the house and collected all the soap pumps and washed them too. What good are clean soap dispensers if the garbage cans are dirty? You can't just wash your hands and throw your paper towel into a dirty garbage can. So the Clorox came out and now all my trash receptacles are clean enough to eat from. Now there wasn't much to bleach considering that I just bleached the cans a week and a half ago, but as I said before I am powerless against the compulsion.
This morning I have had time to bake a cake. While the smell of German chocolate filled the house I had time to Lysol wipe all the light switches and clean the computer key board. What is the point of all of this? To my crazy mind if I have the house clean and neat then it doesn't matter when I go into labor. I can happily be in the hospital and know that if anyone has to come to my house to gather supplies or help out with Brad and Turner that they will not think I am a slob when they bend over to inspect the fireplace. Likewise, should anyone come over and administer the "White Glove Test", my house would pass. Is any of it necessary? Of course not. But who among us can resist the smell of chocolate mingling with bleach and Lysol in the morning?
Yesterday I realized that I might have a problem. This startling revelation came to me as I was on my hands and knees inside my fireplace scrubbing away soot. What would possess a nine month pregnant woman to climb in a fireplace to clean it? I have no idea. It was like an alien abduction, I just blinked and realized where I was and what I was doing. But should Tate or any of my upcoming house guests want to curl up in the fireplace, it is as clean as a whistle.
The madness didn't stop there. My friend Leann informed me that vacuuming a vacuum is over the line a bit. Why? My theory is that you cannot clean with a dirty cleaning appliance. I cleaned yesterday and went to empty the canister on my beloved vacuum. After emptying it I was cleaning the filters like always and I got that itchy feeling. You know, that one that strikes when you know there is more dirt out there, you just have to find a way to get to it. So I did the sensible thing, I hauled the vacuum outside and scrubbed the inside of it with a toothbrush for thirty minutes. When I was satisfied that I had dislodged any dirt that may have been hiding I came in and got the Dirt Devil Cone out of it's cradle and vacuumed the inside of my big Bissell. This is a sad and never ending cycle. Once you vacuum one vacuum with another then one vacuum is clean while the other one is now full of the first ones dirt. But I had to stop short of vacuuming the inside of the cone with the Bissell, even an addict has standards.
My poor fish got caught up in the madness. Both the big tank and the small bowl are clean and sparkly this morning. After cleaning the fish abodes I was washing my hands and noticed that the soap dispensers were a little lack-luster. So I went through the house and collected all the soap pumps and washed them too. What good are clean soap dispensers if the garbage cans are dirty? You can't just wash your hands and throw your paper towel into a dirty garbage can. So the Clorox came out and now all my trash receptacles are clean enough to eat from. Now there wasn't much to bleach considering that I just bleached the cans a week and a half ago, but as I said before I am powerless against the compulsion.
This morning I have had time to bake a cake. While the smell of German chocolate filled the house I had time to Lysol wipe all the light switches and clean the computer key board. What is the point of all of this? To my crazy mind if I have the house clean and neat then it doesn't matter when I go into labor. I can happily be in the hospital and know that if anyone has to come to my house to gather supplies or help out with Brad and Turner that they will not think I am a slob when they bend over to inspect the fireplace. Likewise, should anyone come over and administer the "White Glove Test", my house would pass. Is any of it necessary? Of course not. But who among us can resist the smell of chocolate mingling with bleach and Lysol in the morning?
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