All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free...

So I know I said I was all about picking this whole typing my thoughts into the computer for the world (or just some friends) to read, but then came the wrist brace. Yup, the wrist brace. And while I could tell a truly rad story about how I was walking into the bank with Elliot on my hip and took out a robber thus injuring my poor wrist, I'll go ahead and tell the truth.

It was a sewing injury.

Apparently all you people having babies or babies' birthdays led me into a hand-sewing frenzy and I got a little carpal tunnel. So I had to stop the sewing (sorry, Hollis - Stella's gift is coming, I promise!) and start wearing the brace. But I'm doing much better now. Thanks for asking.

Anyway, I made a big old batch of crawfish for Fat Tuesday this year. I tend to get homesick around Fat Tuesday every year. Not really because we used to do any Mardis Gras festivities, but because Fat Tuesday makes me think of crawfish and crawfish makes me think of home. All you Houston people know what I mean - during the season you can't go two blocks without seeing huge signs: "WE HAVE CRAWFISH!" "CRAWFISH SPECIALS!" "CRAWFISH BY THE BARREL LOAD!" Okay, maybe I made that one up, but I bet you get the idea. You're all smart people. I remember going to Fiesta with my dad, where he taught me how to pick the best crawfish. I remember helping him purge them in the kitchen sink, opening the doors because the spices made our kitchen into an experiment in tear gas. And of course, I remember the awesome yumminess that was the end result to an all-day affair.

When I was pregnant with The Joey I had this dream. It was one of those super-vivid sensory pregnant lady crazy dreams. I was back in my family's old house on Lost Oak (shout out, Cypressdale!) and I was walking down the hall. And I could smell something ridiculously delicious. So I walk into the living room and see through a cutout in the wall (I'm not a student of architecture so I don't know the correct term) that my dad was at the stove with his back turned to me, stirring something in the huge stockpot reserved for crawfish. As I walked into the kitchen I said, "Dad...?" because it was just so real. And just as he was about to turn around - I could even see the grin forming at the corner of his mouth - I woke up.

Now during this time I was pregnant with The Joey I felt very alone. I was hundreds of miles from my parents, all my friends had graduated college and moved away and here I was, knocked up and getting to know my husband who I had been dating for all of under a year before we got married. Don't worry - we know each other now, and we like each other. I've always been close to my dad, but unfortunately my mother and I had a HUGE falling out over the aforementioned situation of being knocked up and married and as a result my dad and I didn't really talk much, either. What I'm trying to emote here is that I had a very real reaction when I awoke from this incredible dream.

I was hungry.

Not just "I could eat" hungry. I was drooling on myself, "nothing is going to satisfy this hunger other than crawfish, and oh by the way I mean NOW" pregnancy craving on crack kind of hungry.

Oh yeah, and I was crying, too.

The Husband, Godlovehim, found a place in the middle of nowhere near Lake Texoma that served crawfish.

So whenever I want or make crawfish I find myself pretending that I'm in that kitchen on Lost Oak with my dad, going through the motions we've been going through for years and years.

And now I'm about to cry again. But not in a bad way - in a soul-stirring appreciative kind of way. Because no matter what happens for the rest of eternity I had that time with my dad, and the memories are enough to keep him so close that I can bring him from Houston to Fort Worth just by reliving them in my mind.

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here....

Hey all!

I was reading Life in the Land of Douglas and the thought occurred to me that I haven't been here lately. So I logged on and lo! and behold, it's been over a year. That posting was about my evil frustrations about breastfeeding and the meltdown I had one night when I refused to feed him. Well... I wound up continuing a couple hours after that meltdown after some rest and I had gotten out all those evil feelings in a really good cry. The Elliot stayed on the breast until he was almost 9 months old, and I made all his baby food until he was graduated to super-chunky food. We attempted jarred baby food, but it made him very upset so we began him on table food a bit early but "The Tank", as we call him, has never looked back. That kid is ridiculous!

So what else? We're just still truckin' along, enjoying our life with our two boys. It's kind of crazy when I stop and think about it: I have two boys. And boy are they boys! Last week they tripped me at least three times as I stupidly attempted to walk across the living room while they were wrestling. They eat enough that I now buy bigger packages of food (meat, especially) and we're eventually getting an additional freezer from The Awesome In-Laws. But we've pretty much gotten the hang of everything, as much as we're ever going to be able to.

The Joey is getting bigger every time I turn around. He's tall and lanky and so Joey. We're continuing to battle with some behavior issues and him "using his brain" both at school and at home. We've wondered if he may have some kind of hyperactivity or attention deficit, but all my research notes that doctors don't like to diagnose until seven. So we'll be fighting the good fight for another year and a half and hopefully we'll get to the bottom of it eventually. The Elliot is walking more and more, which is just amazing. He's 14 months (tomorrow!) and has figured out how to remove the "child-proofing" electrical socket covers. The best I can deduce The Elliot watched me take them out to plug in the vacuum (yes, I clean... sometimes) or my sewing machine (which I use sooooo much more than my vacuum) or whatever; he can do it because he watched me do it! When he watches us do things he really watches. You can see the gears in his big head turning and when he puts them into practice and does something/anything you can see the joy of satisfaction on his face. It's freaking adorable.

I guess that's about it for catching up. I'll attempt to do better. But I have boys.

With a rebel yell

I can graciously accept the fact that I am this close to buttoning my jeans. I know in a few weeks I'll be able to button them, and in a few weeks more I'll be in the gym getting ready for The Elder's wedding and those jeans will be bigger on me.

I can calmly deal with a traffic accident. The Husband lost control in his car yesterday morning and was T-boned on the passenger side. He is totally and completely fine save a scrape and a bruise on his leg. The car, however, is dead. We had to pay the second wrecker to arrive to the accident $140 bucks (nearly cleaning out our bank account) to pry apart the two vehicles. But since he spent the day at home he received an email on his personal account notifying him that his recent job application was denied on the due date and he was able to fix it and verify the application was received and approved for review. I can totally see the good side in that.

But I try throwing a boob and a baby together - arguably the most "natural" thing in the world - and my entire universe becomes unglued. Case in point, this afternoon. I'm alone in the house and trying to feed The Elliot (birth story/pictures/oohing and aahing post to follow when I'm a little less insane) with apparently the flattest nipple to ever exist and he's screaming. I suddenly decide it's not fair that he gets to be the only one to voice some frustration over the situation and I let out this primal, evil, possibly throat-damaging yell and hold it until I'm concerned I'll pop some blood vessels in my eyes. Funny - it worked. He stopped screaming long enough to latch on and finally eat.

But this is not an isolated incident or frustration. I totally want to give in. I'm tired of this - the bad days definitely outweigh the good and I just want my kid to eat well. And don't give me any of the horseshit about pumping; I tried it to relieve engorgement and it's totally not the same thing. I want to do this and am stubborn about getting it right and not giving in to formula. But some days it really feels like all roads lead to Similac.

At this point I'm evil. Yesterday morning after 40 minutes of trying to get him to eat I simply put him back in the bassinet and went downstairs. I cried and refused to feed him for probably another 45 minutes, during which time The Husband thought he was helping by trying to get me talk (to him and really just in general because I was just sitting there crying and looking at the tv that was off) but really just led me to express my dire hatred for him. Luckily he knew I wasn't in my right mind. Last night The Elliot wanted to eat every hour for a period of about 5-6 hours from 8 pm to 1 or 2 in the morning and I was having trouble sleeping anyway due to pure exhaustion and the fact that The Husband was snoring. So I had finally gotten to sleep and The Elliot started. The Husband started snoring louder. And I exploded inside. I don't even remember the things I said, but he left to sleep downstairs. And I was glad. The Elliot finished eating and finally went to sleep and so did I, only to be awoken at 5:30 to take The Husband to work. And the thing is, I wasn't upset about taking him to work that early, waking up the kids to do so. But I bet that if I had already been up and attempting to feed or feeding The Elliot when The Husband needed to go, one of us would have lost a testicle.

Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, but I think I'll miss this one this year

The other night at dinner The Joey asked me "Mommy, why are you a Grinch?" This, because I said what I wanted to watch during dinnertime is "How The Grinch Stole Christmas", but only if we could stop it before Grinchy saved Christmas. It's just a much better ending! So when The Joey asked me why I'm a Grinch I looked over at The Husband and he was looking at me like "I knew someday this was going to catch up to you and you'd have to explain your dislike of the holidays to our children". The best way I knew how to talk to Joey is to tell him how much I love making Christmas special for him, making him cookies and making cookies with him, wrapping presents for him and seeing him open them, making pretty things for the people we love, going to church and saying Happy Birthday to Jesus, spending time with our family and friends, etc. And I made sure to tell him that what I didn't like was all the commercials and stuff the stores try and make you buy, how busy the roads are because people think they need to go out and buy a bunch of stuff, etc.

I don't know if he got it, but he was quiet after that.

It's 2 and a half weeks before The Elliot is supposed to get here! And I have a reason to want to keep him in my belly until the 11th. The Older Sister got engaged last month(whoo-hoo!) and since the entire clan will be in one place for Elliot's birth she and I schemed up a little surprise for our mom. We have an appointment to go look at wedding dresses the day before I'm scheduled to go into the hospital. So if you know Mom and tell her before she gets here I may just have to hunt you down. She's all "this trip is all about A. and The Elliot" and usually I LOVE things to be all about me but after giving birth all I feel is gross and I just want to be alone with The Husband and the new being I spent most of a year making, not handing it over to everyone under the sun. Like my friend once said, "I made it - I get to play with it first!" But I'm so grateful that everyone is coming so I'm going to do what I can to keep myself in check. I think you must have had to have been at The Joey's birth to understand....

A long long time ago (or four and a half years) I was at the hospital bright and early to give birth to The Joey. The Husband, my bestie, my mom, his parents and brother and grandfather were there, but waiting in the waiting room (except The Husband, of course). After The Joey was freed I spent time in Recovery and then was wheeled back to my room. Thank goodness for drugs, because for the next two days there was a steady stream of visitors that I really would have preferred ask us if they could come visit. They didn't come all at once - they staggered their visits so that I had no chance to shower, put makeup on, fix my hair or rest for those two days. I don't in any way doubt the sincerity, generosity (they all brought gifts!) and excitement of their intentions but it is more polite to wait until the new parents go home. I wound up pushing myself really hard to be able to go home and get some peace and quiet.

So we were really happy to be having The Elliot far far away in the land of Fort Worth, where hopefully we could control who would and would not be allowed. My bestie, my parents and brother and sisters, The Husband and The Joey (of course!), and his parents are allowed. Everyone else will just have to wait. And The Husband has promised that he will herd people out when I need to rest or just need to be alone for a few minutes. Thank you Superman!

Speaking of Superman, I totally had a breakdown last night. It suddenly hit me that nothing is ready for The Elliot to get home - we haven't even bought the carseat yet! Our registries at Target and Babies 'R Us are still full of stuff we've yet to get. I kept telling myself that we just needed to finish up Christmas before we could finish buying stuff for the nursery but I only did the math last night that proved how close the dates of Christmas and The Elliot's birthday really are. So while I came unglued The Husband quickly became Superman and we've made some semblance of a plan to finish the nursery in time, carseat and all.

Have no fear Little Elliot, we'll be ready for you yet. Mom promise.

Hello I've waited here for you everlong

Hello...?

Is anyone still out there?

[crickets]

While I never promised to be a great (or even consistent) blogger, months without a post is probably too long. So I'm sorry. I was busy growing a person.

I'm still not done growing a person... and I'm so over it. I think we're down to about 9 weeks, maybe less. I've lost count. Whoever decided that nine months would be a good amount of time for babies to grow needs to reassess the situation. It sucks. And I'm tired. And my back hurts after doing something menial like cleaning the stovetop and then I can't do anything for the rest of the day. I'm fed up with being useless and in pain. I want to be able to pick up The Joey or take him outside to play or get on the floor and color... something. Anything.

Venting - done.

So I have a ton of things coming up, and most are requiring my craft skills to be in top form. I'm still working on the picture frames for the nursery (pictures will follow when the room is complete, probably January 2010), and then next on my list is a tablecloth for the table The Husband made for the living room. Yes, made. Handy husband + crafty wife = more money in the bank! So then after the tablecloth is done, I'm going to have to put everything aside and start working on holiday madness. I think I've got the design for my younger sisters' Christmas gift done in my head. Actually I have two ideas, but I don't know which one to go with. I was going to make a set of two....

Luckily we're purchasing more than creating this year, solely to preserve my sanity. But when you're purchasing for three of the hardest people to shop for (The Husband's family) sanity is pretty much out the window from the get-go. I love my in-laws and I know how lucky I am to have a great relationship with them... but they are soooo hard to shop for!!!! And The Husband is not really very much help. At all. And my suggestions are all met with, "I dunno...."

Apparently I wasn't done venting. More apologies. I think I'll have some egg rolls for lunch and the world will be a better place.

Who gives a fuck about an oxford comma?

I remember my first day of school.

My mom got me up and put me in my dress that matched my older sister's. I had a full breakfast and we took the obligatory pictures, smiling and super excited about going to kindergarten. We got in the car and started the drive to the elementary school.

And there were no crossing guards.

And no kids walking to school.

And no traffic.

And no cars in the parking lot.

Turns out it was the day before the first day of school.

My first day of middle school my mom's car wouldn't start so the neighbor dropped me off. I was super late for my first day of high school for some reason I can't remember.

The Joey's first day of school wasn't like any of that. We took him into the school and he never gave us another glance. There was another kid crying and The Husband and I thought the same thing (we found out later): he's going to think there's something to be scared of, so let's not make a big deal out of goodbyes. Which turned out to be fine because The Joey started talking with his teacher and got in line and never looked at us again. I looked at the teacher and said "Is that it?!" and she said "Well, I guess so!" We went into the room and dropped off his school supplies and the line started to move. There were other parents in the room and we all kinda followed them out. Then The Husband and I went to find the nurse's office to drop off his updated shot record minus the absurd chickenpox vaccine (more on that another time) and we kept running into The Joey and his class! We'd hide behind corners so he wouldn't know we were still there... not that he would have noticed. He was totally in his own world, so happy to be at school.

Two words summed up yesterday, at a level I didn't know I could reach: so proud.

Look at me, look at me, Hands in the air like it's good to be

Slacker slacker slacker! I wear my title proudly. It's not like I haven't been doing things - I've been doing TONS of things. That's just the problem....

The Husband and I have reached a critical point in this pregnancy. I like to call it "Yeah... but how did it get in there?" Because that's the question Joey seems intent on getting an answer to. We tried to sugar-coat it with "Well, it takes a little bit of Mommy and a little bit of Daddy and a whole lot of love," only to be answered with a pause and "Yeah... but how did it get in there?" So we try again, with "Well, Mommy and Daddy love each other a whole lot and we love you a whole lot so we decided to have another baby," - "Yeah... but how did it get in there?" So I have no idea what to tell a four year old about sex and any book I could find at Barnes & Noble would probably make me giggle so we're just kind of not answering him for now. The Husband says he wants to wait until The Joey can be fully embarassed by the answer to the question. I plan on waiting until he's old enough to be truthful with.

So I guess I'll work backwards from here on out because honestly, I can remember what I did this week but not really what I did last week.

I am in the middle of an embroidery marathon. I can't stop, and I really shouldn't. Because I am the smartest person in the world, I decided to make a gift for a friend's baby shower but didn't really assess the project as a whole and there's a hell of a lot of embroidery to be done by the end of next week. Since she's probably reading this (hey Lauren!) I won't go into detail as to what it is but I can tell you I'm very happy to do it because I love this girl to death and am so happy for her and her husband and their baby girl. And I'm not even being facetious - I really mean it!

We also ordered our tickets to the circus next week! And I actually found badass seats for a badass price! See, The Husband brought home a flier from his work advertising 25% off ticket prices. So upon deeper research it was impossible to find good seats with the discount. So I remembered looking at the website last year when we thought we wanted to go and finding a military discount... for 50% off ticket prices!!! So then I went to the Ticketmaster website and looked for the best seats for every day the circus is in town. We wound up with center ring seats in the first row of the balcony for $7.50 a ticket! What we've found out about the whole circus thing is that The Husband and I are more excited about going to the circus than The Joey. I'm sure, though, that once we pay for parking and cotton candy and a glow wand and a souvenir cup The Joey will be more excited to be at the circus than we are.

Tuesday I ordered this (thanks Lauren!) for The Joey's Robot Room. and it said it would take 3-5 business days to arrive. So imagine my surprise when I saw the man in brown drop a big box on my doorstep and drive away yesterday afternoon... it was the sheets! We had an awesome time looking at the robots and talking about getting a new Big Brother Bed and then when the novelty was gone The Husband and I discussed putting a waterproof mattress pad on the Big Brother Bed. I wonder why they call it waterproof... everyone really knows it's being peeproof that really matters.

I got to spend last Sunday with The Doctor, and we had a blast. Luckily she works REALLY early in the morning so we get tired about the same time in the afternoon, so I wasn't out too late. We went to see "The Proposal" and were greatly surprised that we enjoyed it so much. I thought it was going to be your typical formulaic romantic comedy and while there were some of those elements to it, the greater proportion turned out to be hilarious and awesome. Then we went in search of pregnancy church clothes and athletic shoes... not to be worn together, of course. In between there we got some beyond-yummy-lunch that made the parasite very very happy. It was spicy!

I have no idea what else has happened since I last posted. All I can think about is embroidery. Someday I will be sane again....