pregnancy

10 Ways To Know You Aren’t Done Having Kids

September 26, 2013 by amushro

Deciding to add to your brood can be a difficult decision, but luckily for you, I have devised a simple quiz to help you determine if you can expect a bun in your oven in the near future.

While sitting among the ladies waiting for a pap smear at your yearly exam, you longingly look at the pregnant women and wish you were “playing for the other team”.
When you hold someone else’s baby, your ovaries make a sound like a sad trombone.
You have baby names picked out, and if someone on Facebook uses that name for their kid, you only refer to them as “name stealer” and “worst friend ever.” You also make outlandish claims that their baby looks like Winston Churchill.
You have a secret board on Pinterest where you pin ways to announce the new pregnancy and birth. Plus you really want to have a gender reveal party because they’re just cool and they didn’t have those cool things the last time you were pregnant.
Sorting through your kids’ piles of outgrown clothes is enough to send you over the edge or face first into a huge glass of wine.
Seeing a pregnant woman in the grocery store makes you sigh out loud and your uterus weep.
Your garage looks like this:
You just got a “save the date” for your cousin’s wedding that is happening on a tropical island next year, and you’re just not sure you can commit…yet.
You spent last weekend “cleaning up” the guest room.
You’ve started to kid yourself that the awful side effects of pregnancy really aren’t so wretched,“Morning sickness? Oh it wasn’t that bad!” “Who needs sleep?” “Labor and delivery? ‘Tis but a scratch!”

Results:

0 We get it, you’re done. DONE. You’ve sent your husband off to the guillotine and tossed out the baby bibs as soon as your last kid could wipe their own face.

1-3 You may have thought about having another kid, but then your current children performed their magic (tantrum, multiple trips to time out) and they cured your baby fever ASAP.

4-7 You put up a good front, but you could be convinced either way. You’ve got a mild case of baby fever, but it wouldn’t take much for you to “pull the goalie.”

8-10 Come on, who are you kidding? You already have one leg up in the stirrups.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

June 26, 2013 by amushro

I didn’t need a sonogram to tell me that I was having a girl. The pregnancy symptoms were clear indicators that the bun in my oven had lady bits. The minute the little test came back positive, my butt and hips got so big I could easily be mistaken for a Kardashian. The glowing skin of pregnancy, yeah, that was nowhere to be found on this lady. Oh, and for good measure, 14 weeks of being green from morning sickness made this particular pregnancy….memorable. But the worst was making it through 40 weeks of pregnancy with my son and my skin was unscathed, but at 36 weeks, I guess my girl thought it was time for me to earn my stripes–stretch marks. Traitor!

Big booty, vomiting, and tiger stripes aside, two years ago when the doctor placed my gal in my arms, I swear to you, friends, it was like Stevie Wonder was in the delivery room singing “Isn’t She Lovely,” because she really was. She was the most beautiful, mucus covered, gooey, messy baby girl I had ever laid eyes on, and I was immediately smitten with her. Good thing she was cute, because she was on my shit list in utero.

Today is her second birthday and she isn’t that gooey, stretch mark dealer, but a fireball of a little lady that skipped walking so she could run, Disney Princess loving, in a constant state of singing and dancing, scaling the back of the couch so she can ninja leap onto her brother, bossy pants and she is all mine!

Maybe it’s the English teacher in me, but I can’t think of a better way to describe my gal:

Fierce and fearless: At her Mommy and Me gym class she is the first to dive into the ball pit, will race up and down the slides, and when they need a volunteer for some crazy stunt, guess who they always look to first. I’m not sure I have the heart for my baby to be such a thrill seeker. If she ever sends me a video of her bungee jumping, I will die a million deaths.

This weekend we celebrated her birthday with her little friends. As long as I live, I will forever remember her sweet face as we sang to her, and after she blew out her candles, she looked at her dad and said “I did it!” Excuse me while I have a moment. My heart just exploded in my chest.

Sometimes I envision throwing her a lavish wedding, but in reality, in twenty-five years this wild child will probably call me on a Tuesday to tell her father and I she met someone and will be marrying him on a cliff in Santa Monica…on Wednesday.

Watch your step because this sugar and spice is FIRE when she is mean. I used to follow my son around making sure no one took toys from him or that older kids were too aggressive. I don’t worry too much about this one. Seriously, try to take a toy from her or steal her swing, I dare you.

Moms and daughters have interesting relationships. Fortunately for me, I’ve already started laying the groundwork for motherly guilt that will ensure she stays with me forever. She may be just a little girl now, but I have big plans for us. While I am young and vibrant she and I will go to New York, eat fabulous food, and sing along with Broadway shows. However, when I am old and grey, she will humor me and take her old mother to Atlantic City, push my wheelchair up to the slots, order me a few Captain and Diets, and kick back while I press my luck.

But in all seriousness, since she is officially two, at what point do I have to stop referring to the extra junk in my trunk as baby weight?

Two Under Two Reminder

April 26, 2013 by amushro

Today, Mimi has hit the ripe ol’ age of 22 months. According to some random baby website she should be able to:

Say at least 20 words

Sleep at least 12 hours uninterrupted

Has the ability to wrap her Daddy around her little finger

Can clear the room with her ear-piercing screams and tantrums

While we still have two months before this little lady is two, this particular month has really struck a chord with me because Monkey was 22 months when I had Mimi.

In preparation for her birth and when trying to wrap my brain around having “two under two,” I remember thinking “He is so big now and so independent.”

Ummmm aca-scue me? What the hell was I thinking?

I look at my sweet Mimi and even though she is not a baby-baby anymore, she is a baby and sure as hell not independent. Unless, of course, you count going down the slide by herself or when she screams “Beat it!” to our dog when Suggie has gotten too close to her Goldfish crackers.

Here is Monkey at the hospital meeting his sister for the first time. He is wearing a “Big Brother” shirt. Big Brother? He isn’t a big anything! He was just a tiny toddler that is freaked out about seeing his mom in some random hospital bed and can’t understand why his Nene is handing him some baby. Thanks, but no thanks, lady. Just give me a snack instead, OK.

I love when people ask me how he adjusted to having a sister. He was so little that he has no memory without her around to cry, mess up his toys, or to share my lap. So the transition for him was no biggie. Me on the other hand, well let’s just say it wasn’t as smooth.

When I was pregnant and exhausted from chasing a toddler that was full of energy, I would fret over how difficult it would be to have kids so close in age. How would I handle their sleep when they are on such different schedules? How would I get two kids in and out of car seats without losing one in traffic? Is it even possible to get them both dressed and out the door before nine AM?

Here is the part where you expect me to say that all of that worrying was pointless, right? WRONG!

All of the difficult scenarios that I could imagine happened and they were usually worse than I expected. I spent most of that first year sleep deprived and crying. Many mornings were spent kicking a soccer ball to the boy while I nursed the baby. Now THAT is multi-tasking!

I couldn’t understand why I thought it was so hard to shower with just one kid. With two it would be goodbye soap and water, hello perpetual ponytails

When the fog started to lift and we made it to her first birthday, her invitations said this:

Happy First Birthday, Mimi!

but it should have said

Thank God We Survived!

Now that time has passed, I have adopted that strange ailment that affects all mothers at some point. You start to forget how bad something sucked and your memories get all bury and wishy-washy, just enough for you to look back on a particularly hard time fondly. Try it on yourself.

Morning sickness? Eh, all that vomiting wasn’t so bad? I actually look very nice in green.

Labor and delivery? Tis’ but a scratch.

The first year with two under two? It was lovely. I cherished every moment.

Could this be a hallucinogenic side effect from pregnancy hormones?

Here’s the thing I know for sure, everything happens for a reason and our life is exactly where is should be. I wouldn’t trade my two under two for anything. Because if I even thought for a minute that life would be better or easier if we had waited a little longer before we had our second, I would be a fool because I wouldn’t have my Mimi and she is perfection and life is perfection with this little hurricane!

Cool Your Registry Trigger Finger

March 5, 2013 by amushro

If youth is wasted on the young, then the baby registry is wasted on those without kids. Even if you take the advice of all of your Mommy friends and anyone that adds their two cents, you will get trigger happy when you hit that baby store and end up with some nonsense like this:

Pee-Pee TeePee Bi-Plane

When my lovely pregnant buddy Chief asked for baby registry suggestions, I thought I had this easy task in the bag. But it has been a few years since I had the registry gun in hand and took a whirl around the baby store. I started to feel like Will Ferrell in Old School when he gets nervous that he missing out on something new and cool. Of course he was talking about panties and I am talking about baby gear, but I feel his anxiety:

So I thought the easiest thing I could do for my lovely Chief was to tell her what NOT to register for. You need a ton of crap when you have a baby but here are things you don’t need:

The Duckymeter– Yes you will need a rubber ducky for your sweet baby to play with while splashing in the tub; however, you most certainly do not need a duck that tells you the water temperature. You know why? Put your dam hand in the water. Is it too hot? Don’t put your kid in. Is it too cold? Don’t put your kid in. Amazing right! Think of this as “upcycling.”

The wipewarmer– Now who among us wouldn’t want a warm cloth to wipe our tush? Being a baby is hard and all of that pooping and peeing is exhausting. Sit back, relax, and let the wipewarmer produce a warm cloth to ease your worries. OR let the warm, dark, and moist wipewarmer create tons of bacteria that you are about to wipe against your sweet baby’s behind. Gross right? *shudders* Not to mention that the stupid wipewarmer takes more time and care then your newborn with all of the adding water, flipping and changing the pad—forget it! Sorry kid, regular wipes will have to do around here.

Too many strollers– I wish someone had told me to cool it on the stroller purchases because I currently own four strollers. First I had the “Snap and Go” that I could put the kid’s infant carrier in, then I had the regular umbrella stroller for trips to the mall and shopping, don’t forget to throw in a jogging stroller for workouts, and finally a HUGE double stroller once the other kid made an appearance. Our attic looks like the place strollers go to die. If my pregnant readers take nothing else away from this article, take this little nugget—find ONE stroller for all stages of your kid’s life and skip the multiple strollers purchase!

Well with these three things off her list, now she just has to register for the 483,290,202 other items her sweet baby boy will need in a few months. So help me help Chief! What things does she need to leave off the registry list?

Never Say Never

January 22, 2013 by amushro

My BFF having her first baby is really going to work in my favor. First, Chief and I have been through some crazy stuff (all incriminating photos have been disposed), but nothing bonds you with your bestie like being in the trenches of motherhood together. Second, in a few months I will have a sweet, snuggly newborn to squeeze, love, and get my baby fix so I can slow down this dang biological clock. Third, I am super excited to be skinnier than her and for her ass to be bigger than mine, even if it is only for a few fleeting months. Since Chief told me she was preggers, it made me think a lot about my first pregnancy and all of my big, silly ideas

If I could get all Marty McFly and find 1.21 gigawatts, I would tell a newly pregnant me to lay off the freaking ranch dressing. Do you know how many postpartum miles I had to run to get rid of the damage caused by your pregnancy-ranch-induced cravings? But more importantly, I would take the imaginary list of things I was never going to do once I was a parent, tear it up, and throw it in the air like confetti. That list was something like this:

My kids will NEVER eat anything but organic or all natural food
My kids will NEVER eat fast food
My kids will NEVER throw temper tantrums
My kids will NEVER take a pacifier

I really do try to feed the kids as much organic and natural food (I know, I’m freaking Mother Earth) as possible; however, sometimes it isn’t economical for a family of four to eat everything organic. So to fix that, I ban Hubby from eating the kids’ natural and organic foods. He is forced to eat the crap with hormones, antibiotics, and the unpronounceable ingredients antibioticstore.online. Don’t start feeling sorry for him. He’s tough, he will survive.

The ban of the fast food was pretty easy at first with Monkey, but I am ashamed to say that Mimi could be found chewing on a McDonald’s nugget way earlier than her brother. Our house is littered with half broken Happy Meal toys as further evidence on my failure to follow my self-imposed fast food ban.

Temper tantrums, sigh. I could count the number of throw down, screaming and crying, red-faced, snotty temper tantrums Monkey has had in his life on one hand. I can count the number that Mimi has had before noon on one hand. Much like her mother, she has a flair for the dramatics and chooses to express her anger, frustration, or annoyance with a fit that would shake even the most seasoned of mothers.

Now the pacifier, the pacifier is a whole different story. Monkey had zero interest in all things pacifiers. Easy! I sort of blame Mimi’s paci addiction on me. Her first year of life, I was her paci pusher. With the littlest whimper or moan, I was handing her a paci.

Come on, honey. This will take the edge off

Try it. You’ll like it. I swear. Would I lie to you?

Everyone is doing it.

And just like that, another paci addict was born. Sometimes she gets so upset she actually double fists pacifiers. Those are really bad days and it is best to stay out of her way.

After her first birthday, we only let her have her paci in bed and on long car rides. But the power of Mimi prevailed with some epic tantrums that had me throwing pacifiers at her by the handful.

Once she was on to our evil plan to banish her paci, she started stashing them around the house. Some places were obvious: in her doll house, shoved in the couch. But some were stealthy hidden: in her shoes, in her shopping cart of play food. Hubby witnessed her pull a paci out of the dog food bin and start sucking away like a nicotine fiend that needed their fix.

Most of the time we get pictures like this:

I call this one “Grumpy Swan.”

Her antics have even been caught on tape. This video of Sneaky Pete shows her trying to get a little paci time when she thinks my head is turned. Watch this little charmer try to giggle her way out of being caught red-handed.

The day will come when the pacifier has to go, but it sure as heck is not today because silence is golden and silence with Mimi is rare.

So my dearest Chief, enjoy being pregnant, be reasonable with the ranch dressing, and go easy on yourself with the things you will NEVER do as a parent. Oh, and the photos may be destroyed, but there are still videos, so you are stuck with me forever!

Party of Five?

January 5, 2013 by amushro

Is anyone else starting to feel like everyone is pregnant? Look around, everyone is pregnant. Everyone! Well, not me. I’m not pregnant, but I feel like everyone from my friends, to people on Facebook, to every celebrity now has a bun in the oven.

Seeing so many pregnant women can be dangerous for a girl like me. The reason why: I have a biological clock that is shouting “tick, tick tick, BOOM dynamite.” Yes I have two healthy and beautiful children, and according to my mom, “You have a boy and a girl. That is all they come in!” But I can’t help but look at our dinner table and wonder if someone is missing?

When I was young and newly married, I wanted four kids. You may say I’m a dreamer; then reality (age, $$$, sanity) hit and I realized four is not in the cards for us.

I even visited a psychic a few months ago and asked if she saw more children in my future. The woman actually had the nerve to tell me yes and it would be twins! I have heard the urban legend about these mothers that wanted to add just one more kid to the mix and BOOM twins! Here is my PC mom statement: yes it would be a blessing, and here is reality: HOLY HELL! What would I do with twins in addition to Monkey and Mimi? Sign me up for the nuthouse right now. Anyone have a good psychic that can give me another reading? I feel like I need a second opinion. If the second psychic says she sees twins, then my uterus is headed into early retirement.

In spite of the psychic spewing her twin nonsense, I have turned to my friends for advice. Have you ever met a friend as an adult and knew instantly that if you were eight you would totally buy them a friendship bracelet? That is how I feel about my friend, Coco. She is funny, brutally honest,talks me off of my crazy ledge when things get rough, and has changed my kids poopy diapers— that is a real friend. She has also been my sounding board for the “should we have another baby” discussion. A few months ago I felt like everywhere I looked someone was having another baby with a horrible disease or disfigurement. Then I read about Tori Spelling being on bed rest for months with her fourth pregnancy and all of the awful complications she had after the baby was born. I swore it was a sign from God that our clan was meant to be four and no more. So I begin my texting rant to Coco about why both of us should NEVER have a third and just stop at two. It was descriptive and detailed. I pulled out every argument I could think of. She is a lawyer so I felt like I needed to use big words to prove my case “amniocentesis” “Apgar Scoring System” “college tuition.” The next day, she told me she was pregnant. Insert foot into my big, stupid, overreacting mouth. Luckily, my beloved Coco said she wouldn’t judge me because she still questions if she is sane for having a third baby.

Ever the problem solver, I even created a pros/cons list. I will not bore you with the contents of this list, and to be quite honest, some of the reasons to or not to have a third child are embarrassing, selfish, and you may think I am even crazier then you already suspected. However, ever the optimist, Coco told me “the fact that you’re even making a list means you’ve got one foot in the delivery stirrups.”

To be honest, I change my mind based on the day.

If the kids are being good and one of them does something particularly sweet or adorable—it’s a three kid kind of day.
If someone doesn’t nap, throws a temper tantrum or my husband works late—two kid day

The good thing is that at the ripe old age of 32 and ¾, I still have a lot of time to pop out another kid. Maybe we will have a third. I could see myself with a straggler. Someone to hang out with me once Monkey and Mimi leave me for elementary school sniff…sniff. As my Coco would say “Love is multiplied and not divided,” and with that I will drink some more wine because I can and she can’t. Cheers!