Day 10 ~ Someone You Need To Let Go, or Wish You Didn't Know

It's time.

You need to get out of my life.

I have had it up to here with your poking and prodding and constant presence.

You know who you are.

You've done your damndest to bother me and bug me and keep me awake at night.

But it is time to move on. Go back where you came from.

Yep, I'm talking to you, nursing bras. Go back in the bin, I'm through with you.

Good riddance!!

New Addition!!

It happened!! I had the baby!!!

Introducing Charlotte Mae, otherwise known as Charlie!

She was born Friday the 13th at 4:52am after 2 pushes. And yes, I did get my epidural.

She weighs 6lbs, 10 oz and is 19 inches long.

She's got dark hair and so far is nice and mellow. So far.

Not Today

Do you ever have those days where you wake up and have a feeling that something isn't right?

Like this morning, I woke up and thought, "OHMYGOD, I HAVE TO PEE."

And then I thought, "OHMYGOD, I CAN'T MOVE."

Obviously, I managed to move, and pee, and shower at 4 in the morning.

And then I was convinced that while I may not be in labor, I definitely should go to the hospital to get checked out...because let's just say that what I was feeling "down there" was not normal. Any day of the week.

But then the feeling passed, after I freaked out my husband and made my mother-in-law get out of bed extra early. Oopsy...sorry 'bout that.

And now I am laying in bed, officially on vacation, and not quite sure what I am going to do with the next few days. I'll find something to do, I am sure. I also am sure it'll involve spending money. I also am sure that it won't involve moving furniture. Even though there is still a lot to be moved.

So recap...I woke up, thought I was going to have to deliver this baby in a bathtub, skipped out on work, went to lunch with the girls from work, wound up spending 4 hours at work, went shopping, got my hair did, and made my baby go to sleep without her milk because I left in in the refrigerator when I went upstairs and I was NOT about to go up and down the stairs again.

Hopefully tomorrow is a less eventful day.

List, Schmlists

Have you ever noticed how people blame their, um...idiosyncrasies on their last name? Like, my family is very forgetful. My mother is not, so it’s all put on my father. (poor guy) Whenever he loses something or forgets something, she just sighs and rolls her eyes, as she has been dealing with it for 40+ years. When one of us kids forgets something, she sighs and rolls her eyes and says, “It’s the G in you.” (I won’t even let him blame brain surgery on forgetting things…I tell him he was that way before.) Usually the forgetfulness involves wallets and car keys, and at the most inopportune of times.

My in-laws have a very ethnic last name. So much so, that people seem to think that I’m Irish, even though I married into the family and obviously am not red-haired and freckled, or a dark-haired beauty. If I get mad about something, it’s “Oh…you have an Irish temper.” Yeah…I’m mostly German, not a spec of Irish. But that’s beside the point.

I will say that when it is convenient, I’ll blame a temper tantrum on my “heritage.” It’s easy, and people seem to accept it. My husband and his father love to blame things on their last name, from restless legs to holding grudges. (I say nurture over nature, but whatever.) One thing they don’t blame on their last name is forgetfulness. Sorry dad, I guess we do have to blame you.

Since I tend to be so forgetful, and it has gotten much, much worse since I was a kid, I make lists. (My mom actually grounded me from staying the night at my friends’ houses because I couldn't come home without leaving something there. The last straw was my glasses and I think it made us late for church. I also once went to a slumber party and forgot to take my sleeping bag and pillow.) Now, if it isn’t on the list, then it doesn’t get done. The downfalls of “being organized.”

I make lists for everything. At work, I make a list if I have a lot to get done in a particular day or week. For month end, I have a three page list. When we leave the lake, I make a list of the things that we need to bring back the next weekend. (I also have an issue not losing that list.) And now, since I am due in 11 days, I have a list of things that need to be done to get ready for the baby.

The vague part of this list included moving our office to the basement and making our office Sam’s new room. This involved painting both rooms, as well as moving massive quantities of random crap to our basement. That in itself took several hours for 2 grown men to do. I was shocked that we had so much stored in the office. All of which is now scattered around my basement. As well as Sam’s toys, which were in the playroom which is now the new office.

So let’s recap, in 11 days or less, I’ll have a new baby. And Sam is still in the nursery, the furniture that I bought is still in our garage, and my basement is still trashed. I’m not panicking or anything. We did go to the lake this weekend instead of staying home and work like responsible adults.

I’ve decided to not look at my lists anymore. That’ll make everything better. Maybe I can just forget everything that is on them.

New Blogs and Babies

Somewhere along this fantastic road known as life, we sort of get lost around the way. I have nothing to follow up with this, I just wanted to say, “Somewhere along this fantastic road known as life.”

Any-hoo, I’ve found a couple of new blogs that I have added to my list over there to your right. Check them out, these ladies are fun-ny! I wish, oh HOW I WISH, I could complain about my job on here. But too many people in my real life read this, and I would get fired, in…oh, say an instant.

I do have a cute Samantha tidbit to share. Workaholic put her to bed last night, since I got my hair done after work and had to eat dinner at 8pm. He called me up to her room and she was sitting in her crib, blanket in one arm, baby doll in another, rocking the baby and doing her own special version of cooing. (it sounds more like a moan, but I figured saying my kid was rocking her baby doll and moaning didn’t sound very good) It was so. friggin’. cute. I wish I’d had the video camera, but it was too dark and she probably would’ve stopped as soon as she saw it anyways. I am not sure where she learned that a baby doll is just a smaller version of her, and you know, not real, but she hugs it and rocks it like I do her, so I guess she is a smart little cookie.

I had my 13 week check-up yesterday, and we got to hear the heartbeat for the first time. It took her a minute to find it, and instead of getting all worried that there might not be a heartbeat, I got excited, thinking “Oh! Maybe we’ll get an ultrasound!” But alas, not meant to be, good strong heartbeat was found and Sam heard it and stopped and listened, before continuing to attempt to hang Workaholic’s keys on the wall. Without a hanger. It was cute to see her get all mad. And when I pointed out to my doctor that I was 13 weeks, and not 12, and that meant only 27 to go, he laughed at me. Then he pointed to Sam and said, “Well at least you get a prize at the end!” I heart him.

To Baby or Not to Baby

Yesterday, we went to a funeral. It was a sad affair, one in which Workaholic and I got to see many family members (on his side) that we typically don’t see very often. There isn’t a reason why we don’t see them other than everyone leads busy lives. Anyway, a couple of his cousins asked if we are ready for kid #2. I’ve had a couple of other people in the past few weeks ask me the same question, so I thought I’d address it here.

And then I got to thinking. You know, that is such a normal and natural thing to ask. But really, it’s actually a very personal question. I mean, basically, you’re saying, “So, you two doozin’ it?”
What if I’d had another miscarriage? (yes, I had one, at 7 weeks, a couple of months before I got pregnant with Samantha) What if I was pregnant…but I wasn’t ready to tell anyone? What if we are trying, but it just isn’t happening yet?

Am I supposed to handle this with humor? Because, really…I am NOT that quick on my feet. I used to tell people that Workaholic and I were trying really hard…like, twice a day to get pregnant. (a couple times of that and people quit asking). But the real answer is, yes, I want more kids. And yes, I do want them to be pretty close together. Both Workaholic and I do. The problem, you ask?

Samantha is such an easy kid. And by easy, I mean, cake-like easy. (like box brownies) She only cries when she is hungry (but boy…if she is starving, look out!) or if her diaper is wet (even this is starting to fade) or if she is tired. But if you watch her, you can tell that she is tired before she actually starts to cry. She has been this way pretty much since she was born. So the unknown of what kind of kid I am going to get the next time around scares me. Rephrase…terrifies me. What if I get a kid who is colicky and needy…the type of kid where people see us coming and go, “Oh no…here they come.” I mean, my patience isn’t that great, and while life has for sure changed since Sam came into it, I would definitely say that she fits in the little box that Workaholic envisioned she would fit into before she was born. (it’s about the size of a carseat) What if I get another red-headed girl?? (it’ll take us two days to name her!)

So I guess I’ll have to take my chances. Hopefully we’ll get a good kid, and if not, we’ll just beat the good into him/her. We should probably look into having another child relatively soon, but right now it is just another thing on the list that Workaholic and I are procrastinating. If anything changes, well…maybe I’ll let ya’ll know.

Two Babies

So everyone asks me how Fonz does with Samantha. And the answer is...I guess fine.

I don't notice big changes in his attitude or behavior. He sulks and pouts just as much as normal when he doesn't get the attention that he feels is due to him. He still gets the zoomies when it snows, still sleeps on the bed with us (when invited) and still begs for your plate when you are done eating dinner. When she cries a lot, he'll give me a look like, "Hello, can't you hear that? Make it stop." The only bit of jealousy I've noticed is when I sweet talk to her, he'll try to get in between us. But I don't let him, and only give him attention when he has backed off. He also tries to steal attention from visitors that are holding Samantha, but that really isn't all that new...he always bugs visitors for attention!!

He isn't real big on Sam being too near him...which is OK that he knows that there should be boundries. When we set her on him, he just gives us that look like, "Please please please let me get up!" You know...like this...

Another question I get a lot is "How does Workaholic do with the baby?" When I was pregnant, by far the most frequently asked question I got from him was, "Can the baby come out and play yet? I'm bored..." Now that she is out, here is how Workaholic and his brothers pass the time.(and yes, that is a snowmobile helmet)

(BTW...I wasn't sure what I was going to call Samantha on this blog, I am not real big on using people's real names. But seeing as how it's pretty much just friends and family that read this, and it isn't going to get much more than that, what's the harm?)

Daddy's Girl

My husband has a few nuances, as I am sure that many husbands do. Workaholic's seem to be more...interesting than other people's spouses though. If he knows if there are milk and cookies in the house, and gets up in the middle of the night to eat them. (However, if there are no milk and cookies in the house, he doesn't wake up.) He can fall asleep mid-sentence. And last night, he fell asleep standing up. Snoring and everything. It's really quite the sight. I would've gotten a picture, but to say that I was thrilled that he fell asleep standing up at 2am when he was supposed to be changing a diaper would be a bit of an overstatement.

Another thing that few people know about him is that he loves to sleep on the bathroom floor. (Here's the thing...way back in the day when we were building our house, he wanted to put ceramic tile in all the bathrooms. I said that he was nuts, we live in Indiana, and doesn't he know how cold ceramic is in the wintertime?? His answer?...heated tile floors, and also a fan that spews heat. Our bathroom can get to about 185 degrees in ten minutes.) He also put in a TV, so he can curl up on the floor with his pillow (or balled up towel, in a pinch) and watch TV in the morning without waking me up. It's quite the sight. One that few people understand, including me. But it doesn't really bother me...in fact, it's pretty awesome that we both get our way in the morning...I get to sleep, and he gets to take his sweet-ass time waking up, by watching TMZ or an infomercial or whatever floats his boat.

Watching Workaholic "bond" with our little girl has been quite intriguing. The one thing that they have in common is sleep. Specifically...sleeping on the bathroom floor.

(If he knew this picture was on the internet, he'd be sooo not happy with me!!)

WE DID IT!!!

OMG...we had a kid. A girl. With red hair. Not exactly the boy I was totally expecting (in fact, before the doctor could even announce her arrival, (he was busy with the cord) I looked down and said "Oh my God, it's a girl.") She weighed 6lbs 3oz. and was 19 inches long, born last Thursday. Two and a half years to the day from when Workaholic and I got married.

He lived up to his name in the delivery room, BTW. He was all business, holding my hand (before I got the epidural), laughing at my love of Matt Lauer (after I got my epidural) and cleaning up the things that needed to be cleaned up. He even kept it together enough to cut the cord!! And then he almost passed out...but didn't. I was so proud.

Here is the part where I tell all of you that the epidural is the best thing ever invented. EVER. I had what is called "back labor", and it hurt so bad I couldn't breathe sometimes. Crying was definitely out of the question. And if I hadn't gotten any meds, I most certainly would have passed out. She would've just been stuck in me forever. (and this is what they tell you to do. "Try to relax and breathe through it." You breathe through it you sadistic whore!! Give me MEDS NOW!!!!) Any anesthesiologist who administers epidurals should be knighted. And sainted. And given many gifts, like gold and frankincense. People always will say that you forget the pain of childbirth, and that is why you do it again. I don't think I'll be forgetting any time soon. But I'll do it again. I will just walk into the hospital next time and demand meds. Because this time, I was too polite and not insistent enough, and really? 12 hours of back labor is enough. For a lifetime. The nurse will fear me next time.

Anyway, she is a really cute baby. And I'm not saying that just because I am slightly biased. I am saying it because it is totally true. You know how you can tell if people are telling the truth by the tone of their voice? The 3 nurses that were in my room each saw her and said, "She really is a cute baby"...like they were surprised. And then they repeated it, except with emphasis. So if the nurses who see babies all day long think she is cute, then you know she is.

So now the 4 of us are at home, trying to get good sleep, and trying to eat on a reasonable schedule, and making sure she is clean and fed and happy. Just like her mom, she loves to sleep. One could say that she lives to sleep. Workaholic is snowblowing the driveway of the 8 or 10 inches of snow that have accumulated. Maybe less, I don't know, I haven't exactly been out. But him and Fonz are playing, so that makes me happy.

In the next 24 hours or so, you can go on www.our365.com, and I believe you can search by our last name to see her birth picture. And you can leave comments. Those are fun. Feel free. (it was supposed to have been available by now, but somewhere along the way, our signed permission slip didn't make it to the company, so they didn't put her up on the website, even though we signed the permission slip!) For now, here is her picture...it's the best one we have showing off her hair. (I still can't believe I have a red-headed daughter!!)