Every time I turn around, I feel like I’m losing my mind, my temper, my patience. I’m constantly snapping. My son is on the receiving end way too many times.

I hate cleaning this house. I hate this house. I’m failing at appreciating what I have. I’m losing myself in the desire to just want to start over again, to move into a place that doesn’t *need* any work…. work we will never be able to afford… work I’m constantly arguing with my husband over.

But new house or not, I would still hate cleaning, and then I hate the guilt I feel over not wanting to clean, not enjoying the “homekeeping” side of this stay at home gig (though I always try to remind myself I’m a stay at home MOM and that everything else is just gravy, the guilt is still there). I want a job so I can just pay someone else to do it for me. I tell myself it wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass to stay on top off if we didn’t live in this house so much. If we were all gone a good 8 hours a day. If I wasn’t serving up three meals a day to a 2 year old here…. if you can even call them “meals” these days.

I hate the financial stress of being a one income family, too. I feel like so many of these stresses would be eliminated if I was making my old salary (not banking on ad payments for this blog, which I hate soliciting, and which totally screw my plans when they come 2 weeks late). I feel like if I went to an office every day and brought home a paycheck every other week, I could put my son in a great school, surrounded by loving professionals who *enjoy* crafting with him every day, where he would be free to make whatever mess he wanted. Maybe he would learn more, certainly I wouldn’t yell at him as much, and perhaps I just might appreciate my time with him more. We could get out as a family and actually DO things on the weekend, instead of sitting around here and balancing the budget… and cleaning up the house I’ve neglected all week.

If I went to an office every day, maybe I’d get satisfaction from completing major projects. Maybe I’d feel more worthwhile if my biggest accomplishment for the week wasn’t keeping the counters clean, the dishes done, and taking Kendall out every day. Maybe I’d be more relaxed in the evening if I had the opportunity to go to lunch with co-workers, to go to Starbucks without a toddler. Maybe I’d be able to get my hair cut and colored more often, maybe I’d feel better about myself if I got to buy new clothes for myself more frequently… nice clothes. Maybe these material things DO matter to me, as much as I wish they didn’t.

Maybe I’d like this house more if I could pay someone else to keep it clean for me. Maybe instead of spending my time wiping down baseboards and windows, I’d finally get around to all the fun projects I’ve never been able to start for this house, like printing and framing our wedding pictures, or printing the thousands of pictures I have of Kendall that I’ve never put into an album. Yeah, aren’t stay at home moms supposed to have time to do all this? Not this one.

I think a big part of my problem is coming to terms with the fact that I will never be that stay at home mom who bakes and cleans and menu plans every day. I won’t sit down to do a different craft each day. I won’t be okay with letting my son “explore” while making a gigantic mess, especially if I just cleaned the kitchen floor. I won’t. ever. have. my. shit. together.  If it hasn’t happened after 2 years, it’s not ever going to. And am I okay with that? Because at least if I were working, if I wasn’t HERE all day, I would feel like maybe I had an excuse.

And it’s not that I don’t appreciate that I even have a choice to stay home. I do. Many sacrifices have to be made, but it’s workable for us, and I am very appreciative of that. But, in a way, I almost feel like that makes it worse…. that the choice wasn’t made for me. That our meager savings account is because of MY choice, that our inability to take family vacations is because of MY choice, that the stress that comes from trying to balance the budget and realizing that we just can’t afford to do the upgrades to this home we planned on when we purchased it are because of MY choice… MY choice to stay home, MY choice to be something I’m not even sure I’m suited for.

It’s just been a rough weekend, I’m sure made worse by these pregnancy hormones. My brain is telling me to grow up and get over it, quit feeling sorry for myself and make something happen. It’s just hard to start… hard to figure out what to do. I mean, it’s not like I can search for a job 6 months pregnant. I’m not even certain that that’s the answer to my problems. I think the answer lies more in forgiving myself, in re-assessing my priorities and in counting my blessings a little more.

Kendall is 2 1/3 and I’m 24 weeks pregnant

I woke this morning at 6 am with my husband’s alarm. Instead of drifting back to sleep like I do any other morning, I shot up and began trying to rub my own shoulders, neck and back because they were on fire. I guess I slept wrong on the Snoogle (which- tangent alert!- has totally lost all fluff and support in the lower half and is not standing up to this second pregnancy very well, and that is CRAP considering how much I paid for it… should totally get more than 6 months use out of a $60 pillow… anyway…), and I was in serious pain. It was the kind of pain I couldn’t fall back to sleep with, but EVEN IF I COULD it wouldn’t have done much good because my husband stayed in bed for an hour hitting snooze every 15 minutes.

So, being the considerate wife I am, I figured he didn’t sleep well last night either, and I’d wait to ask him to rub my shoulders and back for me until he was awake for the day. One hour later and I finally poked him in the ribs and mumbled, “Uhm, are you planning on getting up for work sometime today?”

“Huh, oh… yeah… sorry. Tired.”

“Okay, well you’ve got to stop hitting snooze. And could you please rub my shoulders and back for me? They are killing me. It’s so bad I have a headache.”

“Mmm…hmmmm..”

He rolls over and half asses a one shoulder rub with his sleepy hands, and we all know sleepy hands give SHITTY back rubs. I told him this much. I said he was not doing a very good job with his sleepy hands.  So he gets out of bed, gets dressed, and instead of coming back to give me a proper back rub after getting up and getting the blood flowing (like I thought he would), he goes to his office and starts the day.

I. cried.

I cried!

I laid in bed and fucking cried like a hormonal, psychotic pregnant woman. And then I tweeted about it.

I AM IN PAIN BECAUSE I AM GROWING YOUR CHILD AND I AM TIRED AND YOU DON’T CARE!! I took care of you when you were sick last week. I woke up in the middle of the night to check on you. AND YOU CAN NOT GIVE ME A DECENT BACKRUB?!

I got up and got Kendall ready for school. I packed his lunch and took care of the dogs and got us both dressed. There was much slamming of doors and passive aggressive huffing around from me, I will admit.

Then, right before I left the house, I lost it on him. I told him how he was insensitive and it’s HARD growing a baby sometimes and I’d just really appreciate a little support.

And he laughed.

He laughed at me!

This is not funny!! Yet.

Yes, we will all laugh at how ridiculous I am LATER, but not now.

I left, dropped Kendall off, grabbed donuts at the grocery store and then argued with the INCOMPETENT ROBOT  that is self checkout and now I’m home.

And my shoulders are still sore. And yes, I know I’m crazy and this is stupid, and maybe I should give my husband a break for putting up with me… but NO… he could have given me a better back rub. Bottom line. Except now I’m too stubborn to let him touch me.

Excuse me while I go eat half a box of Krispy Kremes.

I am 24 weeks pregnant and a raving lunatic.

The one Kendall wore every day of his life for at least 4 months was *GASP* pink. I purchased it out of desperation from a local baby boutique on a day I was particularly about to lose my f-ing mind. When I walked in and asked for it the sales lady turned her face into a bit of a frown and prepared me for some bad news. “Oh, hon. All I have is a pink one… but I’ll get more blue and green ones in next week.” I did not care if that thing was covered in glittery silhouettes of Richard Simmons face and lined with a fuchsia feather boa, and no way in hell was I waiting a week. I bought it, and my life was forever changed.

So I had to LOL and, yes, roll my eyes a bit at some of the feedback on the BabySteals.com Facebook page. There was much upset over the only blanket available for purchase being “too girly!” Many going on about how they would LOVE one and have heard so many GREAT things about them, or already have one that was a life saver and would really like another but… but…BUT IT’S FOR A GIRL! Okay, sure, if this were a full price retailer we’re talking about, if Babies R Us only ever carried “girl” colors, I could understand, to a degree, the outrage. But this MIRACLE was 1/2 price on a baby bargains website. You take your miracles where you can get them people, especially when the come 1/2 price!

Listen, I’m not saying we all have to dress our kids ambiguously. I enjoy a good “boyish” romper from Gymboree, too. I can understand not wanting to put a bow on your son, but a blanket? That they’re going to sleep in? What’s the aversion?

Reminds me of this time when I worked at a baby/kid’s boutique while pregnant with Kendall. A 5 year old boy came in with his mother and decided he wanted a pack of markers. We carried 2 versions of these markers- primary colors and bright pastels. He wanted the bright pastel box. I don’t blame him, those colors kicked the primary color’s ass. His mother spent 15 minutes talking him out of them, many times telling him, “But THESE are for girls, honey… see? There’s a pink one in it… and a purple one.” What harm is going to come from letting your son color with pink and purple?! It’s not like you’re buying him eyeshadow. And really, these are just a couple examples of the extreme opposition some people seem to have of any and all things pink coming in contact with their son.

My now 2 year old son, who spent a good portion of his young life wrapped tightly in a pink blanket, is about as rough and tumble as they get, he’s also kind and inquisitive, he’s sensitive and sweet. He loves to play the keyboard and throw footballs (not crediting the pink blanket for any of that… that’s the point). He wears a purple diaper to bed some nights…

A lovely Bum Genius 4.0 we're testing out

And his 2 favorite sippy cups both happen to be pink…

OH! And horror of all horrors, did you know Kendall is a popular girls name? What will become of my little boy? Well, only time will tell, but for now I can confidently say his penis and balls are still intact.

Kendall is 2 1/3 and I’m 23 weeks pregnant… with a girl… who will surely wear a ton of blue hand-me-downs.

By the way, as of 8:15 CST there are still Miracle Blankets available to “steal” from BabySteals.com!

I had a plan, a prioritized list, a budget (ugh), and caffeine and sugar coursing through my pregnant veins. I was not above using my belly to bump people out of my way. I volunteered, setting up items people were selling the day before, in order to gain early entry into this MASSIVE sale and was in line 50 minutes early for our 3:00 entry time.

The first item on my stalk and kill list was a Graco Snugrider stroller frame, and it wasn’t pretty. I found them, but wasn’t sure of the prices. $30 and $35 for something I can get new for $50? Really, people? But I knew I needed it, and I didn’t want to start the sale off with a loss, so I headed toward the last one available just as a girl on a cell phone began hovering over it. “So it’s $30… it has 2 cup holders… uh, huh… says it will work with your seat… uh, huh…. soooooooo….. hmmmmmmm…..” I could have been a total bitch and just slapped my pink sticker on it while I awaited her decision, but I didn’t, and of course, she grabbed it. Grrrr. Oh well, I told myself that was still too much and I’d find a better deal elsewhere (which I did, last night I found one on CL for $25).

Next on my stalk and kill list was an Arm’s Reach Co-sleeper. I wasn’t expecting to find one since I volunteered in the room they were set up in the day before and didn’t see any come in, but as I turned the corner to the room it glinted like a piece of sea glass in the sun on a beach. It was the ONLY ONE. I had no shame, I did not care who was in my path. I abandoned my stroller (which I had brought to act as a shopping cart) and I ran. VICTORY!! Not only was it mine, but it was mine for the amazingly, insane low price of $56 (and this thing was practically brand new).

Feeling satiated by the kill, I took the rest of the time, well, I wouldn’t say leisurely, but not as ravenously stalking the items. As I meandered through the rooms with the Boppy covers and burp cloths, something that I promised myself wouldn’t happen started to take place. My stroller was slowly being taken over by pink- pink towels, pink changing pad covers, pink burp cloths (many of which I eventually put back).

I also found myself saying things under my breath like, “Really? $25 for a toddler trike you didn’t even bother to clean up, that I’m pretty certain has dog shit on the tires?…. Uh, you know I can get a brand new Gymboree shirt for this same exact price on sale next week, right? … Pshaw. You think really highly of your filthy Wiggles guitar with a broken volume button….You have got to be trying to selling this for more than you bought it. It’s consignment people, and I’m no fool. See you on half price day.”

That said, for every ridiculously over priced item there were so many items priced unbelievably low. It made it very hard to stick with my budget. I don’t know whether to be proud of myself or disappointed in myself for walking away from a like new condition Petunia Pickle Bottom Cake Cameo Clutch for only $25. I still can’t believe I had the will power to put it down, but there were just so many other things we actually *need* (and as much as I try to justify my desire for a Cake bag as a need, I just can’t).

When the final tally came in, I was slightly over my $150 budget, but I think it was worth every penny of the $187 total (including tax).

Among my steals are 4 pairs of shoes for Kendall (including a pair of Crocs and some Stride Rite shoes), a brand new pair of Stride Rite shoes for the baby, just a few gorgeous, tiny baby girl clothes (I promised I wouldn’t go crazy on the baby clothes), a Pottery Barn Kids Boppy cover, a new booster seat for Kendall so we can pass down the Tripp Trapp, and this…

A sweet little bookshelf that looks like it’s straight out of Pottery Barn Kids for only $16. I hope to hang it on baby girl’s wall.

Add in the great deal I got on the Co-sleeper, and I would say calling the day a “success” would be an understatement.

If you’re in the Dallas area, you can still take advantage of Divine Consign. It’s open to the public today from 12-5 (with a $2 entry fee for adults and children from 12-2) and tomorrow (Monday) from 12-3. Then the 1/2 price sale starts tomorrow at 6 until 9, and finishes up Tuesday from 8-12. There were TONS of items, over 84,000, and I’m sure there are plenty of great deals to be had still. I plan on going back to the 1/2 price sale on Monday, I think, just to see what I can find.

Did you make it out? Have one near you? What’s the best consignment sale deal you’ve found?

Kendall is 2 1/3 and I’m 23 weeks pregnant and suddenly feeling a lot more prepared for this baby.

What about (name)?

No, that’s too trendy. There are already a million (name) and I’d like to not add another to the mix.

What about (name)?

No, that’s too *old.*

But old is in.

I thought you didn’t like trendy.

Good point.

What about (name)?

No, she’ll grow up with the personality of a peanut.

What about (name)?

No, she’ll grow up to be a stripper.

What about (name)?

No, she’ll grow up to be a stripper with *no teeth.*

What about (name)?

Too dark.

What about (name)?

Too… crazy sounding.

What about (name)?

Nope, that’s an ex-boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend’s name, and I couldn’t stand the bitch.

What about (name)?

No, that was my best friend’s dog’s name growing up.

What about (name)?

Seriously? Just. NO.

What about (name)?

Veto. Don’t ask.

What about (name)?

Mmmmmm….hmmmm…. I mean, maybe??? Hmmmm…probably not.

What about (name)?

What about I’M DONE. What about SHE CAN PICK HER OWN DAMN NAME WHEN SHE GETS HERE. I will hold a baby names                       book in front of her and she can just grunt when she sees one she likes.

I would have never had this problem as a teen mom, though I shudder to think what I would have named my children in my teens. God only knows what kind of issues they’d have now because of it. Unfortunately (but fortunately?), the older I get, the more names move over to the veto list.

*Names have been removed to protect the innocent because, really, it’s MY issue if I think your kid’s name sounds like she’ll grow up to be a stripper with no teeth. No need to make you aware of that.

Kendall is 2 1/3 and I’m 23 weeks pregnant. And, no, I will not tell you what names we dissed.

Those were my encouraging words of wisdom to one of my BFFs who is loving life with a tiny baby right now.  Clearly, I was a tad traumatized by our current potty training adventure, and yes, I could have offered up more cheerful, more optimistic advice, but why sugar coat shit?

We’ve been in the slow process of potty training Kendall since the beginning of the year, although it really only started out by dipping our toes in the toilet water- getting him familiar with the potty, reading him potty books, letting him try out big boy undies or free-ball it (against our better judgement) and subsequently fighting off the dogs when he’d drop a log on the playroom floor.

We didn’t get serious until late in May. When we were on our Sonoma vacation in late April my mom was able to get him to poop on the potty multiple times, and he continued to do that for us when we got back. I took that as our window of opportunity. And as much as I really didn’t want to dive into potty training in the first trimester of pregnancy, I could only  imagine how much worse it would be when this second baby is on the outside. So after getting a ton of advice from friends who’ve been there, trained that, we decided to rip the diapers off and get down to business.

We started with lots of naked time. During this first hardcore week, we just stayed home (it was during his early summer break from his Mother’s Day Out program). He ran around without pants on for the first few days and I took him to the potty every 30 minutes. It. was. exhausting. And I, frankly, sucked at it in the beginning. So much of potty training, I think, is about training *yourself.* It’s a lot of work in the beginning, and a lot of cleaning, and a ton of reminding.

So we would take him to the potty, and if he went at all, he got an M&M or two. I even rewarded him if he went a little on the potty after having an accident because I wanted focus on rewarding the positive. The M&Ms were huge. He loved them, but oddly, he eventually started asking for a walnut, too. So we would give him one M&M and one walnut. Whatever, it worked.

After about a few days of letting him run around naked, we put the big boy undies on. This actually helped cut down on accidents because he could feel himself start to go (I guess he felt the little bit of wetness on his undies) and would stop. Now, *sometimes* he would tell me he had to go potty, but most of the time he would just freeze with an “oh shit” look on his face, so I had to constantly watch him and take him to the potty when I saw that. By this point in the week, I was taking him to the potty about every 45 minutes.

We finally ventured out of the house after a week. It was terrifying and a lot of work, but he did great. We started with small trips to Target and Chick Fil A, places I knew had decent bathrooms. I would take him to the bathrooms the minute we got there and right before we left.  Now, some of my friends don’t even bother with public bathrooms at this point and, instead, have their kids go on portable little potties they keep in the back of their vehicles (with removable, disposable baggies). Kendall would never go on the small potty we have here at home, though, so I didn’t even bother trying that. I just take a pack of hand sanitizing wipes with me everywhere we go (along with extra undies, shorts, a plastic baggie, and lollipops for bribing) and wipe off the seats before he sits down.

The hardest part, and when he has the most accidents, is when we’re on the highway and he informs me he has to go. It’s not always feasible to pull off to a bathroom (though we have, many times), and he doesn’t quite grasp the “we’re almost home, hold it!” concept. I keep one of these on his car seat, and it’s really helped with cleanup.

So, at this point, I wouldn’t say he’s potty trained, he’s definitely still in the training process, and I feel like we will be in it for a while. He has a few accidents a week (or sometimes he has a bad day and has a few accidents in a day), but most days he’s pretty great. WE still have to be on top of it, though. He’s not to the point where he’ll remind us all the time. So if he hasn’t gone in the last two hours (or less if he’s been drinking a ton of fluids), we have to remind him and take him. That being said, though, we are diaper free while he’s awake and have been for a while. He even wears his big boy undies to Mother’s Day Out and has never had an accident there.

Now, nighttime and nap time are a totally different story. I don’t think he’s at the point where we can expect him to sleep in underwear. He never wakes up with a dry diaper, and lately he’s been pooping at night. That’s NOT a mess I want to deal with right now. We’ll look into potty training at nap and nighttime as he gets closer to 3, I think. Until then, he’s wearing some Bum Genius 4.0 and Flip diapers and a FuzziBunz, since they are big enough to accommodate a 37 lb kid. I LOVE them. Bum Genius hooked me up with the new 4.0 and a couple Flips at Blogher to test out on Kendall and they fit SO much better than the 3.0s. Plus, the snaps are perfect. And Gina, who represented FuzziBunz at Blogher, gave me a one-size pocket diaper to try out, and I’m equally impressed. I double stuff all of them at night with hemp inserts from Artsy Fartsy Foo Foo.

It was tough in the beginning, and a ton of work, but I’m so glad we seized the opportunity to potty train when we did. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that come December he’s going to be nearly, if not completely trained during the day (and, yes, I do know to expect a bit of a regression when the baby comes, but we’ll get through it). From what I’ve heard from friends who waited to train until the kids were 3 or 3.5, they basically just train themselves and it’s a quick process. So I think at this age, it requires a lot more work on the parent’s end, but it’s worth it to me. I’m not saying I’ve got it all figured out, but feel free to ask any questions and I’ll at least tell you where I found the answers.

Kendall is 2 1/4 and I’m 23 weeks pregnant.

Despite the fact that the man promised me I would maintain full control over the temperature of the house throughout the duration of the pregnancy, per the terms of our negotiations, he KEEPS ON CHEATING and thinking I’m not going to notice.

Oh, I WILL NOTICE a one degree jump in temperature around here, buddy. Make no mistake about that.

And, no, I don’t care if he lays there at night, 2 blankets on top of him… shivering because *I* am nearly naked with not so much as a sheet on and the ceiling fan blasting over head, STILL sweating and cursing the damn Snoogle for not having built in AC.

I live in Texas, it’s August, I’m pregnant <WORST. COMBO. EVER.

Wait… no, add to that I’m chasing a *toddler*. <THAT IS THE WORST COMBO EVER.

I will own up to my bitchiness. I am a big, pregnant, HOT (and not in the Heidi Klum way) B-I-T-C-H.

So touch it ONE MORE TIME, dude. I dare you.

Kendall is 2 1/4 and has the coolest room in the house, which I might boot him out of so HE can sleep with his father, and I’m 22 weeks pregnant.

In 18 weeks I’m going to be a “mother of 2.”

In 18 weeks my breasts are going to be spraying milk at innocent passersby as I walk around, topless, caring not who sees me in my very “National Geographic” state of being.

In 18 weeks I’m going to be waddling around with a heiney hoagie between my legs and cursing every time I cross them.

In 18 weeks I have to endure the mental and physical marathon and the gory after effects of (med-free) labor and delivery.

In 18 weeks I will look my husband in the eyes, mid-transition, drop every 4 letter word I can think of, call him an asshole and tell him we are NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN.

In 18 weeks I may just poop in a tub of water, a tub I still need to buy, a tub my midwife tells me makes a great “kiddie pool” later on if we’d like to get our $180 worth out of it.

In 18 weeks I hit the re-start button and give up sleep for an unforeseeable amount of time.

In 18 weeks my son’s world will be shifted, rocked, and turned upside down by this new baby who he’s supposed to share his parents with.

In 18 weeks we go to man-to-man defense.

In 18 weeks this house is going to get a lot smaller.

1n 18 weeks these mood swings are only going to get worse.

In 18 weeks I get to swaddle a tiny new baby!

In 18 weeks I get to meet my daughter.

In 18 weeks I better be ready…. will I be ready?? I don’t think 18 weeks is nearly enough time to get ready. How is it I only have 18 weeks left?

(By the way- you’ve got 18 weeks to get your Christmas Shopping done.)

Going into this pregnancy, I prepared myself to find out I was expecting another boy. I was quite happy with the idea, to be honest. I mentally embraced being a boy mom long before that big ultrasound. I envisioned my life, a sea of trucks and Osh Kosh overalls, loud noises and  rough and tumble. (That’s not to say girls don’t do or play or wear these things- please allow me to overgeneralize.) I was a-okay with my life surrounded by little men. In fact, the thought was lovely.

But, OF COURSE, I was *thrilled* to hear we’re having a little girl. Shocked, yes, but over the moon happy. I think the best part has been seeing how excited Scott is (though he won’t outright admit it, I see that gleam in his eyes). I think it’s exciting to us both that he might (hopefully) get to experience that same special bond with his little girl that Kendall and I seem to have. And I can’t lie that the excitement, for me, seems to grow every day. I love to daydream about the fun tea-parties, painting tiny toenails, slumber parties and secrets shared. I’ve already purchased more for her than I know I should, but I just can’t stop. The clothes, the shoes, the tiny little bows! Oh, it’s too much to hold myself back from.

But as I make my way through this pregnancy (just about 18 weeks out from my due date- can you believe it?), I find there is a tiny bit of… sadness?? I don’t even know if that’s an accurate way to describe it. Just this feeling that comes from seeing this life, this life as a “boy mom,” fade to gray. It’s not that I’m not in love with the alternative, it’s just knowing that that life that I envisioned and embraced so passionately beforehand will never be, and it’s a little sad (we’ll just say that since I can’t think of a better word) to say goodbye.

Does that make sense? Has anyone else felt this way? I have to say, it’s an emotional experience I wasn’t expecting to go through.

Kendall is 2 & 1/4 and I’m 21ish weeks pregnant.