Pearls of Wisdom

Am I the Only One?

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 01:30:00 +0000

Am I the only one who is constantly hiking up my pants and pulling down my shirt?

Uh, no, that's not a euphemism for anything. Seriously, I feel like I spend the entire day hiking up my pants and pulling down my shirt.

Carry on.

Having Two Children...

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 17:01:00 +0000

Those who can, blog.
Those who can't, twitter.

And those who can neither blog nor twitter, like me, simply read the Facebook news feed from an iPhone while nursing a child and probably update their status about once a month with something about either naps, poops, or sleep deprivation.

Carry on.

The Law of Attraction

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 21:45:00 +0000

Today, I made a very monumentous decision. Instead of riding my exercise bicycle while the kids were napping, I ate a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie. Wait, that wasn't the monumentous decision. I did eat the cookie, but I am certain this blog post was supposed to be about something else....

Ah! Yes!

I've decided that I never want to work again.

That's right, you heard me.

Before I go on, let me just clarify that I am well aware, WELL AWARE, PEOPLE, that raising children is a lot of work. But in this instance I mean work as in j.o.b., getting up at a certain time every morning, having to be at a certain place at a certain time and do specific tasks and remain at this certain place for a specified amount of time every day. Yeah, I'm not doing that ever again.

I've been a SAHMILF with TJ for 3 years. More than 3 years, actually, if you want to count the four months of medical disability in which I was not working before TJ was born. And seeing as how BM is just 3 months old, I will most likely not be working for at least another 3 years. So that will be SIX YEARS of not working. I figure as an employee, that means I am basically ruined. I mean, really, who can go back to a job after "not working" for SIX YEARS?

So before my husband has a heart attack reading this, I should say that this does not mean I plan on not earning any income.

See, I was reading my Facebook newsfeed about a week ago and had an epiphany. (Yeah, that's sarcasm people, but still...) I have this cousin who is all into mystical crystalness and energy and chakras and blah blah blah. She posted something about the "law of attraction"... one of those new agey ideas about letting The Universe know exactly what you want and The Universe in return will give you exactly that. And, as hokey as this sounds, we all know how I feel about The Universe. So I thought about it... and I thought, hmmmmm, what do I want, then?

For some reason, working.... or maybe earning some income... has been weighing on my mind lately. Maybe it's just me, or maybe all SAHMILFs feel this way, but I just want to contribute to our pile of money and not feel bad every time I buy a latte.

But I don't want a regular job. I want a job that allows me to drop my kids off at school and pick them up when the school day is over. I want a job that allows me to attend any school party or field trip or performance with them that I want to attend. I want to be able to spend all day with my family on weekends and school holidays. And yes, that would include the entire summer.

Oh, there's more. I also want a job that doesn't require me to leave the house. And a job in which I can work any hours I choose. And a job that doesn’t require me to invest in more school, certifications, take another test, or buy a new wardrobe. Actually buying a new wardrobe would be fine, but not for a job. And of course this job should pay well and be relatively interesting to me.

In a nut shell, I want the perfect SAHMILF job… one that allows me to continue to be a SAHMILF indefinitely but also allows me to earn some decent moolah whenever I wish.

Not too much to ask, right??? Are you paying attention, Universe??!?!?!!

Further proof that I am always right, or reason #347 I will be a prime suspect if my husband ever gets murdered

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 21:06:00 +0000

Several weeks ago on the annual Wisdom Family Road Trip, the husband and I were having a discussion about something very important like where we should stop for lunch or maybe what time we should stop for lunch. My husband said something about not wanting to argue with me and my response was well, if you would just agree with everything I say, we wouldn't have to argue which sounds perfectly reasonable to me because I am always right.

Of course my husband is always one to test rules and boundaries, so when we were packing up the car for our return trip home he gave me the patented Husband Eye Roll when I told him I didn't think putting TJ's backpack full of toys in the rear view window dashboard was a good idea. Why not? he says. I don't [fucking] know, I reply. There was just something about it that didn't seem cool to me, and why my husband should even question my line of thinking is beyond me since I have already made it abundantly clear to him that I am always right.

Maybe I have some super power, or maybe it just comes from being a mom and having to predict the unintended consequences of certain actions to save yourself from a meltdown or tantrum later on down the road, but once again I was right. As I was taking some things out of the trunk a few days after we returned home, what did I see in the rear dashboard of our car? A half melted orange crayon. A half melted orange crayon that fell out of the backpack that my husband placed in the rear dashboard of our car. This would be the first reason putting TJ's backpack here was not a good idea.

And being the fantastic educator and life long learner that I am, I couldn't let this teachable moment pass by. So I called my husband over to bear witness to my rightness and show him the error of his ways. Hmph, my husband says as he plucks the remains off of the dash and mumbles something about needing to Google how to remove melted crayon.

A few weeks later, my husband comes home from work and I notice some tiny orange spots on one of his five variations on blue dress shirts. What's that? I ask, thinking it looks like a splatter of marinara sauce. Yeah, I don't know he replies....

Well, guess what Pearl finds in the dryer this morning? MORE melted orange crayon and MORE clothes with orange flecks seared into them and orange smutch all over the interior of the dryer. Great.

Honey, darling, sweetheart??!!? I call to my husband who is in the front yard working on one of the sixty three home improvement projects he has simultaneously going on at any given time. Did you leave that orange crayon in one of your pockets and put the pants in the laundry....????

I won't bore you with the rest of this story, as I am sure you can imagine how it unfolds.

Next time I say something is not a good idea, just nod and comply and don't ever fucking question me again. Ever.

Huh?

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 22:05:00 +0000

Oh yeah, I have a blog. I've been posting regularly, really I have. I just need to figure out a way to get all of the well crafted posts out of my head and onto my blog. Seriously, I have a lot of great ideas and very poignant thoughts about motherhood and life in general going on in my head, I promise I do. There are like at least ten good posts in my head just waiting to come to life here.

So why am I not writing one of these posts instead of this rambling mish mash of nothingness? Well, I can't remember anything I wanted to write about at this very instant. It's okay! I am sure I will have the time and energy to sit down and write a post or two within the next thee to seven hundred and eight four months.

Until then, you get fluff...

Introducing Bruiser McQueen!

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Sun, 06 Jun 2010 17:12:00 +0000

As promised, here is my long winded birth story for anyone who gives a crap. It is not well edited, but it is what it is. If you are not into reading stuff like this, then move along please.

I had mentioned in an early post that I was going to have to come up with a blog name for this baby, but apparently he named himself: Bruiser McQueen. Bruiser because he is ginormous and McQueen because he shot out of my vadge like a race car. And don't think the irony of me being able to call him BM for short has been lost on me. Okay, enough intro, just read...

Around 3:20am on June 1st, I woke up to go to the bathroom. I felt this POW! in my upper belly and thought, “wow, he just kicked the crap out of me”… it was so startling, I had never felt a kick that hard. I went back to bed and the baby started moving around and I felt some liquid coming out “down there.” I knew instantly that my water had broken. So I quickly got out of bed and as soon as I stood up, it gushed out. I said, “uh-oh… uh-oh… uh-oh…” and my husband popped up out of bed and asked me what was going on. I told him to get me a towel because my water had broken and I waddled into the bathroom to clean myself up and let the rest of the fluid come out. Thankfully, it was all clear, so it didn’t appear to have any meconium there to worry about.

When I finished up in the bathroom, I came back into the bedroom to find my husband had gone back to bed! Later he told me he wasn’t sure what it meant that my water had broken. Ha! Anyway, strangely enough I was not having any contractions at that point. For the past few weeks, I had been having some mild cramping here and there, but nothing I would even really call a contraction. Also, I had been dilated to 3cm for the past two weeks. So I was kind of confused as to what was going on myself since I had always assumed that contractions were what caused your water to break.

I called L&D and they advised me to eat something light and take a shower and come on in. We had to wait for my mother in law to get to our house to watch our daughter, so I decided showering was a good idea. After I showered, I put my last minute items in my hospital bag and I was starting to feel contractions. They were very short… 20 to 30 seconds long, but they were coming every 3 minutes. They weren’t all that painful, so I didn’t think much of it.

We got to the hospital at 4:45am. The ride to the hospital is less than 10 minutes, but the contractions in the car felt much, much worse. I figured it was because I was able to stand and move around for the other ones. I didn’t want to ride in a wheelchair up to L&D but the night guard insisted, so I did. I am glad I did because all of that walking would have taken me a long, painful time.

When we got to L&D I was put into a triage bed and put on the monitors. I wasn’t in the bed for a few minutes before the contractions began to feel worse and worse and seemed to get closer and closer together. The nurse told me my cervix wouldn’t be checked until the doctor arrived since my water had broken (apparently it is a greater risk of infection to be checked once your water has broken). I was beginning to feel like there was no time between each contraction and I was thinking “this cant be right, it’s happening too quickly.” So I started watching the contractions on the monitor and sure enough they were coming one right after the other.

At this point I was in excruciating pain, moaning and groaning through each contraction. I was debating whether or not to have an epidural in the weeks leading up to this, and at this point there was no doubt in my mind that I needed some pain relief. I had an epidural with the birth of my daughter, but it was placed incorrectly and all it did was numb one of my legs. Anyway, a doctor arrived and checked me and she says, “well, the reason you are in so much pain is because you are 7cm and in transition. We need to get you into a delivery room right away.” She also said I was doing a terrific job to be so far along, that I was handling it really well. I told her I didn’t feel like I was handling it very well, that I was scared! She asked me what I was scared of… uh HELLOOO! I am not even fully admitted to the hospital…. I don’t even have an IV, much less a hospital gown… I am laying here on a cot in triage at 7cm… bitch, what in the hell do you think I am scared of???? Perhaps shooting a baby out of my vadge in this room made out of curtains with no pain relief whatsoever??? At this point I knew that this was going to be a relatively fast delivery and that was one thing that kept me from completely losing it.

So anyway, I obviously couldn’t and didn’t say all of that. I was put into a wheelchair and driven at break neck speed to a delivery room, having contractions and moaning and groaning all the way down the hall. When we got to the room, the nurse told me I needed to get into the delivery bed and I said I couldn’t… I just didn’t feel like I could move as I was just having one long contraction that was never ending at this point. She told me I couldn’t have the baby sitting in the chair, so that motivated me to get into the bed.

One nurse was some how able to start an iv… how I had the wherewithal to keep my arm still is beyond me. I should mention that I was being very loud at this point. The nurses were pretty much having to shout at each other and one of them was still asking me questions trying to get everything done to admit me. My husband was having to answer for me because about all I could do was moan and writhe around in pain. (Side note… does it really matter if I wear glasses at this point? Maybe you could fill out the short form and ask me all of those pertinent questions when I am not crowning?)

The nurse checked me again and said I was 8cm. I looked at her and said, “am I going to be able to get an epidural?” how she kept from falling over laughing at that point, I don’t know. obviously if I had been in a rational state of mind, I would have known damn well there was no epidural in my future. she told me the best she could do was give me a shot of stadol if she could get it before I got to 9cm. she got the shot and checked me again and thank sweet baby jesus I was still at 8cm. the shot gave me a brief moment of relief that was basically all I needed to regain my sanity. just a few minutes later she checked me again and said we were ready to push.

the first push was such a relief, I knew I was going to be able to do this. each contraction was agony and the pressure and pain was unbelievable, but with each push I knew we were getting closer and closer to meeting our baby. the nurses had to remind me to breath correctly here and there and they also had to remind me not to push unless I was having a contraction. I think I was just trying to continuously push because I wanted this baby to come out and the pain to go away. I was also thinking it didn’t matter much because the contractions were coming so quickly anyway. I must have stopped pushing at the wrong time because at some point, the doctor stood up and literally got in my face and said, “I need you to push NOW” So I did and I felt the infamous ring of fire and I knew he would be out in a matter of seconds. I felt his head come out and then his shoulders and body slithered out.

I immediately asked if he was okay and the doctor was assuring me he was fine and then he started crying and I knew all was well. they put him on my chest and I could barely believe that it had all happened so quickly. We were at the hospital for less than two hours before he was born and I pushed for probably all of 10 minutes. my labor with my daughter was probably closer to 20 hours and I pushed for about 90 minutes.

I was still holding my baby while I delivered the placenta. I am only including this part because I had no idea it would be so painful! the doctor was patiently waiting for it to separate from my uterus, but it wasn’t happening. as it turns out, I had to push it out as well. the nurse came and pushed on my stomach and something caused me to have a few more contractions and I literally had to birth the placenta as well. I probably had three contractions and three pushes to get it out. it felt huuuuuge coming out and was rather painful itself. the doctor even commented on the large size of the placenta… something about a big boy needing a big placenta.

they took the baby to be cleaned up and all that and i was told that our baby weighed 9 pounds and 10 ounces and was 21 ½ inches long. even the doctor and nurses were taken aback by his size. not that 9.10 is all that big, but I am a fairly small person myself… 5’5” on a good day and maybe 120lbs before getting pregnant. so I guess for a relatively small person to give birth to a 3 month old, it is kind of notable. as the doctor was stitching me up, I asked her how things looked down there and she said, “not too bad, you just need a few stitches.” I am guessing her idea of “a few stitches” and my idea are two completely different things because it felt like she was crocheting a blanket down there.

At this point, my husband decided to go back home to check on our daughter as she would probably just be waking up. The nurses finished everything up with the baby and I and I was taken to a recovery room. I have heard of people having their babies within minutes of arriving at the hospital, or even in the driveway or the bathtub at home, but I was still pretty shocked at how this delivery went. Still, at six days post partum, I keep thinking, “Did that really just happen?”

And of course, more cuteness....

Welcome!

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Sat, 05 Jun 2010 02:30:00 +0000

My long winded birth story will be posted some time this decade. For now, you will have to settle for just the facts...

Bruiser was born 6/1/10 at 6:45 am. He weighed in at a whopping 9 lbs, 10oz and measured 21 1/2 inches in length. We are healthy, but just a little delirious from lack of sleep. And now for the cuteness...

Yes, I am Still Pregnant

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Sun, 30 May 2010 01:48:00 +0000

And if one more person tells me you won't stay pregnant forever, hee hee hee I am going to rip off someones head and suck their guts out of their neck stump.

Carry on.

What My Pregnancy Ticker Should Really Say...

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Mon, 24 May 2010 02:17:00 +0000

You are ready to kill yourself weeks and perhaps murder somebody else days pregnant. Only an eternity to go!

A Pain in the Ass for Mother's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Mon, 10 May 2010 02:19:00 +0000

I'm still pregnant.

At my last OB appointment, my doctor said everything as far as the pregnancy goes looks perfect. However, I am a broken down old cow. I have some sort of sciatica or sacroiliac joint dysfunction or my lower back/ass muscle hurt so badly that I can barely fucking walk issue. I don't really know what it is, and I don't really fucking care because the only solution is giving birth. And since I am just now knocking on the door of 37 weeks, I don't see that happening any time soon.

What's that you say? Three weeks is soon? Well, to that I can only think like fucking hell it is. I can't take a step without being in excruciating pain and something as simple as walking to the bathroom takes me several minutes. As I am moving about the day just covering the basic necessities for survival, I plan my route around the house in a manner in which will conserve the most steps.

My poor daughter has taken to saying things like "your leg hurts mommy?" every so often and "you crying mommy?" every time I so much as sniffle. And she has pretty much given up on asking me if I will take her to the library or the park because she knows the answer is no. Her activities outside the house for the past three weeks have basically consisted of going to doctors appointments with me.

My house looks like some squatters have moved in and when friends have offered to help me out, all I can think about is how I don't want anyone coming over here and seeing the state of filth we are currently living in.

So yeah, under the current circumstances, three weeks is a LONG FUCKING TIME.

I am really, really, trying to keep a positive attitude with all of this... I mean, as much pain as I am in and as shitty as it has been to be holed up in the house for the last two weeks and as crappy as the prospect of spending another three weeks in this conditon is... I know things could be worse. I am trying to stay focused on the widdle bitty baby that I will soon be meeting and the fact that I already have one amazing daughter already. And at least this Mother's Day was different than last year, TJ didn't wake me up by puking all over my neck.

If Anyone Gives a Poo Poo (or a Pee Pee)

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Wed, 21 Apr 2010 04:49:00 +0000

Since I know all of you are on the edge of your (potty) seats, wondering how TJ is doing with the potty training, I thought I would post and update. Well, we started potty training ten days ago and I would say things are going great. TJ had accidents on the first two days and since then she has had zero accidents! As for the nights, she has only woken up wet four times but she has stayed totally dry throughout every single nap since day one. She even decided that she prefers the adult potty over the little child's potty. And praise sweet baby jesus born in a manger for that. No more pee dumping and poop scraping for me!

Now I wonder how long it will be before I stop carrying around an extra change of clothes for her "just in case"?

And as long as I am updating here... holy shit! I'm 34 weeks pregnant. I think this baby has been trying to head butt his way out because I seriously thought I was going to interrupt circle time at the pre-preschool yesterday with my own impromptu version of A Baby Story. I am just a wee bit tired of hearing about how enormous I am (duh, I do own a mirror, thankyouverymuch) and how I'm "not gonna make it to my due date" (uh yeah because if you are huge that obviously means that your baby will come early, thank you Dr. Everybodyandtheirsister). And just so I dont sound like a negative whiny bitch, I will say that I do love it when people tell me I am "all baby." Even though I know it's not true because... hello.... I'm not blind. I see my double chin, and my shoes, yes even my SHOES, are fitting tighter. But still, I appreciate the sentiment.

And, I got to hold a friend of mines (mine's? mines'? mineses?) newborn tonight at dinner. He is just the cutest thing ever. I was touched that TJ sweetly asked me if she could "pet him". And she was so cute about it and said she liked his fur. (I think she was referring to his velour pants because he is not a freakishly hairy baby). This gives me hope that she will enjoy being a big sister and I won't catch her trying to pinch her baby brother or smother him with a teddy bear or something.

An Encouraging Word

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Mon, 12 Apr 2010 16:12:00 +0000

Wow, moms never cease to amaze me! The camaraderie! The support! The universal knowledge that we are all (for the most part, I hope) doing the best we can with what we have. I just love it when I receive positive support and encouragement, especially from other mothers.

So you can imagine my glee when I read this comment this morning...

I know you're probably not going to appreciate my opinion but every kid is different and you don't want to make toilet time a battle. It may turn around and bite you in the @$$. It happened to my sister. They fought constantly about potty time. My niece would get so mad she intentionally peed everywhere. On the couch, the bed, anywhere and whenever she just wanted to exact some revenge on her mom. She will eventually use the toilet, be patient, breathe, count to ten, and whenever you feel frustrated about potty training just be thankful that your child is healthy enough to eventually use the toilet. There are many kids with health issues that will always have to rely on a caregiver to feed them, change them, feed them and see to their needs every minute of the day. Everytime I get annoyed with my kids I remember and am thankful for the healthy little rugrats that I have. (IMHO)(And, don't worry so much, you're not the first parent who wondered if their kids would wear diapers in high school.)

Wow. Just wow.

If I could microsize myself and fly through my internet connection to go bitchslap somebody right now, I would. But since I cannot, and since this is MY blog, mwah ha ha ha haaaaaaa, I will dissect this comment and respond to each stupid, twatty, remark ad nauseam.

I know you're probably not going to appreciate my opinion...

This was the smartest thing you said in your entire comment and you should have just stopped here.

every kid is different and you don't want to make toilet time a battle. It
may turn around and bite you in the @$$. It happened to my sister. They fought
constantly about potty time. My niece would get so mad she intentionally peed
everywhere. On the couch, the bed, anywhere and whenever she just wanted to
exact some revenge on her mom.

Reeeaaaally??? Every kid is different? I had NO idea! I thought they were all the same! Gee whiz, how lucky I am that you left this comment!

And who said anything about a battle or fighting? If you took the time to read any other posts in my blog, you would know that my writing is fraught with sarcasm and wit. I know some people are not intelligent enough to understand sarcasm though, and I suspect this may be the case with you, so I will let this one slide. However, my daughter and I are not fighting over the potty. Not that it's any of your godddamn business, but she just simply didn't understand that she could pee or poop somewhere other than a diaper. Now, she is beginning to get it. I feel like it is my responsibility as a parent to teach my daughter how the world works, and using the potty is one very important thing to learn, ("IMHO"). Now that she is beginning to use the potty, she is so thrilled every time she is successful and beams with pride. I am sorry your niece is pissing all over the house like a rabid puppy, but don't take it out on me.

She will eventually use the toilet, be patient, breathe, count to
ten...

....(And, don't worry so much, you're not the first parent who wondered if
their kids would wear diapers in high school.)

Gee, Captain Obvious strikes again!

and whenever you feel frustrated about potty training just be thankful that
your child is healthy enough to eventually use the toilet. There are many kids
with health issues that will always have to rely on a caregiver to feed them,
change them, feed them and see to their needs every minute of the day. Everytime
I get annoyed with my kids I remember and am thankful for the healthy little
rugrats that I have. (IMHO)

Are you fucking kidding me? What kind of fucking logic is this? Fuck! Talk about guilty mom martyr syndrome. I think you may need some psychological help. Yes, for the record, I am very grateful to have a happy, healthy, and amazingly brilliant child. And, again, if you had taken the time to read my blog before your diarrhea mouth exploded all over it, you would know that I was a Special Education teacher for several years. So I am EXTREMELY familiar with children with all kinds of physical, emotional, and cognitive disabilities. But does that mean every time I get frustrated or annoyed with my child or anyone else in my life I should think "Well, shucks, at least he/she can wipe her own ass, my bad."

Ahhhh, I feel much better now. Ooopsie, where are my manners? I almost forgot to say, thank you for visiting my blog! And although you probably aren't going to appreciate this post, don't take it personally. I am just glad you can wipe your own ass.

I just won the lottery!!!!!!!! Or maybe my daughter just finally pissed somewhere other than her diaper...

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Sun, 11 Apr 2010 05:29:00 +0000

If I had just won the lottery or my daughter had just peed in her potty, I think my reaction to both scenarios would be eerily similar. Yes, for a fucking millennium, I have been trying to potty train TJ and she has never, ever, EVAR, not ONCE peed anywhere but a diaper. She will hold her pee for hours, yes HOURS, even OVERNIGHT, rather than pee somewhere other than her diaper. She is two years and eight months old and I am beginning to think she is going to be one of those four year olds running around in a size 14 diaper (do they make size 14 or will she just have to wear Depends?)

So I was talking about my potty training woes to a mom friend of mine, watching her eyes glaze over as I shared every minute detail of TJ's potty training un-progress when I thought to myself, fuckit, I'm just going to stop putting a diaper on her and see what happens. Maybe if she is peeing all over herself all the time, something will click?

Of course I have to research this idea and potty training in general for hours and hours just to satisfy my anal retentiveness (ha! no pun intended!) and I come across this site. For those of you who don't click links, that is "The Official 3 Day Potty Training" website. I actually came across this site months ago and filed it under the "pffft, whatthefuckever / too good to be true" category in my brain. But this time I thought, why not give it a try? What's the worst thing that could happen... The process wouldn't work and TJ would not be potty trained? Gee, that's already happening. I would have to deal with a bunch of pee and poop? Gee, that's already happening too.

Okay, so here we go. Friday afternoon I gave TJ a garbage bag and I let her put all of her diapers in it and we threw them away. And by threw them away I mean, we put them by our back door and I grabbed the bag and stuffed it in a closet when TJ wasn't looking. I am not a dumb ass, I will be needing those diapers for baby number two someday, right? Then, after following the whole 3 Day Potty Training process to a neurotic T (because I do want a fucking refund if this shit doesn't work), TJ finally began to pee in her panties. Yes, starting at about 5pm, she dribbled through at least 10 pairs of panties by bedtime. At least this was some progress... prior to this she would hold it and hold out for a diaper.

Then, lo and behold, before bedtime I told her we were going to add going to the potty to the bedtime routine, showed her the newly hung "big surprise" earning reward / sticker charts in the bathroom and SHE PEED IN THE POTTY!!! Hallelujah and praise sweet baby jesus born in a manger!!!! She did wet her bed that night, but whatever, I was prepared for that.

And today she had two accidents, but peed in the potty three times... one time she even initiated the visit to the potty herself! What the hell??? This is just a little over 24 hours into this whole "3 Day" method. I am not even expecting her to be fully potty trained by the end of day three, but I am certainly blown away by the progress that has happened in the last 24 hours. Maybe I am not a defective mother after all???

I know you are probably wondering about poop right now, right? Sure, all of this pee business is going on, but what about the pooping? Well.... she didn't poop at all yesterday, but she finally pooped tonight. In her panties. After we put her to bed. But! She did immediately call for me and let me know and she wanted to sit on the potty afterwards anyway (thanks in part to the brain washing success of this "3 Day" program) and then she told me that she "got close," meaning she got close to pooping in the potty (awwww! cute, huh?). And then she told me "accidents are ok, mommy!" Yes!!! I am NOT a defective mother!!!!

And just to prove what an amazingly brilliant child I have... the first place she had her pee accident this morning? Yep, she peed on her Dr. Seuss "Oh the Places You'll Go" puzzle. See? She's even mastered the art of irony.

Potty Training...

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Thu, 08 Apr 2010 14:48:00 +0000

...is making me want to kill myself.

Carry on.

True Confessions Thursday: Judge Not...

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 07:10:00 +0000

When I was pregnant with TJ, I told one of my oldest high school friends that I was excited that I had found this moms club to join. The moms club sounded fun and since I was planning on being a SAHMILF for at least a year (ha! it’s going on three years now!) I figured it would be a good way to meet other mothers and…. well, actually I don’t really remember what the fuck I was thinking it would be like because I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast this morning, but anyway….

So my friend says to me, that sounds cool, but be careful. Some of those moms can be the most judgmental people you will ever meet. I kind of laughed it off and thought about the stereotypical buttinski moms in that movie with Kate Winslet, Little Children. But still, her comment was in the back of my mind and I had my guard up when I met and hung out with the other moms in the moms club.

After weeks and months of getting to know these women, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I never felt like any of them were judging me, ever. They are all very supportive and realistic and for the most part mellow about all things family and child. And when I say they, I mean the ones that I actually hang out with as opposed to the few batshit crazy ones that seem to infiltrate every ‘club’ no matter what.

And then it dawned on me. I don’t feel judged because I am the judger. I am the mom that my best friend was trying to warn me about.

Yes, it’s true. I look at what the other kids are wearing, and I judge: is her child too hot? too cold? wearing appropriate shoes? I see the snacks the other kids are eating, and I judge: did you just give your 15 month old an oreo cookie? seriously? I watch the way the kids act , and I judge: she must get that from somewhere… she acts that way because you are a white trash mom… And there are the random things like why in the fuck is your child’s nose always running every time I see her, like full on running from nostril to mouth, can’t you wipe that shit off her face? Or totally unfair things like, uhm, your child is just fucking weird.

Just like anyone else, I cut my good friends more slack. So basically if I like you, I don’t judge you as harshly or even at all. But if, say for instance, you are one of the moms who constantly has your head up your ass and you can’t spell my fucking name correctly even though I just signed it at the bottom of the email I just sent you *ahem* well, then I have no mercy on you and your simpleton little brat.

So yeah, I guess I am the judger. And you would think from the sound of it that I think my child is perfect and that I am the perfect mom, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. And that kind of makes it even worse! But I am always nice and polite to their faces. So I guess that makes me two faced. Yeah, that’s me… two faced judgey imperfect bitchy mom. Wanna come to my playgroup?

Oh Yeah, I Have Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 05:59:00 +0000

I have about 4 ideas for blog posts floating around in my head, but I swear being pregnant makes me completely unmotivated to write. Maybe it is just the exhaustion, but I swear the pregnancy hormones also completely erase my wit and creativity. So much for my chronicling every detail about this pregnancy in this blog.

Ok, here, I'll catch up. I'm pregnant. I don't have gestational diabetes and I am really great at peeing in a cup while explaining to a 2 1/2 year old why I am peeing in a cup. I am also really good at holding a 2 1/2 year old on my lap while I am having my blood drawn and stopping her from grabbing the needle and/or vials of blood. Ok, maybe it's the iPhone apps, but hey, I did have the foresight to download them. I've gained 30 pounds already. My blood pressure is "wonderfully low." I pee a little bit when I sneeze and I have taken to wearing modern day mu-mus because they are more comfortable than wearing pants that I have to yank up every 3 seconds. And they are cuter than those maternity suspenders (seriously? won't those just yank my bra down? Like I need my national geographic boobs to sit any lower). I love feeling the baby move around and I can't wait to meet him.

And who really wants to hear me ramble on and on when I could just post a picture of ginormousnesss anyway?

Or how about this cutie?

Carry on.

Hamburgers and Hotdogs

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 07:25:00 +0000

I don't know who I was kidding with all that "I might not find out the gender" talk. Puhleeze! I am way too impatient for that! As soon as the ultrasound tech said, "So, do you guys want to know the gen..." I said, "YES!"

And the baby must have been ready to give up the goods too because as soon as that wand touched my belly, she was all, "Whoa... well, there it is!" And by "it" she meant the weenie. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we are having a boy!

I would post an ultrasound picture here, but do you really want to see a grainy black and white photo of my child's ding-ding? That's a rhetorical question people. I am going to assume that the answer is NO because I really don't have the time to be filing complaints with the FBI.

Now, name suggestions? Anyone? Anyone???

19 Weeks Already?!!?

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 05:01:00 +0000

Holy guacamole, I can't believe I am already 19 weeks pregnant! That is like half way there! I have been feeling pretty good, only a little bit of morning sickness every evening. It is so much milder than what it was for the first 13 weeks that I feel grateful for that. I have been feeling little thumpy thump thumps here and there and I can't wait to feel more baby movement.

I am still ginormous and have 350 pound preschool teachers asking me if I am "due any day now" and "friends" who tell me that I get bigger (I mean that in a good way of course, tee hee hee!) every time they see me (Uh, DUH! Thanks, bitch, what's your fucking excuse?) I have a doctors appointment this Friday... just your regular pee in a cup, lose your dignity at the digital scale, and listen to the baby's heartbeat type of appointment.... nothing exciting like gulping down a tasty orange beverage or having a q-tip butt swab.

But then, next Friday, I have the Big Ultrasound. You know, the one people like to call the Gender Ultrasound, but doctors are forced to call the Anatomy Scan. I am kind of torn... I want to find out the gender, but then I don't. My husband thinks that having it be a surprise is "silly". This coming from a man who wears two pairs of socks at a time. Hmph.

My reasons for wanting to find out are basically curiosity/impatience and ease of picking out just one perfect name as opposed to two perfect names. I told him we could compromise by finding out, but not telling anyone. Mwah-ha-ha-ha-haaaaaa. Of course this all may be pointless because there is a chance he may not be able to get out of work that day and therefore I will "forget" to ask about the gender at the appointment, oopsie!

Insert well written and witty conclusion paragraph here.

My Lovely Lady Lumps

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 03:08:00 +0000

I had such grand plans for journaling this pregnancy through my blog, such high hopes. I was envious of other women who blogged throughout their pregnancies and I wished I had such a wonderful record of my pregnancy with TJ. When I found out I was pregnant with number two, I was so happy that I had this blog to chronicle all of my pregnancy thoughts, feelings, fears, joys, and hopes. Before getting knocked up, I said to myself, if we are fortunate enough to have another child, I will record every little thing here and have this beautiful recollection of it all.

And then I didn't do shit. Well, I posted a handful of times. And that was mostly of me complaining about the morning sickness. Or me telling you that I wasn't complaining about the morning sickness, which was really just thinly veiled complaining. Oh well, what's a girl to do?

I'll tell you what I am NOT going to do: I am NOT going to bore you with some lameass blow by blow of why I haven't been posting much here lately. I'll just leave it at this: I've been doin' other shit.

So I am almost 14 weeks pregnant, just a few days away from beginning trimester two.

(Side note: many people think the first trimester is twelve weeks. I understand why... 12 weeks divided by 4 weeks in a month equals 3 months. Well, news flash, that's not correct. The first trimester is actually week 1 through week 13. That would be 40 weeks divided by 3 trimesters equals 13.333333333 weeks, so let's just make it easy and say 13. Just a little boring ass FYI for you.)

Anyway, back to me. So yeah, here I am approaching week 14 and I am feeling pretty damn good. In fact, I started feeling an distinct absence of morning sickness on Thanksgiving Day. Talk about being fucking thankful. Thank you sweet baby jesus born in a manger!

So how do I look? Well, I look about what you would probably envision someone about 28 weeks pregnant would look like. I don't know why, but I start showing around week 3. Or maybe week 10. I love baby bumps, I think that are cute and endearing. But I will say, I am a little embarrassed that mine rear their head so early. I guess it's because strangers will ask me about being pregnant and expect me to tell them I am like 5 or 7 months along and when I squeak out three, they are usually visibly shocked.

What? You don't believe me? Fine.

Me pregnant with TJ at 15 weeks.

Me pregnant right now at almost 14 weeks.

I guess it is true what they say about your second one showing sooner?

Hey, you know what? It's fine with me. I am looking at the bright side... people know I am pregnant just by looking at me so they don't A). Think I am visiting In N Out too often or B). Expect me to behave in a sane manner. Plus, I will get to wear the maternity clothes for a lot longer, thus justifying spending $238 on the Hudson maternity jeans. That's how Fergie and I show off our humps, you know.

Ahoy, Matey! Pirates Aren't Just For Halloween!

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 04:13:00 +0000

The kind people at Growing Tree Toys , a retailer of educational toys, recently sent me a toy to review. I had seen Manhattan Toy's Dress Up Pirate before and considered buying one for my nephew when he was a little younger, so I was thrilled to get one for TJ to try out.

I could barely get the box open before TJ yanked the pirate out and, hugging it tightly, said, "I love this pirate!" Now, TJ is not the type of child to go for just any toy simply because it is new, (yes, she is rather discriminating) so the fact that she was interested in the Dress Up Pirate immediately told me that this toy should have some definite curb appeal to the kids. And I don't blame her, it is a cute toy... like I said, it had caught my eye as a prospective gift for my favorite nephew quite some time ago.

TJ has several toys made by Manhattan Toy, and all of them have been big hits with her. So, I had high expectations for the Dress Up Pirate. And I am happy to report it didn't disappoint. Of course, TJ at first just played with the pirate as if it were just another stuffed toy; but once I showed her how to work the zipper, velcro, button, snap, etc., she jumped right in. One of the pirate's shoes has a regular lace like a tennis shoe, and while TJ is shockingly brilliant, I think it will be a while before she masters that part of dressing.

I am thinking this toy has piqued TJ's interest in dressing herself as she has suddenly started insisting on zipping her pjs and jackets "all by self", and I frequently get a "lemme do it" when velcro-ing her shoes or putting her shirt on. So not only is this toy creatively constructed and educational, but I have to give it at least partial credit in scooting TJ along on the road to dressing independently.

If you are looking for other educational toys, I would suggest visiting the Growing Tree Toys website. They have a thoughtful selection of toys for children of all ages and I like the fact that you can search for items by age range... this is very helpful when trying to select a nice gift for an older niece or nephew. I spent a lot of time looking at the selection of toys on this site and I would venture to say that none of their toys would end up in the garage sale / goodwill / get this annoying piece of plastic out of my face ASAP pile. Two thumbs up for The Pirate Dress Up Toy and for Growing Tree Toys website!

It's Your Lucky Day!

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 23:06:00 +0000

Not only am I not going to complain about how nauseous I feel today, but you get to see a picture of TJ!

Several weeks ago, I entered a give away at Mom to Bee and won! It was very exciting, probably only for me though, because I don't get very excited when other people win giveaways. Anyway... I won the cutest little dress for TJ (which I got to choose myself!) from the Daily Tea line at Sugar Babies.

It finally got cool enough here for TJ to wear the dress, and I finally got the pictures off my camera and I have finally decided to post about it. TJ is doing her famous 'Tyra Smize'... that's smiling with your eyes for those of you who don't watch America's Next Top Model (as if!). Yeah, I kindof wanted her in one of those nice standing up type poses where you could actually see how cute this dress is. Alas, TJ had other plans. She only wanted to sit on my lap in our poorly lit entry way. Models can be so temperamental, geesh.

Okay everyone, on three. One, two, three... awwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

Oh Happy Day!

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 02:11:00 +0000

Today we saw a beautiful little heart beating and were told our baby looks perfect. Words can't even describe how happy we are. I guess there is not much else to say... so without further ado, here is itty bitty baby Wisdom number two:

True Confessions Tuesday & A Manslation

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 02:11:00 +0000

I had this fantasy that it would be so nifty to chronicle my pregnancy here on this blog. I have seen other people do it and I always thought to myself, I wish I had started this blog when I was pregnant with TJ. But look at me now, I post once a week if that.

Well, there is a reason. And it's not just my usual laziness.

For the past 2 - 3 weeks, I have pretty much felt like I am going to puke all day, everyday. While I may be prone to exaggeration, believe me, those are simply the facts. If I am awake, I am nauseous. I would even venture to say that I am nauseous when I am asleep because every time I wake up in the middle of the night, I pretty much feel like puking.

But I really don't want to be that annoying pregnant person who whines for months about wanting to be pregnant only to start complaining about 'morning' sickness or other pregnancy inconveniences before the pregnancy test is even dry. Because truthfully, when I would read shit like that on other people's blogs, I would think, "Bitch, please shut the fuck up! I would give anything to be pregnant, including feeling queasy every day for the next nine months, so quit your bitchin!"

This morning sickness pretty much consumes my day and I find it hard to think about much else... a hormonally induced writers rut if you will. So rather than fifteen posts about feeling like I am going to barf, I have just not been posting much at all. So there. That's my confession.

So for the sake of chronicling or posterity or being journalistic or getting it off my chest or whatever the fuck you want to call it, I feel the need to record this part of my pregnancy. Even though it is not the storybook cliche of glowing pregnancy, it is my pregnancy nonetheless. So if you don't want to hear about it, you can skip the next few paragraphs that I aptly colored puke green.

I begin each day waking up to a mild nausea. For a split second, I think, Oh no! It's gone! Yes, I say Oh no! Because while it is uncomfortable, I can't help but feel reassured that something must be going right in there for me to have the mother of all pregnancy symptoms. I try to find something to eat for breakfast that doesn't make me feel even more like puking. Pretty much nothing sounds or smells good, so I go with the least offensive... usually cheerios.

By about 9 am I am so nauseous that I have that metallic taste in my mouth and excessive salivating that a person gets about five seconds before they actually barf, except I don't actually barf but that taste and the drooling are with me for the rest of the day. I probably eat again around 10 just to try to quell the nausea once more.

By lunch time I am ravenously hungry and I probably scarf down my lunch as I am making it, and my lunch usually consists of something I was sure would not make me nauseous but usually does anyway, so it ends up being rather unsatisfying.

I take a nap with TJ after lunch and waking up from this nap is the most nauseous I feel all day. Trying to decide what to make for dinner is like playing russian roulette with the refrigerator door. Not only does the mere act of opening that door make me want to puke... the sights! the smells!... but trying to determine what will be the least puke inducing meal for the night sometimes leaves me in a defeated, weeping mass.

The remainder of the evening, I drift in and out of waves of nausea of varying degree and probably have a bowl of ~~heaven~~ Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream. I will also admit to getting out of bed in the middle of the night to make myself a bean and cheese burrito or a bagel. Hey, whatever gets you through the night....

So there you have it. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I am really not complaining. This is a difficult time, but I know it won't last forever. And when the end result is a healthy baby, it is totally worth it and then some.

Now for the part you are really reading this post for: the Manslation. My husband is totally baffled by 'morning' sickness. No matter how I try to explain it to him, he just can't wrap his brain around how somebody could be feeling like she is about to puke yet desperately wanting to eat a pepperoni, black olive, mushroom, and garlic pizza for dinner. So we were talking about this for the millionth time the other night and he says to me, maybe you should try fasting.

What???

WHAT!!???!?!? Did you just tell a PREGNANT woman that she should try FASTING??!?!!? Are you fucking INSANE??!?!!?

So I gently try to explain to him that not only is fasting probably the worst advice (beyond crack smoking or heroin injecting) you could offer a pregnant person, but it is the one sure fire way to make morning sickness worse.

To which he replies, well, I don't know, I just thought maybe you have something in your system you need to work out.

He is so innocent and sweet, I just have to laugh. Well, yes dear, I do in fact have something in my 'system', it's called a BABY and at this point it is not something I particularly want to 'work out' just yet.

We are not speaking for the next eight months. Just a precaution.

Is It Tacky to Air My Dirty Laundry on My Blog?

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 04:25:00 +0000

Several weeks ago, my mother in law asked me if I could help her with some computer related things (she has her own business) one day a week. I thought it would be nice for TJ to see her grandma on a more regular basis and I do enjoy visiting my mother in law so we decided on Wednesdays.

So TJ and I went to grandma's house two or three weeks in a row and it quickly became apparent that we weren't getting any real work done outside of TJ's nap time. No big deal. Part of the reason for the visits was simply getting in a little grandma time. The last time we were at grandma's, my mother in law asked me if I would like her to come to my house for the next visit. She was offering to help me work on some projects around the house. I agreed to this and instead of scheduling something, we left it at the old, "let's play it by ear."

Well, a week or so went by and neither one of us had made any contact. My reason was that I was feeling exhausted and run down with morning all day sickness (not complaining here people, merely being journalistic). So I sent an email to my mother in law apologizing for not getting in touch sooner and basically explaining how I was feeling, etc. Three days later and she still hasn't responded... which is odd, she usually responds immediately.

Tonight, my husband is sitting at his computer and he asks me how to spell the word, nauseous. Of course I assumed he was talking about me, so I asked him who he was writing. When he said he was writing his mother, I asked what it was about because I was waiting to hear from her and he shares an email she had just sent to him, which said something to the effect of "I can't run a business like this.... if it's not one thing it's another.... this is nonsense.... I don't know what to say about this, it is what it is and that's what it is..."

W.T.F.??!?!!!!??!!

That's when I went ape shit.

For the record, I do not routinely flake out on, break, or flat out not show for appointments I make with my mother in law, nor anyone else for that matter. Are there times when something comes up and I need to reschedule? Yes. Do I let her know promptly? Yes.

So I am kind of thinking that a mother in law's response to her daughter in law telling her that she has been feeling like she is on the verge of vomiting all day every day for the past two weeks (again, not complaining here people, just being journalistic) would be something other than "this is nonsense...." or "if it's not one thing, it's another..." And, "I can't run a business like this..." seriously?!?!! Are you fucking kidding me?!!? If she was relying on me to run her business... the 1 1/2 to 2 hours of help I can provide her ONCE A WEEK while TJ is asleep... her business is fucked to begin with.

However, my husband thinks I am overreacting. He says she didn't say anything that bad and that she is a seventy something year old woman that just goes off like that from time to time. Never mind that she has never, ever once "gone off" in my presence. He says she was just hurt that TJ and I weren't able to come over. Never mind that I told my mother in law that she was more than welcome to visit us ANY DAY this week if she wanted to see TJ.

And what's sad is that I have always felt that my mother in law and I were pretty cool with each other. I've even told people that I feel pretty lucky in the grand scheme of mother in laws. I guess I should have learned my lesson when she showed her true colors last year. Oh well, I guess TJ will just grow up grandparentless like I did. Could be worse.

So there's all my dirty laundry. Hey, at least I didn't post this as my status update on Facebook.

How I Accidentally Read Dooce's Book

noreply@blogger.com (Pearl) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 03:55:00 +0000

When a self-proclaimed 'non-reader' friend of mine asked me for a book recommendation, I did a virtual back flip. As all book lovers know, it is quite the thrill to get to turn someone onto a book or books that you love. I guess it is kind of like how heroin junkies get a kick out of injecting each other. Maybe there is a better analogy. Whatever.

Anyway, after a little discussion of literary likes and dislikes with my friend, I thought it would be a ~~totally dorky~~ great idea if we read the same book. I had three books on hold at the library, so we decided to choose the book that the library actually had two copies of. I knew nothing about these three books other than the fact that Amazon had recommended them based on my previous book searches. Not that I actually buy books... I am way too cheap for that. I just read the reviews at Amazon and then put them on hold at the library. Works for me.

So it wasn't until I got home with the chosen book, It Sucked, Then I Cried: How I Wrote A Book With a Painstakingly Long Title That Included A Colon Just Like All The Other Cool Mommy Bloggers Are Doing (oh wait, maybe that's not exactly the book title), that I realized that it was written by none other than Heather Armstrong, aka Dooce.

To be honest, I think I have visited Dooce's website three times at the most. And yes, let's call it a website and not a blog, because that beast is a Web.Site. While I didn't hate her website, I certainly didn't see what all of the fuss was about. I can't remember anything I read there and none of it gave me any inclination to come back for more. I get the feeling that the success of Heather's website has a lot to do with being at the right place at the right time. So, I will give props where they are due: congrats to you Heather for getting to the trough first.

That being said, I kind of rolled my eyes when I realized that the next book I would be reading was written by the Dooce. In fact, I was totally prepared to hate it.

Well, wouldn't you know, I didn't hate it! It only took me a few days to read it, and I even LTM (that's LOL's little sister, Laughed To Myself - Trademark!) several times while reading.

I have issues with her terrible attitude and negativity towards pregnancy and motherhood... and we all know that I am generally not Miss Sunshine myself so that says a lot. For some reason, I found her disdain for maternity clothes highly irritating. And the book was rather disjointed. I was going to make reference to her transitions, but that would mean that some sort of transitions existed, so alas... For example, she starts out one chapter talking about the importance of windshield wiper fluid and I am expecting some witty tie-in someplace else in the chapter. Nope. And this happens a lot.

But, like I said, I can't hate the book. In reading it, Heather became human to me, and I just can't hate her or her life's story. And damn, this girl went through it! I don't want to spoil it for you, but let's just say I wouldn't wish some of the shit she went through on my worst enemy and I can't imagine what it must have been like, nor would I want to. So again, props to you Heather for taking care of business.

I wouldn't recommend this book to people, it didn't make that list for me. But, it is a fun read that won't necessarily make you want to slam your head into a wall.