So a big discussion in our house these days is penis.

Daddy’s got one, and so does the guy who walked out of the diner bathroom. I know this, because Paige screamed “THAT MAN HAS A PENIS” as he was walking by. Rinse and repeat two more times [same diner, should we stop going] and you have what could be a kind of hilariously mortifying serious of events. I told her that we simply don’t talk about penises in public [if we can help it] and so on our bi-weekly jaunt to Trader Joe’s, Paige used her most melancholy voice to tell a hipster in the produce isle that “she wasn’t supposed to talk about penises…”

We don’t really shy away from body parts here. We’ve taken showers together and Pauge knows the difference between a vagina and a penis. Bailey has a penis, Daddy has one and Mommy has “HUGEEEE BOOBS” and a vagina with “hair on it!”

My parents didn’t talk about sex. Now I can be as raunchy as I want and it will only produce giggles from any member of my family, but when it was really time to explain what masturbation was? Well, they froze.  I don’t even think my mother talked to me about sex unless it was to tell me “I BETTER not be doing that…” during  a weekly walk in the woods with my 13 year old male friend. For the record, we were building forts we were not doing it. When my parents left a copy of Howard Sterns “Private Parts” on the table one night, I thought “this is it, the sex talk!” not realizing the book wasn’t a guide to the body for girls, it was well, a Howard Stern book…

I also remember my first orgasm; I was rubbing my bed and got so freaked out by the feeling I told my mom “I RUBBED AND RUBBED AND IT FELT LIKE SEX” to which she walked out horrified that I’d just declared my well..womanhood to her.

I can’t raise my kid like that – she’s going to hear every factoid about bodies, penises and vagina’s until her ears are ringing. No question will be left un-answered! No body part a mystery! Nope, no sir, not in this house.

Blogging smogging, I’m in love.

Besides trying to sleep and find time to read all my favorite essay’s [I'm on a kick and re-visiting my book shelf] I’ve been digging my little lady right here. She’s had me giggling for days, and I’m really enjoying our time together solo, just her and me before the baby comes.

Her latest passions? Wearing my underwear on her head and pretending to be a “clown” and making up her own joke mash ups [knock knock? who's there Paige? I'm crossing the road to make hot coco..] Even in my deepest moments of frusteration, like when I accidently drive over the George Washington Bridge and end up in the Bronx and I’m tingling with annoyance she makes me giggle…as I look up in the mirror and see her making funny faces to get ME to relax.

We really are the best of friends.

Paige’s birth took place in a hospital.  At 11 in the morning I called my doctor to tell her I thought I was in labor [I'm one of those "oh my god, I feel the baby coming!" 3 weeks before the due date while eating an ice cream cone..] and we hung around for a few hours at home before heading in.  I had a bag packed with yoga pants and books, and was ready for anything.

Mostly drugs, and some lunch, I was starving. Natural birth didn’t seem like something I was interested at the time — the childbirth I knew wasn’t this amazing spiritual experience, it fucking hurt.  The only time it didn’t hurt so much I wanted to punch someones lights out, was when I was moving around…in a hospital you can’t. I was on my back hooked up to machines and that’s that. I can say though, that I had a fantastic nurse and doctor: both were so caring, helpful, and just amazing during the entire birth. I didn’t feel rushed to push [I'm the one who initiated it] and there was no tearing, or cutting involved. Paige was on my boob within seconds and it was lovely. So, I’m not against hospitals  especially when there’s decent staff that really CARE about delivering babies.

My after care? Well, it sucked. I had trouble breast feeding like so many new moms do, and the nurses either couldn’t/wouldn’t help me, or swooped in for 2 seconds  at 3am to offer advice that I couldn’t understand in my sleep deprived state. One nurse told me my “baby was hungry so formula would be okay..” and it was awful. I really, really wish I was more educated and could have told all the nurses to fuck off and HELP me with my tits, which were producing the stuff just fine thank you, I just needed help with my latch.

This time I was going to do the hospital birth again, but I’m not happy with my doctor. How impersonal it is: to sit in a waiting room for an hour while everyone pretends to read magazines but secretly checks you out. To see a doctor for five minutes – long enough to make sure the heart is beating and I’m gaining weight. To know that in 9 months this basically anonymous person would be all up in my vagina. I wanted something more personal. I wanted to be able to move fluidly around because that is what feels good. I want someone who can sit and patiently help me breast feed this time, so that it’s not painful and I don’t fight back tears every time it’s feeding time, which is all the time. How many times can I use time? Lets see

So this momma is having a home birth. I’m reading about it and looking up midwives in the area and getting more and more tingly-excited every day.  Phil is going to get involved, and I’m hoping this can bring us closer together as a couple of dorks who are raising kids.  Will I have Paige present? I really don’t know yet — I may need this to be a me/my body experience without her clamoring about asking a million questions…same goes for my dogs. I’m sure they will be howling right along side of me and THAT is already annoying. Pet hotel? Grandmas? We will see!

Either way, I’m pumped. Be pumped for me

I’m not against modern medicine. I vaccinated Paige up until she was just about a year old, and while I’ve decided to delay any other vaccines she may or may not get [I'm still teetering on the fence] I’m not anti anything. Would I give my child the flu vaccine? Nope! But I wouldn’t stop being your friend if you thought it was a great idea. When we have colds I bust out my honey, eucalyptus scented bath stuff, and a cool mist humidifier for the stuffy evenings that lay ahead. We hibernate with tea, and avoid spreading our germs and we get better…

We had a barf-week last week, but we were starting to feel better. I was craving oil and vinegar drenched sandwiches and Paige stomached a half a bowl of cereal without sobbing to take it away, when we got hit again. This time it was the sniffles and I was prepared. We did honey, we rested, and yet it got worse. My normally spastic excited to talk about sharks toddler was lethargic and wanted nothing to do with anything but bed, water, and naturally lots of Pixar movies.  We had a funeral to go to on Saturday so Paige went to my mother in laws, and I told her if she’s not better on Sunday I’m just sucking it up and we are going to the doctor. The first one I can Google that gets halfway decent reviews because a week is 5 days too many to be under the weather.

Paige had lungs filled with fluid. Could be just my bad asthmatic genes or it could be pneumonia

Either way, scary! Scary scary scary.

She’s on some pretty strong medicine. I’m reluctant but I know that this is serious — she’s not contagious but with a weakened system anything could blast her over. Today she’s doing better – she’s demanding to make volcano’s and wanting to read, so this is good. Very good! I’m going to make breakfast for dinner and I hope tomorrow she’s almost back to normal because this is just..it’s tiring for all of us. I want my playful little bear back!

We are under the weather thanks to a bout of food poisoning.

Nothing spells a good time like feeling a bit of cramping, followed by a toddler barfing directly next to you as you settle in for bed…of course to be followed by a night of running to the toilet yourself, new towels, new jammies, new bed clothes, and lots of water to keep hydrated.

Once, someone asked me how long I breast fed for and I lied. I told them it was months longer than I actually had, because the entire conversation we had there was a toddler hanging off her tits and I was trying to convince Paige she wanted to give me a sip of her Capri Sun and I felt so flustered that I wasn’t offering her some “mommy milk” instead of a sugar lazed fruit drink I got on sale at Target because they looked so damn good sitting there on the shelf.

I’ve talked about breast feeding before, and I’ve spoken of my struggles. My mastis, the pumping I did 100x a day just to feed my kid so she wouldn’t have formula, the pain I felt every single time I looked at my kids lips or my pump or just about anything.  Sometimes I feel this twinges of guilt because I gave up, but I had to. I would feed Paige, pump, and get about 10 minutes of sleep before the whole cycle started over. I did not go to support groups, or call friends to come over and help me fit my huge swollen nipples into Paige’s mouth. Instead I cried and poured bottles of strawberry milk into the sink because I was too grossed out to give them to Paige.

We nick named my husband the breast feeding Nazi because he’s the one who would stand over me and tell me to keep on going — look how smart she’s going to be, she’ll never get ear infections, you won’t get breast cancer. He reminded me of this when I tried to “forget” my pump at home when we went out for the day, or when I sat in a friends living room topless pumping while Paige napped.

But I gave up. I got Paige sucking on formula and I got more sleep and gave my breast pump away.

I plan on breast feeding this new little bean I’m growing. If I can do it for a few months great, if I can swing it for a year awesome! But I’m not going to lie anymore. If someone asks me about Paige’s career as a breast feeder I will tell the truth: that it hurt, that I couldn’t go on. That she’s never had an ear infection or been sick with anything but a common cold. That she used the word “intolerable” the other day so maybe her Enfamil made her a genius.

One of my goals is to get Paige in her bed..permanently. We are co-sleepers to the max, and by 8:30 most nights I’m ready to drop thanks to my pregnant state of being…and drop we do, together, in my bed like two rag dolls who’ve had a day of playing playing playing. I know when the new kid comes co-sleeping is a must, and I don’t think it’s going to be feasible with a toddler, and a momma who’s going to be up. She has a perfectly adorable pink bed, and I just bought her the softest blanket to keep her cozy. And so in her bed she’s gone..kinda…

She keeps FALLING OUT!

The bed is not far from the ground — its a toddler bed at it’s best, and I set up a down comforter so if she does roll out she lands on what is essentially a cloud of feathers. But each night fall she does, and with that comes a piercing cry and a plea to come to our bed because she’s scared. And me? I’m a sucker with a pension for sleeping so I scoop her up, and we snuggle together.  I know one day she’s going to sleep without falling out, but it’s so frustrating that it’s happening to her! And it must be scary to go from sleeping and  dreaming to laying on a floor [as soft as it is] wondering what the hell happened.

So that’s where I’m at. Trying to get the kid to stay in her bed, playing with moon sand every day [love that stuff!] and just being silly and waiting patiently for winter to be over. I have this little daydreams about leaving my back door open and catching the breeze, of going to the park and having picnics and they are lovely, but unattainable when it’s like 12 degrees out and Paige doesn’t want to wear mittens or a hat.

When I was in elementary school, I got breasts. Poking out of my Children’s Place tee shirts, they were the talk of my family. As they grew, so did my shirt sizes –  I’m small gal, but I’m certainly not SKINNY. I have arm chub, a roundish belly [even when I'm not pregnant] and the likes but I’m just small boned. Short, small hips, and well, huge breasts.

I remember playing in a friends treehouse, bra-less and free, feeling the breeze up my shirt when I was about 11…hours later when we went home, my mom told me it was time to get a bra, and I died inside. Lock up these gals? No thanks I’ve got texture issues. And I did, and I still do. I love soft cottons and clothes that breath — on a good day I can wear a tee shirt and leggings and feel cozy, but on a bad day I want to rip my clothes off and die a little because they feel like sandpaper on my skin.

My boobs have continued to grow, and just last week I went for a bra fitting only to find out, I’m like a size bigger than I thought, and by a size bigger I mean a size F which is way too fucking big for my liking. And I know that once my milk comes in I’m going to go up at least another size or two, and what than? Am I going to be able to get out of bed without being too top heavy and toppling over spilling milk onto my shag carpet? When you have boobs that are a size F you don’t wear bras, you wear bullet proof vests that push your chest in, and up causing even an XL tee shirt from the gap to look pornographic

And I hate it. Girls with little itsy bitty boobies get to wear these dainty wispy lace bras that come in fun colors, and I have this…this rig up of straps, and heavy cotton that cut off my circulation when I do decide to put them on.

I’m swearing off bras for New Years. Unless I’m going out and there’s a chance I might take someone out with my boobs I’m going to be free-breasting it like a wild woman.

Happy Sunday!

This photo pretty much sums up my holiday

Having my family here for a few days was splendid. My mother works so hard almost all week so her free time is the Sunday dinners we get together for a few times a month, and that’s basically it.  We picked her up Christmas eve and she helped clean my entire house [it already looks lived in again] and we watched silly movies on television and I stayed up past 8pm.

Having momma and brother there on Christmas morning ruled too. We all sat around in a sleep deprived haze while Paige tore through her gifts: endless craft supplies, a play tent, a beautiful wooden dollhouse from Daddy Santa, and so much more. I think we were all overwhelmed by the gifts she got, but already so many have been loved.  My mother presented me with a beautiful Tiffany car key chain she bought when I was 17!!! And I had my driving permit!! She was going to give it to me as a present but I never drove again…until now, and she had it for 10 years. It was so silly and something my mom would so do. She’s the master of holding on to things, and making moments really special. She also got us some yummy Indian spices for curries and since this little baby loves spicy food, we are going to be pigging out on curry chicken salad this week!

Sometimes I feel like I’m playing house. Like this beautiful home we live in isn’t really mine [I guess technically it isn't because we are destined to be renters for life] and that my instant baby and husband are going to POOF! This weekend my mom, brother and I had a sleepover and I spent a good 24 hours pigging out at diners, cracking up, and watching B horror movies on the couch. No kids, no husband asking me what’s for dinner, no dogs to be walked and no..well, no nothing. Just my cozy family and myself being lazy after a lovely holiday.

It wasn’t really until I grew up [still working on this] and moved out that my mom and I became best friends. She’s the person I call 200 x a day to tell her things like “F, stands for too fucking big, which is my bra size now!” and she has morphed into someone I can tell anything to, as well as a superb Grandma.  Now that I’m a woman with my own family, going back to my moms feels so…safe? It’s a place I can rest and get spoiled for a few days before going back to dishes, and play-doh that ends up in the couch. My couch, the one in my house that I still can’t believe is mine.

4 years ago I was living in a crappy apartment dating Phil…re-dating I should say, since I have known and he’s been my great, great friend for 9 years. Two weeks after we were officially in love and not just friends we moved in together and a few months after that we got pregnant. And we moved 3 times before Paige was born, and twice after that. It’s all so fast, and so perfect and so..so surreal.

I’m in awe of my life, and yesterday we saw a sonogram of our new baby and I’m even more in awe. Two kids! A husband! Two dogs! Two cats!

Here’s to playing house, because it is awesome.

Where is my second trimester energy? I sleep for 12 hours a night, and wake up feeling like I got 2…and by mid afternoon I’m ready to seriously drop. And I seriously do drop, and put on a movie for Paige who’s more than content sitting there drinking a hot beverage while I snore for an hour. I won’t be winning any good mommy awards any time soon. All I want to do is eat fried dumplings, cry about how uncomfortable I am, and sleep. Last night I did get that tingle though – the tingle of a NEW BABY coming into our family. I haven’t been too excited up until now…tonight I get to go to another ultrasound and I’m hoping we can see a penis or a vagina. Again, wishful thinking but who knows! Right?

Everyone’s Facebooks,  blogs and twitters have been about snow. I was prepared to get like, 10 feet the way everyone was talking, but we settled for a foot and I stocked up on library books.

This was pretty much my face for the extent of our outside play.

Paige looked so cute stumbling around, calling out “be there soon mommy!” even though I was a foot away.  We played outside for a good 45 minutes before we were all shivering [especially Phil, who forgot his base layers and was wearing jeans..] and so we trekked inside for grilled cheese sandwiches, of which I had 3.  It was a good weekend; quiet, a little boring, a little tiresome, but good!

I can not believe Christmas is on Friday. I keep thinking I’m done with my present buying; we buy for most relatives but it’s smallish, useful things and restaurant gift cards. I hate gift cards but my family loves going out to eat so they really are perfect. ..but yes, just when I think I’m done, and I’m starting to wrap and put under the tree I realize I left like 3 people out. So today is errand day! We need to pick up some paints, some presents, and some eggs Benedict for lunch because a momma is craving it. I try to make running errands fun for Paige – I feel bad for all that sitting she does in carts, in cars, and in lines…but she’s not the walk next to momma type. She’s the “see you later I’m outta here” type that will be gone and in my sluggish state [which happens everyday, for the past 25 years] I kinda suck at chasing her.

I’m still kind of gasping over Christmas being so soon! When I was little we had these certain events that led up to Christmas to make the season magical; my moms Christmas party where I served delicious treats and listened in on adult conversation, friends coming over for for gift exchanges and goodies, and the huge fire truck that had Santa riding on the back that brought us hard candies we weren’t allowed to have…unless it was X-mas time. Phil and I don’t have many traditions yet: we missed a few Christmas parties because of sickness and snow, we don’t have many local friends with kids [or any, who am I kidding..] and he’s been so busy with work that I’ve been decorating, and watching my pets UN-decorate the tree.

I’m still excited though.

More to come I swear, but for now, I need some yums

Winter with a toddler, oh the joys. I finally found a pair of gloves that fit, and Paige hates them. She’d rather battle freezing cold temperatures, frost bite, and later finger amputation than wear them for the 10 minute walk to the bus stop. Her hats are too itchy, her coats are too bulky, and that is why we are hibernating today. Because with the wind chill it’s 19 degrees out, and I don’t have it in me to get bundled up. Because even looking outside is depressing and gray, and if it stays this cold without at least snowing I’m going to be pretty ticked off.

The good news? We are going on the Disney Cruise! And we are taking Phil’s Dad! I’m pretty sure the guy hasn’t taken a vacation in 30 years, so it’s damn time he got on a boat with his favorite daughter in law to feast on all you can eat buffets.  I think it’s safe to say that the suckage of winter can be qualm ed with the notion that in a few months we are going to be flying to FL and sailing to tropical islands. It’s kind of a little treat to Paige before we completely flip her life inside out with the arrival of a newborn, and I can’t wait to see her face as we sail the open seas and all that.  Even though a vacation isn’t really a vacation when you bring a kid, I’m the kind of person to pack up and just GO. If it means tantrums, loss of sleep and sanity who cares as long as it’s warm.

..I just got rudely interrupted by a chocolate covered toddler. More later!