Where's My Silver Lining?

After sleeping for at least forty out of the previous forty-eight hours and six doses of antibiotics I'm glad to report that I am feeling much better! Not quite at 100%, but here are a few things I was able to do today that yesterday would have been nearly impossible:

1. Eat solid foods. Pop tarts have never tasted so yummy!

2. Leave the house, and not as a passenger in the car while still wearing my slippers. I took the kids to the playground this morning.

3. Put the dishes that have been piling up in the sink since Tuesday in the dishwasher. Because apparently my husband's arms are broken or something.

4. Take only over the counter pain pills, as opposed to those prescription ones I was starting to get hooked on. 

These are all very good steps in the right direction. I'm trying to keep things low key as to not over do it. Sam made some talk of the zoo this morning, and while I was tempted (it's almost sixty degrees today) I decided against it. 

But aside from the whole 'being sick and feeling like I'm dying' thing, you know what bugs me the most about this whole ordeal? I get no silver lining. If this were any other time in my life (i.e. if I wasn't pregnant) I would have the small consolation prize of losing a few pounds due to the whole not eating thing. Instead, I got two worry the whole time about not eating enough for the baby. I kept trying different things, but from Tuesday night until this morning, I only ate one yo baby, one diego yogurt drink, some cottage cheese and a bowl of potato soup my lovely sister-in-law made for me. It was not good. I took my vitamins, but still. 

Anyway, now that I'm on the mend I'll be sure to make up for lost time by consuming plenty of extra calories. I mean, I have to for the baby, right? And I happen to have it on good authority that the baby likes buffalo chicken stromboli, so I should be right as rain in no time!

So Then There's That

I spent the morning in the ER today. Good times. Turns out, the searing pain in my throat/neck area and accompanying fever were directly related to the tonsillitis and possible strep throat. When Melissa wrote about this a few months ago, it sounded really sucky, but a small part of me wondered if she was embellishing a little for the blog. Guess what? She wasn't. I would rather give birth a dozen times than deal with this. Luckily my husband and sister-in-law have been just fabulous about taking care of the kids and such. I'm a lucky gal. Not because of the sick thing, though.

And then there is this.

Time and Distance

I've been mulling something over and over in my brain the last few weeks, maybe months. I thought maybe if I sit and write it out, I can come to some sort of conclusion and maybe get some closure. 

Atlanta.

Ah, the one-time city of my dreams. Back in 2001, and impromptu and serendipitous trip there had me convinced that it was the cure for all that ailed me. Seeing how much the city had grown on a re-visit four years later only strengthened my belief that there I could truly thrive. But once we arrived in 2006, things were different. I was different. 

At the time of our initial visit I was troubled. My life and mind were full of chaos, and I was always looking for an escape. Sometimes it was on the edge of a razor, or a bottle of pills, but in Atlanta I saw a way to escape without hurting myself or anyone else. It seemed, at the time, the way to salvation. But life doesn't always work according to plan, and we ended up staying in Philly. 

At first I was desolate, but life eventually evened out. As I got control over my external workings, I realized that perhaps I also had it in me to quiet the din going on inside me as well. It was a rough (and expensive) few years, but I managed to come through it mostly unscathed. My son was born, and I was happier than I had been in a long, long time.

When again we were presented with the possibility of moving south, we jumped. This time, things worked in our favor and we moved onto Peachtree Road. While our actual apartment left something to be desired, the location was great and I soon set about getting to know my new home and the people in it. 

But something wasn't clicking. Maybe it was the heat. Or maybe it was that I wasn't looking for an escape route anymore. Somehow, things seemed wrong. Or at least, not right. I could never put my finger on it, but I felt that I had become untied from the earth and was just sort of hovering around in the atmosphere. Maybe it was hormones. God knows that with only 18 months between Sam's birth and Lucy's birth I was a raging cauldron of female confusion. And at the time, I honestly thought that a return to Philly would cure all that ailed me.

So here I sit, back in Philly for 17 months. I can't say I feel cured yet. Maybe it's all the hormones. Or maybe it's something else. 

Something I might have to spend a lot of time and money figuring out. 

Belated

I had so much recollecting I wanted to do on Sam's birthday. My poor boy was unlucky enough to end up with his birthday falling on one of the worst days I've had so far this pregnancy. Since he's three, though, he thought that the movie marathon we had while we stayed in our pj's until early afternoon was just splendid. Thank goodness for little miracles, huh? 

I look at him these days and just marvel at how he's grown. The remnants of the baby belly he still had back in the summer has been replaced with long, lean abs. He is composed of angles and limbs and flat planes. And yet he still can manage to fold himself into a pleasing little ball and squeeze himself onto my lap. He had been doing this with more and more frequency lately, and when he's all pressed up against me, he'll whisper 'I love to cuddle you' in my ear. 

He's really begun to understand more complex emotional concepts lately as well. Sometimes he'll just stop whatever he's doing to tell you that he loves you very much. Sometimes he does this when he's in trouble, too, so he's not only learning about feelings but also about manipulation as well! Either way, he's been so affectionate and sweet that it's hard some days to send him to school. 

His language development over the past twelve months practically blows my mind. At his second birthday he only used about a dozen words consistently. Now the kid speaks in paragraphs, and 90% of people can understand what he's saying. 

I know that as he gets older the changes observed in the passing of years will lessen. That the differences will be more about inches and new body hair and attitudes. So I'll try my best to sit and enjoy the little moments of three-hood while they last. I know it won't always be easy, but I'm betting most of the time it'll be fun.

My Best Birthday Present

Sam won't give him a name. He just calls him 'my pet.'  And he loves him. I'm so glad!

For more Best Shot Mondays, click over to Mother May I! 

Some More Sam Love

You can find it over at Philly Moms!

Sam Is Three!

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Love and Sympathy

My poor little girl is cutting a whole slew of teeth right now. Her teeth have come in in sort of a weird pattern. She got her two top and two bottom incisors, and then her molars started popping up. Now the rest of her incisors are erupting, and she's been pretty miserable. All she seems to want is to be held, so I try and indulge her as much as possible. Even though I know she's suffering, the snuggling is too sweet for words. And since I just recently had my own brush with mouth pain, I feel as though I'm well suited to truly understand how she's feeling. If only I could give her a vicodin!

Not your typical manifestation of love, but it works for me! Click over to The Land of K.A. for the rest of Theme Thursday's love shots!

Taking Care of Business

Because Lora just had to know, and I've been a bad friend for not answering! Plus all of my mental capacity is being shunted to my uterus, so filling out lists seems easier than coming up with a nice, original idea. So here we go!

6 Things I Value

1. Cliche, I know, but my family. God I love all three of these buggers. Even when Lucy cries for six hours because she's cutting 42 teeth and no amount of tylenol/ice pops/M&Ms can quell the screaming. Just as an example, you know.

2. My bed. Not just for sleeping, (Get your mind out of the gutter!) (No wait, don't. You were right.) it's one of my favorite places in the house. We have eight pillows and a big, warm comforter. Any time I'm feeling a little unglued, we all snuggle up and watch some Berenstain Bears or Flight of the Concords, depending on my company, and all is right with the world.

3. Trader Joe's. Between all of the yummy things and the balloons, everybody wins when we shop there.

4. Skype. My kids recognize their grandparents and great-grandparents even though they only see them a few times a year. Technology is awesome.

5. Books. Of any variety. Magazine, too, occasionally.

6. My friends. I have friends from childhood, work friends, school friends, mommy friends, and I've even reconnected with some old high school friends recently via facebook. Some have even evolved to bridge multiple categories! Each one is unique and having them in my life has enriched it more than I can ever express. 

6 Things I Support

1. The Barnes Foundation. You can read all about it here. 

2. Being as green as possible. Each person/family can have a different level of involvement based on their own set of priorities. No one is perfect, and no one can live a completely green life, but my opinion is that any involvement is a step in the right direction. 

3. Education. For anyone, for everyone, at any type of institution or apprenticeship. Any person who chooses to enhance their life by increasing the size of their knowledge or skill set gets a big pat on the back (and maybe a home cooked meal) in my book. 

4. Marriage. Again, for anyone, for everyone. People who love each other should be allowed to make it legal. Period.

5. The YMCA. I love this place, really. I've been a member since I was 7 or 8. I was a volunteer during middle school and high school, worked there through the rest of high school and college, and am still a member today. It's a great place for kids and communities. 

6. The president. Someone has got to pull us out of this mess, and I think he might just be the man to do it.

6 Things I Do Not Support

1. People who are intolerant jerks. I am totally intolerant of the intolerant. 

2. Organized religion. I can't stand the whole 'love the sinner, hate the sin' thing that the catholics seem so fond of. Also I just can't abide by anyone thinking they have all the answers. Guess what? Until you can give me empirical proof, you don't.

3. The Pennsylvania Turnpike. It knows why.

4. Overindulgent birthday parties for young children. This is probably on my mind because Sam's birthday is Friday! (FRIDAY!) Needless to say we're keeping things low key.

5. The unabashed commercialization of childhood and marketing to children. I would get into this more but it makes my blood boil, and I need my blood to feed my fetus. This is the main reason we keep the kids away from TV as much as possible.

6. I'm sure there is something else, but I'm feeling rather positive, so I'll let it slide. 

Now I'm supposed to tag six people, but I'm not much for tagging. I'm going to gently suggest that Rissabear take a stab at this, because she only has two entries on her new blog Puffy the Opossum and she's far too amusing to stay silent. As for everyone else, consider yourself tagged if it suits you!

The Thrill of the Hunt

Many moons ago my mother taught me about bargain shopping. Growing up in south western Pennsylvania, we were surrounded by fabulous bargain outlets, the shining jewel in the crown being Gabriel Brothers. Gabes, as it is generally called, is like a low rent TJ Maxx. The lighting is dim and the employees aren't much brighter. There baseline level of cleanliness dictates that you go to the bathroom before you leave the house, and the store is simply crowded with racks upon racks of clothing. Overstock and damaged merchandise find respite at Gabes, and bargain shoppers find, on a good day, a cart full of treasures. On my last visit I left with three bulging bags of Anne Taylor goodies, including sweaters, maternity wear and shoes, and my total bill was less than $70. 

Sadly, there are no Gabes in the Philly area, so I have to be a little more creative with my bargain shopping. I scour clearance racks, watch for sale circulars, and hit stores like Ross and Marshall's for one off merchandise. Practically the only place where I will buy something off the rack is Target. 

Last weekend my mother-in-law and sister-in-law were in town, so us gals all went out for an afternoon of shopping. I live rather close to a Saks, and while I've never set foot inside, my MIL has, so we started our shopping there. I needed some new mascara and some touche eclat, and cosmetics are the one thing I do splurge on. (Plus, anyone who sleeps as shittily as I do needs this under eye concealer so that they don't go 'round resembling a zombie.) Within three minutes of walking in the door, I had made my purchases and was ready to browse with absolutely no intention of buying anything else.

Until we got to the outerwear department.

Now I can rationalize with the best of them, but let me just say one thing. Coats are, in my opinion, sometimes worth spending a little more money on. A shirt you don't wear every day. A coat is something you put on day in and day out, and a nice, quality garment can bring you years and years of warmth and style. So when I discovered the rack of Burberry coats marked clearance, my pulse quickened. Right on the end was this gorgeous, butter soft grey trench in just my size. It was a wool cashmere blend and it was exquisite. It was also almost four hundred bucks. A little more than I could rationalize, natch. 

As I wept and petted this lovely coat, a sales lady wandered over and whispered in my ear that everything on that particular rack was an additional 50% off the lowest ticked price. Meaning that the coat, which was originally eight hundred dollars, could, no, would be mine for under two hundred. 

I practically skipped to the register. 

Here is my new lovely, the crowning achievement in my bargain shopping history. Right now it is hanging on my closet door so I can gaze at it as I fall asleep. Sometimes when I get up to pee I rub up against it and a shiver runs down my spine.

I'm weird, I know. But I have an awesome fucking coat. 

My Poor Husband

Guess what showed up on our doorstep this morning.

No wonder he was so cranky on saturday. 

I Heart You

Here's hoping your day is full of sweetness!

FINGER PAINTS! FINALLY SHE LET US HAVE FINGER PAINTS!

For almost three years I have resisted the lure of finger paints. For some reason, just the thought of bringing these art supplies into my house gave me palpitations. Half the reason I send the kids to school is so they can finger paint on his teachers' watch. But Sam is almost three, and I had a project in mind for making valentines that included the dreaded finger paints. As soon as I mentioned this to Sam, he totally flipped his lid, so I' guessing the kid likes finger painting.

We went to the store together and I let him pick exactly which ones he wanted. Once we got home, I stripped him from waist up and let him go to town. 

It was so much fun, and the valentines came out lovely as well. It was a special day for everyone!

For more Theme Thursday, visit The Land of K.A. 

My Very First Post About Photography! Wherein I Actually Impart Some Wisdom*!

I'm not technically skilled as a photographer. I would argue that I'm barely even that talented as a photographer, but I like taking pictures. Occasionally I get one that I really love, but it's just luck and loads of persistence. To help improve my lot, I read several different photography blogs to try and increase my knowledge base. Honestly, though, 9 times out of 10 I'm still shooting in mostly automatic mode, with the flash off of course. 

Lately, however, I've been running into a problem. Every morning I've been shooting Lucy for the 'month of bedhead' and her room only gets western exposure. Which means? Piss poor lighting. Without the flash, I get this: 

Sickly, jaundice baby. But when I turn the flash on, I get this:

Over-exposed, washed out baby. What's a girl to do? I could shell out some bucks for a fancy flash that I could reflect off of the ceiling, but we just got totally nailed on our taxes, so all extraneous spending must cease. 

So I took to the internets! And I found this nifty DIY flash diffuser at All Day I Dream About Photography that you can make at home from an empty milk jug. Lo and behold, it actually kind of works. 

Not bad for a SOTC image. Still a bit warm, but a little post processing could fix that right up. 

So if you are like me (poor, and hate using your flash) then check out the instructions above. Then you can pretend you are a fancy pants super awesome photographer type like me. Maybe we can form a club.

*Borrowed wisdom counts, right?

Steamy Dreams

Oh, the joys of pregnancy! I am reveling in them, truly. Who wouldn't love neck zits or all day nausea or irrational, insatiable cravings for a very specific store brand of brown sugar cinnamon pop tarts!?! I mean, NECK ZITS!

But if I can just single out one specific pregnancy symptom that has been really, really getting my panties in a bunch, it would be dry mouth. Oh, the agony of dry mouth! It plagues me in a way I can hardly explain. 

During the day it's no big deal. If you know me in real life, or you've been around for a while, then you know I am never without at least 32 ounces of pure H2O. I currently have two bottles on hand, so any time the old pie hole is feeling a bit dry I just take a swig. 

But at night? Well, that's a different story. There is no way to continuously imbibe water when you are asleep. And there is no way to breathe when the desert that is your soft palate is sticking to the equally parched back of your throat, now is there? Which means that I am waking up at least a dozen times every night to take a drink. Which inevitably leads to more bathroom trips. And all this fragmented sleep is making for one cranky wife, mama and mama-to-be.

One little trick I've discovered that helps marginally is keeping my sleeping quarters as moist as possible. Because of this, I have not one, not two but three humidifiers churning out puffs vaporized water all night. I even positioned them directly next to my side of the bed, and I try and sleep facing them. Additionally, I also sleep cuddling my camelback bottle, since it has a straw and doesn't leak. That way I don't even have to reach over to my night stand when I desperately need some liquid in my mouth. 

Unfortunately, my means of achieving a marginal night's sleep are difficult for my husband to abide. Specifically, it's the three humidifiers. He feels as though he's trying to sleep in a steam room, and he's probably right. However I've become so acclimatized (some might say dependent) to the environs I have created, I can no longer sleep even a wink in any room with less than 80% humidity. I dream about buying more humidifiers. Every. Single. Night. I am not even kidding.

I hope that this, like most pregnancy symptoms, is a passing craze. I have an appointment on the 19th, and if I am still trying to recreate the rain forest in my bedroom at night I might have to talk to the doctor about it. They'll probably have me committed, but at least then SOB will get his bed back!

The Bed Head Project: Week One

See my Tabblo> 

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Just the Two Of Us

New post up over at Philly Moms! It's all about me and my original baby. Check it out. 

Breakfast of Champions

The other day I was perusing the cereal isle at the grocery store. I noticed that the Fiber One brand is now making a high fiber version of pop tarts and that made me squeal a little on the inside. Why? Because now I can buy pop tarts for myself without feeling guilty or pretending they are for my kids. Even those organic ones from Trader Joe's still make me a little guilty. Moving on! So I picked up the brown sugar cinnamon version and headed home. 

The next morning I indulged in my sweet little fibrous treat. Pretty tasty overall. They don't hold a candle to the s'mores ones, but still not bad. All was well until about 12 hours later. Now I get plenty of fiber in my diet already, but I guess this extra little bolus was rather, um, productive. At least in the noise and smell department. I didn't connect the dots, however, and the next morning I popped another two into the toaster. 

Last night the light bulb finally went on over my head. And SOB's, too. And right after that, he decided we couldn't sleep in the same bedroom. 

This morning I contemplated the two remaining 'fart' tarts, the nickname we came up with last night. But since SOB is going to be working late, I said 'fuck it' and threw them in the toaster! 

Moral of the story? Don't come visiting me tonight! 

It's the Big One!

We finally got more than an inch of snow! And just in time for theme Thursday! How lucky is that? This was first thing in the morning, maybe 7:15-ish. The snow had stopped falling sometime after 3am, so the road had been plowed once, but everything else remained untouched. 

Sam looked out the window and declared the world 'boo-tee-ful!' I couldn't agree more!

For all of theme Thursday's frosty shots, visit The Land of K.A.

I'm Wearing My Periodic Table Shirt

Maybe it's just because I'm a colossal geek at heart, but I am absolutely riveted and hanging on the edge of my seat for Julie's next installment on high fructose corn syrup. If you are interested in learning about why maybe you should read those labels a little more closely, click here and here and here! 

Cosmic Thing

I am not going to go on and on about how crap-tastic I feel in these early days of pregnancy. Yes, there is some puking, and yes, there is a soul crushing amount of exhaustion. Most people are aware of these things. I try and carry on as much as possible so to keep from dwelling on the whole vomitious affair. 

However, some days I feel the weight of maintaining my normal life like several tons of bricks made out of dung. Today was fixing to be one of those days. I had piles of laundry to both put away and to wash (and then put away). We had popcorn on sunday night during the superbowl and the evidence of such still litters my living room rug. The trash and recycling that didn't get taken out yesterday (which was trash and recycling day) still need to be hauled to the cans. And the piles of dishes from last night's dinner still sit, unwashed with food dried to a cement-like crust, on the kitchen counter.

After a night of piss-poor sleep, I woke at 7:12 when Sam traipsed into my room. We came downstairs where I immediately puked up a whole lot of nothing. As Sam sat watching TV, his overly full pull-up (which I had yet to change him out of) leaked all over my couch. 

An hour later, as I finally got our shit together enough to leave the house and take Sam to school, I went for my coat. We keep the kids' coats in the kitchen on low hooks for easy access, but the adult coats get hung in the closet, which is also the entry to the basement. The door latch doesn't function too well in the winter and is always popping open. Earlier when I first brought Lucy down the door was open, and I was annoyed, so I slammed it. Well, I guess I fixed whatever was making it pop open because now it won't open at all. As in, I had my foot up on the wall and was yanking with all my might and the damn thing wouldn't budge.

At first, I was pissed off. All of my coats were in there and it was cold and snowing (and cold) outside. But then I realized that if I couldn't open that door then I couldn't get at the vacuum cleaner. Or the washing machine. I had just effectively cut my list of chores in half! 

Academically, I know these things will have to be done eventually. Once SOB comes home we will figure out how to get the effing door open and I will have unfettered access to my dyson and whirlpools. 

But today? I finished my chores with as much spring in my step as I could muster and then took a nap!

May I Have a Wordle With You?

I find it uplifting that some of my larger words are great, best, try, and fun. Although I can't seem to find Sam in there! Bad mommy! Visit wordle to make your own. 

A New Year, A New Decade, A New Project

My daughter has some pretty impressive bed head. I've decided that for the entire month of February I'm going to try and capture it every morning. Then sometime in the beginning of March I'll take her for her first haircut. I know every photo won't be great, but I think it'll be fun! Here is day one. 

For more best shot monday fun click over to Mother May I!