Week 11

             Hormones anyone? Cause I have plenty to spare…. My poor amazing husband deserves a pat on the back, and a beer with a lime; which the baby is the size of (I know I said no fruit references). When I think of baby at lime size I actually think of 007 for N64, and he has these little motions sensor bombs that stuck to the wall…and they were about the size of... a lime….but guessing the size of an animated bomb isn’t a very accurate measurement/visual of the baby’s size. If I had a craving at this point, I would have to say it’s watermelon; I have eaten a ton of watermelon in the last week. Still tired, but then again I still have a couple of weeks until I am out of the first trimester.

 

Another thing that is slightly new this week, sleep has escaped me. Whether is be weird dreams, horrible leg cramps, peeing, sweating, or the inability to get comfortable because I can't sleep on my stomach...something has had me tossing and turning all week.

In the good new department, I invested in two belly bands, or more like belly sleeves. so I am able to wear pants, and pants are awesome!

 

Week 10

I might as well keep all (all two) of you informed on my progress. I'm thinking of turning it into some quasi messed up pregnancy calendar. Maybe sometime in the far away future someone will discover it for a good chuckle. Well, on to Week 10:

MHL (miniature humanoid life form) will be considered a fetus by the end of the week, and weighs as much as two 22 Win Mag TNT Green ammo, and is about as long as one and a half bullets. These particular bullets are also lead free… for baby’s safety. While MHL is relatively small, it is growing rather rapidly. It's growing eyelids and getting less "webby" and more baby. It's also starting to form boy or girl parts, though we wont know which until 20 weeks.

 I am starting to look more actually pregnant and less suspiciously fat. I am still tired, ALL THE TIME. Three more weeks and hopefully magical energy will appear… I am skeptical… Most of my other symptoms are gone... for now *knock on wood*.....

Everyone Poops.... Air

It's one of those symptoms you don't find many preggos sharing out loud...constipation.... Hormones are making everything all loosey goosey down there, which you would think would mean massive diarrhea. No...because it actually takes a good amount of muscle work to move your...*ahem*.. stool, out your bottom. So loosey goosey muscles= no movement of your bowels. But you’re still eating, because Lord are you hungry. At least I am. Right around every two hour mark, my stomach is playing me the song of its people. So loudly that people miles away are wondering what that whale like sound is... it's my stomach. So all that food + lack of bowel movement = righteous preggo lady gas.

So the other evening, as the Sergeant and I are getting tucked in for the night, I meekly apologize for any gas I might have

Me: I am really sorry, I have been soo gassy all day
Sarg: That's ok sweetheart...everyone poops
Me: *Silent* (thinking I said gassy...not pooping...I mean, I am not planning to poop the bed...)
Sarg: ..Everyone poops..Air...It's like pooping air...(very serious voice mind you)
Me: giggling and gassing for several minutes

Progress Updated

Week nine... miniature humanoid life form is still inhabiting my body....I am exhausted, a little barfy, and waiting for the magical mystical energy increase that supposedly comes with the second trimester. Baby Trott is roughly the size of a .22 caliber bullet. Sorry, there will be no fruit references from me...

Special Blend

  


               I've been meaning to post, but I have been stuck in this sleeping beauty like coma, minus the beauty part. Man! This growing a human being business is exhausting. The crummy part right now is I just look fat and not pregnant yet so the whole sympathy from strangers when I look sick, exhausted, starving, gassy, ditsy or delirious is rather minimal. One of my co workers jokes we need to get  me a shirt that says :I'm not just fat, I'm pregnant!"

During my pre pregnancy obsession, I did so much reading on "What to Expect" and all of the "Signs and Symptoms" of pregnancy. There ARE SO MANY!

• Morning sickness (or all days sickness as most prior preggos know it)
• Exhaustion, varying from a little sleepy to out cold
• Extra hungry, cravings
• Aversions to foods and smells
• Heightened sense of smell
• Acne
• Rashes, skin discoloration (not including your nips, cause that happens anyway), skin tags
• Constipation
• Lethal farts
• The where am I? Who is that? and how did I get here? Pregnancy brain.
• Loss of coordination
• Cramping that scares the hell out of you
• Swelling up like a balloon if you are taking in too much salty goodness
• And that is just the short list.....

Am I glad I read all of the articles about these different symptoms? Yes, because at least I knew what could happen. But I took it with a grain of salt, and so should you. Every woman's pregnancy symptoms are her own special blend, and from what I have read, that blend varies from pregnancy to pregnancy with the same woman. You may be like me, who can hardly keep her eyes open,everything smells like it is right up my nose, and I am also beginning to "lose it" a little with what is going on around me. But I have to say, the sickness has been pretty minimal.

What is or was your special blend of pregnancy? (Just a note: If you say you had loads of energy and felt soooooo amazing all the time I will judo chop you in the throat. Just saying...)

No, No Mama!

So Guess what?!! It finally happened! The Sarg and I are expecting a baby! We are both beyond excited and I am so exited to document my experience here for the very few readers I have collected =)

Right away, when I told a few people, I got a slew of No No's thrown back at me.
No caffeine, No carbonated beverages, No fish, No lunch meat, No paddle boarding, NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!

So feeling overwhelmed about what is safe for me and baby T, I consulted the very wise Preggo Chicken and her list of what I can do and can't do. She seems to have a very realistic view.

So for every one's safety I will be having a minimal amount of caffeine every day, carbonated beverages every once in a while, very cooked low mercury fish every once in a while, no cold meats, and flat water paddle boarding only.

I am currently craving nothing but sleep, although I was craving that before. Feeling a little queasy, but nothing crazy.

Telling the Space Invader she was going to be a sister was quite interesting, I couldn't work up the right words to tell her so I wrote it down on her doodle paper while we were out to dinner. I wrote down "You're going to be a big sister" She read it slowly out loud, cocked her head to the side and looked at me.

SI: How?!

NM: Daddy and I are going to have a baby

SI: How do you know?

NM: I took a test.

SI: You too THE test? (in disbelief that I took thee test as if she knew what test I was talking about)

NM: Yep, and it said I am going to have a baby!

SI: Well, then where is it??

NM: Well... it's not ready yet, it will be here in nine months.

Disappointed, she went back to coloring and munching fries.

Equip not enable

Just finished this amazing book about equipping instead of enabling children. It's amazing, witty, and full of true insightful wisdom on how to equip children to grow up to be better adults and for them to learn to shift focus from themselves and onto how it's important to serve others.

I have started implementing at home... I and the Sarg love it..... The space invader not so much. It's a hard thing to do, but we love her so we will make her work work work.

Not The Mama Day

 I hereby dub today officially, Not The Mama Day, in honor of all the wicked step mothers and other Not The Mama types out there who realize that any bimbo can have a baby, but not every bimbo can be a mom. There are many "adopty mommys", "step mommy's", and "other mother's" out there struggling everyday with the same stuff "Official Moms"(if you will) struggle with and even more. Pile on baby momma drama to that, plus all those wonderful looks one gets when they tell a stuck up "Official Mom" that they are not the "Official Mom" of that child, and even some out there who struggle to be the best parent they can for a child and the child hates them with the flames of a thousand burning hemorrhoids, but that woman loves them anyway. And today, I would like to say thanks to all of them and let them know, YOU ARE NOT ALONE!!


 BUT, honestly,  probably the most important lesson of all, that women should know about Mother's and Not The Mama's day is: being a mom (or NTM) is that it's a freakin privilege, not a damn right. The state of fugged up  sunny Californ-I-A would agree with me there, seeing as how if my military hubster is gone for a week or two on training, I may or may not have the right to visit the Space Invader. The parenting quality of her M-O-M seems to have no bearing on if I will be given the right to visit with a child I have been mothering for sometime.

Sometimes I forget that having the little shit ray of sunshine in my life is such a privilege. When we have had lots of time together and that non stop sing songy thing she does is going to make me blow a gasket, I have to remind my self that between the military's indecisive manner and the SIM's mood swings, I could be spending a lot more time in silence then I asked for.

Consequently, I have been spending much silent time this week, and will be into next as the Sarg is out on training and I have have the schedule cut down from every other day to Wednesday only. So this Mother's day, I will be serving chow to some moms who see everyday as a privilege and probably need some support and appreciated the most.

Cockblocker

Is there sex after children? Hell Yes! Not only is there sex after children, [well not immediately after children I'm told (since our Space Invader didn't rip my lady parts up I can't speak from experience)], there can still be great sex after children.  As long as you and your spouse are prepared for the occasional interruption, or "cock blocking" as we like to call it.

Our home before the lovely one we live in now (thanks to the Sarg) was a two bedroom two bathroom apartment with the SI's bathroom right next to our bedroom door. ....After a long day of teasing each other, when we got home from our outing we quickly got her in the shower so we could commence with indulging into our adult cravings.  Just as we were getting ready to begin..uh hm...the space invader began in with her loudest most jazzy version of the ABC's we had ever heard. The very defeated Sarg hung his head and shook it laughing to himself how she is his favorite cock blocker.

Luckily we have gotten smart about locking our door when we awake from some early morning weekend lovin. Because there have been many a time during mid quickie making that have been interrupted by the non stop knocking and asking to come in.

SI: *Knock* *Knock* *Knock* x100 (sometimes I think we let her watch too much Big Bang Theory)
Us: What do you want?
SI: Can I come in?
Us: No
SI: Tries to turn door nob anyway.. with no luck
Us: What do you  need?
SI: I want to watch cartoons! Oh, and... Can you make me pancakes? Now?
Us: *sigh* We'll be out in a minute..... *sigh*

Guess we are not always quick enough.. :-)

The Fear

                As a Not The Mama, I have changed many wet pull ups, washed wet (and dry) sheets, had countless visits by the Space Invader while I am going to the bathroom, spent an innumerable Friday movies nights snuggled on the couch, endured vegetable tantrums of epic proportions, wiped countless tears, kissed countless booboos, taught life skills, helped with nightly homework, done every Disney princess hair do possible, counted to three so many times I can't count, given countless hugs, countless kisses, and even occasionally broken down into inconsolable tears at completely inappropriate times because I miss my little SI and it has only been a day since I have seen her.

Lately this NTM has been walking around constantly full of anxiety and "The Fear". The Fear that the SI's selfish and wishy washy mother will play pretend nice until the Sergeant is deployed, then swoop in, take the SI away from me and demand more money because she has her "full time". Because no matter my marital status to the Sarg, no matter how much I love the SI and take damn good care of her, I have no right as a mother. And if I am lucky, she can grant me visitation rights.

Everyone Poops

I just read a pretty good post on I like beer and babies about pooping, and I was inspired to tell a couple of my own pooping stories.

Anyone with a child who is able to walk around on their own knows they are likely to disrupt your potty sessions. Because if you leave the bathroom door closed and locked they will wreak havoc, thus you are forced to leave it open for them to share in your experience.

 The first deuce dropping experience I got to share with the space invader was when she was four.  We got home from a long day of errand running, and this Not the Mama can't poop just anywhere, so I REALLY had to go. I rushed to the back bathroom, dropped drawer and sat down to enjoy the comfort of my own throne..... maybe ten seconds later I was surprised by the SI opening the unlocked door, with my phone in her hand. She seemed to have given no thought to the fact I was on the pot, and held it up and said "your mom is calling".

My two other favorite poo stories are ones of when the Space Invader was trying to poo:

It was later in the evening and the Space Invader had been pumped full of ooey gooey mac n cheese and decided she needed to unload. She was back in the bathroom while the Sarg, his bro in law, and myself were enjoying some TV, when all of the sudden there was a blood curdling hair curling scream from the bathroom like nothing I had heard before, she came flying out of the bathroom screaming and crying, pants and undies still around her ankles (and no wiping had been done yet either) and straight into my lap. Between upset sobs she said there was a spider on her leg when she was going potty. The Sarg got up to check it out... no spider. The SI REFUSED to return to finish her business unaccompanied in case the "spider" returned. After finishing up her supervised poop, she revealed that she didn't think it was a spider after all, but some hair that had fallen on her lap......

My last poo story, which more like a recurring incident: the child likes to wait until it is 0628 (we leave the house by 0630 to be on time) to decide she has to poop....




PS, the Sarg and I finally had our wedding, and it was GLORIOUS

What's That Smell

  That smell my friends, that smell is the smell of a tired woman who desperately needs a bottle of wine and definitely a shower. I am trying to recall if I even put on deodorant this morning as I was chasing the Space Invader out the door, late as usual.
Flash back to Sunday, there I am making cheese from scratch for lasagna, while cleaning, and putting together the mass amounts of "things" for the wedding. Just when I feel a little accomplished, I remind myself of the list 100 items long of unfinished wedding crafts and other "to do's" OR I run out of something requiring yet another trip to Wal Mart or Michaels. Flash forward from Sunday to last night, the Sarg is sawing logs in his chair while the little one's eye lids are barely open, and there I am busily measuring yards and yards of lace I will sew into table runners.

Now I lay me down to rest

The office full of wedding mess
And if I die before I wake

That's one less center piece I have to make

And the Oscar goes to

Good morning [Wifey], (because she is probably the only one who reads this darn thing and maybe the Sergeant if he remembers to look for it), anyway.... So today is one of those days where I claim to be mom of the year and deserve an Oscar plus a case of wine:

Everyone at some points in their life is either bendin over to take it, bendin over to kiss it, or being water boarded while making their face look like they just ate a lobster dinner followed by chocolate cheesecake and a case of wine; it's just a fact of life. It's not meant to sound whiney, but I think that parents of families of the mix and match variety are probably fakin it to make it a lot more than traditional families. Not just Not The Mama's are faking it, dads fake it, moms fake it, and maybe even some older children are fakin it. There have been many times I have had to suck it up and fake it in front of the Space Invader's Mother(SIM); and there will be so many to come.

So about a month and a half ago, I signed the SI up for K-Rat-A (I am always saying it spaced out and silly like Spongebob). She loves to do karate, and I love that she loves to do it! Karate is a "sport" or activity that helps children gain confidence, strength, discipline, respect, and it requires them to exercise their listening skills. And the Lord and any parent know children need their listening skills to be exercised A LOT.
Not only does the Space Invader love karate, she loves her mother too. That being said, it is incredibly heart breaking when we get home each Wednesday night and her face has gone from karate high to slack jawed hound dog because she is always so disappointed that the SIM claims she is going to go watch K-Rat-A and then fails to make her cameo. So... I swallowed a giant ostrich size pill with no water and invited her via text to please join us for karate. She said "we will be there!" (We as in her and her geriatric sugar daddy). So I get the pleasure of spending this evening in the company of SIM and Gpa, YAY! Can't you just see the delight gleaming from my cheekbones?

Hott Mess

Where has June been? She has been crazy (note talking about myself in the third person). So the Sarg asked me to marry him, and I said yes, then I laughed a lot, but I said yes. Then I decided to plan an entire wedding in only a few months, and it has turned me into a huge mess. That being said, in regards to my space invader:

Parenting is like being a manic depressive bipolar woman on her menstrual cycle who forgot to take her lithium and is riding a roller coaster. One moment you feel like your kid(s) probably hate you, you are too hard on them, not showing enough affection, and probably ruining their life; the next you feel like wonder woman, super girl, elastic-girl (AKA Mrs. Incredible), Oprah, and Martha Stewart probably spliced genes and made “the” supermom. It’s an incredibly exhilarating and taxing ride when one moment you are high on life and then next you’ve puked on your co-rider. But no matter if there are flaming words of frustration or if it is raining kisses from my mouth; in my heart I always love her.