PooBou.com

When my mom was here right after Lucy was born, she said, “I keep looking at Lucy and thinking, ‘I know this face. Where have I seen this face before?’” She said that she knew it was one of her kids, but she wasn’t quite sure which one.

So, this time when she flew up, she brought a bunch of old pictures with her. And it kind of blew my mind.

This, as you probably already know, is Lucy:

And this is me as a baby:

So… Huh. Apparently I gave birth to myself. Who knew?

I find it kind of hilarious that Dave and I each got one kid who looks like ourselves. Catie is basically Dave’s twin, so I guess it was my DNA’s turn.

Also, I never thought that I looked like my mom; everyone has always said that I take after my dad’s side of the family. But then I saw this picture of my mom. It was taken in 1982, so she was 36 years old at the time (pretty darn close to the 35 that I am now).

I wouldn’t say that we’re exactly twins, but I can see the resemblance for the first time in my life. So that’s weird, but really cool at the same time.

P.S. During all of this, we also pulled out a bunch of pictures of Dave when he was young to contrast and compare. My dad managed to find the one picture we have in this house of Dave’s ex-wife (it’s really a picture of Dave, she’s kind of off in the corner). And my dad insisted that it was me in the photo, not Dave’s ex. I told him that clearly Dave has a type, but no, it’s not me, and can we please change the subject now thanks? Ok then. Yeah. That was… awkward.

3 Comments »

What with all of the focus on the new baby lately, I sort of forgot to mention that Dave is flying to England today. (Well, tonight. He’s on the red eye.) This time it’s for business reasons rather than just fun/family stuff, and the trip has been planned for a while, so it’s not like I didn’t know this was coming.

And the funny thing is that I’ve been totally chilled out about the idea of this trip all along. When Dave first mentioned it weeks ago when I was still pregnant, my reaction was all, “Eh, whatever. Two kids, one me, no biggie.”

It wasn’t until late last night that I suddenly almost burst into tears. I’m sure it’s a combination of post-partum hormones, sleep deprivation, and maybe a little leftover trauma from the last time he went to the UK.

But it doesn’t even make sense, because it’s not like I’m going to be on solo parent duty for the two weeks that he’s away. My mom is flying up tomorrow and she’ll be here for the majority of the time that Dave is gone.

(My dad is coming up for a few days in there too, but since he’s not a big fan of travel, he’s only coming for a few days rather than 12 days like my mom.)

So I know I’m going to be fine. I’ll have backup. The whole thing is totally manageable.

But holy crap, we’re really going to miss that guy.

Safe travels, babe. Love you.

1 Comment »

I’m getting induced tomorrow. I’ve come to terms with the fact that this baby is not going to evacuate her current premises willingly, so we’re going in after her.

And it’s funny, I’ve been joking for a while about how I have a feeling that this baby is going to be more like me. Mainly because Catie is so much like Dave, but also because this child will be the second girl (just like I am), with a large-ish age gap between herself and her older sister (Catie is almost 4 1/2, my sister and I are 5 1/2 years apart). I don’t know, it’s just a hunch that she’s going to inherit more of my traits than Catie did.

And as it happens, my mom had to be induced when she was pregnant with me, because I had no intention of being born either. So there you have it, commonality from the get-go.

It’s sort of weird, having the induction scheduled and knowing that I’m going to have a baby tomorrow. It’s actually helped calm down my tendency to over-plan. Today we’ve spent doing laundry, getting groceries, setting up the pack ‘n’ play in our bedroom, all of those last-minute preparations.

And I’ve been trying to soak up as much of Catie as I possibly can, enjoying these last few minutes of her as an Only Child. It’s probably weird that I haven’t been emotional about that until just now. Go figure.

————————————————-
And now for a completely unrelated topic!

Ever wondered about some of those old wives’ tales that people swear will make you go into labor? I’d like to tell you right now that they’re all crap.

Here are some of the ones I’ve heard repeatedly, along with my personal experience:

* Acupuncture – While it definitely made the baby “drop” a lot lower, nothing else has happened.
* Sex – No comment. (People in my family read this website, I refuse to say anything else about it.)
* Walking – I’ve been on the treadmill every day for the past two weeks. No luck.
* Other exercises (prenatal yoga, squats) – No luck.
* Castor oil – Relatively unpleasant (not as bad as what I’d heard some people describe, but still not what I’d call a good time), and it didn’t help at all.
* Spicy food – Ok, this is the one I couldn’t really commit to. I ate things spicier than I would normally eat them, which is still way milder than what the old wives’ tale intended. I am a wimp about spicy food, I just can’t handle it at all. It’s physically painful for me. So, eh, whatever.
* Evening primrose oil – I’ve been taking the pills orally and also applying it, um, internally. Nothing.
* Red raspberry leaf tea – Nope. Doesn’t taste bad, though.
* Warm baths – Nice, but totally unhelpful.
* Nipple stimulation – I’ve yanked on my own boobs about a million times, trying to mimic the feeling of a nursing baby or a breast pump, because (allegedly) it’s supposed to make the uterus contract. Let me tell you what I learned: it hurts. A lot. And it didn’t do a damn thing.
* Eggplant Parmesan – It was delicious. But it didn’t do anything.
* Pineapple – I love pineapple. I’ve eaten so much that the inside of my mouth is sore from the acidity. And it didn’t help one whit.

————————————————-

Back to the whole Impending Baby Thing!

So, yeah. Induction starts tomorrow at 7:30 a.m. Hopefully we’ll have an announcement before the day is over. Oh, and a name. Because we still don’t have a clue what we’re going to call this poor kid.

But, my sweet little Baby No Name, we can’t wait to meet you. And your mama can’t wait to not have this view every time she looks down.

You have no idea how much more comfortable we will both be once you’re out here in the world. I promise. We’re gonna have so much fun.

5 Comments »

(One of Catie’s favorite lines from the movie “Tangled” is Rapunzel swinging around a tree, yelling, “Best! Day! EVER!” She repeats that a lot. Hence the post title.)

Why I love this particular Friday the 13th, superstitions be damned:

1. Catie got dressed and left for daycare without any fights this morning. Hey, it’s the little things.

2. Beaumont is currently at the vet getting shaved. (Insert your own shaved p***y jokes here.) We have to do this every summer because his fur is so long and it gets all matted and nasty. And yes, he looks ridiculous afterward:

(Exhibit A: his first haircut, 2 years ago.)

But he’s also a lot happier. And since he is currently in “Guard the Pregnant Lady” Mode and is all over me constantly, I’ll also be a lot happier when there’s less fur on him. Hopefully it means I’ll stop having the recurring nightmare about being attacked by a bear, when I wake up and realize that it’s because I’ve got a ridiculously furry cat sleeping up against my face, suffocating me.

3. The housekeepers are coming today! I always feel a little weird mentioning that we have housekeepers, because it feels so… I don’t know. Snobby? Elitist? I get oddly defensive about it. But you know what? Whatever. For the mental health benefit alone, I consider it to be a totally worthwhile expense.

Oh, also? Knowing that the house will be all sparkly and clean should I happen to go into labor in the immediate future? HUGE load off my mind. You can’t even imagine.

4. I’m getting a massage this afternoon. All of y’all who’ve had babies know how late pregnancy can make you ache all over. My back and shoulders are currently a disaster zone of knots and pains. Then Catie’s daycare teacher Mandy informed me that a new massage therapist opened up shop in the building next to the daycare, and she had left a stack of coupons for them to pass out to the parents. When I checked it out, saw that this lady is certified to do prenatal massage, and that the coupon was for 50% off her normal hourly rate? Hell yes, I booked that sucker. I cannot wait.

5. It’s Clean Sheet Day. Between the massage and the fresh sheets on the bed, I’m already looking forward to bedtime tonight. It’s gonna be so good, y’all.

6. Our sixth wedding anniversary is on Sunday, the 15th. Awww.

And we’re still laughing. (Most of the time.)

6 Comments »

Last summer, I blogged about a little girl in Catie’s daycare class who was bossing Catie around. It just occurred to me that I hadn’t really said anything else about it since then.

In the last several months, I’ve learned quite a few things about this girl, Allie, and her home life, which kind of make me feel bad for her. Like:

• Her parents divorced after Dad started banging his secretary. (Seriously, could that be more of a cliche? And shouldn’t she be called his admin assistant or something? God.)
• Both parents are now in new relationships (Dad is still with the secretary, Mom has a new boyfriend). And yet, even with a combined total of FOUR adults on the scene, Allie and her sister spend the majority of their evenings and weekends with Catie’s daycare teacher, Mandy. Like, they regularly spend the night at Mandy’s house. Mandy is a young single mom, and I’m sure that the daycare gig doesn’t pay a ton, so she’s happy to have the extra income from being a part-time baby-sitter/nanny. And honestly, Mandy is awesome with kids, with lots of hugs and kisses and “I love you”s and all of that. But still, it’s got to be pretty shitty to have your parents fawn you off on a paid caretaker rather than spend time with you.
• Case in point: it was Mandy who brought Allie to Catie’s birthday party. On a Saturday afternoon. Allie’s dad showed up briefly, spent most of the time outside on a “business call” on his cell phone, and then left long before the party was over. Mandy took Allie and her sister home with her afterward. Not to her either of the parents’ houses.
• Mandy brought an old broken cell phone for the kids to play with in the “housekeeping” area of the classroom. When Allie was playing with it, her imaginary conversation went like this: “You need to get over here RIGHT NOW and pick up these kids because they are driving me CRAZY!!!” It’s kind of funny at first glance, but then you think about the whole thing with the parents’ divorce and the fact that Allie is only three, so she’s probably repeating something she’s heard, and suddenly it makes me kind of sick to my stomach.

So, even knowing all that I do about her, and the fact that I kind of feel sorry for her, the fact remains that I still don’t like this kid. She’s obnoxious and rude. She’s bossy. She’s a tattle-tale. (Almost daily, when I pick Catie up, Allie runs over to tell me something Catie did that was bad. I usually just say, “Oh, ok.” I give her no emotional reaction at all.) She throws huge tantrums to get her way, and it works: the parent figures in her life cave in & give her what she wants to keep her quiet, and Mandy also caves in because (I’m guessing) she feels sorry for her too.

And honestly, I feel bad, because what the hell kind of adult am I, that this tiny three year-old child can grate on my nerves the way that she does? But there you have it: I don’t like her. She bugs the crap out of me.

Over the last several months, the dynamic between Catie and Allie has gone through several stages:

1. Allie bosses Catie around. Catie takes it.

2. Catie ignores Allie. The each find other kids to play with.

3. Allie befriends Roman, Catie’s BFF. Catie tries to play with both of them, but it doesn’t really work, so she gives up and plays with the other kids.
(And btw, Roman’s mom told me that Roman informed her, “When I grow up, I’m going to drive a car like Daddy’s, and Catie will ride next to me.” That’s apparently the 3 year-old boy way of saying he intends to marry her. Awww.)

4. Roman & his parents move to California. (So much for that future marriage proposal.) A few other changes in the line-up at daycare leaves Catie and Allie as the only two girls in class.

5. The current status: Catie and Allie are both BFFs and mortal enemies. They hug, they hold hands, they dance together… then five minutes later, they beat the crap out of each other. Mandy says they “take turns being the boss” now, which I guess is a good thing?

But the fights. Oh man, the fights. One day on the playground, Catie and a couple of other kids were in the little plastic playhouse. Catie told Allie she couldn’t come in. (Which, yes, that is bossy and rude, I admit.) Allie responded by dragging Catie to the ground by her hair. Catie screamed, “You pulled my beautiful blonde hair!!” and cried to Mandy about it. (And ok, that line made me laugh. And realize that maybe I compliment her hair too much.)

In adult terms, I kind of see them like Linda Evans and Joan Collins on “Dynasty.”

BFFs:

Not so much:

The problem I’m noticing is that Catie is starting to adopt some of Allie’s more obnoxious behaviors, with the whining, rudeness, and tantrums. We try to nip it in the bud. I’ve told her flat-out that acting that way might work for Allie, but we don’t act like that in our house.

And yes, I’m sure that the impending arrival of Baby 2.0 has a lot to do with it. I’ve been out of commission a lot because I feel lousy, and Dave has had to take over as more of a disciplinarian. So Catie is challenging that whole dynamic shift. I understand that: it’s her job to test boundaries, and it’s our job to enforce them. That’s normal.

So we’re working on it. I just wish there was a way I could hand-pick Catie’s friends for her, and I know I can’t. I also know that this is the least of my troubles compared to, say, when she becomes a teenager.

Sigh. I tell you, man, this parenting gig is rough.

11 Comments »

I had a dream last night that Baby 2.0 had been born. (And no, she didn’t have a name in my dream either. I was hoping for a sign, but alas.) The main thing I remember about the dream was holding her on my shoulder, her tiny face on my neck, and patting her tiny padded diaper butt, and I woke up feeling like, “Oh, hell yes. I want that. NOW.”

I’ve mentioned before that I don’t have many happy memories of the newborn days with Catie; my brain seems to only remember the exhaustion and the tears. But then suddenly I’ll remember a tiny moment like this:

And I absolutely cannot wait to do it all over again. Which is particularly weird since I’m pretty sure I got puked on just a few minutes after that picture was taken.

———————————————————————————-

Semi-related: my sister had to be in Raleigh for a work meeting this morning, so she came over last night and spent the night with us. Catie was super-excited, as Tracy is pretty much one of her favorite people on the planet.

The night before, I told Catie about Tracy’s visit, and explained that yes, Tracy is coming, but it’s only for one night and then she has to leave in the morning and go back to Charlotte. I was hoping that if I warned Catie in advance that this would be a quick visit, that it would prevent any meltdowns.

Catie: But I’ll be sad when Tracy leaves.

Me: I know you will, Catie-Bug. But you know what? Tracy will be back again soon. When Baby Sister is born, and Mommy & Daddy go to the hospital, Tracy is going to come to our house to take care of you!

Catie: (looking worried) Forever?

Which, OMG. She’s been talking up the whole Baby Sister thing, I had no idea that there were underlying fears that once the new baby arrived, we wouldn’t be her Mommy & Daddy anymore.

We had a very long talk about how I will always be her Mommy, and how Daddy will always be her Daddy, and all this means is that now we’ll be the Mommy and Daddy of two little girls instead of just one. She buried her face in my neck and hugged me for a long time, so I think she got the message.

What’s funny is that I’ve been trying to lay off on talking about the new baby with Catie for the most part, and I usually wait for her to bring it up, because I don’t want to overwhelm her with baby-baby-baby all the time. But now I’m realizing that approach might not be the best, and maybe I do need to start talking with her more about what things will be like after the baby is here, and emphasizing how this is going to be a good change for our family.

I mean, we have the “I’m a Big Sister Now” book, and several of her friends have younger siblings, so I guess I took it for granted that she understood how the whole transition would work. But my guess is that four year-olds aren’t really capable of internalizing quite so well.

If any moms out there want to throw some advice for how to walk a four year-old through this process, feel free to throw it my way.

3 Comments »

Today at work, my cell phone rang and it was Dave. Not normally a big thing, right? Spouses call each other at the office. It happens. But the ensuing conversation was not at all what I expected.

Dave: So, a policeman is here at the house. They found your purse and your mom’s purse.

Me: WHAT?!?!!

Dave: Yeah. Uh, here, I’ll let him tell you.

So, the police officer gets on the phone, and explains that the best he can figure, whoever stole the purses tossed them down a storm drain, because a maintenance worker found them in a retention pond in the next subdivision over from ours. Which is where they’ve been for a month. He warned me that there wasn’t really anything salvageable there, but they did find my passport, which is how they knew the purses were ours. (My passport, btw, has already been canceled, so recovering it was not exactly a big “yay!” moment.) (And yes, it’s very stupid to have one’s passport in their purse. I had just had to do an I-9 form at work a couple of weeks before and I had forgotten to put it back in the drawer with all of our other important ID information.)

Want to know what purses look like after they spend a month in a stagnant retention pond?

This photo doesn’t even begin to do it justice. Seriously, y’all, I just… I cannot even begin to describe the smell to you. It may never leave my nose. It might be worse than the time our septic tank exploded back when we lived in the boonies. This smell is burned into my brain.

Dave had already deemed the purses as ruined and trashed them before I got home, but I don’t know, I just needed to see it for myself. So I pulled them out and took a picture. (As Dave pointed out when he found out I retrieved them from the trash, it was probably not very smart for me to be breathing in God-knows-what when I’m pregnant, which, yeah I guess he has a point.)

When I told my mom, she wanted me to save her purse so she could try to root through it the next time she’s up here. I called her back and told her that no way is that foul-smelling thing staying in my house. OMG. Nevermind that the purses are basically empty anyway. We found some nail clippers, a tube of Carmex lip balm, and my mom’s epi-pen (which was filled with nasty drainage pond water). I think that anything else the thieves didn’t take is probably still floating in that pond somewhere. The only reason my passport didn’t float away is because it was in a zippered side pocket.

So, I guess that’s the end of the story. Not exactly the satisfying, “Lock up those thugs and throw away the key!” form of justice that I’d been hoping for. Instead, it’s just two empty black purses covered in mildew and pond muck. Lovely.

2 Comments »