Motherhood, an honest rambling confession:

      I look like Rachel Maddow. No really. I am rocking her hair and by "rocking" I mean rolling out of bed looking like a fourth grade boy. The other day I managed to put on mascara and my husband told me I looked nice when he got home. "Nice" is now determined by real pants and mascara. Wow. Low point? Then I have to remind myself that no, I am actually miles away from bottom. I've been to bottom. Its a dark ugly place. There is no mascara at the bottom and there certainly aren't real pants. See, I'm a mom. I'm a REAL mom. I'm not going to bullshit you about how wonderful it is. I love my kids, they are wonderful, but day to day its pretty trying being a mother. I used to be a real person. With nice clothes, cute hair, actual makeup, and friends. I used to love art and music and local beer. Hubby and I were cool once. Now we're just old.
      I think when you have kids your memory of that other life you had should be erased. I think people would be happier and they certainly wouldn't wonder at least once a week, 'why the hell didn't someone warn me about this?!' I recently discovered the new Nelly song and I loved it and I wasn't even embarrassed like I knew I should have been, because well, at some point that becomes the new cool. The standards have been lowered. Remember when 8pm was go time? Getting ready to go out time? 4pm is like 8pm now and 8pm is like 1am. By 8pm B and I have both changed to our pj pants and are holding down separate ends of the couch, each of us holding an Ipad and our newest Netflix show queued up. This is my life.

      I have three sons. All they want to do is fight and eat. And play ball in the house. The little one doesn't do much of any of that yet. But he is constantly watching his big brothers and I know he is taking notes. He's just waiting for his body to cooperate with all the big troublesome plans he's got.  My two year old tells me the same knock knock joke ten times a day and I go along with it. "Mommy, knock knock." "Who's there?" "Ice" "Ice who?" "BOOK!" and then he laughs and laughs. The "joke" is driving me crazy but the laughter makes it worth it... to a point. The four year old, well, he can't stand me. I'm just the person he has to spend time with until his beloved father gets home from work. I'm the one who wipes away the "I miss my daddy" tears and plays cards and bakes cupcakes but he never lets me forget, I am number two in his book. It used to bother me more than it does now. I'm glad he loves his daddy in such a special way. But he needs to work on his honesty. As in, telling less of it. "I love you buddy." "I know." "Do you love me too?" "Yeah, but not as much as I love daddy." ::eye roll:: Wish I would have known that before I carried you for what felt like a year covered in Pupps in 100 degree Texas humidity. Oh and then you know, a day of laboring and then an emergency c section. Whatevs dude.

       So yeah, I have completely lost myself in these children who like me sometimes. I don't recognize myself in the mirror. I can hear my 17 year old self saying, "You mean we're going to get even fatter?!" Yup. Just something to look forward to sister. Oh and the stretch marks from carrying said children. How about how I always joke about drinking so much wine and needing so many margaritas? I hardly ever drink. I can't remember the last time I bought a bottle of wine because honestly, I'm too tired to drink. Too tired to drink?! Now my college aged self is appalled.

       My house is a mess, despite how much time I spend cleaning it up. It will never be clean. At least not for ten years or so. But I still just follow them around cleaning up the same messes they made yesterday. My favorite is when my husband looks around at a house that looks as though we've been robbed and says, "what did you do all day?" If looks could kill that man would have dropped dead years ago. It's not as easy as it seems it would be. The cleaning and cooking and lack of adult conversation. I've been a stay at home mom for two years this month and I am certain that I am becoming increasingly more socially awkward. I have nothing to say to any adult that they want to hear. And my knock knock jokes don't get many laughs these days...

      Truthfully, everything I've said is 100% accurate... but I don't care. I remember being a kid and thinking how uncool my mom was. And now? I think she's awesome. She gave up everything for me. No fancy clothes, no fashionable handbags or heels. She had mom hair, way too busy taking care of us to take care of herself the way she deserved. I thought that would change when we were grown but now she just does all those things for them.... for my boys. For her boys. My nearly 21 year old brother calls my mom almost everyday when he's away at school. She's the compass, helping us navigate our way through this crazy life. She was the only person I wanted to see last June. The only person I felt I could talk to. The only person I dared whisper "post partum depression" to and the only person I knew wouldn't turn away from me when I called her crying the words "Down syndrome." Our mothers are crazy and we made them that way, I am just in the middle of this transition from clueless daughter to crazy mother. I am at the point where all I want to do is fall into my mother's arms and say, thank you. thank you for loving me more than you loved yourself. thank you for never turning your back on me. thank you for being strong when I was weak. Thank you for letting me drive you crazy.

       Moms are not glamorous. They are not put together and stress free. I have more stress now than I ever did. Moms are lonely. Its hard to bear the weight of all the bad stuff. The preschool prep, the speech delays and potty training, and in my case the appointments. Therapy, specialist, pediatrician, therapy, specialist, specialist, specialist, another pediatrician. Being a mom is miserable. It feels like you're always failing. Your tears, their tears, your screams, their screams. It's all just one big mess. And then....

a two year old boy runs up to you with the most beautiful smile and hugs your knees and says "My Mommy!" Win.

a four year old smiles excitedly when you "speak" robot right on cue. Win.

an 11 month old baby beams up at you from his crib. He can not sit on his own. He can not eat without a feeding tube. He has tape marks on his face from his nightly oxygen. But his little face says so easily, "There she is.. my compass!"

Its a beautiful life and I wouldn't change a thing.

No, not even my hair.

It's Lent...

which means I've decided to give something up.... because let's face it I always need time away from something. Usually its wine but alas I am indeed knocked up... again. So that leaves Facebook, Celebrity Gossip and online shopping.... I guess I could have given up soda. But no soda or wine? Not happening so I went with Celebrity Gossip because since I'm in my safe place I will tell you just how pathetic my habit for that crap has gotten. The US Weekly app on my phone was getting way more play than any other even Bejeweled- hot damn! (Sidenote: When my iphone starts spitting out cash like the Bejeweled at the casino we will be set for life because I can rock that shit) B would get home from work and it went like this:
Me: How was your day?
B: Work talk... funny stories... eyerolls about work. How were things around here?
Me: Oh my god. Guess what?
B: What?
Me: Beyonce bought the lucite crib that I love! Baby Blue is already my hero. Then Kristen Bell was on Ellen and she was totally cracking me up! I still can't believe she's engaged to Dax but whatev they seem happy and you know I just want her to be happy. And then Angelina took Zahara to shop at Limited Too for a whole new wardrobe! Can you imagine running into Angie at the mall?! Apparently it caused quite a fuss.
B: Let me rephrase. How were things with our sons today?
Me: Oh. Good. You know. Good.


What a loser.

Its a WHA?

So here's the deal.
Wives tales- bull shit. Online baby gender quizzes- bullshit. Friends with claimed psychic powers- bullshit. (Yeah that happened)

So this is how my ultrasound went down today:
Ultrasound Tech: "Are we finding out the gender of your baby today?" Starts squirting the gel on the scanner o' power.
B: "Yes and she'd like to know as soon as possible." Motioning to me and chuckling at how funny he ISNT.
Me: "Yes please!" And I lay back all calm and collected and think about the fact that just this morning I dangled my wedding ring over my belly with a piece of yarn and it went in a circular motion for the third time. Bitch, I dont need your power tools. I got my own power tools and they say girl. I got this.
Tech: As she's putting the nastiness on my bump "What do you have at home?"
B & I: Two boys.
Tech: 45 seconds later "Whelp! There's the penis."
Me: Jaw dropping to the floor...... at this point I would have started thinking maybe she can't see clearly because I know its a girl....except that the photo she's taking is so clear that it will embarrass him later in life. Him. He. Penis. Three. Boys.
B: Turns to me nervously, squeezing my hand and reading my mind.....

And that's how the shit went down. So as a recap I will soon enough be the mother to three sons. Whom I adore, because let me tell you they love me. I am like Home base. Be all, end all. I dont want you B I want the real deal, I want my mommy kind of love.

But the moral of the story is this: Boys are good. Wives tales are bullshit.

ps I've decided I've been given all of these men because growing up I was (and essentially still am) Boy- crazy... God's like oh you like boys? I'll show you boys...

Sick...

I have the stomach flu. Couldn't sleep. It's 2:41 am I'm eating saltines and sobbing to the damned Say Yes to the (Effing) Dress.....

*$#!*&#!(*@!#@!

Is it the 26th yet?

Fancy Meeting You Here...

So... Since I have no readers I think its a little silly to apologize about my absence but I will say in my defense that I'm a busy woman. Busy how? You might be asking yourself- remember how I told you I really wanted to grow my hair out? Well I've been busy growing my hair out... and growing my third baby. My bump says hey what's up.

When you're pregnant people say "Oh! Do you want a boy or a girl?" and then you rub your bump and say "Oh! We just want a healthy baby!" And that is always true of course and ALWAYS the most important thing. So that's what I said. The first two times. Now when people ask I say, "Of course I want a girl!" I have not hidden my preference well this time, because frankly its the first time I've had a preference. The fact is this is my last baby and I do want a daughter. I called my best friend one day and asked her if I'm a terrible mother for being so obvious about my need for pink. She assured me that I'm not a terrible mother that we'll reconveign on the subject if I have a boy and start dressing him in girls clothes. Fair enough. And that is why she's my best friend.

Speaking of girls. If you're pregnant and you're begging God for a girl. (Like every night when you go to bed and all you can think about is decorating a girl's nursery, or picking out hair bows and leggings or having a relationship with a little girl like the one I cherish so dearly with my own mother ..... oh god that's like a whole other post.) Anyway, if that's ever you do not.... ever.... stay up until 2am watching 'Say Yes to the Dress' and sobbing when the mothers and daughters find that perfect dress- or even worse when they bring the Father of the Bride and he's the one crying. Agh! But I'm trying my best to put it out of my mind... at least for the next week and three days til the big gender reveal ultrasound... not that anyone is counting down or reminding every single person in her life of the count....

In other news... Baby A is coming to the end of his time as a 'baby' he's less than a month out from his first birthday and I'm heartbroken about it. There's something so special about my sweet baby. He and I have such a special bond. It makes me teary eyed just thinking about him following me around the house (almost walking!) and shouting my name "Ma Ma Ma Ma!" He is much more of a lover than a fighter which is why I was so surprised he bit his brother last week.
:-/ E was not sharing well and A let him know he wasn't happy about it....

What can I say? We're all a work in progress around here :-)