Wednesday, December 21, 2011

I still got game, yo...

Most days it's a small miracle if I have my teeth brushed before noon, let alone be showered and made up. Today I at least had the teeth brushed, not that it mattered in this circumstance.

While walking home from my parent's house (who live literally right around the corner,) two gentlemen decided that I looked hot enough from behind to proceed to pull over and hit on me. "Hey baby, how you doin?"

There's no mistaking that I'm pregnant at this point in my life so my initial reaction was shock, followed by a "Really?!" Then a "I'm five and a half months pregnant, want this now?" Which prompted them to speed away. Because no matter how hot the piece of ass in question is, no one wants to play baby's daddy to a kid that isn't theirs, right? And I hate being judgemental, but these fine fellows appeared the part that wouldn't play baby's daddy to children they had created themselves in the first place, hence the speedy getaway, I'm figuring...

But at the end of the story, I'm not sure if I should be offended or complimented at this point. I'm still trying to wrap my head around what happened. In my pre-baby days, getting hit on at random places was something that happened often enough that it didn't really bother me, but walking home, while pregnant, in sweats and a thermal, with no make up on, and yesterday's crappy hair do in a sloppy pony tail? What is the world coming to?

Maybe it's nice to know that after being rode hard and put away wet by life, this girl still has game. Watch out fellas, pregnant is the new sexy!

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Dear 2011

Dear 2011,
I'm really not all that upset we are parting ways in a few weeks. Let's be honest, I 'm pretty dang stoked to meet your replacement, 2012 as you have been, well, kind of a bitch to me and mine.

Our start was rocky and full of uncertainty, your predecessor was pretty good to us so I had high hopes for you, but pretty much right off the bat, we  just didn't hit it off.  But I believe in giving chances, and I decided to give you another, which turned into another and another and so on.

At one point in our journey together on this road to life I just couldn't believe the stunts you were pulling. I mean, you hit us below the belt quite a few times this summer. Not cool 2011, not cool at all. What did we do to you? Is this a personal thing? Did we have too good of a year in 2010 that you felt the need to knock us down a peg and pretty much reduce us to a heaping pile of rubble? I mean, I am all for karma and if we pissed someone off somewhere, somehow, then so be i,t but I tend to think we're pretty good folk so WTF?

Anyhow, let's not dwell on your persistent nastiness and bitter grudge against us. I choose to be the bigger person here and just tell you to go fuck yourself while I drink to your replacement and talk bad about you to 2009 and 2007.

(Oh who am I kidding here...)
Piss off,
K (on behalf of team West and team Drinkwine)

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Boy, oh boy!

Life never ceases to amaze me. Just when you think you have everything planned out to the "T", life throws you a curve ball.  I was planning on being done having babies. I was certain that this was my girl and our family would be complete. Well, the good Lord has other plans for team West!

Well, that's obvious...

Imagine our surprise when within seconds of the tech putting the ultrasound wand to my belly this is what we saw.  I wasn't prepared to see a rather large penis on the 46" screen TV, and I was shocked, no lie.  I was really going to put some money on it in Vegas that this was a girl. I just really felt in my heart that this baby was my girl. Which I can now probably say that I wanted it to be a girl so badly that I had convinced myself that it was and wouldn't settle for anything less. I was trying so hard to hide my disappointment through the rest of the ultrasound. And I knew going into this that if it was indeed a boy, I would have this reaction. Does that mean that our son will be loved any less because he is a boy? No. It's just like at Christmas time when you were expecting that super awesome pink bike with the rainbow ribbons on the handlebars and you end up getting a purple bike with purple ribbons. You were expecting one thing and you got another thing that is equally as good as the latter, it just takes you a while to truly appreciate it. And now I am very happy with what we have. Because boy or girl, this baby was indeed a blessing. After 11 months of trial and error and a bit of a tragedy we were finally blessed with a healthy, strong baby boy.

Lucas Jason West

And while he didn't have a name for a while (for which I felt really badly!) He now does.  My husband is stoked because he can say "Luc, I am your father!" Such a nerd! And Eth will have a lot more fun with a brother than the sister he originally wanted.  Life's balance is restored and we are a happy family once more. And should we try a third time, we may just wait until the very end to find out, because it doesn't really matter in the long run. You get what you get and there's no trying to fight it with all the science in the world. I think I'll be ok in a house full of men. I do so like the idea of being spoiled by 4 handsome men!

Friday, November 18, 2011

I made it half way!!!

Not sure how I survived but somehow I did it! Today is my official 19 week mark, which for those of you who know anything about me and my last pregnancy, I'm having this one scheduled, therefore the week early.

Can't say I feel that much better in this the magical second trimester, all my crappy first trimester symptoms finally gave up but brought all new crappy symptoms to take their places. Ho hum! I'm actually kind of bummed because I still have trouble eating at night and there's this big "eat a ton of crap for dinner" holiday coming up and I will have to nibble precociously, wanting like hell to stuff my face but knowing that if I do there will be hell to pay. Bummer. This is no fun for a fat kid like me!! Thanks heartburn, indigestion and the other gastro-intestinal unpleasantries that come with pregnancy!! (gives thumbs up and a huge, cheesy fake smile)

But I am getting pretty excited about the second half of my pregnancy, if nothing other than knowing that it is almost over! Baby is pretty active, and I love feeling all those little flutters and kicks all day long.  It's been really reassuring actually feeling the movement. That makes it so much more real, other than feeling like crap all the time. My husband is bummed that it's still too early for him to feel the baby moving on the outside yet.  Poor guy hasn't gotten to experience much of his child other than one Dr's office visit that he heard the heartbeat at and I kind of feel bad for him.  He gets to put up with all the crap I dish out and gets hardly any good benefits!

This Wednesday is the big day! I know in my last post I said I wasn't going to do it because we can't really afford it (and we still can't) but I really wanted my family to get to experience this with us.  It is the last child we plan on having and we didn't get to have a huge audience with us the first time around, so this time we are just going to do it.  The ultrasound seats 10 people and I'm really excited to get to find out the same time as they all do. And Ethan gets to come along too which I hope is pretty cool for him. I think we still have a couple seats available if anyone wants to come on down! (although I am still willing to put money on the fact that it's a girl, now my opinion is backed by a Dr and my nail lady...)

And trust me that even though I bitch about how horrible I feel and how much I hate being pregnant (and I really, really do hate it) I am so excited to bring this new addition into our family.  It has been a long, arduous process trying to bring this child into the world and I have earned every single complaint that I put out there!

(wow, my spell check only pulled up gastro...go me!)

Monday, November 14, 2011

Mom fail?

I am a terrible mother.  I tell myself this all the time.  I always worry that I have completely ruined my son's life.  I'm too tough, or too soft. Too overbearing or too lax. Some days I feel like my son is too spoiled and other days that we just don't do enough. He doesn't eat an all organic diet, I didn't get to breastfeed him at all, we don't read enough to him, the list goes on and on. And it all means several years and thousands of dollars will be required for his eventual psychiatric needs. If he doesn't end up in jail first, that is.

 Yes, I am a failure to my son.

But sometimes I need to take a step back and remind myself that I am doing the best that I can. And that all depends on a variety of factors.  In fact, no parent is perfect and guess what? We all end up scarred in one way or another from our parent's short comings.  After sending little Timmy off to Harvard on his full ride scholarship he may end up on top of the humanities building with a rifle picking his classmates off one by one. Or little Suzie who's mom was a crack whore and who's step-dad used to molest her could turn out to be the next President of the U.S.  You never know.

We are products of our environment, and we are each affected by the things we experienced in our youth.  These things do shape and mold us, but do they define us?  How much of who we are as adults can be measured by who we were as children?  My parent's weren't perfect, but they did raise my siblings and me to be fairly well adjusted people.  We are polite in public, we have respect for people and other living things, we go to church, we have, for the most part, stayed out of trouble.  We are all fairly intelligent people and are pretty well rounded.  We are confident to an extent, independent, responsible, and capable people.  But we all could probably use some therapy as we all have our own shortcomings.

My son will have issues someday, and he'll have me to thank for them, and it won't matter if I am a tiger mom or a mom who lets him get away with murder.  There is no amount of perfection that I can strive to attain to for his sake, he's doomed! And I have to be ok with that. I  just have to keep telling him that I love him no matter what, I need to keep trying to do my best to not fail him too badly.  I need to instill the values and morals and respect that I believe are necessary for a human to be "functional" and hope that he picks them up. I need to live my life as an example and hope that he watches and learns. I need to find balance when I can, I need to know when to let go and when to be persistent. And I need to pray to God that he never gets robbed by a prostitute!

What can I say?  Potty training is really messing with my head, and this may scar both my son and I for life!  Never have I felt more challenged as a parent, and this is something that is pretty small in the grand scheme, but how much of this struggle will shape my son's future I wonder?

Waxing philosophic over poop y'all. It's been a long day!

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

It's a......

...Pregnancy update!!! Ha ha! What did you think this was going to be? I know, it has been a while, but when you feel like crap 9 days out of 10, writing about it is the last thing you want to do!

I have officially crashed head first into my second trimester after having our first ultrasound a few weeks ago where it turned out the baby was measuring about a week bigger than originally anticipated. Not that I am feeling so much better or anything. I still have more bad days than good ones but the severity is much less and I am now able to function through the nausea and other un-pleasantries.

I was starting to show a little bit right around 11 weeks and am much "rounder" now.  I still feel like I just look fat to the unknowing eye, but I'm sure my family and friends will see the little baby bump that is currently starting to form in my mid-section.  I have also managed to keep my weight gain to only 6lbs (by my scale, we shall see what the dr's scale says in a few days...) which I have no idea how. I really don't eat much, but I really don't eat less either. I'm not going to complain at all! By my first pregnancy I would have gained almost 20 lbs by this point!

Several people keep asking me about the sex of the baby and trust me, we are as eager as you are to find out. But, this isn't going to happen until the 1st of Dec. And unless you are going to send me donations in cash so I don't have to cut into the kid's Christmas gift funds, you have to wait, just like I do. It's called a strict budget folks, and the holiday's are knocking on our door! My husband has no idea what the baby is going to be and refuses to have an opinion on the matter, but I am still willing to put a small amount of cash down as a bet that it's going to be a girl...5 bucks anyone?

I keep hoping everyday that this will be the turning point in the pregnancy and that I will start feeling better, only to be disappointed with 2 days in a row of feeling like crap again. You'd think that at 16, almost 17 weeks I'd be seeing some improvement. I mean I sat out my favorite holiday this year because I was feeling yucky!  Luckily C was able to go with E trick-or-treating this year (sad face). I am terrified I'll end up sick the whole time I'm pregnant!  But I remember that feeling like garbage is a sure sign that the pregnancy is still going well. That and the fact that I've been feeling the little one move about the cabin for about 2 weeks now. Not all the time yet and not very strong, but every once and a while while I am being very still, I may feel those little flutters that are pretty unmistakable this time around. It's still such a cool feeling the second time around and I am pretty excited for the coming weeks when the movement gets stronger and more frequent. Then I'll be grumpy once the baby starts kicking the crap out of me and my intestines as my son did. Oh the joys of pregnancy!

Until next time folks :)

Sunday, September 18, 2011

9 weeks and bearly surving

I'd love to tell you all that I feel so much better than I did last week, but I'd be a lying to you. Still feeling crappy, but adding acid reflux and sporadic sciatic pain to the mix as well, but only a few nights this week, so I am really thrilled to see what the next few weeks of first trimester hell brings me.

Instead of telling tales of pregnancy woes here this week I am going to tell you the top ten reasons I think we are having a girl.

10. The Shettles method (look it up).  We have been following this one for most of the time we have been trying to conceive so that is probably one of the reasons it took us 11 months to get knocked up. It's a science, yo! And the timing is hard as hell!

9. A friend of mine knows a lady that swears that if you lay on your left side post coitus, you will conceive a girl. Her success rates include two of my close friends who have tried this and have indeed had or are having a girl. I made it a rule to always lay on the left side, P.C., with my ass propped up on a pillow.

8. I am moody as hell.  I have cried everyday since I was about 6 weeks along, which means there is a ton of estrogen floating around this beast. Heaven help anyone who upsets me, because I am also capable of causing severe PMS like tantrums and fits at the drop of a hat. I credit this to having two vagina's.

7. We have a girl name chosen. But we cannot decide on a possible boy name. Because we won't need one, I'm sure. (I'm not disclosing anytime soon so don't ask :) )

6. This pregnancy is my last pregnancy, so therefore it MUST be a girl so that I will NOT be compelled or tempted to put my body through this torture ever, ever, ever again.

5.  This pregnancy is also so much worse than my last pregnancy. Sick all damned day, can't eat or drink anything, (as apposed to eating like a teenage boy during a growth spurt my last go.) too tired to get out of bed or shower or brush my teeth until 3pm. It's so a girl.

4. My son and husband both fall under the same star sign, Pieces. This kiddo is due in April, and will fall under the same star sign as me, Aries, thought this could be bad, knowing me...

3.  My husband was a huge jerk when I was pregnant with my son.  H U G E! This time, he's as sweet as pie, and as tame as a kitten with no claws. I'm convinced it's because his daughter already has him wrapped around her not quite fully formed finger. I'm not complaining about this at all....yet...

2. I just really feel like this is a girl. With Eth, I wanted him to be a girl, but I don't think I felt that he was a girl. I really feel it this time, plus, with all the other shit I mentioned above, I mean, I'd be flabbergasted if it turned out to be another boy.

1. April 22nd is my due date. Since I am a repeat C-section, I won't go to term, usually 38 weeks if all goes well. 38.5 weeks would be April 11th, a Wednesday, when most docs do c-sections so mom's will be out by Saturday. My mom's birthday is April 10th, my birthday is April 12th. How awesome would it be to have 3 generations of us born the 10th, 11th,and 12th? It's just not as cool if it's a boy, so therefore, she's a girl.

Of course, it is a long way off until we find out what the sex really is. But I'm pretty sure I already know.

Will I be bummed if it is a boy? Ya, for a minute, then I'll remember how much fun my boy is and how I'll be the only girl surrounded by men, and that will be totally cool with me. Plus I have friends and family with little girls to spoil at my disposal.

Until next week! If this child doesn't kill me first!

Thursday, September 8, 2011

8 weeks: let's talk misery

I'm sure some of you are sick of my facebook posts about how much I suck at being pregnant, so I am going to *try* to keep all my pregnancy woe's reserved for the blogosphere.

I am the worst pregnant person out there. I hate feeling miserable, sick, tired, weepy, sick and bloated. Hate it. So much so that I have decided that this pregnancy will be my last, no matter the outcome. (So please keep your fingers crossed that all goes well so my son won't have to be an only child.)

I remember feeling sick and very tired with Ethan. My nausea was pretty bad at certain times of the day, mostly the afternoons, but this baby has re-defined the meaning of pregnancy nausea. It is not only reserved for the morning, but usually occurs all day long, worsening sometimes early in the morning (like 4 am) or worsening in the evenings (like 5 pm,when my husband leaves or work). There's really no relief at all either, I feel fluish all day, all week. It's fun! No, that's not even funny to joke about! There are hot and cold flashes and often body aches as well, so, most days I feel like I'm going to die.

The worst part thus far has to go to week 7, when I ended up at an impasse and in the er. I have never, ever been in more pain in my entire life.  I am sure the screaming I was doing in the bathroom was frightening all of the patrons. This didn't happen at all my first time round the block, so the experience was new, and frightening and horrifying all at once and I am currently taking a battery of products to, er, keep things moving. Imagine passing something the size of a large naval orange out of something the size of a quarter, with no drugs or assistance what-so-ever! I'll never be the same again. (shudders) The one and only good thing I got from this adventure was seeing my baby. Imagine my relief when the ultrasound tech turned the screen and showed my the little bean, heart pumping away, all tiny and strong deep in my tummy. I didn't need any pain medicine after that, the feeling I felt was so euphoric. Such a relief after the last time I sat in the same exact room, looking for our baby, to make sure there was still a baby in there only to find an empty uterus.

That being said, I may bitch and whine and complain everyday about how miserable I am right now, but rest assured that every second I feel crappy is a reassurance that everything is going well, baby is still fighting away, growing and living. Every time I feel horrible it is a sign that someone else is doing well. It's my baby telling me, hey, mom, I'm still here, growing bigger every day. And that even though this little one is so grounded the second she (or he) comes out, we will be relieved that our long battle with infertility, nausea, and all the other crap that comes with this is finally over and our family will be complete.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

I'm happy, right?

It's hard to get excited when the last time you found out you were pregnant the whole thing went up in smoke. It shouldn't be, I mean, I should be happy, excited, elated, relieved, but there's a part of me that can't get too attached. At least not yet.
My doctor has told me that it is pretty uncommon for you to have two back to back miscarriages, but it still weighs heavily on your mind.
It is very early still.  Just shy of 5 weeks, which is coincidentally the same time I started the process of losing the last baby, so imagine if you will, how frightened I feel. My symptoms so far are pretty mild, I am mostly moody, a teensy bit nauseated like, every other day, and a little tired every now and then. Much different from the last time where I was feeling sick and very tired right away, so this must be good right? Well, I hope at least!
Overall, I guess I really, really want to believe that everything is going to be fine. I'll feel better after we make it to 7 weeks, but the feeling will never go away. I could still miscarry at 9, 13, or 20 weeks. Or worse.
Keep your fingers crossed, and send out a big "Stay put baby!" for me will ya?

Monday, August 8, 2011

PMS, I loath thee....

I hate PMS. No, really, I hear you girls out there who are silently agreeing with me. The cravings, the bloating, the acne. But this hatred, for me, it goes way deeper than that. Each time I get so much as a pimple I know what's coming. It's not just Aunt Flo for me kids. It's a sign of defeat. Again. It's mother nature giving me the middle finger. The "take that beotch", rub-it-in-my-face kind of attitude my life keeps handing me left and right. Because ultimately, it's another failed attempt to have another baby.

I told myself that I wasn't going to do this, get all bitchy and stuff, after the miscarriage heard round the world, but I blame those evil hormones that come with the teenage acne I'm experiencing at the moment and I am pissed as hell. Because the last two and a half months of my life have been more fucked up than any one person can possible imagine and I was just hoping with all hope that maybe, just maybe, on some karmic level, all the B.S we have endured as a family, could possibly be painted with a tiny silver lining.

Fuck you PMS, and the horse you rode in on...

blah, blah, ya sure, don't stress about it and whatnot feel good crap y'all are thinking. Save it for a couple weeks and tell me then. Mmmmkay?

With love BITTER Betty.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Tales of a former dancer part 3

My husband loves to watch So You Think You Can Dance. Once apon a time, I did too. Before I retired from my life as a dancer, I had ambitions. Lots of them.  I was dancing at UNLV, finally getting to a place in my dancing where I felt I was ready to put myself out there in the real world, and Las Vegas has lots of opportunities for dancers with talent ranging from mediocre to advanced. The plan was to finish my degree, with a minor in dance. Because really? Who majors in Dance anyhow? And to audition like crazy. I also wanted to give SYTYCD a go as well.  Now, by no means did I ever think I was good enough to make it to the top 20, but I did think I might have made it past the choreography round. Maybe. I felt it would have just been an amazing experience, and a chance to dance with Mia Michaels? I'd cut off my feet for that (but then I wouldn't be able to dance...I didn't think it through very much I guess.) But life had other plans for my dancing career.

In my second year at UNLV, I managed to get into an upper division ballet class. And it was hard yo. And I've done point (and  kind of sucked at it I may add) But it was a perfect challenge for me, dancing with girls who had been doing this since they could walk was a great push for me to work all that much harder. I had less than half the years of experience they did, but I shined like a new penny. Then two things happened that ended my career. About a third into the semester, I tore the heck out of my hamstring, and you don't ballet with a torn hamstring. But at the time, it wasn't such a big deal to me because I had just gotten engaged during the summer and was planning on bailing out on Vegas anyhow. So long hopes and dreams! People do dumb things when they are in love. So I dropped my beloved ballet class. And most of my other classes as well and moved to California in December. And lived happily ever after, for the most part.

But I stopped watching that show. Because there's this part of me that still wonders what might have been if I had gone ahead and stayed. Had I not injured myself, had I been more focused and less in a love induced fog. And it makes me miss dancing something fierce. Movement stirs within my soul and it always will. I can hear the tune of the city streets and I'll want to burst out dancing. Dancing is that one thing for me that I am good at and that one thing that I would love to do forever, but now I'm too old, too fat and too scared to go back to that world, so I shut it out. Box up those memories and shoes and save them for a rainy day. Or for a little girl who may just share her mommy's passion for dance.

But my husband, he loves that damn show. He's starting to develop an eye for talent. Some dance culture if you will. But the only time he'll ever see his wife dance is in old videos of recitals from years ago.

I'll probably never dance again.

But who knows. I have been thinking really hard about making a come back...

Thursday, July 7, 2011

To another year

So kids it's my four year anniversary with my wonderful hubby. And this year, instead of me writing some sappy blog about our relationship and it's ups and downs like I did last year, this year I'm going straight to the bull. The "king" (insert eye roll), my champion. That's right, I'm interviewing my hub. Let's get a little male perspective here. (He is pretty much playing Wii bowling as I'm interviewing him)

So what did you think when you first saw me that fateful day in the Olive Garden?
Are you serious? That question again? Honestly , I didn't really notice you because you didn't make yourself known.

Bull shit, I did so. You don't remember what I said to you?
I don't remember.

No that was 10 years ago.

You're such a man. Next question then, when you DID first notice me, what did you think?
Very nice (said like Borat) You were a nice piece of meat, only 20.

When did you know I was the one?
Back in 0.......probably about  a year after you moved to Vegas.

Wow, you're really slaying them babe. The night before our wedding were you anxious, nervous, scared?
Kind of all of the above. Scared because I was getting married, anxious because I was marrying you, pre-wedding jitters I guess. Then your brother and Dennis and Aaron and Ashley took me in the bathroom and gave me shots.
No they didn't....
Yes they did! They took me in there and told me congrats and helped me relax.

I seriously didn't know that until right now.
I told you that!

No you didn't. I remember everything, duh...In a church, shame on you...Anyhow...You still cried like a beeotch, do you remember why?
I don't know...Cuz I saw you.

So I looked hot?
I wouldn't say that....
Ha, ha, ha...You looked radiant dumb ass, you didn't look hot, hot is for single chicks.

Nice save, butthole.  So, soon after we found out we were expecting, did that freak you the heck out like it did me?
Nope. I was cool as a cucumber, because I wanted a family.

Ya, so did I but I was still scared poop-less. Do you love me more than our kid? Just kidding, kind of....
No. I love you each the same, in different ways.
Awww...Muffin. But you should love me best!

What is your favorite memory of us?
There's so many. When you stole the floating things in Hawaii. 
They were by the trash, that is not stealing, that's called one man's trash is another's treasure!
And when we go to Disneyland, like that one time it rained and we had to wear ponchos and you were sharing one with me, I think we have a picture of that right? Oh and that one time at band camp...

You crack me up. I love your randomness! What is your favorite thing that I do?
...(long pause)'re caring? You put up with me?
You're really knocking them dead here baby!

What is your least favorite thing that I do?
Tell me what to do.
Well if you didn't act like a teenager I wouldn't have to.
Ha, ha,'s your way or no way.
Yes, actually it is, after all these years you don't know that?

What are you looking froward to in the future?
A better life with you and our children. Like owning our own home, having no bills.

So what would you want the readers of my blog to know about us?
Every marriage has its ups and downs, but the person that you're with helps you through those downfalls, and that's the type of couple we are.
Word, babe.

Any final thoughts?
I love you, and don't be mad for my answers. You asked me.

Yes I did.

What are your final thoughts?
Don't ever get famous babe, because you kind of suck at interviews!

So that's my husbands blog debut. And probably his last. But we really do adore each other, (as you see from the dumbass's and other loving terms of endearment we use.) Our marriage isn't perfect but it's us 100%. And we wouldn't have it any other way. So salute my lover, here's to another year!

Friday, June 17, 2011

...The only way to really know, is to really let it go...

I'm not even 100% sure if it's time to post this. It's still so fresh.

Spent the whole day feeling good, better than usual. My appetite came back today, which I thought was weird, but it didn't even cross my mind to worry.
Saturday night I started spotting. I freaked out, cried clutching my stomach saying every prayer I 've ever known, begging, pleading for this to not be happening.
Desperately, I looked to the Internet to see if perhaps, this is normal for five and a half weeks. Several sources said it was.

Still spotting, and now, cramping. Panic has set in. I called a nurse hotline, and was recommended to go to an urgent care. This cannot be happening, our insurance isn't effective until the first of July! How can you do this to me?!
We went to the urgent care, they turned us away because we couldn't pay that day. They sent us to another urgent care. They also turned us away. I sat in the car bawling as my husband tried desperately to console me. I begged the contents of my uterus to stay put, don't leave me! Not now, not when you were the only ray of sunshine in our lives! Why is this happening to us?
We went home, defeated. I told my husband if the bleeding got worse, we would go to the er.
It got worse.
The ER staff looked at me baffled, since I wasn't bleeding to death, they weren't sure why I was there. I had to know. Had to know what was happening to my baby. The baby we worked so hard to conceive. The baby I was so over the moon excited about. My miracle baby.
Blood test showed I was still pregnant, but barley.  Ultrasound showed my uterus was empty. The doctor asked if I thought I had bled enough to have lost the baby. I said no. He sent us home with out a definite answer. Follow up with an ob/gyn, take it easy.
How can I take it easy? I'm losing my baby.

We call a few area ob/gyn's, the office visit with out insurance is $200. We simply cannot afford it. I call planned parenthood, to see if they could help us once more. The girl I spoke with on the phone was sympathetic and helpful, they couldn't get me an appointment until Wednesday but if I walked in they would be able to see me that day.
Planned parenthood does not have a local office. We had to pack up our family, and rush to another city, 45 minuets away.  When we got there, we waited to be seen by the receptionists. When I told them why we were here she said "Well, there's nothing we can do for you here." I tried explaining what the ER doctor said to me. "Well, it takes a few days for the HCG to leave your body, that positive doesn't mean anything."
I've never felt so distraught in my whole life. The whole world did not care that I was losing my baby. This is the worst time possible for this to happen to us. We wasted gas that we didn't have in the first place to come and see whether or not my baby was actually gone, and were turned away, yet again.
We returned home, defeated, distraught with grief. My whole body ached with the emotional and physical pain of losing my child. I bit the bullet and made the appointment with the ob/gyn. We would cash out the savings bonds we were going to use for Ethan's college money so I could go.

My body feels 100% normal, non pregnant. I try my best to put on a brave face and move on. The thought that I was losing my baby doesn't hurt as bad as the circumstances that followed it. On the bright side, I am able to get pregnant. Maybe we will be lucky and get pregnant again right away after this. Maybe this time it will stick. I am optimistic, hopeful, but our family doesn't have "good" luck, only bad. And my heart feels as empty as my uterus.

Feeling better, the spotting finally stopped. I feel like this is probably over and am relieved. Until around 4 pm. The bleeding gets worse, much worse. The cramping is awful. At around 9 pm, at dinner with my friends, I pass the baby in the bathroom at the restaurant. My heart is broken a little more. What do I do? What can I do? These last few days have been emotionally un-bearable. I thank God a thousand times over for my best friend who not only has been through this, but who took me away for a few days, cared for me and spoiled me. And of course my husband, who proved to be my rock, and was just as broken hearted about this as me. I would have been in such a deep, dark place if not for them.

The doctor appointment. Everything went smooth, my uterus was empty, still, but my hcg was still positive, normal they said.  They will re-check in two weeks.  The NP told us to start trying again right away. I feel a tiny sliver of hope in all of this darkness. Now we can move on. Our hearts a little heavy, our spirits a little down. The world has yet again kicked us in the face, but we are only stronger because of it.

...Maybe in the future, you're gonna come back, you're gonna come back to me...

*All of my readers have been following along on this journey as we try to conceive our second child, and this is just a part of this process. I wouldn't think anyone here would be judging why I wrote this post but for those who may be new, or who have missed some of the earlier posts, this is part of my life at this time. It was important for me to share the joy of finally being pregnant here and it is with a heavy heart that I share this story. But I am being true to my self and my friends and family whom I don't get to share things with directly by continuing the story of our pregnancy through any stage. I truly enjoyed hearing all the "congrats" on us announcing this pregnancy and I know I can also lean on the same people for support now, during this time of need. Thanks!

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Random thoughts from a bearly pregnant fat chick

I didn't journal any of my pregnancy with E. And you know, I kind of feel bad for it! I wished I would have written down what I was feeling so that when #2 came along, I would have a guide for comparison sake. I don't remember when I first started feeling sick with E, but man, this little fetus (little feti? Fetuses? What would plural fetuses be?) Has been making me feel like poo the last two days. Down right drained of energy, sick to my stomach, mostly in the afternoon, and plain miserable. At five weeks mind you! Pukey-ness shouldn't commence for another week or so, great.

The only reason I'm concerned is because I am starting my nursing school pre-reqs in a week and a half. And my ...uck...statistics class is right smack in the middle of my afternoon sicky time. 
"Excuse me professor, but please don't think it rude if I need to run out of your class at warp speed, or if there is no time, if I need to puke in the trash can, you see, I'm knocked up and crazy for starting school at the same time." Then I'll smile cutely and hope there's no puke on my face.

Am I crazy to start such a huge undertaking? Maybe. Have others before me done this? Yes, and they have lived to tell the tale, as will I.  But I'm just too hell bent to stop, before I've even started. And while
baby(ies) #2(and 3?) will put me back 1 semester, I will still have my BSN in 10 semesters. Beeotch.


Just at a time when everything should be happy, happy, joy, joy in my life my family and I have been faced with mountains of stress. Down to my Grandma's rapidly deteriorating health, to my husband and my lack of finances, to my parent's move, my family has been seriously put through he ringer. When it rains for the Drinkwine fam, it pours! Bring it...But prayers for my family right now are sorely needed, on so many levels.


I'm convinced that I'm having twins because, a) it's in both our families, b) I feel like poo so early, c) my mom has put that bad ju-ju on me from the get go and d) we are poor, so naturally I'll probably have twins. But really, it would be kinda cool.


Why do boys think it's cool to wear their jeans half way down their ass? There was this kid walking down the street today and I could see his entire ass, clad in green Hanes boxer briefs! What is possessing teenage fashion as of late? It's plain disgusting! The super skinny jeans? Those aren't flattering on anyone, especially boys. The grungy long hair? Gross! I just don't get it. Then I think back to my days in Jr high and how we wore flannel shirts with Metallica t-shirts under them, not cute at all for a girl. Fashion is weird when you are young. Heck, kids are weird at that age! I hope my kid never dresses like that, but in all reality, he probably will. But I will put my foot down on the ugly Justin Beiber hair, no way...


Potty training a boy is super hard. There is no amount of bribery that will work on this kid! I'm getting less frustrated, since we'll be changing diapers again soon regardless. I just hope it happens before he graduates. High school that is.


That is all. Tune in next week for more fun filled randomness.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

A fat lip, hormones and an assy husband. Welcome to your pregnancy!

I've been fine the last week. Just a little bloated, a little nauseated, a little tired. Then yesterday happened. It was staright up world war 3 in this house! It seems that as soon as that test said "pregnant" my husband knew that meant no sexo and completely lost his shit.  His mood swings are worse than mine! I've already been yelled at twice for not having a job in the last two days, nice guy huh?, and nothing I do seems to be good enough! Grrr! Aren't I supposed to be the pregnant one here? Not that that means I deserve any special rights or privlages but, don't most men treat thier wives like Queens when they are pregnant? Shouldn't he be all "Goddess Divine, you, most splendid creature, thank you for bearing my children!" No, I get, "Don't sit on the couch all damn day, and you'd better be in a better mood when I get home."

I'm just a tad sensitive.

And he's just a tad insensitive....But this is the man I married, for better or worse.

Married life. Yea!

Then the child and I were palying last night when he accidently head butted me in the mouth, giving me a nice fat lip, which didn't hurt that bad, but made me sob uncontrollably. Which then lead to me sobbing while I gave him a bath, which lead to me sobbing in bed while we watched Thomas the Tank Engine. Somewhere inbetween the snot, tissues and tears, my pregnancy hit me hard.  I remembered how ugly the last pregnancy was, how mean my husband was to me then and remembered why I said Ethan was going to be an only child.

It took nine months of research, experementing, and failed attempts, and the moment that I saw that test was positive, I was happier than I had been in a long time. But now I remember. And it's going to be a long 7.5 months.

Welcome to your pregnancy!

Friday, June 3, 2011


Something great has happened to me. I am beyond happy and excited about this new found "thing" in my life.  But behind this happiness is a huge and profound fear that I am going to wake up and it will simply not be true. Like it was just a dream I had.

No matter what evidence keeps revealing itself as the days go on, I simply cannot accept the fact that this is indeed happening. At every moment, I keep feeling as though the real truth is breathing down my neck.  It paralyzes the happiness I should be feeling, and leaves me feeling hollow and empty.

My husband keeps telling me that this is in fact, a reality, that this thing is happening. But I can't bring myself to believe it. And when I try, I feel like I'm just fooling myself.

You may think I'm crazy. And you may be right. I am also being vastly paranoid and delusional, I'll admit that. And there's a huge part of me that feels like all of these negative feelings are going to be projected to the universe and really ruin my reality. But I can't help it!

We worked so damned hard and we have been through so much in trying to conceive this child that I cannot believe that after 9 months of trying, it's real. It feels like a fantasy. The emotional roller coaster we've been on has lead us to be prepared for this moment.  But I had already given up hope. So what happens now? I mean, does anyone blame me for feeling this way?

But...I am pregnant. Finally. And it feels surreal, fake almost. On one hand I am over the moon, bursting with joy. And on the other, scared that it's just in my head.

Fear does funny things to people.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

8 months

Everyone keeps telling you to stop stressing. You're worrying too much about it. The reality is, I'm not. When we first started trying to conceive our second child in September/October, I was crazy obsessed, but in the following months, I relaxed. Told myself to breath, relax, it will happen in its own time. Just the same advice every other man, woman, and child was giving me. But it's been 8 months. Eight months of trying, sometimes hard, sometimes, not so hard. Eight months of planning, calculating, watching and studying my body. Eight months of failed attempts at conceiving a child. Eight months of heartbreak, each and every time "lady week" rolls around.

All the medical sites and information I've been reading says you should give it a year before seeking medical help.  That's not so far away. Does that mean that after these next four attempts we pretty much close shop and seek out alternative methods? Probably. I have mentioned before that I will not put my body through the grueling process of IVF or any weird medicines that can cause me to have 8 babies at once. Not only can we not afford it but I have principles. There are thousands of children across the world who need homes, and anyone that isn't understanding of our decision to adopt can kiss my ass. (I'm very protective of my not-quite-adopted children already!)

I'm not obsessed, I'm not going crazy trying to get knocked up, I just know in my heart of hearts that I want more from my family. I want more children, I want my son to have siblings, I want ballet recitals, and football games, I want my children to surround me at Christmas, happy and excited. And what the eff is wrong with that?  God did not intend for me to have only one child, but He may have only meant for me to give birth to one. And that's ok, I am already ready to move on in the event that we are unable. I am already making peace with my body, looking into adoption, planning ahead. Just because these past 8 months have ended in failure doesn't mean that the game is over.

I'm staring my infertility in the face and trying like hell to deal with it. But this isn't over....

Monday, May 9, 2011


Where better to go on a first-date re-do than the beach? It is my favorite place on the planet. A place that rejuvenates and relaxes my soul. 

I hadn't seen him in almost 2 years. We kept in contact, here and there, but he had changed in a way.  Since his brother had gotten married, he seemed to be doing some thinking, he was a bit lonely, like a single soul who has realized his desperate need to join to another lonely soul. Naturally, I was intrigued.

We strolled along the sand, neither of us knowing what to say. But what do you say after the last 5 years? What do you say to the man who has broken your heart a dozen times? Warm sand between our toes, I wondered where this day was going? The same as usual? We'd end up at his place, then see you in a few months the next morning? But it felt so different. Like he was changed, different, like we were going to be different.

As I was driving trough the sandy deserts back to my home in Las Vegas, I made a deal with myself. If he sent me a text message (the things 25 year old girls think of.), I'd do this, I'd go back to him, despite the heartache, despite the horrible first-date re-do where I paid for my own dinner.  I told my best friend, I prayed about it. I made myself a deal, to end this one way or another.

He never sent me that message.

That was 5 years ago this June.

This July, we'll be married for 4 years.

Funny how things work out, huh?

This was a post for the RemembeRED prompt: So this week, we want you to write about sand. Yes...sand. It doesn't have to be summer-related, but the impending summer and my proximity to Lake Michigan and it's glorious beaches are what inspired me to tell you to write about sand. So. SAND. GO.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Bitter, party of one

Hey fans, just thought I'd take a cue from my bestie Andygirl and start a random thoughts series.  Hell, there's always a ton of random bullshit floating around in the old noggin here! Might as well put it down on paper? Computer? Internet? Whatever....

I am proud to announce that after 7 days of not being able to taste a GD thing, my sense of taste has returned to normal.  I ended up getting the sickness from the child, which figures because anytime he gets sick, I get sick also. My husband hardly ever gets it, and if he does it lasts for a day or 2, jerk...But this cold started in my chest, rendering me unable to breath with out serious steroid intervention (thank the good Lord I already had all the asthma stuff) then its evil little seed moved to a nasty sinus infection rendering all of my senses dulled.  Couldn't hear worth a shit, couldn't smell, couldn't see, couldn't taste. That one was the worst.  I mean, talk about fat girl torture! You'd think that I would have lost weight during these 7 days of non-tasting, but no, I was bound and determined to try and taste anything at all possible, and it was my birthday week last week, so hell to the no was I going to sit out on a week of decadent eating! But like a nasty hang over, I can feel its effects but I can't remember shit. I blame Satan, that SOB! Who else would be behind such trickery?

As said above, since I have moved back to the good ol CA, things haven't gone so well as far as my diet program is concerned.  I had lost a total of 17 lbs when I moved and since have gained...gulp...7 back. What is it with the number 7? I have not been working out (at all) and have been behaving in the most gluttonous fashion imagined (birthday, hello!) and the results of fast food, junk, and stress have brought back 7 big ones.  Not to worry my pets, Betty is going to be working hard the next 2 weeks and you can bet your bottom dollar that those nasty 7 lbs will be gone by....(consulting calender)...May uno. Yup, we started the C25K program again today, for the third (and final) time. For those of you who don't know, I have a love, hate relationship with running. But we are currently flirting again, and I hope this evolves into a steamy affair! Grrrr!

So my sister-in-law Amy has lost 30 lbs by eating better and walking every day, and I am really jealous.  I was supposed to have lost 30 as mentioned here (for those of you behind or who just don't remember, you've a lot of reading to do huh?) by now also, but as mentioned above I failed, hard.  But I am so excited for her, she's doing awesome and has become my inspiration! She is doing things the right way and I just wanted to give her her kudos where they are due! Snaps for Amy y'all!

Operation procreation has also resumed at casa West. After taking a 3 month reprieve to lose a few lbs and move and de-stress our lives we have resumed baby making. I'm not putting any pressure (you're thinking ya right aren't you?) on it at all, since I am still trying to shed lbs, but I am taking a much different approach than before.  We tried for 4 months with no success, took a break for 3, and I will probably keep a cycle similar to that, until Dec, when if we haven't conceived yet, we look into our other options (adoption).  I will not put my body through IVF or any medication, if we can't get pregnant naturally, it's not meant to be and I'm not going to force my body to do something it's not able to do. I have a beautiful child from my own womb and that is great, and I will give him brothers and sisters any way I can! Damn it! Although I will add, if we have a girl, both my sister and my bank accounts are in trouble! Serious trouble!

Potty training at casa West is going much better TYVM! Thanks to all of my faithful readers and friends for your advice, and while we are still struggling with pooping on the potty, he's a champ now at peeing on the potty...No accidents!!!!. But he's grasping the concept better than ever before and I know in the near future there will be poop success! Can I just say, you guys rock lobster? It's because of your clever advice that we have been able to make the progress we have!

I think I have exhausted my brain for a while, now I should be able to resume normal function, temporarily...snicker...But I leave you with the family photo from my white trash b-day party, yes, this is going in the Christmas card this year...

Lord, I love my family!

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Bored Housewife

Remember when I said I wanted to be a kept woman? Well I have spent the last 3 weeks being just such. As we financially have no need for me to work until the end of next month I have been, well, taking my sweet ass time looking for a job. And I am officially bored to tears.

Now I did this when E was first born, I stayed at home for his entire first year of life and loved it. Somehow I found a way to fill my day and feel useful. Something about raising an infant takes more time than raising a toddler. The toddler is more independent, he does not require me to supervise him constantly, unlike the infant who pretty much needs constant care. However, the infant does sleep for vast parts of the day, so how did I make this work before?

Or was it that I was in my own house then, vs. living with my sister this time. The house isn't mine, I can't decorate it ( I mean, I can, my sister and I have similar tastes and she has been most gracious in letting us stay here.) I can't arrange and re-arrange furniture, etc.  Not that I did that in my own house before, but it just feels as though I have nothing to do around here.

Maybe it's just that we are making significantly less money than we were and therefore I must *gasp* conserve our precious funds.  I can't really leave the house and go out about town, because incase y'all haven't noticed, gas is M-Fing expensive! And where would I go? Because anyone who has ever had a 3 year old knows it isn't easy trudging an anxious little busy-body around the mall for hours. That's a stressful situation, and stress makes you fat! True story.

So I am left with a handful of options here; a) let the husband get a second job, therefore increasing our funds,  but minimizing our time to procreate and other, b) just have the hub get a better job in general so our funds will improve anyhow and therefore open windows of opportunity of potential outings and still leave ample time for grown up activity, or the final and most logical option for my sanity, c) I get part time work, just 3 days a week, at least until school starts this summer.

I really would like the hub to get a better job, but I need to be outside the home (for now) doing something that I feel is meaningful. It's going to take a while for me to jump through the hoops Cali has set up as far as obtaining my phlebotomy license so in the meantime I plan on throwing myself into finding something to do outside the house that warrants a paycheck until I am able to raise the funds to get my license. (We will be holding a carwash next weekend for those interested in donating) *kidding, maybe*

I don't know how or where I lost my SAHM mojo, and I really, really hope to regain some of that spark someday. Who knows, maybe after baby #2 comes along I'll want to hang up my working mommy clothes and don the super mommy cape once more. But until then look for me at your nearest retailer! Just kidding, retail, ick....

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The Tao of E's Potty Training

When he was about 15 months old, E started showing some curiosity as to what Daddy and I were doing in the bathroom, so we decided that since he was still a bit young we wouldn't "formally" start training him until he was 2. Around that time we went out browsing for the perfect potty chair for our little man. We put a lot of thought into the potty itself, not wanting it to be too busy, or else he'd only want to play with it, not do the doo, if you will.  But we also didn't want it to be too boring. So we chose one that we felt was juts right. Not too many frills, but enough dazzle to make it fun. At first, he was slightly terrified of the thing, then he began dragging it around the house, using it to watch T.V. and even sitting on it in the bathroom with us, but hes till wasn't quite ready to take the plunge.

 We went out searching for books as well, looking for any possible edge on this whole potty training thing, determined that the 3 of us were going to nail toilet training in record time. The kid loves to read and I spoil him rotten with literature (the best and only kind of spoiling a child should get IMHO!) We were pretty choosy about his books too. Some talked down to the child, telling them that we wee-wee and make poopies on the potty. No, no, no....we don't wee-wee or make poopies, we pee and poop. I could only find 2 books that weren't really ridiculous. Or were not made for girls. And he was really into the books, we used them as tools at the potty, reading them and showing him examples, and also leaving them by the potty for him to check out while he's sitting and trying to do his thing. At first he seemed to be pretty much on board. At first...

For a while E was regularly sitting on the potty and going pee, when we put him on the potty anyhow.  He never took the initiative, but we figured it was part of the learning process, having never done this before. Then we upped the anty, and made a huge potty chart including multiple kinds of reward stickers for various behaviors, (small stickers for sitting on the potty, big stickers for peeing, and a huge fanfare with confetti and balloons for a poop) **kidding on that last part! Little man seemed to be cool with this as well, but still, it was us pushing him to sit on the potty, us asking him if he wanted to earn a sticker, ect.

Pretty soon we started trying a different method, not getting the immediate results we wanted. We put the kid in big boy undies and put him on the pot every few mins.  This resulted in a lot of pee and poop messes. The boy could have cared less if he was sitting in his own piss and shit, he just kept on playing.  Several people, including my mom, told me that boys were just harder to potty train. But at this point it was getting exhausting! Not long after the underwear trick, he started refusing. Refusing to wear the underwear, refusing to sit on the potty, nothing. We hit a wall. Since he enjoyed being naked, we would just leave him Peter Pants-less, figuring, maybe being naked would prompt him to go sit on the potty.  That was short lived as the mess left behind was, as I'm sure you can imagine, horrible.

So here we are approaching the child's 3rd b-day and potty training was pretty much at a stand still.  Every once and a while the exhausted potty training duo (the Hub and I ) would bribe the boy to pee on the potty with candy, the boy's favorite thing, and something that is pretty much forbidden in casa West. But those attempts never got very far, so we quit. Obviously, he just wasn't ready. We will wait until after his 3rd birthday and try again.





He just turned 3 last month, for those readers who are a tid bit behind, and we have just recently resumed potty training. And guess what... We are getting the same results as before. We skipped all the other bull shit and went straight to bribing the little non-conformist right off the bat. And so far, I've had to throw away a pair of pants because senor pooped in them and decided he didn't like that and tried to remove the poop himself (being a parent is soooo glamorous isn't it?) We have been at it for...3 days and I AM READY TO QUIT! There have been more tears shed in the last 3 days than all the other attempts at potty training total, most of them mine. I'm guessing that we won't be sending him off to Harvard in pull-ups but damn! This potty training business is certainly not for the weak at heart! I've truly spent a fortune on pull ups and and really ready to say the hell with it, but we live with my sister, and while I know she's not keeping the carpet, I'm pretty sure she doesn't want her nephew pissing and shitting all over it.

So I guess the moral of this tale is...HELP! Anyone have any pointers, advice, words of wisdom, encouragement, or horror stories (preferably with a happy ending) to share with me? Because this momma is throwing the towel in on potty training!!!!

Friday, April 1, 2011


I didn't want stitches. I had seen my little brother get them several times. It didn't look pretty, or fun.  So I sat in the doctors office screaming bloody murder that I. Would. Not. Have. Stitches.

The way I remember it, we were lining up to go to recess. The front of the room was lined with counters, flanking the door in and out of the classroom. I was proudly named line leader for the day, which when in kindergarten, is kind of  a big deal.  We were getting settled in line when things in the back got rowdy. Like a row of dominoes, each child pushed the one in front, until it hit the line leader. I was pushed and knocked off balance by Tony Henry, and splat, my forehead was introduced in the most  personal way to the corner of the counter. That place were the two counter ends meet forming a cruel sharp point kissed my head causing the flesh to split open.  Kindergartners do not deal well with blood, and there was plenty of the bright red stuff all over.  The children erupted in more chaos, I was screaming and crying bloody murder, and poor Mrs. Lazane was left to clean up and calm a class of about 25 five year olds and take me to the school nurse.

I was so glad to see my mom. I cried and pleaded that I didn't want stitches.Please no stitches. But she said that I might need them, and that David has had them 2 times already, and he is just fine. The attemted reassurance did little to abate my profound fear.

 After his examination of me, the doctor said I may indeed need stitches. I protested, vehemently. Crying and wailing and behaving in the most absured mannor. (The kind of thing I hate for my young patients to do today) I ended up with several butterfly band-aids under a larger band-aid.  No stitches.  Just a scar that is still visible nearly 25 years after the incident occurred. And the most vivid memory I have of my time in kindergarten. Not the play-doh, not the milk and graham crackers for snack, not my first kiss with a boy named Justin. Just the ugly scar I still carry today. I guess some of the scars of our childhood are worn on the outside as well as the inside.

This was a post for the RemembeRED prompt: Remember kindergarten. If, after thinking about it for a while, you can't recall anything, move on to first grade. Mine your memories and write about the earliest grade you can recall. What was special? What was ordinary? What did you feel? Hear? See? Smell?

Sunday, March 27, 2011

He's gonna kill me

The boy is at his first NASCAR race today. Grandma Jo took him for the weekend so the hub and I could have a little alone time. Which just ended up in us having a nice dinner for two, and that's about it. (We're such exciting people.)

I know the kid is going to love this NASCAR stuff, not because white trash is in his blood, because he loves this adventurous stuff.  And because anything dangerous scares the shit out of me.  The first thing he ever sat and paid attention to on the TV wasn't Elmo or Mickey Mouse, it was NASCAR.  He sat there, at about 6 months old, glued to the TV as if the races were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen in 6 short months of his life.  His favorite movie is Disney's Cars, his room, decked out in Cars stuff, he owns and plays with tons of cars. He still loves watching NASCAR on TV. He likes to get down to the core of things, to see how things work, take apart and fix things. He also likes to go fast, he likes to push it to the limits, he is fearless.  He is going to be a NASCAR driver. And I will probably die of a heart attack because I will be afraid for him. 

I try really hard not to be one of those mom's who never lets her kid do anything because she's afraid. I want my kid to have every experience he wants, to taste all of the sweet juices that life's cup offers him.  But it comes at a price to me. Every time he gets too close to the edge, every time I feel that their is the potential for danger, I'll want to jump in and protect him.  But he needs to learn, and fall, and get hurt in order to grow and learn.  So while he takes his lumps in life I'll sit back and hate every minuet of it.  I'll die a little inside when things don't go well for him, but he will jump up and brush himself off and keep going, just like he has done from the very beginning. And someday this boy's sense of adventure is going to kill his poor, frail, play-it-safe momma!

Wednesday, March 16, 2011


March 18th 2008. I never got to go into labor. You started to lose oxygen and had to be cut out of me. I didn't get to hold you right away. In fact it was a few hours later. But I already knew how much I loved you.

We had been through a lot in those 9 months.  Trip to the ER, a move, you wanting Mc Donalds sausage mcmuffins with egg all the time...(maybe that was me...) You kicked me constantly, got the most annoying hiccups sometimes as much as 7 times a day, and made my life miserable during your "incubation" phase.  But I still knew how much I loved you.

You changed my world for the better. Even though you are truly a little devil, you are also mommy's angel. My purpose in life had changed, it was no longer about me or about Daddy. Everything I've done, no matter how unpleasant, has been for your benefit. There were weeks when it was so rough dad and I were eating nothing but top ramen so you could eat the good stuff.  There will never be a day where you go hungry, where you ever feel or notice the struggle that Dad and I face sometimes.  I'll do everything I can to make sure you have everything you need. Always. I would walk through the fires of hell for you child. I hope you know that.

I was so happy on your 1st birthday. My baby growing up! I was so excited to see all the new things you'd be learning and exploring. All sorts of new possibilities opening up for you everyday. Then that year flew by and you turned 2.

Your little personality made a huge appearance and caused my world chaos.  I cried the day 2 rolled around, now it's going by too fast. I want time to slow down, to savor the sweetness of your last days in baby-hood. To hold you too tightly and not want to let go, but to also learn to let you grow up and let you learn on your own. You are so my child in looks as well as mannerisms. You can make my life so rough some days, but everyday you make my life worth living!

And now, 3. Ya, I'm still crying. The last traces of baby are gone. You are a little boy. A little boy who loves cars and trains and cuddles with mommy under the covers. Who giggles at farts, who loves ghost movies and shows, who only wants to eat junk food despite mom's best efforts, who also loves video games despite mom's best efforts.  A little boy with a sense of adventure, who isn't afraid of anything (mom has enough fear for two anyhow) who will try it all once, maybe even twice (unless it's vegetables!) You are all things wonderful and all things fiery, feisty and full of life. Hot tempered, a bit spoiled, and 100% lovable. I love you little man. And even though it's so hard to let go of my baby, I am looking forward to the time I have with this wonderful little boy. Je t'aime toujours mon petite. Tu est mon reason d'existance, variment. *

*hopefully the French is correct, I mean it's been years. I speak French way better than I spell French...

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

HCG diet week 2

Well, I survived week 1, barley....  7lbs down,  11 total, so 19 to get to my first goal of losing 30  by 30.  It was rough, with ups and downs, mostly downs. So far I consider this fat kid torture, but it has been very effective.

Day 8:  I was super bummed, almost depressed yesterday because I only lost a few ounces. When I stepped on the scale today I was expecting another low blow to find that I had lost another pound and a half! I kept telling myself if I was still stuck I was going to try the "cheat meal" method to get me unstuck. I still am considering cheating because I really want a fucking bowl of fruit loops man. Damn that tempting son of a bitch Tucan Sam! I still don't feel hungry per say, but craving everything like a mother trucker.  18 more days of detoxing :( Will I make it? Stay tuned!

Day 9: Gained a pound. W.T.F...How exactly does one gain a pound by eating 500 calories? Hmmm? So I had a "cheat meal" for breakfast.. A small bowl of fruit loops (oh it was soooo good!) and some coffee...with cream...dun dun dun...This freaking diet is working my patience.  And while I want to quit, I won't because it's been super effective thus far. I guess week 2 is just going to be riddled with ups and downs as I try to experiment and try different things.  I am going for a nice walk today to help burn off some extra calories (and steam) and the rest of my meals today will be back to normal.  I was so excited to see if I had broken through another milestone today, 2 more lbs (now 3 grrr) and I'll be out of the 210's.  Now I hate posting my actual weight on here, because, well, who would? But I am excited about the prospect of breaking through the 10's where I have been stuck for 3 years. Only to have it dangled in front of my nose like a cupcake on a string then snatched away from me because I'm trying to tweak this or that with my diet to satisfy both myself and the diet's requirements. Today, I hate this diet.  Tomorrow, we may be friends again...maybe...

Day10: I seriously picked the worst time to diet. We're in the middle of packing up and moving so the house is in complete disarray and my nerves are shot already. All I want is to eat but I'm stuck on the good ol diet....Good thing I lost that pound I gained or I'd have been pissed! Maybe walking can wait a bit, cuz honestly, I haven't been doing it...This shit is hard...seriously!

Day 11: Scale didn't that's how this week is going to be huh? You're a dirty, dirty whore HCG...Oh and since we're being honest here, lemme tell you about another unpleasant effect of this diet...Since you aren't eating as much crap, you don't crap. I've taken the suggested fiber and still, nothing, so guess what that means? Laxatives and enemas! Yea! You guys are all lining up to buy this stuff now right?
14 days to go...

Day 12: Yesterday, as suggested to break through a plateau, I ate apples. Yes, Just apples. I wasn't hungry so I didn't eat the recommended 6, just 2. I did not lose anything. Stuck, regardless of the fact that I had 2 apples to eat ALL DAY. If I don't move beyond this point I will be discontinuing this diet as of Tuesday. I can probably do better now with out these stupid drops. All it's doing is causing trouble. Sure it worked really well the first week, but this week has been literal torture. At this point I don't recommend this stuff to anyone. I hate this damned diet....

Day 13: So I super cheated yesterday...I ate fried chicken and mac salad for lunch, went to a chili and dessert cook off at my mom's church and sampled some of the fare, I bought my hubby a birthday cake and had a slice, and I bought a ton of girl scout cookies (for after the diet) and ate 3. But I needed it after this crappy diet week.  It was soooo good. And unless my sister's scale is broken, I didn't gain anything! So today I'm back on the diet, but feeling re-charged and ready for a new week, with a few revisions, and I WILL add walking and yoga! Getting on the treadmill now...

Day 14: I did get on the treadmill btw...But ate dinner at Red Robin since today was the hub's birthday, followed by cake, and ice cream....I was a bad girl, and I gained 2 pounds, but you know what? It was so worth it! I'm telling you, eating normal food has never tasted soooo good!

So my 2 pounds lost this week were re-gained, but it was bliss after the week of hell I've had with this diet. Weight loss total is the same as last week, but back on the diet with a few modifications (for future survival purposes....) next week!

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

HCG diet diary week 1

I wanted to post my progress, or not, on this new diet thing I'm trying because I know many of you , like me, are trying to do a ton of stuff to get healthy (total euphemism for getting un-fat) and really want something that works! So I am your official Guinea pig/lab rat.  And if it works, I want you all to know too!

Week 1:

The first two days of the diet are "loading" days in which you begin to take the drops and load up on fatty food to create a fat store for the remaining  "fast/detox" days.  I wasn't sure about this but on a scientific note it seems that it makes sense. So I've been eating a ton of crap, which isn't hard to do if you are heavy like me, since eating that way is what gets you into trouble in the first place.  The diet specifies that you load up on high fat foods, not just junk food so we have had doughnuts (which I never eat because while they taste sooo good, they are sooo bad!) cheeseburgers, pizza in day one and mcdonald's b-fast, and mexican food on day two. My hubby is in heaven right now, tomorrow, he's in for a rude awakening!

Day 1: I was in heaven, seriously love to eat and I love to eat crap so this was totally fine for me.  The plan says that since you are taking the drops while loading you may get full or not feel like eating. Me: ya fucking right!.....
Day 2: Ok win... it is so hard to eat today!! I am feeling all crappy, bloated and ...NOT hungry! So I am forcing myself to eat all this crap, and in turn am not feeling well about it.  My tummy hurts and I am sooo tired I never want to eat crap again.  I am actually looking forward to not eating crap tomorrow! Maybe this will cure me??? Kind of like your parents catching you smoking and making you smoke a whole pack or having a nasty hang over after a night of drinking, I'm dunzo with all this to stuff my face with dinner...
Day 3: First day of restricted eating, and by restricted I mean 500 calories per DAY of veggies, some fruits and lean protein only.  (No dairy, sugar, etc...fucking rough!) Now I'm sure like me, most of you are thinking 500 cals a day is a) not healthy and b) eating 500 cals with out the drops will make you lose weight too, so I'll explain how it works: HCG is the hormone found in pregnant women, when the brain thinks it's pregnant and you are not eating enough food to keep the "baby" healthy it starts burning off and using the fat stored in the body, not the muscle.  The hormone allows you to eat a low calorie diet and not have the nasty side effects of  well, starving yourself by eating only 500 calories. So back to day one of restricted calories, this diet is NOT for the feint at heart! My daily food was as follows: Oatmeal, tea, a packet of 90 cal turkey meat and a chicken breast with tomatoes. Not fun, not tasty, and I was not hungry per say, but my fat ass wanted to eat waaaaay more! So I was miserable.
Day 4: stepped on the scale skeptical as hell, but dropped 3 lbs. In. One. Day. Ate pretty much the same shit I had yesterday but feeling a bit hungry, added 3 rice cake snacks. I'm feeling the same, not necessarily hungry, but my inner fat girl wants me to totally face fuck a chocolate bar or 12 right now. Other wise, I feel fine, normal, even a little bit energetic?
Day 5: Work day. Still super sketchy, stepped on the scale and lost another 2 lbs. This shit seems to be working. Today after my breakfast and tea I felt ....full! Weird...Lunch was a half can of minestrone, some cucumbers and 5 strawberries, felt full again. Didn't sleep well last night but by hour 12 at work I was singing to the 80's on pandora and dancing around the lab...Weird...chicken for dinner again.
Day 6: Another 2 lbs. I am officially at the lightest weight I've ever been since before E was born. I am still waiting for the weight to stop. But 7 lbs in 4 days? I am going to start walking today and see if this energy lasts.  Might as well speed things up a bit right? The program states you do not have to work out, but low impact stuff (walking, yoga) should be fine. I have to admit, there's a part of me that is a little scared of losing weight. I've been this way for so long now, I kind of identify myself with it, or hide behind it, and now that I am actually accomplishing this life long goal I feel a bit...mournful? Perhaps why I've been so unsuccessful in the past?
Day 7: I have to admit that every morning I step on that scale I am ready for the scale to go up or to have not moved at all.  This morning it only moved a smidge.  Just 6 oz.  Which is still a move in the right direction but I'll admit that it was a tiny bit disheartening since every other day I've lost around 2 lbs. But I think I may have eaten a bit more yesterday, not because I wanted to , but because I had prepared extra food the night before and ate 2 prepared meals when I generally have only 1. *Note to self,will NOT do that again...

So for my first week I have lost a grand total of 7 lbs, with a combined total of 11 lbs from my 30 by 30 work last month,  I will begin adding walking and yoga to this week's regime, still feeling pretty good except for a little meltdown yesterday when I learned that the hubby snuck  two pieces of chocolate cake (from work) into our fridge.  I opened the box and immediately started crying, because dammit I wanted that shit bad! Then he threw them in the trash which produced and even bigger water works on my behalf. God I hate wasting food! Especially delicious chocolate cake! He had no idea until that moment how difficult this is for me, and I think neither did I. But, it's working, I feel good-ish, not hungry, not tired, just a little grumpy that the inner fat chick isn't going down without a fight!

Thursday, February 10, 2011

it's like parting with a member of the family...

Max is gone.

For those of you who didn't know him, he was beautiful. Fast, sexy, fun, sexy...

He was my baby. The first thing I worked so.freaking.hard to get!

right after I bought him <3

When I was younger, my aunt had a gorgeous red 95' mustang that I loooooved! I wanted that car B.A.D!! So I set my little 14 year old heart on someday having a Mustang of my own. 

When Ford re-made the Mustang body type to look more like the classic version, I nearly lost my shit. I was instantly in love. I built my dream car from the frame up, found a dealer with one and did it. I bought myself my dream car. It was the single worst car buying experience I've ever had, and that should have been the first sign of our tumultuous relationship.

In the first year if having Maximus,  I replaced 3 tires and the entire front passenger wheel, broke off and replaced the passenger side mirror, got a crack in the windshield, broke the knob off the passenger seat, and had to have the alarm and stereo fixed.

In the remaining years together I had a tire slashed, hit a pole, had someone hit the car and had the entire bumper replaced, replaced the same light bulb on the passenger side brake light twice in a year (dammed passenger side), tore a serpentine belt, and wore the brakes down and broke the knob off the drivers side seat. I've had it for 6 years, it has less than 52,000 miles on it. When we took it in for a recall a few weeks ago, they did a check on the entire vehicle, the total cost of repairs to various belts, fluids and general shit totaled around $1600.

Clearly getting him off our hands was a good thing with all of the above, and  you really cannot fit a car seat in that thing and be comfortable.  But I still loved him so dang much you would have thought my husband had died the way I cried over him. In his earlier days, he and I had adventures together. Got picked up by random dudes at the  gas station, drove way too fast on the freeway and never got caught, he growled when you revved his engine and I loved it! I had a car that made me feel alive, feisty and way hot. He was my status symbol, he made me feel kinda like one of the guys, an appreciator of fine auto, made me feel better than most chicks driving around in their Civic's and Toyota's.

*sniff* Us on a night out in town *sniff* :( ...

But now, we need something way more practical. Something way more reliable, and something way more accommodating to our family (i.e. a four door) so he had to go. It was the best option for us both.  Someone will take way better care of him than me, someone else will love him, and feel like hot shit in him. And we will go on in our new family car with better gas mileage. But I will always remember my first Mustang...
and I am looking forward to the day I can get my hands on my next muscle car...

you will be mine, oh yes, you will be mine!
hubby promised!

                                                              Maximus 2006-2011
                                                          fare thee well my beloved...

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The ace in the hole

Abut a month ago I set out on this not so impossible task. To lose 30 lbs by my 30th birthday.  I figured 10 lbs a month, that's reasonable? What I didn't plan on was how difficult it would be.  How my dead-on-arrival metabolism would make it very difficult to lose weight even when burning max calories and following a low cal diet plan.  True I don't restrict myself, a diet with restrictions will only cause me to fail, but I am limiting myself.  I was able to quickly lose 8 lbs in about 2 weeks, but after a few events (my sister's b-day and a week of inactivity due to illness) caused me to gain 4 back.  My body won't even let me have a little wiggle room. So not fair. 

Since then I've been battling back, lost 2 of the 4 I gained for a total of 6 lbs this (not quite) month.  Trying to re-gain my motivation to work out while working an erratic schedule at the hospital and  preparing for and arranging a move has been rough, no lie.  The time that I actually have at home I feel that I have so much to do and so little time to do it! What's a fat girl to do?!

I have been unsuccessful time and time again with getting over this initial hump. It is my Achilles's heel.  Always losing and gaining back the same 10lbs over and over for the past 3 years, and even before that, always the same 10-15 lbs over and over.

Instead of looking at another attempt that has ended in failure I looked into other options. Starving myself is not going to work, because hello? I love food! Working out 6 hours a day not feesable when I am the bread winner in this family.  Seriously hate throwing up, so bulimia is out. Surgery is cheating, and there is no magic pill that will allow you to eat whatever you want and not work out and lose weight anyhow. But  I  think I found an ace in the hole. I'm trying something new, I found something that I think is really going to help (not cure, not fix, not do the work for me mind  It's not entirely one of those quick fix things, it's going to require a shit ton of effort and self control on my behalf. But it's a six week program that promises results or...wait for it...your money back guaranteed!! Trust me, I'm super skeptical already.

I won't go into details about it here until I know that it is going to work.  And if it does? I promise I will share this info with you.  Because we could all use an ace in the hole every now and then right?

Thursday, February 3, 2011

On why I'll never be a kept woman.

My only ambition in life is to be a "kept" woman.  To stay at home with the kids, have dinner on the table for my family when my husband gets home from work (ok, so I just set women back about 50 years, but dammit it's my right to want to be a housewife!), care for my children, ect... I mean I pretty much already do all of this, I just have to work in between. And that part sucks.  While I'm whiling away at work, listening to patients complain about their health, about why they have to have so much blood drawn, about the hospital food, and such, my mind is busy thinking of the many things that needed to be done around the house today and that after my 12 hour shift I will not have the energy to get that stuff done.  Oh the woe's of my life. 

I had a taste of the housewife lifestyle. I was lucky enough to have been able to stay at home the entire first year of my son's life. At first I thought I would go crazy, being the girl who once worked two jobs and went to school full time just to keep myself occupied, but indeed I settled comfortably into  the housewife role.  I busied  about my home everyday, (being anal and having OCD surely helped with this)  and had time to attend to any errands such as the post office and grocery store all at my leisure. It was a taste of something good, and I have been craving it ever since.

But fate would have other plans. My husband lost his great job with awesome government benefits, and we had an infant to care for. So this super mom sprung to action, doing whatever it took to care for her family. And since then I have been like the female lion, caring for and supporting my family. Going out and putting in long hours hunting, bringing the latest kill home for the cub and the lazy male lion to enjoy. (Am I resentful much?) But this is what needed to be done.  My parents did not raise me to be helpless, nor to ever depend on others to care for me. And now the lazy male lion is in school, almost done with his AA, but that doesn't mean this lioness gets a reprieve.  No, because I want what every mom wants, and that is the best opportunity for her children.

Having dabbled in the world of education I have seen how downhill public schools have gone, how simple values have been lost, how the government brushes education under the rug and cuts from that budget constantly.  My youngest brother-in-law is a product of private education, the kid is a genius, excellent grades in school, and a full ride to Notre Dame, along with his girlfriend and two of his friends. Now how often does that happen? You get to go to an Ivy league college, far away with three people you've known since grade school? Freaking sweet. In society today, education is kind of "you get what you pay for".  Now, please don't misinterpret, I and several of my wonderful friends, are all products of public education, and my sister is a teacher at our Alma Mater. But I want what's best for my son, meaning, Ivy league colleges in the future (should that be his choice) just like my parents wanted my life to be better than theirs by offering me the best of what they could.

Now, my working to put the kiddo's through private school isn't the only reason I'll never be a kept woman. I have taste, and I like the nicer things in life. Try as I may to be humble, I am a princess.  I have an eye for quality.  My mother taught us to be thrifty, to look at the price per ounce of things, for what would be the better bargain, and I am a damn thrifty shopper, but I buy name brand when I know the quality and taste is better.  I like expensive restaurants, rarely eat fast food (if we eat out, it better be at a sit down) and love entertainment such as going to see off-Broadway shows, vacations, and museums, things that enrich the mind and bring culture to a dry palate. I'm not even sure where any of this came from seeing as my parents are both pretty humble.

All of these things would be possible, with limits if we were a single income family.  My husband's BA in computer networking will be able to afford us nice things.  But I also want the comfort of having a little extra, and that means somethings must be sacrificed in the name of good living.  My freedom of domestic bliss. Sure in a couple months I'll get a taste of that freedom again, but it will come with a heavy price, and it won't last long. I must admit that I am a bit jealous of all of you who can stay at home!  So maybe someone should just discover my clever writing and pay me to stay at home and write a book or something...That way I can have the best of both worlds?

Hey, a girl can dream right?

Thursday, January 27, 2011


We are moving. Again. This will be my 16th move in my 30 years of life. The majority of those moves have been in the past 6 years.

I cannot stay still. I'm like those people you see that are always moving their bodies, only I have to re-locate my life. My soul is never content on staying in one place, so once the wind starts blowing my way I look on to what's next for me, or more recently, us.

I am certian I know when it started. You see, in high school I dated a boy who's family would always go on the awesome vacations, and during the almost two years we dated I go to tag along. I went places that were breath taking an awe inspiring to me. Thus a love of travel blossomed after our puppy love died out. My family never really vacationed. We went on endless trips to Disneyland, and we still do, and one trip up the coast of Cali when we were all older. Not sure why.

I started traveling when I was in 18. I lived in Montana for a month, drank up the big sky country with arms open, but the timing in my life was wrong and I didn't get as much out of the experience as I should have. (This was right after the puppy love ended mind you.) Then it was New York city. I was so far away from home, and it was so new and exciting to me. I wanted to move out there as soon as I got home. Then I went on my first cruise to Baja.

After this I started moving, no where really exciting, out of my parents house at 19, out of Cali at 24. But nothing ever feels right. No matter how many times I move after a while, I start to get that itch. I've always wanted more, not to be one who settles in one spot until they die, I feel the need to see, taste, and touch everything life has to offer.  I feel like I'm missing something, like I haven't found my "home" yet. 

Luckily, my husband is patient. He knows it will probably be a very long time until he gets to buy a house, we tried once, but my fear of commitment ultimately got in the way.  I just want to feel like I can go whenever we want, once a lease is up we can change things, be they across town or to a new state. He reluctantly has agreed to move to Oregon, (Possibly that is, part of why we are taking a big va-cay there this summer, a scouting trip I call it)  and has even pacified my wanderlust  at times by promising to retire in a foreign country one day.  Truth is, my husband has seen and experienced things he never imagined with me as his wife.  I think he kind of likes my spontaneity, it gives him something he never had. Before me he had hardly been out of the state of California, now he's spent 2 years of his life experiencing Nevada, and he's also sunned on the beaches of Hawaii, and will soon parade the streets of PDX and SFC. And my son, will be the most well traveled kid around, he will be like the ex boy-friend of mine. Winters in Hawaii, summers in Europe, trips here and there. He will have what I've dreamed and longed for, stamps on his passport.

I may never feel satisfied. I told my husband I'll settle eventually, but I'll need to travel. My soul is just too restless. The world is a big place, with many corners to explore and I want to see them all. But for now we go back to safety, back to our roots, back to the only place that's felt close to "home", until that darned wind starts to blow again...