pregnant people are supposed to like pickles

We went to the OC fair/swap meet awesomeness while we were visiting California this past weekend. 

I had never been before and was amazed by the thousands of trinkets and gadgets and clothes and dog leashes and kitchen utensils. Avery got a gigantic ice cream cone, a lemonade with too much sugar, and some kettle corn; I got nothing;  and my husband, who is not a fan of spending money on "unnecessary" things ("unnecessary" in quotations because you never know when your dog might need a khaki baseball cap), bypassed all of the nifty fishing lures and designer impostor colognes and walked out with exactly what he wanted and nothing more. 

We spent a couple hours sifting through all of the "As seen on TV" type paraphernalia, made fun of weird people, then we hauled our purchases back to our car and I snapped a picture. What did my picky husband walk out with, you ask?

Picky husband picked a pair of pickled pickles. 

That's right, out of the the uncountable number of possible items we could have brought home and thrown out 6 months later, we walked out with two pickles.

They were pretty good though, I have to admit, and I'm not just saying that because pregnant people are supposed to like pickles, they really were delish.

Oh, and Ave brought home a couple kernels of  kettle corn. I mean, she didn't know they were stuck to her butt, but they made it to the parking lot regardless.

I love my family. They are funny even when they aren't trying to be. 

Weekend Photossszzz

Troy: "You wanna go find a new bed for Avery?"

Sofia: "Yeah, thats a good idea, we're going to need to put the crib back together for the new baby and move it into his room."

A couple hours later, we are the proud new owners of the biggest most awesome couch ever.

We bought a couch about a year and a half ago. We also had four dogs at that time. It was literally destroyed the first time we left the house, our youngest dog chewed a hole in the side of it within 2 hours. It was awesome.

Needless to say, we now have two dogs and our couch looks like this when we aren't sitting on it. 

(Aerial view)

Yup. Those are three sheets, and aluminum foil covering our new beautiful couch. Notice disgruntled boston terrier sleeping on HIS BED (!!!) in the corner.

We've had some good times on the couch already. Troy took a three hour nap on it yesterday before his soccer game, and Nakie Avery got pissed because she couldn't watch Yo Gabba Gabba on the laptop while Daddy was chillaxing:

And I've discovered I love absolutely everything about my iPhone 4, except that it makes Avery look like she's wearing lipstick. Ironically I took this picture, because I put CLEAR lipgloss on her, but iPhone had fancier intentions.

I also learned that Avery is not quite ready to walk around the house and successfully feed herself chocolate pudding. 

Oh, and you want a picture of big mama at 22 weeks? I posted this on my facebook, but I'll put it on here too...

I didn't think I gained that much weight, until last night when my husband woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me he couldn't sleep because I was snoring so loud and could I please turn on my side. 

This is a trademark problem of a fat person. 

I wish I could write more, but Avery is destroying every part of the house right now. BYE

Don't be my friend, I'm weird.

With a little help from a conversation with my Dad, I have realized that being a stay-at-home mom has made me entirely socially awkward. Like, complete with social anxiety and stuttering and painful shyness all while being completely devoid of conversational strategy. 

I was at Gymboree (the play gym, not the store) and a young mom (like me) came up to talk to me. I've seen her before here, but have never talked to her. Gymboree; my brilliant idea for meeting loads of young moms to hang out with. Yeah. 

Friendly Normal Mom: "Hey! How's your pregnancy going?"

I say: "Good."

I think: "Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

What do I say now? I should ask a question.

 I. have. nothing. to. say. 

Blankness.

Bye bye new friend opportunity."

Then, I make a face to the normal human being in front of me that says, "I'm sorry" without me saying it out loud, and walk to the opposite side of the play gym, absolutely mortified.

This seems to be happening a lot lately. Sure, it could have something to do with the notion that I've gotten 3 hours of sleep in the last month (thank you 2 year molars that haven't even broken skin yet) but I can't figure out how to engage strangers, or even friends I've had for YEARS in interesting, easy-going conversation. I have entirely forgotten how to relate to anyone who doesn't crap her diaper or have a tantrum in Albertson's. And, shit, let's be honest, I can't relate to her in conversation anymore than I could successfully chat up a toaster. 

Have any other stay at home moms gone through this?!

i'm scared.

 20 weeks 4 days pregnant today. 

Yeah, I wear tye dye to the gym... what are you going to do about it?! 

So. That means I'm more than half way through my pregnancy. Which means I'm less than 5 months away from having another kid. 19 1/2 weeks away to be exact. 

 I am beyond stoked to go through the baby phase again. Truly. Can't wait for baby kisses and toothless smiles and fat baby rolls. 

But, so many worries keep streaming through my head. What if this baby has colic til he's 13? What if he's allergic to oxygen? What if he's allergic to me? What if he has 7 rows of teeth like a shark and doesn't stop teething until he graduates from college? What if the kid hates me? What if he doesn't look like Troy at all and everyone thinks I had an affair? What if Avery hates the baby? What if I get so overwhelmed with a toddler and a newborn that I jump out the window and break my legs and then can't care for either of them? What if Avery drags him through the doggie door and he gets stuck?

(reinactment of last example of stress-induced negativity)

(Calm down, that's not a real baby)

Everything will be fine. I can do this. Can I? I'm scared.

At least we're making progress with pacifier weaning.

Nevermind.

Have a great weekend! 

Leave me a comment about how easy it is to have a newborn and a toddler. Please? Lie to me.

Kthanx.

Taco Pie Crapola

When I was growing up, my mom used to make a killer Mexican chili and referred to it as "taco pie crapola". I never understood why anyone would want to associate something so delicious with something so repulsive, but that's just how it was, so that's what we called it.

We had some friends over on Wednesday to watch Big Brother  to have dinner, so I decided to make afore-mentioned chili. So off to the grocery store baby girl and I went to gather the ingredients.

I used to love going to the store with Avery. It was my relaxation time. Time to get my bored child out of the house, not to mention she would behave so well in response to the pretty lights and overwhelmingness of the rows of food. People would comment on my adorable tot and I would stroll slowly and comfortably through the aisles, in an attempt to prolong my grocery vacation.

Unfortunately, like all other unenjoyable eras o' Avery, they end without warning. Now, the store scares me. Before we head out, I have to mentally brace myself for the possibility, and frankly, definite likelihood of multiple tantrums in response to shopping cart buckle confinement. I have to prepare to accept that she will demand a CARt, not like she sits in it, but, rather, will noisily bounce in and out while snatching bananas and cookies and english muffins, while I ram the ginormous germ-mobile into displays of soup. I know that she will want 400 plastic produce bags and she will want them over her head. There will be a lot of stress and embarrassment and a lot of me crying in my car after the last of my strength has been depleted by trying to force a kid who is stronger than me to sit in a car seat when she wants to sit in the driver's seat and pretend to drive home. Then she will yell for daddy when strap her in (hate that part the most). 

I digress. This particular time at the store, I pumped myself up for the trip, and even convinced myself that my positive attitude would result in a positive experience. So I got there, chased Avery through the aisles, fought (and lost) Avery for possession of an onion, and finally, FINALLY, dragged her to the checkout. I decided it was necessary for Avery to sit in the cart at this point because I needed her to be still while I fumbled through my purse to try to find the debit card I can never find to pay for groceries. And, to my surprise, she was completely still and limp as I picked her up. I grabbed her from underneath to sit her down in the cart, and realized her butt was soaked. This is the point when panic began to set in. "Not possible," I thought as I reminisced about how I had JUST changed her diaper before the outing. 

This is the moment, I'm sure, when my face drained of color and my eyes bulged, and I decided to wave my dampened hand in front of my nose just in case, "worse case scenario" had actually just happened.

Yup. Diarrhea.

Everywhere. All over me. All over Avery. All over shopping cart.

I forced myself into actress mode, smiled at the check out, asked a question about a discontinued product and calmly paid for my groceries with my good hand, while I hid my poo-covered hand behind my back, and casually got the eff out of there.

"Don't look back, don't look up, keep moving," I said to myself over and over as I wheeled my crap-soaked self and child to my car. 

I opened the truck of my car and a very kind, oblivious worker spotted the pregnant hot mess with a toddler unloading her groceries and probably thought to himself, "gee golly, she looks like she could use some help." Which, on any other day, would have been lovely, but, today, I happened to be covered in shit. The terror on my face when he came to help must have forced him to assume I was hiding a dead body in my car, if the smell already hadn't. I wide-eyed and silently pointed to the heaviest object for him to heave into the back, in an attempt to keep him busy the longest while I picked up Avery in the most awkward way a baby has ever been picked up, and walked backwards to her car seat, which also looked bizarre. Poor guy must have thought I was nuts.

Freaked out grocery boy left, we booked it home, I cleaned off the kid and myself, and made the chili, in the process giving "taco pie crapola" a whole new meaning. 

It will just never be the same. 

Anyway, I better include a picture in case I haven't lost you all already. 

Here is how pacifier weaning is going:

ugh.

evil song wizard

hello?

where am i?

sooooo... I'm kiiinda embarrassed about my month-long blog hiatus. Ehh, not really because I'm tired and just about 5 months pregnant and have NO TIME. Pretty stellar excuses if you ask me.

I am truly amazed by the lady bloggy mom who has time to blog regularly and zone out the toddler who is whining and demanding toys and juice and num-nums all while tugging on mommy's clothes. I mean, either you're an amazing multi-tasker, or you need to pay attention to your kid(s) because he's probably choking on a penny right now. Just sayin'.

Boy oh boy, isn't it impossible to be a good mom when you're tired and emotionally exhausted? After I VERY unwillingly woke up before 6am today for the 500th time in a row today (that number is about right), I said outloud, "I JUST WANT TO DO WHAT I WANT TO DO! RRRRRR!" to which Troy called from his office, "you sound like a man when you growl like that, aaaaand it's gross," which made me madder, of course.

Sometimes I feel like a great mom to Avery, sometimes I doubt myself, and every once in a while, every part of my being wants to be left alone. Like, by everyone. I want to just go somewhere and turn my mind and body off. 

On a side note, Avery just spilled an entire cup of milk on the chair and floor while "Don't bite your friends" is blaring on Yo Gabba Gabba in the background, which might be the most annoying song ever invented. I'm positive the person who wrote that song is an evil wizard who concocted the song in such a way to tangle itself in your brain so you'll have the song stuck in your head for weeks at a time. Asshole. 

 This is a potential "every once in a while" kinda day, I can already feel it. 

Buut, I don't really have the luxury of giving up right now,  because it is completely counter-productive and will only cause more difficulty. I've decided that being a good, or at least a functioning, mom is forcing myself to be as selfless as possible, which is really hard when dealing with an almost-two-year-old who know nothing other than total selfishness. 

So, what I'm trying to say is don't... don't... don't bite your friends. Dammit. No, that's not what I'm trying to say. What I'm TRYING to say, is being a mom to a toddler is SO HARD especially when my hormones are tending to make me feel a lot selfish lately. 

Avery is having a tantrum on the floor right now. I gotta go. Avery is screaming for her dad, who is at work, because lately, I have represented "evil" and has has represented "good" to our daughter as of late. She's probably right.

Keep it together, self. 

deep breath.