HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Apparently I decided to take a maternity leave from my blog! I'm back and full of stories. Andrew was born on October 13. It was supposed to be peaceful and easy going. When Isabelle was born there was stadium seating in my delivery room. Grandparents, friends and their boyfriends, etc. It was a madhouse. As I was pushing Isabelle out my Aunt was standing close by on the phone with Alana chatting to the nurse who was HOLDING MY LEG about how Alana is a dancer, Alana lives in NYC, blah blah blah, then Aunt Etta started to play the Kevin Bacon game with the nurse, as if my sister who lives in a city filled with BILLIONS of people would know the nurses friend who is also a dancer... AS IF! I swear the audience was doing the wave and passing popcorn while I poured my sweat, blood and tears into pushing that baby into the world. So when I got pregnant with Andrew I told Keith, "NOT THIS TIME!! No one is invited." Of course when the time came I needed a friendly face who knew what I was going through and asked Lauren to be there with us. To make a long story short, it was a dog and pony show despite my attempt at a quiet simple birth. Keith nearly fainted as the nurse inserted the needle in my arm to administer fluids. I looked up after she said, "ok - all done!" to see that Keith was about to keel over, all white and pasty and sweaty. I've never seen anything like it. My solid rock was confined to a chair with his head between his knees. Scary. I was beginning to think he might not make it through the birth. The epidural didn't work all day, I felt EVERY SINGLE CONTRACTION on the left side of my body all day until right before Andrew was born. Early in the evening the anesthesiologist came back to give me stronger meds and adjust the epidural. BINGO - pain free, but I paid the price, because by the time I was ready to push I had absolutely NO CONTROL over my legs, they were just flopping all over the place. Somewhere in the madness it was determined that I'd forgotten to put a Hi8 tape in the video camera, forcing Lauren to speed all over Countryside trying to find a tape. When she returned I was already in full on labor, crowning head and all, shortly after that, SHE FELL TO THE GROUND AND BEGAN TO SEIZE!!!! Nurses rushing in, trying to keep her still and breathing! NIGHTMARE!!! I kept asking the doctor is she ok? Is she breathing? and they just kept saying everything is fine, everything is fine, but they looked panicked. Ultimately, Andrew arrived, Lauren was taken to the ER and came back with a killer headache and a huge egg on her head and Keith managed to stay vertical for the entire birth.



Things haven't been easy for the past few months. I suffered from mastitis accompanied by high grade fevers - pure hell. Andrew has been diagnosed with severe G.I. issues and is on formula that better be made out of friggin diamonds, gold, and/or copper for the price we are having the pay. The Neocate (formula) seems to be doing the trick, the colic has greatly deteriorated and he is beginning to sleep for longer periods of time at night.



Even with the lack of sleep and crazy days with two kids I have managed to maintain my sense of humor. And I have so many things to blog about, but just not enough TIME IN THE DAY TO DO IT!!



I envision that this year will be great. I begin school on the 13th of January, I've been running at least 4 miles every morning with the kids in the jogging stroller and I've really never felt better. 2009 is the year I reclaim my body and health. It just feels like everything is coming together and its a very good feeling to have. I have my husband, two beautiful children, and it just doesn't get any better than this!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

I wish I was a seahorse.

This is the part of the pregnancy where I begin to develop intense envious feelings for the seahorse. I know its the not seahorses fault, but I'm pretty angry just the same. While I carry this child for TEN MONTHS, come on, lets be honest here, whoever tried to convince the female population that we are only pregnant for 9 months must think that we are total idiots.

But I digress...

I carry this child for 10 months while the seahorse (the MALE seahorse BY THE WAY - yet another reason to INTENSELY HATE the seahorse...) Has his pouch filled with eggs via the female, attaches himself to a branch and just chills there for A FEW WEEKS, a few meaning 2-4 weeks. I know I can't really complain as much as the elephant mommies out there, as they carry that beast of a child for 18 months, but whatever, I want to be a seahorse today. Did I mention that the male seahorse regains his "pre-pregnancy" svelte shape in less than an hour following the release of the last baby??? I would give anything to leave the hospital in any one of my beautiful size 8 Ann Taylor pant-suits or party dresses that have been hiding in piles of vacuum sealed bags since I found out I was pregnant with ISABELLE!!!! Even a panda would be cool. Who cares how long that gestation period lasts... as long as I give birth to something the size of a stick of butter I would be fine carrying my babies for 4 years.

Such is life...

But I am not a panda, nor a seahorse, and as such, at 35 weeks my feet swell to the size of an eye of round roast by 10 am every day. I swear that lady at Dunkin Donuts is pouring salt into my coffee every morning, because I have taken major precautions to avoid sodium in an attempt to make it all the way to labor and delivery wearing my wedding band and engagement ring this time around. They still fit, unlike last pregnancy, where I had them on a chain around my neck by 30 weeks. And for the record, I've only gained 14 lbs so far!!! Not too shabby for a lady who swelled over 60 lbs with the last baby!!!

I swear to you Andrew is already IN THE BIRTH CANAL. He is so low that (as nature intends) he is causing my pelvic bone to spread apart resulting in the most INTENSE painful shock-like sensations to jolt through my pelvic and nether-region. I can only assume that this is what it must feel like when a dude gets kicked in the junk...if you catch my drift. Words just cannot describe this constant, unrelenting pain I suffer through each and every time I stand, sit, roll over or get out of bed. Speaking of bed - it now takes me a good 17 seconds to roll myself to the edge and scoot my legs to the ground. I am so disabled at this point I need ADA compliant rails installed next to my toilet and in the shower just to get up and down. I'm just days away from trusting Keith to shave my legs for me. And to that end, I'm lucky just to make it to the bathroom in a timely fashion in the middle of the night, given the whole getting out of bed fiasco added to the minefield of dogs randomly sleeping all over the floor. I have lost count of how many times I've tripped over a sleeping dog, not so much due to the darkness of the night, but simply because I cannot see past my belly. So if you can picture it, I'm scooting out of bed, doing the "sting ray shuffle" (for those Floridians who know what I'm talking about) trying to avoid certain death after falling over a dog, and in the 30 some seconds it has taken me to get erect and waddle to the bathroom, the baby has settled onto my bladder and I practically pee myself before I can actually get my legs to fold in order to sit on the toilet. fun times.

Seriously, where is that damn wheelchair hang tag for my car?? I've got a list of things I need now...the parking tag, ADA compliant rails, a bed pan would be good or we can just take a trip to Walmart - get myself a package of those AWESOME diapers for adults and call it a day.

Is it October yet? Where's my epidural already? I wish I was a seahorse.

Ta Daaaaaaaaah!!!

After living with a kitchen that I've HATED for 6 years, I finally took the plunge and committed to a DIY remodel. Since moving into this house in 2002 I've managed to have all but one appliance "mysteriously" malfunction or die... allowing me to pick out a fabulous stainless steel replacements!!! I have a premonition that the fridge will croak right before Christmas, just in time for my annual holiday cookie exchange... so that I can be the proud owner of an LG 22.4 cu ft. French Door Freestanding Fridge... not that I've picked one out already or anything, providing ample space for multiple trays of wonderful holiday treats.

As usual, Keith was roped into helping me complete this task, taking on the rewiring of the USELESS exhaust fan to nowhere - no really the former exhaust fan turned on, but didn't actually move the air - its like having a fireplace with no chimney. Where in the hell is the soot supposed to go exactly? So that was taken away and we are actually in the process of installing new overhead lights above the stove. We basically spent 3 weeks (from 8pm (after Isabelle's bedtime) to 11pm) up to our knees in spackle, formica dust, paint, and 20 years worth of the previous owner's mess. I learned how to use a ruler during this project... 29 years old and I had to go online to learn what the smallest notches on the ruler represented... laugh all you want, I can correct the hell out of your terrible grammar/spelling but I have no idea where to find 7/16 on a ruler. So I actually googled it and found this wonderful site: http://www.onlineconversion.com/faq_05.htm. I must say Keith was shocked when he glanced at my rough draft of measurements - totally amazed that I'd been able to specify certain lengths. I didn't tell him that I'd cheated, but I didn't need to because apparently I forgot to close down the window on the laptop and he totally busted me. Any MORON should know that 1/4 converts to .25, which I really do know, but I get soooo overwhelmed with the numbers that my common sense takes a vacation. Keith had a good laugh at my expense on our 18th trip to Home Depot when we were looking for items that needed to be converted and as soon as I asked, "Honey, what is 1/4 in the decimal form?" I saw his face turn red... and the answer came to me at about the same time that he fell to the ground in laughter. Oh well.

Its just so nice to walk into your kitchen and have it actually feel like it represents your personal style. It gave me a chance to reorganize all items stored in the kitchen, most likely just an extension of my need to "nest" right before Andrew is born.

So I'm as happy as can be with the final results - it reminds me of the day after you buy a new car and you just sit there at the window staring at it for hours---which is exactly what I do all evening from the couch - just stare at the wonderful results after hours and hours of blood sweat and tears.

I'm Smarter than a Fifth Grader!!!!

I PASSED THE FLORIDA TEACHER CERTIFICATION EXAM!

I have been stressing out about the results for 30 days!!! So paranoid that I would have to re-take the exams a few days before delivering Andrew in order to continue with my planned courses in January. Apparently I'm not nearly as math retarded as I claim to be. I do have to give major props to my husband for tutoring me in preparation!



The good news could not have come at a better time. I needed a boost after my terrible health scare. Yesterday as I was reading an email at work I noticed that the letters were becoming jumbled and that I'd lost my peripheral vision on the right side making it impossible to even see complete words. It was frightening to say the least. I left a panicked message on Keith's office voicemail in tears saying "I know this sounds crazy, I feel a little crazy saying it, but I cannot read!" I tried to explain the symptoms I was suffering and then called the OB in a panic explaining what I was experiencing, headache, blurred vision, loss of peripheral vision on the right and I literally could not read words, letters were missing and jumbled. It took a nurse practitioner at the OB's office 97 minutes to call me back, and she seemed less than concerned, telling me "maybe its a detached retina, you should just go straight to the ER." By this late in the game I had regained my vision and was only left with a pounding headache. I tried to explain this to her, but she wasn't hearing it, I felt as if she was just going through the motions, passing the buck and making me someone Else's problematic, over dramatic, pregnant lady patient.



I reiterated that, again, I was pretty convinced that this was a serious migraine, given the obvious photo phobia and pain... She seemed bored with my response and repeated, "listen, that's all I can do for you, either go to the ER or don't." At this point I was ready to drive over to that office detach HER retinas with my exhaust pipe. Is it sooooo hard to bring me into the office and check my BP and other vitals before you exile me to the ER?? This lady must be on the Bush bandwagon. I immediately thought of that BONEHEAD speech he gave July of last year in Cleveland wherein he proved once again that he's the biggest retard to ever lead our great country by stating, “The immediate goal is to make sure there are more people on private insurance plans. I mean, people have access to health care in America. After all, you just go to an emergency room.” ---- EXAAAAAAACTLY. Let me just go the the ER and sit with 47 other "sick" people with broken noses, flu-like symptoms, or exhausted first time (delirious) mothers cradling screaming babies that haven't pooped for 5 days, because none of them have insurance (but at least they have access to the ER and subsequently a $4,000 bill they'll never pay!!!) or better yet their Doctor doesn't feel like dealing with them and says, go straight to the ER... Yeah, that's right, send me to the ER for 4 hours while I possibly go blind with a "suspected" detached retina and end up with a $300 co-pay (since health insurance these days SUCKS!!!) only to find out that I'm suffering from a super duper bad migraine.



Needless to say, I went home, took a Tylenol and a nap, visited the massage therapist and called it a day. Definitely a lot cheaper and a lot less stressful than sitting in the ER all afternoon. I mean, if the retina is detached I'm screwed anyway so I might as well enjoy a nice massage while I go blind.



So all in all I lost the battle, but I won the war. I healed in time to watch Isabelle drive in circles for 2 hours in her hot pink Barbie Jeep, found out that I'm smarter than a fifth grader (I'm sure that the bar is set somewhere in that range for the teacher's exam) and I'm off to a fantastic start with a 3.9 GPA following the first three classes I completed and I have a goal of graduating with every Latin honor in existence. Oh, and I never went blind. Further proof that I am smarter than the nurse practitioner and I would even go as far as to say that I am absolutely positive that I am smarter than our president, but that's not really saying much.

Coming unglued.

That is the theme for the next few months. As a whole, my family is coming unglued. My once vast vocabulary has taken a sabbatical. I cannot put together a sentence to save my life. All story telling on my behalf is boring, drawn out and has become a total snore fest as I struggle to recall names, places, dates and key information of the point I am attempting to make. My ability to multi-task has disappeared and my family is suffering for it. In the past two days I have managed to single handedly disrupt or destroy EVERYTHING that I touch. On Sunday night I took ribs out of the freezer for dinner (per Keith's request) to defrost for Monday's dinner. When I woke up Monday morning to prepare the ribs they were MISSING!! Oddly enough they'd been replaced by a roast (which happens to be Keith's least favorite food in the world.) Oops. I'd removed the wrong item from the freezer. Still haven't quite figured out how I missed THE BIG RED TAG THAT SAID *POT ROAST*!!! Idiot. This morning I was all ready to leave the house and realized that I didn't have my keys, that I'd left them in Keith's car and he had to double back on his way to the office and bring them to me. Upon his return I realized I had a spare set of car and house keys in the junk drawer... And to top it all off, while I was trying to get Isabelle dressed for the day she threw a fit because she could not see the t.v. as I kissed and hugged her, so she pulled away and said, "Stop, I don't love you anymore mommy!" I don't think I have felt so hurt in my entire life. Its one thing to be dumped by a boyfriend or called names by a snotty high school friend, but when your very own precious two year old tells you they don't love you anymore??? I have lost my reason for existing in this world. My heart literally/physically ached in that moment. Of course I thought Keith was going to explode with laughter because two days prior Isabelle told him the exact same thing and when he pouted while explaining what happened I laughed at him, not fully understanding how badly it hurts to actually suffer through the experience. The only thing that came to mind upon hearing Isabelle tell me that she doesn't love me anymore was to tell her, "Well, I love you no matter what." I don't think she heard me though, I cried after she left. I'm sure its all hormonal, I'm trying not to let it get to me. It won't be the last time I hear it, but it probably won't hurt as bad when she is 15 and says it to me upon being grounded for stealing my car at 2am with a backseat full of minors and a trunk full of beer and stolen stop signs. (Which, I am fully prepared to deal with... been there done that!)

Well, at least I have a few good years before Andrew can speak up. Here are some wonderful 3d/4d ultrasound pics we got yesterday!! He has chipmunk cheeks, Keith's pouty lips and it looks like his is going to be much bigger than Isabelle. Yikes!!

PERSONAL GROWTH

26 WEEKS 30 WEEKS




26 WEEKS 30 WEEKS



Visited the OB yesterday! Placed my order to receive a baby on October 19, 2008. Also, stepped on the scale! Gained another pound. Grand total is 9.5!! Hopefully I can stay on track. According to the pregnancy calculator at Mayoclinic.com a healthy gain would be:

Maternal:
Uterus................... 1.33 lbs.
Breasts.................. 0.55 lbs.
Blood ......................1.71 lbs.
Water ......................2.3 lbs.
Fat .........................4.59 lbs.

Subtotal ...............10.48 lbs.


Fetal:
Fetus ........................7.5 lbs.
Placenta ................0.89 lbs.
Amniotic Fluid ......1.09 lbs.
Subtotal .................9.48 lbs.

Total .....................19.96 lbs.



That's laughable, as if two behemoths like Keith and myself could possibly produce a baby that weighs only 7.5 lbs. Yeah Right. Andrew has been measuring 3 weeks bigger than the "average" baby since mitosis occurred. Jesus. I'm bound to have at least a 9 pound baby this time, and that is being conservative. So go ahead and place your bets.

Speaking of growing. As a throwback to my earlier blog... it seems like everyone has something to say about how big I am getting... a couple days after I posted the blog about my increasing size some Joe blow in Books-a-Million breezed by me in the "Personal Growth" isle and points at my belly and says, "well you're definitely in the right place, yuk, yuk, yuk." So I pointed at his beer belly hanging over his shorts and said, "you too!"



Yesterday was a rough day. I had contractions all day long, stayed at the office anyway and worked through it. Isabelle decided not to take a nap all day, so when everyone got home we just lounged on the couch and cuddled.

I'm ready for my handicap parking pass now please.

I've been bragging for 7 months, despite the initial onset of 1st trimester sickness, that this pregnancy has been relatively easy. I've gained a nominal amount of weight, making life in general much easier. I can sleep on my side, I can even lay on my stomach at the massage therapist's office with the special pillows, I can actually still see my feet, and I have been able to maintain a pretty normal play life with Isabelle, sitting down with her, carrying her, cuddling with her... I keep telling people "I'm pregnant, not crippled" "let me do it, I'm fine" "I'm not an invalid, I can wash my own car and mow the lawn!" I've been preaching about staying positive and keeping complaints to a minimum.



I take it all back. I am now disabled, crippled, an invalid. I have come to the reality that I am now pretty much incapable of getting off of the couch without assistance. I can't get off the ground from a sitting position holding Isabelle, I am now sliding into the drivers seat of my car with the aid of the steering wheel as a pulley...and I am exhausted after climbing the stairs to the office 4 times a day. It hit me like a ton of bricks last night, that I have officially arrived at the "hard part" where I get temporarily depressed a few times a week and can't fake a smile. Its an uncomfortable feeling for me to not be able to do things independently and easily and quickly. At this point if I do what I am told and gain 1 lbs a week I will have gained another 10 lbs by mid October. I'm already a cripple with only 8.5 lbs,Well... I'm ready for the epidural RIGHT NOW. I've spent the past couple weeks debating whether or not to induce reading up on all of the medical mysteries and theories for causes of autism and other birth and long-term effects that could possibly be associated to induction of birth vs. how natural birth occurs for a reason. I've considered all the hormonal occurrences that take place and all the mumbo jumbo that Douala's and tree hugging hippies preach about... I almost convinced myself to wait and let nature take its course. Well, not anymore, I'm going in to the Dr.'s office today and letting them know that I am ready to schedule this birth at 39 weeks. Set it up people, I'm not the waiting type, get this kid out of me now, and where can I sign up for a handicap parking pass? - cause the 2 lousy maternity spots at the mall are always full when I get there and Publix and Walmart have lots the size of Lake Michigan. I need a break.

ugh.

Drove up to Timbuktu this morning for our 3/4d ultrasound. Despite my drinking a large coffee with 7 sugars Andrew slept comfortably, doing a face plant in the placenta leaving no amniotic fluid around his face to get a good view. He also had his hand covering what little portion of his face was exposed, leaving us with a lovely shot of his 5 adorable fingers and what looks like a carbon copy of Isabelle's cute button nose. We rescheduled for Monday afternoon and I have every intention of eating donuts, pixie sticks, and Jolt for lunch in preparation. This child WILL cooperate. Looks like he is already exhibiting his affinity for the Smith side, uncooperative and stubborn.

So get out your crystals, mirrored balls, wind chimes, and do your chants or get out your bibles and pray, cleanse your Chi and become one with your Chakra... Do whatever you need to do, lets get this kid's energy focused for Monday afternoon so that Keith and I can stop wondering and see this beautiful child's face!!!

Senator McCain, running for president, is in Iraq. Of course, he remembers Iraq when it was known as Mesopotamia." --David Letterman

Does anyone else out there feel like they are watching Cotton Hill run for president?? You be the judge.

NAME: Cotton Hill (of Fox Channel's "King of the Hill")
OCCUPATION: retired war hero
PROUDEST ACHIEVEMENT: Received Purple Heart for having his shins blown off.
GREATEST DISAPPOINTMENT: Hank Hill

FAVORITE PASTIME: Stopping by the wax museum to give FDR the finger

QUOTE: "I don't take no anesthetic. Did Lincoln ask for any girlie gas when they blowed his head off?"

NAME: John McCain
OCCUPATION: retired war hero/Senator/Runner-up in the 2008 Presidential Election!!
PROUDEST ACHIEVEMENT: Recently offering up his wife -a potential first lady (well not really because he’s going to lose the race) to enter the annual Sturgis beauty contest, one in which full nudity is practically a requirement... he told her "with a little luck she could be the first and only lady to serve as first lady and Miss Buffalo Chip"
GREATEST DISAPPOINTMENT: Losing the 2008 Presidential Race.
FAVORITE PASTIME: Singing - as he does so well, like here in this clip where he so eloquently butchers a Beach Boys song...



QUOTES:

"We have a lot of work to do. It's a very hard struggle, particularly given the situation on the Iraq-Pakistan border." –REFERRING TO A BORDER THAT DOES NOT EXIST!!!, ABC News interview, July 21, 2008

"I'm running for president of the United States, because I want to help with family values. And I think that family values are important, when we have two parent -- families that are of parents that are the traditional family." --interview on "This Week," July 27, 2008 (ummmm.... I guess divorced parents, lesbian and gay parents, and widows/widowers don’t count???)

"The fact is we had four years of failed policy. We were losing. We were losing the war in Iraq. The consequences of failure and defeat of the United States of America in the first major conflict since 9/11 would have had devastating impacts throughout the region and the world." –FORGETTING THE WAR IN AFGHANISTAN, WHICH WAS LAUNCHED IN OCTOBER 2001!!!!, CBS News interview, July 21, 2008

"I'm glad to have his endorsement. I condemn remarks that are, in any way, viewed as anti-anything. And thanks for asking." --after being asked by George Stephanopoulos about receiving the endorsement of Evangelical pastor Rev. John Hagee, WHO HAS MADE A NUMBER OF CONTROVERSIAL REMARKS, INCLUDING CALLING CATHOLICISM "The Great Whore" AND BLAMING HURRICANE KATRINA ON GAY PEOPLE- and I quote, "God caused Hurricane Katrina to wipe out New Orleans because it had a gay pride parade the week before and was filled with sexual sin....All hurricanes are acts of God, because God controls the heavens. I believe that New Orleans had a level of sin that was offensive to God, and they were recipients of the judgment of God for that." WELL THAT IS CERTAINLY THE KIND OF ASSHOLE I WOULD WANT ENDORSING MY PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN!!!

HERE IS HOW I REALLY FEEL...

John McCain has been and always will be a total failure. He is not qualified to be our President. Yes, he did graduate from the Naval Academy - but did you know that he graduated at 894 out of 899 students - THE BOTTOM FIVE OF HIS CLASS!!! He then goes into the Air Force and secures a coveted position as a fighter pilot as a direct result of his high ranking family members...just like President Bush - nepotism... Isn’t it a wonderful thing? John McCain goes on to crash 5 planes in his "decorated" career - but no one ever talks about that because he’s a "waaaaaaaar hero." He also spent 26 years in Washington, and what does he have to show for it? He certainly wouldn’t want to brag about the fact that he has supported all of FAILED policies of this Bush administration. The guy is 71 years old, and at the risk of repeating myself - he has spent the past two decades preparing to run in a presidential election and didn’t bother to brush up on his economic policies...he openly admits that he is "not good in economic issues"... and that he is reading Greenspan’s book. Do we really need another idiot in office who is a self proclaimed math reject?? Look up "flip flop" at Wikipedia and John McCain will be right there next to the icon of your garden variety summer shoe. His advisers explain away his recent flop on offshore drilling as a direct result of "an energy crisis." Energy my ass - more like a deficit in his back pocket. Following his FLOP the campaign contributions from "BIG OIL" beefed up his billfold to the tune of $1.1 million last month alone - three quarters of which came after his 6/16/08 speech calling for an end to the ban. This is a huge increase compared to the pathetic $116,000 in March, $283,000 in April and $208,000 in May!!! What it boils down to is this: he made $882,000 in just over three months prior to the flop and $825,000 in just two weeks post-flop... You do the math.

ITS TIME FOR A CHANGE, NOT SOMEONE WHO CANNOT EVEN COUNT CHANGE.

VOTE OBAMA IN 2008... NOT EXXONMCCAIN in 2008.

A choice is backed by a belief that you can do it. A wish is backed by a doubt that you can.

The transformation that has been happening in our home lately is simply astonishing. Not only is our family growing, but our relationship is growing and our ability to open up to new experiences is growing. It is difficult to even fully explain the dramatic shift occurring within us. While everyone wishes that their children will have a better life than they did, I believe that my children will have a better life than I did. While people wish that they will be financially comfortable, we believe that we will have financial freedom, there is a distinct difference.

I have no idea why this is happening, but apparently a majority of people at or near 30 begin to re-evaluate their lives. We seem to be there. I spend a majority of my time seeking out books that speak to me about personal growth and parenting, resulting in jewels such as, "if spanking is such a successful tool then why do parents have to do it so often?" Keith has been focusing on topics that involve monetary growth, gaining pearls of wisdom such as this: "if you depend on wages for your income, then your income will always be extremely limited. If you learn to earn profits, then the sky is the limit!" We make a great team by sharing our new found eduction and I find myself inspired by his determination. While Keith is sharing new ways to increase our wealth, I have spent the past few months assessing how I want to interact with the people in my life. Friends, family, and strangers. I've decided I don't have room in my life for negativity. I've decided to stop complaining and start learning. I've been doing a lot of reading, most recently one of Keith's picks, "The Top 10 Distinctions between Millionaires and the Middle Class," by Keith Cameron Smith - A very good read. He has enlightened me far beyond the application of money. He reveals that "Whatever you complain about, you get more of. Complain about bills or debts and you get more of them. Complain about people treating you unfairly and you will continue to be treated unfairly. The power of your words creates the experiences of life." Profound. It applies to my life far beyond my bank account.

Aside from working towards financial freedom I am determined to create a place of emotional freedom for myself and for my husband and children. I am leaving anger, resentment, and negativity behind and replacing it with forgiveness, understanding, and positivity. Not only has this empowered me to move on in my life, but it has given me the ability to provide a loving, safe environment for my kids to blossom. I believe that my children will have a better life than I did. We have already made so many small changes in our lives to assure that our kids will have the best life possible. We've given up careless spending and replaced it with monthly payments for pre-paid college funds and life insurance, we've given up smoking, Keith quit drinking, I quit smoking pot (oops - nothing like incriminating yourself a little bit)... Why bother having children if you aren't going to live a lifestyle that is conducive to protecting the health and well-being of your kids? I want them to be confident students, enjoy loving, healthy relationships and go forward in life with the knowledge that they can succeed in anything that they do. I want them to grow into healthy, happy, productive adults who look back on their childhood and know without a doubt that they were loved, respected, and taught by example to be good moral people. These are just small steps and minuscule goals, the bigger picture is so much more complex. I'm just so full of excitement and hope for the future and I'm really looking forward to what lies ahead. Just when you think life couldn't possibly get any sweeter it inevitably does.

acid reflux, skin tags and banana splits...

I'm in the home stretch. This week I enter my last trimester. All in all I'd have to say that this is the happiest I have ever been in my entire life. Despite the fact that (right on schedule) my uterus is crushing my stomach, causing all day acid reflux, I am overdosing on "smoothie" Tums all day, which is a joke, they taste nothing like a smoothie - more like astronaut ice cream gone wrong, and despite the fact that I found a freakishly long hair growing out of my forehead-- which begs the question - why haven't any of my friends, family or husband pointed it out to me?? Its not like it sprouted overnight, it was practically an inch long - I mean come on people, throw me a bone. And despite the fact that I found a rather disturbing "skin tag" (most certainly another side effect of pregnancy) on my chest, and despite the fact that my left foot is so swollen it resembles a loaf of sour dough bread... Despite all of that - I am the happiest woman alive.

Today - 27 weeks and 5 days into my pregnancy I finally caved and stopped at Cold Stone Creamery this afternoon for lunch. That's right, I had a banana split for lunch. I blame banana splits for at least 14 of the pounds that I gained with Isabelle, the banana split was a bi-weekly staple in my diet. I felt like I deserved the 1,376 calories per serving as I'd successfully quit smoking and had to give up Sangria with the girls... This time around I pledged to behave and today - I just couldn't take it anymore. So, as I was driving back to work from the bank I saw the blinking neon sign (not really blinking, nor neon - but It called out for me - it sounded something like "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh" as it came into focus with blinding angelic white lights) I floored the Odyssey with my swollen bread loaf and quickly crossed over 3 lanes of traffic going 65 miles per hour on US 19 and swerved into the Cold Stone parking lot. It was wonderful. I enjoyed my 1/2 scoop chocolate and 1/2 scoop vanilla with 1/2 a banana, rainbow sprinkles, 4 saucy strawberries, and fudge drizzle. It was heavenly.

I REALLY am just a little pregnant...and a little bigger.

Today, on the way up three flights of stairs (on the exterior of my office building) at around noon I was followed by another woman who states, "when are you due?" "October" I replied. "Oh maaaaaan! How will you make it through these hooooot summer months?" -as she makes this ugly, wide-eyed hippo yawning type face. I simply told her that it really wasn't that big of a deal. Its Florida. I've been here all my life and it is what it is. I mean really, if it WAS a big deal would I be climbing three flights of stairs in 90 degree heat in the middle of the day when I could just as easily have taken the elevator? Why does every woman I see moan and groan about the long summer months I am destined to endure? I don't really see what the stink is all about. You don't see women seeking out fat chicks in the plus size department of Target asking them how they are going to survive the summer heat with a few spare tires do you??? Being fat and pregnant is ultimately the same. None of us can see our toes and we have no waistline. The difference is I get kicked in the bladder on an hourly basis, I have heartburn by 4pm and I have to pee 30 times a day. Honestly, I'm just living my life as usual with a baby growing inside me. I continue to play outside with Isabelle every evening, I color with chalk on the driveway on the weekends, we go to the park, the zoo and just live. All you whiners out there need to just recognize that we are lucky to be carrying our babies summer, winter, spring, or fall. There are women (and trans-gender men who opted to keep their reproductive organs) out there who would die to carry a baby. So quit your bitching and appreciate the miracle growing inside you.

And another thing: I'd like to know why every stranger (and even some uninformed friends- who apparently don't read my blog) seem to think I'm ready to deliver any day now. My rude, annoying female neighbor (who will remain nameless) recently rode by me as I did my evening walk - she has her husband slow down, she points at me and makes this huge belly motion with her hands clasped together and rolls her arms from shoulder level down to her pelvis - as to say - you are huuuuuuge. bitch. Whether its the checkout girl at Walgreens or the random lady behind me at the post office - and most recently Missy Bismarck who all seem to be under the impression that I'm READY TO BLOOOOOOOOW. Like my hospital bag is in the trunk, I have the first 6 numbers of my OB's number dialed into my phone and two weeks worth of meals ready to go in the freezer. NO PEOPLE, I AM NOT DUE IN AUGUST OR TOMORROW OR IN THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS. I am due in late October. Why is it that even though I've only gained 6 pounds people seem to think I've reached capacity. I'm really quite offended by most of what I've heard from people lately, my very own mother included, who decided to tell me that I was really beginning to look pregnant instead of just big. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? My mom called me fat. I've worked my ass off these past few months skipping banana splits, cheeseburgers, super sizing, and 2nd dinners to avoid looking like a beached whale. And all I get is comments like, "any day now eh?" or "An August baby I presume?" No assholes. I've only gained 6 pounds, I've got 12 weeks to go and I never looked "big" or "fat" to begin with. And while I'm on the topic of my belly - would all of you people out there stop stroking my stomach like I belong is a freaking petting zoo? I am not a friendly goat, I am a hormonal pregnant woman. Stop touching me.

Sorry Wilford, its not you, its me...

Well, I DON'T have gestational diabetes!! I love medicine, no really... these "doctors" go to school for years, live on Ramen noodles and the dollar menu, rarely sleep while completing internships and residency programs... I just don't understand why after ALL THAT - it ultimately comes down to THE PROCESS OF ELIMINATION. I have had chronic migraines for 8 years, I usually get nauseated, have vision problems, and pain - normal symptoms for a migraine sufferer... But THESE ASSHOLES convince me that I'm suffering from nausea and headaches because my blood sugar isn't being properly maintained and so I jump through hoops for 2 weeks only to find out that they are wrong and that I just need be admitted to labor & delivery to get a DEMEROL injection today to stop the migraine that has been causing all of these side effects... seriously, had I just listened to WEB MD (a wonderful website that allows you to self-diagnose a thing or two - even though just about every symptom "might" be cancer and they suggest you see your doctor asap) I would have been seeing straight, feeling healthy, drinking large coffee and eating yummy sugary foods and not wanting to stab myself in the eye sockets ooooooooooh, about 11 freaking days ago!!!! So, I'm paying a visit to the hospital today to get all good and doped up and do what they refer to as "re-setting" my brain and get some much needed relief from this constant, crippling pain. I must say after 6 months of total sobriety I welcome this 4 inch needle filled with warm fuzzy feelings, speaking of which, Keith is hoping this will mean warm fuzzy feelings for him too, if you know what I mean...

Wilford Brimley is my new BFF!!

Last Friday I FAILED the glucose test for gestational diabetes. Bummer. It might just be all in my head, but several days prior to the testing I found that I was becoming nauseated shortly after finishing off my daily large Dunkin Donuts French Vanilla coffee with extra cream and sugar... my one vice during this pregnancy is this so called coffee --- its more like sugar and cream with a dash of coffee... and if I decided to eat a blueberry muffin with it - FHAGEDABOUDIT!!! I was sicker than hell. So it made me think that maybe these doctors aren't as stupid as I originally thought. Seriously, this has been a pregnancy full of "you might have __________." Every time I turn around they have me going down to the lab to give more blood to test for some new godforsaken complication or repeat ultrasound. First it was gall stones, then placenta previa, then low/high levels of some word I dare not attempt to spell... Now its gestational diabetes. So while I am forced to freak out about diseases and complications that turn out to be NOTHING!!! I am walking around looking like a pregnant crack whore with track marks all over my arms... because its not enough that I am required to get this blood work done, but I always seem to get the idiot who is just barely surviving their first day on the job or Joe A$$hole who is pissed that he got stuck filling in for some slacker co-worker so he takes out his aggression on me and sticks the damn needle through the vein and laughs it off and then sticks me 7 more times. Did I mention that I actually passed out two months ago after that dude failed to fill the 8th vile fully and then had to go back AGAIN to finish off the leftover tubes? Oh, and lets not forget that I am treated on a first come first serve basis, and I ALWAYS manage to show up 3 minutes after the "On Top of The World" bus just dropped off 73 senior citizens who need blood draws from their 9 separate doctors, because lets be honest, by that time they have an internist, a podiatrist, an orthopedist, an allergist, a neurologist, and a second orthopedist because they don't fully trust the first one - and none of these doctors are willing to share the results - and we wonder why really really old people are so freakin skinny, its because their blood levels are so damn depleted that they are on the verge of death after being stuck 32 times... So I'm stuck there waiting for 4 hours surrounded by the wretched smell of moth balls and the only magazine they have is Good Housekeeping - March 2002!!! Which of course I've already read, because this is my 7th visit THIS MONTH!!!

Anyway, the point being, that I was instructed to return to the lab this morning for the 3 hour glucose test. So this time I show up 20 minutes before the lab even opens, my master plan is to beat the retirement village to the punch and get the heck out of there, and as luck would finally have it - I succeed. We begin the morning with good 'ol Sandy (that's right - we are on a first name basis now) swabbing my index finger with alcohol, and while doing so she complains that they are not "juicy" enough and then immediately stabs me, allowing the alcohol to immediately seep into the "wound" for lack of a better word, I wanted to haul off and smack her. EVERYONE KNOWS you wait for the alcohol to DRY before you prick. GEEZ LADY. I drink the glucose and wait for an hour, get poked, wait another hour, get coughed on by Typhoid Mary, Typhoid Mary leaves and is replaced with the emphysema joe, who I'm sure was warned over and over to quit smoking, but he didn't and now he can't breath and is forced to drag this Oxygen tank all over creation, which really makes no sense at all, its like pouring salt in the wound, I can just hear his doctor now, "Joe, you have emphysema, I know that you are basically suffocating in your own body and can barely make it from the bed to the bathroom, but now we also want you do drag/roll/carry this 30 pound tank everywhere you go." So anyway, THIS GUY is hacking up his left lung and all I'm thinking is get me the hell outta here before I catch something, which would be fitting, seeing as how I've already had two colds this pregnancy. Hour two rolls around, I get stabbed 4 times, cause Sandy can't seem to get a good vein - WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GOOD VEIN YOU STABBED AN HOUR AGO??? WHERE DID THAT ONE GO??? I manage to survive the ordeal and as I'm leaving she says, hopefully you won't have to do this again, to which I reply, "Why? Did you do something wrong?" - cause by this point I haven't eaten in 16 hours, I'm in pain, I've been suffering from some pretty painful Braxton Hicks contractions and I'm pretty pissy. She says, no, just some people have to do it more than once. As I'm leaving I just think to myself, jesus, I'd rather just pretend that I am diabetic, stick to the rigorous diet and avoid this HELL - I can survive on brown rice, whole grains and restricted amounts of fruits and veggies for 12 more weeks.

So, anyway, I will find out on Monday whether or not I failed the 3 hour test. I'm not going to panic, but I will be stuffing my face with chocolate fro-yo with colored sprinkles, pizza, donuts, cookies, spaghetti and meatballs, fried cheese and whatever else I can possibly get my hands on, just in case this is my fair well weekend to normal food. Stay tuned...

Hell hath no fury like a 2 yr old in the big city...

Settling back into life after New York City... What a fantastically overwhelming city. Never enough time in the day to accomplish everything that you set out to tackle, and never enough soap to wash off the nastification that is NYC... Uncle Nick and Aunt "Anana" have settled into their lovely apartment on the west side just a few steps away from Central Park, what a wonderful location. We had lots of fun picnicing, visiting the Central Park Zoo and eating chcolate and ice cream for breakfast at Max Brenners...mmmmmmmmm. Isabelle spent every single night forcing Alana into sequester in their bedroom, she refused to allow Nick or myself into the room, immediately telling us to "LEABE" (all V's sound like B's)and to "Close da doow" (apparently suffering from the same inability to pronounce her "R's" just like Aunt Ashley back in the day...how adorable is that??) As it would happen the window to their bedroom is too small for an a/c unit, so its hotter than hell in there with the lights on and the door shut... so they spent forever in there filing their nails, lounging around and as Isabelle puts it, "hanging out."

Poor Uncle Nick... Isabelle is now in a stage where she refuses to potty train, and can hold her bladder for HOURS and then LET LOOSE all at once, there is no diaper in the world built to withstand this type of flooding...so by the last day of our visit Isabelle managed to pee on NICK & ALANA's BED, their BRAND SPANKING NEW (beautiful) microfiber sectional, a living room throw blanket (TWICE) and the sheets that we were sleeping on... I remember what it was like before kids and dogs, everything needed to be perfect, I practically lost my mind at a spec of dirt OR EVEN WORSE URINE!!! AAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhh!!!! I could tell that he really wanted to fall apart at the seams, but he managed to somehow totally keep his cool, not even grimmace in our presence a single time, and kept saying, "its NO BIG DEAL!" I felt so terrible for them, lovey, dovey, perky newly weds, putting together a home with new furniture and things just the way they want them, and then know-it-all sister-in-law comes for 4 days with a loud, leaky, needy two year old, leaving them with little to no privacy, peeing all over everything, toys and shoes all over the place and Barney's greatest hits playing 24 hours a day in the t.v.... I don't think they had a clue what they were in for, it won't surprise me one bit if they claim to be very very busy next summer when I attempt to make plans for another visit with TWO KIDS!!!! (just kidding, we will find a nice hotel) Did I mention that by day 3 their downstairs neighbor sent Nick a text message asking if they'd been "working, dancing or hammering something for the past few days???" "No" Nick responds, "Its my 2 yr old neice stomping (really she stomped all over the place the whole time - its like she forgot how to walk like a normal little girl while we were there) so I spent the next half of the trip asking her to tip toe like Baby-Bop the ballerina on Barney - no such luck.

All in all it was a great trip. We walked for miles and miles, Isabelle stayed up super duper late every night, she really enjoyed her quality time with her aunt and uncle and we made memories to last a lifetime and left a few stains in the process...

I'm LEEFY not BEEFY!!!!

Thats right people, I visited the OB and stepped on the scale today and it didn't moooooo at me. I'm proud to say that 6 months into this whole process I have only gained 4 pounds!!! Woooo Hooooooooo!!!!!! Although, you'd never know by the looks of me. I can't see my toes anymore, I can't bend over to change diapers (actually I probably could, but why-when I can sucker Keith into doing it...) and it goes without saying that I am a danger to myself when it comes to taking a razor to my nether-regions... So spa waxing here I come...

In other news, we've finally decided on a name for our son, Andrew Parker. Pretty much just picked it out of the blue, no family history or real meaning, just a good solid name, because as Mama always says "A person lives up to their name."

Isabelle and I are flying to New York City for a long 4th of July weekend with Nick and Alana, leaving poor old dad behind with a "honey do list" a mile long. I've spent the past 4 days stocking up on entertainment items for Isabelle, hoping against all hope that a stockpile of Barney dvds, play-doh (its not my plane to clean), and magic markers will keep her happy for the 3 hour flight...And I've spent the past 12 hours dealing with the most incompetent customer service reps from India or Pakistan or wherever the hell they hire these slave labor, pea-brained, script reading morons... I ask if I can check a car seat and a stroller at the gate and these retards take 5 minutes to find the paragraph about carry-ons and read word for word from the manual talking nonsense about bag measurements, laptops, liquids... blah blah blah - THINK OUTSIDE OF THE F*$CKING BOX and while you're at it, pick up a copy of ROSETTA STONE and learn our damn language if you are going to even attempt to help us maneuver through this overwhelming baggage HELL that is Delta Airlines... I mean, there is serious cause for concern seeing as how everyone knows what Delta stands for - Don't Expect Luggage To Arrive. So after totally striking out with Habeeb, Deepa, Bhadramurti, Harikesh and Saptanshu, I opted to send an email with my question... Here it is:

I am traveling within the U.S. with my 2 yr old. I have purchased two
full fare tickets. I want to know if, in addition to the 1 checked bag
and one carry-on item per person, am I allowed to check a STROLLER AND
CHILD RESTRAINT SEAT at the gate at no additional charge?
Thanks for your time. Lesley Noel

To which Delta kindly responds:

Dear Lesley Noel,
>
> Thank you for your e-mail to Delta Air Lines.
>
> A child aged two or older is required to have their own individual seat
> onboard the aircraft. Your child's safety is very important to us, and
> you can find detailed information about accepted child restraint
> systems, seating restrictions, and related topics online on our website.
>
> From our home page at www.delta.com, follow these links:
>
> Planning & Reservations
> Special Travel Needs
> Services for Children
> Infant & Child Seating
>
> We appreciate your interest in Delta Air Lines.
>
> Sincerely,
>
> Vicky Rich
> Online Customer Support Desk
> http://www.delta.com

Which apparently is their idea of an appropriate answer, seeing as how I must not have read the baggage requirements on the website - idiots... Needless to say I did respond with another email telling them exactly where to stick their online customer support desk, which included language and a certain side of my temper I dare not print for the rest of the world on my blog. Needless to say, I won't be too shocked if I've been flagged and added to the no fly list, it wouldn't be the first time the government looked me up... considering my infamous phone call to the FBI headquarters in Miami last summer...

Anyway... I'm skinny, I love my husband and Delta sucks.

Today is the First Day of the Rest of This Mess...

June 20, 2008... quite possibly the worst day of my entire life. As if my life wasn’t already a daily struggle being 5 ½ months pregnant I found myself living with a sick baby, and a sick 2 year old...(get it? Keith = baby), and then, as is usually the case, I contract the cold as well!!! Its like having the flu but not puking. But that is not the worst part. I struggled to work in the office through the entire day, actually through the ENTIRE cold which has been a week long thus far... while Keith calls in sick and lays on the couch watching Simpsons re-runs and mind numbing interviews with scientists on the History Channel discussing all the myths about Noah’s ark, debunking the Shroud of Turin and filling his photographic memory with more evolution theories than you can shake a stick at... all the while calling me (AT WORK) to complain that he is officially on his death bed, while I work my ass off, suffocating in my own snot, talking to clients through the worst sore throat ever and when I finally make it home to relax, I discover that I have LOST THE ABILITY TO TASTE!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Of course that did not stop me from eating. Somewhere between the first chocolate pudding cup and 3rd piece of chocolate covered peanut brittle I realized that no matter what I consumed my taste buds were not going to perk up. Sound depressing? Well, the REALLY depressing part of this story is the fact that I am trying to maintain a healthy weight with this pregnancy and by testing every food in the house to tease my tastebuds I probably managed to consume 3 days worth of calories. I started off with the chocolate pudding, moved onto pizza, 3/4 of a bag of popcorn(extra butter) and without boring you (or incriminating myself with the entire list) I ended this battle of wills with Hershey Kisses. By the 8th kiss I began to sob uncontrollably. Realizing that all of my consumption had been in vein. I WANTED to taste the chocolate SO BAD!!!! All the while I am watching the movie “Spanglish” and after one of the worst movie endings EVER, Keith advised that I just admit defeat and call it a day. I am happy to report that while I am still suffering through this cold, Keith went back to work today, Isabelle’s sneezes have stopped producing 4 inch long (TOTALLY DISGUSTING) yellow snot strings that defy gravity, and I can taste chocolate again.

A father is a guy who has snapshots in his wallet where his money used to be.

Can I just take a moment to publicly announce the fact that I LOVE my husband? Seriously, we say I love you several times a day. Early in the morning as we leave for work, casually on the phone before we hang up, sometimes in passing just because, or right as he switches off the nightstand light as we turn in for the night. I don't really think that those "I love you's" honestly convey the amount of love and admiration I truly have for Keith. I REALLY REALLY LOVE HIM. Keith is the man that changed my life forever. He made me want to be a better woman, person, individual. He has kept me honest, encouraged me to follow my dreams, never settle for less, and always look on the bright side. He is an amazing person. He excels at everything that he does. On the short list of amazing things he does... he can fix anything, entire sprinkler systems, hot water heaters, garage doors, computers (of course), he can single handedly build a crib with no instructions (amazing... that it hasn't collapsed), he tackles all household emergencies with calm, collected, baby steps. He handles me the same exact way.

Aside from his physical abilities, there is a long list of wonderful things that he does for me and Isabelle. He is so compassionate, caring, and thoughtful. I'm the type that will call you once I've gotten all the way back to my car and ask if you need anything from the store hoping that you will say no(If I remember to call at all) and Keith is the type that will compulsively dial me until I answer before he even steps foot into a check-out isle. He spends his weekends building tall towers of blocks, watching Barney's Birthday Party episode for the 3,745th time, sitting in the driveway drawing rainbows, fish, sunshines, and whatever else Isabelle demands that he chalk onto the road. Occasionally I will trip over a toy that I don't recall purchasing and he plays stupid, but I know that he takes Isabelle to Walmart and lets her pick out a new toy almost every time I disappear to the nail salon on saturdays, I love that he cannot help himself and that he enjoys spoiling her. He cooks dinner, loads and unloads the dishwasher, scrubs toilets, vacuums, and empties trash cans without being asked, he is a wonderful man. He tucks me into bed at night, he stops me in the middle of some mundane tuesday night while I am loading the washing machine, hugs me and says, "I love you, I love Isabelle, and I love our life, I am so happy with our life," he says amazing things when I least expect it, and he continues to shower me with love on a daily basis.

He spends ungodly amounts of time with my family, humoring my mom and my Aunt Etta, suffering through long family meals, holiday get-togethers, helping them with chores ie: moving heavy objects, installing fans into concrete ceilings (which takes HOURS to drill), fixing wiring problems (my favorite of which was the night-lite debacle at moms house), and does it with no complaints what-so-ever, which is a lot more than I can say for myself when we encounter his family...

So this week as I prepare for Father's Day and try to pick out a gift that appropriately fits the wonderful, selfless, doting father and husband that he is, I find myself at a loss as there is no t-shirt, tie, or watch in the whole wide world that represents the great man he really is. There is no Hallmark card that truly expresses my love and appreciation for who he is, what he represents, and how he has changed my life forever.

Happy Father's Day Keith, I love you more than you will ever know.

Pregnancy brain... it is a fetal condition.

Remembering back to the first weekend of September of 2005 when I was just under a month pregnant with Isabelle, I'd quit smoking, I hadn't had a stiff drink in weeks. That will forever go down in history as the day I offically flipped my lid. I had big plans to clean out the garage and Keith promised to help. I recall that Keith had a very ligitimate reason for not helping in the garage at exactly the time I wanted him to be present and the longer I was alone out there, the more I began to IRRATIONALLY toss perfectly good belongings onto the curb for the garbage man. (NOT MY BEST MOMENT) even as I threw functioning lamps, computer monitors, carpeting, and whever else I could get my hands on to the curb, I knew deep down inside that he was BUSY I just needed to wait 30 minutes or so. Did I mention it was Sunday? The garbage man would not be back till Wednesday?? So all of these perfectly good belongings were piled sky high. As soon as Keith came out to find out what all the racket was about, he GOT AN EAR FULL of words I will not type here for the sake of the children who might read this blog...Just call me John Kennedy... This was comparible to his allowing the Bay of Pigs invasion that led to the Cuban missile crisis. Becuase what happened next was a missile crisis FOR SURE!!! Poor Keith, just stood there in shock as he surveyed the damage I'd managed to create in less than 15 minutes of tazmanian type cleaning... his eyes glazed over, he started to sweat, I'm screaming and tossing verbal daggers at him, he said, "Lesley, calm down, what in the world is going on here?" I started my screaming schpeel all over again and began to toss more valuable items onto the pile. It was not pretty. Ultimately, I ended up hunched over the kitchen table sobbing and apologizing profusely, not quite sure what had just happened... Thus began the chronic "fetal" disease I so kindly refer to as pregnancy brain. When all common sense goes out the window and sheer irrational behavior takes over.

This weekend I began my whirlwind cleaning all over again, making room for K.J. (Keith Junior) thats what we will call him till we come up with a good name. I began to empty out the walk in closet in K.J.'s room and erroneously tossed Keiths $400 suit into the GoodWill donation bag. Its a good thing he was baby sitting me because he managed to save it before I drove away. What does he say when he finds it in the bag?? "Oh, God, its September 2005 all over again. - Don't leave here with ANYTHING until I can look through the bags. - GOT IT??" I've decided to humor him for the sake of our marriage.

Pregnancy brain is not the only condition I suffer from - my maternal instincts are so strong I feel the need to protect all living creatures. I actually brought my car to a screaching hault on a 4 lane road to make sure that a squirrel that darted across my lane made across all 3 others. Not even noticing that the upcoming intersection just 30 feet away had a VERY green light and I was nearly rear-ended. I had every intention of rushing that squirrel to the ER had he been hit. I sacrifice my own safety for a "rat with a fluffy tail" at least thats what Keith says.

The Monkey Has Learned to Use Tools!!!

Week 17 has been rough. I’m feeling extremely weak, struggling for breath, and not really capable of putting into words how awful I feel. I’ve lived through the morning sickness and lethargy, and this is totally different. Narrowly avoided being admitted to the maternity ward for a battery of tests, *whew* and offered to make myself available first thing in the morning for ekg, blood work and other stuff... I will have results in two more days. Buuuuuuut, there is a silver lining in all this stress, I was weighed yesterday and I HAVE NOT GAINED A SINGLE SOLITARY POUND!!! In fact, technically I have lost weight considering the fact I am carrying a growing baby, placenta, increased water weight, and lets not forget the fantastic rack! It’s an incredible thing and I repeated it out loud all evening... when you gain 60 lbs the first time around you feel doomed to repeat history. I’m so proud of myself. *pat* *pat* *pat*

In other more uplifting news, the monkey has learned to use tools!! A few months ago Isabelle started to use her miniature broom (of course my child has a broom, if they made miniature working vacuums she’d have that too) to whack her ceramic piggy bank off of the shelving in her room. Frightening!!! She uses it to reach toys under the couch and has really started to impress us with her analytical thinking skills. Last night we found her on her tippy toes balancing in a rolling scooter to pull open and reach her toothbrush in the top drawer in her closet - even scarier, so we had to move all of the interesting things into the bottom drawer, and now I can’t find her toothbrush (which is why it was in the top drawer to begin with) I’m sure it will show up with all the dog bones buried in the back yard.

She has also started to finish off two syllable words, it started on Mother’s Day with her calling grammy (my mom) DONNA!!! So hilarious, she has continued to call my mom by her first name ever since, even walks around all day sing-songing “dooooonna doooooona donna donna dooooooooonna” its just precious. She calls my dad “Stebe” since she replaces “v” with “b”. Its cool, we can actually almost understand everything she says now that she finishes the words.

Only about 155 days to go till poor little boy with no name is born!!

snips and snails and puppy dog tails...

THATS WHAT BOYS ARE MADE OF!! ITS A BOY!!!!!!!!

We visited Look Who's Kickin on Saturday, May 10th! An early Mother's day gift to me. Worth every penny to find out that we were having a boy! I could not be happier and keith is over the moon. To be honest, he was very emotional about it. (Although, I swore I would not broadcast it...ooops!)

We are really having a tough time coming up with names. We aren't particularly fond of any family names that we have to work with and nothing really sticks out to us like Isabelle did. This kid might have to name himself.

Dentists do it orally...

A woman goes to the dentist. When he bows to begin to work, she grabs his balls. The dentist says, "Madam, I believe you have taken my private zone." The woman answers, "Yes. We're going to be careful not to hurt each other, aren't we."

I floss more than once a day, I brush two to three times per day, I chew sugarless gum with xylitol after every meal and yet I have the most unbelievable lack of luck with my damn teeth. I'm 29 years old and I already have 4 or 5 crowns and that might just be a little generous... anyway, while eating my chicken ceasar salad today I crunch down on what I think is a chicken bone, but its a small sliver of my tooth!!!! This is not the first time I've done this. You would think this would happen with starbursts, milk duds, or salt water taffy, but NO, a lousy piece of baked chicken. UNBELIEVABLE!!! last time I was pregnant the same thing happened with a friggin granola bar.

Did I mention its right at the gum line inbetween two molars, so I am forever getting large pieces of food stuck inbetween them! I can't live like this, I HATE food in my teeth, you know that feeling when you get a popcorn kernal stuck between your two front teeth and it feels like there is a 5 mile wide clamp forcing them to split like the red sea??? THAT is how it feels. So, I'm going to have to sit in the dentist chair AGAIN with no novacaine and just deal with the pain of fixing the tooth - isn't there an epidural that works from the eyeballs down???

I must say, I sat here at my desk laughing when I thought of the tooth debacle of this past Christmas when Alana lost a chip of tooth at the table while we were eating and began to sob. I just thought, geez, this kid ain't seen NUTHIN YET!!! You would have thought that her front tooth had been knocked out - now THAT is something to cry about... anyway...

The things we do for our children.

Impatience - its MY virtue!

I am 171 days closer to delivering this nocturnal kickboxer. Could this child PAAAAALLEAAAAAAASE keep me from falling asleep for one more night??? I began to feel the baby move at 14 weeks, pretty early all things considered. It REALLY got real when I could feel him/her. Not that the headaches, weight gain and nausea didn't send a message??? Which prompted my lack of patience and I felt the need to find any method possible to find out the sex asap. With all the contacts I have in the MRI world of the greater Tampa Bay Area, I seem to constantly hit a wall when I tell them I am 16 weeks pregnant. I am sneaky, but I am not a liar, so if asked a question, I must be honest in my response. Its only $35 to get a cash ultrasound since no insurance company will cover diagnostic testing to determine sex. Its MYYYYYY $35 I can blow it how, when, and where I want. Its a gamble I am willing to take to get what I want WHEN I WANT IT. I've even had some know it all receptionists tell me sexual organs dont develop till 16 weeks, WRONG!!! Not that I have a medical degree, but any idiot knows that organs develop at around 12 weeks and a baby's sex can sometimes be determined as early as 14 weeks by ultrasound, even sooner (around 8 weeks) with a $250 blood test. (I'm not THAT impatient, I can find much better ways to blow $250)

So anyway... I might have to wait till the first week of June to buy paint and begin the long war with Keith over names that I love and names that he hates... till next time...

ISABELLE TURNS 2!!!!

Isabelle -5- Lesley -0-

I thought I would share this little golden nugget of life with all of you, my friends and family. It’s a life lesson, and if nothing else a chuckle at my expense.

Just when you think you've thought of everything, your kids proves you wrong. I'm sure by now all of you have heard my embarrassing story about leaving Isabelle in the car while I washed it so that I could keep her contained while keeping an eye on her. She loves to sit in the front seats and play with the radio and a/c buttons. I quickly learned that I was an IDIOT because it didn't take her long to find the keys and stick them in the ignition (although the wrong key) but that’s besides the point. After taking away the keys, I noticed she was retrieving the ink pens out of the glove box. Needless to say play time in the car was over and I put her to work washing the tires. Award for subpar mother goes tooooooooo....(drum roll) Lesley Noel!!!!!!!

So, this weekend, after making sure that pens, keys, and any other potentially destructive materials were removed from the vehicle, Keith and I kept the doors open and allowed her to play with the dash buttons as we unloaded groceries from the car. Back hatch open, running back and forth taking bags from the rear of the van, when all of a sudden the garage door begins to descend!!!! Did I mention that I wasn't pulled into the garage all the way and the back hatch was open??? So as I panic, and practically meltdown right there, Kieth runs for the garage door (takes a quick detour into a phonebooth) and turns into Superman and takes the stance, as he attempts to outwit the garage door to keep it from damaging the van... no luck. Apparently Keith has nothing on 50 pounds of steel on a mission. It is beyond me how the damn thing will stop in mid air if it even senses a tennis ball in its path, but a van door and Keith??? Good grief. Finally, I hear what Keith has been repeating for the past 15 seconds ("HIT THE BUTTON, HIT THE BUTTON, HURRY HURRY HURRY, HIT THE F*$&ING BUTTON LESLEY") As he crumbles beneath the descending door. I finally manage to hit the button on the wall and we survey the damage, scrapes all over the hatch door, warranting a visit to the body shop this week so that the defects don't rust...and now the garage door won't close completely, it is about 2 inches from the ground on the right side, Keith is hoping it will just fix itself over time... classic Keith, living in denial that we must call the repairman... just like the sliding glass doors that could not be repaired because HE ALREADY DID EVERYTHING that the repairman would do... so I call the repair man ANYWAY and now they slide like they are on clouds, vs. the 200 pound doors they used to be... Another lesson learned, DON’T LEAVE THE GARAGE DOOR GENIE IN THE VEHICLE FOR ISABELLE TO PLAY WITH and NEVER LISTEN TO YOUR HUSBAND... call the repairman...

PS. this weekend Isabelle asked for a drink. When I got to the fridge I asked her what she wanted and she responded, "coke" I said, kids don’t drink coke, what else do you want, to which she replied, "wine". I'm baffled, thinking where did she learn this?? We never talk about coke and we don't have the first bottle of wine in our house.... As it turns out, Isabelle plays with the contents of Aunt Etta's fridge monday through friday and they talk about everything that she keeps in there.... so anyway, I gave her grape juice.