-the pinched nerve you feel in your neck is actually your necklace (you aren’t used to wearing) pulling your neck hair.

-you can pee in record time knowing any delay could result in catastrophe.

-every night (or morning or whenever) when you dry yourself off after a shower with your towel you think, “man I should wash these” and you’ve been saying that for a few weeks.

-pony tail holders, wide greasy-hair covering headbands and hats are your only accessories.

-throughout the day you either: wonder if you’ve ate enough to produce enough milk for the baby or admonish yourself for excessive overeating. (Usually sugar based foods.)

-days you have shaved legs you point it out to everyone.

-you choose 60 watt or less light bulbs not because you’re environmentally friendly but because the lower light better hides all the dust and stains on the carpet.

-when a guest is coming over you light a [very strongly] scented candle and swish around the toilet with the scrubber so you can’t see the ring.

-get a little pee on ya? Mehh, just get a baby wipe, dab the pee off and continue on your day.

-during the flight of the bumblebee routine when guests are on their way over, you realize you can’t see well while cleaning because, well, the light is OFF and you were too distracted to notice at first.

-if you haven’t decided tv is a complete waste of time and money (hmmm I’m haven’t) you are secretly excited when a NCIS marathon is on.

-baby wipes clean anything.

-granola bars and carnation instant breakfast are your best friends not because they are healthy or good, but because they can be grabbed in less than 20 seconds while running out the door to the running car.

-chocolate isn’t a ‘need’, it’s essential to life.

Earlier, as I was holding my just turned 7-week-old while he was pooping, (already you can tell what kind of post this will be) I saw from across the room that Rolo was working up a good furball. I ran across the room, baby dangling from my arms, to move Rolo to the tile so I could clean up the vomit easier. She got bile on the carpet before I could move her and finished it up on the tile. Hearing her made me gag so I had to retreat back to the living room before *I* puked too. This is my life.

Only this morning I laughed (insanely) because I was avoiding a new stain on my carpet in my bedroom from a miffed Snickerdoodle who vomited to spite B for throwing him off the bed early this morning. REALLY. Ben cleaned it already but didn’t do a very good job apparently. There is still paper towel stuck to the floor from another spot that B didn’t feel like completely cleaning next to his bed. I feel like I’m cleaning up puke or furballs every day lately, I guess that the cats are sheddier than usual or just more pissed at us, I don’t know.

I’m so sick of cleaning up pee and poop from the human members of my family too.

When did this happen? When did I become the skanky stained-up carpet, crazy cat person who tolerates this? NO, I refuse to let B’s poor cleaning ability affect me, I will persevere and fight the mediocrity that so darkly threatens to befall me! I will not let poopie diapers just sit out and collect dust! I will not let my house smell like a feces factory! I WILL NOT HAVE NASTY FLOORS!

I will purchase and frequently use a steam cleaner.

and so I have. Purchased it that is. My steam cleaner mocks me from across the room. Staring at me.

Our first attempt at using the Hoover machine was an epic fail- we soaked the carpet so much it was wet the next day and our carpet didn’t look any cleaner. The stains were still there. I’ve been afraid to touch it ever since. Afraid and, yes, just a little lazy not to get the manual and read what B did wrong.

Now my problem isn’t that I need a steam cleaner, it’s now I subconsciously think that I can fix it any time so the problem is Me. ME. and I can tell B feels the same way about having the ability now to fix the stains and not the desire. (I know this because he told me, I’m not assuming.) SO, I’m going to give up on him just doing it himself and take the initiative and do it myself. I am a fully capable, intelligent person who can operate a piece of machinery. I’m going to clean my whole house- every scrap of carpet there is! Yes, sirree I am…………..tomorrow… geez it’s been a long and smelly day.

I’m sitting here in my messy office eating a homemade frappachino with a spoon because I froze it solid scared I’d devour it too quickly otherwise. I SO know myself. Since having child #2 I’ve noticed that I turn to sweets as a coping mechanism for stress, although, now that I think about it, I’m totally not stressed right now so WHATTHEHECK me? Regardless this is amazing, fattening and delicious- mehhh, I’ll burn off the calories later breast feeding.

Sawyer has decided he prefers the cuddling of the swing to my arms (a good thing but slightly insulting) so I actually have a few minutes to myself while he’s occupied and while Sum naps to catch up on some things online and post here. This morning, I heard Summit talking in his room around 8:30 and got out of bed (don’t judge me) to go get him. He had ripped off half his diaper and decided to poop. By poop I mean diarrhea from a stomach bug he’s had for over a WEEK. There was nastiness down the leg of his pj’s so I had to strip him down and throw him in the bath and all his linens in the laundry. *This is the 4th day in a row this has happened*. I don’t deal well with poop. It grosses me out and I have to hold my nose so I won’t gag myself into throwing up. And his poop has been very smelly lately. So, Summit is in heaven getting to take a bath first thing the last few mornings and it occurred to me- is he doing this intentionally to get a bath? I’d like to think that he’s above this, that he couldn’t possibly think this through, and even if he did, that he wouldn’t act upon this. He has to see my displeasure, my discomfort and frustration about this. He’s had this bug for awhile now, there is no way he’d play this up for his advantage… right?

In case I haven’t already said this somewhere in my blog recently, he’s in pull-ups again. He was potty trained at the beginning of the year but with moving, starting pre-school and the arrival of baby brother, Sum has regressed. It’s ok, I know it’s normal and I was honestly expecting it a little bit. I am so grateful this week that he’s regressed. I am barely able to stand cleaning up his diapers, I don’t think I could manage poop filled underwear and clothing every few hours. AND I’ve been taking him to the bathroom every few hours too, it’s not like I’m not trying to potty train him, I just think that until he can talk or is willing to sign and tell me that he has to go that it’s a moot point.

On a separate note, B is much better at changing diapers than me. What’s up with that?? I’m suppose to be the good one at this, I mean, I do it more often than he does, I just don’t get this. I always manage to use like 20 wipes where 2 would do and STILL get poop on my hand somewhere. He totally knows this too and points it out as he watches from across the room. I point back to him that if he’s so much better than he should do it all the time when he his home. He points back at me that he usually does and that shuts me up because it’s totally the truth. Also, he’s sick right now so I won’t make fun of him.

It’s been a long week. A long week with a sick kid. A long week without a car. A long week and a sick husband… ehhhhhhhh…

In case you were wondering, NO, I don’t suffer quietly. That is what this blog is for.

Here’s to a better week starting tomorrow…. Peace.

I am so NOT a writer. Well, in my head I am. I write in my head all the time, but it’s not really “writing” per se, it’s more “thinking” although I’m thinking like I would write. Or, like now, I’m writing like I’m thinking which just makes me look a little crazy and not so much a professional writer. Which I’m not. A professional writer that is, I am a writer, I just don’t get paid for it so it’s not like I’m a professional. I *can’t* imagine why I’m not getting paid for the amazingness of the written word evidenced in this paragraph.

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Sawyer is 6 weeks old today which kind of freaks me out. How did this much time go by? I feel like I’ve lost time. He’s so good that my days are more marked Summit’s 3-yr-old fits than Sawyer’s cries. Weirdness. I keep waiting for Sawyer to freak out and scream all the time like Summit did but it’s been six weeks. I’m kind of past the BLACK HOLE phase for the most part. Feeding is going good, he’s quite the speedy eater then goes back to sleep so I’m not sleep deprived. Kind of wish I could say that I am so my post would have some sort of explanation for the edge of insanity that is there, but no. He’s also much bigger than Summit was, he’s a chunk. We call him our “little butter ball” quite often, among other strange nicknames we tend to give members in our family. We weighed him today while at the doctor’s office for Summit’s stomach bug and he weighted 1/2 of what Summit did. NO LIE. Our fattie little 6-week-old weighs HALF OF WHAT OUR 3-year-old does!!

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I’ve watched more soccer in the last 2 weeks than I have in my whole life. It is an acquired taste I think. I’ve come to really enjoy it and have continued to watch it although the USA is out and hottie Cristiano Ronaldo is no longer playing. Who cares what team he’s on, I only know I’m sad not to see him anymore. B laughs at me. I’ve had a crush on David Beckham for years, it’s must be a soccer thing. I watched the match today between the Netherlands and Uruguay and was on the edge of my seat the whole time and last night I watched a documentary on the rise and fall of the Colombian Soccer team. What the heck?! I’m on some kind of soccer fix that has me, even now, wanting to say “football” and not “soccer”. I’m so legit.

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B, my used-car-dealer-on-the-side husband, has done it again. He sold his red cheapo Honda Accord for double what he paid for it and my white Subaru Outback that I loved to a dealer for the price he paid for it 1 1/2 yrs ago. That is great and all, but yesterday he traded the blue Subaru Outback that I’d been driving to my brother for his white Toyota 4-Runner and the Lexis whatever (it’s basically the Land Cruiser, but Lexis, not Toyota) is in the shop. We went from 4 cars to 2 and one doesn’t work. Seriously. I’m stuck and this mamma doesn’t like being stuck at home! For starters- it’s really difficult to get Sum to school without a car. OHH and I forgot the other Toyota 4-Runner that B bought for $800 that DOESN’T WORK! Why buy a car that doesn’t work? That is just my opinion- he seems to think he’ll get what he paid for it, minus the winch he took off for the white 4-Runner. I can’t keep this crap straight. All I know is I’m car-less. He is good at “flipping cars” but it’s very inconvenient at times.

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OK, that’s it, my update for now. I’m working on a VLOG and about to get back into taking and posting pictures on my posts. It will be glorious. I’m also contributing on another website (check out my sexy profile picture on there from, like, 5 years ago! lol) and you should check it out. www.creativeoutpour.blogspot.com

Hello friends! It’s been a long spring hasn’t it? or is that just me? It seems these days all I do is delete spam comments off my blog so if you have sent me a nice comment, don’t take it personally that I’ve deleted it.

I’m beginning to feel my creative juices flowing again through my veins 2 weeks out from Sawbaby being born. I’m feeling alive inside again, which is actually kind of hilarious because I’m getting about 1/2 the amount of sleep I was accustomed to. Things are great, the baby is sleeping well and I feel pretty sane- all in all this is a complete different experience from what Summit was like. I am understanding how people could actually like the newborn stage, before I just thought they were insane or a glutton for punishment.

I think that it’s in those times, when I look at my new baby boy, that all the flashbacks crowd in my head of what it was like. The desperation, the exhaustion, the fear, anxiety and depression. Looking back, I think that I may have had postpartum depression but never did anything for it. I couldn’t make Summit happy. He cried (screamed) constantly, nursed poorly and projectile vomited his meals on a regular basis.

I hate comparison, but I can’t stop it. I think that sometimes I go into denial about Summit really having all the problems that he has so reality is a slap in the face. I hate that he’s on a gluten free diet. I hate that the tests they did recently said that instead of being at a 36 month level, he’s at a 20 month level. That isn’t fair. He’s amazing, a rock star (quoting my pediatrician and friend) and a joy to everyone he meets, but yeah, the reality is that he’ll never be “normal”.

and I can’t help but feel that Sawyer is Summit 2.0, the better version.

I know that is stupid and wrong, but these feelings come unbidden and swarm my mind. Nothing is the same and that makes everything that much more hard. I’m so used to bad news that hearing good news makes me feel worse in some ways. How does that even make sense? Sawyer had his 2 week check up and had already regained his birth weight plus 10 oz, he’s huge. I have done nothing different yet it took Summit over a month just to get back to his birth weight! When the doctor was telling me the good news I wanted to cry.

While in the hospital, the doctors were concerned with his breathing at first, then heard a murmur and did an Echo on him. I wasn’t worried AT ALL even as the doctors and nurses watched my face, waiting for me to freak out. I was calm, said it was probably nothing, inside I just said, “bring it on”. I can handle bad.

I don’t know how to deal with a healthy baby.

I am happy most of the time, don’t misunderstand me, it’s just that my joy is bittersweet. I am the master of feeling two conflicting emotions at the same time. The concern I have for Summit adjusting to Sawyer takes up most of my emotional energy when he is around, while he is at school I am busy with Sawyer, but at night, during those precious free moments when I’m alone is when everything crumbles. My heart cries out to God, I pour out all my fears and doubts and pain. Only he hears my true agony because so much of it is inexpressible.

Every milestone will be like this for me. Wonderful and amazing but with a touch of grief. Although knowing that comparison is wrong and unhealthy, it’s a weakness that I think will forever be a thorn in my side.

I don’t think there is an answer for this. Everyone has their own baggage they carry around, even constantly giving it back to God sometimes doesn’t take the hurt away. We are all damaged on some level. There are the easy answers I could post now, the things people say when someone is hurting, but sometimes it’s just better to get the pain off my chest so I can start again tomorrow.

Sawyer, 8 lbs 6 oz
20 1/2 inches long

He’s bright eyed and perfect, isn’t he?

Older brother Summit, 3, loves “his” baby. That is, until he gets tired of him and throws him aside… we’re working on this…

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again.

This baby inside of me will be a creative genius. I have never in my life had so little to say. Blogging is a chore for me these days, I’m desperate to think of something to say and fall so miserable short.

So, honestly, here I am again, embarrassed to tell you, my 5 loyal followers, that nothing is going on. Other than…

-Sum being sick all week, thus ruining my plans of busy domestic bliss in writing thank-you notes for my shower, organizing and finishing the baby’s room, cooking gluten free meals to freeze for Sum and painting a world map in his room. Plus a dozen other things that my pregnant mind has already forgot. Basically my week has been sitting on the couch only to venture away occasionally to pee which makes Sum mad. He has taken 1/3 of my time left before baby #2 arrives which, to be honest, has made me a little resentful…

-During a unsuccessful nap time, he took off his diaper and pooped a HUGE adult sized poop in his crib. I’m glad I’m past the puking stage of this pregnancy.

-I got a stroller and car seat for baby #2 who is yet to be named. I’m super nerdily excited about this because its a much nicer one than I had for Sum. I was able to get it used from a friend and I luurve it.

-I’m planning Sum’s third birthday party, but I’m so out of it that he’s barely going to have one. I need to make lists of things to THINK about these days so I can make decisions and make a list of actual things to put on a list.

-If you are or have ever been pregnant, this blog post makes total sense to you. If not, I hope that I’m not scaring you away from ever having any.

-You see what I’m saying? I HAVE NOTHING! I’m actually sorry about posting this, but I’m trying to post (somewhat) regularly still. TO what end, I don’t know, but I’m doing it danggit!

Today I went to pick up Sum from school. I ran into his favorite occupational therapist in the hallway who loves him just as much as he loves her. She has actually told me that he and the other little boy with WS are her two favorites, she has had them since they were babies. We started talking as we walked towards the classroom and she told me that when she dropped off another child in his classroom from therapy earlier that the child started to cry and so she sat down with him to comfort and that Summit had walked over.

My little angel is sympathetic, when kids cry he gets upset and tries to comfort them whether or not he knows them. He is compassionate and sweet, always exceeding my expectations.

Expecting another story about how great my child was, I listened eagerly, wanting my parent ego tank filled some more. “and then Summit walked over, was furious, and snatched the toy out of the other child’s hands and tried to push him off my lap!” finished his therapist adding she had never seen him act like that before.

Well, then.

It’s funny how little things like that happen. The things that we take pride in, how ever little or big, God has a way removing them and realigning us with his will. Sometimes all you can do is keep the smile in place while cringing on the inside. (Or laugh about it, but much, much later when no one is around but your husband!)

My favorite part in Jurassic Park is when the camera focuses on a giant T-Rex foot print and the water pooling in it starts to shake a little. The silence that falls as the characters look in horror at the rippling water, knowing what is heading their way fills me with the same terror and suspense as well.

Tonight I was determined to take a bath, I have heard it’s good for Braxton Hicks and although I nearly HAD this child bending over and scrubbing my bath tub to clean it beforehand, I figured it would be worth it.

Two things I found out tonight: One, I hate baths. I get bored quickly and can’t seem to appreciate the stillness at all. Two, my 30-year-old bathtub is NOT made for 8-month-pregnant women. My thighs were touching the sides and although I know the whole “spreading” and “expanding” thing is normal and good, I felt like crap. I mean, I don’t weigh 200 lbs and with America’s obese crisis I feel like the standard tub should be enlarged to accommodate the obese and pregnant. I guess this is why most new houses have the large jet tubs- not for relaxation as much as fat.

What does this have to do with T-Rex? you ask yourself, wondering if I have indeed lost my mind completely. You are not too far off actually, I have been saying the most absurd things lately, but as this is not what this particular post is about- I will continue.

As I lay in the bathtub wondering how I could convince Ben to give up his closet for me to get a jet tub, I got really still and then noticed that the water was shaking slightly every few seconds. Once I became aware of that I realized it was at the same time the baby kicked me. He was making ripples in my bath. I had an odd sense of connection with him at that moment, the reality that he was a real person with his own thoughts and actions. He seemed like such a real person at that moment that I forgot how uncomfortable I was scrunched in my tub and how I will make millions once I figure out how to make a padded/reclining back to bathtubs. The fact that he will be here sooner than my slightly-in-denial mind can comprehend then gave me a brief moment of panic like the T-Rex was coming. Seriously. His room just got painted, there isn’t any furniture and I have NO CLUE where my 0-3 month clothes and accessories are! I want to be organized and ready for this child and I am no where near. I’m not ready for him yet. HE CAN’T COME OUT!

I breathed through my panic and calmed myself down. I made myself sit there for awhile as the water cooled around me, watching the little life inside of me affect the world outside in a visual way. I thought some deep thoughts that are now forever stripped from my pregnant mind, to be rediscovered at a later time when I’ll have this strange feeling of déjà vu. It was such a real feeling, it was the first time I’ve slowed down enough in a few days to have a feeling like that if that makes any sense. So often I get caught up in moving on to the next task that I don’t take time to just be still and be. It’s funny because when I do take the time I have these amazing moments of clarity and reality that my soul craves… and think of T-Rex.

It’s random post time where I fill you in on all the random little things that have happened recently that didn’t warrant a post on their own!

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The other day I was talking to the only other little boy’s mom I know that also has William’s Syndrome and she told me that there are only 11 registered cases in the state!!! That seems strange to me, Williams occurs in about 1 in 7,000 so statistically there should be a LOT more cases. I guess this is just proof that Williams is a largely undiagnosed genetic disorder.

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I met my neighbors across the street finally the other day. Let’s just say the police were involved in a neighbor vs. neighbor dispute that involved shoving, screaming and cussing. I watched from the driveway with Ben and one of his work friends who came by to see our new house. Ironically his first comment was “Great Neighborhood!!”

On the plus side, one of the neighbors is a local restaurant owner who embarrassedly introduced himself after the ruckus and is bringing us lots of $$ off coupons.

Actually, this one could have used it’s own post…

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I had a day of luxury that I didn’t expect and was able to really appreciate. After dropping Sum off at daycare, I went home and took a nap, woke up and worked out at a nice gym I have a temporary membership to, then to Starbucks for a strawberries and cream frap. Yes, the luxurious life is nice… oh so nice…

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So, this sounds like I’m bragging, and maybe on a certain level I totally am shamelessly bragging, but I’m 8-months-pregnant so whatever. I’ve had more, “you look good!” “you are so skinny!” and “you look so young!” comments in the last few months than I’ve EVER HAD IN MY WHOLE LIFE. I’m torn b/t feeling sad I never get to hear that normally and total joy that I’m so freaking hot… at 8-months-pregnant… hmmmmm.

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I eat a lot. I think I’m shoving down over 5,000 calories a day. I’ve got to stop this. I don’t know why my metabolism is my friend right now, but I don’t want to take advantage of this pregnancy miracle.

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I’m terrified of the landscaping in my yard. I’ll post some pics but I think we’ve bitten off more than we can chew in this area. Ben wants to bulldoze everything. It’s pretty, I want to keep it, but I don’t have time to weed the massive flower beds… in both the front AND back yards. There are flowers everywhere already, I have a purple blooming tree and massive amounts of strange bushes with thorns that have to go.

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Sum had his first Easter egg hunt today at school. (last year he wasn’t so into it.) We were the nerdy parents who were both video recording and taking pictures. We were the nerdy parents who had both of our moms come too to witness their adorable grandchild. It was a blast. He went from total excitement, to screaming overwhelmed, to thrilled, to crying, back to absolute joy. It was an emotional event.

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Ben is having a tooth pulled, cavities filled and bone grafting done today. Bone grafting sounds so horrible. I don’t know what they are going to do to him and honestly I don’t want to know. I’m posting as quick as I can because I think that this weekend may be kind of chaotic with an almost 3-year-old, a drugged up husband and massive amounts of holiday related things to do!

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Have a blessed Easter and although I didn’t take the time to remind you, remember what the holiday is REALLY about. Not the fluff.