Momma. Momma. Momma.

That's my name, don't wear it out. Oops, too late, worn out beyond recognition.

I was really worried about becoming a mother of two. I was scared that it would make things different with my relationship with Madison or that I wouldn't have enough love. Whatever that means. My mom assured me that something just happens when you have another child, that there is enough love and to stop my whining and get her a glass of water, with lots of ice. Now.

As usual she was right. I can't explain what it is that happens, it just does. All of a sudden your heart has expanded and you love both of these babies so much and there is no 'one or the other', it's just both. This is not to say that I am not exhausted and that sometimes I would love for my hearing to fail and that at night even though I am so worn out that I have enough luggage for Paris Hilton occupying my lower eyelids I still stay up late just so I can get a little peace and quiet.

Like right now, it's almost midnight. I finally got Cooper to sleep, he has decided that sleeping on backs is for pussies and he wants to live dangerously and sleep on his stomach. So being the momma that I am and having a worry wart for a husband we bought one of those motion sensor baby monitors that even picks up on breathing movement, because it's great that Coop is sleeping three hours at a time but if he decided to open those eyes he would see one or two blood-shot eyed parents staring down at him and his reflection in the spoon in front of his nose because they are checking his breathing for the tenth time this hour. Every move that he makes has Joe shooting straight up in bed screaming "What's wrong!?". So, Coop is asleep, Madison is asleep after fifty questions regarding when is summer, when is Christmas (um, three days ago), when are we going swimming, when is spring, when is Thanksgiving in Canada, well, you get the drift. Thanks to an Ambien, Joe is asleep and I am currently sitting in the La-Z-Boy listening to his snoring on the baby monitor, eating some Dove candy (because I'm the adult, that's why) and about to enjoy a vigorous round of Plants Vs Zombies. Ahhh, this is the life. Wait, that's not right.

Long story short, I love my kids and I am exhausted. Wow, I do ramble.

Are You Kidding Me.

Attention makers of the bassinett that I have. I won't mention the maker, not sure if I could get in trouble for that. I will tell you that this company is known for good quality and also makes various "adventure-wear". Rhymes with Shmeddie Shmauer.

The bassinett is beautiful, just a peach to look at. The problem comes in when it's time to rock the baby to sleep. While rocking it makes a loud clicking sound, kind of like a cha-chung, cha-chung with every sway. That's not too bad because I think that Cooper has now gotten used to it and it lulls him to sleep.

The real issue arrives when you need to lock it into position because if you leave it in the "rocking mode" the baby will of course work it's way over to edge therefore smothering himself against the side because it will tilt and he will not be able to pull away. I'm a mom.

So, I'm done rocking him, he is FINALLY asleep and I postion the bed to lock it into place and I turn the knob and as it locks it sounds just slightly louder than a car backfiring.

You can only imagine the sight of my infant jumping out of his skin and clawing at his hair. I can only imagine that he must have gotten that move from me.

So, what do I do?

Bitch and complain. Piss and moan.

Merry Christmas!

It was "Baby's 1st Christmas" this year and it was a good one. Since neither of us are working, me by current maternal duty, him by...well, no choice of his own, we didn't go over-board like usual. It was nice. Madison got what she asked for, Joe went over our $100 budget for eachother (which was actually supposed to be a $50 budget) and I got Joe the things he asked for therefore he guessed every thing under the tree before he unwrapped it and in the process ruined Christmas.

Every year Morgan spends the night on Christmas Eve and he bakes cookies with Madison and we watch movies. On Christmas morning we unwrap presents and then head to momma's house to open presents and spend the day playing games and eating. I always get some sort of board game that I'd been wanting and we play. Mammaw attempts to play, she will yell out her answer about five minutes past her turn and her answer will be to a question that was asked three turns ago. This has me doubled over in laughter and her confused as hell. Momma has to have the instructions read and explained to her at least two times, we usually give up and give it a trial run. We hardly ever finish a game, we are worn out from laughter or someone pees their pants. I'm not naming any names...Morgan.

This Christmas Eve we had the new little one and on this night he chose to not sleep. At all. At about 5am I got to sleep for almost two hours and that was it. So, by the time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror at 6pm on Christmas day I looked like I had been beaten about the eyes with a club. My eyes were open, you just couldn't see them beyond the luggage that had taken place below them.

Besides the sleep deprivation, Christmas was great. Christmas is always great, I love giving gifts and seeing the excitement on Madison's face on Christmas morning. I am usually the first one up due to the excitement and I have to wake her up! Incredible.

Wanna know what I got for Christmas? Do ya? I received a $50 iTunes giftcard, Black hi-top Chuck's (desperately needed these), a few games, Band Hero for my DS, pajama's, Grey's Anatomy Season 5, book light, scrapbooking supplies, babysitting certificates (thanks Morgie!).

I hope everyone had a great holiday (whatever religious or non-religious affilitation you may be). This is an equal opportunity blog.


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A Child Is Born

Alright, here it is, the story that you've been waiting for. Don't lie, you know you've been waiting to hear just how this kid finally arrived. So sit back, relax and get ready for some nail biting, nurse assaulting action. No, really, I assaulted a nurse.

Well, the kid actually listened. I said that he better not arrive before the premiere of New Moon and I would prefer it if he waited until after Thanksgiving. So both of those events came and went. If you can recall I was pretty damn sick and tired of being pregnant, I'm pretty sure I complained every day.

The day before my due date rolled around, it was Saturday. Joe and I figured we'd better get out and run some errands and get the Christmas shopping done since all hell was going to be breaking loose in the next week or so. So, we head out and run errands. We managed to fit in a small fight which derailed our Christmas shopping because I refuse to Christmas shop after I've been crying in the bathroom where someone is taking a massive shit in the stall next to me. Maybe it'd be fine for some people but for me that just doesn't scream Christmas spirit, that's just me though.

That night we're at home and we figured we'd head out in the morning, have some breakfast and do the Christmas shopping. We watched some TV and headed to bed. I was having some contractions, no pain or discomfort so I figured no big deal. There's no way this kid was going to arrive on his due date, that just doesn't happen. In my mind I figured he'd be coming during the next week.

Laying in bed I was of course grumbling about having to pee for the 237th time that day, I also had a split lip. Don't ask. Okay, you want to know why I had a split upper lip? Drool. When you're pregnant you drool in your sleep. Picture it, open mouth breathing, snoring, drooling. This dries out the mouth, so when I wake up a million times in the night I might yawn or move my mouth in some way and it splits my lip open. Fun. So, laying there I opened my mouth to tell Joe something and my split opened up so I said "Fuck, my lip hurts!".
Five minutes later I felt something strange, like a "POP" in my stomach to which I replied "Mother fucker". Joe laughed and said "What, split your lip again?" to which I replied....

"Nope, my water broke."


Literally, he was a blur. I didn't actually see him again until we were sitting next to eachother in  the car, and even that image is a little shaky.

On the way to the hospital phone calls were made. Momma, Morgie Porgie and my friend Kathy were all on the way. As a matter of fact Kathy was on a date, he dropped her off at the hospital. My water broke at exactly 10:00pm on Saturday the 28th, we made it to the hospital by 10:30pm. I was cheery, everything we going smoothly, contractions weren't even painful yet and I was already excited about getting my epidural and taking a nap because dammit, I was tired.

Kathy is a doula and an RN, we agreed that I would wait until I was 4cm dilated to get my epidural. When I arrived at the hospital I was 2cm. No problem right? Sure, whatever you say "pre-painful contractions lady". So, the contractions started to hurt. Wow, I had forgotten what they felt like. Yup, painful. I had to remind people more than once to NOT TALK while I'm having a contraction and for God's sake DO NOT TOUCH ME, especially my face or hair. I didn't even want encouragement, don't tell me I'm doing great while I'm breathing through the pain that feels like my legs being ripped off of my body.

Finally at around 1am my wonderful, beautiful Godsend of a nurse, Dylan, checks me and I'm 4cm! "Get the epidural...NOW." By now the pain is radiating through me and I'm trying everything, breathing, meditation, distraction and nothing is working. That anesthesiologist couldn't have gotten there fast enough. But boy was I excited, I couldn't wait to get the sweet, body numbing medicine so I could take a nap. She arrived and it took awhile but it was in and the pain was starting to weaken. After a few contractions the pain was barely a purr but I didn't feel so great so I puked and felt better. That was when I asked momma and Morgan if they were going to just leave and come back in the morning. You know because I'm going to sleep now and this kid isn't coming for a while. They just kind of look at me and shrug and Kathy says she thinks he's coming sooner rather than later. I laugh. I actually laughed. Stupid.

I tell Dylan I'm ready to get some sleep and she says she wants to check me first. Fine, I say, but hurry up. She checks me and says, "No nap for you, it's time." I then commenced to slapping the shit out of her arm. "NO, I'm tired!" I explain, "I can't push now, "I WANT MY NAP!" Then I felt it, the pressure which is actually pain. This pain is something that the epidural can't cover up, this is the feeling of a human about to come out of your vagina. "Damn it." I then began pushing my epidural button like a maniac. It will only give you more medicine every 15 minutes but it felt good to push the button, I also wanted to make sure I got my next dose not one second over the 15 minute mark.

Joe, Momma and Kathy stayed in the room with me. We had to wait for the OB and the neonatal doctor to arrive so there I am legs up, all my business in the open and they are telling me not to push. I don't even know what the room looked like at this point, nothing could have gotten my eyes open. OB shows up, neonatal doctor not yet. So now she's just hanging out down at the end of the bed, everyone's eyes on the "baby arrival area" and they are all going on about how his head is "right there" and "look at all his hair" and I'm pushing a "magic" button which I'm sure wasn't plugged into anything and yelling "I'm not pushing!"

I'm not joking when I say, the second I heard the door open when the neonatal doctor came in I started to push and I didn't stop until that kids head was out and they made me stop. I pushed 3 times through 3 contractions and gave birth to Cooper Vaughn Wolf at 3:23am on Sunday November 29, his due date.
7lbs, 15oz, 19 inches long.

That's that. Now we are home and getting used to the sleepless nights, the endless parade of diapers being flung at the trash can, the midnight crying, the husband asking me over a screaming baby if maybe he's hungry or gassy or has a dirty diaper and me staring at him blank faced because how the fuck am I supposed to know, I can't read baby minds!

We are managing. Madison loves her little brother but can't quite grasp why it is I just can't jump up and do what she needs right when she needs it, even though I would love to, really I would. Given the option to play with Barbie's over having a kid attached to my boob for an hour straight I would totally go for those Barbie's.

Hopefully blog posts occurrence will pick up soon, it's just so hard to type and feed a baby. I tried typing while feeding myself yesterday and now my keyboard has chicken pot pie in most of the upper left keys. God, that Marie Callender is a real bitch.


Never Again...

Will I eat at a Wendy's fast food restaurant.

Because of this.

Commercial That Ended My Relationship With Wendy's.

I mean it. Seriously.

I hate you...

Kit Kat candy bar.

Due to the new Kit Kat candy bar commercial where it is nothing but people biting into crunchy Kit Kat bars I will never again purchase a Kit Kat wafer bar. It's worse than listening to Bocephus eat dog food.

Suck it Hershey.

By The Way

I didn't mention this weeks ago, probably because I didn't want it to be true. Denial, it's a beautiful thing.

Joe was laid off again. He has now been out of work for about 3 and a half weeks.

Now you know some of the reason for my lack of hilarious and entertaining blog posts. Not only do I have a newborn baby in my household but I am in constant company of my dear spouse. He has been an amazing help with Madison and the new wee one but I just can't write when he's sitting around me. All day. Every day. All of it.

So, we are both not working, we have a newborn, a dog that eats loudly all day, a kindergartner who all of a sudden has to move constantly, it's a snowstorm outside and Christmas is next week.

Oh, I forgot to ask. How are you doing?


Thanksgiving...That's the story you're waiting for right?

Oh, maybe you want to read about my birthing experience. Well, you'll have to wait, so there.

First of all you should know that I love Thanksgiving, it's my favorite holiday, well except for Christmas you know because of the presents and it being our Lord's birthday and the presents. Thanksgiving has food, not just any food but fattening, all buttered up food cooked by my momma. Dinner is usually held at momma's house where she has invited not only our family but anyone she happened to meet in the last 12 months. It's huge. There's at least 2 turkeys and a ham, these I don't care about.

Dressing. No, not stuffing, you sadist. Dressing. Cornbread dressing. It is delicious and if all we had was dressing I would be totally fine with that. Well, we need gravy. We always need gravy. It's a Southern beverage after all. My momma makes the best dressing in the entire world. You make think that the shit that your mom told you was dressing or stuffing (shudder) is the best, well, you would be wrong my friend, dead wrong. That is a fact.

Well, since this Thanksgiving I happen to be 15 months pregnant my mom didn't feel comfortable throwing the Thanksgiving hoo-haa, since my hoo-haa could possibly be in labor. So, instead of having it at her place we had it at my step-dad's brother's house. I let my mom know that this was totally fine as long as SHE brought the dressing. Oh, and the gravy. Plus, straws.

When eating at a family event there are things you need to know. You need to know who NOT to sit next to. Do not sit next to...well, a specific group of people (I won't name them so as not to hurt feelings and I'm positive that they have no idea it's them that I'm talking about. Oblivious.). Don't get me wrong, I love them all dearly but their eating methods do not agree with my gag reflex. It's basically the noise, the chewing and smacking will have my stomach turning and me pulling my hair out by the fist full. It is maddening.

When it was time we were all called to the table and like some sort of freak accident all of the loud eaters were seated next to eachother. The panic that ensued. I'm sure that noone understood why it was so difficult for us to sit our asses down, we were like stuttering morons. Morgan ended up having to sit directly next to the group...not sure how that happened. Joe was able to sit the farthest away and he still lost his appetite. Morgan at his meal with his face turned all the way to the left so that he would have to see the mouth action. I also employed this method. Didn't help much.

If I had to describe one of the eaters I would say it would be like standing Bocephus upright and giving him a fork.

Besides that mess,

*This section blacked out due to request of my mother. Carry on.

Thanksgiving was great! You know, because of the dressing and all that gravy.

I am thankful:

  • for my family, even the noisy eaters and loud breathers
  • for my daughter who can make anything hilarious
  • for my husband who has been so wonderful and has had to put up with my pregnant self for the past 9 months, it's a miracle we made it out alive
  • for sleep
  • for baby head smell


Out Of The Office: Giving Birth

Sorry for the lack of posting last week and this week. Thanksgiving was awesome and the new baby finally arrived...on his due date of all days.

Some things I am doing:

  • Not sleeping
  • Enjoying laying on my stomach
  • Not peeing every 4 minutes
  • Smelling the best smell in the world: baby head
I will post soon about our Thanksgiving and of course about the new arrival.