Oh, she's got the crazies

Had my first hormone-induced pregnancy freak out last night. Yeah, that was fun. I'm standing in the kitchen tearfully telling Morgan about how I'm certain he's going to leave me and Conor and Baby Girl because he, you know, wants a different car, and somehow in my foggy pregnancy head, this all makes perfect sense.

For his part, Morgan is standing there looking bewildered, befuddled and bemused, which turns rapidly into him looking amused which completely sets me off again and oh-no-don't-you-dare-laugh-at-ME-mister, finger wagging in his face. Ugh.

Of all the pregnancy complaints this freakout-this complete inability to control my emotions, this mental knowing that I'm being ridiculous but at the same time lacking the emotional werewithawl to do anything about it-this I hate the most.

I remember one Saturday evening when I was pregnant with Conor I was lounging on the couch (I don't remember what that is like anymore) watching a movie on TV. It was an old movie (by old I mean released in the early 90's) and I had already seen it numerous times and it wasn't even that good and who likes to watch movies on TV because then you have to deal with them cutting out scenes and adding in commercials and I guess what I'm trying to say is that the movie? wasn't really that big a deal. But Morgan said something like, do you really want to watch this movie? And I lost my shi...well you know, and stormed out of the house and proceeded to drive around in the dark for an hour. In the midst of this madness my friend Jamie called me and I told her about what Morgan had said and my indignity and the silence on her end of the phone (where there should have been righteous indignation on my behalf) woke me up enough from my hormonal madness so that I drove home.

So, pregnancy makes one glowy and beautiful (well, not me specifically) and it also makes one crazy and...well, crazy.

Good times!

Chips Ahoy: The perfect antidote to parenthood

Oy. Oy vey.

It turns out that being a parent is very, very hard work! No, I did not just figure this out today, but yes, it still comes as a shock every now and again.

My precious little angel-pie-face-nugget-love-munch, well how can I put this delicately? I want to punch him in the face. Oh wait. Is that bad? Should I not admit that out loud?

We decided not to spank anymore. We've each done it a few times but it makes both of us feel so badly, well, its just not worth it. However, that means we actually have to think about discipline and appropriate responses and, you know, outsmart our kid. UGH! Its actually really, really hard.

Its the gray areas that are killing me. If Conor hits me, simple, time out. But what if he pats me? Or what if he taps me? Or what if the taps and pats turn into something close to a hit but still not quite an actual hit? Does anyone know where the line between pats and taps and hits resides? I keep looking but it keeps moving.

We were at the library today and I swear, I wanted to lock him in bathroom stall and leave him there. He was yelling and "no"-ing and pulling books off the shelves and throwing them on the floor. Finally, we just had to leave. But its embarrassing! I know, I know, all other mothers have had their kids misbehave at one time or another but in that moment, I felt like my kid was the only one in the world who was being a turd. These other kids, and I kid you not, had freaking halos over their heads. Meanwhile, my kid's head is floating off his shoulders and spinning in circles while smoke comes out his ears. Or was the smoke from my ears? Anyway, we were straight out of The Exorcist.

Anyway, I'm self medicating with Chips Ahoy. Four of them right now but I should be able to consume at least another four before the end of nap.

**Special side note: Thanks Grandpa Joe for sending me the list of family names! Love you**

25 Weeks

I had my 25 week appointment yesterday and a follow up ultrasound as well. During the first ultrasound Baby Girl was being a little uncooperative and wouldn't quite give us the view we wanted of her heart or her left foot. There was also some question about the placenta which I tuned out because ew, placenta. Gross. Heart looks awesome with all four chambers pumping along as they should. Also, her cute little feet were crossed at the ankles and adorable as only baby feet can be. All of her bits and pieces look great and she is weighing in at 1 pound, 9 ounces and some number of inches long which I can't remember right now. Totally normal in the growth department.

NOTE: If the thought of the placenta or the umbilical cord are gross to you, skip this next bit. The placenta and umbilical cord are giving us some problems though. Normally the umbilical cord inserts on one end into the placenta very near the center and into the baby through the belly button (well, its not a belly button yet, but you know, it will be. Someday.). Apparently the umbilical cord has a marginal insertion which means that instead of being inserted into the center of the placenta its inserted somewhere near the edge. This is probably not a big deal but they do need to check again to make sure that the umbilical cord isn't inserted into the membranes at the edge of the placenta. As long as the umbilical cord is just off center, there really aren't any issues. They may need to monitor Baby Girl's growth a little more carefully but otherwise, everything is probably fine. I should know more in a month. I figure it can't be anything too serious if they are making me wait another month to do a follow up ultrasound, right?

And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for...

The cutest little girl you ever did see.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

From our Irish family to yours!

Tickles!

Been trying to do this forevs. According to Niki this should work. Let's see, shall we?




Ok, it looks like it appears twice but hey! At least I got it to work.

Special thanks (again) to Niki for making this blog what it is today.

Sleep, sleep, sleep

What a day! Daylight savings time, a trip to the zoo with Buggy and our dear friends Christy and Zack, out to lunch, playing outside, no nap, birthday party at great-grandma and great-grandpa's house, and too much strawberry shortcake.

This kid is done!

Today marks what must be only the 4th time in his short life that he has missed a nap. We love our schedule around here which is why Conor is sacked out, on the couch no less, at 5:30pm. I'm not sure if I should wake him so he goes to bed at the right time, or just leave him and hope to heaven he doesn't wake up at 5:30 tomorrow morning.

Oh, but isn't he adorable?

I am so proud

Some people automatically begin their careers immediately after high school or, more often, college. Others work their way into their careers though roundabout or circuitous routes. And some people always know what they want to do but find that first one thing and then another gets in the way.

Morgan has always wanted to be a firefighter. I think the drama and the excitement call to him in a way that other careers just don't. And he's a helper and a fixer and I can't think of a better job for fixing things and helping people.

But, as so often happens, life gets in the way and dreams are deferred. I'm learning that its never too late to go after what you really want in life, even if it means starting over, starting at the bottom.

Morgan, it seems, is learning this too. About a year ago, Morgan decided to look into joining the Portland Fire Department. He discovered that they only do hiring once every two years or so, but that you can get on a notification list to be invited to the testing process. In early January the notice came and Morgan had to submit his name and Social Security Number for a preliminary background test. Once he passed that (wooo hoo, my husband isn't a criminal!!!) he was invited to take the written/mental aptitude test.

He was nervous. Morgan doesn't consider himself a smart person. At least not "book smart" as we like to call it. And yeah, if he was given a standardized, scantron-type test, he probably wouldn't do so well. But as I tell him all the time he IS smart. He can visualize ideas and concepts in his head that boggle my mind. He can solve complex mathematical problems involving algebra and trigonometry and probably some other types of math that I don't even know exist. Something to do with a compound radius. Or whatever. He can build ANYTHING and his creative mind never stops imagining how to make things better and faster and stronger and more efficient.

So, back to the test. He took the test at the Portland Convention Center along with a mere FOUR THOUSAND other candidates. Yes. Four thousand.

And he passed.

Yesterday he received the notification and has been invited to the second phase of testing, the Physical Agility Test. The test will consist of 9 stations. To pass the test, he will have to complete all 9 stations (wearing 100 pounds of gear, I think) in 8 minutes, 2 seconds.

Good job, Babe. I am so, so, so, so, SO proud of you. You are an amazing man and I am so honored to be your wife.

Also, firefighters are damn sexy.

And so it goes, folks, and so it goes

The very same day I write a glowing tribute to our stupid a$$ dog, he not only eats two Tupperware lids but then proceeds to vomit all over the carpet. Then, as if that isn't bad enough I notice that he has managed to somehow vomit BEHIND and ON my favorite chair in the living room.

Oh yes, I took pictures. Seriously? So disgusting. And this is why I call Tucker a Stupid, D%^*, A#%-hole, and tell him to go play in traffic.

Free dog, everyone. First one to my front door gets him.

The wide angle. At this point I'm wondering, what the hell is that? Notice its on the window, the window sill, the wall, the carpet AND the chair.

Oh no! The close up.

What I can only imagine must have been Tucker's view.

Seriously, I hate this dog.

T-T-T-T-Tucker*

Oh Tucker, I make no secret of the fact that I really do not like you very much. I've often called you very naughty words that can't be repeated here because this here's a family blog. You stink and inexplicably, you drool and you follow me every-damn-where I go and it drives me frickin' bonkers.

And you have fleas! Seriously? As if the constant expression of your anal glands, in the house no less, isn't enough, you have the audacity to go and get fleas? What's that? I should have given you flea treatment weeks ago? Whatevs dog, you need to get RESPONSIBLE.

You snore louder than my ear plugs can muffle, you bark at both squirrels and your own reflection. You have an uncanny ability to jump on only those visitors who really, REALLY don't want you to and always touch me with your wet and disgusting nose.

But.

But, you are so SWEET! Not that I can give you away, but if I could, I would have a line of people at the front door waiting to take you home. You are universally loved and adored by everyone but me. You are affectionate and gentle and so stupid it makes me shrug my shoulder and pat your dumb little head.

You can curl up into the tiniest black and white bundle or sprawl out and take up waaaaay more than your fair share of our queen size bed. And you bark and run in your sleep and, I'm sorry, it doesn't get cuter than that. You've never once been aggressive to people or animals and your dopey bark brings a smile to almost everyone.

Best of all, best, best, BEST of all, you allow Conor to commit all sorts of atrocities upon you and the only punishment you serve is a big ol' tongue kiss. You've been ridden, bounced upon, pushed, tackled and you've even had your man bits tugged on (yeah, that was a close one, Conor).

Through cats, dogs, moving and babies, you've remained our faithful and loving companion. Oh Bubba, how we love to hate you.

You let me dress you in cardigans

And napkins.

You've accompanied us hiking

And camping,

And snowshoeing.

You've shared your bed.

More than once.

From this

To this,

We can't help but love you.







*Sung like you would for Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia

Catching Up

I need to get caught up on blogging for many different reasons. First, you'll notice my new format. The other was too busy I thought. When and if I have the time and inclination I might spice it up a bit more but that will probably far exceed my technical abilities. Also, if all works as planned, check out my new signature at the bottom of the page. How cool is that? Thanks, as always, to Niki who teaches me everything I need to know about how this thing called the Internet works.

I feel like we've been very busy lately yet I really have nothing to show for it. Conor and Morgan were both sick with Conor having yet another ear infection (second in 4 weeks, YAHOO!!!!) and Morgan had to go to San Jose for work for a few days last week. Honest to God, I don't know how single parents do it. Those three days were so challenging. It wasn't that I was doing double the work, somehow I was doing triple or quadruple the work I normally do. I won't lie, Baby Girl and I had a beer. Well, not the whole thing, but yeah, my sanity required it. DON'T JUDGE ME!

Anyway, Morgan is feeling better and Conor is still mending but it looks like the ear infection is gone at least. Bad news it that I think I am coming down with it now. I was so sure I had missed it too. Oh well, such is life. At least the life of a parent.

I posted a while ago about Conor's funny beer comment. Seriously, this kid keeps Morgan and I in stitches every single day. I had to post these funny things he's said recently so that grandparents (and others) can enjoy them but also so that Morgan and I can go back years from now and still be entertained by the amazing and witty things our boy says.

Last Weekend:
We had just woken Conor up from a nap - I know, cardinal sin but he had already slept for three and a half hours and I needed him to sleep that night! - and told him he was going to get to go see Buggy and Uncle Keenan. As a bit of a backstory, Buggy is pretty dang cool in Conor's eyes, but Uncle Keenan, well he's Supremo Coolio, the bees knees, AND the cat's meow in Conor's mind. So, back to Saturday afternoon. Conor goes, "We go see Buggy and Uncle Keenan? That's AWESOME!"

Monday Night:
One of Conor's favorite things to do is look through our wedding and honeymoon pictures. He gets a kick out of identifying all the people in the pictures. Super good times. So we're sitting there, the picture of an idyllic family and Conor points to the photos and goes, "Oh, those pee-tures are REALLY NICE."

and then...

"Oh Mommy's so cute." And the kid speaks the truth!

And, in baby news, I'm about 23.5 weeks which means I'm THIS close to the 6 month mark. And my belly is getting really big. At least that what people are very sure to tell me when they see me. THANKS FOLKS! Your belly looks big too!

See, I'm not THAT big

ANYWAY...I feel great still and, having been determined to enjoy the hell out of this pregnancy, really feel good about being pregnant this time around (knocking wood and crossing fingers).

A few days ago Morgan and I were discussing names and he, are you ready for this???, gave me FULL NAMING AUTHORITY. I know! I was just as surprised as you are. Morgan has VERY strongly felt opinions on LOTS OF THINGS and for him to relinquish his ability to tell me that my ideas are stupid. Well, it was huge. (Just teasing, Babe. I mean, a little.)

So, now I have all this power and I am alternately drunk with it (what if we name her Bertha Ilene? BWAHAHAHAHA!) and terrified by it (I have to do this all by myself? But what if I choose wrong? What if she hates her name and then hates me and then, and then, and then?). But, no pregnancy hormones are NOT bothering my right now, why do you ask?

But, after much deliberation and thought and careful scouring of baby name lists, I think I have settled on Baby Girl's name. I'm not going to disclose it just yet because I want to sit with it a bit longer and make sure that I've picked the right one. I think though, that its a nice blend of family history, uniqueness and a reflection on our Irish heritgage. So, stay tuned in the coming weeks.

School is almost over for Winter Term after which I'll have a week off for Spring Break (remember when we used to DO stuff for Spring Break?) and then I begin MY LAST TERM OF MY UNDERGRADUATE COLLEGE EXPERIENCE. Best of all, I only have to take 8 credits 4 of which will be the online variety meaning I will only have to heft my rapidly growing self (see above) to school for 2 hours twice a week. And then, a mere 12.75 years after I began college, I will graduate. This is advance warning that I fully plan to walk across that stage to accept my diploma. Maybe that's silly and maybe the ceremony is just a formality, but these last two years have been hard and a whole lotta work and a whole lotta money and a whole lotta time away from Conor and I want to be able to have that symbolic moment when I walk across that stage and say "I did it!"

That's all for now, folks. Walsh, out!


Ooh, the signature worked! I'm so savvy. :)