Posts Tagged ‘Pregnancy’

So I’ve returned.


I can tell.

We’ve been busy. REAL busy.

Like we’ve been potty training.

Don’t get too excited. Potty training consists of Robbie shoving his hand in the toilet and then into his mouth all while I try not to throw up.

No, I’m not pregnant.

We also went camping and I learned I have a secret.

I will share when I am ready.

No, I’m not pregnant.

We’ve been trying to buy a house.

And by trying I mean we live on a hundred dollars trying to sock away enough for the down payment and the 7 thousand dollars that follows for the “extras”.

We really need the extra room. Like REALLY need it!

No, I’m not pregnant.

We cut Liams hair.

It was getting scraggly and the child is going through early onset male patterned baldness.

Makes me sad he’s growing up so fast.

He’s growing up so much faster than Robbie and with Robbie I knew early on that I would have another one to enjoy soon.


Let me clarify,



This blog posting has been written for my father. The man who continues to insist I am pregnant again. No Dad, I’m not pregnant I’m just fat. Thanks ūüôā


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Today I have learned a lot.

First of all, my child is a growler.

Yup, you definitely read that one right… He growls… A lot.

We were walking through Target and at almost every stranger he could find, he growled at them. As if guarding his precious loot in the basket. Can’t blame him though, we were buying his treats and new toys for his brother’s arrival…


Kid’s got to get something better than a new brother, I mean, come on!

This behavior would make sense seeing as how we have a dog and all that jazz, but here’s the thing…

I’ve only heard Hercules (yes, the Welsh-midget-corgi is very aptly named… NOT) growl once… ONCE!

I was sitting in the truck, horrifically sick from my pregnancy with Robbie and horrifically pregnant! (Morning sickness throughout the day, throughout the pregnancy is what I like to refer to as “not the business”). Big Robbie had run into AmPm for me to grab me a cold 7-up to hopefully quell the vomiting and Hercy sat proudly on my lap looking about.

I must have looked down because I never saw her coming.

She pressed her nose to the glass and asked if she could have a dollar. I had change in my cup holder so I leaned over, grabbed 4 quarters and handed them to her through the door. I leaned back over to the center console and laid down my head, the acid from my stomach clinging to my throat, threatening its escape.

“That’s it?” I heard through the closed window.

I looked up to find she was still standing there.

I felt helpless, wasn’t that what she had asked for? I couldn’t be sure, I was too concerned ¬†with the contents of my stomach making its grand debut that I ¬†hadn’t been paying attention.

I looked over her face. She was older, but it could have been an illusion. She had stringy blonde hair and her mouth was contorted into an ugly sneer.

I quickly apologized and questioned whether I had gotten the amount right.

All the while Hercy sat on my lap. No movements, just staring.

The woman raised her hands over her head and slammed her fists down on the passenger side window of the truck.

She yelled at me. Calling me a selfish bitch, a whore.

She demanded I let her ride with me.

“Give me a ride,” she repeated. Her nose pressed against the glass, “give me a ride.”

Unsure, I defaulted to my husband, saying she needed to ask him.

I watched, unnerved by this transaction, as she began inching her face around my window. Her nose pressed to the glass the entire time.

From my lap I heard the beginning of a faint growl.

It startled me, I looked down to see that Hercules was now standing at full attention. Hair standing, ears back, eyes narrowed, teeth bared.

My pint-sized corgi had had enough.

He growled ferociously  at this woman and began gnashing at the window.

The woman backed away, never looking Hercy in the eye, and disappeared into the night.

Once she was out of his sight Hercy laid back down and rested his head on the center console.

Once again watching the comings and goings of the AmPm.

Maybe little Robbie remembers the night Hercy had protected him?


Maybe the kid just needs therapy…

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I have been absent for a week, how distressing! Much has changed in the past week…

Not really…

I’m still very much so pregnant (kid is refusing to read my notices of eviction-RUDE), my 11-month-old is still into everything, and my mind is still lost. Business as usual.

Today was pretty eventful for us though.

This morning we trekked down to our ever friendly DMV and waited to have our number called over a garbled sound system, which wouldn’t have been awful if the monitors had worked. Can you guess what wasn’t working today? If you guessed DMV you would be correct. Vanna, tell ’em what they’ve won! I always seem to have trouble at the DMV, but today wasn’t too horrible, as compared to the other times I’ve gone. We were able to get in and out fairly quickly, but I guess that happens when you can just throw a butt-load of money at them and walk away. Ok, so maybe I’m bitter. Sue me.

Then is was off to our play date.

Remember when I told you I had “that kid”? Well, nothing proved it more than today!

The play date was being held at, what is called at our church, the “Port”. It used to be a place, back in the day, where sailors/soldiers could stay while they were stationed here. Apparently it was a great place to pick up men. Ask my Aunts, that’s how they met their husbands :)! Anyways, it’s a huge open space with huge windows and some doors going out to a gated patio area. The little one’s were meant to stay inside while the bigger kids went out on the patio to play with their bikes. Seems reasonable, right?

Not according to my kid…

“Robbie honey,” I call to my child in my sweetest of voice (Hey, don’t judge! I was at church, I can pretend I’m nice there!). “Mommy doesn’t want you to go outside. It’s not safe.”

I calmly pick up my child and redirect him to another area.

Mere minutes pass and he’s high-tailing it out there again.

“Robbie, please stay in here with me. You could get hurt.”

Seconds after I say that, I watch his little blond head slam into the metal of the door frame. My child is the only child wailing and why is my child wailing? Because his mommy seems slightly incompetent. Every head turned as my child wailed. Every eye on the child refusing to be consoled, pushing against my chest trying to escape my comforting embrace¬† because he is positive I totally pushed his head into that door frame. Did I mention I’m 9 months pregnant? I’m sure I’m the poster mommy of “perfection”. Or was that, INCOMPETENCE?!?!


I set him down after he has finished wiping snot all over my shirt and reach over to get him a snack. As I’m pulling out the dried mangoes I see that little head bobbing over to the open door for the millionth to play, more like get trampled on, with the big kids.

This went on for an HOUR! I could not deter this child! He would even try to be tricky! He would pretend he was wandering over to a toy, lull me into a false sense of security and then quickly u-turn and dash to the door!

Yea, I have “that kid”.

I don’t even want to tell you about his revolutionary leadership skills in his Sunday school class.

However, I will tell you what I learned today…

That we so need one of these


For a moment I was like, “really? Is that what we’ve come to?’

And to that I say

Yes, yes it is!

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This is not my first time at the blogging rodeo. If you didn’t gather this much from the title I, A. don’t know that I can help you and B. not sure I want to. I used Blogger before, but was not its biggest fan and got bored when I “couldn’t” talk about my new pregnancy– 1st trimester fears and all that. However, since I am now officially 35 weeks pregnant I think I can safely talk about it ;)!

This leads into the choice of my blog name. This is pretty self-explanatory if you know me IRL, but if you don’t, you would be confused. My children are too close together. There, I said it. I allowed myself to blindly believe that nursing was an effective form of birth control… My son is 11 months old and I am due with my second son in a month. Obviously, I was wrong in my assumption… You know what they say about assuming, makes an a…you get my drift! Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids and all that jazz, but I certainly wasn’t expecting a second so soon after the first! Especially since the first came as a *ahem* bit of a surprise too!

Anyways, I guess I should do the polite thing and introduce myself. You might have gathered I am a mom of 1.85 boys, I am, also, 22-years-old, and, as of recently, a college drop out. OK the college drop out is really something I just say that amuses me. I’m actually almost done with my degree,¬† but keep taking these 9¬† month breaks along the way. So, at the rate I’m going I would guess I’ll be finished in about 10 years, give or take a couple of days.¬† WHAT?!?! I’m all kinds of scientific in my realism!

Now for my mushy *kiss* *kiss* can’t wait to talk again send off! When really it’s more of an “I’m tired, I’m going to bed and tomorrow I will write something that doesn’t resemble anything of us ‘talking’ and more along the lines of a soliloquy”. Oh yes, I might get all Hamlet-y on you!

And, with that, I bid you adieu!

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