Birth plan, Hospital Bag, Gas Station

Preparation for your second child is different.  Not that I care less about the preparation, but I care differently- ya know, in a more mature, confident way.  (Yeah, let’s go with confident. It sounds better than lazy.)

Firstly, I have been working on my birth plan.  Which, by the way, I had completed by week 20 with the first pregnancy.  Now I’m at week 37 and just finished it.  Once, I had my initial thoughts down I brought it to Cory to discuss it with him.  With Chase’s pregnancy, I had many wishes for my labor and birth, including: low lighting, music playing, taking a warm bath, etc.  This time around Cory laughed at me when all it said under “my relaxation preferences” was, “TV on.”  But it’s true.  I wouldn’t mind watching something other than PAW Patrol or Teen Titans Go for a day or two in the rare few moments when the only child I am in responsible for is the one that is still inside my uterus.     

I have also had the thought of bringing my laptop to the hospital to, ya know, shop on Amazon Prime or to work on my taxes in-between contractions.  That wouldn’t be odd would it?  I’m sure other people do that, especially if you are birthing a nugget out of your lady parts right in the middle of prime tax season. 

Secondly, my hospital bag looks a little different this time around.  With my first pregnancy, I packed lots of clothes, diapers, wipes, make-up, etc.  This time around my hospital bag has been renamed, “My Hospital Snack Bag” which is filled with ho-hos and granola bars (and beef jerky for Cory).  Make-up is nowhere to be found.  It has been replaced with a bag full of quarters for the vending machines.  I wonder where my 50 pound weight gain during this pregnancy has come from?  It will always remain a mystery.

Lastly, in my last few weeks when I was pregnant with Chase I felt I was ready to give birth on any day and would have welcomed it at anytime.  This time around I always have thoughts of, “Well, maybe he shouldn’t be born on Monday because I have a meeting that night, and Friday morning wouldn’t be ideal because Chase has a dentist appointment that would be challenging to reschedule.”  Not that I’m not excited to give birth at any moment, I just want to know when so I have time to clean up the house a bit first, get in a quick nap and make sure Chase has recently had “hygiene night” so he’s not the smelly kid at Grandma and Grandpa’s for a day or two.  Totally legit thoughts right?

Any who, we are beyond thrilled to be welcoming a new little nugget into this family any day now and when he chooses (Wow, that is hard for the over-compulsive, planner in me to say).  Chase even had us bring a swaddle blanket to our doctor’s appointment last Friday.  You know, in case the baby was born then because he “would be so cold” without it.  It also melted my heart when Chase kissed my belly and said, “I hope you are healthy baby” right before I walked out the door to the appointment.    

On a side note: Yesterday, we celebrated our last family Christmas.  Before we left town (you know, to venture out on our 30 minute drive there) we stopped at the gas station to “pick out a little snack” for the car ride.  As the gas station attendant was ringing up our little snacks he asked, “So, are you guys stocking up for a long car trip?”  Cory’s face turned a little red when he responded, “Nope, we are just heading out for a 30 minute drive,” as he grabbed our two grocery bags plump full of treats and walked out the revolving door.

Happy Chilly Sunday.  (Oh chili, that sounds delicious.) 

So, this is our last family picture (on my side) before the baby comes.  I just want to apologize in advance to the baby for bringing you into this crazy family- clown noses and all. :)    

Jewelry and A Beer

You know you are a parent to a boy when you are at a store looking at jewelry and a necklace catches your eye.  But it caught my eye for all of the wrong reasons.  I didn’t notice it because it was covered in diamonds or jewels. I had to glance at this necklace three times because I thought it had the word “Fart” written on it.  As it turns out, it didn’t have the word fart on it, but instead it had the word “Faith” written on it.  But of course, my mind immediately went to fart instead of faith.  How does that happen?  Oh yeah, probably because Chase happened and I’m sure I spend more time smelling farts than I do wearing jewelry. 

On a completely unrelated note, we are less than a month away from our due date so we have been talking about our baby a lot. And Chase is already head over heels obsessed with his little brother.  He wakes up every day and asks if today is going to be the day he gets to see his brother.  And every day I reply, “We will have to wait and see.  Baby gets to pick the day,” which he is getting pretty annoyed of. We have been talking a lot about what we all think the baby will look like.  Chase asked me what I thinks the baby will be wearing when he is born.  I told him that the baby will be naked when he is born and that is why we bring the baby clothes to the hospital.  Chase paused for a minute and asked, “Oh, he will just be holding a beer?” 

Um, what?  Why in the world would his little brother be born holding a beer?  But then I started thinking less about why Chase would think that and started envisioning a baby coming out of a vagina holding a beer (In a can of course, because you can’t have glass in a pool, so I’m sure that having a glass bottle would be frowned upon in a pool of amniotic fluid as well and it would just be ridiculous for a baby to be born holding a red Solo cup.  The beer would spill everywhere- what a sticky mess that would be.) and couldn’t stop laughing.  And although it is because of Chase that my mind goes directly to fart before faith, he is totally the reason I laugh all day long and couldn't love him more because of it.     

Any who, Happy New Years!  

A Taffy Chaser and Breast Pads

You know when you have that moment when you realize your life is nothing like you thought it would be. And you wonder to yourself- "Who am I and how in the world did I get here?"  And then you can't quite tell if you are seriously winning or seriously in need of a one way plane ticket.

This was one moment:

Me to Cory (while sitting in the passenger seat of the car with two pounds of saltwater taffy on my lap): "Do you want a piece of taffy?"

Cory: "Sure."

Me: "Here is a green one. It's a little sour, so I have a vanilla one here as a chaser."

It was then that I stopped and realized that I offered my spouse a "taffy chaser."  How did I get here? I used to be the girl who could beat anyone in a keg stand and now I'm in need of a chaser for my taffy.  I mean, I used to chase beer with cookies, so not much has changed, but really, taffy?  When did I get here?

Here is another:
The other night, I found myself and my four year old little nugget playing a game entitled, "How many breast pads can I fit in my pocket."  I think the title speaks for it's self.  But again, how did I get here? I mean, am I prepared for the birth of my child? Yes.  Am I #cool? Not so much. (Ya, Ya, I know. I can't really pull off the hashtag stuff.  Well, technically it's a pound sign, but whatever.)

On a side note, we are 30 days away from our due date, unless we are going with the word of my psychic who believes baby Rev will be born on January 16th.  And frankly, why wouldn't I believe the psychic?

Is It An Earthquake? Is The Floor Collapsing? No, It's...

So, I thought I would share this embarrassing pregnancy moment with you, because, well frankly, nothing really embarrasses me at this point. 

So last Friday, Chase randomly spent the night at his grandma’s house, and I am a hunting widow, so I thought: Hey, why don't I do something crazy. Like go shopping by myself. You know, like actually browse Walmart without having to dodge the toy aisle, having to run someone to the bathroom every few minutes or having my child beg and beg for something.  And sometimes Chase begs for toys too.  So I was stoked for this.  And no, I don’t feel that being this excited to venture on an independent trip to Walmart to pick out shampoo in peace is pathetic.  If you would have asked me five years ago, sure.  I would have thought this was extremely pathetic, especially on a Friday night.  But that was before I pushed an 8 and a half pound nugget out of my vagina. 

So here I am, pushing a shopping cart through Walmart when I feel a vibrating feeling.  I pulled out my phone from my back pocket, but it wasn’t ringing.  I didn’t think much of it, put my phone back in my pocket and moseyed along my journey. 

I took a few steps and I felt the vibrating sensation again.  Again, I took out my phone to check to see if there was a call. But nothing.  I continued to waddle along as I felt the same vibration continue.  Now, I was starting to get worried.  I looked around to see if anyone else was reacting to this vibrating feeling.  Was there an earthquake?  Was the floor going to cave in?  But no one around me seemed to be concerned, so along I trotted. 

Until, it happened again.  It was this time that I figured out what this vibrating feeling was…. It was (dun, dun, dun) my thighs rubbing together! (Gasp).  Now, don’t get me wrong, I have never been one to be concerned, whatsoever, about my weight (or anyone else’s weight) but I find it somewhat pathetic that I actually considered that there was an earthquake in Minnesota, in November, before I considered that my 40 pound weight gain could be effecting the way I walk, or waddle. 

So here I am with ten weeks left of my second, and last, pregnancy, ( Yeah, yeah, I know I said that last time.  But this time I really mean it.) without the ability to control when and where I urinate and without a thigh gap.  So I did the only thing I could think of doing…. I went through the Arby’s drive thru and feasted on a hearty roast beef sandwich and curly fries, with extra Arby's sauce, of course. 

Anywho, Happy Tuesday! 

Dad Farts, Lipstick

So the other night, Chase, Cory and I were snuggling in our bed before we tucked Chase into his own bed for the night.  Our baby started kicking and Chase put his hand on my stomach to feel the gigantic kicks.  Chase feels one kick, giggles and says, “Our baby likes to stay in there (meaning my stomach).”  He then continues, “I wanted to stay in your stomach for a long time too.  They had to suck me out.  It’s because I was so warm in there, and I know Dad farts out here.” 

Isn’t it funny how you think for one second that you are having a sentimental moment with your child and then in the next second they goes all adolescent on you?  

On a side note:

This is something I thought I would never say, but yet again, as a parent you can never say never (about anything):

“Chase, it’s time to brush your teeth and wash the lipstick off of your lips before bed.” 

Any who, Happy Halloween Folks!

Magnifying Glass and Random Strangers Cheering

You know when you have one of those moments that you just stop and think, “Huh, how did I get here?”  Well, last night, I had one of those moments.

Chase was sitting on the bathroom counter socializing with me while he brushed his teeth as he felt a drip of water fall onto his hand.  He asked, “Where did this come from?” I replied, “I think it came from your mouth.” Not satisfied with that answer, he perked his tiny little head up towards the ceiling and said, “Nope. I think the ceiling is leaking.”  

Right child, because that seems more logical than you speaking a mile a minute and foamy toothpaste spit landing on your hand.  But whatever, like most things, I’ll humor this too.

I watched as my tiny fellow, in dinosaur footsie pajamas, climbed down from the counter, grabbed the bathroom step stool and hurled it up onto the counter. He then pulled his tiny little body back up onto the counter and stood on the stool with his eyes on the ceiling.  He then reached his hand down to me and said, “magnifying glass.” As if he were a doctor asking for surgical tools to be handed to him during the middle of surgery.  

Without even thinking I ran to the living room, grabbed the magnifying glass, scurried into the bathroom and handed my tiny surgeon his tool.  It was when he was inspecting the ceiling for a phantom water leak, magnifying glass in hand, that I took a step back and thought, “Huh, how did we get here and how did I know where a magnifying glass was off the top of my head?” But continued on with the night.  Needless to say, Chase never found the leak and came to the conclusion that maybe he did, in fact, spit on himself.  Strange.

Another "How did I get here moment:" 

The other day Chase and I were at a park by our house.  The park has a black ledge going around the play area in hopes of keeping the tiny pebbles in the actual play area and not on the grass, or in a toddler’s nose.  Any who, while Chase was climbing on the jungle gym, of course, I took this opportunity to use the black ledge as a balance beam. Because what other grown adult wouldn’t?  The play area was quite large, so I knew this was a challenge, but I was up for it (And frankly, what else did I have to do?).  I started my balancing act slowly and cautiously but quickly grew confident and picked up the speed.  I was within two yards of the finish line and I felt my pregnant belly start leaning towards the left.  I quickly shifted my body to the right to correct it, fully equip with arms flailing but in this moment of panic I caught my fall.  While I was taking a second to collect myself to continue on my road to success, I hear a faint clapping in the distance and then I hear a voice yelling, “Yay! Nice save!” Apparently, I hadn’t noticed a family of five sitting on their front lawn in lawn chairs watching the circus that is my life.  And to this day, I can’t tell if I was embarrassed or proud.  Huh, I wonder where my child gets his quirky personality? I guess we will never know.     

Any who, speaking of random strangers cheering… (Who has two stories about random strangers cheering for you?  Apparently, I do.)

Well, when I was in college, my family and I were helping someone clean out a house before selling it when I hear a faint magical sound in the distance.  I looked at my dad and we both knew the sound. It was (dun-dun-dun) the Ice Cream Truck!  It sounded far away but I had a hankering for an ice cream sandwich and believed in myself, so off I scurried.  I ran and I ran and just when I didn’t think my Jello feeling legs could take me any further through the trailer court I was now running through, I got the inspiration I needed; a group of middle school aged boys.  They were gathered on the side of the street.  One of the boys yelled out, “Run, white girl, run.” And then they all began to chant this.  So naturally, at this point most people would have been too embarrassed to continue, but not me. My love for ice cream treats is real.  So, I kicked it up a notch and made it to the ice cream truck right before it was about to drive off, huffing and puffing, only to realize I didn’t have any cash on me (haha Just Kidding, that would have been so disappointing).  I bought my ice cream treat, turned around to head back and immediately thought, “Sh*t, now I still have to walk 5 blocks to get back and pass my cheering section again.” 

Any who, happy almost Friday! 

A Boob Explorer and Dreadful Urination

So you know how you teach your child to speak, and then you regret it, like daily?  Well, I regret teaching my child to speak. Like at all.

This past weekend we were camping with Cory’s family and Chase was playing outside with some of Cory’s aunts.  Mid-play, Chase walked up to one of Cory’s aunts and nonchalantly says, “You have nice boobs” and then struts away as if he throws out this compliment all of the time.  Everyone looked around semi-horrified and burst out laughing.  Chase looked at me, shrugged his little four-year-old shoulders and asked, “What?” As if this is something he thinks about all of the time.

When Cory returned from 4-wheeling, I told him about the compliment Chase hurled at his aunt.  Without any hesitation Chase pipes in and adds, “What? I’m a boob explorer.” 

So Cory is quite proud that our son is a hunter; a cougar hunter that is.    

(Insert the look of desperation and shame on my face right about now.)

On a completely unrelated note:

So I am 20 weeks into my second pregnancy and boy do first and second pregnancies differ, for a number of reasons. Let me share with you, my top 4 reasons why these pregnancies are different.  (Because 5 would be too predictable and conformist.)

#1. Peeing.  The thought of peeing yourself during a sneeze, a laugh or jumping, sounds horrendous during your first pregnancy.  You wouldn’t be caught dead telling anyone you accidentally urinated on yourself and now, with a second pregnancy, you just learn to wear two pairs of underwear at once, because a little urine is unavoidable and frankly, saves you a restroom trip.  Anyone on my speed dial gets daily texts that read: "Yup, peed myself 3 minutes ago."  Count yourself lucky if you don't have my digits.

#2.  Your growing belly. During your first pregnancy, you wear maternity clothes way before you start showing, in the hopes that you may look pregnant and cute.  This time around, I had to start wearing maternity clothes by week 6.  Not so cute when you have gained 30 pounds in four months.

#3. The delivery.  During my first pregnancy, I was scared for myself during delivery.  The thought of an 8 ½ pound baby emerging itself from your lady parts seemed terrifying (and a little disturbing when it’s put like that). This pregnancy, I am scared for my sleepy self after delivery.  Heck, being in a hospital hooked up to pain medication sounds like a treat and the perfect napping scenario.  Why didn’t I take advantage of that the first time around? Silly, Jayme. I’ll know better this time.

#4. Age.  My goodness, when did I get so old?  During my first pregnancy I felt like I could run marathons.  Okay, well maybe not marathons but I could at least stay awake past 8 pm.  Now, by the end of the evening, I don’t even want to walk to my bedroom.  I understand that I was younger when I was pregnant with Chase.  But only 5 years younger, not five decades younger.  I often find myself panting after a trip to the fridge and showering seems like an unreachable goal.

Any who, this is the week we (hopefully) get to find out the gender of our second little nugget.  We have decided to take Chase with to the ultrasound in hopes of reminding him that I am not not, in fact, going to give birth to a puppy, or his snail that died a few weeks ago.

Happy Tuesday!

Chase isn't only a fan of lady parts, but also art projects. This was his project from today. 

After our long weekend at the cabin.  The boys needed a nap. Rough life, huh?