I am tah’d. Like, more than tired.  More than back drooping, bone rattling tired. Having two little people amd one big man depending on you is tiring, especially when one of those people sucks his nourishment out of you. Sleep is a distant memory. It’s not all bad, though.  I love my family, my little boys. It’s just crazy to me that I have one. Me? Someone’s mom? Two someones? Nuts.

The baby is doing great!  He eats like a champ and is so chubby. He coos and smiles and sometimes looks like a grumpy old man. He’s fitting into his big brother’s six month clothes already…and he won’t be three months old until the 19th.

This past Sunday we celebrated our oldest’s second birthday. We had it at a party place my husband found on the back of a bus. Wait,  that definitely sounds weird. While driving to work, he saw an ad on the back of a bus. Our son loved it. We got a private room, pizza for the little ones, a Thomas cake and balloons, tokens to play in the arcade, and access to the toddler playground. Let me tell you, that playground wore me out! Up the slide, down the slide.  In the box, out of the box. Run here,  run there. All while helping him navigate. Looking at him among the other kids makes me remember that he’s a preemie. He just seems so much smaller. He’s so advanced in other areas, though.

Friday is his actual birthday,  and daddy and I have taken the day off. We plan on taking him to buy more Thomas stuff, and then…his first haircut. I’m nervous. I’m sure he’ll be fine, but I’m freaking out. To go from this:

to a fade? Mommy is scared. But it will stop him from looking like a ragamuffin when he wakes up in the morning. This kid gets his hair braided on Friday.  By Saturday it looks a week old.

Being back at work is less eventful than I thought it would be. It’s the same old work,  with breaks for pumping milk. I did get a raise though. Crazy, after being out on bed rest and maternity leave, AND not even being with the company a full year. I’m thankful! That extra $0.70 an hour brings my salary to the most I’ve ever made. It’s still not where I want it to be, living in New York city with two kids, but I won’t complain.

I’ve begun my “Journey to MILF-dom” with a group of friends who are also new moms. Breastfeeding has made me lose too much weight,  so I’m working on my pounds. My body looks ok, except I’d like to get the bulk of my stomach transferred to my butt. I don’t need to be Serena, but I’d like my pants to fit again. I bought a kettle bell and some resistance bands, and we’re talking about getting an xbox and that zumba game. Now I just have to find the time to actually use it.

He’s Here!

Baby Ari was born on February 19th.

Hubs and I had Monday off. We’d been at his mom’s house all weekend, getting some rest and grocery shopping done. I had been asking him how he felt about having a baby that day. He told me to stop playing and let the baby come on its own because I’d been asking him that all week. But a mother knows…

He decided to get things in order, just in case. Maybe he had a feeling. He put both car seats in the car and set up the double stroller. We got ready for my doctor’s appointment at 6:30. We saw the baby on sonogram and monitored my contractions. They weren’t strong or often.  The doctor said all was well and it would be okay if I went into labor anytime soon because we were considered full term. Leave me to take that and run with it.

I started having contractions that woke me out of my sleep around 1am.I pulled out my phone and started the app that would track them. I walked around the apartment and made sure my bags were packed the way I wanted. I realized I should probably wake my husband up. I told him it was time to go and he shot out of bed like a rocket…to look for his long johns, lol. He went to warm up the car,  and I called my dad to take Nasir (thank God they only live upstairs! ). I had a few more contractions on the way to the hospital. 

I hunched my way over to the front desk and asked (or demanded) a wheelchair.The nurse and midwife who checked me made it seem like the baby was going to fall out if I farted, so they sent me to a delivery room. The contractions got worse and I was clutching my husband’s hand, arm and back. Soon it was time to push. I started and couldn’t stop, even when the doctor said to. It took about six pushes, and Ari Maasai was born at 7:59 am.

We are-I mean, he is-resting. I’m running on adrenaline and catching sleep as it comes. I’m doing well and talking care of myself though. Nasir’s reaction to hearing his brother had arrived?  “Oh no! “

 

What happens now?

Being on bed rest gives you plenty of time to think. While you’re laying around watching television and generally feeling useless, a lot of things cross your mind.

I’ve been thinking about the type of mother/woman I’m going to be after baby #2 is born. I’ve seen so many mom bloggers (and regular bloggers) get in shape, get a routine together, get life in order…I want that. I want to maintain a certain weight, even while breastfeeding. I want to become that coupon mom who saves her family a ton on groceries. I want to start a skincare routine. I want to dress and look like an adult. I want to drive instead of taking the train or having my husband “chauffeur” me everywhere.  Simply put, I want to make changes.

I go back to work in two weeks, but I’m realizing that I feel stagnant career-wise. While I’m thankful to have a job, period, I don’t really feel like it follows the career path I thought I was on. I started in HR and figured I was on track to be a manager. When I began looking for work after my son was born, I was under qualified for management roles, but over qualified for coordinator or analyst roles. I fell into a payroll position, but it’s like starting over in a whole new field. During my interview with the CFO, he let me know that it was kind of an entry level position. Sure, it’s similar to a job I used to do, but it’s payroll. I don’t even like math! Now I feel kind of lost. I have a masters degree that I’m not using (and don’t really know how to put to use), and a job that doesn’t really have much room for growth-but at a great company. Ideally, I’d like to parlay this into another, higher paying position that puts me back on the HR track or at least aligns me with something I can do long term. I want to eventually move our family to the DMV area, but I don’t know what kind of employment I’d seek.

So, changes. I just don’t know where to start.

Bed rest is boring, y’all. You hear me? Boring. 

My days consist of checking my blood sugar, injecting insulin, sitting on the couch, sitting up in bed, stuffing my face every two hours, and generally feeling as though I should be doing something. There’s only so much television, facebook, and pintrest one person can take in every day. I’ve already come up with my spring/summer shopping list, decided on a mommy’s day out before I return to work after the baby’s born, and considered throwing out everything in the apartment in order to make more space. 

I’m thankful to be out of the hospital. I’m thankful that my son didn’t decide to come at 32 weeks. I’m thankful that the doctors were able to stop my contractions and send me home to my family. But I’m so tired of bed rest. 

I’m sorry…

Dear Reader,
You have been bamboozled. Hoodwinked. I underestimated my posting abilities and led you astray.

Things started off so well between us, and then I allowed things to come between our relationship. Things like an active toddler and his new vocabulary (including “a door!” purple, turtle, ‘brue’, pink, ‘bwack’, and cock…which is not clock like you think, but cock, because daddy is terrible.); work amd entering 50 transfers, their tax information, and transit deductions; a new year and its resolutions; and getting to my 32nd week of pregnancy,  only to be hospitalized (why do you think I’ve got time to post?).

Yeah, hospitalized. I started having contractions. I swore it was just gas, lol. I’m currently on magnesium to stop the contractions and keep baby baking for a few more weeks, insulin for my blood sugar, an IV for fluids, antibiotics, steroids for the baby’s lungs to develop…basically entirely too much shit. I really just want to go home, but I’m doing what’s best for this little boy. I hope he’ll stay in there a little longer than his big brother. I’m feeling a lot better now that they’ve lowered the magnesium dosage, but let me tell ya-there’s nothing more humbling than having to use a bed pan.

I’m trying to do better in 2013 overall, so I hope that you’ll bear with me and my empty promises. I’m like the boyfriend you want to break up with, but can’t…I’m really going to try this time, babies and all.

I know I promised a post a week, but I just haven’t been up to it lately. After hearing about the children in Sandy Hook, I just couldn’t think of anything to share. I’ve been letting my son get away with so much mischief, simply because I’m glad to have him here with me. He’s been getting his fair share of hugs and kisses too. I can’t imagine him (or his dad) not coming home from school one day.

My Christmas spirit isn’t really there. We moved offices last week, and I’ve been pulling some later hours at work in an effort to get organized. Our files were packed all crazy, and even though I have more desk space, it’s cluttered–which is not how I function  at work. In addition to that, the holiday means employees have to get their hours for the week into the time system earlier. It also means that while you guys are relaxing on Monday, I’ll be at work helping run payroll.

I’ve also been checking my blood sugar 3-4 times a day. I was given a prescription for oral insulin earlier this week because my fasting levels are way too high. I cried (of course). I can’t sit around moping though. I’ve just got to do what I’ve got to do so that my baby’s health and my own health is taken care of.

Inspired by Mamademics, I’ve decided to take up crochet. I tried to learn to knit years ago. Little old ladies from my church tried to teach me to crochet. It never stuck, but this time I’ve got a new sense of determination. I really want to make something for the new baby. And the old baby. And myself. Unfortunately, I picked up crochet thread instead of yarn, which means I can’t make anything for anyone. I’ve been trying to get to the yarn store all week…on Monday, I left work late. On Tuesday, I was tired. On Wednesday, I didn’t feel like it. On Thursday, I figured I’d go on Friday. And yesterday, someone decided to call exactly at 5pm to ask me to enter timecards and a transfer, so I didn’t leave the office until 5:40. At some point this week, I WILL get my yarn.

Just because I’m not in the mood, doesn’t mean there isn’t some Christmas around the house. The baby’s tree is up and decorated. I hung some pointsettia towels in the kitchen. My sorrel is on the stove, and I’m slowly straightening up the place. You all have a great holiday!

I don’t count sheep.

Some people count sheep. I decorate my dream house. It’s not huge—but there’s a dinig room, living room, kitchen with breakfast bar, and a sliding glass door that leads to the deck. I do this almost every night, telling myself that one day, that house will be mine…

Welcome to my first post of the week. In order for that house to be mine, I’ve got to get out from under the mountain of debt that I’ve found myself under. I’m 30 now. I’m a mother of two, and a wife. It’s time to stop making excuses and start being responsible for the choices (and mistakes) I’ve made financially in order to do better for myself and my family. I used to spend money recklessly, charging items and spending my paycheck within a weekend. I used to buy things to look a certain way, or to make people think certain things. I used to spend my last dime to have a good time, borrow money from others, and pretend that my bills didn’t exist. I’ve gotten myself into financial ruin for the sake of trying to keep up with the Joneses, and I’m sick of it.

This year, I’m intending to set a budget. I’m currently paying around $600 a month on 3 student loans, another $200 in past due credit, and yet another $200 towards a surgery I had nearly 5 years ago. However, it’s worth it to know that I’m slowly working my way out from debt. It’s worth it to know that one day, I’ll be able to afford to give my children their own bedrooms, a backyard, and a home that belongs to them. It’s worth it to know that one day I’ll be able to afford a vehicle to transport them to whatever activities they’re involved in because I can afford for them to be involved. Most importantly, it’s worth it to know that one day, I’ll have the satisfaction of not owing anyone anything.

 

No, for real. I’m posting.

I know, it’s been a while. But since someone bullied shamed gently coaxed me, I’m finally updating my blog.

Honestly, facebook is so much easier. I don’t have the pressure to commit to it. People think I’m funny on facebook. When I post here, I sit and wonder, “will they understand my weird sense of humor?” “Will they like me? I mean, really, really, like me?” My friends on facebook are mostly weirdos like me who laugh at my dry humor and the foolish things my husband and I do-like yelling “get my children outta here!” like Miss Sophia in the Color Purple before starting the microwave. But this post isn’t about my weirdness or my love of facebook (I’ve been a member since 2005! How crazy is that?), it’s about my new commitment to post once a week in order to satisfy the masses (aka the four people reading).

So here’s the deal. Y’all can count on at least one weekly post. Two, if I feel particularly poetic. I warn you, these posts may be random (like me) and just flow with my train of thought (also random in making connections). If you’re a new reader, welcome. If you’re one of the Faithful Four, thanks for sticking around!

Sandy’s Shenanigans

First off, we’re alright. No downed trees, dangling power lines or major flooding in our area. We have power, heat, and water, so we’re more fortunate than a lot of folks right now. We’ve been able to enjoy each other’s company since Monday. Today was my second attempt at going to work…hubby has the week off as a public school employee.

The transportation situation? Foolishness. Most people work in the city, and it’s damn near impossible to get into the city right now. If you’re driving, you need 3 people in your car. If you’re taking the train, good luck. Wednesday morning, I was at the bus stop at 7:10. A driver told us they were only going as far as the Manhattan bridge. I went back to bed. Today I was at the bus stop by 7:30. The bus didn’t come until 8:35. I gave my seat to a girl more pregnant than I was…wouldn’t yoy know not a mofo on the damn bus offered me a seat except the pregnant girl? So I stood for an hour.

Coming home was a nightmare. It’s 8:04. I left the office at 5:03. I’m STILL not anywhere! I’m on my way to my mother in law’s because all the Brooklyn buses were packed and after waiting an hour and a half, I just knew I would end up fighting someone, pregnant or not.

And to top it all off, Scandal isn’t on this week.