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Pregnancy sucks… and then it doesn’t… and then it does… and then you just want that baby out.

By Elle on May 20, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, daughter, life is funny, marriage, mommyhood, new mommyhood, pregnancy

*This post was inspired by Marianna from Snappy Surprise who’s pregnant with her first child. Let’s take a minute to welcome her to the mommyhood club!

Pregnancy is such a magical time. You start growing and growing and getting bigger and bigger. There’s some pretty wicked hormones running through your body that makes you cry over a candy commercial. Not just some crying with a light case of the sniffles… it’s the ugly cry.

And before you leave the house, you’re a bathroom ninja and you check to see where the bathrooms are in the vicinity of where your going. I’ve already written about some things I experienced in the days and weeks following my daughter’s birth. Now, it’s time to tackle pregnancy.

A case of the barfs –

I was puking throughout most of my pregnancy. The nausea would get so bad that I would get the spins. Prenatal vitamins were assholes and I would puke nightly after about an hour of feeling like I wanted to die. That was finally resolved when a nurse told me to take 2 gummy Flintstone vitamins without iron in place of the prenatal.

When I was pregnant, my sense of smell was on steroids. I would be dry heaving at things I loved prior to being pregnant, like pepperoni pizza. I would even carry plastic bags in my purse just in case I would get sick.

Cravings -

I wanted anything lemony or citrusy. My biggest cravings were anything to do with fruit, potatoes, Taco Bell bean burritos with sour cream, and orange juice. Holy hell, I would stab somebody if they fucked with my orange juice. My poor husband.

Food aversions -

That freaking rotiserrie chicken at the grocery store would give me the biggest case of the barfs. It was awful and I would dread having to go grocery shopping. I must have looked like such a sane person before I started showing because there I’d be, going down aisle after aisle, gagging at the smell of that damn chicken wafting in the air.

The sweet spot. -

It was around 6 months when my pregnancy seemed more real to me and it was also around that time that the hummingbird was really, really active at night. My favorite part of the day was late at night when I would be laying in bed and she would be doing her acrobatic circus acts. I loved that bonding time with her.

I would also love when the hummingbird would get the hiccups when she was on the inside. After she was born, I would hold her close to my chest so I could get that feeling back.

The alien inside. -

One night while watching the alien inside of me move around, I lifted up my shirt and would see her poking through my stomach. Then, holy shit, there was an elbow or a knee that really poked up and went from the left side of my stomach to the right side. My first thought was that my baby was going to burst through my stomach like a scene in the movie Alien.

Nobody ever told me stuff like that happens and I was about to wake up my husband to tell him our baby is eating its way through my abdomen. Then it happened a few more times and since my stomach was still intact and my fetus didn’t eat through it, I was pretty sure I was safe.

Peeing every 5 minutes. -

You pee, and pee, and pee, and pee, and pee some more. One thing that should be very clear is that when a pregnant woman says she has to pee right this very second, don’t respond with “But we’ll be there in 5 minutes. Just hold it until then.” Especially if you want to live. There’s a baby sitting on our bladder and once we have to pee, we have to do it then and there.

I’ll eventually be able to lift myself off the couch between now and tomorrow night -

In my 7th month, I started to slow down more because of my basketball sized belly that would have me waddling like a duck. Once I would sit in a chair or on the couch, I would feel like I needed a forklift to get me up. It was getting more difficult to try to get comfortable whether I was sitting, standing, laying on the bed, walking, and driving.

No, I’m not moody, motherfucker. -

I was moody through my entire pregnancy which by the way, I admit I would take advantage of sometimes, but in my 31st week of pregnancy, I was done, done, done. I was so ready for my daughter to be born. My mood was certainly helped by people who would say to me “Wow, you’re still pregnant! It looks like you should have had that baby weeks ago!”

Get this damn baby out of me now! -

I couldn’t get comfortable, I couldn’t sleep, I had to pee ALL THE TIME, I wanted to eat soft cheeses again, and there seemed like there wasn’t anymore room for the hummingbird to grow. It was cramped quarters in my uterus and I was so ansty and restless to meet my baby. I finally did on April 15, 2009. Her due date was May 6 and that was when we were able to bring her home from the NICU.

Post-baby breast pump nipples -

There are so many things I could go on about when it comes to post-baby but one thing really sticks out in my mind. I had been pumping for a few weeks and one afternoon, while my newborn daughter was taking a nap, I decided to pump a little extra longer than normal. When I took off the breast shield, I almost screamed.

My nipple was the size of a quarter.

Let me repeat.

My nipple was the size of a quarter!!

With my pregnancy hormones strong and having first time mom-itis, I thought I broke my nipple and it would never go back to its normal size again. I called my husband at work and as soon as he answered, I was like “Omg, Omg, I broke my nipple. It’s huge! I was pumping and now it’s the size of a freaking quarter! What do I do?!”

The hubby calmed me down (I’ll never know how he stopped himself from laughing at me) and tried to assure me that my nipple wasn’t broken and if I just gave it some time, it would go back down to its regular size.

Luckily it did. After that, I thought it was the coolest thing that my nipples could get so large. What? I blame it on being sleep deprived and the fact that I’m easily amused. If I could have, I probably would have stopped everyone I came across in my daily life and would have told them “Want to know something cool? My nipples can get as big as quarters! Wanna see?”

But then there’s that whole getting arrested for public indecency that I wanted to avoid.

What were some of your memorable pregnancy experiences?

*Yael Naim – New Soul

Comments { 8 }

There it goes!

By Elle on May 16, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, marriage, ugh!

Years ago when my husband and I lived in Seattle we lived in a house (built in 1917) that had the creepiest mofo unfinished basement.

It smelled like dead people. I would dread it every time I went down there. It’s where the washer and dryer was so I was sure that when I went down to get the clothes, I would be murdered by something.

It was also where my husband set up his workshop.

One time, my husband told me that while he was down in the basement of horrors, he saw a mouse running across the floor.

Oh. Hell. No!

Not only did I have to deal with the thought of ghosts, demons, and Freddy Kreuger getting me while I was down there, I also had to deal with mice.

I don’t take too kindly to mice.

One night while my husband was down in the basement, I went to get the laundry out of the dryer.

Whether he was down there or not, when I had to go in the basement for whatever reason, I would have a mini heart attack. I would tip toe to the basement door as not to give whatever supernatural forces that were down there any warning that I was approaching, I would open the door, then I would race down the stairs, grab the laundry while my heart was thumping out of my chest, and race back up the stairs.

This time around, my husband told me that I just missed the mouse running near the dryer.

I wasn’t amused and my husband got the laundry out of the dryer for me while I stood by the basement stairs. When it all looked clear, I decided it was safe for me to got back near the dryer to grab the laundry basket.

That’s when my husband pointed out the mouse scurrying across the ledge of our basement wall and said “LOOK! There it goes!

I dropped that motherfucking laundry basket onto the floor, screamed, and ran up the basement stairs. I ran though the house, out of the front door, and down the stairs of our house to the sidewalk while still screaming. It’s a good think nobody called the cops.

I stood there barefoot on the sidewalk in front of our house and started laughing. By that time my husband had come upstairs to our living room when I walked back in the front door.

He was was cracking up and he kept on rubbing it in and saying “There it goes!” He got a good playful ass kicking.

I sent him out to get mouse traps the next morning. Not long after, he was sent on a 9 month deployment and I had to deal with the mouse traps. Eeeek!

To this day, he still loves keeping me on my toes by yelling out “There it goes!”

Bastard.

*Pomplamoose – Beat It

Comments { 1 }

Why can’t I fucking be sweet?!

By Elle on April 17, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, mommyhood, the little hummingbird

I don’t really care for my writing. I cringe if I even read a little of what I write.

Ugh!

After all of these years, I guess I’m still trying to fit in.

Not only with my writing but with life in general.

But it’s impossible.

I will never be a sweet “mommy blogger” who talks about motherhood or life being all rainbows and sunshine.

Even the “honest” and “candid” writers I come across are much sweeter.

Sure, I get sentimental about shit.

See, right there!

I end up having “sentimental” and “shit” in the same sentence.

I just can’t help it.

But for some reason I can’t seem to accept that I’m not sweet when I tell my tales.

Then I get writer’s block and I’m totally fucked because I’ll try to be something I’m not.

I read such beautifully written posts by people.

Sometimes I wish that could be me writing that way.

But it’s very unlikely that will happen.

Raw and not that well written is what I know.

It will have to be good enough.

I’ll just save the sweet stuff for when I’m with my daughter, playing kitchen and eating her pretend cookie and carrot soup.

And then letting her know it’s the best thing I’ve ever had while I cover her face with kisses.

Ahem.

Ssshh!

Don’t tell anyone about that.

I’m not sweet, damn it!

*Foo Fighters – Monkey Wrench

Comments { 11 }

What the fuck is wrong with people?!

By Elle on April 15, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, anxiety, depression, love, writing to heal

What the fuck is wrong with people?!!

I’ve been saying that for years.

I just don’t get it.

I’m not going to write about what happened in Boston on Monday because, well, it will be said by others.

I will say that the world can be so fucked but when I look at my daughter, everything is better.

I’ll say that I’m actually looking forward to moving to Maine (the shock is wearing off) in a few months and although Boston isn’t right next door, it’s only a few hours away.

I’ll say I can’t wait to be able to explore such a great city for the next 3 years.

I will say that I’ll be giving out as many hugs as I can.

I’ll say that my heart hurts.

I’ll say you should love as much as you can.

You just never know.

Comments { 3 }

That bitch…. aka… my mother-in-law.

By Elle on April 11, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, anxiety, family, hold me, holy hell, mommyhood, mother-in-law, my brain is melting, wha?

When I was younger, I saw how my mother-in-law treated my mom and couldn’t believe my stepdad NEVER stood up for her.

I didn’t feel like it should have been my mom to say anything because that just seemed like it would add more fuel to her MIL’s fire.

My grandmother, Josephine, was very hard on my stepdad, and I didn’t approve of it either, despite the conflicts my stepdad and I had.

The difference?

My mom would defend my father, whether he was there or not.

When I married into my husband’s family, my mother’s words stand out in my head, ”Watch out for that woman (MIL), I can tell she’s controlling”.

Mother knows best!

I already learned that when planning my wedding from hell with the MIL.

When I saw my MIL together with her mother-in-law, I thought AHA, now I get it.

The relationship was toxic.

What leaves me scratching my head is that there is absolutely no reason for my MIL to turn around and treat me the same way. She should know. I’ve seen how her MIL hurt her.

I used to think “Maybe that’s all she knows” after years of dealing with her MIL but fuck that.

My mother-in-law is a grown ass woman and should know right from wrong.

I’m not letting this woman fuck up my daughter’s 4th Birthday Party for me.

Sure, she probably will which I fucking hate because it’s my baby girl’s birthday.

Sure, she’ll give ALL the credit to my hubby for the “fabulous” party.

But fuck her.

I want to say my peace when the mother-in-law pulls her shit, trust… she will, and I want to let her know that I wish she wasn’t so critical with me.

I just don’t know how to say it without ruffling feathers. Or do I need to ruffle those mofo feathers to get my point across?

The suggestion box is now open!

*These are some “party favors” that I’m keeping in my purse for mother-in-law emergencies.

~~~~~~~~~~

**Pearl Jam – Porch

Comments { 15 }

Listen all ya’ll, it’s a sabotage.

By Elle on April 8, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, anxiety, holy hell

I self-sabotage. I’m my own worst enemy. I’ve done this for as long as I can remember. It stops right here.

I had an amazing opportunity to visit a film set this past August and interview the writer. After the initial excitement of going went away, I thought there was no way I could do it.

What if I’m not good enough? What if I look like a total idiot? What if I freeze up? So many what ifs.

I went, had an absolutely fabulous time, and didn’t look like too much of an idiot. We’ll maybe a tad after I had a little too much wine with dinner.

I’m still in awe that I also got to meet that total hottie, Josh Duhamel.

Going through that this past summer made me aware of just how hard I am on myself. It really showed me how little I think of myself and how sad that is.

I’ve had great opportunities pass me by over the years because while I want to be successful, in life and work, I’m afraid of standing out. So, I sabatoge myself into thinking I’m not good enough or I don’t deserve it.

My confidence is like a fart. Big and loud in my head, small and squeaky when it comes out. Then I’ll think “Really? That’s all I’ve got?!”

My mind belts out I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR, but when the time comes to take any action, I close up and disappear into my negative thoughts.

I need to stop being my own worst enemy.

I need to stop this self-sabotage bullshit and realize that I have some great things to offer.

I know the what ifs will always be bouncing around in my head but I’m hoping that soon they’ll diminish, from a loud rocket to a soft whisper.

Comments { 3 }

Dear 20 Year-Old Me

By Elle on April 3, 2013 in a glimpse into my mind, marriage, mommyhood, mother-in-law

So, I hear you recently got married and have a mother-in-law from hell. Let’s start with this whole marriage thing.

Marriage is hard as hell. You will have plenty of ups and downs over the years.

Hell, you’ll even have good years and bad years. Remember you have to work at marriage. “Through good times and bad, sickness and in health”, you have to be good to each other.

Sure, your husband will make you want to strangle him and you’ll want to fight back with hurtful words.

Don’t do it.

You’ll regret it later and wish you could take those hurtful words back. Once you let those words hang in the air, you can never take them back. Please keep that in mind.

Support him and be kind to each other.

Also keep in mind that he married you for YOU. He didn’t marry Martha Stewart.

So what if you’re not the domestic goddess you thought you would be when you were younger and idealized your life as an adult.

Don’t be hard on yourself because if you do, you’ll spend years beating yourself up over it. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine and make do with the skills you have and the things you really do enjoy doing.

A happy wife equals a happy husband.

Now for that mother-in-law. The worst mistake you can make is letting her walk all over you. She will beat you down with her words and actions and you just need to put her in her place and nip that in the bud right away.

Don’t let her get under your skin for years and years while you practically kill yourself trying to make her happy.

Guess what? Nothing you do will make her happy. Stand up to her and don’t let her push you around.

Sure, it will be awkward at first when you speak your mind but it’s better than letting this kind of treatment go on for several years. Be strong and don’t let her get you down. She’s not worth the trouble.

Now for motherhood. Get a puppy instead. Kidding!

Motherhood certainly isn’t black and white like you used to think. It’s a tricky little bastard and will keep your head swirling at night when it comes to the choices you make for your children.

“Was that the best decision?” “I didn’t have to say that to my daughter in such a nasty tone.” “I don’t feel like I’m doing this right.”

That and more will weigh you down if you let it. Remember you’re doing the best that you can when it comes to your child. It’s okay if you’re not crafty and can’t do 10,000 projects a week with your child or you get flustered and let them watch television while mommy has a time out. You’re not a bad mom.

Repeat after me, “I’m a great mother and do the best I can for my children.” Repeat 10 more times. Sometimes you might not be doing the best you can and that’s okay to. You, my dear, are only human.

Don’t worry if you pretend not to notice that sign up sheet to make baked goods for their entire preschool. Or you look like the Bride of Frankenstein when you drop them off at school while the other moms don’t have a hair out-of-place.

Last thing.

Love yourself. You will spend too many years trying to be someone you’re not just to try to fit in. Be yourself and be proud of who you are no matter how strange, quirky, and out-of-place you may feel.

If others don’t like it, tell them they can suck it.