I spent Father’s Day laid up in bed with a really sore back. I didn’t even get J a card. He says he doesn’t mind though because a) he got a son for Fathers Day, and b) he spent Mothers’ Day laid up in bed with an illness and the flowers he ordered for me never came - so he figures we’re even.

We’re all home and adjusting to life with 2 kids. My parents volunteered to relieve Button of her cabin fever this afternoon, so she’s currently swimming over at their house - undoubtedly having a blast. J’s parents are at a movie, so it’s just the two of us and a very sleepy baby. And it’s now that I realize how easy it is to care for just one child, especially a newborn. I suppose it’s all relative though, because I don’t remember feeling that it was easy the first time around.

Our little guy was induced on Thursday and everything went as planned with the exception that he made his appearance earlier than expected. Following his sister’s footsteps, I suppose. At least the doctor was already at the hospital this time - she almost missed it last time.

He tried to turn his head funny coming out, so I ended up with 3rd degree tears (again) but since he took a full 5 minutes of pushing to come out (instead of 10 seconds), the doctor did have time to do an episiotomy this time. Consequently, I think the healing process is going faster this time around.

And God bless Wayne, the epidural doctor. Sidestepping “Eve’s curse” is truly a lifesaver. I had a few minutes of experiencing a small fraction of what it would be like to go “natural” and believe me when I say I want no part of that.

The head-turn resulted in a squished nose for the baby, but fortunately it’s straightening itself out.

I have a ton of pictures on my camera that I have yet to download or look at, but when I do I’ll be sure to post a couple here.

Honestly, the most difficult part of this has been Little Button. She did not do too well with us both being gone at the hospital, and suffered quite a bit of anxiety and outright sadness about it, especially at night. It was heartbreaking, and there was nothing we could do about it. Unfortunately, “Mama and Daddo will be home soon” wasn’t much consolation, and her inability to sleep well contributed to her overall stress level.

She’s much happier now that we’re home, and she’s totally in love with her Baby Brother. Which is, of course, good and bad. She’s a bit overstimulated and has more energy than normal (which is, um, a lot), so getting her to be still and calm and quiet around the baby has been a total lost cause.

Being the incredibly tactile kid that she is, she wants to hold/touch/kiss him 24 hours per day and does not understand why she can’t. My heart has skipped a thousand beats so far. We’ve let her hold the baby in her lap, but it requires constant attentiveness because, well, SHE’S TWO.

When she’s not holding the baby, she’s trying to climb onto whoever is. She’s relentless and spends every waking minute trying to touch the baby, which is stressful because there is literally no “safe” place we can put him that she can’t get to, aside from holding him while we’re standing up. So we’ve had to begin a pretty intense “training” session with her on where the boundaries are, with strict and consistent consequences. It requires constant energy, and more of it than I have at this time.

I know that sounds like a lot of complaining, and I don’t mean to imply that she’s being “bad.” She’s just TWO and very fascinated by this new person in her household. She calls him “Sweetheart” and “Little Fella” and becomes very concerned about his well-being at the slightest frown. She offers him pacifiers and blankets and words of comfort while she gently strokes the back of his head. “It’s alright, Sweetheart, you don’t have to be upset. Are you hungry Little Fella?” And once we get past this “training” period, I’m sure my stress level will lower substantially.  It’s already getting better as she’s learning the “new rules.”

Anyway, our little guy is an exceptional sweetie and we’ve really enjoyed having him so far.

So today I woke up feeling fatigued and swollen. Even going up the stairs took entirely too much effort.

The common remedies for pregnancy-related fatigue and swelling are exercise (does anyone want to talk about the ridiculous irony of that statement?) and drinking more water - so I took Little Button on a stroller ride around the neighborhood this morning and have been trying to drink more water.

Which means that now I’m even more tired and have to pee all the time.

Pregnancy is not agreeing with me this time around.  I haven’t been sick (at least not since Christmas).  I’ve been more tired, but nothing unbearable.

I’m just BIG.  And I hate it.

I almost wore a pink shirt for Easter.  And then I looked in the mirror and saw a giant Easter Egg where my reflection should have been.

I did not wear a pink shirt for Easter.

I took a “six months pregnant” picture today.  I’d post it to prove my point but I think there’s some reason I don’t post pictures of myself on this site… though I can’t quite remember what that reason is right now.  Anyway, I look at least 8 months along.  It’s discouraging.  I don’t think I’ll be taking a “nine months pregnant” picture this time around.

In a short time I will be going to HAWAII for my MIL’s birthday celebration.  And I cannot believe I am doing this voluntarily.   When I was pregnant with Button, my best friend got married.  Why do people always plan important events when I’m 7 months pregnant?

Oh trip, how I dread thee… let me count the ways:

• 8 hour plane ride there… with swollen uncomfortable pregnancy legs
• 8 hour plane ride there… with energetic 2-year old. Who maxes out at about 3 hours.  And refuses to sleep on planes.  And who can only survive those 3 hours when allowed to watch Dora on laptop.  And whose grumpy factor increases proportionate to how much TV she watches.
• Maternity swimsuit
• Maternity swimsuit
• Maternity swimsuit
• 8 hour plane ride back… more swollen uncomfortable pregnancy legs
• 8 hour plane ride back… same 2-year old

Somebody just shoot me now.

I haven’t talked a whole lot about this pregnancy.  Somewhat because it’s been relatively uneventful (a good thing) and somewhat because it’s hard for me to really wrap my mind around a child entering this house until I know its gender.  Which I know would have made pregnancy very difficult for me 20 years ago.  But I can’t envision a genderless baby, so I usually don’t try.

Anyway, we found out yesterday.  Looks like we’re having a BOY.  I can finally start planning the nursery.

Let the Great Name Debate of 2008 commence.

And now I’m totally wishing that I had one of those blogs that 500 people read and comment on so I could start asking for name suggestions.  See, J and I struggle with names, especially boy names.  Until yesterday, I didn’t have a single one that I even liked.  And when I do come up with some that I like, J is sure to hate them.  So I need plenty of backups.

We both agree that we don’t like common names.  I grew up as an Amy, which meant being one of six in every class.  I will not do that to my child.  We both have a fondness for Gaelic names, and (it seems) names that end in “N.”  Due to our last name, we really shouldn’t pick a first name that ends in “L.”

Anybody wanna play?

Ok, I upgraded Wordpress so hopefully it will start working for me again.  I’m doubtful though, since it’s still not letting me add categories.

This has been a difficult week.  My mom has been ill with some sort of excruciatingly painful nervous system disorder that the doctors were unable to diagnose for weeks.  They’re medicating her, and it’s working to take the pain away, but the medication makes her crazy.

She’s usually a really emotional person anyway, but when she’s on this medication it’s like being around a bipolar schizophrenic with Alzheimer’s.  I couldn’t let her watch Little Button for her normal 2 days this week because she’s seriously not herself and I was too worried about her judgment.  When I told her I would be keeping Button home this week, I might as well have stabbed her best friend, run over her dog, and published a book on “why my mother is a failure.”

The other day I went over to my parents’ house to wrap all their Christmas presents (I was trying to be helpful in any way they would let me, since my mom has been ill) and I totally overdid it.  I was useless and dead by the time I got home to J.

Though I’m now in second trimester, I’m not getting my energy back.  This is different from the first time around, and much more inconvenient with a toddler.  A toddler with rampant energy who can sing at the top of her lungs and spin in circles and dance for 4 hours straight while I sit on the couch staring at her in disbelief.

I think I finally got all my Christmas shopping done.  This season has absolutely kicked my butt.  Last year I ordered everything online and was done several weeks before Christmas.  I had a giant spreadsheet detailing gifts purchased and to-be-purchased for each member of my family and J’s family, as well as automated price totaling to ensure that money between each person was balanced and that no one was left out.  Last year, I was the ultimate anal-retentive Christmas Elf.

This year, I’m more like the Christmas Sloth.  I only sort of remember what I’ve gotten each person, so I hope it’s somewhat balanced.  Since I waited so late, I couldn’t order anything online so I’ve had to leave the comfort of my home to actually SHOP.  Which is more of a challenge with aforementioned 2-year-old.  Ok, “challenge” would be putting it mildly.

The other day I was especially low on energy, but we had to go shopping so I packed up Little Button in the car and we made several stops.  At each and every store, she made every effort to run away from me, refused to use her “inside voice” and had a total temper tantrum when she had to give up her lollipop to enter one particular store.

Nearing the end of my rope, I decided to cut the trip short - but we HAD to make one more stop to get a very necessary gift for J.   While inside the store, I had her by the hand so she wouldn’t go running off - and she somehow managed to end up sprawled on the floor while I was trying to make a difficult decision about the merchandise.  I pulled her up by the arm, but she slipped out of my grasp and banged her eyebrow on the tile.

Total.  System.  Meltdown.  You would have thought she cracked her head wide open.

With everybody staring, we left the store for the sake of the other shoppers.  We walked around outside.  She cried.  People stared.  We sat on a bench.  She cried.  People stared.  We stopped and ate lunch.  She recovered.  We re-entered the store in the hopes that I could FINALLY get the 10 minutes I needed to make the purchase and go home.

The second we entered,  she immediately broke away from my grasp and went running through the store, tripped on her own feet, crashed and burned, and went careening into a display case.

OH. MY. GAWD.

As the hysterical crying ensued, and once again everybody in the store stopped to stare at the bad mom with the crazy child, I snapped myself out of the open-mouthed stare and went to pick her up.

At this point, I became THAT MOM who refuses to take her screaming kid out of the store.  I was getting that gift, dammit, because I COULD NOT ENDURE coming back here again.

Through the remainder of the time at the store, Button intermittently cried, sang at the top of her lungs, tried to get away from my death grip, squirmed, talked excessively (loudly) so I could not hear the salesperson, batted at my hair, wiped snot all over the place (did I mention she has a cold?) and threw tissues on the floor.

In the end, I walked away from salespeople who couldn’t wait to see me go, with a gift that I paid entirely too much for because I couldn’t think clearly enough to make a sound decision.  I put Button in the car, sat in the driver’s seat, and cried.

I’m so tired every day.  I really need to go grocery shopping.  I really need to finish painting my mom’s Christmas present.  I really need to buy something for Button from Santa.  I really need to do laundry and finish cleaning in preparation for the inlaws who are coming on Monday.

I really need to visit a friend in the hospital who just had an emergency hysterectomy.  And I need to make some meals for her family because for crying out loud, they have 5 toddlers (no, that’s not a typo) and her husband is having to be Mommy and Daddy and Nurse and Santa.

So there are obviously people in this world who have it much harder than I do.  But somehow that doesn’t stop me from wanting to curl up in bed and wish it would all just go away.  In the meantime, I guess I’ll go on complaining.

Thanks for being my audience.